#i have a tiny little blister on the top of my thumb now :(

[marshmallow-narwhal-14]

I should be studying but instead I crocheted this cute little heart keyring.

I'm gonna give it to one of my friends for their birthdays

[oneforthemunny]

light my morning sky |rockstar!eddie munson x nepo baby!reader|

prompt: three wedding ceremonies, and it's stop number two in vegas. a night with your friends, celebrating you the way both of you love, and it leads to a rather intense wedding night for the two of you in sin city.

contains: minors dni. smut. fluff but mainly smut. drugs and alcohol, overall just partying in vegas. getting married in vegas. dom!eddie x sub!reader. bratty overtones to sub!reader. more of a soft!dom with rockstar!eddie bc he's in loooveeeee. spanking with implement (paddle/crop). thigh riding kinda. crawling. pinvsex. language. nothing too harsh or mean bc it's their (second) wedding night lol.

"I now pronounce you married." Elvis, or one of his many replicas on the strip, rasped in his low, exaggerated drawl mimicking the beloved singer. His hair perfectly coiffed, sideburns trimmed, and dressed in a black jumpsuit with wings, red and gold sequins trim.

Flamboyant, over the top- it was Eddie's dream.

Eddie grinned at you, his hands in yours, thumb brushing over the large stone on your left hand. He looked like The King himself in his white tasseled suit, pointed collar, and blue beading down the deep V of his shirt- an identical suit made to look exactly like Elvis' infamous jumpsuit from his time in Las Vegas in the 70's. It had been a prop in some show your father was producing, one that you and Eddie borrowed after the wedding.

"Eddie, you may now kiss your little darlin' here." The officiant grinned, stepping back towards the faux-rose garland, strung with bright lights.

Your heart swelled in your chest, just as light and giddy as the first ceremony, letting Eddie cup your face, pulling you in to seal with a kiss, far more passionate and needy than the ceremony in California.

Cheers erupted from the small crowd of friends you'd rallied for the big day- well, the second big day. Their booze soaked giggles and screeches mashed to the tune of Can't Help Falling In Love pouring out of the static filled old speakers. Flashes blinded your vision, even behind your closed eyes, camera clicks and bright snaps of camera light capturing every moment.

For a moment, you tensed, aware of your rounded shoulders, of Eddie's hand grabbing at your ass, eyes opening and cutting towards the aisle. Jonathan stood there, face hidden by the camera. Eddie had insisted his friend from Hawkins come instead, replace the snooty photographer that had done the ceremony before. Your parents had raved about him, but Eddie didn't see what the big deal was with him. He just made you both look so stiff, so unnatural in your portraits.

Eddie's hand slid up the silk material of your tiny dress, gripped onto your hip, bunching the material. You could feel his wedding band in the small of your back when he pressed his hand there, steadying you before he tipped you back. A deep dip of a kiss, your thigh hiked around his hip.

The small bouquet of white roses you'd bought at the front of the chapel fell onto the patterned carpet, your friends' screeching and whooping laughs ignited by the dramatics. They expected nothing less from Eddie- from both of you.

"Lord have mercy," The officiant laughed, fanning himself dramatically, long metallic sleeves rippling. "These two have lots of hunk-a, hunk-a burnin' love, don't they folks?"

Eddie could feel your lips twitch against his, a snort of a giggle, hot air blowing against his lip. His dopey and dimpled grin met you when you finally pulled apart. It left you weak, blistering in his intense, love filled gaze.

A pop of Perignon filled the room, Gareth and Farrah bumbling closer with two glasses, trying to stop the excess spilling over. A celebratory toast to the two of you, to keep your buzz going after the break in the bender you took for the ceremony.

Since you'd landed on Thursday night, the party hadn't stopped. Liquor flowing, loud music, sloppily piling into a stall with your own friends, taking bumps off your room keys before stumbling back to the club in your designer shoes, ready to keep the party going.

The afterparty was no different. Tucked away in a private villa at Ceasar's, you didn't make it to the club. Eddie had insisted he had to go first, nearly pushing Jeff over to get to the door, scooping you up in his arms and walking you through the door.

"Watch your fuckin' head, baby- don't lean back." You could smell the alcohol on his breath, a pungent mixture of too many to name, mixed with the faintest whiff of smoke from his cigarettes.

It didn't take long for Nick to find the boom box, blaring his party mixtape at a wall shaking volume, everyone scattering. Some to the kitchen to scour through the piles of empty bottles for a full one, others to collapse into the couch and let someone line up a pick me up before plunging in the hot tub outside.

"You," Eddie slurred, his head dipping down to press against your forehead. "Look so fuckin' beautiful." Nose brushing against yours, red from his own party favors.

You giggled nasally, blinking blearily eyed to focus on him to close to you. The effects of the tequila and champagne and hodge podge of liquor you'd mixed and consumed catching up with you.

"You know what, baby? You look really good, Mr. Munson." You whispered, hand cupping his jaw. "Like- hic!- too good to be fucking true."

"You're sweet talkin' me? Huh? Bein' s'nice to me?" Eddie grinned, fingers sinking into your hips.

"Yeah." You hummed.

"Tryna get my pants off or somethin', huh, baby? G-Get in my pants by bein' so sweet? You think that's gonna work?" Eddie teased, tilting his head to the side.

"Yeahhh..." You nodded, staggering against him, manicured nails raking down his bare chest. "We have to- to consummate the marriage, Ed."

"What?" Eddie furrowed his brows. "We gotta do what? Wait- I thought you wanted to fuck."

You laughed, head tilting back letting out that mean little cackle that always got Eddie worked up- a little mocking, mostly genuine. It left him flushed in heat, crawling up his chest and splattering over his cheeks.

"You dumbass, that is what that means." You rolled your eyes at him.

Eddie's eyes narrowed with you, catching your chin easily. "Oh? That's how you wanna play tonight, hm?" He shook his head, your body erupting in a fiery heat. "You're not gonna be nice to me?"

"I'm always nice to you." You countered, hand closing around his wrist gently, steadying yourself. "You're the one who's mean."

"Yeah?" Eddie grinned, eyes shining, glimmering in the low light of the room, the music from the other side thudding in a low roar, still shaking the walls. "You want me to be mean to you tonight? That's how you wanna do this?"

"Yeah." You sighed, a devious little grin that had Eddie's heart swelling, body buzzing with bouts of electricity. A shock to his system that brought him into something animalistic and primal and thrilling. Something new he only felt with you.

"I was hopin' you'd want to. Figured you would. Went ahead and got you a little somethin'." Eddie hummed, pulling you close into him. His breath hot on your cheek, booze soaked and warm on your skin.

"A gift?" Your eyes lit up, bright and devious all at once. Positively troublesome.

"Yeah. A gift. Just for you, baby." Eddie's lip dragged over your cheek, nose, hands sliding up your neck into your hair. "A wedding gift, but-but not for the wedding. For the after."

"Mm," You moaned lightly, his lips brushing with yours, teasing. Just enough to make you want to kiss him fully, leave you waiting and wanting more. "It's after now, Ed." You batted your lashes up at him.

"Is it?" Eddie muttered, fingers curling around your hair the back of your head.

"Yeah." You whispered, voice raspy from the liquor. "Time to give me my gift."

"Ooh, you're gonna be demanding?" Eddie pulled back from you, holding you at arms length so he could see you. Your pout, glassy eyes rounding instinctively- a classic look, teetering on demanding and begging, a signature look for you.

"'M not being demanding." You huffed, hands sliding over his arms. He could feel the diamonds of your wedding band scratch lightly over his skin. "You said you had a gift for me."

Eddie bit back a smirk, squeezing your shoulders with firm, gentle affection. You grinned triumphantly when he stumbled to his closet, puling a red gift bag tied together with a gold bow.

He smirked at your squeal of delight, hands clapping together excitedly when he gave you the bag. "What is it?" You beamed, a peal of excited, drunken giggles spilling from your chest.

"Open it." Eddie clicked, shaking his head at you. "What's in it- open the damn thing, baby. It's a present. 'M not tellin' you w-what I got you." His words slurred, still silly and playful.

You laughed, head spinning and intoxicatingly airy with glee, unraveling the gold spun ribbon with a dramatic tug of your hand. Underneath the piles of tissue paper, a long box lied at the bottom.

There, inside the felt lined box, a small heart shaped paddled. Black and leather, with a black, metal handle. It was small, smaller than most of Eddie's chosen paddles. The heart shape at the end firmer than the crop, not as flimsy as you expected.

"Look," Eddie pointed, swaying gently in front of you. He turned the handle clumsily around his hands before he turned it to you. There in etched gold, your names and the date carved into the metal handle.

"Ed." You cooed, head tilting back to meet his gaze. "You got this f'me?"

"Well, kinda." Eddie nodded. "I mean, for me to use on you, but yeah. Wanted something to-to remember this by."

Lips pulling in a smile, you stood, arms wrapping around his waist, pulling him flush to your own chest. "You're so sweet." You hum, swaying with him softly. "So sweet to me."

Eddie's cheeks flushed, matching the drunken red heat painted on his neck. "Yeah." He hummed, hands sliding over your cheeks, smearing your already rubbed off foundation, tilting your head back towards him.

"'M not gonna be sweet to you f'long." He muttered, lip twitching in a curling grin. Staticky prickles of excitement licked at your neck, shimmering all the way down to your core. Eddie's tongue ran over his teeth, brow raising. "That alright with you, baby?"

"Yes." You whispered, nails digging into his hands lightly, steadying yourself.

Eddie caught your chin, pulling your gaze towards him. "Who?" His tone dropped, low and raspy but punctuated.

The nervous, maybe excited, giggle spilled out of your lips before you could stop it. Eyes shining, swaying with excitement, you batted your lashes towards him. "Yes, Sir." You purred, hands sliding, nails raking down his forearms.

Eddie grinned, ducking down to catch your lips in a hungry kiss. Hand pressed to the small of your spine, you could taste the liquor on his tongue as it slid past your teeth. A sloppy, needy, alcohol fueled make out. Hands grabbing, pulling at the other, pushing your bodies closer and closer together until it felt like they might fuse together, mold into one. Hands sliding, bunching the material of your dress up your hips.

"Wait!" Your eyes flew open, pulling apart with an urgency that had Eddie jumping.

"What? What's wrong?" Eddie's brows furrowed, vision fading blearily in and out of focus.

"I forgot," You turned towards your suitcase. "I bought something special for tonight. S-Somethin' to put on." You muttered, swaying drunkenly, hands on his waist to steady yourself.

"Baby, it's alright. Just save it for tomorrow-"

"-No." Your tone was cutting, huffy with a hint of demanding- bratty. You did it best, Eddie supposed, his cock twitching at the sound.

He wanted to grab the paddle, haul you over his knee right then, feel you scratch and scream at him like old times. Instead, he let you stomp off, bunching a flash of white material to your chest, stumbling towards the bathroom.

It was worth it, Eddie decided. Legs spread on the edge of the bed, knee bouncing with anticipation until the doors opened.

"Are you ready?" He could hear your grin, hidden by the door.

"Yeah. Show me, baby. Come on out." Eddie's lips tugged in a half grin.

The door opened painfully slow, your own teasing reveal, until you stood before him in a tiny, white, see through lacy lingerie set. A classic, more scandalous and revealing than before. Bra and panties so revealing it left little to the imagination, hip hugging garter that connected to two leg holders, both with their own loops. Eddie pictured for a moment tying you up by them, stringing the rope through them, tying your legs wide open and spending the rest of the night- hell, the whole week in between them.

Maybe tomorrow night. Tonight, he had other plans.

Eddie's loud wolf whistle mixed with your bubbling giggles. "Holy shit, baby, look at you. No, look at me, but I wanna look at you." Eddie rasped, hands sliding over your exposed skin, rubbing the lace of your garter, pulling the tiny strap of your panties so it snapped to your skin.

"You like it?" You whispered, watching his eyes carefully. You knew he did. He always did.

"You kidding? Love it." Eddie grinned. "Worth the wait, beautiful."

Your cheeks burned with a rush of euphoric excitement, hands sliding up his shoulder, your ring sparkling even under the dim lights of the room.

"Ok, I'm ready now." You said boldly, lashes batting up to Eddie sweetly. "I just wanted to put this on for you."

"Oh? You're ready?" Eddie snorted lightly, lips curling in a smirk. "You callin' the shots?"

You huffed, an eye roll that had Eddie swallowing hard, trying to ignore the throbbing of his cock. "No," Your tongue clicked sarcastically. "Obviously you're in charge for right now."

"Oh, it's like that?" Eddie scoffed. "You're gonna act like that?"

"I'm not acting like anything, Ed." You bit your lip playfully. "I don't know what you're talking about." Oh, you were playful tonight. Eddie's heart swelled, palms twitching with excitement.

"Hm," Eddie hummed, tongue running down the inside of his cheek.

"Why don't you go get your gift." Eddie nodded towards the discarded paddle at the other end of the bed. You stepped towards it. "Nuh-uh-uh." Eddie clicked, head shaking.

"You know how you're supposed to get things for me." His eyes darkened, narrowing towards you.

Your thighs twitched, aching between them with a familiar heat. "Ed," Whiny and nasally, shoulders slumping for effect.

"You're gonna whine? C'mon, I know you know better." Eddie shook his head. "I don't wanna be mean to you tonight. Not too mean, anyways. Don't make me be mean. Go get your gift and bring it here, you know what to do. You be good for me, and I'll be good to you."

It didn't take much convincing, not when your head was spinning the way it was, desperate to please him. You knew he was true to his word, that he'd make you feel so good, which was exactly why you sunk to your knees. Crawling across the carpeted floors, you crept slowly towards the paddle.

Eddie watched through heavy lids, the sway of your hips, tiny panties riding up into your ass with every crawl. Your eyes met his when you raised up, gently grabbing the paddle off the bed. Eddie's heart lurched with excitement when you slipped it between your teeth, sinking back to your knees.

"Holy shit... Baby," Eddie groaned, leg shaking furiously when you rounded the corner of the bed, crawling straight for him. "Look at you. Jesus Christ, you know what you're doin'?"

You sunk back on your knees, settling between Eddie's open legs, eyes rounded so sweetly up at him it answered his question- you knew exactly what you were doing to him.

"'M just trying to be good." You whispered sweetly, head tilting to the side when he took to the paddle from you. "I just want to be so good for you always and forever, Mr. Munson."

Eddie thought he might snap the paddle in half, grip strangling in a tight hold around the pole. For a second, he contemplated again diving right between your legs, kinky foreplay be damned. Instead, he pulled you over his knee, let you straddle his thigh, covered cunt hot on his knee.

"Look at me." Eddie rasped, pulling your chin up, letting it rest on his chest, your body folded over his. "I wanna look at you. Wanna see you the whole time."

You pressed your lips together, swallowing back a pathetic whine. One hand cradling the back of your head, the other dragging the paddle along your exposed cheeks.

"You wanna be good for me?" Eddie whispered. You didn't reply, didn't get the chance to before the paddle snapped onto your ass. A jump, a whine, followed by Eddie's coaxing whisper back onto his knee.

"I asked you somethin', sweetheart." Eddie muttered, the crop tapping your other cheek. "You wanna be good for me?" Two sharp hits one to each cheek had you hissing.

"Yes." You hissed through gritted teeth, stilling your hips not to grind on him, hump his leg mercilessly. You knew that'd just fuel his cruel teasing even more.

"Yeah?" You yelped at the sharp sting.

"Yes, I wanna be good for you." Your spine ached at the uncomfortable bend in position, still you didn't dare move. It was true, you did want to be good for him.

"Are you going to be good for me?" Eddie whispered, nose nearly touching yours.

You bit back a giggle, stopped by three more sharp spanks of the crop to your ass, already itchy with growing agitation. "Yeah." Your eyes shone up at Eddie's, a silly, love sick grin that had him swooning.

"Yeah?" Eddie mocked back with a light snort. It was growing harder to keep the mean, domineering persona he tried to. When you were being this sweet, when you were being so good for him.

The crop fell again, this time your hips did roll. Just enough to dull the ache between your legs, a momentary release that had you melting further into his chest.

Eddie didn't miss it, pulling you closer to him, readjusting you on his thigh. "I don't know if I believe you." Eddie hummed, cracking the crop down again in short, sharp successions. "Are you really gonna be good to me? For the rest of time?"

You whimpered, hips rocking slowly, a steady rhythm that nearly had your eyes rolling back. The burning stretch of your ass mixed with the slow, pleasure-filled rolls of your hips.

"I will, I promise." You hummed in a high, breathy tone. "I swear I will be. I'll be a good wife for you. Forever and ever and ever."

Eddie's heart nearly burst at the words. How sweet they still sounded, even if you had technically been his wife for a few weeks now.

He let the paddle fall, his hands grabbing at your waist, pulling you into his lap. Lips on yours, your legs wrapping around his hips before he rolled the two of you, body slotting over yours, drunken giggles filling the air.

Hand intertwining with the other, Eddie's eyes rolled back at the feeling of your ring scraping over his when he finally slid into you. Mrs. Munson, forever. Forever his, just as he was forever yours.

Eddie had you pressed against the window of the suite, hips rutting into the fat of your ass, marked with the etching heart shape of the paddle. Overlooking the city's skyline, the sun was just beginning to peak over the horizon. Your cheek pressed to the window, Eddie's pressed to yours, skin smushed to skin, the two of you weren't close to being done. Just getting started, started on forever, started on a life together.

For now, in a hotel room in Vegas, insatiably happy and in love with one another. Mr. and Mrs. Munson, for the second time.

[lonely-lost-soul]

Immortality and Nymphs Pt. II

(Philza x reader)

Kisses. God Phil missed your kisses against his skin most of all, you were always so warm and gentle. He couldn’t wait for you to be a constant in his life once again, he walked all three of you back to his home. Wilbur was eyeing you the entire time almost like he was trying to find the differences between himself and you, thinking, The boy looked much more like himself than he did you, but there were tiny similarities here and there. You didn’t seem to mind though when he asked you questions you answered them truthfully. Once they arrived back at his house Wilbur stood up a little straighter,

“As much as I’d like to stay and talk more, Fundy and I need to get going.” He trailed off a little looking at you, “I still have thousands of questions but I have a revolution to plan.” Wilbur continued as you raised a questioning eyebrow, Phil’s wings ruffled a little as he cleared his throat.

“You should come back next week with the others.” Phil gave a slight nod of his head, “I’ll send a crow to Techno.” Fundy was the one to whip his head and nod eagerly, Wilbur adjusted his glasses but eventually nodded.

“That should work.” Wilbur turned to face you taking a shaky breath, “I’ll see you then?” A tender smile spread across your lips as you reached out to cup Wilbur’s cheeks.

“I’m not going anywhere again baby boy,” You whispered as he flushed hesitantly leaning into your touch “I promise.” He pulled away, clearing his throat taking Fundy’s hand as he waved.

“Bye, grandpa! Bye, grandma!” The fox hybrid called and Phil watched as you flushed deeply. Phil wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you close, his wings spreading around your body like a cocoon. You giggled softly as he nuzzled his face into your neck, his beard prickled your skin, you missed the feeling.

“Fundy seems sweet,” You mused as the man behind you kissed the skin of your neck. Phil only hummed in agreement which caused you to laugh, “you’re so not paying attention to what I’m saying are you?”

“What?” You burst into laughter at his genuine confusion, “Come on now. I missed you, can you blame me? You’re distracting.” Phil let out a little huff as you pulled away to face him,

“Then show me how much you missed me my crow,” You purred running your fingers through his feathers, you felt his entire body shiver as his breathing hitched. His fingers dug into your hips,

“Careful. They’re sensitive and wouldn't want a pretty thing like you to get hurt.” Phil teased pressing his forehead against yours,

“Oh, I remember.” You winked teasingly as Phil leaned in to swallow your words with a blistering kiss. He felt you melt against his body as his wings fluffed up, both of you poured all your love and admiration for each other into one another. It was then Phil knew nothing changed between the two of you even after all these years apart, there was still the same amount of love and longing you always shared. Phil lifted you into the air and you hooked your legs around his waist, he felt young again, back in the forest by his old home. He felt you giggle against his lips and pull away to rest your forehead on his own, he chased your lips almost desperately. Your hand came up to cup his cheek and he closed his eyes to lean into his palm, “Take me inside first.” You murmured and his eyes lit up mischievously.

“If I remember correctly you never had a problem with making out in the woods before.” He watched your face turn beat red as he smirked proudly, he adored getting you flustered which way to Sunday.

“Yeah well, I’ve lived in the woods all my life. I think I’m ready to stay with my adoring lover in his house, is that really such a bad thing?”

“No. I’d never be opposed to something like that, not when I’ve missed you this much. It’s all I’ve ever wanted, living with you and raising Wilbur, being a family.” He watched you visibly wince and guilt ebbed at his heart, “Hey, hey you had to do what you needed to. I’d rather have you alive and here now than dead or worse.” Phil reassured and you seemed to relax a little bit in his arms,

“I wish I could’ve been here to raise Wilbur with you...I wish I could’ve seen him grow up.” Your voice wavered a little as Phil pulled you close, he hesitated slightly trying to find the right words to say.

“I wish you were there too. But you’re here now, you’re safe and that’s what matters. Plus…” His cheeks flushed a soft pink, “we could always try again.”

“Jesus Christ Phil,” you giggled covering your mouth with your hands and he looked embarrassed. “I just got home Crow, let's give it some time. But...I’m not opposed in the future.” Phil’s face lit up again and he nodded rapidly, he could agree with that, maybe once you built a better relationship with Wilbur and his other boys that’s when the both of you could try again.

Oh god, the other boys. When he invited them all here next week, he hoped they’d make a good impression if not Dadza was going to craft a belt.

“How long has it been since you’ve had an actual meal?”

“God decades!”

He chuckled deeply, kissing your cheek, and led you into his house to have a nice warm meal. Having you around definitely took some getting used to, his days suddenly shifted around as he accommodated for another person but he didn’t mind. Phil woke up happier than he'd felt in a long time, you were curled up against his chest, the top of your head was right under his chin. He ran a hand through your (h/c) hair, letting it run through his fingers, even though it’s been about a week he still felt like you weren’t really beside him.

Wait a week.

His eyes snapped open and he shot up like a rocket, feathers flying everywhere as you groaned, “Crow? Everything alright?” You asked adorably rubbing your eyes, his stress melted away momentarily as he watched you wake up. A few flowers bloomed in your hair as you came to your senses.

“Everythings fine! Just remembered it’s Sunday and the others don’t usually follow set times.” He pulled you from the bed giving you a quick good morning peck on the lips. “Get dressed, something nice I wanna show you off,” He kissed you again longer this time you giggled.

“To who? Our son and your friends?” He gave a happy little nod, as you rolled your eyes, he felt your fingers fix the hair on his face, Phil closed his eyes and leaned against your touch. “But I’ll do as you wish my Crow,” You stood up from the bed and stretched your arms above your head. Phil had managed to get some clothes for you from a nearby village, he still remembered your style, but tried to make it more modern so you didn’t stick out like a sore thumb. You slid on the new clothes, they hung off you loosely. They clearly needed some tailoring, and you slid on the boots he got you the day before, as much as you like walking around barefoot it was pretty impractical.

“Shall we?” Phil held his arm out to you, you wrapped your arm around his own as he led you outside. You both stood on a hillside covered in soft green grass and a big willow tree. Phil looked down at you, his big wings gently covering your back from any danger, he was sure not feeling the grass between your feet was a foreign feeling to you but you didn’t seem to mind. The smile on your face said it all, you were peaceful and relaxed, letting the breeze flow through your hair. “You’re beautiful,” your eyes snapped up to him your cheeks turning light pink,

“Oh stop it old man.” He made an indignant sound as you laughed, your hands reached up and dragged him down to your level, kissing him tenderly. Phil felt his eyes flutter closed and his wings drop, he was snapped back to reality by loud whistling. You pulled back and he pushed you behind him, wings puffing up defensively, standing on the side of the hill were Wilbur, Tommy, Technoblade, and Fundy. Tommy was the one whistling eyes sparkling mischievously, Wilbur whacked him on the back of the head to get him to shut up.

“Dad! Wil’s being mean to me!”

“Don’t be mean to Tommy Wil,” Phil pressed his fingers to his nose with a sigh “Wilbur don’t antagonize your brother.” Fundy was cackling at their mischief, your eyebrows shot up on your forehead and Phil cleared his throat, face pink. Technoblade just stared seemingly eyeing you suspiciously, “(Y/n) these are my other sons. Boys this is (Y/n) Wilbur’s birth mother.” It was Technoblade’s turn for his eyebrows to raise and Tommy’s jaw dropped to the floor,

“No shit.” Tommy gawked, “You don’t look like her at all Wilbur! You’re so ugly, must’ve gotten that from Phil. Sad.” You burst into hysterical laughter watching Phil glare over at Tommy. Wilbur was seething at his sibling but ignored him in favor of giving you a light hug,

“Good to see you, mom.” He whispered,

“Good to see you too.” Phil heard you respond and hug him back, Wilbur whispered something to you and you made a little surprised face before nodding. Phil assumed he told you that the other boys were not in fact his biological children, but those he had adopted. Fundy soon joined in the hug snuggling into your stomach, you ruffled the young fox’s head and he chirped happily. Tommy walked over to introduce himself to you next, he proclaimed to be not only Phil’s favorite son but Wilbur’s favorite brother too. Which lead him to then boldly declare he’d be your favorite as well and Wilbur sent him a scathing look, ah yes, Phil knew that look rather well. Wilbur inherited that look from you, nose all scrunched up and eyes sharp. You shook the young boy's hand and happily told him you couldn't wait to see him fall into the number one spot. Wilbur shot you an offended look and Phil covered up a laugh with his hand, the offending look was sent to his father next,

“Dad.”

“What?” Phil laughed holding up his hands, “If he wants to win your mother’s attention I’m not gonna stop him. Every man for themselves.”

“Phil,” You nudged him with his elbow “be nice.” Tommy began to boast about how awesome he was in comparison to his brother, you sent a wink to Wilbur’s, and his shoulders visibly relaxed.

You were his number one, anyone with a brain could see that.

Phil noticed Technoblade had his eye on you the entire time, it took him much longer than the others to gain trust. He decided to walk away from you to stand by the hybrid's side, “Hey mate.” Technoblade only grunted in response, arms crossed over his broad chest protectively, “What’s crawled up your butt eh?”

“You didn’t tell me ‘bout her.” He motioned in your direction with his chin, “you tell me everything. Why not her?” Technoblade was trying to remain stoic but after all these years he could tell he was hurt. Phil sighed softly scratching the stubble on his chin as he watched Fundy run around you trying to fight for your attention.

“It was hard for me to talk about, she didn’t leave on her own free will. Her life was in danger and I didn’t know if I’d ever see her again. It was a shock when she came back last week, a good shock but a shock nonetheless. (Y/n) was my everything, is my everything. I kept it from everyone because I hoped it would keep her alive and safe from those who wished to harm her.” Phil looked over at Techno, for once Phil’s eyes showed his true age, “I’m sorry mate you know I would’ve told you if I could. Doesn’t take much for me to start gushing ‘bout her. I mean look at her.” Phil glanced back over at you, Fundy was on your shoulders, his hat on your head, meanwhile, Wilbur was wrestling with Tommy on the ground. You looked over at him desperate for his help and Phil only smiled over at you and shook his head. Your eyes screamed distressed as you tried to get the boys to stop fighting, Phil felt Techno’s eyes on him and he looked back at his son and friend.

“I understand I suppose,” Technoblade sighed rubbing the back of his neck, “You wanted to protect her. I can’t be mad at you for that, but no more secrets alright? Promise me?”

“Promise. Now go say hi to her before she gets upset and thinks you don’t like her,” Phil nudged him forward and his eyes widened a little,

“Heh? Phil hold on-”

“(Y/n)! This is Techno.” Phil clapped the man on the back, you looked up at him with a kind smile.

“Pleasure to meet you Technoblade, I like your cape.” Phil watched the man flush in embarrassment at the compliment,

“Eh...thanks. Like your flowers.” He motioned to the flowers blooming in your hair, you beamed brightly at him, always happy to talk about your flowers.

