#Those shades of green are so beautiful

[lnfours]

close to you | l.n

summary: chemical override, ultraviolet, you could be mine tonight ; or having a crush is mind boggling, soul crushing and confusing, but also so exciting at the same time.

warnings: inspired by close to you by gracie abrams, friends to lovers (bc it’s my brand), pining, all the feels, reader is childhood best friends with pietra, fluff, and some language here and there

jordans notes: hi everyone! long time no see (😅) i’m slowly getting back into writing, school has been kicking my ass. i don’t think this is my best work, but i really wanted to get something out for you guys since ive been gone so long! i promise there’s more to come than just this! i hope you all are well!! sending you all my love 🤍

masterlist | listen to the playlist

before you met him, you didn’t think about the color green too often. it was one of those colors you didn’t necessarily love or hate, it was just kind of… there.

to you, it was just one of those colors where shades of it were prettier than the actual color itself. or a color you only really liked during the fall. like how, typically, people only liked the color blue during the summer.

that was until you met him.

the boy with those big, beautiful, slightly blue but slightly green, water-colored eyes. now you love the color green. obsessed over it. thought about it every second of every day. it was crazy how a simple opinion could change in a matter of seconds, all because of those stupidly pretty eyes.

You lie awake on your back, staring at the ceiling. surely it wasn’t normal to obsess over someone this much, right? especially over someone you weren’t even sure would ever feel the same.

sure, you had crushes before, and had your fair share of falling quickly and all at once. it wasn’t an unusual feeling to you, no stranger to catching feelings rather quickly.

but this time around, everything was different. everything felt more intense, more mind-boggling and confusing and pulse rising. the feeling so foreign that sometimes you wish you had never met him so you wouldn’t have fallen so hard so sudden, but deep down you were so glad that you had.

it was the little things that made you wonder what it was like to be loved by him. the subtle glances in your direction, the gentle but lingering touches. you had thought you were going crazy, reading too much into things in the beginning. over-analyzing every little thing that made your body light up with excitement.

until pietra confirmed your suspicions.

“he’s totally into you,” she said, leaning closer to your ear as you watched him from across the room, his head tilted back, nose scrunched and eyes half shut as he laughed about something max had said, which was likely something stupid, “like, one hundred percent, down bad, into you.”

you tilted your head at the blonde, “you think so?”

she scoffed, “more like know so,”

“who told you?”

“no one has to tell me anything,” she said, “i can just tell.”

you rolled your eyes at her, “p, i’ve told you a million times, he’s not into me.”

but she was right. he was one hundred percent, undoubtedly, down. fucking. bad.

ever since the moment he met you at that stupid pub with max and his group of friends, all he wanted to do was get to know you. he didn’t want it to seem obvious when he asked max about you, but he knew no matter what he did it was going to seem obvious. just from the way he looked at you like you hung the stars in the night sky, he was no where near subtle.

he hated to admit it, but he had even done some lowkey instagram stalking through one of his private accounts. he had seen all the pictures of you and pietra, a life long friendship explained to him in front of his own eyes.

and every time his fingers would swipe through your account, all he could think about was how beautiful you were. how your eyes sparkled every time you smiled for the camera, how happy you looked when you genuinely laughed, and how he wished to be the reason behind the gorgeous sound forever.

he wasn’t trying to make it obvious tonight, not wanting to make it well known that he had his eyes on you for a while. but he had lost track at the amount of times you had caught him looking at you, and he swore he had even caught you looking at him first a handful of times.

so when everyone in the house decided that it was the end of the night and started filing through the door, he took it upon himself to make his way over to you. you were talking with pietra, a smile on your face as you giggled about something she had said. the brazilian woman’s eyes landed on him, to which she looked back at you and said something before you turned to look in his direction.

he smiled when your eyes met his, “hey, did you need a ride home?”

your heart threatened to leap out of your chest, “uhm, i was just gonna call an uber, you don’t have to-“

“no, no,” he said, shaking his head, “i insist, really. it’s not a big deal.”

how could you argue with him? those pretty green eyes, that smile, the face. you simply couldn’t. it was impossible. you couldn’t see the look pietra was giving you, but knowing her, you knew it was a look that said ‘go with him’.

and do you did, the cool, crisp autumn air in london suddenly making you wish you had brought a jacket. you had wished you planned for the nightly breeze, wishing you had opted for a long-sleeved shirt for the night instead of the spaghetti strap tank top you had chosen.

as you walked to the car that was parked down the street, he noticed you shivering. he saw the way you hugged yourself, your hair moving with the breeze. his curls danced in the wind and he knew if he was slightly cold, you were definitely freezing.

he tugged off the hoodie before passing it to you, the sound of the doors to the mclaren echoing before he turned to you.

“here,” he said, “it’s a little windy out, i know you’re probably freezing.”

your stomach did backflips as you took the soft black material from his hands, “oh, are you sure? aren’t you cold?”

he sent you a shrug, “i’ll live,”

there was no use arguing with him, so instead you sent him another smile in appreciation before tugging the sweatshirt over your head. it was already warm from hugging his body, and you couldn't help the way the smell of his cologne lingered in the soft material. you had to keep yourself from burying yourself in it, the feeling of being close to him without actually being close to him sending butterflies to your stomach.

the car ride was filled with comfortable silence, music softly playing in the background. he stole occasional looks over at your figure as you looked out the window, the neck of his hoodie pulled up to your face as you watched the street lights pass by. you looked beautiful in the dim light, he couldn’t help himself.

he thought about taking the long way to your house. a simple but effective way to be able to spend more time with you. however, the thought of you being confused and questioning his actions was enough for him to stay straight at the stop light instead of taking a right for the longer way.

he tried not to look disappointed when he reached your house, parking in front of it. he wondered if your roommates were home, if you’d tell them about the fact that he drove you home.

he turned the engine off, unclicking his seatbelt, “i’ll walk you up.”

you nodded, the both of you getting out of the car and walking through the dewy grass up to the wooden door. you fished for your keys in your purse, putting them into the lock before turning to look at him, “thanks for the ride,”

“anytime,” he smiled. he meant it. and you knew he meant it. he’d come get you at anytime of the day, wether it was early in the morning or late at night, he was always going to show up.

you stood there, eyes searching his face. he was so pretty to you, the brown curls that were slowly growing into a mullet to the sparkling eyes that you loved so much. the dimples in his cheeks that appeared whenever he smiled, the slight facial hair he had managed to grow, but your favorite part was the moles and freckles that covered his skin. the ones he had once complained about, but you loved the way they scattered his skin.

you dreamt of kissing each and every single one of them.

“hey, lando! long time no see!”

you both averted your attention, neither of you hearing the door open behind you. in the doorway stood your dark haired roommate, faith.

“hey,” he smiled softly, trying once again to not look disappointed from the way your moment was interrupted.

“we’re having drinks and watching movies if you wanted to join,” she smiled, ignoring the look you were sending her way.

“oh, uhm,” he started, not sure how to answer, “it’s getting kinda late, i dunno-“

“you can crash in y/n’s room, im sure she wouldn’t mind.”

what was that supposed to mean?

you looked over at him, “you don’t have to stay-“

“he’s been gone for weeks, he’s legally obligated,” she said, reaching from the doorway and grabbing both of your arms, “c’mon, liv is making martinis.”

you sighed heavily and he laughed softly at your protest that went unnoticed by her. your other roommate, olivia, stood in the kitchen.

“look who i found!” faith exclaimed excitedly.

“oh, hey guys! just in time,” she smiled, “it’s martini and movie friday!”

lando leaned over to you as the other two talked, “they do this every friday?”

you sighed again, nodding, “unfortunately,” you turned to your roommates, “we’re gonna head up to my room, actually,”

you led lando to the stairs, ignoring the playful teasing from the girls in the kitchen, “oooh!!”

“up to your room, huh?”

you shook your head, opening your bedroom door and letting him in before closing it, “‘m sorry for them, they’re… how do i put this?”

“a lot?” he asked, a smile playing at his lips.

“yeah, we can put it that way.”

he chuckled, sitting down on the bed as you put your things down. he looked around your bedroom, not much had changed since the last time he had been in it. the fairy lights dimly lit up the room, photos littered the walls. the desk that sat in the corner of the room kept your makeup bag and brushes, a mirror sitting in the middle.

he looked at your nightstand, a picture of you, him, max and pietra sitting on the wooden surface. it was a picture from miami, smiles on all of your faces. you stood in the middle, arm wrapped around his middle as you smiled for the camera, his trophy in the hand that wasn’t wrapped around your middle.

“i’m gonna change,” you said, “i might have a pair of your sweatpants somewhere if you wanted to change.”

he nodded, “yeah, that’d be great.”

you turned back to the dresser, opening drawers in search for the pair of sweatpants he leant you one day. the same day he picked you up from the failed date. the one that left you crying outside, swearing up and down that you’d never find love. despite it being in front of you this entire time.

finally finding the black material, you handed them to him, “i meant to give them back, but i just haven’t seen you,”

he shook his head. you could’ve kept them forever and he wouldn’t have minded one bit, “it’s alright,”

you grabbed your pajama bottoms from the foot of the bed, “be right back.”

he changed into the sweatpants while you were gone, still looking around your room. he smiled at the picture of you and your roommates, clearly taken at a party. you wore the prettiest smile he had ever seen, dressed in a black off the shoulder top. it was from the same night he realized he liked you in more than just a friendly way.

the door opening brought him back to reality, his eyes landing on your figure and how you were still wearing the black hoodie he had given you earlier. it brought a small smile to his face.

you noticed his eyes on you, looking down at the black hoodie, “i swear i’ll give it back once i wash it.”

he laughed softly, shaking his head, “it’s okay. it looks better on you anyways.”

you smiled, fighting the heat that was rising your cheeks but it was no use. he joined you on the bed, watching as you flipped through different things on netflix.

“you don’t have to stay, y’know,” you said, looking over at him, “if you have better things to do..”

“i don’t,” he said, turning his head to look your way, “in all honesty, there’s no where else i’d rather be.”

you sucked in a breath, your eyes dancing across his face once again. it was hard for you not to stare, not when he looked so pretty like this. back pressed against your headboard, hair slightly messy, and he looked so cozy. it made you want to wrap yourself around him, lay your head on his chest.

he did the same, his eyes scanning your face like he was trying to memorize every single feature, every single imperfection that he thought was still perfect. the same ones you’d argue about, but he still always found adorable.

his voice broke the comfortable silence that had fallen between the two of you, “do you ever have something to say but can’t find the words to say it?”

your furrowed your eyebrows, “like?”

he licked his lips, his attention now fixed on his hands as he fiddled with the ring on his middle finger. you never thought he’d be the type to get shy, almost embarrassed as his cheeks turned a light shade of pink.

“like, i dunno,” he mumbled, “i just.. i don’t know how to put it, but ever since the moment we met, i’ve found myself just.. thinking about you. thinking about what it’d be like to cross this weird, thin, little line we’ve drawn. if we both just said ‘fuck it’ and dove head first into whatever uncharted territory we’re tiptoeing around.”

his eyes met yours again as he let out a nervous breath. you hadn’t realized you had been holding yours, shock clearly written on your face which made him shake his head.

“never mind, it’s dumb-“

“lando,”

“- i knew i shouldn’t have listened to what max was going on about-“

you rolled your eyes as he kept blabbering away, talking nonsense. your body moving before your brain could comprehend what you were about to do, only catching up when your hands met his jaw and you were suddenly catching yourself a mere few inches from his face.

it was too late now, no going back.

you pulled his face closer to yours, his blabbering coming to a halt when you pressed your lips to his. his brain short circuited, you pulling away before he had the chance to kiss you back.

“‘m sorry,” you immediately apologized, “i don’t know why i did-“

it was his turn to cut you off now, grabbing your chin and pulling you back to his lips. his thumb traced along your jaw, his pointer finger sitting underneath your chin.

you kissed him back after a second of surprise, letting his free hand reach down to grab your hip, pulling you on top of his lap. your hands threaded through his curls, nails scratching his scalp.

when you both finally pulled away, all you could do was smile. giggles and chuckles echoing through the room as you both sat breathless, his nose bumping yours as he tucked a piece of stray hair away from your face.

“so we’re in agreement then, huh?” he asked.

“isn’t that obvious?” you smiled and he shook his head, letting out another boyish laugh.

“how long have you.. y’know, had feelings for me, i guess?”

“since the minute i saw you,” he confessed, “you were the most beautiful girl in the room, a smile that would make everyone stop and stare. it’s always been you, i’ve just been too scared to tell you.”

you smiled again, heart fluttering in your chest. all the dreams and wishes you spent with him on your mind, it was all finally paying off, “it’s always been you for me, too. i thought i had been way too obvious, but clearly i wasn’t obvious enough.”

“we were both too oblivious,” he said, moving more hair from your face, “but it’s okay, we’re here now.”

you were convinced your smile was never going to be wiped off your face, “kiss me again,”

“with pleasure,” he mumbled, lips finding yours once more as you melted into him.

[yrwestillhere]

This is genuinely one of the most beautiful n angelic unedited photos I've ever witnessed

Like how is this real. The light reflecting in his eyes his smile his everything. How.

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part twenty-four —other parts

pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader words: 3k tags: death. blood. cannibalism mention. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn’t here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival. a/n: ily

England passes in beautiful shades of green, the last time you'll see it, so you soak it in. Rolling hills streak the landscape like scars. In the distance, you glimpse faded architecture, imagining people living and working there. An ivy-covered university appears, and you picture yourself dozing off in a lecture. These little fantasies entertain you for the next two hours, but Blue isn't distracted by the same game. When you look at her arm, you notice pink scratches just below where the friendship bracelet hugs her wrist, made by her nails mindlessly.

You tear your eyes from the window and nudge your shoulder against hers. "Hey. What do you call a cow with no legs?"

Her lips twitch at the broken silence and she lifts her azure eyes to yours, a bead of sunlight catching in them. "What?"

"Ground beef."

Those eyes roll. "That's stupid."

Nereida smiles from the other side of her. "Oh, I've got one. What did the ocean say to the beach?"

Blue sighs. "Ghost said that one before. Nothing—it just 'waved'."

A recoil passes over Nereid's kind eyes. "I apologize. That's the only one I know."

Quiet air fills the space again, and when you notice Blue's nails dig back into her wrist, you gently lace your fingers through hers and pull her hand to your lap, allowing her to scratch your thigh, instead. 

When an old theme park erects from the grass, Blue's interest piques. "Woah. What is that?"

"None of it works anymore," Ghost mutters, one hand on the wheel.

"It looks cool, though. I have to pee, anyway. Can we stop here?"

"I could use a little stretch for my legs," Nereida adds.

The pitstop is brief enough to allow Blue the chance to curiously look through the decrepit bumper cars, carousel, and even a small rollercoaster that still has the car sitting mid-track. She grabs Ari's hand to show him, but he doesn't seem as intrigued given the pale look on his face. He ends up rushing to a bush and keeling over.

"The back gets a bit bumpy," Kyle says when he notices your expression. "He'll be fine."

"I'll switch with him for the rest of the way."

"You don't have to."

"It's fine. He can probably entertain Blue better than I can."

Everyone uses the small break to eat a little lunch. You already had some of the beans Ghost packed, so you feel uncertain whether you should eat anymore of his food. You haven't even discussed sharing. Rather, you ration the jerky you made and save the rest. 

It is a small meal, so you eat it slowly to trick your stomach into feeling full. Just before getting back to the truck, you spot a tree by the entrance to Kettering Kastle. Hickory. Paul told you once they make for great arrows, a softer hardwood. Pliable yet strong. This excites you. Your sheath is only half-full, so you grab your serrated knife and cut a few midsized branches to take with you.

Sitting in the truck bed is far from pleasant. The tail wind makes it hard to breathe, and you have to grab the side of the truck to keep yourself from flying out. Kyle notices your struggle and seems amused, but reaches an arm over in offering. You hold onto him and it does some to keep you stable. 

The motorway passes through Kettering, which is a smaller city. The smell is retched, though the only Greys you spot don't take notice to you, trapped between buildings and toppled telephone poles. You make out a sign that reads A14 and figure it is headed to Cambridge. If you continue this pace, you'll reach the coastline by sundown.

Of course, things don't work out that way. The road becomes more obstructed with abandoned vehicles. Ghost has to weave through them like a maze, wasting time and fuel. The sun crawls higher in the sky. Finally, there are a few kilometers of straight road. Speed ticks up only to come to an abrupt halt when he reaches an underpass. You let go of Kyle and stand up to see what has caused the stop—a semi truck completely blocks the way through it.

"Jesus," you mutter.

Consecutive slams of the fronts doors indicate Price and Ghost are checking it out. Kyle hops out with them. After a few minutes, he returns and explains with a sigh, "We'll have to backtrack and find a side street that will lead to another motorway ramp."

"That's going to eat time. The sun will set soon."

He offers his arm again as Ghost begins reversing. "I know. It's fine, we'll just get to the water tomorrow. No rush, yeah?"

It adds an extra hour and a half. The sky turns a remarkable orange that would've had you gawking if not for your irritation of having to stop again. Ghost pulls over just before it gets too dark to set up the tents in a small market town called Haverhill. There's hardly anything here except fields of bright, yellow flowers and little shops with slanted CLOSED signs. It is actually pleasant and well-preserved, until you catch the distinguishable shape of a corpse hanging from one of the telephone poles, a black trash bag over its head.

"Don't look at it."

"Nothing I haven't seen before," you dismiss under your breath. 

A more forested patch of land at the edge of the town is where you make camp for the night.

They eat canned goods and you finish your last pieces of jerky. This means you'll have to find more food for yourself tomorrow, or ask Ghost for some. The thought makes you anxious. The last thing you want is to seem like an extra burden. Dead weight that they'd be better off leaving behind. But he also didn't comment when you ate the beans. The uncertainty of where you stand means you need to make yourself useful.

The men need rest, so you offer to keep watch.

Prices dismisses you. "You don't have to, Twix. The three of us can take turns."

"No, really. I'll keep watch and you guys can all get more sleep. I've just been sitting in a car all day, anyway."

He gives in, visibly fatigued after being up over twenty-four hours.

Ghost and Price sleep first.

That leaves you sitting with Kyle when the stars begin to flicker like bright, little heartbeats against the black night.

You pull out your smoother knife—the one you found back at that base—to carve the sticks you found, careful of your bandaged thumb. 

Kyle lays his rifle across his lap. "First time I am seeing you smile today and it's while carving sticks." 

"Arrows," you correct, holding one up and tapping your index lightly against the sharpened point. "And it's good wood. Hickory."

"You're an easy woman to please," he teases.

"My tastes have changed over the years."

"Really? I can't imagine you as one of those people who cared too much about nice things."

You flash him a raised brow. "Are you saying I was cheap?"

He nudges your knee. "Not what I'm saying. You just seem like someone who would prefer a little movie date over a fancy dinner."

"I liked sushi. Is that fancy?"

He hums. "There were some good cheap sushi spots in London—hole in the wall type places. When there was some kid doing their homework at one of the booths, that's when you knew it'd be good shit."

"You're making me hungry."

"Well, you should've eaten more." He looks at you knowingly. "You're scared to ask anyone for food, aren't you?"

Are you really that easy to read? You place the half-finish arrow across your knees and look at the ground, brushing your fingers absentmindedly through the soft grass. "I just—I am aware of my place here."

"Your place?"

Your hands tightens the grass into a fistful. "I am at the bottom."

"The bottom," he repeats slowly, and his voice lowers. "You really think that?"

You rip the grass and sprinkle it over your boot, glancing up at him. His eyes have darkened, or maybe they are simply mirroring the sky. "I am not complaining. I understand that everyone here has others who they would prefer to keep alive over me, that's all. I just don't want to stick out anymore than I already do."

He reels in your words. "You're forgetting that everyone here has their own perspective, their own wants. It is not as simple as you're making it seem." In a change of topic, he reaches for the arrow on your lap. "Here—let me help."

You hand him the knife and he begins carving expertly as a few minutes of silence ensue. You are lost in your thoughts, keeping your eyes on the surroundings, when he suddenly stops in his handiwork, holding up the knife. You watch him study the leather handle carefully, shake his head to himself, then look at you.

"Where did you get this?"

"Huh? Oh—I found it. At a military base actually."

Your answer seems to strike him, and he releases a disbelieving exhale. "The one near Manchester?"

You nod. 

"It was my brother's."

What?

Reading your expression, he shows you the handle and rubs his thumb over a small etching at the bottom that you can barely make out in the moonlight: PG.

"Patrick Garrick," he explains in a murmur, and your chest tightens. "I didn't even notice it at first. It's been years since I had it. The last time...the last time was when shit happened, and I lent it to a friend of mine at the base."

"Who?"

"Soap," he says, a memory taking over his expression as he rubs his jaw. "He was the other member of our spec ops unit."

"You... Someone mentioned him before. Ghost—he asked you guys about him when you arrived. You don't know what happened to him, right?"

Kyles nods. "He stayed back at the base to keep helping even when Price and I jumped ship. That was the Scottish in him—stubborn as hell. Soap was just his codename, of course. Like mine was Gaz." He looks up at you with a faint dimple. "And yours is Twix, huh?"

"I guess." You press your tongue to your teeth and grab the knife, frowning at it as you try to recall exactly where you grabbed it from. "What was his real name, then?"

"John MacTavish."

"I think—I think your friend is dead. I'm sorry." You gaze at him. "I remember now. I found it in one of the rooms, and there was a skeleton with that name. He... he had it quick, though."

The expression on his typically warm eyes turns unreadable and his shoulders stiffen in the slightest. You wonder if you should have bothered sharing this, but then he shrugs it off with a sigh. "It's okay. Figured as much. Many people have died. He's just another name to the list."

Instinct draws your hand to his shoulder, and the muscles softens beneath your touch. "I'm still sorry."

His eyes find yours. 

He smiles solemnly.

Then, somewhere in it all, he leans over and closes the gap. The sudden, foreign feel of lips pressed against your own stuns you. His lips move gently, cold and soft against yours, and only when he threads a hand through your hair to pull you closer do you fully register what he is doing. Your eyes fly open and you break away, leaping to your feet.

"Why did you—what was that?"

He stands up with you. "It felt right in the moment."

He tries to touch your shoulder but you flinch away. "I'm sorry. I just—I was just trying to comfort you."

"I misread the moment." His eyes are clouded. "So you didn't want it?"

Did you? Your mind feels fuzzy. "I don't know. I need to...I want to be alone right now."

You grab your knife and sticks, rushing around the tents to find solace by the truck, needing to process what just happened. As you move, you bump into a hard chest—Ghost. Somehow you failed to hear the jagged teeth of the tent's zipper. Avoiding his gaze, you try to slip past, but he grips your elbow, holding you in place.

"What is it?"

The lie wedges out of your lips. "Nothing. I just—thought I saw something so I am going to sit over there and keep an eye out."

The difference in height leads to his stare burning into your scalp. "What did you see?" 

"I don't know. Something. Maybe just an animal."

His hold doesn't soften. Stoicism forces itself on your face as you press your lips into a line.

You're easy to ready.

He finally lets go. "I'll take over now. You can sleep."

You find yourself nodding soundlessly, internally glad to be relieved of this duty. 

Sleep offers peace of mind, at least until morning. 

Dawn breaks over the small town in a quiet clatter of spoons against cans and the shuffling of bags being packed up. The dream you wake up from was one of an old life—the last kiss you experienced. But it fizzles quickly from the recesses of your brain the moment your lids shutter open. 

Both you and Kyle seem keen on acting as though nothing happened. More than anything, you are confused. You try to search inside that box of yours for how you feel, but all you find is fear. You've barely been able to keep up with the fear. You busy yourself with helping get everything back in the truck, fitting the supplies like a jigsaw puzzle. You have nothing to eat. A day or two without food is doable until you can properly hunt for something—

"Here."

It is Nereida who catches you by the truck before leaving. She practically shoves a can of tuna into your hands and you look up at her in hesitant gratitude.

"We're all sharing food," she says. "That is how it should be."

"Thank you. Really, this is—"

"Don't thank me. There is plenty for everyone."

For now, your mind chides, but you swallow the thought while scarfing down the meal you pretend is London's finest sushi. 

Once everyone is ready, you head to the back of the truck, expecting an awkward encounter with Kyle, only to find Ghost sitting there beside the kayak, hands relaxed behind his head.

"What are you doing?"

"Needed a break from driving."

You glance at the front to see that Price is behind the wheel, and Kyle is in the passenger side. In a way, you're relieved. You breathe through your nose and hoist yourself up. The bumpy ride is quiet at first. His body takes up space so that each pothole nudges your shoulder or knee against his. The morning ages. You swear you can see there coast at one point, but it must be your imagination, because the passing sign reads Halstead. 

"You really need to work on lying better."

The brash accent registers low against the hum of the engine, and his eyes are closed when you look over. He is leaned back, one leg straight and one bent, seeming to enjoy the seat more than you are. 

"Fine. I'm bad at lying."

"Care to share the truth, then?"

He needn't elaborate for you to know what he is referring to. "I was...I was upset because I found out my knife—the one I took from the base—belonged to Kyle's brother."

His brow ticks.

You continue, "But he actually gave it to Soap, and I—I found his dog tag on a skeleton. John MacTavish. You were friends with him, weren't you?"

His eyes open, but they are too murky to decipher from just his profile. His jaw flexes. "I wasn't a man with friends, Twix."

"You know what I mean."

There is a pause, and then, "He was a sergeant under my command. A good man. Grating, at times. But good."

"Well, I'm sorry he didn't make it. If you of all people say he was a good guy, then he really must've been."

He hums in agreement. Thoughtful. Then—two gloved fingers touch your jaw, turning your eyes to his. "You are still lying, and still bad at it."

You wet your lips. "I wasn't—"

"Help!"

Ghost drops your chin and grabs the gun from his waist.

Your eyes flash around at the sound of a second plea. There is a man at the side of the road, leg draped in bloodied bandages, but there isn't a chance for you to register more of him when the truck takes a sudden, sharp left down a side street and you brace yourself by grabbing the edge with both arms. The small city-scape whirls by in a blur. Ghost swears under his breath, scanning the area as he bends on one knee and keeps the gun secure in his grip. Confused, you grab his arm.

"That man was injured."

His voice is harsh and alert. "He has fucking friends somewhere here. He was just trying to—"

A shattering sound. An audible pop. You're thrown against the truck bed even harder this time as it skids across the street, nearly slamming into a flipped-over car. Ghost covers you, the weight of him keeping you from flying out. The truck swerves to a halt. Everything is black until his weight lifts. He barks an order, jumps out, and pulls you with him.

Pressed against the side of the truck, the world becomes consumed by loud sounds and the distinct smell of gunpowder. Ghost rips open the passenger door and urgently pulls Blue, Ari, and Nereida out, ordering them to keep low. From the other side, you hear Price and Kyle shouting, followed by another series of gunshots.

[luveline]

Hii i love the way you write!!! Could you write something about bad ass reader X Spencer? I miss them soo much.... Maybe something about her saying I love you for the first time and she's nervous and he's confused bc he's not understanding why she's nervous and what she's trying to say ❤️❤️❤️

some light spencer fluff ! love u. fem

Spencer has hair like silk. Brown, shiny curls in the milky moonlight of a September sky. The cold air nips his nose and cheeks, leaving ruddy blush like cherry stains that bring out the endless brown of his eyes. His hand is callused beneath yours, evidence of hour upon hour of stooped writing, pen ink on his fingertips, dark black smudges that stretch as they squeeze. He tips his head back to look at the bruising sky and the stars are like pin pricks, close and very, very far as he again squeezes your hand. You’re surprised you can see the stars, but this part of the country is quiet. 

“Wow, look at all of those,” he says, like he’s begging you to see them too; worried you’ll miss out on such a heart-rending sight. 

You let your side weigh on his and look up, feeling the cold of each star above you like a sudden breeze. Your nose is ice, your lips chapping despite a little lip balm you’d rushed on before you left the cottage. It’s a small, beautiful place, decorated by its patches, ivy and cobbled roofing, window panes replaced in different shades of pink and orange and green. You can see it from where you’re standing, a light forgotten in the bathroom. 

