#I still keep covering my face trying to keep all the screams and emotions inside while I type this up

[yogirl-willow]

The Crimson Pact | Part 6

Characterizations | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10

SoulBond!AU

Pairings: Yandere!Saja Boys x F!Reader

Synopsis: You were never supposed to remember them.

Four hundred years ago, a pact was made—a blood-soaked bond tying five demons to one human soul: yours.

They’ve waited lifetimes for your reincarnation, cursed with obsession, tethered by fate.

And now that you’ve returned?

They’ll burn the world before they let you go again.

Warnings: Soul bond with the Saja Boys, Yandere themes!, obsessive behavior / possessiveness, romantic psychological tension, mentions of implied past death / reincarnation, intense emotional fixation, yearning, dark romance, hurt/comfort

A/N: Thank you all for reading the Crimson Pact! Here's another update that gets the plot rolling. :) I tried to tag everyone I could, but I also know tumblr only allows like 50 or so- regardless I still tried so I hope it works!

───────── ༺🜃༻ ─────────

The Saja boys are all demons.

They are wrath and ruin. Jealousy and death.

And yet, before her, they kneel.

Because she is the Heart. Because her soul is what keeps them from unraveling into true monsters. Because they were bound by her love and her curse.

They don’t just crave her—they depend on her. Without her presence, their minds deteriorate. Their bodies decay. Their hunger becomes unbearable.

Only Y/N’s touch tames the demon inside.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

Part 6:

Where the Bond Burns

Darkness wraps around you like a heartbeat. Then comes the fire. Not heat—but memory.  It floods your mind in violent waves. Too vivid to be a dream. Too tender to be lies. Too painful to be anything but real.

Smoke. Screams. Blood in the dirt. You're barefoot, standing in the center of a razed village, the winter wind biting at your cheeks. Charred thatch and broken beams litter the ground around you, glowing red with the last embers of a fire that’s stolen everything.

“Haneul!” You don’t think—you remember. His name rips from your chest.

You see him ahead—taller, broader, armor torn and covered in soot. His blade drips crimson. His expression is hollow. Around him: corpses. Bandits. Soldiers. Villagers. Men he once fought alongside. Men who dared to touch you. He turns—his eyes blazing.

“Haneul!” you call again, running to him. But someone yanks you back.

“Get her away from him—he’s cursed!”

You scream. Thrash. Soldiers hold you fast. Haneul sees it. The way you’re dragged. The way your arm twists in their grip. His scream splits the sky. “Don’t touch her!” he roars. “She’s mine!”

His sword flashes. You try to break free—but they overpower you. Your last memory of that life is his voice breaking through flame. His face wild, streaked in blood and grief.

“She’s mine!”

The village dissolves. And now—

A silk-draped room. It’s evening. You're in a candlelit room now—pillows, gauze curtains, perfume in the air. Your body sinks into cushions as laughter spills from your lips. A hand brushes your hair behind your ear, fingertips lingering.

“Seoha,” you whisper, dizzy on love. He’s beside you. Shirt loose. Mouth soft with affection. He kisses the inside of your wrist, slow and lingering.

“Run away with me,” he says, voice low. “We’ll vanish. Just us. You love me more than this... don’t you?”

Your smile fades. Your heart aches. “I can’t,” you breathe, trembling. “My family—my name—”

His expression cracks like porcelain. You reach for him, frantic, already regretting the words—but he pulls back. Stands. Shadows crawl across his face. His eyes are wounded. Distant.

You feel the air change. The soft warmth turns bitter. Cold. The candles gutter out.

The world shifts, vanishes like smoke and you feel the biting cold of the ground beneath you. Your body lies still on the floor, draped in bridal silk. Pale. Fragile. Your throat marked by red, too much red. Throat slit. A flower wilted before bloom.

Seoha is bent over you, hands shaking, blood on his mouth from where he tried to kiss you awake. He sobs—not loudly. Not like a man. But like something primal breaking apart. “No…” he chokes. “No, please. You promised me. You were mine. You chose me—”

He clutches you tighter, his tears slip onto your skin—silent, shuddering, like confessions too late. His grip turns bruising. Desperate. Like if he holds you hard enough, time might rewind. Like the blood staining your silk will fade.

But it doesn't.

The room stays still. Too still. The soft rustle of curtains. The faint clink of ornaments. A life continuing… without you in it. He rocks you in his arms. Once. Twice.

"Wake up," he whispers. "You said you loved me." Your head doesn’t tilt. Your lashes don’t flutter. "You said you were mine."

His breath hitches. The world doesn't burn—but something deeper does… inside him. A split down the center of his soul. He presses his mouth to yours—one last time. Still, he holds you. Still, he doesn't let go. Not even when your body cools beneath him.

You wake with a sound caught in your throat. A gasp. A sob. A name—no, two names—

“Seoha…” “Haneul—”

You jolt upright. The world is red. Not fire, not blood, but something deeper. Your vision is soaked in crimson and grief. The aftershock of lives you didn’t live—lives you lost. Your chest heaves like something’s been torn from it. Your ribs ache from a scream that never made it out. Your heart heavy with so much pain.

Next to you, there’s movement—fast, frantic. Romance—Seoha—bolts upright, his hand catching your arm before you can tip forward and clutching you to his chest. “Y/N—” His voice is wrecked. “What did you see? Tell me—did something happen? Tell me baby-”

He’s already cupping your face, thumbs trembling against your cheeks. “Please say something. Please. You’re scaring me—”

But you can’t speak. The grief is too big. The pain is too old. Your lip wobbles. Then the doors burst open like a dam breaking. Haneul arrives first, barefoot, breathless, eyes blazing with panic. Jinu right behind him, followed by Baby and Mystery, all drawn by the invisible tether of your soul to theirs. All five look like they’re in agony just seeing you there—not okay.

You look up at them and break. You hurl yourself into Haneul’s arms. His hands catch you instantly, anchoring you to his chest like he’s done this a thousand times in a thousand lives.

“I’m here,” he breathes into your hair, voice rough with emotion. “I’m here, baby. I’ve got you. I’ve got you—don’t cry like that, please don’t cry like that.”

You release another painful sob as you cry into his chest. It hurts. Jinu drops to his knees beside you, taking your hand in both of his, kissing your knuckles like they’re holy. “She’s remembering,” he says softly. “She’s remembering what happened.”

Baby’s fists are clenched. He looks like he might punch through the wall. Or the sky. “Who did this to her?” he growls, but the rage is hollow. Useless. “Who made her feel this way?”

“No one,” Mystery says, almost inaudible. “It’s us. She’s feeling us. And their pain.”

Seoha shifts behind you, pulling you into his lap like you’ll disappear if he doesn’t wrap every limb around you. His face is ghost-white, his chest bare, still heaving from the terror of waking to your pain. “I thought you were dying,” he says. “God, I thought you were leaving me again.”

You’re shaking uncontrollably. “I saw you,” you whisper. “Both of you.” Your eyes lock with Haneul’s. “I saw you burning. Bleeding. Screaming for me.”

Then with Seoha. “And you… holding my body. I was dead. And you—you were breaking.”

Every boy in the room stills. There’s a silence thick enough to choke on. “I felt everything,” you whisper. “Your heartbreak. Your love. It hurt so much, I thought I was going to die with you.”

Abby presses his forehead to your temple. “I’d die every lifetime if it meant I got to hold you again.”

Jinu kisses your wrist. “You’re here. With us, baby. That’s all that matters.”

Baby’s hands shake as he kneels in front of you. “Don’t ever cry like that again. I’ll kill the world if it makes you cry like that.”

Mystery crawls in beside you, head pressing gently to your shoulder. “We’re with you now,” he murmurs, “and we’ll never leave again.”

And then… Seoha. He turns your chin to face him. His eyes burn. “You think I’m afraid of losing you?” he whispers. “I’m not. Because I won’t. I won’t. Even if I have to tear the heavens open and drag you back from them.”

His lips graze yours—not yet a kiss. Just a whisper of devotion. “You died in my arms once,” he says. “I’m never letting you out of them again.”

And suddenly— They’re all touching you. A thumb brushing your cheekbone. A hand on your back. A kiss to the corner of your mouth. Your collarbone. Your jaw. Your hands.

Worship, in the form of fingertips and lips. Possession, in the shape of tenderness. You’re overwhelmed. Soft sobs slip free—but not from pain this time. From feeling too much.

Because you’re not alone. Because you’re loved so deeply, it’s terrifying. Because the grief you inherited belongs to them, and they’re trying—desperately—to kiss it all away.

You lean into it. Into them. They hold you tighter. You are theirs. And they are yours.

And for a moment, that’s enough. Even if it shouldn’t be. Even if you know—deep down—something darker is still coming.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

There’s a difference between the six of you as the day begins. Something in the air shifts—softer, but heavier. Like the weight of too many emotions pressing on fragile glass.

After you’d cried yourself back to sleep, they hadn’t left you alone. Not for a second. They kissed you until your lashes fluttered shut, until your breathing calmed. Until your pain dulled beneath their whispers and vows.

But today… they had to leave. Just for a few hours. Idol obligations, they said. Interviews. Meet-ups. “We’ll be back before you even miss us,” Haneul had teased, planting a kiss behind your ear.

At first, the silence is peaceful. You sit in the studio, sunlight spilling through the sheer curtains as you try to lose yourself in paint. But your hands— Your fingers tremble slightly. The brush wavers. You blink. Colors blur on the page. A wave of heat rolls through your chest.

“Ugh,” you mutter, pressing your wrist to your forehead. “Maybe I skipped lunch…” You feel dizzy. Strange. Not sick—just… wrong. Like your body isn’t fully yours.

An hour passes. Then two. You drink water. Open a window. Try humming to yourself. But nothing helps. Your skin feels too tight. The room feels too small. And something in your ribs aches—not like illness, but absence. Like being stretched too far from something you're not meant to live without.

“What the hell… I thought the bond symptoms had subsided…” you grumble in frustration. It was so strange. You had felt normal when they left the other day. By the fourth hour, your breath starts to hitch. You lie on the couch, curled up in one of Mystery’s oversized hoodies, trying not to cry. And then—finally—

The front door opens. Footsteps. Voices. The moment you hear it—you bolt.

“Y/N?” Jinu calls out, stepping into the hallway.

But he doesn’t get another word in before you launch yourself at him, arms wrapping around his neck, legs clinging to his waist like a koala. And immediately as you breathe in his scent, you start to feel better.

“Whoa—” he stumbles slightly, catching you with practiced ease. “Miss you too, baby.”

Haneul bursts out laughing behind him. “Damn, give us five seconds to drop our bags!”

“She’s not messing around,” Seoha murmurs, smirking, eyes dark with something more than amusement.

But it’s Mystery—last to enter—who freezes in the doorway. His nose twitches. He steps closer, gaze flicking over you. “You were sick,” he says. Not a question. “But not anymore.”

You blink, still clinging to Jinu’s chest. “How did you—?”

“You don’t smell right when we’re gone. You smell wrong.” His expression is tight. “Like something’s pulling you apart.”

“I just felt weird,” you whisper. “Shaky. Hot. Like… I couldn’t breathe unless one of you walked in the door.”

They all go still and exchange questioning glances. Jinu kisses the top of your head. “You’re okay now.”

“No,” Baby says. “She wasn’t.”

Seoha hums, stepping behind you to run a hand down your spine. “It’s the bond getting stronger. A flare up. That’s all.”

“Sure,” Mystery says under his breath. “The bond.” It should be more stabilzed now. He wonders to himself. So why is she having flare-ups?

But his eyes stay on you—watching the way you bury yourself deeper into Jinu’s hold. Watching how the tension in your body bleeds away as they gather around you again, like wolves circling a den. He sees it before the rest of them do. You aren’t just missing them. You need them. Not emotionally. Physically. Spiritually.

Later that day, you’re curled up on the couch, sketching lazily as the boys come and go around you. Music plays low from the kitchen.

Baby flops beside you, long legs sprawled, arms behind his head. His fingers trail across your wrist—just a touch, light as breath. And suddenly—

The colors around you sharpen. The lines of your drawing look too crisp. The air crackles faintly, like a TV left on the wrong channel. You flinch, breath catching. “What was that…?”

Baby raises a brow. “What?”

You shake your head. “Nothing. I’m probably just—overtired or something.” But your heart is pounding. There’s something alive in your blood. Something that doesn’t belong to you.

That night, the boys cook dinner—galbi and japchae sizzling on the stove, the air thick with spice, garlic, and warmth. You’re chopping vegetables at the counter, sleeves rolled to your elbows, hair tied up in a messy knot. For once, it feels almost normal. Like you're a person again. Like you still live in a world that follows rules.

Seoha brushes behind you—too close, always too close—and passes you a spoon. His hand lingers a second longer than needed, fingers grazing yours. The second your skin touches his—

The stove erupts. Flames leap like claws from the burner. Not a flicker. A flare. Fierce. Bright. Hungry. You flinch. The knife clatters onto the cutting board. Everyone stills. For one perfect second, silence tightens the room like a wire pulled taut. Haneul steps forward, slowly. “That’s not the stove.”

Jinu doesn’t take his eyes off you. “It wasn’t broken earlier.”

Seoha doesn’t move. His hand stays on yours, calm—too calm. “She’s okay,” he murmurs. “It was just a flare.”

“From what?” you whisper, pulse skittering. They don’t answer. Not immediately. Then Jinu speaks, voice soft but heavy: “She centers us.” He swallows. Adds quieter—almost like it hurts to admit it: “Too well. Too completely.”

Mystery moves in from the hallway, his eyes already glowing faintly. He doesn’t come closer—just inhales, deeply. “…She smells like equilibrium,” he murmurs. “Like home.”

Your heart stutters. You take a step back. The boys don’t let you. Seoha slides behind you again, arms wrapping lightly around your waist. Haneul stands at your side, fingers brushing your wrist. Baby tilts his head from across the kitchen, watching you like a predator sizing up something that already belongs to him.

“Soulbond’s getting stronger,” Baby says, voice amused. “Cute, huh?”

You let out an uneasy laugh, your smile only slightly unsure.  Because under your skin, something curls tighter. Thicker. This isn’t just a bond. It’s a root system. A fire line. A storm surge. Something old is waking in you—and whatever it is, it’s bound to them.

And they know it. You can feel it in the way they look at you. Reverent. Possessive. A little afraid. Not afraid for you. Afraid of losing you. Afraid of what they’d do if that balance—you—was ever broken.

“Hey,” Jinu says gently, moving closer. “Don’t run from this. Whatever’s changing… it’s not hurting you. It’s anchoring us.”

“I don’t want to be an anchor,” you whisper.

Seoha presses a kiss behind your ear. “Too late.”

And all around you—five demons in human skin, eyes glowing soft with need, obsession, love—they just watch you.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

“No.”

“Please.” You plead with the best puppy-dog eyes you could muster. “I don’t want your fans suspecting anything or posting about me.” 

The boys had brought you along to their variety show. A result of your sickness when they were away yesterday. “I’d rather die than have you sick again because of me.” Baby said this morning with a grumble before forcing you to get dressed. 

Such events had lead to now, as you watch the five of them stare at you like you’ve grown a second head. Haneul crosses his arms. “That’s literally what disguises are for.”

“I won’t go far,” you insist. “I’ll stay in the mall right next to the building. You can check on me between segments. I just don’t want so many eyes looking at me and suspecting anything… and with the way you guys act, that’s bound to happen.”

“What do you mean?” Jinu asks.

“She means how none of us can keep our paws off her.” Seoha smirks. “Fine. But behave.”

Baby begins to protest. “But-!”

You smile, triumphant. “I will. Promise!”

He glares at you.

Twenty minutes later, you’re sipping warm broth at a tucked-away ramen stall in the back of the upper floor food court—alone, but not quite free. You know they’re watching. Mystery’s familiar warmth lingers like a phantom near your ribs. Jinu's voice still echoes in your ear: “Don’t go anywhere unfamiliar.”

So naturally, when the air turns colder—too cold—you go still. Your breath fogs, though the mall is heated. The hairs rise on your arms. And then—

A figure sits across from you. No footsteps. No sound. Just is. An old man. Not old like human elders, but ancient. His eyes don’t reflect light. They drink it. His suit is formal, black and gray, timeless in a way that doesn’t belong in this century—or any. You freeze, chopsticks mid-air.

“I see why he’s… intrigued by you,” the man says, voice smooth like rusted metal. He takes a deep breath and lets out a smile that chills you to the bone. “You taste like paradox.”

“…Excuse me?”

He doesn’t blink. “You’re tethered,” he murmurs. “To five fractured souls. A full hand’s worth. I’ve never seen it before.”

You grip your chopsticks. “I’m not—”

“You are,” he cuts in softly. “But it’s not finished. Not yet. That’s the dangerous part.” he chuckles in amusement. “The old fool doesn’t know what he’s just done to himself.”

Your stomach turns cold.

“He suspects. But he doesn’t know. Not yet. Your bond is rare. Raw. Unfinished. It could collapse. Or… become something eternal.”

You swallow. “Who suspects what now? And what do you mean, tether?”

He tilts his head. Slow. Exact. Like measuring a blade before it slides between ribs. The demon before you didn’t bother answering your questions. “I once had a friend,” he says. “Smart. Loyal. Desperate. He wanted what you are becoming.”

Your breath catches. “What happened to him?”

The man’s mouth twitches into something like pity. “He failed.”

“Why?”

“He tried to force what should only grow. He tried to anchor love with power. To make a bridge out of obsession. But the soul he bound to wasn’t strong enough. She was never the foundation.”

Your heart stammers. “She couldn’t bear it?”

“She unraveled.” He says it like poetry. Like eulogy. “She died screaming. And so did he.”

You feel it in your bones. The truth. The horror. But what shreds your spine is the feeling that this isn’t a warning—it’s a mirror.

The old demon smiles. “Be careful, child. You are something rare. Not quite human anymore. Not yet divine. If you’re not careful, they’ll tear you in five.”

Your breath hitches. “Who are you?”

He ignores the question. Instead, he leans forward, eyes pale and burning. “There will be a price,” he whispers. “Always. The question is not if you’ll pay it—” His breath brushes your cheek. “—but whether you choose to.”

You jolt back— The lights flicker above. Your ramen is untouched. Your body is shaking. Something cold coils in your spine. You don't realize you're gripping the edge of the table until your knuckles burn.

Who is this demon? And what in god’s name is he talking about?

────────── ⚘ ──────────

Back in the studio, the audience claps. The host jokes. The boys are seated on two couches for the show. Abby fake-laughs at something that didn’t land. 

But Mystery’s head snaps up. His whole body goes rigid. The camera catches it—just for a second. The host frowns. “You alright there, Mystery?”

Abby shoots him a glance. “He’s been feeling sick today,” Jinu says smoothly, stepping in. The host makes a sympathetic noise. “Aw, poor guy.”

But Romance has already frozen. Baby’s eye twitches. They feel it too—you. Your fear. 

Mystery doesn’t say a word. He walks offstage right in the middle of the taping. The crowd gasps. Abby forces a laugh. “We told him not to eat six boiled eggs before a shoot.”

Laughter bubbles. Cameras roll. But the boys go cold inside. Because something just reached you.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

Mystery’s feet are soundless on the tile as he enters the upper floor of the mall. His eyes are darker. Sharper. Not quite human. And then he sees you.

You. Sitting at the corner stall. Shaking. His heart drops. A growl rises in his throat. And then he sees him. The Old One. Still there. Still smiling. Mystery’s body shifts—just enough for his nails to blacken. Fangs graze his lower lip.

“Step away,” he snarls.

 The demon raises a brow. “The beast comes.”

“You scared her.”

The old one stands. Unbothered. “I told her the truth.”

Mystery stills. “You think I won’t rip you apart in front of civilians?”

“I think,” the demon says lightly, “that if you do, she’ll burn faster.”

That stills Mystery. A flicker of fang. A twitch of the claw. But no strike.

“You don’t want her revealed, do you?” the man hums. “Not yet.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” 

The old demon smiles, amusement sparkling in his eyes. “Ah, I see. Even you don’t know.”

“Know what?!”

The old demon chuckles. “But you can feel it, more than the others… the ‘bond’” he stretches the last word like it’s a joke he’d just made. 

Mystery growls at the mention of the bond, eyes growing protective, angry. He goes to take a swipe and then, like smoke curling from a candle—the demon vanishes. Mystery rushes to you. You collapse into his arms the moment he reaches you, clinging so tightly it almost hurts. “Shhh, it’s okay. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” His voice is lower than usual—closer to a growl. “We’ll talk later. I’m getting you out of here.”

He carries you from the mall with a hoodie over your head, your ramen left behind, your pulse still racing.

He carries you for a few minutes and then there’s a flash. It’s quiet. Still. Only the wind and the sound of water lapping the rocks. He’s brought you to a secluded park just beyond the city—hidden and safe. You have no idea what’s going on. How you got here so fast. Fear still gripping your thoughts. 

He sits you down on a wooden bench, you on his lap as he cradles your form protectively. Finally—

“What did he say to you?”

You shake your head. “I don’t know. I don’t understand. Something about his friend, and that I’m becoming something, and to be careful not to tear apart, A choice-” your voice is shaky, trying to remember all you could after such a situation. 

Mystery’s arms wrap around you tighter. “Okay, okay, baby…” he shushes and rocks you as a way to soothe your rapidly beating heart. But in his eyes—beastlike and broken—something ancient and possessive sparks.

You lean into his chest, listening to the low rumble of his breath, the occasional thud of his heartbeat, the way his arms tighten each time you twitch. Finally, your voice comes—hoarse, quiet. A whisper more than a question. “Who… who was that?”

Mystery stiffens behind you. For a second, you think he won’t answer. Then—

“An Old One,” he murmurs. “Older than me. Older than any of us.”

You pull back slightly to look at him. “Like… a demon?” 

He nods, slowly. “More like… a ghost of the first demons. They don’t take orders. Even Gwi Ma doesn’t command them. They don’t usually come out of hiding unless…”

“Unless what?”

His jaw flexes. His eyes are darker now, less gold—more like molten obsidian. “Unless something’s changing.”

You swallow. The air feels too still. The wind too quiet. Mystery brushes a hand over your arm, almost absentmindedly. Like he’s grounding himself.

“He knew things,” you whisper. “He said things I didn’t understand. About… tethering. About bonds.” You look up at him. “Do you know what he meant?”

Mystery’s eyes lock with yours. And you’ve never seen him look so helpless. “No,” he says honestly. “I don’t. I swear, little one. If I did… I’d tell you.”

You study his face. Every line of sincerity. Every flicker of confused concern. He truly doesn’t know. “But he scared you,” he adds softly. “That’s enough. I should’ve been there.”

“It’s not your fault,” you say, but your voice trembles.

Mystery pulls closer. His hands slide up your spine. His nose presses into the crook of your neck. He inhales deeply—shuddering. “You smell better now,” he murmurs, a little too possessively. “Not like fear anymore.”

You try to calm your heartbeat, but his tone wraps around your nerves like a snare. “He shouldn’t have touched your peace,” he growls. “He had no right.”

You rest your head against his shoulder, the thrum of anxiety still vibrating in your chest. He nuzzles your temple. “You’re mine to scare. Mine to break. Mine to fix.”

You blink. “Mystery—”

“I won’t let them take you,” he says simply. “Not Gwi Ma. Not the hunters. Not the Old Ones. Not even fate.”

Your breath hitches.

“But I don’t know what you are,” he admits. “Only that you’re… ours. The piece we were missing. The reason we’re even still sane.”

You close your eyes, the river whispering nearby. Something deep, quiet, ancient curls in your stomach. Not fear. Not anymore. But not comfort either. Something’s shifting. And it has a name. You just don’t know it yet.

The silence stretches again, soft and heavy. Water ripples faintly beside you. The breeze carries the faintest scent of pine and memory. Mystery shifts. You feel it in the way his arms tighten around you—not possessive this time. Not protective. Just… needing.

“I’ve never told you,” he murmurs, “what you were to me. The first time.” Your breath catches. His voice is rough—barely more than a growl smoothed by sorrow.

“You weren’t like this then. You were smaller. Weaker. Human in every way. But you were kind. You sang when no one else did.”

You blink slowly, his breath warm near your ear.

“Three-hundred years ago. It was the Sick Season,” he continues, voice low. “That’s what they called it. The people in your village. They thought the illness was punishment. Or a curse. The priests said prayers. The elders said nothing.”

His fingers stroke your arm absently, grounding himself. “Your siblings were coughing. You didn’t cough yet. So you walked into the woods one night with a lantern and begged the sky for help. I don’t think you expected an answer.”

He exhales. A shaky, fond sound. “But I came. As fog first. Then fur. Then form. And you…” His throat closes. You feel the tremor in him. “You weren’t scared.”

You blink, heart fluttering. “I should have been,” you whisper.

“No,” he says immediately. “You shouldn’t have. Because you saved me first.”

He tilts your face to meet his eyes—molten gold, wide and wet with something too ancient for tears. “You gave me a name,” he murmurs, half-laughing. “A silly one. I didn’t even know what it meant. But you said it like it mattered. Like I mattered.” His mouth brushes your forehead. His eyes closing in content and fondness. “You had called me Hwimori, saying I moved like a whirlwind. However, over time you shortened it…”

Your eyes flashed a crimson as a memory flooded back into you. You uttered his name with a soft gasp of remembrance. “...Hwi”

You felt him purr beneath you and his grip on you tightened at the sound of his name on your lips. He shook slightly as if he might break — because no one’s called him that since you… “Yes…” he breathed a laugh of disbelief. “That’s what it was…” 

You clutched on his sweater tightly, burying your nose in his neck. He sighed in content before continuing. “You fed me crumbs. Apples. You made up songs about the wind. You thought I was just a lonely fox. And I was. But then you… you looked at me like I wasn’t.”

You swallow, throat burning. Mystery presses his forehead to yours. “I didn’t understand death. I didn’t understand why you were singing less, sleeping more. Your hum faded, and I thought I could fix it by keeping you warm. By staying. By loving harder.” He shakes his head slowly. “But love couldn’t stop it. You died with your hand in my fur.”

You flinch. His arms tighten around you. “They dragged me away. I bit them. Changed shape by accident. I didn’t know how to be anything but yours, and they took you anyway.”

His voice breaks now—hoarse, unsteady. “They called me cursed. A beast. And maybe they were right. Because after that, I couldn’t go back to what I was. I couldn’t even remember how.” He closes his eyes. “My grief broke me. My body. My soul. I lost you, and I never stopped howling.”

Tears sting your lashes.

“I wandered for years,” he whispers. “Villages. Mountains. Cities. I learned how to speak. How to walk on two legs. I waited for you. Hoped for you. Even when I forgot your name, I remembered the sound of your laughter.”

You let out a choked sound. His fingers catch it, tracing your jaw. “I didn’t know pain until you stopped singing,” he says. “And even now, even here—centuries later—you hum in your sleep, and it quiets the monster in me. And why now I sing… for you.”

Your voice is a whisper. “I remember… the vision. You curled against my legs.”

“That was real,” he says. “It was the first time I ever felt warm.” Another pause. This one tender, terrible. “They said I was a demon. That I shouldn’t feel. But I did. Because of you. You made me feel—so I became something that could feel you back.”

You shift in his lap, cupping his cheeks with both hands. His eyes flutter shut. His breath shudders. “They said I was a beast,” he murmurs. “But I only ever wanted to be yours.”

You kiss his cheek. He makes a sound—raw and startled—like he’s been starving for it. Like the feel of your lips is too much and not enough. His breath hitches, sharp, and you hear it break in his throat.

“You touched me,” he whispers hoarsely, “and I called it forever.”

Your heart cracks. He’s shaking again—not from fear, but from something deeper. Centuries of ache coiled tight in his chest. Something caged too long. His nose brushes yours, his lips just shy of your mouth, and his hands are trembling against your waist like he’s terrified to want this.

But you do.

So you close the space between you. You kiss him. And everything stops.

You taste the reverence in it—how he doesn’t quite believe it’s real. The shudder that runs down his spine is almost violent. His breath catches like his lungs are learning how to fill for the first time. Like his body never understood how to live until now.

He kisses you like someone who’s never been touched. Like someone who’s wandered lifetimes in thirst, and your mouth is the first drop of water he’s ever found. His hands fly to your back, your waist, your neck—like he needs to feel every inch of you, as if skin-to-skin contact might keep you from vanishing.

He kisses like a soulbeast, not a man. Like instinct. Like prayer. Like his entire existence was a howl that only just found its answer. You pull back just enough to breathe—but his lips chase you, his forehead resting on yours as his chest heaves.

“I’m here now,” you whisper.

His scarred mouth twitches, almost like a smile, but it’s broken. Fragile. Wounded. “I know,” he chokes. “And I’ll never—” His voice cracks. “Never let them take you again. I swear it. I swear—”

“I know,” you say, and kiss him again—quieter this time. Like a promise. And this time, when you curl deeper into his arms, you feel it. The tremor in him stills. 

For the first time in three hundred years, the beast stops trembling.

────────── ⚘ ────────── The air ripples. A breath. A blur. And then Mystery is there—materializing in the middle of the apartment with you in his arms.

“I didn’t know demons could teleport…” 

The moment your feet touch the ground, five shadows surge forward.

Jinu’s already halfway across the room, tie loosened, eyes wild with tension. Seoha and Haneul shoot up from the couch. Baby’s pacing like a storm about to break, jaw clenched, fists flexing and curling. The bond in the room is a live wire—buzzing, seething, flaring.

You barely have time to exhale before they close in. Arms wrap around you from all sides. Jinu’s hands cup your face. Haneul holds you from behind, burying his face into your neck. Seoha presses his forehead to your shoulder. Baby—Baby doesn’t touch you at all. He stands just inches away, vibrating with barely restrained rage, like one wrong word might shatter the floor beneath you.

“You’re okay,” Jinu murmurs, breath shaking. “You’re really okay…”

“I felt it,” Haneul breathes. “The fear. Your fear.”

“You were burning,” Seoha whispers. “The bond flared so hot I thought I’d combust.”

“I told you,” Baby snarls, teeth bared. “She never should’ve left our sight. I told you.”

“Baby—” Jinu starts, but he cuts him off.

“No. No more of this.” He steps toward you finally, eyes glowing faintly. “You think I’m dramatic? Obsessive? Fine. But if anything—anything—had happened to you, I would’ve burned that entire building down. You hear me?” His hand trembles as he reaches out and presses two fingers to your wrist. “I’d obliterate everything.”

“Baby…” you whisper.

He exhales sharply and pulls you into his arms. “I wasn’t angry,” he mutters against your hair. “I was scared.”

You feel it. All of them. Their fear. Their restraint. Their absolute fury at the thought of losing you again. Seoha sinks onto the couch, dragging you with him. The others follow—pressing close, limbs tangled, the kind of closeness only soul-starved creatures know.

“What happened?” Jinu asks, voice controlled, but his eyes are pure flame.

Mystery doesn’t flinch. “An Old One,” he says. “He was waiting for her.”

The room stills. No one speaks. Mystery continues, voice low and gravelly. “He didn’t hurt her. But… he knew something. Said strange things. I got her out before I could kill him.”

You lean against Jinu, your body finally remembering how to breathe. “He said…” You close your eyes. “That He suspects something. That my bond is unfinished. That it could become something eternal. Or collapse entirely.”

“He?” Haneul asks. You nod and mutter softly, “I think… I think he’s talking about Gwi Ma.”

Jinu stills. Seoha leans forward. “Did he say what it meant?”

You shake your head. “Only that he had a friend. A demon who tried to force a bond like mine. And that… it tore his lover apart.”

Silence. Jinu’s hand tightens where it rests on your thigh. He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t breathe. But you feel it. In the bond. In his bones. A flicker of something like recognition.

“Jinu,” Seoha says, frowning. “What is it?”

“I don’t know,” Jinu says too quickly. Liar. He knows something. Just not enough to say it out loud. Not yet.

