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evangelical04 · 6 months

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A Single Daffodil || 1

Summary: Getting arranged to be married to your long-time crush wasn't exactly the fairy tale romance you were hoping for. Nor is the dynamic of the marriage, with your husband treating you like you don't exist. But you're going to make this work, whether he cares about you or not. And he definitely doesn't...right?

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader

Rating: 18+ minors DNI

Word Count: 2.7K

Genre: angst, romance, unrequited love, smut, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage au, businessman yoongi

Warnings: parental trauma, sibling trauma, toxic parents, unrequited love, explicit language, alcohol usage, yoongi's kind of mean, future smut

Author's Note: hello! i'm Eva and this is my first fic on tumblr ever! I've been a reader for so long and I've always wanted to write my own stories, so I figured I finally would. I know it’s kind of short but I promise the other parts will be longer. Please give me any feedback you have and let me know if you'd like there to be a tag list or anything! I hope you guys like it!! p.s. I'm totally posting this instead of doing my morphology homework that's due in 15 minutes

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The door to your childhood home looked artificially welcoming. There were too many flowers lining the walls encasing the looming wooden door. The grass on the lawn just was a bit too green without a blade out of place and the paved walkway was freshly powerwashed and missing even a speck of dirt. You let out the deep breath you were holding and gently took hold of the overly ornate bronze knocker adorning the painted wood of the door. Two loud thuds rang out as you knocked and the door quickly opened afterwards.

“Hello, Miss Y/N, your parents have been expecting you.”

“Yes, I know. Thank you, Mrs. Oh,” you responded quietly, nodding at the grey-haired woman. She shot you a sympathetic smile before ushering you in, taking your coat and carefully laying it over her arm. After removing your shoes, you followed her past the foyer to the living room where your parents awaited.

You knew what was coming, you knew that this had been decided long before you were born. Yet, you still felt unprepared. You had grown comfortable, living in your simple apartment in Gangnam and your quiet work routine. Biting your lip, you reprimanded yourself internally, You should’ve brought this shit up in therapy before it happened.

“Here we are, Miss Y/N,” Mrs. Oh said, snapping you out of your self-pity session. You nodded gratefully at her, sending a small smile her way. Her eyebrows wove together in her own pity-ridden expression and she quickly whispered, “Good luck,” while exiting swiftly. You steeled your nerves and forced your chin up high, knowing that you’d most likely cower inwards as soon as you faced your parents anyway.

Stepping into the room, you noted the almost intervention-like setup your parents had arranged themselves in, with your father sitting proudly in his reclining, leather armchair, clad in a dark blue quarter zip and khaki pants. Your mother stood facing the fireplace, arms crossed, in a simple and elegant turquoise dress and hair tied up in a tight and neat bun, with her baby hairs smoothed back to prevent any imperfection. You could almost imagine her pinched mouth, forever encased in a stern and unamused expression.

“Hello father, mother,” you started, trying to smooth the slight trembling in your voice. Your mother turned around, eyes narrowing at your form, “Sit down.”

You promptly obeyed.

“Your father and I have decided on your marriage. It’ll be to the Min family, to Min Yoongi.”

“What? To him? But,” you began protesting but your mother quickly cut you off with a steely glare.

“It has already been decided. Your wedding will be in eight months. I’ll forward you the invitation list and you can add three people of your choosing. You’ll be having dinner with us and the Min family on Friday at six. I’ll have Yujin send you an email with further details. Don’t be late.”

You looked to your father in a desperate plea but were only met with stony silence and a passive face. You turned back to your mother and registered the composed expression painting her face. Your fate had been decided, and it had not worked in your favor at all. Rising slowly, you set your hands by your side and bowed towards your parents, “I understand. I’ll be there.”

Your mother swiftly exited the room, evidently deciding the conversation was over. You could hear her dangling earrings tinkling against each other in what felt like a mocking melody. Your father calmly produced a cigar from the table next to him and lit up, no longer acknowledging you either. You let out another slow breath and walked out.

Collecting your coat from Mrs. Oh, who tried to give you a comforting shoulder squeeze but it felt more like condolences than anything, and made your way to your car parked in front of the gate closing off your parents’ home.

That’s it then.

You felt eerily calm yet stressed as you started up your car and carefully reversed out, making sure to avoid hitting the carved statues your parents had in front of the iron gate. As you drove home, your mind started racing with the information you had been relayed.

Min Yoongi as your soon-to-be-husband? What irony.

Does he even know you exist?

Will you be able to survive this?

Hand gripping the steering wheel hard, you quickly dialed the most recent number in your contact list. She answered after only two rings.

“Y/N! Are you still alive? How’d it go?”

“Hi Joohee, not great. I’m completely and totally fucked.”

Joohee chuckled on the other end of the line, “Want to come over?”

“Yes,” you breathed, “I was hoping you’d offer.”

“I’ll get the booze.”

“Min Yoongi? Now that’s ironic,” Joohee chuckled, seemingly at your expense. You shot a glare her way which she shrugged in response to.

“How long have you been crushing on him? This is, like, practically fate. Maybe this’ll be a good thing.”

You scoffed in response, “A good thing? Joohee, be serious. The last thing I want to do is get with my long-time infatuation, not crush, by forcing him to be my husband.” You took another swig of wine. It was a cheap pink Moscato, perfect for nights like these with Joohee.

Joohee shoved a pillow in your direction in an effort to gain more room on the couch you had stuffed yourselves onto. The trash reality dating show you had on in the background was showing a rather dramatic fight but you paid it no attention, “It’s just…I haven’t talked to him in the last, what, five years? He probably doesn’t even remember me. And you’ve heard the rumors, I don’t think he’ll be exactly thrilled at giving up his playboy lifestyle just because he has to marry me.”

“What if he doesn’t give that up?”

You stared at Joohee in slight surprise, “What do you mean?”

“Like, what if he says that he doesn’t want to stop hooking up with other people? What will you do?”

Your brows furrowed as you considered the question, “I don’t know, I guess. I mean, I can’t really stop him. I guess I’d just have to live with it.”

Joohee hummed in response before continuing on, “Well, this is happening whether you like it or not. Just try to make it amicable at the least. Maybe it’ll work out, you never know. Just look at Jin oppa.”

Kim Seokjin, Joohee’s older brother and a friend of Min Yoongi’s, was arranged by Joohee’s parents to marry Song Yeonhee, and the two had seemingly fallen in love after a rocky start to their nuptials. You had seen them recently at Yeonhee’s baby shower and she had been glowing, looking unbelievably happy. You recalled the loving gaze that Seokjin had sent her during the party and the pang of envy you felt, knowing that you would likely never get to experience that.

“Yeah, well,” you responded, “He’s an outlier. Most of these types of marriages don’t work out. I have a feeling I’m going to be a part of that group.”

“You’re too negative, you haven’t even met him for dinner yet. Maybe he’ll surprise you. You just have to give him the chance.”

You mulled over Joohee’s words and nodded, “Yeah, maybe you’re right. I guess I’ll see how Friday goes.”

You weren’t technically late.

While you still had about 5 minutes before the dinner officially started, you weren’t early, and that was unacceptable by your mother’s standards. A mini emergency at your job had left you scrambling to leave on time, only noticing the late hour when one of your coworkers asked if they should order take-out for the team. After profusely apologizing to your team, they encouraged you to go, practically shooing you out the door, claiming they could handle the situation for now.

Which left you barely on time to park in the lot outside the ridiculously fancy Japanese restaurant your mother’s assistant, Yujin, had sent to your email earlier that week. You quickly stepped out, smoothing out your dress that you had kept in the backseat of your car and had hastily changed into in the parking lot of your office. Tugging down the hem, you took a moment to look at your reflection in your car window and attempt to look more presentable. Your hair was slightly frizzy but nicely combed back, and you had extremely minimal makeup on from only remembering last minute this morning, and your eyes looked tired.

You felt tired.

Shaking off your nerves, you headed inside the restaurant giving your family name to the hostess who took you back to a private room where your mother and father were waiting. Your father spared you only a cursory glance before returning his gaze to his phone and your mother looked you up and down before uttering a curt, “Hm.” You held in an eye roll and quickly sat next to them, trying to calm your heart rate for the sure-to-be exhilarating dinner ahead. At six on the dot, you spotted the same hostess leading the Min family towards your table. Your mother stood, welcoming them and urging them to sit down. You stood as well, a little less welcoming, a lot more obligated.

Mrs. Min looked like the epitome of a rich older woman with dark black hair combed back and glittering jewels lining her ears and neck, complementing the midnight blue gown she had on. Mr. Min was dressed quite similarly to your father, in a simple suit, the only difference being his starkly greying hair providing quite the contrast to his dark blazer. Close behind them was the person you were the most anxious about meeting, Min Yoongi. His pitch-black hair complemented his slightly tanned skin nicely and his feline eyes remained straightforward and untelling. He was dressed in a simple black suit as well with an expensive-looking watch adoring his wrist. His mouth was closed tightly and he did not smile at your mother when she greeted him, not at your father when they sat down across from your family, and certainly not at you.

Your hands nervously played with each other in your lap as you took your seat again. You listened quietly as the mothers exchanged pleasantries and the fathers gruffly greeted each other. You were trying to avoid looking at Yoongi as much as possible.

“So, Y/N,” Mrs. Min started, making you startle to attention, “How old are you now?”

“Twenty-nine, ma’am.”

“Ah, so only a bit younger than Yoongi. That’s good then. How is your work?”

You felt your father stiffen next to you and prayed your discomfort didn’t show on your face, “Good. I’m in the middle of producing a new project with my team.”

“How lovely. Although I’m sure you’ll be leaving that soon after the wedding. You won’t need to work then after all,” Mrs. Min smiled at you. It was hard to read her so you couldn’t tell if she was being genuine or not, though if you had to guess, it was likely the latter. Your job was a point of contention with your family. Choosing to work in a video game production company did not go over well, and if your older brother, Kyungsoo, hadn’t been in line to inherit Seo Industries, you would’ve never been able to keep it.

You smiled awkwardly in response to Mrs. Min and returned your gaze to the empty plate in front of you.

As the conversation dragged on, you couldn’t help but steal a glance or two at Yoongi, who was periodically checking his phone and looking permanently bored of the conversation. Not that you could blame him. The dull talk of social circle gossip and work was beginning to get grating, and even the introduction of fancy entrees wasn’t enough to stop your stomach from feeling queasy.

Yoongi had yet to say one word to you. To be fair, you hadn’t said anything to him either, but he had barely looked in your direction since he entered the private dining room. How exactly were you supposed to start a conversation with that?

Soon after the desserts came out and were finished, with you politely refusing, feeling like you were going to throw up any second, Mrs. Min suddenly pushed her chair back and stood. She looked down at you and Yoongi and announced, “Well. I think we can leave them to talk on their own for a bit. Why don’t you join us for a drink at our home, Eujin-ssi?”

At the sound of her name, your mother stood, nodding, “Yes, that sounds lovely. Let’s let them get to know each other a bit more.” With that, the parents swiftly gathered their belongings and left, before you could even protest, leaving you staring open-mouthed at the exit.

Slowly, you turned to face Yoongi and were startled, seeing his eyes already boring into yours.

“Let’s get one thing straight,” Yoongi stated, his deep and stable voice wrapping around you for the first time that night, “This marriage means nothing to me. It shouldn’t to you either. I’ll do my thing and you do yours. Most importantly, stay out of my life except when necessary. Just because my parents are forcing my hand doesn’t mean I have to adhere to every little thing. Nothing will be changing except for our living situation and a ring on our fingers.”

A little stunned, you could only stutter a passive agreement and watch as he rose and left without sparing you another glance.

Letting out a deep breath, you closed your eyes, trying to understand what had just transpired. Your heart raced as you quickly stacked up the dishes to be a bit easier for the busboy and quickly made your way to your car. Sitting down in the driver’s seat, you vaguely registered Min Yoongi’s cold demeanor towards you.

It seems he didn’t remember you after all.

The dress you had on was itchy, but you knew if you complained, you would only end up with a sharp stinging on your cheek and tear-filled eyes. You had escaped the boring party with grown-ups and were sitting outside on a stone bench in the garden, trying to remedy your hurt feelings at the hands of the mean, older boy, Hyunsoo.

He had confidently poked fun at your appearance, saying the dress was a bit too small on you and that your parents should’ve sprung for a size that could fit an elephant instead. He continued on, saying your parents must’ve forgotten to vaccinate you for measles considering all the red spots on your face that were actually acne. Being a tender twelve years of age and going through the worst bits of puberty, his words hit you hard and you quickly ran from the scene into the garden.

Unable to contain your tears, they slipped down your face in large droplets and soaked into the front of your dress.

“Hey, you.”

Startled, you looked up to see a boy a couple of years older than you standing in front of you, black hair shining in the light from the garden lamps. His sharp eyes trailed down your tear-stained face. You quickly turned away in shame, not wanting to undergo any more embarrassment tonight.

“Hey, snot-face.”

You shot him a glare but softened when you saw his hand extended, holding a handkerchief, his face turned slightly away, “Use this. You look ugly while you’re crying.”

You gingerly took the cloth from his hands and blew your nose, noticing him wince out of the corner of your eye.

“Thank you,” you managed and he only rolled his eyes in response.

“Yeah, whatever. I think Joohee’s looking for you,” he grumbled before turning on his heel and stalking off back towards the party.

Confused, your eyes followed after him, not knowing how he knew that Joohee would be looking for you. You unfolded the handkerchief and noticed an elegant embroidering of three letters in black near the bottom, MYG.

Oh, you realized, Min Yoongi. Joohee’s older brother was friends with him but you had never seen him before. Joohee had described him as kind of rude and quite closed off, but you disagreed. He certainly didn’t seem that bad.

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soracities · 1 year

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"Persephone Writes a Letter to Her Mother", by A.E. Stallings

First – hell is not so far underground – My hair gets tangled in the roots of trees & I can just make out the crunch of footsteps, The pop of acorns falling, or the chime Of a shovel squaring a fresh grave or turning Up the tulip bulbs for separation. Day & night, creatures with no legs Or too many, journey to hell and back. Alas, the burrowing animals have dim eyesight. They are useless for news of the upper world. They say the light is “loud” (their figures of speech All come from sound; their hearing is acute).

The dead are just as dull as you would imagine. They evolve like the burrowing animals – losing their sight. They may roam abroad sometimes – but just at night – They can only tell me if there was a moon. Again and again, moth-like, they are duped By any beckoning flame – lamps and candles. They come back startled & singed, sucking their fingers, Happy the dirt is cool and dense and blind. They are silly & grateful and don’t remember anything. I have tried to tell them stories, but they cannot attend. They pester you like children for the wrong details – How long were his fingernails? Did she wear shoes? How much did they eat for breakfast? What is snow? And then they pay no attention to the answers.

My husband, bored with their babbling, neither listens nor speaks. But here there is no fodder for small talk. The weather is always the same. Nothing happens. (Though at times I feel the trees, rocking in place Like grief, clenching the dirt with torturous toes.) There is nothing to eat here but raw beets & turnips. There is nothing to drink but mud-filtered rain. Of course, no one goes hungry or toils, however many – (The dead breed like the bulbs of daffodils – Without sex or seed – all underground – Yet no race has such increase. Worse than insects!)

I miss you and think about you often. Please send flowers. I am forgetting them. If I yank them down by the roots, they lose their petals And smell of compost. Though I try to describe Their color and fragrance, no one here believes me. They think they are the same thing as mushrooms. Yet no dog is so loyal as the dead, Who have no wives or children and no lives, No motives, secret or bare, to disobey. Plus, my husband is a kind, kind master; He asks nothing of us, nothing at all – Thus fall changes to winter, winter to fall, While we learn idleness, a difficult lesson.

He does not fully understand why I write letters. He says that you will never get them. True – Mulched-leaf paper sticks together, then rots; No ink but blood, and it turns brown like the leaves. He found my stash of letters, for I had hid it, Thinking he’d be angry. But he never angers. He took my hands in his hands, my shredded fingers Which I have sliced for ink, thin paper cuts. My effort is futile, he says, and doesn’t forbid it.

