#love is casual and found in the little things

[pellucid-constellations]

Flightless Bird

Pairing: Azriel x Human!Reader

Summary: Azriel was not supposed to be in the mortal lands. Azriel was not supposed to love a mortal. He couldn't find it in him to care.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: Mentions of injury and death, a little bit wistful I suppose

a/n: I am struggling to write!! So I'm sorry if this is all jumbled and weird 😭 Please enjoy me trying to get my act together I love you allll <3

Main Masterlist ♡

~~

Azriel was not where he was supposed to be. He knew that—knew his High Lord would be disappointed at his whereabouts—and he went anyway. 

It was often hard to blend into the mortal lands, but he was not unused to the discomfort that came with slinking around alley corners and plastering his wings to his back. If a human saw him, he would be in greater trouble than a simple tongue-lashing from Rhysand. 

He hadn’t been caught yet. 

“Azriel.” 

Well—he hadn’t been caught by anyone he wouldn't want to be caught by. 

Azriel turned on his heel, his back pressed against the biting cold of the cobblestone alley. You stood before him with a basket on your arm and an accusatory gleam pointed up with your gaze. The collar of your dress was slightly askew and if he looked hard enough, he could see bits of basil on your sleeve hem. 

He fought the smile that edged onto his face, not wanting to mock your exasperation. “Y/n,” he cordially greeted. 

You huffed. “Don’t say that so casually.” 

“Your name?” 

“Your death sentence, more like. You know you shouldn’t be here.” 

Ah, yes—Azriel could not forget that multiple people did not want him meandering about the mortal lands. Rhysand didn’t want him here because of the trouble it could cause. You didn’t want him here because you thought the humans would kill him. A small misconception that he found endearing.

“Why not?” Azriel questioned, tilting his head to the side as you stepped forward. You peered over his shoulder past the mouth of the alley in hurried agitation. 

“How long have you been here?” you asked, brushing off his question. “Has anyone seen you? Here, quickly—most people are at the market event so we can make it to my house.” 

And Azriel had gotten exactly what he wanted the second you wrapped your hand around his forearm. He let you tug him around more corners and watched as you anxiously bit into your lip and fretted for his imagined safety. At one point, he had whisked the herb basket from your arm and held it loosely at his fingertips. You only glanced back at him for a moment, too concerned with shoving him into the too-small front door of your home. 

Azriel set the basket down on the quaint table by the fire and felt his bones settle in the soft glow of your home. While you busied yourself by locking the door and slamming the windows shut, he casually looked around the space and breathed in the spices and rich wood that calmed him. He had difficulty describing this feeling to others, so he coveted it instead. 

The slick of your curtains shutting seemed to end your tirade, and you then turned to him with an exasperated hand on your hip. “I’ve told you to send word if you’re coming. I can ensure you’re not seen, but only if I know you’re here.” 

Azriel was almost positive you didn’t understand he was a spy. He had explained his job to you many times, but you never seemed to take it into account when you were concerned over his stealth in the human lands. 

“I can get around fine. I wanted to find you,” he calmly replied. 

“Why don’t you wait at my house then? Rather than roaming about the streets? You know I’ll end up here eventually.” 

How was Azriel supposed to say that he liked to watch you? That he found joy in seeing you in the woods picking herbs or at the market selling your remedies. No, he figured that would be an odd thing to say to a human, so instead he offered a shrug and you replied with another tortured sigh. 

You pinched the bridge of your nose and murmured his name. 

“I don’t mean to burden you,” Azriel apologized. “I only wanted to see you. It’s been… a while.” 

When you looked back up, all vexation slid from your expression, replaced instead by soft reproach. “Burden me—Azriel, you don’t burden me. I worry for you, but it’s not a burden. Any time you need to use my home for work it’s available to you.”

You never understood. Azriel said he wanted to see you, not use your home. He had offered many of these admittances in the past and you never found their meaning. He had asked Feyre about that in a night of desperation a few months ago. She had sworn not to tell anyone and made Azriel privy to the inferiority humans felt when compared to fae. 

“She probably isn’t even considering that, Az,” Feyre had softly replied, unvoiced confusion twisting her brow. “How did you meet her again?” 

“I don’t need to use your home. Not this time,” Azriel revealed. 

“A short mission then?” 

“I’m not here for a mission.” 

Confusion pinched your expression. “I don’t understand.” 

Azriel took a step forward, shadows splaying out under his boot. The wood creaked. “I told you—I wanted to see you.” 

You uncrossed your arms, allowing Azriel to see your chest rise and fall unsteadily. You looked down to his feet, tracking the small movements he was making towards you, and then caught his eye once more. 

“Is this about Harrison? He hasn’t bothered me since.” 

Azriel’s eyes slipped closed for a moment. Harrison. The good-for-nothing human man who wouldn’t leave you alone for months. Azriel had made up multiple stories for being in the mortal lands around that time—to both you and Rhys. In the end, Harrison moved on and you hadn’t had an explanation for it. 

Azriel had a very clear explanation. 

“It’s not about that, though I am glad he’s leaving you alone.” 

You hummed, the sound perfectly matching your reproachful nod. “Right. So I’m safe. And you don’t have a mission. Why would you need to see me?” 

Feyre had clearly been right; you hadn’t even considered the possibility that Azriel was taken by you. And that made sense. Azriel couldn’t really understand it himself. You were a human—destined for a short life and vulnerable to so many things. 

Azriel would live twenty lifetimes and you would only live one. 

But he couldn’t get you out of his head. 

From that first day he saw you in these dreary lands he had been dreaming of you, unable to have a thought without connecting it back to the softness of your hair or the way your skin seemed to glow under the sun. He had approached you a couple of days after that first look. It hadn’t gone well, obviously, and Azriel had to admit that being punched by a human hurt more than he expected. 

You were nothing if not logical, however, and after getting a few unreciprocated punches in, you stopped and listened to him. He had truly needed help at that time, unrest with a few rogue members of Hewn City sending him your way, and in the best interest of your village, you gave him a place to hide. 

It had been awkward—for him. 

You had been comfortable with him from the start and he was the one shifting in his seat each time you passed. He hadn’t been around many humans, and although the Archeron sisters had given him some experience, they were nothing like you. You yanked him around alleyways and shoved herbs in his mouth that wouldn’t actually heal him. You were stubborn and didn’t take no for an answer and you went headfirst into everything. Azriel could remember a time a couple of months after meeting you that he was sure his heart stopped, your foot slipping on a ladder as you helped him search for human information. 

He was constantly reminded how fragile you were. The bruise he spotted on your wrist now was practically mocking him. 

He knew how fragile you were, and he still came back. He couldn’t help it. 

“Can I not just wish to see you?” Azriel asked, his words now reaching your skin with his proximity. 

Your lashes fluttered. You let out a small breath. “Fancy court life get boring? Needed a reminder of the desolation of the human lands?” 

Azriel had been foolish to think your bite would disappear with a short bout of flustering. “I don’t think they’re desolate. Not with you here.” 

“What are you doing?” you whispered. Azriel watched you fiddle with your sleeve, the darkened skin of your bruise stealing his breath once more. 

His eyes tracked back up to your face. “Do you really not know?” 

The space between you was sparse; any other human would be cowering in fear. 

“Azriel—” 

“Tell me to stop and I will. I’ll leave if you wish for me to.” 

“I don’t want that.” 

“Then tell me what you want.” 

You dropped your hands to your sides, a war waging in your eyes. Azriel was having a difficult time parsing out the opposing sides—if you were scared of him or if you thought about him as much as he did you.

“I’m human. I’m nothing.” 

Azriel abandoned his wonder, reaching his hand up to cup your face. He hesitated, allowing you time to move away from his touch. You didn’t. He took the liberty of holding you between both of his hands rather than one. 

“I’ve never thought that. Don’t say that,” he pressed. 

You looked pained, vulnerability seeping into your usually strong expression. You always had to be strong here. “It’s true. You don’t think I’ve—Azriel, I’ve… felt things for you that I shouldn’t. Wanted things I shouldn’t. But I’m mortal. I’m just a human. And you could have so much more than—” 

Azriel was already shaking his head. He didn’t understand any of this. You were right—in a way. This wasn’t natural. 

Azriel still spoke as if it were. “I don’t care about any of that. I don’t want anything else. The year I’ve known you I have thought of little else.”

“But that’s just it, Azriel,” you began, an incredulous laugh punctuating your words. “A year. A year that I have aged and been changed. A year that feels long and hard for a human and it was nothing but a drop in the bucket for you. You will have centuries of them. You won’t die from sickness or injury or famine. You—we couldn't… I am human.” 

“And I don’t care,” Azriel repeated. His tongue darted out to wet his lips and he readjusted his grip on you. “I don’t understand why, but I don’t, y/n. I know this isn’t sensible and I don’t care. I don’t care if it’s short. I love you.” 

Your eyes widened, words caught in your throat. And Azriel didn’t care if you said it back. He didn’t care if he had made a fool of himself. For the first time in centuries, he loved and he did it without secrecy and fear. 

Maybe it was the brevity of it all. Maybe it was because you belonged to only him, his family unaware of your existence. Azriel didn’t care about the origin. He only cared about you. 

“This can’t work,” you whispered. Logical. Always so logical. 

“It doesn’t have to work. It just has to be.” 

You gripped his wrists, desperation in your eyes. “What does that even mean?” 

Azriel hesitated, and then he kissed you. He pressed his lips to yours and he felt the way your heart beat in the pulsing heat of your skin. You were warm—always warm—and your body moved without the fluidity of fae and Azriel wanted nothing more. He removed one of his hands from your face only to wrap it around your back, pressing you closer, listening to the racing pattern of your heart. 

He kissed you harder and you kissed him back. 

Nothing else mattered—not the logic or the timelines or the aging. 

Azriel’s shadows always tamed themselves around you, seeming to fear any hesitance you may hold, but right now they were rampant in your home, sliding up the windows and humming low songs in his ears. 

And in the depths of Azriel’s chest, hidden so deep he thought it his own beating heart, something tugged.

[joonjuul]

hii, are u comfortable with writing teacher x student trope?

chalk dust. jjk

pairing: professor!jk x delinquent!reader

wc: 6.2k

warnings: englishteacher!jk, softdom!jk, strict!jk, badgirl!reader, obsessive!reader, reader is a crazy tease but goes soft for jk, reader is of age, dorm sex, unprotected sex (wrap it up), head pushing, light fingering (f receiving), pet names, creampie, this is absolute filth

a/n: tysm anon for requesting !! not only am i comfortable, but i lowkey love this trope and can feel a series blossoming… chalk dust jk™ has a nice ring to it no?

╋━

professor jeon was a poised man.  he was intricate, careful, took pride in his control and restraint.  he was a man who showed no weakness — and you were a girl who had nothing to lose.

it was your first semester at your new college prior to transferring, due to let’s say… academic differences.  you were never the perfect student, far from it.  you skipped class, kicked cigarette butts out your dormitory window, and scrawled half-assed answers on nearly all your assignments.  all but your english assignments at least.  

english was always different to you though, more specifically; poetry.  you didn’t always try, but the moment your pen hit the paper, you found yourself peeling open like an onion, exposing sides to yourself you never even knew were there.  and the topics that fell from your ink were never those that were comfortable for a casual reader — they were deep, intimate, and often times inappropriate for even a college school setting… especially when you wrote about him.

you had never been attracted to a teacher before, so it caught you off guard the way you would purposefully linger after class was over just to breathe in his air a little longer.  but something about him was so compelling to you, especially the thought of making him lose control, break the rules just for once, just long enough for him to take you on his desk and leave ink stains on your skirt.

“what did you think, miss y/l/n?” his words cut you out of your daydream that isn’t entirely innocent as you realize you had been drifting longer than anticipated.  he looked too good today… too good for you to stay focused.

“i’m sorry?” you blink up at him slowly.  you should feel embarrassed that you were caught red handed, anyone else would’ve been, but not you.

“what do you think wilde meant when he wrote, ‘the only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it.’” his calloused hands with traces of chalk etch the sides of the book as his eyes thin out in front of you.  he was the greatest test of all, a test of how far you could truly go to get something you want.

“are you asking for a literary analysis, sir?” the way you speak isn’t particularly respectful, but it’s laced with something else, something only professor jeon is able to catch on to, as most of the other students in your incredibly small class were paying attention elsewhere.

“that is the expectation, yes.”

“expectation… right.” you huff as you lean back in your chair, your voice coming out in a way that’s confident… too knowing.  “well it’s just an excuse, isn’t it?  wilde isn’t talking about temptation as a fleeting thing, he’s saying that once the thought exists, once you’ve imagined it… you’re already lost.  the real choice left is whether you act on it or let it fester.”

the class is still, no one seeming to notice the change in atmosphere, the subtle weight of your words, except professor jeon.  his jaw tenses slightly as his eyes narrow in your direction, reading between the lines of your words, the distinct way you looked at him while speaking, the smirk threatening to tug at your lips.

“that’s quite the interpretation.”

“maybe, but it’s the truth.  wilde knew that resisting something only gives it more power.  because the moment you tell yourself you shouldn’t think about something… it’s already all you can think about.” your head subconsciously cocks to the side as your smirk now turns into a devious smile.  your eyes rake his body language carefully as you admire the way he lets out a slow exhale at your words, his eyes never leaving yours.  he should move on, call on someone else, change the topic at least, but for a fraction of a second, he forgets how to breathe.

“moving on.” he turns away from you, his voice sharp as his attention falls onto the chalk board behind him, outlining a different subject that he deems more pressing than entertaining your obviously suspicious behavior.

but you, your work here is done, as you’ve already planted the seed.  in fact, you had been planting seeds for quite some time now, and the biggest one was going to come to fruition in about 21 minutes.  your eyes flick over to the clock on the wall, the smallest hand ticking painfully slow as you recall the previous night.  your hands fighting for breath as you wrote vigorously in your 3-ring notebook.  you purposely bought a red one so it would easier garner his attention, but what would really catch his eye were the words written throughout the pages.

because see, it wasn’t just a normal red notebook, it was a confession — of boredom, of frustration, of a sharp, all-consuming fascination with him.  your words were far from innocent, phrases and long run-on sentences describing the way he runs a finger over his mouth when he’s thinking, or the way his voice shifts when he’s discussing mature themes.  you wonder, in writing, what it would take to make him snap.  and you’re ready to plant it right where he can see, where his all too curious mind will force him to keep reading, even when he knows it’s wrong.

you feel your breath hitch in your throat as the bell rings abruptly, ripping you from your devious daydream of what only felt like a couple minutes.  you struggle to hide the growing smirk on your face as you hurriedly throw everything in your bag, everything except one simple red notebook, and quickly rush out the door.

normally you’d take your time, enjoy the scenery and take one final smell of the chalk infested air before retreating his classroom for the day, but not this time.  you couldn’t risk premature exposure, everything had to go according to plan, and you had a slight feeling it already was.

professor jeon’s eyes flick across the room before realizing how quickly it had emptied.  normally there were a few stragglers, at least just you, but today there was nothing.

he lets out a long sigh as he turns back to the chalkboard, bringing an eraser up to his already forgotten lecture and wiping it clean, ready for whatever tomorrow may bring.  his mind danced between a new topic within wilde’s book, and something slightly more intense — you.

you were always a question mark in his mind, a level of confusion he never quite knew how to decipher.  you were incredibly smart, and anyone with a brain could see that, but you weren’t nearly as dedicated as you could be.  you didn’t participate in any extracurricular activities that would distract you from your school work, nor did you get involved in any on-campus drama.  yet you were still completely, and purposefully disobedient.  it was almost as if you couldn’t care less about your education, nevermind the topics you always found a way to bring up in class.  it was almost as if you were trying to crawl under his skin, infest his mind with your out of control behavior.  it was nearly intolerable.

he turned away from the board and his eyes quickly fell on a notebook, a red one.  he felt a brow quirk on his face subconsciously and before he knew it he was already taking leaping strides towards your desk.

you always submitted such incredible work.  whether it could be considered inappropriate, or slightly out of range of what you had been discussing in class, it always found a way to linger in his mind, leave him questioning even his own class regimen.

before he was able to decide whether or not reading what could’ve been your personal work was an appropriate thing to do, he was already turning the pages to reveal your most intense inner thoughts.

his eyes widen as he finally realizes — the true extent to all your subtle innuendos, every time your eyes lingered on his longer during class, the way you would let out a gentle exhale of relief as he would call your name… it was all starting to make sense.

and not only that, but they were dated.  they weren’t simple mindless phrases or sexual references sprawled across the paper with no direction.  they were organized, almost like a collection of memories, of fleeting thoughts that you wanted to last longer.

september 14

Maybe he thinks restraint is noble. That if he denies it long enough, it will dissolve into nothing. But that’s the thing about hunger, isn’t it? It doesn’t go away. It just waits.

september 29

I started a new habit today—writing things just for him. Slipping them between the lines of my essays, curling them into the margins of books I know he’ll flip through. I wonder if, when he reads them, he feels it. That sharp, electric jolt of knowing something he shouldn’t.

October 25th

Tonight, I had a thought I shouldn’t have.

I imagined the moment—the exact moment—when he gives in. The silence before it. The way his breath would hitch, the way he’d close his eyes just for a second too long. The way his hands, always so careful, would finally stop hesitating.

he feels his blood thicken as he continues to read, the words rambling through his mind anxiously as if they’d have no ending.  his heart rate quickens, his hands gripping the notebook tighter as he flips through the pages at lightening speed, barely slow enough to properly digest the gravity of your writing — until he lands on the final page.

his mind stutters as he arrives at the final entry, your handwriting much clearer now and he can almost hear your voice speaking it with perfect confidence and dictation.

October 31st

I wasn’t going to write this down. I wasn’t going to let it exist anywhere but inside my head, but I need to let it out.

I want him.  Not in a way I should.

I want him in a way that sits heavy in my chest, in a way that makes it hard to breathe when he’s too close. In a way that keeps me up at night, staring at the ceiling, wondering what it would take to make him finally snap.

And I wonder—if I stepped too close, if I said something I shouldn’t, if I asked—would he?

I think I want to find out.

he feels a lump crawl at his throat as his eyes fall to the bottom of the page, meeting your perfect handwriting in a lighter, much smaller format.

