#it's like a budding flower for those two

[noisydiary]

nirvana

A dimly lit, smoke filled garage stuffed wall to wall with Pine Bluff’s Juniors and Seniors wasn��t quite where Faith expected her night to go. Rather, she was expecting yet another quite, lonely night at Video Video Video, closing for Leo; seeing as he’d left early for a ‘concert’. This concert, specifically. Granted, as Faith looked into the garage, she spotted Leo’s familiar gel-spiked red hair in the midst of everyone. Or, at least, she assumed it was Leo—… a lot of the crowd had the same sort of distinguishing hairstyle. Lots of punk and ‘goth’ characters (as she’d been corrected. Apparently, emo and goth are two different styles entirely. Lesson learned). The only difference between this main popularity would be herself, Brett, and few others who hadn’t quite picked a style to lean towards.

“See her?” Brett’s voice cut out across the noise inside, just loud enough for Faith to catch on.

Faith shook her head, looking over to Brett, who scoffed, “Damn, I thought they’d have started playing by now- wonder what’s takin’ ‘em so long…”

Brett’s comment rounded out with the crowd, netting a shrug from Faith. She’d respond, but… she found it hard to voice much of anything. Everything here was what Faith would call ‘against her general lifestyle’. Not that that was bad— in fact, that would be quite the opposite of her current thought. All in all, she was excited. This was a net positive- in fact, probably the cap to her week. It’s just- the garage itself was overwhelming. Dim, flickering lights… the humming of cheap speakers some of the equipment up front was connected to… talking of the crowd and the cheer from that whole lot… not even mentioning the wafting scent of alcohol and smoke from various kinds of cigarettes that Faith couldn’t even name— even just standing outside, it was a lot.

The best way that Faith could describe it was it almost felt like being at a pep rally, or being in one of the movies. It wasn’t quite that draining, but she could definitely feel it tapping into her brain.

How did I…

Oh… Right-…

—(Earlier that evening)—

It was, indeed, a relatively quiet night at VVV, as Faith noted the lack of customers, even at 7pm. The fact didn’t much bother her, seeing as she’d found some delightful company in her newest library rental, ‘An Enchantment to Remember’. Most of the usual crowd who came in on a Saturday were at Tiffany’s house for a garage band. Jess’d mentioned it last week at the meeting- or, rather, before the meeting, and specifically to Leo. Faith overheard the conversation. Sort of.

Purposeful eavesdropping aside, the rest of the usual company were infrequent at best. But still, the store closed at midnight, aaand someone had to watch the desk. Seeing as it was Saturday, most people were already on dates or any other number of reasons, so the shop was quiet.

And by ‘quiet’, Faith could say that a pin drop could be heard. Leo’d left the store’s music on his generic tape from his uncle, so the boring, people pleasing items that were from twenty years ago. Songs that Faith had well learned to tune out by this point.

On thinking of the music, though, Faith glanced up from her book- looking around the store. Eerily empty, those shelves were. Thus, she hummed a soft tune to herself; a tune with a minor melody one wouldn’t expect such a sweet girl to know. She placed her bookmark in her book and put it on the counter, getting off her stool and heading towards the back to change the music… Luckily, for Faith, Leo conveniently hid Jess’ records in the old filing cabinet. Even more so, he’d shown her where he was hiding them, so she could change the music at her leisure.

”Of course, they’re not your style, but if you really can’t take the old geezers music, then I guess you can tolerate this. It’s either fogy music, or heavy alt stuff. Your choice, really.” Funnily enough, when he’d told her, he didn’t realise that she would actually like it. Maybe it was cause it was Jess’… Maybe it was because it was just… vastly different from her normal music that her mother let her listen to, but Faith rather liked it. So much so, that the tune she hummed was one of the tracks off the record she’d gone to fetch.

However, as she’d gone to grab it, the bell chimed, causing her to stop dead in her tracks. She swiftly turned around and threw on a polite smile, “Hello, welcome to Vi-“

Her smile fell just slightly on seeing Brett strutting his way to the counter, with a grin and a swagger only he could carry. He leaned against the counter, “Heyy bookworm— Leo in?”

Faith shook her head, taking no offense to the nickname (He means it in earnest!), “No. He left about an hour ago for that band playing at Tiffany’s.”

Brett let off a scoff, scowling as he pulled away just a touch from the counter, “Yeah- that as the whole point- I was gonna drive.”

Faith held back her comment with that one, knowing teasing Brett was an easy way to get a cursing out- besides, she didn’t quite have the bite for the joke she’d thought of. Instead, she blinked a few times, earnestly confused, “You’re going?”

“He asked me to, so he wouldn’t seem like he was desperate.”

Confusion only grew as Faith tilted her head, “Desperate?”

Brett snorted before rolling his eyes, “Yeah. Desperate. Jess invited him, and he didn’t wanna seem pathetic, so he said no to her, but-.”

Ga- Faith shook her head to dispel the thought, interrupting before Brett could finish, “I’d heard that much, sort of…- Um-!”

She got a scowl for that one, “Can you let me finish? Fuck- you might even wanna know this next bit, lil nerd.”

Faith bit her lip, bowing her head as she mumbled, already feeling a slight bead in her eyes, “Sorry…”

Brett grew a bit softer with that, letting off a sigh and trying to correct, “It’s- fine. Sorry. Teasing, y’know?”

Teasing isn’t teasing if it hurts the other person—

“The reason Jess invited him was cause its her band. Well- kinda. She’s singing for them. Might chicken out and do bass though. Who knows. You know he still likes hearing her, so, yeah. Didn’t want to seem desperate.”

On hearing that, a little pang rang through Faith’s chest- her head lifted as her eyes widened, her jaw slackening as her lips parted. She shut her mouth quickly after, and her cheeks flushed as she realised what she was doing. Gyeh!!! You’rehopeless—

Brett, on the other hand, chuckled, “Yeah, that’s about what I thought would happen. Gloria told me to tell you that- said that you might want to know. She didn’t say why, but yeah.”

Faith scowled at that, seeing as Gloria had her own thoughts about Faith- some she’d felt more than free sharing. Like you’re a queer?

“Uhuh… Anyway. Still. If Leo’s gone, I may as well get going too. See ya.” Brett turned on his heel, making to leave, though his steps were slower than normal- only slightly. Not enough for Faith to notice.

Instead, what Faith noticed was the gnawing in her chest, and the uneasy feeling in her stomach. That, and what almost sounded like a song playing in her mind. Nothing real, granted, but enough that it stopped her from thinking rationally- enough that she called out to Brett, “W-wait…”

Brett stopped at that, turning with a little knowing smirk, “Yeah? What.”

“…um… I- don’t…” Faith flustered, feeling her cheeks distinctly growing redder as she realised what she was doing, and trying to rationalise it in her head. Notqueerjust—just- supporting a friend!! W-why do I need to stay open anyway?? No ones going to come-

…I want to hear her…

Her lips curled into a frown as she realised that thought- no… it really is that bad. She squeezed her eyes for a moment, before Brett interrupted, “Are you gonna ask for a ride or not, Faith.” A squeak caught in Faith’s throat as she realised Brett knew exactly what she wanted. Her eyes darted to the ground, before she nodded. Brett laughed again, motioning to the door, “Thought so. Lock up, see you out in 10?”

“…m-mhm..! Give me- um… a little bit, yeah…”

In a relatively swift manner, Faith rounded up entirely necessary closing tasks- things for closing early like locking the drawer with a note for whomever’s there in the morning to count it down, or putting up the closed sign with an explanation that ‘all attendants are currently busy!’. She clicked the lights off, took the spare keys from the back, and locked the front door. She then looked out into the lot, seeing Brett’s fancy… uh… Convertible? He’d said the name a few times, but Faith couldn’t honestly remember cars for the life of her.

Nevertheless, she’d made her way to the car, seeing Brett bobbing his head to the song playing on the tape deck. He turned his head and flashed a smile, “Hop in. Toss your stuff in the back if you need.”

Faith did as he followed, noting how… Clean it was. Brett wasn’t the worst when it came to order, but, usually he had things in the back and they were Gone. Just Gone. Not a trace, as if the car was practically brand new. Once again, keeping her mouth shut, she opened the side door and got inside, buckling in.

When Faith was sufficiently in, Brett kicked the car into drive, and sped off- reasonably. It may be a sports car, but he’s still Technically only got a permit. It didn’t take all too long to get to Tiffany’s, and before long, they were as they are now, watching the garage for signs of life of this band everyone’d gathered to see.

As Faith brought herself back to Earth, she saw a fleeting figure pass by, heading around the side of the house with a large shape on their back. She watched as they disappeared into the darkness, noting how Brett looked down to her- expectant. She winced slightly as she found some semblance of her voice, “Yes?”

“I said I think they’re starting soon- at least, I sure hope so.”

Faith nodded, turning her attention back into the garage. Granted, the crowd was loud as ever, but the lights up front clicked on. She couldn’t see past all of the people, but she could hear as the crowd slowly quieted down after a fair spell, and the speakers crackled alive. ”How’re we doing tonight??” A girl cheered through the mic, getting a roar from the crowd gathered, ”Yeah?? Yeah!! Then let’s get to it!”

It didn’t take much to realise the girl speaking wasn’t who Faith was here for-

I mean, noo… not here for anyone-! Just— here for the show… Mhm.

Still, the band kicked off into a set, playing songs that had about the same sort of energy as the record in the shop… Not recognisable to Faith, but solid enough songs for her to smile along. She’d glanced around to see if she could find some way to see the band itself better, noting the place relatively packed. There was a door in the back, but the band was playing back there, so peaking through there wasn’t much an option, unless she wanted to get called out. Honestly? Faith couldn’t deal with that ordeal right now, much less… Ever, really. Other than that, there weren't any real options except to go into the garage proper- and honestly, it was enough to be out here. So, instead, Faith stayed put. She kept towards the back as she tapped her hand along with the beat against her leg, listening for the set. Once the chords of Comfortably Numb faded, the lead kicked back on the mic, "Hey- thank you guys so much for stickin' with us tonight. We're gonna break for a beat, but when we get back, we've got a surprise for ya!"

The crowd in the band cheered again as the mic gave off feedback. Brett chuckled at that point, "Five bucks I know what the 'surprise' is."

Faith glanced up to him, tilting her head- "Really?"

"Hah- yeah. Don't you?" Slightly condescending, before he chuckled again, "Riiight, you don't have any money. Nevermind. You'll see in a minute."

Brett then slinked off into the garage for a fair minute, leaving Faith to her own devices- leaving her to realise just how… Out of place she felt. Sure, the music was good, but she didn't know anyone here other than Leo and Brett. And, of all people to come with, she came with Brett. It could be worse, she could be with a real bully rather than Brett, but she still would rather to have come with Leo in the first place. Leo… he was like her brother- heck, a better brother than Ian was. He teased, but never as mean as Brett did. As much as Leo tried to give a pricky exterior, he had a heart under there. Faith couldn't entirely say the same for Brett.

No, no… not quite. There had to be one there, it just- was misguided.

Speaking of the devil, Brett returned- with Leo in tow, and a few solo cups in his hands. He and Leo seemed to be chatting about something, as Faith caught the tail end of Leo's comment, "…well it's about any minute now, so-"

"Yeah, we'll see. Hey- here," Brett thrust a cup towards Faith, "Drink."

"H-huh…?"

Leo glanced to Brett, before waving his hand dismissively, "It's water, you're fine."

You know me too well. Faith's eyes flicked past Leo and towards the cup, before taking a sip and finding his words true. Granted, he usually didn't lie, but still-- could never be too safe as her mother warned her countless times.

"So, you ready?" Leo smirked, nodding towards the crowd… likely meaning the stage, and therefore, the band.

"Ready?"

"Yeah, y'know they're pulling o-"

As Leo continued, the speakers crackled with the sound of feedback again, before starting up with a combo of guitar and bass which waved over the crowd. Beats of which Faith drifted to, recognising the sharp, distinct notes before they melted into a pattern- of which Faith knew was followed by…

"Running away, I knew I was wrong- I'd tried to fit in where I didn't belong."

Jess. Jess' voice came over the speaker- less gravelly than the recording that Faith'd heard of the original band. But then again, Jess had a nicer voice than that… moreover, she knew how to use it. She painted with her voice, singing each word with emotion that lingered past just the words she'd memorised. Each word articulated, if a little muffled by the output…

Faith lightly pressed past the two as she latched on to the voice- before being pulled back, "Woah, hey now."

Brett'd reached out, having gently grabbed her shoulder. Leo was the one calling out, reaching and taking the cup from her, "Hey, you and I both know you don't want to go up there."

A little flutter ran through Faith's chest as her hands clenched into fists, pouting as she looked between them- to which Leo laughed at. "Okay, okay. I know. Here. You're still like- what- 90, 100 pounds?"

"Don't burn the fire, I'm never comin' home-"

Leo put down the cups he'd been holding before he snapped a few times, snagging Faith's attention away from the song being sung, "Do you want to see her or not, Faith?" Faith turned her head down for a moment, growing red. IwanttoI-

With a little more patience, Leo leaned in and spoke just loud enough for Faith to hear, "Hey, remember what you asked about? Don't worry about it right now. It doesn't matter. Do you want to see her, or not?"

"…I could hear the whispers of my own mistakes- those warning eyes, that final touch… No one seemed to care that much." Jess' voice rattled in Faith's mind for a moment, before a buzzing ran through Faith's head and down her neck.

It took a moment, before she nodded and looked up to Leo with wide, soft eyes, almost pleading. On the other hand, Leo just… grinned. He let off a huff before he looked to Brett, "A'right."

Before Brett came a bit closer and knelt down with his back towards Faith, his arms stretched behind him. "Hop on, princess."

Faith stared for a moment, before realising- "O-oh…"

Leo laughed, "What, never been on piggyback? You'll be fine."

He then reached and nudged her forward with a gentle push on her back- to which Faith pulled back against it, "W-wait, my skir-"

"You don't wear shorts under that? It'll be fine for like- five minutes," Leo rebutted, nudging her forward again.

With a bit of hesitation, and a whimper caught in her throat, she stepped forward and got on Brett's back, muttering, "Sorry-" as she did so.

Brett scoffed before he wrapped his arms underneath her legs and slowly standing up, "You're fine, Faith-"

He'd made to continue, but realised the words were fairly pointless then, as he'd gotten to full standing and Faith saw above the crowd…

And there was Jess… belting her heart out into the microphone, her right hand clutching it close to her mouth, and her other twirling the string in her hand. She'd donned some more bracelets than normal, but her shirt and shorts were the same as ever-- a Mure shirt with dark shorts, and boots she'd decorated herself some time ago. She swayed along with the music, keeping time with her feet- and her hair bounced with every step she took, getting in the way of her eyes. Eyes of which that scanned the crowd- before looking out past and-

Settling on Faith.

Jess' eyes grew wider for a moment, and the rest of the lyrics came out ever so slightly different- as if the words got caught in her throat. She'd continued just fine after a moment, looking away from Faith, but for a moment… Just a moment, that buzzing came back, flooding Faith's head and getting a dopey smile to form on her lips. Everything was hazy for just a moment, before her cheeks flushed hot.

The song rounded out as Jess finished it- and she pulled the mic away from her lips. Faith watched as she looked out towards the crowd again, her eyes directly snapping on to Faith. Seeing her again, there and real, got her to turn towards what Faith assumed was Tiffany. They talked for a moment, as Tiff hesitated, talking back to Jess- before Jess snipped back, and Tiff shrugged. Tiffany then made a circle with her hands to the person on an electric keyboard, and a new song started up. The drums followed suit after a round of keyboard solo, and then Jess brought the mic to her lips, looking towards the crowd as she started singing, "Just as I thought, it was going alright. I found out I'm wrong, when I thought I was right…"

She'd continued as Faith listened, not recognising the song off hand. It almost sounded familiar, but not enough for Faith to know the lyrics. At least with Don't Burn The Fires, Faith had heard it on one of Jess' records a number of times. She listened in for the lyrics, picking up on what Jess sang. In a way, as Faith listened to the lyrics- the pointed way that Jess sang them, and the way she chose to articulate them… It almost sounded like it was for Leo.

"I could say day, and you'd say night- tell me it's black, when I know that it's white…" Definitely Leo… Yet, Jess' eyes stopped tracing the crowd as the backing track changed, a heavy strike to the hi-hat changing the meaning of the song as her voice grew softer- looking to Faith again as she sang, "Truth is, I love you. More than I wanted to- there's no point in trying to pretend. There's no one that makes me feel like you do. Say we'll be together 'til the end."

The song continued as Jess'd sung it until that point, pointed and distracted- although, it may have been part of Faith's mind now… running a little wild, but… Jess seemed to purposefully keep her attention anywhere other than on her. It may have been Faith's imagination that a little glow ran through Jess cheeks.

What wasn't imagination, however, was the excitement flowing through Faith. Excitement she hadn't realised was coming out by means of tapping. Aka, tapping against Brett's head- aka meaning she'd been (lightly) smacking Brett's hair for a solid few seconds. Enough to get Brett to interject, "Can you knock that off?? I'll put you down-! You're getting heavy-"

Faith went rigid at the thought, though rationally realised she'd have no right to complain. Brett was doing her a huge favour- and very likely was doing it because Leo'd asked him to do so. Even just getting a chance to be up above the crowd for but a minute was more than enough to last Faith for weeks. She pulled her hands back towards herself- before she realised Brett began to kneel down, seemingly taking that motion as a move to be brought down. Not wanting to correct him, she hopped off once at a suitable level, and corrected her skirt as the song rounded out…

Leo stood before Faith with a bit of a shit eating grin- his attention momentarily taken up as Brett moved and grabbed one of the cups off the ground, drinking it down in one, ginormous gulp. "Damn, big boy, you swallow everything like that?"

And a most innocent glance up from the second cup as Brett looked over to Leo, "Huh?"

"Nothinggg-" Before mouthing 'stupid motherfu-' and being stopped as Brett stood up, flashing a smile.

"So, happy?"

It took a moment for Faith to recognise that the question was aimed at her, before she flushed again and smiled, her eyes drifting off as she nodded. Brett held out the cup to her, "Here, drink up, then we'll get out of here."

Faith reached to take the cup, before freezing- her eyes darting to Brett before her brows furrowed, "Get out of here? We've only been here a little bit..!"

"It's been like an hour and a half, Faith- I need to go home at some point, and I gotta work in the time it'll take to drop you off. You heard a lot of songs, and you're not gonna talk with anyone here other than Leo, so-"

"B-but Jess-!"

"Is performing. So, we're heading out in a minute when you finish your water."

Leo brought up a hand, interrupting the two, "Ay-- seems like she's got more energy than you do. Why don't you head out now, and I'll get her home. Sound good?"

"You sure on that? Since you don't hold up to promises all too well…" Brett grumbled, moving to cross his arms- careful to keep the cup on top so that it wouldn't spill.

"What promise?…" Leo, turning to look at Brett- before his eyes widened as he realised, looking off, "Fuck-! I- okay. Yeah. Sorry." "Yeah."

Faith looked between the two, before letting off a little snort, holding back a full laugh. It wasn't entirely something she understood- granted, she still had problems accepting herself. However, something deep in her always had this sort of… Inkling. The inkling that this wasn't just a 'hangout' to either of them. But that wasn't her call, and truth is, she barely understood it herself. Just that it seemed something else was growing- that's all.

Brett glared over to Faith's stifled laughter, scowling, "What's that- got something to say?"

Quickly, Faith moved and covered her mouth, shaking her head. Brett rolled his eyes, "Thought so…" Before he looked to Leo, "Right, I'm out."

"Night--" Leo pursed his lips together as Brett walked off to where he'd parked the car around the curb, waiting until he was gone to rub his neck, "Shiiit…"

He looked up after that, noticing Faith still watching- "Tch-- do you have something you want to say?"

Faith pulled her hands away from her mouth, still glancing off… before Leo sighed, "You can say it. Come on. Hit me, little cupid."

"…I-- don't really…"

"Go on." Leo egged, stepping a bit closer.

Knowing him, he knew her answer already. He just… wanted a confirmation. That's how it was with Jess- wanting to hear it from a third party… Faith at that point bit the corner of her mouth, her eyes darting up to Leo before looking away again as she muttered, "Youlikehim."

