#put Night Springs on repeat for this whole thing

[bigautomaton]

I think the axe should be a splitting maul but those are also Heavy As Hell

We got uhhh, 1 Jon, 1 Mr. Door, and 3 Alan Wakes

Seems about right

[toxicanonymity]

needs

3.3k, joel miller x virgin f!reader

joel masterlist | miniseries masterlist

Summary: Joel wants to find a bed before you go all the way, but neither of you can wait that long.

A/N: Follows ✨ Fires (1.6, prologue), Aches (900), and Thoughts (1.6).

WARNINGS: I8+, big girthy age gap (20/50s), still only one sleeping bag, pining, c*ck hunger, fingering, grinding, masturbation, oral m receiving, cum eating, unsafe P in V, reluctantly pulling out, loss of virginity, pet names, praise, POV alternates, NO Y/N.

“God have mercy,” he mutters to himself.

He's gonna give it to ya good one day, but not yet. Not in a sleeping bag on the forest floor. Not yet. Not yet. Not yet, he tells himself . . . Your first time shouldn’t be like this. Shouldn’t be here. But god damn . . .  

-------

It’s all over your face. He’s never seen anything like it, the way you crave his cock. You shamelessly stare at his pants. His whole body, really. You were bad enough before you touched it, and it’s only gotten worse. You can’t focus, you can’t listen. It’s dangerous.  He should put a stop to this, take it away cold turkey. Sleep back-to-back. But you both have needs, and he's not gonna do that.

Joel feels like he might as well be a virgin himself, it's been so long for him. Frankly, he’s dying to put it in you just as much as you long to have it.  He’s been trying to wait until Jackson so he can do it somewhere safe, somewhere a little nicer, more comfortable. 

He wants to wait and make sure it's nice and special for you, but good lord, you’re makin' it hard. You make the sweetest little sounds when he touches you, and even when he doesn’t, like in your sleep. You ask him things like, “doesn’t sex feel better than hands?” He tells you half-truths, like “not always.” Of course it would with you.  Of course it would.

-

You’re in the forest. With dusk approaching, you're just about to set up camp while there's still light. Joel is taking a leak at the edge of a small clearing, calculating mileage in his head, counting down the days ‘til you should get there. His back could use a real bed, too.  He's shaking his dick dry and a twig snaps behind him. His head whips around and he reaches for his gun. 

It’s you. God damnit, he could’ve killed you. 

“Can I see it?” you ask. 

“What the hell are ya doin’ over here?”

“I just wanna see it.” You look down toward his jeans. “Can I?” 

It’s fair that you’re curious, he knows that. You mentioned it the night before with your hand wrapped around it, I wanna see it, really see it, I bet it’s good looking. You’ve only felt it at night and caught glimpses in the moonlight. At the time, he mindlessly reassured you, you’ll see it, baby, you'll see my cock, and he should’ve known you’d spring this on him.

“Not now,” he mutters, trying to calm his heart rate.  “Can ya gimme a second, honey?” 

“Okay.”  He can hear the sadness, practically see the disappointment on your face. God damnit. He tucks himself away and zips up. You're only about eight feet away.  “Now?”

“No.  Ain’t nothin’ to see right now.” You probably don’t realize what a big difference it can make. 

“What do you mean”

“Just trust me, it ain't how ya wanna see it.” 

“Why?" 

“Cause it ain’t as. . .”

“Ain’t as what?”

“Nothin’, baby. Just not the right time.”

“Better if we’re close together, right?” You step closer. 

He closes his eyes, pinches the bridge of his nose, and takes a deep breath. “This ain’t the time or the place, honey.” 

When he looks at you again, your face has fallen, and you mumble, “K.” 

He puts a big, comforting hand on your shoulder and walks you back to where y'all are setting up camp. “When we find a bed, I’ll show ya. . .”  

"And when we find a bed," you repeat. Don't say it, don't say it, he prays to God you don't say it. "We can do it, right?" He doesn't answer. "You can put your cock inside me, right?"

Fuck, you're gonna drive this old man crazy. At least one of you needs your wits about you if you'll ever make it to Jackson. "We'll see," he sighs. 

After a moment of silence, your voice trembles as you ask, "We'll see? Why not yes?"

"Cause we ain't gonna make it there at this rate," he complains, then sighs with instant regret. "I'm sorry, honey. But you gotta try to knock it off with this stuff."

You swallow and your eyes glimmer. "Sorry," you whisper. 

He turns away to adjust himself, then sits down on the ground, leaning back against a log and extends an arm for you. "S'okay, c'mere."

You sit on the ground next to him. He squeezes your shoulder and changes the topic to twenty questions. 

——

He’s nicer at night. He’s nice in the day, too, mostly.  Once in a while, you can tell you’re annoying him, and you feel bad.  If only he knew how many times you thought about it and didn't say something, he’d appreciate your efforts. It’s practically all you think about. It’s even worse now that you feel it in your hand every night, but the last thing you want is for that to stop. 

You had been thinking about it all day when you finally asked what you thought was an easy request – if you could just see it, just a glimpse while he already had it out anyway. 

Even if you don’t get to see it, at least it’s easy enough to recall what it feels like.  Smooth, warm, and stiff. Soft veins, tiny wrinkles. A leaking slit. 

—--

“Can I taste it?” you ask one night with your little fist wrapped around his shaft. 

He groans quietly. “Yeah, you wanna taste it?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, your hand sticky with the lube of your own slick, a bead of precum under your thumb. You smear the precum and let go of his hard cock, making it slap against his stomach.  You take your thumb into your mouth and hum, “Mmm,” at the salty taste. 

“Whatcha think,” he whispers breathily. 

“Can I have your cock in my mouth?”

“Oh, baby, ‘course ya can.” The zipper of the sleeping bag jingles, then you hear the satisfying zzz as it unzips.  He folds it down and you get up on your knees. You bend at the hip and don't waste a second. You wrap your thumb and forefinger around the base, trying and failing to make your digits touch. 

Then, your lips wrap around the head.  He inhales sharply through his teeth.

“Did I hurt you?” you ask.

“God no, honey. Go ‘head, taste it all ya want.”  

 You curiously tongue the slit and suck for more. 

“Oh god damn,” he breathes.

You lick around it under the crown and you’re salivating. 

He wraps his hand around yours and moves it up and down, then leaves you be. “Use your spit, honey.” You let it dribble out of your mouth and onto his tip and catch it in your fist. You kitten lick the shaft, tasting your own tang, and letting your saliva fall out of your mouth as it accumulates, occasionally sliding the open ring of your finger and thumb up and down but mostly forgetting because you’re so focused on it in your mouth.

“Ya like that, sweetie? ya like how we taste?” You take a couple inches into your mouth then suck a little more of it in. It twitches against your tongue. The biggest vein throbs. 

“Alright, baby,” he pants and takes it from you. He urgently pulls up his own shirt, slides his hand a few times, then comes with a groan, his voice and pulsing manhood making you ache with need, even though he already made you come. You stay there on your knees.  In the dim moonlight, you watch his tummy rise and fall with the shiny trail leading to, and pooling in, his navel. 

“Can I taste that, too?” you ask. 

“Yeah,” he nods. 

You dip your tongue in the trail below his navel. It’s thicker, headier, saltier than the precum.  It’s not every day you get to taste something new. It’s not often at all. It's delicious.

“Like it,” you whisper.

“Yeah? take all ya want.” 

You lick and seal your lips as you suck it up. You pause to pluck a hair from your mouth, then continue to his navel. You dip your tongue in and his stomach flexes abruptly. You take your mouth off and pause. “Sorry,” you whisper.

“Nothin’ to be sorry ‘bout.” 

You tongue his navel, then suck, and he inhales a chest full of air as you do it, his stomach rising into your lips. You lick up every drop. 

“Good girl,” he sighs and  cups your cheek. “Such a good girl," he sighs.

—

All day you think about it in your mouth, in your hand, resting hard against your back, between your thighs. You imagine it all over your body. Doesn’t matter if he’s pressing it up against your hip or resting it in the crook of your elbow, God, you just want to feel it somewhere. You try not to think about it inside you too much because that makes you want it so bad, you could cry. Like really cry.

It’s not a want. It's a need.  You see it happening everywhere you look. You see a tree, and you imagine him sitting on the forest floor against it, holding his cock at attention, ready for you to sit on it.  You see another tree and he’s pinning you up against it with your legs wrapped around him, jeans pulled down under his ass as he rails you. You see a patch of moss and cluster of ferns that would be a nice pillow with him on top of you.

You think about it, and you dream about it, too. You can’t help that. He starts wearing jeans to sleep, and you can’t feel the shape of him quite as well against you, but it doesn’t matter. The fact that it’s there and it’s hard is enough to drive you mad. Even after he gets you off, it's bound to come back at some point in the night. Worst case scenario, you lose sleep over it. Best case, it works its way into your dreams.

----

One night, you're moaning in your sleep again, and Joel can hardly take it. His cock is painfully stiff and the strain against his jeans makes him ache. His hips press into you on their own; he can't stop them. All he can do is take off his jeans in hopes that being free of the rigid confines will lend some relief.  He was wearing them as an extra layer between the two of you for this exact scenario, but he can no longer bear it.

On one hand, he’s taking precautions, like keeping his jeans on.  But on the other hand, in the heat of the moment, when he’s touching you, he’s taking measures to prepare you, and to see how ready you are. Lately, he scissors his fingers, inserts three to see how you take it.  “Good girl, that’s real good,  honey.” He curls them inside you, “Ohhh, baby, you’re takin’ this real good.”

God, he wants a bed for this. You deserve a fuckin' mattress at the very least. He’s gotta wait. And yet now he finds himself taking off his jeans. He carefully removes them without waking you up. He lies there with his fist around his cock for a minute, still in his boxers, doing nothing but softly squeezing, as if that’ll make it go away.  Then he resigns himself to the magnetism of your body.  He curves his form around yours again and silently sighs as the hardness in his boxers rests against you and he wraps you in a hug. He manages not to thrust against your ass, but in no time, you're pushing yourself back against him. "Joel," you mumble in your sleep. 

"God have mercy," he mutters to himself. 

He's gonna give it to ya good one day, but not yet. Not in a sleeping bag on the forest floor. Not yet. . . not yet. . . not yet, he tells himself, taking deep calming breaths. Your first time shouldn’t be like this. Shouldn’t be here. But god damn he wants to take that tight little hole.  

"Joel,” you whine and push back on him again. He can't stand it. He really can't. He has to wake you up.

He whispers, "Whatcha dreamin 'bout, sweetie?" then feels your breathing change. 

When you blink awake, your hips are slowly moving, pushing your ass back into Joel's hard cock until you stop yourself. 

"Sorry," you mumble. "Did I wake you up?" The sweet sound of your voice isn’t helping.

"Don't be sorry, baby," he murmurs into your hair. 

"I dunno how to stop it," you whisper. "I'm sorry."

"Nothin' to be sorry 'bout, baby doll." He hugs you tight. “Don’t be embarrassed.” His cock swells harder against you. He whispers in your ear, "They want each other real bad, that's all." 

"I know." 

"Have a good dream?"

You sigh. “Yeah.”

“‘bout what?”

“I dunno if you wanna hear it,” you tell him. Fair enough, he's told you to knock it off, after all. 

“Sure I do, honey. Was it you and me?”

“Yeah,” you wedge your hand between your legs. 

"You want a hand?"  

“Yeah.”

“What’d ya dream?” he asks as he reaches into your panties. "God damn," he whispers. You're soaked, swollen, and your clit is throbbing against his hand. "Poor thing." He thrusts his hardness against your ass.  "No wonder you're tryin' to get at this, huh?" 

You're quiet. 

"No wonder ya can't stop thinkin' ‘bout it." He thrusts against you again and moans softly. "What'd ya dream, baby?"

“It was. . .” you can hardly form words thinking about it. It was so vivid, so real. “We were right here, like this.” 

“Yeah?” He uses your ample moisture to lightly rub your clit. 

He begins to make peace with himself that this might happen before he wants. He hooks his fingers into your panties. “Let’s take these off for a lil bit, hmm? Let her breathe.” 

“Okay.”  You bend your knees as he pulls your soaked panties down. 

—-

"We were right here like this, in the dream?" He repeats. 

“You took it out of your pants,” you whisper. He moans softly, takes his hand away, and jostles behind you. Then you feel his naked cock against your skin. Your breath hitches and you whimper at the contact.  He returns his hand between your legs and lazily circles your clit, pressing his naked dick against you.

"Took it out like this?" He asks soft and deep.

"Yeah," 

He thrusts against you and whispers in your ear, "Then what?"

"You put it between my legs." 

He inhales sharply then wedges his cock between your thighs, shuddering as he slides it forward along your dripping seam and the head meets his fingers on your clit. 

You tilt your hips and he whispers, "Oh, baby. Like this?"

"No, you put it inside," you whisper. 

Joel's breath hitches and he twitches against your heat. You moan. He slides slowly through your folds to your clit and back. He tries to slow down and think it over, but there are no thoughts, just his stiff, aching cock and your tight little pussy begging for it.

——

“Will you do that,” you ask, looking over your shoulder but not enough to meet his eyes. 

Joel takes a deep breath. “You think I should? Don’t wanna wait for a bed?” He thrusts in small pulses. “Just a few days, baby.”

“They wanna be together real bad,” you whisper. “how they’re meant to be," you remind him.  

Joel groans at your words. “I know, baby doll.” He takes a deep breath. “How’d it feel in your dream?”

“Full, really full,” you tell him, then sigh. “Felt so big.’

“Ohh, fuck,” Joel breathes into your hair and slides his cock against you, wet and stiff.

“It was like I was hugging you with my, um,” you say, then swallow and tilt your hips. "Hugging it."

“God damn,” he sighs. He pulls his cock back, and as he slides it forward again, it catches at your entrance. You spread your thighs ever so slightly. “You sure ‘bout this,” he confirms, and uses the hand between your legs to nestle his tip just inside. You gasp. 

“Yeah,” you nod. “Yes, please. Joel, please,” you whine. You push back on him with a small grunt, stretching yourself open on his tip. 

“Oh god, baby,” he sighs, then he holds you still and slowly pushes himself inside with a quiet groan muffled by your hair. “Fuck, you’re–ohh, you’re tight.”  You gasp as his girth parts your walls and your body makes room for him.  “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you nod urgently, and he twitches inside you. 

You shiver with pleasure as he pushes further and sighs, “Oh, baby.” 

“Joel,” you whine, “its so big”

“Too big?”

“No,” you reassure him. “I want it.”

He pushes the rest of himself in until his pelvis is flush. He breathes heavily and mutters, “fuck.”

You moan and push back on him. “s’perfect,” you whine.

“you like havin’ me in here?”

“I love it,” you say. 

“As much as the dream?”

“More than the dream.”

“What happened next?” he asks

“Then you it moved like you do in my hand.”

“Yeah,” he begins to rock his hips, his thick cock dragging inside you. “Like this?”

“nnngghh–yeah,” you nod then gasp as you're filled by his length again. “ohhh,” you moan. "And then you came inside—”

He groans, then pants as he’s moving inside you, “Ohh fuck, sweetie I can’t—ohh, I can’t do that, uggghh–god damn.”

“Felt so good, like a massage”

“Ohh, baby, please don’t–”

“And warm”

“Fuck,” he breathes and covers your mouth with his free hand, bicep flexing under your neck as he does it. No way he’s gonna last with you talking like that. 

He begins to slowly move again and you whimper.  You’re right, it is like you’re hugging him. You’re so tight and wet for him, taking his cock so good. 

"Good girl," he whispers, burying his length in you every second or so, only pulling back halfway each time. 