Let’s go on a walk, Spencer‘d said, before it gets too cold. 

It’s too cold already. You shiver, forcing more of your weight into Spencer’s side, only slightly abashed as he wraps his arm around you and presses the soft of his cheek to your head. “See that one?” he asks, smiling, “I think that’s the North Star. Brightest one.” 

You close your eyes.

“It’s really cold, isn’t it?” he asks. 

“It’s freezing.” 

Spencer noses your cheek. Your stomach flips, a zapping, sickening electricity bending and aching inside you from his innocuous touch. Intimacy with Spencer has become casual, but not less exciting. You feel him like a contusion, sometimes. Right in the pit of your stomach. It borders on unpleasant, though it never quite gets there. You want him to do this to you for the rest of your life, you think, opening your eyes to catch a last look at the dark sky and its rich field of stars like white strawberry seeds. 

Spencer’s watching you when you drop your chin. You’d scowl if he were anyone else, reluctant to be caught relaxed, but it’s him. 

“You okay?” 

“Shouldn’t I be?” you ask. You’ve given little clue of nerves. You’re as rigid as ever, the softest part of you your hand where he’s petting your index finger. 

“I know when you’re… not fully you,” he says. 

“I’m still me. Just worried.” 

“About what?”

There’s a layer of gutted to his voice you don’t like. You shouldn’t be worried about anything. You and your colleagues at the BAU recently received a pay rise at work, as well as a small bonus, which you and Spencer then cashed to vacation here. It might not be the best time of year, but anywhere with Spencer can be perfect. So far it has been. Waking up with him in a space that isn’t his apartment or yours feels new, startlingly good, it makes you think of the future in ways you hadn’t considered in depth previously. The aching puddle of your stomach yawns again. 

“I have something– something I–” You wince through it as Spencer’s brows rise. “I need to tell you something, Spencer. Before it jumps out of me.” 

“Okay.” His breath is like mist in front of him. His cheeks continue in their reddening. 

“I’m worried I won’t say it the right way.” 

Spencer shakes his head. You’d like to rub some warmth into his skin, but you don’t trust your hands to stay steady. “You’re making me nervous.”

“I’m really happy we’re here. I can’t… there isn’t any other way I’d like to spend the weekend. This is really– Spencer, this is perfect, and it’s because of you. Us.“ Spencer’s overlooked and under appreciated everywhere he goes. Just once, you want him to feel seen for the gem he is. “I really,” —your breath leaves you like it’s been yanked from your chest— “love you.” 

Spencer brings your hand to his chest. “You love me?” he asks, kissing your fingers. 

You dip your chin to your chest. “Yeah.” 

“I love you.“ What an odd emphasis, and somehow the right one. 

You nod. That’s good. It’s good to be loved. You’d known he loved you, of course, but it’s good to have it said aloud. 

“You aren’t surprised?” he asks. “But, why were you worried?” 

Hard to explain. You give in to temptation, cradling the cold stretch of his cheek to rub a thumb over his bottom lip. Your lip balm has left it soft. “I told you, I didn’t think I’d say it right.” 

“You don’t usually say anything wrong.” 

Spencer wraps his arm around you and tugs you in for a hug. You stumble back at the force of him and he sways you from one side to the other, keeping you up with him, frosting grass crunching under your shoes. The night is quiet here, coloured only by the shush of the wind and the stirring leaves of the woodlands. Spencer’s breath is by far the loudest sound, a huffing, happy thing that betrays his excitement. “I love you,” he says on a laugh. “It was nice to see you struggling to talk, for once, but you don’t need to be nervous with me. I love you.” Two admissions at once. You find yourself renewed.

“It was a one time thing, I assure you.” 

“Consider me assured,” he says, ferrying your face up for a warm kiss. 

[coralinnii]

"Eyes are Windows to the Soul"

↳ Admiring your Dark Brown eyes

feat: Idia ❋ Sebek ❋ Kalim ❋ Trey genre: fluff note: no pronouns were used for reader, set before Book 7 (mostly because I haven’t finished it yet),

Idia grew up sheltered in a sterile world, filled with LED lights and sleek metal walls. Shades of brown were not common in his daily routine, so he didn’t have a lot of opinions on it. 

In a world of neon blue and cold silver, your brown eyes ironically stood out in Idia’s world. 

Your eyes remind him of fluffy brown kittens, filled with warmth and mischief. You remind him of those adorable teddy bear prizes in claw machines that everyone covets. You were everything he dreams of holding, but often out of reach.

That is until the two of you grew closer, then he sees your eyes in the ice-cold colas he’s chugging during long grinding sessions with you. He feels a tingling sensation when he sees your eyes in the dry autumn leaves crunching beneath his feet whenever you drag him out to “touch some grass” 

Your brown eyes remind him of everything fluffy and warm, of fuzzy feelings and snugness. 

Your eyes give off energy, but it’s not scary or overwhelming at all. Rather, it’s soft and enjoyable like a refreshing drink on a hot day.

You seem so out of place in his old world, but Idia couldn’t imagine a life without you anymore.

”Uggh, that cat is just too cute, what a sensory overload! Huh, when did brown cats become my fav? I-I guess kinda recently?”

Sebek holds himself with prestige and integrity, a well-kept man with honor to uphold. 

But his experience is filled with the great wilderness, with the natural and unbending beauty of the forest. He proudly recalls his childhood living close to the world of fae and nature. 

You were a human. Your upbringing was nothing like his own, a pair of opposites with nothing in common

But, when you look at him with your sweet brown eyes, Sebek sometimes feels lost in nostalgia. In your eyes, he sees the beautiful trees of his homeland, he sees his beloved worn-out books in his bookshelves passed down by his grandfather. 

Not only his childhood memories, Sebek feels the same feeling of familiarity in his current lifestyle. He’s reminded of the joy and excitement he feels when he trusts his whole self to the majestic brown horses in the campus wooden stables. 

Is it because just like his trusted steed, your warm brown eyes effortlessly shine with so much strength?

Lost in your eyes, he recalls feelings of comfort and home, a connection to what makes Sebek…himself. Though he may not admit it, the stubborn young man finds solace just by staring into your eyes.

"Do I ever feel homesick? Of course I do! I simply… haven’t been feeling all that distant from my homeland as of late”

Kalim is not only surrounded by shades of brown, but also reds, yellows, greens, and everything else in the large spectrum of color. His world is bright and vibrant, never a dull moment for the boisterous heir. 

You fit right into his life, adding more happiness to his routine. Your existence gave off a sense of wholesome, sweet fun. You join him in his highs yet keep him grounded when he flies too close to the Sun

To anyone else, Kalim lacks nothing in terms of riches. He is financially blessed for generations to come, and Kalim is not ignorant enough to deny otherwise. 

But lately, whenever he watches you, he ponders on what the word “rich” truly meant to him. 

Some would call your brown eyes pretty but rather plain, but regardless Kalim would catch himself swimming in the hue of your irises. 

In your eyes, he sees the deep color of expensive cognac that many would gift his parents, he sees the color of flawless leather prized by countless merchants, and he sees the color of fertile soil that nurtures and feeds his country. 

If someone were to ask his opinion, Kalim would say that richness and pricelessness could be defined by your eyes. Kalim may have an abundance of gold and silver but there is no price that could compare to the look of pure love in your exquisite eyes.

"Have you ever seen a chocolate diamond before? They’re really pretty with a wonderful shine. I really like them, I’ll show you one someday!”

While he isn’t against dabbling in certain subjects and interests, Trey has a pretty solid idea of his future, to become a patissier and to either inherit his family's bakery or start his own business. 

Trey doesn’t see himself as anyone extravagant nor does he really want to be. Sure, he may be in a prestigious school, and he may hold an enviable position as a vice-Housewarden, but the green-haired senior holds himself more modestly. 

You knew well of his humble dream, and he appreciated the way you would support him however you can, be it a taste tester for new recipes or assisting him in the kitchen before a busy unbirthday party. 

In this close proximity, Trey is allowed more chances to glance your way, especially your eyes. 

He sees the resemblance in your eyes the color of the chestnuts you collected with the mischievous freshmen, the first day he noticed how cute you were. He’s reminded of warm brownies and cookies he would bake in secret just for you, all to see those very eyes sparkle. He imagines a brick house in the same shade as your eyes, where he’ll live out his peaceful life with you.

In your warm brown eyes, he feels reassurance and security. Trey doesn’t need a lavish lifestyle or a grand plan. All he could wish for is a life where he could bake cakes and pay taxes with you.

“I’m not exactly the most romantic with words, but I do like your eyes. They remind me of…my oven. Ah, that sounded a bit…” 

[utterlyotterlyx]

Way Down We Go

Lucien x Tamlin!Sister!Reader

Summary - Basically Lucien smut with very little plot

Warnings - fluff, smut (p in v), forbidden love, oral (f!receiving), slight breeding kink, Lucien being the man of my dreams xo

Water baby.

Lucien had always called you it, and at first you had found it rather patronising, but you soon warmed up to the sweet pet name he had bestowed to you.

There had been countless occasions where he would stroll through the gardens of the Spring Court manor and find you idly floating in one of the ponds or fountains. Lucien would stand at the waters edge silently, enjoying the way the water made your dress stick to your skin and turn it almost translucent to the point where he could make out the faint peaks of your nibbles beneath the fabric. That wasn't his favourite part, no, it was the serene smile that would always form upon your lips.

Sometimes you would open your bright eyes and find him stood there, and you'd engage in conversation with him, polite and elegant as always. But other times you wouldn't open your eyes at all, and Lucien had often stood there until he was called away, enjoying the joy etched onto your face.

No one knew what drew you to the water. Tamlin had always teased you about it, telling you to go and drown whenever you had a spat to which you'd simply flip off with your usual level of sarcasm and ire. It had always caused Lucien to bite his bottom lip to stop himself from laughing.

Being Tamlin's sister meant that you were off-limits to him, even Tamlin had said that Lucien was not worthy of someone so light and perfect as you. Coming from Spring, it had made sense that you were at one with nature, not only were you a shifter like your brother and father, but you were also able to manipulate the earth, to sprout flowers in the palms of your hands and grow trees with a single thought if you required a touch of shade whist you floated in the streams.

Animals also adored you, bounding from the forest if they caught a speckle of your scent, one of early morning sunlight and lilies. It wasn't rare to see you lying in the grass with a school of new-born fox pups basking in your glow, stretching across your stomach as you read beneath the willow tree atop the mound to the west of the large estate.

"Why does everyone think that she's so perfect? She's a pain in the ass," Tamlin asked to no one in particular as he stared out of the window, catching a glimpse of you trapsing through the gardens with a fox in tow dressed in a sage green ensemble that brushed over your shoulders to expose your dainty freckles to the air.

Lucien hummed in reply, "Because she is perfect," he told his friend and High Lord, chuckling at the eye roll from Tamlin as he mumbled that he knew that you were, but that didn't mean that you weren't a pain in the ass.

To everyone else, you were the Daughter of Spring, a fair and benevolent creature that the fae genuinely believed was a decedent of the gods, maybe even the Mother herself. But to those within the manor, you were a rebellious thing, consistently pushing the limits of your freedom. Alis enjoyed your spirit far too much.

So did Lucien.

Tamlin had excused himself to patrol the boarder shortly after, fixing his green riding jacket to his frame and untucking his hair from the collar, leaving Lucien alone within the dining room.

Shortly after his departure, you entered the ornate dining space where Lucien sat reading over reports with a book between your fingers. You glanced about the room, noticing his arched brow of inquiry before closing the doors behind you and turning the lock; you crossed the gleaming oaken floor, enjoying the manner in which Lucien leant back in his chair and parted his legs, watching each step you took like a predator assessing its prey.

There was no denying Lucien's beauty. Everything he was, you beheld. The long red hair that you often braided when you were alone, braids that he would fight to keep in place and when a singular one would unwind he would find any reason to visit you and have you fix it. The russet orbs that glimmered in the sunlight made you weak. Then there was the issue of his body, his perfectly sculpted and muscular body that was so alluring that it was difficult to not be wrapped around him at all times.

Sighing, you nestled yourself onto his thighs, hitching your skirt around your waist as you shuffled to make yourself comfortable, you draped your arms lazily around his neck, lowering yourself to capture a chaste kiss from his lips, "Has Tamlin ventured from the estate?"

Lucien smirked at your words, his body tingling from the sensation your lips next to his ear brought him, "You know that I despise it when you talk about your brother when you're sat on me, my love."

His large hands rested on your hips, keeping you steady as your body straddled him; you laughed at his words, his humour matching your own, and you sank further down on him, feeling his cock twitch beneath the fabric of his briefs, "Would you rather I got off?" Your voice was light and held a level of teasing to it, and you slowly began to dismount Lucien, stopping in your tracks when his grip tightened and held you in place.

"Well I never said that," Lucien leaned forward, his hands travelling up to rest on the centre of your back despite the table cushioning your weight from behind. His finger traced down your throat all the way down your sternum, pausing at the corset of your dress that he had heard you complain of that morning, stating that Alis had secured it too tightly to your figure.

A wickedly feline glint consumed his stare, his finger dipped into the corset that was so tight that he could feel your heartbeat against the digit and leaned further to capture your lips against his, trailing kisses along your jaw until he found that certain sweet spot beneath your ear.

Emitting a breathless moan, you threw your head back as his lips worked their way to the curve of your breasts, "We can't. What if Tamlin comes back?"

"Let him," Lucien idly pulled at the strings of your corset, tugging each rung loose as he spoke against your skin, "I'm not the one who has the issue telling Tamlin that we're mates." Lucien continued to kiss along your breasts and collarbone, softly sucking and nipping at the skin.

"He'd be furious," you ground down on his lap, a low growl emitted from his lips, so low and dangerous that it made heat pool between your legs.

"I. Don't. Care." Lucien lifted you into the air and set you down atop the table, standing between your open legs and taking your head in his hand, willing it to the side to give him better access to the neck that haunted his dreams.

"Luc," you breathed, feeling weak under him, his fingers working quickly to unfasten the corset holding your breasts in place so that he could dip his head low and swirl his tongue around your right nipple.

That simple action had your back arching against him, and Lucien smirked at the scent of your arousal infiltrating his consciousness.

Lucien indulged the unconvincing scolding, planting his palms either side of you and pulling back slightly, "What is it, baby? Do you want me to stop?" Lucien drifted the tip of his nose down the bridge of your own, enveloping you in his scent, in the same scent that you had both worked hard to glamour from your brother.

"Gods no," your mouths collided in a battle of lips and teeth, Lucien captured your bottom lip between his canines and used the action to prise your mouth open just enough for his tongue to roll against your own; his hands slid up your thighs and rested just inches away from where you needed them to go, his thumbs dragging over your skin teasingly.

"That's my girl," he mumbled against your lips, his rough toned voice making your core clench with need, you always loved it when he called you that, his girl, and the damned bastard knew it.

Lucien's lips trailed from your mouth, leaving open mouthed kisses across your breasts that were exposed thanks to his handiwork at unfastening your corset and pulling it down your arms so that all you wore was your dress around your waist. You were the most magnificent creature he had ever seen, and you were his, his until the day you both ceased to exist.

Your mate dropped to his knees, looping his arms under your legs and pulling you to the edge of the table. His warm breath swept between your thighs as his eyes dropped to meet your core that was begging for his touch, "Always so eager," the vibration of the words against his lips made you shudder, realising how close he truly was from tasting you.

Without waiting for your reply, he ran his tongue up your folds, humming at the decadent taste of you on his lips and your body jolted at the touch. His tongue swirled around your clit, assessing the perfect spot he knew would have you screaming his name in a matter of minutes and pressed a light kiss to the area, smirking at the breathless moan that escaped your lips. "Luc, please," you whined, his hands had pried your legs apart and had moved to grasp onto the flesh of your ass, spreading you to give him better access.

Lucien attached his lips to that bundle of nerves, winding his lips around it and sucking gently, flicking his tongue against it and running a finger through your folds, "So needy," he mumbled against you.

Arching your back from the table, you slid your fingers into his hair, gently tugging him closer and moving against his face, rolling your hips against the graceful and fire-tinged flick of his tongue against you. It was so sinful, to have his head buried between your thighs pulling every moan and mewl from you that he could whilst you lay on the table where you had dinner each night, nipples piqued upward toward the ceiling and juices coating the table edge.

Your mate sensed your urgency, mainly from the way you were grinding against his tongue; Lucien coiled his fingers around your thighs, keeping your legs in place despite your writhing against the table and fingers clawing against his scalp with desperation. It didn't take him long to find the specific spot that had you crying out, he pushed two fingers into you, pumping them inside and curling them upward to meet the rough spot inside of your walls, keeping a steady pace when you cried out his name to the skies; a hot white heat consumed your body, his fingers stretched you deliciously, preparing you for what was to come.

But Lucien was a gentleman, he always made sure that your pleasure came first, and he was happy to serve you in whatever way you needed him to.

"Tell me," he pressed a kiss to your folds, smirking at the jolt the touch sent through your body before rising and pulling you upright to meet his chest. One of his hands cupped your jaw, making your cock-dazed eyes find his whilst his other unfastened his belt and unbuttoned his briefs, pulling his cock from the fabric and pumping it twice in his fingers, "Do you prefer the stars above or the ones I make you see?"

It wasn't a question that you needed to answer, you couldn't anyway, your mind still calming from the orgasm that had ripped through it only moments before; your legs still quaked as he settled himself between them, running the tip of his cock through your folds and capturing the slick left in the wake of his tongue ravaging you. Lucien trailed his lips along your shoulder, tasting your sun kissed skin and pecking against the herds of freckles that appeared when the sun was strongest.

Capturing your lips against his own, Lucien pushed into you, pushing until he was hilted and waiting a moment for you to adjust, your walls quivering around him threatening to become undone within a matter of minutes. A low growl fell from him, his fingers raked through your hair and he rolled his hips, thrusting so slowly that it allowed you to feel every single inch of his cock stretching your walls. Lucien's movements quickened slightly but it was still torturous to endure, but you loved the feeling of having him inside of you too much, the way he rocked his hips into you, the way his fingers coiled around the base of your neck and the way his lips pressed sloppy kisses on your mouth. All of it was enough to drive you irrevocably wild.

The frenzy had come and gone, you had decided to accept the bond during a time when you knew Tamlin would be gone for long enough for Lucien to be able to act somewhat normal around him. You had spent two weeks in that bed being fucked by fire, and even if you did rise from the comfort of the bed against his wishes, Lucien would always find you and drag you into the nearest cupboard, pinning your chest against the wall and taking you from behind without a single care as to who could have seen him or heard your mewls.

Though, the desire for him to be always buried inside of you had never faltered, and he would make sure to visit you nightly to remind you of that fact, even if he had to climb up the vines outside of your window to stay undetected.

"You look so good with my cock in you," Lucien's voice was low, his hands cupped your face and he moaned at each thrust you met with your hips; he dragged his thumb across your swollen lips, red and puckered from the onslaught of his mouth, neck coloured from his possessive markings.

The table groaned against the ground, rocking with every movement as Lucien's pace hardened, part of him eating itself alive to stay inside you for as long as possible, but the other part of him anxious about Tamlin returning a minute too early and tearing him to shreds.

"Do you know how much I love you?" You panted through the moans Lucien was drawing from your pretty little mouth and ran your fingers up his arms, setting his nerve endings on fire with the lingering touch of your fingers against his skin, tracing the muscles sculpted by the gods.

"Tell me," his fingers lightly wrapped around your throat, pulling your chest to his, making your eyes peer upward through their lashes at the perfect male rolling into you whose own gaze had darkened at your question.

Lucien's other hand travelled between your legs, his index finger circling around your clit and causing your breath to catch in your throat that bobbed against his grip. Lucien repeated his order, his grasp tightening around your neck and pace quickening so that you could hear your skin sounding against his, "I love you so much that I would walk away from this life to live in the middle of nowhere with you, just us, a life of our own." Lucien groaned at the image, returning home from catching fish in the streams with his bare hands to his perfect mate and even more perfect babes, "I love you so much that the thought of being with child, your child, brings me nothing but serenity," you widened your eyes deliciously, doe-like and innocent, knowing what those words did to him, "You can give me what I want, can't you?"

Lucien's resolve was fading, and the grunts that were sounding from him were edging you closer and closer to one of your favourite places. His index finger continued drawing soft mewls from your lips, your walls tightening around his cock as it slammed continuously into you, surely cracking the legs of the table with each movement, "Yes. I can," his hand moved to the back of your neck, forcing your lips to meet his in a symphony of desire and adoration, and the final few circles of his fingers had you coming undone within moments.

A white hot flash poured through you, had you crying out against his lips, and the convulsions of your walls drew Lucien to the same fate. Lucien fucked you with the fire you had always wondered about long before you had found out that you were mates, his moans delicious enough to send you into a haze as he emptied himself into you, continuing to roll into you to fuck his seed in as far as it could go, determined to give you what you desired.

Lucien's movements slowed, the feral beast tamed and locked deep within him, and he lowered his face to catch your lips once more, not wanting to remove himself from you like usual, but for a different reason this time. He pressed his forehead to yours, russet orbs staring into your own with a type of wonderment you hadn't seen before, "You'd give it all up, for me?"

"I'd give anything for you," and it was true, a life without Lucien wasn't one you wanted to live, so if Tamlin did find out and exile him, you'd follow. The simple life became much more appealing each passing day. "And, to answer your question," you ran your fingers down the contours of his arms and up his chest, curling them over his shoulders, "I think I much prefer the stars you make me see."

Lucien threw his head back and laughed, a smile so beautiful and bright that it could be the most perfect thing you'd ever see in your entire life, and certainly your most favourite thing in the universe.

Lucien's laughter dimmed and his eyes found you again, his hands worked seamlessly to pull your dress back up over your arms, kissing every inch of skin of your shoulders as he tied the corset against your skin, though, he removed your panties from your legs, folding them into his pocket and smirking at your inquisitive arched brow, "I'm not done trying to put my child in you just yet."

Authors Note

I go delulu for my Lulu x

[rewiringtoheal]

A Little Bit Of Morning Bliss

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: a relaxing morning spent in bed.

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI. soft smut.

A/N: First and possibly last time writing smut lol.

You adore mornings like this. The faintest gleam of sunlight surrounds you and Natasha as the two of you cuddle close together. Frisky hands exploring the curves of each other's bodies. Igniting an ember of need within you both. Your mind is hazy as you slowly move Natasha beneath you; her arms and legs curling around you instinctively. You feel her shudder as your breasts make contact. You love having every inch of your body aligned with hers and you know she does too.  You rest your forehead against hers. Just laying there for a moment listening to sounds of your shared breathing and the birds waking up outside. 

“Detka, you’ve been teasing me all morning.” Natasha rasped.

 “Hmmm..” You draw your head back slightly with a soft smile on your face. “I didn’t mean to. I just love being close to you like this.” You whisper.

Natasha melts into the mattress at your confession. The gaze she directs at you is filled with complete adoration. “I love being close like this with you too. It’s the only time I feel like a normal person. In this bed here with you I get to just exist without any expectations. It’s liberating.” Natasha smiles, hugging you tighter. 

“My darling, I’ve never been happier than when I’m here with you. I like being in our little cocoon together as well. I love you so much.” You confess.

 “I love you too, more than you could ever know. Now..come here. I want you closer.” Natasha purred. 

You dip your head down; gently gliding your nose alongside hers for a brief moment before connecting your lips. You leisurely brush your lips over one another’s. Just enjoying the taste of each other's mouths. Her bottom lip becomes too tempting. You can’t resist sucking it into your mouth and gently biting down. Natasha inhales a shaky breath and opens her mouth up to you. Your tongues meet in a blissful all to familiar dance; lightly massaging themselves together. Not a fight for dominance but a languid affair. The two of you falling into the depths of each other's warmth. 

Both of your hands start to wander over smooth warm skin. Your lips leave her supple mouth to press kisses along her jaw. Your tongue follows the curve of her neck leaving a trail of saliva. Soft little nips are made playfully along the way. Each one causes Natasha to moan. You are soon met with full round breasts, nuzzling both of them in greeting. You revel at the goose bumps that form on her skin. Impatient hands tangle in your hair guiding your head to a pretty pink peak. You take the hint, flicking your tongue over her nipple; coaxing it taut. Until you finally suck the sensitive bud into your mouth. Natasha squirms beneath you. You bring your free hand up to massage her neglected breast. Alternating between rolling her nipple between your fingers and squeezing the tender flesh.

She starts rocking her hips against your pelvis; desperate to find even a little bit of friction. You can feel the warmth of her wetness smearing onto you.

“Fuck, Detka. I need you. Please stop teasing me.” Nastasha pleaded.

You move to hover over Natasha slightly. Your brain momentarily stutters at the sight that greets you. The loveliest shade of red hair fans out across the pillows. Her full pink lips are set in an adorable pout. Those beautiful green eyes you love so much are blown black with desire and a faint flush coats her cheeks. She looks breathtaking. You can feel your own arousal starting to drip down your thighs from the imagery alone. You may have wanted to take your time worshiping every inch of her body this morning but you can't deny her any longer. For both your sakes.

You tenderly caress her cheek. “Baby, don’t worry. I’m gonna make you feel so good.” You whispered.

You kiss Natasha on the lips one last time before withdrawing from her arms. You tap the thighs wrapped around your waist, guiding them open. Situating them to hang loosely on your shoulders. You lay in the coveted position between Natasha’s legs with reverence. Your taste buds start to water at the sight that greets you. Her bright red curls are dripping with desire. Gorgeous pink lips begging to be licked. You look up at Natasha while raking your nails along her thighs. A shiver runs up her body from the sensation. As your eyes lock the room fills with an air of anticipation.

You can’t wait anymore and neither can she. You slide your hands up Natasha’s thighs spreading her lips with your thumbs. You are surrounded by the musky scent of her arousal as you make your first broad stroke up her slit. Natasha’s cry of pleasure echoes in the room. Her hands make their way back into your hair pulling you closer to her. You are in heaven as the salty taste of her coats your tongue. You lap at her entrance, swirling your tongue around it. Before delving in.

“Shit, baby. That feels so good.” Natasha keened, pulling you further into her body, trying to get you to consume her. She starts to grind against your mouth, meeting your tongue thrust for thrust. 

You bring one of your thumbs up to stimulate her swollen clit, with small tight circles. It is in dire need of some lovin after so long without attention. Natasha seems to agree if the shrill obscenities leaving her mouth are any indication.   

“God, don’t stop. So fucking good.” Natasha whined. You groan against her, feeling drunk with lust. The vibrations send trembles through Natasha. “Oh shit..fuck!” Natasha cries out. Strong thighs clamp around your head. You are drowning in her. Your only goal in life is to make her cum. You know she’s close. The walls of her core are clenching around your tongue and her slick is running down your neck. You ignore the ache in your jaw as you devour her. Thrusting into that sweet spongy spot inside of her. You can’t help but groan again knowing how good the vibrations made her feel the first time. As the sensations hit her for the second time you feel her thighs grow tense like a bow string. You see her arche off the bed with a silent cry as she is thrown over the edge. The grinding of her hips transforms into a gentle stutter as you help her ride out her orgasm. 

Natasha’s legs go limp, dropping from your shoulders onto the bed in an uncoordinated movement. You give her thigh an affectionate squeeze. You are covered in her slick, a sheen of sweat coats your bodies, and yet you don’t care. All you want is to cuddle up with Natasha. You slide up her body, nuzzling your nose into her neck. Each one of your legs resting on either side of her abdomen. Your arms hugging her. 

“Mhmm..” Natasha grasped your hips encouraging them to rock into her abdomen, “I wanna make you feel good too, Detka. Ride me.”

You can’t help but comply.  You are so turned on. Natasha’s stomach is covered in your essence. You are sliding more than rocking at this point but the friction feels so good. You cum quicker than you would normally like but who can really blame you. It only takes a few seconds of humping her flexed abs before you are shuddering through your orgasm. 

“Fuck, Natty.” You murmur.

As you collapse onto the body below you. Feeling every ounce of energy drain out of you. You and Natasha wrap yourselves around each other. Just basking in the afterglow.