"What?" Earnest in his response-- her words could barely be heard over the band.

"Nothing!! Let's just… I should…" Faith gestured behind her towards where Brett had walked off.

"Hey-!! I said I'd give you a ride home. The set's gonna end in like… half an hour. Just hold on."

A frown tugged on Faith's lips as she looked up to Leo, "W-why do I need to stay? Brett was right, I should--"

"Where'd that spark go? Not five minutes ago you didn't want to leave, and now you're jumping at the bit to get outta here."

There wasn't anything Faith could pin down to the feeling in her chest. This sort of pounding that didn't quite make sense-- feeling worse on the thought of leaving, but the thought of staying scared her just that little bit more. She let her head fall as she squeezed her hands together, squishing the palm of one hand with the other as she let the current song play… focusing once again on Jess' voice as she sang.

Something about the way her range varied- that her voice came softer, like a lullaby backed only by gentle piano… Something that Faith could listen to for hours and still be drunk off its sound- and oh how much she wished to drink.

"You don't see what you possess, a beauty calm and clear- it floods the sky and blurs the darkness like a chandelier… All the light that you possess is skewed by lakes and seas… The shattered surface, so imperfect, is all that you believe." Carrying weight to it as Faith realised the words, and the lightness of Jess' voice kept with this feeling of meaning to every word she sang.

Granted… Just about any song Jess sang could carry weight that send a shiver down Faith's spine, giving chills as it hit deeper than she'd care to admit. Not many things could do that…

"…Yeah. I thought so." Leo broke Faith's concentration on the music- getting her to snap her attention towards him, as a softer smile sat on his face. "Stay. Otherwise, you're gonna regret it."

Almost as if he spoke from experience, he pulled back and nodded towards the crowd, "You can handle yourself out here, yeah?" Faith pursed her lips once again, debating in her head the pros and cons of staying. Pro, hearing more and all… Con, she may say or do something she'd regret. Something she'd much rather not admit right now. Even though it may slap her in the face whether she'd like it to or not. She sighed, before nodding, "Yes."

"Okay. I'll be back out when this sets over. Things are likely gonna chill out after- I dunno how long they're gonna keep going, honestly. Might end after this, who knows." Leo shrugged, before he turned on his heel and headed back into the fray, rejoining the group he'd been with before and leaving Faith to her own devices.

In turn, Faith found herself alone, with just the bands song as her company. She turned to look in the garage yet again, before she moved away from the door and towards the side of the house, sitting where she could still hear the crackle of the speakers. Although a little quieter here, she found herself more at peace as she listened along, humming with songs that she recognised.

All in all, the half hour passed quickly, as Faith lost herself to the music- as half of her mind imagined there was no wall between her and the song being sung…

That nothing in her head stopped her from enjoying this, and feeling the flutter of butterflies in her stomach as she latched on to the lyrics. There were no rules against it, no one saying no, just… Her, and Jess. And that was all she needed to feel less alone.

Although, as the last chord ebbed out, and the cheering of the crowd settled in, Faith opened her eyes and woke up. She felt the little smile on her cheeks fade away as those butterflies rattled around, her hands shaking as she moved to stand up. Leo was waiting, probably, and- she vaguely heard as one of the other girls say that was it for tonight, unless the crowd wanted an encore…

I can't stay like this it's-- not right I--

She didn't bother to listen for the answer, as her smile faded as she made her way to the garage door, noting as a few sets of footsteps followed behind her. Seeing a lack of Leo out in the driveway, she peaked inside the garage to see if he was still inside- before she felt a hand grab her shoulder, and a flood of panic shot through her as she jolted at the touch. She turned to look at who the hand belonged to, seeing a soft, yet tired Jess before her.

"Hey…" She croaked out, having worn down her voice after all of her work. Her spare hand held a bottle of water half drunken at this point, which crinkled as she smiled a bit, "I wasn't expecting to see you- nice surprise, though."

Faith let off an awkward chuckle, as she looked past Jess and saw the other members of the band chatting, walking past them. She felt that same flutter in her chest as she swallowed down whatever nerves arose- though not able to stop herself from blushing a little, "I… yeah… um… Leo was coming-- and he- he asked me to come…"

That got a laugh out of Jess in turn, "You could just say you wanted to come, Faith- I wouldn't be offended."

Would you like it?

Her eyes widened at the thought, darting away, "I-- noo… w-why would I? I mean- you… sing well and all I just-- I mean until a half hour ago I didn't even know you'd be here and-"

Another laugh came from Jess as her eyes lightened- as Faith noted behind the mess of her hair and general sweat on her brow… Jess pulled her hand off Faith's shoulder and tucked it into her pocket, "Well, thanks. It's nice seeing you here. What'd you think? Not really your style but-"

"I loved it-!" Faith chimed, a little hazy in her response, before realising just about how… Desperate that sounded. The red in her cheeks only grew as she tried to calm down, "I-i mean, you… performed well. Nicely done."

As Faith finished, Jess tuffed a bit of her hair away from her eyes, trying to distract from her own cheeks turning pink- sheepishly responding, "Thank you." OhmyGodohmyG- FaithEmmaWilliamsyouhAVETOSTOP- Faith let off a little chuckle as she nodded, "O-of course… Oh..! You're- probably looking for Leo…"

Jess's smile faded as she looked to Faith, shaking her head, "Nah… No, I'm- here to see you. Just wanted to see why you were here."

"M-me??"

"Yeah. What, is it weird to say hi to a friend?"

Before she'd realised she'd done it, Faith winced at the term- "No… Just… I thought you'd invited Leo, that's all…"

"Iii did. Figured I may as well drag everyone here who I thought might enjoy a good night out. Buuuut… On that…" Jess cricked her neck before looking out to the crowd, "I've- got a lot of people to say thanks to, so uh… Yeah. I guess I'll uh… See you Monday?"

"…see you Monday…" Faith muttered, before Jess moved and patted her shoulder and then left, weaving through the crowd.

Stupidlittlehomosexualthoughts- This has to stop it has to stop--

The gentle patting was replaced by a firm hand, as Leo passed through the crowd and out to where Faith stood, "Hey-- you see Jess?"

"She just left…"

Leo flashed a smile as he pulled his hand away, "Awesome. Well- you ready?"

It took a moment, as Faith felt this awful wave of exhaustion pass over… She hadn't even done anything exhausting, just… She felt a strong sense of being ready to go to bed- and she'd sleep for a while. Maybe a good rest would help pass over what little stew brewed in her mind. She nodded, letting off a long sigh, "Yes, please…"

Leo's smile faded enough to be a slight smirk, before he walked off with Faith in tow. Soon enough, the night was over- as Faith found herself at her doorstep, promptly heading inside and falling into bed.

For a fair spell, it was just her, staring to the ceiling. Alone with her thoughts.

Honestly, she'd thought she'd feel more… Regret? Anger- something along those lines…

And yet all she felt was a buzzing as she thumbed over the songs in her mind… and a soft little smile fell on her lips once more before she fell asleep, humming along.

------ ☾ | i don't have v many comments this time, just sources for the songs referenced in this! i sourced out to my dad since he knows 80s songs much better than i do, but i caved for one song ok song list in order of use in ramble - don't burn the fires | dead moon (1988) that's all | genesis (1983) you are the moon | the hush sound (2006)

[getosbigballsack]

Random Thought! Geto's is jealous because Gojo had sex with you.

Ps: I wrote this as one of the drafts for @noroi1000 , but I never liked it for her, so I scraped it and wrote something completely different.

Nothing hurts more than finding out that your best friend broke the “bro code” just to have his stupid fantasies fulfilled. That’s how Geto Suguru felt when he caught his best friend Gojo Satoru having sex with you.

He promised, they both promised not to have romantic feelings for you or to be in any form of sexual intimate relationship with you. Why? Simply because you’re also their best friend and you know that they have a track record of being whores since high school. 

So Geto thought it would’ve been best to keep you out of that part of their lives. And even if they both had feelings for you, it would be best to love you from afar, rather than to be selfish only to end up hurting you in the end. 

But I guess those were false promises coming from the lying lips of Gojo. Those same lying lips he saw stealing kisses whenever Gojo thought that he wasn’t looking. Those same lying lips that decorates your neck with nothing but love bites, those same lying lips he saw eating you up on the bed, the night he caught Gojo having sex with you.

He can still remember the sound of your voice cursing Gojo’s name, moaning so sweetly for Gojo as the white haired man eats you out as though you were going to be the last meal for a long time.

Call him a pervert for standing at the door for as long as he did, watching the sight unfold before him. Gojo’s hand sliding up your shirt, tweaking your nipples, pinching the pebbled bud to have you arching your back into Gojo’s hand.

Those dainty little hands of yours that would so often braid his hair were now grabbing Gojo’s hair and scraping at Gojo’s scalp. He knew how soft your hand was, so he could only imagine the sheer amount of pleasure it feels to have his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

None of you were aware that he saw that night, but you’ve both noticed how cold he was towards Gojo and how distant he became with you. 

You tried asking him, you did tried, but all you ever get in response was the light shrug in his shoulders before turning and leaving you to go fuck off with one of his many one night stands. It didn’t bother you that much that he would leave you for a hookup. At this point, you were used to it.

But it did bother you very much whenever he was in a mood with you, and you had no clue what made him that way. Unlike you, though, Gojo had an idea as to why Geto was cold towards him, but he kept it to himself, in fear that he could have been wrong. 

Weeks turned into two months since Geto had found out that Gojo broke the ‘bro code’ and slept with you, and his behavior towards you both has not changed one bit. If anything, he was even more cold towards Gojo, and Geto would just completely ignore your presence despite the three of you sharing an apartment together. 

Though it still hurts that your best friend stopped talking to you. You’ve learned how to deal with it and just stayed focused on your relationship with Gojo. You guys weren’t dating as yet, and you are still having a bit of fun and going on dates. Gojo would buy you gifts, flowers, and lots of tasty food. He’ll take you out during the day when Geto wasn’t home and spend a night or two with you between the sheets in a hotel. 

Gojo was having a great time with you, too. Breaking that so-called promise with his best friend has done him now better than harm. He was happy to be around someone who genuinely had strong intimate feelings for him. It made him feel thing he had never felt before, and fuck everyone else, Geto too because he’d be damn if he allowed anything to ruin what you both had going on. 

It was only a matter of time before Gojo officially made you his girlfriend. He was just waiting for the right moment. 

That moment is when Geto decides to cut the crap and speak his mind. 

[skyahri]

Arranged Marriage |Zuko X Reader| HC

Summary: Caught up in his personal conflict, Zuko completely neglects his marriage.

Warnings: Arranged marriage, forced marriage, whatever. Mentions of violence. Angsty Zuko and reader. Fem pronouns.

Masterlist Ko-fi

- - - - -

You'd married Zuko a little over a year into his reign as Fire Lord. You're the oldest daughter from a noble family, and the council decided it was best if Zuko married someone well liked by the community.

He didn't take it well. He was still hoping Mai would come back to him, and you being there completely obliterated those chances.

Not that there was a shot to begin with. Mai had made it abundantly clear that she wanted nothing to do with Zuko, even if she admitted to still having feelings for him.

Your relationship was staged to be perfect in the eyes of the people. Young love against all odds sort of thing.

The marriage ceremony was beautiful. Your robes were elegant, the flowers were perfect, and even your soon-to-be husband was handsome.

Zuko was charming towards the guests, really selling the story and gaining a lot of trust with his people. He was awkward but personable, something everyone ate up.

But he wasn't like that with you.

As soon as the two of you were away from public eyes, he didn't so much as look your way.

You slept in different rooms and ate at opposite ends of the table. He excluded you from as many duties as he could, stating something about him not wanting to concern you.

Life in a palace was pretty isolating. The only people you could talk to were servants, and even then, your topics were extremely limited.

You'd taken to the gardens as much as possible. It felt nice to be outside and even better to see the plants and animals.

Tending to the flowers was one of the few things you were allowed to do without constant eyes on you. The lonely atmosphere felt intentional instead of forced.

But after a year of this, not even the newly budding flowers could heal your disdain. Your once bubbly exterior had been chipped away by the dread and disappointment that lingered in your heart.

You were truly just a shell of your former self by this point.

There was no change with Zuko. He'd made no effort to get to know you or even just not hate you. Any attempt you'd made in the beginning to soften the relationship had been put out the moment it left your lips. It seemed like public pleasantries would be the extent of your marriage.

You'd long given up on trying to befriend the older women who waited on you. They had no desire to be anything more than the people who got you through the day.

You'd given up on trying to sneak away with the kitchen staff to the market. They feared being held responsible for you, even if you claimed to be plenty capable of taking care of yourself.

All that was really left to do was to just stay quiet and look pretty. The sad fate of the Fire Lord's wife.

You'd been laying in bed all morning. It was one of the few days where nothing was planned. No meetings, no guests, no events- nothing.

Well, at least you thought.

"Miss Y/N, Lord Zuko has requested your presence. We must get you ready immediately."

They'd dragged you out of bed and stuffed you into a pair of your nicest robes. They're doing your hair up and rushing to cover your face in makeup.

"Why am I being summoned?"

"The Avatar and his friends have arrived. They were the ones to request you."

"I see."

It made sense. You had met the Gaang at your wedding, and they were everything you'd expected; kind, loud, and passionate. Just like Zuko was said to be.

At the time, they'd promised to come by often, but you hadn't seen them since. You'd heard something about the rebuilding of the air temple and having some unexpected issues arise, so they just hadn't had time until now.

You met Zuko at the front gates. His friends arrived just after, allowing the servants to take their things to their rooms. Without a word, Katara grabbed your arm and dragged you away with the other girls. You turned back to see the same happening with Zuko and the boys.

They pulled you all around the surrounding area. For the first time in a long time, the dread started to fade away.

You'd bought some new incense, hair pins, and seeds for the flower beds. They were small purchases in comparison to the others, who had gone all out with new clothes, trinkets, and a heap of spicy snacks for Sokka.

You'd suggested several times over the last few hours that it was time to head back to the palace, but only now that it was growing dark did the trio actually listen.

Just as you had begun packing up, a string of explosions started on the next block and made its way towards the plaza you were in.

Toph was quick to make a stone barrier, but that didn't stop the cloud of soot from staining your skin and clothes.

A group of men had emerged from the smoke and revealed themselves to be Ozai supporters. Not everyone was pleased with the fundamentals Zuko was running the country on, so rebels had started causing a bit of an uproar.

Katara, Toph, and Suki did their best to take the men down swiftly, but that didn't stop you from getting injured in the process.

Your forearms had been severely burned when you'd covered your face from an attack. Katara offered to heal you, but it'd have to wait until you got back to the palace where her spirit water was.

The trip back was uneventful. Some of the local guards stationed in the city had insisted on escorting you guys back, which at this point you couldn't deny.

Apparently, word had already gotten back to Fire Lord Zuko, who was waiting at the front doors of the palace for your arrival.

He immediately stepped forward and picked up your hand, letting the scorched fabric fall and reveal your burn. He did the same with the other and sighed.

"Please give us the room."

You watched as everyone filed out of the room, the guards towards the exit and your friends towards the south wing.

"These are severe,"

He cupped your face in his hands and tilted your head so he could get a good look. His thumb swiped over some of the soot on your face.

You were confused by his actions, but the pain from your burns created a bit of a blur in your mind, keeping you from thinking too hard about it.

"The others couldn't protect you?"

"They did what they could. I apologize for the hassle-"

"Why are you apologizing? None of this is your fault."

You opted to stay silent. You weren't sure what to say. This is the longest conversation you'd had in private since you'd met, and you were finding it hard to navigate.

It was silent for a minute. The vibe was awkward, and you desperately wanted to hide away from all of it.

His face contorted slightly, like he wanted to say something but couldn't. You didn't pry. It didn't feel like your place to ask.

"Why don't you head to your room for a bath, and I'll have Katara meet you in there once you're done."

You nodded and made your way down the corridor. You stripped down and opted to just toss your clothes in the trash. Between the ash and scorch marks, there was no saving anything.

The second the water touched your wounds, you winced. Tears pricked your eyes as you watched small bits of charred skin go down the drain. The pain quickly went from a sharp sting to almost mind-numbing. You sat down and let the water just run down your body while you waited for the brunt of the discomfort to pass.

In your hazy state of mind, you hadn't heard the knock on the door, so you were surprised when Zuko entered in much more casual clothing.

When he saw you hunched over on the shower floor, he didn't say anything. He moved to the side of the tub and went to touch you, but you weakly swatted his hands away.

"I'm not comfortable with you being in here whole I'm naked."

"I'm your husband-"

"You're a stranger."

Ouch. Harsh but fair, and he knew it.

"Look, I know I haven't been good to you over the past year, and I'm sorry. We can talk about it more when you're feeling better, but for now just let me take care of you."

Satisfied with his response, you stopped resisting his help. You let him wash your hair and scrub your skin. His touch was gentle despite how rough his hands were.

He never once made you feel uncomfortable. He was thourough but never lingered. It was almost as if this was a normal occurrence.

When he was done, he offered you a towel and left you alone in the bathroom to get dressed. When you entered your bedroom, Katara was on your bed, but Zuko was nowhere in sight.

"Just me. Sorry to disappoint."

"No, no. I'm glad you're here."

You sat in front of her on the bed and let her examine your burns. She positioned your arms for easy access and opened her canister. You watched the water glow and the skin slowly heal itself. It was amazing, nothing like anything youd seem before.

"So," she broke the silence, "Has he warmed up to you at all?"

You were surprised by her words. You weren't sure how much they knew or what all you should say. Last thing you wanted to do was incriminate him.

Sensing your hesitation to respond, Katara clarified her question.

"I know everything, at least, from his side. You can be honest with me."

"Honest?"

"Honest."

A small smile crept onto your face.

"I think you're friend is an ass."

"I couldn't agree more."

You told her everything; the loneliness, the isolation, the lack of, well, everything in your relationship and life. She listened, something you're eternally grateful for. It felt nice just to get it off your chest instead of suffering silently.

"Today was the greatest day I've had in a long time. I got to leave the palace and talk to people and for once it felt like my husband didn't hate me."

"Zuko doesn't hate you."

"Could've fooled me."

"He doesn't hate you. Just talk to him. I know he has a lot to say, and it seems you do as well."

Once your arms were healed good as new, Katara left your quarters and returned to her own. You'd crawled under the covers and passed out, completely exhausted from the day.

The next day, you took Katara's advice and decided to speak with Zuko. You woke up early, before the sun had risen and made your way to his room.

He was surprised to see you, much less in your nightwear at such an hour. He invited you in nonetheless, where you then entered and decided to sit on his bed. You patted the spot in front of you, and he hesitantly sat.

"Katara said we should talk."

"Okay."

Sensing that he wasn't going to be the one to initiate anything, you decided to get the ball rolling.

It was a long conversation. Zuko confessed a lot of things, mostly about bitter feelings towards life and guilt over his actions. He apologized for everything and listened to everything you had to say. He made a lot of promises to be better.

He stuck to his word. He began including you in anything you were welcome to. Dinners became more personal, and eventually, you started sleeping in his room like a proper married couple.

By the time team Avatar had visited again, things had visibly changed. You were both happier, and your once fake marriage had become real. You meshed into the group just fine, making the pseudo family that much bigger.

All thanks to a simple conversation.

[itsswritten]

feels like home

Pairing: Azriel x fem reader

Word Count: 4.1K

Summary: The start of fairy readers journey and how she ended up in the Night Court. Essentially the start of the love story we all now love <3

Wings Universe - More from this world.

Autumn

Now you weren’t the arrogant kind — Fairies were always known to be humble. It’s why for the most part, your kind kept to your meadows, didn’t construct social hierarchy like Fae, and kept those mesmerising wings hidden.

However you were proud of your skills as a fairy. You were dutiful, talented, and worked incredibly hard. The youngest fairy to ever be enrolled on the fairy council. So the fact you were failing now, was quite a humbling awakening.

You blinked again, Elodie’s panicked voice blurring into the autumn breeze.

Your first stop on your travels was the Autumn Court. Visiting your cousin, who had offered refuge after your reluctant departure from Spring. Although you missed your home terribly, you were really trying to embrace this opportunity— the chance to explore a new court, spend quality time with family, and further your studies on the other seasons. Turning the dire situation you had to abandon into something positive.

