#so the things i cared about lived on the floor

[biggisdickis]

my keys hit the floor with a dulled clang. The thing had come back.

on and off for about two weeks, the thing had shown up in various places around Gerald's property. Sometimes it moved while Gerald watched. Sometimes it stayed still. Sometimes it was looking at Gerald, sometimes not. But it was always silent, and it had never brought a bag of doughnuts before.

"did you... take this from someone?"

Silence.

Gerald, knowing by now the creature wasnt too interested in hurting him but feeling anxious all the same, shuffled towards the bag, careful to keep himself faced so he could bolt the other way.

When he met the bag, it was behind him. he fumbled to reach around himself while the thing just stared with its two tiny beads that must have been eyes.

After finding a grip on the bag and swinging it around to his front, he peered inside for just an instant. he let persistence of vision tell him what was inside, but when his brain just said 'regular doughnuts' in response, he had to look back down.

The smell hit him that exact moment. They were fresh, and Very good-looking.

"I-is this for me? Are you-" he pointed at the thing for emphasis, "giving this-" then the bag, "to me?" then he pointed at himself.

Silence. No movement.

He put the bag down carefully on the counter and after several moments where nothing happened at all, he began inching back out of the kitchen. He noticed his keys and knelt to grab them. Then after many agonizing moments, he stood in the doorway feeling something slowly approaching safety.

Then too loudly, he declared "IM GOING TO LEAVE."

Silence.

"If it isnt too much to ask, I would very much like to have my house empty when I come back. Ive had a long day of work, you see. I would like to sleep. Alone. In an empty house."

Silence.

He scuttered through his living room and out the front door, and he must have gone back five times to lock and unlock the door, one time even leaving it ajar. He didnt know how else to encourage the thing to leave. Eventually, he decided to leave it unlocked and just barely ajar.

The drive to the store felt like a slow unwinding of tension. He knew he'd have to wait several hours for it to leave. Waiting and hoping usually ended up being sufficient. When he got to the convenience store, he could tell the attendant noticed he was shaken. He gave the girl a quick nod and a smile. She looked at him with minor disdain and confusion. Typical teenagers, he assured himself.

He focused on what treats he'd get himself to reward himself for being so brave. You have to do that, he told himself. Otherwise the world is just one sadness after another until you're dead. He eventually decided on a couple candy bars, a thing of good beef jerky, and a chocolate milk.

Just as he was grabbing the milk, he heard a door far on the other side of the store slam. He jumped, but figured he'd about it ask when he got up to the counter. Sure enough, the counter was completely vacant when he got up there. He looked around after a few moments, imagining that the teen had probably gone to restock something. He looked at her security camera screen to help himself out, but as he was doing so, his mind's eye noticed something over the top of the screen.

He focused in, and found himself starring out the windows of the store directly at where he'd parked his car. There the thing stood next to the passenger side of the car's hood. And on the hood; that same bag of doughnuts.

Doesn’t even have hands to wash

[strwberri-milk]

Hello!

Can I request about what your headcannons would be if the boys were in a schoolAU instead of the original

(request was inspired by the official post of their info in deepspace academy)

hihi!! i recc you read this set of hcs too!! i honestly kinda sandwhiched my thots of them in a school au in here so these might be a little repeatative/ theyre super short bc i just dont have anything outside of what i already posted awefoaifjaoiawfa did you have anything specific you were seeing?? bc its really hard for me to extrapolate from just like, gen hcs sometimes :(

Zayne's tutoring sessions can go pretty late sometimes. He does use them to do his own homework and also likes them because it forces him to go over concepts over and over and reinforce them in his mind. He's the kind of guy who is super smart but still studies a lot to ensure that he doesn't leave testing up to chance. To him, he wants to make sure that his good grades are the result of his efforts and nothing is left up to chance.

He's a part of a lot of like, academic student bodies or anything that aims to support student's learning. He doesn't have a lot of time to go to social events but he does manage to grab a meal here or there with you. He's just got a lot on his plate to keep him busy. The only time he'll carve out time for social events is if you ask him to come with you and usually that means he's even busier leading up to it trying to get all his work done.

Xavier isn't big into clubs so he doesn't really seem to have many friends. He could totally be convinced to join a club by you though. He has a very tight knit group that would consist of you and Jerimiah. It'd have to be like, childhood friends because he isn't super into making new friends so any new friends he does make are directly introduced to him by his primary friend group.

He much prefers going over to yours or you going over to his place to study or hang out after class. He's the type of friend that basically lives at your house, staying basically until the sun sets. He'll spend the night too if he's allowed to, crashing on the floor of your bedroom. Definitely the kind of friends everyone assumes are dating and have to be convinced if you two aren't.

Rafayel is really standoffish and quiet so people just like, think of him as the really hot but also really scary guy. People don't really talk to him directly unless they really have guts to get cussed out by him if he's in an especially bad mood because he really doesn't care how people perceive him.

He really only talks to you and Thomas, and teachers also aren't safe. He's nice enough not to do anything to antagonise the teachers but he also isn't really an active participant in their classes. If they want him to participate then it's generally on his terms but when he does participate he's surprisingly cooperative when he puts in his two cents.

Sylus is popular and in that cool kid way. He's intimidating because everyone knows him and wants to talk to him and he also knows that he's popular. He doesn't really do anything with it, just acting like people aren't desperately trying to get his attention. He doesn't pay it any mind, ignoring it because it doesn't really matter to him.

He doesn't seem like he cares about classes but he actually kinda does. He doesn't work as hard as Zayne because he's smart enough and willing to leave things up to chance if needed to study. He excels primarily at classes that challenge him or require him to work with his hands as the mental stimulation keeps him focused.

He gets invited to parties a lot. The question becomes whether or not he'll attend - and generally he'll only go if you're there too. If you aren't there he really doesn't see any purpose in showing up.

[joeyspuckbunny]

୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅one of the girls - j. woll⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧

pairing: j. woll x fem!reader summary: Y/N gets home from a long day of work to find her daughter not in bed, but playing with Joe on the floor of the living room. request: hi! could you write something where joey is a girl dad doing whatever girl dads do? like painting nails, dressing up, coloring, etc. 🥹 word count: 983 warning(s): tooth rotting fluff, family man joe, joe is aged up about 4-5 years, not proof read notes: this was such a cute idea !! need him to get me pregnant rn. who said that ??? anyway, i hope you enjoy !! xoxo <3

You had always wanted to be a mother. Like for real. Having younger siblings and being expected to parent them while you were a teenager was one thing, but getting to hold your daughter for the first time was an entirely different (and exciting) ball park.

Joe had always known he wanted to let you live out your maternal dreams. He just wasn't sure when it could happen because of his job. After you found out you were pregnant and told him (with a baby leafs jersey), all his worries flew out the window. It felt right and nothing was going to stop the two of you from having the family you had always wanted.

The pregnancy was difficult and there were a few complications towards the due date, but in the end it was truly a magical experience. You were taken care of well by the hospital and Joe was able to make it for the birth (which is not always true for pro athletes). You both could not be more happy to welcome your first baby girl, Nora Woll.

She was perfect. An angel of a daughter. Slept well, ate well, didn't cry much, cute as a button. Everything you could have wanted. And now she is turning 4 years old. How time flies.

The drive home from the office was tedious. It was 7 PM and all you wanted to do was miraculously appear at home with food made and your daughter in bed. It was Joe's turn to pick her up from daycare and make dinner tonight, seeing as there was no game. You pull into the driveway of your home in a Toronto suburb to the lights on the porch turned off. That was strange. Normally Joe would turn them on after he put Nora to bed. Maybe he just forgot.

You open the door and try to be quiet as you take your shoes off and hang up your coat in the closet. You don't want to wake Nora by letting Joe know you're home but you can hear the TV from the living room so you know where he is. As you tiptoe down the hallway, you can hear Joe talking, "Thank you, sweetheart, I look stunning. You did an amazing job". Your brow furrows in confusion at the statement before you hear a little giggle in response, "You're welcome, daddy".

She's awake. Of course, she is. Nora has had Joe wrapped around her tiny, chubby finger since she could form sentences but you thought he was getting better at it. You guess she broke him.

"What's going on in here?", you say as you round the corner into the living room. As soon as you see it, you know. Nail polish sitting on the hardwood floor beside where your husband and toddler sit cross legged. Joe has a few clips in his hair and his hands are covered in hot pink nail polish. Nora sits in front of him wearing her Aurora princess dress with a lopsided braid in her hair and a big smile on her face.

They both look up and see you. They share an identical smile and Nora gets up to run to you, screaming "Mama, you're home!!!". Joe gets up slower, letting your daughter get first dibs on a hug before leaning down and kissing your forehead, "Hey, baby". You pick Nora up and give her a kiss on the cheek.

"Hey, sweet girl," you say, grinning at her. Your fatigue from the day feels like it vanished into thin air. You pinch the braid in her hair and move it slightly, drawing attention to it, "Did daddy do your hair?". She nods excitedly. "He made me mac n' cheese and we watched Bluey and he let me do his nails and then we played hairdresser!". Joe gestures to his hands and hair while she talks. You smile, "Any dinner left for me?".

Joe's smile fades, "Oh, no, we ate everything". You look at him, bewildered. You're about to open your mouth but Nora beat you to it.

"We did! But... we ordered you pizza! Your favourite!"

Joe starts smiling again and leans down, placing a kiss on your cheek, "Gotcha". You fake laugh and put Nora down. It's sad that you can't hold her for as long as you used to. She's getting so big.

"Why don't you go put Nor to bed while I eat?", you say, forming the command as a question. He nods, "Come on, baby, time for bed. Say goodnight to Mama".

"Goodnight, Mama, I love you"

"Love you more, honey. I'll come up to say good night in a bit"

Nora waves are you before grabbing Joe's hand and walking up the stairs. You can hear her chatting with him the whole time, babbling on and on about how pretty she feels and how she doesn't want to go to bed. You turn to walk into the kitchen where there is a small pizza box sitting on the counter with a note on it.

For the most amazing mama in the world. We love you.

You smile. What a lucky girl you are. You quietly eat your pizza, put your plate in the dishwasher, lock the door and head upstairs to give Nora a kiss.

The door to her bedroom creaks as you open it to see Joe stuffed into Nora's tiny twin bed, his arms curled around her. They look so peaceful, both asleep and safe. You chuckle softly and lean down to kiss Nora's forehead before doing the same to Joe. He'll come to bed when he's ready. For now, you'll let him rest.

Before leaving you look over your shoulder. He truly is a sight. A 6 '4 hockey goalie smushed into a 4 year old's bed with his hair and nails done? He truly is just one of the girls.

[sinbiis]

i gave you life, and you took his face

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝  new!dad!xavier x new!mom!reader

⟢ synopsis : After nine months of anticipation, you’re left wondering how your newborn came into the world with one thing that looks so familiar—your husband’s features. with every smile, every giggle, every tiny gesture, it’s clear: this little one is the spitting image of Xavier. you’re not upset, no… it’s not like you didn’t carry him for nine months. he should have gotten at least one thing from you!

⟢ a/n : okay, hear me out on this. i always see stories of lads with their babies but it’s like, 9/10 times a little girl. don’t get me wrong, xavier would make a WONDERFUL girl dad (they all would i’ll demonstrate-), but i think xavier would 100% love his little boy with his whole being. he’s gonna teach him to love his mama and when they take incredibly long naps its concerning cause they don’t move??? so… :) also, i am currently in the process of creating a Masterlist, but I wanted to wait until i make like, 5 posts?? idk :) im a college student so we’ll see if that ever happens

⟢ warnings : contains so much fluff that you’ll sleep wonderfully tonight, some swears

⟢  w.c : 1.2k

©sinbiis, likes and reblogs are appreciated

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Today was the day.

Yet, despite careful planning weeks in advance of today’s date, you were nervous. 

You were currently resting at your and Xavier’s shared apartment, after some discussion, you both agreed it'd be best to move into yours. Not only was it closer to the ground floor, but Xavier also insisted after he remembered a certain baker was living next door now. With your swollen belly, pretty ring adorning your left hand, and now living together, he finally felt at ease. But as you sat comfortably on your brand new couch, which Xavier insisted on buying for your comfort (as he thinks no chair/couch is uncomfortable), you felt a sudden craving for some gummy bears. As you waddled into the kitchen, you opened your little cupboard above the sink and began rummaging through various other snacks. Your husband was a very doting man; any snack you could ever want and it’d be in the palm of your hands within minutes. 

But not the gummy bears, since they were out of your reach. 

Just as you were about to place your hand on the counter for a small boost, you felt something warm and wet dripping down your legs and a sudden stinging sensation. It's not too painful, but enough to make you immobilized in the kitchen. Whether lucky or not, the bathroom door opened just in time. Xavier appeared from the bathroom after a quick shower - a towel wrapped around his waist while another wrapped around his shoulders. “X-Xavier! I-, hahhh fuck,” you groaned, hand reaching out to grasp at the air as the other lay on your belly. “T-Think it’s time!” And you swear you’ve never seen Xavier move so fast. His form couldn’t be seen, only a trail of light that followed his movements. He was quick to grab your to-go back, a pillows, your slippers, anything that would make you comfortable on the way to the hospital and while you were at the hospital. 

Just as he reached out to take your hand, preparing to teleport you both to the next destination, you quickly jerked your hand back, shaking your head in mild panic. "W-We agreed no teleporting, remember?"

He paused, his fingers hovering awkwardly in the air for a moment, his brow furrowing in confusion. The silence stretched for a beat too long before his eyes flickered with realization. A flash of memory—the conversation—finally hit him like a wave, and he swore under his breath. "Shit, right. No teleporting." He sighed in defeat. "Where are the keys?" You sighed, trying not to laugh at his sudden shift from calm to flustered. “On the c..counter, next to the fruit bowl,” you responded quickly, clutching your stomach as another wave of contraction hit. You felt the pressure mounting, and it was clear you weren’t going to make it much longer if he didn’t hurry the hell up.

His hands fumbled with the keys as he shot you a glance of both panic and apology. “I’m trying—I’m trying, okay? Just—fuck, why is everything in this damn house so complicated?” You took a deep breath, willing yourself to stay calm, even though your whole body was shaking with the rush of it all. “You’ve got seconds, Xavier. Get the keys—now.” Finally, he snatched them from the counter, his face twisted in urgency. “Right, right—got it.” He turned toward the door, his voice rising as he fumbled to grab his jacket. “We’re gonna make it, okay? We’ve got this. Just—breathe, alright?”

“I’m not doing anything but trying to stay conscious here,” you gasped, the contractions getting closer together. Your voice was tight with panic. “Xavier—now!!”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

The ride to the hospital was a messy one. With each contraction hitting harder and sooner, and with Xavier trying to keep you calm with soothing rubs, you felt nothing but irritation and some waves of sadness. 

“It hurts, Xavier..!” “I know my star, just please hold out, we’re almost there.”

“You did this to me!” “I know, I know, I’m sorry.”

“Honk! Get them t-to move, fuck!” “My star, we’re already here.”

Getting out of the car proved to be tricky, your legs felt like they were giving out with every step you took, so you lovingly yelled at your husband to get you a wheelchair – to which he was already hurrying back with one. 

As he pushed you into the emergency room, the nurses were quick to get you prepped and rushed off to the delivery room. And through it all, Xavier remained by your side. He held your hand as you went through four intense hours of pushing, grueling the pain of your intense grasp. Just when you thought you couldn’t go on for a second longer, there was a sharp, intense release. The pressure lifted for the briefest moment, and everything seemed to slow. Your body went still as if time itself had taken a breath.

And then, you heard it.

The high, desperate cry of your baby boy—the sound that would forever mark the end of one chapter and the beginning of another. You could hardly believe it at first, still lost in the haze of pain and exhaustion. The cry echoed through the room, a primal sound that filled every corner of your soul with overwhelming love and relief. Tears welled up in your eyes as you turned to Xavier, who was already blinking back his own. He smiled at you, a look of awe on his face that you hadn’t seen before. His hand, still tightly wrapped around yours, was now trembling with emotion. He leaned forward to press a kiss to your forehead, then your cheeks, before finally your lips. The feeling of his tears falling onto your face made this moment unforgettable. You now had a family.