“Thank you, sweetie!” His ears turned red and he waved you off anxiously, he moved to peel Tommy away from Wilbur, wanting to get out of this conversation. Fundy hopped off your shoulders to tackle his father and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding in, “wow. They’re…”

“A lot?”

“Yes.” You laughed fondly, “but…”

“I wouldn’t trade them for the world.” Phil nodded kissing you on the apple of your cheek,

“Good. You better not. They’re all my sons now. I hope you know that” You leaned against his chest, he laughed and you felt his chest rise and fall.

“I’d expect nothing less from you.”

Letters. That’s how most of you communicated in the years to follow, Wilbur would send letters and you would beam in delight. It melted Phil’s heart, he knew his son was busy with the revolution and the now Presidency but he wished he’d visit his mother. You would write him back almost immediately after receiving a letter, you’d seal the letter with a kiss before sending it off with one of Phil’s crows. Afterward, Phil would take you in his arms and pepper you in tender kisses, you would giggle and snuggle into his arms. He told you he loved you, and you cooed and told you loved him back, then you both would share a kiss. Phil loved those days the most, seeing you truly happy made his heart swell. There were days where Phil taught you how to fight, days where you would garden, and days where he let you groom his feathers. He loved that, grooming was another one of the things he missed the most, you got out all the tangled feathers just perfectly. He would lean back against your hands head falling on your shoulder as he panted, his pupils were blown wide as you hummed fondly.

So, maybe Phil enjoyed it a little more than he remembered.

It was a cold autumn day when the letters stopped coming, you were heartbroken, always anxiously petting and feeding his crows. They could sense your disappointment in waves, it was almost choking Phil himself, his heart ached to see you so sad. He pets your hair gently as you both sat on the hill with the willow tree, he noticed the bags under your eyes were dark, Phil’s frown only deepened.

“My love please smile for me, I’ve missed it so much these past few weeks.”

“Somethings wrong,” Your voice was soft looking up at Phil “He wouldn’t just stop writing to us. He always writes to us.” He hated the way your voice quivered, “what if he changed his mind about me?” Phil shushed you softly with a kiss,

“First of all, there’s no way he changed his mind about you. The way the both of you bonded these past few years, Wilbur wouldn’t throw that all away for no good reason.” He tried to reassure you, “Although, I will admit this is strange. Wilbur isn’t one to not write to me, it’s something he’s always done ever since he was old enough to spell.”

“Crow…” You whispered, “can we visit him? Just to put my mind at ease...please.” Phil’s heart melted as soon as he saw your puppy dog eyes, he nodded and you smiled.

Good. He was going to keep that there as long as he was physically able.

The next day, Phil scooped you up in his arms and you headed towards the direction of his son's new nation.

It was called L’Manburg if Phil remembered correctly.

What the both of you didn’t expect to see was a war zone, “Phil…” You murmured eyes wide in fear, he held you to his chest, your brow furrowed in worry. He swore he could see Tommy and Techno looking up at them from below, it didn’t ease the anxiety prickling at his skin, the sky suddenly went black with crows.

A bad omen, something bad was going to happen, and they knew it.

“Phil they’re distressed. Somethings wrong.”

“I know hon,” Phil looked around worriedly, he spotted a glance of Wilbur walking into some sort of room. He landed just outside the entrance, he put you on your feet, “Stay behind me.” He instructed you, you nodded your head clutching onto his bicep. The both of you stepped into the dimly lit room, there were scrawlings etched into the wall, all scratched in by Wilbur. Your brow furrowed in concern, fingers dancing across the lettering, “what’re you doing?” Phil spoke, his tone flat and serious, looking dead at your son, wings spreading out behind him.

“Wilby?” You asked softly as he slowly turned around, his big brown eyes were wet and wide.

“Mom…” He whispered, “I didn’t want…” Wilbur looked away from you and grit his teeth, “Welcome to L’manburg. Sorry, you have to see it like this, war-torn and broken. I wanted you to see it in its prime, a shame you didn’t visit sooner.”

“Wilbur, don’t do this,” Phil said watching his son look longingly at the button in the middle of the wall, almost with longing. “This is your country, it can be fixed. Things can be rebuilt, it’s where you raised your son,” Phil continued his entire body tense and nervous he was too aware of the sword on Wilbur’s hip. Phil reached out his hand as you walked towards Wilbur,

“Baby boy…” You whispered tenderly, vines slowly growing out of the cracks in the floor. “Don’t do this I only just got you back, please think about what you’re doing.” Wilbur’s brow furrowed watching you smile softly holding out your arm, “Everything will be alright I promise you. We can help you.” He let out a wet laugh running a hand through his brown curls, his pointed ears visible.

“It’s not the same nation anymore. There was a special place where people could go but it’s not there. It’s no longer the nation it once was Mom.”

“It is there. You've just- You've just won it back, Wil!” Phil spoke up in opposition to his son.

“MOM, Dad, I’m ALWAYS SO CLOSE to pressing this button, Phil! I've BEEN HERE like seven or eight times, I've been here seven or eight times...Phil, I've been here so many times…” All of you jumped a little at the sound of crackling fireworks outside, “They're fighting. They're fighting!” Phil and you glanced at one another, there was a beat of silence.

“And you want to just blow it all up, You fought so hard to get this land back... So hard.” You argued reaching out to cup his cheeks, he melted into your palms, snuggling into them like they were his last lifeline.

“I don't even know if it works anymore, Mom, I don't even know if the button works, I could, I could... press it.”

“Do you really wanna take that risk?” Phil laughed, “There is a lot of TNT potentially connected to that button.”

“Phil... There was a saying, Phil. By a traitor. Once part of L'Manburg. A traitor- I don't know if you've heard of Eret? He had a saying...It was never meant to be!” He tossed his hand back and slammed it against the button, you let out a devastating shriek pulling Wilbur into your arms to try and protect him from the blast. Phil felt pure adrenaline enter his bloodstream as he flew towards you and his son. His wings wrapped around the both of you and you whimpered, some of his feathers caught fire and he squeezed his loved one’s harder. Wilbur meanwhile let out a roaring cry “MY L'MANBURG, PHIL! MY UNFINISHED SYMPHONY, FOREVER UNFINISHED! IF I CAN'T HAVE THIS, NO-ONE CAN, PHIL!”

“Oh, my god…” Phil spoke, his voice quivering with horror, Wilbur looked down at you, hurt and pride swam in his eyes,

“Are you proud of me mama?” He whispered softly as your thumb caressed his cheeks, Phil glanced down at you ignoring the pain in his wing, your eyes were wet but you were still smiling.

It didn’t reach your eyes.

“I’ll always be proud of you Wilbur. I’m your mother, and I love you, I’ll always love you.” He let out a little cry, you were so genuine with him, your love was smothering him. Wilbur looked up at his father and grabbed his wrist,

“Kill me, Phil. Phil, kill me, Phil kill me!” Wilbur broke away from his hold and tossed his sword Phil’s way. Phil caught it in his arms the lines in his forehead creasing with worry, “Phil, stab me with the sword, murder me now, kill me! Killza, Killza, do it! Kill me, Phil! Murder me! Look, they all want you to! Do it, Phil! Kill me! Phil, kill me!”

“I- You're my SON!”

“Wilbur NO! PHIL DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE!” You cried as Wilbur shoved you away from him, your growing distress caused vines to spill into the room, filling it with greenery, nature wanted to protect you.

“No matter what you- dude, no matter what you've done, I can't-” Phil’s voice cracked, his knuckles turning white against the hilt of the blade.

Wilbur slammed his fist against the wall, “Phil, it's- LOOK! LOOK! HOW MUCH WORK WENT INTO THIS, and it's GONE!” He grabbed Phil’s hand and shoved the point of the sword into his chest, “Do it. Do it.”

“PHIL!” You sobbed grabbing onto his other arm, eyes red and puffy, fat tears were running down your pink cheeks.

The man squeezed his eyes tightly, his throat closing up, he couldn’t look at you, he could feel the look of horror that was slowly spreading across your face.

“Phil. I’m begging you we can get him help, I can’t lose him. Not again, not when I’ve only just got him back.” You choked out, “he’s my baby. He’s our baby.” You were clinging to Phil desperately, your smile was gone, he failed you and he failed his own son.

“Do it, Dad.” Wilbur interrupted you, you let out a desperate cry and Wilbur shushed you softly, brushing away your tears. “It’s better this way,” Wilbur leaned down and kissed your forehead, “I love you and I forgive you.” He looked back at Phil and his disintegrating right-wing, guilt ate at him, “It’s time.”

Phil let out a deep breath, jaw tense and he felt you bury your head in his uninjured wing. He ran his sword through his son’s chest, Wilbur fell forward against the blade, he choked on the blood in his mouth, it flowed out of the corners and stained the front of his shirt. Phil felt you move to look but he covered your face with his wing once more, “Don’t look darlin’” He whispered as your sobs only increased, Wilbur slowly died in his arms with a smile on his face that would forever haunt Phil’s nightmares. He stroked Wilbur’s hair as he slowly faded out of existence, three lives completely snuffed out, Phil was part of giving him life and was the one to take his final one. Once Wilbur was gone you crumpled to the floor loud sobs echoing in the chamber, he fell beside you and wrapped you in his arms, you clutched his beanie to your chest.

“It’s alright. It’ll be okay.”

“Okay! Philza Minecraft how the FUCK is this gonna be okay!” You snarled in his arms but he only held you tighter, “Our son...our baby is dead.” You choked holding your hand to your mouth, the vines that had grown started dying feeding off your agony. “He’s gone…” You whimpered letting Phil caress your hair and plant kisses on the top of your head.

“We’ll get through this. I promise you.” He swore up to you cupping your cheeks within his hands, you sniffled a little and gave a small nod of your head. You were drained emotionally and physically, Phil’s heart ached in his chest.

“You’re hurt…”

“I’ll be alright,” He tried to stretch out his wings he flinched as pain shot up the right side of his body. Phil’s wing was charred to bits, you both knew the unspoken truth that he’d never fly like he once did, Wilbur wasn’t the only thing Phil would mourn.

“We need to set up a grave for him. Under the willow tree, I’ll plant yellow flowers. That way he can always be close to us so long as we live there,” You looked up at him eyebrows pinched so tight “Please.”

“You don’t need permission Darlin’.” He whispered to you resting his forehead against your own, “If that’s where you want it that’s where it’ll be.”

“Good.”

Phil slowly helped you to your feet, you weren’t injured, a few cuts and scrapes he took the majority of the damage from the explosion just like he had planned. He hissed as he tried to put pressure on his left ankle, “Fuck me. I’m too young to need a cane.”

“Eh,” You smiled weakly “Wouldn’t say that.”

“Shut the fuck up.” You giggled softly, your laughter significantly improved his mood, even if it was a minuscule adjustment. “We all can’t be as spry as you,”

“What can I say some of us have it and some of us don’t.” You smirked slightly hearing another loud explosion go off in the distance, “the Withers. Technoblade spawned them didn’t he?” Your eyebrows furrowed in thought and Phil gave a little nod,

“Most likely.”

“Our boys, they can’t do anything without explosions can they?” You shakily whispered and Phil couldn’t help but let out a dry laugh,

“Guess so,” He shrugged limply as you slipped Wilbur’s beanie on your head,

“What now?” You looked up at him through wet eyelashes, Phil caressed the back of your head,

“We go home, bury what’s left of Wilbur, and take a look at my wings to assess the damage.” Phil watched you nod numbly against him, “it’ll be a long walk back.” He groaned rubbing his eyes and you rubbed his back soothingly.

“Let me handle that,” You reassured and he raised an eyebrow the both of you moved to leave the structure neither one of you wanted to put up with anyone, you both had lost a son and wanted time to mourn. Plus, it seemed Tommy and Technoblade were busy fighting. Phil watched you with careful eyes allowing himself to lean against one of the trees that survived the explosion. You placed your fingers in your mouth and gently whistled, not only did a crow from a tree flutter by but a wandering horse as well, you really were an animal whisperer. The crow ruffled its feathers and cawed loudly at Phil, he shot the crow a look and flipped it off, meanwhile, you worked your magic taming the horse in a matter of moments. “Come here Crow,” You held as your hand and he fell into it, you helped him onto the horse and he shot you a look,

“I’m not riding on this horse with you walking on foot. Switch with me.” Phil tried to argue but you shushed him,

“You took an explosion to the back. Take a breather, relax, nature helps me heal anyway.” You hummed fondly as he slumped against the horse reluctantly, it took about an hour to get back home, Phil had lost all feeling in his wing and wanted nothing more than to curl up with you and go to sleep. As the looming willow tree came into view Phil heard you sniffle and clutch his son’s beanie on your head,

“(Y/n)?”

“I-I’m alright.” You cleared your throat shaking your head, “Let’s get you looked at before anything else, okay?” Phil too exhausted to argue only nodded limply, you helped him inside and set him down on a chair. “Spread your wings for me,” You commanded, helping him stretch out his wings. He cursed, only feeling pure agony shoot through his right side,

“Ow! Fuck me!”

“Sorry, sorry,” You whispered out tenderly rubbing the base of his left-wing. The mixture of pain and pleasure was foreign but not completely unwelcome. “Oh, Phil…” You trailed off hesitant to touch the damage that was inflicted, “I don’t...I don’t think-” You chewed the bottom of your lip, but Phil got the message, he wasn’t going to be able to fly as he once did, maybe ever again. His flight feathers were singed to hell, completely burned away, not to mention the patchiness of his other feathers. His shoulders slumped forward as he ran a hand down his face, he was exhausted, he felt the coolness on his wing as you spread some antibiotic on the injury. “I’m sorry,” You kissed the back of his neck and he shivered at the feeling. “We’ll bury what we have tomorrow, you need rest.”

“I’ll be fine-”

“Phil, I will force you into bed. Don’t fucking test me right now, I will force you if I have to.” You hissed out glaring daggers at him, he should be threatened but he just felt oddly aroused.

He decided to attribute that to how fucked up he felt today.

Phil allowed you to tuck him into bed as gentle as you were capable of doing, “I’m going to send out some letters. I’ll join you in a little bit.” He felt you remove his hat and run your fingers through his blonde hair, he leaned into your touch like a kitten. As soon as you shut the door, Phil was out like a light.

Phil found out the next day that you had sent a letter out to both Tommy and Technoblade, you wouldn’t specify what you sent but you seemed a bit more relaxed than you had the other day. You both didn’t get a chance to bury what was left of Wilbur until a week later, Phil’s healing process was slower than he could’ve imagined. Phil reluctantly had to use a cane to get around easily, his crows laughed at him but you were also so kind and careful.

You were an angel.

The two of you buried him under the willow tree on the hill where you’d met the other members of your odd family for the first time. Technoblade had shown up at your doorstep holding out a large box inside of it was a stone tombstone inscribed on the tombstone was Wilbur’s name and date of birth and death. It had surprised Phil that the hybrid even agreed to make this for you, but at the same time, he was Phil’s adoptive son and closest friend, he appreciated the gesture nonetheless. Phil had placed Wilbur’s coat and beanie into a box and placed it under the ground. You had kept your promise and had grown little yellow flowers around the site of the burial, and the two parents mourned the loss of their biological son. Technoblade stood close by a hand resting on Phil’s shoulder in hopes to soothe him at least a little bit, Phil would never admit it but he appreciated the gesture.

Little did the three of them know, a small smile spread across a young ghost’s face. He picked at the sleeves of his yellow sweater, maybe he could give both of them some blue sometime to help them heal.