However things were not going how you had expected. Apparently Autumn didn’t agree with you as well as Spring always had. 

“Y/N, there are snowdrops…in Autumn,” Elodie's concerned tone broke through. Your gaze hadn’t left the scene in front of you. Dewy snowdrops glistening under the cool autumn sun. 

You swallowed, your throat dry. “I’m aware.”

The snowdrops were your flowers. Beautiful but wrong. Your magic had manifested a spring flower in an Autumn court. Something that should never happen. 

It had been two months. Two months of no problems, and although the autumn shades didn’t necessarily suit you and the breeze didn’t sing as sweet as home, you had managed to settle in. 

You learnt how to get by. However the mess in front of you told you otherwise.

“What are you going to do?” Elodie pressed, her nervousness emitting beside you. You never got things wrong, you were always the one everyone else relied on– Mistakes were a rarity for you.

“Trying to figure that out,” your hands fisted the fabric of your dress at your sides. Your mind whirring as you tried to figure out a plan. The intricacies of your ability had always come so naturally to you in Spring, but grappling with a new season left you fumbling for a solution. 

“What. Are. Those?!” Your cousin's voice hitched in a tight tone, her voice hushing towards the end so as to not draw attention. She stalked over, her autumn-hued dress billowing behind her, hands were flailing towards you as she stormed in your direction.

With a spin you turned to her, stepping in front of the patch of snowdrops that had sprouted— as if she hadn’t already seen the little blooms that seemed to sway in the wind in mockery.

“I don’t understand…you were doing so well. I asked you to help bring the harvest along. You know, pumpkins, squash, apples. Not flowers!” Your cousin’s brows were drawn in tight, confusion and dismay in her tone. You could practically see her mind reeling as she took in the scene before her.

Instinctively your hands came up towards her, creating space, trying to calm the situation.

“I know. It’s just a small hiccup, I can reverse it. It’s fine,” you reassured quickly, not even allowing yourself to fester in the worry. 

You were the youngest fairy on the council you reminded yourself— a mentor to many of your friends and colleagues. This would not phase you.

Rolling your shoulders back, you looked at the taunting flowers straight on. Flexing your fingers as a drop of magic glowing like a little firefly, sunk slowly from your fingertips to the ground. Seeping into the deep earth that was covered in a blanket of burnt coloured leaves. 

A beat passed as the three of you held your breath. The forest seemed to hold it’s breath too, it’s mild wind coming to a silence.

Then, one of the buds quivered slightly, vibrating before it began to shrink and swirl back into the ground it had birthed from. A heavy sigh left your lips, shoulders dropping as Elodie gave you a slight smile. Chewing the inside of your cheek you gave her a knowing wink.

But that moment of relief quickly dissipated. Before your eyes more and more flowers began to spring before you. As though your magic had the opposite effect you had intended. 

Relishing in your victory too early served you your humiliation. Your cheeks turning hot as you watched the disaster unfold in front of you. It was rare for you to fluster, but you could feel the simmering of your pride burn deep within your gut at the sight of your mistake. Eyes wide as the white petals spread further beneath your feet.

This had never happened before.

Your fingers twitched beside your sides. Magic at your fingertips itching to resolve the mess, but your confidence had been knocked. You didn’t fully trust yourself or your ability, and that was a hard acknowledgment to make.

“Okay, you need to leave now.” With a light push, your cousin ushered you away from the disaster you had created.

“What? Wait! Just give me a moment to think. To fix this” You pressed back, your ego not allowing you to submit to this defeat.

“I don’t have time y/n. That Vanserra princling’s on his way, and if he’s anything like his father he will have your head. So leave. I will fix this."

Your expression must have spoken a thousand words, words of vulnerability and insecurity, because your cousin's expression softened for a moment. Bringing you to a quick embrace. 

“Your time in Autumn is up. Mistakes happen, and that’s okay. But it’s time to go.”

“But—“

She cut you off. “No but’s. You’ve both done amazing, but let’s not pretend. This isn’t the place for you, don’t think I hadn’t noticed.” Her expression was warm and understanding, as welcoming as the shades of fall. But despite how welcoming this season had been, it didn’t feel like home. 

“Go explore the land, go find somewhere that feels right y/n,” 

“What if…—” 

What if nowhere felt like home? What if you didn’t fit in anywhere else?

Elodie grabbed your hand with a tug then, someone had winnowed to the outskirts of the field. A figure with fiery hair and a tempered presence.

There was no time for what if’s. So you left. Left your cousin to face the flame, and left to find a new home…if that place even existed.

Winter

“Why are the bears awake?!” There was a scream across the forest that ran through the barren trees. You recognised the tone, one of your Winter mentors no doubt. The shriek so sharp that any remaining creature that slept must have surely been awoken.

“Oh no..” Elodie almost cried, her feet slipping in the snow beside you. You could almost hear her heart pounding in sync with yours.

The bear—the bear you had accidentally woken—groaned and yawned, its massive paws stirring the snow as it pawed at the air, confused and sluggish. Its hibernation had been broken, and it was far too early for it to be awake.

You had been at the Winter Court for only a short time, and already, things were falling apart. The sharp, biting cold of the court was one thing, but the coldness of its people? That had been harder to handle. Their bluntness, their stoic ways, had left you feeling like you were constantly on the edge of doing something wrong. And now… you had.

It seems Autumn was not the only season that didn’t agree with you. 

You blinked back your own tears, swallowing hard as you almost lost your own footing.

“Elodie, help me,” you commanded, snapping into action as you pushed against the bear’s thick fur, trying to guide it back to its den. The beast groaned again, but refused to budge, blinking its sleepy eyes at you.

The entirety of your weight was pushing against the giant bear that groaned against you, your heels digging in deep to act as an anchor in the cold white snow.

No matter how hard you tried, against your advice, the bear wanted to wake. 

“Go back to sleeeeeepp little beearrrr- hicc- pretty pleaseeee” Elodie sang desperately, her voice wobbling with panic.

“Elodie that is not the lullaby,” you hissed, your own frustration bubbling up.

“I know, I’m panicking. I’ve forgotten it, y/n. What is it?” She replied beside you, face squashed against the bear’s fur as she tried with all her might to push the bear back to its bed.

You blinked. You couldn’t remember the song either. 

You pressed harder, trying to remember the words yourself. Your breath was coming in ragged puffs, visible in the freezing air. Your wings, though hidden by magic, felt stiff from the cold, and your fingers ached from pushing against the giant furry animal.

By some stroke of luck after several attempts from Elodie to lull the bear back to sleep, the words of the forest lullaby found your tongue. Your magic flowed with the song, wrapping around the bear in a gentle embrace, lulling it back to sleep. Slowly, so slowly, it began to plod back toward its cave, its massive body sinking into it’s cosy bed deep within the cave.

“We did it,” Elodie breathed, her face as flushed and exhausted as you both slumped into the cold snow beneath you. The bears snoring filling the frosty air. “Maybe we got away with–” before Elodie could even finish her sentence, a shadow cast across you under the winter sun.

Your winter mentor, whose expression was as harsh as the court’s wind. Her cold, judging eyes swept over the scene, her lips pressed into a thin line as her long slender finger pointed towards the border.

Summer

It was everywhere.

Sand that is.

There was sand in your clothes, shoes, hair and even your pretty wings you always kept hidden— but that didn’t matter because that sticky Summer Court breeze would somehow ensure you were absolutely covered in it.

Blinking away yet again another gust of sand in your eye, you sat slouched under the shade of a canopy. 

You were on shell duty today, meaning you had been out in that blistering sun all day. You’d always enjoyed the heat you thought, but perhaps now you realised you enjoyed it in much smaller doses. 

That beacon in the sky felt especially relentless today. Your skin was burning to the touch, head heavy, dry throat and eyes stinging.

With a huff you watched as Elodie came and slumped down beside you. She went to nudge you gently with her shoulder, but you both gagged as your skin stuck and peeled away from one another with sweat. 

“I heard the Day court borders are open…” she muttered, glancing towards you, anticipating your reaction.

You didn’t like giving up. Call it Spring stubbornness, but it wasn’t in your nature.

After a moment you murmured back, “Is there sand in Day?”. You swallowed hard, eyes set ahead on the expansive blue ocean before you, the line where the water met the sky blurring in a haze.

“Not nearly as much as Summer,” Elodie replied in a beat.

You didn’t like giving up. But clearly Summer didn’t agree with you either.

“Let’s go.”

Day

Perhaps it was your series of bad luck that had now left you with an attitude of indifference but as you crouched behind the freshly preened hedge you wondered how quickly your impeccable reputation had crumbled on your travels.

You were now about to commit a crime.

Perhaps crime was a bit dramatic. But trespassing was still trespassing. Trespassing on the High Lords home too.

You had been here over a month now. The Day Court wasn’t unpleasant—far from it. The libraries were vast, the streets safe, and the people, though indulgent, were kind. Yet something within you stirred restlessly, a quiet unease that had only grown with time. You had given it weeks, trying to settle in, hoping the feeling of displacement would fade. But it hadn’t. Every corner of this sunlit paradise felt like it belonged to someone else.

It didn’t feel like home.

So your papers were arranged. Tomorrow, you'd travel to Dawn, hoping to find something there that felt more like yours.

But before you left, there was one thing you had to see. One thing that had tugged at your curiosity since the moment you'd arrived: the Pegasuses. Said to be the pride of the Day Court, magnificent creatures kept under Helion’s personal protection, far from the eyes of the public.

That was why you were here now, slipping through the shadows of Helion’s estate, your heart racing in your chest. The Pegasuses weren’t just for show, or figments of stories; they were alive, breathing, and you wanted—no, needed—to see them yourself. Call it that fairy instinct, but you weren’t leaving till you saw them with your own eyes.

Your path led you through twisting gardens, till you found yourself at the heart of Helion’s estate. You crouched quietly behind the foliage, praying to the mother you’d catch a glimpse of what you’d been searching for.

Your breath caught in your throat. 

There they were. 

An entire herd of them, grazing peacefully. The sunlight gleaming on their coats. A shimmering silver that resembled the glow of your own wings. The sight of them took your breath away. They were even more magnificent than you’d imagined.

So magnificent that just looking wasn’t enough.

With a swift quietness and feather light steps you moved from your hiding place towards the herd. 

If Elodie could see you now, you’d be sure to be scolded. You’d left her with the cute librarian in the city, told her to enjoy her last day. That you still had papers to sort– she didn’t need to be an accomplice in what you were committing. She didn’t need to know.

The Pegasuses flicked their ears, one of them lifting their head to look at you. You froze for a moment, the hairs on your arms rising, anticipating their reaction but as it blew a breath there was an ease that settled over you.

They didn’t shy away, as if they’d always known you were there. As if they had been waiting for you to pluck up the courage to meet them.

Marvellous creatures.

One of them stepped towards you, meeting your hand as it grazed across the plain on its face. Your gaze ran down its back to its wings that stretched out and then flanked back in.

“Well aren’t you beautiful..” You sighed with a smile, your fingers scratching the sweet spot behind its ear, its hoof tapping against the earth as if in agreement.

You’re not sure how time had passed, but it was distant laughter that blew in on a breeze that reminded you just how precarious your situation was.

“Come Rhys, come see my pride and joy…” A voice chimed across the garden.

You didn’t need to stick around to guess whose voice that belonged to, so with a gentle kiss against the velvety nose of the Pegasus you bid your farewell. Quick as a sprite, you slipped back into the shadows.

Just as you reached the edge of the estate, you glanced back over your shoulder. Offering a sweet smile to the Pegasuses you had met, hoping that despite Day not feeling like home your paths would cross with the magnificent creatures again.

It was Azriel who stood by the golden archway in the garden. Watching as Helion presented the treasures he boasted so often about– the beautiful Pegasuses that were now grazing in front of them.

“I would like one..for Feyre,” Azriel heard Rhys try to negotiate with Helion, their voices blending over the soft breeze and rustles from the animals. That he hadn’t even noticed his gaze had fallen elsewhere, all the way to the border of the estate he noticed a rustle in the leaves, a flicker of light perhaps, but there was a faintest scent of something on the wind—a hint of honey and peonies. 

He paused, tilting his head as if attuned to something that beckoned him, though he couldn’t quite place it, but maybe with time he would.

Dawn

Imbuing the sky sounded easy. Fun even– But as you glanced up at the Dawn sky that resembled something more like dusk you swallowed hard. 

The golden hues of the Dawn Court greeted you with a warmth that felt almost too soft. Here, everything shimmered with the glow of early morning—pastel skies, the gentle rustling of trees in the breeze, and the constant hum of quiet tranquillity. It should have felt peaceful. It should have felt right.

But instead, it felt fragile. Like a dream you couldn’t quite hold onto.

You had tried. When you first arrived, you thought maybe this would be the place. The Dawn Court was steeped in a quiet sort of magic—delicate, but powerful. It suited you in theory: a blend of intellect and beauty, the balance of light and creation. You had forced yourself to adapt, to fit into the patterns they laid before you, hoping this time, this Court, would finally feel like home.

But when tasked with the simple task of imbuing the sky, it had stirred something deeper, something darker, and the sky had responded.

You opened your eyes, gasping in horror as you watched the colours bleed across the horizon—not the pale blush of dawn, but the rich, burning tones of dusk. Deep oranges, purples, and indigos streaked across the sky like a wildfire, swallowing the soft morning light with every passing second.

The magic swirled around you like a storm, the sky thick with colour, draping over your skin like an ink-stained canvas. You tried to stop it, to pull it back, but it wouldn’t listen. The darker hues clung to you, soaking into your skin, wrapping around you like tendrils of shadow. 

From dawn to dusk and then to twilight.. 

It was beautiful in a way—if only it wasn’t so terribly wrong.

“Don’t.” You bit out through gritted teeth, stopping Elodie from saying anything. The deep purple hue of sky covered you. The shimmer iridescent resembled something of a paint, but it was almost too beautiful to even be compared to that.

You didn’t even wait for your Dawn mentors to scold you. Simply went to pack your things and leave. 

Lip quivering at another failed court, another failed attempt at finding home.

Night

The Night Court was the only place left. The last court you hadn’t yet tried, the last hope you had of finding where you truly belonged.

Which at this point you felt as though living amongst the thorns of Spring was a better option. You should never have left. Perhaps this was your punishment for abandoning your court, despite having no other option.

Your fingers tried to brush away the sky that was still infused to your skin, you looked ridiculous. As if you’d painted yourself in the night court's colours out of admiration. You were grateful the midnight hues concealed how embarrassed you looked.

The Night Court was a stark contrast to the sunlit lands you had just fled. Shadows danced among the trees, and a cool breeze whispered amongst the glistening stars.

It truly was beautiful.

But there was a looming weight with that realisation. Every court you'd experienced was beautiful– in its own unique way. So why would Night be any different? Why should you believe this would be the court where you truly belonged?

“Papers please,” A soft voice broke through, a female was reading through your documentation. Dorned in a dark robe, Illyarin soldiers flanking her sides.

She quirked a brow as she took in your appearance.

“It’s just sky…” Elodie butted in as if it was a normal occurrence– normal for one to be covered in the celestial shimmers of the sky. You swore you heard the High Fae mutter something under her breath, a small bite about meadow fairies that had the males beside her snicker. However after a quick assessment, she waved you both through. 

You had assumed this admission would feel like every other court, plain, dull, but the moment your feet stepped across the border there was a simmering in your chest. It was as if the Night Court itself was welcoming you, the ancient forest shifting its branches above to clear a path for the stars to twinkle down upon you. The gentle breeze carried the distant melodies of the city, wrapping around you like a soft embrace.

You dared to speak of what you were feeling, but one quick glance at your friend and you could see she felt it too. A twinkle sparkled in her eyes as she shared a smile with you, a silent exchange that spoke of hope and dreams. For the first time in what felt like ages, laughter bubbled between you, light and carefree. You clasped each other’s hands, giggling at the energy and magic you were feeling.

There was something about this place, something that felt so familiar–

So enamoured by your senses you hadn’t even been paying attention when you bumped into something solid.

“Oh! I’m so sorry!” you sputtered quickly, a breathless laugh escaping your lips before Elodie gasped, pulling you back into the crowd of newcomers.

“You just bumped into an Illyrian!” she whispered urgently, her wide eyes darting over her shoulder.

Your gaze followed, landing on the broad backs of two towering Illyrian males. One had long, dark hair, loosely tied back, his wings flexing slightly in the night breeze. The other, taller with shadows whispering around him, his presence somehow more commanding– more intriguing. Your eyes lingered on him the longest, an odd tug pulling at your chest.

“Oops…” you shrugged, voice bright with laughter as Elodie tugged you further into the crowd, your chuckles mingling with the hum of the night.

You hadn’t felt this carefree in so long, hadn’t felt this light. As the lights of Velaris approached and the noise of music filled your ears you had a feeling that perhaps this was all going to work out okay.

That perhaps you had found somewhere you belonged after all.

𓇢𓆸

Azriel felt the brush of something against his side and turned slightly, pulling him from his conversation with cassian. They had both been sent to do border control, and had watched an array of individuals enter the court. It was his job as Spymaster after all, whether it be from the shadows or to stand in example at the borders he would vet the newcomers.

The night had been slow, no disturbances, no conflicts– uneventful. Just how he liked it. Only people seeking a fresh start had crossed into Night. He took pride in knowing so many chose his home for that new beginning. He was listening to Cassian as he gushed something about Nesta, when a light nudge to his side had pulled him from conversation.

They stood in the centre of the track that ran from the forest to the city, the two males, a stoic divide, as people flowed around them like a river parting. Except one– you. 

You hadn’t moved around him.

Lightly, as though your thoughts had been tangled with the stars above, you had brushed against Azriel. His shadows hadn’t even warned him of your approach, and for a brief second, his breath caught at the softness of your touch. He turned, drawn to the quiet apology that lingered in the air, following the sound with his eyes.

And there you were.

You shimmered, wrapped in twilight, your skin glistening in the soft hues of the night sky as though the heavens themselves had adorned you. It was hard to distinguish where the night ended and you began, your form almost blending with the dark expanse around you.

But before he could speak, before he could even process what he was feeling, you disappeared into the crowd. A fleeting figure, gone in an instant, leaving him staring after you.

Azriel’s shadows hummed beside him, them too grappling with a need to know more.

He hadn’t caught your name, hadn’t had the chance to see your face clearly, but something about you had gripped him, held him in place. The faint scent of honey and peonies lingered in the air where you'd passed, stirring something deep within him.

Instead of words or answers, Azriel was left with a feeling—a pull. One he couldn't quite explain, but one he hoped to find an answer for.

a/n: Thank you for the wait...but here is the beginning of our favourite fairy and Azriel. I actually started writing this when I was visiting @writingcroissant in Edinburgh and we were sat in a little cafe till 10pm writing our little fics! It was so fun <3 (I'm still awaiting Crush...no pressure ;) ) I'm so glad it's finally finished. It was so hard to keep the stories this short, I feel like I could have easily explored more of fairy's travels in the courts (It wasn't all bad experiences I promise) lots of good memories too, so perhaps I will explore another time. But I hope you enjoyed the little connections to Azriel even though they still don't know each other yet tee hee

This is also dedicated to @searchingforbucky I'm pretty sure you said you were excited to read this/I said I would write something for you (If i have got it wrong, correct me) so here you are my lovely! Thank you for constant support.

Sorry to everyone that there isn't much Azriel and romance in this, Wings really has become a world of it's own at this point but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

Please please please let me know what you want from these two next <3 - lottie xxx

Forever tags: @sleepylunarwolf @daily-dose-of-sass @amberlynn98 @marscardigan @illyrianbitch @lilah-asteria

Wings tags: @minaethrym

[dropsnectar]

Fawning Rose: Vine Monster x GN!Reader

The Adventures of an Elven Herbalist Part One

NSFW or NSFT

This is my first time writing anything in 6 years so keep that in mind. Also my first smut fic. Or monster fic. I literally learned about the sexual parts of plants for this fic. Don't know how I got here but this was fun! btw if you don't like oviposition, I marked the parts with three !!! before and after that scene, so you can skip it if you want.

