#I was thing about change and butterfly’s

[kaliforniahigh]

It's never over, all my blood for the sweetness of her laughter - n.s.

This is basically their "reunion" fic, and what happened after they grabbed that dinner together after the concert.

Exhusband!Noah and Exwife!Reader masterlist.

Warnings: slightly slow burn, I guess? It's fluffy. Noah and exwife go on a date. There's a lot of conversation on this one. 18+ smut (unprotected p in v, oral both female and male receiving, creampie and a little of cockwarming I guess?)

WC: 7.2k words.

It felt like you and Noah were at the beggining stages of your relationship all over again. And you felt like an overexcited teenager whenever your phone buzzed with a text from him.

You tried to dial it down a bit. You were once married to him and you had a kid together after all, and you shouldn't be this giggly over text messages and him taking you out on a date. You had to remind yourself you were 30, and not 16 anymore.

You've been talking consistently after you, him and Ezra had dinner together after the concert a couple of weeks ago. You've definitely been talking more than you've ever had in the five years you've been separated. They were mundane, simple and easy conversations. You tell him about your day, and he tells you about his. You tell him your plans, and what you're having for lunch or dinner, and he tells you how the new record label is coming together.

You knew you needed to have more serious conversations sooner rather than later. The conversation you had at the green room after the concert was enlightening, but it is not lost on you that you needed to discuss other things. There's so much you want to know about him and how he navigated life for the past five years, but you were not sure when it would be the right time to talk about it.

You guess you were at the beginning stages of your relationship all over again after all. You were both different people now. You've both changed so much - and stayed the same at the same time - and there's so much to figure out about each other, that you think it's not a bad thing you've been taking it slow.

You think about how you want the night to go as you apply your mascara to your top and bottom lashes, looking at yourself in the mirror.

Noah was taking you out on a date tonight, and it was getting hard to control your anxiety. He didn't tell you where you were going, just instructing you to dress casual and that nothing too fancy was needed, and you thanked him for remembering how uncomfortable you felt at fancy dinners and restaurants.

Earlier on in the day, you dropped Ezra off at your mom's house. You went over in your head a hundred times what you were going to tell him, but then decided to just say that Mom and Dad are going to have dinner together. Which is not a lie, but it's not the full truth either. You just didn't wanna use the word "date" yet and confuse his little head. Even though you could already see the cogs turning in his head, and you didn't doubt he would piece together the situation without you and Noah having to tell him anything.

A soon as you finished your makeup, you heard your phone buzz on the counter, signaling a text message had just come through.

Noah: Hey, sweetheart.

Noah: Just letting you know I'm on my way.

You smiled and texted back that you were ready and waiting for him.

And yeah, there are the nicknames as well. Like the one he just used. There's also "angel" and "honey", and they all made butterflies erupt in your stomach. The one he's been avoiding though is "baby", and you can kind of see way.

Back when you were together, that was your nickname. He's never called anyone else that, besides Ezra, after he was born. And it was your favorite, the way it slipped past his lips. Sometimes in a warning tone, when he was wary of something you wanted to do. Sometimes soft and quiet, in the mornings neither one of you wanted to leave the bed. Sometimes loud and excited when he wanted to show you something. And sometimes breathy and out of air, just a hint of whining whenever you were tangled together under the sheets.

Before your mind could wander any more, you busied yourself putting your shoes on and making sure you had everything in your purse. Locking the house, you sat on the couch, waiting for the familiar hum of his car arriving outside.

It was only a 15 minute drive from his place to yours, and soon enough, he was pulling up outside and killing the engine of his car. You waited patiently, knowing he'd want to ring your doorbell and greet you at the door, instead of having you make your way to his car.

A couple of seconds after hearing the doorbell ring, you opened the door and was greeted with a smile. Smiling back, you took him in. He looked relaxed, dressed casual just like you were. But something about him always made you feel incredibly attacted to him.

Maybe it was the way the tattoos complimented him perfectly. Or maybe it was his hair, which always annoyed you, because it looks perfect 100% of the time. Maybe it was his eyes, so soft and expressive, but dark at the same time. And then there was his height, because he completely towered over you, and instead of feeling intimidated, you've always felt like he was your protector. Like he was always there to catch you if you needed.

Yeah, there was really no match for any other man on the Planet, and you've been a fool for the past five years for thinking that there could be.

"You look beautiful", he says, looking you up and down, sending shivers down your body and causing a bashful smile to take over your face.

"Noah, I look how I look everyday", you pointed out. You really needed to learn how to take a compliment.

"I haven't seen you everyday in five years", he told you, and you guess he has a point. You're still getting used to it yourself.

"Careful, or you'll get tired of seeing my face all the time", you warned him with a playful tone.

"Nope. Not possible", he says, a little smile playing on his lips. You needed to get going, because he's already starting to make you feel flustered. "Ok, let's go", Noah steps aside so you can come out and lock the door behind you. He keeps close to you though, and you can definitely feel the heat radiating from his body, and if you stepped back just a little bit, you'd sure feel his solid chest pressed to your back.

You tried to keep these thoughts at bay, but you couldn't help but want to feel his arms around your waist, his large and firm hand rubbing at your sides up and down, just like it would many years ago.

Reminding yourself that your reality is different now, you turned around and stored your house keys safely inside your purse, and after you were done, Noah led the way to his car.

You didn't wait for him to open the door for you, and actually, he didn't even try to. Another thing he remembered. You hated these perfomative acts of chivalry. Once you were both with your seatbelts on, he started the car and drove off.

"Are you going to tell me where we're going now?", you ask, turning your head to look at him. He quickly took his eyes off the road to briefly look at you, and you saw a little mischievous smile playing on his lips.

"I can tell you that it's a place we've been to before"

"Noah", you huffed a little and he started to get amused at your curiosity. You've always been like this whenever he tried to surprise you. That is, when you didn't find out all about the surprise beforehand. "We haven't gone out to eat in years. How am I going to remember?"

"Oh, you'll remember", he reassured you. "You loved that place"

Thinking for a few seconds, he smiled even bigger when you let out a little gasp, and he knew you had figured it out.

"You're taking me to Casa di Roma?", you say, turning your body to fully face him now. He diverted his eyes once again just to get a glimpse at the big smile on your face.

"I told you you'd remember it"

"Wow", you say, going over the information in your head. "I actually haven't been there since we split", you confess.

"I haven't either"

A silence envelops the car, and for a few seconds, all you can hear is the hum of the engine, and the soft sounds of the streets around you.

"I was so mad at you", you point out, and you see Noah's eyebrows raise in curiosity.

"I think you were mad at me for a million different reasons", he says, and the slightly tense moment vanishes.

"Yeah, but I was mad about the fact that I loved the food at that restaurant, but I couldn't go back because it held too many memories. So I had to settle for mid carbonara for five years", you side-eye him and he laughs at your misery.

"Sounds like a real struggle", he teases you, shaking his head from side to side.

"Hey", you swat his arm from where you're seated. "I was actually upset about that"

You're both smiling, and your heart constricts at the interaction between you two. For such a long time, you thought things would never go back to normal. You thought you would never be able to be this close to him ever again, let alone have a conversation like this.

And here you are, on the backseat of his car, as you joke about the time you've been divorced, and the atmosphere actually feels light.

You missed laughing with him.

"I'm glad to take you out of your misery, then", he tells you and you hum in agreement.

You observe him for a few seconds. He's focused on the road as he takes a right turn, and you can tell you're getting close to the restaurant. You keep looking at him anyways, and you're sure he can feel you staring. He doesn't say anything though.

Noah is actually loving the attention you're giving him. And the fact that you apparently can't keep your eyes off of him.

God knows it's taking everything he has not to make a move of his own. Place his hand on your thigh. Intertwine his fingers with yours. He just wants to be touching you somehow, after such a long time not being able to.

He holds himself back though, and after a few more minutes, you two can see the restaurant up ahead.

He didn't tell you, but he also hasn't been here in the past five years. His reason not being all that different from yours, but he guesses it stems more from a feeling of sadness and longing for what once was, rather then the anger you felt.

Parking his car not too far from the entrance, you both get out of the car and make your way in. Everything is the exact same as you remember it. You look around youself as the waitress greets Noah and he gives both your names, and she starts guiding you to your table.

You find it odd for a second, since this restaurant is not usually a place you have to make a reservation. You see the reason though, when the table comes in sight.

It's the same table you always sat in whenever you came here. It provided the perfect amount of privacy, and Noah knew you were particular of where you liked to sit. And ever since the first time, you always chose the same table, over and over again.

Once you were both sat, she handed you the menus and told you she'd be back to take your orders shortly. You set it aside, not needing to look at it, already knowing what to order.

