#T: Lavender Fields Forever

[tcwmatchmakingau]

Commander Mayday illustration by @nika6q

A Match for Mayday: Chapter 2

Editor's note: This fic is a collaboration between @nika6q (artwork) and @dystopicjumpsuit (story)

Pairing: Mayday x Flower Farmer Reader 

Rating: T

Wordcount: 2.5k

Warnings and tags: fluff and mild angst

A/N: dedicated to @nika6q ❤️‍🩹

Read Chapter 1 here!

After another day of dirty, sweaty work, you hurry through your shower and grab two bottles of beer out of the conservator, opening them quickly and heading to the front porch for your nightly rendezvous. Mayday hasn’t arrived yet, which is a first, so you settle in to wait for him. The sun dips lazily below the horizon, lighting up the sky in brilliant shades of pink and gold, and then fading into a lavender haze, and finally darkening to a field of deep blue dappled by brilliant points of light as the stars blink into view. You finish your beer slowly, and then drink the second as well, wishing you hadn’t opened it so hastily earlier.

It’s surprising and a little alarming how quickly you’ve adopted your evening conversations with Mayday into your daily routine, and how much you miss it tonight. You can’t help but wonder, What will I do when he leaves?

Eventually, once the evening has fully transitioned to night, you stand with a sigh, stretching your tired muscles and making your way into the house. You can’t stay up and wait forever; tomorrow will be another hard day’s labor, and you are already exhausted. Everyone else has already gone to bed, and the house is as quiet as it can possibly be considering the sheer number of clones currently sleeping in your guest bedrooms.

Just as you turn off your bedroom light and settle into bed, you hear the sound of an approaching speeder bike. You rarely receive guests, particularly not in the middle of the night, so you hop out of bed and cross to your window to peek outside. The vehicle slows to a halt in front of your garden, and the rider dismounts and leans against the bike. 

Mayday. You recognize him immediately. He stares contemplatively at the garden for a while, and then he turns his head and looks directly at you. His movement startles you, and you nearly flinch away from the window before you realize that you are standing in total darkness and there is no way he can see you watching him. Can he?

He stares at your window for a long, long time, until at last, he straightens and walks into the house. You don’t hear him enter, and you don’t hear him go to his bedroom, and at last, you return to your bed and will yourself to sleep, ignoring the quiet voice in your head that asks where he had gone. It’s none of my business, you think, and you almost convince yourself.

Rain begins to fall in a steady drizzle the next morning. By noon, the weather is miserable enough to chase everyone indoors. Hexx and Sunni, enthusiastic hosts that they are, round up the rest of the clones for a loud game with incredibly complex rules. You scan the group but don’t see Mayday, so you slip quietly out the door while they’re all distracted. As you make your way to the barn, you hear a rhythmic scraping sound that piques your curiosity. Warm light spills out of the open doors, beckoning you in from the cold, gray rain.

The barn hasn’t housed animals in decades. Instead, you use it to store your farm equipment and agricultural droids when they’re not at work, and as a place to dry the flowers that you sell in the off-season. The familiar botanical aroma washes over you as you enter, along with something new—something at once strange and nostalgic. When you see Mayday, you slow to a halt just inside the barn. 

He has set up a workstation at the open end of the barn, and as you watch, he runs a hand planer over a large beam of lumber, shaving off flimsi-thin curls of pale wood that flutter to the ground. You immediately identify the fresh lumber as the source of the unknown scent. That slow, rhythmic rasping sound comes again and again as you watch him work, and something about it sends tingles down the back of your neck.

Mayday hasn’t spotted you yet, and you take a moment to appreciate the confident way he moves. His bare hands glide over the wood as he feels for rough and uneven spots, and the muscles of his forearms flex and bulge as he drags the planer across the surface. His movements are hypnotic, mesmerizing. He handles the wood with scrupulous care and attention, and you feel a brief, ridiculous surge of envy toward an inanimate object. He stills abruptly, and you raise your eyes from his hands to see him watching you.

“Hello,” you say, feeling a little foolish that he caught you gawking.

He doesn’t look angry, though, or even amused. He regards you with the same intense focus that he had directed toward his project only a moment before. You lick your lips reflexively, and his gaze drops to your mouth and then back up to your eyes.

“I came to see if you wanted to come in out of the rain,” you say, feeling a little proud that you managed to get the entire sentence out without stuttering, even if your voice catches suspiciously.

He looks briefly out the door to the torrential deluge. “I didn’t even realize it had started raining.”

“It’s been raining for hours,” you say. “Aren’t you cold?”

He smiles at that. “This is nothing compared to Barton IV.”

“What happened on Barton IV?” you ask.

“Nothing good,” he replies. “We were lucky to make it out alive. If I never see snow again, it will be too soon.”

“You should be safe from snow here,” you reply. “Even in the winter, we rarely get anything more than rain. It’s what makes Nakadia such an ideal agricultural planet.”

Ugh, am I seriously talking about the weather right now? you chastise yourself. Still, Mayday looks intrigued as he arranges his tools neatly and walks across the barn to join you. 

“Where are the others?” he asks.

“They’re all inside playing a game,” you reply. 

“I’ve never been one for games,” he comments offhandedly.

“Me neither,” you say. “But I’ve also never been one for standing out in the rain when there’s a perfectly warm house available.”

“We’re not standing in the rain,” he points out, moving subtly closer to you, close enough that you can smell the vanillin of the sawdust on his shirt; the salt of his skin; and beneath it, the faintest hint of something spicy and warm and a little smoky—something uniquely Mayday.

“True,” you admit.

He frowns and starts to reach for you before pulling back. “But you were. Your hair and clothes are all wet. You should go inside and get warm and dry.”

“Will you come with me?” you ask. He hesitates, and you scramble to add, “We can go in the back and avoid the crowd if you’d rather.”

“Is there somewhere we can go where they won’t find us and drag us into their game?” he asks with a smile.

You shrug. “It’s a big house. I’m sure we can find something.”

“Lead the way,” he replies.

On impulse, you take his hand and tug him along with you, dashing across the field through the downpour. Mayday follows at a more sedate pace, and he slows you down as his fingers tighten around your hand to keep you from slipping away.

“Don’t you know you know you get wetter when you run in the rain?” he asks, his voice laden with amusement.

“But we’ll be out of it and into the warm house sooner this way,” you laugh. “Come on!”

He allows you to hustle him along, and soon the two of you slip quietly into the back of the house and kick off your muddy boots. Uproarious laughter bursts from the front of the house, signaling that the game is still in full swing. Your eyes sparkle with mischief as you lead him down the hallway and duck into a room, easing the door closed behind you. You turn to see Mayday surveying the room with astonishment.

“What is this place?” he asks.

“It’s my reading room,” you reply.

His eyes widen as he takes in the bookshelves that line the walls; the soft, overstuffed armchairs; the small wood stove that crackles cheerfully in the corner.

“I’ve never seen so many books in one place,” he says. “At least, not paper ones.”

“Holonovels are wonderful, but there’s something so comforting about a physical book,” you say by way of explanation. “I started collecting them when I was little, and I just never stopped.”

“Have you read them all?” he asks curiously.

You laugh. “I intend to read them all, but I have to admit, there’s an embarrassingly large stack of them waiting for me to find the time. You’re welcome to anything that catches your eye, though.”

His gaze flicks almost imperceptibly toward you before he turns to examine the contents of the shelves. “Which one is your favorite?”

“That would be like asking me to pick a favorite child,” you reply. “I can’t choose just one.”

“Humor me.” His voice is a low rumble.

You pull a well-worn volume off a shelf, and then another, and another. Mayday chuckles as you pass them to him.

“I’m not sure I’ll be able to get through all of these in the time I have left here.”

“You can take them with you, if you’d like,” you offer. “You can give them back at the wedding.”

“You’d trust me with them?” he asks.

You think of the care with which he handled the fire lily, the conscientiousness and respect you witnessed as he worked on the planks of hardwood in the barn.

“Yes,” you say without hesitation. 

His hair is wet with rain. A strand has fallen forward, and you raise your hand to brush it out of his eyes, but he stops you, his hand wrapping gently around your wrist.

“Don’t.” 

Startled, you meet his eyes. They blaze with intensity, but he steps back to put a little distance between you. 

“Mayday?” you whisper.

“Don’t do something we’ll both regret,” he says quietly.

“Sorry,” you stammer as mortification floods you. You pull away from him. “I’ll go.”

He doesn’t try to stop you as you retreat and close the door behind you. You hurry to your bedroom, pressing your cold hands against your burning cheeks. How could I have misread the situation so badly? No wonder he would have preferred to stay in the barn.

You don’t bother going to the porch that night. With all the rain, there’s no sunset, anyway.

It’s easy enough to avoid Mayday after that. He keeps to the barn, and you have plenty of work to do elsewhere. You miss watching the sunset each night, but it’s a small sacrifice for your peace of mind. Before many days pass, the wedding preparations are complete. The rest of the wedding party arrives, and your farmhouse is absolutely at capacity, but at least by tomorrow everyone will be gone and you’ll have your farm to yourself again until the wedding day. All that remains now is the rehearsal.

It is awkward as kriff. You subtly keep your distance from Mayday as long as possible, forcing yourself not to look at him. You try to focus on literally everything else: the wedding planner, Sunni’s lovely dress, the way Hexx’s eyes light up when he looks at her, the excited chatter of the other bridesmaids. Anything except him. He doesn’t approach you, either, so at least that makes your life infinitesimally easier, even though it stings.

Unfortunately, you can’t evade him forever, and as the wedding planner hustles the bridal party into position, you brace yourself for impact. Mayday moves to stand beside you, and you meet his eyes briefly. He looks so kriffing handsome, it’s unfair. The late afternoon sunshine glints in his dark curls and lights his eyes in shades of gold. You paste a bland, polite smile on your face as he holds out his hand to take yours. You walk down the makeshift aisle on Mayday’s arm—maid of honor and best man, as bad luck would have it. That unmistakable warm, spicy, smoky Mayday scent washes over you, and you breathe shallowly as you try to ignore it. It’s a simple ceremony, thank the Force, because you are too distracted by trying to appear nonchalant to pay much attention to the officiant’s instructions.

The ceremony is set to take place with the expansive fields of flowers as a backdrop, and at the entrance to the garden, a gorgeous wooden archway has been constructed. You realize with a start that this is what Mayday has been building since he arrived. The workmanship is stunning. Up close, you can see that the entire structure has been crafted to fit together so perfectly that it requires no screws or fasteners.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Sunni sighs happily.

You nod, unable to speak.

“I had him install it permanently as a thank you for letting us have our wedding here,” she says with a radiant smile. “Our gift to you.”

Your breath catches as Sunni envelops you in a crushing hug. Wonderful. A perpetual reminder of how badly I messed up with him. Just what I needed.

By supreme force of will, you make it through the rehearsal and the dinner party afterward. The food is beautiful and by all accounts delicious, and you don’t taste a single bite as you eat. After the meal, the group dances and drinks and parties late into the night as tiny lights twinkle in the trees overhead. Veetch pulls you onto the dancefloor and spins you around until you are giggling and dizzy, and for a moment, the ache in your chest eases.

Mayday doesn’t dance, to the visible disappointment of several bridesmaids. He is wrapped up in a discussion with a few other clones—also commanders, if you remember the introductions correctly. You refuse to give into your impulse to eavesdrop on their conversation, instead smiling brilliantly at Veetch, who is both charming and a surprisingly excellent dancer. The music changes to something slow and romantic, and he pulls you closer and settles a hand on your waist.

Because you are not totally devoid of common courtesy, you focus on your dance partner instead of looking back at Mayday. Had you looked, though, you would have seen the way his eyes, unreadable as ever, follow you across the dancefloor as you sway in Veetch’s embrace. Veetch flirts in a harmless, meaningless way that you know better than to take seriously, even if you were interested. Everything about him screams that he’s enjoying the single life and has no intention of giving it up any time soon.

So you dance with him and with Hexx’s other groomsmen, and by the time you stumble, alone, into your bedroom, you are so exhausted that you fall asleep almost immediately. When you awaken, nearly everyone has gone. Hexx and Sunni are still there, but Sunni tells you that Mayday had ordered the men to wake up early and ensure the house was spotless before they departed. Sunni and Hexx only stay long enough to hug you goodbye before they, too, leave for Coruscant, and then you are alone.

[eleanor-bradstreet]

The Field - Masterpost

Benedict Bridgerton x fem!Reader Modern AU

Summary: A four part collection of snapshots from a lifelong love story, all taking place in a field at Aubrey Hall. Each part is inspired by a song about fields/nature that I associate with Benedict.