WORD COUNT: 3167, or 7 pages on Docs

It had been a long journey from your home country, having to cross an entire sea to get to the sleepy elven town of Hairevick. An Herbalist, you could craft pills to treat a human flu, create a poultice for a dwarves sore, work-tired limbs; even brew potions to help a beastmen ease out of a mating season-- but it was still lonely. Their were no elves about, except for the rogue eccentric nomad. 

Feeling as you had fully mastered your craft in that area, and curious about your kind, you set forth in hopes of bettering yourself. However, when introducing yourself to your neighbors, you found everyone to be polite, but detached. As far as elves went, you were quite young, and the people of Hairevick were elder and not so trusting of outsiders. But worse of all, everyone here seemed to have an excellent knowledge of the local flora and fauna, and their uses in maintaining health. There was no need for an herbalist, especially one so unfamiliar with their lands. 

You spent the entire week mourning your state over glasses and pints of botanical alcohol-- The local tavern drinks were amazing!-- until you finally met a sympathetic face. 

He had long silver hair and the wisp of a ginger beard around his sharp jaw; a peculiar trait. He greeted you friendly enough, asking how you were settling in. It turned out that he owned a store in town, selling odds and ends. He even had a little apothecary in the corner, where those who couldn’t be bothered to make a forest run would buy herbs and tinctures. 

Starved for companionship, you bombarded him with questions about clients, and local herbalism. He was jovial, and after quite a few dregs of honey yarrow grog, offered you a book on the local flora. After some midnight bonding over stories of patients, he gave you a proposition. 

He was having some issues procuring some materials from a special plant, a Fawning Rose. It had incredible healing properties, but a bad habit of uprooting itself and fleeing from anyone who wasn’t a youth. If you could lure it out and bring back anything, be it petals, roots, greens, he would pay you handsomely. Maybe even give you some lessons on how to work with local plant life.

It was for this reason that you found yourself two days into a trip to the heart of the Haire Wilds bordering town. It was not going well. 

***

The cool air caressed your skin as you entered the grove. You had caught a peculiar sweet smell, somehow floral and buttery at the same time, and had followed it with hope filling your heart. The scent had gotten so thick you could taste it, strong as a tea on your tongue. Blue wildflowers covered the ground, interrupted by the common tree route or vine. 

Your eyes followed the vines or small roots, colored a sage with a speckled gradient to midnight blue. They traveled up into the middle of the grove. Sunlight, so rare this far into the Wilds, fell down in large delicious specks from the trees. They refracted off a large flower, almost two yards in width. Its petals were raspberry pink, turning blood red in the middle. Vines from its base led upwards and rested on the low boughs of the nearest trees, framing the flower and its various young buds like some sort of ethereal art study. 

You grew excited, feet tripping over roots as you ran forward, losing a shoe. You lost balance again and landed face first into the crook of a particularly large vine and hit your head. Hard. 

Hot pain crashed through you, making you curse as you steadied yourself. You tried to get up but the heat struck your temple like lightning as you moved upwards. Alright. Best to stay down then. 

As you waited, you were able to see past the stars in your eyes and notice a slight powdery substance on the vines. It, too, was pink. 

Maybe it was the thrill of finally finding the damn thing, or the head injury, but you felt different. You could hear your heart pumping hard in your chest, pleasantly tight. Your breath was ragged, the air pushing a hard, chilling heat through you. 

Like a particularly good run, your mind registered. A high. 

Your limbs started to tingle at the tips.

The rose’s perfume felt more like a mist now. You were only a few feet away from the base flower, and the scent had turned heady. Your hunger from a missed meal seemed to be surfacing, goaded on by the delectable smell the plant was giving off. While the pain eased and the stars disappeared from your eyes, you noticed that the lightheaded fuzzy feeling stayed.

Uh oh. Not a concussion.

You had to work hard to bring the fear into your mind. There was very little anyone could do to help you out here. The best you could do was not move around too much, and hoped the Fawning Rose would cooperate.

Suddenly, you notice some movement from the roots under your palms. 

No no no not now! Please, I haven’t harvested you yet! You thought as you tried to scramble up. 

The roots moved upwards with you, shoving you onto your side. Sliding around your feet, one took your other shoe with it as it slithered about under you. Another seemed to upend itself and squeeze cooly between your toes. You jumped a bit, but your gaze and mind were slow.

Something thick gilded itself on your shoulder making you look up. Vines, three, four, five of them descended and started rubbing themselves against you like cats. The movement was kicking up clouds of the pink pollen, making you sneeze as you wiggled against the plants outer limbs.

A part of you was horrified, thinking that perhaps you had scared the thing off. After all, you had been warned that this type of rose was particularly skittish. But the plant did not seem to be gathering itself to run away, rather it was pulling you closer to itself, the dragging tearing at the underside of your clothes.

Try as you might, you couldn't seem to think. Foggy, fuzzy, your mind was like cotton. The tingling in your fingertips has spread through your body, and an embarrassed part of your brain noticed your lower body was starting to awaken too. A warmth was beginning to pool in your gut, slow and lazy. Tingly. Fuzzy, like your head.

The vines continue to rub against your body, tearing the rest of your clothes away until only skin remains. They were relentless, cool against your hot skin. Their outer layers were textured but still smooth; a foreign sensation but extremely exciting. It felt almost like something was licking you, the powder giving a wet feel as it spread itself all over. Liquid heat glazed the innermost parts of you, much to your embarrassment. 

Aphrodisiac. You finally registered. You started to curse out that damned store keeper. 

You’d been played. 

You were now at the base of the flower, with even more roots and vines cradling and moving over your body. You were… pushed? Pulled? A foot into the air, close enough so that some of the smaller buds were leaning over you, as if they were getting a good look at you. You felt a knowing, a presence from this plant now. It really was looking at you.

Some desperate part of your mind, far far back in your mind, tries to set off danger bells. That you needed to get up and run.

Ooze started to secrete from the smaller buds, and the already overpowering scent of floral butteriness seemed to multiply. It dripped out onto your belly, warm and tingling, then your chest, your inner thigh, even a bit on your cheek.

The syrup dribbled down into the planes of your mouth as you wriggled under the vines. A particularly mischievous one pushes through the plush cheeks of your ass and moves up, poking at your entrance, causing you to gasp. 

The liquid touches your tongue. It tastes just as it smells, deliriously delicious. Sweet. Hot. It was divine compared to the little rations you’ve been eating the last few days. Like youd been starving and had sudden.ly been given free reign of a pastry shoppe. But no pastry could top this silky butteriness

What little heat that had kindled inside you was now a roaring flame, putting your past arousal to shame. You groan, and pull your head up, sticking your tongue out for more. A part of you is screaming to stop and run, but it is a stupid part that is buried instantly under your sudden overwhelming need. You are desperately horny, and you deserve to feel good after all the trouble you've been through lately.  

Still sticking out your tongue, you start to moan even louder as the vine messages your entrance with its thick girth. At the same time, one of the buds above your face seems to notice your desperation, and leans down to your lips.You lick at its plush petals and sweet sweet nectar seeps into your mouth. It tastes much like a floral pastry and you suck greedily as it pushes itself deeper in. 

The petals are so soft, yet still firm in your mouth as a river of nectar floods your throat. You giggled around it as it started to take its full effect. You felt light as air, so good. 

The vines had moved over to allow a bud to circle itself around your most sensitive part. You gasped out as it started to suck you, making stars flood your already glistening eyes. Your wet lashes fluttered as it began to suck wave after wave of pleasure out of your body.You had never felt so good, you noted somewhere in your sex drunk mind.  The whole time, the bud leaked nectar, completely soaking all parts of your groin.

The nectar left your skin feeling sensitive,  and completely soaked. This seemed to please the vines, which continued to massage the oil about you, then finally push in. You cried out at the sensation. Drool started to pool out of your mouth, mixing with the nectar.

 The vines rubbed lazy curving lines around your walls, making your hips jerk and shake. They seemed to know what they were doing as they started out slow for a time, then sped up their pace, thrashing about inside you. You clench around them, overwhelmed by the unyielding sensation. The pooling heat in you was building high, and you could tell the walls were about to break.

A rogue, mischievous bud had decided to examine your hole, tracing around your entrance in lazy circles. The petals were so soft, softer than skin. The texture made you feel desperate. As if to read your mind, the bud stopped. It must have been blooming because you felt little feelers, probably stamans, tracing about your genitals, wet with its lovely, delicious pollen.

 You swore and whined and pleaded for more as the vines fucked you through it, voice garbled by nectar. Another, thicker vine veined in indigo added itself to its companions and you finally came. The rush was like being tossed in the ocean, a shock that completely enveloped your entire body in cold, pulsing ecstasy. Eyes rolling into the back of your head, your juices spilled down on the forest floor below. 

The echoes of the waves of pleasure were still rocking through you when the vines surrounded your body started to move you upwards again. The vines were slow and delicate as they handled you, as if you were precious cargo. You were brought upwards, almost as if they were about to set you on your feet. Your neck was out, as you were still suckling the addicting flower liquid. 

You noticed through your long damp hair that you were positioned just over the center of the Fawning Roses main flower. A drop of nectar slipped out from inside you and dribbled down and onto the flower's green pistil. The stigma was thick, with four fat lumps at the top. The stamen surrounding it swayed, almost as if there was a breeze. Their magenta anthers rained down more pollen, causing a beautiful gradient against the deep red at the middle of the large petals. It was a truly breathtaking sight. 

A single vine wiggled towards your face and pushed back your hair. You found the gesture almost sweet, leaning into its touch. You remained like that for a time, before the vines started to lower you on to the stigma. 

No no no, you tried to whisper, some understanding dawning; but the bud was being aggressive with its feeding, pushing further in your mouth. It had a job, and its job was to make you so desperately horny and stupid, you’d let this flower breed you. 

The stigma was a hard fit at first. Its lumpy texture felt so good rubbing against you, you couldn’t help but hump back into it. The vines around you squeezing your skin, tilting your hips this way in that, trying to make the fit. The surrounding stamen started to rub their anthers against you, two started focusing on your nipples. You continued to hump the stigma, smearing the nectars from your groin all over it. Then, finally, finally, You were able to squeeze it in. 

The vines had taken over the humping for you now, pushing you down harder and harder onto the pistil. The lumps dragged against your walls in such a beautiful way, that you screamed out babbling whines. Your skin was covered in nectar and bright pink pollen. Every part of you was being squeezed, rubbed, oozed upon with tingling liquid, that you weren’t even sure you had a body anymore, just pleasure. After you came for the fourth time, you started to feel a pulsing within the pistil.  It was like the thing seemed to grow within you.

! ! !

Ridges started to squeeze against your entrance, rubbing against your walls. They moved up, up, up, into the deepest parts of you. There was a sudden burst of warmth, then something small and squishy. You marveled at the texture, as the flower continued to lower you down on the pistil, now at a slower pace, in smaller movements. You ached so badly, but the new sensation of the objects and warmth inside you made you wanna keen louder. They felt sort of like eggs.

Seedpods. You registered lazily. You were being turned into a seedbed. 

This realization only seemed to turn you on even more. They felt so good, rolling about inside your walls. The warmth they brought rivaled the cool temperature of the pistil, a delightful duality. 

You moaned with every bulge, push, then pop of warmth and heaviness. It was getting to the point now where the vines were pulling you up off the pistil to make more room for the seeds. 

! ! !

You were cumming so much now you lost count. It was getting to the point that you were just continuously orgasming, as the seeds and the pistil dragged against your most sensitive parts. 

You may have been like that for hours, days even, the nectar kept you so dizzy you couldn’t tell time. But at some point you were so full that the pistil seemed satisfied. The wriggling stamen around you stilled, and the vines carefully lifted you off the pistil, giving one last drag within your walls.

The bloom inside your mouth slowly dragged itself out, making you whine in protest. The vines carefully laid you down at the foot of their roots, arranging your body in a comfortable position. The vines slowly retreated from your body. They lazily moved about, sometimes knocking into each other in a way that was almost comical. Their movements seemed lazy, almost like it too was spent. 

As the last vine left your skin, it caressed your cheek. Within you some affection of your own seemed to bloom. The haze that was in your mind was starting to dull, and replaced itself with the need to rest. Your heavy eyes closed and you gave into sleep.

***

You awoke without opening your eyes. You could feel that the curving mound of roots you’d been sleeping on had been replaced with fluffy grass and soil. The smell of freshly tilled earth flooded your nose, and you jolted upright, eyes wide.

The grove was quiet, and empty of the Fawning Rose. All that was left behind was you, the upturned soil it had left behind, and light dusting of pink pollen on the trees. Even the sweet pastry-like smell had left the grove.

You looked down at your naked, sore body and groaned. You could see a trail of bruises from where the vines had gripped you, along with dried out nectar and tons of pink pollen. Your stomach puffed out a bit more than normal, meaning all of this had NOT been a dream. Much to your surprise, nothing hurt though. Your body felt great, healthily spent like you had just run a marathon. Considering how hard you had been working there should have been some pain, but there wasn’t. Just the pleasant pressure of the seedpods against your insides.You recall the conversation with the shop owner at the tavern. Looks like this is the flower's healing abilities at work.

You continued to search around the grove. Your clothes were still in shreds on the forest floor, but your bag was safely tucked under one of the trees the flower had rested its vines in. With some effort, you managed to get yourself off the ground to pick it up, waddling the whole way. 

The pollen was still working its magic on you, but you guessed you had been exposed to it long enough to build a slight tolerance. Or maybe the growing rage within you was doing the trick. You pulled out one of the many glass bottles, and a silver knife. You went to work, scraping the dried nectar and pollen off your body, into the jars.

I’m gonna charge that asshole so much money, his kids will be poor. You seethed as you spent hours getting your money's worth off of every plane of your body. You’d have to birth those seed pods later too. Your insides grew warm at the thought. 

You tried not to think about how you were going to have to walk home naked, where you’d been and what you’d been doing laid bare upon your skin. It’d be free advertising tho, you tried to reason. 

You'd make a killing. Aphrodisiacs were rare, and extremely expensive, especially to a crowd of immortals. I think I'll sell these seed pods on my own though. You smiled. 

You’d make sure to be properly prepared the next time you went into the wilds.

Might do a part two, maybe with slimes next time? Also sorry about any switching of tenses, I have a hard time with that! Hope you guys enjoyed!

[wttcsms]

when you know, you know, atsumu miya ;

pairing atsumu miya x f!reader word count 1k synopsis atsumu considers marriage to be a trap, until he realizes that even a lifetime commitment to you isn't long enough content contains fluff, talks of marriage!!!! he's a softie

It starts off like this: nobody sees Atsumu Miya getting married — not now, not ever, not in the foreseeable future, nor in any of the millions of alternate and parallel universes that may or may not exist.

You’re just not the type of person we see settling down. 

Yeah, that might be true, but it still stings a little. It stings when he sees the white picket fences, and the cars with the MY KID’S AN HONOR STUDENT bumper stickers. It stings when he happens to accidentally catch a rerun of those family-centered sitcoms; the ones where they argue during the day and make up at night, with some cliche moral to the over dramatic situations that have occurred onscreen fifteen minutes ago. It stings when he watches his teammates get engaged and he has to congratulate them — he’s genuinely happy for them, don’t get him wrong — but still… 

It doesn’t matter. Atsumu Miya has long since held the firm belief that he’s just not the type of person the whole “fall in love, get married, have a family, cue the domesticity cuteness overload” schtick is meant for. Besides, it’s not like it’s something he’s spent years obsessing over (maybe months, at most). 

He rationalizes his bachelor status (that’s been a part of him for so long that it’s getting to become somewhat of a red flag for potential girlfriends) as him being the only one left with his priorities straight. After all, he doesn't have to worry about things like parent-teacher conferences or crayon drawings on the wall or trying to buy flowers to make sure the wife isn’t too mad when he comes home late. 

After all, he tells everyone, settling down is still settling. 

And Atsumu Miya, under no circumstances, ever settles.

Which is an ideal he clings to with such a tight grip, if it were flesh and blood, it would be suffocating. He doesn’t, he decides after a while, believe in marriage. 

(That is to say: he doesn’t believe that it’s possible for him. 

It’s not what he says explicitly, but it’s what he truly means.) 

So, when he tells you this on your second date, you’re a little stunned, but you’re quick to recover. Okay… So that’s the explanation you’ve been waiting for. The reason why this six feet two inches tall professional athlete with a bank account he generously withdraws money from has been single for so long is because he doesn’t believe in marriage. 

Other than that, he’s been nothing but great. Near perfect. So, all you do is nod and continue on with the original topic of the conversation. Eventually, your budding romance blooms into something much bigger than either of you ever anticipated or saw coming, and while you yourself have never mentioned the M-word after that date, it’s all Atsumu can think about right now. 

Marriage.

The concept of it looms over your relationship; a perpetual gray cloud that threatens to flood this perfect little relationship and have it all go down the drain. You never brought it up after he basically told you he would never marry anyone, and he never brought it up purely because — well — he’s a bit of a coward. 

He’s the type of person who’s set on his own convictions, by the way. If his balls ever drop, and he decides to Man Up, he figures he’ll start the conversation just like that. His stubbornness is nothing new to you, but him figuring out that he might be wrong makes his stomach feel funny. It’s sick and twisted. 

“Hey, what do you want for dinner tonight? I’m at the store right now, and I’m in the mood to cook.” He can picture it clearly: you, standing in one of the grocery store aisles, phone balanced in between your ear and shoulder as you compare the ingredients of the name brand and generic cereal. 

He’s in the locker room, about to pack up his gym bag (that you’ll complain reeks) and head back to his apartment (that’s starting to feel a lot more like yours, with the way your skincare products dominate the bathroom counter), and it hits him so suddenly, he has to sit back down on the bench. 

Atsumu Miya thinks that marriage isn’t for him, and as a defense mechanism, he decides that marriage sucks anyway. But through the tinny speakers of his phone, he can hear you toss something in the shopping cart. He hears the faint crying of a toddler in the background, and then he starts to think about what it would be like to walk around the store with a baby that takes after you. Right now, you’re already sleeping in the same bed with him at least four times out of the week, but it would be perfect, he thinks, to get the privilege to wake up to you every morning.

“Atsumu?” You try to get his attention, and Atsumu tries to ignore the warm and fuzzy feeling he gets when he considers a future with you. Settling down is still settling, he tells himself, and then he thinks of the way you looked when you caught the bouquet at a friend’s wedding. The pleased smile on your face, the triumphant way you held the flowers over your head, head thrown back in glee; you looked absolutely radiant. You caught his eye, and you quickly lowered your hands, giving him a sheepish grin. 

He realizes now that if anyone is settling, it’s you. You don’t know that he notices the way you tear up at weddings, or how excited you sound when you get back from dress shopping with one of your friends. You want to get married, and the only thing stopping you is him.

He’s spent ages deluding himself into thinking that he’s somehow losing if he decides to trap himself into a marriage with someone, but no one can accuse him of settling when it’s you he’s marrying. You’re the prize. You’re the only person in the world he wants to give his last name and an obnoxiously big ring to. 

“Make whatever you want, baby. I’ll eat anything.” He’s checking the locations for the nearest jewelers in his immediate vicinity. “I might be a little late, though. I have to check on something.” 

[luveline]

JADE I LOVE SINGLE MOM READER AND STEVE! 😭 If requests are open, could we see steve taking the two of them on a date? And lil man wants to hold steves hand but he’s a little shy to ask?

If requests are closed this is just a compliment for you 😘

thank u for requesting <3 mom!reader, 1k

This is far more nerve wracking than previous dates, Steve will admit. He’s never had to buy a girl two bouquets, either. It’s expensive. Probably worth it. 

Steve leans against the doorframe, nervous and attempting to look the opposite. His knock was met with a called, “Coming, Steve!” and little else. 

He’s wondering if he’s the victim of a mean prank when you finally open the door. 

“Hi!” you greet, letting your mini me stumble out of the door before you. “Noah, say hi, baby.”

Noah looks up at Steve, smiles, and carries on down the steps. 

“Hey, bud,” he says with a knowing laugh. “Hi, you,” he adds, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek. 

“Are those for us? Noah, come back! Come back, Steve has a present for you.” 