"I know we're starting over, and that means creating new habits eventually", Noah starts, and you look at him. "But I couldn't help but call in advance and reserve this table for tonight"

"It's perfect", you tell him, with sincerity. "I love that you thought about it"

Noah was always a man who payed attention to the details. A perfectionist, you'd call it, and later on in the relationship, you'd find out that most musicians were. To him, though, it didn't only apply to his music, it also bled into other aspects of his life.

"You don't even have to open the menu", he says, ponting to the discarded menu on the corner of the table.

"I just really hope the carbonara is still the same", you crossed your fingers in front of you.

Light conversation flowed between the two of you after the waitress took your orders. You and Noah refrained from ordering some wine, since he was driving and you didn't want to drink alone.

It wasn't long before your deliciously smelling plates were set in front of you.

"Looks about the same as it used to", you muttered to yourself. Noah snickered in amusement in front you.

"Sounds like you're a judge on a cooking competition or something", he says, and you laugh.

"I'm sorry, it's just that it's been so long, that I really hope it tastes the same"

"Well, take the first bite and give me the full review, then", he set his cutlery aside and waited for you to gather some of the pasta and try it.

Noah watches you with an amused expression and a glint in his eyes. He remembers your nights here as if they happened yesterday. And he definitely wants to bring you here more often. And he also wants to know where else you love to eat. What ice cream parlor is your favorite. What delivery you order to your house when you don't want to cook for the night.

You close your eyes when the food invades your taste buds. Throwing your head back slightly, you make a sound between a hum and moan, but it's enough to make Noah's head go to places he was avoiding for the time being.

Noah waits patiently for you verdict, and trying not to think about how you used to do what you did just now under completely different circumstances.

"It tastes exactly the same", you tell him once you've swallowed everything down, immediately going for another bite.

Noah starts eating his own food, and he too is taken down memory lane when he tastes the different flavors.

You two don't really talk all that much as you eat, and you take the time to look around you and take everything in. The place has remained almost the same over the years. You did notice they painted the walls on the outside patio and changed the chairs. There were also a few more decorative elements, like pictures hanging on the wall.

"Yeah, I'll never stop coming to this place ever again", Noah points out once he's finished, wiping his mouth with the napkin and setting it beside him on the table.

Just another bite and you're done as well. "I don't think I'll be able to stop again either".

"Once you have a taste of what you've lost, you don't really wanna let it go again", Noah says and you agree with a nod, a knowing smile on your face. You kind of want to make of him for that cheesy line, but you decide not to, mainly because you feel the same way.

"Shoudn't we be talking about ourselves or something?", you observe, taking a sip of the beverage in front of you.

"What do you mean?", Noah asks you.

"Like, this is our first date, right? Shouldn't you tell me what your favorite color is, or whatever?"

He thinks over your question for a couple of seconds. Yes, your technically going on a first date, but this kind of small talk just doesn't seem right to him.

"I don't think so", he settles. "I believe I know you like the back of my hand", he says and you make a sort of surprised face. Not because you don't believe him - you do - but because that was such a bold statement.

"After five years?", you question him.

"You're a creature of habit, Y/N. So I don't think things have changed all that much", he shrugs his shoulder.

"Well, I do want you to tell me what you've been up to during these five years though"

As soon as you said this, the waitress came back, asking if you were ready to have the bill, and Noah said yes.

You couldn't lie and say you weren't disappointed. You wanted to spend more time with him. You wanted to know more about him. You wanted to be close to him for longer.

"Tell me if this is out of line", he started. "But would you be willing to come back to my place so we can chat a bit more?", he asks, a bit reluctant.

"Honestly, I wanted you to say that"

"It's settled then. I'll pay the bill and then we'll head to my place", he reaches for his wallet on the pocket of his pants.

"I've never been there before", you point out.

Noah always picked up and dropped off Ezra at your place, and you never really needed to go to his. You only imagined what it looked like from what Ezra has told you over the years.

"I think you'll like it", he says and you agree. Noah was always very picky of where he wanted to live. Once you moved out of that tiny apartment, the process of finding a new place took a while. The houses either didn't have a nice design, too small or too large, or it was far away from everything, or it was too close to downtown. At the end of the day, you settled for the houe you live in right now, and you can only imagine Noah's struggle having to find another place that accommodated all his needs.

Noah paid the bill, and you didn't even attempt to split it, already knowing he wouldn't let you, and you both made your way back to his car.

The way to his house was slightly familir to you, mainly because you knew his place wasn't too far away from yours. It was something you knew Noah considered when looking for a new place. He wanted to be close to you and Ezra, just in case something happened and he nedded to be there fast.

Arriving at his place, your eyes went over the exterior as Noah parked inside the garage. You could tell the house wasn't big, and it only had one floor. You guess as someone living alone, you don't really need that big of a house.

Getting out of the car, he leads you to the door on the left side of the garage, and it leads straight into the kitchen. As you expected, everything is very organized and clean. It was always something you and Noah had different opinions on. You didn't have a problem with leaving a few things laying aroud the house, and more often than not, you caught Noah organizing after you.

You could tell the house was lived in though, and you could see a lot of signs from Ezra all over the place. The drawings on the fridge, his favorite cereal set on the counter, and, as you went into the living room, you saw some of his favorite board games and toys on some shelves on the wall.

"Your place is nice. Ezra tells me how much he loves the couch everytime he goes back home", you tell him.

"Are you gonna be mad if I tell you we crash on the couch more often than not?", you laugh at the way he side-eyes you, trying to gauge your reaction.

"No, I'm not", you tell him. "I'm guilty of crashing on the couch a few times as well"

Ever since you and Noah divorced and lived in different houses, you knew you would do things differently, even though you agreed on most things. There were things Ezra could do at your place, that he wasn't allowed to do at Noah's place and vice versa, and usually, the kid was pretty good at differentiating.

"Test the couch and I'll be back with some tea, ok?", Noah said, going to the kitchen, and you placed yourself on the couch, proving that it was indeed a very comfortable couch.

Looking around a little bit more as you waited for him to come back, you noticed a picture set on the side table. Getting closer, you saw it was a picture you both took with Ezra when he was only about three years old. You remember that day vividly. It was a school play, and you and Noah were nervous and excited at the same time. It wasn't anything overly elaborate, but you remember crying your eyes out when Ezra stepped on stage.

Grabbing the picture, you observed how young you and Noah looked. His hair was much longer, and he didn't have half the tattoos he has now. Your hair was darker and you wore much more makeup than you ever would right now. Your smiles were bright, as Noah held Ezra in his arms, and the little kid had an arm around your neck, bringing the family together.

"I didn't have the heart to put away this one", Noah said, getting back in the room with two steaming mugs in his hands. Setting the picture back in it's place, you take one mug from him and thank him for the tea.

"I just wonder how many girls you brough over that thought they were your mistress", you point out, and Noah almost spits out the sip he had just taken from the tea. When he recovers, he looks at you with a deadpan face, and you want to laugh at his reaction. "I'm sorry, It was the first thing that came into my mind"

"Well, I don't bring girls over in the first place", he explains and it's your turn to deadpan at him.

"You don't gotta pretend. I won't be mad", you tell him, and you're being honest. You're not sure if you want to broach this subject with him right now, but since you're already here, you might as well.

"I'm not saying I haven't been with girls, I just don't invite them back to my place, that's all", he shrugs his shoulder, and you can tell he's being honest.

"To be fair, I usually don't bring guys over to my place either", you offered him the information. "You'd be surprised by how difficult the dating scene is for women these days", you take a sip of your tea as you tell him this.

"How come?", he asks, even though he has a pretty good idea. He just wants to hear you badmouthing other guys to him.

"They're mostly all just dumb and can't hold a conversation without fully talking about themselves", you tell him and he grins at your statement. "Being a single mom doesn't help you either"

"I'm sorry about that. Does the MILF thing come up a lot with these guys?"

You can't help but snort at the MILF comment.

"They've never said it to my face, so I don't know. But I guess so? I mean, men are gonna be men", there was a lull in the conversation before you speak up again. "I guess the dating life of a rockstar is much more interesting, though"

"Rockstar", he laughs at little at the way you refer to him. He knows you're just messing with him, especially because you already know he hates being called a rockstar. "Not that interesting, actually. Don't really have the energy for that after performing for a few nights in a row"

"I can see that", you tell him, before you change the subject. "By the way, I saw the post about you guys taking a break a couple of months back"

You remember opening your social media and seeing the post cancelling a couple of concerts due to Noah's burnout.

"I wanted to reach out to you and ask how you were doing, but I just didn't know how to"

"It's ok, you don't have to worry", he scooted closer to you on the couch, and placed his hand on top of yours. "I'm doing better now, and that was actually the breaking point, and when we decided to come up with our own label", he explains.