Maybe he doesn’t believe it. Maybe it’s fear. Maybe it’s because the story he heard—the fable of a demon who tried to tether a human soul and failed—always felt like a fairytale. A cautionary myth whispered by demons about the cost of unnatural love.

But now… You’re sitting in front of him. And it doesn’t feel so mythical anymore.

“I’ll find him again,” Mystery mutters darkly. “The next time he speaks to her, I won’t hold back.”

Haneul’s eyes glint with the same promise. “We should’ve gone with you.”

“She wouldn’t have felt fear if we were there,” Baby growls. “She wouldn’t need to feel fear again if she just stayed with us.”

“I wasn’t trying to be reckless,” you whisper. “I just wanted to—”

“You don’t get to be reckless,” Seoha says, not unkindly. “Not when you belong to us.”

You flinch slightly. Not from his tone. From how much you don’t flinch at the possessiveness anymore. They’re all quiet for a moment. Then Jinu softens. His hand brushes your hair behind your ear. “You’re tired.”

Mystery lifts you again before anyone else can move. “I’ll take her.”

There’s no argument. The boys each kiss your head goodnight, lingering longer than they usually do. Mystery carries you to bed like you’re breakable porcelain. Like you're the center of the world and he's afraid you might shatter. You lie down, and he tucks you in, brushing your hair back with fingers that still shake. You touch his wrist. 

“I liked the name,” you whisper. “Hwi.”

His throat tightens as he smiles softly. He nods. Then curls beside you, arms locking around your waist. He buries his nose in your hair. Your scent as an anchor to his very being. 

You fall asleep like that. In the arms of the beast who once guarded your grave. And once your breath evens, he slips out of the room.

The boys are waiting in the living room, the lights dim. No one speaks for a long time. Finally, Jinu says, “There’s a chance—just a chance—that she’s becoming something.”

“Something?” Haneul repeats.

“A… tether,” Jinu murmurs. “But it’s just an old myth. A story.”

Baby’s eyes narrow. “What kind of story?”

Jinu leans back, staring at the ceiling. “One where a demon tried to bind a human soul too tightly. To keep them. Forever. Without the need for Gwi Ma’s intervention. It didn’t end well.”

Seoha’s voice is ice. “And if this isn’t a story?”

“Then she’s not just bonded to us,” Jinu says slowly. “She anchors us.”

Mystery- Hwimori snarls low in his throat. “What do you mean? She’s already ours. What more can she become?”

Jinu doesn’t answer. But the word echoes in his mind. She could become the anchor. Not just to us. To everything.

He couldn’t say that now. Not without further proof. But every one of them is thinking the same thing. If she is becoming something more— They’ll burn heaven and hell before letting it take her away.

TO BE CONTINUED

───────── ༺🜃༻ ─────────

A/N: Yayy Mystery backstory! His past is a bit different from the other boys. His origins weren't human. He was a soul beast that corrupted after your death - which explains his deep senses and connection to you. Because he was a spirit, the name Hwimori fit more as it was one given to him by you (and also not a human name). Hwimori is the name of a Korean rhythmic pattern used in traditional Korean music. It's known for being fast-paced, spiraling, and intense—like a whirlwind. And so the name Hwimori pretty much embodies the chaotic grace of a spirit-beast born from instinct, emotion, and ritual. Like the rhythm, he is relentless, spiraling around you, driven by feeling more than logic. You shorten it to “Hwi,” turning something wild and sacred into something personal and tender.

───────── ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆ ─────────

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[asce-of-hearts]

Can I request a smut with yandere illumi with a size kink & noncon?

Powerless

Contents: Yandere!Illumi x gn!reader smut scenario.

more Illumi content here

WARNINGS: YANDERE, ARRANGED MARRIAGE IMPLIED, NSFW, DUB/NON-CON, SIZE KINK, BREEDING KINK, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, MINORS DNI, AFAB!BODIED READER OTHERWISE GENDER NEAUTRAL.

"Who cares about what you want?" His words are as cold as ever, devoid of emotion. You're half naked, barely able to cover yourself with the bed-sheets, he's shirtless, jet black hair falling over his shoulders.

"You should care." You answer meekly, gasping when he effortlessly tugs away the sheets from your body. "We're married. My desires should matter to you." He tilts his head to the side slightly, and you wonder if this is just another case of miscommunication. His voice is always so even, you've had a hard time distinguishing when he's joking to when he's serious because of this. "I-It really isn't funny, Illumi."

"I'm not trying to amuse you, ___." He's always so robotic, you feel your skin crawl.

"I understand. But- Still... I want to sleep now. I don't want to make love." You breathe in deeply, trying to calm down. "We'll have time for that later... when I'm ready."

When you open your eyes after those words, he's naked and on top of you. His eyes fixed on your face, his body caging yours. You try to move, but he has you trapped against the mattress. He's smiling, amused.

"Make love? When you're ready?" He lets out a chuckle, showing emotion for once. "Don't be absurd. Sex is for reproductive purposes, and from what I know about you..." His eyes travel downwards, to your naked stomach. "This is the best time to put my seed inside of you."

"Illumi!" You scream when he tears at your clothes, he shuts you up by pressing his palm against your mouth, shoving your face against the pillows. Your eyes fill with tears, he's able to manhandle you so easily. He's strong, far too strong. He twists you around to his liking, finding an angle where he's able to line the tip of his cock with the entrance of your cunt. He rubs it against your clit, at least helping you get a little slick.

He tries to push past the tight ring of muscle, barely able to get the tip inside.

"Huh?" He says, more to himself than to your teary eyed form. "Seems like you're too tight for penetration."

"I'm telling you!" You cry out, struggling against the hand that keeps you pinned down. You let out a choked scream when he pushes again, his brows slightly furrowed in concentration.

"It doesn't matter, He groans, his free hand squeezing at your hip, that will surely leave a bruise. "I'll make it fit." His hand travels down to your clip, rubbing it in circular motions that seem far too calculated, it doesn't matter how much you try to deny it, you're getting wetter by the second. "Who would've thought you would be so tiny to fit me? It's my fault too I suppose, I should've thought about it." He smiles again, the hand pinning you to the pillow relenting as he runs his fingers through your hair.

You're limp, sniffling as you stare at the wall. He's finally able to slip all the way inside, bottoming out with a satisfied groan.

"You're so warm inside..." He says, slowly pulling out until only the tip is inside, then slamming back inside you with as much strength as he can without harming you. "Maybe I'll end up liking it too much and making love to you for fun, not just for babies."

He grins, he's making fun of you. You can only moan, taking in the brutal way he thrusts inside of you.

"Wouldn't you like that, ___? Making love to me."

hope you enjoyed this!!

have a great day/night

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[heartysworld]

Love, Lando, Milo // LN4

Lando Norris x Female Reader

Where Milo turns out to be more supportive than his dad

W. C: 2k

A/N: Milo has become a constant in my Lando fics, but since I don't see anyone complaining, I will keep on including him

MASTERLIST

The night was still. The kind of stillness that should be soothing, but instead, it felt heavy and uncomfortable. You shifted again, trying to find a position that didn’t make your back scream in protest. It was nearly impossible. Every time you thought you had it, your bladder demanded attention or a new wave of nausea rolled through you.

You tried to be as quiet as possible, not wanting to disturb Lando more than you already had. His breathing was steady and deep beside you, the sound normally a source of comfort. But tonight, it only highlighted how restless you were. You turned again, hoping to find that elusive comfortable spot, but it was no use.

Around 3 AM, you got up for what felt like the fifth time. You shuffled to the bathroom, your swollen feet aching with every step. After relieving yourself, you wandered into the kitchen, craving something to eat. Anything to soothe your grumbling stomach and kicking baby. You grabbed a banana and slowly made your way back to bed, hoping this time you wouldn’t disturb Lando.

But as you slipped back under the covers, Lando stirred and sat up, rubbing his eyes.

“Again?” he mumbled, his voice tinged with irritation.

“Yes, again,” you snapped back, unable to contain your frustration anymore. For the past few days, Lando's been complaining about your midnight adventures around the house as his sleep schedule struggled as much as you did if not even more. At first, you didn't say anything, apologizing and closing your eyes in an attempt to fall asleep. However, as the days passed you felt like your were getting lonelier by the hour and evem more responsible for your fiancé's discontent with the situation in your own home, the sleepless night and constant tossing and turning.

“I’m pregnant, Lando. It’s not like I’m enjoying this.”

“Well, I’m not getting any sleep either,” he retorted. “I need to be in top shape during the season. This lack of sleep isn’t helping. No wonder I haven't been able to get anything done for the past week. It's useless.”

His words felt like a slap in the face. Tears welled up in your eyes before you could stop them. You felt overwhelmed, emotional, and incredibly vulnerable.

“You think I don’t know that?” You choked out. “You think I want to be up all night? I can’t help it! Im supposed to enjoy my pregnancy and relax as much as possible before our baby arrives! In reality, I'm feeling guilty and responsible for both mine and your inability to rest well! ”

Milo, sensing the tension and seeing your tears, started barking at Lando, tugging on the leg of his sweatpants as if to say, “You upset mom! Fix it!”

“Great, now I’ve upset the dog too,” Lando muttered, but his anger was already dissipating, replaced by guilt. He looked at you, seeing the tears streaming down your face, and his heart broke a little.

You didn’t wait for him to say anything else. You grabbed a blanket and headed to the spare bedroom, which was soon to be the baby's room. You moved as quickly as possible, your belly preventing you from moving with your usual pace. The room was quiet, and the rocking chair near one of the windows looked inviting. You opened the window next to you to let some fresh air inside the room. You settled into the fluffy cushions on the chair, pulling the blanket around you. Seconds later, Milo trotted into the room after you. He lifted himself onto his back legs, his front paws supporting his weight against the upholstery of the chair.

You lifted the little man onto your lap, smiling as he snuggled against your belly as if he knew you needed comfort.

''There hasn't been a day during which I've regretted your arrival into our lives, my tiny love." You said as you caressed the soft fur between his floppy ears. Milo's cold nose occasionally bumped against the palm of your hand as he sniffed around.

The tears flowed freely down the cold surface of your face, silent and hot in contrast. You stroked Milo's fur, the rhythmic motion helping to calm you down. The rocking chair creaked softly as you rocked back and forth. The movement seemed to help soothe your loud inner voice that kept producing negative thoughts one after another.

Some time passed, and you weren't sure how long. The door creaked open, and you saw Lando standing there, his expression mixed with regret and sadness.

“Baby, ” he whispered, stepping into the room. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you. I’m just…I'm stressed. But that’s no excuse.”

You looked up at him, the tears still glistening in your eyes. “I’m trying, Lando. This isn’t easy for me either.”

He knelt beside the chair, taking your hand in his. “I know, love. I know. I’m an idiot. I should be more understanding. Please come back to bed. You need your sleep. We'll solve this in the morning, okay?”

You nodded, wiping your tears. “Just… don’t forget we’re in this together, okay?”

He leaned in and kissed you, soft and gentle, his lips lingering on yours. “I promise. Come back to bed? We can figure this out together.”

You stood up slowly, Milo jumping down to the floor. Lando wrapped an arm around your waist, guiding you back to your bedroom. The bed felt warm and inviting, and as you settled back in, Lando pulled you close as much as your protruding belly allowed him.

Milo jumped onto the bed, curling up at your feet where he usually spent his nights. Lando kissed your forehead, his hand resting on your growing belly.

“Goodnight, baby. I love you” he whispered.

“Goodnight,love you too.” You replied, feeling his warmth and love surrounding you as sleepiness began to take over your tired body.

The morning light streamed through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. You woke up feeling a bit more rested, your body still aching, but your heart felt a little lighter.

Lando was already awake, propped up on one elbow, watching you with a soft smile. “Good morning,” he said, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

“Morning,” you replied, smiling back. Milo stretched out beside you, having moved up on the bed during the night , now wagging his tail lazily.

“How are you feeling?” Lando asked, concern etched in his eyes.

“Tired, but better,” you admitted. “Thank you for coming to get me last night.”

“I’ll always come for you.” He said, his voice full of sincerity. “We’ll get through this together.”

You spent the morning in bed, talking and laughing, enjoying the calm before the chaos of the day. Milo provided endless entertainment, his antics making you both laugh.

That evening, after a long day of preparing the nursery and spending quality time together, you were exhausted. You fell asleep as soon as your head hit the soft surface of the pillow. Lando stayed up a little longer as his mind kept wandering.

He looked over at you, your face serene in sleep, and his heart swelled with love. He gently placed his hand on your belly, feeling the slight movements of your growing baby.

“Hey, little one,” he whispered softly, not wanting to wake you. “I know I need to be better for your mom. She’s doing so much already, and I need to support her more. She needs her sleep, and I shouldn’t have been so harsh.”

Milo tilted his head, watching Lando with curious eyes before settling back down. Lando chuckled softly, patting Milo’s head.

“We’re a team,” he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “Your mom, Milo, and me. We’re going to be a great team, and we’ll always be here for you. I promise to be better.”

He leaned in and kissed your belly, then your forehead, before settling down beside you. Milo snuggled up at your feet, the three of you finally finding a moment of peace.

As you slept, you felt Lando’s hand still resting on your belly, his presence a comforting anchor. The journey ahead might be filled with challenges, but with Lando’s love and support, you felt ready to take on the journey of being a parent.

MASTERLIST

Feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[kurogane2512]

Imagine being tight eith yellow rops for hours in bed, wanting to get that sweet realise, yet Agalaea does not let her darling to cut. And all becouse they behave badly...

Yup exactly the kind of Aglaea thirsts I was expecting you guys know me so well 😇

18+ CONTENT

Honkai Star Rail

Aglaea x fem!reader || Smut

A/n: I'm not too good with poetic writing and Aglaea's manner of speech is a nightmare for me but I'll try my best so as to keep her in character, sorry mommy Aglaea I can't write you too well 😓

Delicate trickling of water and sounds of soft breathing enveloped your senses. Sweat melted down your bare body as you laid stripped of all clothing barriers on none other than Lady Aglaea's private chamber. Your eyes covered by a golden silk cloth, all your other senses were heightened especially touch and hearing. You heard faint rustling of clothes followed by feeling the bed sink as someone— most likely Lady Aglaea, climbed on and approached you.

"My angel, relinquish your inhibitions, for now you are in my care~"

Her silvery yet commanding voice brushed past your ears, a shiver going down your spine when her lips lingered, her warm breath tickling your skin. You instinctively recoiled, yet couldn't even move an inch since your limbs were bound by Lady Aglaea's golden threads. Her eyes hooded at your reaction, the threads conveying each and every emotion you felt. She extended a hand to cup your face and gently caressed it, then leaned down to peck your lips.

"It seems my darling has been caught in some unruly incidents, is there anything you'd like to say in your defense?~"

"I.... I didn't mean to deceive you. I was just—"

"Shh~" she placed her index finger on your lips, hushing you.

"I'm well aware of your actions and the intentions behind them, but that doesn't change the repurcusions caused, does it?~"

Your lips trembled, "S-Sorry, it won't be repeated...."

"I'm certain about that. However, an appropriate punishment will be bestowed for your defiance~"

You felt her hand trace your lips and down your chest then suddenly felt the threads tighten around your ankles and spread your legs more, causing you to whine.

"Now, my love, you shall listen to my voice and do as I say lest you disappoint me again~"

You eagerly nodded, making Aglaea smile.

The next few moments were nothing but a blur as you let out screams of pleasure, tears clouding your vision and body arching off the bed simply being held by the golden threads. Aglaea stuffed a specially made toy in your hole, the buzzing of the toy drowning out all other sounds except Aglaea's occasional words near your ear. She controlled the toy with her golden threads, simply waving her fingers to command its movements.

All the same while, her lips dragged over every inch of your skin on your face and down your neck, licking and biting you for herself. The cloth around your eyes was stained with tears by now, and the movement of the toy in your cunt was making you lose your mind. Aglaea merely smiled at your state and leaned down to press your lips together, as if granting some kind of sweet relief.

"Relax, my love. Give your body to the golden threads~"

Having your vision stripped made you far more sensitive to every touch and feel she did, even whispers of her voice making you shiver to the core. Aglaea moved her hand to touch your clit now, gently grasping and circling it while the toy vibrated inside you. You whimpered into her, making her tease you even more as she rubbed your clit faster.

"P-Please.... Lady Aglaea.... I want to—!~"

Aglaea smiled, "Your release hasn't been granted yet, my love. You remember this is still a punishment, don't you?~"

You whined more at her order, desperately trying to hold back. You tried to bring your legs together but were in vain as the threads effortlessly spread them apart with a simple wave from Aglaea and the toy pushed even deeper, touching your sensitive spots. Aglaea then leaned down to tease your breasts, gently running her tongue over your nipples and pinching them. The added stimulation to your breasts made things harder as you recoiled away, fumbling your limbs around and making the bed creak.

"Hm, you are being rather disobedient. Seems I shall bring in some aid~"

You stopped moving at her statement, realizing what she possibly meant. In no time, Aglaea summoned two of her mannequin puppets around you, their presence looming over you despite being blindfolded. One of the mannequins held your arms while the other removed the toy inside your hole and instead inserted its own finger, gradually caressing your outer folds. You bit your lower lip and shivered from the cold metallic sensation, once again trying to close your legs but were unsuccessful.

"Ah, this is better. Now I am capable of performing the correct measure of punishment~"

You soon felt something on top of you and were quick to realize it was none other than Aglaea as she moved to straddle your lap. Her painted fingers caressed every crevice of your body, tracing sensual patterns as if painting a blank canvas before stopping at your nipples. The mannequin near your legs now pushed inside you, parting your walls to accommodate its fingers while Aglaea pinched and groped your breasts. You threw your head back with a whimper feeling the mannequin's fingers fill you, the sensation somehow even more stimulating than the vibrating toy.

Aglaea smiled and leaned down to kiss you again, her tongue slowly licking your lower lip and slipping in. She was quick to explore your mouth, yet moved with gentle and precise motions before dancing your tongues together in harmony. You moaned into the kiss as the mannequin thrusted in and out of you, pleasure overcoming you and edging you to release. Aglaea's eyes hooded watching you while kissing, her hand moving to cup your face and tilt it to deepen the kiss while she commanded the mannequin to thrust faster.

"Aaahn! L-Lady Aglaea, please..... I-It's too much— ngh!~"

Aglaea leaned up with a soft chuckle then slyly moved her right arm behind and touched your clit, a startled moan instantly resounding in the room.

"Will you be a good girl and listen to me from now on, my angel?~"

"Y-Yes! I promise! Please let me....!~"

She smiled and moved the mannequin out of you then vanished them altogether, the empty feeling in your core was quickly replaced by her fingers as she pushed them inside and thrusted at a wild speed, eager to make you release.

"Cum now, my sweet girl. You have been pardoned for your sin, let me bask in the revelry of your pleasure~"

Her words came as a command, an unignorable order which you were waiting for what felt like an eternity. She hilted her fingers deep inside and hit your most sensitive spots, issuing your allowance to release on her fingers. Your chest heaved with heavy breaths as you came, clenching onto her fingers buried inside you and coating them with your essence. A squelching sound was produced when Aglaea pulled out her fingers and felt the sensation of your essence around them with a smirk drawn on her lips.

She then released the golden threads binding your limbs as well, giving you the much-needed rest and comfort as you fell limp and panted. She moved down from your body and sat beside you to pull your head on her lap, gently caressing your face and hair before leaning down to kiss your forehead.

"Splendidly done, my love. I see a reward is in line for your obedience and resilience. Come, accompany me to the bath~"

[joocomics]

different kind of normal

pairing: idol!taehyun x fem!reader

genre: smut, angst ( 18+ ) ── 1.7k words

✎… situationship, (unprotected) reunion sex, sub!reader, hint of dumbification, dacryphilia kink, pet names, reader is emotional and cries during sex, not a happy ending (?)

a.note ! this has been sitting in the drafts since august and it’s finally seeing the light of day. cannot believe such angsty smut is happening on joocomics, tbh i don’t think i’ll be writing anything similar anytime soon phew it was tricky and i realised that i need my happy endings. but i wanted to try smth new, i really hope you enjoy it </3 sometimes you just need a kim taehyun to numb your emotions

( txt masterlist )

You go down the familiar stairs and walk into the bar. It’s loud, lit by the usual dim yellow-ish lights, the scent of alcohol and skin is covering every corner, wrapping around your silhouette.

Your eyes observe the place to search for him and it doesn’t take long to find him - he’s sitting on your usual spot which is distanced from every other table; it feels intimate and secluded.

None of the people who visit this bar know who he is, nor do they know you, and sitting on this specific table every time you see each other only enhances the feeling you get in these moments - like you and him are the only people existing in this place and time.

“Taehyun,” you greet him at once.

You haven’t said his name out loud in so long. You’re not allowed to talk about him to anyone; not that you want to anyway, you want to keep him to yourself though it feels nice to be able to roll it off your tongue again. It feels freeing, especially in his presence.

Maybe he missed hearing his name in your voice, because his eyes smile at the sound before he even turns to face you. The letters ring nicely, like his name is something he can feel caressing his skin when you’re the one saying it.

“You’re here.” He automatically leans forward after you sit down next to him; the usual gravitational force that always pulls you together is another thing he was anticipating to experience again.

His one arm goes over your shoulders and the sudden warmth enveloping you makes your knees weak. The truth is, they were already weak from the steps you had to take to reach your table, but now they feel like they’re about to melt.

Being so close to him months later feels like it’s your first date all over again. You hate it and love it all at the same time.

“I just ordered your favorite,” he says and you can hear the slight note of pride in his smooth voice.

His hair is covered from a black cap which he eventually takes off before running a hand through his hair; it grabs your attention with a new color that you haven’t seen him with in person before.

You point out the obvious fact about how he still remembers your order as you take a minute to observe the attractive features that make up the face you learned to love.

“Of course I do,” he simply replies, leaning in for a kiss.

The first kiss after three and a half months.

It feels so exciting and electrifying, just like the very first one you had a year ago, but at the same time it feels familiar too - like you’re reminiscing on a comforting memory you haven’t looked back on for a while.

His hand slides up your thigh, then travels up your hip only to sneak in discreetly beneath your shirt, sending you pleasant shockwaves. Soon enough he breaks the kiss though, careful not to bring any unnecessary attention on you.

“Next month I’m gonna have a week off.” Taehyun speaks up after a moment of silence between the two of you. After a sip of his beer, he continues: “I was thinking that you can come visit me if you want.”

Yes… Yes. You do. You want to scream it out loud. But the only thing you do is breathe in, staring inside the cup of your cocktail; trying to force yourself to speak before your mind turns blank.

“You don’t need to worry about money,” he adds as he shifts his gaze to you, hopeful and anticipating of your response. “It’s all on me, baby.”

There it is - the reminder you needed before giving any answers. His money, his fame. His life that’s so unfitting to yours. The pink balloon you found yourself in for a moment as he shared about his plan, tempting you to naively build dreams about your one week together, it pops, and brings you back to the harsh reality.

“Tae…” You shake head, “no matter what we do or tell each other we can’t be normal.”

Taehyun’s brows furrow at your choice of word.

Normal.

“This has to end at some point, I don’t think we should complicate things any further… as we’ve already discussed before.” You exhale deeply after blurting out the things you’ve been practicing on your way here. He didn’t hear the sound that escaped your lips because of the music mixed with the chatter, but if he did, he’d have known that saying all of this cost you an immense amount of energy.

You don’t glance at him even once, but Taehyun on the other hand, can’t stop staring at you like he’s in some sort of a bad dream that’ll end soon if he’s patient enough.

“Right, right…” He nods, finally able to force his eyes somewhere else. He peers down at his hands on the table that begin to tap nervously at the wooden surface, sharing almost the same rhythm as his heartbeat. “You’re right, that’s the wisest thing to do.”

You know it is, but hearing him agree turns out to be more painful than you expect.

For the best, this has to end soon, you remind yourself. Maybe not tonight, but tomorrow.

“I missed you,” Taehyun rises your body temperature through raspy whispers and open mouthed kisses which he scatters onto your skin almost in a rush; as if you’re going to disappear from his hands if he dares to slow down. “Missed you so fuckin’ much...”

His soft lips trace a path from your neck down to your cleavage and soon enough he’s even lower, running his tongue against your stomach before kissing that area sensually too. The slight moisture slipping from the corners of his mouth in addition to the delicate sucks makes you shudder as he simultaneously tugs on your underwear.

“Missed this sweet pussy too,” he invites his fingers into your walls effortlessly. His gaze focuses upon your lips and how they open for a silent gasp as he glides through with ease because of your already collected arousal. “Did she miss me?”

While anticipating an answer, Taehyun swirls his tongue inside his mouth before letting a string of saliva fall right onto your clit; he smears it all over your folds, provoking your thighs to open even wider for him.

“Tae—“ You arch spine, emphasising your need for something more than this lingering rush that’s growing in a pace that’s not quite enough for how much you ache for his touch right now. “Please…”

“I think she did.” A lustful spark shimmers in his eyes as his hand maintains its delicate motions. The movements make you moan every time his fingertips reach your sensitive bundle of nerves before slipping back down again. “Say it.”

At once he meets your eyes as his frame eventually hovers over your naked flushed body.

Your hands relax on his broad shoulders as your focus fixates on his face. Hopefully there’s not as much pain into your eyes as there is in your heart in this moment. You don’t want him to know how much exactly you’re actually hurting.

“I missed you every day,” you whisper softly as your noses touch; your mouths search for each other, thirsty for the other’s taste even more now. When you feel his hand guiding his cock to your entrance your breathing catches, but you still manage to repeat it. “Of course, I missed you.”

The second he hears your words, Taehyun crashes his lips against your mouth. Because he cannot bare hearing this one more time or because he enjoys the sound of it too much - he’s unable to tell.

As he leads the kiss swiftly your legs wrap loosely around his hips and your warm walls immediately squeeze onto him as he quickens the pace, eager to make up for all the time you were away from each other.

“Fuck—“ He grunts at the growing pleasure that he reminisced about night after night before breathing out against your neck, “finally… I swear to god nobody else can make me feel this way.”

His voice, husky and domineering despite his on going confessions, echoes in your fuzzy mind. Although you shouldn’t, you put in all the effort you can into memorising each word he says; you hold onto it tightly as the continuous thrusts gradually turn more rigid and sharp causing your nails to sink into his shoulder blades.

However, as amazing the buzzing sweet wave inside you feels, you cannot suppress the sadness that’s about to overpower you first.

You swallow another failed attempt to fight back the bitter emotion, but you can feel it lingering everywhere - in your heart, inside your stomach, on your tongue once he slows down his hips to grip your face, and inside your throat that feels like it’s closing up.

“Why are you crying?”

Taehyun peers into your eyes that are sparkling at him with a bittersweet emotion which he hasn’t gotten used to seeing inside them. His gaze lowers to your puffy lips, trembling as they separate with hesitation.

“I… I don’t know what’s gotten to me, s-sorry,” your arms wrap tighter to pull him closer. His thumb caressing your wet cheek only makes it worse for you. “Please, k-keep going.”

“Sweetheart,” he whispers under his breath as he fulfills your wish by resuming his thrusts - more forcefully though to distract you from the sorrow, “I’ll make it go away now, okay? Focus on me, baby.”

You grasp his shoulders while the delight starts to numb your mind with each intense push of his cock. The hits against your sweet spot are fast and strong enough to weaken your memory right away.

“There you go,” Taehyun’s pants blend with your whimpers ringing beneath him as the tears on your skin begin to dry. “Such pretty eyes, look at me, love.”

Something about seeing you cry for the first time made his heart clench, and now his mind fogs up, leaving him with only one goal - to make you cum as many times as possible so you can’t think of anything for the rest of the night.

Right now, he’d erase every single thought from your brain if he knows he’s capable of doing so.

The moment he feels you’re tightening up Taehyun’s eyes open so he doesn’t miss out on one flinch of yours.

“Yeah, I’m here, baby,” he murmus, trying to keep moving forward while your peak lasts, causing you to quiver beneath his frame. “Let go, baby, I’m right here.”

Yes, he’s here, and tomorrow morning he’s still going to be here, but you’ll be gone, because this time if he tries to stop you like all the previous times, you’re not going to look back.

But for now, you and Taehyun are close as you’ve never been before.

! please do not repost, copy or translate my works

! please keep in mind that english is not my first language. i apologise for any mistakes i’ve might missed

[stolenorchids]

WARNINGS - this drink may include the following: fem!reader, use of y/n, phone sex, teasing, marking, oral (fem!receiving), mutual masturbation, use of the word 'god' (not really a warning, however apparently people get triggered by it, so, y'know), swearing, only proof-read once - I think that's all, but please let me know if I missed anything^^

ALC percentage - 5.7%

(5.7k words)

the stream was in full swing, the chat buzzing with emotes and inside jokes as Shoto leaned back in his chair, his mischievous grin practically lighting up the screen. his voice carried that playful confidence his fans adored, and his vtuber model mimicked his smirk perfectly.

"alright, chat," he drawled, glancing at the cascading wall of messages. "we’ve got a guest today - someone you all seem to be obsessed with. can you guess who it is?"

the chat immediately exploded with excitement: "IT'S HER!!" and "FINALLY LET'S GO!"

"you guessed it. let’s welcome the one and only-" he paused, dragging it out just long enough to make the anticipation unbearable. "our very own shy queen."

the discord call connected, and your voice came through, soft but warm. "hi, Shoto. hi, chat."

the stream erupted with hearts and inside jokes. Shoto tilted his head slightly, his avatar following suit, as he leaned closer to his mic. "you sound nervous, y/n. am I making you blush already?"

you chuckled softly. "you wish, Shoto."

the chat exploded.

for the next hour, the two of you bounced off each other effortlessly, the rhythm of teasing and laughter keeping the energy alive. Shoto, true to form, leaned into his flirtatious side, making sure the chat was in on the fun.

"you’re too quiet, y/n," he teased, his voice dipping into mock seriousness. "you’re supposed to help me carry the stream! unless…" he leaned closer, his avatar’s mischievous smirk sharpening as his tone softened. "you just like hearing me talk, huh?"

the audience immediately erupted, spamming "HE'S AT IT AGAIN" and "RIZZ MASTER."

Shoto grinned, fully expecting the usual shy laugh and change of topic. but this time, you surprised him.

"you know," you said after a pause, your voice light but steady, "I do like hearing you talk. it’s cute: watching you try so hard to impress me."

the silence on his end was deafening, though only for a moment. his vtuber model stilled for half a second before suddenly throwing its arms up in exaggerated shock as Shoto burst out laughing.

"WHOA, WHOA, WHOA!" he screamed out, leaning back in his chair, his avatar mimicking the motion. the chat erupted, spamming "SHE GOT HIM" and "CLIP IT CLIP IT!"

Shoto covered his face with his hands, his voice breaking into a flustered laugh. "y/n, you can’t just - where did THAT come from?!"

you grinned, enjoying his reaction. "what? you flirt with everyone all the time. I figured it was my turn."

"your turn?!" Shoto repeated, tugging at his hoodie strings. his model mimicked the motion, his face still red as he stammered. "chat, help me! she’s turning the tables, and I wasn’t ready for it!"

the chat doubled down, spamming "SHE'S TOO POWERFUL" and "RIZZ WAR DECLARED."

"alright, alright," he said finally, pointing toward the camera like he was accusing you of a crime. "you win this round. but don’t think I’m letting you off easy next time."

you giggled, your usual shyness melting away as you leaned into the playful atmosphere. "looking forward to it."

for the rest of the stream, Shoto was visibly more cautious, his usual flirtatious quips replaced with dramatic pauses as though gauging your next move. the chat noticed too, poking fun at how he was now "playing it safe."

but everyone could tell - this new dynamic was only the beginning.

the stream wound down after another hour of playful banter and shared laughter, the tension from your earlier comment still lingering in the air. Shoto’s usual energy had shifted slightly - not lessened, but… focused. every time you spoke, he seemed to hang on your words just a little longer, and the chat didn’t miss a thing.