"Such a good girl, wantin' my cock so bad." He moans. "Waitin' all this time—uggh." You push your hips back to meet his thrusts. "That's my girl, takin' me so good," his next thrust is harder and you moan. "Yeah, just like that," he breathes.  His hand teases your clit as he fucks you. You whimper and he repeats, "just like that," his voice shakier, his breath heavier on your ear, “yeah.”

You moan into his hand, and his fingers circle your clit. “C’mon, baby,” he pants. “Gonna come on my cock?” You nod and hum your agreement. “Better do it now, then, you can do it.”

You let go and your clit pulses madly, your walls clench down on him. It feels so good, your eyes well up in tears.

“Ohh, baby,” he sighs, and suddenly pulls out. He replaces his cock with two fingers that your cunt begins to hug. “Such a good girl, squeezin’ my fingers.”  

His aching arousal presses against your ass, and he humps against you as he fingers you. “Ohh, yea--ohhhh.” His cock begins to pulse, spreading a silky warmth across your skin. He moans and sighs as you finish coming on his fingers and his balls empty. 

—-

He uses a shirt of his to clean you up. As his breathing calms down, he hears you sniffling. “Hey, hey, you okay, sweetie?”

You’re fine, more than fine, but you can’t talk.

“Shit,” he mutters to himself when you don’t answer.  He peeks over your side, gently stroking your arm. “Hey, c’mere, talk to me, sweetie.”  You turn around and face him.  “You okay, honey?”

You nod and smile at him with watery eyes.

His brows knit as he finishes catching his breath.  He kisses you on the forehead and wraps you in a hug. You sniffle again and he speaks into your hair. “I know that was a big deal for you, baby.”  He pulls his head back and tilts your chin up. “It was big for me too, okay?” You nod.  He reads your eyes, then presses his lips into yours. He reads your face again, then repeats the kiss and you kiss him back. He kisses you on the forehead and holds you, stroking your head. You fall asleep holding each other face-to-face.

-----

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Thank you so much for reading and engaging! Your comments and reblogs go a long way in motivation so if you liked it plz consider saying something 🫶. my joel masterlist has 🍒 on virginity loss fics. Left in Lincoln is a pretty similar Joel, in terms of how he is with you sexually. For more Joel POV, the most recent raider, Night Air, has a lot.

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[thegettingbyp2]

38 -Jess Mariano

We're Not Friends

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You were straddling Jess’ lap on the sofa in his and Luke’s apartment above the diner, your fingers tangled in his hair as your hips swivelled on his cock. The apartment was filled with the sound of yours and Jess’ combined whimpers and groans. You’d had the apartment to yourselves for the past day and a bit due to Luke being over at Lorelai’s and it was safe to say that you were both making good use of the empty space.

‘Jess,’ you whined, on the verge of tears. You were so overstimulated from the amount of times the two of you had fucked in the last 24 hours. Jess’ hands were firmly gripping your hips, bouncing you up at down on his cock as his lips pressed kisses and bites along your neck and chest.

‘Almost there, baby, you’re doing so good,’ Jess murmured into your skin, digging his teeth into your collar to make you cry out and clench around him. ‘I’m almost there,’ he repeated, planting his feet on the ground and using the leverage to thrust up into you. Your body collapsed on his chest as he used your body like a toy. Thrusting once more up into you, Jess let out a deep groan as you felt his cum coat your walls.

Resting against his chest, you nuzzled your head into the crook of his neck, your eyes fluttering closed tiredly as his arms wrapped around you. You stayed like that for a few minutes before you reluctantly pulled away and got off of his lap, wincing slightly when he slid out of you.

‘Where are you going?’ Jess asked, still sounding tired but looking more alert when he saw you putting your clothes back on.

‘Home,’ you replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

‘Why?’

‘Because we don’t do the whole hanging around, staying over thing.’

‘We did last night.’

You felt your body freeze at his words. You and Jess were strictly friends with benefits, you’d both agreed on that before starting anything up, not wanting to get on the wrong page of anything. Up until last night, you’d kept your rule of not staying round the others after hooking up but Jess having the place to himself, neither of you questioned it when you’d decided to stay over.

‘Jess,’ you said, sighing quietly before turning around to face him. ‘We’re friends and we made a - ’

‘Bullshit.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘We’re not friends, (Y/N), we passed “just friends” about 20 fucks ago, and you know it, so don’t give me that.’

‘We always said that we wouldn’t let feelings get in the way of this.’

‘Well, too late.’

‘And you’re so sure that we both have the same feelings for each other?’ you asked with a raised eyebrow.

‘If I’m wrong, walk out of that door right now,’ Jess said, stepping towards you, his voice low. His hands moved to settle lightly on your hips and you couldn’t help but shiver when you felt his fingers gently press into the new hand-shaped bruises that were forming on your hips. ‘Walk out and I’ll never bring it up again. But I’m 99.9% sure you’re not going anywhere.’

You couldn’t think of anything else to say, your hands came up to rest on his bare chest and you had to fight the urge to laugh when you felt goose bumps erupt over his skin at your touch.

‘I,’ you began, not knowing what to say at all.

Jess’s eyes softened as he looked at you and he took a step closer to you. ‘You feel it too right?’ You nodded, tears springing to your eyes and a lump forming in your throat, making it impossible for you to speak. ‘That’s all I needed,’ he said before leaning in to press his lips back to yours.

That’s when it hit you. Standing in the middle of the apartment, half dressed.

You were in love with Jess Mariano.

[sageo7]

Okay guys i actually finished it idk why i waited like a month lol. Sorry its kinda shot but Im gonna start writing more Stiles content coming up bc there is a horrible lack of fics on tumblr rn. Send me requests pretty please!!

Stiles was practically fuming on the couch next to you while you sat amongst your friends at one of the movie nights hosted at Scotts house. You had been conducting a little experiment to see how much you could tease him and push his buttons until he did something about it. Stiles was always gentle with you, touching you like you would shatter if he applied too much pressure and it was endearing, for sure… but you wanted more. You wanted him to use you how he needed to; for him to use you for once to satisfy his own needs. Your hand remained on his upper thigh under the blanket draped over both of your laps, innocently watching the movie in front of you to avoid his gaze that had been boring into the side of your head ever since your hand brushed up against him. The whole night has been moments like this, whispering dirty things into his ear and skipping away like nothing happened, bending down to grab things directly in front of him so he could get a peak of your lacy pink panties from under your skirt, and now your hand was inching up his thigh to touch him through his jeans in a room full of your friends. Just when your hand makes contact with the bulge straining against his zipper his hand catches your wrist making your eyes snap back up to his which were dark and heavy lidded, his breathing much deeper than normal.

“bathroom.” Is all he practically growls into your ear before he stands from the couch abruptly walking away. You wait another minute or so before also excusing yourself, none of your friends paying much mind to either of your departures. You creep up the stairs slowly every step making the ache between your legs more prominent and you bite back a moan when you’re practically shoved into the bathroom the door slammed shut behind you.

“jesus stiles.” You say exasperatedly and he just gives you a look and retaliates with “why’re you doing this to me baby?”

“doing what?” You ask feigning innocence and looking away to avoid his eyes but his hand grabs your chin harshly turning you back.

“Look at me. You know what I’m talking about.” he says his hand guiding yours to the bulge in his jeans arousal pricking down your spine at the groan that leaves him from the contact.

“feel what you’re doin’ to me?” He mumbles out his head falling to your shoulder when you cup him properly in your hand. You let out a shuddering breath to recompose yourself and nod “yeah? what do you want me to do about it..?” the question comes out sarcastic and taunting and his hips instinctively move forward trying to rut more into your hand.

“anything.” He breathes out and you shake your head pulling your hand away a desperate moan falling from his lips in protest.

“stiles.. tell me what you want.” you repeat putting more emphasis on ‘want’ and he swallows and nods understanding your meaning.

“your mouth..” he finally manages out after a long pause and when you sink to your knees his words grow more confidence “god I wanna fuck your pretty little mouth..” he mutters his hands moving to pull your hair back away from your face. Your hands move diligently to undo his pants eagerly pulling them and his boxers down, his cock springing free the head already an angry red, beads of precum rolling down the tip. You lick your lips instinctively at the sight and peer up at him, he’s flush, pupils blown wide and mouth slightly agape as he watches your every move with rapt attention his hand holding your hair up in a makeshift ponytail subtlely trying to inch you closer to his dick. You wrap a hand around him and his eyes snap shut a guttural moan bubbling up from his throat when your tongue darts out to lick up the precum before taking the tip into your mouth. With a small huff of air you take him further in inch by inch tormentingly slow, but when you nose brushes against tufts of well groomed hair his hips jut forward making you pull away abruptly with a chocked cough. His hands cup your face immediately panic clear in his eyes sputtering out apologies but you shake your head with giggle batting his hands away.

"just so big sti.." you purr out and his anxiety melts away immediately with a borderline pathetic moan. You take him back in your hand, eyes staring up into his while you tug along his dick lowering your mouth to press wet kisses down his length. A few little kitten licks to his slit has his eyes screwing shut hands tightening in your hair. "please.."

"please?" you repeat pulling your mouth away from him "be more specific"

His features scrunch up in annoyance at the taunting still the words spill out of him immediately "no more teasing.. wanna fuck your mouth.. please" he babbles out.

You hum in approval his neediness making your mouth water and you wrap your lips around him again. Your tongue swirling around his tip snaps the last of his well upheld restraint and the hand buried in your hair pushes you further along his dick. Every movement is lead by his hand, wide eyes staring down at you his grunts and groans spurring you on to just let him guide you.

"i'm so.. fuck baby.. oh my g-" his words get less coherent with every motion hips thrusting forward every few times to meet your lips. It doesn't take much more before he's murmuring out small praises and barely intelligible versions of "i'm close" his eyes roll back slightly, cock twitching in your mouth before warm spurts of his cum slide down your throat and drip past the corners of your mouth. He releases his vice like grip on your hair slowly and you pull away swallowing heavily. Neither of you speak for a few seconds to catch your breath but he reaches his hands down to help hoist you back to your feet wrapping his arms around you securely.

"i love you angel." he mutters out against your hairline "so perfect for me"

[bloodchapell]

castle of sand — senku i. 13: turn off the stars

brief summary: your whole world and stars falter

what to expect: murder, mentions suicidal intentions, angstyy

your sword's note: this was hard to write lowkey, i have a very weird way of grieving and so it was hard to make reader grieve in the way i wanted when it is so different from mine, looolol, all past and future parts + playlist of this series available on my mistresslist

"Your eyelids are covered in red dots! A bug bit you! We need to find medicine! Does it hurt?" Taiju rushed to ask once you got up. It startled you how fast he noticed it, you had no way to know since mirrors were a long hazy memory from the past. 

"What do I have?" You turned to ask Senku. 

"With increased pressure on the head, the blood vessels around your eyes leak some blood, a little." Senku grabbed your face looking at it. "It will go away in a few days." 

"Why did you have pressure on your head?" Taiju kept asking questions. 

"Let's focus on getting going."

After building a rustic raft, you all crossed the river being carried by Taiju, and walked all day until reaching the destination. 

"Hot springs!" Taiju cheered. He left the baggage close by. 

Senku explained that he wanted to make gunpowder, made sense thinking about his secrecy with the calcium carbonate. While Yuzuriha and Taiju cooked some food, Senku started collecting the sulfur by the rocks, he took a look at you and threw you a hammer, so you walked to his side and started repeating his actions. 

"What are you humming?" He asked you. 

"A song." You replied naturally and he rolled his eyes.

"Ten billion percent guaranteed. What song is it? I have heard it before." 

"It is one of the songs we sang at the karaoke." You informed him, focusing on chipping the sulfur off the rock. "On Melancholy Hill."

"Oh yes, with the odd bell at the end." Senku nodded thinking back of the distant night. Just from the name of the song he can infer what it is about, he already forgot the lyrics so he asks you to sing it, and you do so. The lyrics oddly fit the feeling around you two at that moment. He listened to your singing and occasionally your eyes met, he could see in your eyes that you are basically singing the song to him. 

Taiju and Yuzuriha passed along the dinner they cooked, and all of you sat on the rocks and ate. Yuzuriha thanked you for the dress and reminded you of your plan from the old world to go to the beach and build an insane sandcastle. Taiju agrees when he remembers it. You and Senku stayed quiet, knowing that regardless of what would have happened if the petrification never got to humanity, that day you all would not have gone to the beach. 

After resting a little, Taiju put the raft in the middle of the hot springs to make a division. Yuzuriha and him got in the water while Senku and you kept collecting sulfur. At times your eyes would trail back to the path you walked to get there, you didn’t try to see what was the furthest thing visible, but inevitably searched for the house. You had come to the conclusion that Tsukasa was following you, or at least going to soon, so the house probably sat alone. You could not make its figure out of the thickness of the forest, and despite not liking it, you didn’t even know in what direction the house was in. 

"How do you feel?" Senku asked, his eyes not leaving the rock under him. For the whole day you were somewhat silent, compared to your usual talkative self, it made sense after what had happened the day before, it was like you had reverted to your old self from before petrification, able to act out a smile but sighing every other minute with distress, the tired expression, the red little dots over your eyes, he knew it. Even if you had started participating in the conversations between Taiju, Yuzuriha and him, it was not like the new you after being revived. Despite acting okay, he knew you were still in pain. 

"I don't want to think about it." You stayed concentrated on the rock, the repetitive action calming you for some reason, allowing you to leave your body that acted automatically and rest your mind somewhere else. Again he took it as a bad sign, your resignation to thinking about it, but he didn't ask further questions, he knew since the day he revived you how much you loved the house and more importantly the home, and he inevitably thought of what happened the day of the petrification, but before he could dwell much on it, you spoke again. "My head is itchy." 

"Let's see." He held his laughter, then moved towards you and put his hands in your head, moving your hair around like monkeys do. "Yes, infested with lice, unfortunately we have to go bald." 

"We?" You asked as he started passing his fist around your head while making the noise of an electric razor, that alone made you laugh, laugh hard. "Do I actually have lice though?"

"I wish you did." He pushed your head very gently with a finger and went back to the sulfur and you did too. You could feel his glance lift from the rocks occasionally, he wanted to ask how you felt again but didn't know how to so he hoped your eyes would meet and you would get the memo. His eyes traced the vestiges of the smile on your lips, and for an instant was convinced that it had been better until you sighed, your chest contracting as the air escaped your lungs pitifully. “The noises of the mountains are too loud for me, talk.” 

“Talk about what?” Cluelessly you asked. He shrugged. “The sulfur… I don't know anything about it… I can hear the noises really loud too, the whistling of the wind and the ruffles of the spring leaves, and the distant noise of the sea…” 

“We cannot hear the sea.” 

“Metaphorically, it is more of a feeling, a lingering emotion, sometimes what I feel gets stuck in between my heartstrings, maybe because of what is going on recently. Only a few days ago we were by the sea so it is only natural. Like how there is a lot buried in the water despite its beauty, I do not know.” You moved your hands while talking. He nodded. “But how do you feel?”

That was an odd question, it sent him out of orbit. Senku had been avoiding thinking about how he felt since he woke up from the stone, trying to keep his head clear while now standing on the dark side beyond the bridge. For some reason his senses were amplified and now he felt things more intensely… actually wrong, he always did, but now he was overly aware of it. He huffed, annoyed, and kept working, but the question remained in his mind. He took an odd approach to categorizing his feelings, because there were many things at once, so he imagined it like a cake with different layers. What came to his mind first was the need to know how you were, that was like the icing, it was everywhere and clouded the rest of layers, then behind sat a mix between fear and rush, he was afraid of not finishing the gunpowder before Tsukasa caught up to you. Somewhere between the flavors and ingredients of the cake was a deep anger, one that grew exponentially high the previous night; it revolved around the house, and it stirred his heart the wrong way. 

