#just put it in the sunlight. maybe one day it will bloom.

[sulumuns-dootah]

Assigning WHB demons plants/flowers based off the vibes: Abyssos

⟡ Masterlist ⟡

A/N: I think I need to start attending some botany classes again bc from the way these post are turning into me rambling about plants i can tell I miss it :D

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Nepenthes rajah

I don't think this plant has a common name, but if it did it would be smth like Rat/Mouse eating pitcher plant

Bc that's exactly what the plant does

It's just big enough for the small rodent to climb into and never see the light of day again

This also probably explains why I picked it for Beel

I mean, he literally eats angels whole

(I find pitcher plants really cool bc they're literally just a pitchers filled with digestive fluid, but they're not necessary carnivorous - some life off of animal droppings or insects)

       ༺☆༻

Venus flytrap - Dionaea muscipula

At first i was gonna include maybe some other pitcher plant or completely different plant...

But then again, Bael is literally catching the King of flies on daily basis

Idk why, but looking at pics of the open leaves is really calming to me

Having them is kinda cool bc sometimes you just walk past and see one of their leaves closed bc it caught a fly and you'll feel kinda proud of your little baby for catching something

From my experience they don't close when you give them dead one, though

They might also be a bit harder to keep alive...

Mine made it few months, but then bloomed and died shortly after I cut the flower off (similar thing also happened to my friend who specialises in succulents and carnivorous plants so I don't think I did anything wrong)

       ༺☆༻

Poison Ivy - Toxicodendron

At first I was thinking I'll give Stolas something bird-named, but I really wantd somethinig that looks harmless, and the moment you mess with, you're in for a lot of pain

And this plant baby delivers

I've never had the misfortune of meeting it, but I haver heard the stories

For those who don't know: Contanct wiht the plant gives you a nasty rash, sometimes with some blisters

Interestingly, looking it up on wikipedia, there's even what would happen if you smoked or eaten it....

As if you'd wanna do that after getting a rash just touching that thing

(You skin is pretty much reacting to the oil on the leaves, so after you come to contact make sure to wash it off or you'll spread it on other things too)

       ༺☆༻

Hypoestes

I can only talk about this moody beauty from experience since there isn't much info online

From what I've found there's about 150 scpecies in this family

Doesn't require much sunlight, but needs water

And oh boy, the amount of water...

The reason why I picked this plant for Amon is how easy it is for the leaves to start drooping

Just like him being constantly tired

But oh boy, the drooping... One minute she looks good and then two minutes later she's on the verge of death

It's not good to have planters just sitting in water bc of the risk of mold, but this one might just need it

       ༺☆༻

Common Ivy - Hedera Helix

Originally I wanted to go again with a plant based off his animal form, but then while writing for Amon, I saw normal Ivy

The ultimate Dark Academia plant that looks so good growing around anything

It's perfect for a demon they sometimes call Class President

I really love Common Ivy bc of how much you can use her for

Amazing use for Ivy is putting her into floral arrangements and the amazing thing is that it'll mostly keep its color as long as it's not left out in the rain or your glue gun set on too high temperature

Fun fact: The leaves of the plant are different on normal branches from the branches with a flower

[theonewhopoops]

Wait do normal people really see their bodies as part of themselves and who they are and not just something they happen to inhabit and they make the best of it/just accept it/learn to live with it???

Apparently I can only add a poll by editing it in and not by reblogging but here:

[suguwu]

this is messy but—

it’s been years since the flames dabi set in his father’s office turned on him. set their sparking teeth in his skin and refused to let go. it’s been years, but his scars never let him forget. 

he’s out of prison now, but for all his counselor talks a big game, he can’t find a job. so instead, when the noise is too much, he takes refuge at the little flower shop around the corner from his rehabilitation center. 

the mist in the air feels good on his scars and cools him off and the scent of earth is grounding. brings him back into his own skin. he lingers but never buys anything but you—the owner—never seems to chase him out.

you smile at him and bob your head in greeting before returning back to the bouquet you're making. it's like you trust him. maybe you do.

one day, he's running a finger over a leaf of a flower, one that blushes like the dawn, sweet, soft pink. he's afraid to touch a silken petal; thinks it will rot beneath his clumsy fingers, considering the way it ripples like a wave in the barest breeze.

"ranunculus."

he glances over his shoulder at you. "bless you."

you laugh.

"the flower," you explain. "it's called a ranunculus."

"oh."

"here," you say, picking one out of the bucket it's tucked into. the water sloshes; it gleams on the long, thick stem of the flower. "hold that for a second."

he blinks as you shove the flower into his hands. then you're plucking more flowers from nearby buckets, your hands moving like fluttering little birds. you gather more and more, until he can barely see you behind the greenery and the blooms. he recognizes some: proud, leggy irises; fluffy ball peonies, as white as driven snow; crimson tulips so dark they're almost black.

"c'mon," you say, heading towards your worktable. he follows, feeling a little ridiculous carrying a single bloom versus your meadow-like armful. you lay your wares out on the table and beckon him closer. he holds out the ranunculus. you flick off the end of the stem with your knife. he hovers, unsure.

"well?" you say. "are you gonna sit?"

he eyes you. you meet his gaze steadily, a hint of a smile pulling at your lips.

"feel bad for me?" he sneers. "that why you're being so nice?"

you hum.

"is putting you to work nice?" you ask, already on to the next flower. he watches the way you hold the knife, how it shines silver in the sunlight, how easily it slides through the thick stem. those hands of yours move with careful surety. he wonders if you do origami; he could see you creasing a thick piece of ornamental paper perfectly.

"i wouldn't call this work."

"no? then you shouldn't mind doing it."

he shoves his hands into his pockets. the misters turn on over the flower buckets; some of the spray settles against his skin, as if he's by the sea.

"fine," he says. "show me."

at the end of the day, you insist on paying him, despite the fact that he's cut a few of the stems too short—one of your bouquets is a little lopsided, but you have it displayed with all the others—and ruined a few blooms. there are petals stuck to his fingertips.

he goes home smelling of wet loam and your faint perfume. rei blinks her big doe eyes at his sudden appearance at the family dinner table, but she makes space for him all the same.

he goes back to your shop the next day. you smile at him, soft and pretty and a little bit sharp with knowing, and he ducks further into his hoodie so you can't see his scars.

"show me more," he tells you.

you tilt your head.

"alright," you say. "let's go."

and just like that, he has a job.

he makes it three weeks before he thinks about kissing you.

it's your hands, he thinks. they're careful and quick and fearless, despite getting pierced by thorns and clippers alike. you touch everything with a certain type of care.

including him.

he never had a chance against you. he thinks about your hands, about your lips, about the way you're so careful with him. not like he's breakable. he'd have left if you touched him like that.

no, you touch him the same way you touch your flowers: like he means something.

it's too much.

he stops going to your shop.

but he watches you, sometimes. you move like a dream, floating between the aisles, petals caught on your fingertips. you laugh with your customers; you chat with them as you roll their bouquets up tight in paper, tied off with a perfect bow. you smile at a man, as bright as the sun, and his hands tighten into fists. it pulls the scars tight enough to hurt, but he doesn't care.

he barges into the shop, shouldering the man aside as he tries to exit. ignores the disgruntled call from behind him. by the time he makes it to the register, you're watching him coolly.

he realizes he doesn't know what to say.

you reach out. he lets you slide that careful hand into the hood of his hoodie; lets you cup his cheek. your eyes don't widen at the rough texture of his scars against your skin. you simply smile at him.

"welcome back," you say, and he realizes he doesn't need to say anything at all.

[withleeknow]

seasons of you.

pairing: minho x reader genre/warnings: established relationship, tooth-rotting fluff or at least i hope so lmao, not v edited and literally no one is surprised lol i sound like a broken record atp just adding that into every post word count: 0.7k note: inspired by a highly fucked up thing that @matchannie said to me yesterday lmao it has not left my brain since you said it you absolute monster

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation / masterlist / ko-fi

minho falls in love with you four times a year.

minho falls in love with you in the spring, over blooming cherry blossoms and vibrant daffodils that greet you on your weekly sunset walk. over the feeling of your fingers intertwined with his own without soft fluffy gloves getting in the way, now that it's finally warm enough to retire that extra layer of protection for the season. over the sun coming out of hibernation and filling your days with golden light, falling upon your face and casting you in a magical hue. over the remnants of winter that still leave behind a palpable chill in the air early in the morning or late in the night, that has you reaching out for the comfort of his warmth. over your delighted smile when he brings home a bouquet of tulips after a long day at work. over your glassy eyes, reddened nose and flushed cheeks as he takes care of you when the seasonal allergies kick in.

minho falls in love with you in the summer, over picnics in the park where you both lay on blue gingham picnic blankets, your head on his chest, as you watch the clouds overhead drift peacefully. over watermelon gelatos passed between teasing lips, the confectionary melting too quickly for your liking under the blazing sunlight. over spontaneous drives to the beach even though neither of you can swim, but you go just for fun, just to build sand sculptures in the shape of your cat babies and stand on the edge of the water to splash at each other. over long naps on the couch on days where you're too lazy to venture into the outside heat, preferring to stay cuddled up together under the air conditioner with niki playing in the background.

minho falls in love with you in fall, over shared slices of pumpkin pie as you watch the leaves turn yellow and red right outside your window. over the adorable way you hide your face behind your hands on nights where he puts on a horror movie because he insists on honoring the halloween spirit. over your off-key rendition of taylor swift's all too well (the 10-minute version) for most of the season because you adamantly claim that it's autumn's official anthem. over weekends spent attached at the hip, baking sugar cookies for hours on end. over your crestfallen pout as you take note of how the days keep getting shorter and shorter, already missing warm sunny weeks with all your heart.

minho falls in love with you in winter, over matching scarves and beanies, even though he often has to carry them for you because you have a bad habit of forgetting them before you go out. over the first snow of the season because they say that if you witness the first snowfall with the person you love, then you will stay together for a long, long time. over sweet cuddles in bed as a bad christmas movie plays on tv, and you fall asleep on his shoulder about half an hour into the movie despite being the one to select the movie in the first place. over your return from a shopping spree with your girlfriends with nothing for yourself but everything for soondoongdori, from christmas themed clothes to treats and toys.

but then again, maybe it's not entirely accurate to say that minho falls in love you merely four times a year. if he wants to be precise, then he would say that he falls for you anew every morning he wakes up and sees you asleep in his arms like a delicate miracle granted by a star he once used to wish upon. if he wants to get technical, then he falls in love with you with every smile that you send his way, which is a terribly sappy thing for him to admit but it doesn't make the statement any less true.

minho loves you every day of every week, of every month, of every year. he's loved you before he even met you, when you were just a romanticized idea in his head and hadn't yet walked into his life like the angel he was always meant to find. he loves you every minute of every hour; there isn't a second where you're not on his mind, not a single beat of his heart that doesn't spell out your name. he loves you throughout the seasons and a million times in between.

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all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 08.04.2024]

[kusanagihaku]

help me hold on to you.

⭢ alan x mc, 2.2k

It is a dance of wants and haves, of budgets and portion sizes, of learning to think for two. It feels like you could do this forever. How easy it is, to be with Alan. How easy he is to love.  or: supermarket date! supermarket date! soft and fluffy domestic alan!!! i love him!!!!! ( º ᴖ º ) // also on ao3

You frown. How is it that whoever runs the campus store can bring in three different types of almond milk, but only one brand of oat milk? 

You weigh both cartons in your hands. Maybe you should just get the almond milk. It isn’t even the good type of oat milk too–

“Y/N?” 

You glance up, only to be met with sea green eyes and arms full of flour and sugar bags. “Kaito!” 

Kaito beams back, golden hair washed a pale yellow under the harsh cold of the store lights. He looks slightly different dressed down, almost like he could be a college student elsewhere in a ratty old hoodie and sweatpants. “I’ve tried that brand of almond milk, it freakin’ sucks. Get the blue carton.” 

You can’t help but laugh. With the strange stocking style of the campus store, you can only ever trust comments of the other students and hope not to step on any culinary landmines. You reach to put both cartons you were holding back when Kaito clears his throat. 

“Why are you wearing a Vagastrom hoodie?” 

Ah. 