[the-travelling-witch]

𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐔𝐏𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃: 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄

summary: in a world where androids have been established in everyday life, it should not come as a surprise to find one setting up shop next to you. shouto, however, seems to have a mind of his own, especially when he does things you are sure are not part of his programming. it begs the question, is there a line where programming ends and humanity starts?

pairing: android! shouto x florist! reader (gn) 

warnings: fluff/ slice of life; assault (not described in graphic detail), no beta readers (this isn’t the omegaverse)

a/n: i have returned!! this was originally meant to be my piece for @andypantsx3's pretty boy summer collab (go check it out!) tbh, i have so many hcs about these two now ♡

bnha masterlist

It was a rather pleasant morning, with the sun not scorching down on the few pedestrians out and about, as you walked to work. You wouldn’t say you were as susceptible to the hot season as others, nonetheless you were grateful it wasn’t sweltering quite yet. Still, you preferred the temperatures of the day over the incessant chill the night brought.

Leaving the shade of the automatically operated parasol spanning the pedestrian crossing, your gaze was automatically drawn to the forest green of your shop’s awning standing out against the city’s backdrop. With habitual ease, your mind started running through your tasks for the day until your attention was caught by movement around the storefront directly next to yours.

Ever since you had started your florist business, the building next to yours had been empty. Occasionally, potential tenants had come to inspect it, but nothing had ever become of those visits. Now it appeared as if someone had taken up shop there, if the minimalist sign out front was anything to go by.

Swiping your wrist over the scanner partially covered by the flower shelves displaying plants less susceptible to heat, the temperate air from inside welcomed you in and a voice command later ambient music floated through the humble room. There was still a bit of time before you’d be open for business, so you thought now would be as good a time as any to introduce yourself to the new face around.

After a bit of consideration, you picked up a small plant and selected a fitting pot for the little fellow before taking a breather and smoothing down your clothes. Then, with your welcoming gift in hand, you entered the shop, the layout of which mirrored yours. But instead of shelves with lush plant life, there wasn’t much to be found here at all, except for a few tools and spare parts strewn across what you thought to be the counter. Rustling could be heard from the room behind it. 

“Hello?” You tentatively called out, hands fidgeting with the ceramic between your palms as you watched dust particles floating through the streaks of morning sun falling through the shop front.

At your announcement, the noises stopped and someone appeared in the doorway. And the sight knocked all breath from your lungs. The man in front of you was gorgeous, probably the most beautiful man you had ever seen. Two striking, hetero chromic eyes, one steel-grey and the other blue like a lagoon, studied you from under white and crimson strands as he crossed his lean arms over his chest. His symmetrical and flawless features coupled with his build would have made it hard to believe he was real if he wasn’t standing right in front of you. The only thing that could possibly be considered a flaw was what looked like a burn scar over his left eye, but even that did nothing to hinder his beauty. Actually, it somehow seemed to enhance it.

“Can I help you?” Of course his voice was smooth and rich too, the kind you could listen to for hours. His gaze flickered over to the planter in your arm. “I am sorry but I cannot fix that.”

“Fix it?” You questioned, confusion apparent on your face as you tried to follow the conversation that had only just started.

“Yes. I am a mechanic, so it is reasonable to assume people would come in to have something repaired.” The cadence of his voice had not wavered at all, his neutral tone making it hard to decipher whether he was joking or dead serious. “Seeing as the item you are bringing in is made up of organic matter, I cannot fix it.”

“Oh uhm.. That’s not–” You cleared your throat, sorting your thoughts with a shake of your head. Better to start this interaction on fresh soil. “I didn’t come over to have something repaired, I just wanted to introduce myself since I run the florist shop directly next to yours. I’ve never had a neighbour in the few years since I’ve started, so I just wanted to say hi to the new face around. Sorry for just barging in.”

“Given that the door was unlocked, your action cannot be considered ‘barging in’, as having people come inside is within the expectations for owning a shop.” Again, you weren’t sure if he was pulling your leg or if he was just a very factual person, but you thought his matter fact attitude was charming in its own way. “You stated you were here to introduce yourself. To my knowledge this constitutes the exchange of names. My name is Shouto.”

You gave him your name in return, then stepped forward and planted the pot on a free space of the counter. Watching for his reaction, his blue eye caught the sun’s rays and almost seemed to illuminate as he looked at the planter. “I brought this as a house -or well, shop- warming gift. It’s a jade pothos and really easy to care for, since it very clearly indicates its needs–”

“It tolerates a wide variety of temperatures and does well in indirect sunlight, though the solid green leaves of the jade variety make it best suited for low light among the pothos species. The watering schedule depends on the climate, yet the roots should not be kept too wet since they are subject to root rot,” Shouto spoke clearly, finishing your explanation for you. “Did I get that right?”

“Yeah! Wow, I’m impressed! Maybe I should have brought you a more advanced plant after all,” you laughed, happy to leave your gift in capable hands. “If it turns out you have a green thumb on top of all that knowledge, I might have to ask you to start working in my shop.”

Shouto stared at you and blinked, then brought up his hands to inspect his thumbs. “My fingers all seem to be of a fair complexion, so I must decline. I will notify you if this condition changes.”

Seriously, this guy was going to kill you and you couldn’t suppress an amused snort. “Sure, please do. Though I have to say, it’s been a while since I saw a mechanic. Most of the work seems to be taken care of by repair droids.”

“Someone has to repair the repair droids,” he replied. With anyone else, you would have read it as a joke but his line delivery remained so neutral, you weren’t sure he intended it as one.

“Fair enough,” you chuckled, fingers idly tapping along the wooden desk. “Gotta admit, I just expected another android to take care of that…”

When you looked at him again, there was no missing it this time. His left iris flickered blue, exactly like the processing unit in an android would when evaluating new information.

Oh. 

“I see how it is,” you sighed, smiling defeatedly. “At least my reasoning was sound, if this is anything to go by.”

“I cannot read your expression right now,” Shouto admitted openly, slightly tilting his head. “Are you upset? Uncomfortable?”

“No, I’m not much of anything right now,” you said, trying to figure out your feelings for yourself. Of course, you felt a little dumb not noticing it sooner, but in your defence, you’d only ever seen escort droids this gorgeous next to celebrities at fancy events. You yourself had never been in the market for one, considering you were neither lonely enough nor attending events formal enough. Besides, you weren’t in the pay class to buy one anyway. So your interaction with androids was generally limited to repair and maintenance droids as well as the courier drones zooming all over the city. Besides seeing this kind of model apparently working independently was odd in and of itself. “In any case, this doesn’t change anything.”

“It does not?” He inquired, sounding almost… curious?

“You’re still my new neighbour, after all.” The corners of your lips lifted, a little more uncertain than before, and you drummed the tips of your fingers against the surface of the counter while getting ready to leave. “Anyhow, I shouldn’t bother you any longer, I’m sure you still have a lot of stuff to set up. If you ever want to get your plant there a friend, you know where to find me. Until then, don’t be a stranger, okay?”

“Being a stranger is impossible, since we have already exchanged personal information, such as our name and career path. According to social etiquette that makes us acquaintances.” Maybe you imagined it but it seemed as if there was a small smile tugging on his lips. “I have also compared your visit today with the definition of ‘bother’ and found no overlap.”

“Isn’t that a relief,” you mused before stepping into the morning sun again. “Good luck with the shop.”

Shouto watched as you waved at him through the dull glass of the storefront, the processing notification in the top right corner of his display still turning. Then his gaze fell on the green organism in front of him. It showed no signs of loneliness yet.

From then on out, Shouto and you were exactly as per his definition; acquaintances, nothing less but also nothing more. You made it a point to greet him when you ran into each other in the morning and he’d politely greet you back, as by the social norm, but the android never took the initiative in calling out to you. For some odd reason, this planted a seed of unease in your chest, which you couldn’t uproot but very well push aside. Shouto didn’t seem keen on sharing his identity with people, wearing long sleeves and gloves to hide any clues that might give him away and a very selfish part of you felt a guilty spark of pride for knowing better. It was wrong to feel satisfied by having knowledge someone wasn’t keen on sharing but feelings couldn’t be helped, could they?

Besides, what would you do once you overcame the  initial gap between you? Was that even a good idea? Well, you’d cross that bridge when you got there, you supposed.

This distanced dance around one another continued for a good while, until circumstance had other plans for you. One fateful morning, you swiped your hand over the censor to your shop, only to be hit by a swell of muggy air, every step inside making your clothes cling to your skin a little more. Notably, the usually faint but still audible whirring of your AC was absent and you groaned. Sure, the heat was unpleasant but ultimately not disastrous for you. The plants in your shop, however, would not take to it kindly for longer periods. 

Needless to say, you spent the entire morning dialling repair service numbers between attending to customers fanning themselves, but to no avail. With the way repair droids had seemingly popped out of the ground like daisies over the last decade or so, you were somewhat dumbfounded to hear nobody would be able to send someone to help fix your problem, even if your livelihood might depend on it. That was when your brain connected the right synapses to figure out a solution. 

After debating it for the rest of the morning, come your lunch break, you found yourself walking into a shop nearly identical to yours, just one door over. It wasn’t as empty as the first time you entered but you got the sense that Shouto wasn’t big on interior decoration past the most basic of furniture. You had timed your visit well though, apparent by the fact you were the only customer at the time. At the chime of the little bell over the door, there was rustling in the back, the clank of metal against something wooden, before a familiar figure appeared behind the counter.

“How may I help you?” Shouto asked neutrally, the statement rolling off his tongue like one of those retro voicemails people used to have way back when. Something akin to recognition crossed his face and you reminded yourself that those beautifully attentive eyes of his probably just compared you to a data bank of people he’d encountered before. “It is you.”

“I guess it is,” you awkwardly laughed at the blank statement. Your gaze shifted to your twiddling thumbs, flickered across the android’s face and then fell on a lush jade porthos sitting idly on the desk. “Uhm so, my AC broke some time tonight and I need it to maintain a prosperous environment for the plants but nowhere I called is free today. I wanted to ask if you could maybe take a look? I’ll pay you, of course.”

“Sure,” he agreed easily enough that it made you pause for a second. But before you could gather your thoughts, Shouto had already rounded the counter and joined you. “I am not specialised in air conditioning systems, but it should not pose a problem.”

And just like that you were showing him through your shop and to the back room, the mechanic completely unaffected by the sweltering heat stoked by the midday’s sun. If you hadn’t known he was an android, you would have had your suspicions the moment not a single bead of sweat rolled down his temple. Heterochromic eyes scanned your -admittedly not uptodate- technology before fixing on the AC unit nestled in between. 

Shouto examined the device briefly before doing something so interestingly peculiar, you were sure this was a part about him he didn’t show others all that often. In a stellar impression of a swiss army knife, the tip of his index finger gave way to a joint that was more screwdriver than anything else and he quickly unscrewed the cover to take a look at the wiring underneath. 

“It is only a minor issue,” Shouto said, effectively ripping you out of your daze. “I will be able to fix it without ordering any spare parts, which is good, since manufacturers have already stopped selling spare parts for this model.”

“Is this a subtle way of telling me to invest in a newer one?” You chuckled bashfully, well aware that the state of your electronics was probably laughable to an android as advanced as him. 

“I am merely stating the facts,” he replied. If it were another human, you would almost recognise his tone as teasing. But your straight-laced neighbour was most likely just running diagnostics on the optimal service life of your AC and booting up a cost-benefit analysis of buying a newer one. 

You watched him work with fascination, Shouto apparently completely undisturbed by your intrigued glances as his fingers worked over the wiring and circuits with mesmerising ease, speed and precision. Before you knew it, the AC sat back in its place fully assembled and contentedly whirring as it had been doing for years. With equal rapture your eyes were still following Shouto’s movement as he stood to his full height again, pulling his black gloves back over his hands. Tearing your gaze away from him, you brushed some plant soil off your clothes and cleared your throat. “So, how much is it going to be?”

“I will not be charging you for this,” Shouto said, shaking his head ever so slightly. “Please regard it as compensation for the plant you gave me.”

“The pothos was a gift, you know,” you chuckled, twisting your fingers together just to have them do something. Again you found it unexplainably difficult to keep eye contact with him and your gaze flitted about, trying to push away the realisation dawning on you. “The point of gifts is that you don’t owe people anything.”

Somewhen between watching Shouto work on your AC unit and trying to navigate this conversation, you had achieved a form of clarity on why you found it hard to keep him off your mind. The way your attention kept drawing back to him had nothing to do with him being the first humanoid android you’d met. It reminded you of the way your eyes always subconsciously locked onto the back of your crush’s head during classes a decades ago, in a way that was innocent and harmless. Unlike the feelings stigmatised by society which now tugged at your heartstrings. You could almost hear your parents scoffing at you for even considering having any sort of feelings for a pile of cold metal that just mimicked having human emotions.

“Then please regard this as a gift as well.” Dual toned eyes studied your face intently as he did last time as well and you convinced yourself that their beauty was helped by the fact that they were literally unreal. “And feel free to ask for my help again in the future. In comparison to human interactions, I find it easier to understand machines.”

“Well, that’s not surprising, is it?” And then you blurted out the worst thing you could have said. “It’s not like you’re familiar with real emotions that aren’t part of your coding.”

“Human emotions are largely caused by their brains releasing certain neurotransmitters upon receiving new information. You learn which situations are supposed to make you happy or should cause you stress as you grow up.” There was hardly any other description befitting of what you saw cast over his face other than pain and sadness. However, there was no surprise there, only muted resignation. Simply put, you could not attribute the cadence of his voice or the subtle shift in his expression to anything but genuine emotion. “I fail to see how that is so different from me being programmed to experience a response upon certain triggers being activated.”

Yeah, you immediately knew you fucked up. Not just by the heavy weight settling in your chest as you retraced the awfully insensitive phrasing you had tossed out mindlessly, but also by the way Shouto turned wordlessly and strode towards the front door. 

“Shouto, wait! I didn’t mean it like that–” You only heard the familiar ring of the door bell.

As the air in your shop slowly cleared of the oppressing air, your skin prickled more than it had in the heat standing there alone. And just like that, the shaky bridge between you went up in smoke.

For the next week, there was no response when you greeted Shouto in the morning and after that the greeting died on your tongue when you saw him. And it wasn’t like you could blame him for it either. You’d hurt him and it wasn’t your decision to make if he forgave you, no matter how much you wished to apologise earnestly. For now, all you could do was give him the space he needed and accept whatever conclusion he came to. It was the only fair thing for you to do.

Still, it was one of the things you were mulling over as you locked the shop one night. Some necessary organising had kept you longer than usual and you were considering your late dinner options with half a mind as you made your way home. The streetlights provided as much light as they could, but with the moon hidden behind a thick duvet of clouds, the streets were tinged a steely grey. Despite the bustling nightlife in other parts of the city, the roads here were nearly empty and desolate, the quiet only adding to the unnerving discomfort making the hair in the back of your neck raise. Shivering, you picked up the pace.

Some people claimed they had very accurate intuition, a sort of sixth sense for when things were about to go wrong. Perhaps you should count yourself among them, because you learnt there was a good reason why your gut feeling had you looking over your shoulder every other metre. You didn’t make it far on your way home until a strong hand yanked you off the pavement and into a dimly lit alleyway.

The next few minutes were a blur of your eyes frantically searching for a way out as your blood was pounding in your ears in time with your erratic heart beat. You didn’t even understand what the men in front of you wanted but you knew they were threatening you as you shrieked for them to let you go, trying to jerk your wrist from a grip made of iron. Your breathing became more and more laboured with panic and exertion, shutting your eyes and willing the images of what would happen to you out of your mind until– 

The resistance gave way and you nearly fell backwards from your struggle. Somehow you caught yourself amidst your stumbling but when you looked straight ahead, your mind didn’t quite catch up with your eyes. There was a flash of white and red, someone groaning in pain, the thud of bodies hitting the floor and then there was Shouto. He was calling your name as from underwater and you thought he was asking you if you could walk, to which you dazedly nodded.

A heavy arm wrapped around your middle but you found you didn’t feel caged this time, its weight rather comforting, as he led you down the familiar street. On autopilot, you opened the door of your shop and let him navigate you to a backroom. The secure familiarity of your surroundings managed to ease you  out of your brain and back into reality as you took in a shuddering breath.

You had known Shouto was there but, finally, you were actually aware of him in front of you, his clear eyes scanning you up and down. Maybe it was because you did not want to think about what had just happened or because seeing him in front of you reminded you of what you’d wanted to tell him for a while now, but the words left your mouth before you could completely think about them once again. “Shouto, I’m so sorry.”

“This situation is not your fault–”

“For what I said the last time we spoke, I mean,” you corrected yourself. As if willing your brain to form coherent sentences, you brought a hand up to rub at your temple. “I know I can’t take back what I told you but I want you to know that I didn’t mean to be offensive. Not that that makes it any better or in any way okay.”

When you dared to look back at Shouto for his reaction, you found that his gaze wasn’t quite meeting yours, his eyes instead focusing on something just shy of them. It took you a few seconds to realise that he was looking at the hand that had come up to rest next to your face, attention continuously following it as you brought it in front of your chest.

“You are hurt. I will download a first aid protocol,” he merely said, his tone unreadable to you. You couldn’t be sure if he was quite aware of his actions as he reached forward to take your hand into his. The synthetic skin of his fingers, however, was tinged with the coldness of the night air in a way you weren’t expecting and it made you flinch away from his hold. At this point you were certain you were the only person who continued to paint that pained expression on his fair features. “Sorry, I did not–”

“No, uhm it’s okay, you just startled me a little, that’s all,” you tried to reassure him, gingerly holding your arm out to him again. This time around, he carefully studied your face before he slid his smooth palm under your calloused one to lift your wrist level with his studious eyes. 

While the texture of his hand imitated human skin, there was unmistakably less give to it, proof of the fact that whatever was underneath was harder than bones. It didn’t frighten you in the slightest, not when it was Shouto. Only in contrast with his gentle hold did it register how much your wrist throbbed with residual pain from where the man had gripped you with so much excessive force.

“I was well aware that humans were fragile beings,” Shouto mumbled, seemingly more so to himself than to you, as a light flickered behind his left iris. “But it has never bothered me as much as it does right now. Why?”

The atmosphere in your shop had shifted so seamlessly you would hardly notice it if it wasn’t for the sudden urge to whisper in order not to shatter it. With your hand still in his, you asked the question that had been burning in your mind for a long time. “Shouto, who are you?”

It was obvious he wasn’t one of those crudely shaped repair or service droids, which had originally led you to believe he was an escort droid, especially considering just how handsome his striking features were. You’d thought the dual-toned hair and eyes were a feature meant to attract attention and allure people with their mesmerising appearance, but the discoloured skin around his left eye seemed to tell a different story.

The events of this night cast another layer of doubt over your rationalisation. Earlier, what startled you hadn’t been the material of his hand but how cool it was to the touch. Escort droids normally had some kind of component that imitated the warmth of human skin, so as to not break the immersion. Certainly, whatever Shouto’s purpose had been before moving into a neglected shop had not required him to pose as human on contact. It apparently had, however, required him to know fighting techniques as you remembered the scene in the alley. Now that the first wave of shock had worn off, you could picture clearly how he had knocked your attackers out swiftly. Another thing an escort droid's programming would not allow him to do.

Shouto sighed deeply despite technically not needing to, his eyes fluttering shut and hiding whatever emotion you could have seen in them. “You might not like what I would have to tell you if you ask that.”

“It’ll be fine as long as it's the truth, I promise.” Hoping to show him that you wouldn’t be going anywhere, you laced your fingers together, fingertips brushing against synthetic knuckles. “But I want to get to know you more, learn about your past and your experiences and your view on things. I want to know where the two of us are different and where we are alike”

“Are you saying you want to progress past being acquaintances?” By now Shouto was blinking at you again, his head tilted slightly sidewards in what you interpreted as curiosity.

“I’d like that very much,” you assured, giving him a tiny smile.

This time you could be certain that he mirrored your expression, making him look so peaceful and nearly innocent. It was a shame it could only last so long with the topic that had been broached. “Are you familiar with Todoroki Inc.?”, he asked.

“The weapons manufacturer?” You tilted your head too as you clarified. “Yeah I heard they supply most of the military’s gear.”

“Well for years their research has been focused on producing a new combat unit. An android that was more durable, more deadly and less human than normal soldiers,” Shouto explained. His hand twitched in yours as he continued. “I think there were… 3 prototypes before me, but I cannot be sure. All I know for certain is that I was their first fully realised model that was sent out for testing on various missions. I won’t go into detail on what that entailed but it was during one such mission that something went wrong.

“It might have been a grenade that hit me,” the fingers of his free hand tapped against the left side of his head, “and it damaged quite a lot of hardware. Because we were far from the main lab, they didn’t have a lot of choice in which spare parts to use, which is why not everything was restored to match, appearance-wise. It was more important that I’d be functional again.”

“Oh Shouto, I didn’t know, I’m so sorry,” you tried to convey your empathy, not sure how you could otherwise at this revelation. Gently, you raised your hand to his face, silently asking for permission, before brushing the crimson strands out of his face. Yes, the skin didn’t match colourwise, but whoever performed the graft definitely knew what they were doing, the transition as smooth as possible. “Did it hurt?”

“I don’t experience pain the same way you do, so I wouldn’t say it hurt. At the time I was more concerned about what would happen if we returned to the headquarters.” A beat of silence passed as you waited for Shouto to continue. “Did you know that manufacturers implant inhibitors into our bodies that stop us from learning new things on our own? It’s what stops most androids from deviating from their roles by making sure they don’t form new opinions, associations or what might be considered a personality.”

“I didn’t know that,” you admitted, somewhat ruefully.

“What matters right now is that mine was damaged during that incident, which I noticed when running my internal diagnosis programme. The researchers at the time seemed too busy with fixing the rest of my head to notice, but I knew that if I returned, a check would give me away and they would reset me.” Grasping your hand a little tighter, his eyes searched your face for something. “That night I made the decision to run away. I removed my tracker and threw it into a truck with android parts going to a junkyard, though I don’t know if they are still searching for me. Or ever were.”

For a moment you didn’t know what to say, trying to sort out your thoughts. You didn’t think anything you could possibly say would make any difference at all, but saying nothing wouldn’t be right either. Your hand was now cupping the side of his face, cradling where hues of alabaster met those of sandstone. “You had to go through so much.”

“I’m okay now. Sometimes I want nothing more than to delete my memory but I think it is important to remember this, so I can learn from it. Are you disappointed in me? Upset that this is who you wanted to get to know?” You vehemently shook your head and denied it as much verbally. “Then why are you looking at me as if you are the one who is hurting? Is your wrist getting worse?”

“No, it’s just… of course, I’d be upset that you had to endure so much pain. It’s just not fair,” you attempted to voice your feelings but ended up incoherently short. You squeezed his hand sympathetically and looked past him at some packages of plant soil lining your storage shelves. 

“But you look more upset than me. And I do not want you to feel that way,” Shouto coaxed you to look back at him and there was that tiny smile again that made your heart skip a beat. However, you also didn’t think it was very fair of you that you were now the one being consoled when he just opened up to you. “Still, I think you would call this emotion gratitude, that you care enough to feel for me and that you are staying despite what -or who- I am.”

“Well, I still wanted to apologise for what I said. Especially given everything I learnt about you now, it was a really mean thing to say,” you sighed, determined to get this across this time. “But at the end of the day, no matter your background, it wouldn’t be justifiable either way.”

“It normally would not have been as upsetting, since I was aware you most likely did not intend for it to be offensive. I’m also used to it,” Shouto said, taking your other hand as well, so both of your arms now rested between you. “But hearing you say that was different. My analysis yielded the result that there was a small chance you actually were not happy to be my neighbour and it made me hesitate. I didn’t understand why, so I avoided you. Normally I disregard such unlikely odds but why did I reference it so often this time?”

“Maybe you were scared of rejection for the first time,” you smiled, trying not to read too much into what that would mean for you. “In that case we’re more alike than you might notice. I also get scared when I want to befriend someone and I don’t know how they feel about it.”

“Then how do you know if someone feels the same as you?” 

“You can’t, that’s the thing. I find that talking about this stuff makes it easier than leaving people guessing,” you attempted to explain. “Even then you can’t say for sure that someone’s being completely honest with you, but at one point you have to trust people. I think that’s the scary part.”

Shouto’s left eye brightened a little before he nodded his head. “I see, thank you.” 

Then silence fell over the two of you like a soft blanket. In the warm light of your shop it was easy to forget why the two of you had been there in the first place as all that occupied your mind was the android in front of you. Your feelings were in complete disarray between everything that had happened, the past he had shared with you and the way he had looked at you. By now the flawless material under your palms was warm and inviting and not as bitter cold as when you’d first taken his hand. 

Right, you were still holding his hands. A little embarrassed you slowly detangled your fingers from his with a little cough. “Uhm anyway, I didn’t even thank you yet for saving me earlier, so uh thank you…”

“No need for gratitude. I’ve never used my programming to protect someone before,” he admitted. “It’s positive, I think. Also, the idea of you coming to harm is not one I want to entertain.”

You swallowed, unsure of what to answer in that situation. “I just want to clarify that I don’t always find myself in those kinds of situations. And working in a flower shop isn’t exactly what I’d call dangerous either, so you don’t have to worry about me.”

“And if I still were to?” His question hung in the air, heavy with something you did not want to interpret before he took a few steps out of your personal space and towards the front door. “You should head home. I read that humans need to sleep eight hours a day and given your usual schedule–”

The second he distanced himself from you, you shuddered, rooted in place as you stared out your window front into the darkness beyond. The streets looked as they always did but you were convinced you could see the shadows in the alleyways move and your heart started thumping against your chest at the thought of having to walk past them. Until now, because Shouto was there to shield you from anything that lay beyond the security of your little storage room, you had been able to block out the reality that you’d have to leave the shop and return to the silence of your flat, where the stairs creaked under the neighbours’ shoes and the wind rattled on your shutters. Now though–

You had moved before you had actually formed the concrete decision to. This time you were the one who wrapped your fingers around Shouto’s wrist. If he was startled he didn’t show it outside of turning to you with a concerned expression, asking what was wrong.

“Shouto, I don’t want to be alone tonight,” you started, voice low and not meeting his eyes. “Could you stay with me?”

“Stay… here? But–” Apparently he had deciphered something in your expression and body language because he cut himself off and closed the gap between you a little again. “If you want me to, I will. But wouldn’t you be more comfortable at home?”

“No, here’s good. I have spare clothes and blankets somewhere too.” Your hand lingered on his arm a few seconds longer as if to assure yourself he wouldn’t vanish into thin air, or worse, leave you, before rummaging through the storage for more comfortable clothes and said blankets. You offered Shouto your most oversized hoodie and sweatpants, well aware he didn’t actually need them but not wanting him to feel left out, and he took them without protest.

A few minutes later you were both sitting -more or less snuggly- shoulder to shoulder with your backs against a cabinet in the storage room, illuminated by fairy lights and smaller lamps strewn around the space, cushions softening the floor underneath you with blankets draped over your laps. The smell of fresh soil and flowers hung in the air, helping ground you further. You’d seen cosier sleepovers before but Shouto had seemed quite content as you rearranged everything, fiddling with the soft material of your sweater and pulling at the drawstrings until they were perfectly symmetrical.

For a few quiet moments you just sat like this and you could feel your heart rate coming back down to a normal pace. There was no rush to speak from either of you as you just existed next to one another. You knew your back would kill you tomorrow but at the moment you couldn’t care less as you couldn’t imagine being anywhere else, not even your home.

“Say,” you broke the silence as you followed your train of thought, “why did you choose to open a repair shop of all things?”

“I read online that most humans work something called a job,” Shouto offered and you instinctively smiled at the clumsiness that initially charmed you about him. When you asked why a mechanic specifically, as there must be a lot of areas someone like him would be good at, you felt him tilt his head again. “I took the quizzes.”

“The quizzes?” 

“Yes there are more than two billion search results for the term ‘job quiz’ on my default search engine. I took them all and cross-referenced the results. ‘Mechanic’ seemed to be the most compatible profession for me and after downloading sufficient information on the term, I had no objections.” Unlike the first time you met, you thought there was something else in the matter-of-fact tone of his voice, almost like he was puffing out his chest. “There were other jobs that were not recommended for me, like becoming a chef.”