"HE'S BLUSHING AGAIN," they spammed. "HER RIZZ IS TOO STRONG."

"alright chat," Shoto said, his voice carrying an edge of finality, though he still wore that trademark smirk. "it’s about time to wrap things up. any last words for y/n before we kick her out of the discord call forever?"

you snorted softly. "kicking me out already? I thought I was carrying the stream, Shoto."

the chat loved it, spamming "SHE'S TOO SAVAGE" and "ROUND TWO INCOMING."

"okay, okay," he replied, leaning back in his chair. his avatar mimicked the motion, arms crossing over its chest in a mock pout. "you carried… for like, ten minutes. I did most of the work."

"sure you did," you replied, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

Shoto chuckled, his laughter trailing off into a quieter hum as the chat started spamming goodbyes and hearts. "alright y/n, say goodbye to the gremlins before they start crying."

you laughed. "bye, chat. thanks for having me!"

as the discord call ended and the stream screen transitioned to Shoto’s “thank you for watching” animation, you sighed softly, leaning back in your chair. and just as you were about to close the discord tab, Shoto’s voice popped back in through a private call.

"hey…" he said, his tone noticeably softer now that the stream was over. "got a second?"

you clicked to rejoin the call, your curiosity piqued. "what’s up?"

there was a pause, the comfortable hum of silence stretching between you two. then he spoke again, his voice losing its usual bravado.

"so…" he began, drawing out the word as though testing the waters. "you really caught me off guard earlier."

you grinned, your confidence from the stream still lingering. "oh? wasn’t that the point?"

"okay, listen," he said, laughing lightly, though it carried a nervous edge. you’re not supposed to turn my own game against me. that’s illegal."

"illegal?" you teased. "I thought it was fair play."

"you’re dangerous," he replied, and this time his voice dipped just slightly - a subtle shift that sent a shiver down your spine. "and I don’t think you realize what you started."

his words hung in the air, the playful tone from earlier now carrying something heavier, something more deliberate. you felt your cheeks warm, though you couldn’t tell if it was from embarrassment or anticipation.

"careful, Shoto," you replied, your voice quieter now. "you’re making it sound like you’re planning your revenge already."

there was a low chuckle on his end, the kind that made your breath hitch. "oh, I’m not planning anything." he paused, his voice softening even further. "i’m just thinking about how bold you were today. it was…new."

"did you not like it?" you asked, your heart pounding.

"like it?" he echoed, a teasing lilt creeping back into his tone. "I loved it. but now I’m wondering if that boldness is just for show… or if it’s real."

your breath caught in your throat. there it was - that unspoken tension that had been simmering beneath the surface all night, now bubbling to the top.

"why don’t you find out?" you said before you could stop yourself, the words slipping out in a low, almost challenging tone.

the line went quiet for a moment, the weight of your words settling. when Shoto finally spoke, his voice was low, almost a whisper.

"careful, y/n," he said, his usual teasing replaced with something darker, more intimate. "you might not be ready for what happens if I do."

the silence after his words was deafening, the weight of them settling deep in your chest. you could hear your own heartbeat, pounding steadily in your ears as Shoto’s soft laughter broke through the quiet.

"speechless?" he teased, his voice carrying a low hum of satisfaction. "that’s a first."

you swallowed hard, gripping your phone a little tighter. his confidence was intoxicating, but the shift in his tone - the way it lingered in that space between teasing and serious - made your pulse quicken.

"not speechless," you countered, your voice steady despite the nerves bubbling in your stomach. "just wondering if you’re all talk."

that earned a sharp inhale from his end. his chuckle returned, darker now, like you’d just issued a challenge he was eager to accept.

"y/n," he said softly, his voice curling around your name in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. "you’re playing a dangerous game right now."

"and you’re the one who started it," you shot back, though your tone betrayed the mix of excitement and hesitation you felt.

"fair enough," he murmured, and you could hear the shift in his posture - the faint creak of his chair as he leaned forward, as if closing the distance between you, even through the screen.

the air between you felt thick now, the playful edge giving way to something far more intense.

"you know," he began, his voice quieter now, almost intimate. "i’ve always wondered how far you’d let me take this. the teasing, the flirting... I didn’t think you’d ever actually bite back."

"well, you seemed so confident," you replied, letting your voice dip just slightly, testing the waters. "I didn’t think you’d fluster so easily."

a low groan slipped from his lips, and you swore you heard his chair creak again. "you’re gonna regret saying that," he muttered, though there was no malice in his tone - just a simmering heat that sent your thoughts spiraling.

"am I?" you whispered, your voice barely audible, yet enough to make him pause.

for a moment, you thought he might laugh it off, but instead, he let the silence hang, heavy and charged. when he finally spoke, his words sent a jolt through you.

"turn your camera on."

your breath hitched. the request was simple, but the command in his tone left no room for argument.

"Shoto-"

"please." he added quickly, softening the edge just enough to make it feel like a choice. "I want to see you."

your hands trembled slightly as you adjusted your webcam, the soft click of the activation sounding louder than it should have. when your face appeared on your screen, you saw his vtuber model react in sync with him - his usual mischievous smirk replaced with a more focused expression, his avatar leaning in as if he were truly watching you.

"hi…" you said softly, feeling vulnerable under his gaze.

"hi," he murmured back, his voice lower now. "you look... flushed."

you bit your lip, suddenly hyper-aware of how warm your face felt. "well, whose fault is that?"

"mine." he said without hesitation, his smirk returning. "and I’m not done yet."

your breath hitched as his model leaned closer, and you could feel the tension in his voice. “you don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to see this side of you, y/n. you’re usually so shy. it’s cute, but… this?"

"what about this?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

"this confidence," he said, his tone dropping further. "it’s driving me crazy."

his words sent a jolt of heat through you, and you couldn’t stop the small smile that crept onto your lips. "good," you replied, surprising even yourself with your boldness.

there was a sharp intake of breath on his end. "god, you’re gonna kill me," he muttered, his voice carrying a raw edge that sent shivers down your spine.

for a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence filled with the weight of everything unspoken between you. when he finally broke it, his voice was barely audible.

"if I were there right now," he began, his words slow and deliberate, "I wouldn’t hold back."

"then it’s a good thing you’re not," you replied, though your voice wavered slightly.

"why’s that?" he asked, his tone sharp, challenging.

"because I wouldn’t either," you admitted, the words slipping out before you could think twice.

his low growl of approval sent a wave of heat crashing through you. "y/n..."

the way he said your name felt like a caress, and suddenly, the distance between you felt unbearable.

"tell me what you’d do," he said, his voice rough with restraint.

your heart pounded in your chest as his words wrapped around you, pulling you into a heady mix of anticipation and desire. the playful banter from earlier felt like a distant memory now, replaced by something far more intimate, far more dangerous.

"i’d…" you hesitated, feeling the weight of his gaze even through the screen. "i’d make you regret teasing me so much."

his laugh was soft, almost disbelieving. "oh, i’d love to see you try."

your confidence surged, the tension between you thick and electric. "maybe one day you will."

"i’ll hold you to that," he said, his voice a low promise.

the call stretched on for multiple hours, as the line between teasing and something far deeper had vanished. Shoto’s voice, warm and low through your headphones, filled the quiet of your room. the tension between you had reached its peak, and neither of you seemed willing - or able - to pull back.

"I don’t think you realize what you’re doing to me," he said, his voice rougher now, like he was struggling to keep his composure.

"what am I doing to you?" you asked, a playful lilt in your tone, though your body betrayed the growing ache that his words ignited.

"everything," he admitted without hesitation, the single word wrapping around you like a tether, pulling you closer to the edge of something you’d never expected.

the camera feed was still on, his vtuber model animating on one side of your screen, but the image seemed distant now, insignificant compared to the sound of his voice and the heat in his words.

"you have no idea how long I’ve thought about this," he continued, his tone slow, deliberate. "hearing your voice like this, knowing how flustered you are right now. it’s driving me insane."

"i’m not flustered," you tried to argue, though the breathy quality of your voice gave you away.

Shoto chuckled softly, and the sound sent shivers down your spine. "don’t lie to me, y/n. I can hear it in your voice. you’re just as caught up in this as I am."

your cheeks burned as his words pulled a soft gasp from your lips. you shifted slightly in your seat, the ache between your thighs growing impossible to ignore.

"and you’re not helping," you muttered, your voice quieter now.

"good," he replied, his voice dropping lower. "I don’t want to help. I want to make it worse."

the intensity in his tone made your breath hitch, and you bit your lip to keep from making a sound. Shoto’s sharp intake of breath told you he knew exactly what you were doing.

"don’t do that," he said softly, his voice almost a growl.

"do what?"

"bite your lip," he replied, his words sending a jolt of heat through you. "you don’t know what it does to me."

a rush of boldness surged through you, and you leaned closer to your mic, your voice dropping into a whisper. "what if I do know?"

silence followed, heavy and charged, before Shoto let out a low, frustrated groan.

"y/n, you’re killing me," he muttered, his voice strained.

"good," you replied, echoing his earlier words, your confidence growing with every sound he made.

the air between you crackled with unspoken desire, the distance between your two rooms feeling unbearably vast. you could hear the subtle shift of his chair, the faint rustle of fabric as he adjusted himself, and the thought sent a flush of heat through your body.

"tell me what you’re doing right now," he said suddenly, his voice rough with need.

Your breath hitched, the vulnerability of the question sending a thrill through you. "I…" you hesitated, your pulse pounding in your ears.

"don’t hold back," he urged, his tone softening just enough to coax you forward. "I want to hear you."

your fingers trembled as you trailed them over the hem of your shirt, your voice barely audible as you replied. "i’m…touching myself."

a low curse slipped from his lips, the sound unraveling what little composure you had left. "fuck, y/n," he muttered, his voice filled with raw want. "you have no idea how much I wish I could be there right now."

"tell me what you’d do," you whispered, your own voice trembling with anticipation.

Shoto’s response was immediate, his words spilling out in a husky rush. "i’d start slow," he said, his voice like a caress. "my hands on your thighs, pushing them apart so I could see you. i’d take my time, make you beg for it."

a soft whimper escaped your lips at the vividness of his words, and Shoto groaned in response.

"are you touching yourself now?" you asked, your voice barely a breath.

"yeah," he admitted, the rawness in his tone making your whole body thrum with heat. "I can’t stop thinking about you. the way you sound, the way you’d feel under me..."

his words broke something in you, and you let your own restraint slip, your soft gasps filling the space between his deep, ragged breaths. the distance between you no longer mattered - every word, every sound, pulled you closer together, until it felt like you were sharing the same space, the same air.

"Shoto," you murmured, his name slipping from your lips like a plea.

"i’m here," he replied, his voice a quiet promise. "i’ve got you."

your breath came in soft, uneven gasps, your hand brushing over your thighs as Shoto’s voice wrapped around you, pulling you deeper into the moment. his tone, once playful, was now rough and unrestrained, each word carrying the weight of his desire.

"y/n," he murmured, your name falling from his lips like a prayer. "tell me what you’re feeling right now."

your cheeks burned as your fingers slipped beneath the hem of your shorts, trailing over the sensitive skin just above your inner thigh. "I feel…" you hesitated, your voice trembling with need, "warm…needy."

Shoto’s low groan echoed through your headphones, sending a shiver down your spine. "fuck," he muttered, his breath hitching. "keep going. tell me everything."

you bit your lip, your movements tentative as your fingers dipped lower, brushing against the damp fabric between your thighs. "i’m so wet," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

"god," he breathed, his voice filled with longing. "do you have any idea what you’re doing to me right now?"

"tell me," you urged, your confidence building with every sound he made as your hand slipped the fabric of your underwear to the side.

his voice dropped lower, rough with restraint. "i’m so hard, y/n. I can’t stop thinking about you."

the confession sent a jolt of heat through your body, and you let out a soft moan, unable to hold back. Shoto’s sharp intake of breath told you he’d heard it, and his reaction only fueled your need.

"let me hear you," he said, his tone commanding but tender. "I want to know exactly how good you feel."

your fingers slipped beneath the fabric you just pulled to the side, gliding over the slick heat between your thighs. you let out a soft, breathy whimper, your head falling back against the chair as you lost yourself in the sensations.

"that’s it," Shoto murmured, his voice like a caress. "touch yourself for me. pretend it’s me."

your movements quickened as you dipped your ring finger into your pussy, your breaths growing heavier as his words spurred you on. "Shoto," you gasped, his name falling from your lips like a mantra.

"i’m right here," he replied, his own voice thick with arousal. you could hear the faint, rhythmic sounds on his end, his breathing uneven as he worked himself in time with you.

"I want to feel you," you whispered, the words slipping out before you could think. "I want your hands on me, your lips..."

"say it," he urged, his voice tight with need. "tell me exactly what you want me to do to you."

your inhibitions melted away under the weight of his voice, and you let the words flow freely. "I want you to pin me down," you confessed, your voice trembling with a mix of shyness and boldness. "I want to feel your hands on my thighs, your fingers inside me…"

Shoto groaned deeply, the sound sending a wave of heat crashing over you. "fuck, y/n," he muttered, his voice strained. "i’d spread you open so I could see every inch of you. i’d take my time, make you beg for more."

the vividness of his words sent you spiraling as you added your middle finger, the added friction only fueling you on as your movements grew desperate and you chased the release building inside you. your soft gasps and whimpers filled the space between you, mixing with Shoto’s rough, uneven breaths.

"i’m close," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

"me too," he replied, his tone ragged. "cum for me, y/n. let me hear you."

the command in his voice pushed you over the edge, and you cried out, your body trembling as waves of pleasure washed over you. Shoto followed moments later, his deep, guttural groan filling your headphones as he reached his own release.

the silence that followed was warm and heavy, the air between you still charged with the intimacy of the moment.

"y/n," Shoto murmured after a while, his voice soft and filled with affection.

"yeah?" you replied, your heart still racing.

"I meant what I said," he continued, his tone quieter now, more vulnerable. "if I were there, I wouldn’t be able to hold back."

you smiled, a warmth spreading through your chest. "maybe one day you won’t have to."

the heat between you hadn’t subsided, not even hours later. after you’d both succumbed to the intimacy of the moment, the call lingered on, neither of you willing to let go of the connection you’d found. Shoto’s voice, once playful and teasing, had softened, carrying a warmth that made your heart ache in the best way.

"are you still thinking about it?" he asked, his voice low and intimate.

"about what?" you teased, though the flush in your cheeks betrayed you.

"don’t play coy," he murmured. "you know exactly what."

your lips curved into a smile as you leaned back in your chair, feeling the warmth of the screen light on your skin. "maybe I am," you admitted, your voice soft but honest.

"good," he replied, the smirk audible in his tone. "because I can’t stop thinking about it either. about you."

the weight of his words settled over you, sending a thrill through your chest. for so long, the playful banter between you had felt safe, like a dance you both knew the steps to. but now, it was different - real, raw, and impossible to ignore.

"you know," he began, a hint of hesitation creeping into his voice, "i’ve been thinking about seeing you. for real."

your breath caught, your heart skipping a beat as his words hung in the air. "you mean…?"

"in person," he clarified, his tone firmer now. "I want to meet you, y/n. I want to see your face, hear your voice without a mic, hold you..."

the vulnerability in his voice made your chest tighten, and you felt a soft, giddy smile spread across your lips. "Shoto," you murmured, your voice tinged with affection. "i’d like that."

"yeah?" he asked, the excitement in his tone unmistakable.

"yeah," you replied, your heart racing at the mere thought.

the idea took root between you, growing more tangible with every passing minute. plans began to form - a weekend, a city, a quiet, private space where the two of you could finally let the tension between you reach its peak.

the hotel room was quiet, save for the soft hum of the air conditioning. you stood near the window, your heart pounding in your chest as you stared out at the city skyline. you’d arrived an hour ago, nerves buzzing in your veins as you waited for the knock on the door.

when it finally came, your breath caught, and you hesitated for a moment before crossing the room. your hand trembled slightly as you reached for the handle, the weight of everything leading up to this moment pressing down on you.

and then, you opened the door.

Shoto stood there, looking every bit as handsome as you’d imagined. his hair was slightly tousled, his dark eyes warm and intense as they met yours. for a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence stretching between you as you took each other in.

"hi.." he said finally, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it.

"hi.." you replied, your lips curving into a shy smile.

without another word, he stepped forward, his arms wrapping around you in a firm, grounding embrace. the scent of him - clean, warm, undeniably him - filled your senses, and you melted against him, your nerves easing as you felt the solid weight of his body against yours.

"you’re real…" he murmured, his breath warm against your ear.

"so are you…" you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

when he pulled back, his hands lingered on your waist, his gaze searching yours as if to confirm that this moment wasn’t just a dream. slowly, he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a tentative, gentle kiss.

it started soft, testing, but the heat between you ignited quickly. his hands slid up to cup your face, tilting your head to deepen the kiss as his tongue teased against yours. a soft whimper escaped your lips, and he groaned in response, his fingers tightening against your skin.

"do you have any idea how long i’ve wanted to do this?" he murmured against your lips, his voice rough with restraint.

"show me…" you whispered, your hands tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer.

he didn’t need to be told twice. his lips trailed down your jaw, pressing heated kisses along the curve of your neck as his hands roamed your body, exploring every inch of you he could reach. when his teeth scraped lightly against your skin, you gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders.

"fuck-" he muttered, his breath hot against your neck. "you’re even more perfect than I imagined."

your knees buckled at his words, and he guided you back toward the bed, his body pressing you down against the cool sheets. his hands slipped beneath your shirt, the warmth of his palms sending shivers through you as he slid the fabric up and over your head.

"you’re beautiful," he murmured, his eyes dark with desire as he took in the sight of you.

heat rushed to your cheeks, but before you could respond, his lips were on yours again, hungry and demanding. his hands traced the curves of your body, his touch igniting a fire that burned through every inch of you.

when his lips trailed lower, leaving a path of wet kisses down your chest and stomach, you arched into him, your breath coming in soft, desperate gasps. the sensation of his hands and mouth on your skin was overwhelming, and the air between you was thick with anticipation, every small movement charged with electricity. Shoto's hands slid over your skin with deliberate care, his touch both firm and gentle, as if he were memorizing every curve and line of your body. his lips trailed over the soft skin of your neck, pausing to nip and suck, leaving purple and red marks that sent shivers through you.

"you're so sensitive…" he murmured against your skin, his voice filled with wonder and desire. "every little sound you make is driving me crazy."

your fingers tangled in his dark hair, tugging gently as you arched beneath him, your breaths coming in soft, uneven gasps. "you’re one to talk," you whispered, your voice trembling but teasing. "I can feel how much you want this."

a low groan escaped him at your words, and his hips pressed against yours, his erection evident even through the layers of clothing still between you. "you have no idea…" he muttered, his tone rough with restraint.

you reached for the hem of his shirt, your fingers brushing over the warm skin of his stomach as you tugged it upward. he helped you, pulling it off in one swift motion before leaning back over you, his bare chest pressing against yours. the heat of his skin against yours made your breath hitch, and you ran your hands over his shoulders, down his back, savoring the feel of him beneath your fingertips.

"god you’re beautiful…" he muttered, his lips brushing against your collarbone as his hands slid down to your hips. he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your shorts, his gaze meeting yours as he slowly began to tug them down. "can I?"

you nodded, your heart pounding in your chest as you lifted your hips to help him. his eyes darkened as the fabric slid away, leaving you in just your underwear. his hands roamed over your thighs, his touch both reverent and possessive, as if he couldn't get enough of you.

"god, y/n…" he whispered, his voice thick with desire.

the way he looked at you - like you were the only thing that mattered - made your cheeks flush, but the heat between your thighs demanded more. you reached for him, your hands moving to the button of his jeans, and he let out a sharp breath as you undid them, sliding them down his hips.

when he was finally as bare as you, he leaned down, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. the weight of him pressed against you, his hard length evident even through his boxers, and you couldn't help but let out a soft whimper as your hips shifted instinctively toward him.

"patience," he murmured against your lips, his voice teasing but strained. "I want to take my time with you."

his words sent a shiver through you, and he began a slow exploration of your body, his lips and hands tracing every inch of you. his mouth found the sensitive peaks of your chest, his tongue flicking over one of your nipples before moving to the other, his hand kneading the soft flesh as he sucked gently on the skin.

"Shoto..!" you gasped, your fingers digging into his shoulders as your body arched into him.

"that's it…" he murmured against you, his voice like a command. "let me hear you."

his lips trailed lower, leaving a path of kisses down your stomach, and when his tongue flicked out to tease the sensitive skin just around your still-clothed pussy, you let out a soft cry, your hands gripping the sheets beneath you.

"you're so wet," he murmured, his voice filled with awe. "is this all for me?"

"yes…" you whispered, your voice trembling with need. "only for you."

his eyes flicked up to meet yours, and the intensity in his gaze sent a wave of heat crashing over you. "good," he said softly, his breath warm against your skin. "because i’m not stopping until you’re screaming my name."

as he hears the soft whimpers you let put Shoto quikly drops his head down between your thighs. you let out a breathy sigh as he licks along your thigh, forming small, purple marks.

your head falls back against the pillow as Shoto drags open mouthed kisses up your thigh to your pussy, eyelids heavy and lips parting. you gasp, feeling his tongue sweep along your folds, almost teasing.

your fingers twist the sheets beneath you, back arching up off the bed as your hips jerk when Shoto sucks on your clit, his teeth grazing it just enough to let a shock run through your body.

he moans against you, not specifically loud, but obscene as one of your hands fly from the bed to his hair, tugging lightly at it.

you can feel the way he whimpers against you at your tugging, however he doesn’t look up at you, too focused on his tongue inside of you and the almost euphoric taste you bare. your thighs tighten around his head and you look down at him, your eyes half-lidded and bottom lip tugged into your mouth as you tug harder on his hair.

“fuck…” you breathe out, eyes widening slightly when you notice Shoto grinding his hips against the bed, desperate and erratic, trying to get himself off.

the sight alone sends a shock through your body, a loud moan escaping your throat as you push his head further into you, your lashes fluttering and thighs trembling on either side of his head.

as he sucks on your clit your hips instinctively jerk up to grind harder against his face. you squirm as his tongue drags in and out of your pussy repeatedly, your moans turning almost pornographic.

your vision feels blurry and your thigh muscles burn as his tongue fucks you closer and closer to release. 

you try to nudge him, letting him know that you’re close. the lewd sounds of your moans, the sloppy sound of his tongue driving itself in and out of you, flicking over your clit, as well as the creaking of the bed, it’s all too much for you. you can’t keep this up. you fail to notice how your warning comes out as a garbled slur of incomprehensible words.

your entire body spasms when you cum, thrashing in his hold, your free hand flying up to grab the pillow behind your head as you cry out.

“ahh!! Shoto~!”

as you come down from your high you realize that he must have cum too, as you can feel the way his hips still against the bed, and you distantly hear the moans muffled against your pussy

‘god, he’s shameless,’ you think again as you lay limp against the bed, reeling from your intense orgasm, completely forgetting about how you had sounded the same, if not worse, mere seconds ago.

"are you good?" he asked softly, his forehead resting against yours as he caught his breath.

"more than okay…" you replied, your voice still breathless, and as you lay tangled together, your breaths evening out and your bodies still pressed close, you knew that this was only the beginning of something far deeper - a connection that neither of you would ever let go of.

[delilahsturniolo]

⟡ ݁₊ welcome to the end of the world! (please leave your sanity at the door.)

𝒊𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉 . . . four friends: nick, matt, chris, and you—find themselves stuck together at the end of the world, trying to survive a zombie apocalypse with nothing but their wits, a questionable supply of snacks, and zero emotional maturity. you’re just trying to stay alive without losing your mind—or falling for someone on the team.

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 . . . violenceee, use of guns & other weapons, matt shooting people, physical fighting, jumping of buildingssss uhhhh cursing, mentions of blood.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN: SECRET BUNKERS

read other parts here!

the air is still, unnaturally still. like even the wind knows what’s coming. below, the strangers don’t flinch when you challenge them. they just smile. calm. calculated. “we were hoping you’d say that,” their leader calls back. and then, they move. two of them peel off left and right, circling, flanking. the others raise weapons, but not at you. at the tower’s support beams. “shit!” matt grabs your arm, pulling you away from the edge. “they’re gonna bring it down!” chris yells, “protect the kid!” already diving to shield lana

“everyone grab something and hold on!” nick shouts. the first shot hits, wood splinters. the tower groans beneath you like it’s alive and in pain. you drop beside matt, one hand bracing against the floor, the other gripping your gun like it’s the only thing keeping you tethered to earth. “they’re trying to trap us in here,” nick growls, shoving ammo into the rifle. “wait ‘til they move in closer. we fire on my mark.” matt looks at you. not panicked, focused. “you ready?” you nod, heart hammering. “with you? always.”

“gross,” nick mutters, even as he lines up a shot. “if we die, i’m haunting you both.” more bullets. more wood cracking. the support beams won’t last much longer. you hear footsteps below. they’re coming up. matt’s voice cuts through the chaos. “now!” you all move in sync, one perfect, chaotic heartbeat. shots ring out. one of the raiders drops. then another.

you catch movement on the stairs, someone climbing fast. “matt!” you shout, pointing. he doesn’t hesitate. fires once. a body falls back with a sickening thud. but another one’s right behind him, and suddenly they’re inside, everything turns to screaming and blood and chaos.

you wrestle with a man twice your size, barely holding your own as he slams you into the wall. you feel the breath punch out of your lungs, your grip loosens—

“get away from her!” matt snarls, slamming the butt of his rifle into the guy’s skull. he crumples. you fall to your knees, dazed. matt’s there instantly. “you okay? talk to me.” you manage a breath. a nod. “i’m good.”

“never do that again.”

“wasn’t planning on it,” you wheeze. another blast hits the tower. it lurches violently, wooden beams snapping below. “we have to get down!” chris shouts.

“jump into the trees!” nick says. “they’ll break our fall!”

“or break our spines,” chris snaps. “either way, fun!”

lana tugs on your sleeve, holding something up. the key. small. silver. covered in grime.

“i know where it goes,” she says quietly. “i can take you. but we have to leave now.” the tower groans again. this is it. one more hit and you’ll all go down with it. matt grabs your hand, breathless. “we jump on three.” you squeeze his fingers.

“three,” he says.

“two…”

you look at everyone. your found family.

“one.”

you all leap.

the world flips.

branches slap past your face. pain blooms sharp and fast across your back as you crash through leaves, slam into bark, land hard.beverything spins. but you’re alive.

you gasp, roll over, matt lands beside you with a grunt, grabs your shoulders. “are you okay?!”

“yeah,” you croak, “i think—” but before you can finish, gunfire erupts again. they’re still coming. the group scatters into the woods, dodging bullets, ducking between trees. lana leads the way, fast, determined. her fear’s gone, replaced by something fierce. matt sticks to your side, always. covering you. trusting you.

“you sure she knows where she’s going?” nick pants behind you. “i trust her,” you say. “she’s survived this long, hasn’t she?” matt glances back, eyes sharp. “keep moving. they’re gaining.”

you break through a clearing, and there it is. a bunker. half-buried in the earth, hidden under ivy and rot.

lana runs to the door, jams the key into the lock. turns it.

click.

the door creaks open, rusted, heavy. you all pile inside, pulling the door shut just as the first raider breaks through the tree line. darkness.

then, soft lights flicker to life.

a hallway. clean. dry. stocked. you all stare, breathing hard.

“holy shit,” chris mutters. “it’s real.” matt turns to you. there’s blood on his cheek. your blood, maybe. or his. you don’t care. he cups your face again, forehead pressed to yours. “we made it.” you nod, breath shaking. “barely.”

“still counts.”

he kisses you like it’s the last thing holding him together. and maybe it is. maybe it’s the only thing holding you together, too. because you don’t know what’s waiting inside, but you know who’s with you, and maybe that’s enough.

© delilahsturniolo

💌: last chapter + epilogue soon <3

[veebeeboo109]

Cleaning up the Timeline

{Caleb is back, but is he who you remember?}

Read on ao3. Part One.

Tags: Reader/L&DS Men, Romance, Violence, Blo0d, Betrayal, Angst

Chapter 23: Crimes

It’s good to have something to focus on. A tether to wrap around to keep from blowing away like a kite in a tornado. The weight of Caleb’s body is sobering, and you cry out for help as you attempt to drag him inside. 

He drips blood onto the polished floors, and you gasp when he slips from your grasp, hauled into the hand of Sylus and Xavier. 

“Take him to my bedroom,” You tell them. You remember the medical kit Zayne left in there, and without the doctor in the house at the moment, you’ll have to make do. Sylus grumbles under his breath as he hauls the unconscious man up the stairs and into your room. You direct them to the bathroom, sitting him up against the wall and almost slipping on the still damp floor.

You crouch down to Caleb’s side and feel for his pulse. It’s steady and strong, but his breathing is short. You stand and go to retrieve the bag Zayne left, barking out a harsh, “Get out.”

Sylus is already stepping back, but Rafayel remains firm, “Cutie, we can help.”

“I don’t want or need your help right now.” You hiss, too raw right now to look him in the eye, “I need a minute. I need….like so many minutes. Just go. Get out, and don’t come back until I say.”

“Please,” Xavier whispers, reaching out again, “I can explain this. It isn’t as it seems.”

“Isn’t it! ?” You whirl around, screaming in his face with all the pent up emotion you had inside you, “Because it seems like I got dumped in some world all alone. The people who claimed to love me didn’t even bother looking for me, and when they did find me, they left me in the dark! Playing housekeeper and fuck doll! Parading around like I wasn’t missing half of myself! Did you have fun!? Playing with this version of me ?!”

Xavier goes pale, and you regret your words the instant you’ve said them because they’ve landed perfectly. You’ve wounded him. Wounded all of them. But the fire in you is still burning too hot, and so you turn away, and leave them with whatever pain they feel they deserve and close the bathroom door behind you. 

Caleb groans when the door slams and rattles the walls. You drop the bag beside him, and then press a hand to the sticky side of his face.

“Caleb,” You call, “Caleb, wake up.”

He stirs slightly, eyes cracking open but fighting against the light. Hazy violet irises find you and widen slightly. A choked noise leaves his cracked lips, and he lifts his hand to reach out to you.

“Are you hurt?” He rasps, reaching out but not touching. His trembling fingers hover an inch away from your face, the blood coating his digits has nearly dried and is beginning to flake.

You shake your head, “I’m fine. What— What happened? You’re covered in blood!” 

“Not mine.” He whispers, hand falling back to his side. His gaze drifts down his face and down to your neck, a sleepy drag of his vision. “I had to… I didn’t want you to see me like this, but you weren’t there….”

“What?” You breathe in confusion. You sigh and pull his attention back to you with a gentle hand to his shoulder, “Are you hurt anywhere? Zayne isn’t here, but I can still help.”

Caleb wheezes out a laugh and lets his head fall back against the wall, “You gonna’ kiss it better, pipsqueak?”

The juvenile urge to smack him upside the head occurs to you, but you push it away. You lean back to assess his torso and legs.When you try to peel the jacket from him, it’s stuck to his shirt with blood and gore, and the sound of the wet fabric is more than enough to persuade to take an alternate route. 

From the medical kit, you pull out scissors and start at the hem of his shirt, cutting him out of it. 

You snip, snip, snip your way up his ruined clothing, and you make it to his chest before he startles and pulls away, “Don’t.”

Reinforcing your grip on him, you hiss at him, “Stay still. You need to get cleaned up. I’m sure you have a great explanation for all the blood. WE can talk about it later.”

“No,” Caleb shuffles back, “You can’t see me.”

“I’ve seen you naked before,” You huff, “We lived together for a while– if you haven’t forgotten. Though, maybe you have? You did leave me for over a year. Thanks for that by the way.”