If you’re reading this, then I already won.

after a few painfully long moments, he finally lets out the gasp of air he had been holding in the moment his finger tips met the notebook.  and for a second, just a second, he imagines it too — the feeling of losing control.  it’s just enough to scare him into putting your notebook back down, but not enough to shake away the tugging in his loins and the burning in his chest.

he finds himself pacing, more than he’s probably ever done before.  his feet driving him in circles with his hands in his air as he realizes what he’s done, the situation he’s put himself in.  someone who’s normally so controlled, prepared for nearly any situation, is suddenly doubting his lack of weakness.  and for just a moment, he’s afraid.

he needs to put an end to this.

—

you’re unable to hide your smile of premature victory knowing there’s no way he was able to keep his curious paws off your notebook.  your feet confidently carry you through the hallways, your mind littered with thoughts of how he’d try to tell you it’s wrong, try to deny how your words made him feel, maybe he’d even threaten to turn you in, but it was all apart of your plan.

see, confidence is key here.  whether or not he ever had any feelings for you, or any sexual desires towards you didn’t matter, because you had already planted the seeds.  so even if he felt like all your comments were merely innocent flirtations in the past, they gave him brief visions of what could be, maybe even more, and that guilt alone is enough to drive him to think about you further, especially after reading your notebook.

you feel your stomach tense as you approach his door, it wasn’t time for class yet and you knew he had a free period, so you timed your walk across campus to perfectly align so he’d be reminded of your presence again today, even though you knew he couldn’t think of anything else.

your breath hitches momentarily as he emerges from his door, nearly cutting you off in your tracks.  his eyes narrow in on yours as he signals for you to enter his classroom.

you hide your victory smile quickly before following him into his classroom, watching as he approaches his desk, the red notebook sitting perfectly centered between his ungraded papers, almost as if you were his first priority.

the air was thick with tension, and you were loving every second of it.

“close the door.” his voice is rough, almost sleepless but you don’t question it, only following his orders and taking deliberate steps forward until there’s only the desk between you.

“tell me what this is.” he wraps a cold calloused hand around the rings of the notebook, his eyes narrowing in on yours.

“you already know.” his jaw tenses at your words, and his eyes flicker down to the notebook, memories flashing through his mind of your sinful words.

“you think this is a game?”

“isn’t it?” his gaze lands back on yours, sharp, unreadable — but there’s something lying beneath the surface, almost close enough for you to touch.

“you don’t understand what you’re doing.”

“that’s a lie.”

“enough.” he warns, his grip on the notebook tightening.

“why?  are you afraid?” the question lands like a blow.  he inhales sharply, but he doesn’t answer, and that’s all the confirmation you need.  you take a slow step forward, your hands falling onto the desk as you tilt your head down at him.

“you read every word, didn’t you?”

“you crossed a line.” his voice is strained, almost as if he’s holding back.

“did i?  or did i just say what you wouldn’t?” your voice drops down softly, just above a whisper as you’re unable to hide the smirk tugging at your lips, but his expression quickly changes, something in him snaps.  

“this ends now.” his voice is firm as his grip tightens further on the notebook, his other hand pointing directly at you.

“sounds like you’re convincing yourself more than you’re convincing me.” your smirk turns into a smile as you watch his knuckles turn white, his silence deafening as he stares up at you coldly.

you lean off the desk carefully before turning back towards the door, walking away without any permission to leave.  your hand curls around the doorknob as you turn your head to catch his final reaction, one of confusion and a breaking resolve.

“you can keep the notebook, professor jeon.  i’ll just start a new one.” you smile at him before turning away completely, your feet carrying you to your next class in strides instead of steps.

this was going to be easier than you thought.

but for him, it was the most difficult.

his eyes stare at the door, wide and in shock as he feels the heavy air, still full of your presence glide over his skin, leaving goosebumps in its place.

he exhales sharply, his hand releasing the notebook like it’s something filthy, but he doesn’t walk away, he can’t.  his hands move before he can stop them, the notebook falling open and mindlessly flipping to the page he already knows is there — your confession.

“I want him.”

his breath catches in his throat as the words stare back at him, bold and unforgiving.

“Not in a way I should.”

“In a way that keeps me up at night, staring at the ceiling.”

“Wondering what it would take to make him finally snap.”

“And I wonder—if I stepped too close, if I said something I shouldn’t, if I asked—would he?”

“I think I want to find out.”

he quickly slams the notebook shut, his heart drumming restlessly against his chest as his jaw locks so tightly into place that it nearly aches.  he feels something strange brew inside him, the unbearable pull of something he refuses to name.

he should go to the principal, he should call your parents, he should put an end to this.  but instead, he presses his hands against the desk as he leans forward, his breathing unsteady as he allows his eyes to close.  and for one brief, damning second — he imagines it.  the moment you wrote about.  the moment you break.

he sees it too clearly, feels the heat of it curling in his stomach, the inevitability of it tightening within his throat.  but it isn’t disgust that makes his breath hitch, nor guilt that makes his fingers tremble, but the fleeting image in his mind of his hand wrapped gracefully around your throat as you breathlessly moan out his name.

he swears under his breath, low and sharp before shoving the notebook into a drawer and slamming it into the desk.

but it’s too late now, he can’t unread your words, and he can’t stop the temptation now that it’s started.

—

the night was colder than normal, the gentle sound of rain pattering against your window as your eyes mindlessly scan the pages of the book you thought you were once reading.  your mind stutters in its daydream at the sound of a knock at your door.  

you freeze for a moment.  no one comes here this late.

you feel your feet carry you out of bed as you slowly approach the door, the hardwood floors cold against your bare feet as your fingers curl around the doorknob, your mind going blank as you see him there.

his tie is gone, his shirt which is usually pristine is now rumpled like he’s been running his hands through his hair, through the fabric, like he’s spent hours fighting himself before landing here.

and now he’s standing at your door.  soaking wet.

you lean against the doorframe, allowing your head to tilt to the side just enough to tease him.

“you shouldn’t be here, professor jeon.”

he swallows, his hands curling into tight fists at his sides.

“i know.”

you consider teasing him further, maybe even making him feel a little guilty knowing it’ll only intensify his feelings further, but you decide not to, knowing it’ll only driving him crazier, only stepping back just enough to allow the door to swing open further — an invitation.

his eyes flicker across yours for a moment as he hesitates.  every expression questioning whether or not he should, or if he even dares.  but he finally let’s go, taking a step inside as the door closes behind him, almost like a surrender.

the air is thick, nearly electric as he stands still, something predatory in your gaze as your eyes drag over his wet figure, something about it almost made you feel sorry for him.

“you don’t know what you’re doing to me.” his voice is hoarse as his tongue darts over his lips quickly, his eyes barely meeting yours as he desperately tries to keep his distance.

“i think i do.” you take a step closer.

“no you don’t.” he takes a step back.  “i shouldn’t be here.”

“but you are.” your voice is calm and controlled as you do your best to talk him down from his inner turmoil.

“but you don’t understand this is wrong.  it’s… it’s dangerous.” you watch as he takes another step back from you, his hands tightening by his sides as his knuckles turn white.

“i’m your teacher.  i have responsibilities.  i’m supposed to protect you, not let… this happen.”  his voice cracks as he speaks and you can almost feel a trace of guilt within your chest knowing he really does care about his students.  but you simply couldn’t take it any longer, you were both consenting adults, it shouldn’t matter, and you were determined to show him that.

you take a step forward and slowly bring a hand up to his arm, the feeling of the wet fabric against your fingertips sparks something inside of you, a heat blooming within your stomach.

“let… this happen?” you feel him flinch slightly under your touch, his eyes landing on yours, a warning sign flickering between them.

“y/n, stop.” you hear a tinge of desperation behind his voice despite his warning tone.

you take a step closer to him, a dark smile on your face as your hand draws up his arm, your finger tips set ablaze above his body heat, your stomach twisting at the thought of him finally giving in.

“i said stop.” your shocked at his sudden movement, his hands going up to grab your wrist, holding it in place in a way that’s firm but not rough.  

“i’m not a boy you can tease until i break.  i’m a man, and if i break — i won’t be gentle.” you nearly have to hold yourself up, your knees becoming weak from his words alone.  you take a breath, stabilizing yourself before taking another step closer, your faces merely inches apart as you breathe in his air, his closeness becoming intoxicating, like a high you can’t get enough of.

“i don’t want gentle.” your voice is soft, but his features are furthest from that, his eyes holding every last bit of restraint he has as you watch them darken by the second.

silence closes the gap between your bodies as you watch his control slowly slip away.  every thought, every image that ever crossed his mind, all playing at full speed, and it’s completely overwhelming.

he lets out a slow, shaky exhale.  his eyes shutting carefully, almost like he’s preparing himself, before he tightens his grip on your wrist, the feeling of your pulse quickening under his touch only fueling him further as he pulls you into him, closing the gap between your bodies completely.

“god can you shut that pretty mouth for once?” you feel your heart skip a beat at his words, his demeanor quickly changing at he looks down at you, his eyes half lidded and full of lusted, sinful thoughts.

“what—“

“you wanted me to lose control?  fine.  but don’t say i didn’t warn you.” his voice is deep as it reverberates through your chest, your mouth slowly opening to make a response until he quickly cuts you off with his lips fully encasing yours.

you tense into his mouth, your eyes widening until you’re finally able to melt into his touch.  his hands lowering to your waist to pull you taught against his abdomen, his belt rubbing roughly against your stomach, nearly hard enough to leave marks even through your shirt.

you moan into the kiss, your hands falling to the back of his neck at your fingers quickly find his hair, tugging it in multiple directions as your mouths fight for dominance.

you feel his grip on your waist tighten, his knuckles white as he uses your shirt to pull you closer, his feet frantically walking you backwards as you feel your back collapse against your bed, breaking the kiss just long enough to see his perfectly swollen lips and broad shoulders cradling above you.

“this is what you’ve been begging for, huh?” he shoots you a sly smirk before bringing his body to hover over you completely, his knees settling between yours as he uses them to guide your legs apart.

you subtly swallow a gulp, feeling more intimidated than you originally anticipated.

his smirk deepens at your silence, his head dipping down to your ear carefully as he brings his hands up to the hem of your shirt, his cold fingertips slowly running up the skin of your lower abdomen.

“what’s wrong, sweetheart?  thought you could handle it?” you can nearly hear his smile through his voice, his large stature on top of yours making you feel almost completely helpless.

“i can.” you internally curse yourself for sounding so meek, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by professor jeon as a deep, low chuckle emits from his throat and directly into your ear, his hands slowly dragging up further as he begins to lift up your shirt.

“tsk, don’t lie to me baby, you’re already in enough trouble.” his voice is dark and hoarse, his fingers cold from rain as his movements pause just below your breasts, your cheeks heating up softly as you realize you weren’t wearing a bra.

he leans further into the crook of your neck, placing a gentle kiss on your supple skin, your back unconsciously arching into him as you let out a breathless moan.

“is this okay?” his fingers carefully tracing just below your mounds.

you quickly nod, your eyes rolling back as you relish in the feeling of his body against yours.

“words, sweetheart.”

“yes.  this is more than okay.” you say softly, earning a small smile from him as his hands slowly run up your shirt before cupping your breasts fully, his large hands encasing them like they’re his own.

“so perfect.  all for me.” he mutters before diving back into the crook of your neck, his lips dancing along your skin, carefully tracing every patch your body had to offer, the speed and neediness from before being replaced with something more tender and sweet.

you can’t help the moans that leave your mouth as his fingers begin to trace your nipples, examining them with the pads of his fingers as he drags his tongue to the base of your collarbone.

he pulls away from you momentarily to fully lift your shirt off, leaving you exposed and vulnerable to the cold.

“so beautiful.” his hushed praises go straight to your core, your body responding to his every calculated praise.

he leans down, his face eye level with your chest as he takes each nipple in his mouth one at a time, taking care of them with ease, lapping over the buds and leaving you feeling desperate for more.

you feel worn, your breath quickening as you press your legs together in an attempt to relieve some of the heat bubbling within your core, only to quickly be denied by the strength of his knees keeping you pried open for him.

after feeling satisfied with his ministrations, he pulls away, his eyes landing on yours — dark and lustful.

“do you know what you are?” he husks, bringing a hand down to your sides to soothe them gently.

you tilt your head to the side, leaning it against your pillow softly, a small smile creeping onto your face, your eyes hooded, nearly enough to look high.

“what am i?”

“you’re my biggest lesson.”

you quirk a brow at his response, feeling slightly confused and he notices your change in demeanor, his touch becoming slightly more rough as he grips at your sides, pulling you down so your closer to his pelvis.

“i stand in front of that classroom every day, teaching restraint, structure, rules.  but you — you’re pure temptation written between the lines.  you’re like the forbidden fruit.  i should’ve closed the book long ago, but instead, i’m here, crumbling before you.”

his hands grip your sides tighter, his eyes traveling down your body as he speaks, taking a momentary pause to relish in your beauty, everything laid out so perfectly for him.

“you’re the forbidden fruit i can’t put down.  the bad thought i can’t shake from my head.  the red notebook i should’ve never picked up.  and now I want to ruin every page.”

you can almost hear your heart rate increase at his words, every breath more tempting than the last, threatening to leave you laying beneath him for an eternity.

he brings a hand down to the band of your sweatpants, his fingers ducking beneath them just enough to tease you beyond repair.

“let me ruin you.” you nearly let out a moan from his words, only able to respond with the slight shake of a head before he starts undressing you like his favorite book — the cover, the sleeves, tracing each page along the way.

you feel like his muse, a piece of artwork laying beneath him, his eyes scanning you ravenously, taking in every curve and dimple on your body, his hands following suit, you almost didn’t notice when he had undressed as well, too distracted at his hushed praises as he hovers over you on the bed, a hand cupping your hair gently as his eyes gaze into yours.

“i need to hear you say yes, sweetheart.” his voice is a hushed whisper, his hair messily hanging over his forehead as he brings a hand beneath your bodies, his cock nudging at your entrance slowly.

“yes… i want this.” your voice is soft as it fills the air, a small smirk appearing on his lips as he brings a hand up to your mouth, cupping it gently, his head ducking into the crook of your neck.

you close your eyes tightly as he slowly pushes forward, his cock nearly splitting you in two as you let out a sharp gasp into his hand.

“shhh.  good girl.  that’s it.” you can nearly hear the smirk in his voice knowing you would struggle with his size, but his hushed praises are appreciated nonetheless.

his girth was unexplainable, spreading you apart in ways you never knew were possible.  you certainly weren’t inexperienced, but it somehow didn’t matter.  it felt like an eternity before he bottomed out in you, his hips stalling to give you time to adjust, but you’re nearly shaking when you finally come to, the sound of his breathless panting in your ear bringing you back to reality, his hand slipping away from your mouth and down to your hip.

“jungkook?” you whimper, not even realizing that you’ve never called him by his first name before.

“you feel… heavenly.” he groans, his hips stuttering forward sending shockwaves through your core, a small moan slipping past your lips at the sudden jerk.

“so goddamn tight.” he rolls his hips forward slowly, his cock grinding against your walls with ease.

“ahh — jungkook.  please.” you didn’t mean to beg, but his teasing was making it nearly impossible for you to control yourself.

“fuck, you have to be quiet for me, sweetheart.  can you do that?” he continued to slowly roll his hips forward, your body shuddering with every small movement.  you’re only able to nod at him, gentle whimpers falling past your lips as you bite them tightly in an attempt to stay quiet.

he shoots you a glare, but decides not to tease you too much before he sets in on a quicker pace, his cock driving into you with intensity, but not too fast where you’re fighting for your life.

every stretch of his cock was delicious, his fingers digging into your hips as he pulls you down to meet his thrusts, occasional groans leaving his mouth and falling into the air as you stifle back desperate screams.

“fuck.  you’re perfect.” he grumbles, his voice low with need as he dives back into the crook of your neck, licking it ravenously and you’re unable to suppress a moan, coming out much louder than you had intended.

jungkook slowly pulls away, his eyes meeting yours with a glare as he quirks a brow at you, watching as your face contorts with both pleasure, and discomfort at his size and the inability to be heard.

“sweet girl, you can be quiet, right?” he smirks, his voice teasing as he brings a hand up to grab yours at the wrist, pinning them above your head gently, as if he thought you would break from any more force.

you whimper again, your voice shaky as you let out a meek, “y-yes.”

he tsks at your response, unbelieving as he dives back down into the crook of your neck, his hips picking up their pace as he places gentle kisses on your skin, a deep contrast to the way he was fucking you now, pinned up like a doll.

“wouldn’t want anyone to catch us now would we?  a cute little girl and her teacher, that wouldn’t blow over well i’m sure.” you can nearly hear the smirk in his voice as he speaks in between kisses, trailing them down to your collarbone as your fingers wiggle under his hold.

“n-no.  i’ll be quiet.”

he chuckles lowly, pulling away from you momentarily to appreciate your fucked out state — your forehead slick with sweat, lips puffy and swollen and eyes bloodshot.

“good.  because i have ways to keep you quiet if you’re not sure how.” he drives into you forcefully, a squeal leaving your lips at the sudden intrusion, your stomach feeling like it’s being prodded with every thrust.

he quirks a brow at your noise, his demeanor changing to one slightly stricter as his eyes zero in on yours, almost like a warning.

you bite your lip, shutting your eyes as you feel his thrusts quicken once more, the feeling of his cock driving into you was almost too much, and you couldn’t help the whimpers that left you with every movement of his hips.

he lets go of your wrists gently, his hands going down to your hips as he quickly flips you onto your stomach, a loud gasp from you easily being muffled as he places a hand on the back of your head, pressing it deeper into the confines of your pillow.  you let out a moan of relief knowing you can at least make some time of noise now.

his thrusts quicken now, his other hand going under your stomach to angle your ass up for him, giving him the perfect view as he smirks to himself at how easily you respond to him.

“that’s a girl.  feel better?” his cock prods your g-spot with every flick of his hips, pushing you closer and closer to the edge till it was nearly unbearable.

you shove your head further into the pillow as you moan loudly, your impending orgasm sneaking up on you quickly with the change of positions, making it nearly impossible for you to respond to him.

he feels the way you’re tightening around him, and he can’t help but throw his head back at the sensation of your walls closing in — it was heavenly.