After a while you decided to also take a bath, as you stayed in the warm comforting water your eyes kept looking at the direction you all came from, but you quickly grew frustrated at not seeing anything, so you turned around and faced the other way, seeing the thick forest expand throughout the horizon. After a long time, since you were prone to lose track of reality, you got out. Yuzuriha and Taiju were already sleeping, and Senku was looking into nowhere making calculations in his head like a madman. You got in your sleeping bag and realized that sleeping in a mountain made of rock might not serve the best purpose to your comfort. You tossed and turned and the feeling of the wind, and how uncomfortable the rock was, and the noises started to overwhelm you, you inhaled deeply before you started tearing up.

“Psst." You heard Senku out of nowhere. "Come here, I am bored."

"What?" A confused smile, but he didn't repeat it, so you moved beside him.

"The stars just... are insane, there are like ten billion of them just here in the sky. Back in our time you could barely count ten of them." Senku said with an unusual amazement.

"Well yes, with the lack of light pollution." You shrug logically.

"But it is fucking insane, it's giving me arrhythmia." Senku repeated. Since he was laying down, you pressed your ear against his chest, and confirmed his words, his heart was oddly beating faster than what you assumed it normally did.

"Someone should turn off the stars while we sleep." You mumbled wrapping your arms around his torso, he laughed at your odd comment. Some silence sat between you two, not uncomfortable, simply accompanying you, but his heartbeat couldn't calm all the noise. "Senku I am feeling overwhelmed, it's too much, I don't want to feel all of this, I want to go back."

He stayed quiet for a second, not knowing how to handle the sudden bluntness he had asked of you before. His mind ran to facts, statistics, science, math, but that could only do so much. The shimmer of the stars tingled something in his heart, again thinking of his dad even when he wanted not to at the uncertainty, the way his voice would always be soft, his words mellowing whatever silly turmoil he had as a kid before he decided that emotions were too stupid for him. "Me too." His mouth slipped before he could think more.

You sat up immediately when you heard him, a torrent of tears streaming down your face immediately like a broken faucet, an ugly sight.

"I don't want to revive civilization, I hate that you think you have to do all this because no one else can, and no one else truly can, but what is left for you? I don't want to fight Tsukasa, or sleep in the wild, even cavemen had their caves, hence. And I don't want you to feel bad, ever, you are all I have, you are my home." You murmured, your forearms passed back and forth across your eyes, and you only heard Senku's minuscule groan in annoyance, but he mirrored your action, passing his arm through his face roughly. He felt the long forgotten loathsome, the facade of hate he had to cover how much it bothered him that you pulled his heartstrings so easily and with such intensity and frequency.

"You think I don't hate every circumstance that surrounds you?" He sat up startling you. "The one good thing you had, that I had given you, that I helped you have because the damn house was no home before I revived you, is now somewhere far. Just even thinking science, human survival is impossible alone, and it is only logical we care for each other. If you are depressed and sleep deprived, who is going to get my lunch? Or talk my ears off? Or make me laugh? Even before petrification your life was a shithole, and it is not like I even did anything to help you. If I had one wish I would wish for two wishes more and spend one making you happy."

"Then I'd get a single wish and I'd spend it making you happy."

"Vicious cycle."

A shared laugh. You buried your face in your knees and laughed again, sniffling, covering your face and crying.

Senku felt uncomfortable with himself, having spilled half the truth like that, but there was no going back, and between destroying his image and his values against sentimentality or having you hyperventilate from crying so much, he would rather just desecrate himself; that was easier to handle.

"When we make gunpowder, if Tsukasa slips once, only once, I will kill him." Between your tears you said, but your tone as serious as it could get. "No second tries, just kaboom."

"You will kill some guy just like that? I thought you had some philosophy about human life or something."

"I do... I did, doesn't matter. Best thing about philosophy is that unlike science you can always change sides because these truths are subjective even to the one formulating them. There is no hell I haven't been to and I am not giving up my paradise this time." You sat straight again. "And I will repay how much you care for me, and double it and give it to you back again and again until you are so happy you become a supernova and blow up."

"What a happy ending, I blow up." He rolled his eyes and you smiled, your tears ceasing. Senku looked away for a second, he had a ball and chain around his ankle, his accumulated guilt for not being there for you before, even now, for not being able to let you live in your Eden, for not atoning for his past mistakes and making you happy, but your words contradicted his shame.

"I would give the stars to make you so, so happy that you blow up. You probably would not be able to handle so many shits and giggles." You shrug and move close to him, wrapping your arms around him and laying down. "I feel really bad, but imagining you inflated with joy tickles my tickles."

"Tickles my tickles..." Senku repeats, shaking his head, letting your head rest against his arm while he presses you against his chest, a tight embrace but he is simply turning the stars off so you can sleep in the dark, and his other arm covers your other ear just enough so the whistling of the wind and the sounds of nature are a muffled mumble like a refrigerator babbling.

You fall asleep quickly, probably exhausted. His arm goes numb fast, but he is too absorbed into thinking to care. He knew that going over the possibilities that stayed as such instead of becoming reality was pointless, but he kept thinking. If only you had gone to revive Yuzuriha another day, you'd all be sleeping in the house without worrying about escaping; if only petrification never happened, maybe he could have realized how much he cared about you without having to hear you confessing that you wanted to kill yourself and you two could have gone to the beach eventually, the karaoke, make you bald, all the good stuff; if only he had followed his dad's suggestion to befriend you, maybe you would've become an oblivious idiot but a happy person, maybe you would have felt supported to not think that your life was something to get rid of amidst your familial problems... if only, if only, if only.

The next day came fast. The routine was relatively the same, but you remained engulfed by your thoughts. Senku finished making the gunpowder, and after accidentally blowing some up, a trail of smoke rose in the sky. At the thought of more people, compared to being found by Tsukasa, Senku decided to light up the smoke, and so he sent Taiju and you for some firewood.

"Maybe some other person who stayed awake all this time woke up by coincidence." Taiju exclaimed as he cut the logs and you collected them.

"I am not sure of this, it will make it easier for Tsukasa to find us." You breathe nervously as you pick up the wood. "That is enough Taiju, let us walk back now, actually, just drop it all together."

Taiju runs, and you do too, despite your heart going crazy at the sudden exercise you keep going; once you two are back at the mountain, the first thing you see is Tsukasa, and you take a step back unconsciously, almost automatically. The rock under the feet you moved back crumbled, and it made you fall to your knees as Taiju ran, as Tsukasa moved, as Yuzuriha watched in horror. Your eyes followed Senku's body falling into Taiju's arms, and after having your heart beat so fast after running and then suddenly have your heart drop when seeing Tsukasa killing Senku, you fainted.

Yuzuriha noticed, Taiju was too devastated trying to get Senku to react again, and after setting his lifeless body in the rock, and after Taiju threw a rock at Tsukasa and Yuzuriha threw the remaining of gunpowder, they ran with the explosion as a cover. Taiju grabbed Senku's body, and Yuzuriha grabbed your hand as you opened your eyes slightly disoriented.

Rain started pouring hard. Taiju came to a stop under a big tree, and Yuzuriha let your hand go finally, watching inevitably how your body plummeted to the ground, your back hitting the trunk of the tree, she made a mental note to clean the bleeding wound in your forehead, probably from when you fainted. She had always known there was something odd about your relationship with Senku, something unspoken, and at night that would become clear... she wasn't used to sleeping under such harsh conditions just yet, so when she would lay down and close her eyes, she would stay awake for a long time, and she had listened to your violent sobs, and Senku's words comforting you, she had noticed that something had changed at least, whatever remained unspoken, hidden, maybe even unconscious, had surfaced now. She kneeled down and told you something, but your ears were ringing and her words were inaudible, something in the back of your head scolded you for ignoring her, but the pain in your heart was so strong and the ringing only kept getting louder that you couldn't do anything about it. It was a throbbing pain, a new sensation that overwhelmed your senses completely, and it hurt physically. Your eyes glanced at the lifeless body for a moment, your breath became erratic much faster and your tears accumulated in your eyes despite the constant falling. The hard gasps for air, the world spinning, the pressure in your head, and the pain in your heart.

Taiju and Yuzuriha did not give up as fast as your body did, and you could barely make out the movements of their mouths trying to figure out a solution. Yuzuriha reached for one of the cups of revival fluid and they dropped the liquid on his slightly petrified neck, and everything came down to you, like a crushing weight that you could not relate to anything but the feeling of your own life escaping your body, and regardless of any thought you had ever formulated about the meaning of life, or religion, or existence, you set your trembling hands on the grass and prayed to every and all gods you knew, to the universe, to any deity, to any wind that might hear your ruffled mumbles, offering up everything and anything, all you had, all you they could ask of you, your own life if it came to that. What were probably a mere minutes stretched far longer than what almost 4 millennia of thinking meant and at at the same time everything stopped, stuck in the instant, despite the overbearing sensations of the physical pain, the dizziness, the pressure, the dirt digging in your nails as you held onto the earth, your mind was not clouded by the physical feelings, and for the first time there was no turmoil of thoughts, no cascades, no cakes with layers of consciousness, but only pleads and begs, and cries and implores.

The rained passed abnormally fast, they seemed to notice; you had lost all sense of reality and remained stuck in your body, our out of it, no idea. After what felt like infinity and an instant, your throat let out a soft gasp that returned your soul to your body when you saw Senku blinking. He said something, and Yuzuriha and Taiju agreed only then to realize he was okay, and Taiju ran to hug him once he got up. You sighed mechanically, like a robot, and your body gave up again.

"Wake up." A voice in the distant asked of you. Your eyes opened after a while despite regaining your consciousness. "You have one hell of a wound, and you look like you got ran over by a truck, and we need to get going, so get up."

Your dirty hands trembled on the ground and you let out a loud cry at seeing Senku alive again. Shaking and sobbing, both violently, you lifted up your arms and hugged him, weakly, faintly, lacking energy to do so as your strained heart demanded, but doing it nonetheless. He reciprocated it, in a fixated manner to make you stand up, just so Yuzuriha and Taiju wouldn't get any weird ideas. They talked about something, and now you could hear it, but you stayed quiet. Yuzuriha took a piece of fabric and made a splint for Senku's neck, they organized around, even Senku took a small tree and used it upside down as a broom, but you stayed still, too shocked to go on with life like that. After some more talks, they came to the consensus that going back to Tsukasa was the next step.

"Recuperating already I see." Senku tapped your shoulder as you drank water. "You fainted, twice as I was told, and hit your head, and all that, you probably require to rest, so do it."

"I am never recuperating from this..." In a stranded string of voice you told him. He didn't argue it, or fought back, inevitably thinking of what you wanted to do the day of the petrification; he had not recuperated from that, and you didn't even get to go through with it.

"Let me asses if you have a concussion." His hands grabbed your head softly. He discarded a headache, that was an understatement, just from your puffy face from crying he could tell that was happening regardless, nausea was a yes, you seemed okay so no confusion, despite losing consciousness he assigned it to the shock and not to the injury, dizziness was a yes, ringing in the ears was a yes, brain fog was a yes, depression was also an understatement but was unrelated. "If this all keeps getting worse, you need to let them know, seriously, no bullshit."

"And what are you going to do? Build me a coffin earlier?" You asked touching your forehead, and he took the remaining bandage of his other wrist and wrapped it around your head, tightly.

"Don't play smartass with me right now, I am concerned."

"Don't talk to me about concern."

"I am alive and well." Senku argued immediately.

"What if you got a concussion?"

"No symptoms of it. Stay the patient, I am fine."

He smiled, your smile was weak, the world kept spinning of course, but also your vision.

Taiju and Yuzuriha walked towards you two, they both asked how you were and despite mumbling that you were fine, Senku announced it clear that you were not okay.

"So just be careful with her." Senku said. "I am sure even Tsukasa will understand."

"Senku, remember when you told me to tell you if I got worse? Well I got worse." Your hand clung onto his clothes awkwardly, his attention darted back to you. "I am hallucinating you talking stupidities."

"Wow." He frowned at you. "Seriously?"

"You sure don't expect me to go with Tsukasa." You say again.

"It makes me mad, but how can we explain your absence?" Taiju asked tenderly as he and Yuzuriha held you still.

"I dunno, tell him I killed myself."

Taiju laughed unaware. Senku did not laugh.

"He would not believe that." Taiju assured. Yuzuriha stayed quiet as her eyes glanced over your arms, and Senku got visibly angry.

"He would, because I would have, was going to..."

"Why would you do that!?" Taiju was about to shake you before Yuzuriha stopped him. "Hmm, I guess we can be spies while you two recruit rebels for the science army."

"Parting is such sweet sorrow. Better get going before we start to cry." Senku grabbed you but you hugged Taiju and Yuzuriha, they hugged you back before walking in the opposite direction. "You promised me something." As soon as they walked away, Senku scolded you for what you said.

"You died." You slid your hand around Senku's arms as your steps were unsure.

"And you would have dishonored the promise you made to your dead..." He had no words after dead, dead friend? Dead archenemy? Archenemy served it about right, but before either of you could realize his lack of termination, Taiju yelled out for Senku as a goodbye, and Senku took the leather fabric off his neck and made it into a flag. "We will build our kingdom of science."

"Kingdom of science." You repeated after him. "Are you the king of science?"

"Amazing, your brain finally exhausted its last ramble." Senku rolled his eyes. "And don't even think that I forgot about your broken promise."

"Don't you think I forgot about your broken neck."

"I would have never thought you were as lame as to kill yourself over some dude." Senku said as you two walked, slowly as your steps regained some security; his comment made you laugh, it was a painful laugh but strong enough to satisfy him.

"He was not just some dude, he was my whole world and stars."

"Well go with him."

"I was going to." You push him softly. He huffs at your implication. Another laugh. You stay silent for a second, thanking everything you begged to for having fulfilled your plea.

"Now you understand how I felt by the miracle cave."

"You did not have to see me die and be dead for a good while, do not even compare what happened with that."

You two started walking towards the smoke from before, and after a while you stopped again to take some water, Senku did too. You took a moment to look at him, his little frown and the dark circles under his bright red eyes, and your heart teared once more, so you threw yourself to hug him as your eyes burned in tears again, and this time he received you and hugged you back, tight.

taglist: @thelonestarinthesky, @bookworm-center, @iheartpieck

[frostedsugarcookiehearts]

she's nineteen, (she's got a fake id and a nose ring)

୨ৎ

schlatt was, for once in his life, impressed. he was at a party— but not a shitty party or a clusterfuck of people getting high and boning, but a fancy party. there was a cake that looked like a wedding cake, paintings all around the studio apartment and it seemed to have an actual theme.

"who's party are we at?" schlatt hissed to his friend ted, the local. ted, easygoing as ever, waved a hand dismissively and smiled (was he really stoned already?)

he grinned, slinging an arm lazily across schlatt's shoulder. "my buddy from college. we had an art class together. they're celebrating their new art exhbition. i think it's opening up here, new york, and someplace overseas. either france or japan."

"huh. how old are they again?" he grunted, a little interested. if they went to college with ted, they were probably around his age. he was hoping they were way older, because if they were the same age, what would he have to show? "i make youtube videos" versus "

"nineteen."

his jaw went slack. "what?" he was two years older than them, and he'd made good money from youtube, and was pretty successful for his age, but that was fucking insane.

ted got distracted, getting caught up in a conversation with a bunch of spring breakers, leaving schlatt alone. he was chatting to a random girl, but she didn't seem very interested in him or the conversation at all. not one to force a poor girl to sit through his ramblings, he sighed, making his way over to the cake.