You flush, biting your lip. It was colder than you expected this morning when Alan left the bed for his morning run, uncurling himself from around you gently in an effort not to wake you up. But you awoke anyway, body leaning towards his residual warmth like it has every day you’ve woken up in his bed, eyes blurring open to Alan’s fond smile. 

I’ll be back soon, he promised, voice low. Go back to sleep. The sleep-rough of his voice left butterflies at the bottom of your stomach, a small dance of adoration and contentment that lasted long after he shut the door. 

But the cold was sharp, and as Alan’s warmth faded from the blankets you found yourself sitting up and leaning off the edge of his bed until your fingers snagged the yellow hoodie draped across the back of his chair. It smelled vaguely of engine grease, as does everything in Vagastrom, but as you pulled it over your head you were surrounded by sandalwood and summer, by sunlight and sea salt, by Alan. 

The brush of comfort was enough to turn your eyelids heavy and your dreams sweet, until you were awakened again by Alan’s touch on the crown of your head. 

“Y/N?” Kaito peers at you, and you jolt a little. 

“Um,” you say, intelligently. “Ah.” 

It’s not as if you were hiding the fact that you were dating Alan per se, but it… had never really come up in conversation? After all, it is a fairly recent development, and Alan isn’t the type to broadcast news about himself to others. The interactions you’ve had with most of the other ghouls involve mostly you running small errands for them anyway, and less so idle chit-chat. Other than the Vagastrom ghouls (Leo had scoffed the first time he walked in on Alan’s thumb brushing your cheekbone and walked back out, while Sho just smirked and hollered something in Leo’s direction about a bet), you don’t think any of the other students know anything about your relationship with the Vagastrom captain. 

But this is Kaito, one of the first people to befriend you in Darkwick, and now that you’re faced with the opportunity and his guileless eyes, you feel kind of ashamed you’ve never told him about it…

“Did you find it?” A gentle weight rests on the top of your head. A warmth blooms at the base of your throat, sweet and golden, and you briefly forget about Kaito as you lean backwards to smile up at Alan. 

“They don’t have the brand I usually get. Should we get almond instead?” 

Alan nods at you to place the carton in his basket. “Sure.” 

“Sho said he wanted us to pick up some bell peppers too–“ 

“Sorry, what the fuck?!” Kaito’s yelp is startling, and you reflexively jerk backwards into the solid harbour of Alan’s arm. “Since WHEN?!” 

You flush. A sheepish apology balances on the tip of your tongue, but Alan beats you to it. The gruff in his voice is evident as he says, “Your business, Frostheim?” 

Kaito’s eyes grow round. A million little emotions (mostly some frantic type of fear, but tinged with betrayal, you note somewhat despondently) flash across his face before your apology tumbles out. “Sorry, Kaito, I meant to tell you and Luca, but I’ve been so busy-“ 

“It’s okay,” Kaito squeaks, and before you can say anything else he disappears up the aisle, bags of flour dropping in his wake. 

Alan frowns. He pulls you slightly closer, fingers resting lightly on the waist of his hoodie, and there is something so unexpectedly tender in the action it makes your heart feel three times too big. Always soft, always warm. Always gentle, with you. 

You half-expect him to say something about Kaito, but he just sighs. 

“Bell peppers are up front,” he says, instead, and you laugh. 

You end up picking more bell peppers than Sho asked for, if only so you can add the extras to the dinners you cook for the week. Alan picks out spring onions and a new box of white miso; you trade it for a box of red (he has an unopened box of white miso hidden behind his giant tub of protein powder; you unearthed it while searching for his black pepper last week) and toss in an extra yellow onion. 

You spend the most time in the meat section, of course – Alan’s meals consist mainly of grilled meat on rice whenever you’re not around. You watch as he frowns his way through cuts of meat, bending over to trade pork shoulder for jowl, and you resist the urge to smooth out the crease between his brows as he looks between both price tags. 

It is a dance of wants and haves, of budgets and portion sizes, of learning to think for two. It feels like you could do this forever. 

How easy it is, to be with him. How easy he is to love. 

He doesn’t believe it, you know. Where you see caution and care in wrinkles of his palms he sees nothing but bloodstains and bruises, like there is nothing in him that deserves to be held. But oh, the way you’re trying to show him–

It is a whole downpour by the time Alan walks you back from Vagastrom. You are both soaked to the bone, your bangs sticking to your forehead and his yellow vest a dark ochre. 

You invite him in to dry off, of course. He can’t possibly make his way back to Vagastrom like this. 

(You also don’t think he can find his way back in the pouring rain, but you don’t say that part out loud.) 

“I’ve got towels upstairs,” you say, instead, and lead him up the stairs to your room. You pray hard that all your laundry is in its basket and you haven’t left anything stupid out. 

You haven’t, much to your relief, and you invite Alan inside after a cursory glance. You shrug off the wet sop of your jacket and dump it on your desk, heading straight to your closet to where you remember sticking the towels after your last laundry run. 

“You can leave your vest on the desk, I’ll hang it above the radiator to dry,” you tell him, and immediately regret it. Stupid. Stupid of you to think your heart can handle the visual of Alan removing any piece of clothing in your vicinity. 

You are weighing how stupid it would sound to retract your statement, when Alan clears his throat. “Your, um. Your toy is on the floor.” 

You twist around to see your white stuffed rabbit lying on the floor next to your bed. Huh. He must have fallen out when you clambered out of bed this morning, rushing to make your 9am class. 

“Oh, you can just set him back on the bed,” you say, before turning to rummage through your closet for towels. You easily locate your spare one with a triumphant ha!, and turn back to hand it to Alan so he can dry off. 

…only to see him kneeling next to your rabbit, fingers outstretched as if to pick him up, but hesitant all the same. You blink. 

Alan senses your stare, and looks up at you, almost embarrassed. “My hands are dirty.” 

You know what he’s talking about – you’ve spent countless hours staring at his fingers as they fill out your forms, watching his hands twist spanners around bolts, dreaming of what his hands would feel like on the bare of your skin. They’re mostly clean (or as clean as he can get with wiping them on spare rags and rinsing them in the sink), but there is always a line of engine grease lingering under his fingernails he can’t quite get out. 

You understand what he’s talking about too – he looked up at you one afternoon, seated on the worn leather sofa in the Vagastrom garage as he tinkered with the hood of a car. You were balancing a calculator on one knee and a form on the other, trying to figure out why the budget request for Leo’s next mission was so high and trying to look like you weren’t staring too much at the muscles in Alan’s forearms. 

Honour student, he sighed. He set down the wrench. Don’t get involved with me.

You looked up, slightly flustered and alarmed at having been caught, but a protest on the tip of your tongue all the same. He caught the look on your face and shook his head. You don’t want to get mixed up in my life.

You didn’t say anything back then, choosing instead to duck your head to hide the burn in your cheeks, but oh, how you wish you did. 

You want him to know how you’ve noticed that his hands and eyes linger longer on you than most, that he takes extra care to clean up whenever you’re around. You want him to know you’ve seen the sidelong glances he’s thrown at you, too, across the garage, and that you’ve seen the red on the tips of his ears after he leans in a bit too close for a bit too long, the peeks he takes whenever he thinks you’re busy fixing something on his phone. 

You want to show him how his fierce has always been used for protecting, how his heart has always been built to lead. How his hands have always been meant to build and fix and hold and never to hurt. 

You want to tell him that you don’t know what pushed him to make the choices he did all those years ago, but you know that he is more than the product of those choices, more than what those circumstances have made him become. That he’s more than the strength behind his knuckles and the decisions that he’s made, how he’s someone an entire house will rally behind and defend to the death. That he deserves to give himself a chance to go for what he wants, for once. 

You shake your head. You hope he understands, this time. “I don’t mind.” 

When he still doesn’t move, you move to kneel next to him, towel wrung between your hands. The wet green of his hair hangs over his eyes, but you can see him watching you all the same, almost as if you are the hunter and he is the prey. 

“I don’t mind,” you say, again. It comes out as a whisper this time, bullets careening into a moment glass-thin. 

His eyes dart up to meet yours, narrowing and wary, but your hands move before he can speak. The brush of your thumb over the rough of his cheek is feather-light, and you will him to understand what you mean when you lean forward to murmur, “That way, I can fall asleep thinking of you.” 

You feel Alan’s breath catch as you brush your lips against the edge of his mouth, and you can almost hear the cogs in his head turning, slowly, as you pull away. Please understand.

And when he turns to you, when he gives in to himself, finally, when he presses his lips against yours in a controlled kind of recklessness and the thirst of a man who hasn’t felt the cool of water for days and doesn’t quite believe that he can, it feels like he does. 

“Do I have breadcrumbs?” Alan turns to you. You blink, pulled back by the anchor of his voice.

“Mm,” you manage, “I don’t think so, but I do. We can swing by the cathedral to pick it up before heading back to yours?” 

Alan hums in agreement, and bends over to retrieve a tray of pork chops from the freezer display. You can’t help it – you lean over to press a small kiss to his cheek as he straightens, and laugh when he turns to you, confused and slightly startled, smile tugging on his lips and blush climbing up his ears. 

“Thanks,” you say. For everything. 

Alan looks at you, eyes moss-soft, haloed in the artificial bright of supermarket aisle, then places the tray into his basket. He shifts the basket to his other side so he can grab your hand in his free one. “Let’s go home.” 

Yes, you think, tangling your fingers into his. Let’s. 

[tiredfox64]

Can you write about the reader would watch Tomas train shirtless everyday in secret to avoid being embarrassed by someone until one day Tomas catches her? 😉

You will see such Wonderful Things

Yip notes: If only I could do that, I’m blind af. Never ask me to look at something I’ll lie and say I see it

Pairing: Tomas x Afab reader

Warnings‼️: Suggestive

From spring to summer, the changing of the seasons is a wonderful time. The cherry blossoms bloom before turning into healthy green leaves. The wind is warm as it blows the grass. The butterflies and bees play around with the flowers as you walk by. You must be on a nature walk. Why else would your eyes be shifting around?

What? You’re not on a nature walk? Then what are you looking—oh…

You’re looking for Tomas, of course.

Since it’s been getting warmer, it’s been harder to stay cool during training. Tomas is used to it constantly being cold but since he isn’t in Arctika anymore he’s been struggling with the heat. Even if it’s only up to 75 degrees Fahrenheit he feels like he’s being suffocated. So with the weather being up to 80 degrees he had no choice but to go topless. It’s the most he could do to stay to stay cool.

Tomas would usually feel embarrassed training without a shirt which is why he trains in a somewhat secluded area. He goes to a clearing in the forest near the Shirai Ryu temple. He’s only told Kuai Liang where it is since he didn’t want the rest of the clan to know about it, especially you.

It’s nothing against you but he would feel a little embarrassed if a girl saw him shirtless. He’s not ashamed of his body, he has a well-built body. Even you have said it yourself. You made that statement very clear since you always liked to touch his muscular arms. You even mentioned that Tomas had bigger muscles than his brother, which he denied even though it’s true. Just the thought of you seeing him shirtless and finding many ways to praise him makes his head spin. His mind and body could not handle all of that. It’s best that you didn’t know.

OH BUT WAIT YOU DID KNOW!

It was an accident; you swear it. You didn’t mean to stumble upon Tomas while he was training. You were just trying to look for him so you too could spar with each other and well…that happened. The first was an accident, no biggie. But the other times, that’s a different story.

After that, you started wandering off into the woods to check if Tomas was there all the time. And he was! You would watch as he grew hotter until his breathing got heavy. Only then would he take his shirt off. Oh gosh, how were you so lucky to be blessed with such a sight? You wouldn’t trade this for anything, not even a view of Niagara Falls. The sight of him like this makes you fall for him even more.

Alright, maybe you were a little boy crazy right now, but Tomas has really put a spell on you. It’s like the sunlight knows his body is magnificent so it’s always shining down on him. It calls for your attention. You can’t rip your eyes away from him. It doesn’t make it any better that he grunts every time he attacks the training dummy. It drives your hormones wild and gets your mind going. Relax your fist, woman! The ground didn’t do anything to you! Why must you grip it so tight?!

This day was no different. You found the perfect spot for hiding, right behind a small boulder with a tree next to it and shrubbery in the front. There was no way Tomas could see you, but you could see him perfectly. At this point, there was an indent in the ground where you usually kneel. This day sure was hot which meant a better show for you.