“f-fuck why are you so tight?” his voice gets huskier with every word, his grip on your side tightening as his thrusts become messy, the feeling of your cunt wrapped so deliciously around him driving him to insanity.

you felt euphoric, teetering on the edge of your orgasm and every stroke of his cock only pushed you closer to the brink, it was almost enough to make you dizzy.

“p-please.” you moan, muffled into your pillow but you can tell he can hear you by the way his hand snakes in between your legs, rubbing circles on your clit with perfect accuracy.

you’re barely able to comprehend what’s happening before you’re sent spiraling over the edge, your legs shaking aggressively as you feel a wave of warmth run over your body.

“holy shit.” jungkook curses as he feels you cream over his cock, your cunt tightening so hard it makes it difficult for him to move, his hips stuttering as he does his best to continue his pace.

you’re a moaning mess, your head shoved deep into the pillow by his hand as you feel his cock continue to plow into you, your mind going blank as your body recovers from your orgasm.

“that’s it, baby.  good girl.  shh, i’m right here.” he mumbles barely understandable praises as he messily drives his dick into you, the tension on your g-spot quickly becoming all you can think about as your pleasure suddenly turns into overstimulation.

you’re writhing, unable to respond properly or tell him it’s too much due to his hold on the back of your head, your legs trembling harshly as you feel his hand settle back on your hip, his fingers digging into you hard enough to leave bruises.

“so perfect, fuck.” he breathes out before bottoming out into you, his cock twitching as he spills his seed deep into your cunt, your walls drinking up every last ounce he has to offer, not letting even a drop go to waste.

he lets out a deep moan, his head collapsing against your chest, his breathing unsteady as he rolls into you one last time, your walls milking him for every thing he has left to give.

you bring a hand up to the back of his head, the feeling of his hair between your fingers as you settle into his locks soothing you in ways you didn’t know were possible.

he slowly pulls away from you, your eyes meeting as he smiles at you softly, a hand going down to your hair as he tucks a strand behind your ear peacefully.

“you’re a lot to handle, you know that right?” he chuckles looking down at you.

“i think you did a pretty good job.” 

he smiles softly, “now i just have to learn how to handle you in class.”

[rebel-hunk-enjoyer]

The last thing about the discord/groupchats really hits home, because that's been me! :) And the only way I found out was that one day I got an AO3 email with more than a single kudos on one particular story, mentioned it to my friend, and was casually told "Oh, yeah, your story ended up on This Ship Discord's Rec List!"

Which was nice, of course, but I wasn't a part of that discord server and could only imagine how my story got recommended, what the people talking about the rec list might have said about it, etc etc.

It's nice to have your story passed around privately but it definitely reinforces the isolation we're seeing more and more in fandom spaces. I would've loved to talk to those fellow fans! I always love to talk to other fans! But rocking up to their discord specifically because something I worked real hard on was briefly mentioned amongst them is probably frowned upon, right?

Fanfiction used to be a way of starting conversations with others, but more and more it's being viewed as an end result to be observed rather than interacted with. A complete product that is finished instead of an ongoing discussion that can be freely joined, contributed to, etc. And I do this myself, I hold myself back, because for every post like this there are a dozen consumer-minded people who roll their eyes about how embarrassing it is to discuss your little stories after you've finished them and released them "to the algorithm" or whatever.

But, look, I cannot describe to you how nice it feels to write something, then have someone talk to you about it and spark ideas back and forth and come up with something new! Together! Collaboratively! It's a rare joy that I think happens behind closed doors more often than not now because seeing how the sausage gets made, how the fanwork is a labor of love, really doesn't appeal in a more consumption-of-product minded fanspace.

I was reading this post over on the Ao3 subreddit this evening and I think it brings up a lot of good points about how fandom, as a community, has been shifting in its treatment towards fanfic writers.

Fanfic is more popular than ever, which means there are more works "competing" for the readers' attention, who take on a passive approach that treats fanworks not as a means to talk to people with similar interests, but as content, as products. [...] Gift cultures thrive not on monetary exchanges, but on the expectation that the gifts freely given will be returned in an unspecified future through emotional and relational means. This used to set fandom apart, but it's slowly being absorbed into the mainstream way capitalism operates. Where does that leave us?

And it's demotivating to see the responses authors get when expressing their grievances with this state of affairs, or how they feel underappreciated. Being called entitled, told to write for themselves, or to promote their work as if writing and posting isn't enough. I write for myself, I post for the community. There are things I want to say about the source material and characters, and I do through storytelling. And I'm grateful about each of the comments I got, no matter how short. It's just that it doesn't feel like there's a community out there when no one talks back. Writers aren't just expected to write, but to do it for the "right reasons", and to also be as pleasant about it as possible, lest they'll be criticized by more people than the amount that's offering them support.

I've seen posts going around on tumblr that have approached this topic as well--that fanworks (particularly fanfic) should be created from the perspective of a perfect vessel that can pour, pour, pour out and never needs to be poured into. You should do it for the "right reasons" and not complain because "no one owes you interaction". But what is fandom if not interaction?

Writing fanfic is one of the most time-consuming labors of love that makes up a fandom. (That's not to say other fanworks aren't labors, time-consuming, or made with love. We're talking about fanfic). Your 300k+ enemies to lovers slowburn porn-with-plot fic that has reshaped the entire way you approach a specific pairing or media has been made with time, effort, for free, with the intention to be shared with you.

And in the state of current fandom, it has been made with the expectation to receive nothing back. Is that fair? Maybe. Silent readers exist and a kudos on Ao3 is at least an acknowledgment that some people read and enjoyed. But does it hurt to leave a comment? Even a heart emoji or an "I loved this, thank you for sharing!" is enough to at least start a dialogue, a conversation, form a connection.

That's not even to mention the isolation of fandom interactions to private Discords; time after time I've heard from fanfic authors who found out that there have been discord servers or twitter groupchats where their fanfic has been discussed, loved, and lauded at length--but never once was the author told this! Ao3 has comments for a reason. Many authors link their tumblr profiles or emails in their bio for people to reach out to them.

It's just a sorry state to see it go.

[jihyoruri]

❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ 𓍢 CHEST PAIN ( I LOVE ) yu jimin x reader

♪ ❝please, I wanna see what we would be if you were by my side❞

⭢ moonstruck good luck, babe! (lowkey don’t need to read these but it might give small context to things)

↳ warnings paranoia!yn, pre debut paranoia, fluff, angst, idol/trainee au

jimin always thought yn was a pretty cool girl. she was rebellious, but that just made her even more intriguing. during her training period, jimin couldn’t help but notice how yn and the two boys she was always with had a different approach to training. they were constantly separated from the other trainees, which only made jimin more curious.

her curiosity grew even more when she found out the reason they were always apart. they weren’t just training. the three of them were creating music for the artists under the company.

to be honest, she didn’t like that the company kept these three talented trainees hidden away in a basement, creating music for already established artists.

then she became one of those artists.

there was something different about yn, that was the only thought running through jimin’s mind as she glanced over the lyrics for i’m unhappy. she couldn’t ignore the nervous flutter in her chest under the girl’s steady gaze.

“you sounded good before, I don’t know why you feel like you need to push yourself even more.”

jimin scoffed, rolling her eyes as she set the lyrics down on the table. “I’m literally a singer. pushing myself is the job.”

yn hummed, a small smirk playing on her lips. “sounds exhausting.”

“so is making songs for people who barely acknowledge you exist.”

yn let out a short laugh at that, shaking her head. “you and I both know that’s not true, everyone requests me.”

it was easy, this kind of back and forth. jimin had always admired yn from afar, but it was different now that they were sitting across from each other, actually talking. yn wasn’t just a name on a credits list anymore she was real, tangible, and somehow even more intriguing up close.

but what really got to her was the way yn spoke. she wasn’t like other producers jimin had worked with. she didn’t sugarcoat things or tiptoe around egos. she was blunt, but not in a cruel way just honest.

it was refreshing. and maybe a little bit dangerous.

because jimin was starting to think she wanted more.

it wasn’t like this was the first time they’d worked together. yn had been making music for the group since their debut. but this was the first time jimin felt something more, felt attracted to her.

maybe it was because yn was still technically a trainee, with her own debut coming up, yet she carried herself with the kind of confidence that made her stand out even in a room full of idols.

or maybe it was because jimin was just now allowing herself to acknowledge how drawn to her she really was. whatever the reason, she found herself making excuses to be around yn more often, finding ways to keep the conversations going after their recording sessions. she wasn’t even subtle about it.

“you wanna hang out?” yn had stared at her like she’d just asked her to commit a crime. karina almost laughed at the expression.

“what? you scared of me or something?”

“no,” yn replied quickly. then, after a pause, “maybe.” that did make jimin laugh. “c’mon. I don’t bite.”

yn hesitated, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “why?”

jimin blinked. “why what?”

“why do you wanna hang out with me?”

jimin tilted her head, pretending to think about it. “hmm. maybe I just think you’re interesting.”

yn scoffed. “that’s a lie.”

“so what if it is?”

yn exhaled, shaking her head. “fine. but just so you know, I don’t do relationships.”

karina shrugged. “that’s perfect. I’m an idol. I don’t need the weight of a relationship either, and your band or whatever is debuting soon so it’s a win.”

and just like that, it started.

their fling started as a casual thing something unspoken but understood between them. jimin was an idol, yn was debuting soon, and neither of them needed anything serious.

but casual didn’t explain the way jimin found herself lingering after studio sessions, watching yn with an intensity she couldn’t even begin to explain.

“you always stare this much?” yn asked one night, barely looking up from her laptop as she adjusted the levels on a track.

jimin scoffed, leaning back in her chair. “I’m not staring.”

yn smirked, finally turning her head to look at her. “you’re literally staring.”

jimin shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “maybe I just think you’re interesting.”

yn arched a brow. “hmm. that’s a lie.”

“so what if it is?”

yn’s shook her head as she returned her focus to the screen. “you’re not as smooth as you think you are, y’know, you’ve already pulled that on me before.”

jimin rolled her eyes but didn’t argue.

late night convenience store runs became a routine. sometimes it was because jimin was craving something specific, other times it was because yn needed a break from the studio.

“ramyeon or kimbap?” jimin asked, standing in front of the shelves.

yn, crouched by the ice cream freezer, glanced up. “both.”

jimin snorted. “you eat like a guy.”

“I do not.” yn shot back, tossing a carton of ice cream into the basket.

jimin grinned. “you do, it’s not your fault babe I blame wonbin and jay.”

“shut up.”

they sat on the curb outside the store, eating in comfortable silence. the streetlights cast a soft glow around them, and for a moment, jimin let herself forget that this wasn’t something real.

that it couldn’t be real.

“you ever think about what you’d be doing if you weren’t an idol?” yn asked suddenly, voice quiet.

jimin thought for a moment, then shrugged. “I don’t know. it felt like I was training forever. this is all I know.”

yn hummed, twirling her chopsticks between her fingers. “I think I’d be a producer. like, full time. not just a trainee stuck in a basement.”

jimin frowned at that. she never liked the way yn talked about herself like she was just some hidden secret the company kept locked away. “you’ll debut soon.”

“yeah.” yn’s lips curled into something unreadable. “but even then, I think i’ll always be more useful behind the scenes.”

jimin didn’t like that answer.

she nudged yn’s knee with her own. “you’re gonna be big, you know.”

yn gave her a skeptical look. “oh yeah?”

“yeah.” jimin grinned. “and then you’ll be the one barely acknowledging the people making your songs.”

yn laughed. “you suck at pep talks, and you know I would never letting anyone anyone but me and the boys touch our tracks.”

jimin just smiled, but she meant what she said.

it was small moments like these quiet, intimate, real that made it hard for jimin to pretend this was just a fling.

but she knew better than to cross that line.

except… sometimes it felt like they already had.

like when yn would adjust jimin’s mic during recordings, her fingers grazing the side of her neck just a little too long.

or when they were packed in a van after a late night session, and yn leaned her head against jimin’s shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world.

or when they were watching a variety show one night, and wonyoung popped up on screen.

“isn’t she so pretty?” jimin said, not thinking much of it.

yn tensed. it was subtle, but jimin noticed.

“she’s okay,” yn muttered. “i’m more of an irene girl.”

jimin raised a brow. “ohhh, you’re into older women.”

yn smirked, turning her head to look at her. “yeah. that’s why i’m hanging with you.”

jimin choked on air. “shut up.”

yn just laughed, leaning back against the couch with that same confident ease that always drove jimin a little insane.

it was in moments like these when jimin’s heart skipped a beat, when she found herself wanting to reach out and pull yn closer that she realized she was in trouble.

she was catching feelings.

and it scared her.

she knew what yn had told her from the start. she knew. but that didn’t stop her from wanting.

and that was dangerous.

so a few days before paranoia’s debut under sm, jimin made a choice.

she ended it.

yn was quiet for a long moment, then she simply nodded. “okay.”

but jimin saw the way she tensed the way her fingers curled just slightly, like she was bracing for impact. and suddenly, jimin was remembering the only other time she’d seen yn react like that.

jimin swallowed the lump in her throat, forcing a small smile. “good luck on your debut.”

yn nodded again, and jimin turned, leaving the room before she could change her mind.

the second she was alone, the tears finally fell.

if only jimin had just told yn how she felt.

because fortunately no, unfortunately  yn felt the same way.

maybe she should’ve just been honest.

and maybe then, her tears wouldn’t have seen a single day.

[slutoru1207]

Stranger in a Strange Land 

Continued… Now with More Chaos!

Mark vs. Modern Technology

Dating Mark came with a lot of challenges.

For one—he hated technology.

Like, genuinely could not figure it out.

"Why does your phone talk?" he frowned, holding it upside down.

"It’s Siri, Mark."

"Who is Siri?" His eyes narrowed. "Should I be concerned?"

You sighed, grabbing your phone back. "No, she’s���she’s not real. It’s an AI."

"…Then why does she know the weather?"

"Because—just trust me, okay?"

Mark still didn’t trust Siri.

(He also definitely tried to fight your Roomba once because he thought it was "a hostile machine.")

Mark, the Clingy Boyfriend

Viltrumites didn’t do space.

As in—they didn’t give space.

Mark didn’t see why he had to be any farther than three inches from you at all times.

"You know, you don’t have to fly me everywhere," you pointed out as he casually scooped you up bridal style before heading out the door.

"Yes, I do," he said simply.

You sighed. "Mark, I have legs."

"And yet," he smirked, "you let me carry you every time."

…Okay, maybe he had a point.

Mark vs. Your Coworkers

Being Invincible’s girlfriend meant everyone at your job had a crush on him.

You knew it. Mark definitely knew it.

I mean woman would whisper when ever he would come and pick you up or drop off some lunch for you.

Which is why, one day, when your coworker was very obviously flirting with you, Mark suddenly appeared out of nowhere.

Like, literally. He just landed right behind you, arms crossed, eyes glowing.

"Hey, babe," he said, pointedly ignoring your coworker.

"Oh my god—how long have you been there?" you yelped.

Mark shrugged. "Long enough."

Your coworker scampered away.

Mark just smirked. "I like your job. I should visit more."

"You should not."

Mark and Human Food (Again)

Mark loved human food now.

A little too much.

"I can eat forty burgers," he announced proudly.

"That’s not a flex," you deadpanned.

He ignored you, shoving another burger in his mouth.

The waitress stared. The couple next to you whispered.

"Mark, people are watching," you hissed.

"Good. Let them witness greatness," he said, stuffing another fry in his mouth.

You sighed.

This was your life now.

Mark’s “Jealousy” Issues

Mark had zero chill when it came to you.

One time, a guy got too close to you in a crowd, and Mark—in the most dramatic fashion possible—just lifted you into the air.

Like, casually. As if that was a normal thing to do.

"MARK!" you yelped.

"What?" he said, completely unfazed. "I don’t like him near you."

"THAT DOESN’T MEAN YOU CAN JUST TAKE ME."

He frowned. "…It doesn’t?"

You groaned. "Oh my god—PUT ME DOWN."

Mark pouted. Actually pouted.

But he did not let you go.

Mark’s “Soft” Side (That He Swears He Doesn’t Have)

You found out Viltrumites could purr.

And Mark absolutely did not know this.

One night, after a long day, he crashed onto your couch, snuggling into you like a giant, overgrown cat.

And then—you heard it.

A deep, low rumbling.

You froze.

"…Mark?"

"Mm?"

"You’re—you’re purring."

He lifted his head, genuinely confused. "What?"

"You’re PURRING," you repeated, grinning.

His entire face went red. "I—Viltrumites do not purr."

You smirked. "Babe, you sound like a big, happy cat right now."

Mark groaned, burying his face in your neck.

"Forget you ever heard that."

Yeah. Not happening.

Conclusion: Dating a Viltrumite is Pure Chaos but you love it.

Mark was clingy, overprotective, and entirely too powerful for his own good.

But he was also sweet, ridiculously loyal, and secretly the softest thing ever.

You wouldn’t trade him for anything.

(Except, maybe, a little more personal space.)

Not that Mark would ever allow that.

[violentlilies]

A thing that is so great about Warhammer is that nothing I hear from ppl on here is a fancanon or an exaggeration.

Now mind you my introduction to 40k was on the straight man side of the fandom so this aspect of the books was never mentioned or it was written off by the mainstream male fandom as “fanfiction from some weird fans”

So Imagine my shock when I found out that Curze really did call Corax “little raven” in the book. My jaw hit the floor. And all this time I thought that was a fanfic petname thing. I even thought “the pet name is a little much, that’s a little cheesy isn’t it” - WELL.

Or Horus and Sanguinius being actually a couple. I thought it was a “they’re just casual buddies in the book and ppl ship them, the usual” - NU UH. It’s shit like “ouuu don’t make me come over there and pluck your feathers you naughty naughty boy” “arrw you wouldn’t you silly goose 😏” - THEY ACTUALLY ARE ABOUT TO FUCK RIGHT HERE ON MY BOOK PAGE.

And the general extreme homoeroticism of the books - WHEW. Nobody prepared me

I thought these would be nerd books full of nerd jargon - imagine my shock when I pick up the Konrad book and THIS READS LIKE A FIC. This is borderline EROTICA in some places. The way Konrad is described, the language that’s used - honey I KNOW an author being down bad for their mc when I see one and that’s one.