"hey, who are you?" he glanced over to his right to see— well, he wasn't sure. a pretty girl, yeah, but also a pretty girl with rainbow highlights, bright makeup and dressed in a little grey sequin skirt and an off-the shoulder black tee that cut off the sleeves. golden jewelry was everywhere— rings, necklaces, bracelets, earrings— and she was a vision. a colorful one, at that!

twenty-one years old, and he was speechless. like an idiot. he stammered like the kids he used to bully in high school, "uhm, h—hi."

"you're hi?" you blink, a grin gracing your face. "or high. isn't everyone here?" snickering, you vaguely gesture to the rest of your party with your bare shoulder.

"no— no!" he shook his head, looking down at you with his eyes wide. "uhm, my name's schlatt. not high. or hi. just schlatt."

"hi, schlatt. you a fan of my work?"

"uh... honest? i've never seen it. but i'm a fan of—" his voice, possibly the biggest cockblock of all time, cracked. his voice cracked as he wobbled out his attempt at flirting, "—your outfit."

you chuckle. to schlatt, it sounds like a pity chuckle, but you know. "thanks. sponsored by my closet." he lets out a laugh. "where you from, schlatt?"

"new york."

intrigued, you let out a hum. "what brought you to LA?"

schlatt pointed to ted, who was laughing hysterically, a girl on his arm. a new party girlfried who's number ted would lose (adhd problems) by the end of the night. "my friend there."

"oh, ted! we went to college together. the film major." you giggle. "and quite the ladies' man, i can see. and you?"

confused, he tilts his head. "me?" he repeats.

"are you a ladies' man?"

for the first time this night, he was smooth. grinning, he quips, "i'm talking to you, aren't i?"

a laugh escaped your lips, coated in expensive, colorful liplgoss. "good point. do you want to see some of my paintings, or do you want a beer?"

"is both an option?"

you mock-gasp, smiling. "a man after my own heart."

schlatt wasn't an art guy— that was ted's thing— but your art was breath-taking. it made him feel something, that he could see all your emotions poured out onto a canvas. "it's kind of like making youtube videos," he blurted. "i put my whole self into them. like you do, with your paintings." that made you smile, though you had no idea what youtube was. that was okay though, because schlatt slung an arm around your shoulder and showed you his videos, explaining each part on every one. in turn, you did the same with your paintings, sharing each other's artistic processes.

since schlatt and ted already knew you, it wasn't too odd when schlatt would get you to pull up to a lunch club shoot. or when you cameo'd in a video. or when you practically joined the squad!

and it wasn't too weird when, in due time, schlatt had you around his arm, kissing your lips in front of everyone. and it definitely wasn't too weird when you released a new collection, exclusively in new york, called my whole self, featuring portraits of schlatt himself.

୨ৎ

divider credits @omi-resources

[castlebyersafterdark]

inspired from previous posts but imagine a modern au where mike finds a porn video that looks like will or reminds him on him. it would be like the only video he watches for months or it would be the video he puts on to get him over the edge before he finishes.

and then him going to school the next day and having to look will in the eyes and have a conversation with him as if he didn't basically just watch will get fucked last night.

Mike has been fixated on a specific type of guy that night as he indulges in some video adventures. Smaller guys, brown hair and big eyes looking up at the camera as they're filmed angle down as they suck cock, so easy for Mike to imagine himself in the place of the guy getting serviced.

He stops scrolling and clicks on a video with a bottom who looks so strangely angelic as he takes it, slim waist, big ass. Full head of fluffy brown hair. He doesn't get to see much of his face in the video, but he watches and comes so easily while watching it. There's something about the way the guy's body reacts and his voice sounds that won't leave his mind. He watches it again, slows down, savors this perfect vision. He's going to be revisiting it again.

Mike bookmarks the video. He tries other things, scrolls and scrolls, clicks and experiments. He's just come around (heh) to the concept that he's into guys exclusively fairly recently and has been doing a lot of research. Figuring out exactly what he likes (big beefy buys who can toss him around and cute little guys with sweet baby faces who can take dick like a champ from either direction 🤭) and getting comfortable with the whole gay thing. Very comfortable. It's been a busy weekend for him.

With his long, research filled weekend over - Mike is back at school. He lost count of the times he repeated that little video. Nine minutes of heaven over such perfect filth.

He meets Will at their lockers like they do every morning. Will, shorter by a few inches, looks up at Mike with a big smile that morning. Teeth poking out on a grin, flushed both from the cold morning and from his natural blush. It's no different than any other interaction. But Mike's mind is spinning. It's looping nine perfect minutes over and over, on hyperspeed. He cannot be getting hard right now. Please, no. He shifts in place and tries to pay attention. Fails.

Mike basically spend the weekend watching Will get fucked. Hard. Oh no. Oh, that all makes a lot of sense now. Shit.

Will's talking, but it's static. His plush pink mouth, the airy pitch of his voice as he laughs. The way it could morph into a gasp at the first breach of his body, so easily. Oh, Mike's gonna pass out. They walk down the hallway to their first class together and as Will's rambling away, Mike's eyes are on his slim hips and round ass.

The sway in his walk. That fucking tiny little waist. The way he'd look pressed to Mike's mattress, face smothered in the pillows as he moans with his ass in the air for Mike to grab and pound and snap into. Mike's hand ball into fists at his side. He wants to grab him. Grab him and press against that prefect ass and kiss him and be together forever and just fucking... go crazy on him. Make him whine and scream. And say his name so sweetly. Mike can't do this.

Will turns around and gives Mike a look that says hurry up, and Mike resumes their walk with a spring in his step and a tightness in his jeans and the inability to look Will in the face directly for the remainder of the day.

He can't wait to get home and watch that video again. Confirm a few things for sure. Work up the courage to say something to his best friend who is now haunting his every fantasy.

[cressidagrey]

The Starlight Princess: Prologue

Summary:

There is a Pool of Starlight in the Spring Court. A piece of the Night Court that has no business being in the land of Eternal Spring. So how did it come to be?

Or: How the Spymaster of the Night Court starts hearing a voice, realises that no, he is not insane after all, frees a princess, kills a High Lord…and finds his mate all at the same time.

Warnings:

Discussion of a flirtation 300 years in the past, Discussion of the Death of Rhys' Mother and Sister, Feyre being nosy, Cassian serving all the gossip

(thanks to @tsunami-of-tears for the dividers!)

“Can I ask you a question?” 

If Feyre could still ask him that question, Cassian was pretty sure that he was definitely not hard enough on his High Lady. 

They were back to training, even hard-won peace was not a time where one could slack off…and Feyre had wanted to return to it after the pregnancy with Nyx and everything that had happened. 

So…Cassian got to teach his High Lady. 

And his curiosity was piqued now. “Yes, of course,” he responded carefully.  What was this about now? What question did Feyre have for him? 

“What was her name?” Feyre blurted out and he stared at her. 

Of all the questions, she could have asked of him, that one was not one he had expected. 

“Whose name?” Cassian asked. Who was she talking about? What name didn’t she know? What name…

“Rhys’ sister,” Feyre clarified. “What was her name?”

Oh. 

That question…

Well, he understood why she had come to him with that question. Though it did surprise him that Rhys had never…never even mentioned her name to Feyre. That he had never…

Cassian remembered her. Of course, he did. Even centuries after her death, she wasn’t somebody Cassian would ever forget. Not just because of who her big brother was, but because…

He would never forget seeing her unattached head. 

He would never forget Rhys’ screams of utter turmoil and terror. He would never…He would never…He would never forget that cold wrath on his face…Would never forget everything that happened afterwards…How Rhys had become High Lord, his ascension overshadowed by the death of his sister and mother…and his father…a whole family snuffed out. 

And for what? 

But even without all of that…Cassian would never forget her. 

He would never forget the girl seemingly glowing with magic, the perfect princess, controlled within an inch of her life. 

There had only been very few things that could crack that perfect facade…

His brother had been one of them. 

“Seren. Her name was Seren,” Cassian answered the question finally, his voice hoarse. “Rhys never told you her name?” 

It didn’t lay quite right with him. But then, if there was one thing that he had…realised centuries ago, then that everybody grieved differently. 

Some took comfort in talking about the fallen…and then there were some who didn’t speak of it at all. 

Cassian had seen both. 

He could understand both in a sense. 

And Rhys…in a lot of ways, he fit the second. 

“No. He has talked about her…sometimes…but…” Feyre shook her head. 

“Her name was Seren,” he repeated again, for one moment fondly remembering her as a child. She had been…She had been beautiful. A spitting image of Rhys in a sense, the same dark hair, the same startling violet eyes…her magic dancing on her skin, and her innate abilities on display. The older she had grown, the more she had reigned all of it in. He still didn’t know if it had been her father’s fault or if she herself had realised that she was putting herself at risk, by showing her abilities that obviously. 

 “She was also called the Princess of Starlight by the people of Velaris…When she was a kid, she used to glow with magic,” he continued with a soft smile. 

She had been stunning. 

Still half a girl, not yet a female grown the last time he had seen her, over a year before her death…

She hadn’t deserved her death. But then who did? 

Nesta had reminded him of her often…The similarities were definitely there. Both had been more blunt than anything, though that habit had been beaten out of Seren by her father until she acted like the princess she was supposed to be. But he had never managed to break her will. Iron-willed and with a spine made out of fucking adamantium…Seren had been a sight to behold. 

“Did you know her well?” Feyre asked him curiously, but he shook his head

“I did know her, but I wasn’t…I was never that close to her…by the time she was…by the time she was born, we were all adults. She was just 17 when she died. Rhys was in Illyria...I was a grunt in the army…The one that was closest to her was Azriel,” he recounted. 

A noise of surprise escaped Feyre. 

“Azriel?” she repeated, surprise colouring her tone. 

Cassian nodded, swallowing. It was something that was unspoken, never voiced aloud. 

But Azriel had taken her death the hardest, giving himself the fault for something that wasn’t his fault.

Then, Azriel had already been Spymaster. And Cassian knew…Cassian knew that Azriel still thought that his shadows should have been accompanying Seren and her mother when Tamlin and his brothers had ambushed them. 

Azriel still thought that he should have known that this was a possibility…should have been aware of the risk. Should have prevented it from ever happening. 

“He used to work for Rhys’ father,” Cassian said quietly. He didn’t want to even imagine the horror of these years for Azriel. He knew that this was still something, centuries later, that Azriel muddled through. “And I always…” Cassian broke off, not daring to voice it aloud. 

“What?” Feyre asked curiously. 

“They were close,” he finally said quietly.  “Seren was three weeks shy of her 18th Birthday when she died. I always wondered if…if she had made it…if three weeks later, the mating bond wouldn’t have snapped for them.” He had had that thought so often over the centuries. 

Wondered if Seren’s death hadn’t taken away every chance of a mating bond his brother had…a chance at happiness. 

Feyre stared at him, blue eyes wide. 

“Was Azriel in love with her? What about Mor?” she asked, quietly, and Cassian shrugged. 

“I don’t think he ever would have allowed himself to act on it,” Cassian said carefully. “She was a princess and he was just an Illyrian bastard. But he would have given his life for her. Do not doubt that for a second, Feyre. She was so young when she died. Too young. And Azriel would have never allowed himself to act on whatever he was feeling…And even if…Mor and him…He knew that that would have never worked out. He knew that then. And I think that after Seren died, he just clung even tighter to Mor.”

Mor was still alive. Mor was the only one that Azriel could still protect because in his mind he had failed horribly with Seren.

“Seren was…she was pure political capital,” he said darkly. “Her father was very much aware of that. He would have married her off to any other court in this land…and a mating bond with Azriel wouldn’t have stopped him. He was already planning on it…The perfect princess with starlight dancing at her fingertips…and daemati abilities that make you and Rhys look like a bad magic trick humans conjured up,” he recounted with a snort. 

Nobody had ever stood up to Seren’s mental abilities. None. 

“She was better at it than Rhys?” Feyre asked, a small smile on her face and Cassian couldn’t help but laugh softly. 

“Even Rhys was powerless against her. He may had more magic…but Seren wasn’t to be underestimated. She plucked thoughts out of your head without anybody noticing. It was…startling. And even her own father knew…” 

“Knew what?” Feyre asked as he hesitated. 

“He knew that one day there was going to come a time where his children would topple his throne…a day where Seren and Rhys would join forces…and not even the cauldron could have helped him then.”

[pityslash]

[repost] suggested mature content, characters are 18+.

katsuki didn't fall in love the same way as everyone else did. there wasn't a spark that took hold of his breath nor an arrow that struck so abruptly. it was slow and steady like a heartbeat, so soothing that he didn't even notice until it was too late.

everything was beautiful and blooming. you met katsuki when it was spring, when you were both too young and stupid for your own good, the cuts and bruises when you played too rough, the mutters of apology.

spring was the perfect time to plant good seeds in a relationship, a time to uproot any unwanted weeds. for years, you two never put a label on your relationship.. friends. but katsuki would find himself spending more time with you, hours of you getting on his nerves, him looking for you in a crowd, the annoying small talk.

it was fine until one day, his friends started to come to him, asking if you were around. “no. how the hell would i know where they are? i’m not babysitting.” it was bitter on his tongue.

“… you’re always together, man. please?” kirishima says, loud on the phone speaker. he said it so casually, the moment of silence before katsuki let out the breath he was holding, and he finally spills.

but in summer, true colors show. it took time, but you see each other's flaws as they are. when you feel each other in a deeper way, attraction grows at a very rapid pace and— physically, the fire of intimacy.

“how much did you drink?” he was drunk. you both were, and it could lead to nothing but headaches and heartaches.

the years of pining and not being able to admit it, when your friends would think you have been together all this time but no, it’s in the three magic words, when you make the feelings clear and spit it out.

it was a party.. a celebration party? there were games and stupid red cups and spiked drinks. the door knob pressed into your back, it hurt but nothing mattered as your hands tangled into his hair, shivering and you’re sure he was the only thing holding you up.

when you pulled apart momentarily to laugh, but quickly reconnected, as if you were each other’s source of air, unable to go without the other for more than a second.

the hands pulling you closer as if it was the last time, nose bumping and he confessed his love to you over a hundred times, how you’re the best person he’s ever met, you listened to every word.

“you love m- me?” the breath catches in your throat. no verbal response leaves katsuki’s mouth, he just nods. katsuki knows he can be emotional when he has a bit of alcohol in his system, he believes it’s more than that though.

a touch feels like it can burn through your skin, his hands slipping under your shirt, his lips were warm but his hands were surprisingly cold. he felt you jump, hand finding him in the dark, maybe you were ticklish..

“is this okay?” it wasn’t often you saw katsuki at a loss for words, even less often would you see him turn that shade of red. despite being under the influence, he never forgot to ask where to put his hands, making sure you were comfortable.

“do you want to?” his thumb brushes against your cheek, breath mingled and you wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing him back in and swallowing him whole.

this kiss was soft, tender and gentle. just moments before, it was all desperation and fire, capable of breaking one’s heart.

i love you.

but those three simple words were repeated until that was all you could remember, you started to believe it.

your bodies radiated the same heat, a soft touch turns into a light squeeze and he held you down on the bed —bed, couch? did you leave the party? everything is foggy— growing hotter as his lips move against yours, you close your eyes and hold him close the entire night.

“would you still love me if i was a worm?” that was one way to break the silence, the crunch of orange and yellow leaves. “hell no.” and he responds almost immediately, muffled from the cup before he takes a big drink from his coffee.