Artwork is un certain matin by Brigitte Di Scala

Dandelions Rated: G

Lavender Forever Rated: 18+

In a Week Rated: T

Back to Autumn Rated: G

[respectthepetty]

I started to watch Kiseki last week thanks to my dash. My original plan was to bingewatch it after it`s finished if it has a happy ending which might have been wiser. However I am obsessed with Ai Di and Chen Yi. I think it`s interesting that Chen Yi tells Ai Di that they have to be quiet during their first night because Ai Di would get angry if he heard. I am not sure how he wouldn`t recognise Ai Di even if he is drunk because they have always been together but that`s not the point. He clearly cares about Ai Di and doesn`t want to upset him. But how does he know that Ai Di would hear them? Has he heard Ai Di with another man and has he been mad? Even though he calls Ai Di brother at that point he seems awfully upset when Ai Di is with other men and drags him away from them.

Anon, you didn't know this when you sent it, but I am the wrong person to ask.

I'm stressed.

I'm spiraling.

I'm laying in a field of lavender trying to snort the stems in an attempt to chill the fuck out.

All because Kiseki: Dear to Me's finale is so close that I feel it, yet I'm terrified the scene we are all clinging to from the extended trailer is a fake-out, and we are about to be MODC-ed all over again.

If this doesn't make sense to you, GOOD! Stay innocent, anon. Three episodes ago, I was worried about the same thing as you, but here I am on the eve of the eve of the finale, and I can't bring myself to fathom the show will kill someone, even though IT ALREADY KILLED SOMEONE!

But if you do know what I'm writing about, Anon, HOW ARE YOU SO CALM RIGHT NOW?! At least calm enough to send me this ask on the eve of the eve of the finale?! How is Laws of Attraction the only show to know the value of a bulletproof vest unlike all these mafia BLs WHERE IT SHOULD BE A GIVEN?!

And you're just as cool as a caterpillar on a leaf. I'm the caterpillar in the cocoon dissolving into liquid mush freaking the fuck out about death and bulletproof vests, while you are munching on the good bits of this story. Teach. Me. Your. Ways. I'm over here praying to all the santos about a FICTIONAL CHARACTER! My ancestors are judging me right now. So is God.

So due to divine shade, I'll try to answer your question - Chen Yi admitted he was always jealous of Eddie being with other people which is why he was dragging Eddie's ass out of places, (so I can't imagine him being on your level of chill if he heard Eddie having sex with someone else), but Chen Yi didn't realize that it was jealously and possessiveness until Eddie was . . .

Until Eddie WASN'T THERE!

See, I'm already detouring again! Because what will Eddie do if Chen Yi ISN'T THERE?!

I don't care if this chick is Zhang Teng's sister avenging his death or just has a crush on Baker Boy. She is the sole female character, and as a feminist who supports female wrongs, if she is the shooter, Mortal Kombat "FINISH HER ASS"

I support the gays, the goths, and the girls, but in the words of a woman who got it, Jane Austen,

Had not my feelings decided against you, sus high school girlie— had they been indifferent, or had they even been favorable, do you think that any consideration would tempt me to accept the woman who has been the means of ruining, perhaps forever, the happiness of a most beloved menace?

She better have really gone to the dumpster to throw that glass she just conveniently broke and helps step in to save Chen Yi when she witnesses the shooting because if not . . .

"FUCK"

[narliearchive]

How to Build Your Dream Home by NellieSayzBork [T]

At 35, Charlie is finally getting what he wants: A forever home with the love of his life, Ben Hope. They've chosen a beautiful country property in desperate need of some TLC, but as an architect and interior designer, respectively, it will be a dream come true. Of course, as with any reno, they'll need a contractor. Enter Nick Nelson, of Nelson Custom Renos. CW for emotional and verbal abuse being spewed by the world's biggest prick, Ben Hope. But I promise, there's a happy ending! #f*ckbenhope

Lavender Fields by scienceisrealyo [E]

31 year old Nick Nelson retired from professional rugby and is giving Sarah Nelson a well-deserved year off from running Lavender Fields Bed and Breakfast. And Nick’s doing fine, thank you very much. Until the guest name C. Spring changes everything. Note: 1-31 are the main story. Any chapters after 31 are epilogues offering Charlie's point of view of the story.

Narlie Waves by waveofyou [E]

A Heartstopper California AU where Nick (31) and the HS crew we know and love live in SoCal. Charlie (29) leaves his London office to work in San Diego for a year. Nellie makes a new puppy bestie. Nick is adorable teaching little first graders. Charlie looks hot playing the drums. Nick looks hot surfing. They…ahem…enjoy Nick’s pool…and shower…and balcony. The boys weirdly get snowed in at one point. In Southern California, go figure. Nick helps Charlie see that he's deserving of big, loud love from a certain golden retriever person. Charlie helps Nick to trust that his love is not conditional, that he's safe to fully express himself. A leaves falling, flower petals swirling story of queer love with a spectacular ocean view 🍂🌊🍂 ⚠️ This is NOT a slow burn. They feel the spark, follow it and make fire Any explicit sections are denoted with “🍂🔥🍂” Any triggering flashback, panic attack or detailed eating disorder moments with “🍂⚠️🍂” …so they can be skipped and the story still enjoyed- I’ve written it so no major plot is lost by skipping these sections 🫶🏻 Alternates between Charlie and Nick POV ♥️

Showstopper by PansyFace22 [M]

Buzz is building around the queer extravaganza that’s planned for this season’s run with a bisexual Bachelor - England’s own star pro-rugby player Nicholas Nelson. But what are the showmakers going to do for twelve episodes if their Bachelor and one of the newcomer contestants have fallen in love at first sight? ‘Would you … kiss someone, in front of the cameras?’ Charlie asks, his heart hammering louder than the music in his ears. He moves his body again, feet squeaking closer to Nick’s, his finger where it lies along Nick’s finger on the floor suddenly pressing. He hitches in a breath as he feels Nick’s pinky finger hook onto his. Nick looks at him, his head drifting slightly closer, then he takes a quick breath and looks away. ‘I don’t know … maybe?’ he says.

Touch the grass by HSNomad [T]

Nick Nelson has had a secret for many years. Secrets can be hidden away, but they are always there waiting to be shared. A story about acceptance.

[sinners-in-paradise]

Chapter One: A Hero in Paradise

Masterpost

Chapter written by @monsterhatdoodles

–––

The willow tree swung in the wind.

Dero swung with it.

The hero’s stab wounds were deep. Multiple. Fatal. His blood dropped down, watering the tree as it stood alone in the fields of hades. Dero slowly drifted with the wind, tied upside-down up from the tree.

The deformed dark matter’s long, black body was caked in blood. His cape was tattered and torn. His four spider like legs were limp, wrapped in red string.

A pale blue reaper yawned, and snapped his fingers. Dero woke with a snap.

“Ah! You’re up!”

The reaper seemed bored, but chipper.

“I’m Papi, and long story short, you’re dead.”

The only response was sobs. Papi began to feel a little awkward. He fluttered his wings to shake off the feeling.

“So, uh…. Welcome to the underworld, buddy! Your final resting place. Hades, if you will. You’re going to be here for a while. Forever, actually. There’s no escape.”

Dero continued to sob. He began to struggle violently against the red string holding him. Papi looked around before continuing.

“Yeah…so…that’s a bummer. But on the plus side, you never have to eat, drink or sleep again! Or pay rent! Isn’t that great? You won't age either. Time's real funky here.”

Dero began to choke on his own tears and blood. Papi tried to avoid eye contact.

"I’m sure you’ll make plenty of friends here. Probably. I can’t really tell much about you other than that you can cry an awful lot.”

Dero finally was able to choke out some words between his sobs.

“Please…. Help me…”

The light blue reaper fiddled with his hands.

"Yikes... er.. sorry. Can't help you with that, buddy. Boss strung you up like this for a reason. I can't go against its orders. You know how it is."

Dero's sobs became louder, riddled now with helplessness and despair.

"Listen, I gotta go. Lotta more dead people to deal with. But before I go, I feel like I should mention that hades, it, uh... does things to your body. Bad things. You'll see."

Dero shook violently.

".....Bye."

With that, the light blue reaper vanished in a flash, leaving Dero alone, cold, and suffering.

Weeks (or at least, they felt like weeks) passed. Dero spent the time wailing and sobbing. He spent the time thinking of his friends.

He thought of Ades, who's advice he'd always ignored. He thought of Wisp, who just like him, was fooled by her guise. He thought about Dolly, who was now left alone in her grasp. And he thought about her. Even now, that memory was so beautiful to him.

–––

"This place just goes on forever, doesn't it?" Gwen growled indignantly. The purple, round felian fiddled with her ponytail, irritated. The scar across her chest had been itching recently, and she wasn't in the best of moods.

"Well, I think these fields are very pretty." The gentle voice that replied came from a frail but beautiful woman. Dressed in a hospital gown, she looked over the fields and sighed. Her white hair rested above lavender eyes that were firm, but full of kindness. A long tube stretched out from her hand and unraveled into nothingness. Small orbs of spirit flame flickered playfully around her.

"Right, Celeernyx?"

The halcandrian behind Dulciana was slightly startled. Her green hood and dress, stained by the black ooze that covered her face, drifted slightly in the wind as she turned to the woman. Her cat like ears, wrapped in the vines extending from her wretched crown, twitched slightly as she looked at Dulci with perpetually tearful eyes.

"Oh? S-sorry, I was distracted. Yes, t-these fields are beautiful.."

Her voice was sad; scratchy and distorted.

"You're both delusional. The sooner we get out of here the better." Gwen replied before moving onward hastily. Dulciana let out a small sigh and followed.

Gwen liked these two, even if they were a bit too slow paced for her liking. The grey haired woman was far too peppy for the situation she was in, and the Halcandran kind of freaked her out with the whole melting face thing. But the three had been together for a while now, and Gwen would rather suffer a million deaths before she let another family of hers down.

Suddenly, Gwen stopped. She turned to the others with a face of slight discomfort.

"Do you... Do you two hear that?"

Dulciana stopped and listened while Cele tilted her head in confusion. Gwen listened to the sound, and as she was able to slowly distinguish what it was, a chill ran down her spine.

"It... It sounds like sobs."

Dulciana looked around for a moment, before pointing to the distance. "There," she said, her face somber. She was pointing to large willow tree in the distance. Its leaves were blood red and its trunk was stained a starch white.

The trio carefully approached the tree. The sobs got louder. Cele looked around the trunk of the tree for the source, only to find nothing. Suddenly, she felt a drop of liquid hit her newly grown wings. She looked up and let out a small gasp. A slender figure was hanging from the branches, his blood and tears dripping to the floor.

"Dear Nova..." Cele moved swiftly out of the flow of blood. "Who.. who is that?"

Dulciana thought she recognized the shape, but she wasn't to sure at this distance. She prayed her theory was false. "Whoever this is, we need to help him." She looked at Gwen. "Do you think you can climb up there?"

Gwen shuddered. Something about the figure seemed familiar to her too, but in a much different way. She didn't want to get closer to... whoever this was.

"M...Maybe they deserve to be up there..." Gwen tried to think up further excuses, but was cut off by a voice from the figure.

"Please.....H.....Help....M....Me........"

As much as she hated to admit it, Dulciana recognized that voice from her time watching over Pleiades. She shut her eyes, her teeth clamping together.

"Gwen. Get him down. Now."

Gwen groaned. She slowly climbed up the tree. Her claws sunk easily into the bark, allowing her to climb to the figure. They seemed to be sharper as of late.

The closer she got, the more uncomfortable she became. The figure struggled as she approached. The stab wounds he bore seemed all too similar to hers. She felt a sickening feeling in her stomach.

“He….lp…..m……m…..e…….”

The poor creature was crying, slurring over its own words. He must have died horribly. As Gwen got close, she saw that the figure seemed to have several large sewing needles stuck in his back. Gwen’s stomach churned as she cut each red string one by one. She tried her hardest to avoid looking at Dero’s bleeding body.

Eventually, the last string was cut, and Dero fell to the soft blood-soaked grass below. He let out a miserable, pathetic cry as Dulciana went to help him up. Her worse fears were confirmed. It was Dero, after all. He began to whisper a name Dulci was all too familiar with.

“Pleiades….Pleiades you were right… I’m sorry.”

Dero passed out, his blood still flowing onto the grass below.

[missspringthyme]

February 5th, 2024

I woke up at noon again today, but what I did end up doing was all of my laundry and cleaning my room. I'm counting that as a win, especially because I wiped down my windowsills and they've been desperately needing that.