The flowers he’d bought for Noah are small and maybe ridiculous, he doesn’t know. Noah’s a little boy, and he’s sure some parents might give Steve a funny look for it, but it hadn’t felt weird in the moment. You don't find it weird, clearly —you’re beckoning Noah back to your legs with a smile that practically sparkles, grabbing him up, and showing him the flowers. There’s something startled about you as you point to the smaller bouquet and say, “Oh, babe, look what Steve got for you. Aren’t they pretty? Where are we gonna put them?” 

“You guys look nice, huh? That’s a gift for me, so, I figure, flowers,” he says, not awkward but definitely not smooth. 

“Thank you, Steve.” 

You take Noah’s bouquet and press it into his hands. “Say thank you,” you whisper nicely. 

“Thank you,” Noah says. 

Steve meets his eyes with a smile gentle as yours. “You’re welcome.” 

“Would you wanna hold him?” you ask. “I’ll take the flowers inside. He’ll run down into the street otherwise, and if I take him back in he’ll want me to take off his shoes.” 

Steve doesn’t know what he wants. He really likes your son and he doesn’t have any qualms in helping, but he’s terrified of dropping him, or holding him wrong and hurting him, or making him cry being too close. He doesn’t want you to know that he’s scared of anything, so he shuffles your flowers into one arm and opens the other for Noah, who goes willingly. Steve’s surprised at how easily you move him, then again when Noah surrenders his flowers in the name of hugging Steve’s neck. 

You laugh. Your smile makes him smile, and with the colours of the flowers glowing under your neck, you’re something from a movie. “Aw, babe, are you giving Steve a hug? You’re so nice! You’re lovely.” 

“We’re best friends,” Steve says. 

“We’re best friends,” you say. Best friends seems to be mom code for dating. “You’re just buddies. Don’t get it messed up, Harrington, I’m his favourite.” 

You head back inside. Steve holds Noah close, realising with some awe that even though Noah’s a toddler, his back is barely bigger than Steve’s arm where it’s resting. He’s not heavy. He barely weighs anything at all when he sits like this with his legs either side of Steve’s ribs. 

“Are you ready for our day out?” Steve asks him. “We’re gonna go rollerblading. Did mommy tell you? It’s a toddler disco, and then we’re gonna have pizza. Mom says you love pizza.” 

“Yeah, an’ ‘ronis.” 

“Yeah?” Steve asks, thrilled to be understood and to understand what he’s saying. “I’m gonna get you a huge pepperoni pizza, extra pepperoni. And mommy said you’re pretty good on your little rollerblades. That’s so cool.” 

Noah maybe doesn’t get the last part, but it doesn’t matter. Steve’s tone is making him smile, and he hugs Steve’s neck with a surprising ferociousness. 

“What did you say to him?” you ask, stepping back out of the door, closing it behind you. “He’s gone shy.” 

“I just told him I was gonna buy him a pizza!” Splteve defends. 

“No, it’s a good thing. It just means he’s feeling loved up,” you say, scratching the nape of Noah’s neck. 

“Oh. Good. That’s great.” 

You nod knowingly. “Pretty great. My two best guys getting along.” 

“I’m a best guy?” Steve asks.

You slot yourself into his side with a low lying confidence that has his heart like a hammer in his chest. “Best guy,” you confirm.

You’re unafraid when it comes to him, you have been since you met. You flirt, hug, even kiss without hesitation. And now Noah’s clinging to Steve like he’s known him for months, it’s nice. It’s pretty much everything he’s ever wanted, or the precipice of it, and he’s not going to get ahead of himself but he’s just happy to be liked without any holding back. 

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, quietly but not shyly. 

You pout obligingly, chin up, eyes shutting in total trust. Steve holds Noah away from you rather than have everybody smash their faces together and ducks down for a quick kiss that turns into two, the second of which is soft, and an attempt to show you what he’s feeling without saying it. 

You pull away but bring your hand to his hair, threading your fingertips into the shorter strands by his ear. He’d like to think you’re saying the same thing he was. 

“Mommy,” Noah says. 

“Yeah, bub?” you ask, distracted where you brush Steve’s hair down. 

“Kiss too?” 

You lay your gaze on him with mirth. “Yes! Pucker up, Noah. Gonna give you the biggest one, and then we’re gonna have to get in the car before we miss toddler skate. Ready?” 

You kiss him and tickle his tummy. Steve bites back a cheesy, awful grin. Two new best friends is a sweet deal. 

[farmerstarter]

Hi!! Could you do Sam HCs? It can be literally anything. I just love him so much :)

ʚ🛹ɞ ˚ · . Random Sam Headcanons

Tags: Sam from SDV x gn! reader

Hi! I'm so sorry for the super super super late response. Life has been pretty busy for the past few months and I haven't had the time to get on Tumblr. But, I'm slowly coming back to it! Anyway, likes and reblogs are appreciated. Hope you enjoy, loves! 🌷🫶

🎸 He was absolutely thrilled when you asked him to teach you how to skateboard. He immediately came knocking on your door the first thing in the morning the day after you brought it up, carrying his skateboard and some gear. You two spent the whole day going over the basics, with Sam holding your hands and trying not to laugh when you would scream over the tiniest things (“I’m going to die, Sam!” “It’s just a pebble!”). A cute add-on: Vincent and your pet would tag along sometimes, and they took it upon themselves to be your personal cheerleaders. After some time and a few bumps and bruises, you and Sam would often skateboard all around the town, trying to impress each other with tricks. Sam has your name etched on his skateboard, and you have his name on yours.

🎸 Personal HC where Sam and Vincent stumbled inside the fruit bat cave while they were visiting. Sam got bit by a bat, nothing too serious. Vincent is horrified, and Sam decided to mess with him by pretending to be a vampire. Suspiciously, you find yourself missing a jar of your homemade jam. Turns out, Sam “borrowed” it (And by that, I mean he scribbled a little note on the place where your jam used to be), and covered it all over his face pretending it’s blood. He got a big scolding from Jodi right after though.

🎸 Sam and Krobus friendship, Sam and Krobus friendship, Sam and Krobus friendship! It all started when Sam looked into the sewer to show Vincent that no, there is no monster in the sewage canal. He was soon face to face with a shadow man and it was over. Krobus has a knack for beating the hard levels on Sam's video game and their friendship budded from there. Sometimes, Sam would disguise Krobus with his clothes so they can watch movies in the cinema together. You found out about them when you walked in on Sam trying to teach Krobus how to play the drums in the greenhouse.

🎸 Sam asked Jodi to teach him how to bake after he had the bright idea to ask you out on a picnic when you two started dating. It all started when Penny showed him those fancy little cakes that she ordered from Zuzu City as a treat for Vincent after the kid passed his math exam. Penny mentioned how you saw those cakes when she bumped into you by the bus stop and thought they were cute. Cue a light bulb in Sam’s head. Sam’s not the best cook, but he’s got the enthusiasm. He ended up with a lopsided two-tier cake with a little blob of fondant on top of it (Vincent’s lips pursed, “What’s with the brown rock?” Sam sputtered while Jodi’s laughter chittered in the air close by. “It’s a chicken!”). Sam would make up for it years later when he would remake the same cake for your wedding anniversary.

🎸 Sam would randomly call you in the middle of a rainy day and just play guitar riffs. No words exchanged. When he’s done, he will just hang up.

🎸 Sam gives you pretty seashells that he and Vincent dig up on the beach (sometimes with a little help from Elliott and Willy) instead of flower bouquets. He doesn’t want to risk sneezing all over you when the pollen would inevitably make his nose red.

🎸 Sam had a whole phase of wearing a cowboy hat when he’s working on the farm for the first few months.

[ashwhowrites]

I just watched clips of megan fox in transformers. Pleasee can you write Eddie x older hot neighbour that he instantly smitten on from the first day she moved in. But he is embarrassed thinking it wasn't appropriate, so he always tiptoeing around. Wayne grown sick of eddie's antics and encourage him to properly pursue her. Eddie who is previously insecure of himself being inadequate for a mature woman, turns to be a great young father.

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

The older woman

Eddie was minding his own as he worked on his cigarette. But his ears perked up as he heard the sound of a truck driving on the gravel. He watched as a woman stepped up, dressed for the hot heat in Hawkins. She wore a tank top, tight in the right places, and small jean shorts. Eddie felt the sun beaming down on him as his hairline began to sweat. He swallowed the dryness in his throat when she noticed him staring.

"Hi there, I'm Y/N, we must be neighbors." Her smile had Eddie's heart running. He threw his bud to the ground and wiped his hands down his sweat shorts.

"Eddie," He said as he shook her hand. He ignored the buzz of electricity he felt. She was even hotter up close. "Need any help?" he offered, his eyes trailing over to the amount of boxes that sat in the truck bed.

"That would be amazing."