The nurses were quick to clean him off before gently laying him against your chest for some skin-on-skin. And in that moment, everything felt perfect. 

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The next morning rolled by, and you and Xavier were cuddling in your bed, your son resting against Xavier’s naked torso. The nurses had suggested that the dad participated, and there was no way Xavier would pass up the opportunity. But as you stared down at your son, his big blue eyes looked back up at you. Your eyes trailed to his hair, which resembled that of Xaviers. A lush gray-blonde mixture, just a tad bit darker. Then to his little button nose, just like Xavier’s. He even had a light complexion, just like your husband’s. 

Your brows furrowed for a moment. Xavier glanced down at you after noticing you went quiet mid-conversation about ordering hotpot once you guys arrived home. “What’s wrong?” He hummed gently, laying his hand gently on your thigh while the other held his son. “Hmph… I carried you for nine months, and you came out looking exactly like your father,” your finger wiggled in front of your son, who only cooed as he stared at the foreign object waving in front of him. A smile then graced your face, your hand gently resting on top of Xavier’s as you leaned forward to press a kiss to your baby’s forehead.

“You’re perfect.♥”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

©sinbiis2025

[fanged-fanfics]

Hello! Would you consider writing about Optimus comforting a depressed f reader? I'm extra emotional and having the sads for no (apparent) reason and I think cuddles from a giant softie would fix me. Thank you!

☆ Someone On Your Side — Optimus x Fem Reader Fic ☆

Genre: Hurt/Comfort || she/her pronouns for reader || Warning for themes of depression/lack of self care

──────.𖥔 ݁ ˖˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ──────

You honestly couldn't remember the last time you'd gotten out properly. Living at the Autobot base meant there was always a task or mission going on, so you had a lot of space to yourself. Even if the makeshift little room they gave you wasn't perfect, they tried their best to make a habsuite fitting for a human. The bed was a little too big and the furniture was a bit too spaced apart or not fully straight, but the effort was what mattered. You got accustomed to the surroundings after spending so much time there anyhow. It was hard to go out these days, and you didn't feel any motivation to take any invitations the 'Bots had given you. You were curled up in your bed, attempting to rest up the mental energy, when you heard a little knock at your door.

"Come in" you called tiredly, and the metal doors slid open. A tall, broad figure entered, you could hear metal pedesteps on the floor that approached you. A large servo very gently nudged you over so a heavy weight could sit beside you. You leaned your head up, seeing Optimus Prime himself. He made sure the doors closed back automatically before speaking. "Human. It came to my attention that you've been a rare sight around the base these days" he began gently. You sighed as you sat up a little "Oh, sorry if I worried you guys.. I haven't really been feeling myself lately". Optimus gave a thoughtful nod, "Have your rations spoiled? Is your berth not clean? I've tried to help the Autobots keep track of-"

"No, uh- it's nothing like that" you gently interrupted. Optimus' optics looked at you with concern. He reached a servo out, moving slowly and carefully as he did his best to pet your shoulder. "We're worried for you, human" Optimus said softly "Are you sick?". "No, Op, I'm- I'm sorry, I just- can't be out and about like I usually am" you said "I need some time". Optimus made a soft humming noise, reaching his servo down to tuck your blankets around you better. "I see. Then rest well, human. You will rise and do great things, in due time. I and the Autobots are here if you require anything" he said softly.

"Thanks, Prime" you said gently. You thought it over for a second before adding, "I do have.. one request, if that's okay?". Optimus' helm points perked up, listening intently "Anything". "Can you maybe... stay with me a bit? I know you're busy, but- I'd like the company" you asked, a little hesitantly. "Of course" Optimus said, motioning for you to make room. He waited until you shifted comfortably before laying behind you, his large arm wrapping loosely around your proximity and pulling you as softly as possible to his chassis. His battlemask slid open, and he rested his helm beside your head.

"Don't be discouraged, little spark" he said softly as you snuggled in "Even I have these moments, you know. No warrior is meant to fight restlessly". "Is that one of your many wise sayings?" You asked, and Optimus found himself smiling at the humor in your words. "It can be. I've millions of years of them to share" he said. You huffed a small chuckle, closing your eyes as his engine purred softly behind you. "If I may..." Optimus began softly, his nose gently nudging you in a tender nuzzle "I'll be happy to monitor your food intake and recharge habits. I know you've mentioned they haven't been the greatest, as of late". You hummed a bit as you thought over the offer. "Not a bad idea, honestly. Can I sleep on it?". Optimus nodded "Granted, of course"

You felt fatigue settle in your figure slowly, your mind finally feeling safe enough to nap. Optimus' rumbling system provided great background noise for you to rest against. You pressed more into his chassis, curling up the best you could while he used a servo to support your back. You sighed contently as you let your eyes fall shut, hearing melodious and deep humming as you began to drift off.

[rhyrhy]

Fields of you 🍎

Finished! 13k words

Farmhand Abby! X female reader

Synopsis: Nana was right; Anderson, ‘Miss Fix-It,’ was a looker... And you were definitely staring.

⚠︎︎︎ cw: homophobia, angst/fluff, Yearning (lesbian shit), slowburn!

Taglist cuties: @abbylvr69 @snake-in-a-flower-crown @cutyoursoul @abbyswh0r3

How did it all start?

Well, with one day in mid-February…

One: Under the hood ⋆.ೃ࿔*:���

The sunlight poured through your sheer cream-colored curtains, casting a heavy golden glow over your eyelids. The familiar smell of coffee poured into your room. That meant Nana was up. I better get up before she thinks I’m sleeping the day away, you thought. knowing how your grandmother doesn’t believe in staying in bed all day.

Nana and Papaw had been taking care of you since the days of pigtails and hiding under their wooden dining table.

You could still picture the same rocking chair on the porch where Nana would sit you down, tugging your hair into too-tight ponytails with those clunky, colorful beads at the ends. “Keep them hands out your head,” she’d warn, swatting your then small hands away.

She wasn’t being mean she just wanted it to be out of your face so you wouldn’t bump into anymore walls or track mud on the floors. They loved you. even if they were hard sometimes, that’s grandparents for you. Loving ones, anyway.

As you grew into a young woman your papaw would always pull the hem of your clothes down or ask you to put jackets on as he didn’t want men on the farm ‘getting ideas’. little did he know you weren’t the slightest bit interested in the males who came and gone on the land.

Especially after seeing her. But we’re getting ahead of ourselves.

You sat up, rubbed your eyes, and swung your legs over the edge of the bed. After throwing on your usual work boots, you headed out, careful to avoid stepping in Clover’s excrement one too many times in your nice shoes. The house dog, who shadowed nana.

Making your way down the carpeted stairs to see the familiar sight of Papaw in his usual seat on the end of the couch, newspaper in hand, circling deals from the supermarket. And Nana in the kitchen making breakfast, which you always helped with.

Not feeling particularly hungry, you settled for some fruit and buttered toast. Nana raised an eyebrow at your choice but didn’t press though. However, she couldn’t resist saying, “Your stomach’s gonna be talkin’ to ya soon.” Which is just her way of saying ‘please eat later’.

You promised you would and headed out for the day.

The sun was beaming down on the grass, the air was warm complimented by the crisp breeze of the small gust of wind. pushing small pieces of hair off your lipgloss that stuck occasionally.

Meanwhile, Papaw put on his beanie to keep his head warm, no matter the weather. Along with the swish of his pants that your nana hated but it was his favorite pair. so, jokes about the noise sufficed instead of her throwing them out.

“Oh good lord” papaw groaned, as the engine of his truck struggled to keep—again. That thing was a bucket of bolts, but he wouldn’t scrap it. He loved it yet was always surprised when it broke down on occasion. through he always got it magically working again with some handyman who lived down the road apparently. They felt like a myth as you never got a chance to meet em’. “They could fix just about anything with their hands”. You just always gave papaw a pat on the shoulder when he would happily exclaimed that it was up and running again so he could continue his day.

“I’ll call Anderson,” Nana called from the doorway, shaking her head. She wished he’d just use one of the newer vehicles.

Yeah, Anderson. That was the name Papaw always dropped when talking about the helping hand. Yet, You didn’t have time to dwell on it.

Nana snapped you out of your thoughts with a teasing smile. “You’re quiet today, sugar.”

“Just thinking,” you replied.

“Well, stop all that thinkin’. Barn won’t clean itself, ya know.”

She joked and nodded towards the side door.

Welp, time to get muddy and that gross yet comforting smell that lingered as made your way to the showers. By the time you were done, your arms ached, and that earthy smell crept in.

You didn’t mind the extra elbow grease you had to put in helping on the land you used to run a muck in.

Sighing deeply, and cleaning your hands off with a rag. You made your way back to the house, to see if nana needed you to do anything else before you flopped down on your bed and spent a few hours reading.

The sounds of humming and metal clinking traveling into your earshot as you crunched down the gravel path. you were always greatful for it, as your sense of direction wasn’t the best, really. how embarrassing would it be to get lost on the land you grew up on. As you grew closer your sore eyes caught a glimpse of something that made you double take.

A Head ducked under the popped hood. One boot rested on the bumper. The other knee deep into the car, like she’d be swallowed if she leaned in any closer. White skintight top stuck to the figures toned torso. Sweat on their lower back. As your eyes trailed higher, you couldnt help but feel a little fluttered at the slight of their arms flexing with each twist, pull, and tinker. they really knew what they were doing.

The all-mighty handyman Papaw always talked about was a woman?

And woman she was indeed.

You tilted your head and took a step forward to get a better look, you couldn’t help yourself.

The crunch from behind gave her a slight startle the woman bumping her head on the hood. Dropping her tool in her hand to rub the spot. One eye shut from the sting. Your hand flew to your mouth, feeling bad for giving her such a scare. Yeah, you probably should have announced yourself.

“Damn it” she mumbled.

A pause breezes by as she steps out from under the hood of the vehicle. Still rubbing her head with a wince.“Well, that’s one way to start the day.”

“Oh my, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean—Are you okay?”

She raises an eyebrow, curiously looking you over with small smile tugging at her lips.

“Just a bump, nothing major” She laughs, wiping grease off her hands. “If your grandfather sent you over, I’m just about finished.”

She knew of you? You almost felt bad, that means your grandparents must have been embarrassing you. Telling stories and what not, but You nodded, and proceeded to make small talk and double checking that she was alright with the small bump of her head. Her voice was soft, in contrast to her appearance.

Halfway through the conversation, you both realized you hadn’t to introduce yourself properly and that’s when you finally knew her name.

Abigail ‘Abby’ Anderson.

A name that definitely suited her. now, you only hoped papaws truck broke down more often because…

she was a sight you wouldn’t mind seeing more often.

Two: causal conversation ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Yesterday,

Abby couldn’t help but notice the way your eyes would linger on her biceps during the conversation. She was used to people staring, but something about your lingering glances made her feel more self-conscious than usual.

A small part of her would come undone when you looked at her like that. But it wasn’t just physical; it was how easy the conversation came to you both... it was... nice. Not to say that Papaw wasn’t a chatter when she fixed his truck, but this was different, maybe?

She couldn’t quite place her finger on what felt so different about your short interaction with her. Before she could dive deeper into why, she gave a light chuckle, breaking the brief trace of thought.

“Well, I better finish up.” She gave the old reddish-brown truck a light pat as she turned back towards the hood.

Later, that day

You had made your way back to the main house, feeling a little embarrassingly flushed by the sight of Abby working on Papaw's car. “Miss Fix-It,” he called her, and it was damn sure fitting. He failed to mention how much of a stunner she was, you thought.

The screen door creaked open; Nana was in the kitchen when you walked in. She was at the stove, stirring a pot of what smelled like chili, and glanced your way with a raised eyebrow.

“Who was that you were talkin’ to?” She asked curiously.

“Just Abby, saying hi.” You went to the sink to wash your hands, getting any grime from the day off.

Nana stirred the pot a few more times before resting the spoon against the side.

“Mhm, ’just saying hi, huh?” She teased, a look crossing her face.

the thoughts paused. ‘Is she reading my mind?’ You brushed it off and quickly replied.

“Yeah, I hadn’t met her before today is all.” You shrugged nonchalantly. Unfortunately, Nana leaned against the counter, studying you for a moment before speaking up again.

“…Well, isn’t she a looker?”

She mentioned it casually, a sly smirk on her lips as she watched you for any kind of response. You paused and kept your eyes on your hands washing them. The warm water only adding to the slight embarrassment creeping in

“Oh, I wasn’t looking hard, but I’m sure you’re right.” You lamely brushed off. Oh, of course you were looking. It was burnt into your memory.

The sweat trickling down her forehead. Her muscles flexing with each movement. The way the wind caught her stray hairs from her braid. The lines of her waist when she lifted the hem of her shirt to wipe her forehead. Her hands, that you couldn’t help what they would feel like touching your ski—yes. You were definitely looking. Nana couldn’t know that, though. She was a gossip, and the last thing you needed was her telling anyone your business.

You went on the rest of the breezy day as usual. Remembering you told Papaw you’d check in on Delilah. The heavily pregnant cow, amongst others. As you headed out to the barn, the crisp air tickled on your skin, and you could see Delilah lounging in her usual spot. Her belly rounder than ever.

You spent some time tending to Delilah, making sure she had everything she needed. The gentle, steady presence of the expectant cow was oddly calming. Occasionally, you could hear the soft rustling of straw from the other cows and horses in the barn, a gentle reminder that life was going on around you.

As you finished up with Delilah, making sure she was fed and comfortable, you couldn't help but wonder about Abby. Nana's teasing had stuck with you, and your thoughts kept drifting back to the striking woman you'd met earlier. Was your staring really that obvious? That’s embarrassing, good lord.

The image of her broad shoulders and strong arms working on the truck kept popping into your mind, each time sending a small jolt through you. you bite your lip and shook your head. She was an acquaintance and Papaw's friend; you shouldn’t be thinking like that. Get it together.

Returning to the house, you made your way upstairs to your room. As you walked down the familiar hallway, the quiet peacefulness of the farmhouse sank in. It seemed like everyone was either resting or out working, leaving the house eerily still. As you entered your room, you noticed the soft afternoon sun streaming in through the bay window. You sank down onto your bed, the soft sheets enveloping you as you laid back and closed your eyes. Letting the day and thoughts of Miss ‘Fix It’ roll off your back.

However, as you lay there with your eyes closed, your thoughts kept drifting back to Abby… and the memory of her eyes, locked onto yours... Those eyes—you groaned. And rolled over onto your stomach, face stuffed into your pillow.

You just met this woman; stop it. Just sleep.

Today,

Eventually, the sound of Nana’s voice outside your door jerked you from dreamland.

“Girl! You better wake up before you waste the whole day!” She called out from the hallway, her voice soft but filled with determination to get you moving again.

After the refreshing shower and a change of clothes, you made your way down to the kitchen, where Nana was busying herself with preparing breakfast. Her comforting morning routine. The aroma of whatever she was cooking wafted through the air, and your stomach rumbled in anticipation. Gosh, I’m hungry.

It would be nice to have a distraction from the thoughts you were having, Miss Handywoman.

The sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon, painting the sky in hues of pink and orange. The air was still crisp, with a hint of dew on the grass. You took a deep breath, relishing the familiar scent of the farm that filled your nose.

As you made your way to the spot where Papaw’s truck was parked, you noticed something different. The usual rattle of the engine as he tried to start it was gone. It must be up and running again.

You approached the truck, and as you got closer, you saw the now-familiar figure of Abby leaning into the engine. Dressed in her work boots, a flannel, and faded jeans. She worked gracefully, her hands moving with practiced precision. The early morning sun glinted off the tools in her hand and highlighted the sweat on her brow. She hadn’t noticed you yet, her focus entirely on the task in front of her.