I think someone has the drying rack so I payed the extra money to use the dryers. I wouldn't mind that so much if my clothes actually came out dry, but no matter what setting I put it on they're always a little damp. Last semester I talked about that with former Italian roommate and she said it's probably because I left the clothes in there too long and the condensation made them wet again. Today I know that's not true because I stood and waited during the final seconds of the cycle. It's still nice to have a fresh room. I sprayed lavender everywhere and had the windows open all day too. It's starting to get warmer and I can't wait until I can have the windows open all the time.

I had a reminder to message one of my friends (German Sri lankan) and ask to hang out because (1) I need to get out of the house and (2) I need to be a better friend to her. She ended up texting me first, though, to ask where a place in our faculty is. I still need to ask her to hang out, but I think I'll do that when I'm back from visiting my sister, so my schedule will be more free.

My dad also called today to tell me that he put some money in my bank account. He had asked what my balance was on my credit card, and I lied and told him half of what it was so he wouldn't give me too much. He still somehow gave me the amount I needed. I told him that now that I'm not paying for therapy my finances were under control and that he didn't need to give me anything, but secretly I was pretty relieved. This did unfortunately mean i had to listen to him rant about my mom, which never stps no matter how many times he's told not to do it. My parents have very rigid views about eachother, so even though I agree with some of what my dad was saying, I dislike his inability to show compassion or empathy for her. It is shitty that she had me pay for therapy, but I also understand that she's pretty broke and it was something I asked her to do. I also understand that the reason she's broke is that she keeps making bad financial decisions and refuses to get a job but spends hours volunteering. The only person I defend my mom to is my dad. He also told me that he had been doing some research into what I was studying. Everything he told me is stuff I've known forever, but it was still sweet that he wanted to understand. He told me I should do my PhD in neuroscience because the future of the field is machine learning and was shocked when I told him I already do neuroscience and programming. I also hope that I've finally set the record straight on me not wanting to go into clinical. It is a little concerning though, because the more he knows the more advice I'm going to have to sit through. Nothing can top "if you want to make easy extra money, why don't you start a YouTube channel? People make thousands with those" though.

T was also still in a bad mood, but it was really difficult to deal with today. Texting always makes things worse too, and I've been worried with how much he's been wanting to text recently. It would be a little easier to handle if he told me how he was feeling for the sake of telling me, but his brain funnels everything through a series of cost-benefit analyses and prediction models before he says anything. So instead of telling me what's wrong or naming an emotion, he instead tells me that he's not going to tell me what's going on. I've tried to think of ways to respond to him telling me that without making him feel like I don't care or I'm not listening, but what can I say? There's only so many ways to be there for someone when they are actively telling you that you're not helpful. I'm trying to help him understand that saying something out loud is helpful in itself, but if there's no solution to stop the inciting incident from happening again he decides that he just has to deal with it. These are the days where I find long distance the most challenging.

German American is in the middle of her first year of engineering exams and I see the same broken look in her eyes that I had last semester. She's adopted the word "rat" to describe the state she's in as well, so I'm pretty proud of that. She also spends a lot of time playing monopoly go on her tablet. I've never felt more in tune with her than I do now.

Third culture Australian continues to annoy me, I desperately need space. I'm a little concerned about the Amsterdam trip since I'll be spending a lot of time with him then, but hopefully being away from everyone on Thursday will be good for me. I just wish leaving the house wasn't so expensive, and weirdly I miss having classes every week. I would gladly take some back if they weren't at 8:30 I the morning like all my classes seemed to be last semester, and there were no exams. If I had been Journaling last semester 99% of my entries would have been talking about the insane mental and physical stress I was under. I was quite literally sleeping on average 4 hours a night. The thought of everything having to step foot in that fucking exam hall ever again makes me physically ill. And now I miss it! Retrospective memory is a bitch.

In conclusion, I've been listening to a lot more music and I started watching modern family. I genuinely can't handle having to choose what will entertain me next at the moment. My brain feels like hot static, and it smells suspiciously like burnout.

[fandelacatalogue-reboot]

Snippet of “To Heaven, Hell, and Back”!!

“Mark, can you hear me?” The soft spoken voice was the first thing Mark was greeted by, his brain lagging to wake up. His eyes fluttered open, hazel and green eyes adjusting to the bright light and the face of a little girl with blonde hair. 

The girl looked about seven, yet had the same features as Mark, such as the freckles that spotted here and there, the thin hair that easily blew with the wind, and the soft hazel eyes that expressed a load of emotion. 

“I’m up, Sarah,” Mark softly spoke, getting up from the soft patch of grass that was now flattened, creating a mold-like structure. 

Sarah giggled as she grabbed his hand, her soft and tiny fingers intertwining with his large and bulky hand. 

“Mark, can we go in the flowers?” Sarah asked. Mark chuckled and nodded before speaking again. 

“Let me check for any snakes. I know you’re scared of them..”

The brunette sucked in a breath and walked over the the field of flowers, rows and rows of leafy beauty going for acres… He parted a lavender bush to step through, each flower seeming overgrown.

Mark took note of that and continued inward, eyes squinted as the sun shone harshly onto his body.

He slipped out of his grey hoodie and adjusted his black T-shirt, which seemed to have crawled up his chest when he took off his hoodie.

The flowers seemed to have began to wilt by the thirty first row or more, but who was counting?

“Sarah-“ Mark turned around to let his little sister know, but what he saw wasn’t the end of the field he entered, but now an endless view of flowers wilting, petals falling slowly. Panic rose within Mark as his brain told him ‘Run. Run while you still have the energy. Run as far and as fast as you can.’

He decided to try to go back, hoping the exit was close, yet the more he ran, the more the flowers were wilting, the discolored, crisp petals falling onto Mark’s feet.

Mark had to hurdle over a few bushes and duck over overgrown weeds, yet there was no exit. It went on forever. More thorns began to appear with each row, slicing Mark’s sun kissed skin, each scratch making him cry out in pain as blood trailed down.

”SHIT-!!” Mark hissed. His foot caught onto a root the size of a man’s arm and he fumbled down, feeling the thorns begin to latch into his pierced skin and tangled hair.

He felt the crimson liquid drip from his nostrils and he slowly got up, whimpering at each tug the thorned vines made. He needed to keep going. He pulled of the thorns and kept running, his body sweating bullets. 

A lavender bush sat in the center of dead plants, its sweet smell drawing Mark in. It felt oddly calming to say the least, which made his brain all fuzzy. He parted the lavender bush to step through, but he was suddenly met with a pit of snakes.

”You gotta be kidding me…”

Mark heard the hissed and rattles from snakes of all kinds, which was more than enough motivation to get his feet moving.

Thorns reached for his flesh and tried to trip him, snakes and serpents slithered faster with each sickening hiss, but Mark kept going. He didn’t dare look back until he felt his foot get caught under a thick, thorny vine, making him cry out in pain as he hit the ground.

”FUCK!” Mark yelled as he got back up, more thorns clawing into his skin. Blood pooled under his feet as he slowly advanced, yet the urge to look back was getting so hard to ignore…

He felt a pair of teeth sink into his left leg.

As Mark cried out, more snakes gathered until his vision blurred, seeming to make the hundreds of snakes into one massive serpent.

The creature lunged at Mark and he closed his eyes tight, using his weakened arms to shield his wounded body, yet he didn’t feel the torturous pain.

Was it a dream..?

Mark opened his eyes and shot up in bed, sweat running down his shivering body. Right by his bed, a clock read 3:33, with an alarm set for 6:30. 

Right. 

It was a Monday, meaning school was soon.

Mark groaned as he shuffled downstairs into the kitchen, flicking the lights on and grabbing a quick snack before he returned to bed. 

A headache began to form and he grabbed some Ibuprofen, popping the two pills into his mouth and swallowing them dry. Mark shuddered in response.

A couple pictures that hung from the walls caught Mark’s attention and he slowly walked over. One picture was of Mark and his best friend, Cesar Torres, in a water park. The two were 10 and 11, both grinning from ear to ear with a sunburn where their skin was exposed. Mark was a little shorter than Cesar at the time, which was ironic. 

The picture right by it was Mark and his German Shepard he named Moss. God, he missed that dog… Miss was such a clingy and protective boy, but it was the little things Mark truly missed.

Mark quickly snapped out of his thoughts when he felt a stray tear slowly roll down his cheeks. 

He shuffled back into the kitchen and grabbed some cheddar cheese sticks and chocolate mint ice cream, then placed them onto the white marble counter, deciding what to do with either snack. He decided to eat the mint chocolate ice cream and shoved the cheese sticks back into the fridge. He didn’t like cheddar anyway.

[hazzypisce]

Jegulus mini One-Shot

Regulus Black died and James wishes it had been him instead.

Light Angst, Regulus Black Deserves Better, Regulus Black Dies, James Potter Loves Regulus Black, Love Letters, right person wrong time.

667 words

Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/45871564

Kinda like a love letter/confession for someone that already knows you love them and is also dead.

It’s a very short story actually, and maybe someday I will make it bigger, but i just wrote this bc i don’t want to study for college right now.

ps:English is not my first language so sorry :)

Every single day until death comes for me too

My memories with you used to be filled with happy moments studying together, lavender fields, coffee beans and tea all over the table, the moon and the stars decorating the dark sky over us, but since you were gone all i can think about is how the same moon that watched us kiss for the first time, lighted your crying eyes that day.

I can't even fathom how to describe the way I feel about you, about your rare smile, about how my happiest days were by your side and how much I wish I had been me instead.

Some might say that you welcomed death with open arms, but I know how much you fought against her your entire life.I watched her rip you apart, take your most precious moments away, make you the most miserable of them all.First it was by giving you such vile mother in an unloving family, after it was by separating you and the only person you counted on, your brother, and if that wasn’t bad enough, destiny helped her by making you sacrifice yourself in order to make it easier to defeat the dark lord, but only to be seen as the enemy.

You deserved all the good things in this horrible world.

And I should've worshiped you while I could.Tell you how much I thought you deserved all I could give and more, kiss all your scars, make you forget about all your worries, make you my whole life.

No, you already were my whole life.Without you I can't breathe, I can't bring myself to live, to be happy or to move on.

So, it should have been me who died.I should have sacrificed myself, that way you could’ve started a new life with your brother and friends and maybe, just maybe you would have been genuinely happy this time.

With either of us dying, we were never going to be together, but I would rather see you alive than me.My whole existence is worthless compared to yours and even more if you are not existing by my side.

Just like they say, right person wrong time.Although it wasn’t in the wrong time, it was in the wrong life.I don’t know if I will ever see you again, maybe in the afterlife or in the next one, but I just wish i could’ve hugged you one last time.

Now I sit here, in the graveyard, reading Regulus Arcturus Black written on the slightly tilted stone.

Over and over.

Again and again.

Every single day until death comes for me too.

I feel like a coward with nowhere to go, because while you fought to live, I am thinking about joining you, but I know I can’t bring myself to do it.There are still people that for some reason need me and I don’t consider myself not brave because I don’t have the will to exist, but because I had the opportunity to give you my life and wasted everything instead of saving you.

I would never expect you to forgive me, since you did what you did for me, but the blame will always be mine no matter what anyone says.

Now I reach for the small box inside my pocket and see what the future could have saved for us.I can even hear you say yes in your soft low voice that I loved so much.

The moon and the sun engraved in what was going to be our wedding rings will forever be a symbol of our love and souls.

While the winter wraps me with its deathly cold wind and I feel myself getting colder by the minute, I ask the most important question of my life and a part of me still waits for a response.

“Regulus Arcturus Black will you marry me?”

After that the only sound by that grave was of my body falling on the floor and the little box rolling away.

[lettersfromthearchive]

Jehanne smiled as she walked through the field of lavender just outside of Combeferre's home in Provence. "It's wonderful to have this warm weather." She said. "Winter was so depressing."

@combeferre-the-mothman

[lumosatnight]

🥀 Saffic September: Dark AU 🥀

Part 5 of my Saffic September Rec List Series! Check out @hpsaffics for more info about their Daily Prompt Bingo Challenge! Today is Assassin AU, so I've broadened it a bit to include some other darker stories with rituals, murder, duels, and morally grey characters. Also for the @sapphic-september prompt poison. 1 podfic + 2 art + 6 fic + 1 combo recs. Enjoy! (this is secretly my favorite rec list. Shh, don't tell anyone)

Mind the tags please!

PODFIC

🥀 Abydos by Leela [Rolissa, T, 14 mins] read by fire_juggler 🥀 Ohhhhh, this story is so good, and the reader captures all the warring emotions and spooky atmosphere with so much care. Also, Rolanda Hooch has such a unique narrator's voice.

The ritual comforts the part of me that's convinced Narcissa will be lost, drowned in the darkness that Voldemort's drawing down upon us, if there's no light to guide her through.