"How is that going, by the way?", you ask him, turning your body to fully face him now.

"It's going well so far. It's a lot of paperwork and it's going to be a while before we see things actually happening, but I feel so much better already"

"I'm happy for you, I truly am. I don't really know how things were these past five years, and I didn't know about your struggle with he label when we were still together, but I'm happy for you guys having something of your own", you tell him, leaning your head against the back of the couch and looking at him.

"You didn't know because I didn't tell you, so don't worry about that", he waved your comment off, knowing you were still dwelling on what he told you. "How's the tattoo studio going?", he asked and you smiled.

"It's going great. I'm booked and busy, thankfully"

"I gotta schedule an appointment so I can get a Y/N exclusive design", he says.

"You already got an exclusive design", you tell him, running your finger over his ring finger, where the band you tattooed on him so long ago still stays, albeit a little bit faded.

"Gotta get a new one for a new beginning", you hum in agreement and get closer to him on the couch, leaning your head on his shoulder. He rests his head on top of yours, placing a soft kiss to the crown of your head.

"Thanks for tonight", he tells you, murmuring against your hair.

"You're welcome. I really enjoyed myself. Might even say it's the best first date I've ever been on", you crane your neck to look at him, and you're met with him smiling down at you.

You look at each other for a few seconds, and you can see his eyes drifting lower and focusing on your lips from time to time.

"Do you kiss on first dates?" he asks you quietly, and you smile.

"Only if they're my ex-husband", you joke.

"Lucky for me, there's only one of them out there"

Noah grasps the side of your face and brings your lips closer until they're barely touching. He waits for a second, giving you the chance to change your mind, but you don't.

"Kiss me, please", you don't ask, you just tell him, and then finally, your lips are crashing together. It's slow and you're both just drinking the moment. His hands feel so warm and firm on your face, as he keeps you close to him, and in a brief moment of bravery, your own hand starts to make it's way up his chest. Soon, though, you realize what you're doing and quickly withdraw your hand.

Noah is having none of it though, grabbing your hand and putting it back where it was.

"I want you to touch me", he parts briefly to whisper the words into your lips. You go back to splaying your hands on his chest, feeling the firmness and warmth of it under your hands. Licking your lips, you contemplate your next words.

"I want you to touch me too", you whisper back to him.

"I am touching you, Honey", he runs his thumb over your cheeks to get his point across, even though he has an idea of what you wanted to say.

"I want you to touch me more", you tell him, averting your gaze in an act of mild embarrassment. You've gone five years without him, and you're not sure you can go much longer anymore.

"Hey, look at me", he taps your cheek and your eyes meet his again. And if he wasn't sitting down, the way you're looking at him right know would've definitely knocked him off his feet. He takes in the way you're biting your lower lip in anticipation, and how innocent your eyes look from under your lashes, even if what you're proposing is anything but innocent. "Are we not taking this slow?", he asks, and you lose every ounce of bravery you had in your body, realizing what you're suggesting and how ridiculous you probably sound.

"Yeah, I know", you shake your head and move away from him, prompting his hand to leave it's place resting on your cheek. "I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me", you let out a nervous laugh and Noah can feel the embarrassment radiating off of you. Before he can say anything though, you're looking around yourself and reaching for your purse, discarded on the other side of the couch. "I should get going anyways, It's getting kind of late"

Before you have the chance to get up from the couch, he's grabbing you by the hips and pulling you closer to him once again.

"Can you slow down for a second?", he tells you, but it does little to erase what you're feeling right now. You try to play it cool, even though you're being so obvious.

"What do you mean? I'm just getting my stuff to leave", you tell him, matter-of-factly, like he can't see what you're trying to do.

"Yeah, and you're not leaving", Noah says and you're a little taken aback by his words.

"I'm not leaving?", you say, a little amused.

"No, because I'm not gonna let you go this time", he's serious and you can tell by the expression on his face. "I think you got it all wrong, so I need to explain myself before you try to bolt out of the door"

"Explain what? You're right, we're taking this slow and I was the one who crossed a line", you tell him.

"I said that more so for yourself than me, because I don't want you to leave and regret whatever it is that we do tonight", Noah explains, but you stay quiet, thinking over his words. "Trust me, if you tell me right now that you want me to bend you over this couch and fuck you senseless, I have absolutely no problem with that. But I don't want you to go home and think we shouldn't have done it"

His words send a tingle down your spine, and you're so close to him right now that he can feel the change in your breath, how it puffs more rapidly and how your chest moves up and down faster. He smiles at the effect he has on you.

"You like the idea of me bending you over the couch?", he asks, voice quiet and the warm breath from his lips are hitting your own. You close your eyes.

"Noah", you half whimper his name, and his hand moves from your hips to down your thighs.

"Yes, baby?", he asks, and you swear you shiver when you hear the nickname you've gone so long without. It seems like that is your breaking point, because in seconds, your leg is moving and you find yourself straddling his hips and kissing his mouth.

His hands are firm on your thighs as they squeeze the flesh, after a few seconds though, you start to feel a little restless, so you grab them and slide them to rest on the swell of your ass. Noah hisses in-between kisses.

"You're fucking killing me", he tells you, voice strained and you can tell he's holding himself back.

"I told you that I want you to touch me"

"I need you to tell me you're not gonna regret this", he parts from you and look up to find your eyes, and you find a little vulnerability in his.

"I've wanted this since the moment you kissed me after that concert. Probably before too, I just had a hard time accepting I was probably never gonna have you this way again", you confess.

"I want you to have me this way for the rest of our lives, like it was always supposed to be", he smiles and you give him a peck on the lips.

"Are you going to fuck me on the couch or are we moving this to your bedroom?", you ask, teasing him.

"Are you the same woman who was embarrassed just minutes ago?", you laugh at his remark, but it's cut short when gets up from the couch carrying you with him. You loop your arms around his neck for support, and it's not lost on you how you can feel his hard on pressing into your core.

Kicking the door to his bedroom open, he lays you down on the bed and you take a few seconds to look around yourself before he starts taking his shirt off, and now your eyes are wandering over his body instead.

It's undeniable how buff he's gotten over the years, you've noticed on pick ups and drops offs at your house. But to see it right in front of you evoked feelings you didn't know existed.

He grabbed your hands and pulled you into a seating position, and you feel his fingers messing with the hem of your shirt before he's pulling it up and off of you. In seconds, his large hands are kneading the flesh of your boobs, and you're throwing your head back in pleasure.

"I missed these so fucking much", he says before starting to plant kisses on the top of your breasts, you reach back to pop the clasp and your bra falls in between the two of, and soon, it's being flung to somewhere on the floor of his bedroom.

Laying you down once again, his mouth leaves a trail of kisses from your neck, down to your brests and all over your stomach. You can't help but lift your hips off the mattress looking for more contact, and honestly, Noah is not too kin on letting you wait tonight. He figures you've both waited long enough.

He hooks his fingers under your shorts and panties and takes them off all at once, and you instinctively part your legs to make room for him.

Swiping his index finger in between your folds, he marvels at how wet you are for him.

"I can't believe you'd leave and not let me taste you", he tuts at you, before his mouth is between your legs, and his tongue is circling over your clit.

You let out a moan in satisfaction. You almost forgot how good he was at this. Soon, your hands are gripping his short locks, keeping him in place and his large hand is over your stomach, preventing you from moving too much, since he knows you have a tendency to do that.

It doesn't take much for you to be on the edge of the precipice, ready to fall and have pleasure engulf you whole.

"I'm so close", you tell him, whining and screwing your eyes shut.

"Cum for me", he tells you, looking up at you from between your legs. "Please cum for me", he says again, and in seconds you can feel your walls restricting and your legs closing in on his head. Your moans get louder and your legs are shaking, and you can't help but push his head away a little from how sensitive you're feeling.

Noah sits back on the bed and just watches you. Naked and trying to catch your breath. He thinks you look the most beautiful like this. Laying on his bed after he just pulled the most beautiful sounds from you.

"My fingers definitely don't have the same effect", you says and he lets out a genuine laugh at your remark. You smile and look at him from your position on the bed, taking in how he looks. He has sort of a dazed smile on his lips, and as your eyes trail lower, you can see the bulge under his pants.

Lifting one of your feet, you start to trail it down from his abs to where you know it feels painful and restraining. When you run your toes over his crotch, he sucks in a breath and closes his eyes. You apply a little more pressure and he bucks his hips, looking for more.

"Take off your pants", you instruct him.

"Come here and take it off for me", he tells you and you oblige with no complaint.