#q #lit #quotes #poems #literature #persephone writes a letter to her mother #a.e. stallings #m #x

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hiramaris · 4 months

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Kiss it Off Me

CHAPTER 8

Chapter Summary:

Yeah, she might die a happy woman right here, but if Yoba were kind enough, she hoped she'd live long enough to see those smiles.

Pairings: Haley x Fem!farmer

Disclaimer: I do not own Stardew Valley or any of the related characters. Stardew Valley is created by and owned by ConcernedApe. This fanfiction is intended for entertainment only. I am not making any profit from this story. All rights of the original Stardew Valley story belong to ConcernedApe.

Warning: none

Notes: I know, I know it's late again. I'm really sorry, my loves. It's just that life hasn't been giving me a break already. Hope you enjoy this one! I know I've been taking my sweet time to this fic at a very slow pace but I just really want to take my time to lay out our characters, especially my wife. I hope you weren't bothered with it but I promise you, all this waiting will be worth it ;)

Spring 8

It was a warm, sunny Tuesday afternoon. Being spring, the afternoon sun did nothing to burn her skin, and the post-winter air combined with the fresh spring breeze provided a wonderful cooling effect on her exposed skin that wasn't covered by her blue tank top.

It was really a great idea to wear her hair up today, allowing her to fully enjoy the refreshing air.

Although there wasn't anything particularly picturesque about hanging out at the playground, it offered Haley a rare moment of solitude away from the crowd.

In her high school days, she would have basked in the attention people gave her.

Back then, being in the spotlight was exhilarating. However, after her peak during college, she found that she didn't like it as much. For one, popularity didn't help her grades, and secondly, being an 'It' girl didn't matter anymore—not when everyone was scrambling to pass their exams.

But now, here in Pelican Town, being popular just meant being in the center of gossip. The less attention she got, the better.

She preferred these quiet moments, where she could be herself without the prying eyes and whispers. The playground, with its empty swings and silent slides, provided the perfect escape from the pressures of scrutinizing gaze from townspeople who were no better than her either.

"Uh, Haley?"

Haley froze at the sound of a familiar voice, the smell of flowers and dirt filling her nostrils. She turned slowly, her heart skipping a beat.

"Oh..." she said, startled. "Hi, there..."

She wasn't expecting to see you so soon after that whole ordeal (Chapter 3, Spring 7). She might have invited you for breakfast out of goodwill and to make up for her rude behavior, but she kind of half-expected you to chicken out and possibly (hopefully) have the presence of mind to avoid her or something because, for the love of Yoba, your presence is becoming too much for her.

You’re like a pebble suddenly thrown into a pond, causing ripples in what was once stagnant. Haley couldn't quite figure out why you had such an effect on her.

You were speaking, talking about what seemed to be a hair tie but Haley's mind was buzzing elsewhere to actually understand you.

Her eyes briefly scanned you. You wore your typical green overalls, and even with a bit of dirt and grass clinging to your clothes, you still managed to look pretty good. The earthy tones seemed to suit you, giving you a rugged, outdoorsy vibe that was oddly attractive.

Surprisingly, your scent wasn't as pungent as Haley expected it to be. In fact, there was a hint of something pleasant mixed in with the earthy aroma, perhaps a subtle whiff of fresh hay or a trace of wildflowers. She couldn't really tell.

Her attention drifted almost inadvertently to your mouth. Slightly chapped, but full pink lips. Wait, what?

Eyes widening by a slight fraction, she immediately darted her eyes elsewhere, making her spot a hair tie and a handful of daffodils in your hand.

Then her eyes spotted Demetrius walking from where you both stood. Haley's mind quickly realized that you were planning to give her another gift this week, and while there's nothing wrong with daffodils (she likes them), you only give them to her when no one is around.

But now, in the presence of Demetrius, who will probably tell Robin, who will likely tell all her Yoga club members, who will surely tell the whole town that you have given her flowers!

While it shouldn't be a big deal, she has lived in this valley long enough that the rumor mill tends to exaggerate things. And Haley doesn't want to get caught in the middle of this.

As you continued speaking, she made a split-second decision to interject, surprising even herself.

"Uhm, how do I say this..." she began, her voice wavering slightly. "I appreciate your gifts and such. But please don't get the wrong ideas. It's not like a little flower will make us besties or anything, you know."

Her pretty mouth is probably the foulest thing ever created, but she couldn't really stop herself from saying the awful things in this world even if her life depended on it. It was as if her mouth had a mind of its own, blurting out things she'd later regret.

Fortunately, you didn't appear offended; rather, you seemed both confused and amused by Haley's abrupt interruption.

"Uhm, I was just asking if this is your hair tie," you said as you handed her the item.

"Oh!" Haley's voice held a note of embarrassment as she accepted the tie from your outstretched hand, her cheeks likely flushed with a deep shade of pink. "I didn't even notice it was missing..."

Your lips quirked up slightly at the sight of her flustered state. "You were saying..?"

Haley was certain you were teasing her, and she would have half a mind to wipe the adorable smirk off your face if she weren't so embarrassed herself.

"Sorry for jumping to conclusions. I was just..." She fidgeted uncomfortably, unable to find the right words. "Well, nevermind."

"Hey, you weren't even wrong. These are actually for you." You presented her with the daffodils before Haley could respond. "And I'm not expecting you to be friends with me just because I give you flowers, you know?"

"Then what else were you expecting?" That question should have sounded so harsh if Haley weren't so busy burying her nose in them to hide her flustered expression.

"Ever heard of giving a pretty flower to a pretty lady?"

She could have sworn she heard Demetrius snort back a laugh.

Haley couldn't help but sigh, but a smirk tugged at her lips at your poor attempt at charming her.

Rumors be damned. These flowers smelled good.

****

Summer 12

"Yoba..." she muttered under her breath, huffing as she finally managed to lift all her shopping bags off the bus. The driver, thankfully, was patient enough to wait as she struggled with her haul.

Some guy had even offered to help her, but Haley shot him a look that could kill, silently telling him to respectfully fuck off. She might have accepted his help if he hadn't been staring at her tits throughout the whole ride and being generally a creep altogether.

There was no way she was letting that perv touch any of her stuff.

The only problem now is how in Yoba's name she's going to lift all these shopping bags back to her house.

"Now there's the pretty face I hadn't seen all day."

Haley immediately perked up at the sound of your voice, her breath hitching as she caught sight of you approaching her.

Your hair was in a loose bun today, with stray strands framing your face in that imperfectly perfect way, it looked so endearing.

The late afternoon sun cast a warm, golden glow, creating an ethereal aura around you as you stepped closer. The sunlight highlighted the gentle slope of your button nose and the soft curve of your lips, naturally tinted with a delicate shade of pink. Your tan skin seemed to radiate warmth, making Haley momentarily forget to breathe.

The sight of you, dressed in a sleek black leather jacket over a fitted white shirt, paired with jeans that hugged your figure just right, only intensified the fluttering in Haley's stomach.

Despite her best efforts to hide it, a flush spread across her cheeks as she took in your appearance.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, attempting to sound casual but failing miserably. The nervousness in her voice was unmistakable.

"Oh, I was about to take a ride to Calico," you replied with a casual shrug, causing Haley's eyes to wander toward the sword strapped behind your broad shoulders. "I've heard there's a cavern there worth exploring."

"To mine?" She couldn't help but make a face. "At this hour?"

You barked out a laugh, the sound hearty and genuine. "Don't worry," you said, a reassuring glint in your eyes. "I'm just going to check the area. My weapons aren't strong enough to take on the monsters in there yet."

"Or better yet, stick to the usual farming and foraging, which is much safer," she suggested, trying to mask her concern with a light tone.

"I don't think so, Hay." You reached out and pinched her nose playfully, earning a mock scowl from her. "Anyway, you need help with the bags?"

She crossed her arms, her stubbornness making its appearance once again. "I think I can handle them myself. Give me some credit."

"Nope." With a chuckle, you swooped in to grab all the shopping bags from the ground, ignoring Haley's protest. "You've been wearing those heels the whole day. They must have been killing your feet right now."

That made Haley pause, her defiance wavering. "B-but—"

"I know you're capable of handling them yourself," you continued, adjusting the bags with ease. "But letting your arms rest for a couple of minutes wouldn't hurt, right?"

Haley sighed, her resolve softening. "At least give me the other bags," she insisted, her cheeks growing warmer by the second.

She wasn't at all foreign to your chivalrous tendencies, but she's still not used to the feeling. She also knew you weren't struggling, she just couldn't shake the guilt of letting you shoulder all the bags after doing such heavy chores on the farm.

But you were stubborn as a mule. When Haley attempted to take some of the bags from you, you shook your head with a playful grin, transferring all the bags to one hand and extending your free hand toward her. "Tell you what, I'll carry the bags, and you can just walk beside me. Deal?"

"B-but I thought you were going to Calico?"

"That could wait," you answered simply, hand still extended, waiting expectantly.

Reluctantly, Haley took your hand, feeling a mix of gratitude and embarrassment. "Fine," she muttered, her cheeks flushing as she glanced away. "But only because my feet are killing me."

You gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "That's the spirit!." You beamed at her, oblivious to Haley's heart pounding hard against her chest. "Let's get you home."

Haley usually kept her cool around you, but feeling your calloused palm against her soft hand stirred up a whirlwind of emotions within her.

She'd be a liar if she denied that there are certain nights that she wonders what it would feel like for your hand to intertwine with hers, and it felt like nothing compared to actually feeling it for the first time.

Despite the roughness of your palm and fingertips, it only added to the warmth she was feeling. They were also a bit bigger compared to Haley's, making your hands almost fully encapsulate her whole hand, almost protectively.

She thought she'd dislike the feeling. Strangely, though, it only made her feel secure. They were the hands of a hard worker, after all.

As you walked through town together, she could see the prying eyes of Jodi and Caroline. She sensed their whispers, undoubtedly exchanging her name and yours.

Surprisingly, this time, Haley didn't seem to mind.

Being called 'yours', even in hushed whispers and rumors, didn't seem so bad now.

****

Summer 13

Dear Miss Carter,

Thank you for expressing interest in our modeling opportunity. After careful consideration, we regret to inform you that we have decided to pursue a different direction for the campaign. While we appreciate your enthusiasm, we believe this decision aligns best with our project goals. We hope to collaborate on future endeavors.

Best regards,

Victoria Bloom

Stardew Valley Gazette

Haley couldn't bring herself to read the letter in its entirety. A single glance was enough to confirm her fears—it was a flat-out rejection.

The sting of disappointment was immediate, sharp, and disheartening.

Her hopes had been high this time, not just because she thought she was beautiful enough, but because she believed in her own talent and passion. She loved photography, had an eye for detail, and knew what made a model truly shine in a photograph.

This was one step closer to her dream—her chance to prove she was more than just a pretty face, designer clothes, and expensive make-up.

This is where she truly shines. Or at least that's what she thought.

But maybe she had become too complacent, thinking her appearance alone would open doors for her.

Seeing the words "We regret to inform you..." felt like a punch to the gut. Doubt began to creep in, whispering that perhaps she wasn't as good as she thought. Maybe the others were right after all.

Staring at her reflection in the mirror felt like salt being rubbed into her wounds. This face, this body... they were all she had. And even those seemed to have failed her.

How on earth was she going to break this news to you? You had been the first to support her when she shared her desire to apply for the position. You believed in her, encouraged her, and told her she had what it took. The thought of seeing the disappointment in your eyes was almost unbearable.

Haley was used to feeling disappointed in herself. She had faced setbacks before, but this felt different. This felt like a failure that might change how you saw her, and that was a bitter pill she wasn't ready to swallow yet.

The fear of letting you down, of not living up to the potential you saw in her, weighed heavily on her heart.

She sniffled, regretting how eagerly she had opened the letter. Now she had to face Alex and celebrate his birthday, looking like she had been crying for hours. Her mascara was smudged, leaving dark streaks down her cheeks, and her eyes were puffy and red from crying.

While she may have to put on her mask, pretend everything's okay, she knew that you and Alex could easily see through her facade no matter how hard she tried to put on a brave face.

It will still ruin the spirit of the party.

Maybe she should consider not going.

But Alex would be upset with her.

Or, either that, he'll physically drag her to the party himself.

Both scenarios felt like disasters.

She let out a harsh breath. Attending was the only option.

She began to retouch her makeup, particularly the parts that had smudged because of her tears, but it was a difficult task with the tears continuously pouring down her cheeks. Her hands trembled as she tried to fix the damage but she didn't dare stop.

She had to look perfect.

Fake it until you make it.

Come on...

A sob couldn't help but escape from her lips.

Fuck.

"Haley." A pair of warm, rough hands take hold of her own, stopping her from smudging her makeup even further. "Haley, come on. Stop."

"Huh..?" Her voice hitched as she saw you tower over her. Her big, baby-blue eyes, filled with unshed tears, met yours.

Oh, no....

You can't see her like this.

"What's wrong?" you began to question, keeping a firm grip on her hands but not too tight to hurt her.

Haley only shook her head. You can't see me like this.

As you lifted her chin up to face you, forcing Haley to meet your gaze, her eyes still glistening with tears, you noticed a makeup wipe lying nearby. With a quick yet gentle movement, you reached behind her back and snatched it up.

"I'd rather fight a whole swarm of skeletons than see you like this," you murmured as you gingerly wiped mascara stains from her cheeks with such gentleness, leaving nothing but her smooth, rosy skin. "What's wrong, Haley? Tell me, please."

She should just push you away. Tell you to leave her alone.

But she couldn't. Not when you're looking at her like that.

Like she's worth of so much more.

And just like that, Haley's resolve crumbled. She had been trying so hard to keep it together, to be strong, but your kindness broke through her defenses. Fresh tears welled up in her eyes, spilling over as she tried to find the words.

"I... I got rejected," she finally managed to say, her voice shaking. "I really thought I'd get that job. Finally prove I'm more than just a dumb blonde from Pelican Town. But now... I feel like such a failure."

"You know that's not true."

"I keep trying my best, Y/n..." Her lips quivered and you were quick to caress her cheeks. "But it feels like I'm getting nowhere."

You squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. "Haley, you're not a failure. You put yourself out there and took a risk. That's something to be proud of."

"But what if I'm just not good enough?" she whispered, her voice barely audible. "What if I'll never be good enough?"

"Hey, hey... none of that. You are more than good enough," you assured her, gently cupping her cheeks before pressing a chaste kiss on her forehead. "One rejection doesn't define you or your worth. And it certainly doesn't change how I see you."

Haley sniffled again, trying to believe your words. "You're not bullshitting me, are you? Because I'm not in the mood to bake for you right now, you know?"

"I would never." You chuckled, your laughter infectious as Haley joined in. "Plus, it's their loss, you know? Only idiots would turn down a spectacular photographer AND model."

"Now I know you're definitely just kissing my ass," Haley snorted, lightly tapping your shoulder. As if to further tease her, your eyes playfully drifted downward, making it Haley's turn to cup your cheeks, unable to stop herself from giggling. "Eyes up here, miss."

"I'm not sure I know what you're talking about," you retorted with a playful smirk, your eyes meeting hers with a twinkle of mischief.

Haley's laughter subsided, replaced by a soft, appreciative smile.

"Thank you, Y/n..." Her eyes are now sparkling with adoration instead of tears. The hands cupping your cheeks slid around your neck, drawing you closer. "You always know what to say to make me feel better."

Closeness that was once awkward and forced...

What was once a heart pounding like a drum in her chest, fast and hot in an uneven rhythm...

Is now a heart steadily beating.

This closeness is calm and silent.

And if she were to die today in this spot with your arms around her, then Haley would die a happy woman.

"Keeping you happy is a responsibility I'd happily taken upon myself," you said softly, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead once again, and Haley couldn't help but close her eyes this time, unable to suppress her own smile. "Now, let's fix your makeup," you added with a small smile, reaching for the makeup wipe again. "And then we'll go to Alex's party together. We'll get through this, one step at a time."

Haley nodded, a genuine smile tugging at her lips. Yeah, she might die a happy woman right here, but if Yoba were kind enough, she hoped she'd live long enough to see those smiles.

****

Summer 17

Click. Click.

Haley sighed as she looked through her camera's viewfinder.

"Just how many variations of the same shot can I take?" she muttered, exhaling another sigh.

After her sudden show of vulnerability to you, Haley suddenly got this urge to take pictures once again. While she may have failed to get that position as a model, that doesn't mean she failed as a photographer.