Should you say hi? You didn’t want to scare her like last time…. Okay, here goes.

“Good morning,” you called. Trying to not stare.

Abby looked up, surprise and then a smile crossing her features. A few loose strands of hair clung to her forehead, damp with sweat. She straightened up, using the sleeve of her shirt to wipe her brow.

“Mornin’,” she replied, her voice soft, tone that rang through your ears beautifully. She set the wrench in her hand down and leaned back against the truck, crossing her arms.

“You’re up early again, huh?”

“Oh, I guess I am, “and you are fixing that bucket of bolts again?” You joked. Abby chuckled along, a smirk playing at the corners of her lips. She eyed the truck; her expression felt fond.

“Guess your Papaw just can’t help but test my skills every other week.” She teased, tapping the hood fondly with her knuckles.

“He’s bound and determined to get his money’s worth out of me.”You couldn’t help but follow the movement of her hand. What you wouldn’t do to have it on your skin.

“Well, he appreciates you coming when he calls. Talks about you all the time”, you said, glancing back to her face.

“Oh yeah? Only good things, I hope?” Her smile widened, a slightly bashful expression on her face. She ran a hand through her hair.

You reassured that it was only ever good things. Abby chuckled again at your response, picking up her wrench and resuming her work on the engine.

"Better be," she replied, "I don't need him spreading any rumors about me.” She teased, her voice light and playful as she tightened a bolt.

"But in all seriousness, I like fixing things and helping people. It's satisfying, you know? Especially when what you're working on is as stubborn as a mule, but you just keep at it..." Her words trailed off as she concentrated on the engine again.

You couldn’t help but selfishly feel disappointed. You wanted to keep the conversation going, but you had your own things to do, and she was clearly busy. Before heading out, you gave her one last once-over. drifting from her skilled hands to her face. Every now and then, she would mutter something under her breath or bite her lip, concentrating on the complex mechanical dance she was leading. It was fascinating and captivating. You could almost feel her dedication in the way she moved, in the precision of her every action. God, what else can those hands do?

You turned your head away, shaking it of those wondering thoughts.

“Well, I’ll see you around; have fun,” you said, turning on your heels to get back to your own task. Abby looked up from under the hood, giving you a questionable look, but seeing the glance you were so not subtly giving her, she smiled.

“Uh huh, sure you will. See ya round, yeah?”

She said in a sing-song tone, almost knowing full well the effect she was having on you. As she watched you walk away.

The day went on as usual, your chores and duties keeping you busy. But, much like a melody that gets stuck in your mind, Abby’s voice and smile crept their way back into your thoughts every now and again. You tried to resist the urge to think about her or the way her muscles flexed when she leaned over the truck… Nope, you shook your head. Focus. Focus.

Jesus, it’s been two days, and she’s already driving you up a wall from casual conversation?

What the hell were you going to do now?

Three: late night ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

By the time the sun was setting, the barn was cleaned, and the livestock were fed and tucked in for the night. Before heading into the house to wash up, you stopped by the driveway, wanting to see if Papaw’s truck looked any better.

The last thing you saw was Abby’s yellow toolbox resting on the bumper, confirming she’d left for the day. Oddly, you enjoyed the sight. It was almost like she left behind a small part of her.

As night fell, you tried to get some rest, but unfortunately your thoughts went wandering back to the handywoman. You cursed yourself for thinking about her so much.

The memory of her, focused, knee-deep in the hood of the car, was too stubborn to be ignored. Tossing and turning, every time your eyes closed, she would appear in your mind.

Ugh!

You eventually gave up on sleep, kicking off the tangled fuzzy blankets and sitting up in bed. A small creak followed your movements. You had a crush, no doubt. Abby was like a stubborn splinter you just couldn’t get rid of. You decided some cold air might help clear your head and quiet your racing thoughts.

A small annoyance crept in: not being able to sleep over a woman you barely knew? Felt pathetic, downright.

With it being too late to phone a friend, a walk sounded like the most sound decision. You tiptoed down the carpeted stairs, onto the worn wood. Creaking open the side door, you saw Clover settled in sound sleep on the corner of the porch. Your house slippers softly padded down the gravel and dirt path, needing to clear your mind.

Outside, the night air was comforting. The stars against the black-blue sky. crickets somewhat replacing the noisy thoughts in your head. You’d been walking about for a good while, enjoying the peace and quiet of the night, when suddenly, an unfamiliar sound cut through the silence. It was coming from nearby. A series of soft clangs and muffled cursing.

You knew approaching wasn't the best decision, but who would be on your family’s land at this hour? Were they doing something they weren’t supposed to? Or maybe lost?

You crept closer to the noise, not wanting to make a sound just in case. As you neared down the path, you spotted a soft glow coming from the open garage door of a barn. a figure silhouetted against the warm light within.

The cursing got a little louder and more colorful, but with a familiarity to it. Then, as you came to a stop beside the open door, the mystery was solved. There, still dressed in her work clothes, was Abby, kneeling beside a familiar black truck. She was clearly having car troubles.

“You alright?” You called out, arms crossed.

Abby jumped at the sound of your voice, not expecting anyone else to be around at this hour, especially not you.

"Oh! You scared me!” She exclaimed, a hand over her chest, eyes wide from the surprise. You were going to give her a heart attack at this rate. Maybe you should start wearing a bell, to keep from scaring her for a third time.

“Sorry! Sorry!” You said, lips falling into a small frown. Abby shook her head, a soft, warm chuckle escaping her lips.

"Nah, don’t apologize. It’s my own fault for being so focused I didn’t hear you come up."

She shifted on her knees, pushing back a brown strand of hair that fell on her face. She looked worn down but still so, so gorgeous.

“It’s late…Why aren’t you home?” You asked, tilting your head. Scanning over the clear frustration on her face. She shrugged, her gaze returning to the truck's engine as she spoke.

"Eh, I've always been a bit of a night owl. Plus, this old rust bucket decided to give me a few more problems.” She gestured to the vehicle, a hint of frustration in her voice.

Abby went on to explain that she’d be out here in the dark for around an hour, give or take. It was almost cartoonish how upset she was. Honestly though, after a long day of work, your car not working would definitely have steam blowing out of anyone’s ears.

You watched as she reached for a rag and wiped some grease off her hands. Picking up on the small habit of constantly cleaning off her hands while working.

You sat arms crossed listening the best you could. She did help out around the land; the least you could do was listen. Although this definitely wasn’t helpful in the ‘clearing my mind from Abby’ department.

"This thing just doesn’t want to cooperate; it’s been a real pain in the ass.”

“Can’t get home in that, huh?” You asked rhetorically.

"Not unless I enjoy walking the five miles back home. And trust me, no one wants to see me do that after a day’s work.” She gave the stubborn vehicle a light kick with her hard boot. Frustrated to hell.

“Need me to drive you? I don’t mind…” “I can’t sleep anyway, car ride might help” You sighed and honestly hoped she would accept the offer. More chit-chat would be nice, especially if she insisted on not leaving your brain while you tried to rest.

"You'd really do that for me?" Abby looked up at you, a mix of surprise and gratefulness in her eyes. She asked, clearly caught off guard by your offer. A moment of pause filled the air as she seemed to think over your offer. Then, a warm smile spread across her face."Ah, I suppose that wouldn’t hurt. I think I’ve hit a stalemate with this thing anyway."

You felt a rush of excitement goosebump your skin. Relax; she just wants to get home.

Small talk filled the air. She followed you down the familiar path towards the garage, her heavy work boots grinding against the gravel. As you both entered the garage, the silence of the night was briefly interrupted by the soft clicks and whirs of various machines and tools. Abby slumped back into the truck's passenger seat, her exhaustion showing on her face. Eyelids heavy.

She gave you directions as you navigated through the dark country roads, passing over gravel and occasionally potholes. The ride was mostly silent, save for the hum of the truck’s engine and your occasional question to confirm the right way. You couldn’t help but feel soothed by her small hum, another small habit you’d noticed.

As the vehicle crested a small hill, you approached a cozy, yet modest cottage with a few other outlying buildings. Soft yellow light spilled from the windows, casting a warm glow over the property.

"Thanks, for driving me…really."

Abby unbuckled her seatbelt, preparing to get out of the truck. A small zip followed. She placed a hand on the black door handle before pausing, turning back to you. "Hey…You sure you’ll be alright getting home this late? Don’t want you to get jumped by a badger or some other wild animal.”

“Oh? I can handle myself, thank you” you laughed. Abby chuckled, a hint of a smirk on her face.

"I don't doubt that. Just…promise me you’ll lock your doors, alright? And no more walks in the middle of the night." She teased, one boot hanging out the door.

“Only if you promise to look over your shoulder more,” you joked back since she clearly startled easily. Abby rolled her eyes; a huffed laugh followed.

"Oh, so I’m being lectured on safety now, huh? Is that what this is?" She placed a hand on her hip, looking you over with curiosity.

“Just dishing it back out is all.”

"Mhm, always gotta get the last word, hm?"

She chuckled, a flicker of challenge in her eyes. "Alright, fair enough. I’ll look over my shoulder, and you stay out of the fields after dark. Deal?"

“Deal.” You had to feel those hands, so you said, “We shaking on it?” Abby glanced down at your offered hand, a smirk on her lips. She looked back up at you, that beautiful twinkle in her eye.

"Oh, you’re going for the old-fashioned handshake, huh? Sure, I’m in." She placed her greasy hand in yours, giving it a firm squeeze.

The handshake was solid, sending a small tingle down your arm. Abby laughed, a soft, genuine sound that made the corners of her eyes crinkle. She slowly released your hand.

"Goodnight. Get back safe, ya hear?"

She stepped out of the truck, waving goodbye. The porch light flickered on as she disappeared into the cottage, the door closing behind her with a soft click.

The drive home was a mix of silence and the hum of the engine, your mind wandering back to the encounter. You thought about the way she laughed, how her hand felt in yours. Strong but gentle. You felt a little silly getting all worked up over a simple handshake, but you couldn’t help it.

For some reason she had gotten under your skin in the best way possible.

Four: Shear luck ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Early march on the farm,

The days were getting longer, the nights shorter. The temperature had turned milder, and flowers were beginning to bloom.

A warm breeze carried the scent of spring through the air. You found yourself eagerly watching the tulips bud and blossom, their green stems giving way to red and orange petals, bees already hovering over them like supper

With the warmer weather, it was time to get down on your knees and shear the sheep. You knew you’d be blowing white hair out of your nose for a week after each session. The slight itch of stray strands clinging to your skin wasn’t exactly fun, but seeing the sheep happily bouncing around afterward always made it worth it.

The night she’d let you drive her home rushed back into your mind. The twitch of a smile that ghosted Abby’s lips when you held out your hand to her. The small head tilt she did when she was taken aback by something you said or deep in thought. For a moment, your heart was still racing, but as the sleepy haze faded, you took a deep breath and sat completely up.

Yes, there were other farmhands who would do it, but you’d been subconsciously waking up earlier in the past few days. Why not get a head start?

Oh lord, now you were starting your day thinking about her?

You groaned into the air and rubbed your heavy eyelids. Why on earth was this affecting you so much? She was just a farmhand. And an attractive one, sure, but you’d met attractive people before. So why was she different?

With a huff, you threw off the covers and got up, determined to get your mind off her. With Papa's truck running sweetly, you felt relief breeze over. That meant no Abby for a while. Plenty of time to sort yourself and these lingering thoughts out. You were going to straighten them like an iron to a wrinkly shirt.

You had a farm to help run. Plenty of things to keep your mind from wandering to her.

Trucking your way down the path to the sheep’s pen, a metal bucket of supplies swinging with each step. You enjoyed the soft hum of the razor when carefully peeling layers of wool off the sheep, like an onion.

White hairs flew in the air, blowing away some others stuck to your clothes. The pink-white face of the sheep, known to be a bit more stubborn, rested on your thigh as you carefully shaved back a layer of wool. Revealing the pinkish-white skin underneath.

The hum had died out, indicating a piece had gotten stuck inside the blade. No big deal; you always carefully removed it and continued on your merry way to finish the job. But today, when you turned your back to the ewe lamb, she’d curiously wandered off.

As she disappeared from your line of sight, you continued to get the blade up and running again. She wasn’t going anywhere; she was enclosed.

When the buzz finally returned, you sighed with relief. Then you laughed to yourself thinking about how if this was Papaw, he’d probably call Miss ‘Fix-It’ to come to his rescue. You’d swear if that man wasn't married, he’d keep Abby for himself. She was useful and dependable, though, at least that’s what he said.

Then horror washed over your face.

The small sheep was wiggling her way through the crack of the not-fully-pushed-in gate.

“Oh no, no, no!”

You quickly shot up and tried to make your way over in a calm manner to freak it out or encourage it to run. The sound of its feet pushing past the wood, causing your heart rate to shoot up higher.

You slowly bent down, hand hovering over its leg, when damn it, it saw you and forced its way through completely. The small half-shaved creature was now roaming out the pen.

You felt like a fool, shooting for the stars before you were fully awake; now you’d let a sheep loose. Great.

It had been around thirty minutes of chasing around the woolly troublemaker. She’s disappeared from your field of vision.

You cursed to yourself. Head hung down, catching the muddied reflection on the tops of your boots. A pout smacked onto your face, ugh.

You wiped your brow of sweat and defeatedly pushed off the oak tree you’d been resting on.

Clover would round up the lamb; you wished you would’ve remembered that before you ran around like a chicken with her head cut off.

Legs sore, out of breath, and hair stuck to you in places you’d rather it not be.

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

The sound was growing louder behind you, and you tiredly turned to face the individual behind you.

It felt like a prayer had been answered; there she was! Happy as can be, like you hadn’t been losing your mind all morning. Then following the rope up to the hand holding it.

Abby, that ghosted smile on her lips.

“Missin’ Something?” She teased, nodding towards the little sheep.

“Oh, thank heavens! Where’d you find her?”

You took the lead from her calloused hands, keeping your cool at the slight brush of fingers.

“She wandered all the way down to the edge of my place. Looks like you are having a day, huh?” Abby chuckles, leaning her hands on her hips. boots scuffed, sleeves rolled up, and that small smirk that makes your heart stutter a little.

“A day? Please,” you brush off, embarrassed.

“Sureee,” Abby drawls out, biting back another laugh. “Just racing a lamp for fun? Gotta try it sometime then.”

“Yeah, yeah, thanks,” you murmured out.

“No problem,” Abby replies, patting your shoulder a tad firmer than she probably realized. “Next time, maybe try not letting’ her outsmart you, huh?”

Abby chuckled under her breath before tipping her hat, heading back to her land. You sat there, watching her figure grow smaller with the distance.

You sighed deeply and turned on your heels, taking a moment to look over your shoulder and feeling a small flutter as you saw her head turn back as if she’d done the same.

“What a morning,” you huffed, boots carrying yourself back to the pen. Double-checking the lock.

How embarrassing

Five: Held up in the rain ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

You weren’t sure if you were just more aware of her presence or if she’d actually been around more these past few days. Nonetheless, the small sway of her brown hair and the sound of her work boots against the ground became a familiar occurrence.

One you didn’t mind one bit.

But last Wednesday is still stuck in the back of your mind. You were down with a small cold, so soup and a lazy day were your savior. You got up to stretch, bones cracking with an oddly satisfying sound. The room feeling a bit stuffy, you went over to open the window above your desk, but the figure a few feet below made your hands pause. Abby, miss handywoman herself.

You wondered what she was doing here so early, but instead of calling out, you took a few moments to admire and be nosy. She’d been out chatting with another farmhand; she seemed familiar with the man. Owen had helped you around the land a few times with projects that required more than just you. Eh, you thought. You turned your heel to return to bed when he snaked his arm around her shoulder, and she didn’t even flinch.

The hell.