“wrong answer! we’re breaking up.”

he chokes, and you slap his back. the tip of his tongue burns, and so did the reddening spot on your cheek he pinches. “hell no!”

you trip over your own two feet as he swings an arm around your neck and traps you in a headlock. katsuki almost drops the cup, ready to give you a piece of his mind but he relents. “take that shit back.”

his arm squeezes tighter, not enough to actually hurt you, but you were definitely trying to get free in case he did take this to the ground, trying to get your posture back.

“katsuki what the hell?!”

“i don’t need both arms, dipstick! take it back!”

fall was supposed to be the season of deep connection. when you were no longer blinded, there was no hiding behind the beauty of spring.

“katsuki, if i said no you probably would have showed up at my house with flowers and abducted me to go to that sushi place anyways.”

“but you said you loved me first, remember?” katsuki didn’t waste a second, stirring the miso dissolving in the saucepan. the sink was piled with dishes, spices lined the counter, the smell of steamed rice filling the kitchen.

you immediately drop the knife on the counter and spin around, eyes on him. it was enough for him to try and fail to stifle a laugh. “why are you laughing?! so what if i say i love you all the time, you said it first.”

the holidays were coming up, and somehow christmas and buying gifts was brought up while making dinner. katsuki wasn’t as excited as you were, claiming there was no way in hell he’d write a fucking christmas list.

“i’d buy you everything.” whether you asked for it or not. “if you don’t get on my nerves.”

maybe he didn’t know what you were thinking, maybe he just wasn’t ready. “ha ha, so funny..” but you smiled anyway.

“would i joke about something like that?” katsuki scoffs, staring right at you when you turn back around. he was annoyed; an open book of emotions when you knew what to look for.

he raises an eyebrow and you walk over, tofu in the palm of your hand and he lets you add it to the miso soup, eyes like a hawk. “well—“

katsuki catches your wrist when you reach to grab his face. “sadistic sense of humor?” the monster inside him fell silent, biting his tongue, and his heart raced as your lips brushed against his cheek.

a heartbeat loud in your ears with a song you never grew tired of. but suddenly it wasn’t just about silly christmas gifts, when you pull away first and let out a deep breath.

“i love you.” those words are too familiar but foreign, katsuki might’ve blushed but he makes an ugly face. that phrase earned a new meaning when you came into the picture, once only spoken by his mother and father.

why did it matter who said it first: katsuki was in love with you, more than he loved anyone in his life. a ring on the small chain around his neck is a symbol of your love, and he would never take it off.

forgive me? it’s a beautiful feeling, something so deep and natural like affinity. sharing breaths and two human beings become one. he was your soulmate, how lucky you are to have him by your side.

“it’s fine, i love you too.” it was hushed, but he said it back a million times over. you couldn’t imagine loving someone else the way you loved bakugo katsuki.

he was a man of action; katsuki never gave romantic speeches.

sharing a bed as you’ve done since you were kids. he wakes up first and sighs when he gives you a kiss before jumping into the shower. how he would spread just enough of your favorite jam onto toast in the morning, and get started with a cup of coffee.

seeing new couples on your walk through the park, kissing on benches. and cringing together before holding hands, “we were like that once, baby.”

when katsuki gets weekly texts from his mother asking how you’ve been, and he tells her to fuck off. though, after a few minutes, he will tell her you’re just fine with him.

when you catch up with mutual old friends over dinner, have a few drinks and you laugh when they poke fun at katsuki. “so happy you two got together! this guy has been crazy about you since high school.” and kaminari squealed when katsuki kicked him underneath the booth table.

when he hears you sneaking up behind him finishing up a big meal, the amused huff and he speaks loudly “dinner is almost ready,” before arms wrap around his waist, hands slipping under. your face hides in his shirt, knowing you should go to set the table.. but in a minute.

“your favorite.” katsuki says again, and you show your thanks with a kiss on the cheek.

though in winter, with bright lights all around and colors that match his eyes, there was no joy. weeks of no contact after a stupid fight, the ignored texts and your friends trying to mend what happened.

the cuts on your hands from pulling on the invisible thread that was slowly coming undone, singed and twisted, holding it together until it hurt too much to risk more.

surprisingly, you two have been chatting with friends and having cups of hot chocolate and enjoying the food. but the cold season came with much difficulty, the denial of oneself to lean into the comfort and stability of familiarities.

the way he’d look at you made it obvious he wanted to talk. your friends aren't paying attention when you slip away together, watching the stars as the sun has long since set. there was mistletoe hanging on the door frame.

“so..” katsuki breaks the peaceful silence, “this is it.” this is how we came to be. you glanced back at him, but he did not look at you.

the sweet, hot spiciness of cinnamon is the smell of christmas, whether it’s in the wine or cookies or eggnog; it was inviting.. you can all but taste it.

“bakugo, we haven’t talked recently and i.. know you’re too stubborn for your own good. you’re still one of my best friends, we’ve shared a lot together. we’re out here because you wanted to talk, so...” it took everything in you to muster up the confidence, but it falters when katsuki laughs.

suddenly you feel embarrassed and small in front of him —the man you gave everything to, but before you could break, he turns and for the first time since you were teenagers, katsuki cries.

“my mom has been up my ass for not doing this sooner, i just— needed to think about the right shit to say but i can’t let you leave here tonight not nothing that i’m sorry.”

the blond tries to wipe his tears, words jumbled up and you have to stop yourself from reaching out. he was vulnerable. if you moved too fast, he could run off and fight the first person he saw or just.. crumble to pieces right here.

“fuck, i’m sorry,” he rasped out. “i know i’m an asshole, i’ve been told my whole life. i should let you go and find someone better but i’m scared out of my mind you’re just going to disappear if i let you walk out and i can’t do this without you, y/n. i want this.”

it slips out so spontaneously you’d almost think he was joking, but you’ve never seen him looking so heartfelt or speaking so genuinely.

“this?” you pretended the red on katsuki’s face was just from the cold, but the emotion flickering in those eyes made you hesitate. “us?”

you feel tears well up again, he sounds so hopeful, and you truly want this too. not once have you ever questioned your worth to katsuki, he cared about you and years of built friendship was proof. still…

“us..” you stood side by side, knowing you will never recover from this, but if you walk away now it will be the occasional twinge in your heart. it was dark out and the sky was clear, stars reflected off the fresh snow, sparkling.

“i’m right here.” you’re willing to share this passion for the short time you have together.

“for how long?” he was questioning himself, and you felt like your heart was going to jump out of your chest as he took a step closer, hands shaking. “i’m still yours.”

you would stand here forever with katsuki, shivering from the confessions or late december, you didn’t know. because you get the most dazzling firework for a fleeting second, the firework being in love with him.

katsuki gets nervous but you lean in and close the slight distance, gentle as your lips touch, your nose sits next to his. and his hand lifts to hold your face, so warm it felt as if you could fall asleep with his arms wrapped around you, the contact soaking into your bones.

taste the remnants of chocolate, you felt dizzy and your stomach was doing flips. what he was thinking? did he feel the spark again? it was a feeling better than you ever imagined. when he pulls away after a moment, you wait a second before going in for another.

“i forgot how good you are at kissing,” you say. “i think you stole a year off my life.”

he shakes his head with a smile, eyes still glassy, and you watch as he takes off his jacket, “it’s getting cold, here.” katsuki replies, his voice soft and in a tone only meant for you.

katsuki lays the jacket over your shoulders, taking the lapels and holding it close around his childhood friend.. his first love. you held hands for a while, enjoying the sounds of the party and friends just inside, forgotten.

but as if fate was laughing, you’re snapped back into reality, where you and him aren’t meant to be, when you hear the sliding door open. “hey guys, have you seen the—“

ochako, who is carrying a plate with santa decorated sugar cookies, stops mid sentence. you jumped away despite it being too late, snatching your hands from his. “—christmas cookies…s- sorry!”

[tadpolesonalgae]

To Old Gods

Tamlin x reader

synopsis: you spend a clear, spring night under the pale moon with the High Lord of Spring, only you had not understood the intimacy he was inviting you to join him in, under a night where the veil thins, and things become slightly other

a/n: I realised as a writer, I am technically able to put my own spin on each character. I hope you enjoy this peaceful night journey, and would recommend reading this somewhere you can see the moon :)

Day 1 for @tamlinweek : Heir of Spring

music: Tamlin, by Faun

word count: 1k~

This is the High Lord of Spring you respect and worship—the one who leads the rituals and pays his dues to the old magic.

How he walks silently through the grassy fields, the blades allowed to grow tall and wild so they whisper against his legs as he walks bare-footed along the trail. With small twigs and wild berries woven throughout his regal hair, swaying free in the fresh spring breeze, he resembles a disciple of the old priestesses. Clothed in a thin pale robe, the dark marking are stark against his skin—soot-like dust clouding the rims of his eyes, streaking in three lines outward like scars, and as sharply drawn as talons. One set up over his brows, streaking back into the pale gold of his hair; the second set dripping a tear’s path over the sharp high of his cheekbones disappearing just above the point of his ears around his temples; the third pair cutting straight down from his dark emerald eyes, flowing down over the harsh cut of his jaw, over the strength of his neck, down to the tangle of swirls and symbols that branch across his partially bare chest.

Beneath the moonlight, solemn and stern, you can’t help the comparison that springs to mind—with how the gods were drawn long ago, etched on parchment, or carved into stone. Those same marking that are so frequently forgotten, a tradition sacred to the Spring Court, that the rest of Prythian, even fae-kind as a whole, seem to have either forgotten or discarded. But not here. Here, those carvings are remembered and preserved, worshipped and awed over.

It’s precious, an experience you treasure, being allowed the honour of watching over such a private ceremony. To be permitted near him on this night when he honours his past fathers, the bloodline that stretches and twines like a new stream that has yet to forge its own straight lines through the earth, so meanders and ambles.

How the moonlight spills across his robes, shining over the pale gold of his hair—sacred and holy. Beneath the silver light, you can make out the triskelion that’s been marked on his chest, partially concealed beneath the robes that have been arranged over his broad shoulders. The interlocking spirals stand out clearly, the familiar marking easy to recognise. Earth, water, and sky. Birth, life, and death. The patient cycle of life as it repeats quietly, relentlessly. Repeating persistently yet ever-evolving.

A star falls across the sky, and his green-gold eyes follow its path, attention unfaltering despite the will-o-wisps that glow and bumble about in the field, casting pale blue light about the place as they bob and swirl with the breeze. There are few clouds in the sky this night, meaning their distinct, calming glow is enhanced by the moonlight, practically shimmering beneath its cool-toned light.

He turns in the field, a slow shift of his torso as his gaze finds you effortlessly, features patient and somber, and you move as softly as you can manage, unaccustomed to being barefoot. Aware of the earth beneath your feet, how surprisingly bouncy it feels, like freshly tilled soil that sinks as you step upon it. You wade through the grass, pausing at his side as to not overstep—it is a privilege to even be witnessing this moment, let alone to be invited so close.

Initially you hadn’t understood the importance of the night. Had understood its significance, the value of paying respect to those who had come before, recognising he owed much to his fathers—but had failed to consider the personal ramifications of undergoing the ceremony. What it means, for him—he, who should never have become High Lord in the first place. To stand in the open fields and welcome the past spirits closer, the veil thinning between here and elsewhere. What that could mean for a person who has lost his family, to have this one night where they might once more be together, united on one plane.

Tamlin’s gold flecked eyes are quiet but clear, sharp and as aware as ever, refusing to cower from the night, insisting on being fully present to honour his line.

His gaze locks with yours, and in this brief moment they seem almost ancient, carrying a weight he’s never allowed you to see before. Perhaps one even he’s unaware of carrying, simply having taken over from his father without examining what was being passed onto him. The kind of burden he would be forced to hold upon his back. It’s gone as swiftly as it appeared, his expression patient but solemn as he watches you with an acute understanding that has the hairs on your forearms rising. Feeling bare in a way no amount of clothing could aid with, like he’s somehow able to look directly within you, to scoop up pure starlight from the pool of your soul.

He makes no effort to speak, and you have no inclination to disrupt the peace, so join him in his silence, sharing the whisper of the breeze between you, the swish of grass and the far off snap of twigs as they break beneath soft paws. Tamlin’s gaze returns back to the sky, and the will-o-wisps dance closer, near enough to cast light upon your own robes. Quiet and together, the two of you stand, side by side as you share in the sacred moment. Looking up into the bright, night sky, lit by shimmering starlight, swirling and wonderfully complex. Even in the darkest hours, it’s surprising how bright the world is.

Your heart falters a little when his broad palm extends toward you, and you find deep emerald eyes once again peering down at you, far older than the male before you. There’s a sincerity in the gold flecks of his gaze that has your mind quietening, understanding the request for company on a night as long and as tiring as this. Not tiring in the sense of physical exertion, but in the kind that sleeping poorly despite having rested for so long brings. In the kind of restless strain that grief offers, heavy and mournful, yet enlivened by the rebirth of Spring. A relentless awareness that persists tirelessly, but that has been put into a creature that requires sleep and recuperation to recover and continue.

Your fingers slide over the surprisingly rough skin of his hands, settling in his palm as you’re brought closer, stood directly beside him, beneath this long night.

A night of mourning, and longing. A night for wishes to be made, and relations to be resolved.

A night for past worries to be released, and new beginnings to take root.

A night for rebirth, the kind only Spring can offer.

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @slut4acotar @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy @decomposing-writer @soph1644 @lilah-asteria

[inkdrinkerworld]

I didn’t have the best relationship w my dad and I could totally see Remus healing r just by how kind and genuinely interested he is in their daughter. He loves talking to her, understanding her, getting excited with her on the things she gets excited about

Baby same same SAME

Your daughter bursts through your bedroom door, bolting straight for Remus who’s just finished dressing.

“Daddy, you wouldn’t believe what happened today.”

You roll your eyes, already aware of the whole ‘put down’ that happened in Kindergarten today.

Remus stops brushing his hair and sits on the floor- on a soft rug in the corner of your bedroom that was their designated ‘decompress’ space.

“What happened that I wouldn’t believe, calon bach?”

Your daughter vividly recounts the way one of the boys at school had decided that lunch time was the perfect time to try speaking to her- while she was eating her fairy cake no less and dipped his finger in her frosting.

“Daddy, I don’t know why he would even do that! And I scraped off all the frosting after even though that’s my favourite part because I’m not sure where his hands have been!”

Her dramatics- as Remus fondly refers to them- come from you, and it makes your heart stutter to see Remus remain so enraptured by her story.

Suddenly, tears spring to your eyes, even more so when he says, “How abouts tomorrow we pack an extra fairy cake and you can offer it to him?”

She frowns, a deep worried line in the middle of her forehead. “Do I have to? Because I really do love fairy cakes.”

You watch as Remus rubs her back, pulling her to his lap and deliberates her words.

You remember, without your consent, how conversations like these were usually exchanged with your mother, or your older brother if he was home from work but your dad never allowed any of it.

It would result in a flick of his wrist, a huffed ‘I’m busy can this wait?’ Or a simple yet very hurtful, ‘I don’t want to hear about your day, I just want quiet.’

Remus is never flippant or rude or anything that you had experienced when it comes to your little girl or even to yourself but it makes your heart grow an even stickier fondness for him.

“Okay maybe we can just start by telling him keep his hand to himself and if he wants an extra fairy cake you can offer it to him, yeah?”

Your daughter flops in Remus’ hold, head hanging off his thigh. “I guess.”

You chuckle wetly and Remus looks up at you- worry and then understanding passing across his face. He winks at you and you smile, wiping away your tears.

“Can we watch Klaus tonight? I fell asleep early after tea last night and I don’t think you and mama watched it without me.”

You both didn’t, having been far too exhausted to even blink for long after she had fallen asleep.