He had a feeling they’d like that idea.

~~~

I usually don't tag people in my stories but I figured a lot of people wanted a part two:

@xx-smiley-xx @dreamsofficialwife @dirtydiavolo @thatguythatsshy

@shinyshimaagain @little-odd-dude @theultimatewifu32 @hee-hee-haw @thegeekishere

[inkykeiji]

Many sad thoughts running through my head but I can imagine Dabi having trust issues as you and the other anon saying. Him being afraid of getting left behind. I feel like he would say “I didn’t mean to say I love you” at some point because that’s a type of vulnerable he doesn’t want to be but it’s just one of many thoughts

AHHHHHHHH anon anon why must u hurt me like this?????? pls my whole heart just broke at this and i uhhhhh wrote 1.7k words about it,,,

❅ cw: soft dabi, angst, rly sappy ❅

It seems to happen at the most random of times. It isn’t like the movies, isn’t ever after some profound incident or momentous occurrence shared between the two of you—no, it’s always right after the most mundane things; after he catches you brushing your teeth in a cute matching set of panties and a tank top, sticking out your tongue at him, mouth full of foamy white toothpaste; after he finds you curled up on the couch buried under a fluffy blanket, nothing more than a lump and a head as your eyes rapidly scan the pages of the book in front of you, entirely absorbed in whatever world it’s built for you; after he walks into the kitchen to see you by the sink washing a few dishes, hips swaying and head nodding as you hum along to whatever song is blasting through your headphones.

But God, does it hit him like a motherfucking bus every single time, punches him in the stomach without warning, knocks the breath straight out of him.

He’s usually good at keeping it to himself, usually able to swallow it back down when those three little words begin to creep up his throat, dancing on the back of his tongue and restricting his breathing.

But eventually, he messes up.

You had started it, right after you had finished sprinkling the pizza stone with some flour while he was rolling out the dough, wiping your powdery fingers down his t-shirt, then swiping a thumb across his cheekbone, leaving a streak of white flour painted in its path, a little mischievous smile on your face and glint in your eyes.

He retaliates immediately, grabbing a pinch of flour from the bag and flicking it right in your face.

“Dabi!” you gasp, but your shoulders are shaking with silent laughter as you wipe at your face, fingers only managing to leave more strokes of the substance instead of clearing it. Your hand dives into the bag, grasping a handful of flour, inhaling deeply—enough to expand your entire chest—before blowing air out of your mouth, casting tiny, thick explosions of white at him, speckling his shirt and dusting his inky hair.

“Oh, you little brat,”

And, fuck, you look so goddamn beautiful, giggles ringing out around the room, flour strewn in your messy, tousled hair, smears of it across your cheeks and neck, sprinkled on your clothes, eyes bright and breathing laboured with exhilaration as you daintily leap away from him.

They’re bubbling up in his chest, those three stupid little words, climbing up, up, up his throat to settle on his tongue, light and sweet, floating in his mouth like candy floss and melting on his tongue only to be resurrected by another one of your giggles, or playful yelps, or squeals of his name.

And he’s too preoccupied to remember to swallow them down, to chew and chomp on them until he’s crushed them into a thousand tiny pieces as he chases you around the kitchen while you throw clouds of flour at each other, too enraptured by the soft, cute, precious sounds he’s endlessly pulling from you, too hellbent on hearing more, a man possessed.

Because he hasn’t laughed like this in ages, isn’t sure he’s ever laughed like this in his entire life, and they just slip out, when he finally catches you, chest heaving a bit from the thrill of it all as large hands curl around your shoulders.

“God, I love you,”

They’re muttered softly, just a huff of breath, really, blanketed by his laughs and yours, and you nearly miss them.

Nearly.

And then, everything stops. Your laughs abruptly cut off, and he wishes he’d have missed the sharp intake of breath you inhale through your mouth, lips parted slightly, wide eyes staring at him as your body freezes up, going rigid in his grasp, feet fused to the floor.

He stops, too, lets go of you so quickly you’d think your skin burnt his palms through the thin material of your shirt, sapphire eyes growing wide—wider than you’ve ever seen them before—as his mind catches up with his mouth, stumbling a few steps back from you.

He wants to say something, anything, but his voice is caught in his chest, fading into pathetic squeaks of breath any time he tries to force a few words out. And it aches, heart pounding almost painfully against his ribcage, breathing shallow—almost ceased completely—as he stares unblinking at you, sharp, tingling anxiety flooding his veins.

And you—well, you’re staring at him with this look in your eyes, something that he can’t decipher, and it makes his stomach lurch. It’s a look he’s never seen before, your eyes shining as you gaze at him, almost glittering as you stare at him, unmoving, unbreathing, unexplainable. Are you upset? Angry? Disgusted? Stunned? A combination of all four? None at all?

The fact that he can’t tell, that he doesn’t know, when he prides himself on being able to read others so insanely well, ignites flames of anger that alight his entire body, right to the tips of his fingers and his toes, blazing straight through the anxiety and simmering in his chest, eyes hardening as they glare back at you.

A beat passes, your ears ringing from the thick, tense silence draped over the room, and then he’s pushing past you roughly with a choked snarl that sounds a little like a mix between a sob and a growl, and storming out of the kitchen.

He’s cut off all communication entirely, has been ignoring you for a few days now, only leaving his bedroom out of absolute necessity and refusing to answer any of your countless texts that have been collecting on his lockscreen, refusing to even touch his phone. He doesn’t want to see what you have to say, desperately tries to convince himself that he doesn’t care, that he isn’t scared of what your messages might reveal, isn’t terrified of that impending rejection he’s so sure is lurking on the horizon.

But there’s only so long he can keep avoiding you before you finally catch him in the kitchen, just past three in the morning, fixing himself a late-night snack.

“Oh, thank God,”

He whirls around at the sound of your voice, cobalt eyes gaping for a moment before narrowing into sharp slits an instant later.

“Dabi, listen—”

“No,” he growls, eyes flashing. “You listen, I don’t want to fucking talk about it, alright?”

Leaping in front of him, you block his path, prohibiting him from leaving the kitchen and speaking quickly. “Yeah? Well I do!”

“I don’t care,” he spits viciously, the ache throbbing deep in his chest—at the very core of his body—reminding him otherwise. “There’s nothing to talk about, anyway! It’s not like I meant them,”

And that—that gets you to stop, tripping a little over your own feet as you stumble back like he’s physically slapped you, a soft, hurt little whimper getting caught in the back of your throat as tears rapidly pool in your eyes, blurring your vision.

“Wh-What?”

He glares down at you, molars grinding together as his nose twitches.

I didn’t mean to say I love you.

What a pathetic fucking sentence—it’s almost laughable, the corners of his lips quirking up in a sardonic little grin. Your breath hitches, and his shoulders tense at the sound.

‘You aren’t supposed to know I love you’ is much more accurate, his mind sneers at him. Coward. Fucking coward.

“I didn’t mean it,” he says, though his voice is beginning to quiver, trembling hands curling into tight fists in an effort to stop it, short nails biting into the flesh of his palm as the skin stretched taut over his knuckles turns bone white.

“Didn’t mean what?” you whisper, glistening tears finally spilling over and streaming down your cheeks, leaving gleaming trails of salt water behind them. “Say it, Dabi,”

He’s got his eyes shut tightly as he shakes his head, knows if he opens them, if he looks at you, that he’ll break, shatter into a thousand pieces, split himself open at the very core of his body and bare his entire soul to you.

“Look at me,” you demand softly.

His jaw flexes once, slowly exhaling out his nose.

“Dabi, look at me,” a pause. “Please?”

“No.”

“W-Why?” the word escapes your lips in a little whine, broken up by your sniffles.

You know why.

But it’s those little half-sobs, the ones that keep catching painfully in your chest, that do it, interspersed with your soft whimpers as you plead with him—please, open your eyes, just look at me for a second, please!

Unable to stand it any longer, his lids finally rise, slowly revealing sparkling sapphire, glowering at you, his harsh gaze protected by a thin shield of water.

He hates this, hates not having control over his own fucking body, over his own fucking thoughts, hates the unfamiliarity of it all, of the unpleasant fluttering in his stomach and burning in his throat, swallowing thickly past the hard lump that’s formed, constricting his breathing.

Revolting, his inner voice snarls at him. You’re weak, letting some stupid little girl get to you like this, as if you even—

Your touch silences the voice, cutting it off midsentence, his whole body flinching at the soft, small hand resting so tenderly against the curve of his face, subconsciously nuzzling his cheek into your palm a second later, eyes slipping shut again.

“Dabi,” you begin, and something has changed. You no longer sound hurt, no longer sound wounded, your voice gentle and—

No. No, no, no, this can’t be happening to him right now. Panic grips his heart, puncturing it with its claws, sending blistering, sharp pain searing through his chest and slicing him open, raw and vulnerable.

“Please, don’t,” he whispers, words tumbling from his lips without his permission, voice frail, fragile, broken.

Don’t. He doesn’t want to hear them, doesn’t need to hear them, can’t bear to hear them—not if they’re false, fake, uttered out of misplaced pity and sympathy.

“I love you, too,”

A pathetic hiccup gets caught in his throat and he chokes on it, chest stuttering as he shakes his head, lids clenching tightly against the unfamiliar sting of tears, lips pressed together firmly to stifle the tiny distressed sounds that keep crawling up his throat, trying to escape.

There’s no way, she’s lying, how could she ever—

“Yes,” you whisper, thumb caressing his jaw. “I love you, too,”

[shoutogepi]

Taking Care of Their Drunk S/O After a Girls’ Night Out

with Bakugou Katsuki & Kirishima Eijirou 

genre : [ ☀︎ ]  fluff!! & a tiny bitta steam~

hc prompt : how would he take care of you if you come home wasted after a girls’ night out?

author’s note : this is my first time writing headcanons!! idk if this is good hc material but lemme know what you think! :) **gif not mine!!

bakugou:

first of all, blasty is annoyed that you’re going out and ditching his elderly ass at home. it’s a wednesday night so who in their right mind would be going to the club?? sure it’s your close friend’s birthday but they couldn’t just push the celebration to the weekend like a normal person?

sure you have work tomorrow but you’re young enough and it’s your friend’s birthday, they just went through a breakup so you just wanna be there for them, physically and emotionally. and bakugou gets that, but he’s still gonna be crabby about it cuz he usually drags you into bed at like ten pm.

more importantly, he likes to have you tucked up in his arms, nose in your hair and tbh your ass on his crotch. it’s just so much easier to fall asleep knowing you’re safe and there with him, and even though he complains about it, the sound of your gentle snores really lull him into slumber.

therefore he has a hard time falling asleep just because you’re not with him, but then the fact that he’s in his large bed and you’re out and about, looking killer in that sexy clubbing number... he’s gnashing his teeth and twisting in the sheets no doubt. knowing you’re most likely very far from sober doesn't really help either. and just thinking of all the creeps that’re probably eyeing up every inch of skin, every curve hugged perfectly by that black sleek dress he usually loves but really despises right now… ugh, he just can’t sleep with his blood boiling like this.

so of course he’s still awake, very agitated may i add, when scratching noises at the door start at two thirty in the morning.

you’re pathetically attempting to open the front door, but the key to the apartment is almost identical to the lobby key and then… the elevator key is there too and oh my goshhh the mailbox key is so small it’s hilarious!! like it’s a baby or something and idk you’re just vibing, laughing at the mini object drunk off your ass.

and a disgruntled katsuki swings the door wide open while you’re giggling at your fucking keychain like an idiot.

caught like a deer in headlights, your expression actually makes his frown melt into an amused smirk, the corner of his lip twitching upwards. “hey dopey, what’s so funny?”

shaking off the embarrassment, you throw your arms into the air and close your eyes, a great big grin on your lips as you loudly cheer his name.

katsuki has a huge weak spot for you and you just look so genuinely happy to see him that he doesn’t bother to make fun of you further, he just slips an arm around your waist and gathers you inside.

he asks how your night was while he bends down to take off your shoes, instructing you to lean on the door for support because you’re all wobbly and clearly not capable of standing upright on your own. god, how did you even make it back by yourself in one piece?

once the shoes are off, he scoops you up like you weigh nothing. years of training have paid off, i mean, his biceps are probably the same circumference as your skull so… it makes sense that he’s able to carry you so easily but it still blows your mind every time he does it.

sets you on the edge of the bed, kissing your forehead when you ask if he’s always had such sparkly eyes. oh, how they shine in the moonlight. lmao you’re a cheesy drunk. he shakes it off with the classic bakugou tch but you know deep down he loves it.

he takes off your constrictive clothing so all you’re left in is your underwear, and yeah his eyes linger because you’re literally perfect to him. but it’s like three am now and he just wants to get you ready for bed, so he puts one of his ground zero shirts on you because he doesn’t trust himself to not escalate the situation with you sitting naked in front of him like that.

has you sit on the sink counter in the bathroom while he hands you your toothbrush, toothpaste already squeezed out and bristles wettened. as you very sloppily brush your teeth, complaining about how the mint flavor is “too spicy”, he’s busy getting out the makeup remover and wipes.

he watches you do your little routine every night so he’s well versed in what to do. he ties your hair back and you’re surprised, like, how does he know how to tie a girl’s hair?? you figure it’s from past experience so you let him know your thoughts.

he’s red from ear to ear with blush, and he adamantly explains that “it’s not that hard to do, smartass, i didn’t learn from that.”

is all pouty and grumbly as he swipes the cotton pad across your face but his touch is sweet and so careful, loving. you lean into him like a cat, and he gets even redder because fuck you’re really cute.

after you’re done brushing your teeth, katsuki hands you a glass of water and tells you to drink it, or else you’re not getting any cuddles tonight.

“slow down dopey— i didn’t mean all in one go!”

he puts on your skincare stuff too, and he even rubs it into your skin in the right direction and pressure.

you just kinda sit there and then suddenly you’re tearing up because your man is so considerate ?? and gentle?? and he’s just, ugh, perfect and all yours and you’re just really in your feelings all the sudden.

katsuki is shook when he stops focusing on rubbing the moisturizer into your neck to see tears gathering along your lower lashes.

“hey, what’s wrong, princess? did something happen? do you feel alright?”

you just pull him close and hold him tight. and katsuki is the smartest guy you know, he picks up all your social cues. so he softly wraps his strong arms around you, calloused fingers rubbing into your scalp.

“i just really love you,” you whimper, muffled his now damp shirt. “i’m sorry for keeping you up, i meant to just sneak in and slide into bed. you don’t have to do all this.”

he’s quiet for a moment before he squeezes you carefully, letting out a low sigh. “you worry too much, baby. you know i’d do anything for you...” he leans back and his thumb rolls over your wet cheek, eyes half lidded and a small, sincere smile on his lips, “and, i really love you too.”

kirishima:

kiri isn’t really the type to get super overprotective, and he does his fair share of partying so he is more than understanding when you tell him you’re going to the club with the girls.

he does pout a little when you tell him he can’t come, but he quickly accepts the fact because he understands it’s “girls’ night” and he probably wouldn’t want to be there for that anyway. although he does quip out a small comment about how sexy you look in your clubbing outfit, and how much sexier it’s gonna look on your bedroom floor later on.

safe to say you leave the house with a blush on your cheeks and a little heat between your legs.

you’re out with the 1A girls tonight— you’d all stayed pretty close after graduation and somehow you’d finally managed to get a night that all of you could attend. you can’t remember how many rounds of shots go by, and by the time the club is closing, your friends are all in various stages of drunkenness.

tsuyu and ochaco are playing some children’s hand game and singing along to it while they clap their hands together incessantly, jirou and hagakure are stepping on the cracks in the sidewalk as some kind of competition and yelling in indignation, and mina and momo have their arms around your shoulders as they debate what would be tastier right now: takoyaki or taiyaki.

honestly you keep tripping up on the words because they sound so similar, so the conversation just keeps going in circles until one of you finally decides to call a cab.

it’s about one in the morning— the group had left the club to get a snack before the easy mart across the street closed and you’d each gotten probably too many foods, your eyes bigger than your stomach.

kirishima laughs when you walk into the apartment, wobbling a bit with the (surprisingly full) plastic “thank you!” bag swinging around in the air.

“hey babe, whatcha got there? woah now—“

he reaches out and catches you before you tumble over, a red brow raised teasingly at your questionable balance.

“you alright baby?”

his voice is always deep, but it sounds even more intoxicatingly velvety in your drunken stupor, and all you do is give him the eyes with your tongue poking out between your lips.

he laughs at you again, nodding and whispering a “later, eager girl” in your ear as he sits you down on the couch, large hands fiddling with the straps on your ankles.

kiri frowns as the heel comes off, angry red marks marring the top of your foot, the back of your ankle faring even worse with a blister rubbed raw laying there.

you hiss when he touches it experimentally, a look of surprise on your face and frustration on his.

“y’know you’re really deadly in those heels babe, but if i’d known they’d hurt ‘ya i wouldn’t have let ‘ya wear ‘em out for so long…”

he disappears into the bathroom for a moment only to come back with the first aid kit. he gingerly holds your foot with one hand, the other dabbing some antibacterial cream onto the wound. he rips the wrapper with his pointy teeth, and you stifle a laugh at his red hero logo littered across the bandage.

he chuckles at your laughter, pressing a gentle kiss to your knee as he repeats the action on the other foot.

once he’s done and you’re all bandaged up, he sits next to you on the sofa, pulling your legs up across his lap.

he is not afraid to stay up late with you— actually, he prefers it because he just loves talking with you, especially when you’re all giggly and blushy because of the alcohol. plus he doesn’t want you to go to sleep still drunk (which he can tell you clearly still are), cuz he thinks you’ll have more of a hangover and it’s not that he doesn’t wanna take care of you tomorrow, it’s that he doesn’t want you to be in any pain if you can avoid it. he is a gentleman after all.

kiri inquires how your night out was, and you inform him of all the fun you’d had with the girls. he nods as he listens, big hands coming to rub your feet with the tiniest bit of strength— just enough to soothe your aching feet.

he tends to your every need;

fetching you an icy water bottle and encouraging you to drink from it frequently— “take another sip for me baby, I’ll add another minute to your massage if ‘ya do— haha that’s it, good girl!”

turning on the fan when you say you’re a little warm— “you’re hot? yeah i know. kidding. lemme get the fan for ‘ya.”

flicking on the TV and putting on your choice of entertainment. he doesn’t mind that it’s that show you love, even if it’s his third time watching this particular episode— “great choice babe, this one’s funny… hey, what’s that look for? of course it’s alright, i love this show!”  

it’s more of a background noise anyway as he talks with you, genuinely enjoying your company and just being there with you. he just wants to chat with you; share your smiles and hear your thoughts from the night, make silly jokes about the show and hear your laugh, lay his cheesy pickup lines on you even though you’ve been his for quite some time now.

and it’s so cute to him how you stumble on your words and amuse yourself when you’re drunk like this, and then when you remember you had bought snacks he swears his heart skips a beat at your squeal of excitement.

“this one’s for you!” you chime happily, hand outstretched and offering the box of pocky to him. his heart melts a little (okay maybe a lot) at your gift— he’d said he was craving chocolate last night and you had remembered, even in your intoxicated state.

gosh, he really loves you.

he’s about to voice the emotion when his thumb brushes over the perfect spot on the arch of your foot particularly hard, and a loud moan erupts from your lips, your brow furrowing and your lip pinching between your teeth.

you share a heated look before he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“thanks babe, but the pocky’ll have to wait,” he murmurs as he tosses the box aside, pushing the bag of snacks onto the floor. crawling over your legs with a sharp-toothed smirk on his lips, he growls lowly, a glint in his crimson eyes. “there’s something else i needa taste of now…”

➥ masterlist — thanks for reading as always :)

𝐂𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 © 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐩𝐢 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟎. 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

[dream-a-little-bigger-x]

Curiosity Killed The Cat | Owen Patrick Joyner

Requested: Yes/No

Hi! I was wondering if you can do an Owen imagine kinda based off his Instagram story of him finding a cat. I was thinking he’d actually find the missing cat though and come ring your doorbell at 4am bc he’s chaotic. You can decide everything. Thank you in advance!!!

A/N: The cat doesn’t actually die in this, it’s just a saying that i liked for the title, so don’t worry! It’s got a happy ending!

Pairing: Owen x Fem!Reader

Song(s) used: none 

Warnings: none

Words: 3,949

A week. It had been exactly one week since y/n last saw her cat, Tunabean. The white, grey striped Ragamuffin cat had been absent from y/n’s apartment for way longer than she normally would be and it worried y/n to the point where she’d be out looking for the little rascal every night after work. 

“Found her yet?” Jamila asked as she entered y/n’s apartment after coming home from work. 

Jamila was y/n’s roommate and best friend since college. The two had lived together through their college career and decided to be roommates after too, as long as neither had significant others to go live with. 

“No,” y/n’s lip stuck out into a pout as she feverishly reposted the message on all her social media platforms. “People have been tearing down my posters as well. Did you see the ones near Andrews Park? They were torn to shreds!” 

Jamila pulled her lips into a tight smile before putting her bags on the dining room table and joining y/n on the couch. “Yeah, I saw. I’m really sorry, y/n. If you want, we can go and put up some more posters? Exchange the torn up ones with some fresh ones?”

“You’d do that for me?” 

“Of course! Sweetie, I’d do anything to get little Bean home, you know that, right?” y/n nodded her head in response, though she wasn’t sure if she knew that. 

Jamila wasn’t the biggest fan of Tunabean at first. She hated cats. Growing up, she’d always had a dog but never a cat. She didn’t trust the little rascals for one second. So, when y/n showed up with little Tunabean after having had what felt like the worst week of her life, Jamila was a tiny bit angry. But eventually warmed up to Tunabean when the little kitty seemed so placid, you could easily cuddle up to it on the sofa. 

“Let’s go find Zach at his work, bribe him to print me more posters for cheap, hang ‘em up around town and then maybe Tino’s?” Jamila’s eyes lit up at the mention of her favorite restaurant. 

She snapped her fingers and pointed finger guns at her best friend. “Sounds like a plan!” she said and wrapped her scarf tighter around her neck. It was a cold November day and no person could leave their house consciously without being bundled up into layers and layers of clothing.  

“I hope Bean didn’t hide under a car and the owner didn’t tap the hood before getting in…” y/n muttered, her voice thick with worry, as they exited the apartment building and stepped into the blistering cold. 

“I’m sure she just found a few boyfriends and is spending her time with them,” Jamila tried to reassure her, but knew all-too-well that Tunabean wouldn’t stay away this long, even if she had a lover cat to make little kittens with. She loved Jamila and y/n’s home too much. 

“Are you slut shaming my cat right now?” 

“Our cat,” Jamila corrected, causing a smile to find its way to y/n’s face, “And no, I am not. I’m just trying to be optimistic here, y/n.” Jamila tucked her cold hands into the pockets of her tan peacoat. “I’m sure Tunabean is alright.” 

“What if she isn’t though? What if she’s like meowing somewhere in the middle of Norman and no one to hear her pleas?” Jamila rolled her eyes at how dramatic her best friend was being.  

“Norman ain’t that big, sweetie. I’m sure if she’s meowing somewhere, we would’ve heard her already.” 

“Exactly! Which means she’s either dead or god knows anywhere! She could be in Oklahoma City! We don’t know that!” y/n exclaimed loudly, using excessive hand gestures more so to keep herself warm than emphasis. 

Jamila stopped in her tracks and grabbed y/n by the shoulders, stopping her too. “Stop being such a drama queen, y/n! I’m sure Tunabean is fine. Maybe she’s on an adventure or making new friends, you don’t know that!” 

“You don’t care about our child, admit it,” y/n muttered. This rendered Jamila silent. “Admit you don’t care about our child, Jam!” Passer-byers shot them a weirded out glare, which Jamila sent right back. 

“Oh, please! Don’t pretend there are no lesbian families in Norman too!” she yelled at them. The comical side of the whole situation made y/n laugh a tiny bit. “There’s that smile I like to see.” Jamila softly touched y/n’s chin with her knuckle before grabbing the girl’s hand in hers. The warmth of Jamila’s hand radiating through to y/n’s made her feel all toasty. “Let’s go print some posters!”  

The girls reached a one-storey building with red decrepit letters stuck to the roof. 

HOOPER PRINTING CO. 

As y/n opened the glass door and held it for Jamila to walk in, the smell of ink reached her nostrils. Though not a very traditional scent to love, it reminded y/n of one of her best friends. It was like  her brain just knew that the muscles in her cheeks would soon start to hurt thanks to Zachary. A boy the girls had met in college as Xana. 

Jamila spotted the bleached blonde mop of hair immediately and signaled to y/n to sneak up to him. On their tippy toes, the two approached the tall slender man, and when they were close enough, they took in a deep breath and-- “Don’t even think about it,” Zach mumbled without even looking at them. 

Jamila and y/n glanced at each other, cheeks puffed out from the breath they were holding. “How’d you--?” y/n didn’t even finish her sentence as she looked past Zach and her eyes landed on a tiny tv screen. Cameras, of course. 

“Since when do you have security cameras?” y/n asked as she hopped onto the counter Zach was sorting invoices on. 

He shrugged, “Sometime this week, I think.” His bright blue eyes met y/n’s as she sheepishly looked at him while kicking her legs. The boy sighed exasperated, knowing all too well what the girls are here for. “No. Not again.” 

“Please, Zachy! Tunabean is still missing and her posters have been ripped down!” Her eyes teared up at the thought of her kitty being out there all by herself in Norman. All she could hope was that the creepy dudes from Doyle’s didn’t get their filthy paws on her little princess. 

“Come on, Zach. You love that cat too!” Jamila chimed in, crossing her arms across her chest and glaring at him knowingly. 

“Fine, come here,” he reached out his hand and y/n handed him the thumb drive on which she kept her self-made posters. “You’re gonna have to buy me Tino’s though.” 

“We were going there afterwards, if you wanna join?” y/n’s voice was teasing and sly. 

“I’m off at five,” he simply stated before pressing a few buttons on his desktop and waking up the printer closest to them. “How long has she been gone for?” he then asked after a few beats of silence. Y/N dropped her head and stared at her still moving legs for a moment. 

“About a week,” she replied. 

Zach pulled his lips into a tight smile. He reached his hand out and placed it gently on top of hers. “She’ll come back.” 

“How can you be so sure? She might be hurt somewhere or dead and I won’t even know. I won’t even be able to say goodbye to her.” Tears pooled in y/n’s eyes as she thought of the sweet little kitten she had found in a ‘take one for free’ box on a curb one day. She was the last one left. 

“I’m not sure, y/n. But I’d like to be optimistic. Besides, Tunabean is resilient and the most independent kitty I’ve ever known. She’ll survive. She’s probably out adventuring with some friends.” 

Though the words weren’t very reassuring and y/n knew she had every right to be worried, they did calm her down a little. Tunabean was resilient and extremely independent. She’ll find her way back home.    

*

“I’ll see you guys later, bye!” Owen waved at his friends as he stepped into the cold November night. It was 4 am and he was just returning home from a day spent with friends. He had fallen asleep during the movie, only waking up in the middle of the night, realizing his parents were probably worrying about him, seeing he’d told them he’d be home by midnight at the latest. 

He softly hummed along to the song that was playing in his head as he walked down West Main Street, his hands tucked deep into his pockets to try and keep them warm. He should’ve brought a thicker coat or a thicker jumper. 

“Ah, mister Joyner!” a familiar voice with a thick accent made him shake out of his train of thought about the cold. The friendly face of the robust Italian greeted him in the dim light of the restaurant behind him. 

“Still working, Tino?” Owen asked as he stopped in his tracks to talk to the man everyone in Norman, Oklahoma loved. 

“Already back at work, ragazzino!” he replied in his thick Italian accent. Owen always thought it was fake and just for show to lure clients, so that they knew he was a pure Italian man, sharing his love for the Italian cuisine in his restaurant. 

“At four in the morning?!” Owen exclaimed, stunned at the man’s determination for his job. 

“Deliveries don’t wait, signore.” His laugh boomed into the empty, dark streets of Norman. Owen couldn’t help but let out a laugh too while his eyes averted and landed on a poster in the window. A black-and-white picture of a small cat stared back at him.  

MISSING: TUNABEAN

Grey-and-white striped ragamuffin cat, listens to the name Tunabean. 

“She’s been missing for a week, the poor girl who owns her is worried sick,” Tino told Owen when he noticed what he was looking at. The blond twenty-year-old pressed his lips together. He only ever had a dog that had never run away, but he could imagine what it would be like to not know where your pet is. He would totally lose it if Bindi ever went missing. 

“I feel sorry for her,” Owen said, unsure of anything else to say. 

“Yeah, me too,” said Tino. “Keep an eye out for Tunabean, yeah?” 

“I will.” 

And with that, Owen continued his walk back home. The cat on the poster kept haunting his mind. Those big eyes were something he wouldn’t forget anytime soon. Thanks to said image plastered in his brain, he even started hearing meowing when he got to Andrews Park. It was a soft, fragile meow that had to echo through his brain for a few seconds before he realized it actually came from the bushes he was walking past as he passed through Andrews Park. 

Curiously, and kind of feverishly, Owen started to dig into the shrubbery until he found a tiny cat. “Oh, don’t worry, little one. I got you.” He said as he carefully detangled it from the branches. As he held it up to his face, he found the big, round eyes from the poster staring back at him in real life. “Tunabean?” he cooed, and the cat tilted its head ever so slightly. 

He stroked the cat’s head and scratched behind her ear before pulling it closer into his chest. She was shivering, but Owen wasn’t sure if it was from the cold or the fear. If she’d been missing for a week, God knows how long she must’ve been stuck in there. 

“You hurt, little one?” he mumbled to it as he absentmindedly made his way to the one person he knew could help. 

“Owen,” Emmy groaned when she’d opened the door to find him standing on the curb with a pout on his face. “It’s four in the morning, I have to be up in an hour for work.” 

“That’s why I’m here,” he said and showed her the cat he had tucked in his jacket to keep it warm. “I found her in the bushes near Andrews Park. Can you check if she’s okay?” Emmy’s eyes darted from the cat to Owen and back. “Please, Emmy? You’re the only one I know could help her out.” 

“Come on in,” she sighed, clearly disgruntled at the early wakeup call. But she couldn’t say no to a little kitty in need. She’d been rescuing animals since she was a little girl, she wasn’t going to leave this one in the dust. 