By the time you got there he was already pretty sweaty and his top was off. His breathing was heavy and he was even letting out a few whine due to the heat. Poor thing, he is out of his element. He wiped the sweat off his forehead before continuing to train. You watched him slash and kick the training dummy. His grunts were loud and clear to you. He was doing good for about five minutes before he needed another break.

He walked over to the shade that was provided by the trees. He lays on the ground to relax his muscles and catch his breath. You had to peek your head up a little more to get a view of him. Your heart started beating like crazy just looking at him. He even started pushing his pants down a little to reduce the feeling of being suffocated by his clothes. There goes your mind running wild again.

Girls can have dirty thoughts as well. You shouldn’t feel guilty for staring at him and wondering if that’s what he would look like if you were riding him. All hot and bothered, getting all sweaty and breathing heavily. You’d wonder if he would groan or if he would whimper. You can imagine both. He’s a tough guy but he can also be a softie. You would do anything just to get him like that in bed. That’s if you could get him in bed. You haven’t asked him out.

No matter, if this is the most you could get so be it. You just can’t risk getting caught.

Snap

Uh oh…

You ducked down immediately when you heard the snap of a twig. Tomas heard it too and immediately turned in your direction. When you looked down you saw your knee on top of the broken twig. How could you have missed that?

You heard the sound of grass being stepped on and knew Tomas coming your way. You crawled like your life depended on it. You crawled back in the direction you came from until you were a good enough distance away. Only then did you get on your feet and run out of there. By the time Tomas looked over the shrubbery and the boulder you were gone. Not a trace of you was left. Except there was. On closer inspection, he saw the indent in the ground. He immediately knew someone was watching him. But who and why? He can’t leave this unsolved. Though he might have an idea of who it is.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

Well, no wonder your uniform was always dirty.

The first thing Tomas noticed when he went back to the temple was that your pants were dirty. The dirt was specifically on your knee area. How suspicious.

He played it cool. He didn’t want you to suspect him of anything. He acted normal throughout the day, talking to you about mundane things like it was any other day. You fell for his act. You believed you got away with it. He didn’t know you were the one taking a peek at him. Oh, but he knows. He just needs to prove his theory right.

The next day came and you were walking into the forest by instinct. You’re like a teen going into the woods to smoke weed to avoid being grounded by your parents. You needed to go and get your fixing.

Your beautiful man was already there. He had his shirt off as usual though it wasn’t all that hot. There was a nice breeze that shook the leaves. It felt like it was 65 degrees outside. But you paid no mind to that. All you cared about was looking at Tomas. You got to your usual spot and knelt down.

All was going well until five minutes in. You saw Tomas take something out of his pocket before smashing it onto the ground. Smoke, it was a smoke bomb. He was gone in the blink of an eye. You expected him to show up again after a second but he didn’t. Where did he go and why do you feel eyes on you?

“Heh, I guess I was right.”

You heard Tomas’ voice behind you. You were caught. Game over man!

Your face burned hotter than the day. That 65 degrees felt like 90 now. You turned around and saw Tomas standing there. His arms were crossed and he looked somewhat intrigued. He looked like he was waiting for an explanation from you. You watched his lips twitch a little as he held himself back from smiling.

He’s happy that you aren’t some assassin but seeing that it’s you, it’s kinda funny. He finds it even sillier that you are struggling to give him an explanation.

“I…I was…so what I was doing was…” You don’t have the right words, you may never have the right words.

Because how else are you gonna explain that you’ve been watching him every day? The ground doesn’t lie, the evidence is in the indent. You were a peeping tom who watched him take his top off every day.

“I’m still waiting for an explanation.” He said.

You knelt and bowed your head to apologize to him. Your embarrassment prevented you from telling him the truth. All you could manage to do was apologize and wonder if he would see you in a bad light now. The truth is you are a pervert there is no way around that. Your behavior is unacceptable hence you are a pervert. There should be no surprise that Tomas would think the same way.

“You’re a strange girl, you know that right? I would have preferred you to be upfront about this.”

…I have a bad read on these characters.

You lifted your head up to look at him with a mixture of shock and awe. The awe was because of the angle you were getting. I mean, good lord, you wouldn’t mind being on your knees aga—

“So…does that mean I can stay?”

The only response you got from Tomas was a head shake with a smile on his face. He walked past you to get back to training. He turned back once he realized you didn’t move from your spot.

“Are you coming or are you staying behind the rock like a pervert?” He yelled to you.

Well, I guess he does see you as a pervert. But it seems like he doesn’t mind all that much. So get off your knees and get a front-row seat.

Yap notes: My brain is mush and there is too much fruit in this damn den 🍊🍓. Adiós!

[solarisfortuneia]

— 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬.

✦ event: freedom is sweet.

✦ for: @zhongrin

✦ info / prompt: “sometimes (read: all the time) i want to just. hug their waist and pepper kisses ( + maybe even nibbles when i'm feeling chaotic >:) ) all over their back!! how do you think they would they react?” (zhongli: modern au. alhaitham: regular au.)

✦ warnings: none, i think. (i did proofread but i may have missed a mistake or two.)

✦ featuring: zhongli, alhaitham.

✦ notes: happy (belated) birthday rin!! my apologies for this being late, i wanted to make it perfect (it's not quite there, but i like it regardless and i hope you will too <3 mwah have a great day!!)

warm rays of sunlight stream in through open windows that zhongli insists on keeping open in the mornings, lighting up the entire kitchen, bouncing off cream colored walls. the plants by the windowsill are certainly grateful for it, considering how they seem to be thriving. they look happier than they’ve ever been.

and in the middle of the cozy scene stands your husband, still in his nightclothes, watering can in hand, amber eyes focused solely on his task. 

the scent of both coffee and tea floats gently to your nose, and you look to the side to see your favorite cup already set atop a warmer. soft, slow music plays through his phone on the table, the notes in harmony with the metallic clinks of the windchime.  oh, you think, smiling to yourself as you lean on the doorframe, arms crossed. he’s finally figured out how to put that song he likes on repeat.

“look at you,” he murmurs to his— well, technically, they’re yours, but at this point he’s practically claimed them as his own with how much attention he lavishes upon them on the daily— plants, affectionately running a finger along a vibrant green leaf. “you’re looking well this morning, aren’t you, little one?” 

an idea sparks to life in your head.

he turns to the right, moving to lightly water another plant, one with pale white flowers blooming happily. “good morning to you, dear,” he coos, gently turning it. “and to you too, madam.” he says to the one with vibrant red blooms. 

opportunity presents itself to you at precisely that very moment, where his back faces towards you and there is no possible chance for him to spot you in his peripherals. your feet, clad in socks, barely make a sound as you inch ever-so-carefully towards him. a brief pause, then a quiet inhale, and you pounce, arms locking around his waist as you pepper kisses all over his backside, quick and mischievous. 

a surprised ‘oof’ leaves his mouth, and he laughs when he realizes it’s you, setting aside the watering can. you lean up, nibbling at the nape of his neck, giggling alongside him. “good morning, my dearest.” he glances at you from over his shoulder, amusement in his expression. “how long have you been up?”

“long enough to see you talking to the flowers,” you tease playfully. “i know you’re an old, old man, but you’re not that old yet, are you?”

he clears his throat, revolving to meet your gaze. he grasps your face in his warm, calloused hands, before speaking. “studies show that talking to your plants and speaking positively to them can augment their growth by a considerable amount, dearest.” his lips quirk into a tiny, serene smile. “besides, i do quite enjoy doing it.”

you laugh, pressing more kisses to the tip of his nose and to his mouth in rapid succession. you feel his smile widen against your lips, which stays on his face long after you pull away.

“you certainly are affectionate today.” he chuckles. “well, then,” he looks to you for silent permission, ever the gentleman, hoisting you up into his arms when you consent, lips brushing over your eyelids, over your cheek and over your forehead.

“let me return the favor tenfold, my love.”

your shoes clack satisfyingly against the polished floors of the house of daena as you walk down the hallway. you pause to wave hello to the man standing near the lift to the grand sage’s office, then walk inside. if your estimates were correct, then you should be just in time for alhaitham’s lunch break.  

you push open the door to his office, forgoing the need to knock. the room is neat, clean and organized; just how he prefers it. you see him standing in front of his bookshelf, eyes scanning up and down, very clearly looking for something, familiar silver hair a little tousled. you walk normally towards him, knowing his headphones muffle the sound of your footsteps, and wrap your arms around his waist.

“boo,” you whisper in his ear, lifting his earpieces a little. “i’m here! did you miss me?”

he sighs contentedly when he feels your touch, book still in one hand, but the other moves to remove his headphones, then grasps your hand firmly. “i did,” he admits, leaning so the back of his head rests against yours. “everything is certainly duller without you around.”

he sighs again, wearily this time, setting the book down to run his fingers over his eyes, massaging the bridge of his nose. “i’d much rather be at home with you than deal with paperwork. it seems as if people can't do anything themselves.”

“i know,” you whisper against the skin of his neck, smiling sympathetically. you hold him tighter, running your lips over his neck and his back, playfully nipping at his earlobe. your lips kiss every inch of him that you can reach, littering featherlight pecks all over.

he shakes his head at your antics, but the red that dusts his cheek (and the tips of his ears) and the barely contained grin on his face portray a different story. 

“why did you stop?” he asks when you pull away. his voice sounds disappointed, and you can’t help but laugh. how cute. “i never asked you to.” 

“i’m sorry,” you smooch his cheek in apology. your eyes fall to the clock on his desk. “ i'm glad i got to see you today, but i’ve got to go now.”

“where are you going off to?” he pulls you closer by your wrist when you start to move away, then intertwines his fingers with yours once again, brows knitting together. “stay. have lunch with me.”

“i only popped in to say hello,” you kiss the frown on his forehead. “i have to get back to work soon. my break ends much earlier than yours, remember?”

“i know, but you can still stay,” he glances at you. “i’ll send a letter to your boss after lunch. they won’t have a problem.”

“grand sage alhaitham!” you exclaim in mock-surprise, holding a hand to your mouth, eyes widening slightly. “are you really going to use your position to get me to have lunch with you? what would people at the akademiya think of this?” 

“acting grand sage,” he reminds you, leaning over to softly touch his lips to your forehead, used to your theatrics. “good thing i don’t care what they think. besides,” he adds, “i’m sure lesser lord kusanali wouldn’t mind, and is she not the boss of us all?”

you laugh. “i suppose that reasoning is sound.”

he extends his arm for you to hold. “then let's get going.”

taglist: @kissedbysilk @ilyuu @xiaosonlybeloved @ineshapanda @soleillunne @supernova25 @vixianne @downwithlean

bold: unable to be tagged! please check your settings or let me know if you've changed urls <3

[deliontower]

Wild flowers | s.p

pairing: Sejanus x gn!reader

summary: Sejanus finds you in the meadow

warnings: mainly fluff, small mentions of the games and some light spoilers for the movie and book

word count: 800

a/n: saw the movie a few nights ago and wow, I’m me fashion i did like the book better but the movie was still amazing and I have the old therebefore on repeat . I wrote this for my bestie because she couldn’t find Sejanus fics. This probably could be edited better

MAIN MASTERLIST | REQUEST OPEN

The summer air was sweet, the flowers of the meadow had bloomed overnight, as far as the eye could see. Lily of the valley, young primeroses , deep purple violets, and dozens more you couldn’t name.

Hidden behind a massive tree, its leaves shading you from the harsh sun. This time of year in district 12 was unbearable. Only the rich could afford to keep cool, and you certainly wasn’t that.

Six days out of the week you worked in the local doctor’s. It couldn’t quite be called a hospital but it was one of the only places people could go and get medical care.

You lent back against the tree, weaving your hands through the tall grass and flowers. Bees buzzed but gave no mind to you. The day was turning out well, you had brought some fresh bakers bread and a lump of cheese, and a jug of water. Simple and delicious.

The mockingjays song hit your ears, the tune was familiar but the name escaped you. Humming along, some words came to mind.

Here it's safe, here it's warm

Here the daisies guard you from every harm

Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true

Here is the place where I love you

Deep in the meadow, a song a local brand was known to play, you had only seen them a handful of times but the songs stuck. Like it had for the birds.

The sound of stones falling and fallen twigs snapping pulled you out of a dream and jumping to your feet, frowning in the sunlight you spotted, Sejanus Plinth.