He was okay looking, you supposed, but you couldn’t help but feel sick at the sight. It was a harmless gesture, hopefully... yeah, No way they were a thing. Oh, wow, you were getting territorial over her. You pinched the bridge of your nose, embarrassed.

Sure you two hadn’t outright flirted, but it couldn’t have been in your head, right??

Or were you just borderline pining for her?

It was too early to ask such questions; she’d think you were nuts. Correction, More nuts since she’d seen you chasing around that escaped lamb.

You tried to shake off last Wednesday, but you couldn’t help the small twist in your gut at how comfortable he looked. Probably just a friendly gesture; relax.

The following few days the skies had been a bit cloudy but still warm with a small cast of sun peeking down. That same fence the lamb escaped from was found to be broken. It definitely made me feel less embarrassed, but what didn’t is Nana asking you to call Abby on the house phone to see if she could come fix it.

Talking to her on the phone made you uneasy for some reason. You took a deep breath and pressed the grey buttons with the number she’d had written down on our fridge.

‘Always down the road if you need me xxx-xx—Anderson’

The small heart she drew next to it was cute, soft. She really was just a woman underneath all that grit.The sound of a soft sigh and click made you rock on your heels a bit. Holding the phone close to the shell of your ear.

“Hello?” She said, sounding like she had just gotten up.

“Heya, Abby, did I wake you?” You asked sympathetically.

You jumped at the sound of her clearing her throat and rustling on the other line. Almost like she had just suddenly sat up straight.

“Hey! No, I’m up…I’m up; what’s going on?”

Her voice much clearer now.

You twisted the red cord of the house phone talking to her. Explaining the situation and seeing if she was free. She wasn’t at the moment but said she’d be over in an hour or so. You thanked her and said goodbye, letting her hang up first.

A beat of soft breathing passed, then she spoke up.

“Alrighty then, see you…”

Was this awkward that you both had said bye and yet neither one of you had hung up yet… or confirming your thoughts of the past few weeks not just being ‘nothing.’.

You laughed awkwardly and eventually clicked the phone to hang up.

As much as your mind was jumbled mess, it would be nice to see her face. Nana was teasing but said she’d brought by a box of tissues for you. How sweet, driving five miles just for that. You were lost in thought thinking about all these unspoken moments happening between you and the all mighty miss ‘fix-it’

You didn’t even notice how crazy you must’ve looked, hand still on the phone, giggling to yourself.

You pulled yourself together and straightened up. You still have chores to do yourself; maybe you could see the sleep last so you could see Abby for a bit while she worked. To thank her for the tissues, nothing more.

The afternoon had grown a grey color, a small shadow of clouds falling down. You being much too distracted with doing other things hasn’t noticed the sudden stillness of the wind.

You’d been mid small talk with Abby, watching her nail a few things in place when you felt a droplet on your shoulder. The cold sensation caught you off guard, but Abby asking you to hold a nail still snapped you out of it. The closeness to her definitely made your heart speed up a bit. You could count the freckles on her cheeks if you wanted, but you focused on helping her.

“Just hold that still for me,” she asked.

You nodded and let her finish up with your minor help when the first crack of thunder rolled past.

The next thing you two know, Abby's hat brim was filling with rainwater. The heavy downpour wasn’t sudden, but you’d been too distracted to notice. Great.

“Damn it to hell—come on!” You weren’t sure if you were impressed or startled by the firm grip she had on your wrist, pulling you to your feet. Dropping the nails you had in hand. You both retreated to the nearby barn.

With heavy breathing, you leaned against a wooden beam. Clothes soaked and sticking to you, uncomfortably.

“You alright?” You asked her, glancing over to her shaking off her hat.

“Yeah, just drenched,” she replied, gesturing to herself.

“You and you both,” you laughed and looked away from her tee that was definitely a little more see-through with the rain soaked into it, whew.

When the rain began to ease and Abby moved to check outside, you blurted out, “Thanks, by the way.”

“…For what?” She glanced back at you, brows lifted slightly, with that cute head tilt.

“Oh, uh, the tissues. That was… thoughtful of you.”

“Didn’t think it was a big deal. You needed them, so…” Abby’s lips twitched into the faintest smile, and she gave a small, nonchalant shrug.

“Well, it was sweet,” you said quickly, feeling a little flustered as her gaze lingered on you.

Her smile grew, though she didn’t say anything else. Instead she turned to stop herself from the smile growing further. She opened the barn door just enough to peek outside, gesturing for you to follow as the drizzle began to slow.When you got back to the house, Nana was in the kitchen, stirring a pot on the stove. She turned to greet you with a knowing look. “Storm catch y’all off guard?”

“Sure did,” you muttered, setting your muddy boots by the door.

Abby offered a polite nod. “Rain came out of nowhere, but we got everything squared away.”

Nana’s eyes flicked between you and Abby, a small smirk tugging at her lips. “Well, it’s good to have help around. Lord knows she can’t do it all herself,” she said, nudging you lightly.

“Don’t I know it,” Abby teased, her voice playful. Shooting you a small wink, then back to your grandmother.

Before you could retort, Papaw’s voice called from the living room. “She can handle herself just fine. Ain’t that right, girl?”

You winced at his tone, a little sharper than usual. Clearly not a fan of the insinuation. Nana shot you a look that said, Don’t start anything, before turning back to her pot.

“Well, we’re grateful for the help anyway,” she said, her voice light but pointed.

“I should get going. Thanks for letting me dry off here.” Abby seemed to pick up on the subtle tension, clearing her throat as she glanced toward the door.

Six: Hands on, Hands off ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

This morning the air was unmistakably thick with the smell of damp earth, the last traces of last night’s rain still clinging to the fields of the land. Your yellow rubber boots carried you as your mind was elsewhere. The sound of dry skin rang out as you rubbed your hands together, trying to push away the stiffness in your fingers as you made your way toward the barn. Today was supposed to be like any other, with chores, routine, and keeping yourself busy.

And yet, all you could think about was the lingering weight of yesterday. The phone call. The way neither of you had hung up right away. The distaste in Papaw’s voice. And, of course, her.

You shook your head, setting your shoulders. Enough of that. Enough of this damn near yearning. If you can even call it that. I mean what was going on? It was starting to irritate you if anything.

A silky voice cut through your thoughts. Low, familiar.

“You always look this serious, or is that just for me?”

You jumped at the sudden voice and turned to meet it. Abby, wiping her forehead with the hem of her shirt. Giving you a clear view of her midriff, Jesus. You quickly picked your eyes up before she glanced back up to meet your gaze. Just for her? Okay, she’s just teasing now.

“Pfft, just you,” you chuckled.

A thoughtful hum came from her, almost like she was approving of your answer. Things had been a little…awkward since the storm. You had been cutting conversations shorter, needing to get a grip on this schoolgirl crush. You are grown, damn it! Plus you aren’t even sure what all this could mean, too afraid to ask. Much too early to tell.

Since the storm, any worn wood had taken a hit during. Wobble here, loose there, a mess.

“Make yourself useful; they could use the extra hands,” Papaw said, newspaper in hand.

So you did. Adding yourself to the bodies scattered around the farm. A part of you enjoyed days like this; it could be a bit lonely when you weren’t in town or the loud city. Home is nice but too quiet at times. You’d been working at arm's length from her all day, and now you two had to work together. Great.

She was knelt beside you, the heat of her body mingled with yours. Working with the animals most days, you weren’t sure how to reinforce a fence with new nails without it looking like an arts and crafts project. Abby’s guidance was more than helpful; the slight praise when you did something right definitely made the nonexistent room you were in feel hotter.

“Here, grip it like this—yeah, just like that. You don’t want to hold it too tight, or you’ll throw yourself off balance.” Abby, when from hovering to standing close behind, occasionally reaching over to adjust your grip, her calloused hands settling over yours. Her voice is always in that low, steady tone.

“Loosen up a little—relax; I got you.”

Oh, she was killing you. Her chest almost grazing your back, head damn near on your shoulder. You weren’t sure if you wanted to run, scream, kick her away, or do all of them.

You kept your cool and let her show you what she needed to. Work still needed to be done regardless of how flustered you were feeling. The occasional brush of her tan kissed skin against your own made you feel a little dizzy.

A deep sigh fell out as you finally finished with the damn fence. After hammering into more than you can count, the two of you were standing by the barn, the scent of wet land still fresh in the air. Abby had a length of thick rope in her hands, casually twisting it between her fingers as she explained.

“Tying a good knot isn’t about forcing it—it’s about letting the rope do what it’s meant to. Feel it, don’t fight it,” she said, stepping closer. “Cmere, let me show you.”

She took your hands in hers, rough fingertips brushing against your palms as she guided them. You swallowed, focusing hard on the rope instead of the warmth of her touch.

“See? You keep hesitating right here,” Abby murmured, her voice low. She adjusted your grip, fingers pressing gently over yours. “Just let it loop through, like this.”

You nodded and listened the best you could. You weren’t sure if it was the knot-tying or the fact that Abby was this close—her breath warm against your skin, the faint smell of her shampoo lingering. This was that softer side of her you grew fond of. Gentle but firm when needed.

Then, footsteps crunched against the gravel path behind you. You felt a bit of relief for the distraction until you saw who the figure was. Sigh.

“Well, would you look at this,”

Owen’s voice cut through the moment, light and teasing. “Abby Anderson is giving hands-on lessons now? Thought you didn’t have the patience for that.”

Abby didn’t pull away immediately, but she did loosen her hold on your hands, stepping back just slightly. She glanced at Owen with an easy smirk. “Some people are worth the effort.”

Those familiar laughs that made it clear he and Abby had history, even if it wasn’t anything serious.

“Didn’t know you had a soft spot, Anderson,” Owen grinned, nudging her playfully.

Your stomach fell a little more than you should have. You didn’t have a right to feel jealous or anything of the sort, not really. But watching the way he leaned into her space, how comfortable he was with her, it sent a slow burn of irritation through your chest. Abby must’ve noticed, because when Owen finally left, she turned back to you, arms crossed, lips quirked in amusement. Those feelings from Wednesday were clear as day on your face. Abby studied you for a long moment before speaking. Her hand fixing the strap on your overalls before pulling back.

“Y’know, if looks could kill, Owen’d be a goner.”

Your face burned. “I wasn’t—”

“Mhm,” she hummed, not looking convinced. A slow smile tugged at her lips as she reached for the rope again, holding it out to you. “C’mon, Show me that knot one more time.”

You huffed a playful sigh and went back to focusing. You weren’t sure why his presence bugged you so much, or maybe you did? Regardless, she was free woman it was best you didn’t medal in business that wasn’t yours.

Seven: A Fair trade ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Summer was full of sweating through gray shirts, shaving until your skin was red, and, most importantly, the annual farmers market, the one event you actually looked forward to.

You grunted as you wiped sweat from your forehead, pushing up the wooden stand until it was at least semi-straight. It wasn’t perfect, but it would hold.

Nana and Papaw were already laying out our goods homemade wooden crafts, jars of preserves, and fresh fruit so ripe the juice would run down your chin. The market was alive with movement, packed with bodies and city folk gawking at non-artificially tainted foods like they’d stumbled into some mythical past. Pricing them way higher than needed but hey, you weren’t telling. You focused on setting out more things, but Papaw’s voice cut through your thoughts.

“Keep your head on straight,” he said, not even looking up as he arranged a line of jams.

You frowned, glancing at him. “Huh? I am.”

What was he on about, you prayed it had nothing to do with abby. He made a noise, something between a grunt and a sigh. 

“Mhm. Just saying’. Been seeing’ a lot of you ‘round Anderson, lately.” You rolled your eyes, irritation prickling at your skin hotter than the sun beating down. 

“And..? She’s helpin’ fix the fence. Y’know, the one that needed fixin’?”

Papaw didn’t push, but you caught the small shake of his head before you turned back to work, biting your tongue. This was family time, whatever he was sitting on could wait. You told yourself to relax, not to dig too deep. Not now.

Whatever his issue was, it wasn’t yours. Of course you’d been around the farmhand! She basically lives there, it’s not like you’d been going out of your way to see what she’s up. No, you’d only been offering her cold drinks and helping hands for efficiency purposes…yeah, totally that. You were in the middle of setting out more wooden trinkets when a smaller shadow fell over the stand.

“Are these yours?”

You looked up, expecting another customer, but instead, a boy..maybe sixteen or seventeen, stood there, holding up a small carved horse you’d made. His brown eyes were curious, fingers tracing over the details.

“Yeah,” you answered.  “You interested?”

Before he could respond, another voice, one much more familiar cut in from the next stall over.

“Didn’t think I’d see you peddlin’ your goods out here.”

There was that beautiful distraction, it was almost like you could feel when she was around. The wind would shift and goosebumps would run down your skin. Abby stood next to her own stand, arms crossed, a smirk tugging at her lips. She was dressed the same way she always was worn jeans, a simple tee, hair braided back but something about her presence made the market feel a little smaller, a little warmer. That same softness.

“Gotta make a livin’ somehow,” you shot back, trying to ignore the way your pulse jumped.

Abby picked up one of your trinkets, turning it over in her hand. “You any good at this?” she asked, tossing the question toward the boy.  “Or am I going to regret buying?”

“Guess we’ll find out,” he replied, smirking like they shared some inside joke.

You narrowed your eyes, glancing between them. “You break it, you buy it.”

Abby’s smirk deepened, but she said nothing. Instead, she placed the trinket back down and leaned casually against her stand. For a few minutes, business went on as usual. people coming and going, picking through the goods, but you kept catching glimpses of Abby. And, more annoyingly, you weren’t the only one.

Someone stopped by her stand, a young woman, maybe mid-twenties, clearly interested in more than just whatever Abby was selling. You weren’t listening to their conversation, but you could hear the way Abby’s voice dipped into something easy, something familiar.

And for some reason, it made your stomach twist. She had nothing on you though…right? Oh Christ, stop it! There’s no need to put her down just because she’s near a woman who has her free will. Sigh. You went back to organizing jars with more force than necessary.

“…You get this weird look on your face whenever Abby talks to people. You know that, right?”

You stiffened, turning to see the boy, who was still hanging around. Watching you with clear amusement.

“I don’t— what—” you started, but he just raised an eyebrow. Nearby, Abby was still talking, but she had definitely heard. Embarrassment creeping in. That Heat crawled up your neck. You focused on your work, refusing to acknowledge either of them.

Eventually, the day wound down. Stalls started packing up, and you wiped your hands on your jeans, exhausted but satisfied.

Just as you were about to start loading things into the truck, Abby wandered over. She picked up one of the last jars of preserves and examined it like she was actually considering the purchase.

“Hey, you …Reckon this is a fair trade?” she asked, holding it up before swapping it with something from her own stand. You glanced at what she handed you���a small, well-crafted wooden charm, simple but sturdy, And oddly painted in your favorite color. She’d picked up on that? ..that’s sweet

Before you could respond, the boy—who had finally wandered back over—spoke up again.

“Oh yeah, Abby’s got a thing for homegrown stuff.”

You blinked. “Wait—you two are…?”

Abby, already stepping away, gave a lazy nod.

“He’s my kid brother.”

That threw you. Before you could piece together a response, she patted your shoulder.

“Guess I’ll be seein’ you around, farmer girl.”

And just like that, she was gone, leaving you standing there, jar in hand, heart pounding for reasons you weren’t quite ready to admit. Mixing with a bit of joy to know more about her.

Eight: A glimpse of truth ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The wooden charm hit the floor with a dull thud, but in your half-asleep state, you mistook it for the sound of your alarm and slammed the snooze button for the second time.

You’d earned a slow morning. With family visiting, you’d put in extra work the night before, making sure everything was in order so you could take your time getting up without guilt. No mud-streaked clothes, no sweat running down your back before noon—just a morning to yourself.

Sitting up, you yawned and stretched, running your fingers through the tangled fairy knots in your hair before grabbing a comb. Your eyes flickered toward your bedside table, where the wooden charm now rested.