You start with his belt, undoing it slowly, and pulling it from the belt loops in his pants. Unzipping his jeans, you reach inside before pulling it down, and palm him over his boxers. You can feel the outline of his dick, and how hard and hot it feels in your palms.

"Don't tease, baby", he begs a little, voice breathless and already a little ruined.

You take his pants and boxers off and pull them halfway down, but he has to stand up from the bed to take them off all the way.

You don't give him the chance to get on the bed once again, because you're kneeling in front of him, looking at him from under your lashes as you take his length in your hands and starts pumping him.

"I don't think I'll last long, baby", he says and you only shake your head. You don't see a problem with that.

He grunts when he feels your velvety mouth envelop his dick. It's wet, and soft, and warm, and he swears to himself he won't go another five years without feeling this.

He gathers your hair in a ponytail and helps you along with your movements. He loves watching the way his length disappears inside your mouth, and how your eyes are watery from the effort you're putting in.

"It feels so good baby. You gonna let me cum in your mouth?", he asks and you hum around his dick as an answer. "You gonna swallow everything?"

"You know I always swallow everything", you tell him and this is what sends him over the edge. His body becomes stiff and he cums inside your mouth, and he can't keep his eyes open even if he wanted to. You pull your mouth off with a pop, and it takes a while before he's back to being fully functioning.

When he looks down at you again, he can see your makeup a little bit smudged, and his thumb swipes under your eyes to catch a little bit of the moisture that escaped from them.

"You look so fucking beautiful like this", he shakes his head in disbelief. "Get on the bed", he tells you, not wanting to waste another second.

"How do you want me?", you ask.

"On your back. I need to look at you"

And that's what you do, getting comfortable on your back, head resting over the pillow as you watch Noah pump himself a few times before leaning over you on the bed. He captures your lips with his, and moans into your mouth when he tastes himself on your tongue.

You reach down and take his member in your hand, you guide it to your entrance, and he gives a little push and you can feel him slipping inside with no resistance whatsoever.

You gasp at the feeling of him stretching you open, and he gives you a few seconds to adjust before he starts moving back and forth.

Supporting himself with both hands on the mattress, he looks down at you and you place both of your palms on his slightly sweaty chest.

"You feel so tight around me", he hisses. You hook both of your legs around his lower back, bringing him impossibly closer to you.

"Go faster, please", you request and he smiles down at you.

"Look at you being so polite", he teases and picks up his pace, the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room around you.

Your moans get louder once he starts hitting that perfect spot inside of you, and you roll your eyes back in pleasure.

"Fucking made for me, huh?", Noah starts to mumble, the pleasure taking over him. "You were fucking made for me"

"Yes, yes", you repeat like a mantra, nodding your head and locking your eyes with his. He grabs your chin in a firm grip, trying to anchor himself to something.

"I'm so close, baby", he tells you and you can already feel him faltering a little bit.

"Me too"

"I can feel you fucking squeezing around me", he grunts from above, and hitches one of your legs even higher, hitting a new angle and making you see starts. "Let go for me, baby. Cum all over my dick for me"

His dirty words send you over the edge, and a couple of pumps later, he follows right after you. His arms no longer able to support him, he falls on top of you, but you don't mind that one bit. For a while, you both just lay there, trying to catch your breaths and wrap your heads around what just happened.

"I'll pull out so I can clean us up, ok?", he says, but you whine in protest, not wanting to part just yet. You use your leg that is hitched over his hip, and roll the two of you to the side. He's still inside of you, and you can feel his release dripping on the bed sheets, but you don't care. You just want to feel close to him.

"Wanna stay like this for while", you tell him, and he starts to run his hands over your back softly.

"If we stay like this, I'll get hard again", he points out, and you look up at him from where you're tucked at his side.

"Is that a bad thing?"

"Not if you wanna go again", he lets the statement linger in the air for a few seconds.

"Maybe in fifteen minutes. I think we should rest for a bit though", you says and he nods in agreement, smiling down at you.

"Is it too much if I ask you to stay the night?", Noah proposes and you shake your head no.

"Ezra is spending the night at his grandparent's house", you point out. Silence takes over for a few seconds.

"Where do we go from here?", Noah asks, in a moment of contemplation.

"We just keep going. I think it'll lead us to somewhere amazing", you tell him, planting a kiss on the side of his mouth before he captures your lips in a proper kiss.

"Thanks for letting me in again", Noah whispers into the quiet of the room.

"Thanks for giving me another chance", you whisper back truthfully.

You don't have the chance to go for another round though, because in few minutes, you're both falling asleep in each other's arms, a feeling of contentment and safeness you haven't felt in so long takes over your body, and you decide that you never want to stop feeling like this again.

Tag List: @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @mysterygirl-srl @lacy1986 @dream-machine-love @theanarchymuse95 @missduffsblog @xmads-omensx @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @w0manof-flesh44 @chey-h @pipidoll @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @kissestomyomens @hedonist-k1l @xxkatsatwatwafflexx @daemontargaryenwife @h0riz0nsiren @astronoids @flowery-mess @renegadebirch @ashlynnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn @jesuisunchaton @carrieontillmay

[hearts4hughes]

LOOSE END | ANAKIN SKYWALKER X READER

warnings: mentions of killing ; angst angst angst ; read at your own risk

anakin skywalker is the love of your life. you don’t remember when it started, only that it grew, slowly at first, like the glow of a distance star. late-night missions where he’d pull you from the wreckage, breathless and grinning. the way he’d linger just a second too long when he caught your arm, eyes flicking to your lips like a promise. the stolen moments in the temple gardens, fingers brushing, whispers in the dark, his breath warm against your ear as he vowed to protect you.

he loved you recklessly, with the fire of a thousand suns. you loved him back just as fiercely, always meeting him halfway. you were his rock, his will to live, his weakness.

and he’s about to kill you.

his shift to the dark side was just as you fell in love—swift, reckless, and all consuming. he came over less and less, his words got shorter, colder. it all led up to now.

he stood in front of you, his body tensed like a bowstring pulled taunt, moments from snapping. his mind swirled like a vicious storm. in the storm he could barely think, he could barely breathe. all he saw was you, and he couldn’t reach you in time.

“anakin, put your saber down,” your voice shakes. your hands are held in front of you like a shield. “you’re just stressed-”

“don’t tell me what i am!” he growls, eyes absent of its usual sparkle. he doesn’t sound like himself. he’s merely a puppet, and senator palpatine has no problem pulling his strings.

you shook your head. tears well in your eyes, blurring your vision. “this isn’t you, anakin. what happened to the boy who saved me on malachor?” he shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut to keep up his walls. he steps closer, his heavy footstep making you subconsciously move back. “what happened to the boy who promised he’d always protect me?”

“i’ve changed!” he snarls, raw and dripping, like a predators roar. “that anakin was weak. he was foolish. he thought love could save him.”

you cry, body shaking with utter heartbreak. your throat constricts around your words, and when you finally whisper them, you sound like prey. “love did save you.”

“love distracted me. it held me back.” he bellows, stepping closer with each word. the wall is cold against your bare back. you had worn this dress to surprise him, to reintroduce the spark into your relationship, but whatever was left of the spark died out along with your anakin.

with your shoulders against the cold stone, a chill seeps into your skin. you turn your head, mouth dry, keeping your gaze fixed anywhere but on him, as if distance can be forced by sheer will alone. his presence, burning and unrelenting, presses closer, filling the space you tried to claim for yourself.

his breath fans against your skin, but you don’t get goosebumps, you don’t get butterflies. instead, your stomach drops like a weight. your heart squeezes, shattering with each heavy breath of his.

“i love you, anakin skywalker.” you breathe out. your voice is weak, ridden with a terrified whine.

“you are my greatest weakness.” he says, his lightsaber hissing as he ignites it. blue fills your senses, contrasting with the fire in his eyes. “and darth vader doesn’t have any weaknesses.”

with the thrust of his hand, your body goes numb. you don’t even feel the burn in your stomach, only the breaking of your heart. the fire in anakin’s eyes flickers, shadows pooling in their depths, like he can’t stand the weight of what he’s done.

as your body falls, he falls with you. fear is etched into his face like a scar. fear of what he’s done; fear of who he’s become; fear that he has killed the person he loved most in the entire galaxy.

his hands cling to you, trembling as he cries out. the same hands that wrote your ruin, that shattered the very thing they swore to protect.