Sejanus had been a peacekeeper once but shortly after he had found his way to the doctors, where he was training to be a medic. He rarely spoke about this life before 12 but from the times he had (and from what the doctors said) he came from a rich family in the capitol.

“You following me, Sejanus?” you asked. Your tone was serious, his whole body went still. Then you laughed. “Come sit with me then, might even share my food with you”.

In his hand he carried a brown paper bag, “then I guess you can have some of mine”. He dropped the bag in your lap, opening the bag you found cookies.

Now this was proof he was rich, the baker sold cookies but only the other merchants could afford them Sejanus went on to explain, his Ma had sent them, blushing the whole time.

The shy blushed look made you laugh, “that’s very sweet of her, she must miss you an awful lot”.

“Just as I miss her” he replied in a sad voice.

“You might see her again, learn enough and you could go back to her” you said, laying a hand over his. His hands were cold, cold hands warm heart you mama used to say.

“I don’t want to go back there” he said.

What you said next came as a surprise to even her, “I can teach you a few things, like what plants heal and where to find them”.

“You’d do that” he asked unsure.

“Of course. We don’t have many doctors here and if you’re planning on staying I’d teach you”. You stood, putting the cookies on your bag. “There’s a lake deeper in the woods, you’ll find all the best stuff there”.

He followed and stood up looking through the trees, maybe he didn’t trust you and thought you were leading him to his death.

“Hey” you touched his hand again, “keep north and you’ll find the lake then it’s south to get back, you can trust me”.

He smiled and suddenly the sun seemed dimmer, he took your hand and squeezed it ,“okay, I trust you”.

The hike took a few hours, but the sight of the lake proved it was worth it. You found a patch of herbs close by one of the old houses, it might have been someone’s garden once.

You showed him peppermint that helped with nausea, liquorice to reduce swelling, lemon balm for sleep and any others you could make without the book of herbs and flowers you had at home.

“Where did you learn all this?” He rubbed a peppermint leaf between his finger and thumb. You pick a lemon Balm inhaling the smell, smiling.

“My mama was an apothecary, always been my dream to follow in her footsteps. What about you? Do you have any dreams?”.

“To help people anyway I can”

It was so easy to talk to him, somewhere in your heart you knew he’d understand. Maybe it was his eyes, brown the colour of chocolate. Sejanus was sweet, too sweet for the world, you thought that if it rained he’d melt away like sugar.

“I have a feeling you’re gonna do wonderful things Sejanus” I smiled and he smiled back.

[sleep-0-deprived]

Male yosano x Male reader, their first date and male yosano being male reader’s gay awakening.

Male Yosano x male reader first date~! (kinda short but I hope you like cause I had fun writing it) ૮꒰๑´ ᵕˋ๑꒱ა

WC:. 930

Tags: just mostly tooth rotting fluff, picnic dates, sexuality realization, first time boyfriends, vulnerable male reader ‹𝟹

A/N: I actually really liked this! I don’t do much fluff but every one needs some fluff in their lives ⋆｡‧˚ʚ 🍒ɞ˚‧｡⋆

You sat on a subway train, sunlight streaming into your window shining next to where you sat. You kept running the thumb pad over your thigh trying to think about something else other than the fact you got asked out on a date by your purple haired co worker— well maybe it’s not even a date? He never specified that. What if it’s not a date and you were just reading it all wrong?

All you could think about was “is this a date or not! Do I want it to be a date?” You started over thinking everything that could happen, everything you wanted to happen. Feeling sick in your gut like you swallowed butterfly’s. The thought of this not being a date made your heart flair and swell before clenching up with sadness making you ready to burst like a water balloon being thrown.

Before anymore thoughts could fizz out the train had made its stop, standing up blank minded like a zombie walking past all of the other passengers getting off and onto the platform taking a deep breath in of japans spring air. The smell of baked goods at the cafe around the corner- the smell of the ripe peach trees on the outer edge of the city somehow felt innocent to you.

Then you saw him, Yosano standing with a smile at the other end of the platform holding a beige basket and a bouquet of perfectly bloomed daisy’s with cherry blossoms for accent setting a pink and white theme. “I hope I’m not late Yosano” a sheepish smile graced your face standing in an average pair of jeans and a light colored sweater.

“You’re fine [name], I was just early is all!” The purple haired man just smiled at you idly before handing you the flowers “I didn’t know what flowers you’d like so I just got the ones that reminded me of you most” taking the flowers from his hand as he guides you out of the train station area

Walking down the side walk of Yokohama with the sun hanging midway in the sky above whilst the clouds flowed by, Yosano’s hand holding the basket of the assorted food while reaching another hand over to hold yours. You feel giddy inside and embarrassed too as he makes a turn taking you into an older looking park.

The park was well kept but not pristine, a mother and daughter on a bench while a dog owner played with his dog but Yosano knew the perfect little spot for the two of you. Down a narrow little path behind the park where a bunch of grown up vines and tall weeds stood he’d pull you along to a secluded spot by the river bay sitting next to a tall oak tree just out of view from the rest of the park.

“This is a nice spot” you try to start a conversation and get your mind off of the internal panic you were having, Yosano putting down a blanket on the grass for the two of you with before sitting his picnic basket down in the middle taking a seat next to it and looking up at you “yeah, I remember in high school I used to go to this park a lot, when I found this spot it became my own little sanctuary”

“Sorry if this seems random, but what exactly is this?..what are we even?” You blurt out unable to take it feeling on edge looking at Yosano when you sit down on the blanket watching him silently when he sits right across from you. I mean sure you and him work

Closely together, ear lunch in the armed detective agency together, share sideway glances from your cubical when no one can see, but that didn’t mean anything right? You always thought of it as an admiration for your work senior but you couldn’t deny the thought of being more felt comforting.

“Well it’s a date obviously, and as for what are we, I hope by the end of the day you’ll say you’re my boyfriend” the purplette says with a confident smile while opening up the picnic basket and getting all the food he packed out. A trey of rice balls and various small sandwiches sitting on trees when he sits them on the top of the picnic basket and sits them between the two of you.

“I’ve never been with a man before Yosano, I don’t even know if I like men….but something about you makes me go crazy” you whisper out in return looking at him while reaching for a rice ball and taking a bite silently not knowing you just described a crush to him. “Well whatever we are or aren’t, I’d like to be something with you and I’m willing to take as long as we need to work [name]”

Yosano placed his hand on top of the hand resting in your lap and rubs his thumb over the knuckle quietly comforting you and being calm about the confusion. “I think I wanna try dating Yosano, you mean a lot t’me and I think I like you more than friendly” the sound of a small clap came from Yosano.

“We’ll take things slow all right baby? I want you to be comfortable” he coos gently to you just smiling softly and staying close to you for the rest of the time. Conversation after conversation making you forget why you ever doubted it. Yosano has a way of rubbing off his confidence onto you easing your nerves.

“Thank you Yosano”

[smoooothoperator]

What Was I Made For?

23: I Think I Like This Little Life

childhood enemies, forced proximity, accidental pregnancy, enemies to lovers (👀)

Warnings: fluuuuuff

a/n: New chapter!!! As you canread it, the ending of the story is coming closer...

if you want to play a game and ask things about Dafne

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House hunting.

I remember doing it when I bought my apartment in Florence, and the memory I have of it was a good one. I was excited, being paid for the first time after my first season in Formula 1, buying all the furniture I wanted and the decorations I liked. I was excited to put my signature on a paper that said that I had a house in my name.

But now, pregnant for seven months, is a living nightmare. My back hurts, my legs hurt, my ankles are swollen, I need to go to the bathroom every now and then. 

“I swear to God, if this house is not a dreamy one, I will buy again my apartment, I don't care if I just sold it” I groaned, rubbing my belly while watching the screen of Charles' phone guiding us to the location of the last house we found.

“I promise, you'll like it” Charles laughed, holding my hand and squeezing it softly. 

“You said the same with the last two ones we visited” I protested. “And at the end of the tour you said something bad about them”

“They didn't have enough light!” he exclaimed, laughing.

“Oh, fuck off! Nikola Tesla invented the light bulb for something!” I groaned.

“But it's better when you have natural light, love” he sighed, rubbing my belly. “And those houses didn't have enough rooms”

“Enough? Charles, both of them had at least four rooms!”

“Sure, but what about our offices? And a room for the baby? And what if… I don't know, what if we have more kids?” he sighed. “We need space, love…”

“Y-yeah, but…” 

“I promise, you will like this one” he smiled.

I sighed and nodded, looking out of the window again. The sun was shining brightly in the April sky, a soft breeze carrying the scent of blooming flowers as we drove through the outskirts  of Milano. The fields were starting to turn green again, a reminder that life always continues, even after loss. 

It had been a few weeks since Athena passed away, and the ache of it still lingered in my chest, but something about this day, like the way the sunlight hit the trees and the gentle kicks from Dorian in my belly, felt different. There was hope again, even if it was just a little.

I placed a hand on my belly while I let go a long sigh, feeling Dorian’s gentle kicks beneath my palm. Seven months along, and it still amazed me how close we were to meeting him.

“You okay?” Charles asked, moving his hand to my belly without tearing off his eyes from the road.

“Yeah” I sighed. “Your son, however, thinks he's the one who's driving this car”

“He's excited. Maybe he knows we’re close to finding his first home” Charles laughed, rubbing my belly.

I chuckled, looking at Charles, his hand resting on the steering wheel, his eyes focused on the road ahead. He looked calm, but I knew him well enough to sense the excitement simmering beneath the surface.

As we turned onto a narrow, tree-lined road, the GPS beeped. We took a deep breath, trying to calm our nerves while we looked at what we had in front of us: a house with beige walls that were softened by the ivy that climbs to the brown brown. From the front of the house we could see the trees that were in the backyard, and the porch of the front had enough space to leave a few cars parked on it.

“Ready?” Charles asked, turning off the car.

“Let’s do it” I nodded, feeling a bit more of hope.

Getting out of the car was a bit more of a challenge than it had been a few months ago, but Charles was by my side in an instant, his hand on my back, guiding me gently as we walked up the gravel path toward the front door.

The agent, a woman in her late thirties with a bright smile, greeted us warmly and opened the door to let us inside.

And the moment we stepped in, I felt it. The house was filled with light, large, airy rooms with high ceilings and hardwood floors that felt warm underfoot. The living room opened up to a sprawling backyard, the kind where I could already imagine Dorian running around someday, his laughter echoing through the trees.

“What do you think?” Charles said, coming closer, smiling excitedly.

I walked slowly through the space and got in the kitchen, my hand trailing over the counter, imagining mornings here with coffee brewing, making breakfast, and Dorian babbling in his high chair. The kitchen was large, with enough space for us to grow into, and the windows above the sink overlooked the garden. I could picture us, years from now, filling this space with memories.

“It feels right” I said softly, turning to Charles. “It feels like home.”

“Let’s see the rest” he smiled, and I could see the relief in his eyes.

We explored the upstairs, where the master bedroom had a balcony that overlooked the property. I stepped out onto it, the wind catching my hair, and closed my eyes for a moment, letting myself dream. I imagined holding Dorian in my arms, standing right here, watching the sunset after a long day. I could hear the soft rustle of leaves, the distant hum of life, and it felt peaceful.

“You’re smiling” Charles said behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist, resting his chin on my shoulder. 

“It just feels perfect. It’s everything I didn’t know I was looking for” I smiled, turning my head slightly to look at him.

“Yeah?” he smiled happily, pressing a kiss on my cheek. “Come look at this”

He held my hand and pulled me to the nearest room. And when we walked in, my heart nearly stopped.

The room was perfect for a nursery. The walls were white and ready to be painted, with big windows that let in so much light. It wasn’t too big, but just the right size to make it feel safe, intimate. I ran my hand over a wall, imagining a crib there with soft blankets and stuffed animals. I could almost hear Dorian’s little laugh echoing in the room, feeling his tiny hands grabbing at my fingers.

“I think he’ll love it here” Charles said, his voice low and warm. He came up behind me, his hands gently resting on my shoulders. I leaned back against him, letting out a soft sigh.

“I think so too” I whisper softly.

We stood there in silence for a moment, just the two of us in that quiet room, imagining the life we were about to build. It had been a long journey, Athena’s passing had left a hole in my heart that still ached. But standing here, with Charles beside me and Dorian growing inside me, I knew that I finally found our place.