But looking at the flat, uninspired pictures she'd been taking for almost an hour now, she was starting to think otherwise.

The view here was spectacular, sure, but she’d been photographing this same spot by the lake for years now.

She needed something new. Something more alive.

Haley lowered her camera and gazed around, searching for a fresh perspective. The sun was up and about, casting a golden glow on the water and surrounding trees. It was beautiful–majestic even, if she could dare to say, but still... it wasn't enough.

It felt soulless. Bland.

Chop. Chop.

"That again." Haley couldn't help but glare in the direction of the sound, as if her annoyance alone could make it stop.

The incessant noise of wood chopping from the distance was not helping her at all. Whoever was chopping away had been at it for hours already and didn't give the impression of stopping anytime soon.

She tried to refocus, raising her camera again, but her concentration which was already nonexistent to begin with, was now a mere dust taken away by the summer breeze. The rhythmic, relentless chopping seemed to seep into her mind, making it impossible to find the spark she was looking for.

As if this person knew which buttons to push, the sound of a tree crashing to the ground echoed through the air, making a fully formed nerve start to throb on her forehead.

Whoever that idiot was, they were really going to get a piece of her mind. There was a whole damn forest just south of here, so why did they have to do it here?

Yoba forbid if it was Clint. He was really going to get an earful.

Frustrated, she decided to investigate.

Maybe a change of scenery—or at least figuring out what was going on—would help. Haley packed up her camera and headed toward the source of the noise.

As Haley got closer, she stopped when you suddenly emerged from behind a mahogany tree, an axe in hand.

You leaned down to grab a bottle of water beside your rucksack resting against the tree. Haley only realized she was staring when even the droplet of water that missed your mouth began to cascade across your neck down to your already wet tank top, leaving little to no imagination.

Yoba, when did it get so hot?

Probably unable to not notice such a pretty being such as herself on your peripheral, you turned your head to her with that familiar shit-eating grin she had grown to like so much as you closed the cap of your bottle.

"Hey there, pretty lady!" you greeted, slamming your axe on the stump behind you as you walked closer. "I didn't know you were here."

"Hey, yourself," she greeted with a small smile, her initial irritation suddenly evaporated into thin air. "I'm trying to get back on foot with photography and I was kind of distracted with the chopping noise, is all."

"Oh!" You scratched your nape sheepishly. Haley couldn't help but notice the way the sunlight caught the sweat on your skin, the muscles in your arms flexing with each movement. "Sorry, I wasn't trying to distract you."

Oh, you are distracting her alright, but probably for the wrong reasons.

"I just needed some woods so Robin could make some renovations on the cabin. Didn’t think anyone would be around," you went on, seemingly unaware of the effect you had on her. "If you'd like, I can hang with you for a bit. See your progress with your camera."

"Sure," Haley replied distractedly. "Wait, what?"

Before she knew it, you were peering over her shoulder, waiting expectantly for her to show the pictures she just took. The scent of sweat, wood, and flowers filled her nostrils, and Haley couldn't help but feel lightheaded. In a good way, she supposed.

Still, it was too much all at once.

Overwhelmed by the closeness that had been familiar over the months you had spent here, Haley instinctively backed away from you.

"Sorry," you chuckled, rubbing the back of your neck. "I forgot I smell."

"No!" she almost shrieked, her cheeks turning a shade of pink. "It's not that. I just…" she sighed deeply. "I got nothing to show you. All my shots are flat. Almost the same variations of the same scene. I can't put these in my portfolio, Y/n."

You plopped down on the grass, leaning back on your arms as you looked up at her with brilliant eyes. "That can't be true. You love taking pictures of this place."

"I know..." She let out another sigh, gingerly sitting on the grass in front of you. "I used to love this, capturing the beauty in everything. But now, it's like I'm stuck in a loop. There's got to be more to photography than just this."

"I think..." you trailed off, rummaging through your bag and producing a piece of white cloth. You brushed off the grass beside you, clearing away dried leaves and small pebbles before laying the cloth down. "Come sit here first, Haley." You patted the spot next to you.

Haley nodded dumbly, surprised and touched by your thoughtfulness. Did you really made sure she wouldn't sit directly on the grass because you knew how much she disliked getting dirty?

"I was saying," you continued, brushing off a stray piece of dry grass from Haley's skirt before helping her get comfortable beside you, "I think you need to find some new motives to spark your excitement again."

Haley settled next to you, feeling a bit more at ease. "New subjects, huh? Like what?"

You smiled, your eyes twinkling with ideas. "Anything that catches your eye. Maybe try photographing people, events, or even little details you might have overlooked before. Sometimes, a change in perspective is all it takes."

Haley considered your words. "You might be onto something there. I mean, I've been so focused on the same old scenes that I haven't really thought about branching out. It's just..." She looked down at the camera on her lap. "It's hard to break out of my comfort zone, you know? Old habits die hard, I guess."

"How about you take a photo of me chopping woods?" you suggested with a smirk as you helped her up.

"Be my model, you say?" Haley replied, a mischievous glint lighting up her eyes. "That's not a bad idea. You'd actually make a pretty good model if I say so myself."

That wiped the smile right out of your face.

"I was just kidding!"

"Nope." She grinned, even exaggerating the 'p' sound to further tease you. "Get your axe and get to chopping already, miss."

"But I'm as stiff as a board to be your model!" you whined but were already on your way to retrieve your axe.

"Just pretend I'm not here. Be candid."

"It's kind of difficult to ignore your camera's lens," you muttered, gripping the axe.

"Y/n," she called from behind her camera, adjusting the settings to capture the perfect shot. "Remember that photo I gave you last month?"

"Yeah..?"

"It was a good photo, you know?"

"Really?"

"You didn't need to pose at all to look good. Just be yourself." Haley briefly looked up from her camera, meeting your eyes with a soft smile before going back behind her lens. "I like you a lot better that way, anyway."

****

Later that night, she found herself inside her freshly made dark room. Designing this room had been challenging, but nothing was more challenging than sifting through hundreds, maybe thousands, of clothes in her walk-in closet that is now turned into the dark room, and finding some clothes she'd be willing to donate next spring for charity.

She truly loves her clothes and finds them as her way of expressing herself but hoarding them at this rate is alarming. So what better way to make good use of space than for her passion?

Though not completely satisfied with her setup, Haley knew this would have to do for now. Once the rest of the equipment she needed arrived, she'd definitely want you to see her darkroom one day.

With everything developed, she began to scan each photo with keen eyes, ready to pick out the ones that would go into her portfolio. But as she went through them, she realized that had been a mistake.

Her shots were... Impeccable. No surprise there.

And you were surprisingly a good model. Too good, actually.

She stopped on a particular photo, eyes raking towards your exposed stomach when you were about to slam your axe towards a log, arm flexing as you did. You have this fierce expression that's making Haley feel a lot of things one would deem explicit.

She felt her cheeks heat up as she continued to stare at the image, tracing the lines of your muscles with her eyes.

If she were to touch them, would they be hard against her fingertips or smooth and inviting? She was pretty sure that if you pinned her against the wall, she wouldn't budge. Not because she couldn't get past your solid chest, but because she'd probably melt right then and there, too overwhelmed to move.

Realizing she's thirsting over your photo, Haley gently slapped herself out of her trance. She tried to focus on the technical aspects of the photo, but it was no use. The picture was stunning and well—hot, and it's not just because of her photography skills. You were the reason it stood out so much. The way the light caught the sweat on your skin, the determination in your eyes—it all combined to create a powerful image.

She sighed, placing the photo in the "keep" pile. If she was this smitten over a couple of photos, there was no way she was submitting all of them. She liked to think these were for her eyes only, especially if that sultry, almost enticing gaze you were giving in front of the lens was anything to go by.

****

Summer 23

"Okay, Haley you got this. It's just water," she mentally cheered herself. "Every pretty girl must know how to swim on the beach."

It was probably just her screwed reasoning, but it definitely wasn’t because she saw you the other day swimming with Leah like some Olympic swimmer or something.

She's also gonna ignore the part that she avoids swimming on the beach because of some incident involving being taken away by the tide, water choking her lungs and her almost dying.

It wasn’t like that experience had put her off swimming entirely. She still loved the beach. The sun, the sand, the perfect tan it gave her—what's not to love?

But now, standing at the edge of the water, her toes curling into the wet sand, Haley felt the familiar knot of anxiety in her stomach. She took a deep breath, glancing over at the waves lapping gently at the shore.

"Just focus on the sun and the sea breeze," she told herself. "You can do this."

Anyway. It's not so bad if she confronted this... err—setback of her, right?

"Fancy seeing you here, Haley."

Haley whirled around from almost touching the water with her foot. Do you have some superpower in showing up whenever she felt the need to be vulnerable?

It wasn't that she didn't appreciate your presence, but she specifically woke up at the crack of dawn to practice her swimming skills because she knew you'd probably be busy tending to your farm, and most of the folks would still be snoring in their beds.

Well, aside from Elliot of course—knowing him, he was probably up already writing books and wouldn't leave his cabin anytime soon.

"Hi!" she finally greeted after what felt like an eternity of looking at your face. "I didn't expect to see anyone here so early."

"Really? I thought you know me well enough to know that I'm already up by 6 AM." You chuckled, running a hand through your hair. "And since when do you wake up so early? What happened to your beauty sleep?"

"Shut up. I'm just..." she rolled her eyes, stalling. She's not keen to tell you just yet what she's up to. Especially for a ridiculous reason. "I just felt like coming here for some fresh air."

Haley looked so proud of the reason she had come up with but it seemed you weren't buying her excuse.

"You look like you're going for a swim," you observed. Haley could have sworn she saw you checking her out, but it was gone as soon as she blinked. "You look good in blue."

Caught off guard by the compliment, Haley felt her cheeks warm up. "Oh, um, thanks," she mumbled, trying to play it cool.

Ever perceptive, you must have noticed she looked a little off.

You tilted your head, a hint of concern in your eyes. "Everything alright? You seem a bit caught off guard."

She sighed, glancing down at the sand. "Well, I guess I am."

"Wanna talk about it?"

Haley hesitated, weighing her words. "I could, but aren't you going somewhere?"

"I was planning to fish for some crimson fish," you explained, rubbing the back of your neck. "But now that I think about it, I remembered Willy saying there's a specific time for catching it. So, I have time right now."

Haley gave you a hard look. She knew you long enough to know you were bullshitting her. The tips of your ears turning red was a telltale sign she noticed whenever you lied. Which wasn't often, because you couldn't lie convincingly even if your life depended on it.

"Are you sure?" she asked, eyebrow raised. "It sounded important."

"Don't worry about it," you insisted, trying to sound casual.

You lent out a hand and Haley took it without hesitation. For some reason, clasping her hands against yours seemed a normal occurrence now that it seemed weird not to do it.

"Come on, let's sit by the shore. I heard the sunrise during summer looks great."

"Alright." Haley gave a small smile, appreciating the effort you were making to put her at ease. "Let's go."

The two of you walked towards the water's edge, the cool sand squishing beneath your feet. The horizon was starting to glow with the first hints of dawn, painting the sky in shades of pink and orange.

Sitting down, you both stared out at the calming waves. Haley took a deep breath, feeling a little more grounded by the familiar presence next to her.

"So, what's really going on?" you asked, your voice raspy but gentle. It was so soft that if it weren't quiet around them, she wouldn't have heard it. It was as if you were afraid to break the tranquil moment.

It was quiet for a moment. But the silence wasn't uncomfortable or forced by any means. It was calm and warm—feelings you seem to radiate whenever you were around.

After a few moments of finding a comfortable position to sit, Haley's head found its way to rest on your shoulder, and as if on instinct, your hand settled on the small of her back, pulling her closer.

"You know, I was thinking about getting out of my comfort zone," Haley began, staring at the waves.

"What do you mean?" you asked, turning to look at her, your cheek pressing gently against her hair.

"Okay, fine. I'll admit it." She took a deep breath. "I'm scared of swimming in the ocean. Silly, right?"

"I don't think it's silly," you declared, and Haley couldn't help but believe you.

"I read online about confronting your fears and thought I'd give it a shot. But..." She sighed, looking down at her hands. "I couldn't bring myself to do it."

You gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "Fears are real. It doesn't matter how it may seem to anyone. The fact you're even trying to face them is a big step already."

"Thanks, Y/n... I just couldn't help but feel like I'm letting myself down, you know?"

"You're not letting yourself down," you reassured her, your voice gentle but firm. "We all have things that scare us, and it's okay to take your time. The important part is that you're here, trying to overcome it. That's something to be proud of."

"Thanks, Y/n," she murmured, her fingers gently squeezing your arm. "It means a lot to hear you say that."

"Anytime," you responded with a chaste kiss against her hair and Haley could feel herself melt on the spot if she could. "Maybe it's about finding the right way to face your fear. How about we do it together?"

"You'd do that?" she leaned back from you with surprise in her eyes.

"Of course. I'd also feel a lot better if you had someone looking out for you."

"Alright... I'll give it another shot. Just... just promise me you'll be there with me?"

"I promise."

****

As you both waded into the water, Haley took a deep breath, focusing on the feel of the cool water against her skin and the soothing rhythm of the waves. She glanced at you, and the sight of your reassuring smile gave her the courage to take another step forward.

"Okay..." she breathed. "I'm in the water."

It felt different from her usual pool experience, with the sand underfoot instead of solid ground, but she was cautious not to let her foot stomp on any sea urchin.

"You're doing good, Haley," you encouraged from behind.

"This... definitely feels different," she admitted, noticing the vastness of the ocean around her.

"But the water feels nice, right?"

She nodded, still unsure what to feel. While the fear of being taken by the tide lingers in the back of her mind, the thought you're just behind her makes her feel safe, even just for a little bit.

Feeling a little brave, she wadded a bit further until the water rose up to her chest. She can feel that familiar pressure in her lungs, and she can feel herself panicking a little, her breath coming in short gasps.

"Is everything alright?" your voice cut through the sound of the waves.

"Could you maybe..." her voice cracked a bit and she couldn't dare herself to turn around and face you, afraid the wave would swallow her whole if she even dared to move. "Can you come a bit closer to me, Y/n? I'm still a bit scared..."

"Come here..." It wasn't long before she felt your familiar arms enveloping her, offering a sense of security she desperately needed. "I got you, see?"

"Thanks…" she murmured, a shiver coursing through her body despite the warmth of your embrace.

"One step at a time."

"One step at a time," she echoed your words, trying to muster some courage. "It's not that bad, right? I mean it's just water."

"Uhuh," you nodded, your breath warm against her ear. "Plus keeping yourself calm is one of the important aspects of swimming. And you know, being aware of the tides so you know when it's okay to take a swim."

"Okay... I'll keep note of that."

****

"Can you believe I modeled in swimsuits once?" Haley suddenly said after allowing herself to be familiar with the water. "This feels a lot different from a photo shoot."

"Even if you don't tell me, I'd assume you had been in one before," you mused as you tucked a stray blonde hair away from her face. "You're more than brave enough than you let on. Doing a photoshoot needs a lot of bravery, too, and— well, confidence. Give yourself some credit."

"You know what? In some ways I did face scarier things, I guess," she admitted with a chuckle. "Like wearing heels on a rocky path for a shoot."

"Hmm, just think about those whenever you feel like you can't do it."

Haley couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at you, her lips curling up in amusement. "You're making it sound like modeling is a big thing and you facing dozens of monsters in a cave like a walk in the park."

"Well, I'd rather take on hundreds of slimes than be a model," you grumbled, a playful scowl on your face. "I'd look silly."

"That's ridiculous, you'd be a great model."

"You're just kissing my ass." With a mischievous grin, you splashed some water on her face, making Haley gasp at your audacity.

"I would never!" she protested, laughing as she wiped the water from her cheeks before retaliating with a splash of her own, catching you off guard.

Oh, it's on.

****

A/n: this chapter is more like a filler—a glimpse of how Haley and the farmer got closer. I stumbled upon a mod that adds additional heart events for Haley, and I decided to include it. I'm focusing more on exploring Haley's arc, which is why I'm drawing out this fanfic so much. Forgive me; I just couldn't jump ahead to the kissing and whatnot, even though I'm dying to write that scene already.