“Pipsqueak,” Caleb says mournfully, and he finally touches you. Grabbing the hand with the surgical scissors and holding them away from him, “I…I don’t look…the same.”

A dry laugh escapes you, “I don’t remember you being so vain. You’re lucky that I’m only marginally less mad at you than I am at them right now– Now, quit fighting me and let me help you.”

Caleb goes quiet and slowly lets go of your wrist. You return to work, cutting him free of the soiled garments and peeling them from his skin. 

He was right about not looking the same. He’s thicker than you remember. The diameter of his arms and legs are just all around larger. There are scars too. Burns that have left their mark all along the right side of his body. Wrinkled and puckered skin that’s still slightly pink from fresh flesh.

Clad in just his underwear, you realize none of that is what he meant by different. He stiffens when you see it. When your eyes fall on the shiny metal of his prosthetic arm. It’s striking, both in engineering and design. Made in the form to be molded like an arm, it articulates when he tenses, the metallic fibers that take the place of muscles cording tighter. 

You’re quiet for a moment, and he flinches when you reach for him. Though, for some reason, he doesn’t stop you. He lets you slowly draw your fingers along the edge of his prosthesis, where flesh meets metal. It’s rigged, but clean. 

“Did…” You find a hard lump in your throat when you try to speak, “Did Ever do this?”

Caleb looks at your face like he’s waiting for something horrible to happen. A wide-eyed lost look of someone expecting to be rejected and discarded. He nods. 

“Does it hurt?” You ask, and to that he shakes his head. You flatten your hand over his shoulder, letting only your pinky finger rest against what is not Caleb. “You can still shower right? Can it get wet?”

That makes him laugh, “Yeah, it can.”

“Good.”

You ready the shower, and help him to his feet. You pull a towel out from the cabinet and set it on the counter. He watches every move you make, and the flutters of a smile appear when you turn your attention back to him. 

“I’ll just…” You clear your throat and point to the door, “I’m gonna’ find you some clothes to wear, and then we can…talk.”

Caleb looks uncertain but he nods, and you take the opportunity to escape. You go back to your room, and pick up the clothes from the floor. You change into something fresh and bundle your now bloody clothes into a bag to throw away. 

It isn’t something you want to do at this point, but you have to. You leave your bedroom, and– of course– one of them is already there. Xavier is standing on the other side of the hall, leaning against the wall. 

“Bunny,” He breathes in relief at the sight of you. He steps closer to you, but you stop him with a flat hand. 

“Don’t.” You snap. “I need clothes. For Caleb.”

Xavier’s jaw tightens and his back goes rigid, “Is he alright?”

“He’s not hurt,” You reply stiffly, “But he’s filthy. I’m letting him get cleaned up, and then I’ll get him to explain the blood.”

“He could be involved–”

“If you’re about to suggest that Caleb had something to do with Ever, I don’t want to hear it.” You hate the way your voice trembles. Too much emotion leaking out and making the words tumble out of you unsteadily. You’re tiptoeing on a knife’s edge of sanity as it is. You can’t entertain the idea that Caleb might not be on your side.

Xavier inhales through his nose and then exhales slowly. Trying just as hard to remain calm, “I’ll go get some clothes. And some food.”

You nod, unable to say thanks out loud to him right now. “Where are the others?”

Xavier pauses as he turns to leave, “Downstairs.”

“Why are you up here then?” 

Xavier blinks and turns to face you fully, “Because you still need me. The last time you left my sight, they took you. I won’t let that happen again, even if you hate me.”

A dagger spears your chest, and you feel your heart spasm at his words, “I don't– I don’t hate you.” 

Xavier smiles almost sadly, “I’ll go get what you need. I’ll knock and leave them outside.”

He walks away and you feel guilt gnaw at you. Tear at your tender flesh and leave you raw and open. You escape back to your bedroom and wipe a hand down your face. The sound of the shower is still going, and it’ll likely take a while for Caleb to get clean. 

So, you sit on your bed and take stock. 

This world– This universe ? – Wasn’t original. Or, at least, it wasn’t your original one. It was different. Recycled? You remember Zayne enacted some spell, but the conversations about its purpose and effects are still lost to you. 

That past life had been…it had been good. It was hard to survive, and there was so much suffering but there had been so much good too. Your life. Your love. The home you had built together with the four men that loved you. It was all gone. Turned to stardust and mortar to build the bricks of the world now standing around you. 

You had lived your whole life until this point thinking they didn’t exist. They had let you live in complete ignorance of who they were and what they meant to you. You were struggling to piece together how it all happened. How had they all found each other, but forgotten you? 

It hurt. The years you could have had and time slipped through unknowing fingers is a wound you’re still reeling from. You’d know Zayne since…

Zayne. 

Zayne didn’t know. Rafayel has said it so casually, but it didn’t make any sense. Why did Xavier, Sylus, and Rafayel remember– but not Zayne? A cost of the spell? It sounded plausible. It had taken the essence of everyone to make this new universe, it would stand to reckon it would take any pound of flesh it could while it was at it. 

Why didn’t you remember?

You took a deep breath and tried to slow down your thoughts. 

If what they said was true, then they tried to find you but couldn’t. You’d been hidden all this time right under their noses, and Zayne– without his memory– hadn’t been able to help you. Even without memory of each other, you and Zayne found each other. You still found them, as fate would have it. Even with the vastness of this world. All the choices that lead you to this very moment….you still found them. 

But a decade ago….they’d stopped looking for you ten years ago . Come to some unanimous decision that you weren’t worth looking for anymore?

Had you been easy to forget? Had they been surprised to see you? A ghost came to haunt them….It hurts. God, it hurts. It tore at your heart because you can’t imagine a world where you stop looking for any of them. You’d have tore open the earth, cracked every foundation, uprooted every tree, and overturned every rock to find them again.

What cruelty it was, to think of those years you could have had with them. And yet– a kinder part of your mind supplies– what a unique opportunity you’d been bestowed. 

You had gotten the chance to fall in love with them all over again, and they too. They hadn’t exactly invited you here with the intention to love you again. Xavier had been downright prickly at first, and Rafayel too teasing. Sylus had barely made any moves to get to know you until it was clear you were staying. 

There was no great orchestration to get you here. An unknowing lamb for them to groom you for their desires. They just…let you live. Let you fall into them again as easy as breathing. 

After you hear the knock, you rise from the bed feeling marginally better than before. You’re still owed a hell of an explanation, but at the very least you’re not itching to escape any more. 

Xavier has returned to his post, standing guard in the hall and he keeps his eyes downcast as you retrieve the tray of food and the pile of folded clothes beneath it. 

Two steaming styrofoam cups of instant ramen sit next to two unopened bottles of water. A little plate of peeled and sliced apples on one side, and next to that a little piece of strawberry candy. 

Just as you sit the tray down onto the bed, you hear the shower stop running. Caleb exits the bathroom with a plume of steam behind him. He’s got the towel you left him wrapped around his hips and thankfully, no more blood covers him. It makes the chrome of his right arm stand out even more, and you avoid looking at it for too long.

“Get dressed.” You say as sternly as you can, hoping you sound like you mean the most serious of business, “And then start talking.”

Caleb looks a little hesitant but nods. He grabs the clothes and goes back into the bathroom to change, coming back out in a dark color sweatshirt belonging to Sylus and a pair of red lounge pants that belong to Zayne. 

He sits down on the bed on the other side of the tray and looks down at the cup of ramen thoughtfully, “I don’t know where to begin.”

You huff softly, “How about why you were covered in blood?”

Caleb’s face goes grim and he shakes his head, “Can’t we just…forget about that? It was– It had to be done, and I don’t really–”

“ Caleb .” You interrupt him sharply, “I promise you that whatever you tell me is not half as weird as the other shit I’ve gone through today.”

You’re not entirely sure you can handle whatever comes out of Caleb’s mouth next, but it’s not like you have anything else to do. And you need answers. At least one answer to the laundry list of questions burning in your mind. 

“The explosion…” Caleb begins softly, “I knew it was going to happen, and I let it happen. I…I let Ever take me, so that they couldn’t take you. It was you or me, and I couldn’t let you go back to that place. I swore I’d never let them have you again.”

“Ever had me before?” It was only in theory before that. You had no memories of being with Ever as a child, but the documents don’t lie. Gran had had some connections and you had hoped…

“It’s where we met.” Caleb whispers, finally meeting your eye. “All I wanted was to protect you, and eventually we got out. I swore– I swore to never let them have you again. So when they took me in…when they took my arm….I did everything I could to protect you from them.”

You rise to your feet, needing to be moving to escape the sudden burst of writhing anxiety in your chest. “What did you do?”

“I did a lot of things.” Caleb replies.

“Did you put a bug on my phone?” You whirl to look at him, for once in your life you’re taller than him. Only while he sits hunched over on your bed does he sit lower than you. 

He flinches at the question and looks away, “Yes.”

A blow. A piercing arrow into the liver. Bleeding slowly. “Were you the one who followed me? That first time?”

Caleb shakes his head, “No, but I– I helped. I told them…where you were.”

Your hands clench at your sides. “The storage unit? Did you take my photos?”

At this Caleb looks up at you, “Yes, but only because I was setting everything up! I…I knew you’d want them and I was afraid Ever would burn everything they could get their hands on of yours. They’d originally planned to take you and erase any mark that you ever existed. I knew you’d want those photos.”

His explanation doesn’t soothe you, and you have to take a step back away from him. “Did you lure me to my apartment? Was it you I was following?”

Caleb freezes, and all the hope and eagerness in his puppy-like eyes evaporates into cold horror, “I…You weren’t supposed to see me.”

“But I did! I thought you were dead! And you were tormenting me! Haunting me! I couldn’t– I couldn’t breathe! I couldn’t function when I thought you were dead! And you were fucking with me!?”

“No!” Caleb cries, rising to his feet, “I needed to see you. I…I was…I was weak. I couldn’t stand being apart like that and I got stupid. I just wanted to see you. To show you that Ever had been watching you for a while. You had no idea the trouble you were in!”

“Well thanks! I’m definitely aware now!” You snarl back at him, “What was the point of it!? You fake your death and leave me alone and they still took me!? What was it all for?!”

Caleb looks horrified and he chokes on a sob, “I failed! I was setting it up! I was planning for us– We were supposed to be together! Ever was supposed to burn to the ground and then I would come get you! But they found a loophole!”

He grabs at his hair and breathes through his teeth, muscles tense, but then suddenly, he relaxes. He lets go of his hair and lets his hands fall to his sides. In a much calmer tone he continues, “They found a legal loophole that would protect them if they took you. You and I were their property. I didn’t find out you were even there until a week later because they sent me on some bullshit mission into the Deepspace Tunnel. I swear– I swear you wouldn’t have spent more than an hour there if I’d known.”

You turn away from him, covering your mouth with your hand. Tears burst from your eyes, not even bothering to linger before their spilling over. Your stomach threatens to retch and you can barely manage the next words out of your mouth, looking over your shoulder at him, “You were working with them?”

Caleb steps back like you’d shot him. He steps once towards you and then falls to his knees, he reaches out to you in utter desperation, beseeching you with crystalline tears shimmering down his cheeks. “ Please, please, don’t cry. I was never working for them! Not really ! It was only to protect you! To keep you safe! 

You try to step away from him but he’s grabbing at your shirt and wrapping his arms around your hips. 

“ It wasn’t supposed to be like this!” Caleb sobs hysterically, digging his face into your abdomen. “It wasn’t supposed to be this horrible!”

“Caleb, let go of me.” You stutter out, ineffectually pushing at him to let you go. He only holds you tighter and chokes on his own sorrow the harder you push. 

“Forgive me please!” He blubbers, lifting his chin to look at you through his dewey lashes, “I need you. I need you to forgive me. I can’t….All of this– all of this was for you.”

You can’t process while he’s groveling like this, and you’re drowning in the absurdity and overwhelming revelations you’ve made today that you stop fighting him. You let him cling to you and press the heels of your palms into your eyes. 

The men you loved had stopped looking for you. The man you grew to love in this life had worked with the organization that had tortured and experimented on you. Your heart had been shredded too far, in little tatters settling amongst the ribbons of your lungs. 

You take in a shuddering breath. Your hands are held up and away from him, unable to grant him the pleasure of your touch. In a trembling voice you ask, “Why were you covered in blood?”

Caleb sniffles and looks up at you, “I killed them all. I killed that Antham woman, and anyone else that tried to stop me. The minute I knew you were with Ever I went and got you. You were…You were unconscious. So I carried you out. I killed everyone in the way. I would kill anyone else that tried to come for you. That’s why…”

You shudder on another inhale. You close your eyes, needing one less sensory input to process this. “You helped me escape.”

“Yes. Yes.” Caleb jumped at the opportunity to return to your side, to remind you that he was and always be your ally. Your closest, most reliable, guard dog. “That man that did this to you. He’s dead. His assistants too. Anyone who touched you is dead.”

“You didn’t–” You cut yourself off and take another breath, “Did you have to kill everyone?”

“There was no other way.” Caleb whispers, placing his chest to your tummy and squeezing you again, “I tried it civilly. I had it all set up. I was going to get their stock to tank. Release some classified files to destroy them in the press. Choke them from their funding. Destroy all the files they had on you. Then kill anyone who remembered it.”

You laugh mirthlessly, “What a plan…” 

“You have to know,” Caleb says as he lets his hands reach up higher on your back, “I would never do anything to hurt you. All I have ever wanted was to love you. To be at your side.”

Slowly– achingly slowly– you let your hands rest on his shoulders, and Caleb shudders at your touch. He trembles with the warmth of your fingers, and you wonder when that little boy you grew up with became capable of such horrible violence. He’d taken dozens of lives today, and here he was– kneeling at your feet worried about gaining your forgiveness instead of some wrathful god’s.

“I’m so sorry…” Caleb whispers against your stomach, and you feel the movement of his lips through your shirt. “I…I shouldn’t have ever intervened. It’s my fault. The lines I wrote…”

Something about his last words strikes something in you. A dusty old bell of recognition that makes you grab the sides of his face and tilt his head back to look at you. “What did you just say?”

Caleb’s eyes go a little hazy at your manhandling, “It’s my fault. I…I wrote more lines. I changed the story.”

The Story.

You shove him away, and he too easily falls back. “What the fuck did you just say?”

Caleb turns back to you, “Pipsqueak–”

Pain lashes through your head, blinding again as more visions from the past flare like gunpowder meeting sparks. 

“Come with me.” The young man urges. He holds out a hand, having to lean down far from his horse to reach you. The other women you’d escaped the burning village with have already left you behind, but this man …wouldn’t let you go.

“I can’t–” You rasp. The smoke from the burning hut you’d just been inside makes your throat burn, and it takes effort to push words out. “I don’t know you! You’re with them! Those raiders!”

The young raider looks over his shoulder and through the trees, where the glow of the village shines. The rest of his band is taking care of the remainders of the goods to be plundered and lighting the remaining buildings ablaze. 

He climbs down from his horse and takes off the helmet that covers most of his face, “Please.” He says your name and you startle at the sound of it, “I know you probably don’t remember me.”

You recognize the violet in his eyes. The soft lavender and mauve that you remember in a boy much smaller than this. The man who stands before you is a far cry from that little boy you knew. Huddled together on the dusty mud floor of the convent, avoiding lashing from the priestesses and hoping some wealthy family comes by to adopt you. 

“No,” You say softly, “I do.”

You hadn’t known him more than a month before parting, but you’d remember him– for his beautiful eyes if nothing else. He’d been sold off to some rough looking folk that threw a sword in his hands the moment he left the convent, and you were adopted to a small merchant family– an extra set of hands they couldn’t be bothered to pay for. 

“I can keep you safe.” He says earnestly, taking both of your hands into his. And standing before you clad in the roughened armor of a raider. The cloak at his back is a mustard yellow and trimmed with black. “Come with me. Stay by my side, I’ll make sure you’re taken care of. You don’t have to keep running like this.”

The whoops and cheers of the raiders echo through the woods, and a flurry of ash and embers explodes into the night sky as one of the houses from the village collapses.

You squeeze his hands. He seems so earnest, and you trust that he means his words– but you doubt he can follow through.

“Look at this place,” You whisper, “Do you really think you can protect me from them? From the band you swore loyalty to?”

Caleb freezes. You remember his name now. When his eyes widen into that childlike fear, you recognize him more. His hands slowly relax and release you, and you let your touch linger as you slowly draw away. 

“In another life.” You whisper, “I would go with you.”

A gasp shreds into you, and you stumble backwards– crashing into the bedside table and sending the lamp and picture frame clattering to the floor. Your knees threaten to buckle under you and you grab onto the headboard of your bed. Hand covering your mouth to prevent a scream from escaping. 

“Pipsqueak…” Caleb repeats, kneeling on one knee and his hands outstretched towards you.

His eyes. How could forget his eyes? The color of nightshade blossoms. Poison. But he was so kind. So gentle. You caught only glimpses of him in your life before, and you had thought he had died after that final meeting. That raid that had led you to the Sanctuary in the first place. 

“What…W-what did you do?” You’re shaking again, unsure whether in fear or in rage. 

Caleb eyes widen slightly, recognition sparkling in that quickly spoils into agony, “You remember.”

His words are the final nail in the coffin, and you choke on the sudden swell of sorrow that explodes inside you. Sliding down to curl up into a ball on the floor, pushing yourself as far back as you can go. 

“Pipsqueak,” Caleb whispers again, approaching like one might a scared animal. 

“Don’t call me that!” You scream and he recoils back. “Say it! I want to hear you say it Caleb!”

What a sight the two of you must make. You, curled up tightly in the corner, hissing like a frightened cat, claws bared while Caleb rests on his hands and knees a few feet away. 

Caleb’s frightened eyes search your face for a moment, flickering like he was scared of the next words to emerge from his mouth. “I…I was there.”

You force yourself to keep eye contact with him, and wait for him to confess his sins.

“I…It was my fault. I…” Caleb sits back on his heels and rests his hands on his thighs, eyes downcast on the floor between you. “I found your Sanctuary. I told Astra where it was. I asked Astra for you, in exchange. All I…All I wanted was to be by your side. I wanted to keep you safe, and happy.”

“It’s your fault.” You whisper– a statement of fact that wounds you both.

“It’s my fault.” He repeats again. “When I heard what the envoy demanded, I went to get you. To take you to safety. It wasn’t supposed to–”

“You were too late.” You say, letting your eyes drift away from his guilt-ridden face and down to your hands, “Zayne was already performing the spell.”

Caleb nods, “It was wrong….I know I was wrong but I…I just wanted…”

“What did you write?” You push. You can hear his voice getting weaker, more reluctant to speak the truth he so desperately wants to conceal. 

Caleb hunches over more. “I added my name into the story. Put ours next to each other. I wanted to grow up with you…like we should have before. I wanted to be by your side the whole time. I just wanted a happily ever after…”

A dry scoff leaves you, “And that made Ever.”

“Maybe.” Caleb shakes his head, “Probably. Zayne was careful, and I…I wrote a line that kept you apart from them.”

You flinch and grit your teeth, “ Why ?”

He shakes his head, “I…I was so tired of being alone…I couldn’t…I couldn’t compete with them. I hated them…for having you when I couldn’t.”

You’re past the point of emotional outbursts. The agony in your chest has burned so hotly it’s turned from a raging star into the low white-hot permanence of a dwarf star. You don’t have it in you to scream again, to thrash and flail like a fish on a spear.

“They’ll kill you.” You whisper, feeling numb, “If they find out it was you. They’ll kill you.”

Caleb swallows again and he nods, “If you can’t forgive me, then I don’t want to live. If you want me to go, then I won’t fight them.”

“You’re insane.” 

A heavy silence falls between you, draping you in a suffocating blanket of lead and sorrow. Caleb doesn’t move, and he doesn’t look away. He stares at you like it might be the last time, and you don’t have it in you to correct him. 

“Do you remember when we were younger…” Caleb’s voice is tight, like he’s fighting back tears again, “You had these journals. A ledger you kept against me whenever I annoyed you.”

Your heart twists, “I remember.”

“I can never undo what I’ve done, and I don’t think there’s anything I can do to make up for it.” Caleb exhales softly, “But I am so sorry . I acted selfishly. I acted without thinking, and I will spend every moment of the rest of my life working to make amends. Please, pipsqueak, please….forgive me.”

There’s a war inside you. You still feel like two people inside one body, shredded in twain where one half resides in a world of war and survival. That part of you demands a blood price for what he’s done. An eye for an eye. That part of you only remembers glimpses of Caleb, and doesn't know him. 

Then there’s the other part of you. The part that grew up with this version of him. Years of helping each other with homework and teasing each other endlessly. Spending hours hidden beneath blankets and waiting out thunderstorms. He’s Caleb. He’s your Caleb. The boy who made you soup when you were sick and made sure to sit and listen to your every complaint. 

He’d cheered the loudest at your graduation. He’d kept your secrets about your crush on Zayne and that time you broke one of Gran’s vases and replaced it with a similar one from the thrift shop. 

It would be easier if you weren’t human. If you could look at things like a calculator. Input the deeds he’d done and multiply it by some value of morality. and see in clear numbers whether or not he deserved to be forgiven. 

But you’re not a robot. You’re not a calculator, or a weapon. You’re only human, and so you uncurl from the fetal position and slowly– so slowly– reach out to him. He crawls to you, letting you cradle the sides of his face in your palms, and his expression slackens into despondency. 

“I don’t forgive you.” You whisper while you simultaneously brush your thumb across his cheekbone. His bottom lip trembles, and his eyes shine with renewed dew. You don’t let him pull away or push closer, holding him at arm’s length, “But I want to….someday. I think I could forgive you someday.”

Caleb dissolves between your fingers. He lowers himself down to the floor to crawl even closer to you, until he’s resting his head in your lap, “I’ll do anything… anything .”

You pet his hair, feeling the still damp strands between your fingers and you sigh, “I need to talk to the others. I need to make sense of things with them.”

Caleb lifts his head, “They’ll kill me. They’ll kill me, and I deserve it.”

“No one is blameless here.” You reply, “You’ve done horrible things to me. To them. You can’t just gain my forgiveness. You have to make amends with them too. If you want to be by my side, they’re part of it.”

Caleb’s expression softens from its ragged edge; he looks starry-eyed up at you, “You really….you really won’t send me away?”

“Not yet.” You hush, “I have an idea, but I need to go and talk to the others first. Can you wait here?”

Caleb nods eagerly, and rises up to his knees. “Always. Anything you want.”

Caleb sits obediently on your bed while you get busy yourself. Procrastinating leaving the room by changing your clothes again, brushing your hair and putting it up. You’re so exhausted that you debate taking a nap, but this can’t wait. You can sleep once you’re not torn up inside. When you know the men you love aren’t upset with you, and that everything is as it should be. 

You need answers before you can sleep, and you have to make sure they don’t actually try to kill Caleb in the meantime.

You reinforce your command for Caleb to stay in your room, and he nods firmly as you leave. 

Xavier is still there, waiting just outside the door. His Lightblade in one hand and standing stoically. His eyes soften when you appear, and the tension across his shoulders ease. 

He’s looking at you with such eagerness that you have to look away, “How much did you hear?”

The hand holding his Light blade shifts around the hilt, “Enough.”

You nod and cross your arms, “I want to talk to all of you, but I just…the others can’t know what he’s done yet. Can you–”

“No.” Xavier cuts you off. “I will not keep it from them. You brought the enemy into our house.”

“I’m not asking you to hide it forever!” You hiss, “Just let me explain it to them before you go busting down doors.”

Xavier spins the Lightblade in a flourish, crossing it behind his back as he takes steps towards you, “There is no forgiveness I can grant him. I won’t kill him, but he cannot stay here.”

You sigh and shake your head, “Xavier, please. Please let’s just go downstairs and talk, ok? I am so tired.”

Xavier stops you with a firm hand on your arm, tight but not painful. When he pulls you to look at him again his eyes are burning with an indiscernible fire. He says your name, pleads it before speaking, “If you remember the past, then you remember the oath I made to you. I swore my life to yours– to protect you. And he took that– he took that life.”

You glance down to where Xavier is holding onto you, and you reach out with your free hand to peel his hand away. Though you don’t let him go, you splay out your hands. Palm to palm and each finger pressed against the other. His hands are so much larger than yours, and you twist to lace your fingers together.

“I remember.” You whisper, “I remember the oath you made, and how I asked you not to make it.”

“That doesn’t change anything.” Xavier squeezes your hand, “There is no world where I do not belong to you.”

You let yourself enjoy the warmth from his palm for a moment longer before pulling away, “Then why did you stop looking?”

You turn and head down the stairs, out to the living room where Sylus and Rafayel sit. When they see you enter, they both rise to their feet. Sylus looks almost frightened while Rafayel doesn’t hesitate to push into your space.

“You don’t understand,” Rafayel says hastily, grabbing ahold of your wrists and looking at you pleadingly, “I searched for so long. For so long. I didn’t…I thought you didn’t exist. I thought you were gone.”

You take a steadying breath and draw away from him. “Go sit down Rafayel. We need to talk.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do, princess. Please.”

You give him a look, and he reluctantly obeys, going to sit down across from Sylus, who also returns to his seat. The white haired man is oddly silent, no argument or begging for forgiveness from him. He can’t even look at you. 

Xavier lets his Light blade shimmer out of existence and then sits down, the three of them waiting for you to speak.

“You stopped looking for me.” Is how you choose to begin, and you have to raise your hand to silence Rafayel from arguing again, “I want to know why. I want to know…how you all found each other and just… forgot about me.”

“We didn’t!” Rafayel barks, nearly standing but halted by Xavier’s hand on his arm.

“You did!” You snap right back. “I swear to god if any of you lie to me again I’m leaving. I’ll leave and never come back!”

It’s a lie. You know it, but they don’t seem to. Variations of horror crossing their features.

“We used facial recognition, but without an image to use,” Sylus begins. His voice is the most subdued you’ve ever heard it, “We were basically running with an artistic sketch. It never worked. We weren’t sure if you had the same name as before, or what year you would be born in.”

Your brow crinkles, “What does that mean?”

“This universe isn’t the same,” Xavier explains, “but it rhymes.”

“Rhymes?”

“The timeline of what occurred in the past happens now. I was centuries old when we first met, princess. And so I’ve been here for centuries before you were even born.” Rafayel adds, “Sylus too.”

“There’s no logic to it.” Sylus hums, still avoiding looking you in the eye, “We didn’t just wake up in these bodies and know. I spent decades alone, thinking the spell hadn’t worked. Then I found Rafayel.”

“I was next,” Xavier says, leaning forward on the couch, “We never found each other on purpose. Only by chance. I was undercover in the N109 zone when I found Sylus again, and Sylus found Rafayel at an auction.”

“When we went actively searching, we would always fail.” Rafayel grumbles as he crosses his arms. “It didn’t stop us from trying.”

“We knew Zayne would be somewhere trying to help people. And that you probably weren’t far from him.” Xavier says with a slight nod, “But we didn’t actually find him until he ran into us. Skiing of all things.”

“We only found Zayne three years ago.” Sylus remarks with a slight smirk, like remembering something funny, “We assumed the spell had obliterated him, and you. So when we found Zayne we tried to find you again, but nothing. Zayne doesn’t remember us the way we do him. He’s drawn to us, but he doesn’t know why.”

“You know how hard it is to search for someone that fate won’t let you find?” Rafayel scoffs. “We never stopped looking for you. Not really.”

“We made an agreement to stop breaking into records offices and hacking into hospital databases. A decade ago.” Xavier says this part softly, a bit shamefully. 

“Even your room!” Rafayel’s on his feet, motioning upwards to the floor above, “We made it for you! We made this place for all of us! We’d agreed that you…that you probably didn’t exist, but we kept the space for you.”

Your arms are unknowingly crossed, protecting you against the bombardment of information and emotion that wracks through you. Silence ensues, the three of them waiting for your reply. 

“I don’t want to be angry. I…I’m so tired, and just want to sleep. But I don’t know what world I’ll wake up in anymore.” You’re starting to crumble again, you can feel your thoughts slipping through your grasp like wisps of smoke. “I’ve got two lives inside my head. Two people. And I can’t remember how long I was there. I remember waking up this morning worrying about the runes. I can’t remember whether we need milk because we ran out of it in the fridge, or because we lost two cattle to wolves.”

 You take a second to breathe, and then continue, “I understand now. I…I don’t remember everything. There’s still a lot missing, but I remember enough. Enough to know that if it was possible, you would have found me.”

“Zayne got lucky.” Rafayel grumbles, “And he didn’t even know! I can’t stand him sometimes.”

You can’t help but sigh, some of the tension escapes you when you do, “It makes sense. I knew Zayne in the sanctuary for years before I found you, and then…” You press your hand to your forehead, “I think it was years…does it feel like this for you? Like…being split?”

Xavier rises to his feet, and you watch him tentatively approach you. The tightness in his brow eases when you don’t stop him, “It did at first. Like a dream, but then it felt like the past. Like memories.”

“I should really sleep.” You whisper to yourself.

The front door opens with a large clatter and then slams shut. From the entry, Zayne appears tugging a rolling cart behind him and another bag over his shoulders. He spots you standing in the middle of the room and his mouth forms a tight line, “Why aren’t you in bed?”

“Caleb came back,” You tell him. You reach out to press a hand to Xavier’s chest, a silent gesture of comfort before you walk over to Zayne. “He says he’s not injured, but can you look at him?”

Zayne exhales, but it might as well be an indignant huff, “After you. Sit on the couch. I need to perform a neurological exam.”

“Zayne, please, I’m fine!” You say but he’s already shepherding you to the couch, sitting you near the arm next to Rafayel. 

“Argue with me again.” Zayne challenges with a slight tilt of his head, “I dare you.”

You concede with a sigh, and the tension in the air is palpable. 

Zayne proceeds to ask you a series of questions: what year is it? What’s your name? When’s your birthday? And dammit if it doesn’t take you a second to answer them. Your name is easy, you had the same one in the past life too. The year? That was rougher.

He flashes a light in your eyes to check for pupillary response and then makes you stare straight ahead while he moves the thin penlight back and forth, and then makes you follow it with your eyes. 

You’ve passed his test, but he doesn’t look pleased. “I’d still like to get imaging done. A CT at least. There could be internal bleeding, or even a microfracture. You’re adrenaline is up and it could be hiding–”

“Zayne,” You say insistently, grabbing him by the sides of the face and holding him still. “I’m fine. I’m alright. If you really need to, we can go tomorrow. And you can take as many pictures of my bones as you want.”

Zayne looks a little doe-eyed, staring at you, “Your heart…”

“Is just fine.” You finish for him, “Now please, can you go check on Caleb? He’s in my room.”

Zayne’s nose crinkles slightly, “Fine. I’ll go check on him, though I doubt he’ll let me get very far. He’s more stubborn than you, as far as I remember.”

You drop your hands and can’t help but giggle, “Tell him I told him to behave. He’ll shape up quick. I promise.”

Zayne is clearly unconvinced, and goes to stand but seems to remember something. He blinks and moves to press his cool palm against your jaw, winding into your hair to pull you into a kiss. 

Zayne from before– The Master of Fate– had been frugal with his affections. Too afraid to break the bond you had formed through years as teacher and student. He saw you as his pupil, his ward. Someone he needed to protect and care for, and so he was reluctant to spoil that with things like kisses. 

You like this Zayne better. He kisses you freely. In plain view of others and without fear. He’s sure in his feelings and in the security of this world without war and famine. He doesn’t have the weight of a Sanctuary riding on his shoulders, and the fear of what to do should an army come knocking. 

As Zayne pulls away, you realize that you’d do it all again. Go through everything in the world again, just to see Zayne this free. 

Zayne takes his equipment upstairs and you turn to the others. 