Men are shocked that we think Konrad is hot and the book reads like “He caressed his perfect marble body with his black nails, shivering sensuously, his tears streaming down to reveal the godlike perfectly sculpted features underneath, he was a cruel angel” - these are actual paraphrased book quotes. I didn’t make any of these up. The only thing missing from there is “and Tourniquet from Evanescence was playing”.

The fight between Corax and Konrad is straight off ao3. Curze is literally flirting with him the whole time. Reading everything he says about him thru the lore, he’s literally in love with Corax yandere style, idk how else to put it. It’s basic media literacy atp 😭. He’s sitting in his cave obsessively stabbing his corax doll with a heart shaped pin muttering “I love you I hate you I love you i hate you”

The scenes between Sevatar and Konrad are borderline indistinguishable from fics about them minus actually getting down to fucking. Those men are hopelessly devoted to each other.

Curze is in love with everyone he knows,it’s crazy. The fact that he had clear feelings for Sanguinius I don’t even need to say it (and was so upset that they weren’t reciprocated). Bro is about as horny and a yearner as Fulgrim but at least Fulgrim had the excuse of just being sassy and slaaneshi

All the books are fics without the fucking and kissing. Basically.

I literally don’t know how straight bros can read all these books and still think “nah there nothing sexual or erotic about warhammer”.

“Yeah all these primarchs and astartes are 100% sexless and feel nothing for anyone, trust me bro, the Emperor blocked the sex, the gay and the horny out of everyone”

THESE BOOKS ARE GAY EROTICA WITH A PLOT

[aventurineswife]

The little chimeras in the new Amphoreus update are so cute!! How about Reader holding one of those little guys up to Dan Heng and Trailblazer (either Stelle or Caelus, or both if you want!) with puppy eyes and asking if they can keep it? (Even when the crew already has to take care of Trash Cake and a Tuskpir, lol.)

Too Cute to Say No

Summary: While exploring Amphoreus, you stumble upon an adorable chimera and bring it aboard the Astral Express, pleading to Dan Heng, Stelle, and Caelus to let you keep it—despite the chaos caused by their current pets, Trash Cake and the Tuskpir. With puppy eyes and persuasive charm, you convince the crew to adopt yet another cute companion, leading to a mix of exasperation, reluctant acceptance, and heartwarming moments.

Tags: Fluff, Found Family, Humor, Dan Heng being soft.

The Astral Express hummed gently as it drifted through the galaxy, its crew already accustomed to the rhythmic motion. Yet, something different stirred in the air today. The corridors buzzed with excitement as the crew discovered something new and adorable on Amphoreus.

"OMG, this is like, the cutest thing I've ever seen!" you exclaimed, holding up one of the little chimera to the team. The tiny creature’s big, bright eyes and fluffy fur made it impossible not to fall in love instantly. It let out a little chirp and waved its tiny wings excitedly, causing the air around you to feel lighter.

Dan Heng, as usual, was lost in his quiet contemplation, but when he saw you holding the chimera, his gaze shifted ever so slightly. His gaze softened just a fraction, a silent acknowledgment of your request. Still, he was a man of few words, and it was clear he was waiting for something more substantial.

Caelus, perched casually by the window, tilted his head as he observed the creature. His expression was calm, but his eyes shone with curiosity. "Wait, are we actually going down this road? Another pet?" His tone was teasing but affectionate, almost like he was entertained by the idea. "Isn't that Trash Cake enough? Or that beast (pig) you guys call a Tuskpir?"

You flashed them both an irresistible look. "But this one is so cute, you don't even understand! Just look at it!" Your puppy eyes, combined with the chimera’s big, round face, were an unbeatable combination. "It’s tiny, it’s adorable, and it won’t eat through the food supplies like Trash Cake! Please?"

Stelle leaned against the wall, arms crossed, a smirk playing on her lips as she observed the scene unfolding before her. “Bruh, we already have two pets and a million problems to deal with, but this thing? It’s literally begging for attention. Can’t say no to that,” she said, rolling her eyes. "Look at those eyes—it's lowkey pulling my heartstrings. Ugh, I’m not even gonna lie, I might actually be weak for this."

Dan Heng sighed lightly, running a hand through his hair, as if deep in thought. "We already have enough chaos to handle with Trash Cake and the Tuskpir," he murmured, voice smooth but tinged with concern. "But it is cute..." His reluctance was almost palpable, but his soft spot for the chimera's innocent face seemed to be winning.

Caelus grinned, looking between you and the tiny creature. “Y’know what? I’ll admit, that thing’s got vibes,” he said, his voice filled with mock exasperation but clearly amused. “Alright, alright. But if it ends up eating our entire stash of snacks like the other ones did, I’m blaming you.”

Stelle clicked her tongue, not one to be left out of the fun. “I swear, if this thing starts any drama like the others, I’m out. But, fine. You win. It’s too cute to resist."

With the approval from Caelus and Stelle, you smiled brightly, holding the chimera even higher. "Yes!! Thank you!" you cheered, pressing the little creature gently into their hands. The chimera let out a happy chirp, seemingly content in the attention it was receiving.

Dan Heng, though, was quieter than the others. His expression unreadable, he gently stroked the little creature’s soft fur, the chimera chirping in delight. “... I’ll take care of it,” he said in his usual calm tone, though there was a slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips, something rare, something only visible to those who truly paid attention.

"Looks like we’re a full-fledged zoo now," Caelus muttered under his breath, but it was clear there was no real complaint in his voice.

Stelle, rolling her eyes (once again). “Next thing we know, we’ll have a whole army of these things running around.”

But for now, with the chimera safely nestled in your arms and the crew looking on in amused resignation, it was clear: The Astral Express was about to get a little more adorable.

[bugstuff4ever]

headcanon that being in the fellowship is the catalyst for a lot of legolas’s self discovery and growth

the first huge chunk of his life he was under a shit load of pressure, son of the king. leading hunting parties. participating in royal political theater.

these things are stressful, and legolas found himself growing to fit the mold; he was quiet, serious, and as stern as an elven leader had to be.

but suddenly he’s in the fellowship and he’s around all these random mortals who are filled with so much personality and color and life! they are so different from all the elves he’s ever known! and at first it is so shocking that he goes fully silent as he comes to terms with the fact that people like this can actually exist

and then slowly, he comes into himself. he finds himself smiling at merry and pippin, laughing when he understands the joke! he harmonizes with aragorn as they sing dunnedain songs (they sound much more joyful than the elven ballads he’s used to) . he looks at the stars with frodo and they take turns making up lines of silly poetry to describe them.

he is touched by sam’s simple kindness when he offers him the last piece of his jelly tart. he is inspired by stories of boromirs casual wildness, and his affinity for chaotic nights at the tavern with his mates. he is intrigued by gandalf, who alternates between the old stern wizard and the jolly old man who is eager to poke fun and create riddles.

but most of all, he finds himself in gimli.

gimli, who infuriated him, excited him, confused him, inspired him, consumed his every waking thought

gimli, who he exchanged snarky, charged comments with from the get go, and taught him how to let his inner diva OUT. legolas had never thought of himself as sassy, but the more comfortable he got with gim, the more he felt free to speak his mind

gimli, who taught him how to overcome prejudice to see the beauty in others and himself.

gimli, the first person who’d ever flirted with him, and with whom he had tried his best to flirt back (though his heart pounded and his cheeks flushed). gimli, who filled him with complete and total yearning, and craving, and awakened a need he never knew existed.

gimli, a fierce warrior with a tender heart, who showed him it was possible to be an absolute beast on the battlefield, and also the little spoon at night

gimli, who taught him to love and be loved in return

gimli, his unconventional soulmate, who with the help of the fellowship, pulled back the curtain to reveal a version of himself he could have never pictured.

[saddeneddimple]

—𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑨𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝑰𝒕? | 𝑱. 𝑾𝑾 ☾

Genre: Fluff, Suggestive, established relationship, neutral au (this content is 18+, any interaction below the age will be blocked)

~After four months of knowing each other and hitting it off after meeting in an RPG, you and Wonwoo decided on a simple date night binge-watching a new television series in your house, meeting your sweet cat, as well as enjoying each others company ♥︎~

Pairing: UnofficialBf!Wonwoo x Afab!Reader

Warning(s): A little bit of cussing, mentions of alcohol, reader is very nervous (mentions of anxiety/nervousness), heavy kissing, subtle grinding, flirting, heavy talk

svt masterlist the bookshelf (main m.list)

a/n: originally this was Cat Mom, but i kept trying to write it over and over again and i just hated the story more and more, it has a similar(ish) topic but there was a switch-up which im much happier with. ik im the worst at consistency..enjoy!

word count: 2.2k

Your heart skipped beats as you looked at yourself in the mirror, working on your final touches, topping it off with a deep breath. Wonwoo was coming over to your house to watch a show you both planned on binging together, and it being the first time he was going to be inside your home, as ecstatic as you were, anxiety invaded your body. The combination of nervousness and perfectionism didn’t collide well—double, triple, even quadruple checking and fixing everything—clumsiness taking over at times from how jittery you’d get.

Meeting in some RPG you were peer pressured into purchasing by your friends, you and Wonwoo met just playing together, joining each other in quests and occasionally helping each other reach to the games top rank. It went from you both went from exchanging Discords, to numbers, and when you found out you both lived in the same area, it graduated to going on several dates and hanging out in person.

You both clicked in an instant, feeling as if you didn’t need a filter around him or felt the need to pick and choose certain traits to accommodate to his unmentioned preferences, often leaving you thinking that perhaps you felt more comfortable with him at times than with the friends you’ve been around for years.

Your hands running through fabric of your clothing, smoothing itself, you take a final look at yourself in the mirror before the music you had quietly playing through your bluetooth speakers gets interrupted by a familiar jingle being your ringtone. Looking at your cellphones screen, you watched as the phone buzzed on the table, the screen displaying Wonwoos contact name, alongside a picture you had of him from one of the many dates you went on. The skin of your cheeks started growing warm, a soft shade of pink seeping out, your makeup failing to cover the current state of your face.

Clearing your throat, you answer the phone a couple rings before the call ended, “Heyy.” You greeted, playing it off as casual as possible to cover your nervous state.

“Hey, Y/N, uh, what was the code to the gate again? I forgot.” He chuckled over the phone, listening to his husky voice from the call alone sent chills down your spine. You tell him the code, following with a question, “You know which building, right?”

“Yeah, I know—“ He followed with telling you your building and apartment number, “Alright I’m past the gates now, I’ll see you in a little bit, okay?”

“See ya! Call me if you get lost.” You snicker, exiting your bedroom as you walked to the fridge in your kitchen, double checking if you had all the snacks and booze you got just the other day.

“Will do. Bye.” He hung up the call, allowing you to finally breathe a little more comfortably.

It isn’t official yet, neither of you have made the move or tugged at the idea of making it official. You both were consistent and mutually agreed on taking things slow, making this a friends-to-relationship type of deal. You appreciated and even loved the fact he never tried to rush you and was so consistent on taking things slow, refusing to surpass any boundaries and just letting things happen at the right time, it makes the connection between the both of you spark brighter, your infatuation towards him as well grow stronger.

You really liked him and currently, the thought of possibly putting the stamp on making it official has crossed your mind nonstop. Every time you’re around him, your feelings get stronger, you feel secure and sure about him, his intentions are clear, and the fact he’s so respectful and aware of your wants and needs as well as aware of your intentions makes you like him even more.

After a couple of minutes, those minutes feeling like dreadful, elongated hours, you hear a knock on your front door, your already speeding heart racing more than you believe it would, the butterflies in your stomach kicking you. Taking a self-soothing breath, you adjust your already fixed hair as you approached the door, unlocking it as you slowly pull it open, revealing a smiling Wonwoo.

His soft grin etched on his cheeks as his frames sat snuggly on his nose, his broad, catwalk silhouette towered over you as his hands were behind his back, appearing as if he were hiding something from you. An uncontrollably wide smile grows on your face, needing to purse your lips to disguise the wide, almost insane-looking grin.

“Heyyyy!” You greeted, opening the door wider. His eyes skimmed all over you, his sharp yet gentle eyes analyzing your beautiful details.

“Hey, you.” He greeted in return, freeing one of his arms in order to give you a small yet warm hug, your entire body feeling as if sparks were ignited inside of you. After breaking the hug, his hands grazed down your arm, softly holding your hand, fingers intertwining with yours. His soft gaze stayed stuck on you, your sparkling eyes turning into crescents from your wide smile.

“I got this for you, I saw them and it reminded me of you.” He chuckled a little awkwardly, having the hidden arm reveal a bouquet of flowers.

Your eyes widened as a small gasp comes out of you, admiring the bundle of blossoms, a combination of soft pink and deep red roses scattered in the bundle, white gerbera daisies between some of the roses, forming a beautiful contrast with the flowers, the colors of the roses popping out, wrapped in newspaper as it was tightened with a red ribbon, tied with an elegant and aligned bow.

“Oh my god—they’re so beautiful! Thank you, Wonu.” You pout to the sweet gesture, pulling him in for another hug, the scent of his cologne intoxicating you. “Come in, come in!” You gesture him, faintly holding his hand as he walked into the apartment.

Entering the apartment, he was analyzing the living space, nodding his head in approval to the decorative design you picked out for the home, his eyes suddenly braking at the end of your couch, spotting the cat tree. With his head slightly tilted as his eyebrows subtly furrowed, he asked, “You have a cat?”

Your eyes followed in his eyes direction, looking at your cat tree with him,

“Yeah! I do. She’s probably hidden somewhere she doesn’t really do too well with strangers.” You chuckle as you prep a vase you had, partially filling it with water as you set the flowers inside of it, arranging the bouquet to your liking.

He gave a returning chuckle in response as his eyes shifted to you, watching you arrange the flowers as you place it in the center of your dining table, watching as you were admiring the bunch while he was admiring you, his adoring gaze never straying away.

You look back, catching his eyes on you, your body flushed as a smile instinctively widened across your face, breaking eye contact.

“What?-“ you drag in your shy tone, a small giggle escaping you as you attempt to look at him, nearly failing to maintain eye contact.

“Nothing, you’re just so cute.” His smile widening, his nose scrunching a little in admiration to your flustered state.

His words alone made you break eye contact once again, looking down as your smile never faded, your grin so wide it nearly cramped your face.

“Stop—“ You whine as Wonwoo approached you, holding both your hands as his smug grin remains sewn on his cheeks, meanwhile you bit your bottom lip to hide your bashful smile.

Your bodies grew closer, his hand slivering its way to your waist, holding it lightly as your bodies swayed amongst each other. Looking at his plush lips, the craving to taste them grew stronger, but both your nervousness and the sake of trying not to make a move too quick held you back.

You both eventually settled down, gathering the snacks you prepared as well as a couple of beers, both of you sitting on the couch as you shared a blanket.

His arm wrapped around your shoulder, his thumb grazing your clothed skin, both your eyes glued on the screen, micro expressions revealing reactions to the scenes and plot of the show you started watching.

Suddenly, you hear a soft meow from a distance, making you turn your head in the sounds direction, catching your sweet tabby cat looking at you, following a stretch before hopping on the couch. The cat grabbed Wonwoos attention as well, finally meeting your feline child for the first time.

A small gasp can be heard from him, “Is that your cat? She’s so cute!” He whisper yells, trying not to interrupt the show as best he could as well as in attempt to not scare off your cat.

You nod in response with a smile, gesturing the cat to come closer, which she did. Once she looked at Wonwoo she stood still as a statue, her eyes widening. She approached him slowly, sniffing him along the way, being very cautious with every step she took.

Catching the both of you off guard, especially you, you watch her immediately warm up to Wonwoo, standing on his lap, loudly purring as she rubbed her head on his chest, wanting his attention. You go wide-eyed, your jaw dropping as she gets pet with Wonwoos free hand.

“She got comfortable with you insanely quick! What?” You chuckled.

Wonwoo pulled you closer with the arm he had around you, your heart that was finally calm beginning to race.

“I guess she knows I like you.” He murmured. A beam of lightning rippled through your body, your face flushed to a rosey red, fortunately hidden by the darkness surrounding the both of you, the TV being the only source of light available.

“She definitely knows I like you.” You chuckled, in attempt to hide the fact you’re internally shrieking.

His eyes met yours, his glasses reflecting the glowing screen in its corners. You melt in his arms, looking into his dilated cat-like eyes, his large frame hovering over you in contrast to his gentle demeanor. The moment got slightly interrupted when your cat suddenly ran off to a small beeping sound, Wonwoo jolted a little to her sudden reaction.

“It’s just the feeder, it’s okay.” You reassure with a chuckle, a small brush of confidence stroked your body as you softly cup his cheek to have him look at you, taking off his glasses in the process.

“I want to see your eyes better.” You mutter out, your eyes shifting between his eyes and lips.

A smirked etched on his face as his free hand ghosts over your thigh, “What about the show?” He asked, his velvety voice deepening,

“What about it?” You ask, both your bodies inching closer, that spark of subtle dominance leaving as quickly as it entered.

His chuckle darkened as his hand gripped your thigh, moving your leg on top of his, nearly straddling him, “You’re so cute when you act like you aren’t flustered—makes me want to just get you more nervous and shy.”

With a sheepish grin, your breathing suddenly hitched to the movement, his eyes piercing into yours, not allowing you to break its deepening contact.

“Wonuu—“ You whined, following a timid giggle.

“Yeah?” He raised his eyebrow, his hand cupping your cheek, his bottom lip grazed yours, his hot breath fanning against your skin.

“Oh, fuck that.” You groan out, pulling him by the collar of his hoodie, your lips finally crashing as your body turned to putty against his.

His sweet taste foreign yet turned instantly addicting, letting a sigh come out of you as his hands subtly roamed your delicate body, their final placement being at your waist, your pressed bodies only getting closer, having your legs straddled on one of his thighs. Your fingers running through his hair, you slightly tug on the silky strands, causing a groan to escape him, his grip only tightening as your lips remained hungrily intertwined, his soft tongue gliding on your bottom lip, eventually dominating your mouth.

Your stomach turned into a knot as your core got tense, your breathing gone heavy as you feel yourself pool above him. He moved his hand to cup your cheek, however his thumb traveled to the opposite end of your jaw, his fingers nearly on your throat. Feeling his placement, your desire turned darker, pushing yourself forward which made his land lace around your throat, having him react to your move with a smug chuckle.