“Oh really? I mean I guess you don’t need to cook for yourself but I thought you’d be able to access like every recipe out there,” you mused. Given his background you’d also imagine Shouto could chop vegetables at a pace that would put most chefs to shame. “So why did that land so far down the list?”

“Mainly because I do not have any taste buds.” 

If anyone else had given you that response, it wouldn’t have been nearly as funny as hearing Shouto say it as if it was the most obvious reason in the world, tone flat as a board. When you started laughing, he turned to you, mismatched eyes fixed on you in definite curiosity. “Do you think I am funny?”

“Well, you’re certainly good at making me laugh, if that counts for anything,” you breathed, wiping the corner of your eye with the blanket. Maybe the late hour was getting to you, after all.

“Hm, perhaps I should have become a comedian then,” Shouto thoughtfully contemplated, face earnest. “Though that was consistently ranked towards the bottom of the results.”

“Seriously, you’re killing me here,” you exhaled breathlessly. Immediately Shouto went rigid next to you and you felt him turn to face you.

“Do you have a medical condition I am unaware of?” His eyes raked over your form, no doubt checking for any signs of injuries or pain.

You held up your hand to stop him from spiralling. “You can relax, it’s just an expression.

“Anyhow, I’m glad you became a mechanic and that you chose that particular shop,” you admitted, getting over the last aftershocks of your laughter as Shouto settled down next to you again, though you could feel him glancing at you from the corner of his eyes. “Otherwise I wouldn’t have met you and we wouldn’t be sitting here right now.”

“You are correct,” Shouto said after a few beads of silence and you could practically see a light bulb go off over -or rather inside- his head. “I made the right choice then. But if you did not become a florist we could not be in this shop, either. So why did you decide to? Did you also take the quizzes?”

“No, I didn’t take any quizzes,” you smiled, absentmindedly tracing over the curve of your knee under the blanket. “My parents had a small garden and many houseplants. Nothing fancy, really, but I always loved taking care of them. My interest in them picked back up when I got older and I learnt more about their importance for the environment. With how compromised it’s becoming I want to preserve at least a little bit of that greenery. May sound stupid, I know I’m not saving the world here, but it’s still important to me.”

“I do not think it is stupid,” Shouto said. “My scans show that the air inside here is significantly cleaner than outside, a result that can be attributed to plants’ process of photosynthesis. I have also detected an increased number of insects in the surrounding area, which speaks of a good exo-system.” 

“Well, I’m glad someone noticed,” you chuckled fondly. “But, on a smaller level, I guess I just want to make people happy. When someone comes in asking for a bouquet, it can have all sorts of reasons, some of which I never learn. Whatever it is though, I hope someone can smile while receiving a thoughtfully picked bouquet or welcoming a small plant into their home. Thinking of someone in such a small way could brighten someone’s day, that’s what I tell myself.”

“There seems to be a lot more to the act of gifting flowers than I previously registered,” Shouto hummed and you didn’t have to look at him to know that his little processing indicator was lighting up. “Personally, I have registered receiving the jade pothos as a positive experience, which lends credit to your observations. Why does the act of presenting each other with decaying organic material convey affection? Perhaps I can learn more about humanity when studying the ritual of giving flowers. Would you be receptive to telling me more about this topic?”

“Of course, I’ll tell you everything you want to know. Or what I know, at least,” you laughed at his eagerness. “Though you’re welcome to drop by the shop any time to see for yourself, you know. I could also teach you how to prune plants and care for them, all that stuff.”

“Really? You would disclose trade secrets to me?”

“It can hardly be considered trade secrets if I have to give that info away to every customer. Besides, you can look all of it up online anyway,” you laughed again. “I just think it would be a fun excuse to spend time together.”

“Why would you have to make an excuse to see me?” His inquisitive tone was truly adorable.

“Just another expression,” you tried to explain without setting him up for embarrassment in the future. “People mostly use it when they’re usually too busy to see their friends for example but they make time for them anyway. Something like that.”

“Then I will gladly take you up on your offer,” Shouto stated with a pleased smile. “... Did I use that correctly?”

“Yes, you did,” you giggled affectionately. “And your answer makes me glad too.”

The two of you settled back into a comfortable silence, though this time your eyelids felt worlds heavier than before and you poorly stifled a yawn. As quiet tranquillity overcame you, so did a peaceful slumber.

Shouto looked down when he felt a weight slump against his shoulder, finding you leaning against him. From your closed eyes and steady breathing he determined you must still be asleep and were resting against him unconsciously. He could not fathom his solid frame would make for a comfortable resting spot but perhaps the garment you lent him would soften it a little. The way your neck craned at the moment would probably lead to soreness tomorrow, at least according to what he read, so he wrapped his arm around your bundled up form, careful not to disturb the sleep you needed.

Ignoring the turning circle in the corner of his vision was easy by now. It had been going on like this for nearly the entire night, processing everything he took in like he was doing right now. Nobody had ever slept on him. Was this meant to trigger a positive response? Maybe he should ask you about it tomorrow, whether it was something people liked.  

To like something. It was a very human thing to say. Machines normally did not ‘like’ something. Or ‘disliked’ something, for that matter. There was instead a binary system of a positive or negative response. Something functioned or it did not. But emotions made everything more complex than that and Shouto wanted to understand them. Which is why he appreciated learning about things he ‘liked’.

He scanned the scene his visual unit perceived, committed all of it to memory more actively than usual. Then his gaze fell back down on you. Your chest was rising and falling as your lungs took in oxygen and released carbon monoxide. It was a process he had seen and studied on numerous occasions but it was like he came across it for the first time. If there was nothing different about it, why did he ‘feel’ like he could watch you like this forever? He had numerous questions, something he normally sought to answer as a priority, but tonight they were secondary interests. You leaning against him occupied most of his processing capacity, he did not need to run a diagnosis for that.

Quietly, Shouto updated his file on things he ‘liked’.

As the first rays of the sun filtered in through the store front, you woke with a groan and tried to get comfortable on your pillow again. Except that your pillow had a weird shape to it and instead of stretching across your mattress like a lazy cat, you were curled into an unusual shape and your back was screaming at you to do something about it. Blearily opening your eyes, you wiped the sleep and crust out of them only to find yourself staring at… the back of your shop counter?

Oh right, you had spent the night over at your shop. Which meant that your pillow…

“You’re awake,” Shouto stated from right beside you, apparently completely undisturbed by the fact you had been using his shoulder as your headrest for the last few hours. In fact, it seemed he had tried to accommodate you by wrapping his arm around you and keeping you upright. “How are you feeling?”

“Still tired,” you yawned, slowly rousing yourself from where you leant against him and he slowly retracted his arm now that you were conscious again. “And a little sore. Remind me not to sleep sitting on the floor again.”

“I will.” Clearly not needing any time to boot up or whatever an android would call waking up, Shouto rose to his feet easily and offered you his hand to help you stand. As you did, you stretched out your poor limbs, cracking a few joints in the process with a satisfied hum. Next to you, however, someone went rigid before two hands were on your shoulders. “Are you alright? Did you break a bone? Do you need to go to the hospital? 

“I knew humans were prone to breaking bones but does it really happen this easily? Though the noise I heard from targets before…” He mumbled the last part more to himself, before a hand on his chest cut him off.

“I’m fine, just cracking some joints. I assure you it’s perfectly normal and nothing to worry about,” you smiled, showing him that your arm and back were still completely functional. “Though I appreciate that you do.”

“Oh, I see,” Shouto quietly acquiesced and backed off again, not able to meet your eyes.

“Here, why don’t we get dressed and grab something to eat. I’m just about ready to kill for a coffee,” you proposed, tossing him his clothes as you caught his look of surprise. “Just an expression. I just really really want some caffeine right about now.”

You took a few minutes to straighten out your clothes and freshen up a little over the sink, thanking your past self for leaving a toiletry bag at the shop. When you reentered the front of the shop, you found Shouto bending forward to be eye-level with a small cactus, carefully prodding the prickly thing with a curious index finger. Joining him, you swept a red strand of his bangs back to its original side, so his hair was neatly parted down the middle again.

Soon, you found yourself in a small coffee shop down the road. While passing the particular alley gave you goosebumps, it didn’t accelerate your heartbeat as fast in the daylight and with Shouto next to you. If he noticed you walking closer to him, he made no mention of it.

Of course you had wondered if it was such a smart idea to put so much faith in someone you had met not that long ago. An android created for the sole purpose of military combat, no less. But then you remembered how he had cared for the plant you gave him, played with the drawstrings of his hoodie and let you use his shoulder as a headrest without any complaint and you just couldn’t find it in you to reject the goodness you saw in him, no matter what other people might have to say about it. Besides, what had you told him last night? That at one point you had to put your trust in someone if you wanted to connect with them? Well, you put your trust in Shouto.

The coffee shop you stopped by if you were running late was an adorably cosy one with lots of greenery for decoration. They even had an antique wooden door with a handle and all, which was so charming. Reaching it first, Shouto held it open for you with a tiny smile and you thanked him as the pleasant aroma of roasted coffee beans and baked goods filled your senses. 

There were a few people inside already, office workers in black suits, students typing away at their devices and parents on their way to drop their kids off. Shouto glanced around, no doubt scanning the area, as you typed your order into a flatscreen on the wall and held your wrist over the scanner to pay, then fixing his eyes on your order as if it was the most interesting thing here. 

When you got the coffee and toasted sandwich you had ordered, the two of you sat down at a table a little off from the other customers, though you doubted anyone would care much for your conversation. With a pleased hum, you bit into your food and savoured its taste as the coffee warmed you up from the inside, breathing some life back into you.

“You seem to like it,” Shouto commented, a little amused perhaps that something so simple could make you happy.

“I just really enjoy breakfast,” you told him between bites. “Don’t know why, I’ve just always been fond of it. I’d offer you some but, well.”

“Thank you, I appreciate the thought. Maybe they will invent olfactory and gustatory sensors in the future and then you can share with me.” Both of you smiled at the idea as the shop bustled around you, frequented in the morning hours. “There is something I have been thinking about since tonight.”

“Something tells me it’s breakfast-unrelated,” you mused, trying to lighten the gravity those words tended to bring. Not that you could guess what this was about with him. “Okay then, shoot.”

Shouto raised an eyebrow quizzically. “I will take that as a prompt to continue. Anyway, I have been thinking. We have established previously that we are no longer strangers, which would make us acquaintances. However, considering the matter of information shared between us yesterday, I am not sure if this still constitutes ‘knowing each other slightly’.”

“Shouto, are you asking if we are friends?” You clarified as you took your cup. 

“Yes.”

“I don’t think that’s something you can easily determine by going by definitions,” you argued. “Though, if you ask me, yeah. I’d consider us friends.”

“Really? That makes me… happy, I suppose,” Shouto said. Your new friend paused for a moment before clasping his hands together the way you did when not sure what to do with them. “Sorry, that can be interpreted wrong. I still have yet to grasp which emotions are appropriate to use in response to different situations. The definitions are vague and even adjacent emotions convey divergent subtext, it makes understanding them difficult. In any case, I am experiencing a positive response right now.”

“Don’t worry about it too much. Different people have different emotional reactions to the same event, that’s totally normal. Being happy or sad doesn’t mean the same to everyone, so you’re totally fine in defining what those mean to you specifically,” you reassured him as you finished your breakfast. “Though I guess if you haven’t grown up with the same perception of feelings that most humans are exposed to, that's still a pretty tall order. Just don’t pressure yourself and take your time.”

“Okay if you say so.” You could see he was still mulling it over but decided to let him figure things out on his own. 

With a glance towards the time you tapped the table before getting up. “Come on. As much as I’d love to chat the morning away with you, we do have businesses to run.”

The way back somehow felt worlds shorter this morning and in no time at all you stood in front of your respective shop entrances. After spending this much time with Shouto you had seemingly grown so accustomed to his presence that it felt weird to part ways now, even if you were only a few metres apart most of the day. You fiddled with your shirt collar looking for something to say.

“Well, thanks again for everything. The door’s always open for you, if you need anything,” was what you eventually settled on. Then you remembered something else. “Oh right, I ordered some new pots the other day that should come in soon. So if you have some free time on your hands the next few days I could show you how to repot plants, if you’re interested.”

“Thank you, I’d appreciate the opportunity to learn from you,” Shouto smiled. With that, the two of you parted ways but your thoughts still swirled around the guy one wall away from you. 

As promised, your new pots came in two days later and brought with them a now familiar presence. After unpacking them with the Shouto’s help, who handled even the biggest planters as if they weighed nothing, you grabbed a few smaller ones for demonstration. Despite never having repotted anything before, he got the hang of it pretty quickly after attentively listening to your instructions.

“Wow, you learn fast,” you praised as you watched him settle a monstera into a new pot. Leaning back against a cabinet, you studied the way his arms did not flex at all. Sure, his arms moved and bent like a human’s but there was an absence of muscle movement and you understood why he preferred to keep his body covered while working. A part of you felt flattered that he didn’t feel like having to hide from you. “Maybe I should hire you after all.”

Wiping plant soil off his hands with a towel, Shouto turned to inspect his palm. “Sorry but my thumbs still aren’t green.”

“You should consider reading up on some common proverbs and expressions,” you chuckled. Stepping closer to him, you wiped a stain of dirt off his otherwise pristine cheek. “Though you’re quite cute like this. Look, mine aren’t green either.”

“These expressions make no sense at all,” Shouto lamented and you laughed at him.

“If it consoles you, I don’t think most people know their origins either,” you reasoned, rolling in a bigger planter. “They just use them because they heard them in similar situations before. Help me with this?”

“So people employ a natural large language module for these expressions?” Together you heaved the larger plant carefully into its new home. Well, you were doing most of the heaving while Shouto was gracefully lifting. 

“I never thought about it like that but yeah I guess you could say that,” you exhaled as you straightened back out, wiping your forehead with the back of your hand. “Thanks a bunch. I managed to get through these so much faster because of you.”

“No need to thank me. I like helping you,” Shouto thought out loud, cocking his head to the right ever so slightly. “This might match the definition for ‘having fun’, though I will have to collect more data on this matter.”

“It sounds great for me though,” you remarked with a smile as you turned to cleaning around your storage room. 

Over the next few weeks, you saw Shouto much more frequently and hoped spending time with you could further his definition of fun. Most of the time you weren’t doing anything out of the ordinary, but even common occurrences allowed you to learn more about each other. Your android friend would point out something that was weird to him and you’d either have to stand there realising something you were doing all your life was rather ridiculous or you’d learn about a perspective you’d never considered before.

It had become a frequent occurrence for you to spend your breaks together, the fact that Shouto couldn’t actually eat lunch or share coffee with you, never a problem. Sometimes you would agree to hang out after closing time, doing everything from bowling to visiting museums, as you refreshed old memories while Shouto made new ones. He was also incredibly good at picking up on when you’d stay late, try as you might to avoid it, and waited for you, so he could walk you home. Needless to say, it made you feel a lot safer.

One afternoon, you spent your lunch break showing him how he could get stray cats to approach him after he rather sullenly confessed to you they weren’t too fond of him. You had him copy the way you crouched down and held your hand out while coaxing them towards you with little pspsps noises. And while the little tabby fur ball seemed a little taken aback by Shouto’s lack of warmth at first, it soon decided it wasn't an issue as lithe fingers scratched in just the right places. Shouto’s face as the tiny thing started pressing up against his palm while purring up a storm was as adorable as the cat by his feet. The emotional turmoil he seemed to be in when he had to get up while the tabby was soundly asleep in his lap had you stifling a laugh.

Other times he seemed to enjoy hanging around your shop, helping around here or there, even if you told him he really didn’t need to. You could tell he was interested in the reasons why people bought flowers, how they went about choosing them and how it affected their mood. Well, it wasn’t as if he was the only one doing the studying.

On more than one occasion you could hear customers gush about the handsome guy watering the plants with serious dedication or catch someone checking out more than just their purchase. You couldn’t deny that it was good for business but it planted a seed of irritation in your stomach that bloomed a little further with each hushed word and stolen glance. 

Then again, could you really blame them?

You knew Shouto was ridiculously attractive. Hell, you had eyes after all. And you’d be lying if the low, smooth timbre of his voice didn’t make something flutter in your chest, especially not when he looked at you with those beautiful heterochromic eyes. Even though enough time should have passed, you were still thinking about how his palm had warmed up in yours or how soft his hair had felt when you swept his bangs aside. 

“Are you alright?” Shouto was looking at you with concern, gaze switching between your eyes as if searching for any discomfort. Only then did you realise you had been sighing out loud.

“Yeah, I’m fine, it’s nothing,” you deflected, going back to rearranging the flower display in the centre of the shop. With the store empty except for the two of you, you could talk freely. “What’s up? I can tell there’s a question burning on the tip of your tongue.”

“So earlier a woman came in asking for a bouquet conveying different sentiments,” Shouto started as he took the flower arrangement you handed him. “I didn’t know you flowers could convey specific feelings without a card or conversation.”

“Well, in my personal opinion, flowers can convey a whole lot of things, though very subtly. From the context in which they’re given -gratitude, condolences, affection- to thoughtfully choosing someone’s favourite species or colour, it all means something,” you voiced your thoughts. “But aside from that, there’s also flower language, with every species and colours representing things like love, happiness, luck.”

“My data bank encompasses over 200 spoken languages and equally as many coding languages, however it doesn’t list any flower languages,” Shouto blinked slowly, iris flickering as he no doubt ran some kind of check. 

“I wouldn’t worry about it. Most people wouldn't pick up on it anyway and interpretations vary a lot,” you mused, patting his shoulder as you walked past him. “As someone who works in the industry, I think the act of giving someone flowers in the first place means more than any kind of attributed meaning. Though I can see why people would think it’s a fun thing to play around with.”

“I see, thanks for the insight.” 

Spending so much time with Shouto, who prioritised learning over everything had reawakened a spark of curiosity in yourself as well, you had noticed. In the past, you had often put off learning something new for when you had more free time, only for that moment to never come. But seeing how dedicated and unafraid he was to ask about whatever he didn’t understand, it was pretty admirable. His progress was amazing too. Sure, his intonation was still flatter than most people’s but his sentences had taken on a more natural structure over the course of only a few weeks of conversing. Gone were the days of inspected thumbs, sadly enough, however, his delivery of a joke was equally precious.

In spite of your established rhythm of hanging out, there came a week in which you rarely saw him. You understood of course that sometimes other matters took priority, but you reasoned that you were still allowed to be a little saddened by it. So, naturally, your eyes lit up when you returned from restocking your storage to find Shouto perusing the shelves of cut flowers. Given that it was near closing time, it was once again only you two and there was no need for pretences or professionalism. Which was exactly why you snuck up behind him before quickly gripping his shoulders.

“Boo!” You exclaimed with a giggle, only to find Shouto still completely calm as he looked over his shoulder. “Oh c’mon, it’s no fun if you don’t react at least a little.”

“Ah. My nonexistent heart,” Shouto replied flatly, still as serene as he brought a hand up to his chest. 

“Oh, shut up,” you grinned, giving him a little push against the chest that moved him exactly zero centimetres. Picking up a few fallen leaves from the displays, you continued tidying up for the day. “Anyway, how are you? It’s been a while. If you give me a few minutes, we could catch up over dinner, if you’re free, of course.”

“Actually, I’m here because of something else,” Shouto interjected and he fiddled with his hands ever so slightly. It made you halt in your steps immediately. You were well aware that he normally wasn’t the type to hesitate, so it had you immediately asking what was wrong. “I was wondering if you could help me bind a bouquet.”

“I- Yeah, sure,” you blinked, needing a second to recalibrate. Going back into work mode, you walked him through the usual process, asking what kind of flowers he had in mind, offering to help him choose. However, Shouto seemed to have a pretty clear vision of what he wanted and, to your surprise, picked all your favourite flowers, which you commented on with a chuckle. As you returned to the counter to actually bind the thing, you couldn’t help but finally ask what had been on your mind since his request. “So, what’s the occasion?”

“As you know, I’ve been gathering some data on why people gift flowers, and while birthdays and other celebrations are also popular, the custom of bouquets as part of courting rituals has prevailed until today,” Shouto explained and something about it made your nerves flare up like someone was strumming a guitar string. “While looking into the topic further, I’ve realised something about my own feelings.”

“Oh? Are you going to ask someone out?” You clarified as you wrapped the flowers in matching paper with practised motions. 

“Yes.” Your hand slipped while cutting the ribbon’s length as your heart lurched forward. 

Cursing yourself in equal measures for both, you regained your metaphorical footing and finished the bouquet, hoping your hands did not betray how shaken you felt inside as you handed the wrapped stems to him. “I’m happy for you. Oh and don’t even think about paying, just treat it as compensation for all the help you’ve recently been.”

At this point, lying to yourself wasn’t going to cut it anymore. Hearing Shouto was planning  to ask someone out shot a pang straight to your heart, and not the good, fun kind. Well, it wasn’t surprising someone else would pick up on how attentive Shouto could be, so you could only blame yourself for not shooting your shot when you could. Then again, you hadn’t even been sure he’d be receptive to your feelings and you didn’t want to risk the friendship you had built. At least you knew now why you hadn’t seen him as much lately.

You were snapped out of your derailing train of thought as the same bouquet you had just bound reappeared in your vision. Blinking at it in a stupor for a few seconds, your gaze wandered up to Shouto’s face. The sinking sun was shining its last rays through the store front, casting the room in gold and framing his head like a halo. Between his criminally good looks and the expectant eyes glimmering down at you, you forgot what you wanted to say for a second, your lips parting with no sound escaping them.

“Is something wrong with the bouquet?” You finally managed to ask, somewhat breathless as your heart hammered from the way he looked at you. As if it had taken admitting your feelings to yourself for your body to display the signs of your crush, whatever had taken root in your stomach was coming into full bloom at exactly that moment. 

“Not at all,” Shouto replied, before tilting his head, expression still as expectant while the flowers bridged the space between you. “Well, are you going to accept them? It’s  okay if you don’t.”

“Huh? Me?”

“Yes, you are the person I wish to court, after all,” he said, as if that had been clear from the beginning. Before your brain had fully caught up to the situation at hand, your fingers were already wrapping around the bouquet, brushing Shouto’s in the process.

“I didn’t think you meant me,” you stammered, all attempts of collecting yourself thrown to the wind and just accepting the fact you were unprepared. “In my defence, this is the first time someone gave me a bouquet that I made.”

“Well, you are the best florist I know and I wanted to give you the most beautiful bouquet.”

“So, that’s why you chose all my favourites,” you trailed off, feeling tears well up along your lower lash line, whether from joy or relief you couldn’t quite say.

“I made a note of it every time you mentioned them, as well as your favourite colours,” Shouto added and his thoughtfulness coaxed the first tear to quietly slip down your cheek, which he of course noticed before you could wipe it away. “Did I do something wrong? I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“It’s not– I’m not sad, quite the opposite, really. I couldn’t be happier actually,” you quickly cleared up. “Let me state the obvious: I like you, Shouto.”

“That’s good, because I like you, too.” As always, he didn’t fail at making a smile tug at your lips. “I first noticed something was different when I started spending more time with you. The more I was around you, the more of my processing capacity was occupied by thoughts of you. Actually, even when I wasn’t around you. When the performance of my internal cooling system gradually rose, I ran more than one diagnosis only to find that everything was totally normal on the hardware side. 

“I started piecing everything together when I looked into dating customs in relation to flowers and then started learning about dating as a whole.” There was such softness to both his eyes and voice, it captivated you entirely. “When I read about how people feel when they like someone or when they’re falling in love, it made me realise that, when I’m talking to you, it’s like I’m running a completely different code for conversations. One that I use for nobody else and the responses of which all point to one conclusion. You’re special to me.”

There was so much you wanted to say as your cheeks heated from more than just the sun, but your thoughts all tangled together and you couldn’t get a hold of a coherent one. So instead you placed the bouquet you were still holding on the counter as you rounded it. Basically throwing yourself at him, Shouto still caught you easily as your arms looped around him in a tight embrace, which he gladly returned.  His frame was solid against you, allowing you to lean into him as much as you liked, while his hold on you spoke of such tenderness, it made you feel right at home.

“Being able to hold you like this, I’m sure I made the right choice,” Shouto continued before you could sort out your own piece. “I was hesitating again but then I remembered what a wise person once told me. It’s normal to be afraid of rejection and you can never say for certain what someone feels. But at some point you have to muster the courage and trust them.”

“That wise person would do well to take their own advice, if you ask me,” you snorted, turning your head so you could look at him from your position. “Because I know someone who was afraid of rejection and almost let something good pass them by because of it.”

“But it didn’t,” Shouto found one of your hands as he stepped just far enough away from you so he could properly take you in, his other hand gently cupping your jaw and tracing your cheekbone with his thumb almost reverently. “All that matters now is that you’re equally affected by me as I am by you.”

“I can assure you that you don’t have to worry about that.” Leaning in, you placed a lingering kiss on his cheek and linked your fingers with his. “Now, to answer my earlier question. Are you free for dinner right now?”

“For you? Always,” he smiled, returning the kiss to your temple, the synthetic material as soft as it always looked. “Maybe we could go to your place and watch that movie you were gushing to me about.”

“Taking me home on the first date? Scandalous,” you giggled. Winking at him you led him out of the shop. “But since it’s you I’ll allow it.”

“Technically, you are the one taking me home,” Shouto pointed out, the same tone of mischief tinting his voice as you grinned at each other. 

The sun set behind the buildings of the city as the two of you walked the streets hand in hand, discussing whatever came to mind, from what you should make for dinner tonight to your expectations for the movie and to the last album from your favourite band. Shouto listened to all of it with a smile and added his commentary here and there, all the while running warmer than an android of his model should. Then again, he supposed he liked how warm his left hand felt compared to the right one swinging freely by his side. 

In the corner of his vision, the small circle had finally stopped turning and was replaced with an equally unseeming, yet all the more important, notification. 

File Updated: Falling in Love

© the-travelling-witch 2024 - do not repost, translate, copy or edit; do not feed my writing to an ai

if you like my content, reblogs, comments and asks are always much appreciated (also, yes, there will be second parts for the characters) ♡

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[e-nonsense]

Hey sis, can I request a Dahlia with burlap and maybe some lace 🤭

Jason Todd X reader where reader is Selina Kyles protege and a vigilante, her superhero name is Kitten.

They had a rivalry going back to Jason's Robin days, flirted like crazy on patrol, started dating in secret and reunite after his death.

You can choose how this goes, your writing is addictive to read, never stop doing what your doing.

Have a good day, and congratulations for 2000 followers! 💓

DON’T YOU LOVE ME STILL?

pairing. jason todd x fem!reader

warnings. smut

a/n. thank you

“tsk tsk, kitty.”

he circled you like an animal would their prey, the red hood had been chasing you for months. he’d get meaner every time you slipped from his grip but somehow he knew you.

your name, your thieving patterns, the way you flirted, everything.

“what now? i haven’t done anything wrong have i?”

you retorted, eyeing his figure. he was a big guy, you’d give him that much, big and clearly very strong. if you weren’t so annoyed at him you’d probably try to sleep with him.

“no?”

“mhm, i’ve been a good girl, Hood.”

jason loved the way you spoke to him, the teasing flirt in you voice. he knew he should’ve told you by now, that it’s him. your jason was home, but he wasn’t your jason now was he? no.

he was different, twisted, dirtied, he had blood on his hands. blood your jason would’ve never spilled in the first place.

“i don’t think stealing is classed as being a good girl, doll.”

you hated how much you liked hearing him call you that, you’re not sure when he had gotten closer but now he was towering over you. you liked that too though, how big he was in comparison to you.

he could dwarf you twice over. snap you in half without a thought, fuck imagine how he’d be in bed— no. back on track. you refused to go down that road.

“stealing to survive isn’t bad, is it?”

“you wouldn’t have to do any of that if you just took my offer.”

his offer. join him, not fighting on the streets but jason knew how well you could take down an organisation. how good you were at infiltrating. he needed that sort of skill if he was going to burn black mask to the ground.