Xavier had spent his entire life being groomed for a throne he didn’t want. Thrown into battle and war zones to prove his worth to his gluttonous, warmongering father. When you’d met him before, he’d been on the verge of death. The scars lining his body never really healed. He had lost most of his vision in his left eye and part of his left ear. And here? He was unscathed. A scar here or there, but nothing like before. 

Rafayel is lighter in this world. Free from the guilt of his lost kingdom. Before, you’d find him lost in thought. So deep in his own mind and wracked with sorrow of what he’d lost that he’d be completely deaf to the world. In this world, the only time he was lost was when he was deep within a painting. Lost not in traumatic memories, but in the euphoria of creativity. 

Sylus was the most different– physically. No longer was his skin covered in black ebony scales. His fingers were missing the long dangerous talons that he’d tried on some many occasions to cut. The horns that he’d knock against doorways and too-low ceilings were gone. Aspects that you had grown to love were gone, and you wondered if he’d been born without them here, or learned to hide them somehow. But he’d lamented the fact he had to hold you so delicately. Hated the fact he could not sleep in the bed with you and the others because his tail was in the way….No wonder he was so eager to be in the middle of the cuddles piles now…

You reach out to Rafayel because he’s the closest. You crawl into his lap and he wraps his arms around you without question. His warmth seeps into you, and you sigh contently. 

“Forgive me,” Rafayel whispers into your hair, clinging to you tightly.

“I do.” You whisper, pulling away to brush your noses against each other, “I only mourn the years I didn’t get. I wish I could have known the whole time.”

You look over to Sylus, who sits stiffly nearby and you reach out to him. He looks at your hand with uncertainty, and when he reaches out to you, his touch is chaste. He doesn’t immediately lace your fingers together and pull you into him like he normally does.

“There is more to discuss.” Xavier says tightly from behind you.

You sigh and look over your shoulder, hoping that maybe the blond had forgotten what he’d heard. Alas, no such luck. 

“It can wait, right?” Rafayel says, sounding a little eager. He brushes his hands down your waist and lets them settle at your hips, “We should get some rest, right? Sylus has his minions guarding the place so there’s no risk of those Ever people. Nothing more important than sleep right now, I think.”

You shake your head, “No, it’s important. But you guys have to promise not to get mad.”

“That’s never a good way to start things.” Rafayel mumbles, disappointed his attempt to get you into bed was stopped once again.

Sylus is still silent, and you’re starting to worry that maybe he was already mad. 

You rise to your feet again, needing to separate from Rafayel so he doesn’t accidentally break you when you tell him. 

Xavier is simmering. Barely tempered with a lid over the rolling boil of a pot. He’s held his tongue for this long, and for that you’re grateful, but you know the second you spill the beans he’s going to have a lot to say. 

“So Caleb,” You begin, unsure of where to even start, “You guys know Caleb? We grew up together. And I guess, I was with Ever when I was really little and so was he! That’s why Gran took us both in. Which is…I think I told you that already. Well, he’s the reason I was able to escape. Which is why he was covered in blood when he showed up. Killed all of them, I guess.”

Rafayel leans back against the couch and tilts his head, “You’re rambling. Why are you rambling?”

“Hush.” Xavier hisses at him. Gnawing at the bit until you finally get to the point.

“So I thought he was dead, but he wasn’t dead. He was taken by Ever. He’s got a cool arm now, he’ll show you! And–” You clear your throat. Your hands are getting clammy now. “And I really care about him. He’s my friend, and so you have to promise not to kill him, ok?”

“Why would we kill him?” It’s Sylus this time. His voice is hoarse, and he doesn’t make eye contact with you when he speaks. 

“Because he’s from the past too.” You blurt as quickly as you can.

A tense silence falls, Xavier glaring at you to continue while Rafayel mulls this over with a wag of his head. 

“Oh well. Okay?” Rafayel drawls, unimpressed.

“Go on. Tell them.” Xavier bites and you have to look away from the murder in his sapphire eyes. 

“Caleb is the one who told Astra about the Sanctuary, and he added lines to Zayne’s spell.” You feel like you’re vomiting the words. Your stomach is rolling as you speak. It’s hard to fathom saying such a thing and then considering forgiveness afterwards. 

“ What!?” Rafayel roars as he jolts to his feet. Flames lick at his fingertips, an outburst of his Evol in response to his emotion.

Sylus is on his feet too, “You’ll have to repeat yourself, kitten. I don’t think we heard you right.”

Xavier rises to his feet slowly and his Lightblade shimmers into existence. He grasps it tightly and nods, “I’ll do it.”

“You knew?” Rafayel snarls, grabbing Xavier’s sleeve.

“He only knew for like ten minutes!” You shout in Xavier’s defense. “I only learned just now too. I didn’t have any idea that Caleb was even related to the past timeline. I couldn’t– It’s still hard to wrap my head around.”

“I don’t remember him at all.” Sylus says stiffly, crossing his arms, “Not even his scent is familiar.”

“Who cares? Some mortal snitched!” Rafayel hisses, and you can see a sharp blue tinge to his eyes. “Greedy pathetic things! Mettling in places they don’t belong!”

“You can’t kill him.” You say as sternly as you can muster. “What he did– It’s not forgivable, but you can’t–”

“And why not?” Xavier growls, “He took everything from us. Our home, our lives! That world is gone!”

“And what kind of world was it!?” You counter, “We were happy, but every season was a battle. We were surviving on hope and luck! Every year new mouths to feed! Sickness and famine and war! Death at every turn! If not Astra then some other villain would have uprooted us!”

“You cannot be serious.” Rafayel clicks his tongue and scoffs at you, “You cannot be defending him!”

“I am! I will!” You cry, “Just as I would any of you! I can’t forgive– not yet. But I want to try. I want to move on. I want to live and be happy. Is that so wrong?”

“He has to pay for what he’s done.” Sylus rumbles. There’s not outward rage in his body but his eyes gleam with it. The crimson of his irises is as red as the blood he craves to spill. 

“He will.” You reply, “I have an idea, and it’s not great. But I think it works.”

“You seem angry,” Caleb remarks as Zayne removes the blood pressure cuff from his arm.

“Why would I be angry?” Zayne asks sardonically. Pulling out a thermometer and forcefully pushing it beneath Caleb’s tongue. 

“I figure it’s because I got blood on your carpet.” Caleb mumbles around the thermometer. “Or because I faked my death. Either one.”

Zayne scowls at him, unamused by his joke. “Don’t talk anymore. You’ll mess up the reading.”

Caleb snorts and leans back, resting his palms on the bed and waiting until the thermometer beeps. Zayne grabs it and checks it, before wiping it with an alcohol wipe and putting it back in the kit.

“I did it for her.” Caleb says a bit softer, and Zayne’s movements pause for only a moment before he continues to pack away his medical supplies. “To protect her.”

“I know.” Zayne bites out. “But you didn’t have to live with the consequences.”

Zayne harshly zips up the duffel and picks it up.

“What’s that mean?” Caleb scoffs with a tilt to his head, “If you haven’t noticed, I’m living the consequences right now.” He wiggles his metallic fingers to make his point. 

“She believed you were dead.” Zayne says coolly. Always so stoic and calm, even when he was angry. “She shut down. Shut me out. Shut everyone out. Lost her job. Lost her home.”

“I know all that.” Caleb replies tightly.

“And now you hope to come back like nothing happened.” Zayne snaps, accusatory. 

Caleb stands up, and he’s taller than Zayne. Only slightly, but there’s an inch or two there that hadn’t been there for many years. As children, Zayne was always the taller one. He never bragged, but he did raise his nose once or twice when you were all measured for school. 

Even in this life, that feels like a million miles away. 

“I’ll atone for what I’ve done.” Caleb says stonily, “I’ll make it up to her. I’ll make it up to you.” 

Zayne huffs softly and shakes his head, “You’ve always been brash. Stupid even. But you didn’t do anything to me.”

“Didn’t I?” Caleb asks, and Zayne is left feeling confused for a moment. That is until you open the door. 

The two of them turn to you, and you’re a little in awe for a moment. It’s been so long since the three of you were in the same room. Funny, how it feels the same. Zayne and Caleb are facing off for one reason or another. Times change, but boy does it still rhyme.

“Come downstairs. We need to talk.”

"What ?” Caleb blurts in confusion. He’s sitting on the couch alone. Sitting like a child being scolded by his parents only it’s not a pair but five adults all glowering down at him. 

“Are your ears clogged?” Rafayel taunts, “She said you’re our new puppy.”

“I did not say that.” You add quickly, “I said you’re going to be the new housekeeper.”

“That is…” Caleb breathes and then shakes his head like his ears might actually be clogged, “Housekeeper? Pipsqueak that’s–”

“It’s perfect.” You say with a grin. “You can pay off your debt to us, and you’re still nearby! We can move some things downstairs and make you a bedroom down there, and I can give you my schedule. It’s pretty good, if I do say so myself.”

“I have a job,” Caleb adds tentatively. “With the Farspace Fleet.”

“Quit it.” Xavier adds with a smallest of vindictive smiles. “Effective immediately.”

“ Or,” You say, trying to remain diplomatic, “You can take an extended leave. Whatever you have to do. If you want to make it up to us–”

“And keep your miserable, pathetic life.” Sylus add ominously. 

“--and that.” You say with a sigh, “Then you give it up. This is your life now.”

Caleb looks up at you with shock. His eyes flicker over to the others for only a moment at a time. He swallows hard and then his shoulders slacken, “Does that include the house I have in Skyhaven?”

“You have a house in Skyhaven?” You ask.

“I bought it before the explosion.” He explains, “It was–” He clears his throat and says the next part very quietly, “It was where I was hoping we could live after, you know, I took care of Ever.”

“Sell it.” Xavier snaps. 

“Burn it down.” Rafayel says at the same time.

“Not that this flagellation isn’t amusing to watch,” Zayne speaks up, “But is that really necessary? You could rent out the property, use it for passive income during your leave.”

Bless him. Poor ignorant Zayne. You know Zayne isn’t fully aware of why Caleb’s being punished so severely, but what a good sport he’s being nonetheless. Maybe Zayne is a little more vindictive than you thought. 

“I can handle that.” Sylus says haughty. “We can add it to my residential management company. It’ll be in good hands.”

Caleb, with his hands resting on his knees, fidgets a bit, “Is that it then? I become your maid, and I’m okay?”

“Oh believe me, I’m sure we’ll have great fun together.” Rafayel huffs, crossing his arms, “ Don’t mess up the grocery order. If you buy the wrong fish, I’ll fry you.”

“This is your only chance.” Xavier says and it sounds like the condemnation from a king. Judge, jury, and executioner levels Caleb with a deadly cerulean glare. “There will be no second-chances.”

Despite the doom and gloom, you’re elated. Not only are you free from your housekeeping duties, but Caleb is here! It feels like the final piece of the puzzle. That is…if the puzzle was two boxes with different images dumped into one big pile and mixed together. 

“I’m going to sleep!” You say with a triumphant clap of your hands, “I’m going to sleep for twenty-four hours and if anyone wakes me up they’ll be the first to die!”

You go to leave and Caleb stands, “Wait, pipsqueak, what do I do?”

You pause, Xavier peering over your shoulder and glowering like a demonic shadow. The blond had been one step behind you– your eager napping companion. 

“Oh right,” You pull out your phone from your pocket and quickly send Caleb a copy of the lists of housekeeping duties. “You can get started!”

Caleb’s phone buzzes, and he examines the lists with a shell-shocked expression.

He’s still standing there when you walk away, and Rafayel waves at him as he passes to follow you. “Nighty-night puppy!”

<- Previous Next ->

[fairydollsteps]

STRESS RELIEF (MINOR DNI)

Synopsis: As expected of his job as the Fortress of Meropide's Administrator, Wriothesley is often buried with piles of paperwork and cases to solve which cause him a lot of stress. Luckily, you have a solution to help destress him.

Feature: Bottom Wriothesley/ Top!Male!Reader

Note/Warning: Smut, making out on bed, overstimulation, use of toy (we going to destroy this man), big fuck machine toy, some crying and pain, bondage (shibari), very rough intercourse, reader is kinda mean is you like it.

Author's note: is surprising to see very less bottom!wriothesley fic because i want him the one screaming. anyway here is smth to feed you all after months of disappearing:)

Fontaine has fallen into the night. The shadows enveloped the beautifully intricate buildings in pitch black. In the reflection of the moon and stars, the water that surrounds the city shimmers. All the townfolk have fallen into a slumber as birdsong fills the air softly like a gentle goodnight. This evening, Fontaine has draped itself in the tranquility of sleep. Except for Wriothesley and you.

Inside the home of both of you lies a naked Wriothesley on his bed, confined and tied into a shibari. He is utterly immobile to move from all the ropes that constrain his muscular body. Red velvet ropes are everywhere and strapping his body down on the bed. His hands and arms are tied firmly behind him as he lies on his back on the bed. His chest is heaving up and down against the ropes and his thighs are bound as well on the edge of the bed, spreading his legs apart.

Wriothesley is feeling multiple emotions at once in his chest. Nervous, excited, and mostly stressed of course. These days, work has become more burdensome than ever before. More dangerous criminals are spotted in Fontaine and more meetings with the Royal Irish Constabulary and blah blah. Nonetheless, his work has kept him for so long that he has forgotten when was the last time he had sex with you. So when you drag him out of his office table and offer some relief, he is quick to accept.

However, he has never expected you to expose him in such a revealing and humiliating way.

Wriothesley attempts closing his legs together against the ropes which to no avail. "Goddam, Y/N. You are cruel," Wriothesley sighs, wondering how is this stress-relieving. The ropes are tight but not too tight to hurt him. Is his first time trying something like this. Then, you finally come in the room with something Wriothesley couldn't latch on due to the restraints of the ropes. Is big. That is all he knows.

"Hello, my dearest," You greet him in a sweet tone, admiring your handiwork. Wriothesley stares at you, curious about whatever you have brought as you sit down at the edge of the bed, still in awe at the sight of him all spread out for you. "Was it too tight for you?" You asked, making sure Wriothesley was comfortable and keeping the stuff you brought hidden from him.

"I can handle it," Wriothesley said in a straight voice but you could tell he was nervous and excited from his blush adorning his face and chest. Your lips curved into a pleased smile and said. "That's good then. I do hope you can handle more than I expected since the night will be long," You get up from the bed as Wriothesley stares at you with a confused look.

"What do you mean?" He asked, slightly writhing against the ropes.

Wriothesley can see you letting out a soft chuckle from his attempt which he slightly scowls at you. You let out soft coos to him and lean over him with an affectionate but playful smile caressing his cheeks gently which Wriothesley can't help but snuggle against your palm contently. Wriothesley relaxed against your touch and he could feel your breath against his ears.

"I did promise you I would fucked you like you want to," You whisper to his ears slyly before you cover his eyes with a blindfold which is something you both have discussed about it before. Fuck that was hot.

Wriothesley gulps as he can hear your footsteps and you hopping over him. He can't see anything. His vision is taken from him and everything is pitch black. Before he could think more, his body jolt with a shiver when he could feel your hand touching his naked cock. "Y-Y/N?-" Wriothesley almost whimper, lifting his head to you forgetting about the ropes only to get pulled down.

"Relax, my dearest. Just relax. You have worked so hard. This is your reward," You purred at him, looking at him and then his beautiful cock. You have lubed your hand and begin jerking his dick off, making Wriothesley beneath you letting out muffled moans. You can't help but smile wickedly. This is only the beginning.

Then, you lubed your finger and began touching his hole. Wriotheslet hitch his breath from the contact. It has not been a full 5 minutes and his body is already shaking. "I have barely touched you and you are already this wet?" You tease him devilishly. His cock already leaking precum which was used as more lube to finger him. "It has been a while huh?"

Wriothesley let out a soft cry when one finger slid in easily. Then another finger which let out a few 'ahs!' and 'ohs!' from him. Then another. Three fingers in. Everything was going too quick but Wriothesley fucking loved it. "I-Is this all you got?" Wriothesley said through ragged breathing, oblivious of what was to come.

"Just you wait. I don't break promises," You begin thrusting your fingers deeper into his prostate. You could tell he was enjoying it when his inside clenched around your fingers eagerly. The feeling is so good that his hip starts moving slightly (due to the restraints) on his own, thrusting back to your fingers which intensifies the pleasure more. "Fuckk……..!!!!" Wriothesley moans loudly as your fingers massage his prostate.

His cock leaks more precum and you know he is about to reach his high so you pulled out your fingers abruptly. Wriothesley let out shocked gasps and whines from the loss. "W-what was that-?" His cries out of frustration from the edging but his voice is shaky from his lost incoming climax.

Then, he screams.

Wriotheslet screams as he could feel something railing into his ass. He didn't know what it was (because of the blindfold) but it was big. So fucking big. Only you know. Is a fuck toy machine. That was the object you have kept hidden from Wriothesley as a surprise. But he doesn't have to know. You grinned wickedly as his body convulse violently as the fuck toy goes deeper into him. It's only halfway through and he looks like he could passed out.

Wriothesley let out loud lewd moans and pleads. "Y/N-! Is too much…! Is too fucking big-AHHH FUCKKK…!!!!!!" The dildo is finally fully in. Wriothesley writhes and whimpers underneath you, trying to adjust to the humongous size of the fuck toy. His hard twitching cock spilled precum, dirtying the sheets and your pants. Wriothesley quivers against the ropes which is no help but heightens his sensitivity and pleasure. He is close to tears from how high the pleasure is. The stretch burns like hell but it feels so fucking good to be stuffed full.

His chest heaves up and down with deep breathing as he tries to calm himself down before losing himself. And here you are on top of him smirking like a devil you are. "That was just the start," you said cruelly before pressing the start button. The fuck toy machine starts thrusting him out at a much slower pace for the sake of his comfort. Wriothesley throws his head back, whining as he cries out of your name. His thighs are trembling at every thrust and his cock spasming violently.

You have noticed that Wriothesley has adjusted well to the humongous dildo and even thrust it back with his hips, letting out a soft cry and moans. Then, he reached his climax and came hard with a scream. His body convulse from how intense the orgasm is. Wriothesley tries to take a few deep breaths but realizes you did not stop the toy. Instead, you increase the volume of it.

"Oh, AAA-aArcHons-!! HNGHAAAAA……!!! P-please stop!!! Stop-" Wriothesley screams from overstimulation before he succumbs to another round of hard fucking from the toy. He just came and he could already feel the core of his stomach tightening again with burning passion. Oh fuck fuck fuck. He is going to come again after a few seconds earlier from cumming. The blindfold is already wet from his tears and he even drooling a bit, showing how he is losing control over his withered body. It's too much as he tries to run away from the pleasure but the ropes and your hands on hips keep him from running away.

His body convulses again as a thick rope of cum then spurts out, soiling his stomach and your abdomen. Eyes rolling back and jaw slack, Wriothesley screams from the euphoric shock. Looking at him, you can't help but bite your lips at how utterly destroyed and gorgeous Wriothesley is.

And oh how so sexy the sight before you. Wriothesley, the strict and hard-working Administrator all crumbled against your mercy and spread out for you while being tied up into a shibari beautifully. Much to Wriothesley's relief, you stop the fuck toy machine from fucking him anymore and lean in close to his face.

"You still conscious, my dearest?" You coo at him. Wriothesley whines when you crash into his lips passionately before letting out a shriek when you accidentally move the fuck toy that is still inside him. "Sorry sorry sorry," you apologize to him sweetly while taking off his blindfolds.

Wriothesley looks at you with teary eyes, wanting to hug but forgetting about the restraints. You smile sweetly at his attempt while caressing his tear-soaked cheeks before asking.

"Again?"

The night is long and you got to reward him more after all.

[white-wolf-buckaroo]

Where the Flowers Don't Grow - Epilogue

Word Count: 16.7k (she's a beast)

Warnings: This is pure emotion

Notes: Oh my this has been a ride! Thanks to everyone who's read this, it means the world to me really! Writing and sharing stories brings me so much joy, I dream with it being my job for real one day <3

This story may be coming to an end per se but this doesn't mean that there won't be any future bonus chapters because honestly, I love domestic family life fics so yeah, keep the ideas coming in, I'll be here!

Love you all!!! <3

Fic Masterlist

In the blink of an eye June was gone, July stepping in with longer, brighter and hotter days. Jackson thrived under the blue summer sky.

At Tommy and Maria’s house, the midday light filtered in soft through the kitchen windows, golden and warm, painting the floorboards in long, bright strips. It was hot out — thick July air humming with bugs and garden scent — but the inside of the house stayed cool, thanks to open windows and a little cross-breeze from the back porch.

Faith kicked off her shoes by the front door out of habit, the basket in her hands still a bit heavy with tomatoes, basil, a few green peppers, and one proud cucumber that had grown long and crooked. Barely over a month after giving birth, Maria insisted she didn’t need anything — ‘I’m not an invalid,’ she’d said, swatting Tommy’s hand away the last time he tried to carry her glass — but Faith brought the produce anyway.

Because Maria had a newborn. And because Faith loved that newborn.

“God, he’s huge now,” Faith murmured, half-laughing as she took a seat in the armchair across from the couch.

Maria smiled tiredly but proudly, adjusting the baby blanket covering Benji where he nursed against her chest. “Right? Tommy keeps saying he’s gonna be crawling by next week. He won’t,” she added, dry, “but he still thinks he will.”

Faith curled both hands around the glass Maria had handed her — fresh cool tea, steeped from little jars of dried leaves they kept above the sink. She sipped slowly, savouring the warmth and the quiet, and looked at the baby again.

He was perfect. Round face, pink mouth working sleepily, little hand curled tight against Maria’s shirt. His head was all fuzzy dark hair, he had soft squishy arms and legs and he smelled like some impossibly good mix of milk and laundry and that scent only newborns had. Faith’s chest squeezed a little every time she looked at him.

He reminded her of Dahlia — not in how he looked, but in how small, how strange and delicate and soft and wonderful he was. Faith remembered watching her baby sister breathe in her sleep when she was only a few weeks old, completely amazed by how such a tiny thing could already mean so much to her.

That was probably why Joel had cried the first time he held Benji.

He hadn’t expected to — had even joked about Tommy being able to handle something so small, but the moment Maria had placed Benji into his arms, he’d gone completely still. Eyes wet. Silent for longer than anyone was used to.

Then, when he’d passed the baby to Ellie, she’d gone so stiff it had made everyone laugh. Held Benji like he was a live grenade, her expression caught somewhere between awe and I don’t want to break this.

“Don’t drop him,” Joel had muttered helpfully.

“Shut up.”

It was a good memory now. One of those soft ones that stuck around like honey in the sweetest way.

Faith looked at Benji again. He’d dozed off now, cheek pressed to Maria’s collarbone, breathing steady. “I think he’s gonna have your nose,” she said quietly.

Maria looked down, brushing a hand over the baby’s back. “He’s got Tommy’s attitude already,” she said, smiling. “Doesn’t sleep unless he’s being held. Screams if you try to lay him down. Stubborn as hell.”

Faith grinned. “Sounds like a Miller.”

They lapsed into an easy silence. The tea was still cool. The baby’s tiny breaths were rhythmic, almost soothing.

Then Maria said, casually, “It’s your birthday in a few days, right?”

Faith blinked, caught off guard, and nodded.

“Seventeenth?” Maria added. “That’s what Joel said, anyway.”

“Yeah,” Faith said after a moment. “Yeah. In three days, the twentieth.”

Maria raised an eyebrow, smiling. “You excited?”

Faith didn’t answer right away. She hadn’t really celebrated her birthday since… Well. Since before. When her parents were still alive. When a parent wishing her a happy birthday and a hug had meant everything.

“I think I am,” she said eventually. “Haven’t been, for a long time. But this year… I am.”

She’d turned sixteen barely a few weeks before meeting Joel and Ellie. She hadn’t celebrated then, of course – although she had saved a chocolate granola bar for the day, half melted in her backpack, but still edible – and now she was here. Back to something where birthday cakes and gifts and birthday breakfast and birthday cards were a thing, with people who cared and wanted to celebrate her.

It truly felt like a dream.

Maria didn’t press, just nodded knowingly. “That’s good to hear.”

Faith smiled again, a little softer this time.

Maria tipped her head toward her, the baby dozing quietly now against her shoulder. “You got anything in mind? Something you want to do to celebrate?”

Faith leaned back in the armchair, fingers wrapped around her glass, cool against her palms. “I dunno. I mean… I hope there’s cake at least,” she said, with a little laugh.

Maria snorted. “That’s a given.”

“I’m serious,” Faith grinned. “The one Joel got for Ellie’s birthday? From Seth? It was freakin’ delicious. I think I had three slices. And then Ellie threatened to stab me with her fork if I touched the last piece.”

That made Maria laugh too — a tired but warm laugh, the kind that seemed to come easier these days, even with all the sleepless nights. Faith sipped more tea, her smile lingering as she looked down at the rim of the glass.

And maybe — maybe they’d get her something, too. Joel and Ellie. Not that she expected it, not really. But she thought about the way Joel had surprised Ellie with that guitar — how carefully he’d fixed it up, the weight of that gift not just in the instrument but in everything it meant.

So Faith wondered — would they think of her like that, too? Would Joel? Would Ellie? Would there be something small, wrapped in cloth, or scribbled on a card, or even just words said that would stay with her?

Before she could linger too long in the thought, Benji let out a soft, breathy squawk of protest. His tiny face scrunched up, his legs giving a sleepy little kick.

“Alright, alright,” Maria murmured, shifting him carefully in her arms. “Fussbucket’s ready for his crib.”

Faith watched her rise slowly, adjusting the baby and the blanket with practiced hands. She could see it clearly then — Maria’s patience, her strength, the fierce gentleness that made her a good leader and a good mother. The kind of mother who had lost something precious and still chose to give her heart again, fully, without holding back.

Maria paused at the base of the stairs, turning back toward her. “If he wakes up again in five minutes, I’m calling you to rock him this time. My arms are starting to feel like jelly.”

Faith giggled. “Me? He’s obsessed with you, can’t compete with his Mama.”

Maria rolled her eyes but was smiling, and then she disappeared up the stairs.

Left alone in the quiet, Faith stood and gathered a couple of empty mugs from the coffee table. She tidied automatically — smoothing the blanket draped over the couch, picking up a stray burp cloth, setting a half-read book back onto the side table. Her eyes scanned the room fondly. It felt lived-in. Chaotic, but full of warmth and new beginnings.

She stepped toward the fireplace, a little ceramic horse in her hand — one of the shelf figurines that always seemed to wander. She placed it back on the mantle.

And then she saw it again.

The small chalkboard resting just above the fireplace, the writing on it in neat white chalk: Tommy’s memorial for Kevin, Maria’s first son, and Sarah, Tommy’s niece and Joel’s daughter, with dates etched beneath the names. Birthdays. Death days.

Faith’s eyes caught on Sarah’s, moving away mindlessly for a second, but then freezing in place.

July 20th.

The same as hers.

The breath caught in her chest. A cold thread worked its way down her spine.

Oh.

Oh shit.

Her fingers curled slightly, a chill settling where warmth had been.

She thought about the cake. About Joel maybe wrapping something up for her, about Ellie scribbling a card or making her laugh on purpose. She thought about celebrating — smiling, laughing, feeling special.

And then she thought about Joel waking up that day, knowing it was his daughter’s birthday.

Sarah’s.

The daughter he’d lost. The daughter he’d loved more than anything. Gone. The one he missed just like Faith missed her sister and her parents, something that would never leave her, that had become… a part of her. A pain that still lived behind his eyes, sometimes close to the surface, sometimes buried but never far.

Faith looked away from the board, blinking fast. Her throat was tight.

She hadn’t realized it. And now she felt selfish for thinking about cake and gifts from someone who she thought of like… like someone that he wasn’t, on one of the days in the year he would be remembering his daughter the most.

When Faith slipped back into her shoes, she heard Maria’s footsteps coming down the stairs just as she reached for the door.

“Faith?” Maria called.

Faith turned just enough to see her standing by the banister, Benji left upstairs successfully.

“I was just heading out,” Faith said, her hand already on the doorframe. “Wanted to let you rest while the baby sleeps. I cleaned up the living room a bit for you, hope you don’t mind.”

Maria blinked at her, the faintest flicker of guilt crossing her face. “You didn’t have to—”

“I wanted to.” A small shrug, a sincere smile. “Gotta go now. Bye!”

Before Maria could say anything else—even a thank you—Faith gave a quick nod and stepped outside. The air hit her like a thick blanket: heavy with heat, buzzing faintly with the sound of cicadas. She squinted up at the deep blue coloured sky, then started the walk home with her hands in her pockets and her thoughts trailing behind her like loose threads.

By the time she reached their house, her shirt clung slightly to her back, and the dust from the road had settled around the cuffs of her jeans. She didn’t go inside. Instead, she rounded the back, shoes crunching quietly against the earth, and walked straight into the garden.

The garden wasn’t much to look at, not by anyone else’s standards. They had set up some chairs and a table in a corner of the yard, and the rest was a modest patch of grass with a low fence Joel had fixed up in late spring when they’d first moved in.

Faith had claimed the garden for herself, neither Ellie or Joel stopping her. It had started as a distraction. A way to keep her hands busy. But it had become something else entirely.

She stepped through the gate, letting it creak softly behind her, and looked over the rows of flowers with a kind of reverence. Some of them were thriving now — small, delicate blooms nodding in the heat. Others struggled, stalks too thin, petals browning at the edges. But she kept them all. Even the ones that didn’t make it felt like they mattered.

Faith crouched beside one of the beds and ran her fingers over the smooth stones tucked beside the roots. Each one had a name written carefully in black ink and her handwriting. Her mom. Her dad. Dahlia.

Her hand paused on the smallest stone — Sam — and then beside it, Henry. Further back, nestled near a creeping violet plant, was the name Eldestein. The doctor who’d kept them hidden in Kansas City. Who had died keeping the secret of where Henry, Sam and her were, to protect them.

Faith let out a slow breath. She reached up to adjust the clip holding her hair back from her face, then dug into the dirt with bare hands, tugging gently at a stubborn weed near her mother’s name. It was always the same when she came out here: something in her chest loosening, even as the ache pressed in deeper.

She didn’t talk to the stones, she thought that would be ridiculous. But she thought of them, with them, imagining what the people she mourned here would say. And today, her thoughts kept drifting to the ones who weren’t written in stone — not here, anyway.

Sarah.

She’d never met her, obviously. Couldn’t have. Sarah had died before Faith was even born. But there was still this hollow shape in the air whenever her name was said, like the space she’d left behind had never quite healed. And Faith had seen it — in the way Joel went quiet sometimes, or in how he spoke about certain things with a weight behind his voice. It was in the way his eyes lingered on kids, just for a second longer than most. How he and Tommy shared a silence after bringing her up, now with Benji there, too. It the way he talked about her, always proud, always nostalgic.

Sarah had been his whole world once. She still was, would always be. But now, after everything… Joel had somehow become Faith’s. Hers and Ellie’s.

Faith exhaled, pressing a hand to the earth to steady herself. It felt strange, loving someone you knew had been shaped by grief. Not knowing what was really okay to feel or say without overstepping anyone’s shadow. But she wouldn’t change it. She couldn’t. Joel had found her and Ellie — chosen them, as they had chosen him — and when she let herself really think about it, it undid her in quiet, invisible ways.

She reached over to tug a stubborn bloom upright, its stalk bent sideways in the heat. “It’s okay,” she murmured, not really to the flower. “You’re doing your best.”

She stayed like that for a while, hands in the dirt, sweat prickling at her neck, thinking about the people she loved and the ones she’d lost, and the strange, overlapping way those things always seemed to go together.

Faith didn’t realize how long she’d been in the garden until the sun had dropped low enough to cast the whole yard in warm, amber light. The air had shifted too — still hot, but softer now, like the world was exhaling. She sat back on her heels, brushing a streak of dirt from her forearm. A streak of soil clung to the hem of her jeans, and a smear of sweat-darkened hair had escaped from the clip and stuck to her cheek.