This is actually a two-part chapter because I think the mod adds about ten heart events, and I had to cut it short since I think this chapter is already lengthy. I also need a couple of hours to rest my eyes. Forgive me for any grammatical errors; I continued writing this after my exams, so my head is a bit foggy at the moment. Love y'all and thank you for your patience.

taglist:

@joordynn

@taliiiaasteria

@iluvwomen01

#stardew valley #haley x farmer #haley x reader #stardew farmer #stardew haley #stardew fanfic #stardew valley fanfic

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da-birb-writes-sometimes · 11 months

Note

Going flower picking with Sebek, Vil, and Rook, seperately please, headcanons or just a drabble is fine! gn reader :3

Flower-Picking the Heart

Characters; Sebek Zigvolt, Vil Schoenheit, Rook Hunt, Rollo Flamme

Content; Gender-neutral reader, fluff, pining, hurt/comfort, unresolved feelings

Word Count; 1.4 K (headcanon format)

Author's Note; I included Rollo since you mentioned that you also wanted to include him. I included some of the symbolism behind the flowers, but may miss some; so do be mindful of that! Also deviated a bit, but still stayed on prompt!

Do not put my work into AI. If you would like to read more of my work, please see my masterlist

Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek was standing by your side in the flower garden; this was supposed to be a relaxed day with no duties or responsibilities demanding your attention. Yet, his back was as straight as ever as the both of you slowly made your way through the botanical garden.

You nudged him in the arm, trying to get his attention, only to garner him giving you the side eye and letting out a quiet grunt.

“Hey, you were the one that wanted to come to the botanical garden,” you offer, giving him your own side eye to rival the one he was sending you.

Sebek sighed, silently questioning why Lilia recommended the garden as a hang-out spot (no, it wasn’t a date as Lilia taunted, that’s what Sebek told himself anyway).

“I don’t need to explain myself,” he said in a clipped tone, but he was eyeing the floral displays.

For today they could pick a single bloom, and he was set on getting the best flower for the dorm; a rose that could belong back at the queen’s rose garden! That’s what Sebek had originally thought he was going to do.

That was until you went over to one of the displays and plucked a flower, and gave it to him with an expectant look.

“What is this for,” he nearly shouted, paying mind to control his voice since others were also attending the showcase and he didn’t want to bring prying eyes to this situation.

You tucked a bright blue bloom into his chest pocket, a bright, cheery, contrast against the black of his jacket. A single morning glory blossom.

You hummed, “No reason. It just spoke to me is all.”

A simple honest answer. But why did it cause his ears to burn?

A favour. I cannot owe them a favour for this! So he did the same, looking among the vast amount of blooms until he chose a pale pink peony, shoving it into your hands.

You eyed the flower, and put it into your chest pocket, to match with him. “Alright then, where to now?” Where will we go? Will we continue in this or will we grow into something else?

Flower Language - Morning glory; willful promise, affection - Peony; bravery, bashful, happy life, shame

Vil Schoenheit

Vil had received flowers countless times before, so many times that he had honestly lost count. He was also versed in both flower and overall plant toxicology, but also flower language itself.

This flower-picking trip was originally supposed to be for him to restock for both the school (since Professor Crewel trusted him) and his own stock for potions.

And you just so happened to be there, giving him a small wave from where you were collecting your own flowers.

“This is a pleasant surprise,” Vil offered, walking over to where you were. “Hard at work I see.”

Vil took note of the flowers in your basket, as well as the dirt on your hands; it was charming. Daffodils and pansies? That’s odd, I didn’t take them as the sort to make poison… Hopefully, they do remember that daffodils are toxic and pansies are fine—

“Good to see you too,” you chirped, dusting off your hands from the dry dirt. You took note of his own basket and patted the ground next to you. “Come on then, join me.”

Vil looked at you and without much thought or other prompting, he knelt beside you in the sea of yellow daffodils. “What are you planning to do with those,” he asked, gently clipping a yellow bloom from its stalk.

You paused, a white flower in your hand. “I was going to give them to someone special to me,” you said quietly, deciding to be honest.

“Hm, you must hold this person in high regard then,” Vil eyed you curiously since the long stalks of the daffodils looked quite awkward next to the pansies. “Respect, regard, unequalled love,” he said, holding a daffodil. “Thoughtful and caring,” he looked at the pansies, before looking to you.

“I do, and he is,” you answered, hoping that he hadn’t caught on to your little plan.

Well, he didn’t until he came back to the dorm to find the flowers in a vase. For Vil; I suppose you already know what these mean. And he did.

Flower Language - Daffodil; respect, regard, unequalled love - Pansy; thoughtful, caring

Rook Hunt

“Rook, where exactly are you taking me,” you asked him, facing in his direction (or at least you hoped you were facing his direction since he had handed you a blindfold to “make the surprise be meaningful”).

Rook just gave you the answer he had given you the entire way, “You’ll see soon, Trickster.”

Eventually, the two of you did stop and Rook took off the blindfold.

Flowers, flowers everywhere. Of every shape and colour. They were blooming everywhere.

You were silent for a few moments, just taking everything in. The slight irritation that you were blindfolded slipped to the back of your brain (you could be annoyed with him later) and you watched hummingbirds and fat bees flit from flower to flower.

“What do you think,” Rook asked you quietly, not wanting to break the spell you seemed to be under.

You looked back at him, and a breathy chuckle left your lips. “What do I think? It’s stunning,” you say in awe.

Rook smiled brightly; either at your reaction or that he was correct in that he thought you would enjoy this.

He didn’t say anything though, and just watched you go about the flower field. Even though he wanted to say so many things, he found that he was for once, speechless.

Looking down for a moment something caught his eye; violets. Next to the gardenias, most would not pay them much mind; but Rook gently plucked a few, alongside a gardenia.

“Rook!” Your shouting snapped him out of his own thoughts, and he looked up. “Am I allowed to pick some?”

He blinked before regaining his usual cheery mask. “Oui, but only a few.”

He eyed the flowers he held in his hands before ultimately setting them back down. For although they spoke the truth, Rook wasn’t yet ready to lay his heart bare; not yet.

Flower Language - Gardenia; you're lovely, secret love - Violet; honesty, watchfulness, modesty, faithfulness

Rollo Flamme

Rollo hated that he could feel his heart beat like a bird trying to escape a cage, yet he found himself next to you again, the very person who caused the anomaly; like a moth to flame.

You were taking a path on the outskirts of the city, silent. And while Rollo was often used to the quiet, it only heightened his nerves, causing his heart to beat faster.

“Why did you invite me along,” you asked, breaking the silence.

Rollo faltered in his step before regaining his composure. “While the city is our main attraction, I do find the quiet walkways to be more enjoyable.”

You hummed, eyeing one of the numerous hydrangea bushes that lined the walkway, separating it from a lavender field. “It is rather nice, thank you. Although you can stop your sales pitch on your city.”

Rollo blinked at you, brow slightly furrowed. “Sales pitch?”

“Yeah, like selling all the good points? … Damn, I’ve been spending too much time around some people, sorry.” You felt embarrassed, that you had distrusted him when he was most likely just being proud of his city.

“Hmm,” was all he said, moving along. The silence returned, as Rollo was not the type to make simple small talk or force a conversation where one wasn’t needed.

“Pft,” your sudden outburst of near-silent laughter caught his attention and he stopped, turning to you with a curious look.

“What seems to be funny?” He meant it in a genuine manner, but you just started laughing more which only made him more perplexed. Perhaps the fresh air can do you some harm?

You got a hold of yourself, eyes watering from the wind and your little chuckle fest. “Fleur City, your city is literally flower city, and look what we’re surrounded by; flowers.”

Rollo looked at the flowers and then at you. “It is a bit on the nose, I guess.”

You plucked a hydrangea cluster from the nearest bush and tucked it behind his ear. “But it’s fitting nonetheless.”

If his heart was beating fast before, now his face was sure to be red, and not from the brisk breeze.

Flower Language - Hydrangea; pride, gratitude for being understood, frigidity and heartlessness - Lavender; faithful, distrust

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Tags; @azulashengrottospiano @bloomstruck @cheezy-moon @eynnwwyjth @ithseem @krenenbaker @lucid-stories @moonsoup01637 @ryker-writes @syrenkitsune @the-v-lociraptor @twistwonderlanddevotee @xxoomiii

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morning-star-joy · 1 year

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but I wake up before we do it (Joel x F!Reader)

Pairing: Joel x F!Reader, Post!Outbreak Neighbors

Summary: You're Joel's new next-door neighbor when he settles in Jackson, and you're determined to add some positivity to the grumpy old man's life. Joel, however, is equally determined to keep you out of his life. Especially when you start to make him feel something he knows he shouldn't. Little does he know, you feel it too.

Tags/Warnings: 18+ MDNI Explicit Sexual Content Joel is Horny, Reader is also Horny (f masturbation, Joel hears you), Soft!Reader, Joel is kinda an asshole, Grumpy x Sunshine, Age Gap (Reader late 20s, Joel 56), Language

Wordcount: 2.9k

Part I || Part II || Part III || Masterlist (More Parts Coming Soon)

Joel Miller masterlist

Fucking hell, you were far too good to ever be true.

It was all Joel could think about, the pervasive fact that lingered in the back of his mind whenever he walked by that cup of water sitting next to the sink on his kitchen counter, with the long stems of the daffodils you had given him bunched up inside of it, the blooming flowers drooping awkwardly from the far too small container.

He had first dropped the flowers on top of the counter, dangerously close to the trash can beside it. Honestly, Joel had been aiming for it, but his hand had twitched at the last moment, the bright yellow flowers falling from his calloused fingers to land on the counter instead.

Another day passed before he stood in his kitchen in the morning, cup of coffee in hand, staring at those flowers laying precariously on the edge of the counter, hating how they mocked him before pushing himself up with a sigh.

Joel heard your voice then, being so bold as to tease him, something he hadn’t thought somebody as soft-spoken and sweet as you would be capable of: Traditionally, you put them in a vase. Fill it with water.

He didn’t have a vase, though. And he wasn’t about to put in the effort to find one just because you had mentioned it.

Still, he grabbed a glass from his cabinet, flipping on the faucet to fill it with water as he glared vehemently at the daffodils, grabbing them roughly to then unceremoniously shove them inside the glass, leaving them right next to the sink without giving it another thought that it didn’t deserve.

That was a lie, though.

Every time he passed through his kitchen, he saw them.

And he thought of you.

He couldn’t stop thinking about you.

What made the illness you had plagued his mind with even worse was the bright smile on Ellie’s face when he had passed along your daisies for her. It was happiness he hadn’t seen on the girl’s features since the first time they had visited Jackson, before the winter of fucking hell, when he had almost died, and a part of Ellie did.

Joel was even more irritated that he was still thinking about you, even now, walking back home from a long patrol that had left his body aching, in desperate need of a hot shower that he would gladly praise any fucking higher power that may exist for being possible in Jackson.

He looked down at the cuts on his hands, the dirt caked under his fingernails from where he had fallen from his horse today when it had gotten spooked by the appearance of a Clicker. Luckily he was still alive, thanks to Tommy’s quick thinking and quicker shooting, but the situation had been far too close for comfort for Joel to forget about it so quickly.

Maybe he was just getting too old for this shit.

With a sigh, he rolled his shoulder back, wincing at an ache that was beginning to throb there as he pulled his pack off to carry it in his hand instead. Joel focused on the weight of it in his hand, trying to ignore how his dirty fingers reminded him of yours, covered in soil when you had shown up on his doorstep with the flowers.

It was infuriating, not to mention incredibly disrespectful to your kindness (even though he was at a complete loss for why or how that kindness existed), that the dirt that had been marking what looked to be your incredibly soft skin and staining your immaculate, weathered sundress, had sent blood rushing right to his cock when he couldn’t stop thinking about it later that night.

Joel had forgone Jackson’s heavenly gift of hot water for a frigid cold one before bed, palms placed firmly against the wall of the shower as his head bent under the stream of freezing water, taking deep, steady breaths in through his nose and out through clenched teeth as he tried to will his growing erection to go the fuck away.

Even when he had woken up from a dream about you—one that taunted him with impossible images of that sundress on his bedroom floor and streaks of dirt left across your naked flesh from his own fingers—Joel had resisted the incredibly strong urge to palm his throbbing cock where it strained against his boxers, stumbling out of bed to head into the bathroom for another cold shower.

He did his best to avoid you once the lust to have you really started, opting to take the side gate in his backyard to get in and out of the house, cutting through the greenhouses to avoid running into you on the other side of his house if he left out the front door.

Jesus Christ, Joel didn’t even fucking know you.

But he knew that if he did, there would be a catch. Some hidden cruelty underneath those frustratingly warm smiles you sent him both times you showed up outside his door.

There was no way you would have survived this long otherwise.

Lifting his head, Joel let out a small sigh of relief as he turned onto the street where his home sat, ready to indulge in a hot shower for the first time in weeks, before the sound of light, musical laughter filled his ears, coming from the first house in front of him.

Fuck.

He saw you instantly, arms crossed as you leaned them on top of a fence, smiling kindly at an older woman on the other side that was talking to you with a small grin that spoke of undeniable fondness for you.

“I don’t know how you do it,” the older woman was saying, huffing out a playful sigh that drew another soft laugh from your lips, and Joel found his feet frozen to the spot at the end of the street as he watched the interaction. “It just never tastes the same when I make it!”

“Well, Ms. Garcia,” you said slowly, flashing a teasing grin that made Joel stiffen before you asked, “Are you absolutely sure you’re putting sugar in, and not salt?”

“Oh, you,” the woman sighed, wagging a finger at you, causing you to giggle in a way that made Joel’s grip tighten on his backpack. “You’re probably right, though. I’m terrible with this kind of thing.”

“I’ll just have to bring some more by for you,” you replied, still smiling brightly, a smile that didn’t fade even as Ms. Garcia’s gaze flickered over your shoulder, landing on Joel.

Joel frowned at the same moment the older woman did, leaning away from her fence slightly as her brows furrowed, bright countenance disappearing as he wondered how quickly he could walk to get by you without drawing your attention.

He already knew it was far too late to avoid you now, though, especially as you turned to follow Ms. Garcia’s sightline, your eyes finding him standing there, blatantly staring at you while you talked to your—and his, he supposed—neighbor.

To Joel’s complete and utter confusion, you straightened up with an even brighter smile, giving a friendly wave the moment you saw him.

“Hi there, Mr. Miller!” you called, still waving before your hand dropped, and you turned back to Ms. Garcia.

Joel was almost foolish enough to believe that that would be all you said to him, but as he finally began to walk down the street, he had to bite back a sigh when you stepped away from the fence to walk beside him.

He knew that his growing irritation at the situation he was now in was probably an over exaggeration. He knew that you had to walk home, just like he did.

But did you have to walk home with him?

“So,” you started, and Joel held back a sigh.

Did you have to talk to him?

“Did you just get back from patrol?” you ended up asking, and Joel glanced at you from the corner of his eye, noticing that you were wearing jeans today instead of the usual sundress, the pants paired with a lightweight, oversized sweater that hid your curves.

Good. He didn’t need his thoughts distracted right now, not when he was trying to get back inside his house as quickly as possible.

Because he really wanted that hot shower today.

“Is it that obvious?” he found himself drawling, the words holding no small amount of sarcasm.

Joel actually felt a small twinge of guilt as he noticed you shift awkwardly beside him, but you brushed off his rudeness with another laugh, the soft sound a bit less joyous, and a bit more forced this time.

In the back of his mind, Joel had the terrible thought that, maybe if he pushed you far enough, you wouldn’t be so kind as you seemed.

“Just a little,” you found your voice again, and Joel’s grip on his pack tightened, shifting the weight of it into his other hand as he felt his arm begin to ache from holding it.

At the movement, your eyes caught on his hand, and he noticed you swallow hard as you watched his fingers dangle by his side and Jesus Christ, no, you couldn’t feel this too—but then you were glancing back up into his face, your brows furrowed in concern.

“Did you hurt yourself?”

“What?” Joel asked, not even realizing his face had turned fully towards you now until he looked down at his hand at the question and back up at you. “No. ‘M fine.”

“Uh-huh,” you said slowly, glancing over his face again, like you were calling bullshit and searching for the truth.