“No we didn’t look at it without you, sassy pants,” Remus pats her butt as they stand, “Go lay with mummy and I’ll bring up some snacks and water.”

Her eyes narrow as she climbs up the bed next to you. “Daddy you know I like the juice, the one mummy likes.”

Remus does know, he also knows it’s well past her bedtime already. But then you join the puppy dog eyes against Remus party and he’s putty.

“Fine but only a little.”

“I love you,” is repeated twice to him and he finds the words have never been truer even as he waters down some of the juice for your daughter and opts for her animal crackers that all of you love.

[samodivaa]

Deny the truth,set my world on fire (Part 3)

Bucky Barnes x Reader (Winter Soldier x Reader)

He knew that she was having an affair...she denies, but the love marks on her body are still there. She can't tell him the truth, it will break him - the Winter Soldier is indeed inside of him, fucking her at night and Bucky doesn't remember. Part 1⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ Part 2 ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆* Part 4⋆*･ﾟ:⋆* Music --- Vivaldi - Winter (L'inverno) Quotes - Fyodor Dostoevsky └── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘ Warnings - heavy ANGST, mention of murder, non-con

Listened to it on repeat until i finished the chapter. Enjoy. ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ Calm, boring days, an unknown future, and an irregular sleep, the days pass and nothing new. The absence of knowledge is the presence of paranoia – she crumbles mentally. It's been happening for so long – it is all that is happening, over and over again. She is full of fear, leading to feeling grief. Her life, a tragedy, a land of devastation and destruction. All the bright, precious things of Bucky fade so fast – in the end, memories are all she keeps. It makes her tremble to think back, to remember how she thought their life would be. Her greatest regret – believing so much in their future. She used to build dreams about Bucky and now she can’t believe if she will ever do it again - she treads the icy path between Spring and Winter, slowly and cautiously, for fear of tripping and falling into the snow again, for fear of losing her dearest Spring. She feels the chill north winds coursing through her home, despite the locked and bolted doors…this is Winter, which nonetheless brings it's own delight – after Winter, Spring always comes next.

She spend so much time in my head and in her heart that she forgets to live in her body, not hearing someone entering.

“Pain and suffering are always inevitable for a large intelligence and a deep heart. The really great men must, I think, have great sadness on earth.”

She blinks at that line of the book, her mind lingering once again to Bucky…but when is a monster not a monster – oh, when you are the reason, it has become mangled…she remembers when those eyes said love loudly, now these walls so quietly shift towards her as he leans on the door frame stealthy, still not alerting her. She puts the book aside, deciding to wash her dishes – her vast inner solitude poisoning her whole existence, there is no dignity in loneliness. The worst moment, when sitting alone at dinner, she has forgotten the ocean eyes, the depth of his laugh, it all had faded into into the past, where memories are silent.

Winter brushes his hands along the hardwood of the door, tentatively waiting for a sign that she had noticed him in the doorway. Three knocks follow on the wooden frame and her shoulders are already quavering, he once again craved a bullet with her name on it, burning Bucky down and in the ashes left behind – coming to burn her.

She glances at the door behind her as she holds her arms wrapped around herself before turning around to face him. Winter seems so human with his genuine smile, nodding slowly when his presence is finally acknowledged. Rage explodes inside, fire rushing over her skin. Winter’s face is flooding with color by then, and she finds that the sight makes her feel refreshingly nostalgic – the shades of Bucky somehow showing.

Dem light plays upon his face, revealing gleaming eyes, a mouth pulled into a grin. Stillness wraps her up in a cold embrace, a chill running down her body as he speaks.

„I warned you and you didn’t listen“

Winter shifts closer, caging her to the counter.

"Oh no…“ she whispers brokenly.

She brakes into a sob she could not contain, hands wrestled free from his grasp and worked their way to shield herself. He grips her hips, drawing her close, and roughly presses his mouth to the soft, swollen lips. Soldat longed for her for so long, dreamed of it as one would of an impossible journey to the moon, and now? How would he ever let her go?

The winters are becoming longer, very monotonous. Spring does come eventually, but it feels so short, looking back – it is not much more than a coupe of days.

He steps back, his fist unclenching, urging her to see – Walker’s work badge. All of her paranoia which played complicated possible outcomes - what an utterly incomprehensible thing has happened - without delay, Winter plucks every vibrating string in her mind by choosing to mock her.

„I warned you“

„You fucking monster what have you done?! I hate you so much I wish they never created you! I want you gone so much it hurts.“

His heart becomes a shriveled rose, poisoned with death and petals fall with every word from her mouth, sending him into a bottomless pit of anger.

„I will tell him, I will tell Bucky the tru-“

If once one has recognized the truth and seen it, you know that it is the truth and that there is no other and there cannot be, whether you are asleep or awake.

The melodious ringing sounds of Bucky’s dog tag chimes deep into her soul – as he holds them in front of her – as if a funeral bell is ringing, pealing for one a last farewell.

„Bucky is no longer“ dressed in all black, he is giving the eulogy „We can bury him together“ he says with the intend to drop them on the floor, but she catches them.

Up in her conscience, it's making her nauseous, she shifts backwards momentarily, but there is no where to run. Instinctively, Winter tightens his hold on her waist, though he neither pushes her away nor pulls her closer – just grounds her in place when she tries to slide to the floor.

„No…it can’t be, I don’t believe it“ comes her unenlightening, despondent response.

„He never picked up the phone that day. It was me, doll“

Now it all began to fall into place. A poor, beautiful, tragic fool - he had thrown her hope away on a moment's false illusion, and she was paying dearly for it. With her hope, her love, her soul.

„No, you are lying“ she whispers brokenly, her voice trembling. She blinks at him, her eyes enormous pools of misery with wetness clinging to the lashes and collecting in the tender indentation above her top lip.

„Stop crying “ he licks the hollow of her throat. "It is getting annoying“ a long, slow lick up her throat "…цветок“ (flower)

And if it frightens and torments her to think of Bucky and the simplicity and silence that accompanies him – she still believes in the illusion that he is there, it’s life-giving.

His left hand slides up gently to cup her chin as he leans in and kisses her once more, and with all her strength that she could find, she slaps him across the face, forcing it to turn to the side. He murmurs her name low. She whispers „no’s“. Winter presses himself close, giving a hollow bark of laughter as his angry gaze searches hers. He feels the trembling woman in his arms, her breathing shallow and uneven, clearly overcome with emotions.

„Тебе лучше, моя куколка?“ (Feeling better, my doll?)

„Don’t you dare call me that“

From the desert of Bucky’s abandoned love, he dares mock her pain. Winter stares her down, watching every reaction as his hands memorizes her curves, groaning, his fingers clawing at her back and quite possibly tearing her shirt.

Bucky dreams - the trees, stripped of all foliage, are white and bone-dry, twisted and curved like desiccated skeletons. Smoke drifts up from the scorched soil that crunches under his feet. In the distance, there’s a hill where, on the other side, y/n stands waving at him. He quickens his steps. She is calling for him, her voice distant, desperate.

The smoke beneath his feet thickens, he is choking as he he is trying to find her.

The fog begins to thin.

He is no longer walking on stone or dirt, but on show.

Winter of the world has come, and her body is lying on the ground, thin layer of snow covering it.

He wakes up, covered in sweat, looking around and everything is so unfamiliar, it’s feasting off his fragile and confused being.

– and there she lies – – not dressed in snow, but in white sheets.

In the deepening grasp of reality, Bucky has no choice but to recognize the trembling in his own heart. A trembling ocean underneath his eyelids. The veil of sadness and shame – causes him to scream as he holds her body, awaiting her warmth.

„Y/n? Baby…what-t, where, baby come on wake up“

„Baby, please wake up, Jesus what happened…I can’t remem-“

But love unexplained is clearer.

She is still clinging on something, still clinging on hope – the dog tags – it seems that she wanted to pour out all her heart into his heart in hopes of waking him up – she loved him, she shall love him always, loving him more than life itself. “Much unhappiness has come into the world because of bewilderment and things left unsaid.” PART 4 ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Tag list @kaz11283 @montyrokz @queenashen @pandabearrrrrrr @depressed-gays-of-marvel @introverbatim @chocolatelovemusic @happinessinthebeing @goodkittyspost @venting402 @tilltheendofthelinepal9950 @lovelywritinglady @lady-loki-barnes-djarin @msoldier

[onestormeynight]

Attempt

"You can do it," Ida said.

"Maybe."

"It's 25 steps. I counted."

"Our strides are different."

"Not that different. It's just to my front door, Nellie, and then you'll be back inside."

"Your house. Not mine. With your hater husband."

"I'll push him in a closet. He's annoying anyways."

Nellie stood on her front porch, the furthest she had been out of her house since Prim was born. Her stomach was cramping hard enough standing upright was a task. The air was too thin. Everything was too bright.

Breathe, Nellie, she thought to herself. Come on. In for four, hold for four, out for four, hold for four. Repeat. Draw the box with your counts. Everything is fine.

"Come on, Grumpy," Ida whispered to herself. "You can do this. You've done it before." She wished there was a way she could make all the pedestrians leave the area, just until Nellie was half way to Ida's house. There was nothing for it. Nellie was on her porch and that was a win.

"One step at a time, Nellie!" She called. "Twenty five total."

"I can count, Pushy!"

"You're about 10 from me. Just make it to me and I'll get you the rest of the way."

Nellie took a breath so deep her lungs protested and let it out slowly. Ten from her sister. She could take ten steps. One two three and all that. With a trembling skeleton, she put her left foot forward and place her weight on it. Her right foot joined her left in the first step.

One.

Her head was light and fuzzy but she was still steady. She repeated the motion with painstaking care, her willpower the only thing keeping her from rattling to pieces.

Two.

She had to remember to breathe. Her lungs were fighting her, refusing to take in air sensibly. The footsteps stopped while she collected herself. Her heart was about to pound out of her chest. Ida was calling something to her that she couldn't hear over the static in her ears. Probably something encouraging. Forcing air into herself, Nellie pushed forward.

Three.

Her grandma died when she went to Oasis Springs. Nellie was screamed at as a child at a public pool for simply existing as a nervous child. Her parents went to Pierce's birthday and died the next day. Her uncle came to her house and died that night. What was she doing? If she left, she would die. Prim would be an orphan. This was basically suicide.

Nellie had to cover her face and bend over, the fear tearing through her with a spine cracking ferocity. She heaved, bile and bits hitting the back of her teeth while every muscle in her clenched. Spitting the foul substance from her mouth and sobbed in a miasma of fear, shame, disappointment and frustration. Her heels spun and she ran back into the safety of her house, Ida's calls chasing her the whole way.

Three steps. It was better than she'd done in years.

((prev)) ((next))

[1d1195]

Physics Extra I

Read the rest here: Physics

Some great inspo from my 🌼-anon.

Hope you like it 💕

A little angsty, a little fluffy. Full disclosure--I'm not sure if I was tired or if I'm stupid, but I couldn't remember what year of college they were in and which Physics level they were in so I'm going to clarify here and I'll fix it later on. It shouldn't be too much of an issue. I left it a bit ambiguous if I remember correctly.

~2.5k words

Part of her worried this would happen. The flare of the savior complex paired with her insecurity finally won out. Time spent apart over break helped their budding relationship. It led to an unbelievably passionate reunion after the new year and return for the spring semester. The kisses from Harry’s lips on her mouth and trailing down her body made her warm just thinking about it and it was nearly a month—almost two—ago.

But now, Harry no longer needed a physics tutor. They didn’t have a class together. Fortunately, they did spend most nights together. Harry took her to parties and broke the hearts of every girl that had pined for him for so long. He walked her to class when he was free, and she met him at the gym just to say hi and run on the treadmill while he did his routines with his friends.

Niall and Louis were over every Saturday morning, hungover and whining for her pancakes before she went to the bookstore. Harry spent many nights in her apartment, snuggled around her and it felt so good. So unbelievably good.

She just couldn’t get her mind to agree that it was a good thing.

It was her own doing. How could she not know he would find out. It was exactly the kind of thing that happened in a rom-com or a sit-com or any comedy really. The irony of it all was not lost on her. She should have known.

For someone that studied Physics, balanced two campus jobs, and managed to have a boyfriend, she was an idiot.

*

Harry was at the gym again. It was either the gym or pacing the floor of his apartment. After a day of pacing and grumbling to himself, Louis insisted he leave and do something productive before he put a rut in their floor and lost their security deposit.

Studying was hardly his forte prior to dating her and now she wasn’t there to help him with the finer details of studying—like actually getting him to focus—he was a lost cause. Just being in her presence made it easier to focus. Like a little reminder that she was proud of him.

Thus, he was at the gym, the second time in the day. At the very least he would break his personal record twice in a day. The longer he stayed there, the worse his frustration got. His form was impeccable. Niall kept his eyebrows in a fixed uprise on his forehead. He whistled lowly.

“Shut up,” he grumbled.

“Do you know how stupid you’re being?”

“Inform me, please.”

“She’s the whole package, Harry. She’s smart, beautiful, funny, and I thought the pancakes were impressive, but the way she chugs a beer is honestly...” he chuckled. “I want my own tutoring lesson.”

Harry ignored him and made his way for the bench press. “Shut up,” he repeated.

“Harry, it’s ridiculous. You love her,” he reminded him.

“Spot me or shut up.”

Niall sighed. “If I don’t get pancakes soon, I’m going to lose it,” he warned Harry. It had been two weeks. They had barely spoken only murmuring hi when they bumped into one another. People ogled them before they started dating, now it only amplified.

“You’re a grown up, tell her y’want pancakes,” he muttered straining under the weight of his barbell.

“Christ, Harry,” he shook his head. “You’re a grown up. Talk to her.”

Harry did two reps and then his arms started to shake. It was too much for one day on top of the fact that without her help studying she was able to distract him here too.

“Why would she say that?” He murmured.

“Say what?”

“That...” he rubbed a hand over his face. His shirt was soaked with sweat. His scalp was itchy, he wanted to go home. Well, he really wanted to go to her place and lay with his head in her lap while she ran her fingers through his hair. They would watch a movie and fall asleep on the couch and eventually Harry would wake up and carry her to her room where they would snuggle and dream until the morning. “That s’not serious.”

“Well...have you asked her to be your girlfriend?” Niall sat on the floor while Harry straddled the seat. Niall stretched.

“I thought it was implied when we spend every night together.”

“Harry, she’s a nice, sweet girl.”

“Thanks, Niall. I didn’t notice,” he rolled his eyes.

“Well,” he shrugged.

“Let’s go.”

“Fine,” Niall hopped up, grabbed their waters. “But I’m not gonna snuggle with you the way she does.”

*

“This is ridiculous, you know it’s ridiculous right?”

She was lying on the floor between the TV and the coffee table, facedown. An unintelligible groan went into the carpet, and she tilted her head up briefly and then smacked it back on the floor gently. “Fuck.”

“You could easily apologize,” Sarah told her.

“Why did I say that?” She groaned.

“It’s new! And Harry...”

She rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. “Harry’s been nothing but nice to me. He’s done nothing but shown me that he likes me and cares about me. I just ruined it. I humiliated him and I couldn’t even deny it. I feel so...bad. Who does that?!”

Sarah sat on her hips making her grunt. “You. You did that, you idiot.”

“Thanks,” she mumbled.

“Well, fix it!”

“Sarah,” she sighed and put hands on her eyes. “He’s never going to trust me.”

“Of course, he does. The only thing that’s going through that stupid head of his is that he hasn’t made you feel more secure.”

“But he did.”

“So tell him. It was a lapse in judgment. Alcohol. Tell him you had a cold. He won’t care. He just wants you to know you can trust him.”

“But I am so...not his type.”