“This is it, isn’t it?” I said, turning around to face Charles. My voice trembled just a little, overwhelmed by the certainty that this house was the one.

“I knew you would like it” Charles chuckled, kissing my forehead and wrapping his arms tightly around me.

“You always left the best for the end” I laughed softly.

“Ready to make this official?” he asked with a smile, his eyes twinkling in that playful way he had.

“Let's do it” I smiled, looking around the room with a bigger smile.

We made our way back downstairs, where the real estate agent was waiting for us in the living room. She stood up when she saw us, her smile polite but professional.

“So, what do you think?” she asked, her clipboard in hand. “Do you see yourselves living here?”

I exchanged a glance with Charles, and we both smiled.

“It’s perfect” I said softly. “We love it.”

“I’m glad to hear that. We’ve had a lot of interest in this property, but I had a feeling it would be a good match for you two”she smiled, clearly pleased. 

“What's the next step?” Charles asked, wrapping his arm around my waist.

“Well, we have to make an offer to the seller, then some paperwork. But hopefully I think you can have the keys of the house next week” she said, going through the paper of her clipboard and guiding us towards the table of the living room.

“There's no need of making an offer” Charles smiled. “We take it. We can pay for it”

“Are you sure?” I whisper looking at Charles.

“I am” he smiled, kissing my temple. “I saved money all my life for this, and this season I'll get paid a higher amount of money. And you just sold your apartment in Florence. We can do this, Dafne”

I took a deep breath and looked around, already picturing our future here. Dorian growing up here, making his first steps, celebrating his birthdays with his friends, having dinners with our friends… 

“We can” I smiled looking at him. 

“Alright then” the agent said, smiling again as she handed us the contract. “Let’s get the formalities out of the way. I’ll need your signatures here... and here.”

I watched as Charles signed first, his name flowing across the page in that elegant scrawl of his. Then it was my turn. I held the pen for a moment, my hand trembling slightly as I looked down at the contract.

This was it. This was the moment we officially chose our home.

With a deep breath, I signed my name next to his.

“Congratulations” the agent said brightly, standing up and shaking both our hands. “I’ll send the contract to the seller immediately, and we should have everything finalized within the next week. I’ll be in touch about the next steps, but for now, this house is yours. I'm going to close the sale of the house, so it means that now you can have the keys to move in as soon as possible”

I felt a wave of relief and excitement wash over me. It was real now. We had a home.

As the agent gathered her things and gave us the keys of the house, Charles and I stood by the door, watching her go. When the door finally closed behind her, Charles turned to me, his eyes filled with a quiet joy.

“Well…” he said, a teasing smile playing on his lips while he took a step closer to me and placed his hands on my hips. “We just bought a house.”

“We did” I chuckled, placing my hands on his shoulder.

He smiled and leaned closer to me, pressing his lips on mine with a wide smile. I kissed him back, breathing in deeply and giggling against his mouth.

“I can't wait to start this new chapter here, with you” he whispered. “This is all I ever wanted. A future with you”

“This feels so right” I whisper, cupping his cheek with my hand. “This house, us, our baby… This is so right”

“This is going to be the place where we build our memories. Where we raise our son” Charles said, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead, his hand resting protectively on my belly.

“And maybe another one after that” I added with a grin, watching as his eyes widened in surprise.

“Oh? Already planning the next one?” he said, laughing softly. “We haven’t even finished unpacking for the first one!”

“It’s just… I feel like we’ve found our place. Everything else will fall into place now” I chuckled softly, looking into his eyes. 

We stood there for a while, just the two of us, holding each other in the quiet of what would soon be our home. The house felt alive, filled with the promise of our future, and for the first time in a long time, I felt a deep, peaceful certainty settle over me.

This was where we were meant to be.

dafnemorelli added a new story

charles_leclerc added a new story

dafnemorelli added a new story

The salty breeze from the ocean hit my face as I stood barefoot in the soft, warm sand. The rhythmic sound of waves crashing against the shore filled the air, calming my mind in a way I hadn’t realized I needed. 

I looked out at the ocean in front of me, the horizon blending with the sky. For the first time in what felt like months, I felt completely relaxed. I rested my hand on my belly, feeling a gentle kick from inside.

“You okay?” Charles’ voice came from behind me, soft and full of love.

I turned around and saw him walking toward me, barefoot, his shirt half unbuttoned and flapping in the wind. He looked so carefree, his hair tousled from the wind, and his smile brighter than the sun above us. I nodded, smiling as he wrapped his arms around me from behind, resting his chin on my shoulder. He placed his hands under my belly and lifted it slowly, making me sigh in relief the moment I stopped feeling the weight of the baby.

“Now I’m more than okay,” I whispered, leaning back against him. “Thank you”

We were at a quiet beach in the north of Italy, just a few hours away from Milano. It wasn’t far from home, but it felt like we had escaped the rest of the world. 

Charles has a week off before he starts a triple header, and with Dorian’s arrival just around the corner, we both wanted to savor these last moments of just us. 

This trip was exactly what we needed, no more doctors’ appointments, no more house hunting, no planning. Just the two of us, the ocean, and time to be together.

“You’ve been so amazing, Daf. I can’t imagine what it’s been like carrying him for the last eight months, but you’ve handled everything with so much grace” he smiled, kissing my cheek softly while he let go of my belly slowly again.

“I wasn't alone, Charlie” I smiled, resting my head on his shoulder. “You've been with me all the time. We did this together”

“Yeah” he smiled. “So many things have happened, huh? Starting our relationship, the drama with Melanie…”

“We deserved this trip so much” I giggled, turning around and hugging him, with my belly between us. “I love you, never forget that. Even when I'm screaming at you during the labor”

“I love you too, silly” he chuckled, lowering his lips to mine in a slow, tender kiss.

Everything about Charles in moments like these was gentle. His touch, his kisses, the way he held me like I was the most precious thing in the world. Every day I discover a new side of him, making me fall harder and harder in love. Now, with the awaiting of Dorian, his parental side started to get more present, and it only made me happier.

“Come on, let’s sit down. You shouldn’t be standing too long” he said, kissing my forehead.

I laughed softly, but I let him lead me to the blanket he had set up earlier. I carefully lowered myself onto it with his help, feeling the pressure of my growing belly as I adjusted into a comfortable position. Charles immediately joined me, sitting behind me so I could lean against him.

We sat like that for a while, my back against his chest, watching the waves and feeling the warmth of the sun on our skin. He had his arms wrapped around me, his hands gently rubbing circles on my belly, and every now and then, we felt Dorian kicking.

“Do you think he’ll like the beach?” I asked, smiling as I felt another kick.

 “I think he’ll love it. Just like his mom” Charles chuckled softly, his breath warm against my ear.

“He seems to be enjoying it now. He’s been kicking a lot more since we got here” I giggled.

“Maybe he’s trying to say he’s happy we’re finally relaxing,” Charles teased, resting his chin on my shoulder again. “We’ve been running around so much, I almost forgot what it’s like to just sit and do nothing.”

“Me too” I admitted, leaning my head back against him. “I’m glad we took this time for ourselves. I feel like we’ve been so focused on getting everything ready for Dorian that we forgot to just enjoy being with each other. We had two hard months, huh? Searching for a house, buying one, getting it ready… And the start of your season. We really needed this”

“That’s why I wanted to bring you here. Just the two of us” he smiled, kissing my cheek. “Consider this another date. We didn't have many of them”

“Every day with you feels like a date” I chuckled, blushing softly.

“Are you blushing?” he teased me, pocking my cheek.

“Idiot” I laughed, slapping his hand softly away from my cheek.

The rest of our trip felt like a blissful, slow dream. Every day was filled with the warmth of the sun, the scent of the sea, and moments that felt intimate and precious, moments that belonged only to us.

In the evenings, we would take long, slow walks along the village, my hand always intertwined with his. I found myself leaning on him more as the weight of my belly started to tire me out quickly, but Charles never complained. He’d just slow his pace to match mine, occasionally stopping to steal a kiss or two, always making me laugh with some silly remark about how I was walking like a penguin.

One afternoon, we found a small boutique that sold handmade baby clothes. I couldn't resist stepping inside, my heart melting at the sight of tiny socks, onesies, and soft blankets. Charles smiled at me, his eyes shining with pure love.

In moments like these, feeling the kicks of our baby and holding baby clothes, I realized that this was so real, that we would have our baby in our arms in less than a month.

“I can't wait to see Dorian with those clothes” Charles said, holding the onesie in front of him.

“Me neither… I can't wait to have him with us” I smiled, rubbing my belly.

dafnemorelli

liked by charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri and 219.489 others

dafnemorelli Last trip before baby Dorian arrives❤️

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violetsinclair Oh God, can't wait to have him here!

charles_leclerc my love😍

fewawifan Omg wait!!! How far is she already????

dafnemorelli Eight months!! Baby Dorian will be here soon!

fewawifan Omg you answered🥹❤

charles_leclerc

liked by dafnemorelli, arthur_leclerc and 528.428 others

charles_leclerc loml ❤️

dafnemorelli 🥰❤️

arthur_leclerc Can't wait to meet Dorian🥹😍

scuderiaferrari Happy for you two ❤️f1 We need to see baby Leclerc in the paddock!

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[itsabouttimex2]

A Brand New Journey:

Part Four

(Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three) (Part Four) (Part Five) (Part Six)

Your mentor’s dojo is pretty far out, but you’ve gotten used to the trek. This part of Megapolis is… gloomy, to say the least. It seems like a dark cloud falls over every building here, leaving the atmosphere sluggish and tense.

Your mentor’s dwellings especially fall into the pitch hands of darkness, tucked uncozily between crowded buildings.

With no greenery and little color, this part of the city has always left you with a slight sense of unease. Once, you had attempted to amend this in some small way, potting up freesia and yellow roses to try and add a splash of brightness around the house.

Only a few days after the flowers had bloomed, someone had come by in the night and sliced them to pieces, leaving the shredded stems and petals scattered across the concrete.

Taking pity on your efforts, your mentor had dragged those pots inside and planted something more to his liking- tansies and black dahlias.

“At least they left the pots alone,” you had said, sighing at the pointless destruction of something utterly harmless. You’d been misting the new flowers, ensuring they’d grow healthy and vibrant even when deprived of direct sunlight and fresh air.

“How do you stand living in this part of town when people pull things like this?”

“Heh. No one’s ever bothered me before, kiddo. Could just be that you look like an easy target for some of the freaks in this part of town.”

“Actually… you know what? I think we’ve gotta get something that leave you looking a little fiercer. Cause, uh… no offense, kiddo… but you look like a baby.”

“I do not,” you had quickly insisted, putting the spray bottle down to fold your arms and frown at him.

“You keep telling yourself that, kiddo. And hey, maybe one day it’ll be true, but, as it stands… you’re adorable and no one is scared of you.”

His hand comes to rest over your hair, ruffling the strands out of place.

“Look, we’ll have to fix you up something that’s more intimidating than endearing. Next time you come over, alright?”

“…next time sounds good.”

———————————————————————-

Even though the weather is still decently warm, coming all this way out leaves you fighting chills as you traverse the shadowed streets. Something about this place feels wrong.

Maybe that was; in part, what had driven you to wearing concealer. Not only to prevent the concern of kind souls like MK and Mister Pigsy, but to prevent yourself from looking weak in front of dangerous enemies or opportunistic freaks that lurked in dirty alleyways.

Picking up the pace just enough that you don’t seem to be running (another sign of weakness), you hurry to the house- you’ve always referred to it as a ‘dojo’, but the man training you has always liked calling it a ‘lair’. Given the location, it doesn’t seem like too much of a misnomer.

He’s always had a knack for the dramatic, acting at times almost like a theater major.

Another chill, like you’re being watched or followed.

Now, you start to run. Maybe it’s childish, maybe it’s outright stupid. But you’re actually scared.

Moving just fast enough that you won’t jostle the mooncake boxes, you throw one hand upon his door, hoping that he’s home.

From a nearby alleyway, two faces of pitch black, golden eyes with leering expressions. Arms and hands and ears painted red.

Oh, god.

With a shared laugh, they move forward. Their eyes do not leave yours.

Oh, god.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

You smash your fist against the sturdy barrier, uncaring if your frantic banging draws more attention. You need to be inside and away from this awful, awful neighborhood and whatever the hell is approaching.