He distanced his lips from yours, leaving a small clear trail between each other. A small whine leaves you as you felt empty without his taste, needing that fix. His intimidating eyes looked up to your current state, on top of him as your radiating heat was seeping into him, watching how you leashed yourself with his hand, how easily you gave into him.

“You’re so beautiful when you’re like this.” He cooed, his hand on your waist pulling you closer, the sudden grinding friction making you sharply inhale as your core pulsated, your breathing growing heavier as you felt the puddle beneath you grow worse, your body becoming sensitive to the touch, its sensation sending waves of subtle pleasure up your taut muscles.

“What about the show?” You ask his question from earlier, trying to disguise your embarrassment from the quick turn to desperation.

“What about it?” He tilted his head, repeating your previous words with a smirk, a small scoff coming out of you before your lips crash onto his once again, deeper and hungrier than before.

[frarxvr]

Pairing : lando Norris × girl Friend ! Reader

Monaco was breathtaking at night—the soft hum of expensive cars rolling down the street, the glow of streetlights casting golden reflections on the pavement, and the ocean air carrying the distant sounds of laughter from yachts docked nearby. It was a place that felt like a dream. But for Y/N, it had started to feel more like a stage.

She walked beside Pietra, talking about the new boutique they had visited earlier, keeping her tone light and casual. But she was hyper-aware of the two men behind them—Lando and Max. She could feel Lando’s eyes on her, lingering, waiting.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to walk with him. She just didn’t want to give the people watching—because there were always people watching—more to talk about.

Every time she was seen with Lando, there was backlash.

"She’s using him."

"She never even looks at him in public."

"Lando treats her like a queen, and she acts like he doesn’t exist."

"She’s embarrassed to be seen with him—how is she even his girlfriend?"

She read the comments. Every single one.

She wasn’t using him. She loved him. But loving someone in private and loving someone under the microscope of the world were two different things.

Lando had a heart too big for his own good—always kind, always smiling, always giving. And the world loved him for it. But they didn’t love her. They tore her apart, picked at every little thing she did, found ways to turn even her smallest actions into something ugly.

So she tried to make it easier—for both of them.

Instead of walking beside him, she walked with Pietra. Instead of holding his hand, she kept her hands occupied with her purse, her phone, anything that would keep the cameras from capturing something they could twist.

She wasn’t stupid. She knew that if she stood too close, if she smiled at him the way she wanted to, if she reached for his hand like she always did when they were alone, the next morning there would be a dozen new articles analyzing her every move.

So she didn’t.

And Lando hated it.

A few steps later, they reached a quieter street, and Lando finally caught up. She could hear his footsteps pick up behind her, could feel the warmth of him as he stepped beside her, walking close enough that his hand brushed against hers.

He was waiting.

She didn’t react.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice softer now, low enough that only she could hear.

Her chest tightened. She glanced at him briefly—just long enough to see the frustration flickering in his eyes—before she turned her attention back to Pietra, continuing their conversation like nothing had happened.

Lando wasn’t an idiot.

He knew when something was wrong. And something was wrong.

Y/N hadn’t always been like this—distant, careful, guarded. When they were alone, she was his. She’d steal his hoodies when she thought he wasn’t looking,

Max and Pietra were with them, but Lando barely noticed. His attention was on Y/N—always on her. She walked ahead, her arm linked with Pietra’s, her voice light as they talked about some dress they’d seen earlier.

And she was ignoring him. Again.

He sighed, his jaw tightening as he glanced at Max, who shot him a knowing look.

“Mate, what’s up with you?” Max asked, keeping his voice low.

Lando ran a hand through his curls, frustrated. “Nothing,” he muttered, but his eyes were locked on Y/N.

She hadn’t looked at him once since they left the restaurant. Not when he reached for her, not when he said her name, not when he needed her to.

It felt like she was slipping through his fingers.

And the worst part?

He didn’t even know why.

____________________

The hotel room was silent except for the soft rustling of shopping bags as Y/N walked in, setting them down on the table. She sighed, rubbing her temples before dropping her purse next to them.

Lando, who had just closed the door behind them, exhaled sharply, running a hand through his curls. He had been patient—so fucking patient. But he couldn’t do this anymore.

“Alright, what the fuck is going on?” His voice was rough, frustration laced into every word.

Y/N tensed but didn’t turn around.

Lando stepped closer. “You’ve been acting like I don’t exist all day. Hell, for weeks now. You barely even look at me when we’re out. You won’t hold my hand, you won’t stand next to me, you act like I’m some stranger on the street—”

“I don’t—” she tried to cut in, but Lando wasn’t finished.

“You do! You fucking do!” His voice rose, his frustration boiling over. “I feel like I did something to you. Like I ruined something, but I don’t even know what the fuck I did!”

Y/N finally turned around, her breath shaky, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. “You didn’t do anything.”

Lando scoffed, throwing his hands up. “Then why do you keep acting like this? Like you don’t even want to be seen with me? You think I don’t notice when you walk ahead? When you make excuses to not stand next to me? Why, Y/N?!”

She swallowed hard, her vision blurring as her chest tightened. She had held this in for so long. Too long. And now, under the weight of Lando’s words, it was cracking open.

“Because they hate me, Lando!” Her voice broke, the words spilling out before she could stop them.

Lando froze, his brows furrowing. “What?”

She let out a shaky breath, her hands trembling. “Your fans. The whole fucking world. They hate me.”

Lando’s frustration faltered, his expression shifting. “Y/N…”

“No, don’t.” She shook her head, her throat tightening. “Do you know what they say about me? How I’m using you? How I’m embarrassed to be with you? How I don’t deserve you?” Her voice cracked, a tear slipping down her cheek. “I see it every day. I open my phone, and it’s there. I walk outside, and I feel it.”

Lando took a step closer, but she stepped back, wiping at her face. “I try, Lando. I try to ignore it. I try to be strong. But it’s everywhere. No matter what I do, it’s never good enough. I could be the perfect girlfriend, and they would still find a reason to hate me.”

Lando’s chest ached at the sight of her breaking apart in front of him. He had no idea she had been holding all of this inside.

She let out a bitter laugh, sniffling. “And the worst part? I started to believe them.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “Maybe I don’t deserve you.”

Lando stared at her, his blue eyes darkening with frustration and something else—something raw. "What the hell are you saying? Do you even hear yourself?"

Y/N bit her lip, her breathing unsteady. She couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t face the weight of his gaze.

But Lando wasn’t having it.

“Look at me,” he demanded, voice rough, his hands gripping her waist, firm but not forceful. When she didn’t, he tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his eyes. “Say that again. I dare you.”

She swallowed, her throat dry. “I just—”

“No.” His grip tightened slightly. “I want to hear you say it again. Tell me you don’t deserve me.”

Y/N’s chest rose and fell quickly, her pulse racing.

She couldn’t.

Because the way Lando was looking at her—like she was the only thing in the world that mattered—made it impossible.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he muttered, shaking his head. “That’s the dumbest fucking thing you’ve ever said.”

Tears welled in her eyes again, but this time, not from sadness.

Lando exhaled, his frustration melting into something softer. He cupped her face, his thumb grazing her cheek. "You think I would be here if I didn’t want to be? You think I’d chase after you, fight for you, stand in front of the whole world and say you’re mine if I didn’t fucking mean it?"

Y/N’s breath hitched.

“You don’t get to decide if you deserve me,” Lando continued, voice lower now, almost a whisper. “That’s my decision. And guess what?” He leaned in, lips brushing against hers, teasing, torturing. “I choose you.”

And then he kissed her. Deep. Desperate. Like he had something to prove.

And Y/N?

For the first time in a long time, she let herself believe that maybe—just maybe—he was right.

[loveunt0ld]

juno - hwang hyunjin

he’s always been your best friend, ever since middle school. but somewhere along the way, that all changed and then you found yourself seeing him from a different perspective. noticing the way your heart danced extra when he was around. little do you know, hyunjin’s been in the same boat for a while now too. is a silly game of truth or dare enough to change that?

a/n: this is my first time writing something like this but i really wanted to for hyun’s bday! this is sort of lightly inspired by sabrina carpenter’s juno. happy birthday my forever love ♡

—

hwang hyunjin. that was the name of your best friend, who you’ve been in love with for the past couple of years now. you remember meeting him all those years back. he warmed up to you rather quickly. he was a ray of sun on the most gloomiest of your days. he was light personified. even though he tells you he’s the lucky one, he doesn’t realize the ways in which he’s changed your life. your happiest moments were all thanks to him. what a privilege it is to grow up with the warmest soul on planet earth you thought.

you two were now in your last year of college, and you still hadn’t confessed the way you felt about him. it’s been years of lingering touches, longing looks and nothing from either of you. despite how close you were to hyunjin, you could never tell what he truly thought of you. to the average person, you two looked like you were dating, so clearly in love. but between you two? you were both too scared to cross that line.

you were pulled out of your thoughts by a tap on your shoulder. you turned around to see him. hyunjin. you felt your heart leap out of your chest, but you smiled upon seeing him.

“y/n? are you okay?” hyunjin asked, concerned something was bothering you. you shook your head, scared that your voice would shake and betray you. you grounded yourself before answering.

“yes hyune. i’m ok, i promise.” too close you thought. hyunjin gave you a look before accepting your answer, not wanting to pry anymore. you’ll talk to him when you’re ready he thought. he has no idea you close you are to just saying to hell with it, especially when he looks at you like you personally put the stars in the sky.

“if you say so. i just wanted to ask if we were still on for our little get together later?” he asks. he was celebrating his birthday with a small party. you had been anxiously waiting. you had spent an insane amount of time trying to get him a gift, but nothing ever felt just right.

“of course hyun! how could i forget?” you smiled, feeling your heartbeat in your ears. you prayed he couldn’t hear it. he gave you prettiest smile ever, with his crescent moon eyes on full display. he’s the prettiest when he’s happy you thought.

“i knew you wouldn’t. just wanted to remind my favorite girl is all. i don’t think i’d have a good time if you weren’t there.” he playfully says, all while playing with your hand. this can’t be casual anymore. he’s starting a whole war in your heart and he’s not even aware of it. you’re reminded that this whole party wasn’t even his idea to begin with, but rather your friend groups idea. you hoped he’d at least have fun.

“i obviously need to be there. who else is gonna bug you if not me?” you joked. he laughed, knowing he’d feel some sort of calmness with you there. it’s just so easy to do things with him by your side. he thought so too. you stared at him, hearts in your eyes. he looked down at his watch, immediately standing up.

“i didn’t realize i’m gonna be late for my next class. ill see you later, ok love?” he said while hugging you, not forgetting to land a kiss on your head. this is totally not what bestfriends do. you waved him goodbye, already nervous for the next time you’d see him.

—

later arrives and you’re standing outside of hyunjin’s apartment. you can feel the music coming from inside and you already know what to expect when you walk in there. leave it to jisung and felix for being in charge of attendance. your nerves settled as quickly as they rose. you texted hyunjin, telling him you arrived. seconds later he opened the door, looking at you and just taking in your appearance.

“hi pretty. im glad you made it. just be warned it’s a little crazy in there.” he stated, as if you couldn’t see past his shoulder where the madness ensued. you laughed anyways, happy he warned you regardless. he took your hand before he shut the door and led you to where his friends were. all of them immediately turning their heads towards your arriving figures and smiling, like they all knew something you didn’t.

“i see he’s already protecting you from this madhouse.” seungmin says, practically yelling over the music. you both chuckled, but too nervous to say the wrong thing.

“now that y/n is here, we should play a game! anyone up for truth or dare?” jeongin proposed while the others wore knowing smirks, clearly aware of his intentions. they all agreed to it, including hyunjin. you felt your heart drop, scared of what would happen.

—

you’re all sat in a big circle. it’s childish that this is the game they chose to play, right? but in the same nature, it felt fitting given the scenario. hyunjin sat by your side, listening to the outrageous things that were coming out of your friends mouths. each truth or dare becoming more outrageous than the last. your stomach hurt from constantly laughing, it was almost enough to make you forget that you and hyunjin were also playing.

“your turn hyunjin!” minho yells, snapping you out of your thoughts. you tensed a little bit. you had no idea what they had planned for him but you don’t know if you liked it one bit. hyunjin, on the other hand, looked calm. he didn’t indulge in his choice too much.

“dare.” hyunjin states. now you were sure everything you tried so hard to hide from him would be undone in a matter of minutes. maybe you needed this push, before it was too late. either way, that didn’t help to settle the storm brewing in you right now. you looked around, hoping the dare wouldn’t involved you. but they all knew your feelings for him.

it’s minho who also announces the dare. “i dare you to tell your crush how you feel. at this exact moment. doesn’t have to be in front of us, but you should tell her.” he reveals and you feel like you can’t breathe for just a second. that is until hyunjin is taking your hand and taking you upstairs to his room, that’s when you snap out of it.

the guys watch as hyunjin drags you away. they look at each other, knowing it’s long overdue. changbin starts talking, “do you think he’ll be mad at us?” clearly worried about what hyunjin would do. chan can only laugh beside him.

“he wouldn’t be. not when she feels the exact same way about him.” chan assures them, and that’s enough for all of them to smile at each other, happy that hyunjin would finally have the girl of his dreams.

—

up in hyunjin’s room, neither of you could look at each other. you hovered near his bed, while he stood at the door, making sure to lock it. the tension in the room thick enough to be cut through with a knife. you hear him shuffling around but you’re too scared to look up at him. you see his shoes come into view, knowing he’s standing right in front of you.

“y/n… i knew they would do that. but the truth is, i planned to tell you on my own terms. they’re not wrong. it’s just that, somewhere along the way, my like become love. im in love with you. you’re the only one for me y/n.” hyunjin states while looking down at you. “will you look at me y/n? i want to see you.” that’s enough to have you slowly look up at him.

“hyunjin, i have something to tell you too.” you confess, deciding to lay it all on the table before you changed your mind and ran away from it again. he waits for it, knowing the world you two so perfectly built together is about to change.

“i want you to know that im so in love with you. i have been for a while. and i need you to know that i want you to keep falling in love with me for as long as we let each other.” you whisper, too scared of how he’ll react. the room was charged with the desire you two had for each other. he stared into your eyes as he grabbed your hands, silently asking for your permission while he got impossibly closer. you nodded, more than willing to let him in.

hyunjin kissed you with the hunger of a starved man. you wrapped your arms around his neck while he held tightly onto your waist. he deepened the kiss while he brought you as close as your bodies would allow. he walked you two back to his bed and eventually your knees hit the edge causing you to fall backwards. the kiss broke, while you two pulled away to giggle and he made sure not to put all his weight on you.

“i don’t think you realize how long ive wanted to do that for, baby.” he softly spoke, while brushing a strand of hair out of your face. you smiled up at him, not believing anything that just happened. you two sat up while he pulled you onto his lap, straddling him. he lazily drew circles with his thumbs while he held onto your waist.

“the amount of times i almost threw all caution out of the window when we were alone. I’m glad i didn’t but, i also wished id done it sooner.” you reveal while caressing his cheeks, leaning in to plant a soft kiss to the tip of his nose. hyunjin looked up at you, eyes so full of love.

“keep on loving me y/n. i won’t break your heart ever. and if i do? please tell me im the dumbest man on earth. don’t ever let me do such a thing.” he pleaded softly. you nodded, knowing he was being true to his word. you leaned your forehead against his. hyunjin would make sure to make you the happiest girl ever.

“you know, i originally had another gift for you. but i don’t think anything can beat this. happy birthday my lover.” you state, while leaning in for another kiss. he kisses you softly this time. trying to savor the moment, while basking in the warmth that is you.

“i have an idea or two.” hyunjin suggests while smirking. you laugh, having no choice but to give in. he’s the birthday boy after all, and the love of your entire life. the man of your dreams. after years of pining, he’s finally yours and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[sturnsblogs]

MEET AND GREET. PART 2.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Ever since that night, you and Chris had been texting nonstop. And maybe… calling too.

What started as casual conversations had turned into late-night FaceTime calls, inside jokes, and him finding every excuse to talk to you. It had been a month now, and Chris had been begging to take you on a date. But every time he asked, you had the same answer—“I wish, but I’m so busy with work.”

That didn’t stop him, though. If anything, it only made him more persistent.

And the paragraphs? Oh, the paragraphs.

Chris had a way with words, and he made sure you knew exactly how much he wanted to see you.

—

Chris: I swear, ma, you’re actually dodging me at this point. Just say you don’t wanna go out with me, and I’ll take my L like a man.

Y/N: Chris, stopppp. You know I want to, but I literally don’t have the time. I’m drowning in work.

Chris: I’d rather you be drowning in my love instead, but go off, I guess.

Y/N: Not you being dramatic.

Chris: Dramatic?? Baby, you got me out here writing paragraphs like I’m in a Wattpad story.

Y/N: Oh yeah? Prove it.

A few minutes passed before your phone buzzed again, and when you opened the message, your heart melted.

—

Chris: You don’t get it, baby. I’m actually obsessed with you. Like, I wake up, and my first thought is, “Damn, I wonder what Y/N’s doing.” And then I go through my day annoyed because you’re too busy to text me back as much as I want you to. And don’t get me started on the nights when I really wanna call you, but you’re passed out from work.

Chris: And yeah, I know I’m being dramatic, but can you blame me?? You’re you. You got me out here grinning at my phone like an idiot whenever you text me. It’s disgusting. I hate it. (I love it, actually. But whatever.)

Chris: So yeah, I’m gonna keep begging until you let me take you on a date, because let’s be honest—you owe me at this point. I deserve compensation for my emotional damage.

—

You stared at the screen, your stomach flipping.

Y/N: Chris, wtf. Why is this the cutest thing I’ve ever read.

Chris: Because I’m the cutest person you’ve ever met. Duh.

Y/N: I cannot stand you.

Chris: Then sit on my lap instead.

Your jaw dropped.

Y/N: CHRIS??

Chris: What?? I’m just tryna give you options, baby.

You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling.

Y/N: Fine. I’ll think about it.

Chris: Nah, mama. You’re gonna do more than think. I’m getting that date. Watch.

—

Later That Night—FaceTime Call

You were lying in bed, barely keeping your eyes open as your phone balanced on your pillow, FaceTime open with Chris. He was propped up against his headboard, messy curls falling into his eyes, one arm behind his head as he stared at you through the screen.