He thought that when his lips pressed into a firm line and he stared back at you, daring you to say something about it, you would back down.

You didn’t.

“I have some first aid,” you said quietly, gesturing towards your house as they began to near it, and Joel was already shaking his head, instincts telling him he needed to stay far, far away from ever entering your house, even as you continued, “I can help you—”

“No,” he said firmly, and your jaw snapped shut, brows furrowed as he watched your eyes spark with the briefest hint of frustration and ah, there it was. A crack in the perfection that was you. “I told you, I’m fine.”

A sick, twisted part of Joel wanted you to fight him on it, but your brows smoothed back out instead, and you gave a nod as your face melted into one of understanding.

Understanding, of all things.

What fucking bunker had they been keeping something sweet like you in for decades to preserve you in all this unimaginable kindness?

“Of course, you probably have your own,” you brushed off with another laugh, the sound a bit easier this time, eyes so warm that he was looking back down at your sweater again, wondering if your skin was just as warm underneath that—

Joel’s head whipped around, staring in front of him as you came to a stop at the pathway that led up to your front door.

“Well—”

But Joel kept moving, heading up his own pathway, not even looking back at you as you loitered at the edge of your property, refusing to give into the first time he had felt any sort of temptation to look back at you as he closed the door behind him.

God fucking dammit, he was having another cold shower tonight.

The cooler spring day began to warm up towards the end, so much so that you had to open up your bedroom window to let a gentle breeze in before bed.

You settled under your faded floral sheets with a book, opening it up to the homemade bookmark you had left to keep your spot, fingernail trailing across the words until you picked up exactly where you left off.

Unfortunately, after only a few pages, you found yourself reading the same words over and over as you thought back to your interaction with Joel that had occurred hours ago.

When you read the words “he said” at least 5 times before you lost track, you put your bookmark back between the pages, snapping the silly little romance novel closed and tossing it to the side with a groan.

Reaching your hands up, you pressed your palms against your eyes, willing the image of Joel Miller to disappear from where it had been haunting you.

It was just the latest of the very few, very short times you had seen him, but it had left you just as intrigued, just as unsatisfied as the ones before.

You shook your hand, letting your hands drop to your sides, placing your palms flat against the top blanket as you tried your best to stop thinking about him.

Part of you couldn’t help but feel a little worried, still rehashing how he had brushed you aside when you asked if he was hurt.

But Joel was a grown man—very much so, you thought as images of the silver in his hair flashed through your mind, the salt and pepper facial hair covering a weathered face and no, no, enough of that—and he had to know how to take care of himself. Especially in this kind of world you had all been in for the last twenty years.

Still, you couldn’t help but think of the cuts that had littered his hand, the dirt and a bit of blood caked under his fingernails when he had shifted his backpack to his other hand.

You also couldn’t help but dwell on the length of those fingers, how thick they were, as they hung by his side, inches away from the fabric of your jeans as you walked beside him.

No, you thought firmly to yourself, pressing your palms even harder against the blankets, willing yourself to keep them at your sides. No, you were not thinking of Joel Miller, your grumpy, standoffish neighbor who probably despised you, that way.

Then you glanced back over the book you had abandoned, taking in the scantily dressed woman draped across the broad, firm chest of a ruggedly handsome man across the cover, his strong arms wrapped around her and oh, no.

Your fingers began to slip up the blanket, biting your lip hard as you stared at the cover of that book, remembering the smutty words of the last chapter and oh no.

With a shaky exhale, you reached one hand out for the book, picking it up and quickly flipping backwards in the pages to that scene. You desperately reread the words, soaking in the description of a thick, throbbing cock sinking into the moaning, mewling heroine, over and over, your free hand slipping under your blanket to find the band of your shorts, moving underneath to fiddle with the hemline of your panties.

You shouldn’t.

You really, really shouldn’t.

In fact, you convinced yourself you weren’t. You told yourself you were purely basing this little self-love moment of much-needed release off the smutty book.

But when your eyes fixed on that description, your fingers sliding underneath your panties to glide along your folds, a soft moan escaping your lips as you collected your wetness to begin to slowly rub your clit—you weren’t seeing the way that man was described.

In your mind you saw dark curls instead of the short blond hair that was written; brown eyes instead of blue, holding a severe stare instead of a loving gaze; tan skin instead of pale, weathered and scarred, maybe? Did he have scars on his body, like the one on his temple, and the one on his nose?

Your hips lifted into your hand as your head tilted back, moaning again as you circled your clit faster, lifting the book above your head so you could focus on that one sentence—he thrusted into her quickly, his nails digging into the soft skin of her thighs, drawing wanton moans from her plush lips—and you moaned again, even louder, eyes fluttering shut as you felt yourself hurtling towards that edge, so close that if you just changed the angle of your fingers a little bit, you would—

The sound of a door slamming shut made your eyes snap open, a gasp pulled from your lungs as the book tumbled from your hands to land on the bed at the same moment your other hand snapped away from your throbbing clit.

You grabbed the sheets, pulling them closer to yourself as you glanced around wildly, heart pounding in your chest at the thought of being caught.

But who would catch you?

You were very much alone, having nobody to keep you company in your little house.

Then a breeze brushed past your face, and your eyes lifted towards your bedroom window and, oh.

Oh, no.

You pushed yourself from your bed quickly, too quickly, legs tangling in the sheets and causing you to fall to your forearms.

With a groan, you detangled yourself, rising to hurry towards the window that was still very much open.

For a moment, you glanced through it, noting the open window on the second story right above your own window.

Jesus.

Had he—

Your cheeks warmed, and you slammed your window shut, grabbing the curtains to pull them over it, feeling a surge of overwhelming embarrassment as you hurried back to hide under your sheets.

Yeah, you were never leaving your house again.

#joel miller x reader #joel x reader #joel x f!reader #joel miller series #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut

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thekylemeredith · 2 months

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#SamanthaMorton is brilliant as Catherine de’ Medici in The Serpent Queen and I'm grateful that she dropped by to talk about season 2 of the STARZ series. We also got to dig into her just-released debut album, Daffodils & Dirt!

At Consequence or podcasts.

#samantha morton #sam morton #the serpent queen #starz #period dramas #daffodils and dirt #catherine de medici

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teddy-bear-naps-and-random-snaps · 1 year

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dee-writes-smut · 5 months

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DAFFODILS (Chapter One)

FEATURING Eris Vanserra x pregnant!reader

SUMMARY The Spring Court has gone to shit, and while you would normally be able to tolerate it, the new discovery that you were pregnant pushes you to the gates of The Autumn Court and unknowingly into Eris' arms.

CONTENT WARNINGS pregnancy, Eris being a slight douche (you know how it is yall), violence (reader is kicked in the stomach), and mentions of Tampon (Tamlin).

AUTHORS NOTE who's excited for the kick-off of yet another series? I am! Of course, I had to start an Eris series, I love him too much not to! Strap in, darlings, I have a feeling this is going to be a long one.

SERIES MASTERLIST

The once vibrant Spring court had gone to shit, a shadow of its former glory. Tamlin, the once revered and compassionate High Lord, had vanished, abandoning his people to suffer in the decay his negligence had allowed to fester.

Amid the desolation, there were attempts to salvage what remained of the Spring Court. Lucien's name surfaced as one who strove to preserve our home. I recall his desperate sacrifice on Calanmai, offering himself to Ianthe in a futile bid to rescue us. He still occasionally visits, perhaps clinging to a hope that he might stumble upon signs of revival, our High Lord restored to his former benevolence. Yet each return only reinforces the stark reality of our decline, leaving him unsurprised by the sight of our dwindling realm.

And now, here I stand, just beyond the borders of the Autumn Court, clad in nothing but the ragged remnants of my escape, imploring the impassive sentries to grant me sanctuary within their walls. They offer no response, their stoic countenances unmoved as I plead and weep at their feet.

In my disheveled state, I must present a pitiful sight—my attire threadbare and stained, my once-glamorous countenance marred by streaks of dirt and smudged cosmetics, my limbs adorned with bruises like macabre adornments.

As I teeter on the brink of desperation, a voice cuts through the stillness, emerging from the depths of the forest to my right. The guards snap to attention at its sound, their posture stiffening even further, if such a thing were possible, in deference to its commanding presence.

"What is the meaning of this?" The voice, smooth as silk and sharp as a blade, belonged to a man with cascading locks of fiery hair, who strode forth from the underbrush with an air of regal authority.

Gods, he was a vision to behold. Despite the earthy stains marring his attire and the tousled state of his tunic sleeves, he exuded an otherworldly allure.

"A mere denizen of the Spring Court, attempting to beg her way into our domain, my lord," one of the guards grumbled, offering a curt bow before callously nudging me aside with his boot. I winced as the blow landed squarely in my stomach.

"And what, pray tell, do you think you are doing, you imbecile!" The fiery-haired man's voice dripped with disdain as he strode forward, confronting the offending guard with palpable fury. "Can you not discern her condition, you fool? She carries life within her."

My heart lurched as I instinctively cradled my abdomen, a protective gesture born of maternal instinct. Though every fiber of my being yearned to retaliate against the guard's callousness, I forced myself to breathe deeply, refusing to succumb to the animalistic urges that society expected of Spring Court members in these desperate times.

"Are you alright?" the man inquired, his amber eyes ablaze with a captivating mix of concern and authority, their gaze so intense that it stole the very air from my lungs.

"I'm… I'm fine," I managed to utter, brushing aside the tangled strands of hair obscuring my face and inhaling deeply to steady my frayed nerves.

"I must apologize for the behavior of my soldier. Rest assured, appropriate measures will be taken, my lady," the man assured me, his smile radiant as he inclined his head with graceful deference. His charm nearly brought a wry laugh to my lips.

"No need for such formalities," I replied weakly, the weight of my displaced status as a refugee gnawing at my throat like a persistent ache. But I steeled myself with the thought of my unborn child, a beacon of hope amidst the chaos. "I am no longer a lady—well, not in the traditional sense, anyway."

"How so?" the man persisted, his expression a blend of curiosity and genuine concern, prompting me to draw my arms tighter around myself.

"I find it quite audacious for someone whose name I don't even know to ask such personal questions," I retorted, feigning a hint of indignation that rang hollow even to my own ears.

"Fair point," he conceded with a charming grin, though his adherence to formality still grated on my nerves. "Allow me to rectify that oversight. My name is Eris. Eris Vanserra, Heir to the Autumn Court," he declared, and I felt a strange mixture of relief and weariness wash over me at his introduction.

Eris. Lucien had spoken sparingly of his older brother during his time in the Spring Court, but whenever he did, a profound sense of affection tinged with melancholy colored his words. I shook myself from my reverie, extending a hand in a gesture of polite acknowledgement as I reciprocated with my own name. Eris repeated my name softly, testing it on his tongue, and my heart twinged at the striking resemblance in mannerism between him and Lucien, one so distant yet familiar, the other painfully close.

"Now," Eris began, his hands making a smooth, sweeping gesture that hinted at his readiness to delve deeper into the matter at hand, "what brings you to the borders of the Autumn Court, my lady?"

"The Spring Court is…" My voice faltered, and I let out a weary sigh, my hand instinctively resting on my still-flat stomach for comfort.

"It's gone to shit," he finished for me, his smirk sharp but not unkind.

"Well, I wouldn't have phrased it quite so bluntly, but yes," I responded, my fingers tracing small circles over my abdomen. "That place and its ruler are no fit environment for a child. Considering the proximity of your court, I was hoping I might find a new beginning here."

"What about the father?" Eris inquired, one eyebrow—a mirror image of Lucien's—arching skeptically.

I clear my throat awkwardly and look at my well-worn shoes. How does one tell the Heir to the Autumn Court that they are pregnant with his youngest brother's babe? How does one also explain how he is mated to another female, that they knew as soon as that brother found out about said babe, he would give up all hope to find his true mate in order to be there for his child?

"Not in the picture," I manage to say, my voice faltering slightly as I reach up to scratch the back of my neck, a gesture betraying my discomfort.

Eris hums, a low, thoughtful sound that vibrates with suspicion, his striking eyes narrowing as he scrutinizes my uneasy demeanor. The weight of his gaze feels like it could peel back the layers of my hastily constructed defenses, compelling me to confront truths I'd rather leave unspoken. Eris's scrutinizing gaze doesn't waver, and the silence stretches taut between us like a bowstring. "Not in the picture," he echoes thoughtfully, each word heavy with the promise of unasked questions.

I nod, feeling the weight of the moment settling around us. The air in the forest seems to hold its breath, the usual whispers of leaves and distant calls of woodland creatures falling into a hushed reverence. "And you must understand, my lord, that my child is my utmost priority," I assert with unwavering resolve, emphasizing his title with a hint of disdain, as if challenging the very foundations of our unequal stations.

The guards stationed behind me draw in sharp, anticipatory breaths, seemingly prepared for their lord to mete out swift retribution for my boldness. I steel myself against the expected blow, a silent rehearsal of defiance.

Yet, the expected strike does not materialize. Instead, Eris regards me with what could only be described as admiration. His gaze, intense and calculating, appraises me not as a threat, but as a formidable presence in my own right.

"Well, little fox," he begins, his voice carrying a playful undertone that belies the depth of his contemplation. He strokes his chin thoughtfully, his fingers tracing the lines of his jaw as if to physically underline his ponderings. "It appears you've presented quite the compelling argument for yourself here."

The use of "little fox" — a term perhaps meant to denote cunning and resilience — sparks a flicker of amusement within me, mixed with a surge of cautious optimism. His demeanor suggests a blend of challenge and respect, hinting at a dynamic that could evolve beyond mere formalities or supplications. This man before me is not just the heir to a court; he is a strategist weighing his next move.

"You seek shelter for yourself and the babe?" Eris inquires with a hint of slyness, as if to subtly test my resolve, though it's a point I've already made abundantly clear.

"Indeed," I retort sharply, refusing to waver under the weight of his penetrating gaze.

"Then shelter you shall have," he declares, pivoting on his heel to fix the guards with a stern glare. "You will allow her passage," he commands, his tone uncompromising. The guards, obedient to their lord's decree, quickly acquiesce, parting to allow me entry with a mere flick of Eris's wrist.

The heady scent of spices and autumnal freshness assaults my senses as I approach the threshold, beckoning me forward with its tantalizing allure. It's as if the very essence of this court implores me to embrace my true purpose, to seize control of my destiny without hesitation. The boldness of it all catches me off guard, stirring a sense of rebellion that courses through my veins like wildfire.

Pausing at the threshold, I find myself suspended between the tranquility of the wilderness behind me and the vibrant chaos of the court ahead. I hesitate, grappling with the weight of the choices that lie before me.

Eris slows his stride beside me, as if attuned to my uncertainty, and extends his arm—an offering both courteous and suggestive. His demeanor exudes confidence and assurance, as if he expects me to surrender to his lead without question.

But I refuse to yield to the expectations of courtly decorum. Chin held high, I meet his gaze with unwavering resolve, ignoring the disheveled state of my attire as I assert my independence. My feet remain firmly planted, refusing to advance until I am ready, on my own terms.

Eris's arm lingers in the air for a moment, a flicker of surprise crossing his features at my defiance. His amber eyes search mine, silently probing, yet beneath the scrutiny, I detect a glimmer of curiosity and… respect.

"I am quite capable of managing on my own," I declare, my voice steady despite the storm of emotions raging within me.

His expression softens, and he nods, gracefully retracting his arm. "As you wish," he concedes, gesturing for me to take the lead as we finally step through the threshold together.

The walk through the streets of Autumn was like stepping into a painting come to life. The cobblestone pathways wound gracefully between quaint buildings adorned with intricate carvings and vibrant splashes of ivy. Overhead, colorful banners fluttered in the gentle breeze, their designs depicting scenes of seasonal splendor and courtly festivities.

Stands and stalls lined the streets, each one a miniature wonderland of treasures waiting to be discovered. From intricately woven tapestries to gleaming trinkets and baubles, the offerings were as diverse as they were captivating. Merchants called out to passersby in melodious voices, their wares displayed with care and pride.

The smells that wafted through the air were a symphony of sensory delights. Spices mingled with the scent of freshly baked bread, their fragrances intermingling in a tantalizing dance that made my mouth water. Roasted chestnuts crackled and popped over open fires, their warm, nutty aroma floating on the breeze alongside the sweet perfume of ripe fruit and fragrant flowers.