ART

🥀 Date Night Interrupted [Pansy/OC, G, Digital] by @a-loveunlaced 🥀 Gorgeous. Stunning. Badass women. Pansy in a corset OHMYGOD.

Pansy and Althea's date night is inconveniently interrupted by a murder. How very rude.

🥀 Duel Between Witches [Vina, G, Digital] by @eveneechan 🥀 I didn't know this ship existed, but now I am fully converted. The anger and tension between Tina Goldstein and Vinda Rosier is SPECTACULAR in this anime-style drawing.

The duel between witches from different sides

FIC

🥀 three knocks upon the door [Tonkslily, E, 7.0k] by @lunapwrites 🥀 Oh, oh, oh. I LOVE morally ambiguous characters and some good old revenge. This case fic will keep you enthralled until the very end.

Knocking on wood three times is said to bring good fortune; but three knocks on your window or door without a clear cause is an omen of death. In this case, it's a little of both. (In which Tonks gets suspended from field duty, and takes matters into her own hands.)

🥀 Crown Enterprises [Cissamione, E, 2.8k] by @storyof-eden 🥀 God, this story will forever live in my head rent-free. Assassin Hermione and Mob Boss Narcissa are the new loves of my life.

Hermione was the best, and everyone knew Narcissa employed only the best at Crown Enterprises.

🥀 here we are (a pyrrhic victory) [Susma, T, 1.3k] by @elasticella 🥀 A fascinating premise with intriguing characters. Susan and Padma make such a great pairing in this story.

It’s in the family name, they’ve never been a stranger to death.

🥀 Plenitude [Amelione, M, 1.6k] by eldritcher 🥀 An aching story from one of my favorite authors. Beautiful prose and an unexpected rair pair. Amelia Bones is contrasted nicely against Hermione in this thought-provoking story.

Hers soon an hour of plenitude.

🥀 A Dish Best Served [Rosender, E, 1.3k] by katmarajade 🥀 A hot and steamy revenge fic involving Rose Weasley and a still married Lavender.

Mum’s forgiven your bastard of a father for having an affair with that floozy and humiliating her, humiliating all of you. You’ve not forgotten though. And it’s time he learned how it feels.

🥀 Till Death Do Us Part (I know That You Are Mine) [fem!Tomarry, E, 4.2k] by ArtsyDeath 🥀 HOT and possessive. I am just as obsessed with this fic as Tom is with Harry.

Harry is a reluctant Master of Death, travelling from one reality to the next - unable to die. A chance meeting brings her upon a new curiosity, an odd twist of fate that ties her together with a Tom Riddle very different from her own. Or: Harry is lonely and Tom is... Tom.

FIC + ART

🥀 Mechanics of Emotion [Padmione, E, 47.1k, Digital] by @kiertorata, @tonftyhw, @ravenclawkward-art 🥀 Detective Padma in an intriguing case fic with a complicated Hermione. This fic will grab you by the throat and have you begging for more.

Padma’s life is in a rough place. She owns a failing private investigative business and carries a rather heavy load of self-loathing to top it off. In walks Marjory Macmillan offering a well-paid case and the golden ticket to better times.

← Part 4: Pirate AU | Master Rec List →

[art-outlaw]

Stargazing // Chapter 16.5

Daniel Ricciardo x Reader

Summary: Friend’s since childhood, you’re lucky to spend the time you do with Daniel. Refusing to acknowledge that you’re in love with your best friend of 25 years is fine - until it’s not.

Chapters: 16.5/28

Warnings/ Rating: Explicit. Sexual content. Minors do not engage. Light choking, mild praise kink (sorry not sorry)

Word Count: 4013

Posted: 11 Sept 2021

Takes place between Chapter 16 and 17. Takes place a few weeks after the shower-confession, and before Chapter 17. Is an additional chapter to Stargazing but not a necessity to read.

-------------------------------------

You felt like you were waiting for the other shoe to drop. There was no way that life could be this good. France in summer was beyond every expectation and hope - and experiencing it with Daniel made it otherworldly. You weren’t even sure that you had the imaginative powers to dream up the past week and a half before Daniel was forced to go back to work. Part of you had wished for longer, but part of you was glad that you had a limited amount of time - it left you wanting more, to see more with him by your side.

Daniel, despite all of his years travelling with the F1 circus, had never been to Provence. The lavender covered fields were an entirely new experience for him, just like you. There wasn’t a lot that Daniel hadn’t seen over the years, so for him to be so caught up with the newness and foreignness of a place just like you were wherever you went, sent a warmth radiating out of your chest and through your body.

There was nothing like watching Daniel at his most content. You could stare at him forever and never be sick of the sight. Which is what you were doing right now. You knew that he knew you were staring, he stared at you nearly as much as you did at him. It was an unspoken thing between the two of you now; having gone so many years only laying eyes on each other once or twice a year, neither of you could bear to take your eyes off the other now.

He sat across the small balcony table from you, eyes turned towards the phone in one hand, the other tightly gripping at a cup of coffee. Part of you wished to reach out and pull his hand into yours and trace the lines of veins running across the back of his hand and up to his forearm, but the other part of you begged yourself to leave the picture as it was. Bare-footed and rumpled hair, with the same black t-shirt he’d had on yesterday - now crinkled from spending a night on the floor. In the morning sun, his skin glowed. A scene of serenity.

Even the way his shorts rode up his thighs, exposing the hard lines of muscle and the ink that you spent last night laving with your tongue, had your mouth watering. In the past weeks, you had challenged yourself in memorising every single inch of inked skin on his body - you were sure you could find each one of them blindfolded now. The question of how high the tattoos continued up his leg had finally been answered after years of yearning to know. You did your best not to let your eyes linger on the tattoos for too long - neither of you would finish your breakfasts if you started tracing over them again. Experience had taught you this.

Everything about this morning reminded you of that first morning back on the farm at the start of all of this. Staring at Daniel as he slurped down his morning coffee, trying not to stare too hard at his tattoos. Even the quietness of the morning was the same; there was no need to speak or create unnecessary noise when you were perfectly at ease with each other. Comfortable in your silence together, the ultimate sign of closeness. You’d often thought that silence spoke louder than words. In the past, you’d always tried to fill the silence with chatter, too worried about what extended silence would expose. But now? There was only contentedness. The distant tolling of the bell at a nearby monastery and twittering of birds was the only sound you could hear.

“So, what’s the plan for today?” You finally broke the blissful quiet. Daniel glanced up at you and smiled at your expectant expression. But he didn’t answer you, only pulled his cup up to his lips with a smirk and a cheeky wink that had your heart stuttering in your chest. “I know what you’re thinking but I am not going to spend the whole day in bed with you just because you want some nookie.”

Apparently waiting for him to take a sip of his coffee to say those words made for the ultimate comedic spit-take of your life. As Daniel spluttered, drips of coffee flew and covered the table and newspaper in front of you. “Nookie?” He coughed out, trying to laugh even though he seemed to be struggling to pull enough air in to stop himself from choking just yet.

You nodded and laughed at your best friend. “Yes ‘nookie’ because it is still too early in the day for vulgar language and that’s the best I could come up with.” With a final coughing laugh, Daniel shook his head at you exasperatedly. But there was fondness in his eyes.

“I actually thought we might just wander for a bit… There’s an abbey nearby that I wanted to see; I read that its’ been there since the 12th century.”

“Almost as old as you then.” You jabbed with a playful glare. “I think I can see a few grey hairs in that beard of yours, old man.”

Daniel dropped his cup to the table with a small clatter and reached around the table to swat at your leg. You laughed and tried to jerk away quickly squealing as the smack of his hand connecting with your leg echoed out over the rolling purple hills. “Hey now,” He started. “I’m only four months older than you so don’t go pretending that I’m robbing the cradle.”

“Your birthday’s coming up soon actually.” The realisation strikes you. “I can’t believe we’re both thirty this year… It feels like we were only graduating high school last year, where did the time go?”

The levity of the morning is sapped from the air, both of you suddenly thrown into memories of pimpled faces, bad haircuts and tearful goodbyes. Even Daniel’s voice is quieter when he speaks, less mellow. “I still can’t believe I left without telling you how I felt. God, I was such an idiot.”

“Baby, we’ve been through this, neither of us was ready for this. Long-distance is hard enough as an adult, let alone when you’re young.” You finally indulge yourself and lean across the table to drag the tips of your fingers over the back of his hands. So familiar, even all these years later. You still remember holding his hand when you were eight to cross the road. Even back then, the slotting of his hand into yours was a perfect fit, like you were made for each other.

“I wasted so many years just wishing you could come with me.” He sends a small smile your way, turning his hand so he could twine his fingers between yours and squeeze them. “If id’ve known back then that a fake engagement was all it took to get you to come with me, I would’ve proposed to you years ago.”

“Well, I’m glad you came to your senses,” You teased back. “I was waiting for you to pretend-propose so we could get pretend-engaged to really get together.”

Both of you laughed at that. “It was all in the master plan, babe.”

“Sure it was.”

-------------------------------------

As lovely as Provence was, with its quiet towns, ancient architecture and the inescapable smell of lavender floating through the air, you were excited for Paris. You’d dreamed of coming here ever since you were a child. Before you knew you loved Daniel like that, you’d imagined the both of you in the city, traipsing around and eating more pastries and cheese and delicacies until you burst. Honestly, teenage-you should have figured out that you loved him more than platonically then; why else would you have been imagining being with him in arguably the most romantic city in the world?

It didn’t matter now though. Because you were here with him, staring into his eyes as he gave you his undivided attention over a candlelit dinner. Your first night here, and he was already spoiling you. The restaurant wasn’t a particularly fancy one - moderately priced but with food to die for - it was busy but private. With so many people in such a big city, anonymity was almost guaranteed if both of you were smart about it. Paparazzi and celebrity chasers hung around the popular and expensive restaurants, so as long as you avoided them and the other jaunts the ‘celebrity class hung out at, no one would bother you.

Daniel had explained this little trick to you when he’d shown you around the small apartment he’d rented, choosing the lowkey rental instead of a flashy hotel. You weren’t ungrateful in the slightest; in the past six months, you had begun to realise what Daniel had meant when he said that all hotels started to look the same after a while. All transitory and anonymous, luxurious and empty of any soul.

The apartment was stunning and exactly what the little girl in you expected a Parisian life to be like. Set on a corner block, with double doors to a balcony that showed the Eiffel tower in the distance, soft colours and a mix of modern and vintage furniture. The place would’ve been worth millions for the view alone, but the apartment still would have been spectacular in an awful area of the city. In the daylight, the view had taken your breath away, and now with the tower lit up in the night you were nearly desperate to return to your precious double doors and see it twinkling.

But dinner couldn’t be rushed. Not when the food and wine had made everything hazy with satisfaction, and the heat of Daniel’s eyes over you warming you from your cheeks down. But the empty plates had long been taken away, and the bottle of wine finally emptied. No hurry, only adoration and lingering touches. His gaze on you had started fond, but over dinner, you’d watched his mood change. No longer was he staring at you like you were the one to hang the stars and moon in the sky, but like a predatory. Like he was hungry, a man starved. But it wasn’t for food, it was for you. Molten brown pierced yours and a shiver crept its way up your spine despite the heat of the summer night. Goosebumps prickled over your arms but they wouldn’t disappear when you rubbed at them, not when he was still staring at you like that.

There were certain things that yearning for Daniel for all these years you hadn’t let yourself imagine. There was a difference between imagining Daniel wrapping his arms around you and pressing his lips to your cheek in the morning and his voice still raspy from sleep, and imagining his hands dragging up your sides and pressing your back to his chest, hands creeping further up until they were circled around your neck and tilting your chin into a burning kiss. There was a difference between yearning for romantic love and pure, filthy primal want. You had enforced a rule to yourself that the latter was off-limits. Until now.

Years of suppressing the physical need for each other in a way you’d never known each other before had meant the past few weeks of your new relationship was… enlightening to say the least. You couldn’t get enough of him, and from the way he never denied your advances and chased his own, he couldn’t get enough of you either.

And that was only clearer now - his hand that had rested gently, innocently enough on your thigh for the majority of the night now crept higher and higher, the circling of his thumb only getting tighter and tighter. His eyes never left yours, but there was no way you could ignore the way the tips of his fingers dragged under the hem of the dress you were wearing, pushing the already short hem higher. Smouldering brown eyes never left yours as your breath hitched in your chest. Suddenly you were thankful that your legs were already crossed as you press them further together - an action that he didn’t miss if his grin was anything to go by.

He knew what he was doing. He was playing you like a fiddle, winding you tighter until you surely exploded. Even now, you knew that your eyes were begging him. For more or for less, you still didn’t know.