Owen placed the cat on the table as it meowed and nudged Owen’s hand with her head. “It’s okay, Tunabean, Emmy here is gonna make sure you’re okay.” 

“Tunabean?” Emmy asked as she put on latex gloves. 

“Yeah, I think it’s the cat from the missing posters you see all around town?” 

Emmy gingerly took the cat in her gloved hands and started her check-up. “Ah, yes! My brother and his buddies took some of them down, thinking they were ‘rebellious’.” She rolled her eyes. “You gonna bring her back?” 

“Of course, Tino said the owner was worried sick about her.” 

Emmy smiled at this. Owen had always been the compassionate one in their friend group. He’d only act upon things if he was sure it wouldn’t hurt anyone else. Though, sometimes that compassion vanished when they were with their friends and he got a ‘brilliant’ idea, which was most likely kind of dangerous. 

“Oh, look,” Emmy whispered as she showed Tunabean’s paw. There was a thorn stuck in the little pad. “Poor thing! Hold her for a second, please? I’m gonna get my tweezers to get it out.” Owen placed a hand on the cat’s stomach, his fingers lightly scratching at the white fur. 

Emmy returned with everything she needed, and within a few seconds, Tunabean was freed from the thorn in her paw and back on her feet. She suddenly seemed a lot more peppy than she was before. 

“Let’s get you home, yeah?” Owen said as he scooped the kitten back up into his arms, holding it close to his chest. Emmy took her gloves off and scratched the cat’s head. 

“Goodbye, Tunabean,” she cooed, earning licks from her rough little tongue. “Ooh, I think I got the girl’s address here somewhere. Tunabean is Anna’s client and we’ve got them in the system.” 

As quickly as she’d said it, she’d handed the address over to Owen. After thanking her profusely, Owen went on his way with the cat tucked safely in his jacket for warmth. 

He was nervous as it was already five in the morning and the woman most definitely was still asleep. But he didn’t want to keep her in even more suspense and worry about her cat as she already was. 

“Hello?” a sleepy voice sounded through the intercom. 

“Hi, I’m Owen, I think I got your cat, Tunabean?” 

A silence fell, only Tunabean’s sleepy snoring disrupting the peace and quiet of the night. The poor girl had fallen asleep in Owen’s arms. He almost felt sad he had to give her away again. 

It took a good minute before the door to the apartment building opened up and a girl in red flannel pj’s opened the door. Her hair was tied up in a messy bun with big strands falling out of it. Though she’d probably rather not be seen like this out in public, Owen thought she looked breathtaking, even in the dim light from the hallway of her corridor and the street lights. 

“You really got Tunabean?” she asked as she held onto the door, squishing herself in the small opening she’d granted herself. Owen opened his jacket and carefully showed her the cat who’d woken up from her slumber. “Tunabean!” the girl exclaimed and grabbed the grey pet from the boy’s hands. Their fingers brushed ever so slightly, and though y/n was too busy with her cat, Owen felt it. He felt the spark. 

“I would invite you inside for a drink to thank you, but my roommate is still asleep and I don’t want to wake her.” Owen held up his hand, a smile tugging at his lips as he shook his head. 

“That’s okay. I don’t need a reward. I’m just glad I could reunite the two of you again,” he said, smiling at the girl and her cat. “Oh! She did have a thorn in her paw though, but my friend is a vet and I took her to her for a check-up before I came here.” 

“Aw, poor Bean,” she scratched the cat’s head before turning back to the blonde boy. “Thank you. That’s very considerate of you.” He tipped his head forward, the smile still persistent on his lips. 

“Glad I could help,” he repeated, jamming his hands into the pockets of his jacket again. “I’m gonna go though. I’m sure you’d rather go back to sleep right now than talk to a complete stranger on your doorstep.” 

“Oh, uhm, okay… Goodbye then? And thank you again for bringing Tunabean back.” 

Owen took a few steps backwards as he said, “You’re most welcome. Goodbye, Tunabean and…” 

“Y/N.” 

“Goodbye Tunabean and y/n.” His eyes lingered on hers for a few more seconds before he turned around to really make his way home now, no distractions. 

“Wait! I didn’t catch yours!” she whisper-shouted after him. 

He turned again, but kept walking. “Owen,” he said. 

“Goodbye, Owen.” She grabbed Tunabean’s paw and waved at him with it, causing a giggle to rake through Owen’s body. With his hand still in his pocket, he waved back. 

The more distance he created between them, the bigger his smile became as he thought of her. She was the epitome of a beautiful dream come to life. It made him wonder what she’d look like if she did put effort into her appearance. That could just be the death of him. 

*

After two more hours of sleep, the alarm blaring through her room woke y/n from a beautiful dream with the mysterious blonde boy that rang her doorbell very early in the morning. It caused her to wake up with the thought of him, wondering if she’d ever see him again. 

“Morning,” she greeted Jamila when she found her best friend in the living room, gathering all her stuff. “Guess who came home last night!” As if on cue, the little cat pattered across the hardwood floor towards the dark beauty that was Jamila. Her eyes widened as did her smile upon seeing the white-and-grey ragamuffin. 

“Bean!” Jamila shrieked as she knelt down to pick the four-legged friend off the floor. “Oh, baby! I missed you!” She peppered the cat with kisses, receiving the kisses back from her tiny pink tongue. “Where’d you find him?” 

“Oh, I didn’t. This guy, Owen, did. He brought her back at, like, five in the morning,” y/n explained as she absentmindedly smiled at the thought of those pretty blue-ish eyes. 

“And this Owen guy is pretty cute, isn’t he?” Jamila asked upon noticing her best friend’s flustered demeanor. “Did you ask for his number?” Y/N rolled her eyes before she started gathering her things she needed for work. 

“It was five in the morning, I had just woken up and I was too busy with Tunabean’s return to even think of that,” she explained, mostly cursing at herself for not asking his number. “Besides, I looked disgusting, I doubt he thought I was the epitome of beauty.” 

Jamila simply shook her head, debating against saying any more about it before pressing a kiss to y/n’s cheek and leaving the apartment. 

A silence fell over the space, leaving y/n alone with her thoughts. Her beautiful, yet annoying thoughts of the handsome boy at her front door. “He was handsome, wasn’t he, Tunabean?” she asked her cat, who simply tilted her head to the side as she sat in front of y/n on the floor. 

Once y/n had gathered her stuff for work today, she said goodbye to Tunabean and left the apartment. She was fumbling around in her handbag to look for her car keys when a vaguely familiar voice made her look up. 

The gorgeous blue eyes she’d been dreaming of for two whole hours were staring down at her whilst the plump pink lips curled up into a dreamy smile. “Oh, hey, Owen.” 

“I wanted to come and check up on Tunabean,” he carefully said, pointing up at the building she’d just come out of. “You know, see if she’s okay and stuff.” He suddenly seemed nervous. More nervous than he did at five in the morning. 

“Uhm, she’s okay, actually. Slept well and seemed very chipper this morning,” y/n reassured him, a smile playing at her lips as her eyes scanned his face. She made sure to make a mental note of every single detail of his face. Like how he stuck his tongue between his teeth as he smiled or how his eyes squinted slightly or the stubble faintly growing on his chin. 

“Oh, okay, good. That’s--that’s all, then…” He awkwardly coughed. 

Y/N awaited anything else, her eyes darting left and right as they just fumblingly stood on the curb in front of y/n’s apartment. “I-uhm… I have to get to work though, so…” She pointed somewhere behind Owen, indicating she needed to pass him and get going. 

“Right!” he said and took a step aside to let her through. She offered him a little wave and a soft ‘bye’ as she passed him. He watched her walk away, cursing at himself for not asking what he really wanted to ask. “Wait!” he yelled, making her stop in her tracks and turn around again with an expectant look on her face. “That’s-that’s not what I wanted to ask. I mean it was, but it wasn’t the only thing I wanted to ask.” He scratched the back of his neck as y/n’s eyes searched for an answer on his face. 

Y/N looked at him with a piercing glint in her eyes, urging him to continue. 

“Oh, right! Uhm… Would you -- would you maybe wanna go have a drink with me later today? Or something?” Her smile grew wider as she slowly nodded her head in response. 

“I’m off at five. Meet me at Gray Owl then,” she told him before turning to walk away. 

Owen was left on her curb, wondering if he had died. He thought she looked pretty when she’d just rolled out of bed, but now that she was all dolled up for work, she was the most beautiful person he had ever seen. And that smile. That smile was killer. 

She was more than the epitome of a dream come to life. She was beauty and grace. She was a poem and the poet. She was the lyrics and the melody. She was the question and the answer. 

Owen grew more and more curious about that girl the more he thought of her. He wanted to know what she liked and what she absolutely hated. He wanted to know how she laughed and how she cried, if she sang whenever her mind wandered. He wanted to know how she liked her eggs in the morning. 

Even though he knew curiosity killed the cat, he knew for a fact the cat in this story was just the beginning of something beautiful. 

 *

*

*

JATP taglist: @hannahhistorian92 @marinettepotterandplagg @thequirkybookaholic @bookdealer5 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @hemmingsness @iainttakingshitfromnobody @ifilwtmfc @angryknightstatesmantrash @kiss-themoongoodbye @rudysbay @thedarkqueenofavalon​ @caitsymichelle13​ @calamitykaty @wiselight @kcd15​ @vicesvsvirtuesfanfic @stars-soph @kinda-really-lost @notasofti

Owen taglist: @alexpjoyner

Lemme know if you wanna be on my taglist! 

[kaminobiwan]

inhibition

pairing: obi-wan kenobi  x  jedi!reader

summary: Fluff. Sap. Domesticity with a little bit of plot sprinkled in. Dash of sa(n)d, but that's to be expected at this point. It’s Tatooine, y’all.

a/n: Having not read Kenobi yet I actually have no idea how Obi-Wan’s demeanor is towards young Luke, but it’s fic so who cares. They get FAMILY VIBES

This one got away from me. Positively wrenched out of my grip and flew away, leading to the longest fic I’ve ever written, but I think the end result is so worth it. Requested by @snips-n-skyguy0501 and an anon that wanted breakfast in bed and forehead kisses — I hope your foot feels better, Sam! (Taglist)

In the slick of the heat of Tatooine, there isn’t much you could really do but sleep it off.

Even with tiny windows, the determined rays of the planet’s twin suns never failed to make their way into the small compound that had served as your sanctuary for the better part of the past half decade. You can feel the warmth of the dawn seeping in, lingering on your features, but you’re not ready to come back to the living just yet.

It’s not usually that you lay in bed for more than a couple hours past sunrise, but given the past few days, you definitely deserved it — repeated visits to the Lars homestead had acquainted you with some of their regular customers, other families that lived in the Great Chott. With Obi-Wan being the least inclined out of the pair of you to interact with anyone not in immediate danger (“saving his sociability for you,” as he called it), you’d been the one to volunteer some of your talents when you could in exchange for food or parts. This week had seen a favor to one of the couples that bought water from Owen and Beru, with you helping to repair a lower-end vaporizer that had seen shinier days.

The trips across the salt flat had inflicted more of a beating on your feet than normal, and your shoes hadn’t been enough to protect you from the coarse desert floor. You’d come home the night before looking worse for wear, left hand rubbed raw from tinkering and right foot split open by an unforgiving blister, but Obi-Wan had patched you up without hesitation and insisted that you let him wrestle your weary bones to bed.

Now, your lover lays ever-present at your back, but judging by the heavy unmoving arm strewn across you, he’s not fully up either.

Without raising your eyelids, you turn in his grasp, the weight upon you comforting despite the swelter. You hear Obi-Wan mutter something incoherent, but you pay it no mind as you crane your neck slightly in search of his face. Lips meet a bearded chin first, and a hum escapes him, louder now. Still determined in reaching your goal, you stretch, limbs awakening, but mind lagging as it tries to shake free of the clutches of slumber.

It’s a race to consciousness as Obi-Wan starts to stir as well, evidently joining you in your quest for a kiss, and finally, after a few minutes more of half-asleep fumbling, it happens — mouths moulding together blissfully, weak and sweaty from the blazing heat, but your heart flutters at the taste of him.

When you open your eyes, a blue gaze is waiting. Obi-Wan smiles at the way your noses touch, unwilling to separate much from your embrace.

“Good morning.”

You yawn before responding, jerking as Obi-Wan juts an evil finger in your side midway. You’re not sentient enough to shoot him a half-hearted glare, so instead, you mumble it back and accidentally smack him in the face as you move to rise. 

He stops you before you can, chin hooking onto your nearest shoulder and tugging down, and you slump back to the sheets with a subdued giggle. “Feeling better?”

“Much,” you reply, and he nods, obviously pleased. “I have you to thank for that.”

He mouths at the skin behind your ear, only half-listening, but still fully fixated on you. You wonder if you’ll ever completely get used to his unbridled affection, even after more than five years living together in isolation, free to feel and show your love blatantly and unapologetically.

Not without a price that had been paid, but it was soul-healing love regardless.

“The Marstraps and their garden are doing well,” you comment absently, more to fill the silence as he lavishes you in physical worship than anything. “Maybe we should get into hydroponics.”

A sound of indifference.

“Did you know they have a daughter?” At that, Obi-Wan stills, face buried in your hair. You think his hand twitches at your abdomen, but in your groggy state, you can’t be completely sure. He never seems to know what to say when you talk of such things. Not then, not now. 

It’s not like you mean to imply anything by bringing it up, really. It’s more of...a gauge, of sorts. You’re probing. You’re not even sure why.

“Her name is Camie. She’s very sweet.”

Obi-Wan lifts his head lethargically, looking like he wants to utter a thousand words and nothing all at once. This time, he really does grip your hip, thumb grazing your ribcage thoughtfully, but you take it upon yourself to change the subject before things get too complicated.

“What time is it?”

“Still early,” he rumbles, and the gravelly tone sends satisfying vibrations to where your torsos are pressed against each other. “You’ll be able to get a couple more hours of rest.”

“Hmm.” His words trigger your body to succumb to the drowsiness you hadn’t quite gotten rid of, and your eyes droop contentedly again. “Will you be joining me?” 

Obi-Wan slips his other arm from underneath your neck, languidly sweeping over your form and nudging your temple fondly with his nose. “Unfortunately, no,” he murmurs into your hair, “but I think you’ll appreciate why.”

Your eyebrow lifts at the cryptic line, but you’re already falling back asleep as he lifts himself fully from you, and you give into the tiredness as his footsteps fade from your hearing.

———

Moments later — you’re not sure if he’s made good on his promise of extra hours — you feel the pressure of puckered lips against your eyelids, the scratch of his beard poking the thin skin around your eyes as you arise for the second time. This time, however, the enticing smell of food invades your senses, and you realize with a start that it’s not the boiled mealgrain that you usually have in the morning.

“Is that — ?” You shift in bed, reclining upon the headrest, but not yet sitting upright. You’re wide awake now, blinking alertly to find the source of the delectable aroma.

“Iktotch toast,” Obi-Wan announces proudly, setting a tray stacked with plates of steaming food on the table beside your shared bed. “And my attempt at a gartro omelet. Though, I couldn’t get all the necessary ingredients.” He sits on the edge, hand finding your blanketed shin and caressing it like second nature. “Just a fair warning.”

The thin sheet falls to your stomach as you twist to get a good look at his cooking, and you’re rewarded with the sight of brightly colored eggs and buttered bread topped with carbosyrup. Compared to the monochromatic meals you’ve come to expect day to day, it’s a welcome change.

In your excitement, you forget about the abrasions from yesterday, the still-raw skin of your palm screaming out in protest when you try to prop yourself up. Obi-Wan spots the small wince, and reaches for you as you cradle your stinging hand to your chest. “Better doesn’t mean good, apparently.” There’s a teasing to his locution, if only because he knows you too well. You don’t want to make a fuss out of it. You’re bested, anyhow, when he squeezes the blistered foot and you yelp. “Here, too. It still hurts? Shall I redress the wounds?”

A shake of your head precedes your response, as you assure him, “No, there’s no need. Truly.” Still, he’s adamant on being of more assistance, and it seems today is a good day. He’s happy, playful, even — it’s instants like these where you catch a glimpse of a different man, the echo of an old friend.

“Anything I can do to ease the pain?” Obi-Wan smirks, but it’s free of sarcasm as he leans above you, his hair falling in his eyes. It’s grown longer now, not quite the lion’s mane of a mullet he’d sported so many years ago, but unrulier than the clean-cropped cut that he’d had during his last years on Coruscant.

Another life. 

Though, you suppose, the rugged desert look is growing on you.

“A kiss on the bandage, maybe,” you quip, just as light-hearted, basking in the mood — what a rarity, nowadays, but always because of each other. “Perhaps it’ll help it heal faster.”

Obi-Wan scoots downwards, ruffling the sheets and uncovering more of your pajama-clad figure to the world, and grabs for your toes —

“Not there! I meant the hand,” you cry, just short of a laugh. “Were you really about to kiss the bottom of my foot?”

He joins in your amusement, chuckling as he traces his way back up to you with light kisses that begin at your legs. One on the knee, then on your navel, and right under your breast — the tease. His hands follow hotly along the trail his mouth leaves, yet it’s a heat you’re all too willing to endure. “Darling, you’d know I’d kiss you anywhere,” he says, grin honest and eager, and you smile suggestively at him from your place upon the pillows.

The moment turns soft, though, when he takes your injured hand, touching his lips to the pads of your fingers, completely avoiding the wrappings. Instead, he marks the exposed skin peeking from the bandages, leaving warm touches where he can reach. You let him make his way up your arm, relaxing the muscle and leaving it pliant in his hold, and these kisses are tender, sincere, adoring.

His lips brush the inside of your elbow, and you catch his gaze then, eyes serious and lacking the mirth of before. He beams, nevertheless, and it takes another four pecks up your shoulder, collarbone, and neck until he finally reaches your mouth. Your lips connect in a quiet climax, tension releasing and hushed sighs escaping the both of you as hands find cheeks and jaws to hold. His beard is longer, too, and a subtle drag of your fingers along his scruff doesn’t go unnoticed as he groans into the kiss.

Sluggishly, as if he’s struggling against the pull of quicksand, Obi-Wan pulls away, your digits still tangled in his auburn locks. “Eat,” he murmurs, placing one last kiss on your bare palm. As he places the tray in your lap, you sit up properly, kicking the last of the covers aside. “Company is coming.”

———

Company was actually more of a child-sitting gig, with the Lars traveling to Anchorhead and reluctant to let their nephew tag along just yet. The four of you had all agreed it was best to shelter the boy until you and Obi-Wan had gotten better at shielding the signatures of three Force-sensitives, and while you were quickly growing used to the strain of the constant use of the Force, there wasn’t a need for unnecessary ventures outside of the community when Luke could just stay with you and Obi-Wan.

On the other hand, if you asked Obi-Wan, he didn’t see why a trip to Tosche Station couldn’t wait until next week, seeing as how you couldn’t walk much without pain. Luke would undoubtedly aggravate the blister when he begged you to play.

But you hadn’t asked Obi-Wan, you dutifully reminded him throughout his musings over the food, unconcerned at the prospect. Breakfast had been as delicious as it had smelled — your taste buds had been assaulted with the flavor, but it had been a gratuitous ordeal that had reminded you of a bustling diner and the toothy grin of a Besalisk. “Just missing the powdered Christophsian sugar,” you’d praised, and he’d barely hidden his glowing simper as he cleared the dishes. You know his apprehension at looking after Luke today is more out of concern for you, rather than lack of willingness.

Just as there were good and bad days of disposition, Obi-Wan’s interactions with his old student’s son were varying. Some visits were joy-filled and vibrant with childish merriment, at the mercy of Luke’s wild imagination, but it wasn’t uncommon for Obi-Wan to retreat to your bed, floored by the striking resemblance the boy had to his father, the memories he tried so hard to forget rushing back in a dark cloud of resignation. Luke was under the impression that his favorite playmate suffered from intermittent cases of sand-fever, trusting enough to believe the excuse. Though he loved you just as much, it was Obi-Wan that Luke idolized the most, and you couldn’t at all blame him for feeling disappointed when Obi-Wan was too unsteady to come out and say hello.

But today, the promise of a happy afternoon rang throughout the air, and you allowed yourself the indulgence of looking forward to the rest of the day. At five years old, Luke was an adoring child, innocent in ways you’d never been able to see, not even with Anakin. He reminded you of a fresh snowbank, ironic as it was, pristine and untouched by the world. Your heart ached to keep it that way.

Luke launches himself at you as expected when he arrives, Owen being kind enough to deliver him instead of letting Obi-Wan make the ride over. Just as well, too — after the doting attentiveness of the morning, you didn’t want to stray too far from Obi-Wan’s side. The former Jedi catches the boy in midair, strong arms wrapping around his tiny frame and swinging him away from you to save you from exacerbating your wounds, and Luke screeches in hysterics as he’s tossed in a wide circle. He attacks Obi-Wan with energetic pokes when he’s finally set down, the older man letting out a surprised oof when he’s headbutted rather hard in the stomach. You muffle a guffaw in your elbow as Obi-Wan shoots you an accusatory scowl, massaging his middle as he assures Owen he’ll return his nephew in one piece. The farmer thanks you both, leaving without a second glance, and Obi-Wan is whisked away by the young Skywalker to entertain his latest fascination with womp rats.

———

They return before dusk, smelling like sweat and death, acrid scents practically steaming off of their robes. You cover your nose as Obi-Wan staggers in through the side door, steadying a chittering Luke as he trips over the trapdoor to the cellar. “Target practice,” Obi-Wan explains, somewhat apologetically. “His aim needs some work.”

“I blew a rat’s head off!” Luke declares boastfully, and cackles while running a victory circle around the kitchen. “It just exploded!”

You turn aghast to Obi-Wan, who ushers the boy into the refresher and instructs him to wash up. As Luke rinses off the trace of the outdoors, you stop Obi-Wan before he can come any closer. You can almost taste the sour aroma that wafts off of your husband. “Don’t tell me he means an actual womp rat. They’re twice his size. If you’re letting him near those predators, Obi-Wan, I’m going to —”

“Relax!” Obi-Wan exclaims defensively, palms raised as if to shield him from your wrath. “It was just a profogg. And we weren’t hunting in the beginning, just setting stink capsules near the hut. Poor thing got too close when we set it off and its friends decided they wanted revenge.”

The clarification does little to placate you, the knowledge that it’s most likely rodent guts contributing to the fumes only further motivating you to stay at a distance. But Obi-Wan has other plans, and a mischievous expression takes over his features as he runs at you, grabbing for your face as you squeal. “Disgusting! Obi-Wan!”

“Not even a peck for your one true love?” He asks, and you bat his hands away. “I was willing to kiss your foot this morning.”

“But you didn’t,” you remark impishly, holding in bubbling laughter. “I’m not kissing you while you smell like an eopie’s ass.”

“Language.” He seizes your wrists as you squirm, though your spirits are still high. You arch backwards, grappling to escape. “Luke might be listening.”

You catch your breath without inhaling in his direction, but it fails when you descend into snickering when a small voice protests, “No I’m not!”

“Go.” While he’s distracted, you push Obi-Wan towards Luke in the refresher, hard. “It’s time for a trim. I think you have profogg gunk in your beard.”

He stumbles back, too late to stop your words from being heard, and Luke yells, “You told me it was a womp rat!”

Another bout of laughter arises in your throat, and Obi-Wan fixes you with a withering glare you’re too perceptive to fall for. “Thanks,” he grumbles, none too grateful, and disappears into the sink.

———

“Careful of your fingers — you don’t want to cut yourself.”

After the bits of wildlife had been safely discarded down the drain and the boys had changed into fresh clothes, you watch as Obi-Wan guides Luke’s wobbly hands down his own stubbled throat. The sight of the shaving cream that covers most of Obi-Wan’s face is priceless, but you opt for appreciation rather than humour as the touching moment transpires.

“Better to cut me than you, but let’s aim for no one, alright?” Luke nods, tongue poking out in concentration as he shucks off more hair from Obi-Wan’s chin. He’s holding the razor with both hands, standing on a stool while Obi-Wan kneels to stay within reach. “Firmly, but with precision. Very graceful.”

Luke’s hyperactivity is nowhere to be found, and you admire his focus. Maybe you should have him shave your husband more often. Both the Lars and you would certainly benefit from the resulting tranquility.

But, no — you’d miss the beard too much.

“Done!” Luke leans back and throws his fists up in delight. Obi-Wan is quick to snatch up the tool to avoid any accidents, and places it back in its compartment as he turns to the boy overflowing with pride.

“Let’s check, shall we?” He rises from his knees with a low grunt and the pop of his joints — one you don’t miss, but refrain from pointing out. For a second, all you see is the back of Obi-Wan’s head as he washes away the lather, then it’s the dismayed twist of his mouth as the uneven patches of missed hair gleam in the mirror.

Luke bounces up and down, making an effort in vain to assess his work. Obi-Wan quickly readjusts his features as you hide your face, silently shaking with amusement. “Did I do okay?”

Obi-Wan squints down at him warmly, brushing the boy’s bangs out of the way. “Yes, An — Luke, you did.” Luke cheers underneath the large hand on his crown. “You did splendidly.”

In a flurry of shouts and whoops, Luke ducks out of Obi-Wan’s arm and exits the refresher, unaware of the almost-slip, but you freeze, more shocked than you have been in months. Years. Obi-Wan’s never done that before.

He meets your wide eyed stare in the mirror, all remains of Luke’s comical shaving job gone, neither of you able to verbalize exactly what you’re feeling.

But eventually, the impact of his blunder fades, and you break free from the fog of your stupefaction.

Your bandaged hand finds his shoulder, soaking up the droplets from his shower, and rubs consolingly, back and forth. You hope it conveys all that words can’t say. A pang strikes you as Obi-Wan lets out a trembling exhale, the unfinished name falling away to the empty room, and you resist the impulse to crush him into a hug.

He needs space.

The watery eyes you expect to see are dry in seconds, and all is well again.

———

You look on as Obi-Wan props Luke’s tuckered form into Beru’s waiting arms, meeting her gaze with a gentle understanding. She secures him into the passenger seat as she mounts the landspeeder slowly, seemingly sensing the hesitance radiating from two of you, uready to let the day end. When they finally depart, Obi-Wan watches them leave from the entrance of the dwelling.

“It’s alright to love him, you know.” You approach him once Beru and Luke are barely a speck on the horizon. You come up to latch around his chest, tiptoeing to kiss his back. “It’s okay to be attached.”

He shifts, rotating so that his back is to the wall after he’s sealed off the door. His own arms raise to encircle you, and you lean your cheek against his bicep before he plants a kiss to your forehead. It spells devotion as you sink further into him, muted ardor enveloping you both. “I know.”

“Do you?” Your voice is quiet to preserve the shroud of calm. “I worry you’re holding back, and you don’t have to. Not here.” Another kiss to his skin. “Not anymore.”

You feel the deep inhale more than you hear it, and his breathing soothes you more than you ever thought possible. It’s proof he’s here, real in your grip. You have each other. “I’m not,” he promises, lips stuck to your hairline. “Though you should know, my heart is reserved for you.”

That brings a laugh out of you, tinkling and bright. You clutch him tighter, warmth swelling inside you in spite of the cooling air of the evening. “You have room for Luke in there.”

Obi-Wan examines you closely, pausing only for a second before he speaks again. “Perhaps more than just him.”

And there it is, the admission you’ve always been curious for yet never wanted to ask. Your breath hitches — only a tad, but you know he picks up on it, and you peer at him cautiously. It’s a conversation you’ve avoided so many times before. 

Admittedly, today was the perfect day as any to prime the subject. You’ve never been sure whether Luke has assured Obi-Wan that he wants nothing to do with parenthood or if it inspires a desire to have a son of his own.

It’s not revisited until you’re crawling back into bed, back to his bare chest, and the ghosting touch of his hand smoothing down your front draws your attention away from the sensation of his body enfolding around yours. He’s trying to be discreet, you can tell.

“Practicing?” You whisper, with only a hint of knowing so as not to scare him off. There’s no need, you realize, when you feel his mouth twist into a lopsided smile against your nape and his fingers spread unabashedly across your stomach.

“Perhaps,” he repeats, and it’s enough.

[whitherliliesbloom]

towards a tomorrow

[ ffxivwrite2021 ] ★ [ masterlist ] ★ [ prompt #28 - bow ]

[ illya & kirishimi ] ★ [ 2,062 words ]  ★ [ period drama au ]

for matchi’s period drama au. briefly mentions illyanaud, laurelis and kaye. 

bow-  to bend your head or body forward, especially as a way of showing someone respect or expressing thanks 

kirishimi didn’t care for frilly dresses or etiquette unless it was to make a statement - so she gets lessons from the most ladylike friend she knows

“Gods, shite! How do people breath in this stupid thing?!” 

Amongst the light breeze of the midafternoon wind, the melodic chirping of the songbirds and the sound of water splashing freely from the white marble fountain, Kirishimi’s less than ladylike words pierce through the air as she puffs her chest in with a low grumble and is followed by the soft and gentle bell-like chimes of a younger girl’s giggles a few feet next to her.

“I’m sorry. I don’t think the corset can be loosened any further, I made it as loose as I could for you already.”

“Can I just take it off then?” Kirishimi asks, hopeful even as the shorter lalafellin girl shakes her head calmly with am apologetic frown, her vibrant violent eyes swirling with sympathy.

“I wish you could but... Laurelis designed the dress with your corset in mind.. It just wouldn’t fit if you didn’t-”

“Shite.”

Yet another swear tumbles carelessly out of Kirishimi’s lips, and Illya lets out a soft, barely audible sigh before flashing her taller friend yet another gentle smile.

“How about a short break then? I think you’ll feel a little better if you take a breather.”

“Yes please!”

Without even a seconds’ hesitation, Kirishimi grabs the frame of the hoop skirt beneath her bright orange dress with her hands and marches to the gazebo before slumping down onto the white garden chair and kicking her matching pair of high heels off. She leans down to massage the soles of her feet with a grimace, feeling light indents where the rim of the heels had dug into her feet and wondering if there was going to be blisters forming under her hosiery by the end of the day.

In contrast to the almost unruly way she’d retreated under the shade of the white and purple gazebo, Illya in comparison was the very picture of elegance. With only the tips of her thumb and index finger, the young lady lifts the hem of her frilly lavender dress before climbing the steps up to the gazebo. Despite wearing lacey embroidered heels that seemed like they were even more of a pain to wear than her own, Illya’s balance was perfect, each footstep graceful and deliberate so much that Kirishimi could barely even hear the little tap of her heels against the floor. 

Even the way she sat upon the chair, taking her time to tuck her dress beneath her thighs before sitting herself down and folding her hands neatly upon her lap - it wouldn’t have made Kirishimi felt self-conscious any other time before today. But it was exactly because she was here now, for the exact same reason she’d even agreed to commission an over the top ball gown from Laurelis that she swear to never wear outside of it’s intended use, that she quickly decided to correct her posture. 