[flowercrowngods]

anyway it’s marvey mother’s day but neither of them has a mother to celebrate. mike’s having one of those days where you remember that grief and healing isn’t linear, and he just misses grammy. harvey has a bad day because marcus posted a picture of himself and lily, thanking her for the amazing job she’s always done as his mother. it opens old wounds harvey realises a little too late have been opened. he, too, learns that grief comes in different forms and can resurface at any time.

mike calls him, didn’t think too hard about it apparently, because he sounds a little dazed and overwhelmed when harvey answers. he’s crying, too — has been on the verge of it all day, the tears gathering in his eyes but not falling, like they have been all week. grief is fun like that. he just wants to talk to someone.

harvey asks him then, “should i come over? do you want company?”

and mike says he wants to visit her. he wants to go to the graveyard. “but i don’t wanna go alone. i dont— i don’t wanna be alone. i’m so done being alone. i never used to be, when she was still there. and now it feels like all i ever am is alone. i don’t wanna go see her like that.”

mike is crying now and it breaks harvey’s heart. the way his voice breaks. cracks. leaving him open and vulnerable, trusting harvey not to reach inside and take without care. trusting harvey not to leave him like this.

something’s changed in their dynamic. after prison, after rachel. they call each other now. they tell each other that they don’t want to be alone. they talk now. after hours, when the lights are out and the records are spinning. when the whisky is burning and smoothing out their edges.

harvey doesn’t hesitate to go with him. promises to be there in a bit. stays on the phone until mike says it’s okay, that he’ll see him in ten minutes. stays even a bit after that, when mike hangs up with another lame apology that harvey waves off. because he likes this. he likes that they talk now. that mike called him about this. that he can be on his way now and try to make it better. that mike trusts him with this. everything.

he likes it. and when the time comes, he’ll get over it. it will have been worth it though.

harvey takes him to the graveyard and walks him to the grave. his hand is burning where it rested against the small of mike’s back for only a little bit. his hand is burning where it’s drawn toward mike’s, feeling the pull as if they were suddenly magnetic. as if they had so fundamentally changed like the air between them — sizzling with tension and promise, but in a way so gentle and trusting. like the burning doesn’t come from the touch but from its absence.

mike sits down on the little bench by the grave and harvey gives him space. walks around the graveyard and watches other people laying down flowers and spending time with their loved ones. mothers and daughters, grandmothers and sisters, aunts and cousins. friends. everyone can take on the role of a mother, he figures. the absence of one burns even well into his forties, and he doesn’t suppose it will ever end if he thinks about it too hard. so he tries not to and continues on his path around the graveyard, focusing rather on the living things around him. birds and butterflies and blooming trees, green and white and yellow and pink.

and in the middle of it all, mike ross, talking to his grandma. harvey approaches him again because that’s where the path leads and he wonders if he should continue, but mike turns his head. spots him. holds out his hand in a gesture for harvey to come over. leaves his hand there. inciting. expectant. harvey hesitates before taking it.

mike uses it to pull himself up into a standing position and then they’re very close. harvey can smell him; could breathe him in if he dared. mike doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move back and neither does harvey. their hands are still holding on. and then the corner of mike’s mouth lifts. he smiles in that secret way that makes his eyes flash and his whole demeanour change. it’s like a magic trick. harvey’s been obsessed with it from the start.

they don’t kiss. it’s not the time or the place. but mike moves in and lays his head on harvey’s shoulder before wrapping his arms around his middle, beneath harvey’s jacket. harvey holds him because it’s the easiest thing in the world.

“i’ve got you,” harvey says. and as he does, he realises what it means. it means that he likes it. he likes all of it.

“i know,” says mike, and it might as well be a kiss, the way his lips move against harvey’s neck. he way he inhales before sagging into him. “likewise.”

and it’s harvey’s turn to move now. to rest his head against mike’s, lips against his temple. eyes closed. to breathe him in. to smile.

“i know.”

they head over to harvey’s then and mike talks about grammy. harvey talks about his own grandma, who passed way too soon. they talk about their mothers, they talk about grief and about how it all would be so much easier if it were linear. if grief were predictable and following avoidable patterns.

mike’s thumb draws little figures on harvey’s wrist and the back of his hand. harvey occasionally finds strands of hair that don’t want to fit in with the rest and combs them into place — a ruse, really, to leave his hand in mike’s wonderfully, surprisingly soft hair and scratch along his scalp. it makes mike melt into him.

it really is the easiest thing in the world to make sure that mike ross never has to be alone again.

“as long as you’ll have me, that is.”

and that’s when they kiss.

[motherofpirates]

Steve threw himself back into the tall grasses that were threaded with wildflowers. He slouched with his legs out propped up on his elbows, the picture of nonchalance.

“You really need to mow your lawn, man.” Eddie said as he plonked himself down next to him.

“I dunno, I kinda like it better like this, it’s prettier.” Steve looked around him with a tilt of his head as Eddie cupped his hands around the end of the joint to get it started. He nodded in agreement as he passed the blunt to Steve, he’d take wildflowers over a manicured lawn any day.

“Won’t your parents complain about it if they come home?” Eddie frowned with concern.

“Sure, but it’s just another thing to be disappointed about me for on their endless list. They think I’m a failure anyway, me mowing the lawn isn’t going to change that.” Steve shrugged, his voice flat schooled to show no emotion, as he passed it back to Eddie.

Eddie leaned back on his elbows; joint held firmly between his lips as he manoeuvred himself into a position that mirrored Steve’s.

“You don’t believe the shit they spout about you, do you? ‘Cause they’re wrong, you know that don’t you, Stevie? You’re a good guy.”

“Not as much as I used to before I met Nancy and got involved with the Party. Even less now, when they haven’t been here for nearly four months constantly criticising my life choices, and besides, you and Robin have been a corrupting influence on my life.” He smiled as plucked the joint out of Eddie’s hand. “Remember to share, Eds.”

Eddie rolled on to his side propping his head on his hand to admire Steve’s profile, he picked a couple of daisies. He wanted to thread them through Steve’s hair. The weed was beginning to work its magic on his nerves.

“Glad to be of service, corrupting innocent minds and gathering souls to my cause is my life’s work. Praise Satan and all that.”

Steve snorted as he turned on to his side mirroring Eddie. “I think my dad would have aneurysm if he met you,” his voice laced with fondness.

“I aim to please. It’s also one of the services I render; offing parents simply by meeting them and being my charming and charismatic self.”

“On yeah, and what’s this service going to cost me?” Steve asked looking at Eddie through his eyelashes, the tension between them felt like the air before a storm, heavy and full of potential. Eddie’s heartrate quickened. He was almost certain Steve was flirting with him but having never been on the receiving end of someone doing that he felt unsure that he read the situation correctly. Steve reached out and tucked a stray strand of hair behind Eddie’s ear, making Eddie swallow almost audibly.

Eddie reached out to cup Steve’s cheek as he leant into Steve’s space catching the other man’s eyes. Butterflies took flight in his stomach, but his thoughts begun to spiral. Steve’s eyes fluttered closed. What if he’d miss read Steve? Eddie suddenly felt sick. What if this is the moment that ruined everything? Steve’s lips are so close to his. What if Steve hates him for what he’s about to do? Eddie’s breath caught in his throat but not in a good way, his heart raced, and he had broken out in a cold sweat despite the day’s heat. Why would Steve choose him if he could choose a normal life? Being with Eddie would make Steve’s life infinitely harder. Why would anyone choose Eddie if they had the choice? He was a level twenty fuck up. Eddie’s self-doubt and anxiety won out and before he knew it, he had bolted through the woods away from Steve’s house. Doing what he was best at. Running away.

He heard Steve call “Eddie come back!” But he was too full of adrenaline and anxiety to stop and think right now.

____________________________________

If you enjoyed this snippet please head on over to AO3, you can find the rest of my fic there entitled I Want You to Want Me

[koisexy]

nanami has a crush on his assistant. (pt. 2)

it had been about two days since nanami and you had that little conversation. can he even call it that? more like an exchange of sentences that ultimately went nowhere. and he wanted it to, he really did. so he needed to take charge, he's the boss of his own company for goodness sake.

but even then, nanami just couldn't stop thinking of you. your polite and soft voice drifting through his ears, "yes sir," you said to him without even realizing what those words did to him. and nanami knows that this is dangerous between the two of you: he is your boss, he tells you what to do and you do it. but he isn't sure if he even cares anymore.

finally that terribly boring meeting ends and he can head back to his office. he walks past your desk, sending you a quick wave before he pauses at his doorframe. "y/n."

"yes, sir?" fuck. those words again.

"i'm feeling a little low energy after that meeting. would you mind a run to that coffee shop down the street?" he knows that one is your favorite, you always have a little pastry and sweet drink in your hands every other morning.

"yes, sir. is there a specific drink you would like in particular?" you shut down your computer, ready to tend to what your boss needs.

"no. i meant together."

you paused. "oh, the both of us. walking to get coffee."