Daniel raised his hand, cricking two fingers at the waiter walking by, asking for the bill. Even as he spoke, his eyes never left your face, but you were suddenly preoccupied with the sight of his hands again. His hands had always been your weakness. The way that they threaded through yours, the drag of them over your collarbone and up the column of your neck, the smooth glide of them between your thighs up towards you needed him most.

You must have lost time staring at him, because before you could realise what was happening Daniel’s hand was extricating itself from your thigh and pulling you from your chair. Your body didn’t seem like your own as you stumbled behind him out of the restaurant. He was walking so smoothly, seemingly unaffected by the way he had wound you up inside without even saying a word. He gave no indication that anything was amiss even as you chased after him.

Even the car ride back to the apartment was silent. Daniel’s hands normally pressed into your skin as he drove, your hands, your thighs anywhere he could grab - now they both rested gently on the steering wheel and the gear shift. Oblivious to the way your skin warmed and burned with the need for him. He didn’t even look at you as you squirmed in your seat in anticipation. He was in no hurry, just like as he had left the restaurant. He didn’t speed or break any road rules like you would have in your desperation to get back.

He still didn’t touch you at all as you stepped into the elevator of the building. The mirrored doors gave you the perfect view of his eyes dragging over you. He was the picture of ease, leaning against the metallic walls, arms crossed. The warm night had left his arms bare, no need for a jacket over the crew neck t-shirt, leaving the lean muscle of his biceps on show and at the forefront of your mind. And yet, he only watched you. And then he watched your hands as they shook at the front door to the apartment as you tried to unlock the door, rattling against the metal of the locks. Another sign of your desperation for him. Only for him.

The apartment was dark as you swung the door open and stepped through the threshold, the sound of your heels on floorboards and the small pants of your breath the only breaking of silence in the lightless room. Almost lightless. Across the room, the double doors beckoned you to look out over them, to stare at the twinkle of the cityscape. You moved towards them, raising a still shaking hand to press to the cool glass.

And then you felt his hands on your hips. You sighed at the feel of them, the tight grip they had as he pulled your back to his chest. The press of his lips to the side of your neck, already tilting back against his chest to give him the space to lave with his tongue in a way that had you nearly collapsing against him already. A hand moved to your front, splaying across your stomach and keeping you pressed against him, the other trickled down the outside of your thigh, burning a path across your body through the material of your dress. His mouth never stopped moving against you, but only travelled further down to move the strap off your shoulder, leaving your flushing skin open to him. Small moans were already escaping you and you couldn’t help but shut your eyes to the view in front of you, too caught up in the feeling of his hand finally scrapping up the inside of your thigh to press to your clothed core.

For all the ways that Daniel had neglected you his touch on the way home, he made up for it in spades now. It felt like he was everywhere at once; pushing your underwear to the side until he could press a featherlight finger to your clit, drawing slow circles, the other hand sliding up until it pressed up against your ribcage just under the swell of your breast and cupping it ever so slightly, the sink of his teeth into your neck as you writhed against him with an uncontainable moan.

Daniel’s chest pressed heavier against your back until you couldn’t help but stumble forward into the glass doors in front of you. The cool glass was such a contrast to the heat travelling over your skin and you moaned again. Your dress was rucked up over your hips now, and you couldn’t bring yourself to even wonder whether the people across the road could see the silhouettes of your figures in the window, could see you coming apart at the seems as Daniel dragged moan after moan from you.

But then his hand withdrew from you, and you whined at the loss of him. Daniel shushed you gently as he slowly pulled your underwear down your thighs, letting them fall to the floor. You didn’t bother stepping out of them, too busy mourning the loss of his fingers against you. His gentle shushing was followed by a voice thick from disuse as desire. “It’s okay baby, I’m gonna look after you.”

And then his fingers were back, thumb pressing against your clit as he finally pressed a digit into you. Your hips arched, begging for more and more as he pumped them, setting a distractingly slow pace. Another finger joined the one inside you, and the drag of them had the knot deep within you tightening, the curl of his fingers every stroke bringing you closer and closer to liss. Your head fell back against him again, and his head tilted down to claim your lips in a punishing kiss, matching the glide of his tongue against yours to the pace of his hand moving in and out of you. He swallowed all of your moans and gave them back as good as he got them. You could feel the length of him pressed against the swell of your ass, hard. He ground into you, chasing his own pleasure as he pulled it out of you.

Warmth built in you, a growing crescendo until finally, you rolled over the cliff you were edging towards so quickly. You weren’t sure whether you were moaning his name or just senseless and wordless begging, but he continued to pump into you, riding out the wave of your orgasm. There were no thoughts passing through your head as you slowly came down, only barely registering the sound of a zipper dragging down and his jeans joining your underwear at the floor.

And then the press of him against your centre, nudging at you as he pulled your hair off of your neck and twisting the strands around his hand until he could press his lips to your neck again. A whisper of consent and then he pushed into you, stretching and filling you in a way that you’d been craving for hours and hours. You didn’t hold back your moan as he finally bottomed out in you, his groan answering yours. His forehead, already damp with sweat, pressed to the back of your neck, but he made no effort to move, to set a pace.

“Move, Daniel,” Your voice was edging a beg again. “Please. I-I need…”

Cool breath blew across your shoulder as Daniel exhaled into you. “What do you need, baby?” But he didn’t let you answer. Grinding his hips up into you, somehow deeper into you despite your fullness, and words evaded you. Your head fell forward into the glass doors. Senseless noises escaped you, but Daniel only huffed out a dark chuckle. Pulling out just an inch and pressing back into you. It was so good, but not enough. You were begging him for something, not even you knew what it was now. Again he shushed you. “It’s okay, baby, I know what you need.”

And then he moved.

The roll of his hips up into yours was unexplainable. There was nothing else like it in the world, having him like this as you both lost control of everything but this moment. The hand that was still gripped into your hair and pulled your head back until you looked at into the thick corded muscle of his neck, strained with effort as he stroked into you. And then it untangled and wrapped around your neck. He didn’t squeeze, not yet, only held you there flush against him as you felt every inch of him moving within you.

All you could see was the inside of your eyelids It was too much effort to keep your eyes open; you were busy trying to survive the waves of pleasure moving through you. There was no black behind your eyes despite the darkness of the room around you, you only saw red. But a gentle squeeze to your neck had your eyes fluttering open again. His voice was loud in your ears, even as he whispered. Telling you to look out over the city, to take it all in as good as you were taking him. Praise after praise drowned out your moans, telling you how pretty you looked and how lucky he was. What a good girl you were.

And again, you fell off the edge. Only this time your orgasm washed over you, wave after wave every single time he stroked. It was too much. It wasn’t enough.

Daniel’s hips stuttered against your own, finally breaking the punishing pace he had set. He pulled you off the glass and impossibly closer as he pushed deeper one last time. Pressed so flush against you that you were surely becoming one person.

Minutes passed wordlessly, both of you too busy trying to catch your breath to move or speak. But eventually, your skin started to pebble with goosebumps again as the cool bite of the glass broke through the warmth you’d built. Daniel, feeling your rising chill, finally pulled out of you with a groan. Your dress fell back over your hips and into place; the only indication that something had transpired was the pooling of your underwear at your ankles, trapped around your heels. You stepped out of them but didn’t bother to bend over and pick them up, only kicked them to the side, and Daniel’s jeans and boxer briefs joined the pile. You giggled to yourself at the thought that neither of you had the strength or resistance to bother undressing before losing yourselves in each other.

Both of you headed towards the bathroom without words, not even needing to speak to know that you’d be showering together before you likely both collapsed into bed. Even now, totally sated and boneless, you knew that another round was inevitable. Neither of you could ever get enough of each other.

As Daniel reached to turn the shower on, his voice echoed across the bathroom. “I wanted to do that as soon as I saw you looking out those doors today. Took everything in me not to do it then.”

As the steam from the hot shower filled the small room, you stepped towards a now-stripped Daniel and traced a finger over his shoulder, leaving him shuddering at the feel. You leaned in and trace your tongue over the shell of his ear before biting down gently. Your whisper nearly lost in the rushing sound of water hitting tile. “There’s always tomorrow.”

Next Chapter >>

-------------------------------------

hey guys, welcome back to Stargazing! Like I said when I finished the fic, I do have additional chapters and scenes that I'll be adding over time - they won't have any plot significance but they are cool little additions to their journey :)

Let me know what you think!

-------------------------------------

@haterpenny @summertimemadness​ @sarcastic--bitchy​ @weirdestmentalityphilosopher @sassybatflowerpaper @hannah220506 @its-astrotea-love @marvelgirlswwe @gl0rified-ignorxnce @holdyourselfinmyhands @miahelen @noope306 @hockey-and-wine @isntmadrid​ @feminismisaflawlessbitch @awalkinthe--park @tee-jay-ell @liverbool @anaxlivia @earth-to-lottie @honeybadgerstan @riccardoshoey @colourofinfinity @midnightroses07 @kissingvalentino @gingerxarmy @theduchessinme @itsreigns @okayleafs @thinemineours @tricciardo @hellolipoops @thatchickwiththecamera @mjuikoli @lovebynorth @alicesasha @angryhamsterenergy @loverofallthingsdannyric @lottchen21 @tall-tanned-tattoo @ricciardolovers @ohpuckyeah @jennfisher @danielxricciardo @ggaslyp1 @thatnerd03 @cjbarnesss @yoongidere @abysshaven @cavilllove @an-oblivious-nerd @teenwaywardasgardian @senditsi @lharrietg @harley-sunday @stanofallstans @pushtheb0undaries @seasidetom @damndanielricciardo @lharrietg @breeze-bloks @sugardontbesweet @baueoud @vinvantae @paprikabadger @formularicc @sabsi2222 @rule107 @defnotsobbing @lusticsoul @okayleafs @bekindbecoolbeyou @lovebynorth

[shotofire]

Ethereal

Levi Ackerman x F!Reader

(Requested) I changed a small part of it, I hope you don’t mind anon.

Overview: Levi has an s/o who works at a flower shop

Warnings: Cursing, smut mention, age gap (legal of course), mentions of death

Season: Not specified, but I imagine it in the 1-2 range

-

Most knew about the flower shop by the name of Sweet Stems within the walls of Rose. It’s funny, really, to have that kind of shop behind a wall with the same name as a flower. It’s been in the same spot for years, selling the most vibrant and smell good flowers anyone has ever encountered. Business hasn’t been slow since day one, everyone adored the place.

Women grew up dreaming a boy would buy them beautiful flowers from the shop. It’s a vibrant spot on a world of grey and fear, and everyone wants a peice of it. Most felt as if they’ve stepped into another world once they’ve gone in, and that’s why Levi Ackerman loves it so much. He’ll sneak off during his free time just to smell the flowers and bask in their energy.

Sometimes Levi can’t stop himself from buying a bouquet, falling in love with how it makes him feel. His favorite are the purple lavender flowers, the smell reminds him of his mother. It brings him comfort and warmth to have them around, to smell them whenever his mind is struggling.

Everytime he goes it’s the same sweet old lady standing behind the counter with a smile. She has a strong liking for Levi, he reminds her of someone she once knew in her younger years. “My granddaughter is going to start helping me out, so I won’t always be here.” She’d said to him one day, but he didn’t think much into it. He assumed it would be a child trying to make extra money for toys.

Levi was pleasantly surprised when a beautiful women approached him on his next visit, asking him if he was in need of assistance. Honestly, calling the girl beautiful is an understatement. She’s absolutely breathtaking, and had Levi at a loss for words. Her eyes sparkled when she spoke, and a smile was on her face. “Are you a regular?” She’d asked once he’d come back a week later, buying the same lavender flowers as before. “Somewhat.”

There’s no denying the mans attractiveness. Even with the stone cold expression she can feel his warmth within. “I’m y/n, possibly the new store owner.” Her hand was held out for him to take, and he accepts it. “I’m Levi.” “Oh, my grandmother has told me about you,” her eyes light up, “she said that you’re a kind soul.” No one has ever referred to him as that, most found him extremely intimidating. It was refreshing to know someone didn’t see him that way.

Visit after visit Levi began talking to her more. Conversation wasn’t his strong suit, but her personality made it easy. Everything he said, even the most random things, somehow she could say something about it. “How come you only buy Lavender?” She’d asked him as he was checking out, and he froze up. The old women had never asked him that so he assumed the question would never come up.

She saw the way his body stiffened and immediately regretted asking. “I, um, i’m s-sorry, it’s none of my business. I just didn’t know if you were buying them for a possible girlfriend or something-“”They remind me of my mother.” He cut her off from her rambling. “She died when I was really young and the smell makes me remember things about her that age has taken away from me,” there’s a small smile on his face. As if talking about it somewhat makes him feel better. “That’s wonderful.”