The taller woman feels out of place - as she typically does, but especially next to her considerably more demure, ladylike friend. Surrounded by the jewel toned walls of the Skawi mansion, the flawless marble tile paths that circled the garden and practically shined in the sunlight and the bed of delicate spring flowers that filled the air with a light floral fragrance, it would be hard for her not to feel even a tiny bit like a fish out of water.

“Thanks again, Illya. For agreeing to teach me.” Kirishimi opts to speak, breaking the long hanging silence as if in sheepish apology. She knows she isn’t the best student, and so the least she could do was be cooperative and nice to the girl who is graciously lending her her time and efforts. 

“You’re very welcome, Kiri.” With a radiant smile, Illya nods her head, her innocent expression bright and at home with her subtle movements of grace. The birds that sat upon the mansard roofs sing in tandem with the sweetness of Illya’s voice. “I’m honored that you would come to me for lessons about etiquette. Even if it is to...um... break the social construct.”

Mismatched eyes widen in a panic, and the older woman leans forward over the table and raises her voice a tad.

“Hey, I hope you don’t misunderstand me! There’s nothin’ wrong with being prim and proper! I’m not tryin’ to do anythin’ to disrespect you! I just-”

“I know.” Illya speaks, her brilliantly pure white hair fluttering gently in the breeze like a wavy silken veil over her head. “You’re just trying to be you. You have the courage and strength to stand up to people who would try to tell you do otherwise. I like that about you.” With yet another euphonious, soft giggle, Illya raises a hand up to press against her chest. “Besides, you wouldn’t have come to me for a favor if you truly did have malicious intent, would you? The fact that you called Laurelis and I for help means that you trust us.” 

A soft blush rises up to Kiri’s face where speckles of white snow glowed lightly from the heat from her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. Her gloved hand moves up to rub the side of her neck sheepishly, and she cannot help the toothy grin that adorns her face.

“I guess you’re right.” the woman murmurs. “I also... admire you a lot, you know? You’re so sweet, and nice... a bit too nice, honestly. You don’t even get angry when idiots spout lies about you...”

Kirishimi would be lying if she said she didn’t feel an immense amount of admiration for Illya’s ability to stay as calm and collected as she does - even above the seemingly effortless way she’d conduct herself like the society’s perfect definition of a ‘lady’. 

But there wasn’t envy... it wouldn’t be warranted, especially since Kirishimi knew that behind the perfectly immaculate way Illya would hold herself as the young mistress and future heiress of her family name, came a set of troubles and insecurities that she too was struggling with. 

It’s evident by the flicker of melancholy in Illya’s eyes, like a field of delphiniums and hydrangeas that were drooping in the midst of a drizzle of rain and grey storm clouds, even with a forced, stepford smile gracing her delicate and fair features. They were lovely, beautiful even in their imperfect sadness.. but Kiri could not bring herself to feel anything but sorry at the sight of them.

“And I wish I were even half as strong as you. You’re able to stand up for what you want, for who you are... If I had a fraction of the courage that you possessed then perhaps... I could have...” The girl looks down, the silver band that she’d refused to wear hidden deep in the depths of her dress pocket weighing far more heavily than it ever did before. “I could have stopped my uncle from calling for the engagement...”

The Skawi family had well deserved respect from the capital, and with it came a reputation and image they had to uphold. And with their fame, came the inevitable greed from the current head of the family - the man Illya could barely even bring herself to think of as family, the younger brother of the long deceased patriarch, Lachlan Skawi. 

Selling himself and the name of the Skawis wouldn’t be enough for the man - and so he’d sold the dignity of his niece as well by calling for an arranged marriage.. something that Kirishimi knew would not be solved with a few simple social statements and protests. It involved the name of the Skawi family, and worse still, it involved the capital. 

Internally, Kirishimi wonders what Young Master Alphinaud intends to do. Word about mistress Skawi’s engagement to one of the members of the royal bloodlines has spread far and wide by now, and he would undoubtedly be working tirelessly for a way to stop the marriage. 

But if the combined efforts of Laurelis’ family, the Leveilleur household, Hien’s influence as a well respected foreign emissary wasn’t enough to convince Illya’s uncle to call off the engagement, what else could they hope to do?

“You’re stronger than you think you are, Illya.” Kiri reassures, her tone gentler than is usual for her, as is the light, reassuring smile upon her face. “You took the first steps to realize your own dreams, didn’t ya?” 

Kiri gestures to the carnation earring she wore that dangled lightly with gleaming white pearls, and Illya raises a hand up to brush against her ear lightly. The earring was a gift from Master Alphinaud, the man she owes much to... Her mentor, her dearest friend and...

A dust of red rises up to Illya’s cheeks and spreads to the tips of her pointed ears as she nods.

“It’s... It’s thanks to everyone... and especially Master Alphinaud that.. that I finally started to learn medicine. If it weren’t for everyone’s support, I wouldn’t have-...”

Illya holds her tongue, pressing her lips into her fine line as Kiri allows the silence to fester, until she grins at the look of renewed determination upon the young maiden’s face.

No, Kirishimi is right. She certainly may owe much to her friends and loved ones, and she wouldn’t have taken that first steps towards realizing her dream to become a doctor had she not met Alphinaud... but it took great strides of her own too, a strength and new found courage to stand up to the ones who doubted her - one that she felt determined in full to carry on for as long as she needed until her dreams are fulfilled and she can be free from her own social constructs that are weighing her down.

“Once all this is over.. could you teach me how to fence, Kiri?” Illya asks, eliciting a surprised hum from her taller friend. 

“You wanna learn how to fence?” The woman asks... not in dissuation, of course... but in mild disbelief that a girl as sweet and gentle as Illya would be interested in the sport. She’d say yes, of course, regardless of Illya’s reasons. She’d teach Illya whatever she wanted to learn especially since the girl had been kind enough to be teaching her etiquette. But she still cannot help but to be a bit curious.

“I admit I’m not the strongest or physically well built... I’ll probably be a really bad student but-”

With a wave of her hand, Kiri dismisses Illya’s words with a hearty, loud laugh that echoes throughout the garden, warm and bright in the midafternoon sun.

“You’ll be great, I guarantee it. You’re quick on your feet and I think you’re a lot more fit than you give yourself credit for.” If Illya’s ability to function without fault all way in tight corsets and high heels are anything to go by, at least. 

With a bright smile of gratitude, Illya thanks her friend warmly with a bow of her head before standing herself up from the chair, circling around the table and gesturing to the haphazardly abandoned orange heels that laid on their sides next to Kirishimi.

“Let’s continue, Kiri. We still have much to practice for the day!” Illya shrugs her shoulders when Kiri groans, slipping her feet back into her heels before reluctantly standing herself back up. “You remember what I said about the proper way to curtsy is, right?”

To demonstrate, Illya holds the sides of her dress, barely pulling the hem up from the ground and crossing her legs before dipping herself down gracefully like a ballerina... and Kiri could only let out a lazy grumble in protest.

“Can’t we rest for a little while longer? I hate this curtsying shite.”

“The faster we get this part of the lesson done, the faster we can move on to table manners.” Illya’s innocent smile is bright and radiant, belying the little hint of mischief laced under the tone of her knowing voice. “I’ve already asked for the pastries and sweet tea to be prepared, you know? Kaye should be arriving with them any second now.”

“Curtsy? Got it. Left foot behind right???” Mismatched blue and red eyes fly open, and the woman does a full curtsy that elicits yet another light and airy giggle from Illya. 

“It’s the right foot behind your left. Not too quickly, now. Let’s try that again.” 

[kiatheinsomniac]

I’m the CEO of showing up late to everything. Here’s a modern AU fic I wrote on wattpad for Arno’s birthday last year :)

Bon Anniversaire

(Y/n) looked down at her lover in awe as she balanced the tray in her hands, settling it on the edge of the bed before sitting daintily on the edge and leaning down to cup Arno's face with one of her hands, pressing a soft yet firm kiss to his lips, fingertips caressing his jaw as she peppered the corner of his mouth in kisses and left lingering ones on his soft lips.

He groaned slightly before kissing her back, waking up. His hands went to the sides of her neck, thumbs caressing her jaw as she slowly pulled away and gently brushed some disarrayed hair away from his face.

"Morning, birthday boy." She spoke with a teasing grin as she sat upright. Arno pushed himself up so that he was leaning against the headboard. She placed the tray on his lap and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "I made you breakfast."

He smiled warmly at her as she crossed her legs on the mattress. She hadn't dressed yet thus she wore one of his shirts with little else underneath. However, her (h/c) hair was nearly done into a bun with a light grey scrunchie from where she had made his morning meal and didn't want it in the way. He reached for her hand, rubbing circles on the back of her palm with his thumb in an appreciative gesture.

"You're too sweet." He cooed.

"Hey, it's your birthday, I get to spoil you. Now eat up before it gets cold then get dressed, I'm taking you out." She piped up before leaving to get ready herself, knowing that she took a lot longer than he did.

Arno watched as she reached into the wardrobe and picked out an outfit before turning her back to him to dress. He had seen her naked countless times but she was always shy nonetheless.

As she pulled off his shirt, revealing that she wore nothing else underneath, he let out a whistle. She laughed at this and looked over her shoulder to where he was staring and her nude ass.

"Hey, focus on your food else you'll choke." She scolded as she pulled on a pair of pants and clipped a bra into place, a matching set of pale pink lace with tiny little jewels stuck to them that caught the light when she moved. They were very see-through and left little to the imagination.

She pulled on a pair of beige pants and tossed on a thin white shirt to go with it. She tucked this into the trousers before doing up the belt and then pulled on a pair of socks before sitting to do her hair and makeup.

By the time she had finished her eyebrows, Arno was done and walked over to the mirror where he sat down on the floor beside her.

(Y/n) did own a vanity but it got used as more of a desk, a space where she would write or paint and stuffed all her pencils and paints into the drawers that had been intended for makeup alongside skin and hair products. However, she never grew out of the habit of sitting on the floor in front of a full-length mirror.

"You're stealing all the mirror space again." Arno pouted playfully as he kneeled behind her in order to be able to see what he was doing. (Y/n) giggled playfully as she curled her lashes and put a pair of dangling pink heart earrings on. She threw on a pale pink lace choker and a golden floral necklace before tipping her head back to get an upside-down view of her lover.

"Can I do your hair?" She smiled as he looked down at her.

"That depends, are we going out?" He replied with a question.

"Yes."

"Then absolutely not." He glanced down to see her pout and furrow her brows, glossy bottom lip jutting out.

"Please? I'll give you like 20 pretty bonus points." She grinned giddily.

"Bonus points?" Arno quizzed as he took a seat.

"Well, yeah, because you're already a god. This will just add to it." She made her way behind him and took the hairbrush from his hands, gently untangling his long hair.

"A god, huh?" He quoted amusedly.

"Eros wants what you have, chéri (darling). Apollo could never." She hummed as she parted his hair with the end of a comb. She set one half aside to add a twist to the other before gathering it all at the nape of his neck. She put her hand out to signal that she needed a hairband and Arno placed one into her expecting palm. She expertly tied it into his usual ponytail before parting it above the band and slipping it through itself to create another little twist to it. "Ok, I'll let you add your ribbon because I can never get the bow right." She spoke as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, leaning her head beside his and admiring him in the mirror. "Please don't ever cut your hair short, I adore it." She added with a kiss to his temple before pulling back to grab her purse, keys and phone to throw into her light blue bag. She shoved her feet into a pair of grey trainers while Arno dressed.

He put on a pair of light grey trousers with a Louis Vuitton belt and a white shirt that showed off his defined torso underneath. He tossed a denim jacket onto his shoulders and sat down to put on a pair of black boots.

"Do you want to know where we're going?" (Y/n) hummed as she leaned on the doorframe to their room.

"Sure." He stole a glance in her direction.

"Only your favourite museum." (Y/n) smiled. Arno had taken her there so many times that she had lost count. She adored it but not as much as he did. She delighted in watching his face light up as he told her all his knowledge on the exhibits and related historical topics. Arno was very proud of his country's history and many of the countless books which he owned were dedicated to it. He was a lover of classical culture and Baroque society. He adored music and art and literature and the like, valuing the beauty and knowledge it all had to offer.

That's what really made them click.

"The Louvre. . ." He spoke, drawling out his French accent that lit up a fire in her no matter how many times she heard it. It was a very touristy location but that didn't put him off from the history which it had to offer. "As much as I adore it, my favourite piece of it is in fact not an exhibit but it's a memory."

"And what would that memory be?" She prompted with a knowing smile.

"The first time I saw you, admiring the renaissance art. You looked gorgeous admiring it. Though, I can't remember what the painting was, I can recall you telling me all about Adonis and Aphrodite and red roses." He mused as he made his way towards her and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close in a loving embrace, "And you could tell me something about the context of each painting while I followed you around. I'd never met someone so enthusiastic about historical art before. Especially not someone so adorable. . . Two complete strangers lavishing in the knowledge and company of the other in the closing hours of the museum."

"I was sure I'd half-bored you to death and you'd never call the number that I gave you." She giggled, "I was just as surprised to find someone as interested as I am, let alone someone so handsome." She reached up onto his toes to give him a sweet kiss, her hands running up his chest. "But let's go hop on the train, I've got a lot planned for today."

"Oh? You do?" The Frenchman smiled as she took his hand, intertwining their fingers as she led him outside of their home above Arno's historic café theâtré.

"Indeed, I do." She hummed as she grabbed his shirt and pulled him closer, standing on her toes to plant a kiss on his lips. When she fell back into her feet, Arno wrapped an arm around her waist, the two of them making their way to the metro.

Paying their fare, they waited on the platform in the blistering heat of the metro. It was rush hour so it was a difficulty to squeeze in with all the other passengers. Luckily, they managed to get into a carriage with fewer people than most. Arno held onto the support above his head while the other arm made its way around (Y/n)'s waist, holding her close to make sure she didn't lose her balance.

She warmly rested her hands against him as her head leaned on his chest. He pressed little kisses to the top of her head, coaxing her to look up so that he could give her a much more tender kiss on her lips.

She quickly pulled away, hiding her hot cheeks against his neck. Arno cooed at her lovingly and amusedly, giving her (b/t) waist a squeeze. Arno adored showing his affection for her in public but (Y/n) was always shy about it. To begin with, she wouldn't even hold his hand in public but she eventually grew comfortable with his hand holding hers or his arm slung over her shoulders or around her waist. He had been trying to warm her up to kisses in public too but it was a process and, clearly, she was still far too shy.

A few stops later, they were getting off at the nearest station. As soon as they had climbed the stairs, the whoosh of cold air was a relief in comparison to the hot, humid and stuffy air that was underground. It was enough to make one feel lightheaded, especially in the August heat.

The next few minutes were a blur as all (Y/n) could focus on was Arno's smile. That smile was so rare that she couldn't help but stare whenever it came out, she couldn't bear to miss a second of its presence on his handsome features.

She was only snapped out of her daze once they were inside and admiring all the exhibits they had seen before and many which were new.

The entire time, Arno kept an arm around her waist. They paused in front of a baroque painting, (Y/n) snuggling against Arno's chest as they admired the art together. He looked down at her briefly, smiling at the contact, before turning back to the painting.

"I can imagine you modelling for a painting." Arno hummed, the two of them enjoying having the particular room to themselves.

"Really?" (Y/n) questioned, amusement in her tone.

"Oui (yes). . . But it would do you no justice. The painting would be breathtaking but nowhere near your true beauty. It wouldn't be able to capture you well enough and you cannot convey such intellect and personality into a picture."

"What's with the flattery, hmm?" She teased. "All the same could apply to you, why am I getting the spotlight on your birthday? Let me spoil you for once." She poked his chest almost accusingly as she smiled up at him.

"Mon ange (my angel). . ." He sighed with a tone of 'you-should-know-this-by-now' in his voice, "You cannot expect me to simply turn off my adoration for a day, can you?"

"Stop it! I'm treating you today!" She pouted, making Arno laugh heartily, hand trailing to the back of her head and gently tangling in her hair, caressing the silky locks there.

They continued around the museum, telling each other things they both already knew but told one another anyway, delighting in hearing the enjoyment of the other sharing what they knew.

♡♡♡

A few hours later, they were thoroughly done with the museum and all its exhibits, therefore, (Y/n) led him outside and back down to the metro.

"Where are we heading to now then, mon amour (my love)?" He quizzed as he watched her body sway with the train.

"I'm treating you to lunch." She winked, adoring the ghost of a smile that he flashed her. He knew that she wasn't too keen on leaving the house so the fact that she had arranged everything for today just meant all the more to him.

"Oh? Where?" He prompted.

"That fancy place where you took me for our fifth date." She stood up proudly as his face dropped.

"(Y/n), that's far too expensive!" He exclaimed.

"Not for someone who's been saving since New Year's and certainly not for a couple with a reservation in half an hour." She spoke cheekily. Arno wasn't sure what to think: on one hand, he was flattered that she'd gone to such an extent but on the other, he felt a little bad that she was spending so much money on him.

"Fine. As long as the presents aren't too expensive." He said.

"No promises there, love." The (e/c)-eyed female muttered under her breath.

Arno was about to protest when the train stopped and a group of guys got on, standing between them. (Y/n) averted her eyes away from them, looking up at the adverts inside the carriage instead.

After one stop, one of them was standing too close for (Y/n)'s comfort. He had more than enough room, so why was he brushing shoulders with her? She shied away, not wanting to fuel him by giving him any form of her attention. It only took another thirty seconds for her breath to hitch in her throat as an unfamiliar hand rested on her hip and glided down to her ass.

She was so shocked and scared that she lost her words altogether, shooting Arno a distressed look instead. As soon as he caught her gaze, he knew something was wrong and pushed his way through the group of men to wrap his arm around (Y/n), pushing her behind him.

"Hey, what's going on here?" He narrowed his honey-brown eyes at the man who had been standing far too close for comfort. He had a thick brown beard and wore a blue and white striped shirt.

"Nothing. Is something happening that I'm not aware of?" He retorted, depending on (Y/n)'s obvious quiet nature to enforce his lie.

"Arno, come on, there's no need to make a big deal out of it. I'm used to stuff like this happening." She spoke softly, hoping to ease his clearly growing anger.

"All the more reason to make a big deal out of it." He never once took his eyes off the man, "Keep your hands to yourself." He spoke through gritted teeth.

"Fine, fine, I didn't know she had a boyfriend." He held up his hands in defence. By now, other people on the train were watching the scene unfold.

"That's no excuse!" Arno exclaimed, "You can't just go around-" the doors opened and (Y/n) tugged on his sleeve strongly.

"Arno, come on. Let's get the next train. Please, for my sake." She negotiated. Arno shot a hateful glare towards the man as he stepped onto the platform and the train went off.

"We'll catch the next train, love." (Y/n) rubbed her hand up his arm to ease him but he remained tense.

"Does this happen often?" He furrowed his brows.

"That's a talk for tomorrow, don't let this ruin your day." She soothed, him agreeing that it should be left for later and letting go of it, storing it away to be dealt with at a later time.

♡♡♡

Fully satisfied with their meal and a day of roaming Paris's parks, Arno and (Y/n) returned back to the café theâtré.

She was a mess of excited smiles and giggles as she dragged him up to their shared bedroom which was illuminated by the golden light of the setting sun. She grabbed his shoulders and playfully forced him down onto the thick, fluffy rug in front of the fireplace which had been lit by a maid (him having a lot of money came with its perks).

He watched his lover, both curious and excited as she reached into the wardrobe to collect a few wrapped gifts, sitting down opposite him with the presents in the middle.

"(Y/n). . ." He looked up to meet her eyes gratefully yet guiltily, "How much did you spend on today?"

"I spent my money on what I wanted to. . . And that happened to be you so: enjoy." She smiled adoringly as she placed the first gift in his hands. He looked up at her, wanting to scold her for splashing all her money on him and yet he couldn't deny her that smile or the spark of delight in her eyes. "Come on!" She exclaimed, bouncing on the spot impatiently, her grin widening. The Frenchman gave in, reflecting her smile as he opened the first gift, pulling the ribbon on the gift bag in order to get inside.

He reached inside it and pulled out a black trench coat, peering at the label to spot the designer branding. He looked over it and shot his smiling girlfriend an appreciative glance, letting it fall to his lap so that he could reach out for her hand.

"You know exactly what I like, don't you?" He spoke.

"You spoke about wanting it in the store around two months ago. . ." She shrugged, "So I ordered it online and hid it in the loft until now." He raised a brow as he picked up the next gift, a wrapped box. He tore off the shiny teal paper to reveal a box of his favourite cologne. That was something they both had done since they started to date: she bought his colognes and he bought her perfumes. He smiled at her again, placing it beside him on top of his coat.

"I'm going to have to go broke by the time your birthday comes around." He joked.

"Hey, stop thinking about the money." She poked his leg as she leaned towards him.

"Ok, ok," he gave in, holding up his hands in surrender, "I just feel bad because—"

"Oh my god!" She exclaimed, her smile not faltering, "I love you! I love you, I love you, I love you!" She got up onto her knees to lean into him, over the small pile of gifts, "I don't care how much money I spend on you! I adore you! I adore the way you smile when you open them." A kiss was planted on his cheek while her hand cupped his jaw. "C'mon, next one." She placed it in his hands.

It was a small gift and when he tore off the paper, he was holding a velvet drawstring bag in his hands. He gave (Y/n) a curious look before opening it up and tipping out the contents inside.

A beaded bracelet fell onto his palm — all-black beads with one red bead. It seemed somewhat familiar and he glanced to her left wrist where she wore an identical one.

"The card explains what they are." She said, "Dedication bracelets. It's kind of silly, I know. But. . ." She shrugged, "I thought that the idea of it was sweet." He slipped it onto his wrist and leaned forward to cup her face in his large hands, pressing a sweet kiss to her lips.

"It's not silly." He hummed when he pulled away, keeping their faces close, "It's cute of you." She let out a little giggle, cheeks heating with a blush, and ran her hands over his shoulders.

"Ok. For the last gift, you have to close your eyes." She chuckled. Arno, albeit suspiciously, closed his eyes and relied on his hearing to piece together what was going on. He could hear shuffling in front of him before he felt a warmth and weight on his lap. Her hands caressed his chest as he hovered her lips by his ear. "Open." She whispered.

He opened his eyes and his hands found her waist. She wore only the pale pink undergarments that he had so briefly spotted that morning. He admired the way the softly coloured lace complimented her (s/t) skin tone and the way it hugged her beautiful (b/t) figure. It had little gems that shone in the light of the fire with the rise and fall of her chest.

Her lips grazed his when she spoke:

"Let me spoil you one last time before the day's over."

[jasmine-iroh]

i have so many ideas in my head for fics LMAO and as u know i am obsessed w ur writing hehehe umm lets think can you do a sokka imagine where reader is Piandao’s apprentice as well so she spars with Sokka in his training and always wins, until he beats her one day from like being flirty and distracting her or something?? idk u can ignore this and just do any imagines u like LOL

Ahhhhh I love this idea so much!! Idk why but I have a headcanon that Piandao is lowkey like Batman and just trains abandoned kids and now he has like a tiny army of little white lotus warriors he’s informally adopted over the years.

This kid is weird.

That was the immediate impression (Y/N) got of Sokka when Master Piandao had introduced him as a new apprentice.

What the hell kind of name is Sokka, anyways?

That was her second thought. It was the kind of name that rolled off her tongue nicely when she was snapping at him to focus during their drills. The shape of it in her mouth made it easy to add a snarl to the front and a growl at the end when he was screwing around in front of Piandao, making them both look bad.

By the end of his first day training with (Y/N) under Piandao’s reserved tutliage, Sokka had been introduced to several intermediate forms. His heavy wooden practice sword had turned his arms to jelly long ago and there were various bruises and scrapes from (Y/N) sneaking past his defenses, but Sokka didn’t mind the aches.

She’s amazing.

That was Sokka’s first impression of (Y/N) as he watched her demonstrate the basic forms he was supposed to learn. He wasn’t focusing on the forms, but rather the warrior waltzing her way through them.

(Y/N) seemed to merge with her abilities. She moved with the ease of someone who spent her time befriending her skills, pouring her soul into singing metal and brutal dance numbers. Her blade was her master as much as Piandao was. She wielded her sentences as tactfully as her steel, every word intentional and aimed to cut to the heart of a matter.

Sokka would wager his last copper piece that her and Suki would get along quite well if they ever met.

He’s good.

That was (Y/N)’s third thought as she watched Sokka breeze through his basic drills.

A tiny part of her sung with pride when Master informed her that she was excelling in her duty of shaping Sokka into a proper swordsman. Sokka was her first real trainee during her time with Piandao. She’d studied under him from the age of six, when she’d turned up on his doorstep after being left behind in the middle of the night by her nomadic family.

She’d seen many hopeful young men turn up on that same doorstep, opening her sanctuary to their arrogant swaggers and second rate weaponry. They had all given her the same look when she guided them through Piandao’s home; a look that held the intrigue of having a girl around to preen for, not knowing that she was the judge, jury, and executioner of their fate.

Piandao might’ve been the one to teach the boys to fight, but (Y/N) was the one to make them honor the battle. They all came boasting to the Master about their accomplishments in their backwater town, lauding their own praises and embellishing their military bloodlines. Most left cursing the girl with forged steel for a personality and the word no sharpened like a blade.

Not Sokka, though.

(Y/N) supposed that maybe that’s what first warmed her up to him, the fact that he’d seen the sword on her belt first and her gender second. His quick wit and ability to bounce back after a defeat didn’t hurt, either.

Sokka’s knuckles were still red and actively bruising from their previous match when Piandao informed the pair that the next would be their last for the day. The compound was bathed in the golden promise of a sunset to come and (Y/N) found herself getting distracted by the way the light pressed gentle kisses to Sokka’s cheeks. The breeze played with his unraveling topknot like a teasing lover, taunting (Y/N) with the idea of what he’d look like with his hair down.

Before her thoughts could settle on the fight in front of her and not the boy, Sokka was making the first move. He went for the obvious strike, even though he should’ve learned by that point that (Y/N) would parry the blow.

Swinging her sword up to block him with ease, (Y/N) found herself shocked by their close proximity, puzzled that Sokka had thrown his first move to get close to her. A coy smirk was crawling along Sokka’s face as he gifted the young warrior with a flirtatious wink, causing her to narrow her own eyes back at him. It seemed that Sokka had seen her distraction and chose to wield his looks as his weapon of choice for this round.

“You can’t fluster me into losing, Sokka,” (Y/N) huffed, a mild bout of surprise bubbling as she realized that she was actually having to try to keep Sokka from getting the upper hand in their fight.

“That doesn’t seem fair, you’ve been flustering me all day.” He replied with a disarming grin, putting her on the defense with a quick, if somewhat unpracticed, set of attacks.

“Cut it out.” She growled, hoping the dark flush on her cheeks could be written off as exertion and not a real blush. Those oceanic eyes stared a hole into (Y/N), the flickering of his pupils to the side being the only consistent indication of his next move.

He was still too close for (Y/N) to ready a true offense, so she blocked and parried his attacks, his ever increasing proximity forcing her a step back with each move. She was trying to distance herself for an attack when the stone wall of the practice arena hit her back, shocking the wind out of her and allowing Sokka to land what would have been a fatal strike in a real fight. Their eyes were still locked as their chests heaved from the effort of the fight, bewildered (Y/E/C) eyes meeting a cunning blue gaze.

“Resourceful use of terrain, Sokka. (Y/N), don’t allow yourself to be crowded by a larger opponent. Use your agility, not your size.” Piandao advised, snapping the pair out of their staring contest. Sokka was still looming over (Y/N), but she wasn’t looking at him, instead forcing herself away from the wall to disappear into the bamboo thicket. She was being melodramatic, she knew, but she was ashamed that she’d let a stupidly charming boy make her look like a fool in front of her Master. The blow to her pride was blistering, raising all of her long buried insecurities to the surface.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Sokka’s voice called from the bamboo to (Y/N)’s right. To hear that much concern in the voice of a boy who barely knew her showed his true character, but (Y/N) wished he would reveal an arrogant side. Something, anything, to throw her heart off the scent of a crush.

“Why would you do that?” She snarled, trying to cover the turmoil in her mind with misplaced anger.

“Do what?” His disembodied voice was confused, the rustling of bamboo revealing his position to (Y/N).

“Embarrass me like that in front of everyone! Do you know how hard it is to be taken seriously as a girl doing this?” (Y/N) ranted, her glare already fixed to the spot where Sokka popped out of the foliage into her line of view.

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that, I just... I thought we had something going on there for a minute, y’know? You’re the best fighter I’ve ever met, being a girl doesn’t change that.” He told her honestly. He took a tentative step closer, approaching her like he would a scared cat.

“That trick won’t work a second time.” (Y/N) snapped, her eyes spitting fire at him. Once again, she found herself on the defensive with this boy, every careful step he took towards her sending her a step back until her back pressed against a clutter of bamboo.

“Trick? (Y/N), there is no trick. It’s called liking someone, and hoping they like you back.” Sokka exclaimed, frustration trickling into his tone. He wanted to be patient and give her room to puzzle out his intentions, but she was too busy protecting her emotions to see his truth.

A long pause, before, “he’ll replace me if he thinks I’m easily distracted.” It was said so quietly, in such a hopeless voice, that Sokka wouldn’t recognize it as (Y/N) speaking if he wasn’t watching her lips form the words.