She wasn’t done — not really. But she’d stopped moving. Just sitting there in the garden, surrounded by blooms she had coaxed into life, and names that would never speak again. There was comfort in it. Something steady.

She didn’t hear the front door creak open, didn’t hear the familiar rhythm of Joel’s boots or Ellie’s quicker footfalls. Only when Joel’s voice called gently through the screen door did she stir.

“Faith? You out there? Come wash up, dinner’s ready!”

She blinked, startled by how far the sun had fallen. The sky was beginning to blush with evening, cicadas giving way to crickets. Faith pushed herself up with stiff knees, dusting her hands on her jeans.

“Coming!” she called back, her voice catching a little on the word.

By the time she stepped into the kitchen, Joel had already set the table and Ellie was mid-ramble, animatedly recounting something that had happened earlier at the stables, which extended during actual dinner:

“So then Dina turns around too fast, right?” Ellie grinned, spearing a bite of food with her fork. “Doesn’t see the bucket. Whole foot disappears into it — trips, flails like one of those inflatable arm guys, and splat. Lands right in it, butt-first. Water everywhere.”

Joel snorted into his glass, and even Faith let out a breath of laughter, shaking her head.

“She okay?” she asked.

“Pride? Ruined. Pants? Soaked. Me? Laughing so hard I nearly pissed myself.”

Faith smiled — she really did — but it didn’t quite reach her eyes, and she ducked her head quickly after, poking at the beans on her plate with her fork. Joel glanced her way, catching the shift.

“Hey,” he said quietly, nudging her foot under the table. “You alright?”

She looked up too quickly. “Yeah,” she said, too fast. Then softened it. “Just tired. Long day.”

Joel didn’t press. Just gave a small, thoughtful nod and let Ellie’s story fill the space again.

Later, after dinner, the sky had gone deep blue, the crickets loud now and a breeze finally stirring through the trees. Joel leaned against the kitchen doorway, watching Faith at the sink. She’d tied her hair higher to keep it out of her face again, her eyebrows twitching from now and then as she thought too hard, yet not saying a word.

“You sure you’re alright, kiddo?” he asked gently.

She glanced over her shoulder, half a smile tugging at her mouth. “Yeah.”

He didn’t move, just nodded like he was giving her time to change her mind.

“I mean it,” she added, quieter. “I’m okay.”

Joel dipped his chin slightly. “Alright.”

He didn’t press. Just lingered there a moment longer, then walked closer to her grabbing a kitchen towel. “I’ll dry.” He said, reaching for a glass.

“You don’t have to,” she said, rinsing the last plate. “I got it.”

“It’s okay,” he shrugged, getting to work. “I wanna help you.”

They didn’t have to say anything. He didn’t need her to. Whatever she was thinking about… he trusted her enough by now to come to him when she needed him. She always did, in the end.

Faith made a decision: in a few days it would be her birthday — but she didn’t plan to make much of it. Maybe she’d spend some time in the garden, maybe she would let Ellie drag her along to see the horses or play cards on the porch. It’d be a nice day, and that was more than enough for her. Quiet, simple, nothing that might feel wrong or too bright on a day that wasn’t just hers to claim. Because more than anything, she was grateful. For Joel. For Ellie. For this life she’d stumbled into. And that was already more than she’d ever hoped for.

(…)

Joel had been planning Faith’s birthday for weeks.

After nailing it at Ellie’s fifteenth — not that he’d say it himself, but hell, the girls had — he wanted to make Faith’s seventeenth just as special. Just as right. It was her first birthday with him and Ellie too, whether she liked fuss made over her or not.

About a week after Ellie’s birthday, Faith had started her garden project. Joel had watched from the backdoor one afternoon as she knelt in the dirt with her hair twisted up in that little clip, scratching out rows with careful hands. Later, he’d found the stones she’d painted with names. Her family. Henry and Sam. That doctor in Kansas City whose name Joel hadn’t known until he saw it written there.

That was when the idea had landed. Not a guitar – he’d still get one for her if she wanted her own – but maybe something close to it in weight. Something living, delicate, made for memory.

A flower. And not just any kind.

He borrowed one of Faith’s drawings — a white dahlia, sketched in soft pencil with such care it looked like you could pluck it right off the page — and went to the only place he could think of where he might get the help he needed: the greenhouses.

More specifically, Owen.

He’d seen the boy around Faith plenty. The way they laughed when they worked together, heads bent close over seedlings or compost piles, the way Owen lingered by the door if she was talking to someone else, just to catch her on her way out, the way he found her at parties, two cups of cider in hand, always hoping she’d take one… It was obvious enough — Owen had a thing for his girl.

Joel wasn’t sure he liked it, exactly, much to Tommy’s amusement. But after getting over the initial reluctance, he’d grown to… accept it. Because he’d also seen how Owen looked at Faith’s smile, not her waist. How careful he was when he passed her tools, how he listened when she spoke, how he watched her walk away like he was already counting the minutes until she came back.

So Joel had swallowed his own wary instincts and tracked Owen down, handing over Faith’s drawing. “Think you could help me find one of these?” he’d gruffed out, pretending not to notice the way the kid’s eyes had widened in awe at her art, how his thumbs smoothed the paper like it was precious. “Or grow it. Her birthday’s coming up. Figured it might mean somethin’ to her.”

Owen had lit up right then — it’d been damn near embarrassing, how fast the boy promised he’d try. That he’d do everything he could. That he’d start right away.

And he had. For weeks now, Joel had been checking in, quietly, usually under some excuse about the weather or potatoes or whether the fence needed reinforcing. But always, underneath, there was that breathless hope. That he’d find what he needed. Which, he did.

Now, two days before Faith’s birthday, Joel stopped by the stables with a sandwich wrapped in brown paper for Ellie and one for Dina — earning a big grin and an even bigger hug from Ellie — then scratched Shimmer’s forehead until the horse snorted happily. He made himself keep it casual when he left them, nodding off Ellie’s suspicious squint.

“Where you headed?” she called after him, wiping mustard off her cheek with the back of her hand.

“Greenhouses,” Joel answered simply, not turning. “Tommy said they’re short on compost buckets.”

Ellie narrowed her eyes, unconvinced. “You hate compost duty.”

Joel just waved a hand over his shoulder. “Not the worst thing I’ve done.”

What he didn’t say — what he didn’t need her figuring out — was that he’d picked this morning for a reason. Faith was helping out at the town’s school at a summer camp – or something close to that, adapted to their community – which meant she’d be away from here for the next couple hours at least. It was one of the rare times she wasn’t up at the greenhouses — she practically lived there these days — so Joel knew this was his shot. No risk of running into her. No questions. No chance she’d see what he was planning.

He ducked inside the nearest tent, warm air wrapping around him thick and green and alive. Owen was at the far table, elbow-deep in soil, carefully shifting seedlings into clean pots. Joel cleared his throat, and the boy glanced up, blinking, standing straighter once he spotted him. “Mr. Miller!”

Joel rolled his eyes. “I told you to drop that weeks ago.”

“Right, sorry — Joel.” Owen wiped his hands on his apron, clearly nervous around him. “Everything alright?”

He nodded. “Got a minute? It’s about… you know.”

Owen nearly dropped the crate. “Oh! Yeah — yeah, course.”

They stepped between rows of tomato plants, the warm, damp air heavy with green. It smelled like wet leaves and soil — exactly the kind of place Faith would lose herself in for hours.

“How’s it lookin’?” Joel asked lowly.

Owen’s eyes brightened right away. “It’s coming along great. Nearly bloomed, actually. I was thinking I could bring it by your house by tomorrow afternoon, if that’s okay. Come see!”

He led Joel to a back corner of the greenhouse, where sunlight filtered through the panelled glass in stripes. Tucked between tall pots of lemon balm and salvia sat a single clay planter, and in it, a pale, almost-translucent dahlia. The bloom hadn’t fully opened yet, but the outer petals had begun to curl outward, white and soft as cotton.

Joel let out a slow breath.

“It’s growing well. Starting to look just like the drawing you gave me for reference.” Owen ducked his head, his cheeks reddening slightly. “That drawing she did — the white dahlia — it’s beautiful. I mean, she’s… she’s really good.”

Joel pretended not to notice the flush creeping up the kid’s neck. “Yeah. She is.”

“It’ll fully bloom in a few more days,” Owen said, crouching beside it like he was showing off something sacred. “It’s taken root well, and it’s definitely gonna open. Might hit right on the day.”

Joel nodded, crouching too. “You sure?”

“I’d bet on it.” Owen glanced up, grinning. “You were right to get an early start — it was hard to get one. Took some convincing to an old lady in town that has this huge flower bed, she’s kind of territorial about it, won’t even let her own kids around it… But I promised to give her the first watermelon we grew, so… yeah.”

Owen rubbed the back of his neck, realizing he’d started to ramble, and he mumbled a small: “Worth it though.”

Joel gave a low grunt that was somewhere between amused and approving. “Just don’t let her find it before her birthday.”

“No sir— I mean, Joel. Right. Joel.”

Joel stood again with a quiet crack of his knees, looking down at the nearly bloomed dahlia. “Tomorrow afternoon then. I’ll make sure Faith’s not home. And remember — keep it quiet.”

“Yeah. Of course. Wouldn’t ruin the surprise for anything.” Owen cleared his throat. “Um… thanks, by the way. For trusting me with it.”

Joel looked at him a long moment. This awkward kid with dirt under his fingernails, who clearly had it bad for Faith — hell, Joel had seen them talking at the town bonfire, laughing in that soft, shy way.

It didn’t exactly ease his fatherly instincts, but he couldn’t say it raised any alarms either.

“Just keep takin’ care of it,” Joel said at last. “Good job, kid.”

Owen’s eyes went a little wide, then he swallowed. “Thanks, sir.”

Joel didn’t bother with correcting him this time, and clapped him once on the shoulder — which nearly knocked the boy sideways — then headed out of the greenhouse, leaving Owen standing there red-faced and blinking.

Once Joel’s footsteps faded, Owen crouched down by the dahlia again, gently brushing some soil away from the base. His chest still felt a little tight, half from nerves, half from the silly hope that Faith might actually like this. Might smile because of him — well, because of Joel mostly, but maybe him too.

He stayed there fussing with the soil, checking the moisture, pinching a couple smaller leaves. Lost in it, really, until—

“What’s up, buttercup?”

Owen yelped. Actually yelped. A short, strangled noise that squeaked embarrassingly high, and he jerked backward so hard he landed right on his ass in the dirt.

Caleb stood a few feet away, doubled over laughing. “Oh shit— your face!”

“Jesus, Caleb!” Owen pressed a hand over his racing heart. “I’m gonna die at eighteen because of you.”

“Oh man,” Caleb wheezed, wiping tears from his eyes. “Who would think you could scream like a soprano with those built-up arms and chocolate mane of yours? Fuckin’ hell, Owen, you got us all fooled.”

Owen glared, cheeks burning hotter than ever. “I do not scream like a soprano.”

“Oh no, you’re right,” Caleb shot back, voice climbing into a ridiculously high falsetto. “Sounded more like a tiny startled hedgehog.”

“Asshole,” Owen muttered, letting Caleb pull him to his feet. He dusted himself off, trying to salvage his dignity… or what was left of it.

That was precisely when Annie wandered in, pushing a cart stacked with trays of seedlings. “What’d I miss?”

“Owen here just discovered a new vocal register,” Caleb crowed. “Somewhere between a startled goat and a squeaky toy.”

Annie snorted. “Well, you always were full of surprises.”

“Glad to be your entertainment,” Owen grumbled.

Annie parked the cart and leaned her elbows on the handle, eyes dancing. “Hey, speaking of surprises — what was Joel Miller doing here again? That’s, what, the third time this month? He hardly ever comes by unless Faith’s around.”

Caleb perked up, smirking. “Yeah, I saw him here last week too. And the week before, come to think of it. Looks like he’s making quite the habit.”

Owen froze for a beat, then sighed, scratching the back of his neck. “Alright, fine. Come here. But you’ve gotta keep it a secret.”

They followed him to the back corner, curiosity practically buzzing off them. Owen crouched beside the dahlia, gently turning the pot to catch the better light. The nearly bloomed flower seemed to glow against the darker soil.

“Holy shit,” Caleb breathed. “That’s… actually kinda beautiful.”

“It is beautiful,” Annie agreed, eyes wide. “What is it — some kind of fancy daisy?”

Owen rolled his eyes. “It’s a white dahlia. And it’s for Faith. Joel asked me to help him grow it for her birthday.”

“Oh my god,” Annie squealed immediately, slapping Caleb’s arm. “He’s helping her dad with her birthday present. That’s so disgustingly sweet I might puke.”

Caleb was already grinning like a jackal. “Oh-ho-ho. So that’s why the old man’s been lurking around. Owen, you dog. Trying to get in good with the father first, huh? Classic move.”

“What? No — it’s not like that,” Owen spluttered, going bright red all over again. “He just asked me ‘cause I know plants, alright?”

“Sure,” Caleb drawled. “Just because you’re the local flower genius. Has nothing to do with the fact that you’re head over heels for his daughter.”

Owen groaned, covering his face with his hands. “Kill me. Right here. Just bury me in the compost.”

“Can’t,” Annie said sweetly, patting his shoulder. “We need you alive so we can keep teasing you mercilessly. This is gold.”

Caleb snickered, then mimicked Joel’s gravelly voice horribly. “Good job, kid. Just keep takin’ care of it. And by it I mean my daughter’s heart.’”

Annie giggled so hard she nearly tipped the cart. “You’re awful.”

Owen dropped his hands with a tortured look. “You two are the worst people I know.”

“Yeah, but we’re your worst people,” Annie shot back, looping her arm through his. “And hey — for what it’s worth? She’s gonna love it.”

Owen exhaled, a tiny, hopeful smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah… I really hope so.”

Then Caleb slung an arm around his shoulders, steering them back toward the main tables. “Come on, Romeo. We’ve got trays to finish, and then you can write more love sonnets to your flower girl.”

“Shut up,” Owen muttered, but he was laughing too, warmth blooming in his chest that had nothing to do with the sunlit greenhouse.

(…)

When Owen stood in front of the Millers’ house the next afternoon, though, his heart thundered against his ribs so hard he was sure the flower might feel it through the pot. The dahlia rested in his hands, delicate white petals almost unfurled in full, practically glowing against the rich green leaves. His palms were sweaty around the clay, and he tried wiping one on his jeans — nearly tipped the whole thing sideways.

“Shit—” He righted it just in time, then blew out a shaky breath.

Alright. Just a flower. Just a birthday surprise. Just… Faith.

He swallowed hard, forcing his feet up the walkway. The porch boards creaked under his boots. He knocked carefully, knuckles rapping against the wood.

It took about a minute — long enough for him to second-guess everything— before the door finally swung open.

But it wasn’t Joel standing there.

It was Ellie, hair pulled up messily as always, short sleeves leaving the burn mark she’d gotten a month ago uncovered. It was healing nicely, leaving a few ugly scars, but nothing she couldn’t handle. She paused when she saw him, then broke into a wide, amused grin.

“Well, well, well,” she drawled, leaning her shoulder against the doorframe. “Look what the cat dragged in.”

Owen blinked. “Oh. Uh— hey, Ellie. I, um… I thought Joel would be here. He was supposed to – ”

She raised an eyebrow, cutting off his ramble with a pointed look at the flower pot. “So you’re the delivery boy, huh?”

Heat crawled right up Owen’s neck to the tips of his ears. “It’s for Faith. Joel, he…  He asked me to help with it. For her birthday.” He cleared his throat, fumbling to hold the pot steady. “I mean. You probably knew that.”

Ellie’s smirk softened into something that was almost — almost — kind. “Yeah. I knew. Joel mentioned he’d recruited you. Didn’t think you’d be the one bringing it over, though. Figured you’d be too chicken to show your face.”

Owen let out a weak laugh, because, well… she wasn’t wrong. “Thought he’d be here to, I dunno, take it inside.”

Ellie snorted, pushing the door open wider. “Yeah, well, he would be — except he took Faith out for a while. Didn’t want her here when you brought that over. Would ruin the surprise and all.”

Owen blinked. “Oh. Right. Makes sense.”

Ellie grinned, remembering that morning when she’d been alone in the kitchen with Joel while Faith was upstairs showering. He’d been rummaging through the cabinet for coffee filters, muttering under his breath, when she’d casually leaned against the counter and said, “So… you really trust farm boy to come through with your master plan, huh?”

Joel shot her a dry look over his shoulder. “Ain’t a master plan. Just want it to be nice for her.”

Ellie snickered. “Sure. But just, imagine for a sec the look on Owen’s face when he shows up? Worth it. Bet you something guy’s gonna be shaking so bad he’ll probably drop the flower on the porch.”

“Don’t say shit like that,” Joel grumbled, though there was a ghost of a smile under his beard. “Boy’s nervous enough. Probably already thinks I’m gonna bury him behind the garage if I catch him glancing at Faith again.”

Ellie burst out laughing. “Aren’t you?”

Joel paused, hands on his hips, then let out a quiet huff. “Not unless he gives me a reason to.” He scratched at his jaw. “But… he’s a good kid. Got more spine than I figured at first.”

That made Ellie snort. “Wow. High praise. Gonna give him a gold star later?”

Joel rolled his eyes, but his mouth twitched. “Hell no. Just gonna keep watchin’. And if he ever does hurt her… then I’ll show him exactly how deep I can dig.”

Ellie barked out a laugh so loud it probably echoed up the stairs. “Jesus, man. Remind me never to date anyone in this town.”

“Don’t gotta remind me,” Joel shot back. “Ain’t nobody good enough for you either. Would also be a damn miracle for you to find someone who can actually put up with you.”

Ellie just snorted again, shaking her head — but she couldn’t deny the stupid grin on her face as he poured himself coffee.

Now, standing in the doorway with Owen shifting from foot to foot, she had to bite her lip to keep from laughing all over again. The poor kid had no clue how thoroughly he’d already been measured up — and grudgingly approved — by the most overprotective man in Jackson.

Ellie stepped back, sweeping her arm out with exaggerated flourish. “Well, don’t just stand there sweating on the porch. Come in before you kill the flower with your death grip.”

Owen mumbled a thanks and stepped inside, carefully cradling the pot like it might explode. The door shut behind them with a soft click, and Ellie immediately started down the hall.

“Where, uh— where’d Joel take Faith?” Owen tried for casual, but it came out strangled somewhere between a croak and a squeak.

Ellie shot him a sideways look that screamed really? “Relax, lover boy. They’re just over at Tommy’s place. They went to see the baby.” She smirked. “They won’t be back for a while, wants to make sure to surprise her tomorrow.”

Owen cleared his throat. “Yeah, he, uh… he mentioned that.”

She led him through the kitchen, where he saw a a cake stand on the counter, which he imagined they’d gotten from Seth's – it looked like a chocolate cake – and then out the back door into the garden, which was green and bright and covered in flowers under the afternoon sun. A wide clay pot waited on the ground, half-filled with rich soil, a little hand shovel sticking out the side.

“Joel figured we’d transplant it so Faith can decide where she wants to put it later,” Ellie said. Then her grin turned downright devilish. “Assuming you can do that? Or is your skillset limited to growing tomatoes? Because you look like one right now.”

“Ha ha,” Owen deadpanned, but his lips twitched despite himself. He knelt down beside the pot and started loosening the soil around the dahlia’s roots. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“Oh, you know me. Always here to help boost fragile male egos.” Ellie crouched opposite him, chin in her hand, watching like a cat about to pounce. “So tell me, farm boy… you practice your speech in the mirror? The one where you tell Faith how much you like her? And her smile? And the way she—”

Owen flushed bright red. “That’s not – I haven’t practiced anything in the mirror.”

He did made sure to not look too bad before leaving every morning, though. His hair in place, his clothes clean without any stains… Just in case he’d see Faith at the food hall or in the street before getting to work.

Ellie caught that tiny slip, her grin turning sly. “Uh huh. Sure. Not fooling anybody, you know.”

He shot her a wry look, tamping down the soil around the dahlia. “Gee, that’s sweet. Warms my heart.”

“Hey, what can I say?” Ellie leaned back on her heels, smug as ever. “I’m a people person.”

And despite everything — the sweaty palms, the hammering pulse in his throat — Owen found himself laughing.

Ellie tilted her head, studying him a little more seriously for once. Then, like it physically pained her, she muttered, “Look… for what it’s worth, I think you’re a good guy, Owen. Just—” She paused, jabbing a finger at him with mock severity. “Treat my sister right, okay? Or Joel’ll kill you. And I’ll help.”

Owen nodded, smothering a grin, trying to show he was taking it serious, because he absolutely was. He also just thought it was sweet how deeply Ellie and Joel cared for Faith. “Never planning on hurting her. I promise, scout’s honour.”

“There aren’t any scouts anymore,” Ellie rolled her eyes but her lips twitched. “But close enough. She’s kinda my family now, so… don’t fuck it up.”

“Yeah,” he said, quieter, feeling that nervous excitement bloom all over again. “I won’t.”

(…)

“Y’know, for someone who acts like he’s made outta splinters and barbed wire,” Tommy drawled from across the counter, “he’s got a pretty gentle touch.”

Joel shot him a dark look, but there was no real heat to it. If anything, he only held the baby a little closer, shifting side to side in a slow, absent sway, smiling at the baby’s coos.

The afternoon sun slanted through Tommy and Maria’s kitchen window, warm and soft on the table where Faith sat with her hands curled around a mug. The tea had long since gone lukewarm, but she held it anyway, elbows tucked close, eyes fixed on the far side of the room.

Joel stood there with Benji cradled in his arms — like he was still half-afraid he’d break something by breathing too hard. Except he didn’t look scared exactly. More like… amazed. Reverent, even. His thumb moved in gentle circles over the tiny blanket-wrapped bundle, and Faith’s heart twisted in a way she couldn’t quite name.

Faith couldn’t help it. Her throat burned, eyes stinging all of a sudden. She turned her face down to her mug, pressing her lip hard against the rim.

It was so stupid. It was just a baby, Tommy’s kid. It was just Joel. And tomorrow — tomorrow was supposed to be her day. Her seventeenth birthday. Except it wasn’t only hers, it was Sarah’s too. Always would be.

She tried to imagine Sarah here. Tried to picture what she might’ve looked like with what both Joel and Tommy had told her about the girl. She’d be thirty-five tomorrow. The math made her flip, realizing how old Joel actually was, though he didn’t seem old enough to be a dad to a grown adult woman. But he was. Or had been. Or rather, would be.

It was complicated.

And she’d been complicating it in her mind for the past two days even more, giving her a headache and a hollow pain behind her ribs.

Joel’s voice broke through her thoughts, rough but careful. “Hey.”

She blinked up. He was standing in front of her now, the baby settled snugly against his chest, one broad hand braced protectively over the tiny back.

“You alright, kiddo?” he asked, softer.

He’d noticed, of course. That something had been on her mind lately. He didn’t press, but still he asked her each day if she was alright. And she always gave him the same answer, not wanting to worry him.

“Yeah,” she smiled with practiced ease. “I’m okay.”

Joel’s eyes tightened at the corners. For a second he didn’t say anything, just shifted the baby slightly and reached out to curl his free hand around the back of her head. His thumb brushed behind her ear, warm and steady.

“You sure?” he asked. “You’ve been kind of… off, the past few days.” he mentioned, trying to at least get a glimpse through any small crack there might be to know what was happening. “Everything alright with Ellie? At the greenhouses?”

“It’s all good, really,” she insisted quickly.

“Are you nervous, then?”

“Nervous?” she frowned. “About what?”

“Well, tomorrow’s your birthday!” said Tommy now, grinning. “Seventeen, gosh. Still remember that one —felt like I had the whole damn world in my hands.”

Joel let out a low snort, shifting Benji carefully so the baby’s head rested against his shoulder. “That’s not how I remember your seventeenth.”

Tommy narrowed his eyes, playful suspicion all over his face. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

Joel’s mouth twitched. “Means you spent half that year pouting over that girl — what was her name? — who dumped you for that drummer. You wouldn’t come outta your room for a week. Thought you were fucking sick, turns out it was pouting and listenin’ to New Kids On The Block on a loop for the whole damn weekend.”

Faith snorted into her tea so fast she nearly choked. The small, surprised laugh burst out of her before she could stop it, and Tommy shot her an exaggeratedly wounded look.

“Oh c’mon, don’t take his side!” Tommy protested, but there was a grin sneaking through. “That was a real heartbreak, not pouting. Big difference.”

“Sure,” Joel drawled, eyes sparkling with dry amusement. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Benji let out a soft little sigh and settled deeper against Joel’s chest. The sight made something tender unfurl in Faith’s chest again — but not so sharply as before.

She hugged her mug closer, still smiling faintly. “Guess being seventeen’s not so glamorous after all,” she shrugged, a small teasing smile directed at Tommy.

“Hey, it’s not like that. I was pretty glamorous. Just… dramatically tragic at the same time.” He winked. “You’ll see.”

Joel rolled his eyes, but his hand came to rest lightly on the back of Faith’s chair. “Ignore him. And don’t let him scare you either. Tomorrow’s about you, alright? You should enjoy it.”

Faith’s smile faltered just a fraction, her eyes dropping to the swirl of tea in her cup.

He meant it — she could hear that in his voice. But the weight behind her ribs only grew heavier. Because it wasn’t just about her.

“Yeah,” she said after a moment, forcing her voice bright again. “I know.”

Joel’s thumb tapped lightly against the back of her chair. He was watching her, she could tell even without looking up. Probably still trying to figure out what was rattling around in her head.

But he didn’t push. Didn’t call her out. Just stayed close, moving his hand from the chair to rest now on her shoulder, the other holding Tommy’s baby close.

They left a while later, walking down Rancher Street back to their house, mostly in silence. Joel pushed the door open, holding it so Faith could slip inside ahead of him. The house was cool and dim compared to the late afternoon sun, shadows stretching long across the floorboards. For a second, Faith just stood there in the entryway, hands twisting together. Then she gave him a thin smile.

“I think I’m gonna… go lie down for a bit,” she said, already backing toward the stairs. “Kinda got a headache.”

Joel’s brow furrowed. “You need anything? Tea, some water—?”

“No, I’m good. Just need to close my eyes for a while.” Her voice was quick, almost brittle. Before he could say more, she was halfway up the steps, leaving only the faint creak of the old wood behind her.

Joel stood there a moment longer, rubbing a hand over his jaw. He hated this feeling — knowing something was eating at her and not being able to pry it loose. Not yet, anyway.

With a low sigh, he made his way into the kitchen, figuring he’d get an early start on dinner. That’s when he spotted the scrap of paper on the counter, Ellie’s scrawl unmistakable.

Delivery boy brought the package. It’s been safely brought up to your room (You’re welcome.) I’m out with Dina + Jesse, back for dinner. Try not to be too boring without me. — E.

Joel huffed out a breath that was half a laugh. “Package,” huh. He could only imagine how Owen had looked trying to pull that off when Ellie opened the door for him. He just hoped she hadn’t destroyed him too much with her verbal assault.

He folded the note, tucking it into his back pocket. Then he rested his hands on the edge of the counter, letting himself breathe there for a second, feeling the quiet of the house settle around him.

Tomorrow was gonna be a lot. More than he’d let on to either of them, even himself. But he was excited for it, too.

Faith didn’t come back downstairs for dinner, though. In the evening, the house was quiet, and before heading to bed Joel had come by her room to check on her — she’d squeezed her eyes shut and feigned sleep the second she heard his footsteps on the stairs. He wasn’t fooled, not completely; she could tell by the way he hovered, the bed dipping slightly when he leaned down to press a warm, gentle kiss to her hairline, whispering a soft ‘night, babygirl’ before leaving her room, the door clicking softly shut behind him.

Faith lay curled on her side, facing the wall, blanket pulled up high even though the room was warm. Her thoughts had been circling the same hollow drain for hours, keeping her from any real rest, her own heartbeat too loud in her ears.

Time crawled by. The house settled around her, a faint groan here, a whisper of wind there. She thought maybe she’d finally drift off. But then there was another sound.

A light knock. Quick and almost playful. Definitely not Joel.

Before she could answer, the door cracked open, letting in a slant of light from the hallway. Ellie’s head popped through the gap, her hair even messier than usual, eyes narrowed in mock suspicion.

“Okay,” Ellie said, voice pitched low but teasing. “I know for a fact you’re awake. You didn’t come down for dinner, which means either you’re actually dead — in which case, yikes — or you’re faking this whole headache thing.”

Faith pushed herself up on her elbows, blinking in the sudden light. “Ellie, I—”

“Yeah, yeah.” Ellie waved her off, pushing the door open wider with her foot and slipping inside. “C’mon, I brought you food.”

She carried a plate balanced expertly on one hand and her cassette player in the other. She set the plate carefully on the nightstand and then dropped to the floor, crossing her legs like she owned the place.

Faith stayed perched on the bed, half surprised, half guilty. “Ellie, you didn’t have to –”

Ellie pulled a face. “Dude, you didn’t eat. You can’t starve to death the night before your birthday. So come on. Down here. We’re having a sad little floor picnic.”

It startled a laugh out of Faith, a weak one but real enough. She slid out of bed and settled onto the floor across from Ellie, drawing her knees up.

Ellie started to work on her little cassette player and pulled out a handful of tapes Faith hadn’t seen her carry in – how had she managed that? – and started to look through them. “Also brought these. Figured music might help your headache or your fake headache or whatever the this is.”

Faith let out a small huff. “Ellie…”

“Nope.” Ellie shoved a fork into her hand. “Eat first, talk later.”

Faith obeyed, poking at the food, taking small bites more to appease Ellie than out of hunger. Meanwhile, Ellie loaded a tape — it crackled to life with the opening notes of Running Up That Hill, the sound scratchy but still achingly pretty. Ellie leaned back against the side of the bed, pulling her sketchbook onto her lap – again, Faith had no idea where she’d carried that –immediately starting to draw, pencil scratching steadily over the paper in silent company.

Faith watched her for a long moment, feeling something deep in her chest start to unknot. Ellie’s face was tilted down, tongue poking out a little at the corner of her mouth in concentration.

When Faith finally spoke, her voice was small, almost tentative. “You’re not… mad at me, are you?”

Ellie glanced up, blinking. “What? Why the hell would I be mad?”

“For… being weird, I guess. I know I’ve been kinda… off.”

Ellie snorted. “Faith, literally join the club. We’re all off. That’s why we fit together.”

Well, that was kinda true.

Faith laughed, surprising herself. Ellie grinned, satisfied, and went back to her drawing. They fell into a comfortable silence after that, the music filling up all the raw, jagged places between them.

After a while, curiosity got the better of Faith. She leaned over a little. “What’re you drawing?”

Ellie tilted the notebook so she could see. A delicate moth stretched across the page, wings dark and detailed.

Faith studied it, her heart giving a weird little skip. “What’s with the moths?”

She’d never really asked. She knew Ellie had a thing for them – hell, Joel had even engraved one in her guitar – but she was really drawing them, like, all the time.

Ellie only shrugged. “I like ‘em. I, uh… Read in a book somewhere they’re symbols of death. Which sounds all grim, but I dunno… I don’t buy it. Butterflies get all the credit for, like, transformation, right? But moths… they’re basically goth butterflies. They’re still drawn to the light even when everything’s dark. It’s like they’re more like… About resilience, you know? Even if they’re a symbol of literal death, they are alive. Still there.”

Faith hummed, nodding as she kept on eating, finishing her dinner as they sat there together like that, under the hum of Halican Drops, Ellie’s pencil moving in quiet loops.

When she glanced up, though, pulling a loose strand of her ponytail out of her face, she let out a sudden gasp, eyes widening. “Holy shit.”

Faith frowned, confused. “What?”

“It’s midnight.” Ellie broke into a huge grin as she pointed at the clock on Faith’s nightstand, pointing at barely a few minutes after twelve. “Happy birthday, man!”