"yes, i would love it if you would join me, no pressure." now he got nervous he threw you off. had he come on too strong? he doesn't even feel like it was strong at all.

"of course, i would love that."

you both make the short walking distance from the office to the coffee shop, making small talk about office-related things. nanami lets you talk about what changes you feel should be made, "within reason of course, i don't want to offend you," and he offers a dry joke that makes you giggle. and boy does that give nanami butterflies.

you both sat across from each other after ordering and receiving your respective drinks. once you take a sip and set your drinks down, nanami starts the conversation again, "um, i noticed that you might have wore a new lip gloss today."

your eyes flick to his. "you noticed?"

"i notice a lot about you, y/n. you are well-put together."

"wow, thank you so much, sir." and you said it again. he knows you don't mean anything behind it besides manners but nanami had to close his eyes and catch his breath.

and you barely notice (you actually do but nanami doesn't catch it), just taking a cute sip of your drink.

on the walk back to the office, it feels you both may have made a little progress. progress towards what, nanami isn't sure on your end but on his end, he feels a little more confident that you might feel something.

"i just want to say," nanami starts to speak, low, but you can still hear him. "you have been with me, er, the company for 3 years now."

"yeah, time does fly."

"i haven't been difficult, have i? that is not the type of boss i want to be."

"no, sir. you haven't. it's a pleasure to work for you. i enjoy it, truly." you made sure you emphasized that you really do enjoy being his assistant.

nanami looked at you once you both reached the entrance of the office building. he wanted to say something more but he decided against it, wanting to leave this air between the two of you light.

"thank you for inviting me to have coffee with you, it was nice."

"it was, thank you for coming."

you both went silent, equally waiting on the other to open the door and end this moment. if it ended, who knows what might happen. unfortunately, the beep from a watch came through and cut the silence.

you looked down at your watch. time for another meeting. "um, i believe we have a call in 15 minutes, we should set up for that."

"right, cannot miss it." nanami says and he opens the door to let you in first. he breathes in your scent, just like he wanted.

and just like that, he's lost again.

[kerryshifts]

Kerrrryyyy I need ur help,I do want to shift but I feel like I can’t bring myself to really belive that I can make it or that it’s really real.How can I change my view cause I feel like I can’t shift.

you can shift even if you doubt yourself or shifting as a whole. even people who don’t know about shifting do it, and even anti shifters. shifting is not just waking up in the marvel universe or whatever, but its also things such as changing your perception on something, or choosing to drink water instead or tea. everything!!!

but, i understand what you mean. (none of this needs to be done, but it can help change those views since you asked). why don’t you believe in yourself? let’s start there. shadow work is really helpful !!!! and you can reprogram your mind. & start to see shifting in everything; you are the proof that shifting exists. so am i. and so is the random old lady you see in the bakery every morning. and the butterfly you see during a picnic.

and think about the universe. look up the nasa website and try to tell me that there isn’t more. here we don’t have the technology to look up other realities, but in others shifting is the norm. &&&&& people talk about their shifting experiences here constantly. and going & coming back in their drs. that’s also a proof for shifting

[festivating]

do you have any headcanons around galinda's mothers in silk chiffon (aka the best mothers ever) that you could share? (also how do galinda and elphaba celebrate mothers day w them, pretending that it exists in oz) (wish i had moms like that thx for writing them 💛)

Great questions omg. Some headcanons of my beloved old women yuri:

Probably not surprising to hear they are both huge social butterflies and very extroverted women, and that's part of the reason why they got along so well and fell in love so quickly

They met in their late twenties! And have been married for 30 years by the time the story starts, so they had Galinda about 10ish years into their marriage

They were hugeeee workaholics during those 10 years and though they always wanted to have a baby they wanted their business to be prosperous before they did!

Revealing how much they are based on chenzel w this one but Kalena is 3 years older

I still cannot decide how Galinda was conceived so this is subject to change but what I'm rocking rn is that she's some sort of baby made via magical spells so she is the bio kid of both of them. Kalena carried her tho

We didn't see any of this in the fic but both of them have pretty big families so Galinda actually has a ton of aunts and uncles and cousins

They're like. Micro celebrities in Frottica everyone knows and loves the Uplands

They like to throw parties and organize events <3 and they're all so lavish and cool and insanely organized. I know their birthday parties are legendary

They still love working a lot but their schedules became a lot healthier once they had Galinda because she became their top priority the moment she arrived (also she was a high maintenance baby I know this for a fact)

I get so 🥺🥺🥺 whenever I think about them with a young Galinda because that baby was so wanted and adored and pampered. They're both such good moms and always encouraged her to be exactly who she is. They showed up to all of Galinda's school events without fail and were so supportive of her. That's why Galinda is the way she is in the story, and why I wrote her pursuing architecture and having a wide range of interests—because her moms always told her to chase her passions <3

They both think the other one is the spoiling parent. They are both the spoiling parent

They also both think of themselves as the strict parent. They are both the strict parent (when they need to <3)

HUGE gossips tho Iliana pretends not to be. They know everything about everyone all the time

I want to say during Galinda's bouts of serial dating they were a little concerned about her. I touched upon this with Galinda telling Elphaba nothing felt right because she always felt she was looking for something more, and often felt she had to act a certain way around her gfs, and I think a part of her was trying to find something as genuine as what her moms had. She had a pretty solid baseline of what real love actually looks like.

As for mother's day! Galinda genuinely gets a little unhinged about it because she loves her moms so much, and she's always getting them little presents here and there but for Big Days she has to go all out. She's been planning Mother's Day outings since she was old enough to plan stuff, and she's been writing them very sweet and heartfelt cards since she learned to write lol. She gets them flowers and tries to chase down rare gifts they would enjoy, like vintage clothes or the first edition of some sort of accessory, old magic books, things they can use to decorate the house or the shop, so on and so forth. Yes she pays for all of that with her mothers' money but shhh <3

Elphie probablyyyyy did small, nice things for Dulcibear every year but she is wholly unprepared for all of Galinda's antics and extravagance, but she rolls with it and helps a ton because now those are her moms too and she loves participating and, obviously, they also want Elphie to participate :)

[valevntine]

tw: grief, death/loss

hi, i'm not sure if this is going to be posted. i've written it again and again, over and over, debating whether it was too much or not. i hope it isn't. this is deeply personal and you're more than free to skip it. i'm doing this more for myself than anything else, but i also hope that if someone here is going through the same thing, they will then find comfort in my words. <3

many of you might celebrate mother's day today, like me. i've lost my mum almost 5 years ago, and ever since then this day has been a slap to the face i dread arriving. every year i try to do a little something to make myself feel better and to actually talk about her instead of bottling it all up like i always do, so here i am.

not too long i ago i came upon this podcast pedro was invited to, he talks about the loss of his own mother (30min mark). i don't know why i never stumbled upon it before, i just know that the first time i heard him, what he said felt so eerily familiar.

my mum also left during the summer. it was an incredibly crucial period for me, full of important changes. the morning after it was such a beautiful day out, we had been out of quarantine for not too long so a lot of people were in the streets. i cannot begin to explain how odd it all felt: seeing the world continue spinning, everyone's life going on while it felt like mine stopped. i think that was the lowest point i could hit, there's no experience as isolating as the loss of a parent.

afterwards, it felt like everything bloomed, and i feel selfish for saying it. i got accepted into art school, able to finally study what i preferred and to pursuit my dreams of becoming a full time artist. i met wonderful people who i'm incredibly grateful for - they made me realise i'm not as unlovable or unimportant as i thought, i am worth loving and i deserve affection too. i expressed myself without fear of judgement, i grew, i slowly built a version of me i was beginning to like. i feel so happy and accomplished now, it comes with guilt.

i often wonder what would have happened if i didn't get to experience grief at such a young age. because yes, i was 18, but i wasn't done being my mother's baby, i wasn't done being her daughter. i didn't need to grow up yet, not in that way. was it actually a lesson? or was it just cruel, and we, she, didn't deserve it? is it me believing in silly things or is she somehow still here?

but when i visit other cities and find her name written on the walls, i feel her here. she's in my morning coffee, it's the same as the one she made for herself each day. she's in the way i make my bed, she's in every cake i bake. she's in every tulip, in every butterfly. she's in my features every time i look in the mirror, because how lucky am i to be sharing her face, the most beautiful one i've ever seen and the only thing i have left of her. she's in every smile i sport when i get a picture taken, in every "you look just like her". she's in my memories, in my thoughts and dreams, because those transcend time and death. she's here because i am here and as long as i'm here she will always live through me, through all that she taught me and that i will pour out for her.

grief doesn't leave, you just learn to grow around it. it will find you randomly on sunny days, on sleepless nights, in cities across the world, in recipes from your childhood and in the shampoo aisle. grief is weird, every emotion is valid, let yourself feel it all.

and happy mother's day to all the mums on here! you're fantastic 🫶🏻

ti amo mamma, so much it hurts 🤍🌷

[clumsypuppy]

updated Sleight ref!!