“He’s a fool, then. He won’t find another (Y/N).” Sokka told her boldly, feeling wild and fierce in their bamboo haven with her baring her deepest emotions to him.

“Please stop saying nice things. It makes it really hard to be mad.” (Y/N) whispered in that same careful voice, her tone cooling as she folded in on herself. She couldn’t believe she’d shown her soul to a boy she’d known for two days.

“Then don’t be mad, be honest. Do you find me as distracting as I find you?” Sokka matched her tone, speaking quietly as he tried to coax her back out of her shell.

“No. Yes? I don’t know. I’ve never even liked any of the apprentices before you.” She huffed, tilting her head back to groan at the sky in confusion.

“Stop over thinking it. Do I distract you? Yes or no?” Sokka pressed, taking (Y/N)’s battle calloused hands in his own and tugging her attention back to those oceanic eyes.

“Yes.” Her tone was confident, her rough thumbs tracing delicate shapes over Sokka’s bruised knuckles as she accepted his rough palms in her own.

“I’m glad I’m not the only one, then, or this would’ve been awkward.” He admitted, a warm blush crawling up his neck.

“It already was,” (Y/N) giggled quietly, releasing the tension between them. They stood grinning at each other like fools, both trying to stretch this soft, peaceful moment into a lifetime. Sokka leaned down closer to (Y/N) slowly, his eyes flickering between her own and her lips as he gave her the chance to stop him.

Instead of bolting like he half expected her to, she leaned up and pressed a firm kiss to his lips, pulling him closer. The action threw him off balance and sent the pair tumbling through the bamboo, Sokka landing on top of (Y/N) with a squawk of indignation.

The serene atmosphere broken, they stared into each other’s eyes for a shocked moment before bursting into laughter and settling for holding each other close like a cherished possession.

[gingerwritess]

HIIIII!!!!! After reading where Loki sings and then with Baby No. 2 on the way 😍😍😍😍😍 can I request a drabble or something where Loki and the pregnant reader are lying in bed and Loki is singing to the unborn baby? Love you! Keep up the awesome work!!!

this was supposed to be 200 words. well over 1000 words later, have a drabble:

inspired by some requests for “your bed after travelling” from the sensory prompts list! psiwrotethesonglokisingsihopeyoulikeitikindado

— — — —

The blister on your heel has to be bleeding by now.

Your back, too, screams for relief—carrying the extra weight of a half-frost giant baby pulls at your bones, joints, muscles.

You try not to let it show, but the last flight of stairs to the street brings a pained whimper from your throat.

Loki pulls you into his arms before you even have to ask.

The trip was a nice distraction for a little bit, but with Loki off most of the day busy with meetings and negotiations, you’d been left trying to vacation with a hyper five year old and a very, very pregnant body that didn’t quite want to leave the pantry.

Watermelon, this time. And this damn hotel in the middle of this godforsaken metropolis only gave you instructions to the nearest grocery store.

Loki would simply pull a freshly cut watermelon out of thin air for you. Loki would go and get you anything you could ever wish for, draw you a bath, rub your back, and read Elliot a book to give you some peace and quiet.

Loki carries you to the cab—per your own request, since teleportation does nothing to help morning sickness—and he holds you close the whole drive home. One arm tucks you snug into his side while the other tries to keep Elliot in his seat, who’s far too excited at the prospect of not having to be in a booster seat for this car ride.

“Are we there yet?”

“We’ve been driving for four minutes, Elliot. Please.”

What feels like an eternity passes, and this time you have to ask.

“Are we there now?”

“Not you, too,” Loki groans, his head lolling back onto the headrest. “See, if I could just move us—”

“Nonono, don’t turn this on me!”

“I’m not turning this—”

“I GOTTA PEE!”

It takes a few more stops and a couple more minutes than planned, but before long you find yourself home, head throbbing and knees stiff and ankles screaming bloody murder.

Facing another flight of stairs.

(Only four, but who’s counting.)

Elliot joins you in your breakdown this time.

“Come here,” Loki sighs, sending the suitcases to inside with a flick of his fingers. He tucks an arm under your knees and one around your back, lifting you from the ground before you can blink the tears from your eyes.

“My hero,” you sniff, and throw your arms around his neck.

This baby will be a drama queen, you just know.

Before Loki can carry you inside, Elliot hauls himself off the ground with a sniffle, his little plush hedgehog tucked snugly under one arm.

“Me, too, daddy. Please?”

He lifts his arms—and hedgehog—up to reach for you.

Big green eyes blinking up at him, Loki can’t bring the word “no” to the tip of his tongue.

Instead he finds himself sighing, kneeling down with a tight hold on you to let Elliot clamber onto his back.

“Forgot how to walk, hm?” He asks his son with a smile, carefully climbing those unbearable four steps and letting Elliot back down.

The little boy shakes his head. “It’s called simple-thee pain. If momma hurts, we all hurt.”

“…right.”

You muffle your laughter in Loki’s shoulder.

“Go unpack your bags,” Loki tells him, nudging him towards his bedroom. “We’ll all hurt together in a minute.”

Elliot runs off to his room, leaving Loki to carry you to your own room; he steals a quick kiss before setting you softly on the bedspread.

The moment you touch down on that mattress, a blissful sigh leaves your lips.

Good kiss. Nice call.

Loki gives himself a mental pat on the back.

“Loki. Unpack later, c’mere.”

He looks up from the suitcase to find you sprawled, a hand draped over your giant belly. Toes scrabble against your heels as you try to kick your shoes off, flinging them across the room when you do.

“Comfortable?”

“Euphoric,” you groan, and give your ankles a few relieving circles.

“Here.” A soft smile on his lips, he lays a hand on your bump of a stomach, seamlessly changing you into your sweats.

You nearly curse aloud, grabbing your pillow and smushing it to your face.

“You spoil me.”

Loki just breathes a laugh, settles onto the foot of the mattress, and sets to work loosening up the tense muscles of your legs.

“My favourite pastime,” he murmurs, fingers working magic while you breathe in your home.

Loki. Elliot. You. The sheets are softer than you remember, and you’d give anything to be able to roll onto your stomach and bury your face in your pillow until you drift off.

But with this beach ball of a stomach, you settle for sprawling on your back, sinking into the mattress until it remembers your shape and the cotton candy clouds you get to sleep on swallow you whole.

“I’m never leaving this bed ever again.”

Loki hums quietly, mildly amused.

“Cuddle with me?” You ask, lifting your head to try and see him—only to be blocked by your belly.

“Of course.”

He takes a moment to change into something more comfortable—those softer-then-silk trousers are your favourite—and stretches out on the mattress beside you with a sigh.

There’s a pause—he shifts, searching for that perfect position—and groans in satisfaction.

Sinking into liquid gold.

“Nothing will ever understand me like my bed does,” he breathes, eyelids fluttering shut.

Long legs slip under the covers, sliding too smoothly against the perfectly cool sheets, and he lets out another sigh, warm and cool and safe and free by your side—

“Cuddle.”

You tap him on the chest, eyelids already drooping, breaking the enchantment long enough to bring you into this dream.

“Oh, absolutely.”

He scoots closer to your side, wrapping his arms around you to rest one on your belly, his head nestled into the curve of your neck.

A moment passes in perfect silence, his thumb brushing over the curve of your stomach every few seconds.

“Could you sing for us?” You whisper, breaking through the quiet. “Last time you did, she kicked.”

Half a grin tugs at the corner of Loki’s mouth. “Of course. Anything in particular?”

“Something…you.”

“Great. Okay.”

It’s quiet for a moment longer while he thinks.

Then…

“Round the borders and under the bridge, the frost-king tries to flee…around the throne he runs and hides, only stopped by a winter breeze.”

Entranced, you listen, his voice clear and crisp and quiet in your little bedroom as it dips and soars.

“‘I see you,’ said the breeze, so the frost king had to freeze. From his hand the ice broke the throne and the frost-king tries to flee. Round the forests he runs, only stopped by a winter breeze.”

There’s the kick.

Loki’s voice clips at the tiny movement, but he sings quietly on, trying to coax another from the unborn baby.

“‘What have you to fear?’ Asked the breeze, for the frost-king trembled with the leaves.” He sings softly, hand flat next to yours waiting for the little fist or foot to hit. “‘Only I, only I,’ he cried wistfully. Oh, the breeze followed when he ran, angered by his bitter flight.”

Loki’s voice slows, and you run your fingers through his hair, unable to break the spell he’s cast across the room.

He takes a slow breath, lays his head on your stomach.

“For what is a breeze but a storm-king, whose mother wrapped him tight for the night.”

Huddled in the doorway, Elliot listens.

The baby kicks again and you both share a quiet laugh; at that, Elliot runs into the room, wriggling his way between the two of you.

“I wanna say hi,” he whispers, laying his little hand next to Loki’s. “Can I cuddle with you, too?”

The baby kicks right away, bringing a giggle to Elliot’s lips. “Hi, baby.”

Loki wraps him tight in a hug, scooting closer to your side so the three of you can huddle together, warm and cold all at once and really, really happy to be home.

“I missed this bed,” your little boy sighs happily, nuzzling into your embrace.

“What about your bed, little giant?”

“Meh. It’s alright. Yours just…ahh…it soothes my soul.”

You snort and Loki bites back a laugh, instead pressing a sweet kiss to the top of his head.

“Don’t let us interrupt.”

―   ―   ―   ―

fuel the writer?

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[nialledfromfics]

The Dating Game | Chapter Twelve 

~~

The whole first date thing wasn’t the only surprise Niall had been conjuring up for Joey. Though that night, according to her, would never be able to be topped. Joey had spent the next hour dancing with the most perfect man to what were the most perfect songs performed by her favorite band, even getting a chance to meet and thank them afterwards, before the two climbed into the chauffeured car and headed back to her place. They couldn’t keep their hands off each other after that. Not in private, not in public and it was like a whole new world for them both. It was the first time Niall just let go; didn’t care about anyone or anything else, he ignored the stares and the pictures being taken, ignored the media going into a frenzy over ‘Niall Horan’s New Mysterious Girlfriend!’ and most of all, he ignored any self doubt that he had letting himself completely and utterly fall for Joey. It was clear by that point, it was obvious, to him and to her, that what they had between them was special and it was beautiful and they relished in every single second of it. 

But between their 2am make out session in a private booth at Bootsy Bellows and their lazy Sunday strolls through Whole Foods trying their damndest to find black truffles, Niall had come up with another tiny surprise. He thought he was getting rather good at them by that time and it was just a regular Tuesday morning for Joey in her classroom, her students working quietly in their reading books when she heard a knock at her classroom door. Puzzled by the untimely distraction, all twenty sets of little eyes shot over to the door as Joey stood up from her desk to get a better look. She could see from the small window pane built into the door panel that it was the school’s principal, Mrs. Edwards. 

Joey wrinkled her brows and then gave a wide-eyed look to her students, a few breaking out into giggles as she stepped over to open the classroom door. “Principal Edwards, nice of you to stop by our class.” 

“Good morning, Ms. Parker,” the older lady greeted with a kind smile, “I don’t mean to disrupt your students, but...I think you might have a special guest visiting today.” 

Joey gently shook her head, completely dumbfounded as to what she was referring to. “I’m sorry, I didn’t have anything plan–”

The principal slid over to the side and Niall emerged from behind her, coming into Joey’s view. Her eyes lit up and a grin pulled at her lips, the sight of him nearly knocking the breath from her chest. “Niall!” she blurted out, “What, um...what are you doing here? At my...work?” 

A soft laugh escaped him and he gave her a shrug. “Just thought I’d surprise ya,” he said, popping his head in past the threshold to glance at her students, “and the kids.” 

Reaching behind his back, he grabbed at the fret of his guitar that was strapped on his chest, swinging it to his front. “Thought I would play a little acoustic set for y’all.” 

The children all started to cheer, and Joey flicked her stare over to them. Biting at her lip to suppress her ever growing smile, she bowed her head down a bit to hide her rosy cheeks. She really couldn’t believe this man. Looking back up at him, Joey swept her fingers behind her neck to push her hair to one shoulder and crossed her arms over her chest. “Is this...allowed?” she mentioned, looking over at the principal. 

“He already cleared it with me,” she confirmed with a smile and a pat on Niall’s shoulder. Mrs. Edwards turned, waddling back down the hallway towards the main office. 

Shaking her head at him, Joey caught his stare. “What am I gonna do with you?” she quietly said, his smile creating a buzz in her tummy as she whipped around to face her class. “Okay, my bright, beautiful students, we are gonna take a bit of a break right now from our reading books because....we have a special treat for all of you!”

The antsy, and excited, children bounced like tiny firecrackers in their seats. Joey nodded at Niall, giving him permission to step into the room. “This is Niall Horan, and he is going to sing us some songs this morning. Can you all say hello to Mr. Horan?” 

The entire room erupted in a harmonious sound of the repeated words as Niall laughed and gave them a friendly wave. “Hello, kids, don’t y’all look lovely today. How would ya like to hear some songs?” 

Another loud explosion of shrieks and cheers, Joey pressing her folded fingers to her mouth to contain her smile. Niall peeked over at her from the corners of his eyes and gave her a wink. That man couldn’t be more amazing if he tried, she thought to herself. Joey, as quietly as she could, then gathered all the children to sit on their assigned spots on the Carpet Circle with Niall seated at the front in the chair that Joey typically occupied. He had just begun to sing, solely capturing the children’s attention, when Joey walked over to her desk and pulled out her phone. She quickly texted Alexis.

J: You need to come to my classroom. Right now.

Only a few minutes passed before Alexis, wide eyes and slackened jaw, came sneaking into the classroom and right over to Joey who was standing off by the side of her desk. The red haired girl couldn’t take her eyes off of him, couldn’t rip her ears away from him and only when there was a break between the songs, the children all cheering and clapping was Alexis able to lean in and whisper to her. “Holy shit, Joey. This man is a dream.” 

She was in no place to argue with her, he was a dream. He was so patient with the kids, laughing and joking with them, showing them how to hold the guitar and what strings to pluck and chords to play. He would peek up at her every so often, that half smirk tugging at his lips as the lyrics of his songs spilled so effortlessly from his mouth. She was weak at the knees, weak at the heart, her soul aching with every meet of his stare to hers. She felt so warm, like a heatwave had prickled over her skin and Alexis’ soft swoons next to her were in no way helping the feelings Joey had stirring inside her. He was the most gorgeous, the most selfless and the most incredible man she had ever known in her entire life. She didn’t think anything could be more perfect then what she was witnessing in that moment. 

It was crazy how many times Niall would make her feel that way. 

Later that night, after devouring some take out and going for a short walk with Sadie, Niall and Joey had settled into their more recent nightly routine; clad in their respective comfy pajamas and lounged out on the couch as they browsed Netflix. Joey was laying on her side, her bare feet propped on Niall’s lap as he nursed a beer and clicked onto the next episode of the series they had been engrossed in over the past week. His big hand was wrapped around her one ankle, his thumb gliding small circles at the tiny bone as his head rested back on the couch. 

Pulling in a low sigh, Joey nestled her head a bit deeper into the throw pillow. “I still can’t believe you did that today,” she said, Niall’s touch pausing on her soft skin. “It was really special for my students, Niall. Thank you.” 

She peered over at him and he smiled down at her, running his palm over her calf. “No need to thank me, just thought it would be fun. And I loved your students, they were cute.” 

Tucking her lips into her mouth, it eased into a grin. “I could tell.” She moved her head to get a better look at him, twirling her fingers through the ends of her hair. “But really, thank you. It was beyond sweet and you really didn’t have to.” 

“You’re welcome, love.” 

Focusing her attention back to the program playing on the tv, there was a slight shift on Niall’s end of the couch and the clinking sound of his beer bottle being placed on the coffee table before Joey felt the heat of his fingertips slide along the span of her bare leg. Her heart was already crashing against her ribcage from the feel of him, but she stayed still, stayed quiet and as his curious touch reached the hem of her cotton shorts, Joey had sucked in a jumbled breath. Niall slipped his hand up under the back of her shorts, hesitating slightly to register her reaction and noticing the slight smirk spreading on her lips before gently groping her bum. His skin was like fire against hers, blistering and when she felt the press of his wet lips at the side of her thigh, it was more than enough to send her into a fit of uncontrolled shivers, her eyes fluttering closed. 

Niall had both hands on her now, fitting around her curves along the outside of her shorts and camisole, his mouth tracing his desired path up her body; sucking and licking, nipping as low hums blew out onto her exposed skin. Joey had long given up on fighting anything when it came to Niall, the moment he touched her it was like the world around her melted away, her worries, her fears, every thought in her head was gone and replaced by the electricity that surged from his flesh to hers. 

With his one hand cupped around her bottom, pulling at the meaty skin and the other flattened to the front of her stomach, Niall had kissed his way up the side of her body, his mouth now attached to her neck. “What do you think you’re doing?” she managed to breathe out in a spritely tone, her eyes still pressed closed as the prickle of his beard roughed along her collarbone. 

“Nothin’,” Niall teased, his accent gruff against her dampened skin.

Joey faintly snorted. “Doesn’t feel like nothing,” she replied, her fingers coiling into the material of the pillow beneath her head. 

Laying his tongue flat, Niall slowly licked a stripe up to the dip below Joey’s ear and brushed her red hair out of the way with his hand. “I wanna taste.” 

She gasped and Niall pulled her earlobe between his teeth before sucking down further along her neck. Another smile slid over her lips as the solid weight of his body pressed against her. “A taste of what?” 

Lifting his mouth from her throat, Niall hovered his upper half over her a bit to peer down at her. Joey’s eyes popped open and she felt the pads of his fingers at her cheek, turning her face just enough to look up at him. A heat crashed through her at the sight of him; dark hair all disheveled with pieces hanging over his forehead and down into his eyes, his cheeks flushed and his lips swollen and glistening from his welcoming assault on her. “You,” he whispered. 

His thumb traced across her puffy bottom lip and Niall darted his darkened stare with hers as Joey shakily inhaled and parted her mouth, slipping her tongue over the tip of his finger. Joey watched Niall’s eyelids flutter, a disjointed moan breaking from his throat as she pulled his thumb between her lips and slowly sucked at it. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered as his thumb left her warm, wet mouth. “I’m tryin’ to tease you here, not the other way ‘round.” 

She giggled. “Well after today, maybe I should be the one asking to taste you.” 

“Maybe later,” he shot back with a quirk of his brow. His head dropped to her chest, Joey licking at her lips as she tipped her chin down to watch Niall playfully nibble at her covered breast. It was ticklish, the heat of his mouth and the tiny flick of his tongue over her clothed nipple and the young woman broke out in another soft fit of giggles. 

She gently carded her hand through the top of his hair, brushing the strands from his face as he peered up at her through the tops of his eyes. Those all consuming, heart crushing, soulful blue eyes. He leaned in again, pushing a rough kiss to her mouth, his tongue curling around hers. “Please, baby,” he then said, his low voice teetering on the edge of begging, “can I taste ya?” 

His hot breath soared over her lips, wet and stained with his feverish kisses, and Joey swallowed hard before shakily nodding her head. Niall wasted no time, hoisting his body off of hers and grabbing firmly around her hips to twist her lower half, forcing her onto her back. She sucked in a sharp breath, her tummy sinking in as Niall tucked his fingers into the waistband of her shorts, and began to yank them over her bum and down her legs. Her chest was rising high as she watched him, noticing the black of his pupils growing as he hungrily stared down at her, gnawing at his lip. Joey loved seeing him like that with her, where he just couldn’t help himself, overcome with desire and hunger for her. To have his mouth on her, to touch her and devour her. To fuck her and claim her. It was filthy and gritty, almost feral like and Joey could feel her center aching, already dripping for him as he carefully tugged her underwear all the way off her feet. 

Niall rested back on his hunches, hooded eyes dropping to the blossoming apex between her legs as his large hands rubbed along the tops of her thighs. “Ya know, I was thinkin’,” he began, but paused to lick across his lips as he slowly spread Joey’s knees wider apart. “Fuck, your cunt is so pretty.” 

The end bit came out in a low, growly whisper, his breaths choking up in his throat as his stare ravaged over her lower half. Joey could see the heavy rise and fall of his chest under the material of his t-shirt, the blush punching rapidly to his cheeks and it drove her wild to know that she had that power over him. “Was thinkin’ though,” he started again, his attention still focused between her legs as his fingers slipped across the manicured patch of hair that crowned her throbbing pink center. It made Joey gasp faintly and fling her arms up above her head, clinging onto the arm of the couch. 

“Maybe we could, like, do a,...uh, a weekend away?” he went on, her eyes fluttering closed as his thumb rubbed over her sensitive nub. It made her thighs quiver. “A road trip...yeah, a road trip.” His voice cracked and he swallowed hard, watching as he slowly trailed his fingertips through the slick wetness between her folds. Joey couldn’t help but instinctively roll her hips down into the cushion. “Could invite, uh, Alexis...Chris too, maybe?” 

Joey’s lips parted and she opened her eyes as the heat of his touch left her swollen skin. She watched as he brought his fingers to his mouth, licking the taste of her off the tips before putting them right back on her. A moan edged from her throat at the feeling and Niall flicked his eyes to her face. He gave her a devilish smirk and it sent a wave of carnality crashing through her. “Could, um, maybe…” he began mumbling again as he eased his two fingers inside her. 

Joey’s head tipped back into the pillow, her teeth sinking down into her bottom lip as she struggled to catch her breath. His thick fingers hooked up as he slowly worked them inside her, and her legs fought off the trembles that sparked all the way down to her curling toes. “Go to Joshua Tree or up north to Yosemite...whatever, um,...ya want is fine,” he stuttered out, a soft hum following his words as the fingers of his other hand dug into the flesh of her thigh. 

Joey rolled her hips towards him even more, the fire sparking in her belly as Niall continued to finger her. The sounds of him playing in her wetness filled their ears, drowning out most of what he was saying and she absolutely could not take it anymore. “Niall…” she quietly breathed out. 

His eyes flew back up to hers, dark and seedy, and she could see his mouth watering for her, pooling at the corner of his lips. “Yeah, baby…”

She sucked in a rattled breath. “Stop talking and put your mouth on me,” she demanded, nodding her head. 

Niall huffed out a low chuckle before pushing at the inside of her thigh with his one palm to open her even more, his head dipping down between her legs. That split second of waiting for the slick wet-hot of his mouth to touch her was excruciating, her body already shaking in anticipation that when his tongue finally landed on her clit, the loudest, most sensuous, spine-tingling moan escaped her lips. Niall smirked against her heat upon hearing her, the arousal quickly building up inside him as his tongue curled and sucked, pulling her soft sensitive nub into his mouth. Joey’s hips collided with his face, urging his tongue to bury deeper into her folds, as he pushed his two fingers in and out of her swollen center. 

She dropped a hand down between her legs, slipping her fingers through his hair as Niall held her steady with a splayed palm at her lower tummy. His mouth worked at her, ate at her, his visceral hums combining lewdly with the sounds of his tongue tasting at her. Her eyes were squeezed tight, head tilted back and she rocked along with the motions of his mouth, sucking and licking, his fingers burying inside her and tapping at her upper wall. Broken moans zipped through the dense space around them, and Joey strained to catch even the smallest amount of air in her heaving lungs. 

But Niall didn’t let up, he never let up. He could feel the throb of her core against the flat of his tongue, taste her sweet wetness that exploded from her and leaked down his hand and he ate at her even more, harder, moaning against her. His tongue lagged up and down her swollen folds, swirling around the soft opening where his fingers were stretching her and Joey’s body buckled as Niall moved his mouth back up and wrapped his lips around her clit. 

“Fuck, oh my God,” she cried out, fighting the urge to clamp her trembling thighs around his face. The faint burn of his beard lashed across her flushed skin, heightening the feel of him on her and as Niall twirled his tongue around her most sensitive part, sucking and sucking, his thick fingers moving inside her, she was nearly black out delirious. 

Joey opened her eyes and tried to focus up at her ceiling, hazy and grey before she slowly slipped her stare down to him. Gasping at the sight, Niall’s darkened gaze was already fixed on hers, his mouth clamped around her pulsing heat. She twisted her fingers into his hair, moving her hips along with his tongue as the sparks of her orgasm began to build fast in her tummy. He was good, so fucking good, and her lips hung open as he slid his mouth down, pulling his fingers from her to tenderly lick inside of her. Pressing his two hands to the backs of her thighs, Niall gently pushed her legs towards her chest, opening her up more as he buried his face against her. 

Joey couldn't take it anymore, her body convulsing, her head thrown back into the couch in low, desperate whimpers. “Niall...baby...please…”

He worked her over, dipping his tongue inside her, swallowing the taste of her that collected on the tip as he licked his way back to her clit. He knew she was close. Niall knew the way her body reacted, the way she sounded and looked as she began to climb and spill over that mind-numbing edge of release and he kept his eyes glued to her face. She was warm and sweet on his tongue, every part of her better than the last and he swirled and flicked and sucked and used everything he had to ease her right to that place she needed to be. 

Slipping his two fingers back inside her, she gripped tighter into his hair, her body writhing, rocking against him in loud gasps of air and Niall knew…she was there. A flood of cries came from her bared throat, her legs crumbling, her sticky body melding and falling into the motions of her wicked release as Niall kept his mouth on her, kept his fingers inside her and worked her through. There was nothing more erotic, more arousing to him than seeing her get off. Seeing her body react to him, her mind losing all control and Niall started to throb in his shorts, his own need to feel her, to be buried inside her, growing more intense by the second. 

Joey soared through her unparalleled high like a gliding bird weaving in and out of the clouds, her mind muddy with fervor and her skin burning under his touch. Niall was inexplicably good with his mouth, good at so many things, but his mouth...was something of dreams. Giggling faintly under her breath as she came down, she could feel the warmth of Niall’s mouth still oh-so-slowly eating at her, slipping down to her opening to lick away at her orgasm. Joey sighed, she sighed loud and contentedly, easing her legs back around his face. Niall laughed, his hands swarming her skin as he dragged them up and down her thighs, pressing small soft kisses at every unmarked patch of flesh he could see. The creases of her legs, her inner thighs, at the peak of her pelvic bone. 

He was so sweet with her, so tender and Joey peered down at him as she combed her fingers through his hair, brushing it from his eyes. “God, you really know how to go down on a girl,” she mumbled, still trying to settle her breaths. 

Niall had lifted his head up to look at her, but pinched his eyes closed in a snort. “Perhaps a specialty of mine, my love.”

Joey quickly nodded. “That’s an understatement.” He quirked a brow. Licking over her lips, the young woman slid her fingers from his hair and dragged them slowly down the side of his face. “Are you hard now?” 

Niall tucked his bottom lip into his mouth before peeking down between Joey’s legs again. She was soaking wet, her folds swollen and bright pink and Niall was sure that if he hadn’t been hard before, just looking at her like that would have done the trick. “A bit hard,” he then commented, “but nothin’ new since I’m always hard when I’m around ya.” 

Joey curled her upper body in a laugh, reaching down to cradle Niall’s jaw in her hands to bring him up to her. Sliding his body between her spread legs as he laid on top of her, her lips found his in a kiss. A smile broke on her mouth as she felt just how thick Niall had grown for her. “Guess we’re gonna have to take care of that, huh?” 

He nodded as he slipped his tongue in her mouth. “Then we can talk about that weekend trip,” he casually mentioned against her lips as if he hadn’t just had his face between her legs. Niall inched his mouth away and rested his forehead to hers, delicately tangling his fingers in the side of her hair. Joey stared up at him, her small hands moving down to cup around his sweaty neck, feeling the race of his pulse against her palm. His heavy lidded eyes swarmed over hers, and she filled her lungs with the scent of her that lingered on his tepid breath, causing a familiar warmth to trickle back into her tummy. She was a complete mess for him.

Tipping her chin slightly, Joey enticed him into another kiss. “Yes, but first I wanna make you come.” 

•

Niall’s suggestion of a weekend away, a road trip somewhere, was actually a really good idea. With his album launch creeping up, and the fact that he would be too busy for practically anything else during those couple months, he was very adamant on making sure they had a relaxing and fun little getaway before all the chaos set in. Even if it was just for the night. 

But with their demanding schedules, it did end up taking a bit more planning than they had anticipated. They both thought it would be a blast to invite Alexis and Chris along, who had only met once but seemed to get along well enough. The group would take Niall’s car, leave early Saturday morning, drive up the coast towards Santa Cruz and then make their way towards Yosemite. They hoped to stay at this super nice, all-inclusive lodge for the night that Niall had made reservations for and then make it back home by Sunday evening. That was the initial plan anyway. 

•

“So, Alexis really can’t make it?” Niall asked Joey, as he turned to lock up his front door. She, along with Chris, were standing on his front porch, the boys’ overnight bags hung on their shoulders and Joey’s small rolling suitcase, teetering behind her. She kept her stare on Niall, watching as he checked that the locks were indeed locked up properly before spinning around to face her. 

He gave her a half smile, and Joey chewed at her bottom lip, shrugging lightly. “No, I guess not,” Joey went on to explain, trailing after Niall as they began to walk towards his front gate. “She called me late last night, said she couldn’t find anyone to watch her son, so…”

“So, it’ll be just us three then?” Niall commented, stopping by the gate to unlock it. 

Joey peeked over her shoulder at Chris who was behind her, and he gave her a wink and chuckled. She rolled her eyes back to Niall and slumped her shoulders. “Great,” she mumbled, “no one told me I would be stuck in a car alone with you two clowns for the next two days.” 

A loud laugh belted from Niall as he stepped through the gate and held it open for his friends to walk through. “Yeah, but, darlin’, imagine all the fun we’re gonna have…” 

Joey paused as she went to pass Niall, her eyes peering up to meet his. They appeared to be an almost iridescent blue in the soft morning glow of the rising sun, like fresh dew on the petal of a Forget Me Not, and it was nearly breathtaking. She smiled up at him. “Mmm, I can’t wait.”

Grabbing around her waist, Niall moved in closer to Joey and pressed a kiss to her lips. Her touch reached up to rest at the back of his neck, deepening the kiss before they heard a tiny groan from next to them. “Gross,” Chris teased as Joey and Niall inched back from each other and glanced over at him, “I’m gonna have to deal with this sappy love shit all weekend, aren’t I?” 