“You’re literally about to pass out,” he teased, voice soft, amused.

“I’m not,” you argued, blinking slowly. “Maybe a little.”

Chris chuckled, shaking his head. “You work too much, ma. You need a break.”

You sighed, rubbing your eyes. “I know, but I’m just—”

Chris cut you off with a dramatic groan. “If you say ‘busy with work’ one more time, I swear to God—Y/N, please. Let me take you out. Just once.”

You bit your lip, feeling a little guilty. He had been asking for a month now. And honestly? You wanted to go out with him. More than anything.

You took a deep breath, hesitating before finally saying, “Okay.”

Chris blinked. “Wait, what?”

You smiled sleepily. “I finally found a day. For our date.”

His face lit up. “Shut up. You serious?”

“I’m serious.”

Chris sat up immediately, running a hand through his hair, grinning at the camera. “Nah, you’re lying. Say it again.”

You giggled. “I finally found time for our date, Chris.”

He let out a loud, dramatic “FINALLY!” before throwing his head back against his pillow. “Oh my God, I was this close to giving up.”

“You were not giving up,” you said, laughing.

Chris smirked. “You’re right. I wasn’t. But I was about to start plotting. Like, I was gonna show up at your job with flowers and make you feel so bad that you’d have no choice but to say yes.”

You rolled your eyes, smiling. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, you just agreed to a date with me.”

You shook your head, trying to fight back the grin on your face. “Yeah, yeah. I did.”

Chris’ voice softened a little, his playful smirk fading into something more genuine. “Good. ‘Cause I can’t wait to see you, baby.”

Your heart melted.

“Me too,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

Chris smiled at you through the screen, eyes warm, lazy. “Alright, mama. Go to sleep before you pass out mid-call. I’ll text you tomorrow.”

You yawned, nodding. “Fine. But you better not back out now.”

Chris scoffed. “Oh, please. I waited a month for this. I’m locking you in.”

You giggled, giving him a sleepy wave. “Goodnight, Chris.”

“Night, baby.”

And as soon as the call ended, you buried your face into your pillow, grinning like an idiot.

You had a date with Chris Sturniolo.

—

The week passed in a blur, and before you knew it, Saturday had arrived—the day of your long-awaited date with Chris.

The morning had been filled with back-and-forth texts, Chris making sure you hadn’t suddenly changed your mind, and you teasing him for acting like you were about to ghost him.

—

Chris: Still locked in for tonight, right?

Y/N: Chris. We literally confirmed this 10 times already.

Chris: Yeah, but you could change your mind in the last 5 minutes and say you’re “too busy with work” again.

Y/N: I swear on everything, I will block you.

Chris: That’s crazy ‘cause you’re tryna block me from your heart too.

Y/N: GOODBYE.

Chris: Nah, ma. I’ll see you at 7. Wear something cute.

—

And now, here you were—standing in front of your mirror, heart pounding as you put the final touches on your outfit.

You had taken your time getting ready, wanting to look perfect. A little extra effort, just to make sure Chris would notice.

Meanwhile, across town, Chris was having a crisis of his own.

He stood in front of his closet, running a hand through his hair, debating between two shirts. “Why the fuck am I nervous?” he muttered to himself.

Nick, sprawled on Chris’s bed, rolled his eyes. “Because you’ve been obsessed with her for a month, dude. Just wear the first one, it’s fine.”

Chris groaned but eventually settled on a casual, but clean-cut outfit—something effortless but still put together. He stared at himself in the mirror, exhaling.

“This is nothing,” he told himself. “Just a date.”

Then, under his breath, “With the girl I’ve been thinking about every damn day.”

—

The Restaurant

The place Chris had picked was small and tucked away—a cozy little restaurant with dim lighting, warm ambiance, and the kind of charm that made it feel personal. He got there first, his leg bouncing slightly as he checked his phone, waiting for your text.

And then, finally—

Y/N: I’m here.

Chris barely had time to process before the door opened, and you stepped inside.

His breath hitched.

He had seen you through FaceTime, seen pictures, but this? Seeing you walk toward him, dressed up just for him? It was different.

You were gorgeous.

Chris immediately stood up, his smirk softening into something warmer, more genuine. His eyes ran over you, his head tilting slightly in admiration before he exhaled dramatically.

“Damn, ma.”

You bit your lip, suddenly shy under his gaze. “What?”

Chris shook his head, stepping closer. “You actually expect me to sit through this whole dinner pretending I’m normal about how good you look right now?”

Your face heated. “Chris—”

“Nah, for real, baby,” he said, grinning. “You’re stunning. You did this for me?”

You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling. “Maybe.”

Chris leaned in a little, dropping his voice. “I like maybe.”

You laughed softly, feeling your nerves melt away as he pulled out your chair for you. “Gentleman behavior? I’m impressed.”

Chris winked, sliding into his seat across from you. “Only for you, pretty girl.”

And with that, the night had only just begun.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

A/N- What do we think?

My beautiful babies- @blushsturns @starrii-sturns @izzylovesmatt @chrisslut04 @jimmasterflashh @oopsiedaisydeer @csturnioloswifey @just-a-girl-1 @sturdyyolo @sturnslvtt @sturnbows @sturniolosrtewsexy @chriss-slutt @franticroads @thecrawlys @ribbonlovergirl @cass-sturn

[moonlight-joy]

Love in Disguise

MASTERLIST

Fandom: Bridgerton

Summary:  At a masquerade ball, you share a kiss with a stranger. The next day, Benedict won’t stop teasing you about your secret rendezvous, unaware that it was actually him.

Pairing: Reader/Benedict Bridgerton

Masquerades were dangerous things.

In the golden glow of candlelit chandeliers, beneath the shimmer of silk and the flutter of gilded masks, secrets were whispered, hearts were lost, and for a fleeting moment—one could become anyone.

That was precisely why you adored them.

For one night, you were not the carefully poised lady of the ton, burdened with expectations and propriety. No, tonight, you were someone else entirely. A mystery. A whisper of silk and laughter in the crowd.

And it was intoxicating.

You had lost count of how many dances you had stolen beneath the glittering lights, how many strangers had twirled you across the ballroom floor. The thrill of anonymity hummed in your veins as you slipped away from the main hall, drawn toward the cool night air of the garden terrace.

That was when you met him.

A tall figure, dressed in deep navy, his silver mask glinting under the moonlight. He leaned casually against the stone railing, as if the noise of the ball held no interest for him.

"You are escaping the chaos as well?" you ventured.

The stranger turned his head, his lips curving into an amused smile. "One could argue that the true fun happens away from prying eyes."

Your breath caught at the familiarity of his voice, though you could not quite place it. Deep, warm, edged with humor.

"And are you often one for trouble?" you teased.

His gaze flickered over you, something curious lingering there. "Only when I find someone equally willing to indulge in it."

The words sent a thrill down your spine. You should have turned away, should have given a polite farewell and returned to the safety of the ball.

But this was a masquerade.

And what was a masquerade without a little danger?

The stranger stepped closer, the heat of his presence sending your pulse into a frenzy. "Tell me," he murmured, "do you believe that some moments are meant to be seized?"

You inhaled sharply. "Yes."

His fingers brushed over yours, hesitant, searching.

You did not pull away.

Instead, you tilted your chin up, daring, breathless.

And then, just as the clock struck midnight, he kissed you.

It was soft at first, a question rather than a demand. But as his lips molded against yours, as his hands found your waist, something deep and electric crackled in the space between you.

The world blurred.

Nothing else existed but the press of his lips, the warmth of his touch, the way he made you feel utterly, completely alive.

And then—

A voice echoed from inside the ballroom. "Midnight unmasking! Midnight unmasking, everyone!"

Your stranger tensed.

You pulled away, breathless, dazed.

"Wait," you whispered, reaching for him—

But he was already gone.

Vanished into the night, leaving nothing behind but the ghost of his touch and the pounding of your own heart.

You awoke the next morning feeling as if you had lived a dream.

The masquerade, the stolen kiss, the mystery of it all—it was something out of a novel. And yet, the warmth of his touch, the way his lips had lingered against yours…

That had been real.

And you needed to find him.

But before you could even begin to think of a plan, a familiar voice interrupted your thoughts.

"My dear lady, you are positively radiant this morning."

You turned sharply, narrowing your eyes at the sight of Benedict Bridgerton, lounging against the doorway of the drawing room with a knowing smirk.

"Good morning to you too," you replied, arching a brow.

Benedict stepped further into the room, his expression far too smug for your liking. "I must say, you seem unusually… distracted. Could it be that a certain masked stranger stole your heart last night?"

Your blood ran cold.

"You—how do you—" You sputtered, heat rushing to your cheeks.

He grinned. "Everyone is talking about it. The enchanting lady who vanished into the night, leaving some poor soul utterly bewitched. It's quite the mystery."

You crossed your arms. "And why do you assume I was involved?"

Benedict tilted his head, eyes gleaming with mischief. "Because, dearest, you have that look."

"What look?"

"The look of a woman who spent her evening kissing a stranger in the moonlight."

Your heart nearly stopped.

He could not know.

Could he?

You forced a scoff, turning away. "You are insufferable, Benedict Bridgerton."

"And you," he countered, stepping closer, "are hiding something."

Your pulse thrummed.

Benedict had always been playful, always teasing. But there was something else in his gaze now—something sharp, perceptive.

He had no idea he had been the one you kissed.

And yet, here he was, unknowingly tormenting you over it.

The irony was infuriating.

"Tell me," he continued, a smirk playing on his lips, "was he handsome?"

You clenched your jaw. "I don’t recall."

"A shame," Benedict mused. "Though I suppose his kiss must have been rather unforgettable?"

You narrowed your eyes. "Why do you care so much?"

Benedict shrugged. "Oh, I don’t. I simply enjoy watching you squirm."

You nearly threw a cushion at him.

Instead, you lifted your chin, summoning every ounce of dignity. "If you must know, he was rather charming."

Benedict’s smirk faltered—just slightly.

Interesting.

"And I daresay," you added, voice smooth as silk, "he kissed far better than you likely ever could."

A flicker of something dark passed through his gaze. "Is that so?"

"Indeed." You smirked. "Not that you would ever have the opportunity to prove me wrong."

For a moment, Benedict was silent.

Then, slowly, deliberately, he stepped closer—so close that you could see the flecks of silver in his blue eyes.

"That," he murmured, voice lower now, "sounds like a challenge."

Your breath hitched.

For a wild, reckless moment, you thought he might kiss you right then and there.

And God help you—you would have let him.

But instead, he only chuckled, stepping back with an infuriating grin.

"Well, my dear," he said lightly, "I do hope your mystery lover returns. After all, it would be such a shame if you never found him again."

Your pulse pounded.

He had no idea.

None at all.

And that, perhaps, was the cruelest part of it all.

Benedict Bridgerton had already stolen your heart.

He simply didn’t know it yet.

Please support my work with like and comment

[haerenven]

Hey! I love the way you write! Could you do one where the reader is accidentally creepy? They like bones and things normally associated with death and don't realize how creepy that can be. With anyone you like!

        ∎∎       ╱       𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃.     جميل 🗝️  ㅤㅤ ˙ㅤ♱𝆬 ㅤ      

Pairings. Roronoa Zoro x fem!reader

summary. Gothic

— (a/n): I kinda love this !

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀斕⠀⠀⠀(⒛)⠀⠀⠀𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑⠀⠀⠀横᜴⠀⠀⠀𝐈𝐈

Midnight Conversations Among the Bones– When the ship docks at an island, you always seem to find the nearest graveyard, admiring the artistry of time-worn tombstones and tracing the names of forgotten souls with reverence. At first, Zoro thought it was just another one of your quirks, but over time, he finds himself sitting beside you, arms crossed, listening to your musings about the beauty of decay while the moon bathes you both in an eerie silver glow. He doesn’t say much, but the way he stays? That says everything.

The Swordsman and the Morbid Romantic – You see beauty in death, not as something tragic but as an inevitable masterpiece of time. Zoro, a man who has danced with death more times than he can count, finds himself mesmerized by your perspective. “You don’t fear it,” he mutters one evening, watching you cradle a delicate bird skull in your hands like a precious gemstone. “Nah,” you reply with a knowing smile. “It’s proof something once lived fiercely.” He never forgets those words.

Gifts That Raise Eyebrows (But He Loves Them) – While others bring flowers or sweets, you present Zoro with things like polished bones, antique daggers, or tiny vials of ash from places long forgotten. The first time you gifted him an ornately carved femur you found in the ruins of an abandoned temple, he held it up with a raised brow. “Huh. Guess that’s one way to remember the dead.” But later, you find it tucked carefully in his things—kept, not discarded.

Accidentally Creepy but Incredibly Endearing – You casually say things that make people shiver, but Zoro barely blinks. “I think skeletons are beautiful. Imagine all the things these bones have witnessed.” Or, “If I ever die, I’d like to be buried beneath a tree, so my body can feed its roots.” The crew gets goosebumps, but Zoro just nods, arms crossed, like you’ve said something completely reasonable.

Conversations with Brook Are… Interesting – The first time you meet Brook, you light up like you’ve seen the most stunning artwork in the world. “A talking skeleton? This is incredible! Brook, do you ever get lonely without your flesh?” The crew falls into stunned silence, expecting Brook to be unsettled, but instead, he’s thrilled! “Oh, what a fascinating question, Yohoho! Well, I do sometimes miss blinking… but I must say, I make an excellent coat rack now!” You and Brook become inseparable, exchanging poetic thoughts on the beauty of bones, much to the crew’s mild horror and Zoro’s mild amusement.

Love in the Graveyard – There’s something about old ruins and overgrown cemeteries that make you feel at peace. You’ll pull Zoro toward a moss-covered gravestone, asking him to sit with you as the wind whispers through the trees. “The dead don’t mind company,” you murmur, resting your head against his shoulder. He sighs but doesn’t move away, merely letting the weight of your presence sink into his bones like an unspoken promise.

A Different Kind of Swordfight – You are graceful in battle, moving like a wraith, with a presence that is both haunting and mesmerizing. Zoro watches the way you fight, your movements akin to the wind through forgotten ruins, and he wonders how someone so in tune with death can make even the act of violence look poetic. “You fight like a ghost,” he mutters after a particularly beautiful strike. You grin. “And you fight like a legend.”

You Collect Skulls, and Zoro Just Accepts It – Your room on the Sunny has little trinkets from your travels—delicate bones, preserved insects, ancient coins, and tiny vials of sand from places where battles were fought. When Nami sees a polished skull sitting on your shelf, she nearly drops her maps. “Why… why is that here?” You shrug. “It’s beautiful.” Meanwhile, Zoro, leaning against the wall, just grunts. “At least they don’t talk.”

The Poetry of the Macabre – Late at night, when the ship is quiet, you murmur words like incantations, reciting poetry about the fleeting nature of existence, about how even warriors turn to dust. Zoro listens, half-lidded eyes watching the way candlelight dances over your features. He’s never been one for poetry, but your words settle in his mind like a blade sliding into its sheath—fitting, sharp, undeniable.

“I’ll Carve Your Name Into Legend” – Zoro may not be poetic, but his actions are. He listens when you speak of tombstones and memories, of how people live on in the whispers of history. One day, after a particularly brutal battle, he places his sword down beside you and murmurs, “If I die before you, carve my name into something that lasts.” The words are gruff, but the meaning is clear. He wants you to be the one who remembers him. You press a palm against his cheek, smiling softly. “You’ll live long enough to carve your own legend, Zoro.

The Beauty of Bruises and Bite Marks - Zoro does not treat you like something fragile. He has seen the way you dance through battle, the way you smile at the sight of broken bones, the way your eyes shine with something dark and beautiful when blood is spilled. He knows better than to be gentle—not in the way others expect.

When he touches you, he does so with purpose, with a strength that leaves bruises along your hips, with a grip that lingers like the ghost of a battle won. And you? You relish it. You trace the marks he leaves on your skin like they are proof of something sacred, like they are relics of devotion carved into flesh.

“You like this too much,” he mutters one day, eyeing the faint bite mark on your collarbone, the way your fingers skim over it with something close to satisfaction.

You smirk, tilting your head so the candlelight catches the shadow of it against your skin. “What can I say? I like knowing I’ll still have a piece of you on me when morning comes.”

Zoro doesn’t respond—not with words. Instead, he pushes you down, lips ghosting over the same spot, teeth grazing, and you shudder because you know he’s going to leave another.

Even the Grave Will Not Take This Away - There is something poetic about your love—something eternal, something that will not be erased even when your bodies turn to dust. If death ever comes for you first, you know Zoro will not mourn in the way most do. He will not weep, will not break. He will carve your name into something permanent, something unshaken by time, as if daring the universe to forget you.

And if death ever comes for him first, you will not cry either. You will stand at his grave, dressed in black, fingers tracing the edge of his name with a strange, almost reverent smile. “I hope it was as good as this,” you’ll whisper to the wind, because you know—no matter how glorious his end may be, no matter how sharp the final moment—nothing will have ever felt as real, as consuming, as the love you shared.

Even death will be jealous of what you had.

[itsgiovanna]

playing for love (chapter 7)

pairing: fem!character x mason mount

summary: injured and lost, mason mount begins his recovery with the help of adeline alderidge, a tough yet brilliant physiotherapist with secrets of her own. he becomes determined to break through the walls adeline has built around herself. but some wounds don't heal easily, and the closer they get, the more mason realizes she might need saving just as much as he does.

notes: hi, loves! my life has been a hurricane, that's why i took so long to post chapter seven. anyways, i hope you're still with me on this one! enjoy :)

word count: 6.0k

warnings: none.

next: chapter 8

tag list: @avalentina @a1leexxa

The first thing Adeline registered was warmth.

A slow, lazy kind that wrapped around her and made her want to stay curled up for just a little longer.

The second thing was the smell. Coffee. Something buttery. Something that smelled way too good for this early in the morning.

She blinked, her eyes adjusting to the soft morning light streaming through the windows. The storm was over. The skies had cleared, leaving only the faint scent of rain lingering in the air.

And then she realized — she was still on the couch.

Still in Mason’s hoodie.

And she had slept here.