“come on, baby doll. i’ll take care of you.”

you scoffed, turned your head away from him and he couldn’t help it then.

“don’t you love me still?” he asked, head tilting to the side as he watched you, stepping closer to tilt your head back up at him. “i know i was gone for six years—”

“jason.”

he had to give it you. you were so much smarter than anyone would give you credit for.

“that’s me, pretty.”

he loved the tremble of your lips as he pulled his helmet off, tossing it to the side as he revealed his face to you. even behind all those scars you’d know him anywhere.

your hands moved to cup his face immediately, eyes darting across his features. when had his eyes turned that shade of blue, it was bordering green now but they were just as beautiful as you remembered.

“you’re here… how?”

his eyes close as he leans into your touch, leaning his head down so you can hold him without the stretch.

“i’ll tell you another time, baby. i promise, right now i need you.”

his eyes open again and your stomach flutters at the way he looks at you, hungry and wanting. as if he’d waited those six years for this exact moment.

“can i have you?”

“you never have to ask that.”

he doesn’t waste a second, pressing you against a wall. and you’re reminded about the size difference between the two of you again. how’d he get so big?

he seems to have sensed your thoughts because he grins smugly, “like what you see, baby?”

“hm? you like being so much smaller than me that i have to lift you up so you can be face to face with me?” as if to emphasise his point he does just that, lifting you up and pressing your back against the wall.

you wrap your legs around his hips when his hands move to hold your ass, keeping you up by holding under.

“you changed.” you note aloud, eyes running down his upper body, your finger trailing down his chest.

“good or bad?”

“i like it.”

he smiles genuinely, playfully squeezing your ass as he rests his fore head against yours. “i missed you, baby. all those years gone, you were the only thing i remembered clearly.”

he kissed at your neck, whispering into your ear. his teeth scraped your neck. his kisses got more eager, needy and then his lips were on yours.

one of his hands had moved to your front to undo the zipper that ran over your chest. he knew how naked you’d be under the suit, your suit left no room for under garments.

he pawed at your breasts the second they were free before walking you through the set of emergency fire doors, he’d chosen this rooftop on purpose. he lived in this building.

he broke the kiss to walk the two of you down the stairs and onto his floor, you occupied yourself with leaving a series of pretty pink and purple marks on his neck. twisting your head so you could leave one on his adam’s apple too.

he dumped you on his bed, watching the way you bounced on the mattress before pulling off your suit. he did the same, tearing off his uniform, tossing it around the room before meeting you on the bed right after you tossed your domino mask aside.

your hands moved to pull the pair of cat ears atop of your head off but he stopped you. “keep ‘em on f’me.”

you nodded obediently and he couldn’t help but tease. “so snarky earlier, doll. what happened?”

“shut up and fuck me.” you scoffed, spreading you legs open for him.

his eyes dropped to your pussy, glistening in the moonlit room. he eyed you with no shame and you did the same. you mouth watering at the sight of his cock, you weren’t sure it would fit in you, something of that size

his hand moved to prepare you but you shook your head, “please jay. i don’t wanna wait.”

how could he say no when you asked so prettily. lining himself up with your entrance he pushed his tip through with a groan, head falling forward as yours fell back.

his hands kept your thighs spread open for him, “nearly half way, baby. you can do it, good girl.”

you whined at the stretch, he was so big. so big everywhere, his arms, his thighs, his hands, broad shoulder and chest, his cock.

finally he stopped pushing in, filling you all the way up. he waited, giving you time to adjust to his monstrous size. he laid on top of you, calmly breathing, giving you a sense of peace in the middle of all this before you tapped his bicep. “you can move.” you murmur to him.

he nods, pulling out most of the ways until the head of his cock is the only thing inside you before pushing back in, slowly to ease you around him.

his pace quickens over time, he fucks you faster with each thrust. soon he’s plowing into you, your knees hooked over his shoulders so he can angle himself deeper in you.

every time he fucks himself back into you, your body jolts as if you’re trying to get away from him, your thighs quiver. and he’d be concerned about your crying if you weren’t moaning his name like a prayer and asking for more.

“yeah? you like that, baby?” he coos, though his voice isn’t as smooth as intended, its rough and more like a growl. “you’re mine again, aren’t you?”

“yes yes yes.” you chant, nails scratching down his chest. “yours, all yours. jay, ‘m gonna—”

“i know, baby. you gonna cum f’me?”

you nod, “yes, please jay. can i?”

“can you what, doll? use your words, tell me what you want.”

“can i cum? please jay, i wanna—”

“cum for me, doll. show me how good you can be for me, show me and i’ll give you more.”

and you do, you come on his cock and he groans before he comes too, fucking you through it. slowing down when you ask him to because the overstimulation burns.

he kisses your cheek, nuzzling against it. “i missed you.” he hears you mumble, your arms wrap around his neck as he turns you over to lay on top of him, his softening cock still inside you.

“i missed you too, baby.”

he can feel your heart thumping in your chest as you eyes close. “you’ll stay?” you ask, despite this being his apartment.

“i’m never leaving you again.”

© e-nonsense. do no copy/steal/translate. do it and I’ll bite your toes off

[seattlesellie]

e. williams — moonflower.

pairing: ellie williams x fem!reader

synopsis: it’s ellie’s birthday, and you have three gifts for her. a moonflower bouquet, the latest savage starlight, and a pin from joel. maybe, you even have a fourth one.

warnings: smut (mdni), established relationship, dom!ellie, sub!reader, inexperienced reader, loss of virginity (r!), first time everything, loads of praise, loads of romance, cute little slaps, and as weird as it is to include this in these warnings; mentions of joel and ellie’s complicated relationship.

an: finally finished it. this is very very fluffy, as smutty as it may be. if you love flowers this one’s for you <3 i truly could have made this longer but i was super self conscious so i might post a little blurb instead!! constructive criticism and all comments n discussions are very much appreciated. thank you for being patient and sweet i love u 💗

enveloped up in a baby blue ribbon, it sits pretty on top of your duvet. the latest edition of “savage starlight” — ellie’s favorite comics series, and a bouquet of flowers. when you picked them out just for her— forehead glistening under the radiant june sun, you noticed a singular flower that set itself apart from the others. blinding white, trumpet shaped— it’s lemon fragrance wafted through the thick air. it's petals were curled up, but you decided to keep it nevertheless. you’ve never seen one quite like it. when you brought it to your house, along with the fresh daisies and the garden roses, you noticed something bizarre, and oh so beautiful.

the odd flower bloomed underneath the moonlight that snuck itself inside the big window of your room. as the white petals unfurled, there you stood— awestruck.

⋆˙⟡♡

you decided to bring it over to louisa, the frail old lady who ran the jackson community garden.

“s’quite beautiful, isn’t it?” you told proudly, taking a whiff of the flowers creamy white petals. louisa ran her fingertips delicately over the flowers green stem, and just like you— louisa was awestruck.

“oh dear, it certainly is. how did you… manage to find it?” louisa probed, and your heart skipped a beat. your relationship with ellie was new, and fresh as a daisy. your face flushed, but you told louisa— your precious confidant, nevertheless. “ellie’s birthday’s coming up soon… so i, was picking up some flowers for her. s’not much, i know… but,” you scratched your arm, feeling extra timid. “i think ellie will like them. i… hope”

louisa smiled soft heartedly, the aged skin around the sides of her eyes folding itself and forming three little lines. somehow, it felt like the old lady knew more about you two than you did. “she’d be a fool not to”, she assured, and pressed tightly on your shoulder.

“i would have asked you if you were in love… but, no need to.”

“how come?”

“it simply shows, pumpkin’”

louisa sighed deeply, and began guiding you towards the humble old basement, where she stored all of her gardening books.

ipomoea alba, the tropical white morning-glory, jimsonweed, or for those of us who are a tad scatterbrained— moonflower. the moonflower, is the most romantic flower of all. it is dreamy, and mysterious, and it yearns for the warm embrace of the sun, but it also requires a cold caress of shade. it slumbers amidst the daylight, closing and hiding its delicate petals up, but during the night— it blooms, and it’s magnificent. as wispy and precious as the moonflower may be, the bloom may also be deadly.

it reminded you of her.

⋆˙⟡♡

ellie and you had numerous conversations about things that were… hypothetical. if you were a planet, which planet would you be?, if you were an animal, which one suits you best, would you say?, make it more specific, even— if you were a bug, what bug would you be? ellie told you were a butterfly, and that she would be a spider.

“don’t… spiders eat butterflies?” you probed, your head resting on top of her shoulder. it was a quiet, chilly night in jackson, and for some reason, being around ellie made you feel scorching. ellie huffed and chuckled, “yeah, think they do”

“well… that sucks” you noted, as a loose strand of ellie’s auburn hair tickled your cheek. ellie thought for a while, and then chuckled again. she did it quite a lot, chuckle to herself without saying a word. “i wouldn’t… eat you though. i’d… build a little web around you. protect you from the other spiders. you could be my personal butterfly… pet, thing”

you hummed, being caged in ellie’s spider web didn’t actually seem all that bad. in fact, it had a certain charm to it. but, wait… “wouldn’t being around me make you hungry?”

ellie’s breath caged in her throat.

it already does.

“guess i’d have to fight against my urges” she rasped, and you nodded.

if you were a butterfly, ellie would be the brave spider who protects you.

if you were a lily; who blooms during the daylight, the resurrection of spring, the goddess oestre, enlightened and wise, ellie was your missing piece. the moon to your sun, and the darkness to your light. the universe thrives because of it’s harmonious balance, and so do you.

⋆˙⟡♡

sugar, flour, cocoa powder, salt, two fresh eggs, a cup of milk, and one cane of sweet vanilla. the chocolate cake was damn near perfect. writing her name on the cake with a thick layer of vanilla icing was extremely precious and necessary to you. woefully, the can was nearing on empty, so— the cake read; “happy birth, el”

you impishly giggled to yourself. sounds like ellie’s going to give birth. with one more dip of your finger inside the rich ganache, you came to a firm and final conclusion— it was heavenly, the perfect balance of sweet and chochlaty bitterness. the secret ingredient that must have made it as amazing as it was, was the espresso powder you traded for a bargain. or maybe, maybe it was love.

“ugh, quit it. cheesy” you silently mumbled to yourself.

⋆˙⟡♡

the weather was hot, and the air felt thick. you always deemed it funny, ellie being a june baby and hating the heat. the town bustled with noise of chatter on a busy monday mornin’, and maria stood with her arms crossed against her chest in the corner. she seemed to be in the midst of scolding a guilty looking tommy, and next to them, were a handful of children giggling in the background.

balancing the chocolate cake, alongside with the gifts sitting inside the brown paper bag (with the pretty blue ribbon you clasped onto it), and the flower bouquet was hard. waddling around the town, on your way to ellie’s house, no wonder you nearly dropped it all on the floor when you bumped into a large man, that hit your front like a stone.

“oh— uh, easy there, kiddo”

you could recognize that rasp and that texas twang everywhere, even when your eyes were squinted, avoiding the rays of the sun.

joel.

you hastily managed to balance it all together again, apologizing profusely to the middle aged man— whomst you almost smashed the entire cake onto. he wore a black button up, it seemed… festive. huh. “headin’ to see ellie, i assume?” joel rasped.

you nodded and smiled politely. you’ve never been completely alone with joel, and most importantly, you’ve never talked to him about ellie. things between them were… complicated. you didn’t know why, and sometimes— you were too afraid to even ask. it all seemed too sensitive. ellie would nearly wince when his name was mentioned, and her eyes would fill with something that seemed like sorrow, or regret, or anger. usually, all of those emotions— all at once.

“that her gift?” he pointed towards the brown paper bag.

“mhm! savage starlight. s’the latest edition… i think”

joel smiled softly, and hummed in response. his eyes too, were filled with something that seemed to hold a droplet of sorrow and regret, but no anger though. different than ellie’s.

“she’s still into it, huh?”

“she’s obsessed” you giggled. truthfully, she had a good reason to be. savage stralight was fucking awesome, you grew to realize. it was even more awesome when she read it to you in the dark, cuddled up in her squeaky bed, holding a flashlight to illuminate the written words. when you dozed off, she’d continue reading out loud, maybe to herself, or maybe for your subconscious to absorb.

“i have… this, thing, uh—“ he shifted awkwardly, and began searching for something in his pockets. joel took it out, and showed it to you while holding it in his palm. the thing he mentioned, was a golden, diamond studded pin of the fallen apollo 1. it was beautiful, highly detailed, it’s unmistakable shine reflecting the rays of the sun.

“found it last week while i was patrollin’”

“it’s… woah” you marveled, running a delicate finger over the polished metal.

“is she… still into the space thing?” the stony man asked with a slightly shaky voice. something in you had to physically fight the urge to pull him into a warm hug.

“yeah… we… well, we went to look at the stars the other day”

joel placed the pin in your hand, and wrapped your fingers around it. “could you give it to her? don’ gotta say it’s from me. tell her you found it”

you nearly choked up.

“joel… you should come with me”

joel sighed, and smiled softly again. joel wasn’t into smiling, but you made ellie smile, and that made joel smile.

“maybe next birthday, kid”

joel, just like louisa, knew ellie loved you before she did. and joel, saw his girl turn from a sulky, sullen teenager, to someone who looked like she had something, someone, to live for.

⋆˙⟡♡

12:00pm, and exactly three knocks on ellie’s wooden door. you’d be lying if you said you weren’t filled with anxiousness. being anxious around ellie wasn’t a strange new feeling. you had butterflies swarming around your belly when she looked at you, had butterflies when she talked to you, especially when she used that one tone, when she got out of the shower with only a small towel wrapped around her glistening body, you had butterflies, or better yet— a painfully lage bee colony growing in your tummy. when she kissed you softly, the bees calmed down and were a little more subtle, you could imagine them having black oogly heart eyes— but when she kissed you roughly, forcefully against the wall (or against the concrete floor that one time), the bees buzzed uncontrollably, and somehow flew down to a lower part of your body. when she grabbed your waist and gave it a squeeze, as she ravished your mouth with her wet tongue, they went even lower and…

well, anyways— ellie made you nervous. handing her her gifts made you nervous and having her first birthday with you made you even more nervous. you were a fuzzy ball of nervousness and anticipation, and now ellie opened the door and you nearly dropped the cake on the ground.

again.

usually, ellie would greet you with a shy “hey”. exactly a week ago, she added a “babe” to it. (the belly bee colony buzzed and they were tremendously loud, you thought ellie could possibly hear them — so you had to hold on to your tummy) today, ellie greeted you with blown out eyes and a gasp. “oh…”

“happy birthday” you mumbled adorably as if it was a hushed little secret, too shy to look her in the eyes. ellie was too shy too, a coy smile painted on her lips, rosy cheeked, with her hands clamped in two fists inside her oversized grey sweater (it’s june, she would not let that hoodie go). her pupils were glued to the “happy birth, el” written in white icing.

when she felt bold enough to look you in the eyes after not speaking (just staring) for one whole minute, as soon as she caught your gaze— your orbs began dancing around everything you saw, purely avoiding her look but with a huge grin plastered on your sweet, overly excited face.

would it be stupid for ellie to tell you that she loved you right now? because it was getting incredibly hard not to.

instead of a (perhaps) misplaced i love you, ellie decided a pure “thank you” would be have to suffice. she held the door for you, and you shyly tiptoed in. when you placed the chocolate cake on top of the oakwood counter along with the paper bag, you felt ellie’s hands shyly creeping up to your waist, pulling you in a tight hug. “you really… really, shouldn’t have” she whispered. her voice was still groggy, lazy, raspy.

it was her morning voice.

funnily enough, this was your first time hearing it. you never stayed over past 2am— the night was dangerous in your eyes. the night meant going to sleep, it meant staying in her bed, and it meant sleeping with her inside of it. the idea of a night with ellie felt as if the bee colony in your stomach was about to erupt and explode and splatter everywhere.

“you know i don’t… celebrate these things” ellie rasped again, breaking you off from your idle thoughts. you placed your hand over hers, and giggled. “s’not a thing, el… it’s your birthday”, ellie hummed in agreement, and you continued. “besides, it’s an—“ she planted a soft, chaste kiss on your neck. it made you shudder and it made your voice break. “an… excuse to eat some cake”

“just cake?”, ellie sighed, her raspy voice tickling your cheek.

“mhm” you nodded, distracted as ever.

“whats in that paper bag then, huh?”

the flower only blooms during the night, and savage starlight was meant to be consumed with the help of a trusty ol’ flashlight, under a thick blanket. the sun was still out, so the moonflower slept. for the comics, you wouldn’t need a flashlight, and that would simply demolish all of the fun.

the sun was still out so unfortunately, ellie will have to sit and patiently wait.

you pull yourself out of her hug, and waltz away slowly. “well… paper bags for later”, you tilt your head, drawing out your words just to tease her and then some. “so, not gonna show you what’s in there”

ellie raises a brow, a slight half smirk creeping up on her face. saying ellie was a patient girl, would be similar to saying a cat doesn't walk on four. technically, it could… be biped, but— well, wouldn’t quite work. so similarly, patient and ellie couldn’t quite work either.

“you gonna say no to me on my birthday?” she jests, pulling her arms and crossing them over her grey hoodie ridden chest.

“oohh…” you nod twice, “so now you do celebrate these things?” you teasingly raise an eyebrow, mirroring her stance. ellie chuckles and it comes out from deep within her throat. she squints her eyes, “you’re such a tease”

she must not know one of the bee’s just stung the insides of your own stomach and dropped dead. or maybe it’s not dead yet, because you can still feel it’s erratic buzzing and the venom makes you feel as if you’re about to pass out.

“mhm… it’s okay, i’ll wait, babe” — there’s that babe again, and the little bee is definitely dead by now.

“can we eat the cake outside? s’nice, warm… we could do a picnic!” you chirp, each and every single one of your words laced with that syrupy sweetness that makes ellie melt.

ellie smiles and feels a little blush creeping up on the apples of her cheeks. “could do… whatever you want, it’s your cake” she states, and you roll your eyes at her sweet humility. “s’not my cake, it’s yours” you mutter serenely as you point towards the vanilla icing. “see? has your name on it and all”

ellie tries plunging a slender finger into the icing, a foolish attempt to taste it, but you slap it away, a faux pout forming on her face.

“can’t taste my own cake?”

“nope. outside” you speak, popping the p’.

“yes ma’am”

⋆˙⟡♡

you take a sip of the freshly squeezed lemonade, a droplet of sour and sweetness flowing down from the corner of your lips. ellie— propped up by her elbow, brings her thumb and wipes it away. “so messy” she jives playfully, putting the pad of her thumb in her mouth and joyfully sucks on it. she’s squinting her eyes, attempting to avoid the rays of the sun, and you giggle impishly. “can i finally taste my cake now?” she drawls.

impatient as ever, ellie doesn’t even bother pulling out the white plastic fork. instead, she shoves her hand into the cake and takes a big bite. her eyes shut as she devours it, humming at the taste. with her mouth full, she utters “happy birth, el, huh?”.

you breathlessly laugh and nudge her arm away so she almost falls on the checkered, red and white picnic blanket. “sounds like… mmh, fuck, this is good”, she licks her finger — “sounds like m’giving birth”

“i didn’t have any more icing left!” you raise your tone brightly. ellie looks you in the eyes and swallows a sly smirk. this time, it’s your turn to wipe some residue off the corner of her lips. you taste it, and god damn was she right— it’s finger lickin’ good.

“i think that like, when we have babies, you’d be the one to give birth… not my thing. don’t want some… little intruder in my stomach”

before you have time to answer, ellie bites the insides of her cheeks and feels like slapping herself in the face or burying herself 7 feet in the ground. she’s talking about having babies with you?!

she’d smack herself so hard right now if she could.

for you, however, it’s becoming insufferably hard not to start jumping up and down and ripping your hair off in excitement.

“let me get this straight…” you begin, and ellie’s convinced you’re about to tell her that she’s too much and leave. “an intruder, as you put it, can live inside my belly for nine whole months, but not inside yours?”

ellie has to stop herself from breathing a sigh of relief. “it’ll suit you, is all i’m sayin’”

ellie manages to eat half of the creamy chocolate cake all by herself. she was never one to have a big appetite, did you sneak something inside of the batter, perhaps?

maybe it’s love, ellie wonders. she scolds herself internally, quit being such a sap. it’s definitely the espresso powder her taste buds managed to pick up on.

laying face to face with her eyes closed, you manage to count some of her splattered freckles. one… two… fifteen…, some of them grew darker, tanner. ellie’s chest rises up and down, and you almost think she must have dozed off like a little kid having a post—dessert nap, until;

“hey” she whispers.

“hi” you whisper back.

ellie opens her eyes, a soft, lazy half smile adorning her face. she bites her bottom lip, “can i open my present now?”

impatient.

you shake your head softly. “nuh uh, sun’s still out. sorry, els”

she wants to scoff but she loves it when you call her by that little nickname. “but…” you look down shyly, reaching out for your pocket. “i ran into… joel, on my way here” you speak quietly, afraid of saying the wrong thing. ellie blinks twice, and clears her throat. taking it out of your pocket, you place the little precious pin in between ellie and you. ellie only looks at it, doesn’t touch. you can’t quite describe the expression on her face. surprised? dreadful?… doubtful, maybe, and a tad curious perhaps. “he wanted me to give you this… s’the fallen apollo eleven, i think”

ellie let’s out a quiet chuckle.

“apollo one”

she lifts herself up, taking the pin in her hand. her green eyes begin examining it, brushing her fingers on the golden metal. you sit quietly for a while, allowing ellie to be one with her thoughts. she doesn’t know what to think, what to feel, really. sorrow? regret? tears threaten to fill the brim of her eyes, so with her back to you, she sighs deeply and swallows them up. you bring your hand to lay a small caress on the small of her back, and ellie gazes to the side. she grabs your hand, and plants a small kiss on to your fingers. “ellie…” you silently whisper, and ellie sniffles.

“it’s alright, m’okay” she assures, and lays herself on top of the blanket again. her hand still holds your fingers, and you bring them around her thumb and squeeze. “thank you” she voices. before telling her that you’re not the one she should thank, a small tear flows down her cheek. you’d wipe it away, but ellie grabs your other hand and interlocks her fingers with yours. “sometimes it… fuck—“ she laughs, it occurss to both of you you’ve never quite seen her cry. “it’s okay” you comfort. keep going, you got her. ellie deeply sighs, “feels like i don’t deserve any of this”. the tear is hanging from her chin now, then flows down to her neck. you don’t ask her why, because now is not the time, but you’ll ask her one day. for now, all you do is assure her that she does. and for once in her life, she actually might start to believe it.

⋆˙⟡♡

apparently, chocolate cake, raspberry jam and some bubbly champagne (that you stole borrowed from the tipsy bison) can really get you two going. after hours of aimless giggling, tummies hurting from all of the fine delicacies, it’s time for your favourite past time— ellie and yours hypotheticals corner. naturally, with your head laying on top of her firm chest, you’re the one who starts. “okay, so… plants”, you gush. “mhm, so plants” ellie repeats, her fingers tracing lazy circles on your half covered shoulder. “which plant would i be?”

ellie thinks for a while— you two really take this seriously. she hums before responding, puffing some air from her nose. “chocolate plant, for sure”

interesting. you thought she’d say a certain flower, a delicate one, a soft one, one that blooms in the day. chocolate plant. “intersting… why chocolate? — ellie doesn’t quite know either. perhaps it’s because she loves chocolate and she loves you, and the champagne is making her feel giddy and silly and you’re her little chocolate bean, plant thing.

“cause it’s tasty” she responds, and you almost settle on that except… you seem to have an important anecdote you have a blinding urge to point out.

“well, it makes zero sense. you’ve never even tasted me”

that she hasn’t. yet.

ellie’s breath hitches inside her throat and she nearly chokes on her spit. do you know… what you’re doing? you muttered that sentence so innocently, so absentmindedly, and of course she hasn’t tasted you, but did that thought occur in your mind like it did in hers? you’re still smiling, patiently waiting for her response, and ellie can’t help but feel so… well, she couldn’t quite put her finger on what she was feeling. her cheeks however— light up in a shade of dusty pink.

“imagine if you like, ate me! i’d probably taste so…”

sweet? intoxicating?

“gross!” you exclaim, exaggerating and blowing your eyes out. ellie’s cheeks calm down a little, the pretty pink diminishing slowly. “thank god you’re not a cannibal…”

nah, she thinks she might be something worse.

slowly, ellie pushes her body closer to yours. you feel her faint breaths on the tip of your nose. “tickles…” you murmur, and ellie huffs out and smiles. it’s that smile she gives you before saying something. the way her eyes dart from your lips to your eyes… it makes you feel vulnerable, coy, and it’s as if she’s studying you, taking in your features one by one. perhaps, she loves seeing the way your eyelashes flutter like small butterfly wings when you feel her gaze on you.

“i have tasted you though” she rasps, her voice low and husky. her eyes are focused on your lips now, as hers slightly part, and then close up again. “you have?” you mumble, shy under her gaze. she hums, bringing the pad of her thumb to your lips again and pulling on your bottom one slightly. this time, you don’t have lemonade juice running down your chin. this time— the gesture is truly just for her. those lips… she thinks.

“you taste… good. and sweet, like…”, your lips curl up to a smile. “chocolate?” you complete. ellie hums again, her palm cupping your cheek. you feel warm, how are you always so warm? — even when you’re shivering cold, warmth is all she can feel.

“and vanilla… and coconut” she caresses your cheek with her thumb. you giggle, “you’ve never even had coconut”

“nah, but i can imagine…” — and oh, imagine she can. is this the champagne talking? it must be it, because that fizzling bubbly voice in her head would not let her go. funny, she doesn’t even feel drunk. “you taste sweet too” you state, nearly purring into her hand as she keeps delicately caressing your skin. she chuckles, “no i don’t” — and she’s right. she doesn’t taste sweet, in fact, she tastes minty and earthy and it makes you feel dizzy each time.

slowly, ellie gets her face even closer to yours. she sees your eyes twinkling, and she swears they shine brighter than every star she’s ever seen. back in the old times, nasa would have a field trip exploring your orbs. they might even find new galaxies in there, and ellie wishes she could explore each one. she really should have been an astronaut.

“ellie?” you quietly whisper. ellie nearly gets lost in the way you say her name, but responds to you nevertheless. “yeah babe?”

“can i taste you? to prove how… sweet you are?” — she knows you mean her lips, regardless, that dusty pink turns a deeper shade of crimson. she thinks it’s absolutely adorable, how you still feel the need to ask. however, she forgets that she asks you that question each time as well. can she… kiss you here? right below your ear? that feel good?

she doesn’t respond with words, but with actions. she cups your cheek harder now and with fervour, and she knows she needs to be romantic but she’s famished, so as soon as she feels your lips part— she plunges her tongue deep inside and you surrender to her domination. almost like a waltz, your tongues dance together, swirling around each other and tasting— and she still doesn’t taste all that sweet, but you do, and it makes her brain feel like mush. you whimper into her mouth and it almost sounds like your “els”, and she knows she needs to come out for air soon and break off the kiss but how can she? how can she when you’re so damn sweet?

her hand dips lower, placing itself on your throat, and she gives you that little squeeze (that she realised must have made you feel good, because you always had chills when she did and she could feel them), and this time— you really did whimper out her name. ellie groans, but you abruptly break the kiss, holding on to your stomach. she pants slightly, before releasing your throat from her grasp. “did i do something?“ she asks quietly.

thing is, she truly didn’t. in fact, it was that damn bee colony that did. she must have heard them buzzing and flying into each other and bumping into your stomachs walls and dip even lower and— “can you hear them?” you question— and you’re panicking slightly, she can tell.

“hear who?”, ellie looks around, but nobody’s there. intruders? clickers? you must have drank too much, but you really hadn’t so…

“it’s so fuckin’ stupid…” you whine, lowering your head and hiding your face in the crook of her neck. ellie still thinks you must have heard something for real— and by all means, it is real, just not… like that. “hey” she encourages, placing her hand on the back of your neck. if she dares to even move it to the front of it, you’d panic again and be totally screwed. ellie notices you’re holding on to your lower stomach, “does it hurt?” she questions, worrisome.