Eddie spent two hours sweating next to her as they moved her boxes inside. He felt his shorts get tight whenever she bent over. He learned she was single, and he had no idea how. She was older, but Eddie didn't care. He was smitten by her on the first day.

~~~

"Those flowers seem to be coming in great," Eddie smiled, he came from Hellfire and saw Y/N out in her front garden. She was on her hands and knees as she pulled out the weeds. Sweat dripped down her neck, and Eddie tried not to stare.

"Seems like someone had a good eye for placement," she flirted, she sent him a wink. Eddie wasn't as stone-cold as he thought. She could tell the younger boy had a little crush on her, from how he blushed or played with his curls when she was around. She enjoyed making the boy nervous.

He stuttered out a thank you before he raced back into his trailer.

Wayne watched from the window with a smirk, he sipped on his coffee as Eddie practically ran in.

"Smooth," Wayne teased

"Shut up," Eddie groaned as he went into his room.

~

Sadly, Eddie didn't get any smoother, he looked like an idiot when he talked to her. He felt that his crush was inappropriate so he tried his best to be a friendly neighbor.

Y/N sat in her front yard, swimsuit on as she soaked in the sun. Eddie watched from the window, wishing he was on her lips instead of the cigarette she inhaled.

"That's creepy," Wayne said, scaring the world out of Eddie.

He jumped and acted like he was looking at something else. But it didn't matter, he was caught.

"Kid, just ask her out instead of staring like a stalker." Wayne sighed. "She moved in two months ago and all Eddie did was tip-toe his way around her.

"No way, she's older! She will probably laugh in my face if I ask her out." Eddie groaned, he shut the shade and looked over at Wayne.

"She wouldn't. I've met her and talked to her. She's very kind."

"You can't talk to her! What if she likes you" Eddie panicked

"Flattered, but she doesn't. But what about all the other guys she might meet in town? Really want to take the chance?"

Eddie thought of Wayne's advice and bit at his lip. He could take the shot, what is the worst that could happen?

"Fine." Eddie huffed and opened the door.

He took a deep breath as he walked over the small distance.

"Can I get a hit?" his voice reached her ears and she smiled. Her eyes shut as she simply held it out for him to take.

Eddie sat next to her tanning chair, liking the way she was at a higher ground. He could see her skin glistening with sweat as he grabbed the cigarette.

God knows he needed it

He inhaled it and let it calm his nerves. The tobacco on his tongue as he relaxed.

"You know windows work both ways, right?"

Eddie froze as she smirked and turned her head to look at him. She flipped up her sunglasses and took in his blushed face.

"Yeah..."

"I hope I gave a good show,"

Eddie was smitten by how much confidence she had, and how she knew he was tied around her finger.

"A ten out of ten review," Eddie joked, he smiled as she laughed.

"Wow, the boy does speak!" She cheered as she sat up, and swung her legs to the side. Her hot legs were inches away from Eddie as she leaned down and placed her arms on her knees.

Eddie didn't say anything as he inhaled another hit before he passed it back to her.

"Can I ask you something?" he asked, he looked up at her and squinted as the bright sun was above her head.

"Yeah, wanna go inside for a drink?" She offered, her eyebrow raised like she was hinting at something.

Eddie coughed but nodded.

She stood up, and Eddie whimpered as her whole body was now on display inches above him. He wanted to get on his knees and kiss every inch he could reach.

She held out her hand, he grabbed it and stood up. As they walked in, he looked back at the window. He rolled his eyes as Wayne stood watching. She was right, the window worked both ways.

"You old enough to drink, Eddie?" she asked as she grabbed two beers from her fridge

"Not that young, sweetheart," he said as he grabbed it from her hand, easily cracking open the top.

"Good," she said as she sipped her beer, "what did you want to ask?"

"Not many people pick to live here, were you running from something?" Eddie asked, he leaned his arms on the counter

"I left my ex-husband, and needed to be somewhere he wasn't." She shrugged, leaning on the counter, across from him.

"I'm glad he ran you here," Eddie admitted

"Yeah? How come?" she asked, leaning closer

Eddie licked his lips nervously as she was inches away from his face

"So I can...ask you out" Eddie confessed, his eyes flicked down to her lips

"Alright, let me hear you ask," her eyes flicked down to his lips

"Can I take you out to dinner? Tonight?" his eyes back on hers, "on a date"

"Yes you can," she smiled, her lips inches from his but she pulled away. She laughed as Eddie didn't care to hide his disappointment.

~

Eddie sat across from her as she sipped her wine. He took the time to admire how breathtaking she looked in the restaurant lights. The low glow smoothed her skin.

"What are you staring at?" she asked as she set down her glass

"You," Eddie said, a small smile on his face as he leaned back in his chair

"You do that a lot, huh?" she turned her head to the side with a smile

"Can you blame me? I never want to look away."

Y/N felt butterflies in her stomach. She didn't know if feeling so beautiful because of a younger guy was a good thing. It was frowned upon, but she didn't care. The heat in his eyes was what she had been searching for in her marriage.

"Smooth talker," she said

"Dirty lover," Eddie replied, a smirk on his face

"Are you trying to get in my bed, Eddie?" she asked her chin on her hand as she looked at him through her lashes

"I hope so," he laughed as he leaned forward, "but I'm trying to win you over."

"You'll score," she said with a wink

~

Eddie drove them back to the trailer park, his hand on her thigh as he hummed along to the music

"Want to come in?" Y/N asked as Eddie walked her to her front door

"Course," Eddie smiled, a silent cheer in his head as he followed her in

They settled on the couch and played a random movie. They talked through two movies, getting closer. Her body was practically on top of his as their words became whispers.

"I don't think at my age I'm supposed to feel like a teenage girl," Y/N said, her face inches away from his.

"I was worried I wouldn't be mature enough for you, so if you want to be a teenager, that'll make it easier for me" Eddie chuckled, his arm wrapped around her shoulder. His fingers softly trailed up and down her skin.

"Don't worry about being anything but yourself for me. Because I happen to really like the boy next store," she said with a wink, "plus," she whispered, moving onto his lap. "I like having you in the palm of my hand."

Eddie shivered underneath her body, itching his lips closer to hers.

"You want to kiss me?" she whispered, moving her arms to wrap around his neck

"Yes, please" he breathed out as he licked his lips

She didn't say anything, just placed her lips on his. Eddie put his palms against her back as he pushed her body against his. He wanted to inhale every part of her.

He whimpered as he felt her tongue slip inside his mouth

He might have to thank Wayne for this later

Tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlxt @ineedmentalhelp123

[balletfilmss]

hiii can i get a smau percy x daughter of persephone who loves flowers and lives on a farm

FLOWER POWER!

✸ pairing: percy jackson x daughter of persephone!reader smau

✸ notes: tysm for requesting & im sorry this took a hot minute, but i hope you like it!! 🤍

…now playing: love grows (where my rosemary goes) — edison lighthouse

persea_: i’ve officially made friends with the ferns 🫡(thank you yn for not letting them eat me)

tagged: @flowersforyn

view all comments

g_man: are you…are you AWARE of how ferns work?

╰┈➤ persea_: yeah i am. 2 words: chomp chomp

chqsingannabeth: who’s…who’s truck did you steal?

╰┈➤ persea_: what’re you a cop?

flowersforyn: guys don’t be fooled by the second pic, this was the aftermath of him DROPPING me

╰┈➤ persea_: one, didn’t have to expose me like that & two, I SAID I WAS SORRY

╰┈➤ flowersforyn: SORRY ISNT ENOUGH, MY ASS STILL HURTS

╰┈➤ persea_: i bet it does 😗😉

╰┈➤ g_man: reminder that this is a PUBLIC app

ghostking: pls don’t break her

╰┈➤ persea_: did…did u just say PLEASE?

╰┈➤ ghostking: i take it back. break her and i break your neck.

team.leo: why she violating a tree like that

╰┈➤ flowersforyn: leo just bc you didn’t get hugged as a kid doesn’t mean nobody else did 😒

╰┈➤ notpipermclean: OH SHE ATE YOU TF UP WITH THAT ONE. GAGGED

tysonn: ask yn if ferns will be my friend too

╰┈➤ flowersforyn: they absolutely will tyson, we’ll have to bring you out to the farm next weekend <3

╰┈➤ tysonn: yay!

╰┈➤ persea_: me too, right?

╰┈➤ flowersforyn: …

╰┈➤ persea_: RIGHT??

notpipermclean: yn get this loser off our farm, the kids are asking questions

╰┈➤ persea_: PIPER STOP HITTING ON MY GF AND SPREADING FALSE INFORMATION

╰┈➤ notpipermclean: NO🤗 im gonna report you for hate speech

╰┈➤ persea_: mf YOU’RE hate speeching ME

╰┈➤ sp4rky: @ team.leo the girls are fighting 👀

╰┈➤ team.leo: 🍿🫢

…now playing: strawberries & cigarettes — troye sivan

flowersforyn: fav boy on the farm!! 🍓

tagged: persea_

view all comments

chqsingannabeth: your face being cut off of that first pic is CRIMINAL 😩 not percy’s tho, that was a gift from the gods

╰┈➤ flowersforyn: im srry babe, i looked goofy 😔

╰┈➤ chqsingannabeth: oh no ma’am, you could NEVER

╰┈➤ persea_: WE GONNA IFNORE THE COMMENT SBT ME HELLO?!

persea_: the best day with my absolute best girl 🩵

╰┈➤ flowersforyn: kicking my feet & giggling, ILY SEAWEED BRAIN 🤍

╰┈➤ persea_: ILY TOO FLOWER POWER

g_man: WHAT did you do to make those strawberries look so scrumdidliuptious?

╰┈➤ persea_: dyslexia just took me OUT with this one dude 😭

╰┈➤ g_man: nobody was talking to you brotha 🙏

╰┈➤ flowersforyn: grover bud i use my mommy’s magic, hope this helps 🫶

persea_: don’t let her lie to you, people. i thought my first fit was BOMB & then she made me put on that sweater cuz it was cold as hell outside

╰┈➤ flowersforyn: i want you to read that again…slowly

notpipermclean: save me yn the garden princess …save me

╰┈➤ flowersforyn: have no fear bae, im here 🫂

╰┈➤ persea_: yn, babydoll, i beg of you, PLEASE stop hitting on people that aren’t me

╰┈➤ flowersforyn: there’s enough of me to go around perce 😒

╰┈➤ notpipermclean: YEAH PERCY SHARE

sp4rky: why is bro carryin a whole bakery on that swing

╰┈➤ persea_: jason…🤭

╰┈➤ flowersforyn: NAW IF I CANT DO IT YOU CANT DO IT, JASON GET TF OUTTA MY COMMENT SECTION OR ELSE

╰┈➤ sp4rky: I PLEAD THE FIFTH

flowersforyn uploaded a story!

@ g_man replied:

why is bro so silly 😭

idk but he’s the silliest

@ sp4rky replied:

tell him to leave the flying to me

i’m not telling him SHIT from you

RAHH

@ persea_ replied:

idk what ur on about, i look terrifying here

oh yeah, i’m shaking in my boots

great, now can you pls come help me get down?

idk…

YN PLEASE

yknow, i can’t kiss you from up here

i’m otw 🏃‍♀️ 💨

[eupheme]

k05. sex pollen | choking on flowers

sdv!harvey x f!farmer

rated e - 3.2k

tags: dub-con (due to pollen), multiple pov, mutual pining, self-deprecating thoughts, masturbation, guilt, enthusiastic/rough sex, aphrodisiacs, creampie

“I feel… warm. Hot. It… it hurts,” You manage, your other hand drifting across your abdomen, “I feel empty, Harvey.”

Something inside him growls at the sound of his name. He wants to hear it again, wants to see how it sounds when you mewl it out, pleasure-drunk.

(Or - thanks to some flower seeds you found in the mines, Harvey's first trip to your farm doesn't quite go as planned.)

It's taken two months and twenty-seven days of flirting, subtle hints, and outright invitations, before Harvey plucks up the courage to accept an invitation to your farm.

Your second Summer in Pelican Town - he knows how eager you are to show him your flower beds, from your afternoons stopping by at the clinic. The neat rows of strawberries, cucumbers that make the best pickles he’s ever had.

If only he could get out of his own head, and enjoy it.

His hands brace on his hips, as you take the path from the barn. A smile lingering from the chicks that gathered at his feet. Sneakers swapped for his shiny dress shoes - an olive sweatshirt pulled from the back of his closet, instead of his usual button-up.

Feeling out-of-place on your farm - walking so carefully, avoiding stepping on anything other than wood and cobblestone. None of the loose familiarity that you seem to carry, after a year of hard work and countless mistakes.

A flush heating his cheeks, when you tease that you're so glad he's made it out. Not knowing how he's wanted to agree, each time you asked. That he's picked up on your hints.

That it's just his nerves that steal his tongue. Too set in his ways. Too sure that he's a little too old for someone like you. That surely you've seen the way that Shane looks at you. Yoba, how nearly half the town does.

That he's reading too far into things. Certain that he's been too busy hoping, daydreaming - something not fit for a practical man like himself.

"You've seen these," You comment idly, bending to pluck a sweet pea from the earth.

He resists the urge to tuck it behind your ear, when you hold it aloft for him. Twirling it between long fingers instead, as he glances across the garden.

It's impressive, how it's thrived under your care. Used to visit your grandfather often, especially in the end. Had seen how the crops went from green to yellow, then brown. Drying up, with the sun.

It's nice to see - many cycles later - things growing again.

"What about those?" He asks, pointing towards a short patch of flowers.

You hum, picking one. Head dipping to inhale the scent, before offering it to him like the one before.

"Don't really know," A lift of shoulder, "Found some seeds in the mines. They actually just bloomed this morning. Pretty though, right?"

He's looking at you, as he answers.

"Right."

The flower is honey-sweet, when he brings it to his nose. Thick, velvet-pink petals and a tall anther - clinging with fluffy golden pollen. Realizing his mistake, when he inhales - allergies flaring. Forgetting, as the sneeze wracks through him.

You giggle, as the pink stain rises to his ears. The bud slips next to the sweet pea in his pocket - the flowers poking out near his hip - as you head tips towards the strawberries. Beckoning him to follow, and he's happy to be your shadow.

Three rows of berries later, as you are pointing out where you hope the pumpkins will grow, he starts to feel off.

Think it must be the sun. There isn't shade out in the field, like there is in town. Not fully fall yet, that liminal space between seasons that has you sweating during the day and grabbing a jacket at night.

You're frowning, when his eyes fix on you. Thoughts distracted - wondering if he can peel his sweater off, down to the white shirt beneath.

"You okay?" The sound of your voice sends a ripple down his spine. Goosebumps raising on his arms.

"Yeah." It's unconvincing. Suddenly aware of his pulse, heartbeat accelerated.

The look you shoot him matches your tone, "You wanna go inside for a bit? Believe me, I know how hot it can get."

He hums, and your frown deepens. A hand against his elbow, and it sends another jolt - his muscles stringing tight. It's then that he starts to worry.

To silently run through symptoms, as you lead him inside.

Clinging to the hope that it's just exhaustion from another late night.

Not going to let himself ruin a day he's looked forward to all week.

Doesn't breathe until he gets inside. Too aware of the hand on his shoulder. The way something inside him tightens, grows warm. Sweat starting to bead at his temples.

Heatstroke? His mind whirs away as he steps into the cabin with you. The cool air not quite the balm in the way he hoped it would be.

You hover. Too close - something wafting over him. Another clench in his guts, as he inhales the scent of vanilla, warmed amber, the heat of summer. The sticky cling of strawberry.

"Can I, uh," He manages. Tongue touching against his bottom lip, as if he could taste your scent, "I hate to ask, could I sit down for a minute?"

Could lead him to your couch, but you lead him to your room instead.

The bedroom is dark. Bed neatly made, a quilt tucked up under two pillows. Another shade cooler than the kitchen, with the fan you've left on. Dipping as he sits on the edge, the loose sweatshirt feeling too tight around his limbs.

"I'll get you some water." Your voice is worried. Quiet.

He nods dumbly.

Left alone with thoughts that aren’t quite his, as the door shuts behind you. They swirl at the edge of his mind.

Lascivious. An itch beneath his skin. That heat pooling low, beating with his heart.

Can’t seem to stop thinking about you. Bare legs that peek out from your shorts. The dip of your tank top, the urge to find you - tug it down, so his tongue can drag over every inch of your skin.

Harvey’s head shakes.

It’s like someone dipped into his dreams, and then accelerated them into overdrive. His heart pounding between his ribs as his thigh inch open.

The palm of his hand dripping, squeezing. Trying to relieve the ache.

His breath quickening when he feels how hard he is - thoughts too muddled to notice. That heat flickers, as he presses against the curve of his cock. Where it strains against his jeans, jutting into the fabric.

It’s wrong. He rubs harder, resisting the urge to work the belt open, tug at the zipper.

Stroke himself to the thought and smell of you. Dig around until he finds something of yours to inhale - trick himself into thinking you want him.

Thought this would ease the want, but it only burns brighter. His left hand curling into a fist, nails biting into his skin. An attempt to anchor himself - so he doesn’t go to you.

Afraid what would happen if he did.

He’s drawn to you, always.

The sound of ceramic shattering knocks his senses back into him. Catching the bitten-back gasp, barely audible from behind the wooden door.

For a moment, his mind overrides his condition. Worry flaring - yanking his sweatshirt from where it’s tucked in. Tugging it low as his fist curls around the knob.

Clinging to the doorframe, white-knuckled, as he sees the way you lean against the counter. An old mug broken to pieces beneath you - even from here he can see the way your head droops.

“I don’t-” You start - swallowing, your tongue flicking across your lip. There’s another low throb as he watches, eyes dropping greedily, “Not feeling so good, either.”

The clinical part inside him kicks in. Already assessing, as his eyes jerk up. Fingers pinching into wood, as he tries to concentrate.

Lips parted as you pant. The back of your hand pressing against your cheek, scrubbing across your forehead.

“What are your symptoms?” He coaxes - his voice low and rough.

You almost shudder. Hand dropping to brace against the counter.

“I feel… warm. Hot. It… it hurts,” You manage, your other hand drifting across your abdomen, “I feel empty, Harvey.”

Something inside him growls at the sound of his name. He wants to hear it again, wants to see how it sounds when you mewl it out, pleasure-drunk.

You swallow, “Is… is that how you feel?”

There’s hunger in your eyes, he can see it now.

“Something like that, sweetheart.” The name pulls from him.

Not the emptiness you describe, something greater. The urge to take, to bury himself in you until he’s not sure where he ends, and you begin.

Your head bobs with your nod. He pretends he doesn’t see the way your eyes drag over him, your words coming slowly, “What do you think it is? How do we get better?”

That he doesn’t know. His knuckles ache - hand loosening to smooth over his thighs, trying to keep them from wandering.

Only then does he feel the stem and petals. Something registering.

The flowers.

He plucks the pink bulb from his pocket, tongue trapped between his teeth. The honeyed scent rolls off it in waves now, stealing his breath.

An aphrodisiac. Something like chocolate, oysters, pomegranates - kicked up to a thousand.

Harvey doesn’t have any experience in this. Doesn’t have an answer, in all his hours of studying and practice.

But surely, if arosual ebbs with release, then…

“We can try to ease it.” Harvey manages, “Separately. Maybe I can head home-”

He manages a step, before a heady wave of needy flushes through him. Your cry loud, as if pained by the thought of him leaving.

“You can’t,” You bleat, “I’ll, I’ll just stay out here. We can try.”

Silence hangs. Eyes locked on each other - an urge to close the gap, but still clinging to self-control.

Another low pulse, his jaw gritting.

“Right.”

The door closes behind him. His thumb pressing against the latch, as his back slips against the wood.

This is ridiculous. The thought flutters in his mind, even as his hand is jerking his belt open. Ripping at the buttons and zipper.

A choked moan, when his hand finally wraps around himself. Bliss and agony at once, twining together.

Eyes closing as his head tips back, but all his thoughts are of you. Acutely aware of what you’re doing behind this door. Wondering if you’re thinking of him.

The sharp sting of jealousy at the thought of you picturing someone else, as you ease that empty ache inside you.

His fist moving faster, slick with the way he already drips. Tightening around his cock, as he imagines it’s you. Mouth, hands, pussy - pretty pictures swirling behind his closed eyes as your scent surrounds him.

Already certain of one thing. It hangs heavy, in the back of his mind - as the pleasure builds and then plateaus. His breath short and sharp, as he’s left hanging on the edge.

This isn’t going to be enough.

It feels like you’re on fire.

Even as two fingers sink inside you, you only want more.

Shorts tugged down to your knees, as you sink against the couch. Barely making it there, before the urge to break down the door and go to him overwhelmed you.

You need him.

He’s all you can see, as you try to quell the ache. A wet, rhythmic suck as you set a brutal pace, but it’s not the same.

It’s not Harvey.

Sweet, with the way he blushes. With how he checks on you, worries about you - can’t help but smile, when you’re around.

Harvey, with those long, perfect fingers. With his mouth - the shape your eyes have traced over, again and again.

You’ve wanted him for ages. Seasons passing as stilted conversations grew like the flowers you tended. Friendship, and then more, flourishing and blooming.

He might not want you after this.

It makes you ache in a new way. A pain behind your ribs, instead of low in your belly.

Frustration ripping from your throat with a sob, as the plunge of your fingers keeps you on a knife-edge.

It’s then, that the door opens.

Harvey lingering just inside. Worry scrawled across his flushed features. Beautifully disheveled, glasses askew - clothing hastily buttoned up when he heard your cry.

“I heard-,” He starts, trying so hard not to look down, “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

Your head shakes.

“I need you.” You beg, “I can’t do this.”

His steps are slow. Hands clenched into fists as he hovers.

“I shouldn’t.” Harvey’s voice is quiet, his eyes pained, “It’s not right. I can’t do that to you-”

Unable to help looking then, jaw ticking as he swallows. Your fingers still moving, slipping out to rub circles against your clit.

“Don’t have to be a doctor right now.” It’s hushed, your eyes heavy-lidded, “I just want you to be, to be-”

“Be?” He echoes - at the edge of the couch now. Helplessly drawn to you. Hips nudging against the back of his hand, as his fingers curl around the wooden arm.

“Mine.”

It rips from you. An anguished admission, unable to hold it back any longer.

His features soften. Fingers unfurling, with his own confession, “Always been yours.”

Harvey meets you, as you push yourself up. Letting you tug him down on top of you, as your mouth tilts greedily up to his.

Your heart jolting, when your lips finally meet. A moan buzzing in your throat as he fits himself between your thighs. Folding himself onto your couch, as his hand maps out your skin.

Hips, waist. Skittering up to your jaw, cupping your face as his tongue licks into your mouth.

“Harvey please.” You beg.

Whine, whimper. Hip lifting against his, as he grinds down. The hard curve of his cock presses against your bare skin, the friction sending up jolts of pleasure.

You hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him. In your room - that particular thought not necessarily a new one.

But wishing you could help him. That he would want to help you. Picturing the way his hand would wrap around - in. your pollen-haze, you had imagined he was thinking of you.

Now you’re certain he was, with the way your name slips from him.

With the way his hips rock - needy. Bucking into your hand, when your fingers drift to help free him fully.

You try to guide him into you, but he slips against slick skin. Gliding against your folds, as his head dips between his shoulders.

“S-Shouldn’t.” He breathes. Glasses dipping down his nose, as his jaw clenches, “I’m sorry, darling-”

“I’m sorry, too.” Your teeth sink into your lower lip, to muffle the sound he pulls from you, “Sorry it’s like this-”

The pleasure tips into pain. A cramp in your guts that has you crying out, a hand flattening against your stomach.

His expression morphing into worry, his hand covering yours.

“But I’m not sorry it’s you.”

Out of everyone who could help you, you know it could only be Harvey.

Silence hangs for a heartbeat. Sweat beads at your temple as his eyes search yours. The slow dip of his head until he can kiss you again.

Something soft mumbled out.

“This okay?” His hand nudges, replacing yours. A tremble as he holds himself against you, the head of his cock teasing at your hole, “I mean, I know it’s not. Are you-?”

“You know I am.” You whine, “I need you, Harvey-”

His name strings out, as he sinks into you. The couch creaking as you jolt - a sharp hiss between clenched teeth when he feels how warm and wet you are around him.

Forgetting to take things slow, as his mind swirls. Sending you from empty to full with the rut of his hips, your toes curling as his hips snap flush with yours.

“Oh, fuck,” You gasp. That deep itch scratched. Pleasure blooming, as you clench around him, “‘m fine. Just, please-”

Harvey inches out, only to drive back in.

“I know.”

His forehead pressing to yours, as he starts to rock into you, over and over. It leaves you feeling swollen to the touch. A little hitch in your breath each time the head of his cock skates across that spot inside you.

Your pussy drooling around his cock, sticky-slick as his hands brace against the couch. Fingers biting into the fabric, panting against your mouth as you share the same breath.

His name a ragged moan, as the need in your guts is fed. Kept content, as long as he stayed inside you - rutting tirelessly. Each pump of his hips feels like a step taken towards the edge of a cliff, his fingers entwined in yours as he prepares to leap with you.

“Feels-” Harvey breathes, as your hips lift to meet his, “You feel so good, sweetheart.”

You clench around him and he groans. The coarse hairs at the base of his cock rubbing against your swollen clit, sending up fireworks inside your belly.

Winding you higher and higher, until your left clinging to him. Lips pressing against his throat - inhaling. Letting him surround you, as your breath turns short and sharp.

“Harvey.” It’s a plea and a warning, your teeth skating across his skin.

“Tell me you’re close,” He begs, “I can’t, honey-”

Cant hold back much longer. Needs to feel you come with him, around him.

Your answer is swept away with your need. His balance shifting just enough to fit the tips of two fingers against you. Circling with the same rhythm he had watched you set.