“Well, hate t’break it to y’kitten,” she mimicked Harry’s accent and her nickname. “You are now.”

*

“So how did you meet Harry?” She knew the girl was drunk. She didn’t get her name. It was Shauna or Shayna, or something. She couldn’t remember. Instead, she sipped her own alcohol, glanced around to see Harry playing beer pong with Louis and Niall.

“Uh...” she swallowed. “We had Physics last semester. He needed tutoring.”

“Oh, that’s so cute!” But not-Shauna didn’t make it sound like it was cute. It was so condescending. It made her feel awkward and almost ashamed of how they met. She wished they had met at a party or a bar. Something more college-y—although what was more college-y than meeting in class?

“Uh...yeah, it was,” because it was. It was cute. The way Harry came up to her in the middle of the dining hall—it was out of a movie. He was handsome, perfect, and so nice to her. Even though she heard rumors and felt inadequate about the type of girl he normally surrounded himself with, it was undeniably cute. It was tragic she felt ashamed of their meeting.

“So how long is that?” Not-Shauna continued.

“Pardon?”

“How long have you been a couple, officially?”

It was innocuous. Four months. All she had to say was four months.

“Oh...well...we haven’t really discussed...” she cleared her throat. “I’m not sure of the exact date...” she looked at the contents of her cup. “I don’t think it’s been…” nothing was coming to the surface to explain what they were. Not accurately.

Four months.

That’s all she had to say.

She’d been studying physics for a while. Time dilation was something she only considered in movies and in theory. Einstein’s kind of thing. Not her thing. At a party when she was just asked how long she had been dating the man that spent five out of seven nights in her bed, wrapped around her...hell inside of her... was not a place for physics.

But somehow, the hours ticked by in place of the minutes. The carbonation of the soda water mixing with her vodka was moving in slow motion. It was like she could count every bubble that reached the surface and popped. “Oh, you’re not...official,” not-Shayna said.

Again, that condescension was so uncomfortable, she nearly dropped her drink. The time dilation started again. She was counting the bubbles. “Well, actually—” But not-Shayna was gone. The movie that was her life immediately turned into a horror film. “Oh no,” she mumbled to herself.

The minutes that were hours suddenly turned into seconds. Someone whispered something to someone else. The game of telephone sped by in seconds.

Harry missed his final pong shot. He whipped around to her, her cup halfway to her mouth. Her cheeks turned beet red. As red as the cup she sipped from.

Anger. Anger was an appropriate reaction. A fiery gaze, a flushed complexion. Even hands in fists were understandable for her faux pas.

Anger would have been preferable to the hurt expression on Harry’s sweet face.

*

After her shift at the bookstore, she was lying on the floor again. Sarah invited her to go shopping. But she couldn’t. Nothing seemed right. An idiot. That’s what she was. A Physics student with a 3.9 GPA and she was probably the dumbest person on campus.

There was a knock on her door. “Sarah, I cannot shop,” she groaned. “I’ll probably trip and fall in the food court and ruin some poor teen couple’s movie and dinner date and they’ll never live happily ever after because that’s all I do. Ruin a perfectly good couple.”

“Um... not Sarah,” she jumped off the floor. Laying down to standing in less than one second. She sprinted to the door and yanked it out of the way. “Hi,” Harry said softly.

“Hi,” she answered awkwardly.

“Can I... come in?”

She swallowed, opened the door wider, and moved out of the way. He hurried in, sat on the couch. It was like the first time Harry came over to help decorate. It was basically his spot. When everything made sense. She felt more at ease seeing him in her space again; making himself comfortable.

But comfort only lasted seconds because he looked… anxious. Which only fueled her anxiety.

He rubbed his hand on the back of his head and sighed. Dropped his hands into his lap. “I think we should talk, kitten.”

“I shouldn’t have said it!” She blurted. Her own pacing started. Her heart rate started to fly to a dangerous level. She was pacing in her floor spot that she designated for laying. “I don’t know what was wrong with me! Sarah told me to tell you it was a cold or the alcohol... or maybe I had a stroke. I don’t even remember what she said to tell you. But I don’t have a reason. Which is worse. I wish I had a reason, Harry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but I should have said anything but what I said. You have made me so happy over the last four months,” she was still pacing looking like a psychopath. “You have made me feel so safe and so... loved and I don’t know why I had such a lapse in horrible judgment like that. I mean you made me a hot chocolate bar for God’s sake! You don’t mind studying and you don’t care that I drool like a teething infant when I sleep. Even when I get it all over your pillow or your shirt. I feel so terrible, Harry. So completely terrible. I don’t know how I can be so smart in class and make everyone jealous and then go and say that about you. Or not say! I don’t know what's wrong with me but—”

Harry was quiet while she rambled and paced. It was cute. Sweet even. It was nice to know she was rattled, selfishly—they both paced when upset. It was sweet. Cute to know they shared it. He smiled softly. “Do y'want t’be m’girlfriend?”

She stopped pacing, finally. Her heart finally slowed, she put a hand to her chest, like it would keep it slow as she looked at him squarely for the first time since she started ranting. “What?”

“Well,” his grin grew. He looked at his lap again, his palms rubbing on his thighs. “It might be easier on us both t’tell you I love you. Y’know...if y’were m’girlfriend. Might be easier on you t’answer that kind of question if y’had a date t’tell people of when we’ll have our official anniversary.”

“You’re not breaking up with me?”

He chuckled. “No,” he smiled. “Also have t’be officially together t’break up, kitten.”

“You’re not going to wait till I say yes and then ask to break up, are you?”

Harry stood finally, put his hands on her cheeks to hold her in place. He kissed her forehead for an extended moment. It felt so good. Like the other hundreds of times that he did it over the last few months. In two weeks, it felt like a drought. “M’sorry I didn’t reassure you,” he wrapped his arms around her body and instantly she sank into his embrace.

“Did you say you loved me?”

He nodded. “M’hmm,” he hummed.

“Oh.”

“Do y’want me t’take it back.”

“No, thank you.”

He chuckled into her hair. “S’very polite of you, kitten,” he pulled back. “I love you,” he repeated, gazing into her eyes. “Loved you the moment y’agreed t’help me. A poor, sorry, hopeless, Physics-less sap like me.”

“You’re not so hopeless.”

“M’hopeless ‘bout you, kitten,” he assured her.

“I love you too," she gazed up at him, her eyes wide, expressive and so very sweet, "by the way.”

“I thought s’what y’meant in all that rambling," he chuckled.

She didn't laugh. “I’m sorry Harry, truly. That was so not okay.”

Harry shrugged. “I jus’ missed you, kitten. S’okay. I get why y'said it. We never really defined it,” he promised. “M’sorry I didn’t ask sooner or come make up sooner.”

She sighed into his chest. “Will you stay tonight?” She asked quietly. Her voice muffled by his shirt. The thought of being snuggled together made her so happy.

Harry wanted to make a joke about inertia. Or an object at rest. Something. But it wouldn’t come. He was too happy to have made up.

“Try and stop me, kitten.”

“Niall and Louis make you come here?” She asked.

“M’supposed t’ask if you’ll make them pancakes for dinner once we’ve properly made up," Harry chuckled and murmured into her hair.

“What’s ‘properly’ mean?" She asked innocently, a smile on her face that was anything but innocent.

He chuckled. “I’ll teach you,” he winked, tilting her face so he could kiss her deeply; the way he wanted to for the last week and a half.

And teach her what ‘proper’ meant.

--

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[fairytales-and-folklore]

The Borg and the Botanist

The Owl House » Huntlow

featuring art by the wonderful golden-trash-panda ♥️

Title: The Borg and the Botanist

Author: fairytalesandfolklore

Fandom: The Owl House (Masterlist)

Relationship: Hunter | The Golden Guard x Willow Park

AO3 Rating: Teen & Up (a complete collection of author's notes, inspiration credits, content warnings and tags can be found on AO3)

Summary: Willow gets invested in Cosmic Frontier and can't help but ship her and Hunter's favorite characters: Chief Engineer O'Bailey and Botanist Slash Security Officer Quando. The more she reads, the more she can't help but feel like there's something oddly familiar about them.

A few chapters in, Willow lets out a stuttered yawn, eyes fluttering closed as she passes the book to Hunter and asks if he wouldn't mind reading to her for a little while. "Are you sure?" he asks, a litany of reminders of why that would be a very bad idea springing from the self-conscious pocket in the back of his mind. "My voice is a little—" "Too soothing, I know," Willow says, not a trace of sarcasm in the warm, sunny smile she gives him as she pulls his blanket up over her shoulders. "It'll probably put me straight to sleep, and I'll end up missing out on some big important revelation…but it's a risk I'm willing to take, if you're willing to read to me." "Oh. Um—" Hunter feels his face heat at the unexpected compliment, roaring into a full-blown wildfire as Willow snuggles in close and leans her head against his shoulder, the soft sweep of her braids tickling the underside of his chin. "I— of course! I'd be happy to," he manages with a chuckle that's only slightly unhinged, turning to the page she last left off and reading the first few sentences aloud, the two of them bathed in the soft golden glow of a little light spell floating above them in the darkened room.

Read On AO3 | Read On Tumblr:

It wasn't just the fact that he looked incredible in one of her favorite color combos (she's the girl with the bee palisman, of course she's gonna have a thing for black and yellow) but more than that, it was the fact that he looked so proud to be wearing something he'd made by hand, so passionate and enthusiastic about this book series he and Gus love so much, that made her want to be a part of it, to  get invested in something he cares about.

Admittedly, she'd been curious about Cosmic Frontier ever since the two of them first started talking about it, up late most nights giggling about what they think will happen next, Hunter's repeated cries of no spoilers! echoing up from the basement every time Gus would get too close to accidentally revealing a major plot point that Hunter hadn't read yet. But now that she's seen him in all his nerdy, hand-stitched cosplay glory, Willow wants in.

She reads the whole first volume in a single evening, holding back laughter, tears, and plot-twisting gasps as she props herself up in her little camper bed, careful not to wake Luz, Amity, or Vee as she reads by the glow of a little floating light spell. She figured she'd like the story well enough, but she hadn't expected to love it this much, so when the first book ends on a mind-blowing cliffhanger, she's desperate for more. 

"Hunter," she whispers, shaking the softly dozing blond boy awake at an ungodly hour of the morning as she perches on the edge of his bunk bed, first volume clutched in her hands. "Captain Avery just sent the whole crew into a time bubble while all the ship's deflectors are down, and I need to know if that's going to affect the pandorica paradox from chapter eleven. Can I please borrow the second book?"

Hunter wakes with a startled, "Captain!" instinctively pulling his bedsheets up to his neck like he's got something embarrassing to hide. It takes a few seconds for him to fully process what she's just asked him, brain short-circuiting on the words captain…sitting on my bed…middle of the night, and then he's bolting upright, the two of them chattering away in hushed whispers so as not to wake Gus (even though he's out cold in the bunk above, listening to an audiobook of the series with a pair of noise-cancelling headphones) as he pulls open the closet door to show her the full collection in all its spacey, futuristic glory. (Futuristic being a relative term — the series takes place in 2008.)

"Thanks, Hunter," she says, pulling him into another one of those breath-stealing hugs of hers that never fail to make him feel like he's just swallowed a vat of fire bee honey, before settling in on the couch with the pristine hardcover of the second volume clutched in her hands.

Hunter stares at her for a moment, wondering why she wouldn't rather take it back upstairs with her — no doubt her camper bed is comfier than the lumpy old couch. But then she's looking up at him expectantly and patting the space beside her, and Hunter doesn't need telling twice. He grabs the blanket off of his bed and curls up next to her, listening intently as she reads the first page of the second book aloud in a gentle voice that's half-hum, half-whisper.

A few chapters in, Willow lets out a stuttered yawn, eyes fluttering closed as she passes the book to Hunter and asks if he wouldn't mind reading to her for a little while.

"Are you sure?" he asks, a litany of reminders of why that would be a very bad idea springing from the self-conscious pocket in the back of his mind. "My voice is a little—"

"Too soothing, I know," Willow says, not a trace of sarcasm in the warm, sunny smile she gives him as she pulls his blanket up over her shoulders. "It'll probably put me straight to sleep, and I'll end up missing out on some big important revelation…but it's a risk I'm willing to take, if you're willing to read to me."

"Oh. Um—" Hunter feels his face heat at the unexpected compliment, roaring into a full-blown wildfire as Willow snuggles in close and leans her head against his shoulder, the soft sweep of her braids tickling the underside of his chin.

"I— of course! I'd be happy to," he manages with a chuckle that's only slightly unhinged, turning to the page she last left off and reading the first few sentences aloud, the two of them bathed in the soft golden glow of a little light spell floating above them in the darkened room.

"'I'd be happy to keep you company while you rest, Officer Quando,' O'Bailey said as he rose to stand guard over her quarters. 'Keeping you safe is my top priority.'

'I'm the head of security,' Quando tried to argue, not wanting to seem weak or vulnerable in front of the Chief Engineer. 'It's my job to keep all of you safe.'

'But then who will watch over you?' O'Bailey countered, and something in the way he looked at her in that moment made her wonder whether—'"

"Willow?" Hunter pauses as he hears the sound of gentle snoring coming from his left shoulder, glancing over to find Willow fast asleep with her head lolled back and her mouth wide open.

Oh Titan she's adorable, Hunter muses as a soft, besotted smile sweeps across his face, warmth like a gently crackling hearth stirring inside his chest. Careful not to wake her, Hunter closes the book and slides it to the other end of the couch, gently removing her glasses from where they've gone askew on the bridge of her nose before setting them down on the coffee table. With a deep, contented sigh, Hunter settles in beside her and lets his eyes flutter closed, lulled to sleep by the sound of Willow's soft, rhythmic snoring and the golden glow of the light spell gently floating up and down like slow-motion candlelight.

• • •

Hunter wakes the next morning in a tangle of limbs, flat on his back on the lumpy couch cushions, Willow sprawled out on top of him like the world's cuddliest starfish. There's a wet patch the size of a small pond spreading across the fabric of his t-shirt from Willow's open-mouthed drooling, face buried in the crook of his shoulder, one arm tucked under his chin, open palm gently cupping the scar on his left cheek, the other reaching all the way up to thread her fingers through his terminally cow-licked hair.

She's got one leg tucked between his and the other hiked up over his stomach, bumblebee-patterned sock-clad foot dangling precariously over the edge of the couch. Hunter puffs out a breath, sputtering out a whole braid's worth of Willow's hair that had somehow ended up in his mouth overnight. He's also fairly certain he's laying on top of the second volume of Cosmic Frontier, hardcover corner digging into the space between his shoulder blades every time he takes a deep breath.

It's the comfiest he's ever felt in his entire life.

Careful not to wake her, Hunter shifts just enough to free one of his hands so that he can gently brush her hair out of her eyes, tucking the loose locks behind her ear. For several moments, all he can do is lay there, slow steady breath filling his lungs as he gazes at her, mesmerized by the small smattering of freckles dotted across the bridge of her nose like a dusting of brown sugar cinnamon, like a cluster of stars. He's never been close enough to count them all before.

A snort of laughter shakes Hunter out of his little daydream, blinking up bleary-eyed to see Gus's face staring down at him from the top of the stairs, a smirk worthy of the Cheshire Cat curling across his lips.

"Looks like you guys had a good—" Gus teases in a voice loud enough to wake the whole household, falling silent at Hunter's frantic shushing, frozen rigid, eyes wide as he watches Willow grumble angrily in her sleep and roll over, abruptly changing positions so that she's now sprawled out on her back across Hunter's entire frame, one leg bent up like the Titan's knee, bumblebee-bedecked foot dangerously close to kicking him in a very delicate spot.