Eris's sudden change in direction pulled me from my reverie, my gaze following his lead as we approached a magnificent structure nestled within the heart of the Autumn Court. The Forest House loomed before us, its grandeur and mystique commanding attention as we drew nearer.

Surrounded by a wrought iron gate, the house stood as a bastion of elegance amidst the bustling streets. Tall trees swayed gently in the breeze, their branches reaching out to embrace the ancient structure with a sense of reverence. Vines climbed the walls, their verdant tendrils weaving intricate patterns against the weathered stone.

The sight of the Forest House sent a shiver down my spine, a visceral reaction to the aura of power and mystery that seemed to emanate from its very core. It was as if the house held secrets untold, whispering tales of bygone days and forgotten legends to those who dared to listen.

"Wait!" I called out, the urgency in my voice halting Eris in his tracks. His steps faltered, and he turned to face me, a glint of amusement dancing in the depths of his eyes. The sunlight filtering through the canopy overhead cast dappled shadows across his features, lending an air of intrigue to his already enigmatic presence.

"Yes?" he inquired, his voice smooth and tinged with playful curiosity, his smirk hinting at secrets hidden just beneath the surface.

"What's going to happen to me? Where will I stay?" I blurted out, the fierce confidence I had summoned earlier dissipating like morning mist in the face of uncertainty. Nervously, I began to pick at my nails, the weight of the unknown pressing down upon me like a heavy cloak.

Eris regarded me with a knowing glint in his eyes, as if he had anticipated my question long before I had voiced it. "You will stay with me, of course," he replied simply, his voice carrying an air of nonchalance that belied the gravity of his words. There was a subtle confidence in his demeanor, a quiet assurance that spoke of his authority within the court.

I recoiled at his casual response, a surge of apprehension coursing through me. "But what about Beron? Won't he object to having a… a lowborn in his household?" I ventured cautiously, the weight of his father's disapproval looming like a specter in the back of my mind.

"Nonsense," Eris scoffed, his arms crossing over his chest in a dismissive gesture. "You are now a member of this court, and given your condition," he added with a subtle nod towards my abdomen, "it is only fitting that you reside in more suitable accommodations." His words were tinged with a hint of defiance, a silent challenge to anyone who would dare question his authority.

Despite his reassurances, doubt gnawed at the edges of my mind, uncertainty clouding my thoughts like a thick fog. "Absolutely not!" I protested vehemently, a surge of protectiveness coursing through me as I instinctively placed a hand over my stomach, as if to shield my unborn child from the absurdity of Eris's suggestion. "I refuse to stay in your chambers, Eris. It's… it's utterly preposterous."

Eris's eyebrow lifted slightly, his gaze holding a hint of amusement mixed with something darker. "Stubborn, aren't we?" he remarked, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "But if you prefer to sleep on the streets, far be it from me to stand in your way."

His words, though seemingly casual, carried a sharp edge that hinted at the depth of his cunning. It was a subtle reminder of his position of power, a reminder that I was at his mercy whether I liked it or not.

I bristled at his thinly veiled threat, my jaw clenching as I met his gaze with a glare of my own. "You wouldn't dare," I challenged, though a flicker of uncertainty danced behind my eyes.

Eris's smirk widened, the glint in his amber eyes turning predatory. "Try me," he replied, his tone dripping with promise and menace in equal measure.

With a frustrated huff, I reluctantly relented, realizing that I was in no position to defy him. "Fine," I conceded through gritted teeth, my hand slipping from my stomach to clench into a fist at my side. "But don't expect me to thank you for it."

Eris's smirk softened into a smirk, his gaze lingering on me with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. "Who said anything about gratitude?" he mused, his voice low and husky. "I'm merely extending a courtesy to a fellow refugee."

His words were laced with sarcasm, a reminder that his generosity came with strings attached. It was a stark contrast to the charming facade he wore, a glimpse of the ruthlessness that lay beneath.

I swallowed hard, a bitter taste rising in the back of my throat as I followed him towards the Forest House. It was clear that my time in the Autumn Court would be far from easy, but as I glanced back at the crumbling ruins of the Spring Court behind me, I knew that I had no other choice.

As we reached the grand doors of the Forest House, Eris turned to me with a smirk. "Welcome to your new home, little fox," he remarked, his tone dripping with irony. "Try not to get too comfortable."

My brows furrowed at his words, suspicion creeping into my mind. "What's the catch?" I asked warily, narrowing my eyes at him.

Eris chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down my spine. "Though I do have one condition," he said, his smirk widening into a grin.

"And what is that?" I asked, a sinking feeling settling in the pit of my stomach.

"You must walk with me once a day for the duration of your stay," Eris declared, his tone teasing yet firm.

My jaw dropped in disbelief. "You're joking," I exclaimed, disbelief evident in my voice.

Eris's grin widened, his amber eyes dancing with amusement. "Do I look like I'm joking?" he retorted, his tone challenging.

I narrowed my eyes at him, a surge of defiance rising within me. "This is ridiculous," I protested, shaking my head in disbelief. "I won't be your captive audience."

Eris's expression softened, a hint of something unfamiliar flickering in his eyes. "It's not about being captive," he said softly, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. "Consider it… a chance to explore the court, to clear your mind. Besides," he added with a smirk, "I could use the company."

I bristled at his suggestion, my pride warring with my better judgment. "And if I refuse?" I challenged, crossing my arms over my chest.

Eris's smirk widened, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "Then you'll miss out on some truly breathtaking views," he replied, his tone teasing yet earnest.

I sighed in frustration, realizing that I was fighting a losing battle. "Fine," I relented, though the words tasted like ash on my tongue. "But don't expect me to enjoy it."

Eris's grin widened into a smirk, his eyes alight with amusement. "Oh, I have a feeling you'll come to enjoy it more than you think," he remarked cryptically, before turning to lead the way into the Forest House.

As Eris escorted me to the grand Forest House, his steps were measured, exuding an air of regal confidence that was unmistakably his. His fiery locks seemed to dance with each movement, and his amber eyes held a glint of mischief, hinting at the cunning that lay beneath his charming exterior.

Upon entering my chambers, Eris's gaze swept over the room with a critical eye, a subtle smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "I trust the accommodations meet with your approval, my lady?" he inquired, his voice smooth as honey but tinged with a hint of sarcasm.

I nodded, unable to suppress a smirk of my own at his thinly veiled jest. "They're quite lovely, thank you," I replied, matching his playful tone with one of my own.

Eris's smirk widened into a grin, his amusement evident in the curve of his lips. "Excellent," he remarked, his gaze lingering on me for a moment longer than strictly necessary before turning away to survey the room once more.

As I explored my new surroundings, I couldn't help but notice Eris's watchful gaze following my every move. It was as if he were sizing me up, gauging my reactions to the opulence that surrounded us. I couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to him than met the eye, a depth of character hidden behind his charming facade.

Spotting the single daffodil on the table near the window, I couldn't suppress a chuckle at the sight. It was a quintessentially Eris gesture—playful yet meaningful, a subtle reminder of our earlier exchange. I picked up the note beside it, the elegant script a testament to Eris's attention to detail.

"I will be seeing you real soon, little fox. Wouldn't want you slacking off on our daily walks now, would we?" the note read, the teasing tone perfectly in line with Eris's mischievous nature. I couldn't help but smile at his audacity, the unspoken challenge sparking a flicker of excitement within me.

Setting the note back down, I turned to find Eris watching me with a knowing smirk, his amber eyes alight with amusement. "I take it you approve of my choice of decor?" he quipped, the smirk widening into a grin as he met my gaze.

I rolled my eyes playfully, unable to suppress a laugh at his antics. "It's certainly… unique," I replied, the hint of sarcasm in my tone mirroring his own.

Eris chuckled softly, a sound that sent shivers down my spine. "I'm glad to hear it," he replied, his gaze lingering on me for a moment longer than strictly necessary before turning away to hide the flush that crept across his cheeks.

TAGLIST

@purple-writer8 @defnotlucienvanserra @cherry-cin @julesofvolterra @mirandasidefics @mandziaaa @lilah-asteria @littlestw01f @skylarkalchemist @babypeapoddd

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pupsmailbox · 5 months

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DEER︰FAWN ID PACK

NAMES ⌇　alex. alexei. alexin. alice. alix. alyx. anais. antler. ash. aspen. atlas. axel. bailey. bambi. bambie. barnie. benny. berkeley. birch. bonnie. bonny. buck. buckley. butch. cedar. cervus. chevrette. clover. cotton. daffodil. daisy. daphne. deerette. doe. elkkie. elowen. faline. fawn. fern. fike. finn. finnley. forest. forêt. ginger. glee. haiden. hawthorne. hayden. hazel. helios. helix. hellfire. holly. honey. jasper. juniper. lexus. lilith. lily. luca. lucha. luci. lucia. lucifer. lucifus. lucius. lucy. luka. lukas. maple. meadow. melody. oak. oakly. olive. petunia. primrose. rafan. raiden. rampage. rayaan. rayden. rein. riot. roe. sage. scout. sprout. trax. trevor. tucker. violet. vixen. willow.

PRONOUNS ⌇　ae/aer. ant/ler. antler/antler. ash/ash. berry/berry. branch/branche. buck/buck. ce/cer. clove/clove. cross/cross. curse/curse. daisy/daisy. deer/deer. demon/demon. devil/devil. dirt/dirt. doe/doe. dust/dust. escape/escape. evil/evil. fae/faer. faun/faun. fawn/fawn. fern/fern. fir/fir. for/forest. h…/h…m. hazel/hazel. hex/hex. hide/hide. hol/holly. hoof/hoof. horn/horn. hurt/hurt. hy/hym. limp/limp. lone/lone. lost/lost. pine/pine. riot/riot. ruin/ruin. run/run. scare/scare. sh…/h…r. shock/shock. shy/hyr. shy/shy. stab/stab. stag/stag. stalk/stalk. stare/stare. th…y/th…m. thy/thym. wild/wild. 🌱 . 🌲 . 🌿 . 🍁 . 🍂 . 🏔 . 🏞 . 🦌 .

#⭐️lists #id pack #npt #name suggestions #name ideas #name list #pronoun suggestions #pronoun ideas #pronoun list #neopronouns #nounself #emojiself #deerkin #deer therian #fawnkin #fawn therian

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grapejuicestyless · 6 months

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Linger Like A Tattoo Kiss

JJ Maybank x fem!reader

Summery: After running away from a long term relationship to chase after a summer fling, JJ is left with the pieces of what once was. He can try to get it back, but at the end of the day JJ always fucks up.(Inspired by the folklore love triangle and Normal People.)

“I really hated you for a while.”

Crickets fill the void of silence, a puff of smoke dancing from the old pot beside her, a cigarette squished out in her wilting daffodils. Her hands fist at the hems of her sweater, pulling it impossibly closer to her body, stretching out the stitching and crossing her arms to keep it in place.

“I saw a girl walk by hand in hand with this boy. He had lipstick all over his face, and I felt bad for the girl, I really did, and I had no reason to. They seemed happy enough to have each other, no wandering eyes or anything like that. I guess they just reminded me of us y’know? With the kissing and all that. Figured if we were once like that, who’s to say he won’t go and hurt her too? It’s a real cruel thing to assume, I suppose. To think love is damned just because it was for us.”

“Don’t say that.” She says it so casually that I almost miss the tears in her eyes she blinks at rapidly.

“Well we were.” She laughs bitterly.

“You always did have a wandering eye. Thought it was just people watching because I thought I knew you. It’s probably for the best that I don’t, you and your reckless thinking but you know, strangers don’t kiss like that. Almost makes me feel bad for you that in our entire life together I knew nothing about you, but then I remember what you did and I feel better for it.”

She looks up from her feet which have been crossed underneath her this whole time, shoulders pressed against the old doorframe of her even older house.

“So why are you here, JJ?” She finally asks, cardigan falling from under her arms and her fists pulling down her jean pockets.

“Why’d you answer?”

Nodding slowly, she thinks about it, smiling to herself before scooting over the threshold and swinging the door by its rusting handle.

My hand spreads flat against the chipped yellow paint, an old mark left behind from where the mail box used to be before people stopped sending letters and the metal rusted right off of the wood.

“P-please! Please, Y/n/n.”

Looking at her watching me, I see that she doesn’t hate me like she said she did, not anymore. But she doesn’t love me and I can see that too. It’s like I’m nonexistent to her, neither good nor bad.

“I know I hurt you, believe me I do. I just need you to hear me now so I can explain myself.”

“I’ll never love you again, if that’s what you want.”

“I don’t expect you to. I just hope you’ll hear me and understand that I still do.” The screen door that separated the wooden one and the humid outdoors shook the whole frame of the house when it slammed shut again, her bare feet padding across the splintering wood to lead me away from her front steps.

“I haven’t seen you in months, JJ. You had all summer to make me see you and you wait until August is over? Did you enjoy spending July a bachelor too much or did you forget about me when you were six shots deep at the boneyard?” She tries to spin her anger like it’s a joke, but when she turns her head I can still see the twitching of her bottom lip. She pulls the soft flesh between her teeth to keep it still.

“I didn’t think you’d want to see me.” She laughs.

“You were right.” I smile back at her, but it’s strained.

“Would it be wrong of me to blame it on my father?” I ask only half serious, hands stuffed in my front pockets and feet dragging in the dirt next to hers.

“I don’t think it would be wrong. Manipulative, maybe, but not wrong.”

“Well it’s true.” She scoffs, rolling her eyes away from me.

“You don’t believe me?” I ask, eyebrows furrowed.

“I think it can be half true. Maybe, if what you claim is the reason, your father did influence you to do what you did, but he did not make you do it. You did.”

Looking at her, though she sounded like she was smiling, I find that she was not. She even looked distant, detached from the conversation and uninterested at best.

“I don’t need to tell you how he gets, but I owe it to you to explain it to you now.” She stops just short of the old hammock strung from a big oak tree and a weaker dead one. It reminds me of the one back at the chateau, only more well loved and faded than John B’s.

“You don’t owe me shit.” She acts tough but she doesn’t move either and it tells me that she really does want to listen. At least part of her, anyway.

“Usually I don’t believe the shit he says. He’s a bitter drunk, he won’t even remember what he was thinking in an hour. But when he brought up your name, I don’t know, I couldn’t not buy it a little bit.” I scratch my arm and she says nothing.

“I mean, what would he know about young love? Abusive fuck with an absent wife, no love in his bitter old heart for his only blood but damn it beats when he’s beating on me. Guess I saw myself in him, to be honest. I’m always angry, and I’ve gotten better at hiding it but I’m furious just the same. I’m afraid I’ll inherit more than his temper, I’m already halfway to being knee deep in my own shit.”

She rolls her lips between her teeth, breathing out calmly.

“I don’t feel bad for you, JJ. I wish I did, I really do, but I just can’t. You’re a nice boy, you have decent morals and a good group of friends. It’s evident in you, no matter where you get it from. You are a bad person, I won’t lie to you and tell you, you aren’t because you are. Maybe I do feel bad for you then, but not because of what you’ve done but because you’re just now realizing it.”

“Y/n/n.”

“Look, you told me to listen and I have. You told me your half but I don’t owe you any of mine. You broke it, you don’t get the privilege of fixing it.”

When she turns on her heals I can see the dirt caked onto the bottom of her feet and I can feel it too. The same feeling of running wild when you’re still so young and naive to the real world and all its issues. I can feel the dirt between my own toes even if it’s not there.

“I won’t stop trying, you know.” I call out flatly.

“I already told you, I’ll never love you again JJ. I meant it.” She sighs heavily, spinning to walk backwards.

“I don’t need you to love me, I just need you to like me again. And I won’t stop it until we laugh like we used to.”

She doesn’t talk, but I catch her smile. It looks like shes not with the way her face scrunches in the fading sunlight but her lips are too upturned for her to not be.

“You came back.”

“I told you I would.” I smile with half my teeth, a toothpick dangling from my bottom lip and a new cut caked in dried blood evening it out on the top half.

“You were never one to keep your promises.” She talks from the windowsill by the kitchen. I can see her knees just under her chest and her socks scrunched up. She’s got her bottom on the counter and some baby carrots between her fingers drenched in ranch. Crunching away at them and double dipping.