[strangersteddierthings]

No Regrets - Part Two

TW: OC Character Death (dude doesn't even get a name). Steve reflects on killing both demo-creatures and humans with detachment. Mentions of Major Character Deaths but as a reminder, they don't stay dead! (Well, Chrissy and Fred do)

Part One🦇 Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four🦇Part Five🦇Part Six

Maybe he should feel bad about watching Robin grow smaller in the rear-view mirror, her face a mixture of disbelief and anger. Maybe he should feel regret for his actions, for the betrayal Robin probably feels right now.

He doesn't.

Looking at the bigger picture, at the regrets he actually does have in the waking world, this is small potatoes. A non-issue. Robin will forgive him in the end.

War Zone is like a ghost town compared to the first time Steve was here. Though, that should have been expected. The panic hasn't swept through town yet. So far, it's just one dead girl. Fred'll join her sometime this afternoon. Evening? Sometime later today.

Nineteen-year-old Steve would hate himself for not trying to help. For not doing his best to save Fred.

But.

Well, Fred dying will help Dustin, in the long run. Will help Eddie. And that's more important. That's the goal. The dream, if he's allowing himself to be cheeky in his own mind.

Steve's not heartless, or anything like that. Robin, his Robin in the waking world, still calls him a softy and worries his kindness will get him killed on the daily. He always puts the safety of the group above himself. The first to volunteer on supply runs or for scouting or taking watch through the night. He knows he can run on empty for much longer than anyone else he knows.

The end of the world has a way of skewing what kindness and softness are, though. Those first few months were the hardest. Steve wanted to save everyone they came across. Help as many people as possible, but rations run dangerously low that way. Clean water can become contaminated quickly by ignorant people. Not everyone handled the apocalypse with grace.

The first harsh lesson Steve had learned was two months into the end of the world. They'd ventured to Indy to find supplies. Medicines. Try and stock up on things they didn't need yet but wanted around for the just in case of it all. They'd found some survivors, which wasn't surprising in itself. The surprising bit was that these guys had made it on complete luck it seemed. They were loud. Jumpy. Panicky.

When Lucas and Mike, on scout duty, had reported back demogorgon activities nearby, one guy started to panic. Got loud and couldn't bring himself back down. Steve was closest, tried to shush him but he wouldn't be quiet.

"Move," Murray (may he rest in peace) whispered, seeming to have appeared from nowhere, shoving Steve away, nudging him out of the way. Murray stepped behind the guy, one hand covering his nose and mouth, the other arm around his neck. It made the guy panic more, fighting Murray and then Murray just-

Steve remembers he flinched at the noise, turning away to cover his mouth and calm his own panic. The noises stopped though. Steve had shot a horrified look to Hopper, but Hopper wasn't looking at Steve. He was looking beyond, at Murray and what he'd done, nodding his approval.

The demogorgons didn't find them that day.

"You can't help everyone, Steve," Murray said, once they'd started the trek back to Hawkins. "The safety of the group comes first, over just one person."

Lesson heard. Lesson learned. Lesson put to use four months later.

So. Fred must die, for the good of the group. Patrick, too, if Steve can't get to Vecna in time. He should be able to. Vecna will try and take Max first, tomorrow. Patrick the day after. If everything stays the same.

The clerk doesn't even blink at what Steve buys, or the quantity of what he buys, but his eyebrows do go up a little at the total.

Steve hesitates just a bit over the checkbook his parents gave him the first time they'd left him home alone at fourteen. For emergencies only, Steven. It's been sitting in his glove box, unused, since he turned sixteen. He's never wanted to have to explain what he'd used it for. Nothing had ever seemed like enough of an emergency to warrant explaining it to Richard Harrington.

He does find it a little odd that his mind is conjuring up the concept of money. Of all the little things to think about while he sleeps, he really didn't think his subconscious would bring capitalism back.

Steve rips the little check out of the booklet and hands it over. The clerk looks it over before giving a nod and finishing the cash out. Steve takes the receipt when it's offered, shoving it into the checkbook before shoving that into his back pocket.

The parking lot has one other person in it, who Steve is aware of the entire time he's loading the trunk of his car with gallons of lighter fluid, weapons, and padded camouflage. It's only after Steve's slammed the trunk closed and shoved the cart back towards the front of the store that the guy watching him speaks.

"Must be some bonfire you're planning."

Steve rounds his car and opens the door before answering. "It's spring break, man." He slides in, the door falling closed after him. He buckles up, starts the car, and heads home. The house will be empty, he knows.

He works in silence, unloading the car and organizing his haul in the dining room, eyes flicking to the clock. There's still a couple of hours before dark. Before he should go check if Eddie's still in the boathouse, or if the police did go find him.

He sets the timer on the stove for an hour and flops onto his couch and sighs. Just as comfy as he remembers. He can have a nap before making sure Eddie's in jail. Surely his dream will allow him that?

-

"Mmhm," Steve mumbles as his neck protests movement. He's slow to wake. His head feels like white noise. He thinks he was dreaming but he can't quite grasp at what it was... oh. Family Video and War Zone. Reliving a memory. He wonders if Robin is still mad at him for that day, ditching her with Dustin and Max. It'd been for a good reason and- Steve wrinkles his nose as he sits up, head still static-y. Was it for a good reason? He can't remember what else happened after that....

"He rises," Robin whispers next to him, spooking him. She comes into focus as he sits up straight, leaning out of her space to look at her. She gives him a smile, judging by the crinkle around her eyes and her cheeks rounding. The gas mask prevents him seeing her real smile and he misses it. He thinks about his dream, and getting to see all of Robin's face again.

Dreaming is bittersweet.

"I miss anything?" He asks, because it's a safe question.

"Scouts radioed. The way should be clear in another," Robin grabs his wrist and twists so she can see the time on his watch, "another twenty minutes or so."

The mention of the radio makes him think of Dustin, and how much he misses him. And thinking of Dustin makes him think of Eddie. Steve knows it's irrational for him to miss someone he never knew but that doesn't stop the ache. The almost of it all sits heavy in his chest.

"Right," Steve says. "Want to see how many rounds of Rock, Paper, Scissors we can get through in twenty minutes?"

Robin shuffles sideways to be facing him and holds her hands up. "You always lose but okay."

They get about twelve rounds into it before Steve finds himself asking, "Hey Robbie. Do you remember Spring Break?"

Her hands freeze in the air, an aborted motion to make paper to beat Steve's rock. She locks eyes with him for a moment and he can see the worry there. "I- Steve. Is it- did you take a hit? Is it your head? Should I not have let you nap?"

No. No, he doesn't think he got hurt on this run. Well, his shoulder hurts from when he stumbled and slammed into wall during the last loading of the truck, but he hadn't hit his head. He thinks. "I don't know... I hit the wall hard, shoulder hurts, but I didn't hit my head. I don't remember hitting my head."

Robin stands immediately and begins jabbing her fingers around his skull. "Anything tender?"

"Nope. Just a messed up hairdo," Steve swats her hands away.

"Well, you can never be too sure. You are precious cargo. Why did you ask about the start of the apocalypse?"

Steve shrugs. What can he say? That he's forgetting the start of all their horrors? He can't say that, not without coming across like he's either crazy or bragging. Remember the week that ruined our lives and gave us all enough trauma to fill an ocean? Yeah, well, I don't so ha!

He can't be sure but he thinks Robin frowns beneath her mask. "We'll have to have someone look you over when we get back. Steve, if you're losing your memories..."

"I'm not losing memories," Steve lies. Head trauma is serious and he knows he can't take one more hit to the head. He won't be able to continue helping with supply runs or patrols if he is getting worse. If he starts getting migraines, they'll reassign him for sure. Something that doesn't let him leave the safety of their home base at the high school.

"Steve," she warns. He knows it's a warning.

He shakes his head. "I just. I had a dream about Saturday. Very vivid. Just made me think about it, is all."

Robin softens, sinking back down to sit beside him. She finally answers, "yeah. I remember Spring Break."

"I miss everyone," he confesses, because it's true. Because it's safe.

"Me too," Robin says, leaning her mask against his.

They wait in silence until the scouts call the all clear and they can head back home.

They make it back to Hawkins before night falls but just barely. The gates get rolled shut behind them and the unpacking gets started. The whole community has gathered for their return. This is their longest run to date with how far they had to go this time and Steve doesn't blame anyone for needing to see their loved ones as soon as possible.

"Robin!"