Joey tipped her head in towards Niall, resting it just under his chin in a giggle. “Yes,” they both admitted, catching each other's stare before Joey raised to her tiptoes to plant another peck on his waiting lips. Chris laughed, shaking his head in jest as he shuffled past them over to Niall’s car. Joey followed with Niall right behind her, pressing the button on his key fob to open the trunk so Chris could throw his bag inside. “So, Chris...” Joey mentioned as she handed her suitcase to Niall, “are you telling me that you didn’t have a lady friend you could have invited for the weekend?” 

Placing his hands on his hips, Chris watched as Niall hoisted the two other bags into the back of the car. He shook his head. “Unfortunately, no. I’m as single as they come these days.” 

Joey crossed her arms over her chest, narrowing her eyes in a low hum. Niall shot his stare over to her, knowing there was something brewing in that little brain of hers and he chuckled under his breath as he slammed the back of the trunk closed. Just as Joey glanced over her shoulder to Niall, a grin sliding across her bare lips, the sound of tires screeching to a halt right next to them nearly caused the redhead to jump out of her skin. 

Wide eyes flew around to see what the ruckus was, only to be met with a Toyota Corolla rocking to a park near Niall’s tall fence and Alexis jumping out of the front seat. “Oh my God,” she loudly choked out, waving her hand in the air as she slammed her drivers door closed and opened the one to the backseat. “Oh my God, I made it. I totally didn’t think I was gonna make it.” 

“Alexis!” Joey called out, a big smile edging over her lips as she took a step towards her friend. “I thought you weren’t coming?” 

The blonde girl huffed, rolling her eyes as she swung her bag over her shoulder and shut her car door, locking it up. “I wasn’t! Well...I didn’t think I was,” she continued, stepping around the back of her car and over to the group that was circled at the back of Niall’s vehicle. “Lincoln’s dad got really sick yesterday and had to cancel his weekend, and I was freaking out ‘cause I didn’t know what the hell to do with Lincoln, ‘cause my sister is out of town too, so like...I was truly fucked.” 

They all lightheartedly laughed as Niall opened his trunk up again, taking Alexis' bag from her to toss it in the back with the rest of them. “But…I was able to sweet talk my neighbor into taking him for the night.” She smiled, happy with her accomplishment and peeked over at Chris. “Hey, we’ve met before, right?” 

Chris shoved his hands down into his short pockets, and gave her a nod. “Yeah….yeah, um, Niall’s album party a few–”

“Shit, yeah, that’s right!” she smiled. “Good to see you, again.” 

Chris licked over his lips as they tugged into a smile, his cheek ruddying into a pink hue. “You too.” 

Peeking over at Niall, Joey raised her brows and he puffed out a knowing chuckle. “Alright,” he then spoke up with a clap of his hands, “y’all ready to go?” 

“Yes!” they all sing-songed in unison, laughing as everyone dispersed to their respective sides of the car and climbed in. 

•

The drive up the coast was something out of a daydream. The California sun shimmering along the peaks of the swelling waves as the warm salty air soaked into their skin. All four windows were rolled down and the music was blaring, the breeze tangling through their loose hair and swallowing the half-shouted words to whatever songs came up on the seemingly never-ending playlist. It was peaceful and uncluttered, the four of them joking and laughing over old memories, happily oblivious to all the new ones they would be making. 

Niall had been driving most of the way, his blue eyes hidden behind a pair of sunglasses, but his hand steadily wrapped around Joey’s. He’d bring it up to his mouth every so often, placing small kisses along the bridge of her knuckles and she would giggle and smile, Niall not lost on the summery glow of her sun-kissed skin, or the way the wind blew through her red hair, reminding him of the flickering flames of a midnight bonfire. She was absolutely gorgeous and Niall was completely spellbound. He couldn’t even remember a time that he would look at a girl and feel that cataclysmic rupture in his chest, that swirling heat in his belly, that starry-eyed dreamy state in his head, take over him. Not in the longest time. 

Not until he first met Joey. 

“What?” she softly giggled at him, noticing his gaze kept wandering over to her instead of focusing on the road ahead. 

Niall breathed out a smirk, and gently shook his head. “Nothin’,” he remarked, “you just look beautiful, that’s all.” 

She bashfully tipped her face down, the pink rushing to her cheeks as a faint, and teasing, ‘awww’ played out from the backseat. Joey playfully glared back at Alexis over her shoulder and the blonde glanced at Chris in a snort before they both threw their heads back in a laugh. “You two better behave,” Joey jokingly scolded with a pointed finger. “I know how y’all are…” 

“Hey, we’re just admirin’ the sweet and untainted love between the two of ya,” Chris commented with raised brows. 

Niall chuckled at the response as Alexis chimed back in. “Yeah...it's all in good fun, Jo. Us singletons back here are clearly just jealous.”

“Yeah, exactly,” Chris huffed. 

Joey rolled her eyes, and was just about to retaliate with a snarky comment when she noticed a car inching very close to the back of Niall’s through the back window. Her stare went big when the blue and white flashing lights came on, a lone ‘whoop whoop’ sound sending all eyes flying to the back window of the vehicle. “Ah, fuck,” Niall grumbled, his stare shooting between his mirrors and the road ahead as he attempted to find a good place to pull over. 

Joey turned around in her seat and peeked over at him. “God, what’d you do?” she said, holding in her laugh with the press of her fingertips to her lips. 

Niall shook his head as he merged off the side of the road and put his car in park. “Who the fuck knows…” 

“Maybe they just want an autograph,” Chris chuckled. 

The small group burst into stifled laughter as the officer stepped up to the drivers side of the car, Niall rolling the window down. “Driver’s license and registration, please,” the officer instructed. 

“Uh,...yeah, sure,” Niall replied, reaching in front of Joey’s bent knees into the glove box. He pulled out the required certificate and his license and handed it to the officer. “Why, um...why am I bein’ pulled over?” 

The officer looked over Niall’s drivers license and then tipped her face down, peering at him over the top rim of her sunglasses. “Speed limit is 65 and you were topping 86.” 

“Oh.” 

“I’m going to run these through my system,” she went on, holding up the two little cards for Niall to see, “I’ll be right back.” 

Niall nodded. “Okay, yeah, uh...thanks.” 

The officer walked back towards her squad car and Niall turned to look over at Joey. Her eyes went big and she reached over and gently rubbed down his bicep. “Great start to the weekend, huh?” Joey said, her voice gentle with her banter. 

Niall raised a shoulder and let out a sigh. “Well, it can’t get any worse than this, right?” 

•

To say Niall was wrong, would have been an understatement. He was given a $367 speeding ticket–one that he very much tried to talk his way out of–and after stopping for a late lunch in Santa Cruz, the group was finally headed towards Yosemite. But the day was too beautiful, and Niall in particular felt they were wasting it away just being in the car, and so they decided to make another little pit stop. Chris, who had been driving since their stop for lunch, pulled over alongside a tree lined trail and all of them clambered out of the car, stretching their bodies a bit before coming up with the brilliant idea to take a short, scenic hike through the redwoods. Everyone was gung-ho over the idea, and the group excitedly took off in a single line between the tall trees. 

The friends walked inwards for a good twenty minutes, weaving through the trees along the trail, chatting and stopping to take pictures and selfies, before Alexis casually mentioned that she had felt a few random raindrops splatter at the skin of her arm. Coming to a stop, they all tipped their heads back to look up through the sparse branches of the trees. It was only then that they noticed the thick grey clouds that had taken residence across the previous sapphire sky, which without warning, completely opened up and started to grace them with rain. Not just a sprinkle, not just a little shower–a torrential downpour. Screams came spurting out from the girls, Niall grabbing onto Joey’s hand as they all spun around and started to run back towards the car. 

The rain was pelting against their faces, drenching their clothes and soaking their hair and by the time they got back to the car, it looked like they had all fallen into a lake fully dressed. Scrambling into the dry car, the four sat in complete silence staring ahead as the dense rain smacked loudly against the windshield and the thunder began to crack in the sky above them. Their soaked chests heaved as they all struggled to catch their breath from running all the way back through the twisted woods, before Chris started to laugh. It was a chaotic cackle and it caused the group to all glance around at one another, each of them quickly realizing just how ridiculous and miserable they all truly looked, and by that point, no one could hold in their laughter. 

Chris, who was once again in the driver's seat, started the engine and pulled away, Niall fumbling around in the backseat for a random blanket he had stowed away in the trunk. He tugged it out from under one of the bags and handed it to Joey, who was sitting next to him, letting her at least dry off her face before she gave it to Alexis. They all passed the blanket around, drying themselves off with it as best they could as Chris attempted to continue their journey. But the rain was so heavy that the windshield wipers couldn’t keep up, posing a driving hazard as Chris could barely see beyond the front of the car. They all quickly decided it was better, and safer, if they pulled over to wait out the storm a bit. 

Both Alexis and Joey, who had spent their entire lives living in California, had rarely seen anything like that before. And it came out of nowhere. One second the bright sun beaming down on the friends as they sat at a seaside cafe, devouring sandwiches and fizzy water, the next dark clouds and roaring thunder, a flood of rainwater beating down them as they ran for safety and warmth through a sparse forest. For sure they had all checked the weather before their trip and there was no sign, or prediction of rain for the entire weekend, so to be surprised, and a bit annoyed, by the circumstances, was understandable. 

The rain finally cleared a bit, enough for Chris to be able to drive anyway, nearly thirty minutes later and the still very much soaked, and restless, group took off, on the road towards their destination for the night. Niall had the perfect place for them to stay, making sure to book a reservation nearly the second everyone was on board for their getaway. It was a gorgeous and luxurious lodge right inside the main valley of the park, Niall had stayed there once before a few years back, and knew right away it was a place that he wanted Joey to experience. Fine dining, exquisite drinks and a wondrous view from every room, he was bursting with excitement as they pulled up to the front. Climbing out of the car, Chris tossed Niall the keys as they all made their way into the lobby. 

“What-...” Niall paused to pull in a deep breath, pressing his lips into a line as he sought to calm himself before he started again. “What do you mean you don’t have my reservation? I made it online. I have the email receipt!”

The concierge behind the desk shook her head as she continued typing at her computer, trying to search the system. “I’m sorry sir, I cannot find your name or reservation anywhere in our guest directory. It seems to have been some kind of mishap with our online services.” 

“A mishap?” 

“Yes, sir. We are very sorry about that and for a gesture of our appreciation, we can offer you a 10% discount on your next booking.”

Niall ran his hand up through his dampened hair and let out a sigh. “Okay, so...can we just book a couple rooms now then?” 

“I’m sorry sir, we only take reservations.” 

Rolling his eyes, Niall held out his hand. “But I did make a reservation.” 

“I understand that sir, but we don’t have you in our system as confirming that reservation.” 

“So, what you’re sayin’ ya won’t let me book any rooms here in person? When your system was the one that messed up the reservation that I had made in the first place?” 

The concierge thought for a moment. “I...I guess I could check to see if we have any rooms available for the night.” 

Niall nodded. “Yes, do that, please.”

The lady tapped across her keyboard, her brows buckling slightly before she looked back at Niall. “I’m really sorry, sir, but it seems that all of our rooms are actually booked full at the moment.” 

“All of them?”

Hearing the slight exasperation in his tone, Joey shot her stare over to Alexis and Chris who were standing just behind the couple. They pulled their faces in, and the redhead bit at her lip as she took a step up to Niall at the counter. She wrapped her hand around his inner bicep and gingerly squeezed, Niall glancing over at her and giving her a half smile. “It’s okay, Niall, we can just...find someplace else to stay. I’m sure they’ll have rooms.” 

“Actually,” the concierge interjected, Niall and Joey moving their attention to her, “every accommodation in the park is currently full. There is an annual park celebration going on this weekend, reservations to the hotels are made months in advance.” 

All four let out simultaneous groans. “But there are plenty of…smaller places outside of the park that you could try that do not require advanced reservations. I can give you a list of those if you would like?” 

Peeking back at their two friends, Niall puffed out his cheeks as he loudly groaned and Joey raised her brows. “Guys?” she questioned, wanting to know their thoughts on the matter.

Alexis gave them a shrug, and faintly shook her head. “I don’t really care where we go, I just need a damn shower.” 

Chris glanced at Alexis and crossed his arms over his chest as he nodded in agreement. “And food.”

Niall twisted his head back to the lady standing behind the front desk and sighed under his breath. “Sure, I’ll take the list.” 

•

“This can’t be it.” 

Niall, behind the wheel again, flicked his stare down to the list of accommodations that the concierge had given him. They had eventually reached a place that showed ‘vacancy’, driving for almost an hour along the outskirts of the park as the sun had long sat and turned to night around them and the rain had finally given up. His blue eyes fanned back up to the neon sign that hung above the small lobby as he pulled up out front. He caught Joey’s widened stare for a moment before they both inquisitively, and drearily, peered up at the building through her drizzled passenger window. 

Redwood Inn.

“It doesn’t look...terrible,” Joey mumbled, trying her best to keep their spirits up. “Could be worse.” 

Chris scoffed. “Yeah, could be like those hostels ya stayed in when ya went backpackin’, Niall.” 

“To be fair, this place looks worse,” he grumbled, his gaze flicking down the row of one floor motel rooms, many looking unkempt and rundown. A bit of trash was strewn about the parking lot, old broken chairs sitting outside the room doors, and a gross, dirty mattress leaned up against the dumpster in the corner of the lot. Niall sighed as the lightbulb above the lobby door flickered. “This day has all gone to shit.” 

“Look,” Alexis chimed in with an attempt at some positivity, pointing out of her side of the car, “at least they have a pool.” 

Joey looked over at Niall and she reached out to him, squeezing her hand around his. “It’s okay, babe. Don’t worry, it’s just for the night, ya know? We can take some showers, put on some dry clothes, and I’m pretty sure I saw a convenience store, like, a mile back. We can get some snacks and some cheap alcohol and just get totally wasted.” 

Niall chuckled lightly at her comment and peered down at his lap. “It will be fine, I promise,” she softly finished. 

Slowly nodding his head, he smiled over at her. “You’re right, love. I’m sorry, I’m just…stressin’ over shit, but it’s fine,” he paused and glanced back at their friends, “everythin’s good.” 

Joey smiled back at him, and Niall darted his stare with hers. He felt like he could breathe freely again, a warmth easing back into him and he leaned over and pushed a kiss to her lips. “Thank you,” he whispered against her mouth, causing the girl to smirk into another sweet kiss. 

•

After splitting up the rooms–only two rooms left at the inn and both only containing one queen sized bed–the guys headed back up to the convenience store to grab some necessities while the ladies both hopped into their much needed showers. The foursome gathered in Niall and Joey’s room a bit later, everyone clean and dry, and they were finally able to finally relax. The rooms weren’t as horrible as everyone had thought they’d be, at least to the outside eye and nevertheless, served its purpose for the night. They munched on snacks and a pizza that the guys had brought back and sipped on cheap liquor and convenience store wine. Alexis had brought a pack of cards with her, and they all sat around the small round table playing Rummy for a little while, laughing and somehow making a drinking game out of it. It actually turned out to be a fun night. 

At some point when the moon was full and brightly hanging overhead, Niall and Joey snuck out of their room and over to the empty pool area, leaving Chris and Alexis playfully squabbling over cards. Grabbing her hand in his, Niall slipped his fingers between hers and led her through the metal gate surrounding the pool and over to a single lounge chair that was set along the side. He sat himself down and bent his legs up slightly to settle Joey down against him, right between his spread knees. She leaned back into his chest, relishing in the stillness of the vast wilderness surrounding them and the calmness of the late night. 

Joey rested her head on the front of Niall’s shoulder as his strong arms wrapped around her upper body. Locking her hands in his, they sat quiet and contended, wordless, Joey being able to feel the methodic thumps of Niall’s heart against her back and the steady rhythms of his breaths at the side of her hair. Her eyes sweetly closed, and she could all but hold her smile in as she curled her fingers around his. Niall felt her body loosen–easing into his frame like the final puzzle piece that had just been waiting for its time and he nuzzled his face down against the side of hers, placing a kiss to her temple. 

Joey hummed out at the feeling, a tiny buzz from the alcohol swirling in her head, and she softly sighed as she opened her eyes and stared up into the dark midnight sky. Besides the bright glow of the moon, the sky was dotted with stars, thousands of them, more than Joey had ever seen before in her life and her stare flicked from one to the next, her mind whirling around the fact that they were millions of miles away but seemed so close. “It’s beautiful out here,” she breathed out. 

Niall tightened his arms around her and tipped his head to look up. “It is,” he replied, staring off into the galaxy of stars, “which is amazin’ after the disaster that was today…” 

She giggled. “It wasn’t that bad, babe. And it ended well. We all had fun.” Picking up their hands, Joey brought them to her mouth and pressed her lips against the front of his fingers. Her eyes closed as she kissed across the span of them. Niall had peeked down at her to watch, the corners of his mouth tugging up as her sweet lips touched over his skin. 

He reached up and cupped around her face as she finished, rubbing her cheek with his thumb. “Yeah, that’s true.” 

“And at least this wasn’t our first date,” she said.

Niall’s brows perked up and he caught her stare. “Oh Jesus Christ, could you imagine?” 

“It still would have been amazing,” she chuckled, reaching up behind her to caress the side of his neck. “But even with everything that happened, the night still turned out perfect. And we have tomorrow too. We can head into the park for a bit, it will be an adventure.” 

Leaning his head back on the lounge chair in a low rumbling laugh, Niall nodded. “Yeah, totally will be.”  

With her hazelnut eyes flickering back up into the sky, Joey nestled a bit deeper into Niall as he rested his cheek against the top of her head. She had never felt more at ease, more comfortable, more...in love with anyone before in her entire life. Joey swallowed hard at her realization, at the admittance of her feelings to herself in that very moment and she wondered if she should say anything. She wondered if he even felt the same way. She wondered if she should even feel that way. They had yet to say that to one another, to say it out loud and Joey pulled in a deep breath as she slipped her hands down the span of Niall’s arms that were still encompassing her upper body, once again, tangling her fingers in his. “Niall?” she quietly asked.

“Yeah, my love?” 

“Do you...ever, like, think about your future?” 

Crinkling his brows slightly, Niall lifted his cheek from its place on her head and tipped his face down to look at her. She continued to stare up into the night sky. “Yeah...sometimes,” he replied truthfully, licking across his lips. “Why?” 

Joey lightly shrugged. “Just...curious. You know, like, where do you wanna be in five years, what do you wanna be doing…who do you wanna be with…”

Niall pushed out a breathy chuckle at the last bit and it all became suddenly clear exactly what Joey was referring to. It wasn’t that he hadn’t thought about it, about her or them, actually it was quite the opposite, he had very much thought about their future together, but at that point, only dating for five weeks, he was way too cautious about bringing anything up to her. He didn’t want to scare her off, to make her feel obligated or pressured in any way. And he still wasn’t even sure how Joey really felt about him. 

But Niall just smiled down at her. “Well, let’s see. In five years, I wanna put out at least two more albums, have a sold out arena tour–or two,” he paused to chuckle, Joey giggling along with him as she rolled her head on his shoulder, right up under his chin. “I do wanna get married at some point, have a family…” 

“Yeah?” Joey mumbled. 

His mouth was resting against her hair. “Yeah,” he whispered. “Is that somethin’ ya want, too?” 

Joey bit at her lip, her eyes skimming across the shadow of the moon along the calm pool water. “Yeah, I–”

Her words were interrupted by some loud laughter, both Joey and Niall lifting their heads to peer over to the clatter coming from out front of their motel room door. Their eyes went big as they saw Alexis nearly jumping into Chris’ arms, mouths crashing and hands going frantic in a heated kiss as he clumsily backed them into their room right next door. Niall’s mouth fell open, Joey stifling her shocked laugh as they watched Alexis fumbly kick their room door close behind them. What a night it had turned out to be. 

“Well, then...” Niall huffed. 

“Should’ve guessed that was gonna happen,” Joey said between her giggles, settling back in against Niall. 

“Those crazy kids.” 

They both chuckled as Niall leaned his face back down against the side of Joey’s, his lips just brushing at the corner of her mouth. “I just want ya to know that I care about ya a lot, the feelin’s I have for ya, Jo...I haven’t felt in a really long time, and...if I could spend the rest of me life just sittin’ here, under the stars, with you in me arms, I’d be the happiest man alive.” 

Turning her face slightly to catch his stare, Joey’s eyes fluttered as his warm breath seared over her lips. There was a slight pause, a second where Joey just relished in the feel of his lips just brushing at hers before she tucked her hand up around the back of his neck and pushed her mouth to his in a tender, but heart-stopping kiss. 

•

The next morning came early, the bright sun peeking past the slightly frayed curtains into their rooms as the set alarm on Niall’s phone went off. Joey rolled over in the bed, cuddling up against him as she heard the muffled sound of Chris’s alarm going off as well. Forcing themselves up and out of bed, the couple begrudgingly got themselves ready, packing up their bags before heading outside to load them up in the car. 

The group had already come up with a plan for that day the night before–wake up early, stop for breakfast and then into the park to join in the festivities and hike to one of the many gorgeous waterfalls before heading back home later that afternoon. Niall and Joey had just hoisted their suitcases into the trunk of the car when the squeak of a metal room door caught their attention. Both sets of eyes, and bitten back mischievous grins, locked in on Chris and Alexis as they exited their room, overnight bags in tow. 

Alexis immediately caught Joey’s more than curious gaze and she started to blush as the two walked towards the car. “Morning, guys. Have a good night?” Joey playfully greeted, with no reply. Trying their best not to make what had happened the previous night too obvious, Chris quietly grabbed Alexis’ bag from her to lift them into the back of the car as she silently stepped around Joey to climb into the backseat. Chris followed suit on his side and Joey and Niall were left standing at the open trunk, staring at one another in bewilderment. 

Niall chuckled and shook his head as he slammed the back closed and they both walked around to get into the car. Once settled and buckled, Joey twisted around in her seat and flicked her stare between their two friends who had definitely gotten to know each other just a little bit better the night before. Joey softly chewed at her lip as her eyes went back and forth, Alexis and Chris attempting to ignore the intense silence that was eating at the small group as Niall turned to focus his attention on the pair as well. 

Joey gently cleared her throat. “So…last night–”

“Oh for fucks sake,” Alexis shouted in frustrated confession, looking over at the two pairs of inquisitive eyes that were burning holes into them from the front seats. “It was the cheap ass wine, okay? You know how horny I get with cheap alcohol!” 

Tipping her face down against the seat in a chuckle, it wasn’t long before the entire car was joining Joey in laughter, any awkwardness that had been trying to set in, completely wiped away. Chris rubbed his hand over his face and sucked in a settling breath. “C’mon, let’s go get breakfast, I’m fuckin’ starvin’.”

Niall slipped his sunglasses onto his face, Joey glancing over at him as he looked back at Chris through the rearview mirror. “I bet you are, mate,” he teased with a coy smirk, “I bet you are…”

[hadestownmodern]

This google doc was titled: Persephone refuses to sleep and Hades is afraid of tiny babies

Hi everyone! I don’t really know how to summarize what this is, other than Hades admitting he’s afraid of babies twelve hours after Junie is born.

-A

“You should be resting” He’s half chastising in a deep voice that is made hazy with sleep. “Resting, sleeping when she sleeps, Persephone.” He hasn’t had the heart yet to ask her to hand him their daughter. In the short day or so of her life Persephone has not let go of her, not for a second, even for him or her mother to take the baby. No, Persephone keeps her arms securely around her daughter, and who is he to ask her to stop? This is all she ever fought for and all she ever wanted.

His hand comes to brush her hair from her shoulder, resting his thumb on her cheek. Yes, she looked so tired. Sitting up in the bed at Demeter’s house, head against the bed frame, she hadn’t laid down possibly at all since their daughter was born. He couldn’t be sure due to his own absence, but he always thought she was superhuman in more than one way. Hades’ hand brushes her hair behind her ear as he sighed. “Can I at least bring you something to eat..I know it’s early and all but-”

“It’s four in the mornin’, don’t you dare go wakin’ mama up by cooking.” Persephone teases, bringing one hand to rest on top of his as she leaned into his palm. It was an adjustment to be staying with her mother, but all things considered, it would make sense for the next few days as he organized the assembly of a room for Juniper back at home. And maybe, even if she wouldn’t listen to him, she would listen to the insistence of her mother. 

“I could tell her the same thing, not to go waking her mother by crying.” Hades looks at the baby, and brings his hand to run over her head, the tiny girl not even reacting in her sleep. 

“She can want me up anytime, i’ll never sleep again if I can’t” Perephone directs her attention to Junie, who was perfectly content against her chest, wrapped in a little white blanket from Persephone’s own infancy. “I can’t stop looking at her. If I stop i’m afraid i’ll wake up from whatever dream we’re in, Hades. If i’m holding her and looking at her she’s real. And she’s alive.”  Her fingers grave the hair on Junie’s head, the motion soothing to her and the sleeping baby both. 

“This is our life now. This isn’t a dream, I promise. She’s real. She’s alive. And she’s more than I ever imagined.” He muses, grabbing a light blanket and draping it over her thighs. The summer heat which usually blistered through Demeter’s country home was cut through with an occasional cool breeze which only the longest day of the year could allow. “And she will still be here in the morning. Sleep.”

“I don’t want to let her go. I can’t. You understand, don’t you-” Persephone insists, grabbing his hand and intertwining their fingers together. “You wouldn’t want to put her down.”

“Well I havent held her at all, so I cannot attest. But I am more than happy to watch you do it. She looks so peaceful there…” His forefinger brushes over Junie’s cheek, watching the newborn exhale a sigh as he did so, like she were almost comforted by the touch. “I could never take her from you.”

“What do you mean you havent held her, yes you- Oh my god you didn’t.” Her tone drops when she realizes, and her head snaps to look at him. “Here, hold her right now.”

“It’s okay, really Seph, she’s happy I don’t want to disrupt her.” He insists, shaking his head but trying not to offend his wife with the thought that he didn’t want to hold their child. “She’s so content. And she’s so small, i’ve never held a baby that little. Or at all, really..”

“Of course you have, we had Orpheus to take care of and all your brothers’ kids..” She is already gently transferring Junie to the crook of her arm, so that she can pass her off with the most gentle of transitions. 

“And I never held any of them. Orpheus was six months old when I was able to hold him sitting down.”

“Well she’s your daughter, this is different, you have to..” Persephone nudged her husband back, until he was leaning against the pillows in the same way she did. “We didn’t wait this long to have her for you to be scared of her.”

“I’m not scared of her, Persephone. She is, without a doubt, the most valuable thing I could ever hold. The liability is too high. She is worth too much for me to mess up.. And you’re so good at holding her. She’s so peaceful. She is the most important thing in the world, I can’t risk it.” He’s hand is still on the baby’s cheek, watching as she started to stir, being out of her mother’s arms for the first time in her life. “She is worth too much for me to risk it.”

He could not get another word in before Persephone shifted the baby to his possession, settling her little head in the crook of his arm. “She is the most important thing in the world. And who’s going to protect her better than her daddy.” Persephone lays her head on his shoulder immediately, her hand now coming to run along Juniper’s arm. “Hey pretty girl…” She coos, which coaxes Junie’s dark eyes to open. “Are you gonna wake up and join us?”

He is incredibly tense, even with the smooth alto voice of his wife so near to him. It is as if every muscle in his body has locked up, holding him like stone in the position his wife had set for him. Don’t move, don’t jostle the baby. i

Don’t move. Don’t move. Don’t breathe. Don’t move. 

“You don’t have to be a rock, Lover, she’s not going to break. She’s a strong little thing. Aren’t you, Junie Bee?” Persephone leans down to kiss her forehead, hovering just for a moment. 

There is some feeling he can’t quite place. It’s familiar and novel all at once, falling on the spectrum somewhere around the same place where his love for his wife sat. He watches Junie’s body turn a little in his arms, and instinctively relaxed to make her more comfortable. Somewhere between the familiar brown eyes she shares with his wife, the little dark curls on her head, and the way her tiny body fit perfectly in the length of his forearm he realized what the feeling was. Yes, he was deeply and fiercely in love with this little girl, almost as much as he was in love with the woman who made her. 

“What’s it like?” Persephone muses, her head still resting on his shoulder. He can feel, from the way her body is leaning on his, that she is succumbing to exhaustion hard and fast. “What’s it like to hold her for the first time.”

He looks between Junie, who has quickly fallen back asleep, and his wife, who is fighting the heaviness of her eyes as well, and just smiles. He kisses the top of Persephone’s head, and before he can manage to speak, she is solidly asleep against him. “incredible.”

[delbeugre]

Have you seen SADIE BEUGRE? DEL is in HER/THEIR SENIOR year. The MATHEMATICS MAJOR is 24 years old & is a CAPRICORN. People say SHE/THEY are GRITTY, BEWITCHING, RETICENT and WASPISH. Rumors say they’re a member of HASTINGS. I heard from the gossip blog that SHE BIT AN EX-BOYFRIEND’S PINKY FINGER OFF AFTER SHE FOUND OUT HE CHEATED, AND THEN HAPPILY SERVED TIME FOR IT.

im tommy im a freak and of course i am here to get freakalicious with u all... this is my newest frankenstein type creation named sadie i know .02% about her yet but i am more than confident she will b nothing but a fun time! like this if ur down to plot!

TW: VIOLENCE, MENTIONS OF JAIL/PROSECUTION, MENTIONS OF SUICIDE, DRUG USE

BACKSTORY

capricorn sun / virgo moon / scorpio rising

raised by her uncle Big (his name) who is a hermit shut in town local in the depths of the florida marshland like some goosebumps protagonist. hes gone far past socially acceptable in terms of his ability to connect with the modern person but is wise beyond belief... his whole vibe is a warped cross between a cryptid and a mountain man that forages and cooks neighborhood plants. married for 27 years before his wife passed from illness. its quite possibly the only thing hes ever been emotional about