“Maybe all this heartbreak has you losing your mind. I never broke any promises, I can promise you that Y/n/n.”

“You promised to always love me.” My confidence falters, she’s got a winning smirk and her knees beneath her now. Her elbows sit on the wooden frame and her head leans over the window to talk to me more clearly.

“Who said I stopped?”

I had her, I could see it in her eyes that I had her.

Y/n was never the strongest willed person I knew, but she had dignity and lots of loyalty that made her tough to crack. Even then, years of friendship built as a foundation for a long term relationship and a steady heartbeat in her chest made it hard to stop contact all together, even if she knew it was for the best. Which is why I knew I could crack her eventually, just not this quickly.

“Well,” she sighs, throwing her legs off of the counter to rinse her dishes in the sink. Her shorts are wet on the hems from the pooling water she sat on and her shirt is faded from the sun and the quick dry cycle on her dryer, “I guess I’m the one who couldn’t keep that promise then.”

“You don’t love me?”

“J,” she breathes heavy through her nose, “I loved you for so long, even before you knew. God, I think if you weren’t so blind you could have seen it too. You might as well have hung the stars and the moon for me. I loved so hard for so long. What we had, JJ, what we have done. We’ve done so much good for one another.” She sighs, hopping back up into her previous spot and leaning in just a little closer so she can rest her head on the windows frame. Her leg dangles outside of the house and her arms wrap around the knee of the other tightly. She looks smaller like this and I can see the darkness in her eyes clearer now.

“What if I never move on?”

The question lingers in the air like the cigarette smoke that danced in the sky last night.

“I can’t make you feel something you don’t. I guess that’s the scary part. I can keep reminding you of what you did and you’ll never quit, will you?”

I shake my head.

“You know I love you.” My elbows rest against the wooden plank underneath the bend of her knee. If I lean too close my thumb would brush against her skin and she’d surely run.

“And I know it’s hypocritical for me to say when all is done is done, but there is no girl, no person that will ever make me feel the same way as I do for you.”

It falls silent between us and I can see now that her sad smile has turned into a frown, like some guilt has started to eat at her when she has nothing to feel sorry for.

“I’ll stay.” I hum softly, a quiet promise just between us, “And I’ll never leave again. You don’t have to love me like you once did, but I do think you make me a better person.”

“And if I go?” She mumbles back, eyebrows relaxing into her sunken face and slouched posture. She looks tired, a whirlwind of a spring leading into the fall taking all her old charm from her aching bones.

“Then I’ll follow you. Wherever you go, I’ll be there and we’ll be okay.”

She looks at me unsure, unbelieving and she’s smart for it. There’s not a thing I’ve proven to her that shows her I’m reliable, not a bone in my body has the ability to be that for her all the time. But I’d like to be if she’d let me again. And I would fuck it up this time.

“It’s over now, anyway. I guess it’s a stupid question to have asked when there no point to it. Guess I just wanted to know the answer. Make me feel better.”

That was the thing about Y/n, she always spoke her mind full and true no matter what. She doesn’t need to tell me why she’s said something but she always does. Even if she hasn’t done anything like she’s done now. When we were dating I thought it was because she could never stop talking, but looking back on it I guess she was never really loud. Only at parties and when she was scared. She rambles when she’s nervous I’ve realized, and I think it’s funny because it also means she can’t lie because either way the truth will come out.

“Sorry.”

“No, don’t be.”

Silence fills the space between us again, her body fidgeting at how close we’ve gotten, breaking her unwritten rule of keeping me at an arms length.

I can see her fingertips searching for her old lighter and her pack of cigarettes. She was never really a smoker, only doing what everyone else had done but I assumed she had picked up the habit while I was away. It made me sad in a sense, not because they were being used, but because she had always been that girl in middle school who would keep them away from all of us. Weed? Sure! But she was smarter than me and most of the other kids who were broke and just wanted some relief, so I guess my heart just hurts seeing how she doesn’t really care anymore.

“Do you want one?” I shake my head no.

“Since when do you smoke?”

“Since when do you care?” The paper is between her lips, balancing on the sticky pink lipgloss she’s coated on her lips.

I shrug, looking at her manicured hands, delicate and smooth cupping around the end where the flame lights just below the end of the cigarette to keep the wind from blowing it out.

“Just didn’t read you as someone who would.” She laughs.

“Yeah, I was kind of stuck up when we were younger, huh?”

“I don’t think thats the right word.” She looks at me, taking the stick away from her mouth and tipping her head back to blow the smoke out.

“What word would you use then?” She smiles down at her hand, rubbing her wrists down her legs and her cheek against her knees.

“Careful, probably.”

She sticks out her tongue, groaning and sitting back against the window frame.

“Might as well call me boring then, right? Can see why you would want to run away with someone so much more…exciting.” She rolls her eyes playfully, lifting the cigarette back to her lips.

“How many more times are you going to say it?” My fingers wrap around the stick, lifting it to my own lips and covering the mark her own had made before putting it out against the back of my hand.

“Me saying it less won’t make it any less true.”

Maybe a smart ass would be the right word to call her. Heartbreak be damned, she was always quick on her tongue only now she had motivation to shoot for the kill.

“Have a nice night, JJ.” Her legs swing over to the cool counter tops where she scoots herself down and back onto the floor. I can see she’s wearing a baby blue bra when she bends over to shut the window, not that I was looking, and she smiles unenthusiastically until she’s turned the corner out of my sight.

“You’d think after a month of this you’d be bored.” She laughs, mittens covering her fingers and a soft cardigan over her heavy sweatshirt. Her nose is numbing from the cold and the grass is crunching underneath the winter frost.

“I could never be bored of you, Y/n/n.”

She opens her mouth to speak, but bites her tongue with a gentle smile. Her cheeks glow and her eyes avoid looking into mine. The plants by her feet are long gone, only weeds that have frozen left behind among the cigarette stubs from all of our small talk by her windows and on her porch. Even with the constant sweeping, we’ve both picked up on the habit and we burn through them each meeting.

“Well, I’m not so sure about that.” She laughs more to herself than to me, hands crossed under her arms and shoulder pressed against the door.

“Why’s that?”

“I don’t know, I suppose I’m just not all that interesting of a person. Not much about me that makes me special.”

Theres a bitter windchill that weaves its way between us and a relentless shiver that travels up my spine and down to my fingertips.

“Well I think you’re plenty interesting.” I smile proudly, almost foolishly at her and wait for her reaction.

She only hums with a puff through her nose and nods, and when her eyes flicker back up to mine they seem a little bit more focused in on me than before.

“I think you’re very pretty too, by the way.”

She laughs again, holding her index under her nose and crinkling her eyes.

“Don’t.” She braces herself further into the doorway and lulls her head back for a moment before coming back.

“Well it’s true!”

“I would hope so, I mean we were together for, how long?”

I fake offense that she doesn’t have the days counted down like I do. Years to months to days to hours to seconds, I have it all calculated in my head.

“You’re relentless, do you know that JJ?”

“I’ve been told a few times, yes.” It’s my turn to laugh, shifting from the heals of my feet to the balls of my toes. I shove my hands deep into my pockets and pray she doesn’t see the blue of my lips and send me home.

It goes quiet for a brief moment, our breathing pausing in our throats and the cold air releasing foggy puffs through the parts of our lips. It doesn’t get as cold as it would up in New England here, but the frost still nips away at the thin skin I’ve grown and bites at the tips of my fingers and the bottoms of my toes.

“How’s Pope doing?” Her breathing has gone heavy again.

I know she’s specifically asked for Pope because he’s the only one who truly saw my faults. John B and Sarah far too woven into their own web of unfaithfulness and Kiara too unbothered to care. Pope was always the most sensible out of us, so when I came home after nearly half a decade unfazed and claiming to have ended things without solid grounds to stand on, he let me have it. In his dad’s truck, specifically.

Driving downtown to the rich side of the island with bags of groceries slung over each shoulder and the bumps in the road shaking the plastic outrageously loud. I told him first, and part of me knew he would see my mistakes and call them out, but I hadn’t and I didn’t want to. I’d never seen him so mad, threatening to pull over if I didn’t make things right.

You can’t force a person to love someone forever, and you can’t force a person to change their behavior if they can’t see it’s broken. Pope couldn’t have done anything to make me go back. If I had, I would have faced her teary eyes and sad smile telling me that she was alright as long as I was well. She believed me when I said we were better for it, and sometimes I wished that I had picked a girl who could fight.

“He’s well. His dad too, actually. Started making deliveries to the far side of the island to make more money. By this time next year hopefully he’ll be on his way to college.”

“Well, he always was the smart one.”

She smiles underneath her mitten clad hand, looking at her feet.

“We all got lucky, you know? Having someone like him around. It’ll be weird without him around so often anymore.” My thumbs press harder into the bottoms of my pockets to savor the warmth radiating from my thighs.

“I like Pope, he always was my favorite.”

I nod, smiling into the silence again.

“Is he still your best friend, then?” She asks plainly, not really looking for much of an answer.

“No.”

She cocks her head, leaning all of her weight into the wooden door frame.

“Why’s that then? Has John B finally made you lose your mind?”

She never really did like John B. He was loyal and she respected him for it, but he was just like me. He was good but he wasn’t a good person.

“No.” I answer again, trying to hide my growing smile, “You are.”

“That’s funny.”

“It wasn’t a joke.”

She laughs through her nose.

“Yeah well, we barely talk so, I don’t think I can be your best friend.”

“Well you are.”

“Well then thats sad.” She looks at me sympathetically, sticking out her bottom lip in a pout.

“I don’t get to do this with anyone else.”

“Do what?”

“This.” I motion with my hands. “Just sit and talk, even if it’s only for a moment. I guess I just feel better around you, I can’t explain it.”

She’s nodding her head thoughtfully at my words, pulling her mittens off and holding them in one hand carefully.

“JJ.”

I hum, looking up from where I’ve began to stare a hole into my boots.

“You should come in.”

“Okay.”

It’s been too long since I’ve smelled the warmth of the inside of her home. Soft vanilla mixed with the citrus and salt that can only be found in places surrounded by ocean. Yet, I can’t find this smell in any other place. Her perfume lingers beneath the surface of the smell but I can’t quite recall the name of it anymore. It drives me crazy when everything smells like her and I go mad wondering why I would have chased after another girl when I already had her.

“Sorry for the mess.” Her house is small, maybe just a bit smaller than mine but it’s nicer than mine.

She kicks a blanket that has fallen off of the arm of her plush couch into the corner, and I pick it up.

“No, it’s perfect.”

She laughs, opening the door to her room and situating herself underneath her worn in white bed sheets. I hesitate, unsure if she’s welcoming me in with her, though I wouldn’t mind just laying on the floor. She has this soft carpet by the side of her bed that would be comfortable enough for a short time. But to my surprise she does open the bedsheets, scooting over and letting me sit underneath the thick layers.

“I still don’t forgive you, by the way.” She mumbles as I climb in beside her, crossing her arms to prove something.

“I don’t expect you to.” I smile at her, and I catch her vaguely smiling back.

Sitting waist pressed to waist, the heavy comforter weighed down by her stack of blankets piled on top shifts into a tent as she crosses her legs. She pulls it up to her chest so she can hold it under her arms and I wonder how she’s not hot even in the winter chill. I can feel my own sweat sticking to my skin underneath my clothes. Her lighter flickers beside me, a ball of smoke tumbling past her lips before she passes it to me. She lights another for herself.

I laugh at a thought I have, but it comes out stiffed with the paper caught in my mouth.

“I bet you’d pretend not to know me if we bumped into each other.”

The smoke from the blunt I dangled between my fingers disperses into the air leaving a faint smell of weed behind in its wake. I can feel it on my teeth too when I smile.

She doesn’t say anything, staring at me with a gentle smile and serious eyes. Her watchful expression makes me realize how depressing my words were and how true they could be. I swallow, looking down at where the blankets have pooled in my lap.

“Sorry.”

“I would never pretend to not know you, JJ.” She looks at me honest.

“I don’t deserve that.” I confess to no one in particular. I just say it out loud as it comes to my mind and let the reality behind it sink in like a knife to the heart.

“You did bad things.” She swallows, “But you still stuck around after. You promised to make it right and you are. I guess what you’ve done doesn’t seem so bad to me now, even if it is, is what I’m trying to say. Compared to most people, you were actually pretty nice to me.” She smiles sadly and all I want to do is to wrap her in my arms and press soft kisses along the top of her head, but it’s no longer my place to do that and I’ve made it so.

“I wish it were different.”

“How?” She looks at me pitifully, water collecting on her lower lashes. I’m not sure where she’s put the burning paper, if it died between her manicured fingers or if she rubbed it out on one of the books beside her bed, but it’s no longer in her hands when her arms fall heavy against her duvet in defeat.

“I wish we never dated, at least not so soon.” It’s my turn to swallow now. “We would have been better for it. If we had grown up a little first.”

She shakes her head, looking back down at her covered lap.

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Why?”

“I think we’d grow, but not by much. Growth doesn’t fully change a person and by facing adulthood I don’t think it would have made us end any differently. At the end of the day I’ll still turn to my cigarettes and you’ll still be drunk in the boneyard talking to some pretty tourist.”

“Well I like to think so.”

“And I think you’re naive for it.”

By now the smoke has dwindled down to fog around the room and the old blunt has died out between my index and my thumb.

“I would have done it differently.”

She hums, tell me more, it says.

“I would have bought you flowers. Not only on the special days but just because I love you. Wouldn’t need a reason to show it to you and I wouldn’t be stupid enough to run away from you either.”

I could list everything I could have done better for her endlessly but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s been done.

“We’re still so young, it’s hard to know where things start to go wrong.” She tries to reason, and our eyes avoid the others wearily.

Neither of us talk, listening to the whistling wind banging on the large windows and feeling the faint chill seeping through the walls.

“I don’t drink anymore.” She looks at me.

“Good for you.”

“I do stupid things when I get drunk, I get sloppy I suppose. Talk to people I shouldn’t, hate the wrong people and make everyone feel bad. I don’t really like that feeling. I don’t like being a bad person.” I confess, looking at her and remembering how she’s confirmed my deepest fears without knowing.

“You can be intense but eventually you mellow out and you’re okay again.” She shrugs.

“I know, and I know everybody knows I don’t mean it but if I can prevent it I will.”

She nods again, eyebrows furrowing and her teeth catching her bottom lip. She looks to me with a serious expression.

“What about you. Would you love me if you met me now?” She asks.

“I’ll always love you.”

“But if you didn’t know me, if you didn’t love me. If I was just some girl you’d seen on the beach or in town. Would you be able to love me then?”

“Eventually, yes.” I admit. “I like to think that in some fucked up way you were made for me.”

She smiles at that, picking at her nails shyly.

“Yeah?” She looks up at me with shy eyes.

“Yeah.”

The grass under my feet is soggy, but the warm sun beating down on our shoulders slowly dries it and the dripping leaves above us too. It wasn’t a long winter, but it never really is here. Spring had rolled around just a few months ago with endless showers and relentless sunshine following behind it. Pollen dances in the air in a heavy dusting and the bees have begun picking out the prettiest flowers and the early summer air hangs humid around us.

“You disappeared for a while.” Her hands fold underneath her elbows. She’s swapped out her heavy cardigans for graphic baby tees and faded jeans. Her hair is lighter now than it was in the winter, and she has more freckles on her face.

“It’s only been a few weeks.” She looks at me and I swear I can’t read her so I clear my throat.

“I picked up some shifts with Pope. Trying to save up some money so I can finally do something with myself I guess. You know, I was never really the smartest with my money.” She laughs.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to be annoying. Just…missed you is all.” She smiles up at me with a look I haven’t seen in some time.

“You could never be annoying.”

“It’s funny because I was over here thinking that you probably hate me. It’s kind of pathetic because you weren’t really gone for long, but you’re really the only person who still talks to me.”

She leans back against the old wood of her house, her face finding shade underneath the small overhang of her porch.

“I never hated you. I could never hate you. I think you’re really awesome.” I confess and it makes me feel a rush when I say it.

Y/n swallows hard and I can see her smile falter when she looks back up.

“Well…I like you.”

“I like you too.”