You hadn’t spoken to Abby much since the market, not because you were avoiding her, but…well, maybe you were. Not on purpose, but the lingering weight of Papaw’s words settled heavy in your mind.

“Keep your head on straight.”

It was stupid. You knew it was. He loved you, always had. He was just…traditional. That’s all. It wasn’t a big deal. Right?

You exhaled through your nose, shaking the thought away as you pulled yourself together. No point in lingering on something you weren’t ready to unpack.

Downstairs, the house buzzed with conversation, the scent of fresh biscuits and coffee thick in the air. You stepped into the kitchen, immediately met with the sight of family gathered around, familiar faces and warm voices filling the space.

“Well, look who finally decided to wake up,” one of your aunts teased, arms crossed with a knowing smirk.

“Had to sleep in after all that work I did,” you shot back easily, stealing a biscuit off the counter before Nana could swat your hand away.

The chatter continued, questions flying back and forth, laughter filling the room. It was nice, this—family being around, the nosy teasing that came and went with love.

Then the godawful repeated question,

“So, you got yourself a boyfriend yet?”

The question landed casually, but it made your stomach twist. You hesitated just a second too long, biscuit halfway to your mouth. Papaw was at the table, flipping through a newspaper, seemingly uninterested in the conversation but you knew he was listening.

“Oh, leave her alone,” Nana’s voice cut in before you could figure out how to dodge the question. “She’ll tell us when there’s something worth telling.”

The tensions small it barely had time to settle was gone, just like that. The subject shifted, laughter picked up again, and you took a slow breath, shoulders easing. You glanced at Nana, but she wasn’t looking at you. Just kept on kneading dough like nothing had happened.

A short memory flickered, Nana shushing similar questions when you were younger, always deflecting when anyone pried too much about who you were interested in. Your chest tightened, warmth curling behind your ribs. She knew. She’d always known. And she didn’t see you any differently.

The day passed lazily, family filling the house, conversation and meals stretching long into the afternoon. You didn’t think about Abby..not too much, anyway but as you stood near the open window, watching the evening settle over the land, movement caught your eye. Down the gravel path, back covered in sweat, Abby walked with an tired sway, probably heading home for the day.

When The words left your mouth before you could think twice.

“Hard working or hardly working, Anderson?”Abby glanced up, shielding her eyes from the sun. Her smirk was immediate.

“I’ve done my work, you get back to lazing around!”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up. She was only joking. you both had rest days, and she knew damn well how hard you worked. Still, as she walked on, disappearing down the path, you found yourself staring at the empty space she was once in.

Laying down for the night, your fingers found that charm again.

Nine: Lovers’ quarrel ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

“Thanks again.” You said a little too quickly.

The words were clipped short, barely more than a breath, as you set down the box and turned to go. You didn’t look at Abby. You hadn’t looked at her much these past few weeks, not really. You honestly couldn’t. it wasn’t on purpose, that there was just too much going on. Family coming and going, chores piling up, Papaw’s watchful gaze always feeling a little heavier than before. That distaste on the tip of his tongue.

But that wasn’t the truth.

The truth was, you weren’t sure what to do with all the feelings tangled up inside you.

Jealousy sat at the pit of your stomach, strong and stupid. The way Abby laughed with Owen, the way she smiled easy at that lady at the market, Ugh. it had your chest twisting more than needed. And then there was Abby herself, with her ridiculous small touches, the teasing words, the way she’d smile when she knew she had your attention. She gave you crumbs. And you hated how you were basically starving for them. For her. So, you pulled away. Bit by bit. Maybe if you distanced yourself, you’d stop wanting.

But Abby, This Abby, wasn’t the type to let things slide. So, why were you surprised when she cut you off causing your heels to stop in their path with:

“Y’know…,” her voice came, casual but edged with something else, “if you’re gonna keep avoidin’ me, at least put some effort into it.”

You halted. Slowly, you turned back. She’d noticed, of course she did. You came to face a slightly tensed Abby. She was watching you, arms crossed over her chest, eyes lined with something unreadable.

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.” You lied right through the skin of your teeth, not wanting this conversation to take place. Not knowing what it would unlock, if anything.

“Yeah?” She scoffed, shaking her head. “C’mon, don’t do that.”

The heat rose to your face before you could stop it. you weren’t sure how to reply to her, so you choked up whatever came out first.

“Do what?” You knew exactly what. Feeling guilt climbing from somewhere you’d rather it not. She was pushing on a place she shouldn’t.

“Act like I’m just makin’ shit up.” Her brows pulled together, frustration creeping in. “You’ve been different. Ever since the market, maybe before that.”

“Ain’t nothin’ changed. Will you relax?” Your jaw clenched down.

“Bullshit!” Abby stepped closer, her presence all-consuming, and you hated how your pulse jumped at the nearness. “You don’t talk to me the same. Don’t look at me the same. Hell— I barely see you anymore unless it’s in passing.” She wasn’t wrong. And that made it worse. Your fingers curled into your palms, nails pressing into skin as the words slipped out, unfiltered and bitter.

“Maybe you should be talkin’ to someone else then, seems like you got plenty of options.”

The second it left your mouth, you regretted it. Abby’s expression shifted, something flickering behind her eyes before her head tilted. But it wasn’t that cute head tilt it was one of defense.

“What was that?” She asked, and boy Your stomach twisted.

“Nothin’.” “Dismiss that, I’m just talking out my ass”

“Nah.” Abby took another step forward, her voice softer now, but no less intense. “Go on.” You swallowed hard, unable to meet her gaze. You weren’t about to say it again. Weren’t about to admit what was really brewing, not if she wasn’t going to say Anything outright. Why should you?

So, instead, you shook your head and muttered, “Forget it.” A beat of silence stretched between you. Then Abby exhaled sharply, her frustration giving way to something else.

“Fine,” she said finally, voice cool, “it’s forgotten”

And just like that, she turned and walked away. You let the tension sit in your chest for the rest of the evening. It gnawed at you, made your skin itch.

So, that happened. Sigh, you found yourself at the stall with the newborn calves, feeding them in the quiet. Their little pink noses nudged at your hands, soft and warm, pulling a tired smile from you. Today— the past few weeks have been mental gymnastics. You just wanted a bit of solace. Hell, even a crumb would do. It was starting to pile up, weighing down.

The sound of footsteps made you roll your eyes so far you swear you saw your brain for a moment. Then, of course she wasn’t going to let the conversation end like that.

Abby wasn’t looking at you at first, just setting down a small sack of feed. Awkwardly putting her hands in gas’s stained jeans.

“Figured they could use some extra,” she muttered.

This wasn’t about the cows. She stayed still, waiting.

And maybe it was the way she’d come back instead of leaving things unfinished. Maybe it was the way she’d always been the one to reach out first, even when she was just as caught up in this mess as you were. But for the first time in weeks, you let yourself meet her halfway. Might as well, you sighed.

A truce

Your hand lifted, slow and hesitant, before brushing across the broad plane of her back. Just a light touch, the warmth of it lingering.

Abby stilled at first, then exhaled, shoulders dropping slightly as she let herself lean into it.

No words needed. Not yet.

As you dusted off your hands of feed and turned to leave the stall, you glanced at Abby over your shoulder, a teasing found in your voice.

“…Didn’t know me avoidin’ you bugged you that much.”

Abby scoffed, rolling her eyes, a hesitant pause fell. Letting you close up, taking one last look at the calf. Then, just as you were stepping away, she muttered, half under her breath but loud enough for you to catch.

“Yeah, well… guess I’m not used to wantin’ someone to stick around.”

By the time you turned back, she was already busying herself with heading back, like she hadn’t just said something that made your chest tighten. You wanted to call her back, make her repeat herself…but she clearly wasn’t ready to be more direct. we’re either one of you? Past small touches and jokes?

The questions stayed there, as you stared at that small charm on you bedside later that night.

Ten: A close call ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The house was tense. It had been for days now. You could feel it before you even reached the middle of the carpeted stairs, voices rising and falling in the kind of hushed argument that still carried enough weight to settle heavy in your chest. 

“She ain’t doin’ nothin’ wrong,” Nana said, voice steady but edged with warning. 

“It isn’t right.”  Papaw’s voice was gruff, tired, but firm.

“Ain’t right by who, exactly?” Nana shot back.

You hesitated on the last step, fingers gripping the railing. you stayed put, not wanting to pull away..and not wanting to hear more. This was absurd. None of their business; you aren’t the same girl with beads in her hair and muddy sparkly rain boots . You were a woman with her own mind and wants. 

“She’s young. She doesn’t know what she wants yet.” He said, in a half-hushed tone.

“She knows just fine,” Nana snapped.  “And even if she didn’t, that isn’t for you to decide. You love that girl, don’t you?”

Papaw huffed. You could picture him standing there, arms crossed, jaw clenched, struggling to put his feelings into words. 

“Then act like it.” She sighed deeply, dissatisfied with her husband’s reaction to something of this manner.

But it was too much. The heat, the pressure in your chest, before you knew it, your shoes were hitting the wooden floor harder than intended as you stepped into view.

Their heads snapped toward you.

“I’m goin’ out.” Your voice was short, clipped. That same tone that had been stuck in your throat since it all had been building on your shoulder. You didn’t wait for a response before stepping out the door, letting the creaky screen slam behind you. Usually Nana would call after you to be more gentle with her doors, but not today. Not after what she knew you’d been hearing whispering of since that day you’d come in from the rain with Abby.

Papaw didn’t call after you. Maybe he knew better. Maybe he felt bad. Either way, you didn’t stop. You need a damn minute, just a second.

You weren’t sure where you were going until you were there. The stables smelled like hay and dust, the late afternoon light filtering through the gaps in the wood. It was quiet, save for the occasional snort from one of the horses. 

Good. You needed quiet. Finally, quiet.

Your hands still trembled slightly from the argument, so you busied them, grabbing a nearby brush, anything to keep yourself—your brain—occupied. How did this all come so quickly? You’d been nice and said hi to a woman who fixes shit, and now you felt like you’d been put under fire for it.

So caught up in your own thoughts and breathing You didn’t hear Abby approach at first, but the sound of her boots against the wooden floor made you tense.

“You got somethin’ against doors, or do you just like stormin’ off dramatically?”

You exhaled sharply, rolling your eyes, but didn’t look at her. “Not in the mood.”

She didn’t ask again. You were clearly having a day. She Just leaned against one of the stable posts, arms crossed, watching. For a while, neither of you spoke. Giving you a moment of needed silence 

You forced yourself to ignore her presence for once. for once in moment, you let the darkness of your eyelids in the world of your brain. Settle for just a beat. The sound of her adjusting her position on the wooden post didn’t even register until.

“Ouch!—Shit.”

Your head turned just in time to see Abby staring at her hand, a small splinter sticking out of her finger. There was again that gentleness beneath the carefully crafted stone wall of her outside. 

You didn’t even feel the frustration flow down your back like a stopped faucet. She just stood there, staring at her finger like she wasn’t sure how to help herself. If you weren’t so frustrated previously, you might’ve laughed, but instead, you stood up and took a few careful steps over to where she was standing to get a better look at her now very slightly wounded hand.

Abby sighed and began patting the pockets of her worn jeans for something to pull the splinter out. When she tensed at the sudden hold on her wrist. 

“Let me see,” you said blankly, still not in the mood but not wanting her to hurt herself further.

Abby rolled her eyes but extended her hand anyway, palm up. You stepped closer, taking her calloused fingers carefully in your own. The splinter wasn’t deep, but you took your time anyway—digging it out slowly, dragging your fingertips along her skin just enough to be annoying.

“There,” you said, once it was free.  “Think you’ll live.”

She huffed a soft laugh when you made a joke about you fixing something for her for a change, feeling a little bit apologetic for your dismissal of her earlier. She was trying to check on you, and you had been a bit mean. Abby shaking her head, but when the laughter faded, she didn’t pull away from you. Letting her arm stay in your hand. 

Instead, she just… looked at you.

It was subtle at first. The way her gaze flickered, just briefly, downward. You caught it. Your heart kicked up.

It would’ve been easy to ignore. To brush it off as nothing, keep things light. But instead, you took the risk. Going against better judgment, you repeated the eye movement.

Your gaze dropped—to her lips, then back up.

Abby noticed. You saw it in the way her lips parted slightly, as if she might say something…but she didn’t. You recognize this silence, the way both of your breathing picked up. This was exactly like the day you called her. She didn’t want to hang up; she told you she’d be there in an hour, and she still didn’t move her fingers to the gray buttons to hang up her own house phone after the conversation had already faded into nothing but the same silence that was washing over right now.

The barn suddenly felt smaller, the air thicker. Neither of you moved; neither of you spoke.

And then, Abby shifted. Just enough to snap the moment, clearing her throat as she pulled her hand away.

“Y’know,” she muttered, stuffing her hands into her pockets, “if you were really worried about me, you’d kiss it better.”

It was a joke. Obviously. But her voice wasn’t as confident as usual, a slight rasp in the words that made your stomach twist.

You scoffed, shaking your head as you turned away, but you couldn’t hide the heat creeping up your neck. Instead, you told her to stay put while you grabbed a Band-Aid for her hand just until the small break in her skin of the finger healed.

Final: Kissing it better ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Supper in mid-April was warm, filling, and laced with the kind of easy conversation that only happened when things were settling into place. Nana and Papaw had their moments, but there was no thick tension, no sharp words. Just the clatter of dishes, the low hum of the radio, and the occasional chuckle between bites.

You could feel the shift—subtle, but there. Even in Papaw, who had spent the past few months stiffening at the mere thought of you and Abby being something. Now, his comments were still gruff, but there was something softer underneath, something close to acceptance. Nana, of course, had caught on well before him. She never said it outright, but the glint in her eye when she glanced between you and Abby made it obvious. Especially when she passed you a dish towel with a knowing little smile. 

“Figure you two can handle clean-up.”

So here you were, sleeves pushed up, fingers dipped under the warm, soapy water, while Abby stood beside you, drying the plates you passed her. Her hair was styled differently today, hm. You glanced down at her face and spoke.

“You’re awful quiet,” you teased, bumping her hip lightly.  “Suds got your tongue?”

Abby huffed, giving you a sideways glance. “You Just focus on not breakin’ a plate.”

You gasped at her comment. Putting on some bariatrics to get her to crack a smile. That smile you loved. The one complimented with the pink of her gums. “I’ll have you know, I’m very delicate.”

Abby hummed, clearly unconvinced. But before she could respond, you flicked a bit of water at her. She blinked as the droplets hit her cheek, then slowly turned to you, an eyebrow raised.

“Oh, you’re really funny, huh?”

“Hilarious, actually.” You bite your bottom lip to not laugh. Trying to hold composure.

A second later, her hand was in the sink, long fingers sending a splash of water in your direction. The sound of splashing water echoed through the kitchen as you and her turned the simple task of dishwashing into a soak city. The first flick of water from your hand was a quiet challenge, a warning. But she was quick, her hand moving faster than you expected, sending a spray of water in your direction.

You laughed, barely managing to avoid the worst of it. “Oh, it’s on now,” you said, wiping the droplets from your cheek.

Abby’s eyes lit up, and before you could react, she’d dunked her hands into the soapy water, splashing you again. This time, it soaked the front of your shirt. Dripping down the fabric.

“Abby!” You shrieked, laughing as you swatted at her the next few minutes were chaos—water flying, dish towels being used as weak shields, your laughter mixing with hers as you both tried and failed to keep the mess to a minimum. When the counter was a disaster and your shirts were damp, Abby’s grey shirt now darkened to a new shade. You finally called a truce, breathless and with light smiles.

“Reckon Nana set us up,” Abby muttered, shaking her head as she wrung out the dish towel.

“I ‘reckon’ you’re right.” You quipped back. 

She chuckled, then nudged your shoulder. “C’mon. Let’s get outta here before we get wrangled into sweeping’ too.” She whispered into the hollow of your ear, lips grazing the skin. 