There was no clarification of when the relationship started. Maybe it was when she’d closed up the shop and he’d kissed her under the moonlight. Or maybe it was in her bedroom when he’d stripped her bare and kissed every inch of her skin. There’s no denying they are a couple, and Levi is madly in love. He noticed early on that her smell changed with the day. Sometimes she’d smell of lily’s, violet’s, or tulips, but his favorite on her is orchids.

Being with someone in the survey corps is hard on the young girl, even if many have said Levi is the worlds strongest soldier. She’s witnessed the titans unruly actions and it scared her senseless. But it was too late to turn back, her heart was already smitten with his. Months went by of laughter and kissing, and getting to know one another.

Levi didn’t like talking about his profession, it was too dark for her light heart. She made him feel as if nothing bad could happen as long as he is with her. It didn’t take much convincing for her to get him to occupany her on a picnic. They laid there in a field of flowers, looking up at the clouds. “That one looks like a elephant,” she says, her eyes doing the beautiful sparkle that he loves. Seeing her like this made him feel all tingly.

“You’re ethereal.” Her head turned quickly to him, seeing the pure adoration in his face. “T-Thank you.” He always knew how to have her stumbling over her words. They stayed like that for a moment, looking into each other’s eyes. Levi was first to break the silence, “I love you.” That isn’t something he just says, honestly he doesn’t think he’s ever said it. Not even to his mother, not that he can remember. “I love you,” she said back with a growing blush. His lips are quick to attack to hers under the warmth of the sun.

His comrades noticed his growing absences. It’s not like the man needs training, he’s strong and skilled beyond most. Yet they still found it odd and wondered where he always ran off to. “Where are you going?” Hange asked while she stepped infront of him, blocking his way out. “Don’t worry about it.” He slipped underneath her arm that was pressed against the wall next to her, running off before he could be stopped.

“He wouldn’t tell me!” Hange says in a frustrated tone, hands flying in the air. Erwin is determined to know where the man is running off to just like Hange. “What if we followed him?” Hange asks. The commander knows it’s a total invasion of privacy, but he can’t help himself. And even if he doesn’t follow through Hange is going to anyway.

It’s a beautiful day and the sky is clearer than it’s been in weeks. As soon as Levi saw the bright sun above he knew it’s a perfect time to see y/n. It’s a Sunday so the shop is usually closed, so he’ll walk to her home only a block away.

You’d think the worlds strongest soldier might notice a pair of nosey friends following him. But his mind is set on her, and what’s infront of him. Hange and Erwin are close behind, but not too close, making sure to keep their distance as best as possible. They hide behind corners a few times to let Levi get more ahead.

The walk began to feel like forever to the prying two, then Levi begins to approach a small home decorated in vines and flowers. It looks straight out of a fantasy book, definitely not this mans type of scene. He looks out of place standing infront with a black jacket on his upper half and dark brown pants on his lower.

Levi knocks on the wooden door and Hange doesn’t even blink as she waits for it to open. She literally lets out the loudest gasp that has anyone nearby turning their heads to look. Erwin is about to thump the back of her head but he’s soon left speechless as well. The door has opened, and the beautiful girl Levi has grown so fond of wraps her arms around his neck and presses a kiss to his lips.

“There’s no fucking way,” Hange says as she rubs her eyes. “I’m dreaming right? I’m going to wake up soon.” She keeps letting out random phrases. Erwin is surprised too considering all his years he’s known the man. At this point the commander wasn’t even sure if Levi was interested in girls, or let alone people.

“She’s beautiful,” Hange says while inching closer. Erwin grabs her shoulders and pulls her back, “Remember we are not supposed to be here.” He can definitely agree that she’s beautiful, and obviously a bit younger than the captain. He wondered how a girl like her had even met Levi.

Hange can’t help but giggle at the sight of thr girl kissing Levi’s cheek as heat rises to his face. “Oh my gosh- he’s blushing! Have you ever seen Levi have that look on his face?” “I definitely have not.” The comrad’s felt as if they are looking at a whole different person. In a way they were, this is a different side of Levi that only comes out for y/n.

“I want to go say something, I don’t even care if it pisses him off,” Hange says and she moves too quickly for Erwin to stop her. “Hange, no! Fucking shit.” Shes next to the couple in an instant and Levi almost faints when he sees his friends face. “What the hell are you doing here?” Is the first thing he asks, with a wildly confused look in his eyes.

The beautiful mystery girl, to Hange and Erwin, looks at the stranger with equal confusion. She didn’t know of Levi’s comrades or even how living situations worked. “Erwin and I,” Hange motions to the commanders frame peaking around a nearby corner, “wanted to see where you’ve been sneaking off to for months, and now we know.” “So you guys invaded my privacy?”

Hange rolls her eyes at him instantly, “Whatever, we just wanted to make sure you weren’t doing some weird stuff.” She turns her attention to the unnamed person before her, “I’m Hange, a comrad of Levi’s, nice to meet you!” “I’m y/n.” The two shake hands. “And what are you to dear, sweet little Levi?” It takes everything in him to not yell at Hange to leave right now. “I, um, i’m, his girl- well-“ “She’s my girlfriend, so please don’t scare her off.” Weight comes off the girls shoulders as Levi answers for her.

As said before, the relationship has never been established. It hasn’t even been labeled. So to be asking her that infront of Levi she wasn’t too sure what to say. But Levi calling her his girlfriend makes her feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside. “Well i’ve gotten all the info I need, carry one.” Y/n definitely is beyond confused with what’s happening, and not used to Hange’s odd personality.

Before Hange can say anything else, or Erwin decides to but in, Levi is pushing y/n inside her home and slamming the door behind him. “Wha-“”Anywhere we go today my nosey comrades are going to follow,” there’s a dark look on his face, the same one he has that makes her knees weak, “so we are stuck inside.” Maybe it’s the annoyance with Hange and Erwin, or the fact that she looks stunning right now... little bit of both... but Levi just wants to get his hands on her.

His hands rest on her waist and she shivers, the slightlest touch feeling like waves. One hand trails up her waist, fingers pressing to the delicate skin of her neck. “I’m sorry they interrupted our day. Can I make it up to you?” She nods frantically and he smirks, “Use your words.” “Yes, please.” He immediately connects his lips to hers softly, slowly beginning to lead to her bedroom.

Today she smells of orchids.

[eleanor-bradstreet]

The Field: In a Week (Benedict Bridgerton x Reader)

Benedict Bridgerton x fem!Reader Modern AU Rated: T - language, discussions of sex, infidelity, mortality Word count: 2.9k

Part 2: Lavender Forever Part 4: Back to Autumn Masterpost

Summary: A decade into your marriage, you and Benedict face life's trials.

Author's Note: The third in a four-part series based on songs about fields/nature that I associate with Benedict. This part is based on the song In a Week by Hozier. 💙

A decade later

Your feet moved on their own. You were so blinded with anger, so lost in the whirl of your bitter thoughts that you let them carry you wherever they wanted. All you knew was you had to get out of the house before you snapped. You had already made a scene, walking straight out of Aubrey Hall and stomping across the cold, misted grounds while multiple members of the Bridgerton family watched. But it was better than shouting at your husband in front of them all, airing your dirty laundry in mixed company in some self destructive attempt to hurt him as much as he had hurt you. No, this was better. Just remove yourself from the situation. Cool down, reset, and find some way to awkwardly slip back and make a quick exit.

You grumbled low to yourself, spitting into the autumn air everything you wanted to say to him. All of your most wounding insults, your most witty comebacks, your most damning accusations. Things that you never had the celerity or courage to actually say in the moment, but that always won every imaginary argument. It was both exhausting and cathartic to replay the quarrels in your mind over and over, a twisted cycle you had become all too familiar with. 

A sudden rustling noise snapped you back into the present moment. Looking to the treeline you saw an orange tuft dart into the shadows and then a gleaming pair of eyes turn and peer back at you. It was a fox, watching you closely as you stomped the final few yards into the expanse of the field. It was the only place you had thought to go; somewhere distant and quiet, familiar and comforting, though bittersweet now with all the memories it contained. The happiness you remembered feeling there contrasted sharply with everything you felt now. As you moved through the tall grass you traced what had led you to this point.

After a decade’s tenure working with Anthony you had felt the pull to hang your own shingle, to establish yourself outside of the family you had married into. Everyone supported your move but the transition was proving harder than you had expected. Though you knew your blame was misplaced, you had started to grow resentful of the Bridgerton name and the automatic prestige it carried. Prestige your new brand could only dream of. 

You were working long hours, Benedict never seemed to not be working, and the honeymoon period was long over. He had reached a zenith of success and now it seemed every gallery from Salt Lake to Phuket wanted his pieces. But his traveling to meet with them all left no piece of him behind for you. The tender moments when you had joined together each day: swatting playfully at each other as you wrangled for the kettle, dinner burning on the hob as Benedict ignored it in favor of sprawling you across a countertop, and staying up far too late entwined in bed as you stared at the ceiling and talked of all your grand plans; none of that happened anymore. Everything felt like a transaction, even drudgery, as you both strove to fulfill life’s basic tasks while exhausted by everything you were trying to accomplish. 

Arguments had arisen to replace your daydreaming. Arguments over petty things and big things too. Neither of you could make up your mind on the biggest question - whether or not you wanted children. You were admittedly both curious to see what you might look like blended together in a new person and wanted to send them out as an agent of good in an increasingly uncertain world. But it was that same uncertainty that made you fear to bring them into it. And you both knew that your lifestyles didn’t currently lend themselves to parenthood. While you suspected Benedict believed a child would bring you closer together, you feared that the added stress of a helpless dependent may tip you over the edge.

The bliss that had once dominated your relationship now seemed to be only a memory. The generator in your chest that he had installed had run out of fuel. You were starting to contemplate things you could never have imagined only a few years prior. The D word. Something you had previously found so dirty, akin to a slur and having no place in the same sentence as Benedict’s name. Now it was beginning to have an odd kind of appeal. But it still forced tears from your eyes every time you thought about it, as it did now. With a shaking exhale you sat down, your hot tears contrasting with the cold dew in the grass. Failure and frustration welled within and you sank your head onto your knees, trapped in a loop of anguished thoughts.

When you heard more rustling you looked up, wondering if the fox had grown curious enough to approach. But it was Benedict, walking toward you slowly with his hands in his coat pockets, frowning.

You hastily brushed the tears from your cheeks.

“Benedict, please. I don’t want to do this right now.”

“Well, I didn’t want my wife to storm out of a family gathering in front of everyone and fuck off into the wilderness but here we are.” His voice was cutting, his eyes steely. “Is this your solution? To just not talk about it and eventually wander back in and act like nothing happened? Do I get to simmer in your resentment for the rest of the night?”

“Ben, stop,” you whispered, tears rising again.

“We need to fix this!” He barked, the sternness in his jaw so uncharacteristic. Then he softened. “I want to fix this."

The broken pleading cut through you and you saw a fleeting glimpse of the Benedict you had fallen in love with, still hiding there under everything that had happened. You knew he was talking about more than just your tiff in the family room. He was talking about everything.

“I want to fix this too.” 

You allowed him to sit next to you in the grass but when he reached for your hand you jerked it away.

“I’m sorry,” he offered.

You wouldn’t forgive that easily. If he wanted to fix things, he had to understand how he hurt you. “You made a joke at my expense.”

“I thought you’d laugh with me!” he reasoned. “You used to.”

“Used to was a long time ago. Now the jokes about your wife’s adorable, failing hobby business are wearing thin. I know you can’t relate. You or anyone in your family, with your fabulous lives.” You knew you sounded petulant but were giving free reign to your honest thoughts. Ever since stepping outside of the family business, you had felt somewhat outside of the family too. You only had yourself to blame and knew it was objectively untrue but couldn’t defeat your niggling imposter syndrome.

“Hey,” Benedict’s eyes were full of concern. “You are part of this family. What’s mine is yours.”

“Alright.” You scoffed and rolled your eyes, leaving spite in the driver’s seat.

“I didn’t know it would upset you so much.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” you spat. “You wouldn’t know much about me anymore because you’re never around. Gallivanting all over the world, one gallery to the next while your quaint little wife sits at home.”

Now it was his turn to be exasperated. “You told me you needed to stay and focus on your work.” 

“Just the first time and you’ve never asked me to join you again!” You stared him down, waiting for him to acknowledge fault, wanting him to explain himself. His silence stretched your anger to the breaking point. If you were going to have it out, you would have it all out.