Faith’s mouth fell open. “Already?”

Ellie nodded, almost bouncing. “Yep,” she leaned to her, bumping their shoulders together. “You’re officially seventeen.”

Faith giggled, smiling at her display of affection. “Thanks, Ellie.”

Then Ellie seemed to remember something. Her eyes went wide again, and she started patting her pockets.

“Oh shit, wait — almost forgot,” she muttered, fumbling around until she pulled something out of her pant pocket.

It was a small bundle of threads twisted together. Ellie held it up between her fingers, studying it like she wasn’t sure if she should be embarrassed.

“I, uh… made you this.” She passed it over, awkward but eager. “It’s ugly on purpose, so no one tries to steal it.”

Faith took it carefully. It was a bracelet, woven from green, brown, and white thread, all tied together with a delicate, thinner red strand that wrapped around the main braid like it was hugging it.

Ellie kept talking – or more like rambling – her words rushing out like she needed to fill the silence. “Jesse’s mom taught him this story, right? About these red strings of fate or whatever. I dunno — she said it was a thing from before, that you were tied to the people you were supposed to meet. Anyway, Jesse’s mom showed us how to make these bracelets one afternoon we were hanging at his place, and… well. I thought you should have one.”

Her laugh was crooked, nervous. “Seriously, though. It’s all lumpy and weird ‘cause I kept messing up the knots.”

Faith didn’t say anything at first. She was too busy turning the bracelet over in her hands, fingers brushing the red thread that held everything else together. It was beautiful. Maybe the most beautiful thing anyone had ever given her.

Finally, she lifted her gaze, meeting Ellie’s. “Ellie… I love it.”

Ellie made a face, ducking her head, suddenly shy. “Yeah, well. You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to, but, yea… Glad you like it.”

Faith laughed, then quickly slipped it over her wrist, tugging it snug.

Ellie’s grin was so big now it practically split her face. She nudged Faith’s shoulder with her own. “Happy birthday, loser.”

Faith didn’t trust herself to speak. Instead, she leaned over and hugged Ellie, tight and sudden. Ellie froze for half a heartbeat — then squeezed back just as hard.

When they pulled apart, Ellie cleared her throat, picked up her stuff, and stood. “Alright, for real now, I gotta get some sleep. But tomorrow? We’ll have the best time, no headaches and no pouting. Deal?”

Faith wiped at her eyes and nodded. “Deal.”

Ellie gave her one last grin, then slipped out into the hallway, closing the door with a soft click behind her.

Faith lay back down after she was gone. The room felt a little emptier without her. Sleep finally crept up on her, pulling her under with surprising ease as held her wrist with the new bracelet close to her chest.

When she woke again, it was to pale sun spilling across her face. Her room was warm already, the early morning light creeping in through the gaps in the curtains. For a moment, she just lay there, blinking at the ceiling. Then a memory from last night stirred — Ellie’s grin, that excited ‘happy birthday, man!’ — and a little thrill went through her. Seventeen. Huh.

She rolled out of bed, feet hitting the wooden floor with a soft thump, and padded quietly down the hallway. The house was already awake, she realized — she could hear muffled voices and the faint scrape of chairs from the kitchen.

When she turned the corner and stepped inside, she nearly stopped dead.

Joel and Ellie were both there already. Ellie was standing on a chair by the counter, rummaging through an overhead cabinet, while Joel was busy fussing with a pan on the stove. The smell of frying eggs and something sweet — maybe pancakes? — filled the whole space.

And right there in the middle of the kitchen island, like it had been waiting just for her, sat a chocolate cake. It was a little lopsided, the frosting thick and slightly uneven, but across the top in careful white letters it read: HAPPY 17th BIRHTDAY FAITH.

Her throat closed up.

Ellie spotted her first, twisting around so quickly she nearly lost her balance. “Hey! Birthday girl’s awake!”

She hopped down from the chair, boots thudding against the floor, and immediately grabbed Faith’s hand. Without giving her a chance to so much as protest, Ellie tugged her closer to the island, practically bouncing on her feet.

“Look at this!” she said, motioning dramatically to the cake like she was revealing a priceless treasure. “Joel ordered it from Seth literally two weeks ago. Made sure he’d have it ready today — chocolate this time, ‘cause we already did vanilla for mine last month.”

Faith blinked at the cake, then at Ellie, and then at Joel, who was watching them both from by the stove with a soft, unmistakably fond smile.

Joel set the spatula down, wiped his hands on a dish towel, and stepped over to them. His voice was gentle, low in that way that always made something warm curl up under Faith’s ribs.

“Happy birthday, kiddo.”

She didn’t even realize she was still gaping until Joel chuckled, then set a broad hand on her shoulder, squeezing lightly. He gave Ellie’s shoulder a quick nudge too, steering them both toward the table.

“Come on, you two. Sit. Before Ellie tries to ice the cake again and ruins it.”

Ellie scowled at him. “I did a perfectly acceptable patch job!”

Faith let herself be guided into a chair, still feeling a little stunned. The table was already half covered with plates — a stack of fluffy pancakes, a bowl of cut-up fruit, a pitcher of orange juice that looked almost painfully bright in the morning light. Joel’s hand pressed down on her shoulder just a bit more firmly until she sat, and then he was moving around to bring over the pan of eggs, mumbling something about “just about done.”

Ellie, meanwhile, was practically vibrating with excitement. She reached for a knife, then paused, shooting Faith a hopeful look.

“So… wanna have cake first? ‘Cause it’s your birthday, and there’s, like, no laws here against dessert before eggs.”

Joel’s eyes rolled so hard Faith thought he might sprain something. “Or,” he drawled, crossing his arms and aiming a look square at Ellie, “you could have something with actual nutrients first, like a normal person. Let her wake up before you start pushin’ sugar down her throat.”

Ellie groaned dramatically, flopping back in her chair. “Boring, man. You’re old and boring.”

Joel only snorted, and reached over to ruffle Ellie’s hair in revenge, making her squawk and swat at him. Faith watched them — Joel with that happy grin under his beard, Ellie glaring up at him like she was trying not to smile — and something in her chest twisted almost painfully.

Because she knew what day it was. Knew that somewhere out there, there was a grave or a memory or maybe just a hollow space in Joel’s heart where his daughter’s birthday lived too. And yet here he was, smiling, laughing, celebrating Faith like she was his own.

It was… a lot.

She glanced down at her wrist, at the bracelet Ellie had given her, thumb running over the little red thread. Then she looked back up at Joel, who caught her eye and gave her a small, knowing sort of smile before turning to fuss with pouring juice into their cups.

Faith swallowed hard, blinking against the sting in her eyes. She wasn’t going to cry.

Instead, she reached over and tugged lightly at Ellie’s sleeve. “Alright, fine. Maybe just a tiny piece of cake first.”

Ellie whooped, instantly springing up to start cutting into it, while Joel let out a long-suffering sigh — but there was laughter under it, real and bright, that made something ease inside Faith’s chest.

She sat back, letting it all wash over her: Ellie’s gleeful muttering about frosting, Joel’s quiet huff of amusement as he pushed the fruit bowl closer, the morning sunlight slanting across the table... Faith still felt guilty for something that wasn’t even her fault, the absence of someone she hadn’t even met, but she also felt loved, in a way she hadn’t in so many years.

The cake was just as good as the one they had for Ellie’s birthday, both girls claiming that the chocolate frosting was even better than the vanilla one – which they had given high praise to already – and the rest of the breakfast was just as good. Maybe it was because this was her birthday, but Faith felt like the fruit was sweeter and the pancakes somehow fluffier.

She was happy.

Joel eventually leaned back in his chair after a while, and gave Ellie a pointed look. “Alright, why don’t you go on upstairs, get the other thing.”

Ellie’s eyes lit up. “Oh shit, yeah!” She shot to her feet so fast her chair scraped against the floor, nearly tipping over. “Be right back, don’t move!”

And then she was off, sneakers thudding up the stairs two at a time.

Faith let out a small laugh, shaking her head. Her heart was still racing, though — from the cake, from all the fuss, from how much she wanted to just hold onto this moment forever.

Joel stayed seated across from her, elbows propped on the table, fingers laced together. His eyes softened as he looked at her. “You sleep alright? Headache didn’t give you too much trouble?”

Faith hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. It was… fine.”

They both knew it wasn’t really about the headache.

Joel sighed, and then his gaze fixed on hers with that steady, unyielding warmth that never failed to undo her. “You know… whatever happens with you, I’m here. Right?”

It was simple. Matter-of-fact, even. But it landed heavy in her chest. Faith swallowed against the knot in her throat and nodded again, more forcefully this time. “Yeah. I know.”

“Good.” Joel’s mouth twitched like he was fighting a smile. “Just makin’ sure.”

Before she could say anything else, there was a loud clatter on the stairs, and Ellie came barreling back into the kitchen. “Okay, okay — close your eyes!”

Faith huffed out a small, disbelieving laugh. “Really?”

“Do it!” Ellie insisted, practically bouncing in place.

Faith obeyed, squeezing her eyes shut, hands clamped together in her lap. She heard footsteps, felt the slight rustle of someone moving close, and then Joel’s voice, low and a little rougher than before.

“Alright. Open ‘em.”

When she did, Ellie was standing there grinning like a maniac, cradling a pot in her hands. And inside it was a flower — delicate white petals curling out from a golden centre.

A dahlia.

Faith stared at it. Her heart seemed to stop for half a beat. She knew that flower. She knew it better than she wished she did —star-shaped petals, bright against the deep green leaves.

Her throat was suddenly too tight to speak.

Joel gently took the pot from Ellie and set it down on the table in front of Faith. “Owen helped me find it,” he said gruffly, like he had to explain himself. “Figured you might like it.”

Faith’s eyes blurred so badly she had to blink hard to clear them. She reached out, fingers brushing a soft petal, and then she couldn’t hold it back anymore. The tears spilled over, quiet and hot down her cheeks.

“Hey, hey…” Joel’s voice was low, gentle. His hand came down on her back, rubbing slow circles. “S’alright. Happy birthday, babygirl.”

Faith laughed wetly, even as more tears fell, because how could she not? With them. With this.

She leaned into Joel’s side, feeling him give a tiny start before he wrapped his arm all the way around her shoulders, pulling her close. Ellie hovered nearby, trying to look nonchalant but grinning like an idiot, hands shoved deep in her pockets.

“Thank you,” Faith finally managed, her voice cracking right down the middle. “Both of you. It’s… it’s perfect.”

Ellie ducked her head, suddenly shy again. “Yeah, well. Don’t kill it in the first week or I’m gonna steal it back.”

Faith let out a choked little laugh, hugging Joel tighter for a second before letting him go. Her hand found Ellie’s, squeezing hard. “Deal.”

That’s how after breakfast Faith quickly changed from her pj’s into clothes for gardening — which really were clothes she didn’t mind getting messy — put her hair up in a clip, and went straight outside into her little garden to plant the dahlia.

It wasn’t difficult to choose where to put it.

There was a spot near the wooden fence, where the sun stretched long across the dirt in the mornings, and where she’d already cleared a patch a few days back. It felt right somehow — like it was waiting for this.

She dug carefully, hands working the soil until it was loose and soft, then settled the dahlia’s roots into the earth. Packed it in gentle, firm, made sure it stood straight. When she finally sat back on her heels, brushing dirt from her palms, the white petals almost seemed to glow in the sunlight.

Faith sat there for a long time. Long enough for the birds to return, chittering in the branches above, and for the breeze to start tugging loose strands of her hair from the clip. Her knees were streaked with mud, and her nails were dirty with soil. She didn’t care.

She just wanted to sit with it. With the quiet. With the way her chest ached — not bad, exactly, just full in a way that was hard to name.

That’s where Joel found her.

She heard the porch creak first, then the soft scuff of his steps across the grass. A moment later, he lowered himself onto the ground beside her with a small grunt, stretching his legs out so they bumped against hers.

For a while he didn’t say anything. Just rested his elbows on his knees, squinting off into the trees like he was perfectly content to be there in companionable silence.

Eventually, though, his eyes slid over to her. He frowned, brows knitting the way they did when something bothered him. “You been quiet lately. More’n usual. I mean — I know it’s your birthday and all, but you’ve been like this for a few days now.”

Faith picked at a bit of dirt under her nail, avoiding his gaze.

Joel nudged her foot lightly. “S’just… I’m startin’ to get worried, y’know? What’s got you so lost in that head of yours?”

She let out a small breath, feeling her shoulders sag. Then she looked up at the dahlia, delicate and bright against the rough patch of garden soil. There was no point in not telling him, really. Not at all. It wasn’t a tabu topic or anything, just something they usually didn’t talk about. Maybe…. They should. “It’s, uh… It’s about Sarah.”

Joel went very still beside her. Not tense — not like he once did, before their relationship developed into whatever it was now— but something in him tightened, pulled inward like it always did at her name.

Faith swallowed. She started to talk, and everything she’d been keeping to herself came pouring out. “I’ve just been… thinking. A lot. The other day I was at Tommy’s with Maria and I was cleaning the living room a bit for them and then I put this figure on the mantle and I… I saw the memorial he has there again and I didn’t… I didn’t know her birthday was today, too. I mean, I’ve seen the memorial more than once but I had never realized it. And I… I felt so dumb, you know? Because I had been thinking about maybe having cake like we did at Ellie’s birthday, and wondering if you’d maybe get me something like for Ellie and I just… I felt so selfish for expecting something like that from you the day you were going to be missing your daughter most, like I was… Imposing or something, on what really matters to you.”

She trailed off, throat threatening to close up.

Joel was quiet for so long she regretted saying anything. Then he let out a low breath and reached over, laying his rough, warm hand over hers where it rested on her knee.

“Look,” he said softly. “The love for a child… I know it probably sounds shitty to you if I tell you that you won’t understand it until you have one of your own, but it’s true. If you have one of your own one day… you’ll understand that it’s a kind of love that can’t be measured or compared. And yeah, ain’t a day goes by I don’t think of her. Not one. Today especially.” he murmured. Of course he’d been thinking about Sarah, he always did, this time of the year especially. But the planning for Faith’s birthday had helped him keep his spirits high, and he’d been genuinely excited for it, happy to celebrate her now, too, as they did with Ellie. “And it ain’t dumb,” he added. “It’s about the least dumb thing I ever heard. It’ll always be Sarah’s birthday. That won’t ever change. But you being here — us gettin’ to celebrate you — it doesn’t take anything away from Sarah. Or from what she means to me. You understand?”

Faith’s eyes stung. She nodded, trying to blink it away.

Joel squeezed her hand again. “If anything, it… I dunno. Makes it hurt a little less. Havin’ you. Havin’ Ellie. It’s different, but… for good. I got the both of you in my heart now, too, right next to her.”

He then slipped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her in close against his side. It wasn’t rushed — just slow and careful, like he wanted to make sure she knew she could lean into him if she needed.

And she did. She pressed in, resting her head lightly on his shoulder, feeling the warmth of him seep into her.

For a while neither of them spoke. They just sat there together, the new dahlia bright and delicate before them, the breeze brushing past like a quiet witness.

Then Joel gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “So,” he drawled, a little softer now, “you like your present then?”

Faith pulled back just enough to look at him, her eyes going wide. “Are you serious? Joel — it’s the best. I mean it. I’ve never had anyone do somethin’ like this for me before. It’s…” Her voice cracked, so she just shook her head, smiling through it. “It’s perfect.”

Joel’s mouth curved into a small, almost shy grin. “Good. I hoped you’d think so.”

They fell quiet again for a breath, before his eyes drifted toward the fence line and he gave a faint chuckle. “You know… one year — hell, Sarah must’ve been eight — she decided she wanted a whole party theme. Purple everywhere. Tablecloths, balloons, even the plates. That was her favourite colour. And I was alright with it, but you can’t imagine how difficult it was to find everything in freakin’ purple two days before her birthday party. In the end it looked like somebody exploded a grape in our livin’ room.”

Faith let out a laugh at that, bright and surprised. Joel’s grin softened into something more tender.

“But Sarah? She was just so damn happy. Spinnin’ around the room in this little dress Tommy got for her, all ruffles and purple flowers. Made it worth every second of me lookin’ like a fool buyin’ up the party store.”

His eyes went distant, but not painfully so. Like he was watching something warm play out in his mind. “Funny thing is, I thought after… after all of it, I’d never be able to think about stuff like that without it tearing me up. But now, sittin’ here with you… don’t hurt quite the same way anymore. Feels like… like she’s still here, somehow. With me, and Ellie, and you.”

Faith blinked fast, then laid her head back on his shoulder, her voice small. “I’m glad. I really am.”

Joel let out a low hum, pressing his cheek lightly to the top of her head. “Me too, babygirl. Me too.”

They sat there together for a long time after that. Watching the dahlia shift gently in the breeze, the sun creeping higher overhead, the world moving around them while they stayed right there — two people who’d lost so much, finding a way to hold onto what they still had.

(…)

It was the first time since moving in that they actually used the dining room. Usually, meals happened around the kitchen table, or even slouched together on the couch, plates balanced on their knees while some old record played in the background or a movie played on the tv. But today was special.

Tommy and Maria had come over, arms full with a basket of fresh bread and a jug of cider, and of course they brought Benji — pudgy hands reaching out, cheeks flushed with curiosity at every new face. Faith had scooped him up almost immediately, twirling him around until the baby’s delighted squeals filled the house.

“Look at you,” Faith beamed, tapping her nose against Benji’s. “Getting so big! Pretty soon you’ll be chasin’ me around instead.”

Maria laughed, settling down at the long wooden table they hardly ever used. “He already tries to, trust me.”

Joel couldn’t help but smile at the sight. Faith was practically glowing, eyes bright with a kind of joy he’d rarely seen in her the last few days. And this was her first real birthday celebration in… well, maybe ever. A table crowded with people who wanted to be there for her. Family.

Ellie helped set out the plates, bumping Faith’s hip with her own and whispering a conspiratorial, “Happy birthday, dummy,” which earned her a playful shove and a grin.

At one point, Benji reached for Joel, tiny fingers grabbing his shirt. Before he could protest, Maria laughed and placed the baby right into his arms. Joel cradled Benji close, rough hand gentle on the little boy’s back with expertise.

“Easy there, cowboy,” Tommy teased from across the table. “Still got the magic touch, don’t you?”

Joel snorted, rolling his eyes, but there was no hiding the way he softened, looking down at Benji’s bright, innocent face.

Lunch was simple but hearty — roast chicken, roasted potatoes with herbs and fresh bread. They poured cider into mismatched cups. Tommy stood up halfway through, lifting his drink high.

“To Faith,” he said. “For making it another year older, and for puttin’ up with all of us old folks, especially my older grump of a brother. Couldn’t be happier you’re here, kid.”

Faith went scarlet. Joel shook his head, although a grin breaking through his lips betrayed him. “God, Tommy—”

But Ellie jumped in, clinking her cup against Faith’s. “Yeah, to Faith!”

They all laughed, and Faith’s throat bobbed as she tried to swallow down the sudden lump of emotion. Her eyes darted around the table — at Tommy’s crooked grin, Maria’s warm smile holding Benji, Ellie pretending not to be touched by it all, and finally Joel, who just gave her a small, proud nod that said more than words ever could.

Family.

When the afternoon sun slanted through the windows and Maria started bundling Benji back into his little coat – although it was July –, Faith lingered by the door. Then she cleared her throat, glancing nervously at Joel.

“Um… is it okay if I… head down to the greenhouses? Just for a bit. Wanna thank Owen for… y’know, helping with the flower.”

Joel stiffened. “Owen?”

“It’s just— you said he helped, and I—” Faith bit her lip, smiling shyly. “I dunno, wanna say thank you properly.”

There was a complicated tangle in Joel’s chest. On the one hand, he was glad. Really. Faith deserved to have things like this — boys who liked her, who brought her flowers, who made her blush, and most importantly, forget about the bad things in her past that had once made her jump at any form of contact. But on the other hand… his girl was noticing boys now, and that made something deeply paternal bristle.

Tommy clapped him on the back with a bark of laughter. “Aw, Joel, let her go. She only wants to go thank the boy, brother.”

Joel shot him a glare, which only made Tommy laugh harder.

“Fine,” Joel muttered finally. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Just… don’t stay out too long, alright? And take Ellie with you.”

Ellie perked up. “Hell yeah, I was already plannin’ on catching up with Dina anyway. We’ll swing by.”

Faith beamed, darting in to press a grateful kiss to Joel’s cheek. “Thanks, Joel,” she said. “For… everything today. Really.”

He cleared his throat, giving her a gentle squeeze. “Don’t mention it.”

And as the girls bundled up and headed out the door, Joel stayed rooted in the entryway, watching them go with a heart that was equal parts full and achy. Tommy stood beside him, shaking his head.

“You’re in for it now,” Tommy drawled. “Wait’ll she starts askin’ to bring him home for supper.”

Joel groaned. “Don’t even joke about that.”

“Don’t get me started on when Ellie begins to hit it off with someone too,” he laughed. “That’s when the fun’ll start.”

“Ain’t you got a wife and kid to bother instead of me?” Joel grumbled, halfheartedly pushing at his shoulder.

Tommy just laughed. “Yeah, yeah, I’m goin’. Try not to brood too hard, big brother.”

Joel rolled his eyes, but there was a spark of fondness there as he shooed Tommy out the door. “Tell Maria thanks again for the bread. And get that boy a nap before he tears your house down.”

“Will do. Say happy birthday again to your kid, Joel,” Tommy added with a wink.

Joel stood there for a moment longer after the door closed, the house finally quiet around him. His house — their house. And today, it felt more like a home than ever.

Meanwhile, down Rancher Street, Faith and Ellie walked shoulder to shoulder, giggling like kids with a shared secret. The sun was warm on their backs, the breeze carrying the soft scent of Wyoming summer.

They passed Main Street, waving at a couple of townsfolk they’d come to know by name. Jackson felt small and peaceful like this — a far cry from the endless roads and constant fear they’d lived with not so long ago.

“So…” Ellie drawled, giving Faith a sly sideways look as they neared the greenhouses. “You gonna, like, hold Owen’s hand? Or just thank him and awkwardly run away?”

Faith shoved her playfully, almost knocking Ellie into a barrel of feed stacked outside the stable doors. “Shut up. You’re one to talk.”

Ellie righted herself, scoffing. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh please,” Faith laughed, eyes crinkling. “You don’t have a crush on Dina? Yeah right. That’s why you write down every single pun she tells you like some lovesick poet.”

Ellie’s face went bright red. “That is not why! Her puns are just— they’re quality, okay? I just pay them the respect they deserve to not forget’em.”

“Sure,” Faith teased, smirking. “You only smile like an idiot because she’s hilarious.”

Ellie kicked a small stone ahead of them, mouth twitching despite herself. Then her face softened, eyes distant. “I dunno. It’s different, I guess. I’ve only ever… I mean, there was someone only once before. Riley.”

Faith’s grin faded into something gentler. She bumped her shoulder against Ellie’s, urging her to go on.

“She was my best friend,” Ellie murmured, voice thick with old memories. “Like, my best best friend. I told you: we did everything together, shared a room at FEDRA school, listened to music and reading comics after curfew giggling like idiots… And then I… kinda realized I liked her. More than friends. And it was all new and stupid and… amazing. But you know how that ended.”

Faith nodded — that loss that still haunted Ellie’s eyes sometimes.

“I just… don’t know if this with Dina is the same. If it could even be the same. And sometimes I miss Riley so much it’s like—” She pressed her lips together, blinking fast. “Like it still just happened.”

Faith slipped her hand into Ellie’s, squeezing tight. “I think Riley would be pretty damn happy you’ve got someone making you smile like that again. Even if it’s just puns right now.”

Ellie let out a small, wet laugh. “Yeah. Maybe.”

They were quiet a minute, the road stretching ahead. Then Faith grinned again, leaning in close.

“And for the record? I’m totally gonna hold Owen’s hand if he asks.”

Ellie groaned, throwing her head back. “Gross. But, like, also kinda cute, I guess.”

Soon enough, Ellie veered off near the stables, tossing Faith a quick wave. “Gonna see if Dina’s around. Try not to make Owen faint or something.”

Faith snorted. “No promises.”

Ellie just shot her a smirk before ducking inside, leaving Faith alone with her racing heart. She smoothed her hands over her shirt and made her way past the paddocks, toward the long stretch of greenhouses.

It was quieter there, except for the animals nearby resting inside the stables — warm, humid air seeping through the glass cracks, the smell of earth and mint and rosemary hanging heavy. Faith peeked around, but there was no sign of Caleb or Annie. Only the rustle of leaves and the soft drip of water somewhere.

Then she spotted him.

Owen was kneeling by a raised bed, hands buried in the soil, sleeves rolled up past his elbows. A tiny smear of dirt streaked across his cheek. He looked up at the sound of her footsteps, blinking like he couldn’t quite believe she was real.

“Faith,” he breathed, surprised. Then a smile broke over his face, wide and crooked. “Happy birthday!”

She grinned, cheeks already warm. “You remembered, huh?” she said. “Thanks.”

He stood, wiping his hands on his pants, looking suddenly shy. “Kinda hard to forget when your dad’s been fussing about it for weeks.”

Faith laughed, stepping a little closer. “What are you working on?”

“Oh, uh, just some herbs,” he shrugged. “Needed some fertilizer. I, uh, didn’t expect you to come by today. Thought you’d be spending the day with your family?”

The greenhouse seemed to shrink around them as Faith nodded. “I was, uh… I just… wanted to come by and say thank you. For helping Joel with the dahlia. It meant a lot.”

“Oh — no, that was…” Owen rubbed the back of his neck, sending dirt flaking onto his shoulder. “It was a pleasure to help. Really.” His eyes darted over her face, like he was trying to memorize it. Then before he could stop himself, he added in a rush, “I mean — I’d do just about anything if it meant seeing you smile like that. Not that I saw you smile, but I imagined your reaction. Not that I… Imagine you smiling, or like, think of you at all?”

Faith’s breath caught.

Owen froze, horror flashing across his features as his ears turned bright red. “Shit. I didn’t — I mean, I wasn’t — fuck. I think about you! Like, in a normal way! Your smile is beautiful, though. Not that I’ve been starting at you smiling, or anything, but I – ugh, fuck.”

Faith burst into giggles, covering her mouth. “Relax,” she said, calming down her laugh herself. “If it helps… I think it’s sweet. That you, uh… not imagine me smiling and not stare at me thinking my smile is beautiful.”

He let out a nervous laugh, exhaling a bit easier. Then, a little bolder, he reached out, brushing a stray leaf from her hair that had gotten caught on her walk. He tossed it aside, but his fingers lingered just a second longer than necessary.

“You, uh… you look really happy today,” he said softly. “Like… like you had a really good day.”

Faith’s heart swelled so much it almost hurt. She ducked her head, smiling up at him from under her lashes. “Yeah. I did.”

Their eyes caught, holding for a moment that felt like it could’ve stretched forever — something unspoken but promising, warm and dizzying in her chest.

Faith rocked back on her heels, cheeks aching from how hard she was smiling. “Anyway. I should let you get back to your herbs.”

“Yeah. Right,” Owen stammered, still grinning like a fool. “Happy birthday again, Faith.”

She started to turn, then on a spark of bravery leaned up quick and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. When she pulled back, Owen’s face was a picture — eyes wide, lips parted, utterly stunned.

“See you around, Owen,” Faith smiled, heart racing as she slipped out of the greenhouse.

Behind her, Owen let out a low, breathless laugh that sounded a whole lot like hope, while his fingers traced the ghost of her lips on his cheek as a grin threatened to split his face in half.

(…)

A few days after Faith’s birthday things had finally settled back into something like normal. Joel could feel it in the way Faith laughed again without forcing it, the way she nudged Ellie’s shoulder and teased her until Ellie shoved her back. He could feel it in the house — lighter, easier to breathe in.

The heavy shadow that had seemed to loom around Faith in the days leading up to her birthday — same day as Sarah’s — had finally lifted. Joel couldn’t lie: it was a damn relief.

He was at the repair shop that day, sweat slicking his hair, hands black with grease as he worked. The door stood propped open to let in the warm breeze, sun beating down on Main Street. A few of the guys joked around nearby, hammering away at something that clanged with every strike.

Then he heard it — two voices, one snarky and high-pitched, the other bright with laughter, spilling through the doorway.

“Well look at that,” muttered one of the workers from across the shop, nodding toward them. “The Miller girls back again.”

Joel’s heart pulled tight at that. The Miller girls.

“Hey, Joel!” Ellie shouted, already halfway across the floor.

Faith trailed after her, carrying a cloth-covered basket. Her eyes darted around the cluttered workbenches with unmistakable interest.

“Don’t even think about it,” Joel warned, wagging a wrench at Ellie.

She had her hands halfway to a crate of engine parts. “Think about what? I’m just lookin’.”

“Ellie,” he growled.

Faith was subtler about it — wandering close to a bench, fingertips just brushing over a set of carefully laid out bolts like she might pocket one. Joel reached out and hooked her by the elbow, steering her gently toward a cleaner spot by the wall.

“Sit. Don’t touch anything that looks sharp, greasy, or like it might break.”

Faith snickered. “That doesn’t leave us much, does it?”

They unpacked the basket right there on an overturned crate — leftover roasted meat, vegetables, bread, and a couple apples. It wasn’t unusual for them to drop by with something to eat when he worked past lunch time; they’d sit there with him, asking what he was working on and telling him about their mornings, and he listened contently.

Ellie made a big show of dramatically rolling her eyes every time Joel fussed at her for putting her boots too close to his tools. But he couldn’t hide how much it meant. Them coming by, checking in. Keeping him company. Letting this tiny patch of workshop chaos feel like something warm for half an hour.

Faith leaned her head against his arm at one point, humming contentedly while she chewed. Ellie kept talking about trying to fix up an old bike she’d seen behind the stables — not for riding, just “to see if I can.”

Joel huffed, pretended to scold, but truth was, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

After they finished eating, Ellie and Faith were suddenly in a big hurry. Faith stuffed leftover bread into the basket, and Ellie was already buzzing in place, bouncing on her toes like she couldn’t wait to get moving.

Joel narrowed his eyes. “Hold on. Where exactly are you two headed?”

“Uh—”

“Laundry duty,” Faith blurted.

“Community centre,” Ellie said at the exact same time.

They both stopped, glanced at each other, and Joel watched their faces scramble to fix it.

“I mean, the laundry duty first,” Faith corrected quickly, nodding so earnestly it was almost believable, “and then we were gonna swing by the community centre to help set up movie night. Right, berry?”

“Yeah,” Ellie said, drawing out the word like it bought her time. “Totally. Gonna check on… dirty sheets. And Dina. And… chairs.”

Joel just stared at them, unimpressed.

Faith offered a bright, innocent grin that didn’t fool him for a second.

Ellie threw him a thumbs-up as they backed toward the door. “Don’t worry, cowboy. We’ll keep outta trouble.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of,” Joel muttered, rolling his eyes.

They were gone a heartbeat later, giggles trailing down the street. Joel ran a hand over his beard, exhaled a sigh that was half amused, half resigned. God help whoever ended up caught in their little whirlwind today, him especially.

He didn’t see them the rest of the afternoon. No surprise there — once those two got an idea in their heads, they were off like a pair of damn stray cats chasing the same string. He kept working until the sun started to dip and the shadows stretched long across Main Street.

By the time he cleaned up and closed the shop, it was that soft golden hour, the sky painted in streaks of orange and pink. Joel rolled his shoulders, feeling the ache of the day settle deep in his bones, and started the slow walk home.

His mind wandered — about dinner, about what Faith and Ellie might’ve been plotting, about whether the repaired stove they’d promised for the dining hall was actually going to work tomorrow.

Then he turned onto his street.

And there, right on his own damn porch, was Owen.

The boy was stepping out of Joel’s front door, casual as you please, running a hand through his messy hair and looking for all the world like he did this every day.