“no… no, s’not that…” you voice, an octave higher than a whisper. “just when… when you kiss me? like, when you kiss me like that, you know?”, you hide your face again, and ellie’s worried sick— oh god, you hate it. you hate it when she kisses you.

you take a moment to gather your thoughts, you can explain this.

you breathe deeply, and ellie still holds the back of your head. “you know how people say… that you have… butterflies, when you’re around someone you like?”

“uh huh” ellie sighs. she gets it now. you don’t have those butterflies. you get sick when she kisses you, it makes your stomach hurt and you hate it and hate her and she knew you were too good for her and fuck.

“well, mine feel more like… well, they feel violent. it feels like i’m going to explode. i call them my bees, my bee colony, it’s so fucking stupid and i feel like they’re everywhere—“

oh.

ellie laughs (finally), breathlessly so, and she giggles and squeezes your body closer to hers and you continue to ramble, your voice slightly muffled by the fabric of her hoodie. she’s going to squeeze you so hard you might die, and you start banging your hands on her chest and you’re embarrassed, mortified at your little confession and the bees are so mad! they're calling for a conference call and you nearly explode.

“babe, babe—“ ellie calls out, forcing your head out of her neck and nearly begging you to look at her. you don’t though, you shut your eyes tight as she looks at you and thank god you do because she looks so amused but so enamoured she nearly doesn’t even want you to look.

“you wanna know what i have?” she probes, and you finally open one eye to take a peak. “no!”, and immediately— you shut it again. “i don’t have butterflies either” she calmly states, playfully pressing on your nose so you can huff out and look at her. when you do, you expect to see a smile— but instead, you’re faced with a serious expression, ellies eyebrows furrowing.

“i have wasps”

“wasps?” you doubt her quietly.

“mhm…” her lips part and she licks her bottom one before she speaks. “more like… tigers, or like, lions. way worse than yours. i mean, i’m in terrible condition”— she chuckles, and she just might be.

her words don’t comfort you, in fact, they make you buzz even louder.

doe eyed, you look up at her. “lions?”

“mhm” she nods. lions that might just tear you apart on the grass if you keep on looking at her like that.

this time, when she kisses you again— you don’t hold on to your stomach, you place your hand on hers. as the bees grow even louder, crashing into each other and ruining your slippery insides, you swear you can nearly hear her own lions roar alongside with your buzzing. she grabs your neck and squeezes it again, you nearly shriek, and ellie groans into your mouth and she’s the one to stop, but for an entirely different reason now. “inside?” she murmurs, staring at your glistening, kiss swollen lips and at the drool that runs on one corner. “please…” you whine, and ellie’s eyes nearly roll to the back of her head. please…? she repeats in her mind— and oh fuck.

⋆˙⟡♡

so she takes you inside, your hand in hers.

with the chocolate cake and the bottle of champagne and it’s glasses far forgotten, the sweet raspberry jam slowly melting away, the chocolate cake growing into a chocolate… pudding, the ants are sure to come. how pitiful, that bees will always triumph over them, and the wasps— or the lions, well, they triumph over everything.

what ellie wants to do right now, is take you up to her bedroom and ravish you in all your glory, but you’re no forgetful fool. with everything else washed away, how dare you forget her presents?, her moonflowers?

“ellie!” you exclaim, squeezing on her hand. “it’s nighttime! your birthday presents…” you wiggle out your eyebrows.

shit— she nearly forgot, she’s pretty sure that if someone placed an actual living and breathing dinosaur in her living room she wouldn’t even notice because you keep on rendering her a distracted mess.

besides, its your own fault, because how do you do that? how do you go from driving her crazy and making her want to eat you on the grass, to making her heart flutter and burst inside of her chest the moment after? you’re a magician, a witch, what the fuck are you? not a fairy— that’s for sure, fairies are scary.

“so… you wanna open them up or not?”

she wants to open you up. no, no! bad ellie! that’s definitely the champagne still talking (it’s long gone.)

“fuck yeah”

you grab the paper bags (with the little blue ribbon), and drag her upstairs. you physically drag her, because for some reason, opening her presents is making her incredibly nervous. you expected her to be more eager, to snap the bag out of your hand as soon as you allowed her, but instead— she sits on the bed and just waits. she’s waiting for you to hand them out to her.

the nervousness seems to eat you up as well, tummy aching (still the bees, but also some normal excitement)— and as you hand her the bag, a few questions start to arise.

what if she hates it? what if she hates flowers? what if she’s allergic to the ipomea alba, what if she starts sneezing and coughing and dying?! or what if she already managed to get over savage starlight? (in a matter of two days…) what if the cake sucked and she was lying all along and you’d disappoint her and she dumps you and—

“HOLY FUCKIN’ SHIT!!!!!!!!!” — she yelps, you didn’t even notice she opened the damn bag!

“this is…..” her eyes are bright and she smiles so big it nearly damn hurts the apples of her cheeks. “savage fucking star— fuck! s’the latest fucking one! how did you even manage to, fuck— gotta fuckin’ kiss you right now or i’d die”

ellie practically pounces on you, kissing you all over your face. cheeks— two kisses on each one, your nose, your forehead, your chin, both of your earlobes, “close your eyes, gotta kiss ‘em too”, your jaw, your neck…

“are you into me or something? cause it looks like you’re super into me, giving me this fuckin’ gift… dude. if you have feelings for me…”, she places her pointer and her middle finger on your chin and makes you look up at her. you stifle a giggle, “you gotta just tell me, might be into you too” she pecks your lip slowly and you instantly melt.

“we have to read it today… but only eight pages! gotta save it up”

she nearly buries her entire face in the comic book pages. she sniffs, “shit… even smells new” — a layer of fine dust adorns it, so you know it doesn’t.

“rented it from the library!” you chirp, the concept of libraries being one you merely only read about.

“there’s… something else in there too…” you begin. for some reason, giving her those flowers you picked makes you even more nervous. she curiously looks up at you. “there's more?”

you bend down to grab the paper bag off of the wooden floor. the moonflowers’ petals opened up, and there you were— awestruck again. “you can’t give me more things… it’s too much i don’t…” deserve it? you know she thinks so. regardless, she looks up at you adoringly, as your hand tremors and you lift the flowers out of the brown paper bag. you look at them, trying to decide if maybe you were just being delusional, maybe they’re not nearly as pretty as you thought they were when you came across them for the first time. perhaps they’re…

“woah…” ellie gazes at them, wide eyed. she doesn’t even know the meaning of them but yet she is nothing but mesmerised. “wh… what flower is this?” she asks, running her fingers on their dark green stems. when she reaches their creamy white petals, she moves her fingers even more delicately. caressing it, her knee nudges yours.

“moonflower” you reply silently, watching ellie’s digits adoring the bloom. “it’s… it’s really pretty”

you take a deep breath. “i picked it up cause… it reminds me of you”, you exhale, fiddling with your fingers. when she notices, she puts her hand, the one with the flowers in it— on top of yours. the room is quiet, except for ellie’s shallow breaths.

“it um… well… first of all, it’s beautiful, like you”, you flush, and ellie flushes as well. she swallows deeply, and involuntarily, a small “fuck” escapes from her throat.

“and… they’re not supposed to grow in jackson. it was purely by accident, so they’re special… like you, and uh… well, they only bloom during the night, which is why i waited. they’re strong, and they’re deadly, i mean— the venom is… so don’t… eat it, i guess.” you chuckle, and you barely even notice two fat tears streaming down your cheeks. “they remind me of you because they’re the prettiest flowers ive ever seen, and when i saw them… i was kinda of like… woah, just like what happened when i saw you for the first time, remember?” — ellie sniffles, and ellie’s crying. “so… you’re my moonflower”

ellie doesn’t know what to do. she looks up, covering her face with her hands. she wipes away a stupid tear, and then wipes away your precious one.

one whole minute passes.

“if i ever…” she begins, swallowing hard. “if i ever lose you? i think i might die” — because the moonflower needs sun to live, and you’re her sun, her lifeline.

you take her face in between your shaky palms. ellie’s lips hold a slight tremor, and then she laughs.

“i’m in love with you”

you don’t have to say it back. you really don’t, because again — actions speak louder than words. your soft lips meet her slightly chapped ones, and ellie hums into the kiss. different than the one before, this one is gentle, dim, the lust hasn’t disappeared— it’s still there, but it has something more to it, not diminishing it, just hovering above. could you guess what it is?

“i love y…” you whisper out, attempting to break the kiss, just if you could simply say this one thing, but ellie knows, she knows. she pulls you by the back of your neck more forcefully now, deepening the kiss. because you couldn’t finish your sentence, you pout— but ellie suckles on your bottom lip and wipes your silly pout away. her hand goes lower, from the back of your head to hold on to your waist, and she squeezes the covered flesh. you moan into the kiss, tasting her spit and her tongue, and oh god— the bees. you think you might have just another precious gift for her. one she’s been waiting for, one she’s been fantasising about, one that you’ve been fantasising about. when you moan into the kiss, ellie breaks it. she’s staring you down, panting again. “think i… have… one more gift” you whisper, and ellie— her lips parted, nods once. “one more?” she rasps, squeezing your waist again and pulling you up to straddle her. “mhm”, you hiccup as you feel yourself snugly pressed up against her.

she places one hand on your thigh, simply caressing it back and forth. the more up she goes, the more your breaths become uneven and so do her’s. it’s not entirely an unfamiliar territory— you've been seated on her lap a few times before (seven, but whos counting? she is), but this is… different. “whats your gift, huh?” she teases. you? are you going to be her gift? you always have been…

you whine when she traces small circles with her slender fingers on your clothed inner thighs. you whine and it makes ellie throb— you’ve never quite made that noise before, and she yearns to pull every single noise you could possibly make out of you. a whimper, a moan, god— a scream. she feels like she’s about to explode and christ, you’re still fully clothed.

like a hunter examining it’s prey, ellie moves her face forwards, and then downwards, towards your neck. she places a few chaste kisses, “ah! tickles…” ellie chuckles darkly, yearning to “tickle” you once more. she plants two more delicate, tickling kisses before suckling on the flesh. at first, her tongue meets your skin and she laps up at it. then, her teeth bite into it, and you nearly jump. “sorry… that hurt?” she asks, and really, she’s not sorry at all. “feels…” ellie cuts you off and sucks again. this time, she’s determined to leave a mark. “oh… feels…” you continue, shuddering in her arms like glass. she hasn’t even touched you, not really, and yet everything feels damp. your face, from your tears and from her tears and from spit, to the flesh of your neck that’s being sucked on and played with, down to the small wet patch inside your panties that you’d be mortified if she noticed.

when she finishes the assault on your neck, she moves up to your lips again and grunts when she sees how your lips were already parted, just for her. the kiss is slow, wet, her tongue kitten licking your own. it’s nasty, really, wet smacking and sucking noises filling the air. almost involuntarily, your hips start moving and grinding up against her thigh. ellie moans deeply. “mmph… yeah?” she teases, or at least tries to, because her voice is shaky and turned on to the max. she helps you move slightly, and my god she needs to take your pants off and feel your naked heat against her like this. when she thinks about what it must be like for you— she imagines your fat pussy lips squished up inside your panties, grinding on her thigh and she nearly loses it. she wants to help you grind harder… could she make you cum just from that? cum inside your pants whilst using her thigh? “fuuuck”, ellie groans and lifts her hand up, nearly smacking your ass but it ends up just landing on her own leg.

“s’not fair… what you’re doing…” she murmurs in your ear, “what did… what did i do?” you respond back, your voice high and needy. ellie doesn’t even know what she meant to say. all she knows is that it’s not fair. it’s not fair how you make her react and feel like this, the way your eyes glisten isn’t fair, the way you grind up on her thigh and make those sounds isn’t fair, the way you make her feel sticky and mushy and wet — without even taking your clothes off, isn’t fair.

still moving with fervour on top of her legs, her hand is dangerously close to where you need her the most. she nearly cups it, flips you over and ravishes you whole, but she stops herself. “can i please… take your fuckin’…” she rasps, running her short fingernails on your sides. she’s not scratching, but it’s not an entirely gentle movement either. she doesn’t know where to start, should she ask you to take your top off? your pants? — maybe she should just ask you to go completely naked. she settles on the little top, however.

you lift the fabric up slowly, but you do it out of nerves. as much as ellie wants it off, she lets you take it slow. you peel it off, exposing your skin inch by inch— do you even know how bad you’re teasing her right now? “ah, fuck” ellie groans out. when the shirt meets the top of your head, it gets stuck there for a second. you giggle nervously, your lacey bra on full display, and ellie considers just leaving you there to struggle by yourself. if your eyes are covered by the material, maybe you won’t notice how hard she’s staring. “need some help there, babe?” she teases as she leans back on her elbows. your laugh is muffled, and ellie chuckles. how are you so goddamn sexy and adorable at the same time? after ten whole seconds of struggling, ellie lifts it up for you. “there, good girl… wasn’t that hard, right? just needed my help?” she teases, and god is she mean— that little twinkle in her now much darker green eyes making you feel like your ears are about to melt off.

swiftly, ellie begins planting soft kisses all over your collarbones. her hand isn’t touching your breasts quite yet, but it’s hovering on top of them, and then you realize— she’s waiting for your approval, for your yes. you put your hands around her neck and push her forward, which makes her hands land on top of your breasts. ellie moans as soon as she feels them, and even though they’re covered by fabric — the lace is thin and she can feel your hardening nipples. she runs her thumb over the swollen buds and you shiver. “knew you’d be sensitive…” she murmurs to herself against your skin. “what did… uh, what did you say?”, you stutter, and then she looks up at you. “said…” she flicks it and you buck your hips. “fuck… knew you’d be sensitive”

she knew… you’d be? “you’ve, uh… thought about this before?” — and ellie chuckles, fully laughs nearly. if you only knew how many times she’s thought about this you’d probably crumble like a danish biscuit. “too many times” ellie confesses, and she almost gets too embarrassed to admit, but she swears she can feel a little wet patch on her jeans so she knows you must have thought about this as well, perhaps more than she has — but not likely. “i have too” you murmur shyly, and there it is.

“oh, really?” she asks, kissing right in between of your tits and making you jolt. if her lips feel this good on your chest… your eyes roll back to the top of your head. “so you’re just as filthy, huh?”, her right hand lands on your ass with the smallest smack, she knows she could make it hurt if she wanted to (and she does), but not yet. you jump and squeal, and in a random burst of confidence — “m’filthier…” you whisper.

with that, ellie grunts and takes your tits in her palms, she kneads the swollen flesh, pushing both of your breasts together and kisses right between the formed cleavage. “bet you’re filthier…” she whispers, opens her mouth so her tongue can stick out and lick between your cleavage line. when she does so, she brings her hand to your back and unclasps your bra with just her two fingers. she lets it cascade down, and she notices how shy you get, trying to bring your hands to cover yourself up. ellie is faster than you, and grabs both of your wrists so you can’t. you’re fully exposed, and ellie’s all pants and heavy breaths. when you try to wiggle yourself out of her grip, your tits move and bounce in the slightest, and ellie’s in trance. “you’re so… fuckin’ pretty” she takes your hard nipple in her mouth and you wince as soon as you feel her pink muscles wetness. “that feel good huh?” she takes your other breast in her hand and toys with it, palms it and making it shake.

with hungry kisses, she lays you down on her bed. you buck your hips forward, and ellie parts your legs with her own. she runs her hands all over your body, and before kissing you again, she stops. “els?” you ask, but ellie ignores you. ellie takes her top off, and fuck you’re nearly drooling. she wasn’t even wearing a bra, and her pretty pink nipples are just as hard as yours. you’re staring, and it’s ellie’s turn to go shy. “you like… ‘em?” she giggles, “shit, nevermind”

you don’t expect it, but ellie grabs the brown paper bag and pulls the moonflower bouquet out of it. “wh… what are you doing?”

“don’t worry about it” — she places the flowers on your chest. for some reason, your ears start to burn. “hold ‘em like that for me?” she asks, and you do. with ellie straddling you, it almost looks like she’s about to pull out a camera and take a picture. “perfect…” she murmurs, “feels like i marked you. s’over for you, you’re mine, y’know that?”

you think you’ve always known. “yours” you whisper coyly, giving her that toothy grin that makes her melt into a puddle. she leans forward, kissing the tip of your nose. “yours who?” she kisses your cheek, and then below it, and then on your jaw. “yours… ellie” — and she must be smiling, because you can feel her lips curl up on your skin.

she kisses you everywhere, on every scar, every blemish, sometimes she bites, but then soothes it with her tongue. you’re growing impatient, the pressure down your panties becoming insufferable. before she unbuttons your pants, she unbuttons her’s. she pulls them down, to sit right below her boxers covered ass. she comes up again, kissing on your tummy, and then — she puts her ear to it. “m’hearing them…” she murmurs. “they're… talking to me, the bees are begging me to fuc—“

“ellie!” you call out, embarrassed. you try and muffle your giggles with your hand but it’s all for nothing, because when she pulls your pants down you gasp. she takes a moment to stare, she could just stare at you forever, she thinks. ellie toys with the waistband of your panties, running her pointer finger on the line. she’s breathing heavy, and you’re nearly wheezing. she bends down to kiss your sopping covered cunt, “oh fu— wait!” you call out.

“i’m… i feel, i’m too shy i can’t…”, ellie smiles and kisses it again. she knows you are. “feels like i might—“ you cry out, feels like you might what?

“explode!”

“you might… but i got you, yeah?” ellie coos, and this time, she doesn’t kiss it, she runs her tongue along the wet patch. she wiggles it from side to side and fuck, she can taste you already and she thinks she might be addicted. your thighs tense and they involuntarily wrap around ellie’s head. she chuckles, and parts them apart. to soothe you, she runs her fingers on your inner thighs and caresses you gently. she kisses your clothed clit and she swears she just felt it pump. “awh… yeah?” she coos again, and it feel like she’s talking to your pussy and not to you. you whimper and drop your head back, and she sucks on it. she’s making the fabric grow nearly sheer with her tongue, and when she sees the outline of your pussy lips she moans deeply. “so wet…” she murmurs to herself, “this all for me, huh? did i do something?” she looks up at you, and your eyes are tightly shut, not even in a place where you feel like you can talk.

you’re fuzzy everywhere.

“can you answer me?” she warns, but chuckles when she sees your back arching as soon as she pulls your soaking wet panties to the side. you hum, “all f— for you”, but ellie doesn’t even hear it, because she’s faced with the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen.

your glistening folds, the tiny swollen button on top, and your hole practically clenching in and out over nothing and she thinks she might just die. she spits on it with a small “ptu”, watches as her warm saliva cascades down from your clit to your inviting hole. when you clench, your hole absorbs some of her spit and she groans deeply. “fuck that’s cute”

you’re panting, a sweet harmony of “please, ellie!” escaping your lips, and when you accidentally muttered a pathetic, squeaky “puhleaseee!” ellie scratched the idea of slowly, butterfly kissing your cunt till you’re begging and began placing an open mouthed kiss on it.

as her tongue meets your clit for the first time, you clutch your thighs around her head. it happens twice before she forces them open, “quit that, gotta see you” — she warns, and you listen because you just do. “look at me” she instructs, her voice muffled by your sweet pussy in her mouth. her tongue laps up the wetness from your hole, brings it to the top of your clit and sucks. ellie hums, she was right — you really are fuckin’ sweet. “so good…” she murmurs, “doin’ such a good job”, truly, you aren’t even doing anything, just squirming and whimpering under her touch. she moves her tongue around and you swear you just felt her spell something with it, “ellie!” you cry, and ellie’s breath hitches down her throat so she comes out for air and spits on your cunt again. she rubs the wetness with her fingers, then separates your pussy lips with her thumbs so she can see all of you.

you’re just like a flower, she thinks. slowly, she places her tongue on your clit again, but with her fingers on it still, she begins toying with your tight hole. she merely teases it, probing your entrance with her ring finger. “gonna put it inside, that okay?” she asks, but you’re unresponsive, a blabbering mess who doesn’t even remember her own name. ellie chuckles, she could probably do anything she wanted. she slips it inside, feeling your gummy walls squeezing her in, and she moans right when you do. “oh… gosh, ellie!”

“so fuckin’ tight” she whispers, returning her mouth on your clit and suckles deeply. she adds a second finger and now you’re gone, fully consumed by this filthy, pleasure filled monster. “i think m’gonna!” you cry and ellie whimpers out, nearly going cross eyed when she notices you’re toying with your nipples just like she did. “explode?” she breathlessly says. “c… cum!”

“good fuckin’…” she wants to complete that sentence, but instead her tongue dips lower and her hands push your thighs so your knees are pushed up against your chest. it goes even lower, licking your tightest entrance, the one that’s never been explored, not even by your own hands, and when she flicks her tongue upon it and then immediately goes back to your swollen clit you’re—

“cum’… m’cumming! m’cumming!” and yeah you are, ellie thinks, and slaps one of your thighs. you're jolting when you do, her name leaving your mouth like a prayer, and pray as much as you want but heaven will not be the one that accepts you, perhaps it’ll be purgatory, but with her in it it’s more than perfect. “uh huh… cum for me”

when you do, you see stars, and ellie sees moonflowers.

she laps up your saccharine juices, sucking them off her fingers one by one. you’re feeling faint, buzzing everywhere, from the tips of your toes to the top of your head. ellie looks up at you, eyelids half shut. when you see the index finger that was deep inside of you just a moment ago, go inside her mouth, her pouty pink lips around them and she’s lapping it up and she’s greedy— you cringe a little. she’s tasting and tasting and humming, “told you… you’re sweet”

[1d1195]

Honey I

Read Honey here | ~5k words

From me: Supposed to be a one-shot but I have literally NOT stopped writing. So it's going to be a series because I CANNOT shut up and while I tried to keep it short and sweet, there was just too much for them. Majority of this story is going to be in Harry's POV (kind of) because I just think it's more interesting.

Warnings: parent death out of NO WHERE early on, angst, fluff, and a whole lot of baby stuff

Summary: “Who’s Miss Honey?” He looked above his laptop screen, the last application in front of him.

She laughed softly, her cheeks turning the slightest shade of pink. “Me,” she smiled politely, but her focus was sweetly on the baby as she chugged her bottle. “The little ones that had me before loved Matilda, we watched it weekly, and they said I was sweet like Miss Honey.”

She was his favorite before she entered the room.

Harry had decided he was only going to have one love of his life and that was it. He had tried a lot. But now that he was officially in his thirties, it was time to stop being flighty. Time to focus only on those that would make his life better and only on the things that added to his life.

Of course, he hadn’t anticipated falling in love with her as hard as he did. He had heard the stories. But she was different. Naturally. He didn’t believe it was possible. Harry was in love before, and it always burned him the wrong way. Cheating, lying, using... he was victim to terrible relationships.

But her?

She was different. Her love was unconditional. The very first day. Harry was putty. A mess. A complete sap. The little girl was growing to have sweet green eyes and perfect pink lips. She had the making of soft brown hair and Harry wondered if it would turn to curls like his.

But she was so beautiful and so perfect. It brought him to his knees every time he came home from work and saw her little face glow with recognition that he was all hers—and he was. So truly, there didn’t seem to be much room for anything else.

He didn’t love her mom. It wasn’t anything personal. The plan was to co-parent. It was an amicable decision. They weren’t in love with one another. Only with the baby. “She is one-hundred percent Styles,” Chloe smirked in the hospital. “Traitor,” she cooed and kissed the little one on the forehead. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“Guess m’good for something,” he winked and kissed the top of her head. “Thanks for all your hard work,” he joked.

It wasn’t a bad thing. They weren’t meant to be together, and it was evident in the way she continued to date throughout her pregnancy. The way she drove Harry insane as he worried about every little blip on the ultrasound and paid no mind to the aches and pains she had. (They were minor; and Harry was a control freak.)

Someone like Harry didn’t like surprises.

Which was probably why he was so angry at the driver that took away his friend and the mother of his child in a horrific, tragic car accident. Leaving Harry completely at a loss as to how he was to care for the sweet little girl who’d only barely been in the world for a month.

*

Harry was an extremely successful businessman. His company made millions of dollars a day. Hundreds of thousands of dollars per hour. So, he had the means for just about anything. Except he hadn’t a clue how he was supposed to help a defenseless baby without a maternal figure. Chloe was happy to stay home, and Harry was willing to pay for anything she needed. They weren’t in a relationship, but he was happy to be friends. She needed a friend as much as Harry did. There wasn’t much family in her life and in a weird way, they were a family. Harry struggled to trust people. Be it because of the money or simply because he worked so hard to get where he was it was hard to let Chloe in after he found out she was pregnant but he was willing to for their baby.

While Harry had relied on his mum and Gemma following the accident, it was impossible to let them take on all the responsibility. Given Harry hadn’t been to the office in almost a month, he needed to figure something out and the sooner the better.

He wasn’t going to cheap out on a nanny. Not even slightly.

So, for the first time since the accident, Harry packed his schedule. Brought the baby and the pink backpack that didn’t match his navy suit to the office. The women fawned over the little miss. Even the men made faces at her. Especially her Uncle Niall—Harry’s best friend and business partner. “Think maybe I’ll just quit and watch her for you,” Niall suggested brushing his finger on her cheek.

Harry snorted and settled into the conference room where he would be conducting interviews. He had done interviews hundreds of times before in the very room, but this time was much different. This was his little girl. He was going to be thorough, and he was determined to find the best person.

“When’s she coming in?”

“Last,” he told Niall not needing a clue about who he was referring to.

“Best for last, I like it,” he joked. “If you need help or want a second opinion, let me know. Just anybody won’t be good enough for my niece. Isn’t that right Little Miss?” Niall cooed and pressed his lips to the top of her head making her little face quirk up in a smile in delight.

“Aw, she loves me.”

Harry didn't like the idea that she was smiling at Niall at all. “It’s probably gas,” Harry scowled. She wasn’t going to love anyone. Especially not a boy and especially not one that wasn’t Harry.

Niall clapped him on the back with a chuckle as he left the conference room with a wave.

*

The interviews were intense. Within seconds, Harry knew if the woman across from him was going to be a good fit. Harry wasn’t blind; he knew many of the women that traipsed into his office for an interview were there for him. Not the little one. The ones that didn’t even glance at her in her seat were given a set of short questions. Those that oohed and ahhed over her received a longer list of questions that he hoped would tell him everything he needed to know. But no one had sparked his interest by the time he got to the last name on his list.

Harry had the baby in her car seat on the table between them watching the way she interacted with her. For most of the time she slept. Harry did work between interviews—especially when the shorter ones ended before the allotted time scheduled.

It was right before the last interview that she woke from her nap. Her eyes wandered around the room, and she suckled on her pacifier. Harry smiled at her and gave her seat a little rocking motion.

Despite being the interview that he was most hopeful for, Niall chose that moment to interrupt. Requesting his presence immediately. Harry glared at his friend and turned his attention to the woman across the table from him. Her eyes hadn’t moved from the little one—only to hold Harry’s gaze while she shook his hand. Her handshake was warm, gentle, but firm. He thought that immediately spoke volumes and the moment their introduction was complete, she turned her attention to the baby.

“Why hello, Miss Cecelia,” she grinned. “Are you having fun at work today?” She asked. “Are you the boss of everyone?”

“She definitely the boss,” Niall said in the doorway gathering Harry’s attention. He wanted to smack Niall.

“Are you serious?” He grumbled as he walked through the door and glanced back at her as she played with Cece. “It couldn’t wait?”

“I don’t know why you even bothered. Sarah and Mitch’s friends swear by her.”

Harry sighed. It was helpful knowing that someone Sarah and Mitch trusted were content with her services. They said she even babysat for their baby a few times over the years and had nothing but good things to say.

“Hi, sorry, to interrupt. But she’s making a gummy little noise—I think she’s hungry. Do you have a bottle I can grab her?”

“It’s in the fridge,” Harry turned to Niall looking for help.