With a quiet inhale, she pushed herself up, the blanket draped over her sliding down as she tried to shake off the haziness of sleep. Her body ached slightly from being curled up all night, but what unsettled her more was the unfamiliar comfort of it all. She had spent the night in Mason’s home, had let him sit with her through the worst of the storm, had let herself lean on him.

Something had shifted.

She didn’t know what to do with that realization.

A pan sizzled from the kitchen, pulling her from her thoughts.

Adeline ran a hand through her hair, straightened the hoodie slightly, then — after a breath — forced herself up.

She found Mason standing by the stove, his back to her, moving around the kitchen with an ease that almost felt domestic. The sight was oddly… disarming. The same man who had been relentless in annoying her, who had spent weeks pushing her patience, now stood barefoot in his own kitchen, making breakfast like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Smells good.” she said before she could stop herself.

Mason turned, spatula in hand, and gave her a once-over. Not teasing. Just observing. His gaze lingered briefly on the hoodie she was still wearing before he smirked. “You look like you just crawled out of a cave.”

Adeline rolled her eyes. “And here I was about to be nice.”

Mason chuckled, turning back to the stove. “Guess that means I’m growing on you.”

She didn’t dignify that with a response. Instead, she stepped into the kitchen, hesitating for just a second before leaning against the counter. The casual air he carried made it easy to pretend nothing was different, even though it was.

“You always cook breakfast?” she asked.

“When I feel like it.” he said, flipping whatever was in the pan. “Figured I owed you, since you got stuck here.”

“You don’t owe me anything.”

Mason glanced at her. “Maybe not. But you should eat anyway.”

She didn’t argue. She just watched as he worked, moving with an effortless rhythm that told her this wasn’t just a rare occurrence — he actually knew what he was doing.

When he plated the food and slid a plate toward her, she looked at him for a moment before giving in. “Thanks.”

Mason just smirked and grabbed his own plate, leaning back against the counter next to her.

They ate in silence for a bit, the only sound the quiet clink of utensils and the occasional shift of movement. Adeline wasn’t sure why it felt so… easy.

Maybe because she was too tired to overthink it. Maybe because something about the way he had been last night had chipped away at the resistance she had been holding onto.

Or maybe she was just tired of being rude to someone who, for once, wasn’t making her life harder.

After a moment, Mason cleared his throat. “So, what’s the plan? Heading back soon?”

She nodded, swallowing a bite. “Yes. Stella’s probably waiting.”

Mason leaned his elbow on the counter. “Is Lily alright after the storm?”

Adeline glanced at him, a little surprised he asked. “She sleeps like a rock. Probably didn’t even notice.”

Mason huffed a laugh. “Lucky her.”

Adeline studied him for a second. “Did you sleep at all?”

“Not really.”

She frowned slightly but didn’t press.

Another stretch of silence passed, but it wasn’t awkward. Just… quiet. A rare thing between them.

Mason shifted slightly, nudging her arm with his elbow. “You’re gonna steal my hoodie, or do I get it back?”

She looked down, realizing she was still tucked into the soft fabric. And, more embarrassingly, that she had been comfortable in it.

“I’ll give it back.”

Mason smirked. “Take your time.”

Adeline shook her head, but for once, she didn’t have a sharp retort. She just kept eating, ignoring the way his words settled somewhere deep, somewhere she wasn’t quite ready to acknowledge yet.

Adeline had just finished her coffee when her phone buzzed on the table. She glanced at the screen, seeing Elliot’s name flashing across it. A part of her hesitated before answering.

“Elliot?” she said, shifting in her seat.

“Hey, Alderidge.” Elliot’s voice was unusually serious. “How are you holding up? I know the storm was bad.”

Adeline exhaled, rubbing her temple. “I’m fine. I stayed somewhere safe for the night.”

There was a small pause before Elliot spoke again. “That’s good. Listen, I wanted to call because… the building’s in bad shape.”

Her grip on the phone tightened. “What do you mean?”

“There’s been a lot of flooding. Some apartments are completely wrecked. The power’s still out, and they’re saying it might take days to fix everything.”

Adeline’s stomach twisted. The thought of her apartment — of Lily’s things, their home — being damaged made her chest tighten.

“Shit.” she muttered, running a hand through her hair. “How bad is mine?”

“I’m not sure.” Elliot admitted. “I couldn’t get inside, but it’s probably better if you check it out yourself before bringing Lily back.”

Lily.

Guilt slammed into her like a wave. It had already been too long since she’d seen her daughter, and now she had to push it even further.

“Of course, yes.” she murmured, rubbing her temple. “You’re right.”

“I can give you a ride there.” Elliot offered. “I have to head to work soon, but I can drop you off on the way.”

Adeline hesitated, glancing toward Mason, who was still moving around the kitchen

“Sure.” she said after a beat. “Thanks, Elliot. I owe you one.”

“You owe me nothing. Just let me know when you’re ready.”

When she hung up, Adeline immediately opened her messages and typed out a quick text to Stella.

Adeline: Can you take Lily to daycare today? I need to check the apartment first. I’ll come get her as soon as I can.

She hit send, swallowing hard. She knew Lily was safe with Stella — she always was — but the guilt sat heavy in her chest. Too many hours away, too many missed moments.

It didn’t take long for her to respond, Adeline let out a sigh of relief when she read it.

Stella: Don’t worry, babes. I got you, be safe.

But, then there was Mason.

She shifted in her seat, feeling the soft fabric of his hoodie still wrapped around her. Let herself be comforted, let herself be seen in a way she usually didn’t allow.

Now, in the morning light, it all felt too real.

Adeline let out a slow breath, setting her phone down on the counter. The conversation had left an uneasy weight in her chest, and she rolled her shoulders, trying to shake it off.

When she looked up, Mason was watching her from where he stood by the sink. He had been wiping down the counter, but now his hands had stilled, his brow slightly furrowed as he studied her.

“What?” she asked, shifting under his gaze.

Mason tilted his head. “You look… I don’t know. Annoyed. Or stressed.

She let out a short, humorless laugh. “Yeah, well, I’ve got a reason.”

“What happened?” He set the dish towel aside.

She hesitated for a second before exhaling. “A friend. — Well, my neighbor — called. He went to check on the building this morning, and there’s been some flooding. Some of the apartments are in bad shape.”

“What about yours?” Mason straightened slightly.

“I don’t know yet.” she admitted. “He couldn’t get inside, but the power’s still out, and they’re saying some places got hit worse than others. I need to go check it out before I bring Lily back.”

Mason nodded slowly, considering that. Then, without missing a beat, he said. “I’ll drive you.”

Adeline blinked. Then she gave him a look.

Mason followed her gaze as it dropped to his knee brace, realization dawning across his face. He smirked. “Right. Minor issue there.”

“Kind of a big one.” She arched a brow.

“Fine. I’ll supervise.” He let out a mock sigh.

That actually made her huff a laugh.

“Appreciate the offer, but my neighbor’s already on his way to pick me up.”

Mason’s smirk lingered, but he nodded. “Didn’t realize you had a neighbor that nice.”

“He’s just being helpful.” Adeline shrugged.

Mason didn’t say anything to that, just watched her for a second longer before continuing to do the dishes.

(…)

Adeline had just zipped up her bag when a light knock sounded at the door.

She glanced over her shoulder to see Mason leaning casually against the frame, arms crossed over his chest. His stance was relaxed, but there was something knowing in his expression, like he had already decided she was going to refuse whatever he was about to say.

“Need help with the apartment?” he asked.

Adeline snorted softly, shaking her head as she adjusted the strap of her bag. “You’re still recovering.”

“I didn’t say I’d be useful help.” Mason joked.

That actually made her laugh. She dropped her bag onto the bed and stretched her arms over her head, working out the stiffness from sleeping curled up on the couch all night.

“That’s good to know. If I ever need someone to supervise while I do all the work, I’ll call you first.” Adeline said, smiling.

“I can hold a flashlight and nod like I know what I’m doing.” He shrugged.

Adeline shook her head, amused, and bent down to grab the few things she had left on the nightstand — her phone charger, a hair tie, a small travel-sized lotion she always carried. Mason didn’t move from his spot, just watched her with a lazy kind of curiosity, as if he had nothing better to do than stand there and make conversation.

“I think I’ve got it covered.” She tucked her charger into the side pocket of her bag before glancing up at him.

“Figured I’d offer.” Mason gave a slight nod.

A pause settled between them, not awkward, just quiet. Then Adeline exhaled and ran a hand through her hair, hesitating for half a second before speaking.

“And… Mason.” She cleared her throat, shifting her weight slightly. “Thank you. Really.”

Mason raised a brow. “For?”

She rolled her eyes. “For letting me stay. And, you know… keeping me company.”

Something in his expression shifted, just slightly. Not teasing, not smug — just understanding.

“Yeah, well.” He shrugged one shoulder. “It’s not every day I get to witness you being tolerable.”

“There he is, Mason Mount.” Adeline huffed a small laugh and shot him a look.

“Gotta keep the balance.” Mason grinned.

She rolled her eyes, but the usual sharpness between them wasn’t there.

It was just easy. Natural.

She reached for her bag, slinging it over her shoulder, but Mason’s voice stopped her before she stepped past him.

“Seriously, though.” His tone was quieter now, more casual than joking. “You know you can call if you need anything, right?”

Adeline blinked, caught off guard for just a moment.

Then, before she could think too much about it, she nodded. “I know.”

Mason held her gaze for a second longer, then smirked. “Good. Now get out of my house before you start thinking I’m nice or something.”

Adeline laughed as she stepped past him, shaking her head. “Too late.”

(…)

The car came to a slow stop in front of the building, and Adeline’s stomach tightened. The storm had left its mark. The sidewalk was cluttered with soaked furniture, broken boxes, and ruined belongings. Neighbors moved around in a daze, some dragging what they could from the wreckage. Others just stood, defeated.

The building itself looked exhausted. Mud streaked the lower walls, and the entrance was smeared with grime. A cracked window on the second floor gaped open, its curtains hanging limp and wet. The air smelled of dampness and stale water.

Adeline barely heard him. “I should’ve been here.”

“There’s nothing you could’ve done.” Elliot said softly, his hand brushing her arm. “No one could’ve stopped this.”

She nodded, but the guilt remained. Without another word, they headed inside.

The hallway was worse. The floor squelched beneath their shoes, and the walls were streaked with dark stains. Water had pooled along the edges, carrying bits of debris. Every step echoed in the eerie silence.

When they reached her door, Adeline’s hands shook as she unlocked it. She hesitated for a moment, bracing herself. Then she pushed it open.

The sight hit her like a wave.

Water covered the floor, murky and still. The couch sagged, the fabric darkened and soaked. Lily’s bookshelf lay collapsed, with pages clinging to the warped wood. The small rug they’d picked out together was barely visible beneath the water, vibrant colors dulled. In the corner, the television tilted dangerously, a crack splintering across the screen.

Adeline’s eyes moved over every ruined thing — the framed pictures, the knick-knacks they’d collected, the handwritten notes stuck to the fridge that now curled and bled ink. A stuffed bear floated near the baseboard, its fur matted and gray.

“We fought so hard for this.” she whispered, barely realizing she’d spoken aloud.

Elliot didn’t respond. He simply stood beside her, watching the wreckage with the same stunned silence.

Her chest ached. All the hours spent making this apartment a home, all the memories wrapped into its walls — gone. Just like that.

“You’ll figure this out.” Elliot said eventually, though his voice was unsure.

Adeline didn’t answer. The weight of the loss settled deep, and for a long moment, all she could do was stand there, the water lapping softly at what was left.

Hours later, as she worked in silence, the sound of the steady drip of water filled the room. The floor was still slick with murky puddles, and every step made the wet boards groan beneath her weight. The air was thick — a mix of dampness, mud, and something sour that clung to the walls.

Elliot was by the door, hauling the soaked couch closer to the hall. He didn’t say much, only offering the occasional glance her way.

Adeline crouched near the collapsed bookshelf, fingers carefully sifting through the waterlogged mess. The pages of her and Lily’s favorite bedtime stories clung together, their bright illustrations now smeared and dull. She tried peeling one apart, but the paper disintegrated in her hands.

Her throat tightened.

Next to the ruined books was a small wooden box, the lid slightly ajar. She pulled it free, brushing away the beads of water that dripped from its corners. Inside were photographs — some warped and stuck together, but others miraculously untouched.

A picture of Lily, taken on her third birthday, grinned back at her. She was missing a tooth, her face smeared with chocolate frosting. Stella had been the one to capture the moment, laughing as Lily tried to blow out candles that kept relighting.

She’d been there for everything — from the day Lily was born to the late nights Adeline spent worrying over rent and bills. Stella had been her constant, her family when she had none.

She set the photo aside gently. Next, she found a small stack of Lily’s early drawings — all suns, stick figures, and lopsided hearts. Most of them were too wet to save, but one had dried enough to keep. A simple image of two figures holding hands, with “Mum and Me” scrawled in bright purple crayon.

Adeline traced the edges with her thumb, the tears pressing hot behind her eyes.

“How’s it going?” Elliot’s voice broke through the quiet. He was standing in the doorway now, his arms crossed.

She swallowed hard and nodded. “I’m… getting what I can.”

“Good,” he said, his voice careful. “No rush. Just… take what matters.” She didn’t respond, but she appreciated the space he gave her.

After setting aside the box of memories, Adeline moved toward the small writing desk by the window. The chair had tipped over, half-submerged in the water. She pulled it upright, its legs scraping loudly. The bottom drawer was swollen shut, but with a few firm tugs, it gave way.

Inside were loose papers, ink bleeding across the pages. Torn envelopes, old receipts — most of it useless. But then, beneath the mess, her hand brushed against something solid. A small bundle of letters, still sealed.

Her father’s handwriting.

The sight of it jolted her. The looping script of her name on each envelope was painfully familiar, though the paper had softened with age. She hadn’t seen those letters in years. She’d tucked them away the moment they arrived, unopened. Each one a reminder of what she’d walked away from.

“We’ll give you everything you need. Just not with her.”

The words still echoed. Her father’s voice, cold and resolute. The choice had been hers. She kept Lily, and they shut her out. No more family. No more home.

But he had written. Over and over. And no matter how much she wanted to pretend those letters didn’t exist, she’d never thrown them away.

Adeline ran her fingers over the edges, the paper brittle but intact. The temptation was there — to tear them open, to read whatever apology or condemnation might wait inside. But she didn’t.

She wouldn’t.

Still, she couldn’t leave them behind. Without thinking, she slipped the bundle into her bag, tucking it beneath the dry photos. They didn’t deserve space in her thoughts, but somehow, she couldn’t bear to lose them.

“Ready?” Elliot asked quietly.

Adeline exhaled, blinking away the sting in her eyes. “Yeah.”

She gave the apartment one last look. The water still pooled, reflecting the broken pieces of what had been her home. But the memories — the ones she’d managed to save — were enough for now.

“Let’s go.” she said. And without another word, they stepped out into the dim hallway, leaving the ruins behind.

(…)

Ben, Declan, and Kai were talking about football — the upcoming match, tactics, and player transfers. Mason tried to engage, but his mind kept wandering.

Ben noticed first. “You alright, mate?” he asked, glancing over at Mason, who was absentmindedly swirling his drink.

Mason looked up, forcing a smile. “Just tired, that’s all.” he said quickly, but the words felt off.

“You sure?” He raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been quiet all night.”

Mason hesitated for a moment, trying to hide how unsettled he felt. “I'm alright.” he said, trying to brush it off.

The conversation inside had started to fade into background noise. Ben and Kai were still talking about the upcoming match, but Mason barely registered it. His thoughts were elsewhere.

Adeline had rescheduled his session that morning. She’d said it was for personal reasons, but Mason couldn’t help but worry. After everything that happened during the storm, she’d stayed over at his place. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it since. The quiet moments, the way she’d let him comfort her — it felt different. More real. And now? He wasn’t sure what it all meant.

"Mate, you’ve been off all night." Declan said, nudging him. "What’s going on?"

Mason shook his head, forcing a small smile. "Nothing. Just tired."

Declan didn’t buy it. "C'mon." he pressed. "You’ve barely said a word. Let’s get some air."

Mason hesitated but eventually nodded. They stepped out into Ben’s backyard, the cool night air brushing against them. Mason kept his hands in his pockets, staring up at the sky. The distant hum of the city was the only sound for a moment.

"Are you gonna tell me what’s actually going on?" Declan asked, his voice softer now. "Because I know it’s not just ‘tired.’"

Mason sighed, leaning against the railing. "It’s Adeline." he admitted quietly. "She canceled our session today. Said she had personal stuff to deal with. I don’t know… I guess I’m worried."

Declan frowned, studying Mason’s expression. "Is she alright?"

"I hope so." Mason said, though uncertainty twisted in his chest. "But it’s not just that. It’s…" He paused, struggling to put it into words. "She stayed at my place during the storm. It was late, and I didn’t want her getting an Uber in that mess. I thought it was the right thing to do. But now it feels... complicated."

"Complicated how?" Declan’s brows lifted slightly.

"I don’t know." Mason muttered, frustration creeping into his voice. "She’s my physiotherapist. It’s supposed to be professional. But last night, when she was upset, I didn’t think about that. I just wanted to be there for her."

Dec nodded, his expression thoughtful. "And now you’re wondering if she sees it the same way."

"Yes." Mason admitted, his voice low. "I keep thinking about it. What if I messed things up? What if she regrets staying?"

Declan took a step closer, his tone steady. "Mase, listen. I know how your head works. You overthink everything when it comes to this stuff. But not every situation’s gonna end like before."

Mason’s jaw clenched. Declan didn’t have to say it outright — Mason knew what he meant. The last time Mason let himself fall for someone, it hadn’t gone well. The heartbreak still lingered, making him hesitate anytime his feelings got too close to the surface.

"But what if it does?" Mason asked quietly. "What if I ruin everything?"

Declan shook his head. "Or what if you don’t? What if she needed you last night, and you did exactly what a good man should? Maybe she’s thinking about it too, but she’s just as scared as you are."

Mason didn’t respond right away. He wanted to believe Declan was right, but the fear still lingered.

"You’ve always been like this, mate." Declan continued, his voice laced with both frustration and care. "You convince yourself you’re not good enough. But I’ve known you since we were kids, and I know how much you care. You don’t just look out for people because you have to — you do it because that’s who you are."