You cooled your voice and turned away from him. “I suppose that’s good for your image. I wouldn’t want to be a third wheel.”

From the corner of your eye you saw his head snap up. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I’m not stupid, Ben. And other women aren’t blind.” You took a shaking breath, fearing where the conversation would lead but knowing you had to pursue it. The suspicion and insecurity had been simmering within you for too long.

After a long pause he finally spoke, his voice hollow. “You think I’m running around on you?”

The words fractured your heart and you had to stifle a whimper against the pain. “You tell me,” you whispered. “So much time spent apart.” 

You held your breath, waiting for all of your worst fears to be confirmed. A devastating truth that would simultaneously destroy you and set you free. But you were only met with more silence. You turned back to see Benedict staring at the ground, jaw locked and eyes searching.

“Nothing to say?” you prodded. “Should I take that as an admission?”

He looked up, pale eyes stormy while his voice was surprisingly calm. “No. I’m trying to think what I could have possibly done to undermine your faith in me like this. Maybe I didn’t fuck up in one big way. Maybe I fucked up in a thousand tiny ways. Over time, is that enough to make you think I’d go back on my vow?” The pain in his voice and confusion in his eyes immediately tore down your defenses. With only a few quiet sentences he deftly convinced you of his innocence and made you regret accusing him at all.

You swallowed thickly. “Your vow?”

“Our wedding vows. Remember?” He raised his eyebrows sarcastically. “Big party. You wore white. In this very field in fact.” He gestured to the landscape before you. The sky was clouded and the green was fading into straw tones. But your memories could etch in every detail of that sunlit day. A day of bliss when you joined your lives together, just feet from where you sat now.

Benedict continued, his words fervent. “We made vows. Vows that I remember and that I’m not going to break. No matter how many mistakes I make, my commitment to those stays the same. Do you believe me?”

His burning gaze made you tremble, nearly speechless in the face of his loyalty. Your enmity melted away with a half-hearted quip. “They weren’t really vows, per se.”

“No, they were better.” This time Benedict took your hand and you didn’t pull away. He held it tightly. “My heart unto yours is knit, so that but one heart can we make of it.” Smiles flitted across both your faces, remembering all of the Shakespeare he had insisted on using for your ceremony. ‘Eternal words for an eternal love,’ he had said.  

He brought your hand to his lips and pressed the softest kiss to your knuckles before pulling it to his chest. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to share my heart with anyone else if it's actually yours in the first place.”

You broke, letting your tears release the pressure of all the guilt, relief, love and hope building within. His arms instinctively wrapped around you as you leaned against him, now surrounded by warmth and his familiar smell. This was your husband, the love of your life. This was Benedict. He wasn’t perfect, but then neither were you. You had challenges to face and wounds to heal, but knew with certainty that the person you wanted to turn to through it all was him. Even if he was the cause of pain himself. You chuckled against his neck, laughing and crying simultaneously at the beautiful contradiction.

Benedict pulled back to meet your eyes. “Do you believe me?”

You nodded and he let out an audible sigh of relief, grinning as he rested his forehead against yours and held your face in his hands. “And then end life when I end loyalty.”

You surged forward and kissed him, the salt of your tears tingeing your lips. The two of you clung together, tension easing as your bodies and souls bolstered each other again. You lowered slowly to lie in the grass, side by side with your hands clasped.

“I miss you on these trips too, you know,” he revealed. “It’s fucking agonizing. I don’t want to travel as much as I do, but…”

“You need to,” you assured him, realizing your selfishness and insecurity couldn’t stand in the way of his dreams. “I want to see the works of Benedict Bridgerton displayed across the world. It’s what you deserve. It’s what you’ve earned. Starving artist no more.” 

He quirked a brow. “Was I ever?”

“No,” you smiled. “And maybe I’ll join you sometimes.”

He squeezed your hand. “Yes, please. It would be good for both of us. You never know who may be in need of a Creative Director.”

The mess of your job situation came hurtling back. The last thing you wanted was a handout. “Ben…”

“I’m not going to go slinging your name around and angling for favors. We can just keep our ears open,” he explained. “Let the nepotism work after you’ve applied.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at his dry remark. It was inescapable, the fact that you were tied to a surname that opened doors. But you knew Benedict would support you in rising based on your own merit. You had never actually asked for his help and chastised yourself for it.

He turned to stare up at the grey sky, mumbling to himself. “And I can give my damn fist a rest.”

You balked. “I’m sorry?”

The way he wiggled his eyebrows confirmed everything.

You smirked. “Are you saying you’re sullying all these five star hotel rooms with your self abuse?”

“Whenever I think of you.” His menacing little grin never failed to ignite a spark in your stomach. Despite how your body always ached for his, your suspicion of his infidelity had bled into suspicions about your sex life. Every time he returned home he pounced on you, but you had assumed it was driven by guilt or pure animalistic need, not by passion. You had felt like you owed it to him as a welcome home gift. You hadn’t realized how much he still longed for you. To imagine him alone in every far flung city, pleasuring himself while gasping your name, it was both tantalizing and a bit heartbreaking.

“Why don’t you call me?” you asked.

He looked dumbfounded. “You would want that?”

“Yes.” You rolled over and gave him a deep kiss, murmuring against his lips. “Timezones be damned, I want to know you're coming for me on the other side of the world.”

“Fucking hell,” he exhaled, eyes glittering. You smiled and snuggled into his side, the two of you lying in silence, studying the clouds, quietly envisioning the new chapter you were embarking upon. You felt a sense of peace returning that had eluded you for years.

You could have laid there for years or for hours, you weren’t sure. You were just content to feel Benedict’s hand in yours, to hear the quiet rustle of the wind in the grass, and to know that happier days lay ahead. But eventually the light started to dim, the temperature dropped to the point that your breath became visible, and you knew you had to return to the world outside of your hideaway.

“I don’t want to go back,” you confessed. “I made an ass of myself.”

Benedict smirked. “It would look worse that I marched off after you and neither of us ever returned.”

You were no longer concerned about anyone’s perception of you. Not while you were together. “They should know by now where to find us,” you shrugged. “What’s the plan? Lie here forever?”

You inhaled the crisp air, realizing the appeal. “Sounds nice, doesn’t it?”

“It does.” Benedict nestled deeper into the grass with a smile. “Lay here until we just dissolve into the grass. Become the flowers. That would really throw a wrench into the dandelion wine production.”

You both burst into laughter. It felt so good to laugh again.

“They’d find us in a week,” you mused. “Or whatever is left of us after the foxes have had a taste.”

He grimaced. “Gruesome.”

“It wouldn’t be our problem. We’d be gone. Somewhere. Together.”

Dark as it was, there was an undeniably appealing beauty in the idea. That the two of you could let the world fall away and rest forever in your favorite place, slumbering together through frosts and thaws and watercolor sunrises. You lay in complete stillness imitating the corpses you  imagined yourselves to be, your hands clasped so tightly that you could feel both your pulses between them. They were slowing, your hearts settling back into a calm echo of one another after dissipating their anger. 

Benedict spoke softly. “I’m sorry for everything.”

“I am too.” 

You knew with certainty that you had rounded a corner, entered a new era of honesty with one another. One upon which you could build the next decades of your shared life. Benedict, ever the mind reader, confirmed as much.

“A new start from here on out, yeah? We let our bitter selves die here.”

You turned to face him, cherishing his crooked grin, his bright eyes, every smile line that carved his features and fleck of grey that hid at his temples. You saw the boy who had kissed you in a swirl of dandelion tufts, the menace who ravished you with sinful delights, the husband who anchored you through every storm, and the man who you would follow to the ends of the earth. All rolled into one beautiful soul that you were blessed to have joined with your own.

You squeezed his hand. “Alright. We’ll lay here and die a little. Then I want to be home with you.”

Tagging: @angels17324 @bridgertontess @broooookiecrisp @secretagentbucky

[heartsofminds]

saudade

I think I fell in love with him the same way that the seasons come and go. 

Our timeline is one of blistering colors and ever changing temperatures with birthdays, school dances, and holidays thrown in the mix and if you linger for too long, you’re looking at January from the perspective of December when you swear it was just July and you were comparing the size and itchiness of your mosquito bites with all your friends. The pink stains of cherry popsicles on white t-shirts turn in to pink cheeks during biting snow storms in November when prayers of school being cancelled are answered. 

I fell in love with him like I did with the spring. My affection and care for him growing subtly and slowly, but beautifully through the same lens. The ice wall of winter I had built around myself slowly but surely melting away and being able to stand talking to him for more than ten minutes without wanting to wring his neck. 

We blossomed like the flowers through random inside joke texts that never made anyone feel pressured to respond. Wet grass feeling good on your bare feet like how the teasing smirks and “Hey!”’s and “Hi!”’s and “What’s up?”’s are thrown around like you’re playing catch in the hallway between passing periods. I fell in love with him like I did with the spring because for once my feelings for him weren’t frigid or blazing; they were calm and collected and for once in my life I was content with the thought of him sticking around and us forever living in this comfortable limbo of “what could be” and “what is.” Back then the former and the latter didn’t make my head spin. 

I fell in love with him like I did the spring because for a long time I felt the chill of winter and in a flash, the comfort of summer, hot and humid, crept up on me and the sweetness of freshly pollenated flowers stuck around just short enough that I could never get sick of it. 

I fell in love with him like I did with the summer. Blistering heat, funky tan lines, friendship bracelets, and sunsets that emulated cotton candy and lavender fields. Our friendship growing and my head above water in a refreshing pool of compliments and endless banter. The cacophony of cicadas and long walks and the thrill of being places together without getting caught.

The guilt was fun; having a secret that no one was to know about. Sitting on picnic blankets at dusk; legs across his lap and the endless circles and smiley faces drawn into my calves by his dull, half moon thumbnails. The stars and the lightning bugs forcing the words out of ourselves. “We’re taking things slow. Right?” even though neither of us were known for our remarkable patience. 

His smile warmed me and the idea of being each other’s exclusively routinely drowned me. The fear of diving into a shallow pool, the knowing that if it ends it would end badly, so deathly terrifying that I almost turned it away. Through rainbow colored embroidery thread and lemon ice cream I fell for the goofy grins and the lingering hugs. I fell for the sunset watching and the shared childhood stories and the idea that maybe, quite possibly, this could be an ocean instead of a pool. 

I fell in love with him like how I fell in love with the summer because I could never tell if the warmth in my body was from my sunburned cheeks or the compliments he used to give me. 

I fell in love with him like how I fell in love with the fall. Football games and meeting him at his house after, painting my face with his jersey number, and homecoming thrown somewhere in the mix between advanced placement calculus and chemistry. The chill in the morning walking from the car into the school building and the heat of the summer still lingering like an afterthought at 3 PM; the sweater brandishing your arms immediately coming off at the end of the day before cranking up the A/C in the car to drive the eight minutes home. 

We snuck in kisses between splitting ways to attend after school practices. The leaves falling off the trees and hot teenage hands that possessed the warmth of summer in places where they shouldn’t have been. I fell in love with him like how I fell in love with the fall because my days and nights flipped, and when you’re falling for someone you can’t exactly pinpoint when and where these things happen. 

I fell in love with him like how I fell in love with the fall because I was convinced he was perfect for me and he would never change, just like the oak tree in my next door neighbor’s yard. 

I fell in love with him like how I fell in love with the winter. The snow on the ground and seeing the heat of your breath in the air. Ice skating around my heart and planting himself further into me; making sure I never forget our time together and what was to come. We ignored the elephant in the room of having to make up our minds. 

I learned that every snowflake is unique as well as every moment spent with him. He blew hot air on my cold hands. He walked me to my car and gave me prolonged hugs as it warmed up so I wouldn’t have to drive home in the cold before the heat actually did what it was supposed to do. 

I fell in love with him like how I fell in love with the winter and if I think about it for too long, my eyes start to water and my lips start to shake. I fell in love with him like the winter, because then I knew he could never love me the same way. 

I sat through the seasons with and without him; the life I had before in high school forcing its way into my conversations with old friends. His name buzzes in my ears like the wasps in their nests in my aunt’s backyard; the location of my many birthday parties. Parties that involved him, of course. 

I fell in love with him through grainy FaceTime phone calls in shitty dorm rooms with even shittier wifi. I fell in love with him through inside jokes and flirtatious looks. I fell in love with him through my own selfish hopes; the idea that I no longer wanted him but didn’t want someone else to have him and that we could work. The hope that we could make sense long term being the daylight savings to transport us back to summer, back to where things were good and happy and warm and we were free. 