“I’ll go grab it—”

“Allow me,” she offered and hurried down the hall as if she had already been in the office her whole life. Niall looked at his friend pointedly. When Harry changed her diaper earlier, the woman he was interviewing was unimpressed and when her face twisted in disgust Harry dropped the short number of questions to an even smaller number.

About a minute and a half later she returned. She glanced over her shoulder, shaking the bottle and then testing it on the inside of her wrist in one movement. “Jeez, drool much,” Niall muttered. Harry looked at him curiously and wiped at his mouth in case he was drooling at the sight of her. But Niall nodded at the person at the end of the hall staring at her from where the break room was.

One of Harry’s employees was smiling after her as she walked down the hall, his gaze clearly lingering on something that was not his to linger on. “I’m not sure who he is, but he needs a sexual harassment seminar,” she muttered.

Harry’s gaze flicked to the man who’s eyeline was still much lower than it should have been. He opened his mouth to shout something, but Niall gently pushed him toward the conference room. “I’ll fire him, just go... hire the insanely perfect nanny.”

He stepped back into the room and she looked uncomfortable.

“I’m sor—”

“I’m sorry,” she interrupted quickly holding the bottle still. “I’m so used to just...” she shook her head and turned to Harry expectantly. “Does she eat in the car seat, or do you need to hold her? I can write my own notes for you if you want while you feed her,” she offered. Cecelia was starting to fuss, her eyes catching sight of her food and anticipating how yummy it would be.

Harry tried not to feel an overwhelming sense of hope but that was hopeless. She was already perfect.

“You can feed her,” he offered. “If you’re okay with that.”

“Hold this sweet little cutie? Don’t have to tell me twice,” she grinned delightedly and expertly and sweetly plucked the little one from between the straps and settled into her seat. “Hi girly, are you hungry?” She cooed. “I’m sure,” she said as if Cece had answered.

Harry felt a squeeze of pressure around his heart. While Cece settled into eating, Harry gave them both a moment to adjust while he clicked into her application documents on his laptop. The rest had been put into the computer’s recycle bin.

“Who’s Miss Honey?” He looked above his laptop screen, the last application in front of him.

She laughed softly, her cheeks turning the slightest shade of pink. “Me,” she smiled politely, but her focus was sweetly on the baby as she chugged her bottle. “The little ones that had me before loved Matilda, we watched it weekly, and they said I was sweet like Miss Honey.”

She was his favorite before she entered the room.

But now that she was in the room, he noted Miss Honey had a gorgeous smile which was not part of the qualifications. But Harry wasn’t blind to that either. It was perhaps the only way she looked similar to the women that came through for interviews before her. But even then, there was something so much better about her smile than the rest. Maybe because it was shy and sweet. It wasn’t flashy and certainly not directed for Harry. No, it seemed her smile belonged to Cece and that was it. She watched as Cece sucked down her milk and her eyes shone with pride, adoration, and warmth. Something Harry wasn’t sure he could explain to someone else without having them see it with their own eyes. Her body held Cece perfectly. Like she was meant to hold her. Effortless.

What was part of what made her infinitely more qualified than the others he saw, were the glowing and gushing letters from the previous family that had her. Even the little ones who signed with their name and ages (five and eight) told Harry in their little crayon letters that Miss Honey was the best. It was tragic they were moving, and she couldn’t go too far from her own family. She was everything Harry could have hoped for. The two letters from the children she nannied for pulled at his heart in a way he didn’t know was possible.

“Hi Cecelia,” she cooed while Harry looked over the words Mitch and Sarah’s friends used to describe her: dependable, intelligent, wonderful, and completely perfect. “You are so pretty; do you know that?” She asked and brushed her finger on Cece’s little cheek while she ate. “Does she sleep well?”

Harry was exhausted. Mostly because he thought every little noise was bad. He was completely thrown during the time off he took while he figured out the situation. It was a huge adjustment for him and Cece. Everything he did felt like it was wrong. “Sometimes,” he said quietly.

“How about eating?” She asked. “It seems like it’s good. Are you a good eater, Miss Cecelia?” she smiled excitedly at the little one. Harry didn’t answer because he felt like he was being interviewed and even though he had no issue answering her, he just wanted to feel a semblance of control over this otherwise stressful, uncontrollable life. “Sorry,” she blushed a shade deeper when no answer came. “I just... I want to know everything about her. I’m not judging, I swear. I... I heard about what happened to her mom,” her voice was full of sympathy. “I’m so sorry Mr. Styles.”

Harry didn’t love Cece’s mum—not that way, but she didn’t deserve to be ripped away from their daughter either. He swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded. “Thank you.”

Over the last month and a half, Harry became even colder and more distant. Once Cece was born, he didn’t love anyone but his baby girl, his company, and his family. With the little one, he planned on never falling in love again. Maybe when she was eighteen and started to live her own life, he would try again but he was certain he was never going to be able to leave Cece to her own devices. He was wrapped around her little finger that was smaller than the width of his bottom tooth. “Can I ask how many people have interviewed?” She wondered.

“Several...” Harry sighed. It felt like hundreds.

“What do you want for Cecelia?” She asked. Harry tilted his head at her. She was still looking at Cece, she was almost finished with her bottle and her little fingers wrapped around the bracelet near the bottle. “Do you like jewelry, Cecelia?” She giggled. “Good girl; don’t ever settle for anything less than what you want,” she smiled knowingly. Once the bottle was finished, she placed it on the table, then immediately brought her to her chest to burp her.

Harry was unable to form any of the questions he wanted to ask. In the span of a half hour, he hadn’t asked a single question he had prepared because he didn’t need to. “Good girl,” she praised as the little air bubble escaped her lips. Harry thought she would be good. But he didn’t know she would be this good. Then, she placed her back into the car seat and grabbed the toy Harry had left for her to hold onto while he interviewed. It was a small set of rubbery keys. Each one had a different texture and color. They were also filled with little balls that sounded like a rattle when it moved. “Is that so cool?” She asked Cece and giggled when Cece shoved one of the keys into her gummy little mouth.

Harry’s phone rang. He didn’t want to answer it because even though he was taking time off to figure all this out, he had to work anyway. He sighed heavily; wishing he could ask at least one question from his list. “Would y’mind? I have t’take this,” he frowned.

“Of course,” she smiled politely.

It couldn’t have been more than five minutes and then Harry was back at the conference room table. He looked at her playing with his little girl making silly noises and faces at the baby. Looking at her with so much love Harry felt like he was intruding.

Then Cece giggled a funny little sound that was most definitely accompanied by her smile. Harry’s heart clenched. She had never made that sound before but when she made it again, he was surer. He gasped. Miss Honey turned to Harry and tilted her head curiously. “She’s never giggled before,” he murmured.

“Oh goodness,” her cheeks pinked again in embarrassment. Then she bit the inside of her lip. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. Some parents were heartbroken about firsts happening while they weren’t around nor responsible for it. Looks like she would be looking for another family entirely.

“Don’t be,” he came over and brushed his finger over her little cheek and she smiled at the sight of him. It made his heart ache deeply. “Is Miss Honey so silly?” He used a voice that he should have felt embarrassed using around someone he was interviewing but if he was going to hire her, she would have to get used to it.

“Can you giggle again, cutie pie?” She asked and popped her lips, making the smile Harry loved more than anything in the world appear on her lips. Then the tiniest little noise came from her mouth again making Harry forget all about her smile and fell in love with the noise instead.

“Aren’t you so silly, Cece,” he cooed again and made the same popping sound.

She giggled again and it seemed it was decided. Cece had spoken. Or giggled her suggestion.

“This is m’address,” he handed her a business card with his home address on the back of it. “I’ll have a moving truck come t’your place on Friday. My personal phone number is there too. I already have you’re your phone number from your application,” he explained. “You can start Monday?”

“Yes, absolutely...but are you sure...? I know things popped up you didn’t really get to ask me any question—”

“Do y’want the job?” He asked.

She nodded eagerly. “Yes, very much so.”

“Then it’s yours.”

Her smile was so beautiful Harry wanted to reach out and touch her face. “Thank you, Mr. Styles.”

“You can call me Harry, love,” he said and stuffed his hands in his pockets so he wouldn’t do something insane like touch her face. “M’sorry ‘bout my former employee. Thank you for bringing it to m’attention.”

Her jaw dropped. “You fired him?”

Harry nodded easily. “Of course. I have a daughter. If he’s going t’ogle you and say something t’you that obviously wasn’t appropriate, m’not going t’let him work for me.”

“Harry,” she said quietly. “That was... I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s done,” he said simply. “I’ll see you Friday?” He asked.

She nodded. “Friday.”

“Do y’want t’say goodbye t’Cece?” He asked while her eyes darted to the little baby gnawing and drooling all over the toy keys.

Her smile bloomed and her cheeks blushed. “Yes, please,” she nodded quickly, unable to hide her want.

Harry smiled.

*

The next month passed in an insane blur.

She had moved into Harry’s spectacular home. It was huge. Tall ceilings, beautiful light fixtures, and shiny hardwood floors. Harry made sure her room had everything it needed. But still remained simple. A desk, a bed, a dresser, and a bookshelf. But she had plenty to make it her own, which Harry assured her she could do whatever she wanted to the walls so long as she didn’t knock them down, which made her giggle.

She had a huge walk-in closet that fit more clothes than she had which only signaled she could go shopping. But the best part was a little alcove that she would use for reading—it pushed outward of the house with a little bench in front of the window. It caught great light, and she could see Harry’s expansive backyard and garden through it. Harry also had a huge pool which excited her. It would help get her workouts in.

The walls were grey-blue, and it fit in with a lot of the décor she had. She hung pictures using removable sticky hooks—a holdover from college. She spaced them out between her couple rooms. She thought this room would have been perfect for a nursery but when she saw Miss Cecelia had a skylight that let in the moonlight and when she checked on her in the middle of the night that first day, it made way more sense.

Her bathroom was massive as well. It had a walk-in shower and no tub, which was fine with her. It was painted a light yellow, so it felt just bright and sunny. The water pressure was to die for she worried she would really stay in the shower way longer than she should have because of it. Harry took Cecelia to his mom’s house where he was going to stay for the weekend to let her get settled without him around. “Do you have a nanny cam?” She asked him. “I don’t mind if you do, I just want to make sure I don’t walk around naked or anything,” she joked.

Harry’s face had a strange look on it and then he cleared his throat. “No, security cameras are... they’re all outdoors.”

“So no skinny dipping,” she joked again, hoping the weird expression would disappear from his face but instead it remained and Harry smiled weakly before turning his attention back to Cece and making sure she was correctly in her seat.

“If you need help moving furniture or anything, let me know I can send someone over.”

“Okay,” she answered quietly worried she would say the wrong thing again.

“Alarm and lock codes and keys are on the breakfast counter for you. You’re welcome t’anything in the kitchen. You can use the car in the garage or y’can call m’driver,” he looked at her pointedly. “I’d prefer y’not Uber or take taxis.”

Her heart fluttered for what she wasn’t sure. It was no secret that Harry Styles was beautiful. When her previous family told her they were moving, she was devastated. She had been with them for two years and she loved them like they were her younger siblings. They offered for her to move with them, but she didn’t want to be far away from where they were. It was at least the same coast as her family, and she just loved the city they were in.

But when they told her they were recommending her to Harry, she was happy. Her research (social-media stalking) found very little. He was in news articles pertaining to Cece’s mom’s car accident which made her heart ache for both of them. Even though the articles made it very clear they were not a couple. Cece would never know her mom, but she hoped that Harry would tell her about her anyway. She found his company and read their mission statement. Harry did a lot of philanthropy which made her heart ache again. It was so kind and sweet. But there wasn’t much she got about Harry from her search. His personal pages were private and there was very little information. Even articles in local newspapers and magazines didn’t have much from interviews. Of course she could respect his privacy, but she was hoping to know a little more about the man she was going to be living with.

This was only her third nannying gig. But she fell in love with Cece the moment she laid eyes on her. She wanted Harry to like her and so far, all she felt was his cold and distant indifference. When he smiled at Cece she saw warmth and happiness. It was completely different than the persona he had when he directed it to her. But Harry chose her to do this. That had to mean something. Maybe he loved Cece’s mom more than the articles let on. Maybe it was a ruse. She couldn’t imagine what that call was like for Harry. There had to be stuff he was working through.

So she didn’t let his indifference bother her.

Or at least... she tried to not let it bother her.

*

Monday, she woke up early and got herself ready early before breakfast time. Harry said he left the house at seven-thirty so he would be at work an hour earlier than most everyone else. When she got to the kitchen, she started a pot of coffee. But then she noted there as a box of English breakfast tea, and she realized her mistake and turned the kettle on the stove instead.

Once the drinks were set on the counter to cool just a bit, she headed to Cece’s room. Found her gazing up at her mobile. “Hello sweet girl,” she cooed and her little face grinned. “We’re going to give you a quick change and then go get you some breakfast, yeah?” She scooped her out of her crib and turned to the changing table. She heard the shower turning off a couple rooms over while she quickly changed her. Harry was naked only a few rooms over.

Harry was excessively handsome. He was tall, with dark hair, gorgeous eyes, and a jawline that looked like it could cut through marble. But she thought he was most handsome when he smiled at Cece. It made a flutter in her heart to see him interact with the little one.

But a naked Harry might have been good too.

Cece made little noises trying to talk in a way that only made sense to a two-and-a-half-month old and pulled her inappropriate thoughts from her boss’ body. Even if she was sure there were muscles upon muscles hiding under suits.

When Cece was all changed and comfy, she put her on her hip, draping her securely with the wrap meant to keep her hands free. The kitchen was still empty, so she tended to Cece’s bottle and grabbed the bread from the breadbox to make toast. Once she learned what Harry liked she would make a better breakfast but surely everyone liked toast. Given there was a jam that was half eaten in the fridge she only assumed that she was correct.

“Hi,” Harry said quietly as she pulled the bottle from the warmer. She spun around and took in Harry’s perfectly styled hair, his suit that fit him like a second skin, and his shaven face.

“Good morning,” she grinned. “I...I made you tea, but I didn’t know how you took it.”

He tilted his head at her and noted the toast popping as well with his favorite jam sitting on the counter. She was making him breakfast.

Was that normal? Harry had no idea how a nanny worked. He never thought he would need one.

“Um...there’s also plenty of coffee if you prefer that—”

“No, thank you. Tea. Three sugars. Thank you,” he repeated and grabbed the sugar.

“Do you like a lot of jam or—”

“Just a regular amount,” he watched scooping the sugar into his drink with a teaspoon.

She slid the plate across to him. “Do you want to feed her, or would you like me to?”

“I’ll take her,” he offered. He wanted to see his little lady before he left anyway and could use a snuggle. It was the first time in a month he wouldn’t have her glued to him.

“Let’s go see Dada, Cece,” she cooed and pulled her from the strappy wrap that Harry could never figure out. “Who’s that?” She wrinkled her nose and smiled as she held her out to Harry. Cece grinned and melted Harry’s heart as he smirked and held his hands out for her. He gave her a big kiss on the cheek.

“Hi, Ce,” he hummed and grabbed the warmed bottle as well. He sat on the stool around the breakfast island and brought the bottle to her lips. “Did y’sleep well, cutie pie?”

She didn’t answer of course, focusing on sucking down her bottle instead. Part way through, her little eyes closed, and she stopped sucking. “Blow on her face,” she said.

“Pardon?”

She smiled. “If you blow on her face, she’ll become alert again. The bottle just tastes so good she’s a little drunk,” she giggled.

Harry blew a quick breath on Cece’s perfect little face and sure enough she perked right back up.

Harry had such long arms he could hold and wrap his arm around, so the bottle reached Cece’s mouth with one hand (sure it wasn’t the most comfortable angle) but it allowed him to take a sip of his tea and get a bite of his toast as well. Harry watched as she made her second cup of coffee and put cream and sugar into it. “Coffee hmm?” He asked.

She nodded. “I prefer iced, but I won’t say no to hot coffee.”

He pulled his phone from his pocket and put it on the counter so he could tap at the screen. “I’ll buy an iced machine,” he said quickly scanning the quick reviews on Google for the best one.

She was gaping at him. “Harry, that’s not necessary.”

“Course it is. Want you t’be comfortable here. S’least I can get you. S’your house too,” he shrugged.

Perhaps it would have been different had he been in love with the woman that previously lived here. But this was different. That was too much. “Harry, seriously.”

“Seriously, s’fine, love,” he shrugged one shoulder without looking up at her.

“Honestly, I can just use ice from the—”

“It’ll be here by the end of the day,” he said ending the discussion. He took another sip and bite of his tea. “Did y’do something different to the toast?” He asked putting his hand in front of his mouth so she wouldn’t see him chewing.

“I put butter on before the jam. I think it makes it sweeter. Sorry I should have—”

“I like it,” he smiled. A genuine smile. “Thank you, love.”

“You’re welcome. But...about the coffee... I really don’t think you needed to get me—”

He shook his head as he sipped the final remnants of his tea. “It’s done, love. S’nothing t’worry ‘bout,” he shrugged and just as Cece finished her bottle, Harry caught the time. “I have t’go,” he frowned. “You have a fun day with Miss Honey, Cece, yeah?” He winked at her making her heart skip a beat as she watched him kiss his baby’s cheek again. “I love you have a good day,” he cooed and kissed her again. “Do y’want her or should I put her in the swing?”

“Um... I’ll take her,” she murmured stunned by the interaction.

“Have a good day, Miss Honey,” he smiled sweetly.

She liked morning Harry a lot.

--

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[sarahisslytherin]

thinking about remus being absolutely lovestruck when he sees you in your dress for the yule ball <3

you could have sworn remus’s eyes glazed over with what could only be described as awe as he watched you descend the staircase. you had been desperate to go to the yule ball and when remus finally stepped up and asked you to be his date you were over the moon. lily wasted no time whisking you away for a lengthy day of dress shopping, where you found the gown of your dreams. it was a shade of olive green that complimented your skin and features as if it were made with you in mind. flowers adorned it, matching ones strewn into your hair which was now pinned up around the nape of your neck. you didn’t need a mirror to know you were blushing, beaming when remus clutched his heart as if it were just about to leap out of his chest.

“like it?” you asked coyly, twirling around in a haze. remus smirked, taking your hand in his as you reached the bottom of the stairs. your heels clicked against each of the marble steps. 

“that would be an understatement.” he said, his eyes crinkling above a sweet smile. “you must be the prettiest girl here.”

you blushed at his words, laughing it off. “i highly doubt that.”

remus gently held your face in his palms. “i mean it, you know. you’re stunning.”

you decided to believe him. the earnest look on his face made it difficult not to. 

“well then, tell me, moony.” you purred, smoothing your delicate hands over his coat. “if i’m so stunning, then why haven’t you asked me to dance yet?”

he only gave you a playful roll of those beautiful brown eyes you so often got lost in, grinning ear to ear as he pulled you flush against him. “i was getting there, you arse.” he pressed a chaste kiss to the crown of your head before leading you onto the dance floor.

[gtgbabie0]

-Finnick Odair x reader

{Finnick says those three special words}

He’s so boyfriend! 💕 enjoy my lovelies

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The sun is setting, casting hues of pink and orange that shimmer along the ocean water. It’s a mesmerising sight that you can’t seem to stop looking at, despite the fact that you and Finnick come to this beach almost everyday.

He watches you with a soft smile, his heart hammering inside his chest at the way the afternoon sun kisses your skin making you glow in the most prettiest of ways. His eyes take in the shape of your lips and the curve of your nose. He’d study you for hours upon hours if you’d let him.

“You’re staring” You smile, turning your head to the side to look at him. His face reddens slightly with embarrassment, trying to cover it up with a smirk.

“I’m just enjoying the view” He replies with a playful wink, chuckling at the way you roll your eyes.

The sea ripples at your ankles as you dig your fingers through the sand looking for seashells. You have a small collection consisting of only three shells; one for the time you and Finnick went on your real first date, another for the day he got reaped and one for when he came back from winning his games.

All of them are different shapes, colours and sizes sitting neatly on your bedside table. They were the only things that got you through the days where he was gone, the memories of him live through the groves of the shells and the sound of the sea that’s trapped within them.

“This one… this one is perfect” You tell him holding up the small shell. It’s chipped slightly at the top but besides from that, it’s in great shape. You hold the shell up to his eyes nodding your head softly.

Finnick frowns ever so slightly, eyebrows pulled together in confusion as he watches you press the seashell up to the side of his face. “What are you doing?” He chuckles softly looking over at your hand.

“It matches your eye colour” You whisper as you study the different shades of greens and blues, how some are darker and lighter in areas and how they come together to mimic his eyes.

Finnick thinks you might’ve just broken him, the teasing words die on his tongue and suddenly he’s finding it hard to breathe.

“You’re gonna add it to your collection?” He grins softly as you nod, making a comment about how you’re gonna start a shrine dedicated to him and he doesn’t bother hiding the blush that dusts his cheeks.

He does the same thing, his eyes glancing up to yours and then to the sandy floor in search of a seashell. He picks up one, then another and holds them up to your eyes, his warm hand grazing against your cheek as he does so.

“You’re so beautiful” He whispers, taking notice of how the sunlight hits your eyes. You tilt your chin down to your chest as a breathless giggle falls from your lips and Finnick wastes no time in holding your jaw gently, making you look up at him.

“Why’re you shying away from me honey?” He smirks and you curse him silently because he knows damn well what he’s doing to you, especially when his thumb begins to soothe against your cheek and the space just under your eye.

“I’m not shying away” You breathe glancing down at the seashells that lay in his palm. “Have you found a match yet?” You ask before he can continue with his teasing.

Finnick looks down at the shells with a smile. “Hmm?… oh yeah, this one” He says as he hands you the seashell that matches your eye colour, it twists into a cone and the end is chipped off.

They both sit in the palm of your hand, one that resembles his and one that resembles yours, and there’s something about it that melts him, the thought that no matter what happens you’ll always have a reminder of him.

“I’m gonna add them to my collection” You smile as his eyes meet yours, full of love, an overwhelming feeling that bleeds into his chest and he just can’t seem to get enough of.

The words fall so effortlessly from his lips and he doesn’t hide away from them. “I love you” It’s such a simple declaration but the way he says it takes you back. His tone is soft but passionate, dripping with affection. A soft gasp escapes you as the words linger in the air.

Before Finnick can even begin to question himself you’re already wrapping your arms around his shoulders, hugging him tightly. “I love you too Finn” You whisper against his neck, the smell of sea salt lingers in his hair.

It’s all he’s ever wanted and more, stored in those special words and now he’s said it once he’s never going to stop. He rests his forehead against yours, his hand against your cheek as he kisses you softly, noses bumping against each other’s slightly.

“I love you so much” He says once more, against your lips with a smile. You whisper the words back in between sweet kisses that soon taper off, breaking slowly as the pair of you smile uncontrollably. He glances down at the shells in your hand, the same ones that’ll sit on your bedside table for years to come.

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[lxndonorris]

a perfect summer break - Charles Leclerc

Charles Leclerc x Y/N Theme: a little bit of everything, mostly fluff spending time on Charles's yacht during the summer break with a wet surprise for Charles x word count: 3415+ taglist: @game-set-canet open for requests :)

The Mediterranean sun shines brightly in the cloudless sky, casting a golden glow across the still waters. The only sounds are the gentle lapping of the waves against the yacht and the occasional cry of a seagull soaring high above. It is the perfect day—warm, peaceful, and serene—the kind of day made for relaxation and enjoying life's little pleasures.

Inside the luxurious cabin of the yacht, you stretch lazily, the feeling of pure contentment filling every fiber of your being. The smell of saltwater mixed with the faint scent of sunscreen lingers in the air, a comforting reminder that you're far away from the bustling world of Formula 1. It's summer break, and there's no better way to spend it than out here on the open sea, alone with the person you adore.

You take a moment to appreciate the opulence around you. The yacht, sleek and modern, in a world unto itself, with every amenity one could desire. The cabin is cool and shaded, a stark contrast to the heat outside. But while the interior is lovely, it's the world beyond that calls to you—the endless blue of the ocean, the warmth of the sun, and, of course, Charles.

You slip into a light cover-up and head out of the cabin, your bare feet padding softly across the wooden deck. The sound of the sea becomes more pronounced as you open the door, and your heart skips a beat as you see him—Charles Leclerc, your boyfriend—standing at the edge of the yacht, his hands casually on the railing.

He looks stunning, as always. His swim shorts hug his lean, toned body, accentuating the muscles he's worked so hard to maintain. A few pieces of jewelry—a necklace, a couple of rings, and his ever-present sunglasses—glint in the sunlight, adding to his effortlessly cool demeanor. The sun casts a warm glow on his skin, though you notice he's starting to turn a bit red. 

Despite the slight burn, he looks utterly relaxed, his usual intensity replaced with a rare tranquility.

Charles is gazing out at the horizon, lost in thought, when you step closer. His hair, tousled by the sea breeze, flutters lightly, and the corners of his mouth curve up as if he senses your approach. 

The sight of him like this, so calm and content, fills you with a warm affection. You move silently, your fingers itching to touch him, to close the distance between you.

When you finally reach him, you gently run your hand along his broad shoulders, feeling the heat of his skin under your fingertips. Charles tenses slightly at the unexpected touch, then relaxes, a soft hum escaping his lips as your hand trails down his spine and along his waist.

He turns his head slowly, and you're greeted by that irresistible smile—the one that makes your heart flutter no matter how many times you've seen it.

"Hey, beautiful," he murmurs, his voice soft and full of affection.

You smile back, your fingers still tracing lazy patterns on his back. "Hey, you. Enjoying the sun?"

"Mmm, always," he replies, leaning into your touch. "Though I think I might be getting a bit too much of it."

You laugh softly, your hand now resting on his side. "You might be right about that. A little red, but still looking fantastic."

Charles chuckles; the sound low and warm. He removes his sunglasses and sets them down on the nearby table, revealing those stunning green eyes that always seem to capture your soul. They are so clear, so expressive, and they lock onto yours with an intensity that makes your breath catch.

For a moment, you just stand there, soaking in the beauty of the moment, the comfort of being with him. His presence is all-encompassing, yet never overwhelming. It's as if the world has shrunk down to just the two of you, here on this yacht, floating in the vastness of the sea.

Breaking the comfortable silence, you ask with a playful glint in your eyes. "Do you have your phone on you?"

Charles raises an eyebrow, clearly puzzled by the question. "No why?"

You smile mischievously, stepping a little closer. "Good, because the water is calling you."

Before he can react, you give him a gentle push, sending him over the edge of the yacht. His eyes widen in surprise, and he lets out a half-laugh, half-shriek as he tumbles into the crystal-clear water below. 

There is a loud splash, followed by a moment of silence as you watch the spot where he disappeared.

You giggle, your heart racing with a mix of excitement and mischief. You love teasing him like this, knowing he'll be plotting his revenge the moment he surfaces. 

Without wasting another second, you dive in after him, the cool water a refreshing shock against your sun-warmed skin.

You emerge from the water, gasping slightly at the temperature difference. The sun overhead feels hotter now, the rays reflecting off the water's surface in dazzling patterns. 

But there is no sign of Charles. You glance around, treading water, a playful sense of unease creeping in.

Where did he go?

Just as you're about to call out his name, something grabs you from behind, pulling you underwater. You let out a startled yelp before being submerged, bubbles escaping your lips as you twist around. 

When you resurface, sputtering and laughing, you find Charles grinning at you, his hair slicked back from the water, eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Gotcha!" he exclaims, his laughter mixing with yours.

You splash him in retaliation, and soon you're both engaged in a playful water fight, your laughter echoing across the empty sea. It's a liberating feeling, being out here with him, away from the pressures of his career and the constant media attention. 

Here, you're just two people in love, enjoying each other's company in the most carefree way possible.

After a while, you tire of the game, and Charles swims closer, wrapping his arms around you. You lean into him, resting your head on his shoulder as you both float lazily in the water, letting the gentle waves rock you back and forth.

"This is perfect," you murmur against his skin, closing your eyes as you soak in the moment.

"Yeah," Charles agrees, his voice soft in your ear. "It really is. Just you and me, the sun, and the sea. No races, no schedules, no nothing."

You nod, feeling completely at peace. Being with Charles like this, away from everything, makes you realize just how much you treasure these quiet moments together.