His name is chanted out, as you arch against him. A soft whine that turns loud, until your hips are bucking up - relief roaring through you like fire, as your words string into broken cries.

It feels like you pulse around him in time with your heartbeat. Feeling the throb of his cock inside you as he follows, his mouth pressing messily to yours as you swallow his ragged groan.

The needy pace slowing, as you start to come back down. Still so full of him but the frenzy has ebbed - the jittering in your veins flatlining, as you manage to suck in a breath.

Shame washing over you, as your fingers wrap in his t-shirt. Torn between clinging to him and pushing him away - so sure this ruined the delicate thing you’ve been tending.

“Harvey, I-”

Another throb, as the pollen kicks to life instead. You can see it written across his face, that base need fighting with his logic.

Your thoughts reflected in his eyes as well. A little nod that you match, as he starts to move again.

Something soft murmured out, before he loses himself again. Another thrust.

“Not your fault.” He tells you, “I’m not sorry that it was you, either.”

He’ll still want you, after this.

He’ll want you forever.

The sling of your arm blocks out the rays of sun that creep in through the windows. Sweat-dewed skin, pressed together.

Somewhere between this round and the last, you made it to your room. More space there, your knees pressing into the mattress as he made you moan into the sheets.

He leaks from you. Too much - it’s sticky on your thighs, dripping down to the fabric below.

“Again?” You ask - that warmth still blooming within you. The sharp edge tempered, but it still hums in your veins.

A groan, as he guides you on top of him. In the same state you are. That haze gone from his pretty eyes, but he’s still hard beneath you.

Still wanting.

Hips lifting into your touch as you grip him, lining him up.

He tugs you down. Flush. Twin groans as his cock spears deep again. More of him dripping down, forced out as he fills you perfectly.

“Again.”

thank you for reading! 💖

[b14augrana]

The End Of The World

Alexia isn’t well post-breakup

Alexia Putellas x reader

masterlist

Warnings: angst, mutual breakup, yearning and heartbroken alexia, no happy ending

A/N: listen to the song for max effect! ‘right where you left me’ is another good one that fits this story. this is only a short fic, but i hope you enjoy :)

You and Alexia breaking up was for the best. She knows that.

Her career is demanding, and you just weren’t willing to pursue that lifestyle yet; it was glamorous, being the girlfriend of a professional footballer, but it also meant there were rarely any opportunities to spend quality time with her and that wasn’t the relationship you wanted. She understands that.

So why does it hurt worse than ending on bad terms? Actually, that’s a stupid question. Alexia knows why it hurts. If she had a reason to hate you, it would be easier to move on, but she cannot think of a single thing worth hating you for.

That’s what she hates the most — the lack of cruelty, toxicity, infidelity behind the breakup. There isn’t a single proper reason for her to stop yearning for you.

The first week after the breakup, she finds herself seeking out any signs of you wherever she could. It hurts, and she doesn’t have an excuse or a reason. She swore that your perfume lingered in the air, following her, taunting her. Whenever someone walks past, she notices; everyone smells like oranges, earth, and incense. Everyone smells like you.

On every street, there is something of yours. A mural you posed in front of for a photo, a flower bush you once pointed out on a walk because the budding flora stood out to you, a restaurant you introduced Alexia to without knowing it would quickly become her favourite. She sees apparitions of you in places that you would’ve been in right now, if you were still here. Still with her. Still part of her life.

Everything seems pointless and from the moment you declare the love story of her life to be over, Alexia thinks that everything should cease to exist. Why does the sun shine through the gaps in her curtains, when you aren’t laying beside her in the mornings to compliment it? Why does her heart continue to beat, when it cannot be listened to on sleepless nights, with your head on her chest?

Nobody works up the courage to ask her what’s wrong when she walks into the gym with dull under eyes and little to no energy in her movements. Alexia’s signature enthusiasm to be in the gym and improving herself is gone, and her teammates only look on with inconclusive questions as to why their captain is so… different. She watches them go on with their lives like nothing ever happened, and she’s so offended and bitter. They’re completely unaware that the end is here, at least for Alexia. The world has been at its inevitable end for longer than they know — the world ended when you stopped loving her.

Alexia isn’t one for letters, so it’s incredible that she finds herself sitting at her dining table, hunched over at an ungodly hour, scrawling words in her best handwriting onto a piece of paper.

She seals it in an envelope, running her thumb along the smooth surface for a second. She still knows your address by heart, and despite your house being much like a prison for her in terms of trying to avoid it at all costs, she finds herself navigating streets and turning corners to end up there.

Alexia passes a bookstore, and in the short moment she stands in front of it, she recalls standing in between aisles with you while you chose a book to buy. Clothing shops line the roads, and she can point out shirts in their windows that you own. A restaurant sits on the corner of the street, and she can point out the table you two had eaten breakfast, lunch, and dinner at…

But she can point something else out — you.

You’re there, in the window, sitting at the table in the same seat you always chose. It makes her wonder if those memories were lost on you. Magazine in one hand, tea in the other. She knows it’s tea, because you hate coffee.

Alexia becomes acutely aware of the letter in her hand, and her plans have changed.

When a waitress comes up to your table with a little white envelope in hand, explaining that someone had just come into the restaurant and asked her to give it to you, you’re confused. When you unfold the letter and read it, whatever you’re feeling is inexplicable.

‘Mi querido,

I probably shouldn’t be calling you ‘mi querido’, or writing this letter in the first place, but I’m afraid I won’t be able to live with myself if I don’t tell you how much I love you one more time. I cannot imagine a life where being happy and being without you are able to coexist. If I knew that my career would’ve been the end of us, I would’ve traded my first love for my forever love, in a heartbeat.

Sincerely yours…

Your head lifts and you crane to look out of the window. Streaks of blonde hair disappear down the street, further than you can see from your seat.

…Alexia.’

[pinksturniolo]

the star room

a one shot from the switch universe

summary: it's a typical saturday night at cherry bomb with your partners, matt and chris. except this time, it's your turn to make them cry and beg.

content warnings: smut, threesome (sort of?) (no male on male/incest) dom!reader x sub!matt and chris, bdsm, blindfolding, slapping, masturbation, face sitting, teasing, edging

a/n: if you haven’t read switch i suggest reading that first bc it explains a lot lol but this story is centered around bdsm and if that is something you’re not comfortable with, pls don’t read <3 love u guys

the red room ✔︎

the star room ✔︎ (now viewing)

the candy room ◷...

the flower room ◷...

In the dimly lit confines of your mind, fantasies had been a whispered promise—a secret garden you’ve longed to tread with authoritative steps. The last few times you had been with Chris and Matt, you had seen those hushed desires bloom into audacious intent. They took their turns controlling you sexually in almost every room of this club, leaving you with tear-stained cheeks and purplish-blue marks on various areas of your body.

There was no denying how much you thoroughly enjoyed it. But recently, your desires have taken on a whole different need. You wanted nothing more than to be the one delivering the pain, the power. And your wishes were again granted as you embraced the call of dominance that thrummed through your veins. With Matt and Chris, willing subjects to your budding command, you had decided it was time to unfurl the petals of power within the sanctum of the star room.

As you cross the threshold into those opulent and pink shiny walls of the room, your silhouette floats like a siren’s song. Each stride was measured, deliberate—the click of heels like a metronome to the racing pulses of the men who awaited you. Clad in nothing but shadows and the sheerest of lingerie, the curves of your body were lovingly caressed by the ambient light that danced through the room.

The air was thick with expectation, a heady mix of musk and desire that wrapped around the three of you like a silken shroud. Your eyes, dark pools of commanding allure, swept over Matt and Chris, drinking in their rapt attention. You could feel the weight of their gazes upon you, an almost tangible caress that beckoned you forward.

"Good evening." You purred, voice laced with the honeyed venom of control.

Confidence rolled off you in waves, a potent aura that filled the room with the electric buzz of anticipation. As you stood before them, the embodiment of sensuality and power, it was clear that the stars themselves had conspired to give birth to this moment—the night they would orbit your whim, lost in the gravity of your will.

Your gaze settles on the plush bed, its covers smooth and inviting, a perfect canvas for the night's artistry, with silk sheets matching the pink hue of the walls. Your heart thrums with exhilaration. With a swivel of your hips, you pointed to the bed, voice dripping with authority.

"Sit," You command, your tone leaving no room for disobedience. "Backs against the headboard."

Matt and Chris moved as if in a trance, their bodies responding to your command with an eagerness that betrayed their simmering excitement. They positioned themselves obediently, the muscles in their backs straining against the fabric of their shirts as they anticipated your next move. The gold brass of the headboard stood tall and firm behind them, a symbol of their own impending submission.

Their chests rose and fell, breaths becoming shallow as you approached, your fingers dancing along the collection of silk blindfolds resting on the nearby dresser. You selected two with care, the fabric gliding between your fingers like liquid shadows.

"Close your eyes," you whispered, your words a caress against their skin.

With deliberate slowness, you approached Matt first, standing close enough that he could feel the heat radiating from your body. His nostrils flared slightly, drawing in your scent—a mix of jasmine and the underlying trace of your arousal. You lifted the blindfold and placed it gently over his eager eyes, tying it securely at the back of his head. Matt's world went dark, his other senses immediately sharpening, attuned to your every shift and rustle.

Chris watched with bated breath, a coil of anticipation winding tight in his stomach. His turn came swiftly, and as the soft fabric enveloped his vision, a shiver of vulnerability coursed through him. Rendered sightless, both men were now acutely aware of the subtlest sounds: the whisper of fabric against skin, the quiet inhale of breath, the faintest brush of fingertips along their arms.

They sat in darkness, the absence of sight amplifying every sensation that followed. Their hearts hammered in tandem, echoing the rhythm of their unspoken desires. In this realm of shadowed sensation, you gained control.

The star room had transformed under your dominion into a theater of sensual exploration—an arena where you would test the limits of pleasure and obedience.

Silence settled over like a delicate shroud, as you let them adjust to their sight taken away. And then your voice cut through the quiet, establishing your command with an undeniable edge.

"Remember boys," you began, circling the bed, "silence is golden, and your hands are to be kept to yourself. If you disobey, I’ll restrain you against the headboard. And I’ll be the only one getting off tonight."

Your words hung heavy in the air, a sweet threat that made Matt's pulse quicken and Chris stiffen with a mix of fear and longing. They knew better than to challenge you; your authority was absolute in this dance of dark desires.

You savored the power you held, allowing it to seep into the sinews of your confidence. You approached Matt first, your form barely concealed by the sheer lingerie that hugged your body like a second skin. Your fingers danced lightly over his chest, tracing the lines of his muscles. You felt him shudder beneath your touch, a sculpture coming to life under your caress.

You allowed your hand to drift lower, your fingertips brushing the bulge that betrayed Matt's arousal. Through the fabric of his pants, you teased him, applying just enough pressure to elicit a low moan that he quickly swallowed, remembering your decree of silence. The sound only spurred you on, your movements growing bolder as you rest your leg on him lightly and ground your knee against him, feeling his erection straining for release.

A moment of weakness had Matt's hand twitching, the urge to touch you overwhelming. He’s still adjusting to your dominance over him and he can’t control his emotions when he starts to become a little annoyed at the fact you’ve already started to torture him so painfully.

He’s shamelessly hard as you continue to rub him through his pants and he’s desperate for more friction as he grips your hips and pulls you against him harder. But no sooner had his fingers grazed your waist than you pulled back, a sharp crack resounding through the room as your palm met his cheek. His breath hitched, not from pain, but from the surge of desire that followed your reprimand.

"Bad boy," you chided, your tone laced with admonishment, allure and anger. The slap, far from deterring him, ignited something within Matt—a flame fanned by each word you spoke, each touch you granted or withheld. He wanted more, to feel the sting of your control and the softness of your dominance mingling into an intoxicating contradiction.

“If you do that again, you’ll regret it.” You whisper in his ear. “Hands to yourself.”

He simply nods, breathless as you shove him back against the headboard. You sit fully on his lap now, your arousal soaking onto his pants. Despite his disobedience, your own growing need is hard to ignore. You can’t help but moan out as you grind against him harshly.

“I’m so… fucking… wet..”

Every syllable is pronounced clearly and with such desperation that Matt whines, but continues to keep his self-control in check.

He swallows hard and takes in a shaky breath, his heart racing as he feels exactly how wet you are when you take his hand softly and run it down your chest, his fingers grazing over your cleavage that spills out of your bra, trailing down over your stomach and lowering to the hem of your panties where you allow him to slip his fingertips inside the soaked fabric, and caress your incredibly slick folds.

“Fuuuuck..” He groans, his cock straining against his jeans when he feels you. Now he’s becoming all too desperate and practically panting as you continue to allow him to slide his fingers through your pussy for a few more seconds before grabbing his wrist and yanking his hand out of your underwear.

He grits his jaw with frustration and holds back words of defiance.

A quiet but insistent whine is heard next to you.

Chris moves impatiently in his spot on the bed, his sense of heightened hearing picking up on the sound of how wet you are as Matt touched you. The sound is all too enticing, and he huffs in annoyance at the fact that he’s not the direct cause of your arousal and that’s he’s not the one you have your current attention on.

Chris is also a switch as you’ve come to know in the past few times you’ve been with him. But unlike matt, he really enjoys being submissive to you more. He would let you do anything to him, as long as it was causing you pleasure.

"I really don't appreciate your impatience, Chris," You scolded lightly, your voice carrying a hint of playfulness. "Only good boys who are patient and listen get what they want. Right, Matt?" You grip Matt’s jaw in your hand harshly and tilt his head towards you. He nods eagerly, his teeth grazing against his bottom lip. "Hm?" You pressed further, wanting to hear him say it. "Yes ma'am," he replied obediently.

You hold his face in your hands, your thumbs running over the stubble of his beard. His lips part as your fingertips brushes over them, and you softly insert them into his mouth, pressing them against his wet tongue. You’re throbbing from the feeling and moaning aloud again. “Good boy.” Matt’s hips shift ever so slightly underneath you from the praise and you smirk.

Chris, though sightless, could sense the charged atmosphere, the ebb and flow of power and submission between you and Matt. He ached to be part of it, to be the canvas upon which you painted your pleasure. And as your laughter, light and teasing, filled the room, he knew his turn would come—when you decided he had waited long enough.

You turned your attention to Chris, the air practically humming with anticipation. With a smile that promised both pleasure and torment, you climbed off Matt and approached him. Chris's breath hitched, his heart hammering against his ribcage as he waited for your touch, for the sensation he had been denied while feeling and hearing you and Matt’s exchange.

"Good boys get rewards," you murmured. You traced a single finger down Chris's chest, over the taut muscles that quivered beneath your touch. "Do you want to be rewarded, Chris?"

"Y-Yes," he whispered, remembering your command for silence. He swallowed hard, desperate to maintain control, to prove himself worthy of your favor.

"Then you will follow my instructions without hesitation." Your words were a velvet caress, wrapping around him, binding him more securely than any rope could.

You guided his hands from where they rested obediently at his sides, bringing them up to the curves of your waist. The heat of your skin seeped into his palms, and despite the blindfold obscuring his vision, he saw you in his mind's eye—resplendent, commanding, an empress of sensuality.

"Feel me," you commanded, and he did, his fingers exploring the softness of your flesh, the lace that clung to your form. He wanted to pull you closer, to bury himself in the warmth of your body, but he held back, knowing that any transgression would cost him this exquisite privilege.

As you reveled in the power you wielded, a thrill coursed through you. The control was intoxicating, the sight of these two men—so strong, so willing to submit—fueling a fire within you. You felt their desire like a palpable force, their need to be touched and taken by your hand alone.

"Please," Chris's voice broke through the silence, hoarse with desperation. "I need you."

"Patience," you whispered, though your own body trembled with the effort it took to deny them. The power you held was a double-edged sword, cutting into your resolve just as keenly as it tested theirs.

Chris's hands moved with hesitant reverence, as though he was afraid you would vanish if he pressed too hard, if he dared to grasp rather than caress. But oh, how he wanted to—to claim, to possess, to worship at the altar of your pleasure.

"Good boy," you praised, and he shuddered beneath your touch, the simple words a benediction that promised salvation in the form of your approval.

The room filled with the sounds of ragged breathing and whispered entreaties, a heady mix that lingered on the edge of fulfillment.

Your own desire mounted, spiraling higher with every second you remained in command. You fed off their eagerness, their unspoken pleas for release, knowing that when you finally allowed them their climax, it would be all the sweeter for the wait.

"Keep begging," you instructed, your tone laced with dark promise. "It only makes me want you more."

"Y/N. You know how bad I need you." he breathed, his voice a velvet caress that sent shivers down your spine, "I want more… please."

With a deft movement, you shifted, straddling his face, the scant fabric of your lingerie a tantalizing barrier. The blindfold rendered him sightless, amplifying every touch, every sound. He inhaled deeply, the scent of your arousal a heady perfume that promised ecstasy.

"Please," he repeated into the darkness, his voice muffled against the softness of your thighs.

"Shut up," you chastised gently, yet firmly. "Only your tongue can speak now." You commanded, spurring him into action.

His lips found the delicate lace, tracing the outline of your heat through the thin barrier. With deliberate slowness, you rocked your hips, guiding him in the dance of pleasure. When his tongue finally brushed against you, you allowed yourself a soft moan, a reward for his obedience. Each flick and swirl drew a symphony of sensation from deep within you, notes of pleasure that spiraled upward, seeking release.

Matt, bound by your earlier command to keep his hands to himself, could only listen to the intoxicating sounds, the wetness of Chris's efforts, and your soft cries of delight. His own need throbbed, insistent, but he knew better than to seek relief without permission. His blue eyes, hidden beneath the blindfold, ached to witness the scene unfolding before him.

"So good, baby…" you gasped, your control fraying at the edges as Chris’s ministrations grew more persistent.

But the moment was yours to prolong, and with a reluctant sigh, you lifted yourself from Chris’s eager mouth. Ignoring his groan of protest, you trailed your fingers down your own body, teasing yourself through the dampened lace.

"Patience," you reminded them both, though the word was a balm to no one. You removed your lingerie with a fluid motion, baring yourself to their obscured view. You lay your head on Chris’s lap and drape the lower half of your body over Matt’s. Your fingers replaced where Chris’s lips had been, circling and dipping with precision that spoke of intimate knowledge of your own body.

They both groan in frustration. You knew this particular form of teasing was absolute torture.

As you pleasured herself, your breathing became labored, your movements more urgent. The sound of your slick fingers moving rhythmically filled the room, a visceral reminder of the denied gratification that hung heavy in the air.

"Are you both thinking of how I feel?" you asked, your voice strained with desire. "Can you imagine the warmth, the wetness?"

"God, yes," Chris whispered, his restraint near breaking. You can hear Matt silently cursing to himself under his breath.

"Imagine it's you inside me," you continued, your tone laced with seduction and cruelty in equal measure. "But not yet. You haven't earned it."

The denial was torture, exquisite and calculated, pushing them all to the precipice of sanity. You arched into your touch, your climax building like a storm on the horizon—powerful, inevitable, and utterly consuming.

Your body trembled on the crest of your own release, but you withheld your satisfaction for a final act of domination. With a breathless command, you reached out and removed the blindfold from Matt’s eager eyes, granting him the first glimpse of you in all your glory: curves glistening with the sheen of desire, hair tousled in wild abandon.

"Look at me," you ordered, and Matt’s eyes snapped from his hypnotized gaze on your wet core to your flushed face like iron filings to a magnet. His eyes were pools of hunger and adoration, reflecting your image as though you were a goddess descended. You positioned herself above him, straddling his hips with an authority that sent shivers down his spine.

"You want to be inside me, Matt?" You asked.

"Yes baby, please." he breathed, the ache in his voice mirroring the throbbing need between his legs.

"Then be a good boy and let me use you." With that, you sank onto him in one fluid motion, enveloping him in your warmth. Matt gasped, his hands flexing at his sides, aching to touch you but remembering your edict of obedience.

Chris sat beside him, still blindfolded, every sound amplified in the darkness behind his eyelids—the slick slide of skin against skin, your needy moans and rhythmic breathing.

You rode Matt with calculated movements, each roll of your hips a stroke of artistry designed to draw out his pleasure—and his torment. You watched his face contort with the struggle to remain silent, to obey, to please you. When his hands twitched, reaching up only to fall back helplessly, you smiled with cruel satisfaction.

"Keep your hands to yourself," you reminded him sweetly, even as you leaned down to brush your lips against his ear. "Or you'll lose even this."

Matt nodded, biting back a groan as you increased your pace. You moaned loudly, burying your face into his neck as your hands gripped his shoulders, the feeling of him inside you so satisfying.

“Fuck, Matt, you feel so fucking good. I can feel you deep inside me...” You babbled, your own pleasure taking over.

He could feel himself spiraling, the pressure building to a pinnacle he could no longer resist. With a choked cry, he pleaded for permission.

"Come for me," You whispered, and it was both command and allowance. Matt’s world shattered, pleasure seizing him in an iron grasp as he climaxed, his essence spilling into you in waves of surrender.

As his tremors subsided, you dismounted, catching your breath. You then turned your attention to Chris, who had been a silent (but weakening) sentinel throughout your conquest. Carefully, you reached out and removed his blindfold as well, allowing him to see you—flushed, triumphant… finally now his.

"Your turn." You spoke, your voice softened now with an intimate tenderness.

Chris’s blue eyes locked with yours, and there was a momentary flicker of something deeper, more profound than simple lust. You joined him on his side of the large pink bed, your bodies aligning with a familiarity born of many shared secrets.

Your coupling was a stark contrast to the earlier display of control. Where the experience had been a spectacle of your dominance before, now it was about connection. As you moved together, the outside world faded; there was only the feeling of him filling you completely as he pinned you down, in missionary, the sound of your combined sighs, the taste of your kisses.

The rhythm was unhurried, each movement a deliberate exploration. Chris’s hands roamed over your body with reverence, as he thrust into you, pausing only to feel the bulge in your stomach from how deep he was. Matt watched you and only you, lost in the pleasure that Chris was now giving you.

"Come here," you beckoned gently, your voice a whisper that seemed to caress the air itself.

Matt moved closer, his movements tentative, as if he was still under the spell of the blindfold, unsure of your tenderness that stood in stark contrast to the dominance you had wielded earlier.

His hands that you had once demanded to stay away from you, now roamed freely through your hair, stroking with a care that spoke of an intimacy far beyond the physical realm they had just traversed. He brushed away the damp tendrils stuck to your forehead, the gesture full of reverence and quiet adoration. It was a small act, yet it only spurred your building climax as Chris dug his fingers into the flesh of your hips, rocking against you, feeling your walls tighten around him.