“C’mon, c’mon! Open the door! Please!”

At the sound of even a slight pleading in your tone, the wood in front of you flies open, a powerful black-furred arm reaching to snag you.

Macaque drags you inside without hesitation, slamming and bolting the door shut.

“Kiddo, what the hell?”

You throw yourself into his arms, breaking into tears. The Mystic Monkey takes a moment to regard you, just barely able to bite back a knowing smile.

“See something scary, huh?”

He breaks up your sobs and hiccups with a few firm back thumps, using his free hand to take the pastry bags from your arms and set them aside. The simian loops both of his arms around you, hugging you tight to his chest.

“Easy, easy. C’mon, kiddo, deep breaths.”

But you can’t seem to stop the frightened crying, no matter what you do or what he says. Instead, you cling to Macaque and quake, staining his ru with tears of fear.

“I can’t, I can’t! I’m s-sorry, but I can’t! Macaque, I can’t! My- I- I can’t! In the… in the alleyway, there’s, there was- augh!”

All your frantic cries are cut with a particularly sturdy thump to your back, leaving you to sharply gasp for the breath that’s been knocked out.

At least you’ve stopped crying.

“Better, kiddo?” As he asks, your mentor sits you on the couch and wraps his tattered red scarf around your shoulders. In a better mindset, you might’ve seen it and thought of the scrap he gave you a few months back. You might’ve thought of your book.

But right now, there’s more important things to think about. Like what you want to do next.

[spinchip]

“I’m sorry about your hair.” Nya says from the comfort of the bathroom doorway. Not inside, close to the halo of hacked brown locks, but not entirely outside- close enough to reassure but with a quick escape would be easy, if this conversation was unwelcome.

Dot makes a soft humming noise as she trims the fringe framing her face, her eyes exhausted but resolved as she makes sure the sides are perfectly even, “hair grows back.”

“Still, though.” Nya fidgets with the doorknob just to do something with her hands, “You loved your hair. Was there really no saving it?”

“The matting was too severe.” Dot says lightly, “Besides, even if there was a way to save it… well, it’s a bit too late now.”  she sweeps chunks of her once long hair into the garbage bin by the toilet. The pixie cut is strange and foreign on her, to Nyas eyes. She’d only ever know Dot with hair long enough to brush her lower back.

Dot grabs her canes and makes her way towards the door. There’s still hair on the floor, but Nya wisely doesn’t comment on it. In all the years she’d now known Dakota, she was never one to leave a mess. She wasn’t okay, and Nya doubted that handing her a broom would do anything to help. She backs up so Dot can join her in the hallway, and she follows her as she heads to the kitchen.

“I’ve never seen your hair this short.” She says because she’s really not sure what to say, “Even in the pictures with you and Leo it was to your shoulders.” there’s a pause, “It looks nice!” She adds awkwardly, suddenly acutely aware she may not be making things better.

Though Dot doesn’t seem to mind. She grabs a water bottle and tucks it under her armpit as she leads Nya back out of the kitchen, “It was short most of my childhood.” She says conversationally, “Chemo started young so all my hair fell out, then after remission right as it started getting long I had a recurrence and had to go for another round. I kept it short out of habit for a while after that- not this short, maybe similar to how I had it cut in those old photos.”

Nya had long since stopped comparing Dot to Zane, but sometimes she’s still struck with just how different the two masters of ice were. When it came to difficult topics, you’d need a can opener to get Zane to cough up any details. Dot had no qualms discussing the traumas of her life, with only the great devourer attack being a sensitive subject- but even then, if you asked she was willing to discuss.

So why Nya thinks to herself am I so scared to ask about the Never Realm?

They go out to the garden along the side of the monastery, fresh flowers blooming and a sweet hanging screen hanging in the air. Dot settles down on the bench there, setting her crutches to the side and cracking her water bottle to take a sip. This had always been her favorite spot in the monastery, and doubly-so after the Never Realm. She sits out here in the sun for hours, soaking up the warmth and lost in thought. Nya sits down next to her, feeling only a little like she’s intruding.

“Are you okay?” she asks quickly, ripping off the bandaid.

Dot had her head back, basking in the sunlight when Nya asked. Her lips curl into a sad smile as she cracks her eye open to look at nya in her peripheral, “Of course not.”

And maybe this hesitation Nya was struggling through was rooted in that tiny little smile. That was the most emotion she’s shown in the days since she came back- a small, starved thing that struggled past the apathy settled like weights along her shoulders. That just wasn’t natural. Dot cried over spilt milk- she cooed at cute animals and pouted when she lost board games and laughed and smile so loud and so bright you knew she was happy two rooms away.everything Nya knows about her indicates the fall out should be an atomic bomb going off, but instead the monastery is quiet and still and Dot doesn’t do anything but sit out here in the sun.

“I’m sorry.” She offers again.

Dot sighs and Nyas never heard her sigh like that, either. A put-upon, tired thing. Exhausted, “I know you mean well, but i don’t really like to hear apologies when I’m having a rough day.”

Nya blinks. That was certainly news to her, “Oh, uh, I’ll try to stop then. Why haven't you said anything before?”

she closes her eyes again, “I heard it all the time as a kid. Started to really grate on my nerves, but I usually don’t say anything because I know it's largely a sign of sympathy. It feels rude to shoot someone's sympathy down like that… the truth is I just don’t like it.”

There’s a lull in the conversation. Nya doesn’t know where to go from here, so they just enjoy the sunlight together.

A light breeze ruffles Nyas hair right before Dot speaks again, “I know everyone is worried about me.” she states plainly.

“Yeah.”

“I’ll be okay.” Dot reassures her gently.

Nya looks away, “After seeing you up on that throne-” Dot flinches, but Nya barrels on, “I just don’t know how anyone could bounce back from that alone. We’re here for you, all of us are.”

There’s another long silence.

Nya continues, “...if there’s one thing I've always thought I knew about you, it's that you feel your emotions very deeply and very openly. I haven’t seen you cry once since you got back.”

The breeze liberates a few flowers from the dogwood above their heads and the white flowers trickle to the ground like falling snow.

Dakota swallows thickly and sits up more, she hesitates for a moment before speaking, “...I have had a lot of bad experiences throughout my life, Nya. I don’t think I’ve gone ten years without a new tragedy.” She starts, looking down at her hands where she is twisting her fingers together as she strings together her words, “granted, this is much different than just another hospital stay… but after each of those events I just needed time. A lot happened here, most of it stuff that I feel a great deal of shame, pain, and guilt over. I’m working though my thoughts and emotions mostly internally right now, because I don’t think I could handle the fallout if I fully unbottled these feelings just yet.” She explains.

“I just didn’t want you to feel like you had to go through this alone.”

“I’m not. I actually do have someone I’ve been discussing things with-” Her eye slickers to air next to her, but Nya’s looking at the flowers drifting in the wind and doesn’t quite catch that, “and I've slowly been letting the pressure off. Think of it like cracking a coke a little and waiting for the carbonation to go down? That way it doesn’t go exploding out of the bottle.”

Nya chuckles a little at that, “I like that analogy.” The grin slides off her face as she thinks everything over and Dot notices.

“Listen, Nya… when bad things happen, sometimes the only thing you can do is accept that this is the way it is. I can’t change the past, I can’t stop what has already finished, but I can choose where to go from here.” Dot smiles weakly again.

Several long moments pass as Nya really absorbs what Dot says before she responds. With a small returned smile, Nya leans over and bumps Dots elbow with hers, “Well, please remember you don’t have to figure it out on your own. you’ve got plenty of people who are here to help, okay? We love you.”

“I love you guys too.” Dot smiles again, and it’s genuine this time.

[wildemaven]

fall apart, again : chapter four | joel miller

pairing: joel miller x ofc!genevieve word count: 3156 content warning: 18+ blog; heavy angst, child loss, talk of death, talking about Sarah, heavy emotions, grief, fluff, vague talk about being with other people while married (but neither know the other was alive/nocheating), reader has a name but has zero descriptive features, reader is wearing some of Joel's clothes, no age given but is within a couple of years of Joel, if l've missed anything please let me know notes: oh look what I managed to whip up! Joel was on the brain and I was thinking of these two so I just let things flow- needed a break from Dave I guess. Big thank you to @gnpwdrnwhiskey for her continued support and help as I worked through this— love you!! This writer supports Palestine and does not share or support the views of tlou creator. series masterlist | previous | next

Contentment blooms somewhere deep within you. It fills in every fractured part of you that’s been lost and forgotten for so long. It brings a sense of peace, a feeling that you’ve searched for through bleak and uncertain times.

There’s a twinge of guilt that starts to prick at you, shame at how quickly familiarity has settled in. Less than 24 hours ago, your life had shattered on that hillside. Leaving you broken and left to figure out how to move forward with little hope of ever finding placidity of any sort. Only to seemingly be put back together after stepping foot into this new place, reacquainted with your old life. For it to be ripped apart again. 

You decide to focus on the stillness that bleeds through the morning air. Focus on how sleep came with ease as you settled into bed, far easier than it should have— has been for years. Focus on the way the sunlight catches the tiny dust particles that have been floating in front of the bedroom window for the last hour, each one on its own lofty path. Focus on the warmth that radiates from Joel as he still sleeps soundly next to you. His body instinctively found yours in the night— after all this time, he still fit perfectly against you. 

Joel. Your Joel. Alive and here with you. 

Your mind tries to replay every detail that has led you to this conclusion, replaying that reunion over and over. A happenstance of pure luck that you’re here, laying in the arms of your husband. 

A second chance? But why? Even as you will yourself to revel in the beauty of reconnecting with Joel, your heart still fights to grieve— Steve… Sarah. 

“Whatcha dream about?” A question you haven’t heard in two decades, Joel’s voice low and laced with sleep as his lips brush over that little spot behind your ear. 

It transports you back to a time where mornings together were sacred and unhurried. The sun barely pours through the opening in the curtains, still enough darkness to remain entangled and unbothered by the day's menacing agenda. Joel’s warm body spooning you from behind, his leg anchored between yours, a heavy arm securing you to him. 

Whatcha dream about? Was his good morning-love you-how did you sleep? He’d listen intently as you spoke about the wild imagery that filled your mind through the night. Whether it was a silly little blip of a dream or some drawn out story that had you dissecting its meaning far longer than your mornings allowed, Joel was fully invested. Humming along as he absorbed the details, only interrupting in the form of feather light kisses he strategically placed on the little spot behind your ear, the crook of your neck and slope of your shoulder. 

In turn, you always asked him the same. What dreams graced Joel Miller's brilliant mind? And he always responded the same, I don’t need to dream when I have you. 

“About that one summer, I think Sarah was 8, maybe 9. We decided to have that barbecue, and invited all the neighbors over.” Joel’s nose gently slides over your ear, his forehead resting against the side of your head. “Sarah was in heaven with that slip n slide she begged us to get once the heat finally hit. We had to beg all the kids to take a break so we could fill them up with hotdogs and chips— then they were right back at it again. I remember a few of them cried when their parents told them it was time to leave, but Sarah being so sweet told them they could come back again the following weekend.” 

Joel’s arm tightens around you as you talk, soaking in the memory he so vividly remembers. Sitting together on the blanket you had laid out on the lawn, tucked into his side as you both sipped on ice tea while you watched Sarah and the remaining few neighborhood kids, hyped up on soda and popsicles, splashing down the plastic water slide until the sun finally dipped below the back fencing. 

“That was the same weekend Tommy thought he was invincible. Made it a whole two slides before he was hollerin’ like a baby and I was drivin’ his dumbass to the urgent care.” You can feel Joel grinning as he recalls his own recollection of that day, little puffs of air hitting your neck followed by a singular kiss— his lips hesitate briefly, lingering just enough to not make you uneasy, but enough to convey the love he still holds for you. 

“Yeah— I can’t remember if it was the blonde or the redhead he was trying to impress that time. He got her number either way,” you add on. Joel’s light hearted laugh doesn’t go unnoticed, you smile at the sound as a single tear plunges into existence, rolling down your cheek and falling to the cotton pillowcase below. 

Tommy. 

“Tommy—“ You gasp, your stomach drops at the notion of Joel losing his brother. Turning in his arms so you're facing him, Joel’s eyes fluttering open at the sensation of you lightly brushing over his patches of grey whiskers . “Tommy. I— he’s…”

“He’s alive.” Joel’s expression is soft as he says it, his heavy lids lifting to take all of you in, grateful that this wasn’t some ruthless dream his mind was torturing him with. 