My heart used to shrivel and my stomach used to drop at the thought of someone else having him. My heart used to swell with pride at the idea that I was the only girl who had him during the seasons of him I had witnessed and that no other girl could take that away from me, no matter how intelligent or gorgeous or sweet or obnoxious the next one is. I’ll always have been some of his springs, summers, autumns, and winters. But then I realized that I won’t ever be that girl again and that I myself will never have him the way that I did. The seasons changed and so did he and so have I. 

So now I fall in love with him from afar, thankful to have been loved by him the best way he knew how. I sit and wait for new flowers to grow and the next lavender and peach sunrise to come on a cool spring morning. I fell in love with him during the spring and I am waiting and seeing if the sunrise brings me some more clarity this time. 

[alice-angel12x]

💔Neko!Tamaki x Neko!reader x Alpha! Mirio

Nekos

I just wanted to add a little more depth to these neko stories. And yes the do have tails and ears

There are 2 types of neko: Neko!Panthera and Neko!Felis

Panthera are nekos who are like the alpha of the cat world  They are like tigers, lions, and leopards.

Felis are like your small domestic cats. The Omega of the cat world you could say.

Fluff and angst This story is based a bit on the song satisfied by Hamilton.

Mirio's pov

I remember when I first saw her. It was back in elementary school. The first diverse elementary schools for both werewolves and Nekos. Though almost all stayed with their respective group.

I asked my other werewolf friends at the time, too talk to some of the Nekos. They were not really into the idea of making friends with them. Most werewolf parents chose this school, because of its convenience and have many well-educated teachers. Not my parent's thou, they wanted me to make friends and they believed Nekos and werewolves can live in harmony. So did I, I've had many experiences with nice Nekos. My neighbor and my father's longtime friend was Neko Felis. And the day I fell off the bridge because of my quirk, a Neko Panthera hero came to my rescue.

So when my young mind, I can't really understand why Neko's and werewolves couldn't get along. Later on, in life, I found out why. It was not only our history but something more than that. Werewolves saw themselves Superior and Neko's were something beneath them. While Neko saw themselves more dignified out of the two and saw as werewolves as nothing more than lust controlled dogs.

So I made the first move and approached a girl Neko Felis all by herself. She was the smallest and most petite out of all the other Nekos. She had long gray cat ears, big e/c eyes, a long tail, and h/c hair.

I learned her name was y/n a Neko Felis. Despite being the smallest classmate, she was the most energetic out of everyone. She was sweet and kind, with a healing quirk to match. Which can only be captivated when she sings. She had the most beautiful voice.

Whenever I was around her my heart would flutter in my chest, even when I was young.

"Hey Y/n," I called to her.

"Yes Mirio," she replied.

"I've decided, even with my odd quirk. I'll become the best hero ever. To save lives and to make a world safe for the both of us," little me told her, pouring my heart out to heart.

Y/n smiled sweetly as she stood up.

"Then it's a good thing that's when I grow up I'll be a doctor. So I can take care of you when you Heroes get to hurt saving lives," Y/n said with a bright smile.

All the blood ran to my face as my heart pounded and tightened in my chest. I pulled her into a tight hug and taking in her scent. She smelt of freshly cut grass and lavender.

In the third grade, I meet Tamaki. He was a shy Neko Panthera. He was a really cool guy with a strong quirk to go with him. Y/n and I go to different classes in the third year. So why not make a new friend in this class.

-------

Being a new transfer student is awful. Especially in a Neko and werewolf diverse school. Werewolves already don't like me, and the neko's already had their groups or clicks. Until strange young Alpha approached me. He was the first person to approach me and talk to me. He shined bright like the sun.

I learned his name Mirio, a werewolf Alpha.

As we talked he mentioned he had another friend he wanted to introduce me to. A girl named y/n.

Recess rolled around and Mirio had to use the bathroom. So I just stood outside waiting for him.

While I waited, I heard someone trip and fall. I looked to my left to see a small Neko girl. Judging by her sent she was a Felis. Yet I came from a Neko only school, and I've never seen a felis as small as her. I thought she was... Cute.

When she got up, she appeared to be struggling to tie her shoes properly. I don't know what provoked me to go help her. Maybe it was the Panthera inside of me telling me to help a fellow Neko. But looking back I'm glad I listened.

"N-n-need help," I shuddered as I got on my knees and tied her shoe.

When I finished I looked up into her e/c eyes and got lost in them.

"Huh. What's wrong? Is there still dirt on my face?" The girl asked.

"N-n-no, it's not t-that. Y-you ha-ve... pretty e-eyes," I mumbled.

"Thank you... I'm y/n, and you are?" Y/n asked me.

I could hear her soft purring as she smiled at me. It felt soothing to listen to and she sent only added to that. I would tie her shoes forever if it means I could feel like this forever.

"I-I'm Tama-" "There you are Tamaki," a voice interrupted me.

" oh, it appears you already found y/n. Well, Y/n this is Tamaki. He's a new transfer student I think we're all going to be best friends," Mirio said with a smile as he pulled us into a hug.

As he did so I could hear y/n's purrs even louder than before. I could feel my heart tighten in my chest.

------

As the years go by things began to change, as things do with age.  Y/n's scent only got more and more irresistible. Tamaki and I made it into the hero class of UA, while y/n became recovery girls Protege in the school. When Tamaki got comfortable around y/n, he started to court her. He had her necklaces from precious stones and sometimes hunted some pheasants and brought it to her.

Even though I was happy for him, I could help feel a bit jealous. Even though we're wolves and Neko's on slightly better terms. Society isn't ready for mixed breed relationships. Is a very big taboo, and most who are caught in a mixed breed relationship are horribly hazed and harassed. I could never subject her to that, so I'm glad that she'll make Tamaki happy, and I know Tamaki is more than capable of protecting her.

There are many times where I questioned if maybe it would be worth it to have a relationship with her in secret. That all started from a little rumor that's right around the school.

"Did you hear, a werewolf in the first-year class has a thing for Neko's. Isn't that disgusting," one beta said.

" that's so gross. What, was he so desperate for a mate, that he went as low as a dirty ally cat," the other laughed.

So I wasn't the only one who loved another species. I just wish them the best.

One day as I was heading towards the cafeteria, I saw something. A werewolf Alpha, I believe his name was Izuku. With a Neko, and they were kissing.

For a quick fleeting moment, I saw y/n and myself, instead of Izuku and his lover. With newfound motivation, I quickly searched for y/n.

------

I asked y/n to meet me on the field, behind the school at lunch. I was nervous, what if she says no.

"Oh there you are Tamaki," Y/n called.

I snapped out of my stupor and turn to see her. Still cute as ever. No matter how much time passed, she always remained the smallest felis. If she were to stand next to me, the top of her head would just barely reach my chest.

She sweetly looked up at me with a cute smile. I could hear her soft purring as she got closer to me. Her long tail calmly swayed side to side.

"So you called me out here, what did you want to discuss?" She asked sweetly.

I close my eyes and took a deep breath, preparing myself. I looked into her beautiful E/c eyes.

"Y/n, for a long time, whenever you are around me I always felt something inside. And every time you leave I feel sad. Ummm... I-I'm s-sorry, I'm a-awful at this," I never started to get the better of me as I turned around and place my forehead on the tree.

"It's alright Tamaki. Take your time," Y/n said as she rubbed my back.

I breathed in, and out. I somewhat got to control myself and I was able to muster some courage to turn around and face her. Then something came to mind.

"Y/n when I first meet you... I-I thought you were cute and b-beautiful. When I-I was able t-to get close... I got lost in your eyes. A-and you smelled s-so p-pretty," I stuttered and mumbled.

I looked down at our shoes and saw that her shoelaces became loose.

"Oh no. Stupid shoelace," Y/n sighed in annoyance, as she got on her knee to tie her shoelace.

I bent down and tied her laces for her.

"This is how we first meet. When I was able to look into your eyes. The first thing I thought was.. 'If I could remain this close to you, I would tie your laces forever," I said to her.

Y/n face turned slightly red, her face showing a bit of shock. I could feel my nerves taking over, so I closed my eyes and showed her the necklace I made for her.

"Y/n, w-will you become my m-mate?!" I asked but not looking her in the eyes.

"Of course!" Y/n said as she wrapped her arms around my shoulders.

That's why I felt such a wave of relief, knowing that I was able to claim her. Before anyone else.

--------

That day I stood there, as I saw Tamaki claim y/n as his mate. My heart broke into a thousand pieces. Yet I could never hate Tamaki. So I did what I should have done, I buried my feelings for y/n in the very back but my mind.

~ Even now as I still never was able to get rid of my feelings for her.

15 years later

As Mirio made his way to his long time friend, Tamaki's house. He knocked and who answered was Tamkai's and Y/n's youngest daughter and the runt of the litter, Sofia.

" Uncle Mirio your here," Sofia chirruped in excitement.

"Hello young lion, are your parents here?" Mirio asked with a cheerful smile.

"Mirio. It's good to see you," a quiet male voice called out.

"Mirio, welcome," a sweet voice followed.

Mario looked up to see his close friends. Mirio smiled as picked up Sophia.

"Thanks for having me over," Mirio thanked hiding his fluttering heart, as he looked from Tamaki to Y/n.

[lumiereswig]

What about when the staff/Belle/Adam were all kids?

belle had her nose in a book half the time/all the time and maurice was seriously concerned about having to get her glasses until one day she looked up with a thousand-mile stare and said “i’m going to invent contacts” and she did. as a 9-year old

adam..well, we all know how his childhood went down. T R A U MA. but trauma (while it feels like it can fill up a whole lot) doesn’t fill up the whole of it; adam’s joy and hope and life kept springing up, like sprouts through concrete, little odd wonders like the cloth-bound books in the library and puppet shows that came through town and wondering, ever just wondering, if anything truly miraculous would ever happen to him

lumiere was a harum-scarum young brat on the dirty streets of paris, scaring the poor wits out of his parents and yodeling songs to the never-caring moon while perched on the roof of a bakery. (but a lady in one of the houses nearby did care for his singing and always wondered forever after what became of him, earning her the world-record of the only lady who remembered lumiere during the curse for no reason beyond loving a young boy’s singing)

cogsworth was one of those boys who Collected Things. stamps, toads, rocks, coins, all carefully delineated on little neatly labeled shelves; a little room, a little museum, all his own. in his own little wonderful world where he didn’t have to hear children screaming or roads bumping or his dreadful aunt hortense going on about what she had for breakfast, again, her screechy voice coursing over horrible things

garderobe was incredibly focused as a child, knowing from the start just what she wanted to do, and she regrets it sometimes because wouldn’t it have been fun to dabble as a scientist? to have a little horse-girl phase? but no from the beginning when she saw a ballerina to the very moment she was on that stage herself, and on and on forever after, all she ever wanted was a polished stage and the flood of lights turned her way and people, wonderful people, hanging on her every note

cadenza never felt safe as a little boy, he was always looking over one shoulder, he never felt he had that person he could lock his entire self into, who would accept all of him—the neuroses, the long rambling spools of thought, the hyper obsession and the vaulting, babbling ecstasy of a great composition—and feeling unsafe like that eats away at you, it becomes a kind of prison in its way, and he always felt a little safer with keys beneath his fingertips but it wasn’t until he met garderobe that he found another person can really be a new doorway into happiness

plumette had a childhood surrounded by love, her soft mama with the perfume that smelled like snowdrops, her soft lovely aunts, the grandmama with the crystal, cut-glass animals dotting her window ledge; the view of beautiful labyrinths stretching out away from the palace, her brothers running down the halls yelling, paper cranes in their hands, sending the birds flying down the banisters. and then dark plague—creeping silence—a run, alone, out of paris, through the woods, brambles scratching at her feet. finding that new homes can be built, with new families in new places, even while old ones are treasured.

chapeau found that everything, as a child, was too LOUD. too much shrieking about ribbons. too much squawking about hats. his mother was kind and she tried to hallow out quiet places for him in the millinery, but he found more joy in making those quiet spaces for himself—making himself a quiet temple, in the end, a silent song all to himself.

cuisinier dipped himself into everything as a child—he tried different languages, different lives, as if they were soups, and could warm him up from the blood out. it was only while chopping radishes at a back-alley bar that he found out how alive being the warmth could make you feel—not just waiting for something to raise you up, but raising up everything around you by being a pOWERHOUSE (at chopping radishes)

mrs potts grew up surrounded by lavender fields, always feeling like she could be a little better than this, see a little farther than just the sheep pasture and the back meadow. she loved her family, so, so much—but always felt like she wanted to explore the world, just a little, and find a corner of it to make entirely her own. her hands were always busy, a little something tucked away just for her—embroidering her aprons in spots no one could see, knitting little handwarmers as she waits for the kettle to boil. making the world a little brighter, just by the work of her two small hands.