She smiles at me and I can’t tell if it’s the birth of exclusivity or friendship blossoming between us.

“I wish I could read your mind.” She mumbles out, stepping closer.

“Why?”

“You’re confusing.”

“Well, I don’t think I am. Maybe you’re confusing yourself.”

“No, it’s definitely you.” She smiles.

“I saw Kiara last week, while you were away. I thought about asking about you but then I figured it might have been weird because it wasn’t really my business. But then I noticed she was wearing my old shirt. I knew it was mine because I used to leave it at your house when we would fall asleep before I could crawl out the window. I never took it back and she was wearing it.” She breathed through her nose, “I guess I was just confused why you kept it. I mean, we agreed that we were better for it, you were so convinced that if we saw other people we would be so much happier. You saw another girl all summer, so I guess it just confused me why you wouldn’t have tossed it.”

“Maybe I wanted an excuse to see you again.”

“See, you’re confusing.”

“I don’t get your point.”

She huffs, hanging her shoulders and rolling her eyes.

“Someone who falls in love with someone else doesn’t keep their ex girlfriend’s shirt, they don’t worry about the next time they’ll run into each other.”

“Maybe I was just being a good friend.” I shrug, smiling as I stuff my hands into my pockets.

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what!” I throw my arms up playfully and I can see how hard she’s fighting against a smile.

“Well were you? Being a good friend, that is?”

I shrug.

“Maybe, I’m not sure. I mean, I guess I never really thought about throwing it out because I was so used to you being there. You never said you wanted it back so, I never asked you. It’s funny too because when Kiara found it, she told me the same thing. She said it was stupid of me to keep something that wasn’t mine and took it. But I guess she didn’t have the heart to give it back to you either.” I find myself rambling.

“What if I wanted it back now?”

“Well do you?”

She shakes her head and all of our words seem to die on our tongues.

“She never stayed the night, by the way.”

“What?”

“The girl, the one I saw this summer.”

“Oh.” I see her cringing at the mere mention of the girl, Amanda, I think was her name but the whole summer was a drunken blur and the only times I ever saw her was after I was six shots deep and in need of a distraction.

After a five day bender and the hard reality of sobriety I came to my senses, she was nothing more than sex. Still, explaining that to Y/n wouldn’t have helped my case. It would have only made both of us feel bad. I left her for another girl who I didn’t even really like and nobody knew why.

“I don’t think it’s important, but I thought you’d want to know.”

“I’m not mad anymore, about her.”

“Well are you still hurt?” She looks at me through her lashes, index fingers picking at the skin around her thumbs.

“Sorry, stupid question.”

“It doesn’t hurt as much anymore.”

“But I still hurt you?”

“JJ.” She sighs, hands finding their way around her stomach.

“I still feel like kicking myself every time I think about it. You were always so good to me, you are. You let me into your house and you give me all these chances even after I fucked it all up. I don’t know why I did it, and I hate myself for it everyday.”

It goes silent for what feels like the millionth time today.

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” She looks at me carefully, fingers pulling at the fabric around her waist like it’s suffocating her.

“I don’t expect you to say anything.”

She nods, “Okay.”

“Do you think you’ll ever forgive me?”

Theres a pause, and her eyes move back like she’s thinking really hard for her answer.

“I already have.”

Her words don’t give me the clarity I hoped they would. In fact, they make me feel worse. Even after I hurt her, left her alone for something not even half as good. I played two girls in the span of three months and I paid little to no consequences. She let me show her how sorry I was when she shouldn’t have and now all I can picture is her sorry face when I told her it was over for the first time.

“Do you think I’m naive for it?” She asks quietly.

“For forgiving me?”

“No.” She shakes her head. “For falling in love with you again.” I don’t know how to answer her when she consistently leaves me speechless.

“I don’t know.” I look her, hoping to find an answer. “How do you feel about it?”

“I don’t know, thats my issue. I can look back on something and think I know what I felt at the time but, I don’t know. When it’s actually happening, I guess I have no idea how I feel or how to think.”

“Then how do you know you love me?”

“I don’t know. I never have a clue. I guess I just feel different around you than most people. But it’s not as obvious as other people make it sound, it’s the little things.” She confesses.

“I can tell you how I feel, if that would help.”

“Okay.” She nods.

I take a second to gather what I have to say in an effort to avoid some sort of word vomit from spewing out, but it’s to no avail.

“I thought you were shy when I first met you. Normally for me, I wouldn’t stick around for long because even with talkative people I find myself annoying. I hate the sound of my voice after some time. I figured I’d grow tired of my own voice quickly with you.”

Y/n looks at me, trying to figure me out.

“But you’re really not all that shy, you’re just careful. You think before you speak and maybe that’s why you don’t do a lot of it. Because you know what and when to say things and what sounds bad before you say it. You never know how you feel, but you know what you think and I think thats twice as important. Our conversations were different because of that. I could talk for hours and because I was talking to you I never focused on the sound of my voice or how tired I was of hearing it, I only thought of you. I guess that’s the scary part of it all, falling in love, that is. You don’t know you’ve done it until you try to think of something else and you realize you haven’t even tried to think of anything else without everything leading back to that one person.”

“That’s kind of scary to think about.” She laughs half heartedly.

“Because it is. That’s the fucked up thing about it all, nobody tells you that falling in love is more of developing an obsession to another person. It’s wanting to be around them all the time and praying every second you’re away from them that they’ll come around again soon. It’s the inability to let go after you swore to yourself you were done and it’s why I keep coming back to you.”

Theres a pause. I don’t realize how red my face has gotten until I stop talking.

“I think we’re probably just sick.” She smiles with her teeth, pushing my shoulder back to walk past me. We’ve left her front lawn so many times before. I’ve chased her across her lawn and rolled with her in the weeds, but I’ve grown so used to the faint glowing of her front porch lights and the flickering of the fairy lights strung across the door that it always catches me off guard when she moves away from the doorway.

“I think you’re probably right.”

“Then maybe we shouldn’t be together, then. Maybe you were right. We were better for it.”

“Well, I don’t think that’s true.”

“How could you not? You said it so you must believe in it.”

Shes playing with me and she knows it. Even though Y/n claims she’s hurting less and less the more we open up, I can tell theres still a wound bleeding somewhere deep, someplace within her that likes to see me frantic.

“Maybe I did then, but I don’t now.”

“Why?”

“Well, then you were just my girlfriend.”

“And I’m your ex now, so I guess it’s probably worse.”

It’s my turn to laugh now.

“No. I think it’s different now because I’m not only in love with you, but I love you.” I feel like I’m seven again, running around the blacktop and chasing around Y/n and tugging her by her pigtails. I feel like I’ve just confessed my school crush to her and it’s thrilling but horrifying all at once.

“Do you love me enough to be honest with me?” She smiles wider.

“I love you enough to do just about anything for you.”

“Did you ever see me in her?”

Somehow every time it gets good I am reminded of my past. It’s my karma. I’ve hurt her so it only makes sense for her to want to know everything before I earn her heart again.

“All the time.”

For the first time in forever, she steps closer, her hands resting on my waist gently and her breathing shallow against my neck.

“How?” Our noses practically touch when I look down at her.

“She was quiet, careful. She was never as smart as you but if I was drunk enough I could have made up anything. You guys would have been best friends, I’m convinced, if it were a different lifetime. Same jokes, same hobbies. The only difference was her heart.”

I find my hands threading themselves between the stray hairs by her neck, and I can see how her eyes relax the closer I inch towards her.

“You were much softer than she was, and I realized then that I only really ever wanted her because she reminded me so much of you. And it’s weird because I already had you.”

For a second I think she’s going to kiss me, and for a second I know she thinks so too. But her hands slip away from mine and her head ducks beneath my hands to unthread them from her hair to get away. She’s clearing her throat and mumbling soft apologies as she makes her way back up to the porch.

I feel angry, and I know it’s not my right to. I had her and I lost her through my own actions. I have no one else to blame. Yet, I find myself feeling vulnerable in a way I’ve never felt it before. It makes me feel sick knowing how close we got to fixing things and how quickly it was stripped away. I feel useless, and I figure it must be how Y/n felt when I left her and told her it was for the best.

“So that’s it then? What, we just tell each other we love each other and we pretend it never happened?”

“JJ, please.”

I can tell shes tired, conflicted over her own actions, but I can’t wait any longer to figure it out.

“I know it’s my fault but I’m trying to fix it, fix us! I miss you, more than anything and I can’t talk to anyone like I talk to you. I don’t know what else to say, Y/n. I love you, I love you so much it drives me crazy and I fucking miss what we had.”

She doesn’t say anything.

“JJ, I told you when you first came around. You knew this. I won’t fight for us, I can’t do that again.”

“So then why do you let me stick around?”

“Someone ought to hold you to your words. If you’re going to stay, then stay but I won’t fight for you if you leave.”

“Well I wish you would.” I can feel myself growing angry. I wish I didn’t get that from my father, his temper. I wish I was more like Y/n, more level headed and calm. But I was born angry and I am because I remember the way I ended things and I remember how quickly she accepted it.

“You lost that privilege when you left me for her.”

“Don’t throw that at me, we both know you couldn’t even argue with me then!”

“How could I, JJ? You’d made up your mind, why should I stick around if you’ve gotten eyes for someone else?” Her throat is scratchy, she doesn’t even have to look at me for me to know she’s trying not to cry. I want to beg her not to, because I know I won’t be able to withstand her wet doe eyes, but I’ve done it to myself.

“You know that’s not what happened, I told you what happened!” I feel the way we’re both growing tired. We get good and we fall apart.

“If you want to talk, we can talk but I can’t give you what you want. I can’t fight for someone who’s not even mine.”

“So then you want to see other people?”

“I never said that.”

“Well you implied it.”

She doesn’t say anything, shoulders shaking over the old railings of her porch. Her breathing is heavy but she doesn’t speak.

“So I guess if you want to see other people, then we should see other people.”

“Do what you want JJ, but just don’t come back here.”

She doesn’t mean it, we both know she doesn’t. She told me months ago she would never love me again, and though she has grown to find room in her heart for me, she’ll never let me see her vulnerable again.

I can feel the dirt coating my socks as it kicks up behind me. I’m not walking fast, but it feels like it with how dizzy I’m getting. Her door shuts with a slam and I swear I can hear a faint cry echo through her kitchen. But I’ll never know because I was too careless to try and knock.

It’s a different girl every time, but they’re all the same. John B gave me shit for it last summer when it first ended. I claimed to be chasing something better but they were all just different versions of the same girl.

There was always something off, the hair, the smile, the laugh. But if I drank enough and squinted hard enough I could almost see Y/n again and it would help convince myself that I was fine with her absence.

I find the fog of the early summer bonfires to be suffocating now, even with the solo cup in my hand and consistent pats on my back from classmates and old friends. I’ve flirted with half the island by now, I’m sure of it, and I probably look a mess but the tourist in front of me doesn’t seem to mind.

She looks like my Y/n too, they both like the same music. I wonder if I’ll accidentally call her the wrong name later tonight.

I told Y/n I stopped drinking, but I never promised it to her. So I suppose that’s how I ended up back where I started, trying to drown out my own issues with a warm beverage and a random girl.

I haven’t really been listening to what she has to say, I can only wonder what Y/n would think about her and if she would approve. It makes me feel sick knowing how many people I hurt in the process of healing, and I wonder if you can even consider it healing at this point.

“JJ!” A soft voice breaks through a loud crowd, dashing through the center of a bonfire to find me hanging back along the outskirts.

The girl in front of me shoots both of us a dirty look and walks away without saying a word.

“Y/n?” My vision is blurry and I wonder if it’s really her or if I’ve drank far too much.

“You’re drunk.”

“What?” The cup in my hand finds its way into the hot sand and over the intense stench of alcohol I can smell the welcoming scent of her perfume.

“Do you take me as a joke?” Her eyes are watering, shaky fingers wrapped around my wrists. I can see the faint flickering of the bonfire illuminating the side of her face. She looks so pretty like this, so tired.

“What the fuck are you on about, Y/n?”

“I let you into my home, into my bed; my bed!” She restlessly pokes her finger into her chest, clammy hands gripping onto my skin harder than ever.

“Well I didn’t make you!”

“You didn’t make it easy either!” She shoots daggers in my direction, stray looks from passersby’s tell us to quiet down.

“Yeah whatever.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She all but begs.

“You could have any boyfriend you want, you know. Boy’s are consistently falling in love with you, from what I’ve heard.” I slur, my right foot falling in front of my left and still Y/n holds me in place.

“Stop that, stop it now JJ I don’t like it.” She pleads through her gritted teeth.

“Right.” I roll my eyes.

“You don’t hate me. You told me so when I asked you, you even told me you liked me so stop being mean.”

“Maybe I’m just immune to you.” I try and joke through foggy memories and a sloppy smile, “Because I knew you before, in school when you still wore pigtails.”

“Right, when I was ugly and pathetic? You obviously don’t know me now JJ if you’re acting this way.” I ignore her insults, I couldn’t even process them if I tried.

“No, you were never ugly or pathetic.”

She looked at me, confused, not sure where this fight is leading us and unsure if we’d ever bounce back from it. Even sober our conversation is unclear, weaving between different topics and creating sore spots that’ll surely kill us soon.

“I know I’d be a shit boyfriend if I were yours. I’d rather anyone else, even the guys on figure eight who spit on me when I walk by.”

“JJ, you’re drunk, let me take you home, we can figure it all out soon.” My hands rip themselves from her grip, stumbling back into the sand.

“Why do you care so much JJ? Let me take you home, we can talk in the morning.”

“Because I’m selfish and even though I know you’d be happier without me I can’t even stand the thought of you being happy with anyone else but me.” Looking at my feet, I feel the tears falling from my eyes onto my feet buried in the sand. “Y/n I need to know if you love me or not.”

Neither of us can speak, and it feels like everyone around us can’t seem to find the words to explain out situation either.

“JJ.” She pleads softly.

“I probably should have mentioned this before, but I was seeing someone.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t.”

Y/n doesn’t say anything, she doesn’t even breathe, and the quiet is so loud that I can’t help the drunken rambling that leaves my mouth. “That girl, I can’t remember her name now, but the one I had last summer, I saw her up until the fall. I asked her out too. Should have mentioned that before but then again, I feel like you hardly ever let me in anymore so.” I shrug, and because of the way my eyes so heavily avoided her’s I almost missed the way she looked at me like I was poison.

“I called her by your name, that’s why she said no.”

The world seems to fall quiet around us, stray smoke from the nearby fire weaving between us and sticking in our hair and on our clothes.

“Why are you telling me this? Is it because you’re trying to be such a good friend, is that it, JJ?”

“No—yes, I don’t know, I just needed to tell you.”

Her sniffles are deafening, I feel sicker than before hearing her fighting her tears.

“Oh god, oh my god!” Her hands cover her face, pulling down until her hands clasp tightly over her quivering mouth.

“I’m sorry, I want to fix things, I thought if I told you, you would like me better!” I try to rationalize but she only shakes her head.

“I thought it would be different, you know? I really did believe you when you said we were better for it, having taken a break to grow and learn. But I’m just as naive as I was when I was yours and I’m just as stupid for taking you back!” She spits it like venom, still backing away.

“You said it yourself, I’m not a good person.”

“That doesn’t mean I didn’t believe you could be one.”

It’s quiet again between us, and her touch on my skin lingers like a tattooed kiss, her words replaying in my mind.

Y/n believed we could work it out, but she was smarter than I was and more careful too. She knew better than to chase after something that was never meant to work out.

“I do love you, I really do. What we had, what we have done. We’ve done so much good for one another.”

“No, no.” I try to follow her, but my feet fail me. I fan barely walk straight, let alone chase her.

“You know I love you, Y/n, you have to. I’m never going to feel the same way I feel for you for anybody else.”

She looks at me and it tells me everything I need to know.

I can promise her all my love and all my heart but it’ll never make us right, not ever again.

When she leaves, it’s quietly, the frame of her body losing its color in the darkness of the early summer night. It reminds me a lot of how this all started, and I feel sick.

I could stay as long as I wanted, but the truth was my devotion did not matter anymore, because she was always destined to go.

#jj maybank x y/n #jj mayback imagine #jj maybank fluff #jj mayback x reader #jj maybank x you #jjmaybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #jjmaybankangst

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