Steve turns just in time to watch Vickie launch herself at Robin. Robin must have seen her running, though, because she's already braced for impact and catches Vickie easily, arms grabbing at Vickie's thighs to support her weight as she wraps them around Robin's waist. Vickie places her forehead to Robin's as their excitement switches to tenderness and Steve averts his eyes to give them privacy in this moment.

"Steve, here," Ted Wheeler offers up a box to Steve, who takes it without question. "For the Daycare."

"You got it."

The Daycare is actually a wing of the school that used to be where the language arts classes were held. Daycare doesn't quite sum up what they use the area for, but calling it the Orphanage was too dark. Steve waits through the decontamination process. Once through, he takes the time to pull his mask off and enjoy the feeling of an artificial breeze on his face before heading to the Daycare.

"Please tell me there's something useful in that box," Annie Click says when Steve pushes his way into one of the rooms they use for school. Another room is dedicated to being a daycare, kids too little for learning, another is schooling for kids who would be in middle school, and the last room is lines with beds.

"Sorry, Mrs. Click, but I didn't pack it," Steve says apologetically.

"My problem to sort out then," she stands and Steve can see the determination in her through the weariness. She'd been a bitter old lady as his teacher but the world ending must have shifted her priorities. There's no one better suited to look after the kids than her, here.

Except maybe Joyce, but she's got bigger things to deal with.

He heads for the door when Annie calls out to him, "Since you're here, would you mind checking on the kids for me? Holly's supervising bedtime but she's lenient with her friends."

"Will do."

He heads across the hall and down a door to the sleeping room. The lights are dimmed and peeking in he sees a lot of kids sleeping, or pretending their best to be. Holly is sitting in a rolling chair near the door, one leg bend and pulled up on the seat as she rests her head on it.

Steve clears his throat to get her attention. She must have heard his footsteps because she doesn't spook. Just uses the foot on the ground to spin the chair to face the door. "Oh. Hi Steve."

"All good here?" He whispers.

"Yeah. Everyone's asleep."

"You can probably head home now. Your dad's back."

Holly shrugs one shoulder at him, spinning the chair back away. "Maybe later."

Steve takes the hint and backs away. His chest aches for Holly. All the kids had to grow up fast, given the state of the world, but Holly's hurts him most. He knew her in the Before, and she was there when Karen... Well, she's got a lot of weight on her shoulders at barely eleven years old.

To think. If they'd have been faster on that Spring Break. More diligent, thorough. Holly might have never known about the Upside Down at all.

More regret he can carry, he thinks, as he shoves his mask back on and heads back to the truck. There's more to be unloaded, and always work around to keep him so busy he doesn't have to think of the regrets.

He works so late into the night that once he gets back to his cot and collapses into it, there are no thoughts let in his mind as sleep claims him.

-

@i-less-than-three-you @nburkhardt @afewproblems @skepsiss @music9009 @apomaro-mellow @soaringornithopter @reighnofdreams @eddie-munsons-lunchbox @sirsnacksalot @livelifeliketheresnotomorow @sageclipse @schnukiputz @mbloggotdeletedsothisismybackup @lumoschildextra @juleswashere3 @yet-still-more-banched @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @yearningagain @starlight-archer @andrew-mini-ard @chaosgremlinmunson @aol19 @goodolefashionedloverboi @gutterflower77 @moomkin77

[tricoufamily]

visiting the hometown

(want everyone to know this edit came to me in a dream and i changed the lore just to do it)

[letteredlettered]

We’d all like the rest of your butterfly facts, please.

I have SO MANY; I'm not even sure how to share them all.

Butterflies and moths are not taxonomic or cladistic groups; they're colloquial terms to refer to lepidoptera (the taxonomic order butterflies and moths belong to) that have different characteristics and behaviors. That said:

Moths tend to be nocturnal

Moths tend to have fuzzy bodies, butterflies are sleek

Moths tend to have fuzzy antennae, butterflies just have straight plain ones

The additional fuzz on months allows them to sense what's around them, which is helpful because they're not seeing as much because they're nocturnal

Moths tend to build chrysalises with silk but also leaves and mud, etc. These are known as cocoons. Butterflies only use silk and don't have cocoons (either are known as chrysalis)

The Atlas Moth has the biggest wingspan of any lepidoptera

The Atlas Moth usually emerges from its cocoon without a mouth. It can only breed and die

The Atlas Moth caterpillar lives for months. It's generally in the cocoon for months! But it only lives as an adult moth for a few days (because it can't even eat!)

Inside their chrysalises, caterpillars don't just grow wings and longer legs. They liquify completely and reform.

Caterpillars have six legs called "true legs" that mirror the six legs butterflies have. Then they have additional nubs farther down their bodies that help them move around.

Butterflies taste with their feet. If they land on you, they're tasting you!

Butterflies can only eat liquid. They primarily eat nectar and juice from fruit. Rotten fruit is easier for them because rotten fruit is juicy.

The butterfly mouth is called a proboscis. It curls up when not in use and uncurls when the butterfly eats. It's like a straw.

The word "proboscis" can sometimes refer (as a joke!) to nose, but butterflies can't smell with their proboscis. They smell with their antennae!

Like many insects, butterflies have faceted eyes. But unlike the movies, they probably don't see the same image over and over, because their vision isn't refined enough for that. What faceted eyes allow them to see are big patches of color, which is useful considering they eat fruit and flowers. If you want a butterfly to land on you, wear something colorful.

Butterflies don't have lungs. Like most insects, they breathe through holes in their bodies called spiracles.

Incidentally, this is why insects are so small. If they were giant, these holes would have to be bigger or there would have to be many more of them, and that would mean their exoskeleton was not stable!

Oh, yeah, butterflies do not have bones. Like all insects, they have an exoskeleton.

Butterflies do not have blood. Like all insects, they had a fluid that moves most nutrients through their bodies. It's called hemalymph. It carries hormones, nutrients, and waste. It's blue!

Male butterflies tend to be smaller and more colorful than female butterflies. This is the same style of sexual dimorphism present in most insects. Also in birds!

Male monarch butterflies have distinctive dark spots on the lower wings that female monarch butterflies don't have. The spots are scent glands that help them attract mates.

Most butterflies migrate. Like birds.

Monarch butterflies in North America east of the Rocky Mountains have one of the most impressive migration patterns of any animal. They may travel up to 3,000 miles from Canada to Mexico, but what is most spectacular about it is that almost all of them end up in just a few spots relatively close together on some mountain peaks in Central Mexico. The monarchs are so dense that you can't see the trees.

Butterflies are great for studying evolutionary adaptations in coloration and appearance because they are so striking. Camouflage is the adaptation present when an animal blends in with its surroundings. Mimicry is the adaptation that makes an animal look like a different animal.

The owl butterfly is a great example of mimicry because it has two big owl eyes on its wings. The Atlas moth wing tips look like snake heads.

"Batesian mimicry" is named after Henry Walter Bates, who studied mimicry in butterflies. Batesian mimicry means that one species who is harmless looks like another species that is not harmless. Mullerian mimicry is when several species that are harmful all look like each other, so the warning to predators is stronger. Butterflies have great examples of both types of mimicry.

Monarch butterflies and viceroy butterflies were once thought to exhibit Batesian mimicry, because it was thought that vicroys weren't toxic, but it turns out both butterflies are poisonous and so the species have evolved to mimic each other in an example of Mullerian mimicry.

Monarch butterflies are poisonous because the milkweed caterpillars eat is poisonous

The best way to attract butterflies is to grow native plants.

[fortune-maiden]

The more I think of what Bridon has implied about the original timeline, the more I feel like Lu Guang was not being anxious enough actually xD

[smile-files]

i do find it funny how whenever i bring up entomology and a scientific fascination with butterflies people are like "yeah they're so important to the environment!" and that's true. but that's not what i care to study about...

[blizzardfluffykpop]

alright~ a few updates about everything! so this weekend I'll be seeing changkyun in chicago- so I prolly won't be posting until after I'm alive again from that 😂😅 (I am vv excited about it- I just know I'll be vv tired when I return home). Anyways, I have a few fics in the works~ one of them that is a request 🤭 I'm vv excited to work on them! But I think I'm going to change my masterlist a bit when I come back. I'm going to retire a few groups from the main masterlist and I've been debating for the past year about it... But I think I'm going to add a yearly masterlist- So it would go from most recent to the beginning of this year~

I'm also thinking about changing my pfp- I haven't been really into stray kids for uh... years- But I will be sure to make an update about that if I go thru with that too- (It may be ji changmin next 🫣🤭)

Anyways those are my few updates 🥰💖

[diari0deglierrori]

God please don’t let this happen to me now, it’s really not the time