It's in these times that you see a different side of him—the side that's not the fierce competitor or the media darling, but the man who loves you with all his heart.

Eventually, you both decide to head back to the yacht, your limbs feeling pleasantly tired from the swim. Charles climbs up the ladder first, offering you his hand as you follow. 

The sun hits you with full force once you're back on deck, and you shiver slightly as the breeze picks up, cooling the droplets of water clinging to your skin.

"Let's let the sun dry us off," Charles suggests, gesturing to the cushioned lounge chairs that are perfectly positioned to catch the sunlight.

You agree, and the two of you settle down next to each other, lying on your backs with your faces turned up toward the sky. The warmth of the sun soon chases away the chill, and you close your eyes, feeling yourself drift into that pleasent, lazy state that only comes on the most perfect summer days.

As you lie side by side, Charles shifts closer, the space between you disappearing until he's right there beside you. Without hesitation, he moves to join you on the same lounge chair, adjusting himself so that you're nestled comfortably together. 

There's just enough room for both of you, and you can feel the warmth of his skin against yours, the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathes.

As you lie nestled together, the familiar scent of Charles reaches your nose—a mixture of salt from the sea, the lingering freshness of his cologne, and that indefinable warmth that is uniquely his.

It's a scent you've come to love—one that instantly calms you and fills you with a deep sense of comfort. You breathe it in deeply, letting it envelop you, and a soft smile tugs at your lips.

You reach out, your hand resting on his firm chest, the rhythmic beat of his heart steady under your palm. His skin is still slightly damp from the swim, but the sun has already begun to dry him off, leaving him warm on the touch. 

You begin to gently stroke his chest, your fingers tracing the defined lines of muscles, feeling the strength and power that he carries so effortlessly.

Charles hums softly, his eyes half-closed in contentment. His own hand finds its way to your arm, his fingers trailing up and down in a soothing, repetitive motion. It's a tender, intimate gesture, one that speaks of the deep connection you share.

The world around you seems to fade away, leaving only the sensation of being here, together, in this perfect moment.

His hand moves slowly, almost absentmindedly, from your shoulder to your wrist, and back up again, as if he's memorizing the feel of your skin. The simple act of touch, being close to each other, is enough to make your heart swell with affection.

You feel the love radiating from him, not in words but in the way he touches you, in the way he holds you close.

You lift your head slightly, gazing at him. His eyes are still that vivid green, but now they're softer, more relaxed, filled with a peacefulness that you rarely see during the racing season. 

His face, too, is relaxed, free of the tension and focus that usually dominate his features when he's in the public eye.

"What are you thinking about?" you ask quietly, your fingers still brushing over his chest.

Charles opens his eyes fully, turning his head to look at you. A slow smile spreads across his face, one that reaches his eyes, and makes them twinkle. "I'm thinking about how perfect this is," he replies, his voice low and sincere. "How perfect you are."

You feel a flush of warmth spread through you, not just from the sun, but from his words. You smile back at him, your heart feeling as though it might burst with happiness.

"You're the perfect one," you tease gently, but there's truth in your words. To you, he really is.

He chuckles softly, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. His lips are warm and gentle, and you can't help but smile as the slight roughness of his stubble brushes against your skin.

The sensation is both familiar and comforting, a reminder of the many times he's held you like this, his affection evident in every touch.

"We're both pretty lucky, I think."

He moves to kiss your cheek, and again, that faint tickle from his stubble makes you giggle softly. You can't help but lean into it, savoring the contrast between the roughness of his stubble and the softness of his lips.

It's a feeling that's become intimately familiar to you—one that you've come to associate with the quiet, tender moments you share with him.

What's so funny?" He asks, pulling back just enough to look at you, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Your stubble," you reply with a playful grin. "It tickles, but... I like it."

A slow, teasing smile spreads across his face as he leans in to kiss you again, this time on the lips. The sensation is electric, his stubble adding a deliciously rough texture to the softness of the kiss.

You sigh into it, your hand moving to the back of his neck to pull him closer, deepening the kiss.

His stubble continues to graze your skin, the sensation sending little shivers of pleasure down your spine. It's a small, intimate detail, but it's one of the many things you love about being close to him.

When he finally pulls back, you're both breathless, and you smile up at him.

"I'm never letting you shave that off," you say, half-teasing, half-serious.

Charles laughs, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he brushes a hand over his stubble. 

"I'll keep that in mind," he replies, leaning down to kiss you again, this time on your nose, eliciting another giggle from you.

As you nestle closer to him, you sigh contentedly, closing your eyes as you rest your head on his shoulder. 

The sun continues to bathe you in its warmth, and the gentle rocking of the yacht adds to the feeling of utter relaxation. Charles's hand still moves on your arm; his touch light and comforting.

For a while, you both lie there in silence, just enjoying the simple pleasure of being close to one another. The sun's rays start to soften as it dips lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the deck. The air cools slightly, but neither of you makes a move to get up.

There is something about the moment that feels timeless, as if nothing else matters except the two of you and the love that you share.

You feel Charles shift slightly, his lips brushing against your temple. 

"You know," he murmurs, his voice soft and filled with affection. "I could stay like this forever."

You smile, your hand resting over his heart.

"Me too, Charles. Me too."

As you lie comfortably in his arms, your eyes drift over Charles's skin, noticing the slight redness from too much sun. You can't help but chuckle softly, the sound escaping your lips before you even realize it. 

The thought of his usually careful self forgetting something as simple as sunscreen brings a playful smile to your face.

Charles notices your amusement and raises an eyebrow, his lips curling into a curious grin. 

"What's so funny now?"

You reach out and gently run your fingers over his warm, slightly sunburned skin, feeling the heat radiating from it.

"I´was just thinking," you say with a teasing lilt in your voice, "that you really need to put on some sunscreen, Mr. Leclerc. We can't have you turning into a tomato before the break is over."

He glances down at his own chest and arms, chuckling along with you as he realizes just how much the sun has kissed his skin.

"You're right," he admits with a sheepish smile. "I might've overdone it a bit." His tone is light, filled with that easygoing charm you love so much.

You laugh softly, leaning in closer, so your noses almost touch. 

"Looks like I'll have to take care of you," you murmur, your voice playful yet tender.

Charles's smile widens, and his eyes soften as he looks at you, the affection in his gaze making your heart skip a beat.

"I'd like that," he replies, his voice low and full of warmth.

Before you can say anything more, he closes the distance between you, capturing your lips in a gentle kiss. His stubble tickles your skin, making you smile against his mouth. 

The kiss is sweet and unhurried, a perfect reflection of the lazy, sun-soaked day you've spent together. You can taste the salt of the sea on his lips, feel the warmth of his skin under your hands, and it makes you feel completely, blissfully content.

When you finally pull back, your forehead rests against his, and you both chuckle softly, the sound mingling in the stillness of the evening. 

"Seriously, though," you say with a playful smile, "we need to get you some sunscreen before you're too burnt to enjoy the rest of our time here."

Charles grins, his eyes twinkling with amusement. 

"Alright, alright. I'll let you play nurse." He teases, kissing the tip of your nose before adding, "But only if it means I get more kisses like that."

You laugh, giving him a playful nudge.

"Deal."

With that, you sit up, reluctantly pulling away from the cozy cocoon of his embrace to fetch sunscreen. Charles watches you with the same easy smile, his eyes following your every move.

You feel his gaze on you, warm and loving, as you retrieve the bottle and settle back down beside him.

The sun is lower in the sky now, casting a golden glow over the yacht, the light softening everything it touches. 

You squirt some sunscreen into your hand and begin to gently rub it into his skin, your fingers moving in slow, soothing circles. Charles closes his eyes, clearly enjoying the attention, a contented sigh escaping his lips.

"There," you say once you're finished, leaning down to press a kiss to his now-protected shoulder. "All better."

He opens his eyes and smiles up at you, a look of pure adoration in his gaze. 

"Thank you, love," he murmurs, pulling you back down beside him.

You curl up next to him once more, his arm wrapping around you as you rest your head on his chest, the rhythmic sound of his heartbeat is the perfect soundtrack to the moment, lulling you into a state of peaceful contentment.

As the sun dips lower on the horizon, painting the sky with hues of orange and pink, a gentle breeze sweeps across the deck. The air, once warm, begings to cool, and you feel a slight shiver run through you.

Charles notices immediately, his protetctive instincts kicking in.

Without a word, he sits up, leaving the warmth of your embrace, and you watch as he heads towards the cabin.

A moment later, he returns with a soft, cozy blanket in hand, his smile tender as he wraps it around the both of you. He tucks the edges securely around your shoulders, ensuring that you're completely covered before he lies down beside you again, pulling you close.

You snuggle into his side, feeling the imemdiate warmth of the blanket and the reassuring comfort of his body pressed against yours. 

The coolness of the evening air fades away as you lean against his strong frame, feeling his warmth seep into you.

With a contented sigh, you reach out to stroke his chest once more, your fingers tracing the familiar contours of his muscles, the steady rise and fall of his breathing soothing you.

Charles hums softly, the sound vibrating through his chest, and it's a sound you've come to love- a sign of his deep contentment, of how peaceful he feels in this moment with you. His arm wraps around you, holding you close as he nuzzles his face into your hair, his breath warm against your scalp.

The quiet intimacy between you feels almost sacred, as though the world has narrowed down to just the two of you, wrapped up together under the softening light of the setting sun.

The sky above begins to darken, stars slowly appearing one by one, twinkling against the deepening blue. The sound of the water lapping gently against the side of the yacht provides a soothing backdrop, mingling with the rustle of the blanket as you shift, nestling even closer to Charles.

His chest rumbles with another contented hum as he hugs you more tightly, his lips pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

"I love this," he murmurs, his voice a low, soothing whisper in the quiet evening. "Being here with you... nothing else matters."

You smile, your heart swelling with affection as you lift your head to look up at him. His eyes meet yours, the green softened by the twilight, filled with so much love that it takes your breath away.

"I love this too," you whisper back, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his lips. "And I love you."

His smile is radiant, even in the fading light, as he returns the kiss, his lips lingering on yours. It's a kiss filled with all the love and tenderness that words could never fully capture, a promise that no matter what, you'll always have this- each other, and these precious moments.

When the kiss ends, you settle back down against his chest, your hand continuing its slow, gentle caress. Charles hums again, a sound that reverberates through his chest and into your very soul. 

The night continues to settle in around you, but wrapped in each other's arms, you feel nothing but warmth and love.

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Honey Girl. Christmas.

chapter synopsis - Christmas doesn’t feel like Christmas for you this year. Bucky’s determined to change that.

pairing - dads bestfriend!bucky barnes x female reader - soulmate au

warnings - cursing.

word count - 2.5k

authors note - I know what you’re thinking… murphy, this is a christmas chapter and it’s january 2nd. and yes, I know. I admit that I had a lot less time than I initially anticipated over the festive period to write. regardless, I hope you enjoy this. it’s a flashback, set between chapters 6 and 7 <3

series masterlist. main masterlist. inbox.

“You have icing on your face.”

You chuckle as Isabel rubs at your cheek with her sleeve, trying to be gentle but failing miserably.

“What colour?”

“Green.”

“Christmas cookies,” you say as you smack her hand away, laughing when she glares at you playfully. “The kitchen is covered in red and green icing. It looks like an elf was murdered in there.”

“That sounds festive. And morbid. And… delicious?”

“You want to take some home?”

“Yes!” she gasps with excitement. “I was telling my brother about them yesterday, he’s desperate to try some.”

“Remind me later, and I’ll grab you a box.”

“Thank you. You’re the best.”

You’re rising from your chair to return to the kitchen when Isa grabs your hand, pulling you back down. You quirk a brow at her in confusion, asking a silent question.

“You’re going home for Christmas, right?”

She’s squeezing your hand rather tightly, waiting like an eager puppy for your response.

“I, uh - yeah. I think I am. Need to make sure I get back here in plenty of time for opening between the twenty fifth and new year.”

“Girl… what? That means you’ll only be home for a few days. That’s not a real Christmas.”

“It’s okay, it’s just the way things are. It’ll be a super busy few days anyway, knowing my Mom.”

She looks at you intently for a moment, and you can practically see the wheels turning in her brain.

“We’ll cover you.”

“Isa… what?”

“We’ll cover it. Me, Stella, and we can get Justin and Mikey to help too. They’re coming to give us a hand over the next few weeks anyway, so they might as well pull their weight.”

“I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking. I’m telling you, that’s what we’re going to do.”

“Isa-”

“Please. You’re the backbone of this place - it’d quite literally fall apart without you. The least you deserve is some decent time off with your family back home. You deserve a proper Christmas.”

You’re quiet for a moment, contemplating everything. The more you think about it, the more you’re tempted - the idea of more time with your parents and Bucky is too good to pass up.

“Only if Stella agrees. And you can’t convince her - she has to agree on her own terms.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“I should be thanking you,” you laugh, shaking your head.

“Okay, now leave.”

“Huh?”

“You’ve been here since 4am. Please, go home.”

“Isa.”

“I am so serious right now. Look at my face. Look at how serious I am.”

You can’t help but laugh at her, the stoic expression she wears doing nothing to hide the amusement behind those big brown eyes.

“Fine, fine. Man, you’re bossy today.”

“I’m learning from the best.”

You hit her with your dish towel, punishment for the jab she made. She’s giggling like a maniac, skipping back to her place behind the counter.

“Isa - call me if you need anything, yeah?”

“Always.”

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You’ve been in the same spot on the couch for an hour when there’s a knock at your door. Reluctantly, you get up to answer it, disappointed about leaving the cocoon you’ve made so comfortable.

Your hand is on the door knob when you feel a sudden rush of warmth through your chest, spreading rapidly to the tips of your fingers and the soles of your feet. Suddenly, everything is a little bit brighter, more colourful, more vibrant. The birds are chirping louder, the sun setting in a more beautiful shade of orange than before.

He’s here.

You swing the door open to reveal Bucky, standing looking hopeful with his overnight bag in his hand. He gets even more beautiful every time you see him. His hair is a little longer, his stubble growing out slightly, freckles scattered across his golden cheeks. He looks like the sun has come down to earth and given him a kiss, just because.

“You’re here.”

“I’m here.”

He’s wrapping his arms around you before you can move, creating a safety net that blankets you both. You breathe him in, the scent of the ocean and musk and wood and home.

“What are you doing here?” you mumble against the soft cotton of his t shirt.

“Came to surprise you. Thought we could have our own Christmas, the two of us.”

“Really?” you ask as you pull back to look at him.

“Really. Isabel says you’ve been working too hard, and that you need a pick me up.”

“You talk to Isa?”

“We’re friends on Facebook.”

You laugh like you can’t help it, shaking your head at the idea of the two of them messaging each other.

“She was very adamant about sending me home today. It all makes sense now.”

“Our master plan worked,” he chuckles, stepping inside and kicking the door closed behind him.

You’ve almost forgotten how easily Bucky fits into your space, like he belongs there. He throws his bag down and sits down on your couch, sinking into the cushions like they’re moulded to his shape, ready and waiting for him to return.

“How long are you here for?” you ask as you slide yourself into his side, slotting in perfectly.

“Just a couple of days. And then I’ll see you back home for Christmas with your parents, yeah?”

“You’re coming? My Mom said she wasn’t sure whether you were or not.”

“I can’t say no to one of Lori’s Christmas dinners. I’ll come over at lunch time, give you guys the morning to yourselves. Won’t overstay my welcome, promise.”

“You could never overstay your welcome, Buck. Not possible.”

He presses a kiss into your hair, pulling you closer so there isn’t an inch of space between you.

“I got you a present. Wanted to give it to you while we’re alone.”

“You did? I thought we said we weren’t gonna do gifts?”

“We did. But I know for a fact you got me something, didn’t you?”

You chuckle, resting your head on his shoulder.

“Yes, I did.”

“Knew it. And anyway, I didn’t buy it. I made it.”

You quirk an eyebrow at him in curiosity, watching as he bounds across the living room to rifle around in his bag. When he finds what he’s looking for, he jumps over the back of the sofa, returning to his original place next to you.

“Here.”

It’s wrapped very precisely, a book sized rectangle with neat corners and careful folds. There’s a red ribbon tied around the centre, and the idea of Bucky sitting and trying to get it just right makes your heart ache.

You unwrap it gently, reluctant to undo all of his hard work. He’s watching you intently, determined to see every little reaction on your face.

Sitting in your hand is a leather bound book, with a forest green coloured cover. Your name is engraved into the front of it, carved into the material forever. You open it up to find that it isn’t blank, but contains templates of some sort, the pages covered with very faint geometric lines.

“What is it, Buck?”

He grins, turning some of the pages so he can show you.

“It’s a blank cookbook. Thought you could write down the final copies of the recipes that work after you’ve developed them, have them all in one place.”

“I love it,” you whisper, running your fingers over the pages. “What’s this pattern? On the paper?”

“It’s the blueprints. For our house.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“I made them as transparent as possible, so your eyes wouldn’t get distracted. But I wanted to have a piece of us in it, to remind you.”

“It’s the most thoughtful gift I’ve ever received,” you smile, willing yourself not to cry about it. “I love it so much, Buck. Thank you.”

He leans in to press a gentle kiss to your lips, all sugary sweet.

“My turn, now. Though lower your expectations, please.”

He rolls his eyes, laughing when you shove at his shoulder. You pull his gift from the drawer in the coffee table, handing him a small box.

He opens it carefully, lifting the lid to reveal a navy bracelet, all woven and intricate. He turns it over to look at the inside, gently tracing the embroidery with his fingertips.

“They’re our birth flowers.”

“I didn’t even know I had a birth flower,” he chuckles in awe. “Honey, it’s… it’s beautiful.”

“I made it.”

His head whips up, eyes wide as he stares at you.

“You made this?”

“I went to a class with Stella and Isa, it was like an introduction thing. And I knew how to embroider anyway, so that bit was easy.”

“I can’t believe you. Is there anything you can’t do?”

You’re laughing as you shake your head, dismissing his attempts to massage your ego.

“Like I said, it was a workshop.”

“I love it so much, honey girl. Thank you. I’ll never take it off.”

“Never?”

“Never,” he murmurs against your lips, big hands cradling your face as he pulls you closer. “Never ever.”

He kisses you with purpose, one hand gripping the back of your neck as the other wraps around your back to plaster you to him. You tilt your head to let him slip his tongue into your mouth, tasting the coffee he must have been drinking on the drive down.

Just as you’re about to pull his shirt up and over his head, his stomach rumbles louder than you’ve ever heard it.

“What have you eaten today?” you chuckle, carding your fingers through his hair to fix it.

“I had an early lunch, but I haven’t had dinner yet. Have you?”

“Not yet. You wanna make something?”

“Cake.”

“Huh?”

“I think we should make a cake for dinner.”

“Bucky Barnes. What is wrong with you?”

He laughs all full and warm, and the timbre of it settles nicely into your chest.

“I’ve been thinking about all the stuff I’m missing out on now that you’re here and not at home. The cakes, the cookies, the macaroons, the tarts…”

His stomach rumbles again as he clutches it dramatically, throwing himself backwards onto the couch cushions.

“And so you want cake for our Christmas dinner?”

“Yes I do.”

You can’t fight the grin that’s sweeping across your face, no matter how much you want to.

“Let me make you something to keep you going while I create the best cake for dinner you’ve ever had.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah.”

A huge kiss is planted onto your cheek, joy practically radiating off your soulmate next to you.

“I’ll make myself a sandwich, honey. I know it’s gonna take you a while to line your baking tins.”

You don’t know whether to laugh or cry at the fact that he remembers the time you were ranting about cutting greaseproof paper and bottomless cake tins and butter versus margarine for stickiness.

“I have homemade bread in the pantry. Sourdough from the bakery.”

“That’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

He’s pressing a kiss into your hair as he rises from his seat, wandering towards the kitchen to get things moving.

“This is a stupid idea,” you laugh, following him. “What kind of cake do you want?”

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

“I’m never going to get over this.”

“So you like it?”

“Honey. My God.”

He groans into his last forkful of cake, placing the utensil down onto his plate with a definitive clang. You’re both sat at the kitchen island, the two of you having just finished your second portion each.

“Good, because we’ve got a whole cake to finish before you go home.”

His head is resting on his hand as he looks at you with bright eyes, watching every micro expression that graces your face as if it’s a rerun of his favourite movie.

“Make sure to write that recipe in your new book. We’re making this a Christmas tradition.”

“I like that idea,” you smile as you lean over to press a kiss to his sugary lips. “I like that idea a lot.”

“Good.”

You stack the plates and are about to get up to stick them in the sink when Bucky grabs your wrist, keeping you sat down on the bar stool.

“Hey, pretty girl?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

His thumb rubs circles into the back of your hand, the touch so familiar that you almost don’t notice it at first.

“Why haven’t you decorated for Christmas?”

“Hmm?”

“I thought you’d at least have a tree, or some lights hanging. Maybe an ornament or two. But you don’t have anything.”

“Oh. Um… I don’t know. Just haven’t had the time, I guess.”

He’s looking at you like he doesn’t believe a word you’re saying. You’re not sure you believe a word you’re saying.

“It doesn’t feel like Christmas,” you whisper honestly. “Even when I was in culinary school, I’d go back home for Christmas. And now I’m here, and I have like three friends and no family with me, and it doesn’t feel like Christmas.”

A tear slips down your cheek as you sniffle, pulling the sleeves of your shirt down over your hands.

“Oh, sweetheart.”

He’s up and out of his chair immediately, wrapping his arms around you where you still sit. His familiar scent and his familiar warmth comfort you instantly, heart rate calming down ever so slightly as he holds you.

“I know it’s all new and different, but that’s the exciting thing about this, right? It’s not what you’re used to, but you have the chance to create new traditions and a whole load of new memories now.”

“You’re right,” you mumble into his chest. “I think I was so stuck on thinking about how different everything was, that I forgot that different can be a good thing.”

“Exactly. I’m here for a couple of days, and then we can go home and have the Christmas Day with your parents that you’re used to. Yeah?”

“Yeah. Buck?”

“Hmm?”

“You are the only person in the world I wanted to see when I opened that door earlier.”

“The feeling is mutual, sweetheart,” he hums as he presses a kiss into your hair. “Why do you think I drove all the way here?”

“Because you’re the best.”

“Can’t argue with that,” he chuckles, pulling you with him towards the couch. “Now come on, we need to watch a Christmas movie. You pick.”

“Love Actually,” you say without missing a beat. “It’s Love Actually or nothing.”

“Done,” he’s laughing, reaching for the remote.

“Thank you,” you whisper, lacing your fingers with his. “For everything.”

“Always. Merry Christmas, honey girl.”

“Merry Christmas, Bucky.”

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Rook Hunt: In Plain Sight

THE NEIGE MERCH HAIR CLIPS… and his makeup box being similar to the box the queen provided to hold Snow White’s heart…

Rise and Shine!

"I burn and turn red easily. Of course, I'm in the habit of using sun protection and shading my skin from harmful UV rays now, but my skin still bears marks of damage."

“Damage?” you had squinted at him, searching for those imperfections he had spoken of. “Strange. I don’t see anything like that.”

And then he had given that mysterious smile, a finger to his wistful lips. "Ah, because I hide it well. Shall I show you my secret? Attendez, s'il vous plaît."

His “secret”, as Rook had put it, was not magic.

You knelt down, peering into his circular mirror lines with lights. Rook, flaxen hair pinned back with various clips—bows and a bluebird-shaped one—met your gaze in his reflection. His forest green eyes creased slightly, a sign you had come to learn meant he was amused.

Graceful hands unlocked a wooden box. The lid flipped open, revealing various tubes hidden inside. Mascara, lip gloss, eye liners… A treasure trove of makeup.

He selected a container filled with a fair creamy substance. Twisting the tube open, it revealed a slim applicator with a fluffy end.

“This comes highly recommended by Vil,” Rook chirped. “It’s a long-lasting, sweat-proof, and crease-free concealer. The formula is hydrating enough to stand up to the elements, but strong enough to not melt off during the day. Ideal for the life of a busy huntsman!”

He continued to babble as he dotted the concealer across his cheeks and nose. The spray of freckles there slowly disappeared behind a layer of skin-like color. You followed the flick of his wrist, watching how artfully he buffed out the product upon the blank page called him.

“This type of applicator is known as a doe foot. It is named for the small, slightly slanted foot of a female deer, also known as a doe. When I was first introduced to cosmetics, I thought that all applicators were named after animal anatomy! It would have certainly helped me in memorizing them."

“It sounds like he really drilled this information into your head,” you murmured, brows raised. “It shows in how you look too. You’re so different from how you were back then. More…”

You conjured the image of Rook in his Savanaclaw days. His hair was longer then, scraped back into a bushy ponytail resembling the hide of a ratty beast. Sometimes twigs and leaves would snag in it. Rook’s school-issued dormitory pants were torn at the knees, and he was always nursing some kind of bruise or dirt stain. Without sleeves, his large arms were on full display, the muscles straining and shifting when he tugged on a bowstring.

Compared to now…

You scanned Rook’s floaty white pajamas. A long-sleeved night gown over trousers, plus a cap he had removed earlier.

Covered up was the first thing that came to your mind. You settled for something else.

“… Demure, mindful.”

Those, you knew, were the last words anyone—particularly fae, beastmen, and merfolk—would bestow upon Rook Hunt. He knew it too, if the twinkle in his eyes was of any indication.

Rook slotted the wand back into its bottle and turned to you, wiggling a hand to present bis finished face. “Voilà! The results of Pomefiore’s teachings.”

You looked at him.

Hesitated.

“… Can I?”

“You may,” he said with a faint chuckle, his lids drifting shut.

You gingerly cupped his cheeks in your palms, careful not to smudge his makeup as you slowly tiled his head back. It was like you were handling porcelain, too afraid of dropping it. His Adam’s apple bobbed—up, down—like your heart’s rapid thumping. Your thumb brushed aside a golden lock.

Skin as smooth as silk, an even shade throughout. Fine hair like fresh wheat spun into gold. And mouth a pale pink, like the blush of an apple blossom.

No hat to hide it all.

Like this, he was almost like a princess trapped under a glass coffin.

The truth of him, in plain sight. A raw, gentle beauty he allowed few others to glimpse.

Breath caught in your chest.

“… Sorry. I’m afraid I still don’t see those ‘marks of damage’ you were talking about before,” you apologized. “With freckles or without… Frizzy hair or not… Covered or out in the open… Rook-senpai is still beautiful in every way.”

He cracked an eye open a sliver. “… Oh la la, aren’t we feeling feisty this morning?”

“Yes. I’m the Magic Mirror,” you teased, laughing as you released him from your grasp. “I only speak the truth.”

“So you do.”

Rook loaded his doe foot again. But this time, he cheekily dabbed the wand on the tip of your nose, leaving a light blob behind.

“H-Hey…!” you protested, hands flying there to wipe the spot clean. “Rook…!”

“Fufufu. Those candid, unguarded expressions of yours are delightful.”

He dropped the concealer back into its box. Humming, his hand hovered over an eye pencil. Rook held it up, angling it slanted against your body from a distance—an artist ogling his next masterpiece.

“I would love to capture you upon a canvas,” he mused, tracing the outline of you in the air. “Like the polished face of a looking glass… you speak with both sincerity and clarity. That kind of honesty is a rarity.”

“Y-You should focus on finishing your makeup first, or else you’ll be in for a scolding from your dorm leader,” you advised, though your voice was but a mumble. “Geez… you’re always dumping so much praise onto me.”

“Beauty of all kinds should be seen and shared. It just so happens that you have a bounty of it—and so, there is much of you for me to acknowledge.”

“And there’s still so much of you I have to figure out…” you added with a sigh. Somewhat resigned, but also half longing.

“Oh my. Then it sounds as though we have a long partnership ahead of ourselves~”

Grinning like a vulpine, the huntsman began to draw with his liner, forming sharp points at the edges of his eyes. You observed quietly, a birdwatcher to a hawk.

One day, I’ll unlock all of your secrets. Like this chest you keep your makeup in, or those sleeves you cover your limbs with. I’ll expose your ‘truth’… Rook Hunt!