“What— Tommy’s alive? Where is he?”

“Here. He’s kind of in charge— always wanted make a name for himself somehow. Him and Maria actually put this whole place together.” His heart nearly gives out seeing your face light up. 

Joel takes advantage of the proximity, really taking in every detail of you in this morning light. He’s not surprised how even as the world shifted into darkness, you still managed to emerge into this season of life so gracefully. Noting how so much of you has changed, in gradual ways he wishes he could have witnessed first hand, but you’re still you— even more beautiful than he remembered. 

“Maria— She’s Tommy’s wife?” You ask, softly laughing as your mind begins to connect the dots to when she had mentioned you would be staying in her brother in law's house and elated Tommy had found himself such a strong woman to settle down with. 

“Yeah. Maria invited us over for dinner— whenever you feel up to it.

“Mmhmm. Yeah, I’d like that.”

You watch your fingers trace over Joel’s golden skin, still soft but slightly matured with age. Their curiosity produces tiny goosebumps as you reacquaint yourself with each tiny freckle and ridges of his chest. 

Joel’s own fingers dance over the hem of the shirt you're wearing. There’s hesitation at first, bloodshed and sacrifice embedded into every creased line, every rigid callus he’s collected. The weight of them is too rough and repulsive to share with you. But you don’t notice the way they’re marked with flaws gained through surviving and enduring. His progress becomes less reluctant as he soothes over the sliver of exposed skin on your hip, resisting his own temptation actively burning through him. 

“Did you and Tommy come here together?” 

“We went to find you, but the hospital was empty by the time we got there— just assumed, you not bein’ there meant that you were…” Dead. “We left Texas, eventually made our way up north to the Boston QZ— taken in by Tess and her crew— had us smuggling. Tommy being Tommy, was fed up with it, you know how he gets. So he left, joined the Fireflies before finding Maria and settling here.”

It’s condensed. Leaving out how the obscure nature of this world had hardened him into a depleted shell of a man. He knows it will eat away at him, keeping it from you. Though for the time being, it’s a burden he’s willing to carry. 

“We kept in touch for some years after through the radio but then he stopped contactin’ me. Tess n’ I decide to go find him— how we got the girl.” 

“Ellie?” You pull your head back and settle onto your pillow, watching as Joel’s face morphs through a multitude of emotions as he speaks. 

“Yeah, Ellie. After Tess— she was bit— I had to save who I could and keep movin’. We finally made it here, Ellie and I. She’s a spitfire that girl. I was such an asshole to her too, but she never gave up on me— think she saved me more than she realizes.” 

“Ellie mentioned her yesterday, Tess. You two were— partners?” 

“We— she and I were— we—“ Joel finds it hard at this moment to put an exact label on what they were, especially when explaining it to you, his wife.

It’s evident Joel harbors the same guilt as you. The two of you navigating a new life apart, your hearts seeking refuge in this destroyed world. You can see it, the shame slowly stitching its way into Joel’s features. How it pains him to verbalize it to you. To admit to something that in a different setting, your old life with him, would rip you apart.  

“Joel, it’s fine— whatever you both meant to each other. We were apart, not knowing the other was alive. You don’t have to explain anything to me.” You pause briefly. You let your own words sink in. Steve still heavily in your peripheral thoughts. 

This is your chance to start over, to be happy— do that for me?

Steve’s last moments with you, a premonition of sorts. This is your starting over. Here. Back together with Joel. A man you’ve held in your heart during the darkest of times for so long. 

“There was— I wasn’t alone either.” Joel's quiet but lends you his full attention, giving you the impression you don’t need to explain or justify anything either. “He was bit right before we got here.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

There’s a lull in the conversation. The room is quiet as you both bask in each other’s touch. The inevitable of what’s been left unsaid hanging over you both like an ominous cloud of dread. Joel is already preparing himself for what you’re expecting to hear. Your heart prepares itself for the inevitable of what you want to know. 

You swallow the lump that’s settled in your throat. “Was she here— did Sarah come here with you?” Your fingers stilling over a familiar scar on his shoulder that you’ve traced over a hundred times in the past. 

“Eve— we don’t have to talk about this today.” Not really sure if it’s for your benefit or his— perhaps both. 

“Joel— please.” Your voice cracks ever so slightly, lifting your gaze to his, tears already burning your lash line. 

He falters. Considering the caliber at which you have lost already, his heart begins to construct walls. Solid and impervious to the reality that’s haunted him for so long. Locking it away as he always does, suppressing the pain over and over. But as you look at him with your eyes glossed over, ignoring the subject isn’t an option anymore. Not with you. Not with the woman who gave him his purpose, his life— his babygirl. 

“No. She didn’t.” He releases a heavy sigh. “She— it was the first night of the outbreak—“ His voice trails off when he sees you’ve figured out the rest, nodding as your own tears silently overflow. 

Joel’s breath hitches. Reliving the incident through your eyes has what is left of his heart shattering against his chest.

Fail her. Again and again. 

You feel it in your bones. A hurt so deep it feels unbearable. Beyond any capacity you think you can handle. It splinters and forks out, penetrating every layer of your being. 

Joel wraps his arm around you, seeking a closeness he’s longed for in your arms. 

You cling to him desperately. Trembling as your hearts fuse together, reinforcing a love that’s managed to withstand lost time. Picking up where you both left off— 21 years ago. 

*

It’s some hours later. Tears dried and breathing settled. The heat radiating from the window warms the bedroom a few degrees above the morning chill. 

Shuffling coming from downstairs wakes Joel. Pots and pans clanging about, alerts Joel that Ellie’s grudge against him was short lived, for now at least, especially since it seems as though hunger has struck. He knows he’ll have to face her sooner than later, snuff out any remaining teenage rage still actively smoldering.

A glimmer of light refracts off the window pane, collecting in the tiny diamond nestled in the center of the ring on your left hand that’s resting on his chest. 

It draws him in. Like a moth to a lit flame, mesmerized by the sight, needing to consume its beauty wholly. His fingers fidget with the dainty gold band, again struck by how you still felt compelled to hold true to the vows you both shared, evident in the way you're still wearing it. 

Joel’s contemplation of the ring pulls you from the edge of sleep. The stammering of his heart, wavering somewhere between a nervousness or exultant leveled rhythm, is the first sound you audibly recognize as your eyes take in the rest of the room. 

“You’re still wearing it.” Joel's voice rumbles through his rib cage against the walls of his chest. 

“Hmm?” Your sleep addled mind absorbing and deciphering to its best ability. 

He lifts your hand, thumb running over your most treasured possession. Your fingers splay out above where you both still lay in Joel’s bed, cotton sheets kicked away, neither of you willing to let go of the other. 

“Yeah— kept me going when I didn’t have any reason to.” 

The watch still wrapped around his wrist doesn’t go unnoticed. Its face no longer resembles the pristine condition it once had. The arms frozen in place. A time forever displayed as such. The cause of its destruction is not of importance right now— another time. 

“Wait— I have something.” It’s all you say before you extract yourself from Joel’s arms. “My bag.”

Joel sits up alongside you, pointing to the corner of the room. Your tattered leather bag slumped on the floor next to the wooden dresser. 

Your tired legs carry you to your belongings on the other side of the room. The floorboards cool beneath your feet during the short distance it takes to grab the bag and haul it back to the bed where Joel rests propped against the headboard. The mattress dips as you climb back in, reclaiming the space next to him. 

Joel watches as you sift through the opening, in search of something hidden within the bag’s contents, in a spot only known to you. 

A small smile breaks across your face the second your fingers clasp around the small item. 

“I made it back to the house after some time— had to see if I could find you. It was sitting in its usual spot in our bedroom. It’s been with me ever since.”

Your fingers slowly unfurl, revealing a simple gold band resting in your palm. “I believe this belongs to you.” 

Everything stills as you watch Joel take in the sight of his wedding. Find it hard to discern what he’s feeling at this moment. His relaxed features now clouded by sadness and confusion, causing you to second guess your intentions for wanting him to have it back at this time. 

“It’s okay if you don’t want it right now— or ever. I know this is all still a lot to take in for both of us. So I understand if you don’t. I just—“ 

“No— No, Eve. I do. I definitely do want it.”

It fits back where it was intended to be with ease. The metal intense the second it makes contact with your skin, Joel’s large hands cradling your face as he delivers a gentle kiss of gratitude to you. 

“Thank you. For keeping it safe for me.” He says softly against your smile. “Forever mine.”

“Forever yours.”

*

Joel’s moving about, pulling clothes from over stuffed drawers, dressing himself for the day. You're occupied on the edge of the bed, unpacking the remaining items from your bag in preparation to find permanence in this space Joel calls home. He’d mentioned the idea of you living here with him, giving you the option of taking his room for yourself while he camped out in the living room, which you turned down immediately. You had just gotten him back, and you wanted it to stay that way. So you agreed to stay permanently in his room, under the condition that he would be in it too. 

The bed shifts when Joel sits next to you, groaning as he leans down to pull on and lace up his scuffed work boots. 

“What all you got in there?” Joel’s focus oscillates between you and his hands working at his worn laces, watching you empty 21 years worth of life that’s been crammed into the small space. 

“Pad of paper, a few books, some maps, some first aid equipment, a change of clothes that desperately needs to be cleaned.” He listens to you intently, the bag deflating as you pull each item, inspecting it then strategically organizing them on the bed for the time being, glancing over when you hear Joel chuckling as you rattle off one thing after the next. “Some other random things I’ve collected over the years.”

Everything accounted for, you toss your bag to the side. It hits the floor with a muffled thud in front of Joel’s boots. You miss the small folded paper that slips onto the patterned rug that lays beneath the bed. 

“This somethin’ of importance?” Joel asks, hold the paper between two fingers. 

“Not sure. Might just be some trash.” Taking it from him, promptly unfolding it for further consideration. 

It’s a letter. Not one of your own, although it’s directly addressed to you. Your eyes flit over every word. Then once more. And then again. Picking up on key words each read through. 

Eve… Genevieve… Jackson… Radio… Joel… Bit… I’ll be waiting for your letter… I love you… 

“What is it?” Joel’s hand settles on your thigh, your silence slowly becoming worrisome as you stare at the paper, its edges crinkled in your grip. 

“Joel— what’s your job here?” Your voice cracks in the air. 

“Patrol mainly. Took over the radio sometime ago. Help out here and there— wherever I can. Why?” His thumb strokes over your leg, a subtle mixture of coaxing and grounding, equally preparing himself for whatever it is that you’ve just happened upon. 

Each droplet hits the paper with a sharp plunk. 

Plunk. Plunk. Plunk. 

The words blurring, squeezing your eyes shut tightly, releasing the tears all at once. 

Plunk. Plunk. Plunk. 

“Eve— what is it?”

“You helped guide Steve and I here—“

[system-to-the-madness]

Cherry Blossom Study Date 🌸 Sugawara Kōshi x Reader

Pairing: Sugawara Kōshi x Reader (can be read as any gender, no pronouns used) Genre: fluff Word Count: 1 199 Summary: Suga invited you to a study date… only that he forgot to ask for it to be a date.

Sakura Festival Masterlist - Masterlist

Suga felt infinitely stupid as he was sitting on the old wooden bench, with his elbow propped against the equally old wooden table made for picknicks, and brushed another light-pink petal away from his notebook. An hour ago, he had been in the highest of spirits, not even bothered by having to ride up the slope of the mountain with his crappy bicycle. In his bag, he had not only packed his books, notebooks, and pencil case, but also two bottles of Calpis soda and a box full of freshly cut fruit; everything one needed for a study date under the blooming cherry trees.

Except, when you had arrived, it had suddenly dawned on Suga that he had never asked you for this to be a date. He had been so excited that you had agreed to revise last semester’s lessons with him, so you were prepared for the new semester, that he had forgotten to ask if you wanted this to be a date.

Now he sat with his fingers clenched around his pencil, pressing the tip a little too hard into the paper, trying to keep the frown off his face. Seriously though, how could he have been so stupid? This was the best proof that a.) being in love sucked, because it turned him into a complete idiot, and b.) that he was probably never going to be in any kind of relationship if he continued being such a lovesick fool each time.