It wasn’t long before you were moaning Chris’s name aloud as he made you orgasm, his fingers that had caused marks on your hips now circling your clit. He followed closely after, his mouth ajar as he came inside you and then pulled out a few moments later after catching his breath, watching his seed spill out of you and down your inner thigh.

"Thank you," you murmured to both of them, your voice almost inaudible. It wasn't clear whether you thanked them for their obedience or for their willingness to explore the shadowy corners of their passions together. Maybe it was for both—or for something more profound that words could scarcely capture.

taglist! <3

@sturniolopepsi @tillies33ssss @whicked-hazlatwhore @riasturns @christhopersturniolo @junnniiieee07 @sturnsjtop @seahorsie11 @inveigledvex @mattslolita @certifiednatelover @glassesmattsbae @eryismum @sturncakez @wh0resstuff @ribread03 @sturniololoco @75sturn @mattscoquette @jnkvivi @h3arts4harry @chrizznmetswife @bambi-slxt @streamermattsgf @mattspolitank

[klttn]

— 𝜗𝜚 𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐅𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐎𝐔𝐓 - lucifer worships you. every inch, every curve, every flaw and impurity is perfection in his eyes. and that includes your pussy. the man is whipped, for you, for your body. hopelessly pathetic when it comes to you, void of all real control other than to make you feel good. from buying you flowers to sweet simple kisses stolen between hidden moments when no one could see. but most importantly when he has his face pressed so deep between your thighs and his tongue lapping so fluently on your cunt it had you screaming.

it was lucifers favourite thing in the world. your taste flowing to his tongue whilst he greedily hungers for more, forcing your thighs to spread impossibly wide just so he could gauge more of your pretty pussy. “you taste so good, baby,” he’d mumble hungrily against your lips, drinking you in like you would be taken away from him.

your moans sound loudly through his head, edging him on more and more the longer his mouth is on you. “keep making those pretty sounds, don’t stop, fuck, please don’t stop.” he’d sound so desperate, so needy in you although it would be you laying helplessly, letting him give you whatever he pleased. he’d notice every hitch in your breath and every slight twitch your thighs would make around his head, sensing your orgasm before even you could. relishing in it, thrusting his tongue into you, moving one of his hands to circle your clit, eager to have you spilling all over his tongue. “you better not be trying not to cum,” he’d growl, pulling his tongue from your cunt momentarily to utter the words, becoming even more frustrated with desire. “come on baby, give it to me, no holding back.” a loud shout and panting leaving your lips, “please, fuck, i need it.” and with that, you’d explode on his tongue. letting him feel all the pulsing and gushing of your release flooding his tastebuds and senses. and he’d moan. he would fucking moan.

lucifer would never stop there. how could he when he’s only just tasting your cum? how could he when he could make you cum again and again so this would never have to end, your taste the only thing on his tongue? his hand on your clit would slip back to keeping your spasming thighs spread, pinning you and forcing your pussy to take more. pants of ‘its too much’, and ‘please luci’, staining the air but he doesn’t care. his tongue swirling your clit, lapping all your slick and focusing on nothing but that and your adorable sensitive cries. “one more baby, please just one more, i know you can pretty thing, please- shit, please.” your head lolling and thighs losing their fight meant he won, succumbing to the mind numbing pleasure he, too, was losing himself in.

turning feral, grip turning rough and primal, strength overpowering you with an ease you loved. two of his fingers finding themselves fucking deep into you, pushing on that cute bundle of nerves to have your head spinning, his tongue cat licking your clit in perfect flicks to match the aching thrust of his hand. and it wasn’t long til you were there, teetering on the edge ready to let go and with a perfect suck of his lips over your bud, you did. lucifer quick to move his fingers and fuck into where they left with his tongue, milking every ounce of cum you had left in you, moaning and growling against you.

pulling back, panting, messy and lovingly looking at his little girl, lucifer would let his fingers that were once inside you drag up to your lips, pushing past the soft flesh to make you taste yourself too. “look at you, feeling how good you taste, so cute.” and when you’d let your eyes fall down, you’d see it wasn’t just you that enjoyed yourself. the king of hell himself, standing over you, having just cum in his pants like a teenager from eating you out and tongue fucking your cunt.

[lunarmoves]

a sigh leaves your lips as you lay back against the grass of a small hill, basking in the oozing warmth from the sun above. a gentle breeze glides by and causes stray strands of your hair to wave around your face. they tickle at the skin of your cheeks and forehead. there’s a certain quietude to the air, broken only by the occasional bird or rustling leaves from the gingko tree sitting at the crux of the hill. 

you could stay here for hours, you think, as you watch puffy, white clouds lazily making their way across a bright blue sky. just relaxing and enjoying one of the many things nature has to offer—a beautiful spectacle free of charge. unappreciated in these contemporary times. 

the soft jingle of bells catches your attention before a hand appears in front of your face—stark against the sky’s backdrop behind it. two metal fingers pinch something together between them. like he had plucked it right from the very hill you sat upon.

“what is this?” moon’s voice is low yet inquisitive, holding the stalk of the plant in his grasp. 

“oh!” you sit up with a little gasp of delight and turn to face him sitting cross-legged by your side. “it’s a dandelion!” 

“it does not look like one,” he says flatly as he brings it closer to his face in observation. he spins it around carefully, rotating the stem between his fingers. 

you chortle. “well, no. this one’s at the end stage of its life cycle. see the fluffy white bits? those are seeds.” 

moon’s head tilts slightly to the side, a click coming from his faceplate. “seeds?” 

“yeah, humans blow on ‘em to make a wish. it’s a superstition,” you tell him and lean back against your palms propped up behind you. 

moon hums—soft, dolce—and holds the dandelion in front of his static smile. he makes a motion like he’s taking a breath, then slouches forward slightly and spins his face around in a rather pouty manner. “no lungs.” 

you can’t help the laugh that escapes you. “sorry, bud.” you offer him a consoling pat on the arm and he deflates even further. drama queen. “hey, tell you what. you make your wish and i’ll blow on the dandelion. it’ll be a team effort. sound good?” 

moon makes a sound as though he’s considering your offer, but it doesn’t take him long to agree. “deal,” he says simply and holds out his hand so that the dandelion hovers before your mouth. 

you offer him a grin, and then you inhale deeply before blowing on the aging dandelion. its seeds scatter in a puffy cloud of white, taking to the sky as the wind carries them up and away in an aimless dance. moon watches them carefully as he ponders upon his wish and then—

and then moon opens his eyes. 

the daycare is dark. quiet. alight only from the artificial stars above. his gaze moves about, slowly, steadily, painting his surroundings in ruby. he sighs and it gets lost in the stale, open air. 

moon thinks about you. he thinks about the outside world with its blue sky and flimsy flowers. and he thinks about a wish, clutched deeply to his chest. a wish involving you and him together, sitting on a hill. watching clouds drift by on a summertime breeze. 

[jolalibrary]

v. if you cling on, i will too

joel miller x f!reader | chapter five of honey stained hands

chapter summary: things take time to heal, but will you be the same you when you do?

wordcount: 3.5k warnings: typical canon-angst/grief. angst. injury/comfort recovery. joel calls reader honey (because she bakes). smutty? this pair are together but won't admit it. mentions of joels attempt on himself but minimal, lots of healing angst. but it's me so the ending is... nice. an: we should all thank je te laisserai des mots for the final chapter to this series! and also @thetriumphantpanda who i said "hey, can i ask a favour" and then dumped this on her without her prior knowledge.

The grip of winter slowly loosens, the world beginning to thaw as your wounds heal.

Green begins protruding where there had only been white, shooting up hope, a silent promise of renewal etched into every bud and leaf.

Joel supposes the promise came true.

By the time the first flowers emerge in a riot of colours, their vibrant hues a stark contrast against the lingering remnants of frost, he’d asked if you wished to move in. To have your things more officially with his. Less a cluster of things you’d “take back the next time you do” and more a permanent place for them to collect.

Saves you havin’ to walk back and forth.

Joel is thankful you smiled at the kitchen table and said yes.

Because it had been convenient, easy, to have you here with him when the two of you had arrived back. When your wounds were scarlet and tacky, bruises convulsing and growing under your skin until it made you hiss and whine at each movement. Then, there were the bones you feigned weren’t broken, in the same way you pretended your soul wasn’t fragmented.

Then, there was the simple fact you could barely dismount from your horse as a worried crowd approached, news of your missing nature now resolved.

You clung to him as you shied away from questionable eyes and paused glances. Horror sketched into the faces, blanketing over earlier panic—faces that had only shown you prior kindness. Because the monster you kept at bay until you were outside of the walls, was tired, depleted and very much on parade as Joel helped you down from the horse and the others, who had come to help retrieve them both, stood back to let the audience gawk.

If it stung, you never showed it. Holding him tight, gripping. Using all of your left strength to remain upright and desperately rooted to him.

You are stubborn in that way, and in the way you tipped up your chin, daring them to see what had been inflicted for the sake of their survival.

Good girl he had almost whispered into your ear.

He saved whispering that for over a week when you’d clung different to him, when your eye was no longer swollen shut and you begged to feel him—feel something other than hands that weren’t his.

Those two words ran from his tongue like they’d been swallowed back for too long. Pressing to your skin wherever possible, attempting to heal what he couldn’t understand, see or feel.

Things flower in the spring. The sun rises and lingers for longer before darkness crests over the world briefly.

Flowers shift towards the sunlight, laughter runs along the streets; coats are hidden away, with thinner layers covering bodies and trade shifts from boots to things that are easier to enjoy the warmer weather in.

You don’t bloom though.

Something altered in you, forever cracked. A thing that kept you from sleeping and dreaming when your wounds looked angry and raw; the cracks not healing, even incorrectly, when your skin stitched itself together.

It doesn’t ease when you stop hissing as you descend the stairs, when you’re able to walk for longer than a minute before pausing for a break. It only appears to lessen when you visit the bees. You avoid the other animals, though. Weighing it up, acknowledging with your head bowed that the strength isn’t there. Apologising in heavy whispers to Maria, to yourself, to the air and the cold and the breeze.

He waits for you to bake, to begin rolling things in a bowl and allowing the house to smell like yours used to. It doesn’t come. Not even when he returns from patrol and finds you in a similar state to when he left you.

Your monster is more than wounded, so close to dead that he struggles to work out how to heal it.

Joel doesn’t ask, and you don’t tell.

He could assume, formulate a story; he could create the pieces of the puzzle that were missing.

Instead, he leaves it alone. Rather wishing to live with the unknown than what he feels he’d have to pry from your clenched fists.

“You tried talkin’ to her brother?”

“Nothin’ to talk about.”

Because Tommy doesn’t know that the forest and cabin know all the secrets, the rest withered and shaved down inside of you. Doesn’t understand what it is that remains in a person who temporarily hangs between the living and the dead.

The only time he heard you reference it, what happened out there, was when he overheard you with Ellie. Honey-yellow light splayed across the landing, his feet pausing near the creakier floorboards as Ellie’s voice rang out in the quiet, in the heavy air that was desperate to splinter or slither away.

“You survived.”

He likes to imagine your hand sliding into hers, that you nodded, before you realised the meaning of the girl’s words. Maybe your head snapped up, stared into her younger eyes and hunted for the thing that neither of them should have had to suffer through.

“We both did, Ellie,” he heard you say, and his hand goes to the wall for leverage, for stability. “We survived… because we’re stronger than them.”

Then, he breathes out. A heavy one, a puff. An exclamation that loosens the knot around his heart—because it’s that or let the tears burn his eyes. Hand on the wall of the place that now feels home, steadying himself on the stairs that the two of you climb each night before you slide into the bed you now call yours.

Before you call him yours, mouth wrapping around the head of him, taking more of him than he can wrap his head around down your throat. M-i-n-e you stain against his cock, swirl it with your tongue until pulls you from him, burying the same word inside of you, making you arch as the word shifts into something else.

Us.

In the summer, you laugh.

A sound you’ve left escape a handful of times, but nothing like this. Head thrown back, neck elongated—eyes shimmering with mischief and sarcasm and all the other things he noticed in you.

He wonders if you’re better. If things are better.

Ellie has made friends, informs him over breakfast that she’ll be here, there or anywhere, and he just hides a smile behind his mug. Nods, agrees. Asks what time he’ll expect her as he internally grumbles about teenagers. Then, you descend the stairs, half-dressed in you and half-dressed in him, a picture, a sight for the sorest of eyes.

Your kisses have grown softer in the day, than just at night—almost reminiscent of the ones he received before you left that day.

“You still like shortbread, Miller?”

He snorts, elbow on the table that needs tightening, watching you fold your arms—cockiness sewn into your mannerism, in the way you sit. “That what we callin’ between your legs, honey.”

“After last night, y’can call her whatever you goddamn please.”

He snorts, briefly. Instead choosing to hear the lilt of your laugh, watching as it paints sunshine around the room. As it trickles out and flutters, before chair legs scream against floorboards and you’re by his side, palm on his jaw, on the wiry hair that grows in odd ways and leaves patches that never fill.

“Can you walk with me to see the animals?”

He does.

A gut instinct he ignores as your fingers slot themselves in his, tight, holding him as you don’t ask for a breather, don’t sound ragged or out of breath. Only letting go where you near the pen, when your voice becomes that high-pitched tone he remembers briefly—akin to a parent speaking to a baby.

Joel recognises it before you do. Counts, studies—looks for the familiar pattern on the one sheep that sticks out like a sore thumb. He swallows, dread filling his chest, making his stomach bubble and knot.

You look at him.

Sadness blended with hysteria, alarm. Body over the fence, running with awkwardness from healing wrong, until you slow at the side of the place where the animals sleep.

Roscoe on his side, cold, still. Gone.

His heart, whatever remains left of it, breaks when he sees you go to your knees. Tentative shaky hand brushing over sheepskin, before your body rocks, tremors, and you burst.

It’s more than mourning an animal that you’ve cared for. It’s more than mourning itself.

So, he steps back and stands on the other side of the barn door as he listens to the sobs, the cries, the wails and incoherent ramblings. All things that remind him of a loss he never sits too much with. A loss that made a barrel press to his forehead and made him feel like a hole had been left in him forever—one in his chest, not even close to where he’d tried to pull the trigger.

He wonders if you’ll laugh again.

Joel also worries he’s lost you again.

The sun is setting when he returns from patrol, the air sweet when he opens the door—it creaks, protesting against him, and he wonders, briefly if he’s entered the wrong place.

His boots thudding, coat hanging—ache blooming behind his bones.

But it’s all righted when he sees a mixing bowl, egg shells and a pot of honey. In the mess, a plate. Stacked high, and then you.

Different from the person who used to bake in your kitchen, but also different from the person he’d left this morning, tangled in sheets. The one who looked lost, and now appears more found than he’s known in months.

“Hello, stranger.”

Even the sound of you is familiar. That tone, all flirtatious and confident, parcelled in someone who grins as he moves closer.

“Ellie’s out—she stole one, though. So, she’s eaten.”

He snorts. “Just us then?”

Nodding, undoing your apron, sliding it from over your head as you fold it onto his kitchen counter and he keeps approaching. Hand scratching at his patchy beard, watching as you tilt your head, and let your lips slide into your cheek.

You’re back, here—existing.

It’s different, the attraction that thrums in his bones. It had begun as a need, primal, unexplainable, before it shifted, changed, and became something foreign yet oddly familiar, and now it was just desire, longing.

And you kiss him hard as though acknowledging it. Pressing yourself as firmly as you can, smothering yourself to him as though attempting to merge with him. Your tongue licking behind his teeth as you moan, as you equally long, lust and need.

You trail him with your palms, across his chest, shoulders and neck. Trailing them down his back, kneading out aches you haven’t heard him complain about yet, before you’re palming him over his jeans, whimpering at the feel of him hard and desperate.

“Like how you want me, Miller.”

“Like how you take me, honey,” he groans, runs his nose along your neck, licks at your skin—tasting the sweat of your labour having mixed with the sweetness of the air.

It isn’t all the time like he wishes. Tiredness and age played a factor, but right now—like this, a reminder of a memory, he feels anew. Younger. More capable. Roughly shifting you until it’s you pressed against a counter, until he’s pawing at your clothes until he can admire, feel smooth skin with his worn, calloused hands.

“Missed you.”

It leaves his mouth before he can stop it.

Because you’ve been here. But not like this. It is far too honest for what the two of you are technically, but not quite what the two of you have become.

Thankful you grasp his cheek and pull his mouth to yours, but he swears he tastes your reply before he earns it. Before his hand slides inside the band of your cotton panties and makes you hiss against his teeth, slick coating his fingers. An urge to drive you to the edge, to have you pleading, to have you call him Joel and not Miller, to have you seeing white and erode your pain from your body and fill it only with bliss.

He’s a mess, and you’ve barely touched him. The sight of you, unhinged, wild and free. Head thrown back as his thumb swirls circles on your hardening nerves, as your pussy tightens around the fingers he has buried in it. As you moan, as you plea, as you cry and whine for him, almost needing to command you to come so he can sheath his cock in you and feel you.

But, then you surprise him.

As you always fucking do.

“Missed you too,” you whimper, hips grinding against his hand—teetering in the land where you find it hard to shy away and can only emit honesty.

Your eyes, the deepest valley of affection, so much he almost feels he must look away. Undeserving of it. A thing he finds on the tip of his tongue before you call him Joel, before you moan for him.

“Y’perfect, you know that? All o’you,” he confesses, buries it into your ear. “Your tight pussy, your anger, your stubbornness—”

“—Fuck, Joel—”

“Can’t be without you. Not this version. Need you too much—like I need y’to come. Can you come for me, honey? Make a mess of my hand, let me lick you clean—”

“Shit, m���close.”

He knows. Your jaw clenched, body rigid—eyes creased closed as your hips grind slower but deeper, more intense, until they lose rhythm and you snap. In a completely different way than you did all those months ago.

Because this time, he thinks you’ve snapped back into place.

Because when your eyes open, he doesn’t greet a pair that he doesn’t know, but a pair he knows intimately. It’s why he pants, and loses his breath—that, and the fact you grab his hand from between your thighs and bring it to your lips, tasting yourself, licking yourself clean from him.

“Get upstairs, Miller.”

His brow arches, mouth clamping shut. A fire building in his chest, his other hand flexing at his side, wanting to slap it to your ass and ask you to repeat yourself.

But, you straighten your spine, look him dead in the eye. “Wanna ride you, Joel.”

Before autumn comes—before leaves change and the Jackson is shadowed by earlier nights and later mornings. When it looks close to the misery and horror that lives outside of the walls. Joel is on his knees.

Tools close to his fingers, red toolbox to the side.

Itching, necessarily torturing himself by fixing things that don’t need fixing, just to busy his hands, keep his mind on something, to not worry, to not hate, to not be angry.

“She’s going to be alright.”

Joel almost snorts, but buries it under a cough. Twists the bolt into the wood, checking the panel with a rough tug as Ellie shifts position, as she comes to a place he can’t avoid not glancing at her. Now scowling and making her be distant with him even more than she already is.

Because his mind is a storm, all concocted with worry he doesn’t what to do with, with fear he hasn’t been able to displace. Each horrid thought is thunderous, like a crack in the silence as the house creaks and he struggles to keep himself from splintering. Twisted up, insides knotted, every distant shout or laugh setting his already tired heart racing—forcing it to pound against his ribs like a prisoner desperate to escape.

He’s not the same man he was before. Not sure if he’d have the strength to keep you safe in the way you’d not needed then, but could now.

It’s why he keeps picturing you, darkness closing in, shadows formed with malicious intent attempting to take you. It makes his hands shake, as he grips the tool tighter, almost as if by holding onto something solid he can anchor his thoughts. Images of your last injury flashed in his mind—the blood, the pain, the helplessness he felt.

How angelically gothic you looked surrounded by snow. How he can still taste the metallic tang in the air if he thinks about it too much

“She’s not wrong,” a voice says.

One that forces his head up, one that makes him double-take.

You standing, with no scratch, no markings. Not a figment of his imagination, but something real from the shadows that stretch from your legs across the ground. Not an illusion as Ellie throws herself at you, all arms and cheerful glee.

Real, real, real, as you step up the porch, as you crouch down and grumble at the ache in your bones, and kiss his mouth. Warm, and all very you.

“You been worryin’ about me, Miller?”

He chews his tongue, drops his gaze before he flicks it back up. “No.”

You smirk, devious, but yet still so sweet. “Good.”

Hand still caressing his skin, thumb brushing over the patch you comment looks like a heart—one you brought up some weeks back, asking if it’s for you, if it doesn’t grow just for you. Smirking, laughing, leg bent over his hip as you continue to tease. Is this how you tell me you love me, by shaving a heart, Miller? And, just for me, a heart all of my own?

“You fancy getting a drink with me tonight?”

Frowning, he lowers the tool back to the floor. “Y’wanna go out?”

“With you? Yeah.”

Swallowing, he glances over your shoulder to see Ellie smirking, looking more pleased than he’s ever known her. Swaying, folded arms as she begins to nod at him, mouthing say yes, say yes.

“Ellie wants to go to Dina’s,” you add, as though spotting where his gaze has gone. “And, I realised something.”

He hums as you lower to your knees in front of him, as you cup his cheek and tug his eyes back to you.

“We never watched that VHS, either. Did we?”

Clearing his throat, hand coming to rest on your wrist, thumb drawing a shape against it. “No. We didn’t.”

Smiling, face lighting up—shimmering. Exactly like that time you had brought him shortbread in a tin. “Y’wanna go on a date with me, Joel? Drink and a movie.”

Glancing at Ellie, and then back to you. Spreading his hand from your wrist up to the back of your hand, it dwarfing yours against his cheek, staring into your eyes—so sure he sees your monster smiling at him too.

“Let me clean up. You… Y’deserve that.”

“Alright,” you reply.

“What, no arguin’?”

Shrugging, dropping your hand as you sigh. “I know when to pick my arguments with my man.”

He tries not to show how that warms him, the words replaying over and over. It makes his chest tighten in a way he doesn’t hate. My man. A phrase that carries a weight, an intimacy he's not accustomed to out here, only ever when he’s buried inside of you and your skin is glistening with sweat, him and his spend.

He swallows hard, masking the fluttering in his chest, concealing the way his breath catches ever so slightly. A vulnerability in those words—how you’ve exposed yourself. Changed your tune from no names to this. A soft promise he’s struggling to wrap his head around. He knows you see it, that flicker of something unguarded in his eyes.

His hand balls into a fist, his thumb sliding over his fingers, levelling himself as the emotions surge, unbidden and uncontrollable. Feeling exposed, as though you’ve peeled back the layers of his defences with a single phrase, laid bare the raw, tender part of him he thought long buried.

But he doesn’t hate it. Not the strange comfort in being wanted or seen, even less so by you. How it makes him want to run and stay all at once. He suspects you know the turmoil you’ve stirred, having done so to yourself with the confession.

And somehow, knowing that helps him swallow it, accept it, finding it true.

“Tha’ make you mine, then?”

Shrugging, you roll your lips, a coy, more nervous smile there. “If you want.”

If he wants, he snorts.

Three words he repeats hours later, when he’s stripping you bare, lying you down on the bed that belongs to you as much as him.

“If I want?” he repeats, your lips curling into a smirk.

Before he’s dipping his mouth between your thighs, writing with his tongue how he's wanted that for months now, maybe even since the very beginning.

an: it may have taken me a long time, but, i hope in some way it was worth it. thank you for reading! eeeep I finished a joel 😂

-

npts for those who loved them the whole time (sorry if you didn’t want this tag, forgive meeee):

@swiftispunk @missladym1981 @ptime1999 @survivingandenduring @pimosworld

@sawymredfox @thelightsandtheroses