The night air was crisp but not cold, wrapping around you both as you sat in the open trunk of Abby’s pickup. You meant to check in with her when it broke down the first time, but she clearly has it running again, so no need to mention it. You turned your gaze to the sky stretched wide above, dotted with stars, the occasional chirp of crickets filling the silence.

You absentmindedly traced the wooden charm between your fingers on your keychain, the one Abby had given you weeks ago.

“How’s your brother?” you asked, glancing over. 

Abby smiled slightly. “He’s good. Annoying as hell, but good.” She seemed pleased that you were asking more about her family and life outside of being Miss Fix-It.  You smirked, nodding before twirling the charm between your fingers again. When one of two questions you’d been wondering blurted out.

“…say, How’d you know my favorite color?”

She hesitated. Then, with a small huff, she leaned back on her palms, looking at you with a mix of amusement and embarrassment. 

“I mean, You always wear somethin’ of that color. Your curtains are the same too. Wasn’t that hard to figure out?

She said it like it was obvious, like it wasn’t a big deal. But it was. The thought of her noticing…really noticing. made something warm bloom in your chest. Like a tulip in the springtime. You chuckled, shaking your head. 

“Guess I’ll have to switch things up, keep you on your toes.”

Abby snorted. “Like hell you will.”

For a while, you both sat there, the quiet stretching comfortably between you. Abby’s gaze dropped briefly, and when you followed it, you saw where her focus had landed—her bandaged finger, the one she’d gotten a splinter in back at the stable. The stable, when you caught her looking at your slightly pouted lips. 

“How’s that healing?” 

“Pfft, just fine. Basically a paper cut…Thank you for checking, though. There goes that second one. You had to ask; the worst she could say was no or laugh it off, right? 

“You still want me to kiss it better?” You pointed to her hand, then looked back to her face. The words rung out into the small distance of your bodies.

The space between you felt charged, thick with something neither of you had been able to name for months. The teasing had always been there, the lingering touches, the glances that lasted just a little too long. But this? This was different. This was an open door, an invitation waiting to be accepted. Abby’s head tilted—just slightly, that same motion you’d caught onto since the start. Her eyes flickered up to meet yours, holding steady, searching.

She exhaled softly, her lips parting like she was about to say something, but no words came. Instead, her fingers twitched against the truck bed, like she was waging some internal battle. And then—

She moved. 

Slow, hesitant at first, like she was giving you a chance to pull away. But you didn’t. You wouldn’t.

Her calloused fingers found the back of your neck, warm and careful, her thumb barely brushing the edge of your jaw. There was a second just one where she hesitated, where her breath stuttered slightly like she couldn’t believe she was finally doing this. And then, the months of waiting, of tension thick enough to cut with a knife, finally took over.

Abby pulled you in, her grip firm but still giving you the choice, the chance to stop her. But you weren’t going anywhere.

Her lips met yours, slow and searching, like she was memorizing the way you felt against her. You sighed into the kiss, hands finding the rough fabric of her shirt, fisting it slightly like you needed something to ground you. She responded in kind, her fingers tightening against your skin, pulling you just a little closer.

When you finally broke apart, your foreheads nearly touched, both of you breathing a little heavier than before. Abby let out a short, breathless laugh, almost like she couldn’t believe she’d actually done it. Months of waiting, months of ups and downs, months of wanting to close that gap.

Her gaze flickered to her finger, still wrapped in its makeshift bandage, then back to you,

“Much better,” she murmured.

Time seemed to still as that weight that had been pressing on your chest for months, thick, unspoken, and suffocating…seemed to melt away the second Abby’s lips met yours. It was like exhaling after holding your breath for too long, like finally stretching out sore muscles after a long day’s work. The tension, the wondering, the stolen glances that never felt like enough, all of it moved to replaced by something …warm and steady. Relief. Certainty.

It wasn’t just the kiss, it was the knowing. Knowing that you hadn’t imagined it, that she’d felt it too. That you hadn’t been foolish for wanting, for hoping. It settled in your chest like a quiet reassurance, like something that had always been meant to happen,

…Just waiting for the right moment.

Ty for reading babes! 💐 whew

Want another long read? (Click)

[lsunstreakerl]

... I come bearing darkbull charles pov? 1k words, just a little bit of insight into him. trying to get his character worked out, so here u go, guinea pigs <3

hi! still part of the darkbull verse! mature/violent content!

Charles sighs, tipping his head back. He's bored, and Lolo had left him to babysit some hostage. The guy hasn't even been entertaining- blubbered inconsolably for twenty minutes before falling quiet. Now he's just curled up in the corner, rocking gently and sniffling.

He needs to get over it. It's not even like Lolo took anything vital- losing a trigger finger won't kill him. Maybe if they'd left it untreated, sure, but Lolo is nice, had cauterized it for him right after.

Charles' ears are still ringing from the screaming. He's drumming his fingers on his knee, humming along a few notes while he thinks about his piano piece back at home. He has a few more weeks to really nail it down before he goes with Lolo to preform in Maranello.

He'd asked if it was a Ferrari thing or an Italy thing, because he's getting old enough to realize there's a difference, and Lolo had just ruffled his hair and smiled.

Charles isn't getting his hopes up, but-

It might be both. He might be moving forward, getting his first star tattoo, moving up a junior formula.

He's been waiting.

He knows it's not all cars- Lolo comes home sometimes with flecks of deep ruby splattered at the edge of his shirtsleeves, tiny spots he didn't quite catch.

Papa had always been doing paperwork, settled in his giant armchair with a pen. Maman likes to meet with other women, discuss their children and real estate and their careers. They've kept Arthur out of it for the most part. He's young enough to know he likes Ferrari, but not yet old enough to understand Ferrari.

Charles is.

He straightens up as the door swings open again and Lolo steps back in, brushing dust off of his jacket sleeve.

"Thank you, Charlot. You can go to the car now."

Charles gets to his feet. He almost shoves his hands in his pockets before he remembers his posture, and instead straightens his spine and pushes his shoulders back. He meets his older brother's gaze.

"I will watch."

Lolo arches an eyebrow at him as he stares him down, waits for Charles to crack.

He doesn't.

"Fine. Do not tell Maman."

Charles nods, and in one swift movement Lolo pulls a gun from underneath his jacket, squeezing the trigger. It all happens in a single breath.

Charles' ears are ringing again, the crack echoing through the room. He forces himself to look at the man the body. It's slumped forward, head lolling at an unnatural angle as blood starts dripping onto the floor.

Lolo nods once, a decisive motion, before he's pulling the door back open.

"Come on, Charles."

Charles follows behind him, sticking close to his back as they step into the hallway. His brother nods at a man waiting outside the door.

"Dump it. I don't particularly care where."

The man nods before slipping into the room Charles and Lorenzo had just left.

------

Charles rolls it over in his head as he's sitting in the passenger seat. He's never seen a man killed until today, but- he's not stupid. You don't live in Monaco and not know how things are actually run.

It had been loud, sure, but otherwise... Charles is apathetic about the whole thing. His largest emotion had been annoyance, if anything. The man had been pathetic and spineless.

"You okay?"

Lolo is looking over at him, fingers tapping on the wheel. Charles feels his mouth twist into a frown.

"I am not upset about earlier, if that is what you're thinking."

Lolo blows out a breath, relieved.

"Good. Maman would kill me if I traumatized you already."

Charles tugs at a stray string on the edge of his jacket cuff.

"Max is moving to Formula 1."

His brother snorts.

"Well, yes. You've seen him. We knew that was going to happen- you just have to be patient."

"I am patient."

Lolo grins.

"Sure. Where is he signing?"

Charles slumps back into the seat, blowing out all of his air in a singular annoyed gust.

"Toro Rosso."

His brother winces, fingers tightening around the wheel. Charles narrows his eyes suspiciously, trying to read his face.

"Charlot- I know you guys are friends-"

"-we're not friends-"

"-but you should probably... probably let that one go, yes?"

Charles blinks. Lolo isn't making any sense.

He's not going to let Max go, is he stupid? Max is- Max is Max. He and Charles are predestined, all the signs point to it. There's no one else for him, and he'll be so pretty in red.

Once Charles gets him there.

There's a few things they'll need to work on, sure- his Italian, for one.

Maybe also his attitude, but Charles doesn't want him to change too much. Then he wouldn't be Max anymore. Charles doesn't want someone meek waiting for him at home- he wants someone to match his fire, match his drive.

He wants to prove he can harness him, bring him down to earth, wrap him in leather and silver and pretty things and keep him.

Charles wants to bring him back to Maranello or Monte Carlo, wants to keep him in his apartment, wants to see his permanent pout forever.

The way he always seems so angry- Charles can redirect that anger, he's sure of it. Or maybe he wants to keep him that way.

The idea of having to be civil and diplomatic with Ferrari all day, but being able to come home, to argue with Max-

It's a good way to let off steam.

Pretty, vicious, angry Max. Charles is excited to bring him home, to grow with him, to bring him on his arm to events. He'll get Max in that Ferrari seat with him, and things will be perfect.

Max will never want to leave, which is good. Charles doesn't think his heart would let him.

He grins at his older brother.

"It's okay Lolo, I will handle it. He'll be a good addition to the family, I promise."

Lolo shakes his head fondly.

"If you say so. Just be careful, yes? Do not go toe to toe will Redbull if you aren't ready. They don't usually get particularly attached- might not even risk getting into a fight with Ferrari- but if they like him..."

Charles doesn't care. He'll walk into Redbull's headquarters himself to bring Max home.

And then he'll never leave Charles behind again.

[tadc-and-md-sideblog]

"When Your Boyfriend's Also Your Best Friend"

Chapter 1: Doodles and Flirting Because Class is Boring

AO3 link

Uzi was bored.

Even after everything crazy and nightmarish she’d gone through, she still had a few months left of high school before she could finally graduate and never have to sit through a stupid, dumb class ever again.

The only good thing about it, at least compared to before, was that N and V were attending now, too. They didn’t have much to learn and they didn’t have much time left to be in school, but they’d wanted some semblance of a normal life while they still had a chance. Well— N had been more vocal about all that. V hadn’t seemed to care, but she went along with the enrollment without any protest, so her stance was pretty clear.

It probably helped that her recent best friend, Lizzy, was at the school, too. It must’ve been nice to finally have ordinary friendships after the horrors hers and N’s lives had been before.

Uzi’s teacher only had one very bored tone of voice— she’d never once heard him raise it— so trying to listen to him drone on and on was hard. Although “trying to listen” was generous. Instead, she was passing the time trying to see how many textbooks she could stack without them tipping over, attempting to use her Solver to force the clock to tick faster, and speculating what would happen if all the lights in the building exploded.

Her eyes strayed to her right, and she couldn’t help a tiny smile. In the desk pushed right up against hers, N was doodling cute little pictures of dogs in the margins of his notes.

Their teacher had protested them moving their desks together. “Uzi, please keep the desks in their normal spots.”

“Bite me,” she’d snapped back, jumping up two feet to full-body hug N in protest. N had just given the teacher an awkward smile.

The teacher caved.

Now they got to sit close. At least for the classes they had together.

She grabbed her pencil and leaned over to write further down on N’s paper. Whats dog name?

N paused as she wrote, then grinned wide. He slid his crayon down the page and wrote below her words, maybe Bingo?

like the song? Uzi wrote below that.

BINGO WAS HIS NAMEO, he wrote, his expression looking like he was trying not to laugh. Uzi could so clearly imagine him singing the song, all dramatic and silly, and had to stifle her own giggles.

bingo is cute, she added on the page.

he is very cute, N agreed.

A sly smile crossed Uzi’s face, and she wrote, UR cuter

It wasn’t like she’d waited weeks of crushing on him to start dating officially so she could finally say all the random flirty things to him that popped into her head. Totally not like that. It wasn’t like it had been hard to contain herself whenever he’d done something that was just so unabashedly him, and thus cute. And/or hot. Totally.

And she was totally not taking advantage of their finally-officially-dating status to express at every given opportunity how much she adored him.

Well. Maybe she was. But so what?!

A blush appeared on N’s visor as he read her words, a stupid smile spreading immediately across his face. Fumbling for his crayon, he wrote back, I love you!!!

Fifteen minutes left in class. Uzi was used to making a scene in her classroom, but maybe melting onto the floor while screeching like an unholy demon in delight was a little too much. Especially with N here now.

She scribbled back in all-caps, I LOVE UUUUUU!!!!!!

N looked like he could’ve spontaneously combusted out of sheer happiness.

They both spent the remainder of the class too preoccupied with dumb grins and dumb blushes and hand-holding under the desk to notice that the time was quickly passing.

-

“Did you actually take any notes?” Uzi asked him as they walked down the hall afterwards towards their lockers.

“I did for the first half.” A crumpled-up piece of paper came flying from somewhere behind them, aimed straight at Uzi, but N just knocked it away with his tail and continued walking without drawing any attention to it. “I don’t think there’s gonna be a quiz for a few weeks, though. Right?”

Uzi shrugged. “No clue.”

“Can you teach me that hacking trick you do?” N asked as she stood up on a stack of books to start rifling through her locker. “Maybe we can both do that so we can just skim through each other’s memories of the classes for when we need to remember stuff for tests and stuff!”

Uzi grinned mischievously up at him. “Sure can, dude! They teach us that in Psych 102.”

N’s eyes went hollow. “Wait, they teach us how to hack each other?”

“Yep! The only useful thing I’ve learned here.” Uzi cackled. “Teacher got mad at me once for using the same skills he was teaching. In class. I ended up setting a dude’s head on fire for like a week.”

“Oh. Heh.” N scratched the back of his head, adjusting his hat slightly. “I think I remember that guy.”

Uzi paused for a moment, then slammed her locker shut and twisted to face her boyfriend head on. “Anywaaaay. Whaddaya wanna do after school?”

N’s face lit up and he clasped his hands together with a little bounce on his feet. “Can we go flying together?”

---

next up, a date in the sky >;D

[out-there-tmblr]

Young zaundads wip (42)

***

"Why," Vander asks as they trudge through the old mine after curfew, "does being around you involve so much manual labour?"

He rubs at his left arm, feeling the strain of holding up a metal beam while Connol bolted it in place and then welded it together. He hadn't done it alone. Benzo and Felicia had helped with the weight and Silco passed Connol tools as he needed them. They've all been working on their little store, tucked against the wall of the crevasse.

At the moment, it's just a metal skeleton, two floors high with a ladder. Tomorrow they'll add a roof to it and then walls. And then someone's going to have to figure out how to build a staircase. And fit a door. Silco's already found some discarded tables in the junk pile, things that could be salvaged with new legs or replaced screws.

When Silco talks about it, Vander can see what he imagines. A shop with goods stored on shelves and across tables, where people can afford to buy things. The start of a future that's more than mining and the mess hall. Silco also talks about Vander running it, which Vander can't imagine working out but that discussion can wait. Especially when Silco's been… off all night.

Vander can't put his finger on it. Silco hasn't been sharp-tongued like he is when he's angry. No sly jokes and meaningful glances to signal a good mood. No getting sarcastic as they worked, rolling his eyes and calling it 'Vanderland' just to be annoying.

No, Silco's been quiet tonight, let Benzo and Connol organise what needed to be done next and how to do it. Quiet as they walk to the compound, and still quiet as they slip into the old mines, towards the bed that's waiting for them.

"Silco?" Vander asks, and Silco looks back at him, frowning in thought. "You okay?"

"I'm thinking."

"About?"

Silco keeps marching forward. "A new order of steel was delivered today for the elevator shaft. In a few hours' time, we could wear gas masks, cross the courtyard and hide in the Grey."

"Steal it?" They'd need to break into the store rooms, steal a pair of gauntlets to be able to lift that weight. No possibility of doing that without being spotted. "Where would we hide it?"

"Somewhere they wouldn't look. We could put it in the old mining tunnels."

"They'll come looking for it. They'll throw us both in Stillwater," Vander says, certain. The company protects its equipment more than it's ever cared about its workers. "What brought this on?"

"Nothing." Silco shakes his head, still walking.