Mason’s throat tightened. He hated how easily his friend could see through him.

"You’re not the guy who breaks things, Mase." Declan added. "And you don’t have to keep punishing yourself like you are."

For a moment, the only sound was the rustle of the trees. Mason exhaled slowly, the weight on his chest easing just a little.

"I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, Dec." Mason finally said.

"You don’t have to know right now." Declan replied. "But don’t push her away just because you’re scared. If you care about her, trust yourself a little."

Mason nodded, though the uncertainty still lingered. But Declan’s words stayed with him. Maybe he didn’t have the answers yet, but for the first time in a while, he wasn’t entirely convinced that was a bad thing.

(...)

Adeline sat on the edge of the worn-out couch in Stella’s building lobby, the hum of fluorescent lights overhead doing little to soothe her restless thoughts. She had spent the afternoon at her apartment, trying to salvage what she could from the flood. Damp clothes, ruined photographs, Lily’s waterlogged toys — the sight of it all had weighed her down like a stone. Even now, the scent of mildew seemed to cling to her skin.

But none of that mattered at the moment. She was about to see Lily.

The glass doors swung open, and a burst of chilly air swept through the lobby. Adeline’s heart leapt when she saw the familiar pair walking in. Lily, bundled in her little pink jacket, her golden curls bouncing with each step, and Stella trailing right behind her, flashing a grin.

"Mommy!" Lily’s voice rang out, cutting through the stale air like sunshine.

Adeline shot up from the couch, a tearful smile breaking across her face as Lily bolted toward her. She crouched just in time to catch her daughter in a tight embrace. The warmth of Lily’s small body instantly soothed her frayed nerves.

"Oh, my love." Adeline murmured, pressing kisses to Lily's forehead. "I missed you so much."

"I missed you too!" Lily squeezed her tighter, little hands clutching Adeline’s coat. "Mommy, the storm was so loud! Did it scare you?"

Adeline brushed a stray curl from Lily’s face, her voice soft. "A little. But I’m okay now, because I have you here."

Lily giggled, her eyes sparkling. "I wasn’t scared! I pretended I was a superhero and the storm was a big, grumpy monster!"

Adeline laughed, the sound finally feeling genuine. "You’re my brave girl."

"And she made sure everyone at daycare knew it." Stella quipped, stepping closer with an amused grin. "She’s been telling her superhero story all day."

Lily nodded enthusiastically. "Auntie Stella said I should make a comic book about it!"

"I think that’s a brilliant idea, sweetheart." Adeline agreed, her chest swelling with pride.

Stella, though still smiling, scanned Adeline’s face, her brow furrowing slightly. "You look like you’ve had one hell of a day."

Adeline’s smile faltered. She opened her mouth, the weight of everything she wanted to say pressing down on her, but she quickly shook it off. "It’s been… a lot."

"You don’t have to explain right now, babes." Stella said gently, resting a hand on Adeline’s shoulder. "But when you’re ready, I’m all ears."

Adeline nodded, grateful for her friend’s patience. But even as she tried to focus on Lily's excited chatter, there was one more thought lingering in the back of her mind. Mason.

She hadn’t heard from him since she left his house that morning. He’d texted once, checking in, but she hadn’t responded yet. The memory of his steady presence, the way he had held her through the storm, stayed with her. It was confusing — comforting, but confusing.

"So, Elliot drove you here?" Stella’s teasing voice snapped Adeline from her thoughts.

"He was just helping." Adeline rolled her eyes.

"Oh, helping, yes." Stella smirked, her arms crossing. "He must be pretty invested in being a good neighbor."

"Stella." Adeline warned, though she couldn’t fight the tiny smile tugging at her lips.

Lily, completely oblivious to the teasing, beamed up at Stella. "Auntie Stella, did you know Mommy is the best hugger in the whole world?"

"I did know that!" Stella exclaimed dramatically. "But I’m always happy to be reminded."

Adeline scooped Lily into her arms, holding her tight once more. For now, despite everything that awaited her, she held onto this — her daughter’s laughter, her best friend’s unwavering support, and the brief calm in the eye of the storm. The rest could wait, if only for a little while longer.

The elevator creaked its way up to Stella’s floor, the narrow space barely accommodating the three of them. Stella’s apartment was a small, one-bedroom flat, a classic city single-girl space with mismatched furniture, vibrant throw pillows, and walls plastered with polaroid memories. The scent of vanilla candles lingered in the air, a sharp contrast to the dampness Adeline couldn’t quite shake from earlier.

"Okay, superhero." Stella announced as they stepped inside, tossing her keys on the counter. "What mission are we going on now?"

Lily gasped excitedly. "Can I play with the stickers in your drawer?"

"You mean the super-secret sticker collection?" Stella teased. "Of course. You’re the only one I trust with that responsibility."

With a squeal, Lily dashed to the small desk by the window, already immersed in her new activity.

"She’s a tornado of energy." Stella chuckled before turning back to Adeline. "Alright, sit. Spill."

Adeline hesitated but sank into the soft couch, her fingers tracing the seam absentmindedly. "The apartment’s ruined. There’s… so much damage, Stella. Water everywhere. I tried to clean, but it’s impossible."

Stella’s face softened. "Oh, Adeline. I’m so sorry."

"I don’t know what I’m going to do." Her voice cracked, but she quickly blinked away the tears threatening to fall. "I can’t afford to stay in a hotel forever."

"Then stay here, Ady." Stella said firmly. "It’s tiny, but we’ll make it work."

Adeline shook her head, though the offer warmed her heart. "No. You’ve done enough for me already. You need your space. And Lily… she needs room."

"But I’d gladly give it up for you. Both of you."

"I know, Stells." Adeline murmured, her fingers trembling. "But I can’t. I’ll figure it out."

"And?" There was a beat of silence before Stella’s eyes narrowed playfully.

"And what?"

"And Maso." Stella smirked. "You’re thinking about him. Don’t even try to deny it."

Adeline groaned, dropping her head into her hands. "I stayed at his place, that’s all."

"That’s all?" Stella lifted a brow. "Babes, you’ve been distracted since we walked in. You’re not fooling me."

"It’s… complicated." Adeline admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I’m listening."

"He was just… so kind. He didn’t have to be. But he stayed with me the whole time, comforted me. It’s like, for once, I didn’t have to hold everything together by myself."

Stella’s expression softened. "That doesn’t sound complicated. That sounds… nice."

Adeline hesitated. "But it’s Mason. He’s my client. And I can’t afford to get caught up in something that isn’t real."

"Maybe..." Stella said gently. "Or maybe, for once, you should let yourself feel whatever it is you’re feeling."

And with that, Adeline did what she always did — she leaned on Stella, because if anyone could help her navigate the tangled mess of emotions, it was her best friend.

(...)

The sun spilled over the bustling streets of Levenshulme’s High Street, illuminating the vibrant colors of the market stalls. Crowds moved in a steady hum, laughter and chatter mingling with the scent of roasted coffee, fresh-baked pastries, and sizzling street food.

Vendors called out their specials, their voices adding to the lively rhythm of the day. Manchester didn’t get many days like this — the kind where the sky remained an uninterrupted blue and the breeze carried warmth instead of the usual biting chill.

Mason walked alongside his family, the buzz of the market bringing an easy smile to his face. It was rare that his parents, Jaz and Sam, alongside Summer and Mia all made the trip from Portsmouth. He tried not to miss home too much, but having them here brought back a sense of comfort he didn’t realize he’d been craving.

“I’m telling you, mum.” Mason said, weaving through the crowd. “Next time, I’ll cook. You can’t keep saying I’ve only mastered scrambled eggs.”

Debbie scoffed, though a smile tugged at her lips. “I’ll believe it when I see it. I’m still recovering from that time you nearly set the oven on fire.”

Jaz snorted. “Mason, you’re not a Michelin-Star chef just because you grilled a burger once.”

Mason rolled his eyes, though laughter escaped him. “You’re all just jealous. My culinary skills are unmatched.”

“Right, mate.” Sam chimed in, grinning. “The man burns toast but calls it artisanal.”

“Rude.” Mason shot back, but the corners of his mouth lifted. Summer tugged at his hand, her curly hair bouncing as she pointed to a stall lined with handmade jewelry.

“Uncle Mase, look! Pretty bracelets!”

“Oh, we better check those out.” Mason said, leading her toward the stall. Mia, perched on Tony’s shoulders, babbled excitedly about the balloon animals she’d spotted.

It was the kind of day Mason wished he could freeze — simple, happy, and easy. But then, in the middle of the bustling crowd, something, or rather someone, caught his eye.

Adeline.

She stood near a flower stall, the sunlight catching strands of her hair, making the golden tones shimmer. A soft breeze tousled it, but she didn’t seem to mind. She was dressed simply — a light denim jacket over a pale blue dress that swayed around her knees. Her cheeks were touched with a faint flush from the sun, and she smiled down at a little girl by her side. Lily.

Mason’s heart stumbled. He hadn’t seen Adeline since that night she’d stayed at his place during the storm. Things had shifted between them since then. There was an understanding — a crack in the guarded walls she’d so carefully built. And now, seeing her like this, in the middle of a sunlit market, surrounded by flowers and laughter, he was struck by how effortlessly beautiful she looked.

Their eyes met. A flicker of surprise passed over Adeline’s face, quickly followed by something softer — a warmth she tried to hide but couldn’t. Mason’s chest tightened, the noise of the market dulling for a moment.

He didn’t hesitate.

“Adeline?” His voice was steady, but he felt anything but.

She blinked, then managed a smile. “Mason. Hi.”

Lily peeked up at him, clutching Adeline’s hand, her gaze curious but shy. Mason lowered his stance slightly, his smile gentle.

“Hi, Lily." he said softly, addressing Lily. “I’m Mason.”

Lily only blinked, then shifted closer to Adeline.

“Sorry. She’s a little shy.” Adeline said, brushing her fingers over Lily’s curls.

“That’s alright.” Mason replied with a chuckle. “I’m not that scary. At least, I don’t think I am.”

Adeline’s lips curved into a small smile, though the tension lingered in her shoulders. They stood in a somewhat awkward silence before Mason spoke again.

“It’s nice running into you.” he said. “Did you guys just get here?”

“We’ve been wandering around for a bit.” Adeline answered, adjusting the bag over her shoulder. “Lily wanted to pick some flowers.”

“Good choice.” Mason said. “The flowers here are great.” He paused, then glanced at her. “How’ve you been? After the storm and everything?”

Adeline’s smile faltered, just slightly. “We’re alright. Staying at a hotel for now, since the apartment… well, it didn’t make it through the flooding.”

Mason’s face shifted instantly, concern flooding his expression. “Adeline, I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was that bad.”

She swallowed, regret flashing across her face. “It’s fine. We’re managing.”

He opened his mouth, the words forming before he could stop them — he wanted to help, to offer something. But just as he was about to speak, a familiar voice interrupted.

“Adeline?”

Jaz. She appeared with Summer trailing behind, her grin widening as she saw Adeline.

“Hey! Long time no see!” Jaz said warmly. “Summer’s always talking about Lily. She’ll be thrilled to see her.”

Lily peeked up shyly, but Summer was already giving her an enthusiastic wave. Adeline smiled, visibly relaxing as the girls exchanged timid greetings.

Before long, Tony and Debbie caught up. Debbie’s eyes softened as she took in Adeline, and Tony extended a friendly smile.

“You must be Adeline, dear.” Debbie said. “Mason’s mentioned you.”

Adeline’s cheeks flushed slightly. “It’s nice to meet you all.”

“We’re about to grab some lunch.” Tony said with a smile. “Why don’t you and the little one join us?”

Adeline hesitated, but under the warmth of their invitation, she found herself nodding.

“We’d love to, yes.” she said softly.

Mason fell into step beside her, lowering his voice. “And, after lunch.” Mason said gently. “We’ll talk about your apartment. I mean it.”

“Mason, really, you don’t have to—”

“I know.” he cut in, a teasing smile tugging at his lips. “But since when do I listen?”

“Fair point.” Adeline huffed a quiet laugh despite herself.

“Besides.” Mason added playfully. “if I can survive mum’s cooking criticism, I’m pretty sure I can handle whatever you throw at me.”

She shook her head, amused but grateful. “Alright, alright. Deal.”

And as they moved through the bustling market, laughter and sunlight weaving around them, neither could ignore the quiet longing — just for a moment — to reach across the space between them and feel the warmth of the other's touch.

(...)

[witchthewriter]

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡-𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

a/n: thank you for the request anon!

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐗𝐓: You're in an established relationship, known each other for a few months. ⋆.˚🦢⋆

𝑼𝒉𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒅

・Uhtred picks up on it instantly.

・Once Uhtred understands how touch-starved you are, he becomes a little obsessed with making sure you feel safe in his presence.

・So Uhtred starts to touch you more; a hand on your back when you walk together, holding your wrist and giving it a tight squeeze when he wants your attention, leaning against you casually, running a hand down your arm, holding your cheek for a few moments before he has to leave etc.

・And when you go out together, his focus is on you.

・Because if someone gets too close than his arm is around your waist, pulling you to his side.

・And if you're nervous in a crowd? Unsure of where to go because of the mass of people - then Uhtred places a hand on your back and guides you to somewhere less overwhelming.

・Oh ... and if somehow you ended up hurt; then he would hold you/set you on his lap while he checks your injuries. And in a low, serious voice says: “Let me see, love. Let me take care of you.”

・Once he notices that you’re leaning into his touch more and more, he starts teasing you mercilessly.

"Oh, now you have gone soft, now you whimper when I stop touching you!"

・And OBVIOUSLY, you aren't going to let that slide. So, you move out of his embrace and do not seek it out for some time.

・However... Uhtred didn't realise how much he needed your touch just as much (he would never admit it though)

・So, he seeks you out and kisses your hand.

"You need this, little one. Now come here.”

𝑭𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒏

・Once Finan figures out just how touch-starved you are, a terrible mistake has been made! Now you are never getting rid of him!

“You were never meant to go without love. Never. And I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure you never do again.”

・Finan doesn't think much of it at first; he's a naturally touchy person; clapping people on the back, throwing an arm around shoulders, tugging at tunics etc,.

・But when he notices little things about you, for example: How you lean into his touches, watching longingly at others who so freely express their feelings through touch.

・He sees the flash of hurt, and sometimes jealousy.

・And once he puts two and two together...his heart crumbles, because he feels like he's let you down.

・From that moment on, he decided that this relationship just got a whole lot more clingier.

・The next time he saw you, he ran up and spun you around, setting you down and giving you kiss. An arm moved to your waist and he kept you close.

・Now, he always keeps you close. No matter where you are. He'll have an arm around your shoulders when you're walking. A hand on your knee when you sit together.

・Even pulls you onto his lap - at every chance he gets.

・Whenever he feels you pulling away, he says:

“If I go even a single hour without touching you, I fear I may wither away and die. Do you want my death on your hands, love? Do you?”

𝑺𝒊𝒉𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒄

・Sihtric notices before you even realise it yourself

・He's always watching you; you are his afterall.

・And he noticed that every time he puts a hand on your waist, you lean into it, when you hug - you're never the first to pull away.

・Once he sees just how much you crave romantic touch, but are too hesitant to ask for it...he makes sure that it becomes apart of your daily life.

・For example: when you’re sitting by the fire, he casually tugs your legs over his lap, when you're together, you are connected somehow i.e., holding hands, playing with hair, sitting on his lap.

・And you know what, Sihtric is NOT the freely affectionate type. However you? You are the exception:

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

・Because of this, a thought found its way into Sihtric...maybe he was touch-starved too?

・Because he holds you like he's afraid to let go. He wasn't raised with affection and kindness. Hugs seemed like some sort of sign of respect. So, he felt he did not deserve them.

・But coming to know that you connect with that thought made him want to weep. Because you deserve everything.

・And Sihtric, being Sihtric, he becomes attuned to your every movements.

・So when it comes to you? He notices every single time you crave touch.

・And he acts accordingly. With him, you never feel unloved, or unworthy.

・Sihtric makes you feel like the most important person in the world.

“You feel like home.”

𝑶𝒔𝒇𝒆𝒓𝒕𝒉

・At first, Osferth doesn’t notice. Not because he’s oblivious, but because he’s so used to restraining himself.

・But when he finally realises, everything changes.

・And suddenly, you have a shadow who refuses to leave your side.

・The moment he realises it, was a complete accident. You're both in front of the fire, and exhaustion creeps up on you. And you fall asleep.

・Osferth, has no idea what to do. At first, he freezes. Then he realizes...you trust him enough to let your guard down. To fall asleep and do so on him, with your head in his lap, and hand gripping his wrist.

・Touch for Osferth makes his heart beat like nothing else has. And it's all to do with you:

“I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything the way I want you.”

・It nearly knocks the breath from his lungs. He feels so needed.

・He doesn't want to make you uncomfortable, so he's slow about introducing more touch.

・I.e., a lingering hand on your wrist when he helps you up, a brush of his fingers against yours when he hands you something, his shoulder pressing against yours when you sit together.

・Osferth never thought he was the possessive type. But one day, someone got too close to you. Too touchy, too flirty.

・And suddenly Osferth's hand is on your waist, tugging you back against him.

"I suggest you leave. Now." And he says it with such conviction, you think he might actually start a fight...

・Now Osferth craves this touch just as much as you.

“I hope you never stop reaching for me.”

𝑺𝒊𝒈𝒕𝒓𝒚𝒈𝒈𝒓

・The moment he figures out you crave touch, specifically his touch, he becomes extremely territorial.

・His attention rarely leaves you.

・And he starts touching you effortlessly.

・When you sit next to him, his arm is draped over the back of your seat, trails his fingers down your arm absentmindedly, cups the back of your neck when he talks to you etc,.

・This one time, he noticed how much you wanted to touch him but you were hesitating. Sigtryggr did not like that.

・He leant close and whispered in your ear:

“You want something, little one? Take it.”

・From then on you felt comfortable showing your affection, and being open about the need for it as well.

・For a long time, Sigtryggr tells himself this is all about you.

・That he’s just giving you what you need.

・But then he starts to notice:

How he sleeps better when you’re curled against him.

How he misses your warmth when you’re gone too long.

How his hands itch to touch you when you’re too far away.

“I don’t just touch you because you need it. I do it because I like it.”