but dels entry to his life throws a wrench in his sadness (despite abandonment being what they bond over). she takes the focus away from his loss with her presence; her dad, his brother, died in a tragic train-car collision around the same time (which is speculated to be a suicide bt nobody can ever really be sure). he was a single parent so her custody is thrown up in the air for a few months as cps decides what they r gna do with this freshly orphaned little scrapper

she just kinda turns up on his doorstep n from there they cohabit a space. shes arnd 6-7 at this time... big never seemed to b phased by the fact tht she was a child n tended to treat her more like an apprentice or guest. he was never close to her father because of their age difference, being the older out of the two, so to have his daughter become his responsibility is just..... weird

this doesnt mean that he wouldnt provide for her bt it was. not very parental whatsoever.... no conversation or interaction beyond what was necessary. she was a mute fr a while and still is? to a degree.... very short spoken

when she got to her preteens he offered her an allowance in exchange for little odds and ends of stuff to be taken care of around the house. errands n all tht.... sometimes he wld purposefully leave things for her to pick up n take care of without mentioning it for a bonus. taught her the importance of saving your money and the horrid corruptness of a society basing everythings worth off paper. big exposed her to a lot of knowledge and took advantage of her silent curiosity by fueling it with books, homeschooling, life skills (catching a fish, setting a trap, knowing your berries in the woods...... the works)

her teens carried out the same way bt with the introduction of a real job, a spot down at the local butcher shop checking people out at the register and helping around the back of house. del knows a great deal abt cow/pig/chicken/etc anatomy from her years here..... she committed to being 100% vegan into her early twenties because of her trauma frm this occupation

it paid very well tho n was the best gig she was going to get within a reasonable biking route from home. so she settled!

the plan wasnt to keep it up for long anyway. she worked rly hard for her spot at yates and didnt intend to ever screw herself over. her plan was to get her bachelors, masters, become a professor, pursue a personal hobby of agriculture and build an elaborate greenhouse to live in

bt things happen..... 

some 35yr old douche with a green thumb woos her at a gardening store n swoops in to teach her a little more abt romance; all of this, of course, under the guise that he had all these tips and tricks for living environmentally friendly. a lame hippie wannabe that shouldve never even approached her bt alas.... he did

love is a touchy subject n it hadnt been something she set her sights on, but she was interested in wht this dude could teach her n at 19 she ended up falling in love. she delayed her education to stay an extra year back home and work out another plan which included him

this was very disappointing to her uncle bt he didnt have anything to say abt it. it was never parental before n it was never going to be, so this was another lesson she wld just have to overcome on her own

it turns out that she doesnt care for infidelity. when the confession comes out its met with a lot of screaming, bawling, blistering white hot anger. the whole incident is blacked out of her mind to b honest....

matters of the heart are no longer something to concern herself with because of the repercussions of her rash behavior regarding heartbreak O________O she spent a year in jail n still has to attend therapy / anger management meetings

deep down she is still hurting. there was a lot of pain... bt the sadness is not over the loss of some noob. she is in a state of constant disappointment, detaching from herself out of shame. putting her own life on pause only for it to turn out like that? stupid stupid stupid... 

PERSONALITY

chugging along! tldr spectre-like swamp nymph aura with the slightest (not so slight) unhinged feral tendencies

delicate like a moth resting in the gleam of a flashlight.... her anger singes her wings when shes too comfortable staying in one place, so theres always constant stimulation, always shifting gears. shes prone to feeling threatened; that being said, sadie is wary of walking in crowds, a little bit skittish when approached without making eye contact beforehand. like a small grey kitten..... in a big wide world

has a hard time keeping a conversation bt is very interested in debate, and even more so in studying alongside someone in complete silence. it reminds her of home in the same sense tht her uncle wld nudge her to keep reading by always having his own book open

doesnt have many friends and is alright with that. rumors are tht she is still a virgin bt who really knows? not i...... bt i wldnt be surprised if this was true. shes not impressed by people nor material items so this whole yates crowd is a turn off

she is truly clueless when it comes to how to behave around anyone her age. i think she understands but it just doesnt compute. she could come off as impolite bt it is just standoffishness? some people cld try to crack her but i dont think even she knows what that would be, or what that would look like. even in her one (1) failed relationship it was never deep heart to hearts or sharing dinner..... solitude is her realm

del is very comfortable with herself, very open with her wardrobe! doesnt leave too much to the imagination? she appreciates the human experience n expresses that thru this whole “body is a temple” type thing.... not quite confidence, but proudness of being. has gotten multiple notices frm professors for her tops being too sheer, nylons too ratted up, etc. has dirt under her fingernails half the time, chipped polish, some chapstick. smudges her eyeshadow on with her fingers

doesnt smoke cigarettes all too often but is dependent on weed. it kinda perpetuates her paranoid demeanor bt at the same time it keeps her lax enough to be able to mentally handle city life

her room is a playground for huge monstera plants, christmas cacti, ivy creeping along the doorway. she sleeps on a tiny thin mattress on the floor with a linen sheet and has her books stacked up on the ground next to it to hold her ashtray. the whole thing is dumb empty

takes her studies seriously and pinches every penny she can..... she has never ordered herself a coffee frm somewhere before, ordered food frm a restaurant... nothing. i wld think the most she would branch out from harvesting everything on her own is buying a bag of sunflower seeds frm a gas station, but even then, she much prefers eating stuff she grows herself. has a tomato plant, some basil beginning to sprout, etc.... manageable crops for any college students tiny space

...

bt yea thats it thats all! connections cld be all over the place. im legit open to anything. theres only a few tht come to mind right off that bat: 

a few people that get along with her? same classes? they shared a bowl n now theyre getting into the nitty gritty of some personal conversation that is veering into no mans land....

some sort of clueless makeover moment? arent rly into sadie as a person bt see a lot of potential... perhaps need a plus one to a party on the fly and figure thats the best option theyve got

crushes? this wld be fun n potentially dangerous! like playing with a hot cast iron pan or something :)

again im vry new to rp so i wld like to leave a lot of stuff up to chemistry, brainstorming n stuff like that, but please consider everything on the table! what i hav mentioned is the tip of the iceberg im so burnt out n i wrote a lot more than i intended to i am so sorry but i promise i am friendly

[whorphydice]

Hunger Has a Way With You

Haven’t gave anyone Ophelia content in a hot minute and i’m really proud of this one!

Eurydice was a hungry young girl

In her whole life there were two feelings that never left Eurydice.  The first was the way the weather felt- constant feelings of discomfort. In the blistering heat there were only so many layers to take off. Only so much that you could do, sitting under a tree, with no access to a cold drink or a cool room to rest. In the freezing nights of winter, it was the opposite. Thin, torn leggings didn’t do much to warm her legs, an old ragged coat only did so much to protect from the biting snaps of the wind. She could use that skinny, cold body to obtain shelter at a cost she hated paying. Ain’t no lengths to which a girl won’t go to stay a live, she supposes, when strangers grope at her skin.

The other feeling was hunger. The dull, throbbing ache in her stomach that could bring her to her knees. A constant reminder that nothing she could get was going to be enough- nothing could satiate the nawing burn of starvation. An apple was a tease. Grapes were a cruel taunt to her body. She would never have enough. She would always go to bed at night with a burning ache for more. Eurydice, would always be hungry. 

Until she went to Hadestown. 

That was the first thing she noticed, the way down. It was not the smell of metal or the blinding lights. It was not the pulse of electricity that seemed to burn through the air. No. It was the absence of that familiar ache inside her. No need to eat, once you sign yourself into everlasting servitude. As she traded in her tattered negligee for a sturdy leather Uniform, she noticed the way it seemed to hang on her frame, robbing her of what little shape she had. Fitting, for the girl who’s fight was hunger, to be forever in the body of a malnourished child. 

No. You did not need to eat in Hadestown. You could not starve to death if you were already living in hell. 

Still. Fate seemed kind to her. Though she didn’t need it- food was there. Bread, small fruits, nuts. Nothing substantial, but to the starved woman it may as well have been a feast. 

She attributed the tighter fit of her uniform to the indulgence in a meal. 

It was not until months later, when Orpheus turned and reality set in, that she thanked her body for not letting her daughter starve, too. 

You can have your principles, when you have a belly full

Her body had failed her. Time and time again. Her inability to fight her hunger, to fight her yearning, lead her here. All of her choices were led by hunger. Were lead by the will to survive, even if that meant she did not live. Loving Orpheus was the only thing her body had let her do that wasn’t out of sheer instinct to survive. Even then, hunger took her from him. 

This was the only thing her body had ever given her. 

Ophelia. 

“I’ve got you, baby, i’m right here.” Words that had fallen from her lips endlessly in the past few months. Words that fell as she wrapped her daughter to her chest and held her there under leather overalls. Words that fell as she paces around her little apartment, trying to bring a living child peace in the land of death. Most commonly, they were said in moments like this. 

In a shanty excuse for a bed, both arms clinging to the little girl. She would look at her brilliant hazel eyes as she nursed, revel in the feeling of her entire hand wrapped around a single finger. “I’m never gonna let anything bad happen to you, I promise.” She would often cry during these moments. Cry as she fed a little girl with her lover’s eyes. Her whole heart laying on her chest, it was  like she was holding the universe to her skin. 

Eurydice was never lost to the irony of it all. She starved to death, but here she was. The only way her daughter could survive was Eurydice. Funny, how she couldn’t save herself from starving to death but she was the only thing between Ophelia and that fate. 

How was she supposed to let her go? To hand her over to Persephone, knowing she would never see her again?

“I love you, endlessly, always, forever, Ophelia.” Eurydice cooed, kissing her daughter’s fist as her eyes fluttered back and forth between sleep. “And i’m sorry. I’m so sorry for leaving you.” She would never know her, Ophelia wouldn’t. Ophelia wouldn’t remember these moments in a one room apartment, when she slept safer in her mother’s arms than she would be anywhere else in the world. Ophelia wouldn’t remember the way her mother smelled or the sound of her voice- but Eurydice would never forget those details about her daughter. 

She never understood it- how someone could leave their baby. How they could bring a whole child into the universe before abandoning them to fate. Yet, she also didn’t understand sacrificing yourself. She didn’t understand how her mother starved to death, so Eurydice could have the extra bites. She didn’t understand how her mother could be so willing to die for her.

Now, as Ophelia buried her face against her collarbone and fell asleep, there was nothing she understood more. She would die for her, she would kill for her. And even, when the time came, she would say goodbye to her. 

Hard Enough to Feed Yourself

“I don’t know what to do for her!” Orpheus broke. Voice cracking as tears fell steadily down his cheeks, still desperately pacing back and forth in a fruitless attempt to calm Ophelia. Ophelia, with her voice hoarse from screaming, hysterically wailing for hours at a time, and endless desperate please for the thing Orpheus could not give her. “Please, baby, i’m trying so hard..”

“Did you try feeding her again?” Hermes asks, bringing his hand to Orpheus’s shoulder. He gave a firm squeeze, trying to comfort the young man he had raised. 

“She fights me every time...sometimes she’s too tired and she’ll drink it but.. It’s hard. She’s stubborn..” Orpheus bounces her a little, offering her a litany of warm words and kisses to try to settle her.

Persephone swirled the drink in her glass, forcing herself to look at Orpheus. This was almost as hard as it was to watch Eurydice scream for her as the train pulled away. Watching her sob on her knees on the platform knowing she will never see her child again. Watching this baby scream for her mother may have been even harder. “She’s hungry, yes, but she misses her Mama. Her mama was all she knew...her mama fed her, too. She’ll eat, but she misses her mama, Orpheus. And you can’t take that pain away.”

“I feel like i’m failing Eurydice all over...she was hungry, she starved because of me..now Ophelia’s starving and- it’s all my fault. If I had just trusted Eurydice she’d be here and she’d know what to do and-” Orpheus held Ophelia’s head to his shoulder, fingers tracing through her hair in a way that sent him back to Eurydice, her head against his chest, his deft fingers combing short waves. “I look at her and I’m watching Eurydice starve. I’m hearing her beg me to listen, to get food and firewood together, and i’m listening this time. I swear, i’m listening, and i’m failing her again. Eurydice trusted me to take care of her..she trusted me with our daughter and i’m failing them both.”

“You aren’t failing her-”

“Every night I can see her face. I see her face when I turned and when she realized I didn’t have faith in her- Imagine her face if she sees Ophelia again because I failed her. Our daughter is going to starve, and I can’t lose her, too.” Ophelia has settled for quiet sniffling, and tired, helpless whimpering into her father’s shoulder. Her little face rests on the top of his suspender, her short, shallow breaths are shaky into his neck. “I won’t. I won’t let her starve.” His hand runs over her tiny back, just thankful for whatever peace the infant has found briefly. 

 ..Let alone somebody else. 

The feeling of her skin against his was one she wanted to remember forever. To remember when this week of bliss ends and she’s sent to the underworld for the rest of eternity. To feel the tracing of his fingers along her spine, the way his calloused fingertips sent shivers through to the very core of her body.  “Orpheus…”  She whispers as her lips press to his, tangling their bare legs together, her hand coming to stoke his face gently. “Thank you.” 

Orpheus kissed her finger tips, bringing his hand to rest on her face, too. His thumb strokes her cheek lazily in little circles, the feeling of her flushed face in his hands forever seared into his skin.  “For what?”

“For loving our baby. For protecting her. You didn’t ask for her, but you loved her anyway.” 

“Eurydice...Of course I love her, she’s all I have of you.”  He glances back at the makeshift bed behind them, where Ophelia was sleeping for the time being. They’d shortly redress and bring her into their arms, holding her between them as if they could keep Eurydice here out of sheer love. “I’d give anything for her.” I’d do anything to keep you here. 

“Then take care of yourself, too.” It was a question and a request both. She knew of his struggles in the name of their daughter. The things he went without for her. “She needs you to eat and be healthy...please.” 

“I...If she’s willing to eat something, i’m not going to take any of it. In the beginning she cried for days and I was so scared she was going to starve, Eurydice. I couldn’t fail you like that.” He pulls her closer, resting her head in the crook of his neck, stroking her dark, short waves. 

“She’s still fighting you, I can see it. Orpheus I just want to take her and take that pain away and feed her but- that’ll make it harder on you. But what I can do, is ask you to take care of you. My mama...she starved to death for me. Ophelia needs you, please..”  Eurydice hiccups as she feels emotion building at the base of her throat. “I planted enough, to get you through to winter. Keep those plants alive, whatever you do, keep them alive and you will have enough. And I canned what we had- what you had- which is an extra. Please, Orpheus, please stay alive for her.” 

“I will, I promise,”

“And Ophelia, she’ll forget about me and she’ll take the bottle and it’ll be okay and she won’t starve and-”

“She won’t ever forget about you, Eurydice, I won’t let her.”

“You let her forget if it keeps her alive, okay?” How was she supposed to say that she noticed it too? That her happy, beautiful girl was no larger than she was three months prior? That she put up a fight every time Orpheus offered her a bottle again and again. 

Eurydice merely kissed his cheek, and offered a sad smile. 

When she said goodbye to them at the platform she knew she would be seeing Ophelia again soon, when the starvation took Ophelia like it had her and her mother before her.  

She never thought that the very thing she went to Hadestown to escape- the very thing that took her from Orpheus- would take her daughter, too.

But she wasn’t hungry anymore. 

“I’ve got you baby, i’m right here.” They were words that brought more joy and comfort to Eurydice that night than maybe ever before. When she dressed her daughter for bed, and held her to her chest. Her daughter, pressed against her, wide hazel eyes locked with her brown ones, innocence and love that only a baby could have evident within them. “I’ve got you.” 

Her short black slip of a dress was long since discarded, traded for an old summer tank top that dwarfed her frame. 

Orpheus. Her newly official husband sat behind her, holding her back against his chest, his legs on either side of hers. He has his chin resting on her shoulder, staring down at their daughter in her arms. 

There was comfort and excitement they couldn’t quite describe in this moment. 

They were together. All three of them. For the first time and for forever.

Orpheus watches as Ophelia’s eyes flutter open and closed, full and resting for the first time in months.  “I’ve never seen her sleep so well..”

“It’s hard to sleep when you’re hungry.” Eurydice points out, running her finger down Ophelia’s nose as the little girl fell asleep at her breast, her tiny hand still clutching to the hem of her shirt. “

“We’re gonna be just fine, aren’t we?” He mumbles into the skin of her neck, inhaling deeply to remember the scent of her freshly washed skin forever. Never again would he smell the soot of Hadestown, or feel the sharp curve of her bones against his. He would never hear her choke on the sediment coating her lungs when she breathed too deeply. He would get to revel in this- healthy, healing Eurydice, for the rest of his life. 

“We’re all going to be just fine.”

[copias-thrall]

DIY

(Part: 1; 2; 3; 4; 5; 6; 7; 8)

It’s been a trying day. The staffing agency had gotten you another contract, and the firm wanted to meet with you in person for some reason. Usually you’re just traded around with firms already familiar with you, and you can’t recall the last time you needed to be respectable. You tend to dye your hair when your mood changes, so the fading pink had needed to be taken care of.

“What do you care about their opinion?” Mary had said.

“This would be a little more money,” you’d shrugged. “I could get the good coffee and that mochi you like.”

“I can feed myself,” Mary had snapped.

“Then why don’t you?” you’d retorted.

He’d made a sour face at you when you’d said that.

In the end, Mary had suggested going black, and the two of you had had hair-dye day where you’d introduced Mary to the wonder of Vaseline to keep the dye off his skin.

“Look at you, making me all respectable,” he’d quipped as you’d slathered him up.

“Yes, heaven forbid you lose your coveted street cred because your ears and hairline aren’t mottled with black half the time.”

While most of the dye had ended up in your hair, a few errant blotches ended up staining the tiles and shower curtain (and, ok—the hand print on your upper arm when Mary forgot himself). Mary had called you a spoilsport when you’d refused to fuck in the shower (“What? It’s cool with all the black dye running down our bodies. Come on!”). But in the end you were rather happy with how the fresh dye made your pixie bob look sleek and polished. 

Mary had scrutinized you in the mirror.

“I don’t like it. Makes you look like you’re trying too hard to be normal.”

You’d made a face at him. “Well, we can’t all work at Mickey’s and dress like Oscar the Grouch kicked us out of bed for eating crackers.”

Mary’d lightly bitten your neck. “I’m taking that as a compliment.” He’d then run his fingers through the shorter hair at the back of your head. “You’d look pretty hot with an undercut.”

“I know,” you’d said as you’d winked at him.

He’d snorted. “Modest too.”

You’d shrugged. “Getting an undercut was one of my many tiny actions of rebellion. As long as I kept my hair down, no one was the wiser.”

“They never caught you?” 

You’d sighed. “They did. Bitch of thing too—a picture of the school pep rally in the monthly newsletter for parents happened to catch me in the background.”

“Shit. What happened?”

“After all the screaming about boundaries and disrespect? TThey’d shaved my whole head.”

Mary’d stilled behind you.

“They … what?”

You’d leaned into the mirror, primping your hair unnecessarily.

“Buzzed all my hair off. Said I should never do things by half measures.”

Mary’d given you a look in the mirror, so you’d just smiled brightly at him.

“It’s just hair, Mary. Beside, all my schoolmates thought I was edgy as fuck.”

He’d turned you to face him.

“I really fucking hate your parents.”

You’d just patted him on the cheek. “Why waste the energy.”

“It’s just …” he’d leaned against the washer/drier as you began to clean up. “I had to be like, 15? And I came home from a friend’s house with badly bleached hair and a safety pin through my navel. My mum was in the kitchen, and I told her I wanted to be called Viscount Doom from now on. You know what she said?” 

(It was a rhetorical question.)

“She said, ‘That’s nice, dear—now take out the trash’.” He’d chuckled. “I was always her son first, you know?”

You’d slid a hand under his shirt to stick your thumb in his unadorned belly button.

“Did she make you take the safety pin out.”

Mary’d grinned at you. “Ah, well. The fucker got infected. Angry red blotches with pus and shit. I had to come clean to mum, and she bundled me off to urgent care. Whoops.”

You’d traced your thumb along his belly button, feeling now the obvious bump of scar tissue.

“So you were always fucking crusty.”

“Yeah, maybe,” he’d said as he’d crowded into you and dragged your hand down to his crotch.

The actual "chat” (they’d purposefully pussyfooted around calling it an interview) had gone fine; a girl about your age—probably an intern—had read a bunch of inane questions off a piece of paper in a monotone before a harried-looking woman came in and asked you questions surely your resume could have answered.

The firm itself, however, was a 30min walk from the bus, and about 90 more minutes including a bus transfer away from your apartment. You’d gotten up at 5am so you could leave by 6 so you weren’t late for your 9am appointment (“Jesus. Who schedules interviews for the crack of dawn?” “Sadists, that’s who.”). So, of course, you’d gotten there an hour early and—with no coffee shop in sight—you’d sat on a concrete wall across the street that bordered a parking lot. 

Like a creep.

You’d then been asked to wait for another hour because “an earlier meeting was running late.” The receptionist had at least taken pity on you and brought you a steaming cup of Dunks and a chocolate doughnut.

It was noon by the time you made it out of there—which meant that there was no way you were making the 12:25pm bus. Which meant you didn’t make the 1:33pm transfer, and you had to cool your jets in a fast casual restaurant for 45min. The next bus had never shown. When you finally made it onto the transfer bus, you’d dozed off and had woken up several stops past your destination; you’d opted to just walk back to your apartment instead of waiting the questionable amount of time for the next bus in the opposite direction. 

By the time you finally get back to your place, you’re limping from the blisters your cheap dress shoes had given you, and it’s nearly 4pm. When you enter your apartment, you’re surprised to see Mary on your couch, guitar in hand and scribbling down notes. At the clink of you dropping your keys into the skull ashtray that had just appeared one day, he looks up.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, sounding much more harsh than you intended as you kick off your shoes.

“Well, hello to you too. I couldn’t hear myself think at my place.” He gives you a minute shrug.

You don’t know why this irritates you.

“Well maybe think about giving me the same courtesy,” you snap as you limp toward your bedroom. “I need to lie down.”

You don’t even get changed, just untuck your pussy-bow blouse and unzip your pencil skirt before flopping down onto your bed.

“Interview not go well?” asks Mary’s from your doorframe

You wave your hand. “The interview was fine, but it was a fucking trial and a half getting there and back. Thank god I won’t be onsite.”

“Yeah. I was kind of wondering where you were.”

You just snort and start to wrestle off your nude hose, but then Mary’s kneeling there and rolling them down you. You hiss when he gets to your feet.

“Fuck, your feet are wrecked.”

“Remind me to bring flip flops or something next time.”

“K.”

He tosses your pantyhose at your laundry basket (they only half make it in), then he leans down to kiss the instep on each foot.

“Do you want me to eat you out?” he asks as his hands travel up the inside of your legs.

You lean up to look at him. “Yeah, actually. Would you?”

Mary grins at you. “Ok, baby doll.”

You lie back down as Mary begins to kiss and nip up your legs. You help him to get your panties off and to push up your skirt—then he’s diving into your folds, his tongue enthusiastically lapping at your clit. Unfortunately, you’re just too exhausted to really get into it, and Mary notices your lack of engagement. His head pops up.

“Fingers?”

“Fingers,” you agree.

He wipes off his chin with the back of his hand before climbing onto your bed. You shimmy out of your skirt before he’s rolling you onto your side. He positions himself behind you, his hand sliding down your stomach until it reaches your lips. You arch back into him at the feeling of his finger slip sliding across your sensitive clit.

“Oh yeah, Mare …”

He doesn’t tease you, just keeps up a steady motion, changing it up to avoid touch numbness. Despite your lethargy, you pant and squirm against him as your blood pools and your orgasm slowly builds. He’s been giving your neck little nips and sucks, but as you get close to blowing, Mary leans over to engage you in a wet, sloppy kiss. It ratchets your arousal, and you suck his tongue into your mouth, saliva leaking out the other side, as you begin to press back against his hand. He quickens his finger, and you cry out at the burst of pleasure. Your orgasm swells and breaks soon after, and you moan and thrash a little as Mary works you through the waves.

When you sag, sated, he gives your ear a lick, then removes his hand.

“Mmm,” is all you manage as you roll onto your stomach.

“Yeah, I know. C’mon, let’s get you out of that top.”

“No,” you say into the bed.

“Yes,” he says as he starts to tug up the hem. “You’ll thank me later.”

You just grunt at him.

He manages to get the material up to your armpits before you’re obliged to move by lifting your arms—and even then all you do is hold out your arms.

“You’re a pain in my fucking ass.”

“Mmphb.”

Through minimal effort on your part, Mary finally removes both your top and your bra before rolling you this way and that to get you under the covers. You’re asleep before he even leaves the room.

You sleep, nude, sprawled out and face mashed into your pillow. It isn’t until much later when you wake. It’s almost certainly because Mary is on all fours over you, mashing his face into your neck. You must move in some tiny way, because he stills.

“Mare,” you mumble groggily into the pillow.

“Shh,” he breaths. “Don’t. Just …” His mouth moves to your ear. “Can I?” he whispers. “I was so good earlier.”

“Mhm,” you agree sleepily.

“Stay still then,” he growls as he shifts about. “Don’t. Move.”

You feel the head of his cock enter you, and you clench and moan. Mary’s other hand is quick on your head, smashing your face further into the pillow.

“Shut up,” he hisses, then his hand is gone.

He takes the tip out, then slides it back in. 

Then out. 

Then in.

He teases himself like that a few more times—making pleased rumbles—before finally sliding all the way home. You bite the pillow in an effort not to twitch or make noise. The bed jostles when his balled hands land on either side of you, supporting himself up. He takes a handful of slow, smooth pumps in and out of you, making little Mmm noises. It’s a nice feeling that you relax into—silently. 

He speeds up a little … and then a lot … until he’s pounding into you with such force that there's an audible slap! slap! slap! as he makes contact with your skin and your one arm is jostled slightly off the bed. Mary moans, and changes up to long, hard strokes that hit your sweet spot deliciously; you know your breaths are labored at the strain of staying motionless and quiet, but luckily, any sound you’re making is being drowned out by Mary’s grunts every time the bowl of his pelvis smacks into the meat of your ass. 

You’re pretty slick from your arousal, and Mary easily pumps in and out of you. You can feel your heartbeat in your pussy—and your frustration with not being able to touch yourself increases. Mary suddenly grabs the fat on your back hard enough you almost cry out. He lowers himself down onto his forearms and starts to fuck into you with quicker, deeper thrusts that are no longer quite hitting your G-spot—much to your chagrin. He’s not quite laying on your back, but he’s close enough that you can hear the rasping air through his nose and the Uhn noises he’s making—his breath hot and moist on the nape of your neck.

You expect him to finish like that, so you’re surprised when he heaves himself up to a kneeling position. His hands grip your hips hard, and then he’s yanking you back onto his dick as he buries himself deep into you. 

And again. 

And again. 

When he accidentally hits your cervix, you do let out a little mewl, but he doesn’t seem to notice—cock still deep in you and his hands still clamped on your sides. After a moment, you finally feel the tension drain out of him, and he releases his grip, flopping down on the bed beside you. Sluggishly you begin to move your limbs, but Mary gathers you up to him with a soft C’mere. He presses his sweat-cool body against your back and kisses your neck once before he’s maneuvering your vibrator (oh, hello) between your legs.

You reach your hand down to help position it to your liking, mashing into it once … twice … thrice, and then you’re moaning and twitching—the nails of your free hand digging into Mary’s thigh—before the intensity has you finally shying away from the toy lest you make a mess.

Mary clicks the vibe off before letting it go, and you twist around until you’re facing him. You grip his hair in your hands and kiss him deeply, smashing your slickness into him as your cunt still gives an errant spasm or two. He grabs your ass and pulls you into him.

“Yeah, mash that wet pussy into me—I want to smell you on me all night.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“You fucking love it.”

“I should pee on you.”

“Do you think I’ve never been pe—”

You shove a pillow in his face. “OH MY GOD—do not finish that sentence.”

His hand shoots out and presses on your bladder. You shriek and push him away from you, and he subsequently falls off the bed with an undignified noise. He looks up at you like a disgruntled cat, so you just cackle and sprint out of the bedroom. You can hear him start after you, but he’s not quick enough, and you manage to lock the bathroom door behind you before he can catch you.

You’re too tired to cook, and you’re wondering if you can count on getting that contract enough to order takeout when Mary surprises you; he takes out a beat up looking Tupperware from your fridge. Something reddish-brown sloshes in it.

“It’s my kitchen-sink goulash.” He beams.

You put a smile on your face.

“Aww, Mare. What’s … in it?” you ask as you squint at the contents.

He pokes you in the ribs. 

“Just fucking try it.”

You reheat it in a big pot, and it looks edible enough—elbow macaronis, ground meat, tomato sauce, green … things. Once you’re settled at your rusty cafe table with the hot food, you dig in and you have to admit that it’s actually not bad. Mary has a smug look on his face as you tuck in.

“Shut up,” you say.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Your thoughts are loud.”

He just giggles at you.

“So what is in it?”

“Uh,” says Mary as he chews. “Frozen hamburger patties, spaghetti sauce, noodles, and some okra from the Latin grocer near me.”

You make a thoughtful noise.

“I wouldn’t have guessed okra. I knew it wasn’t green beans, but.”

“I swear that store is the only reason none of us have scurvy.”

Afterwards he packs up his guitar.

“I gotta be getting back to my place.” He licks your nose, and you sputter. He grins. “But thanks for the sex.”

“Yeah, well …” you say as you rub at your nose, “thanks for the Goulash.”

He looks at you for a moment before slipping a hand into your robe to rest on a love handle.

“I didn’t come by just to hear myself think, you know.”

You roll your eyes, but step into his space.

“I kinda got that, Mare.”

You tap your lips, and he leans down to kiss you.

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