"Yeah," Vander says, reaching out to grip Silco's shoulder and give it a comforting squeeze. "Because you consider crossing the company all the time."

"It would make everything so much easier." Silco stops, unlocking their door. The first thing he does is pull his boots off, and line them near the door. Then he takes his jacket off, and hangs it up. "If we're going to wear masks, it should be for our benefit."

"Not if it gets us locked up," Vander replies, hanging up his own jacket. They each get undressed. Silco wets a rag and washes his face and hands, cleaning the rest of him down before he gets into bed. Vander checks his hands but that's about it.

"They hit the Grey today," Silco says, climbing into bed and shuffling over against the wall. "Dug so deep it started seeping up through a crack in the rock."

"In the daytime?" When Silco stepped into the mess hall tonight, Vander thought something was wrong. Silco's eyes were red and bloodshot, like he'd been up all night without sleep. He should have remembered Silco's eyes red and watering, Silco gasping for breath after pushing rocks in the Grey. "What happened?"

"I had my mask with me." They both carry masks on them now. "But Trish and Eri, I had to push them up the rope ladder to get them out of there."

"Are they okay?"

Silco shrugs. "They'll live. Might not work tomorrow."

Silco keeps his arms crossed as Vander gets into bed, curled on his side, shifting away so they don't touch. Vander ignores that and wraps two arms around Silco, holding him tight. Silco takes an unsteady breath and buries his face against Vander's shoulder.

"What are they going to do?" Vander asks softly. "Will it take them long to plot a new design for the mine?"

"They're not changing it," Silco says, words rumbling against Vander's skin. "I heard them. Tests say it will be profitable, even after they buy gas masks and goggles for the miners."

It's a common nightmare in the mines: being locked out of the dorms, being trapped in the Grey. The idea of working in it is somehow worse. Waiting for a gas mask to break, the idea of being trapped so deep you might die before the elevator rattles down to you.

"They won't," Vander says, like a child wishing for an extra serving. "They can't expect us to work down there."

Silco shimmies down until he can rest his head on Vander's chest and curl an arm around his waist. He's kind enough not to disagree.

***

[hrts4hanniehae]

Dino's confession

*this is not a representation of the members of svt irl. y/n race and character type will be pre-determined to allow for a better plot.

ty @fairyofhour for the help!!

masterlist

23 Jan 2018

"Hello everyone!! Today we are live with our Gongju and Maknae!" - Jeonghan

"Oppa, I already told you to stop calling me that!" - (Y/N)

Jeonghan, Hoshi, Y/N and Jun sat on the couch while Dino sat on the floor.

"Someone is asking if Dino is comfortable on the floor." - Hoshi

"I'm lonely here." - Dino

"If I join you will you still be lonely?" - Y/N

Y/N immediately got onto floor and sat beside Dino.

"Don’t do things like that you’ll make my heart race more..." - Dino

Nobody thought much of this statement because Y/N and Dino were naturally already very close. But Y/N could feel the change in tone when he said that. It wasn't in a joking tone. It sounded so... real

…

After the live, Y/N confronted Dino.

The dressing room was quiet, the faint hum of the air conditioning the only sound as Y/N stood in front of Dino. His earlier words during the live replayed in her mind, and she couldn’t ignore the shift in his tone. This wasn’t the playful teasing she was used to. It felt... real.

"Dino," Y/N started hesitantly, her voice soft but steady. "What did you mean earlier? When you said your heart raced?"

Dino looked down at his hands, avoiding her gaze. He let out a shaky breath, his usual confident demeanor nowhere to be found. "I..." He paused, struggling to find the right words. "I wasn’t joking, Y/N."

Her eyes widened slightly, her heart skipping a beat. "You weren’t?"

"No," he admitted quietly, finally lifting his gaze to meet hers. His dark eyes were filled with vulnerability, something she rarely saw from him. "Y/N, I’ve liked you for years... since our debut, actually." He let out a nervous laugh, scratching the back of his neck. "I’ve tried to hide it because... well, we’re idols. We’re in the same group. And I didn’t want to ruin what we have."

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. She had always been close to Dino—he was her safe space in the chaotic world of being an idol—but this? She hadn’t seen it coming.

"Dino..." she whispered, unsure of what to say.

"I know it’s selfish," he continued quickly, his words tumbling out in a rush. "I know how much scrutiny we already get as a co-ed group. If anyone found out about this—about us—it could cause problems for everyone. For you, for me, for the group." He sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping. "But I couldn’t keep it in anymore."

There was a long pause as Y/N processed his words. The weight of their reality as idols pressed heavily on her chest. She knew he was right—their every move was watched, analyzed, judged. But as she looked at him now, vulnerable and honest in a way he rarely allowed himself to be, she couldn’t deny the warmth spreading through her chest.

"Why didn’t you tell me sooner?" she asked softly.

Dino’s lips quirked into a small, sad smile. "Because I didn’t want to lose you—not as a friend, not as someone I care about so much."

Y/N stepped closer to him then, her heart pounding in her chest. Slowly, tentatively, she reached out and took his hand in hers. His eyes widened at the gesture, and she could feel how clammy his palm was against hers.

"Dino," she said gently, giving his hand a small squeeze. "I don’t know what this means for us yet... but I don’t want to lose you either."

His gaze softened at her words, and for the first time that night, a genuine smile spread across his face—a smile that made her heart flutter.

"You mean that?" he asked quietly.

"I do," Y/N replied with a shy smile of her own.

They stood there for a moment longer, their hands intertwined like they were holding onto something fragile yet precious. Dino’s thumb began to trace small circles on the back of her hand—a simple gesture that made warmth bloom in her chest.

"Whatever happens," Y/N said softly, meeting his gaze with determination despite the uncertainty ahead, "we’ll figure it out together."

Dino nodded slowly, his grip on her hand tightening just slightly as if grounding himself in this small but significant moment. "Together," he echoed.

“Just us,” Dino murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N smiled, her heart racing. And then, in a moment of pure vulnerability, Dino leaned in and pressed the softest, briefest kiss to her lips - a promise, a secret, their own little world.

“Just us,” she echoed.

And for now—for this one fleeting moment—it felt like enough.

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[sammyluvr]

✶ hallway hardwood floors — sam winchester

cw : gn!reader, fluff, suggestive, awkward!reader, transfem!sam, kissing, implied sex, unedited, 676 words. requested ! for my 900 followers event [ closed ] .

prompt : in the hallway between the front room and the kitchen + “well, i– i really… you know already, don’t you?”

samantha winchester looks so pretty in the hallway of your little apartment. she stands between your front room and the tiny kitchen, smiling at you softly as you stumble your way through the words you want to tell her.

it’s not like she can’t be awkward too; sam’s always been a bit of an awkward girl, but in times like this, she manages to be much smoother than you are. just moments ago, she asked you if there was anything wrong, because you look a little bit flustered and feel quite warm. she knows that you feel warm because she was hugging you goodbye. that’s the exact reason for your condition; her proximity.

it’s always that. or it could be her beauty, her smile, her sweet nature, her shiny eyes, or her lingering hands. it could be lots of things, but it’s always about her.

and suddenly, you seem to have decided to confess to her without consulting with yourself first, because you’re tripping over words and looking at her with wide, lovestruck eyes.

“well, i– i really…” you take a gulp of air, and register the look on her face. a knowing smile paired with soft eyes. the smile isn’t quite a smirk because she’s too endeared with you to tease. the air in your lungs leaves with a whoosh. “you know already, don’t you?”

her first answer is a little nod. “but i’d love to hear you say it,” she murmurs, voice soft to keep from scaring you away.

when she asks like that, you can’t possibly deny her. you might be a bit socially clumsy, but you care about her very much, and there’s nothing stopping you from being completely enamored with her. enamored enough to swallow the lump in your throat and just say it. “i’m sort of in love with you,” you tell her, your own voice a bit quieter to match hers.

she wants to tease, repeat the words ‘sort of’ back to you as a question. but she knows that would just fluster you more, and she knows what you really mean. and she feels the same way, so she’ll go easy on you. her own cheeks are flushed, whether she’d like to admit it or not.

“me too,” she whispers. then she leans in close, and you might be awkward, but that doesn’t mean you’re always shy, so you close the gap without a moment of hesitation. her hands find their place on your hips, pulling you closer and kissing you. she’s so gentle at first, all soft fingers, lips, and cheeks as your hands drift up to cup her pretty face. but there’s a quickly building tension as she slowly backs you against the wall, nearly knocking your head against a frame hung up on the wall. one of those pretty hands of hers slips around to hold the back of your head to keep it from touching the hard wall, and things aren’t so gentle anymore.

her hold on you tightens until she’s gripping and you’re holding onto her shoulders for dear life. she grants you a bit of mercy by pulling her lips up to your temple to let you breathe. she feels the huff of your breath against her jaw, warm and quick. it’s cute, along with the way your fingers fiddle with the neckline of her tank top. she’s sure that you don’t even realize that you’re doing it.

sam leans back to catch your eye and just about bursts with adoration when you send her this unsure, lopsided smile. it’s the sort of smile that you give when you’re not sure how you’re supposed to react, and it looks a bit silly but she loves it. especially because your lips are smeared with her lip gloss.

now, there’s no goodbye hugs to give because she’s not leaving anytime soon. her shoes are forgotten in the doorway, her jacket still hung up. the hardwood floors in the hallway get your sweatshirt, the living room rug her tank top, and your bedroom everything else.

[lafseanchai]

AITA for asking my roommate to get her shit together and put her dirty dishes away??

Okay. This is what I text her today, cuz at the begining of the week, I told her, AGAIN, that leaving dirty dishes out overnight is a big ick I have, as we have a dishwasher. And it was the only big house rule I asked for since day one. But this morning...

"(Name.) I just asked you the other day not to leave dishes in the sink overnight. And yet there was a bunch of dirty dishes in the sink this morning.

And then there was dirty pan on the stove. And the stove dirty with overboiled pasta water. And the pasta wrapper left on the counter. And you had clearly gone into the clean dishwasher but did not unload it and reload it.

I am just frustrated and a bit disappointed. I am not asking you to do even 50% of the housework. I will even take the trash and clean the main floor bathroom if you can get your dirty dishes put away.

I know that ADHD makes it hard and I totally understand bad brain days, when you have bad brain days at least tell me or mention something. Cuz at this point is feels like you're being careless and disrespectful of the shared space and about the only house rule I have, and I have expressed from day one. Dirty dishes go in the dishwasher and do not sit in the sink overnight.

I bought a little whiteboard that I can put up with a bit of a chore chart again, as it would be more visible than the printed chore chart I made initially.

But at this point, I do not trust that to help a lot, though I am willing to try it if you are.

The last time I talked to you about this, you said you'd talk to your therapist about tools and ways to help you remember, but I am still having to remind you about taking the trash out; if I don't, it doesn't get done. Same with the dishes.

I don't want to have to nag to you do these tasks, as you are an adult, but if I do not give you reminders, it just doesn't get done. Or I dk remind you, and it still doesn't.

I don't want to be mean or harsh, but I am just very frustrated by the dishes thing especially. I have said from day one that is all I asked of my roommates to do, and it is something that does not get respected.

And honestly, I am working a lot of hours and am physically tired, and I know you have limitations, but the fact that you are at the house so many more hours a day than me and even the basic tasks can't get taken care of is so exhausting and frustrating.

I don't know what else to do or say.

Unfortunately, I will be at work literally all day today, a d won't be home until 10pm and I will not have the energy to do a face to face talk tonight.

I am willing to have the conversation here, or plan for it on Saturday. Let me know what you want to do."

Like, I know she's AuDHD, and young, but 22 is certainly old enough to be able to put your dirty dishes in the dishwasher yes? She's been living at the house for like 6 months now, which you think would have been long enough to at least start figuring out some systems and tools to help.

Am I being a bitch? Expecting too much? Being too Neuro typical/ableist?

Any advice? Cuz the next step is telling her she's paying $20-$50 more a month in rent to make up for the fact I am cleaning up after her.

[msklassickilla]

Delirious | J. Uso|R. Reigns One

Summary: When Titania buys an old typewriter from a closing thrift store, she thinks it’s just a vintage gem—until the words she types start coming true. However, the typewriter doesn’t just bring fantasies to life—it twists them. Giving Titania way more than she bargained for.

Pairing: Titania Marshall (Black OC) x Jey Uso x Roman Reigns

Author’s Note: This story is another AU thing. So, it might align, or it might not. I will try my best to keep it current enough. Nonetheless, it’s mash up of a few things: That one episode of Goosebumps. That one episode of the Twilight Zone. And that movie by the same title, Delirious featuring John Candy. I’ma make it work. Plus, I like mystical spooky shit with a bit of Jerry Springer type mess.

Warning(s): Will be updated each chapter. None for this.

Disclaimer: This work of art is fictional in nature including the original characters created by me. I do not own any of the existing characters or lyrics from songs referenced in this story (if any). All rights belong to their respective owners with the exception of my original characters. This work is purely for entertainment purposes and is not intended to cause harm.

One

The bell above the door let out a hollow chime as Titania stepped into the thrift store, shaking off the drizzle from her jacket. The air inside smelled faintly of old books, wood polish, and something vaguely metallic. She glanced around, taking in the cluttered aisles crammed with mismatched furniture, vintage knick-knacks, and dusty stacks of records. A handwritten sign taped to the counter read, “CLOSING FOR GOOD: EVERYTHING MUST GO!” in uneven black marker.

Titania wasn’t here for anything in particular. She’d wandered in out of curiosity after spotting the sign while driving home. Something about the words closing for good always tugged at her—like it was her duty to give a dying shop one last sale.

Her sneakers squeaked softly against the scuffed linoleum floor as she moved through the aisles. Worn lampshades leaned at odd angles, mismatched chairs huddled together like forgotten party guests, and a collection of porcelain cats stared at her from a shelf with chipped paint and blank eyes. It was the kind of place that felt haunted, not by ghosts, but by the lives of the people who had once owned these items.

Titania turned a corner and froze. There, on a small table near the back of the store, sat an old-school typewriter. It was a deep, glossy black with silver trim that gleamed faintly even under the dim fluorescent lights. The keys were round, their letters engraved in bold white, and a sheet of yellowed paper was still tucked into the roller.

“Wow,” she murmured, stepping closer. She ran her fingers along the edge of the typewriter’s cool metal frame. It was in remarkable condition, almost too perfect for a place like this.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” a voice said, startling her.

Titania turned to see the store’s owner standing behind her. He was an older man with sharp eyes that seemed to miss nothing, his salt-and-pepper hair swept back neatly. He wore a faded sweater that hung loosely on his wiry frame, and his hands were tucked into the pockets of his khakis.

“Sorry,” Titania said with a small laugh. “Didn’t hear you sneak up on me.”

He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “That one caught your eye, huh? Not surprised. She’s got a certain… charm.”

“It’s gorgeous,” Titania admitted, brushing her fingertips over the keys. “Does it still work?”

“Better than you’d think,” he said. Then, after a beat, he added, “Careful with that one. It brings stories to life—but not always the way you expect.”

Titania blinked, caught off guard by the comment. “Excuse me?”

The man shrugged, his gaze fixed on the typewriter like it was an old friend—or maybe an enemy. “Just saying, some things have a way of leaving their mark. Especially when they’ve been around as long as this one.”

She laughed nervously, unsure if he was joking or just eccentric. “Well, I don’t know about all that, but I’ve been looking for something to kickstart my writing. This might be just the thing.”

His eyes flicked up to meet hers, and for a moment, there was something unsettling in his expression—something too knowing. But then the look was gone, replaced by a pleasant smile.

“Let me know if you want it,” he said, turning to shuffle back toward the counter. “I’ll give you a good price. It’s not the kind of thing we sell every day.”

Titania hesitated, then glanced back at the typewriter. The keys seemed to glint at her, almost beckoning. It was ridiculous, of course, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that the old man’s cryptic words carried some weight.