To make matters worse, he had imagined the two of you lightly chatting while revising and going through the material you had compiled to study for last semester’s final exams, all while snacking on the fruit he had brought, and since it would have been a date, he would have had a valid excuse to sneak glances at you as often as he liked.

But now here he was, silently staring at his paper, the box with cut fruit still in his bag (because it would have been awkward to bring snacks to a casual study session, right?), and his eyes stubbornly glued to the paper in front of him. He couldn’t even enjoy the soft spring breeze, the warm sunlight on his face or the pink petals above his head and all around him really, as the wind carried them to the ground.

Another petal landed on his notebook, and he stared at it for a moment. All he could think about was how it was too late to ask you for a second study session, but as a date this time. There was no time pressure so it would be weird to ask to meet again in the next days, but the cherry blossom would soon fade. There were another three, maybe four days in which the blossoms were beautiful, and then the magic would be over. He had missed his chance. He bit his lip, in an attempt to not let himself be overwhelmed by this thought of failure, and sighed quietly, which was precisely when you suddenly spoke up.

“Suga-kun?”

His head snapped up, deep brown eyes focusing on you sitting next to him.

“Hm?”

“Can I ask you something?"

He did his best to put on his usual smile, warm, safe, somewhat carefree. The captain of another volleyball team in high school had apparently called him “Mr. Refreshing” as a nickname. That kind of smile.

“Isn’t that a question already,” he teased, but when you only rolled your eyes at him, he chuckled, not missing the way the corners of your lips were raised as well. “Sure, what’s up?”

Tapping your pen against the paper a few times, your eyes left his and looked out over the park instead, where families and groups of friends were sitting on blankets under the Sakura trees. After a short moment, you looked back to Suga, as if you had found the determination you needed to overcome whatever nervousness had made you hesitate before.

“Is this a date?”

Suga blinked. What?

“It’s just…” you sighed and leant back against the backrest of the bench you were sitting on, looking over the park again. “I thought it might be, and I really wanted it to be, but you’ve been kind of… quiet and I’m not sure how to take that or what’s really going on now. And I’m thinking, maybe you didn’t mean this as a date but realized I did, and it made you uncomfortable- which I would understand, I really do! And it’s completely fine if this is not a-”

“Wait, wait, hold up- you wanted this to be a date?” Suga stared at you wide eyed, finding you were looking back at him with the same expression.

“Well, I-,” you averted your gaze again, before nodding. “Yes, actually.”

Suga couldn’t help the laughter that suddenly spilled over his lips.

“And here I was worried,” he laughed, relief flooding through his whole body. When he saw you confused expression, he quickly explained. “I also wanted this to be a date, but when I arrived, I realized I had never asked you and I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

At his explanation you laughed too. “I’m glad I asked then,” you giggled, making Suga nod enthusiastically.

“Oh, and I even brought drinks and snacks,” Suga suddenly remembered. While reaching down to his bag, he kept talking. “For the past hour I’ve been scolding myself for being such a fool and forgetting to ask! And how I couldn’t ask for a proper study date under the Sakura trees now, because it would be weird to meet twice to study in such a short time, especially since there’s nothing to study for!”

Again you laughed, the sound making butterflies erupt in Suga’s stomach. God, he loved hearing your cheerful voice.

“Well, I personally wouldn’t mind, if we went to the Sakura Night Market together, the day after tomorrow,” you grinned as Suga dove back up, presenting the two bottles of drink and the box with the cut fruit to you.

“Wouldn’t you,” he asked, “Now if that’s the case, why don’t we go? As a date though, just to make that clear.”

“As a date,” you agreed, laughing. “And this is a date too.”

“To be honest, a study date is kinda lame for a first date, isn’t it,” Suga pondered, opening the box and offering you sliced strawberries and apples.

“Oh, I think it’s cute,” you shrugged and thanked him for the offered food. “But we should get back to studying if we want to finish here before it gets too cool.”

You were right. Currently it was still warm, but as soon as the sun was going to disappear behind the mountains, it was going to get cold quickly.

So Suga tried focusing back on his study materials, glad that the strange silence from before had evaporated and instead you kept making comments about the work to one another every few minutes while sharing the snacks he had brought and kept sneaking glances at one another. But the whole time Suga could barely focus because his mind was still hung up on you thinking a study date with him was cute.

[jayflying]

The Flower Husbands / Ethubs parallel (No Stranger Curses AU):

Alt Title: "Why Scott and Etho do not get along."

Scott falls in love in the last days of summer. To him, love looks like gold. Sunlight caught in golden hair. Warm wind blowing through golden leaves. Two gemstones studded in a golden ring. They make their home in a place where all the flowers of autumn bloom, the poppies and roses and marigolds. They ignore the warmongering and drama. While they can, they choose to be happy.

He is not so naïve as to believe this will be forever. Not so foolish as to believe his strength will be enough. This "game" means nothing but death for all of them. But he puts that all aside, because he wants. He wants to hope. He wants to love. Even if he knows it will break his heart.

The days grow shorter, and darker, and colder, and he is so, so scared. He should trust Jimmy to protect himself, but he doesn't. He tries to stop fearing the worst every time they are apart, but he can't. He's not proud of the alliance he strikes up to protect them both, but for the two of them he would do anything and it would be worth it.

…He buries Jimmy where the dawn's first light catches on winter's final flowers. He knew this was coming, dreaded the inevitable, but his heart still hurts. He carried on because he was fighting for more than just himself, but what now?

When he falls, he hopes that at least he can be at peace. When he wakes again, that hope is shattered. Scott thinks he might be the only one who remembers the game that came before. It doesn't matter. He'll see this one through to the end, no matter what.

Etho falls in love beneath grey skies. His love is all the colors of the forest that surrounds them. Green like the trees, like the moss, like his eyes. Brown like the dirt, like their doorstep, like the color blood dries. Loving Bdubs is easy. It feels familiar. It's not hard to imagine that maybe somewhere, before everything, they loved like this.

(Scott sees far too much of himself and Jimmy in the two of them. It leaves a bitter taste on his tongue. He knows exactly how this ends.)

Etho isn't one to frame his love in light and flowers. He frames it in the careful arrangement of quiet and noise, laughter and empty threats. They make their home a castle, white walls on a snowy mountaintop. They build up every battlement with their own bare hands, pretending, if just for a moment, that they can escape the game outside for good. Live in peace forever. Stave off the looming shadow of death.

The first time Bdubs falls to his red life, Etho is terrified. He blusters, and schemes, and fights, because it is the only way he knows to hide when his voice trembles and his hands grow unsteady. Over and over again, he claws Bdubs back from the brink. He stays up late into the night, every night, restlessly planning for every possibility. Exploiting every advantage, every person, with vicious dedication.

(Scott does not entertain his threats for even a moment. He's sure to give Etho a piece of his mind whenever he tries. "Give up on him", he all but says. "You're just prolonging the inevitable." His words are met with disdain.)

The last time Bdubs falls to his red life, their castle is torn apart, and that feels like an omen. The survivors, no matter their old allegiances, band together out of necessity, and Etho can't help but notice that Scott immediately asserts himself. He doesn't like it, but he's been wearing himself thin for months now. He's too tired to piece together quite why this alliance makes him feel uneasy.

Bdubs finds them hours later in the middle of the night, crimson-eyed and not quite himself; sinister in the way all red lives are. There's no further way around it. Etho can feel the static-buzz of magic in his chest as he offers Bdubs a life, and yet Scott stops him. "He needs to earn it", is the objection. "Have him kill someone for us," Scott whispers in his ear. He hesitates. That seems… fair. Right? A life for a life. That makes sense.

It is not until far, far too late that Etho numbly realizes what Scott has done. He never gets to bury Bdubs. He never gets to see the body. He's never quite the same again, distant and short-spoken. Cleo is the only one who seems to realize that he is so desperately angry.

(Scott does not feel bad about this. He does not regret this. He tells Cleo as much when she confronts him about it. They argue about it all the way up until the fateful battle with Joel. Scott knows he's right, though. There was only one way this was ever going to end.)

[emyn-arnens]

In Darkness Buried Deep

Frodo & Sam | G | ~900 words | @lotrweek day 5: "here with me" | AO3

Frodo’s skin melted like wax. He burned and burned until there was nothing left of him but ash that floated away on the wind.

But even so, he still burned. His spirit, laid bare before the Eye, caught fire and trembled. The flames licked at him, all consuming, until he was hollowed, worn thin like clothing worn to mere threads that when held up to the sun cannot hide its light.

He shook from the force of the transformation, trembling and bare before the merciless Eye. His hand burned.

“Mr. Frodo!” Sam’s voice pierced through the veil of horror. “Mr. Frodo!” He shook Frodo.

Frodo scrubbed a hand over his face, his mind still caught somewhere between nightmare and waking. His hand curled around something warm. It flared against his fingers but did not burn, and a light pierced through the last lingering webs of horror.

“I’m sorry to wake you, Mr. Frodo, but we have to be getting on.” Sam peered at him closely, worry stitching his brows together as tight as a seam. He paused and looked closer at Frodo, his eyes fixed on Frodo’s chest.

Instinctively, Frodo clutched the Ring with his free hand. It was cool and soothing against his palm. He drew away from Sam, mistrusting the look in his eyes. 

Sam’s gaze turned thoughtful. “Do you remember Bilbo’s song in Rivendell about Eärendil? When I heard it, I never would have thought that one day we’d have a bit of Eärendil with us.” He nodded to Frodo’s chest. 

Frodo looked down at his hand, still held against his chest. In it was the star glass. Sam must have tucked it in his hand while Frodo slept, sensing the dark paths Frodo wandered in his sleep. And unknowingly, Frodo had clutched the star-glass to his chest, as if it were a ward against the darkness. The glass now burned as if it were living flame, casting its light about them in a pale bloom and forcing the gloom of Mordor to recede.

“I never would have thought I’d be part of one of the great stories. Me, a gardener! But it makes the task easier, doesn’t it, to think of Eärendil helping us, even though he’s sailing where we can’t go, up high above the clouds in his star-ship, and we’re down here, picking our way along paths no sensible hobbit would take.”

Something long-buried unfurled in Frodo’s heart. “Yes, Sam, I suppose it does.”

Sam paused, thoughtful. “I suppose you could even say Eärendil was sent to us, just as the Valar sent him in his star-ship to help Middle-earth long ago. And maybe that means that even now the Valar still watch and send help, even though they’ve removed themselves from Middle-earth and dwell where no man can go.” Warmth spilled over Sam’s brown face like sunlight shifting between clouds. 

“Why, think of it, Mr. Frodo!” he cried. “Maybe they’re helping us, even here in this dreadful land of rocks and fumes. Us! Helped by the Valar!” He stuck his thumbs behind his suspenders and beamed. “I wonder what my old Gaffer would have to say about that! That I’m putting myself above my station, most like, and taking part in things grander than us plain folk should be involved in. ‘Sam Gamgee,’ he’d say, ‘if you head weren’t stuffed so full of nonsense and foolishness, you’d do better remembering your place.’” Sam rocked back on his heels. “The Valar!”

Frodo's lips moved in the memory of a smile, the movement foreign and wearying. The star-glass, warm against his palm, still shone in his hand, light welling between his fingers. He clasped his hand tightly around it, then slipped the star-glass beneath his tunic against his heart and took courage from the warmth seeping into his heart.

He closed his eyes and let his mind wander from the dark land they passed through. His mind stepped toward the familiar places of home, as it had when he was imprisoned in the tower, but their names were nothing more than memories with no meaning, and he saw nothing but darkness. Still, the names, though featureless, were a faint comfort, and he let his mind linger upon them, remembering why he had set out on this hopeless quest. The Brandywine, the market at Bywater, Woody End, Hobbiton—they had meant something to him once, and he seized hold of them.

He stirred. “Thank you, Sam,” he murmured and withdrew the star-glass from his tunic. The light in it had gone dark, and it looked now like nothing more than a phial of clear water. “Keep this safe for me.”

Sam helped him to his feet, and Frodo peered at the barren land, pitted with rocks and craters and ringed by a red sky, that stretched before and around them. His feet moved with renewed purpose, and his heart no longer hung as a weight in his chest. And though he could not bring himself to hope, for the embers of his hope had died to ashes in his chest, he could reach out and clasp Sam’s hope as a rope leading him through the darkness.