Joel’s whole body went stiff. His jaw clenched tight enough to pop. What the hell was that kid doing in his house — without him there to supervise, with his not-daughter inside?

He stopped dead on the walkway. Watched the kid freeze, too — like a damn deer in headlights, caught with its paw in the feed bucket.

“Owen,” Joel said, low and flat as only he could do, like a warning that didn’t even bother hiding itself.

Owen froze. His eyes went wide for a heartbeat, then he tried on this crooked little grin. “Oh. Hey, Mr. Miller. I was just, uh—”

Before he could finish, the door banged open again and Faith nearly barrelled into him, flushed and out of breath, hair a little damp at the temples, her shirt wrinkled and sticking to her back. She had Owen’s flannel clutched in her hand.

“Wait, you forgot this!” she huffed. She handed it over, brushing his fingers, and the poor kid about went red enough to rival a tomato. Only then did she notice Joel standing there on the walk.

“Oh! Hey, Joel!” she chirped, bright as ever, like this was the most normal sight in the world.

Joel just stared. First at Faith, then at Owen, then back at Faith. His eyebrow twitched, arms crossed tight over his chest. Watching. Processing. Trying to decide exactly how many shovels he’d need.

Owen cleared his throat. “Thanks, Faith. Uh… see ya later.”

“Thanks for the help again!”

“Anytime,” he smiled at her, perhaps a second too long. “See ya tomorrow!” he practically leapt off the porch, skirting wide around Joel as he went.

Faith stood there smiling, cheeks pink, breathing still a little uneven.

Joel, still standing still on the same cobblestone, finally found his voice. “Faith.”

“Yeah?”

“What was that?”

She beamed at him, eyes dancing with mischief and something else — excitement, maybe. “Come inside. We’ve got a surprise for you.”

Joel blew out a long, slow breath through his nose, trying to will down the protective, half-panicked storm clawing up his chest. Then he trudged up the steps after her, muttering under his breath about teenage boys and boundaries and how he was far too old for this kind of heart attack.

The house smelled faintly of sun-warmed wood and something green, like crushed leaves. He shrugged off the warm breeze outside and found Ellie leaning against the kitchen counter, gulping down a glass of lemonade. Her cheeks were red, a smear of dirt high on one of them, and her hair was sticking out at all angles.

She spotted Joel and grinned, eyes lighting up. “Hey!” she chirped, voice cracking a little from breathlessness. “Fucking finally! We’ve been waiting for ages for you to come home!”

Joel looked between them, more confused by the second. “What the hell have you two been up to?”

Ellie set down her glass and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, still beaming. Faith just giggled, and the two exchanged a look — that conspiratorial, unspoken spark he’d come to know all too well.

Faith slipped her hand into his. “Come on. Close your eyes.”

Joel gave her a long, dubious stare. “I don’t like surprises.”

Ellie appeared at his other side and seized his free hand, practically bouncing in place. “Yeah, yeah, you’re all grumpy and tough, we know. Just trust us this once.”

Joel sighed. But there was no fighting them, not really — especially not when they were both so damn pleased with themselves. So he let out a gruff, reluctant, “Alright,” and closed his eyes.

Together, they led him through the house. He tried not to peek, though he stumbled once on the threshold, and Faith’s grip tightened reassuringly. He could feel how warm their hands were, could hear the little huffs of their laughter as they maneuvered him carefully.

Then the sun hit his face again — golden, sinking low now, wrapping everything in that honeyed light that made even old fence posts look beautiful. He smelled fresh soil and crushed leaves, something sweet on the air.

“Okay,” Faith breathed. Her hand squeezed his. “Open ‘em.”

Joel opened his eyes. And his breath caught in his throat.

The back garden had changed.

Where before it had been mostly a small patch of flowers  and stones — with the single bright dahlia in the centre — it had exploded now into something that looked almost wild, alive in a way it hadn’t before. Tangled in among the already grown flowers were dozens of purple flowers — phlox, if he was correct — and curling between them, tiny sky-blue forget-me-nots that climbed right up around the dahlia’s sturdy stalk.

Two more stones sat nestled among them, painted with careful, tender letters.

Sarah, and Riley.

Joel stood there, rooted to the spot. His chest squeezed so tight it hurt.

Ellie let go of his hand first, rubbing at her nose like she might wipe away tears before they even formed. Faith held on another moment, then slowly slipped her fingers free, stepping in front of him. Her shirt was still rumpled, hair half pulled from its clip, but her eyes were bright and gentle.

“I, um…” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, glancing at Ellie, who gave her an encouraging little nod. Then she looked back at Joel. “I wanted us to have a place to remember everyone. Not just for me, but all three of us.”

Her voice trembled just a touch, but she kept going.

“You told me Sarah liked purple. So… we picked a bunch of purple flowers. And Ellie thought the forget-me-nots were perfect for Riley — you know. ‘Cause… well. Forget me not.”

Joel swallowed hard. His eyes burned. He couldn’t seem to breathe right, like something was lodged behind his ribs.

 “I just thought…” she continued. “It should be something beautiful. Not sad. So when we miss them, we can come out here and it’s… not heavy. It’s like we get to share it with them.”

Ellie smiled, nudged Faith’s shoulder, then looked at Joel with a half-grin that was trying very hard to be casual. “Pretty cool, huh?”

Joel tried to speak, found he couldn’t. Tried again. Finally managed a rough, hoarse, “Yeah. Yeah, it’s… it’s real damn cool.”

He cleared his throat, blinked hard a few times. Faith beamed at him, all sunshine and soft edges, and he couldn’t help it — he pulled her into his side, wrapped a heavy arm around her shoulders. Ellie crowded in on his other side, and he caught her too, so the three of them stood there in the golden light, tangled up together, the flowers nodding in the evening breeze.

Joel pressed a kiss to the top of Faith’s head, squeezed Ellie’s shoulder.

“Thank you,” he said finally, voice low and thick. “Both of you.”

Faith leaned her head against his chest, and Ellie muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, “Yeah, yeah, sap,” though she didn’t pull away.

They stayed like that for a while — just breathing, just listening to the soft rustle of leaves and the far-off calls from Rancher Street as the late afternoon slowly transitioned into twilight.

In the quiet, Faith’s thoughts wandered. She looked up at the sky, at the first brave stars peeking through, and imagined how special birthdays could be now — how she and Ellie might surprise Joel for his one day, try to give him something sweet enough to chase away the shadows of this world like he did for them. They’d order him a cake at Seth’s, too. Make it special for him, not only his birthday, but every special day they’d get to celebrate from then one: maybe at Christmas they’d put up a tree in the living room, hang hawthorn berry branches on the door, have a proper family dinner with Tommy, Maria and Benji, too. And maybe they’d keep on doing it, for every little thing that gave them an excuse to celebrate.

To celebrate life — for no other reason than living.

Ellie’s mind drifted as well, not to the future but to the past. To Riley. She missed her so goddamn much it ached sometimes, sharp and hot under her ribs. Riley would’ve loved this place — the town with its walls and weird little community traditions and kids running wild through the streets. She’d probably have rolled her eyes at the rules, but then she’d have grinned that big, bright grin of hers and made it fun somehow. And maybe — just maybe — Faith was right. Maybe Riley would be happy for her, for the way she got to live now. Happy she had a friend like Dina who made her laugh until her stomach hurt, who maybe could someday be something else, too. Maybe that was what Riley would’ve wanted all along: for Ellie to find a place to be truly happy.

And Joel… Joel was just standing there with them, trying to hold onto this. The warmth of Faith pressed into his side, the slight weight of Ellie leaning on him, the sweet scent of earth and blossoms heavy on the air. The steady hush of the breeze through leaves. He wasn’t thinking about who he’d lost, or what waited around the bend, or how long it all might last. For once, he just let himself be, here, in the gold-and-violet hush of evening, with these two kids who somehow cracked him open and filled all the hollow places he thought would stay empty forever.

And Joel thought that maybe, just maybe, this was what peace felt like.

Fic masterlist

Taglist: @kitdjarin1@christinamadsen@abtjudex@hongjoong-titties@cokoladasljesnjakom@puppi-sonnenschein@elisha-chloe@wwefan2002@hello-lisa1026

[broidobe]

𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔳𝔢𝔫'𝔰 𝔡𝔬𝔬𝔯

requested!

☾after getting kicked out of his mom’s house again, steven seeks comfort at his girlfriend’s place, where a night of soft conversation turns into tender, sleepy intimacy☽

☾warnings: smut, angst, soft dom steven, established relationship, sleepy/lazy sex, comfort, fluff, cuddling, mentions of unstable home life, emotional reassurance, and aftercare☽

𝓼𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓻𝓮𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷 ᡣ𐭩 𝓴𝓷𝓸𝓬𝓴𝓲𝓷' 𝓸𝓷 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓿𝓮𝓷'𝓼 𝓭𝓸𝓸𝓻 𝜗𝜚 𝓰𝓾𝓷𝓼 𝓷 𝓻𝓸𝓼𝓮𝓼

⁎⁺˳✧༚guns and roses masterlist

steven showed up at your house just past midnight, his curly blonde hair a mess, lips turned down in a frown as he leaned against your bedroom window, tapping lightly. you knew what had happened before he even spoke. he always came to you when things went south with his mom, when the screaming got too loud, when he felt like a burden in his own home.

you didn’t hesitate to let him in, wrapping him in a warm hug the moment he climbed through. his arms clung to you, fingers curling into the back of your shirt, breathing in your scent like it was the only thing grounding him.

"she kicked me out again," he mumbled against your shoulder, voice thick. "didn’t even let me grab my stuff."

"i'm sorry, baby," you whispered, pulling him towards your bed. "you know you can always stay here."

he nodded, toeing off his shoes before slipping under the covers with you, his body curling around yours immediately, like he was afraid you’d disappear too. you ran your fingers through his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp, and felt him relax against you, breath evening out.

"you don’t deserve that, stevie," you murmured. "you’re so good. so sweet."

he sighed, burying his face in the crook of your neck. "i don’t feel good. feels like i can’t do anything right."

"you do everything right when you’re with me."

he pulled back to look at you, those big brown eyes searching yours like he was trying to soak up every ounce of love you had for him. and then, without a word, he kissed you—soft and slow, like he needed to convince himself you were real. his hands slid under your shirt, fingertips skimming along your sides, sending little shivers up your spine.

"can i?" he whispered against your lips, his voice barely above a breath.

"always."

his touch was gentle, almost reverent as he pushed your shirt up, pressing warm kisses down your neck, over your collarbone, until he had you beneath him, his body half-draped over yours. he moved slowly, savoring each inch of your skin like he had all the time in the world. it wasn’t rushed, wasn’t desperate—it was lazy and loving, sleepy and sweet, like he just wanted to lose himself in you, to forget everything else.

when he finally sank inside you, he let out a soft, shuddering breath, forehead resting against yours. "fuck, you feel so good," he murmured, voice thick with emotion. "i love you. so much."

his hips rocked into you in slow, deep strokes, like he was trying to memorize the way you felt around him. his hands held you close, fingers laced with yours, his lips brushing against your temple, your cheek, your mouth—every touch a silent "thank you."

you clung to him, legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him in deeper, meeting his thrusts with slow, sleepy rolls of your hips. the room was quiet except for the soft sounds of your bodies moving together, his breathy moans, your whispered name falling from his lips like a prayer.

he came with a quiet, choked-off moan, burying himself as deep as he could, his body trembling slightly against yours. he stayed there, pressed to you, still inside, his breath warm against your skin.

"you okay?" he asked after a moment, voice sleepy and soft, thumb brushing over your cheek.

"perfect," you whispered, pressing a kiss to his jaw. "you?"

he nodded, pulling out slowly before gathering you in his arms, keeping you close. "never wanna let go of you."

"then don’t."

he hummed, tangling his legs with yours, nuzzling into your neck. "love you so much."

"i love you more."

and with that, you both drifted off, safe and warm in each other’s arms, the rest of the world forgotten for just a little while.

[storiesaplenty]

Sly old Logan (18+)

Logan Howlett x f/Reader

Miscellaneous Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Just like all my other stories, this has not been proofread, but please enjoy.

Warnings. Swearing. Smut under the cut. Unprotected sex. Mention of oral sex (m receiving) Wade being an annoying shit. P in V sex. Creampie.

WC: 596

©️ storiesaplenty 2024: do not repost or translate my work. This is the only place I post my work.

Summary: Logan is trying to spend some time alone with his girl, but Wade has other ideas.

"You gotta relax babygirl." I muttered against the back of her head as I slowly sank into her pussy.

Her back was arched, her mouth was hanging open as little puffs of air fell from her mouth.

We were facing the full length mirror and I could see every emotion come across her gorgeous face as she took me inch by agonising inch.

My eyes focused on her mouth, which had my cum drying at the corners and on her chin.

A shiver went down my spine when I thought about less than 5 minutes ago she had my cock down her throat, as I fucked her face.

I tried to pull her head away as I didn't want to cum just yet, but she gripped my thighs and sucked as hard as she could, making me cry out her name as I came down her throat.

There was so much, that it leaked out of the corners of her mouth and down her chin and chest.

Her pussy gripped my cock as I bottomed out.

I was about to pull my hips back to fuck the shit out of her, when there was a knock on my bedroom door. "Logan, you in there buddy?"

Fucking Wade.

I saw her eyes fly open, and she made eye contact with me in the mirror. I placed my finger infront of my mouth, indicating for her to be quiet.

I could see his Wade's shadow from underneath the door, and I knew he wasn't going anywhere.

"I know you're in there."

"Fuck off Wade." I pulled my hips back and thrust back into her pussy, making her cover her mouth just as she yelped.

"You jerking it there? Playing with little wolvie there?"

"Wade, I will cut off your head if you don't fuck off."

My voice changed an octave when she moved her hips forward, slamming her ass back against me.

"Alright." He said, leaving us alone.

"You're in for it." Was all I said before I gripped her hips before pulling back, and slamming back into her pussy, making her squeal.

I fucked her into my mattress, her own hand covering her mouth to keep her as quiet as possible as I fucked her.

I pulled out, slapped her ass a couple of times, the sound echoing off the walls, then I flipped her onto her back.

"Logan." She kept mumbling, as I put her legs over my shoulders and folded her in half as I pounded her pussy at a brutal and fast pace.

I could hear how she wet she was.

"You have someone in there with you? You sly, old dog." Came the annoying voice of Wade from behind the door again.

"Logan, maybe," I shook my head no, interrupting whatever she was going to say.

"Ignore that shit head."

I was barley pulling out before I slammed back into her.

"Close, so close Logan." She moaned as tears started to stream down her face.

I changed the angle of my hips, making sure to hit that spot inside her.

"LOGAN!" She screamed as she came, arching her back. I held her as I fucked her through her orgasm, ignoring the Wade cheering for us.

With a growl, I came, my hips bucking until I stilled.

My eyes fluttering as I came more than I have in a very long time.

"Fucking hell." I muttered as I laid down next to her.

"I am so proud you were able to get it up, Logan." Followed by clapping.

Yeah, I am going to kill Wade.

[mindmelter]

Helping Chad

"Why don't humans walk like this? I should walk like this from now on." Chad said.

"Are you being serious? How do you think people would react to Chad suddenly walking like a... whatever that is." I asked.

The alien still doesn't know how to pilot his new body. I understand him, though. He was an alien spider his whole life, so controlling a biped being must be very hard. But I like the way Chad is right now, it gives me easier access to his hairy armpits and pecs, all I have to do is just sit in front of him and lick them.

Chad had been my gym crush for a while, I couldn't help but watch him as he worked out, mesmerized by his perfectly sculpted physique, all the while making sure he never noticed my lingering gaze.

Today, the gym was nearly empty, and Chad was the one closing it. I seized the opportunity I'd been waiting for, though in a manner I never could have imagined before. I helped an alien spider—an otherworldly creature with an unsettling intelligence—crawl inside Chad and take control of his hot body.

He dropped to the floor as soon as the spider forced its way inside his mouth, and he started to twitch his head. Unfortunately, things didn't go as smoothly as I had anticipated. When Chad's body—now under the alien's command—attempted to stand, he fell to the floor, landing awkwardly with his stomach pointing up. It seemed like the alien didn't know how to walk.

I then offered my help to the alien, saying I would teach him how to walk and act like a human, but only if he let me play with Chad's body. With the gym closed, I spent hours trying to teach him how to walk, to the point we were both exhausted, but Chad was more, his muscles were sore and covered in sweat.

Right now I had my face buried in his armpits, smelling and tasting his manly musk, until I heard a strange gurgling noise coming from inside Chad's stomach, I knew well what that meant.

"Let me help you," I said, standing up and sitting on his abs, I unlaced his shorts and pulled them down to the floor, then I started jerking off Chad's huge cock. I never thought I would see Chad's cock, even more jerking him off.

"Keep going, he's getting close." Chad said, his voice devoided of any emotion.

I continued Jerking him off until he was throbbing and about to cum. I then got off of him and just watched as a tentacle shaped like a tube stuck out of Chad's ass and engulfed his hard member until the base.

Anyone else would be screaming in horror at the sight, but not me, seeing an alien feeding on my crush's body just made me hard and leaking. I couldn't hold myself, I kneeled in front of him and inserted my shaft inside Chad's mouth, he accepted it without any protest, I then started to thrust on his face as the alien fed on his cock.

The tentacle then started to pump and stimulate Chad's shaft until he was shooting inside the tube, the tentacle absorbed everything. After Chad was dried, the tentacle disappeared inside his ass. My moans filled the empty gym as I came inside his mouth.

Aliens got to feed, humans got to cum, I thought.

[starhvney]

garroth x fem pregnant!reader? wholesome and/or spicy? (if you need me to verify my age, I can ask off anon)

𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: mystreet garroth x fem!reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: when investigating your suspicions on the cause of you recent "illness", your husband comes home to find the answer together

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: fluff to soft/gentle smut, reader and garroth are married, creampie, emotional reader and garroth, he whimpers and cries after… just read it.

𝐂𝐖: pregnancy and smut

𝐀/𝐍: and if i write several fanfiction in a day?! who’s gonna stop me?? you, the person reading this?! i didn’t think so. now read. i know what you and garroth did.

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝑻𝑯𝑰𝑺 𝑷𝑶𝑺𝑻 𝑪𝑶𝑵𝑻𝑨𝑰𝑵𝑺 𝑵𝑺𝑭𝑾 𝑪𝑶𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑻, 𝑰𝑭 𝒀𝑶𝑼 𝑨𝑹𝑬 𝑼𝑵𝑫𝑬𝑹𝑨𝑮𝑬 𝑶𝑹 𝑼𝑵𝑪𝑶𝑴𝑭𝑶𝑹𝑻𝑨𝑩𝑳𝑬 𝑾𝑰𝑻𝑯 𝑺𝑬𝑿𝑼𝑨𝑳 𝑪𝑶𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑻 𝑷𝑳𝑬𝑨𝑺𝑬 𝑫𝑵𝑰.

your heart pounds in your chest, breaths shallow as you stare down at the three pieces of plastic that shake in your trembling hands. each result very strongly displayed positive back at you, and your suspicions that the “sickness” you had been feeling for the past week wasn’t just a stomach bug you were fighting off.

it’s really not a shock how you got here, and you weren’t upset by it, either. you and your husband had always wanted to start a family together, and now that you two were comfortably stable in your marriage you two had decided to “lighten up” on protection a couple of months ago. you two weren’t actively trying for a baby, but you also weren’t not trying, either.

although, your husband’s actions when you two were under the sheets showed he may have been much more… eager than he let on. once the plastic and pills were trashed, he’d keep you up for hours every night, your legs hitched over his shoulders and his body pressed onto yours. he’d prop your hips up and keep them there after you were both thoroughly spent, scooping up whatever tried to drip down your legs with his fingers and pushing it back inside. you’d be left sore, hips screaming but the rest of you satisfied and tired.

if it isn’t the consequences of your own actions. 

you weren’t upset by this, not at all. but you? a mother? would you be good enough? were you truly ready for this? what if you turned out to be a horrible mother instead?

you didn’t realize how long you had been standing there in shock, until garroth’s voice interrupted you out of your thoughts, causing you to cover the tests with your hands in surprise.

“there you are. still feeling sick?” he sighs, coming up behind you and sliding his hands around your waist, resting his head on your shoulder. “i was calling for you…”

his voice trails off, his muscles freezing when he glances down at your hands.

“…is that… a thermometer?” he mumbles, hands reaching forward to engulf your own before pulling them away, revealing the two blue lines that lay underneath them. “no, that’s not…”

“positive?” he freezes, gripping your hand tightly in his as you look up, nodding. “you’re pregnant?”

the next second he’s left your side, feet thudding against the floors as he sprints away with the tests in hand. he shouts, loud cheers escaping his lips as he runs throughout the house. you stand there in amused shock, blinking at the empty doorway before he’s back, scooping you up in his arms and spinning you around.

“we’re gonna be parents!” he laughs, making you yelp in surprise as he starts to bounce in place, carrying you over his shoulder into your bedroom.

“ga–ar–roth!” you wrap your arms around your ecstatic husband’s shoulders to stabilize yourself, your voice broken in startled laughter as each jump interrupts your breaths.

“i’m gonna be a dad! you’re gonna be a mom!”

finally, he sets you down after one more spin, hands holding the sides of your face as he leans down to kiss you. your hands rest on his chest that heaves and thuds with his rapid heartbeat. he pulls back, eyebrows furrowing as he looks down at you, his fingers brushing under your eyes.

you come to the realization that it was tears he was wiping from your cheeks, the salty wet streaks streaming from your eyes dampening his fingers as they land against them. his forehead comes down to rest on yours as he brushes away your hair in concern.

“are you okay?” his voice is starkly different from before, the deep timbre gentle and soft—with a certain cadence of love in it he reserved just for you.

you nod, sniffling with a small laugh and raising your hands to rest on top of his. “yeah, i was… just feeling nervous. but you just reminded me why i shouldn’t.”

“nervous?”

“yeah, that i,” you take in a shaky breath. “that i wouldn’t be… i don’t know. good enough.”

“you?” he breathes, huffing a laugh. “you’re perfect. you’re going to be the perfect mother. and i’ll be the best father i can be, and i’ll be there with you every step of the way. our baby is going to be so loved.”

you laugh quietly with him, sniffling. “yeah.”

he leans down to press another kiss against your lips, lifting you up with much less vigor than earlier and settling you down onto the bed. your gaze lands on him as he moves to hover above you, realizing his own eyes were misty with tears.

“i’m so happy. thank you,” he dips down to nudge his face into your neck, fingers digging into your side before sliding underneath you and scooping you closer to him. “thank you. thank you.”

kiss after kiss, he mutters a thank you between each loving press of his lips against your skin. soft touches soon turn into heated gasps and pants, garroth’s hands greedily ripping off each layer of your and his clothing.

you find yourself taking him to the hilt soon after, eyes rolling back at his gentle touch and each mind-numbingly slow grind of his hips into yours. pleased hums and grunts leave garroth’s lips as he continues to roll himself into you at a steady pace, his eyes glossy and skin glowing with a sheen of sweat.

“so good. you’re gonna be such a good mom, baby.” he rasps, bottom lip pulled between his teeth and eyebrows furrowed for a moment as his hips stutter against yours. “i love you so much.”

“m’love you.” you return, legs shaking around his hips as your brain melts into nothing but pleasure.

“come with me, please, please, please.” he whimpers, hand reaching down to press his hand right against where his length was buried inside.

you cry out, your release coming suddenly and sucking him in, triggering him to come right after. your legs wobble as he buries his face into your neck, his lips pressing a low groan into your sweaty skin.

after a moment he lifts his head, a few salty crystalline tears hanging onto his eyelashes and clumping them together into wisps. you reach up to cup his cheeks, swiping under his eyes as you try to catch your breath. he once again rests his forehead against yours, pressing another deep kiss against your lips.

his chest heaves as he pulls out, rolling off of you and pulling you to lay on top of him, hugging you tightly against his chest. the lower half of your body is once again immobile, muscles screaming despite his gentle treatment with you today.

“fuck,” you moan, your legs burning dully. “i won’t be able to walk again for another week.”

“that just means i did my job right.” he snickers smugly to himself.

you smack his chest, and the two of you lay there in content silence, reveling in the afterglow. until about thirty seconds later, when garroth absentmindedly begins to talk again.

“so, when do you want to paint the nursery?”

“garroth are you serious—“

©starhvney, 2024. please do not steal or repost my works as your own.

[yandere-fics]

♡ A Day In The Life Of Elisha's Darling ♡

3. “Did you sleep well? Don’t lie to me, I watched you.”

7. “Darling, you look gorgeous covered in their blood.”

14. “You think I’m jealous? Believe me, you haven’t seen me jealous yet.”

22. “I don’t know if I should be angry or turned on.”

32. “Babe! I brought you a gift. You don’t know what that is? Let me tell you. These are the eyes of the person who kept looking at you today.”

♡ Before you admit your feelings to Elisha when she's still trying to not come across as too emotional but also needing you by her side you'll probably wake up with Elisha staring right at you in an attempt to be flirty but it comes across as more scary, particularly cause she's still making you come along with her even when she won't admit her true feelings to you until she thinks you love her back. Luckily this stage is brief, after a few villages travelled with her she basically forgets she was the one who forced you to come along and will think you love her so instead you'll be treated to waking up with her cuddling you and staring straight into your soul, or occasionally getting food for both of you and watching you very very closely. ♡

"How'd you sleep, baby?" You woke up with the chosen one wrapping herself around you like a snake as you tried your best to figure out how to get free when her arms were holding you so tightly. She was acting oddly affectionate the night before but you didn't think she would have climbed into bed with you after you fell asleep. "Don't lie baby, I watched you all night."

She didn't seem to notice your grimace when she said that.

♡ The first half of your day depends on if she has bounties she needs to be working on or if you're just staying in town with her that day. Usually it's just staying in town, she gets her tasks done so quickly that it gives her breaks in between but if she has something she needs to be doing at the time then unfortunately you're coming with, it's safer to protect you if you're within her sight cause then she can make sure any monster doesn't charge in your direction plus she's too clingy to have to be separated for any amount of time so it works better for her if you come with. Unfortunately this also means getting covered in monster blood often. ♡

"Ugh I need to get this off of me, where's a stream?" When Elisha killed the vampire she wanted to show off in front of you so their undead blood splattered all over your face and you were too far from a town to wait to wash off there.

"No need, you looks so pretty covered in their blood baby, I don't mind." Unfortunately for her, you very much minded, it smelled like death. She pouted when you stormed off to rinse, and didn't let her look while you did it.

♡ If it's the other direction for your day though you still aren't guaranteed to safe from getting blood on you because while she denied it, she was very jealous. She didn't mind when people did you favors on occasion, they just wanted to thank you for staying by her side and keeping her focused on work but sometimes it started to offend her when they gave you too many presents, she was supposed to be the one who gave you the most gifts. ♡

"You're way too jealous Lish." She stabbed a guy in the foot earlier because he took one step too close to you and now all the villagers seemed almost in a rush to get both of you out of there before she could think someone else was coming onto you.

"I'm not jealous baby, I haven't even shown you jealous yet." She took something from her pocket and tossed it into your hand with a smile. You screamed when you realized it was an eyeball. "It's a gift for you! It's the eye of that bastard who looked at you too much this morning! I went back quietly to get it as a gift for my baby!"

♡ In the night time she likes to remain inside with you if in town or just laying down if you're both travelling. There's occasions where tasks have to be handled at night or night festivals she wants to take you to but otherwise the night is just for the both of you and no one is allowed to get in the way of that. It doesn't matter the reason, they need to leave her and you alone. ♡

The inn keeper came to knock on your door right as you and Elisha were just laying down to offer you refreshments which you gladly got up to accept, it pissed Elisha off but it was better than if she opened it herself, she might have threatened him immediately. Even an hour later she was still sulking about it and thinking about showing him a lesson about interrupting.

"I should just go down there-" You interrupted her by lifting your shirt, she was easily distracted. "Well now I don't know if I'm pissed off or turned on… actually I'm still angry at him. I guess my baby is more important right now though."

[everettswritings]

Got an idea for a cute story with a dash of angst if you want

How Shadow milk became the caregiver of regressor y/n....imagine if he had freed himself from the tree (or somehow freed himself again after the events of the story) and began roaming around, doing his usual antics! He eventually reaches y/n's home town/village/well...just home. He does his antics and y/n gets so stressed out, they regress and start crying like a baby.

For Shadow milk...why do I imagine...instant switch flip. From chaotic scary jester mode...to instant funny dad mode...also can imagine Shadow milk just realizing y/n is a regressor and goes '....ok, I'm a dad now. This is my baby now. All mine.' Just instant adoption...releases everyone else because now 1000000% focus is on baby now XD.

Just think the total sudden 180 would be funny lol...

BTW to explain...dash of angst that instantly gets resolved is y/n being terrified of Shadow milk lol...like seeing him all scary with evil laughter and so on scaring y/n so much.

Whole fic time! I actually really love this idea so much, Shadow Milk accidentally adopting someone(especially Y/N) just sounds weirdly canon. (NSFW/Kink accounts DNI!)

Laughter echoed through the air of Beast-Yeast, the maniacal cackling was as loud as lightning and even more frightening than such. Somehow, some way, the Beast known as Shadow Milk Cookie had breached his prison and was now spreading horrific chaos across the land. Circus-y music was blaring loudly and the noises of various acts being performed by mind controlled cookies only added to the cacophony.

You were crouched down in the corner of your living room with your ears covered, paralyzed by fear and trying to fight off your littlespace. You naturally screamed when you heard and saw someone crashing into your home, and you couldn’t help but shake as those heterochromatic eyes locked onto you.

“Well, well, well! What do we have here?!” Laughed the jester causing this madness as he approached you, fully intending to pull you into this like everyone else. You couldn’t hold it back anymore and involuntarily went into littlespace, instantly bursting into scared tears… somehow it made the jester pause in his advance. A look of concern spread across his usually-grinning face as he saw your tears rolling down your cheeks. He felt a pang inside him; but a pang of what? Guilt? Regret? He couldn’t quite decipher it, as it was probably a mixture of many emotions- he couldn’t recall the last time he felt something other than anger or manic joy. He crouched down in an attempt to look less threatening, feeling another wave of this emotion crashing down as you looked over with misted eyes. The jester gave a weak smile, “Hey, lil’ one… It’s alright. You’re alright…” He reached out for you, but you shrunk away. He retracted his hand and paused to think of how to turn your frown upside down.

The Beast’s grin returned to their face as a lightbulb went off; a puppet show! A puppet show was the perfect idea! They pulled a couple puppets out of thin air, clearing their throat to do the appropriate voices, which caught your attention again. One puppet was a baker and the other was just an ordinary guy- where would this go? The baker puppet held up a cupcake with a sleepy face stitched into the felt: “Here you go!” The baker said “One dozin’ cupcake!”, the ordinary guy grumbled “I said one dozen cupcakes!”.

You couldn’t suppress your giggles. The bit was a little dumb, sure, but it was still funny! At least to a regressed you. Shadow Milk Cookie’s grin widened with genuine affection and he decided to keep going, he kept pulling out assorted puppets and performing silly skits with them in order to make you laugh. Eventually, you decided to finally approach the jester and threw your arms around him in a hug. Although Shadow Milk Cookie was a bit surprised, he couldn’t say no to seeing you smile or hugging you back.

“Thank you, you’ve been such a wonderful audience!” They laughed, giving your little head a pat and handing you a little kettle-corn to snack on. As you graciously munched on the sweet treat, they breathed a relieved sigh that you calmed down. Maybe that’s what the pang was- a paternal feeling. They pulled you onto their lap and ruffled your hair.

“I guess I’m a dad now, huh?” They grinned.

That’s all! Ahh! Loved this, loved this, LOVED THIS! Thank you for the request! Have a good one 🫶