“Alright,” she said, half to herself. “Why not?”

A few minutes later, she left the store with the typewriter carefully cradled in her arms, her wallet twenty dollars lighter and her mind buzzing with ideas. She didn’t notice the way the old man watched her go, his hands folded on the counter and a faint, unreadable smile on his face.

As the rain picked up outside, Titania loaded the typewriter into her car and drove home, unaware of the storm she had just invited into her life.

---

Titania set the typewriter on her desk, stepping back to admire her new addition. Her bedroom was cozy but cramped, with books stacked precariously in every corner and her laptop perpetually charging on the nightstand. The typewriter added a vintage charm, standing out like a polished relic among her modern clutter.

She wiped it down with a soft cloth, though there was hardly any dust on it to begin with. The black metal practically shone, and the keys were smooth beneath her fingers. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d used a typewriter—probably not since high school when she’d taken a creative writing elective on a whim.

“Alright,” she muttered to herself, pulling the yellowed piece of paper from the roller. She held it up to the light, squinting at the faint, uneven typewritten letters. Most of the words were faded beyond recognition, but the last line stood out:

What you write is what you live.

She chuckled, shaking her head. “Okay, creepy.” Titania tossed the paper into the small trash can by her desk, chalking it up to someone’s idea of an artsy tagline.

The typewriter sat there for the next few days, a silent observer in her room. She meant to use it—she really did—but life got in the way. Her freelance writing gig had her swamped with deadlines, and by the time she finished her work for the day, all she wanted to do was binge her favorite wrestling matches and scroll through Twitter.

Still, the typewriter was never far from her mind. Every time she glanced at it, a little spark of excitement flickered in her chest. She imagined herself sitting there, typing away like some old-school novelist, the clacking of the keys drowning out the world.

Sometimes, though, she couldn’t shake the feeling that the typewriter was watching her. Not literally, of course—that was absurd—but there was something about the way it sat so perfectly on her desk. It never seemed to collect dust, and the metal caught the light in a way that made it look alive.

Late one night, as she was lying in bed with her laptop propped on her knees, she thought she heard something—a faint clicking sound, like the typewriter’s keys being pressed.

She froze, the glow of the laptop casting long shadows on the walls. The sound stopped as quickly as it had started, leaving only the hum of her heater and the faint creak of the house settling.

“It’s just the wind,” she muttered, closing her laptop and pulling the covers over her head. Still, her dreams that night were filled with the rhythmic clatter of typewriter keys.

The next morning, as sunlight streamed through the window, Titania glanced at the typewriter and made herself a promise. “I’ll use it soon,” she said aloud. “Maybe tonight. No more excuses.”

She didn’t realize how soon that promise would be tested.

---

By late evening, the storm had arrived in full force. Rain lashed against the windows, thunder grumbled low in the distance, and occasional flashes of lightning lit up the room. Titania sat curled up on her couch with a mug of tea, trying to focus on a book, but the restless energy in the air made it impossible to concentrate.

The weather report had warned of severe storms rolling through the area, and the power had already flickered twice. Titania set her book down with a sigh, her gaze drifting toward the stairs that led to her bedroom. The typewriter sat up there, quiet and untouched since she’d brought it home.

She rubbed the back of her neck, her thoughts already spiraling. Maybe tonight was the night to finally put it to use. The storm gave the perfect excuse—it was moody and dramatic, and, honestly, she had nothing better to do.

Setting her mug on the coffee table, Titania headed upstairs. The house creaked beneath her feet as the wind howled outside, rattling the windows. In her bedroom, the typewriter seemed to gleam in the dim light, waiting for her like it had known she’d come.

Titania pulled out the chair at her desk and sat down. She ran her hands over the keys, hesitating. “Alright, let’s see what you’ve got,” she murmured, cracking her knuckles.

She rolled a fresh sheet of paper into the typewriter and adjusted it until it was snug. The satisfying ding as the roller clicked into place made her smile. The storm raged outside, the clatter of rain against the roof creating a backdrop of white noise.

Titania began to type, her fingers flying over the keys as words spilled onto the page:

The front door creaked open as Jey stepped inside, the scent of rain clinging to him. He carried his luggage in one hand and a bouquet of roses in the other, his face tired but softened by a warm smile. He was home—finally.

The scene played vividly in her mind. She imagined Jey, the dark curls of his hair damp from the rain, his confident stride easing into something gentler as he stepped into the house.

Titania rushed down the stairs, her heart racing as she saw him standing there. She couldn’t help but smile, her voice breaking with emotion as she said, “You’re home.”

She paused, her fingers hovering over the keys. A clap of thunder rumbled overhead, louder this time, shaking the walls. The power flickered once, twice—then went out, plunging the room into darkness.

“Seriously?” Titania groaned, fumbling around her desk for her phone. The storm wasn’t letting up, and the house suddenly felt colder without the hum of the heater.

A moment later, the lights snapped back on, almost startling in their brightness. Titania let out a relieved breath, but her stomach twisted when she noticed something.

The room felt different.

It wasn’t the mess of books on her shelves or the faint smell of burnt-out candles lingering in the air. It was something deeper, a weight pressing against her senses.

Then she heard it—the sound of someone fiddling with the front door.

Titania froze, her heartbeat thundering in her ears. It wasn’t the wind; it was deliberate, like someone was trying to open the lock.

Adrenaline surged through her as she jumped out of her chair. Her eyes darted to the corner of her closet, where she kept the old aluminum baseball bat from her high school softball days. She grabbed it without hesitation, clutching it tightly in her hands.

Moving as quietly as she could, Titania made her way downstairs, each step creaking underfoot. The sound at the door had stopped, but the faint hum of the storm seemed louder now, like it was seeping into the house itself.

Her knuckles whitened as she gripped the bat, bracing herself. She reached the bottom of the stairs and turned toward the door, her breath catching in her throat.

The door clicked open.

The door creaked open slowly, the hinges letting out a low groan as the wind pushed it wider. Titania tightened her grip on the bat, her pulse hammering so loudly in her ears that it nearly drowned out the sound of the storm.

For a second, nothing happened. The doorway was a black void, rain falling in sheets behind it. Then, a figure stepped into the light.

Titania’s breath caught in her throat.

Standing in her doorway, soaked from the rain, was Jey Uso.

He looked exactly as she had imagined him. His dark curls were damp and clung to his face, beads of water running down his sharp jawline. He wore a hoodie zipped halfway up, the fabric sticking to his broad chest, and his luggage hung from one hand. In the other hand was a bouquet of red roses, the petals trembling slightly from the wind.

“Hey,” he said, his voice low and familiar, a sheepish smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Sorry for scaring you, baby.”

Titania’s heart stopped for a beat, then kicked into overdrive. She opened her mouth to say something, but no sound came out. This wasn’t possible. This couldn’t be real.

Jey shifted his weight, looking slightly nervous. “I tried to call, but I think the storm’s messing with the signal.” He gestured vaguely behind him toward the driveway, where his car was parked. “I wrapped up early on the road and thought I’d surprise you. Didn’t want to wait ‘til morning to see you.”

Titania blinked, her grip on the bat loosening as her arms dropped to her sides. “What—” Her voice cracked. She swallowed hard and tried again. “What are you doing here?”

Jey tilted his head, his brow furrowing slightly. “What do you mean? I live here, babe.” He let out a soft laugh, the sound warm and easy. “You okay? Did I scare you that bad?.”

Titania’s mind raced, her thoughts colliding in a chaotic jumble. This had to be some kind of prank, right? But no one she knew could have pulled off something this elaborate. And the way he was looking at her, the familiarity in his voice and his expression—it wasn’t the look of a stranger.

“I…” She hesitated, her mouth dry. “I’m fine. I just wasn’t expecting you. At all.”

Jey stepped inside, setting his luggage down carefully by the door. The bouquet of roses shifted in his grip as he reached up to push his hood back, revealing the full mess of damp curls laying on the top of his head. He held the flowers out to her with an apologetic smile.

“Here. They’re probably a little worse for wear thanks to the rain, but I thought you’d like ‘em.”

Titania stared at the roses, her hand trembling slightly as she reached out to take them. The petals were soft and cool against her skin, the faint scent of them mingling with the rain and Jey’s cologne—a scent so familiar it made her knees weak.

“Thanks,” she said weakly, her voice barely above a whisper.

He gave her a small grin. “You sure you’re good? You look… I don’t know. Stressed.” He took a step closer, concern softening his features. “Did something happen?”

Titania’s mind screamed for her to say something, anything, but she was completely out of her depth. This was Jey Uso—standing in her living room, acting like they’d been together for years. And the worst part was, he sounded so sincere.

Her eyes darted to the stairs, where the typewriter sat in her bedroom. The scene she’d written, the exact words she’d typed—they were unfolding right in front of her, down to the smallest detail.

This wasn’t a coincidence.

Jey’s brow furrowed as he reached out to gently touch her arm. “Tee, talk to me. What’s going on?”

The nickname hit her like a bolt of lightning, breaking her out of her daze. “I—I’m good,” she stammered, forcing a shaky smile. “Just caught me off guard, that’s all. You’re soaked—let me get you a towel.”

Jey hesitated, clearly unconvinced, but he nodded. “Alright. Thanks, babe.”

Titania turned and hurried up the stairs, clutching the roses to her chest as her mind raced. She could feel his eyes on her back, the weight of his presence grounding her in a moment that felt anything but real.

As soon as she reached her bedroom, she set the roses on her desk and stared at the typewriter. It sat there, silent and unassuming, as though it hadn’t just rewritten the fabric of her reality.

“What the hell did I just do?” she whispered.

Downstairs, she heard Jey moving around, his voice faint as he called out, “Hey, do we still have that beer I like in the fridge?”

Titania groaned, running a hand down her face. She had no idea how to answer him—or what she was supposed to do next.

----

Titania took her time coming back down the stairs, her mind racing in circles as she gripped the towel she’d grabbed for Jey. Each step felt heavier than the last, as if the weight of what had just happened—or what was still happening—was pressing down on her.

When she reached the bottom of the staircase, she found Jey standing in the entryway, casually tugging off his damp hoodie. Beneath it, he wore a fitted black T-shirt that clung to his rain-soaked skin, and his tattoos gleamed faintly in the dim light. He looked so at home it made her stomach twist.

“Here,” she said, holding the towel out toward him with a forced smile.

“Thanks,” Jey said, flashing her that easy, crooked grin that always made her heart skip a beat—even before tonight, when she only knew him through a screen. He took the towel and started drying his hair, his damp curls springing back to life as he ruffled them.

Titania stood there, clutching the banister for support, her mind still trying to process what was happening. He was here. He was real. And worse, he thought he belonged here.

Jey noticed her staring and paused, lowering the towel. “You sure you’re okay, Tee? You’re acting... different.”

There it was again—Tee. The way he said it was so familiar, so natural, as if he’d called her that a thousand times before. Titania’s mouth went dry.

“I’m okay,” she said quickly, her voice higher than usual. She cleared her throat and forced herself to relax, leaning against the banister like it was no big deal that Jey Uso was dripping rainwater onto her rug. “Just didn’t expect you to get home tonight, that’s all. I thought you’d still be... on the road.”

“Yeah, I know. I wasn’t supposed to be back until tomorrow, but I finished up early,” he said, tossing the towel over his shoulder and reaching for his luggage. He rolled it over to the edge of the living room, parking it by the couch.

Titania watched him move around like he knew the house—like it was his house. He glanced toward the kitchen, then back at her.

“You eat yet?” he asked.

“What?” she said, blinking.

“Did you eat?” Jey repeated, his brows knitting together slightly. “You get like this when you forget to eat, you know.”

“I—” Titania clamped her mouth shut, unsure how to respond. It was true that she often got scatterbrained when she skipped meals, but how the hell did he know that? She hadn’t written that detail into the story.

Her silence seemed to worry him. Jey stepped closer, his dark eyes scanning her face. He reached out and gently cupped her chin, tilting her head up so she had no choice but to meet his gaze.

“Talk to me,” he said softly. “Did something happen while I was gone?”

The warmth of his hand on her skin sent a shiver down her spine. Titania pulled back instinctively, her heart racing. “No,” she blurted. “No, I’m fine. Really. It’s just... the storm. It’s been messing with my head all night.”

Jey studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he nodded, stepping back and letting his hand drop to his side. “Alright,” he said, his tone laced with gentle skepticism. “If you say so.”

He glanced toward the kitchen again and smiled faintly. “You still got that wine you like, or do I need to run out and grab some?”

Titania couldn’t stop the small laugh that escaped her, though it sounded more like a gasp of disbelief. “Wine?”

“Yeah,” he said, grinning now. “Figured we could have a little date night. Unless you’re too tired?”

Date night. He was acting like this was just another ordinary evening for them, like this was some normal relationship where he came home and they hung out like any other couple.

The sheer absurdity of it all nearly made her dizzy. She forced another smile and shook her head. “No, I’m not too tired. Wine sounds... great.”

Jey’s grin widened. “Bet. Let me unpack and get cleaned up, and we’ll chill for a bit.”

He grabbed his luggage and headed upstairs, whistling softly as he disappeared down the hall.

Titania stood frozen in place, the room suddenly feeling too quiet without him in it. She slowly sank onto the couch, staring at the towel he’d left draped over the armrest.

Her gaze drifted toward the stairs, her chest tightening. Upstairs, on her desk, was the typewriter that had brought him here. She could still hear the rhythmic clacking of its keys in her head, the words she’d written playing out exactly as she’d imagined.

This wasn’t a dream. This wasn’t some weird coincidence.

She had written Jey Uso into her life.

And now, she had no idea how to undo it.

----

Read Chapter Two ...click here

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Taglist: @theusotwinzcom @yana3sworld

[hyperactivewhore]

I definitely agree with your takes on Klaroline! I feel their shippers make them out to be way more than what actually were.

Before I watched the show, I had assumed that they were an actual couple (with the way people spoke about them) but when I finally watched it, I was like, “This is it??”

Their pacing and nonexistent development is horrendous, anon. I've noticed an increase of kc antis in the last years, though. Not enough to overgrown their shippers, of course, considering how popular klaroline is, but in reality that's all that kc has going on: popularity.

Klaroline was build up on so, so many plot holes and both Klaus and Care being out of character. Klaus allowing Caroline, her teenage version at that, to speak to him like she did in 3x14 (literally their second time talking) just took all the weight Klaus had as a serious and intimidating antagonist and crushed it. People complain TO! Klaus was out of character, but was he really? Klaus literally hit Elena across the face so hard he sent her to the floor the moment she even thought of speaking about him like he wasn't in the room, yet he allows Caroline to not only insult his fragile ego, but also help trying get his family killed and he simply stands by it. So many people say his TO version was even worse and allowed him more free range, and I agree so much. As much as I love his TVD self, he was an inconsistent mess even then.

I've always been annoyed by how out of character Klaus becomes whenever one of his love interests is involved, but regardless, I feel kc only works for what Klaus wants and how he sees Caroline. The entire ship is built around him, never around Caroline. People like to say Klaus always chose her first as a way to uplift the ship, but that's just not true. Klaus had simply no obstacles in his way and that made it all easier to him. Stefan and Tyler were struggling, Klaus was not.

Their shippers definitely make them out to be so much more than what they were in canon, which was a hookup with a few callbacks between the three shows. There was never a love confession between them, not even a hug, he promised to be her last love but showed little to no interest in fullfiling that promise, not even when Caroline was single, and they both went on with their lives without contact for more than a decade. So, like many others, I just can't see the appeal.

Thanks for the ask, love! I'm glad we agree on so many things.

[bifuriouswaterbender]

Something I don't think we talk about enough related to kids are some of the reasons their spaces tend to be messy. And thinking back to my own childhood, I think a big part of it is that most kids don't get a say in their own organization systems. Parents will design a space that makes sense to them and dictate where things should go and what being clean and organized looks like, regardless of whether it makes sense.

[faaun]

procrastination is starting to have its consequences finally