It's a wonder the thunderous staccato of Hunter's heartbeat isn't loud enough to wake her, head perfectly positioned right over his heart — then again, with how loudly she's snoring right now, Hunter doubts she'd be able to hear much of anything. It kind of reminds him of that nature documentary he and Gus watched that one time about hibernating grizzly bears.

"Oh, you're really trapped now. Once Willow goes into starfish mode, it's all over," Gus snickers in a much quieter register, careful to avoid that one squeaky step as he ventures down to the landing. "Don't expect me to come and rescue you — I've been on the receiving end of Willow's sleepover kicks way too many times to risk it."

"Oh no. Guess I'm stuck here forever. Whatever shall I do?" Hunter deadpans, beatific smile curling across his face as he readjusts the blanket around Willow's shoulders to ensure she doesn't get cold.

"You're ridiculous," Gus laughs. "Both of you," he adds, casting a meaningful glance at Willow.

"She's been like this ever since we were kids. I've never seen anyone fall asleep in such a goofy way," he says, smiling down at his best friend with a look that's half-fond, half-exasperated. "I mean, look at her. She is beauty, she is grace. She has drool all over her face."

"I know," Hunter sighs dreamily, not a trace of sarcasm in his voice as he gazes down at her like she's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen, reaching forward to wipe said drool off the side of her cheek with the corner of his comforter.

Gus lets out a snort of laughter and shakes his head. Utterly hopeless, the both of them.

"I'll try to save you some breakfast, but I make no guarantees," he says, hand curled around the banister leading back upstairs into the kitchen. "Camila's making your favorite."

Hunter's stomach grumbles at the thought of chocolate chip pancakes, but he makes no effort to move, perfectly content right where he is.

"Thanks, Gus," he says with a stifled yawn, eyes fluttering closed as he settles back in under Willow's warm, comforting weight.

Gus heaves a long-suffering sigh as he makes his way back upstairs, musing to himself that at least he won't be this delusional when he falls in love for the first time, vehemently tamping down an image of himself laughing hysterically at one of Matty's dumb jokes and all the blush-inducing feelings that particular memory stirs.

• • •

They spend all afternoon excitedly talking about everything she'd loved about the first book, combing over every detail, from what color theory could tell them about each character's personality, to the subtext of unspoken confessions contained within a single stolen glance. 

Her favorite character is Security Officer Quando, the badass botanist slash security officer with a secret soft side, strong and wise and always willing to do whatever it takes to protect the ones she loves. Adores the character so much, she asks if Hunter would mind teaching her how to use Mrs. Noceda's sewing machine so that she can make her own costume for Halloween, just like he did.

"We could all go together! Gus as Captain Avery, you as Chief Engineer O'Bailey, and me as Officer Quando!" she exclaims, excitement shining in her bright green eyes. "Wouldn't that be so cool?" 

Heat like a boiling rainstorm creeps up the back of Hunter's neck as the implications of what she's just suggested threaten to short-circuit his brain for the dozenth time in as many hours. Because what Willow doesn't know is that Security Officer Quando and Chief Engineer O'Bailey end up getting married in the very last book. So she's effectively just suggested that the two of them dress up in couples' costumes for Halloween.

Which is…fine. Hunter is A-OK with that plan. 

He's not blushing. 

Profusely.

He just has sunburn.

In October.

In Connecticut.

Where it always rains.

"Yeah!" Hunter's voice comes out an octave higher than its usual register, cracking on the vowels. He clears his throat, dropping his voice as low as it will go, and tries for a more casual approach. 

"I mean, yeah. Of course. Let me just—" he says, nearly tripping over his own feet as he sprints over to the corner desk to set up the sewing machine. Willow giggles, taking the seat beside him on the little work bench, listening intently as he walks her through all the steps, careful to explain everything he's doing as he does it, nimble fingers threading the needle and loading the lower bobbin, before unraveling all of it and scooting over so that she can try it out for herself.

Once she's learned the basics, they move onto testing different kinds of stitches across some scrap fabric. Willow is a natural, taking to the craft even faster than Hunter had — though he suspects, given all the cozy handmade things he'd seen scattered across every inch of her bedroom the one and only time he'd ever seen it (the night he and Gus had come to help her sneak out so they could all meet up at CATs headquarters before the Day Of Unity) that she already knows how to do all of this by magic.

Then why, he finds himself wondering, would she need him to teach her how to use a sewing machine?

He's so caught up in his musings, he doesn't realize she's been talking to him this entire time, marveling at how her stitches have never looked this neat before, pinky finger skating a little too close to the needle as she runs the fabric underneath the presser foot. Hunter lets out a startled yelp, reaching out to snatch her hands out of harm's way.

"Oh," she gasps softly, gazing up at him over their entwined hands.

"Sorry," he says hastily, face heating ten degrees the moment he realizes he'd laced their fingers together for absolutely no reason. 

"I just didn't want you to hurt yourself. Getting stuck with a sewing needle is no bueno. I learned that lesson the hard way," he chuckles, wiggling his heavily-bandaged  fingers for effect.

Willow glances down, sees the freshly-changed wrappings curled around Hunter's thumbs and index fingers, and slowly brings them up to her lips, giving each of them a little kiss in turn.

"There, now they'll heal faster," she says brightly, glancing up to find him staring at her with a positively dumbstruck expression in his wide, hopeful eyes, face redder than all the tomatoes in Camila's garden.

"Oh. Wow. Crafts," Hunter splutters, laughter coming out in a manic giggle as he nearly slips off the work bench in his attempt to refill the top thread, forgetting the fact that they'd literally started their lesson with a brand new spool.

• • •

Hunter hasn't stopped blushing from the moment Willow walked into the room, dressed to the nines in her handmade Officer Quando costume. She looks incredible. Her costume, that is. And her hair. And her makeup. And her smile. And—

A blush that only gets worse when she compliments his costume with an enthusiastic, "Oh, that is a look," and insists on snapping photo after photo of him, the soft curve of her cheek smushed against his own as she huddles in close between him and Gus for a series of group photos.

It doesn't help that Gus keeps snickering under his breath every time Hunter so much as breathes around Willow. But is it really Gus's fault that his friends are so adorably entertaining? He's read all the books cover to cover twice now, fallen asleep to the audiobooks more times than he can count, memorized all the lines from the cheesy one-off movie. Gus knows that Quando and O'Bailey end up together in the very last book, and he thinks it's infinitely hilarious that his two best friends, who are head over heels stupid for each other but have absolutely no idea how the other one feels, just so happened to dress up as the only two characters in the entire franchise with a romance arc.

And speaking of romance arcs…

"You guys look amazing!" Willow exclaims, snapping a photo as Luz and Amity emerge from upstairs in their Hecate and Azura costumes.

"Ooh, looks like we're not the only ones who decided to go as a canon endgame couple this year," Amity coos, eyeing up Hunter and Willow's costumes with a curious smile.

"Yeah, don't those two end up marr—" Luz starts to say, but the rest of her words are abruptly cut off as Hunter rushes forward to clap a hand over her mouth, pulling her off to the side and frantically whisper-shouting, "Shhh! Don't spoil it for her!"

Luz arches her eyebrows, face splitting into a wide smirk the moment Hunter takes his hand away.

"You mean, don't spoil it for you?" she teases, playfully elbowing him in the ribs. "You're loving this, aren't you?"

Hunter tries for a glare worthy of his old Golden Guard days, but the giddy smile spreading across his lips gives him away.

"Shut up," he grumbles, rolling his eyes and bumping his shoulder against hers in a good-natured, brotherly sort of way.

"You're ridiculous," Luz laughs, shaking her head. "Seriously, though…you should just tell her already."

"I…I don't want to ruin the end of the book," Hunter falters, blush returning in full as he averts his gaze to the ceiling.

"You know that's not what I meant," Luz chides him, bumping his shoulder back with her own. 

She's about to say something else, give him a little bit of encouragement to just go for it, a hint that she's sure his affections would be returned (without completely giving away her best friend's secrets) when her mother calls out to them from the kitchen, warning them that if they don't get a move on, they're going to be late for the haunted hayride at the Old Gravesfield Halloween Festival, Vee ushering them all out the door, eager to see Masha again.

• • •

A week after the Halloween Festival, Willow comes down to the basement with Luz's sticker-laden laptop tucked under her arm and asks if she can sit down here for a little while to get some peace and quiet while she works on a project.

"Of course!" Hunter exclaims, perking up from his little crafting desk, latest sewing project instantly forgotten in his curiosity to ask Willow what she's working on.

To his surprise, Willow becomes a little bit bashful, pink tinging her cheeks as she explains that she's kind of, sort of, maybe started writing a story inspired by Cosmic Frontier, and that the moment she mentioned it to Luz, her whole face lit up, and she started talking a mile a minute about something called "fan fiction," insisting that Willow is welcome to borrow her laptop any time she wants so she can work on it. So, here she is, in need of a cozy place to write.

"You're…you're writing a story based on Cosmic Frontier?" Hunter asks, unable to hold back his own excitement, desperate to know more. "What's it about? If you don't mind me asking, that is."

Willow's lips curve into a smile wide enough to dimple her cheeks, the glow of the fairy lights lit up gold in her bright green eyes.

"Okay, so," she says, slipping into fandom theory mode as she beckons him to join her on the opposite end of the couch. "I'm halfway through book three, and I'm starting to sense some major chemistry going on between Quando and O'Bailey. Like, there's just so much that's happened between the two of them that at this point, it would be such a bait-and-switch if they didn't end up together. But…there's a part of me that's scared I'm going to get to the end of the series and find out that they never actually got together. So, I kind of, sort of, maybe…wanted to write my own story where they do. Is that crazy?" she asks with a self-effacing chuckle.

"Not at all," Hunter reassures her, a big goofy grin curling across his face. "I totally ship them, too."

"Really?" she exclaims, absentmindedly moving closer until she's sitting right next to him, a mere few inches from each other's faces.

"Absolutely," Hunter breathes, momentarily mesmerized by those sunkissed freckles dappled across the bridge of her nose like tiny constellations, before delving into all the reasons he thinks their favorite characters would be so good together, careful not to give away any spoilers as he combs through all the subtext of everything she's read up to so far.

"Because they complement each other, they protect each other, they understand each other," Hunter says, recounting a specific scene from the first book where, mere hours after they'd first met, Quando nearly fell from a high platform and O'Bailey reached out instinctively to catch her, how the writing focused on a moment where their fingers interlocked and linked them together, and why would the writers choose to put so much emphasis on that intimate moment if they're not gonna end up together?

"Exactly! There's just so much going on between them on both a surface level and on a deeper level. I mean, they've only described O'Bailey blushing around Quando at least a dozen times now. That has to mean something," Willow giggles, eyes lighting up as she catches the faint hint of red tinging the tips of Hunter's ears.

"He's so afraid to tell her that he's a duplicant in hyper-disguise, but he doesn't have to be, because she loves him and accepts him for who he is," Willow presses on, breath catching at the way Hunter looks at her just now, bright red eyes full of wonder, enraptured as he hangs on her every word.

"And he sees her for who she really is too," she says, voice taking on a softer tone, momentarily lost in the way the golden glow of the fairy lights dance across his irises like a microcosmic sunrise, the way his hair curls so effortlessly into those adorable, gravity-defying cowlicks — the haircut she had given him, and oh Titan his hair is so soft — she wonders what flimsy excuse she could use to run her fingers through it again.

"He's always seen her, right from the very beginning," she says, a soft smile curling across her face as she remembers the story Gus had told her about their last day at Hexside, how Hunter had been able to tell her apart from an illusion within seconds of hearing her speak. 

"They look out for each other, remind each other that it's okay to need help sometimes, to be vulnerable. It's like…they're each other's other half," she says, the words half a witch hanging in the air between them.

Hunter sits there for a moment, utterly spellbound as he stares at her, hope filling up his chest as a soft, awed smile curls its way across his lips.

"I couldn't agree more," he says, tucking his chin against the palm of his hand and tilting his head to the side, settling in for the long haul.

"I'd love to hear what you've got so far, if you don't mind sharing," he prompts, nodding toward the laptop. "Could you read it to me? Your voice is very soothing."

"Okay," Willow giggles, beaming up at him as she opens up the laptop, face hot enough to melt all the snow off the top of the Knee as Hunter snuggles up next to her on the couch and tucks his chin against the curve of her shoulder, listening intently as she reads her story aloud.

[wowbright]

Anderson’s Guide to the Birds of North America, Chapter 9: Into You

Summary: Fourteen scenes from the lives of Blaine Anderson, grad student and avid birder, and Kurt Hummel, clothing designer and Vogue writer, from before their first meeting during the COVID lockdowns of spring of 2020 through falling in love. Written for the Klaine Valentine’s Challenge 2025.

Also on AO3.

~~~

Chapter 9: Into You

Kurt designed the costumes. Blaine put up flyers around the neighborhood. Rachel posted announcements to Facebook and NextDoor. Cooper, on the evening of the event, marched up and down the street like a town crier calling everyone to their windows a half hour before sunset.

Kurt and Blaine set up their folding chairs six feet apart on the sidewalk opposite Kurt and Rachel's apartment. Blaine set his digital camera onto a tripod and waited.

Above them, people leaned on windowsills and sat on fire escapes. Across the street, people trickled out of their buildings and came over to the sidewalk where Kurt and Blaine already sat, some with chairs or blankets to sit on, others opting to stand or lean against the wall, all fanning out in socially distanced bubbles.

It was essential, Cooper had said, to “get everyone watching us.” And there everyone was, waiting for the performance.

Rachel crawled out onto the fire escape and straightened her costume. She looked wonderful, if Kurt did say so himself. Blaine turned on the camera and gave her the thumbs up.

There's a place for us—

Her voice rang through the air. Everyone on the street and in their windows fell silent. The only sounds were distant cars and the mumble of talk radio from someone’s apartment.

Somewhere a place for us. Peace and quiet and open air Wait for us Somewhere.

Kurt heard someone whisper “She’s as good as Barbra!”

Rachel didn't sing the entire song from West Side Story. They had decided it should be just long enough to get the neighbors’ attention, to make them long for a repeat later in the performance. We'll find a new way of living, We'll find a way of forgiving. Somewhere . . . Somewhere... Rachel faded out and stared off into a nearby treetop.

Cooper appeared from around the corner, his voice booming down the block. “But, soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun! Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, who is already sick and pale with grief, that thou her maid art far more fair than she.”

It had required a considerable amount of energy on the part of both Kurt and Blaine to dissuade Cooper from actually climbing the fire escape. First of all, social distancing rules were still in place. Second of all, letting people jump up onto the fire escape for recreational purposes was against Kurt and Rachel's lease, if not also illegal.

Rachel had been of little help during these arguments, because she did enjoy a dramatic staging, and besides, an emergency moratorium on evictions was in place, so would it really matter if they violated the lease? It wasn't until Kurt brought up the possibility that Cooper might slip and go kersplat on the sidewalk that she and Cooper conceded—not because Cooper was worried about his own health and safety (“I'm willing to die for my art!” he had declared) but because if he ended up in the hospital, he would be another straw added to the back of the camel that was their already overtaxed healthcare system.

“Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow that I shall say good night till it be morrow,” Rachel said with the perfect degree of pathos. Blaine dabbed his eyes with a kerchief that matched his mask.

The spectators roared for more.

Rachel and Cooper gave it to them, in the form of two duets: “Le Balcon” from Gérard Presgurvic’s musical Roméo et Juliette: de la Haine à l'Amour and a full performance of “Somewhere.”

Now it was Kurt's turn to pull out a handkerchief. The song had taken on a whole new layer for him in light of the lockdown and Blaine. Things were hard right now, but someday there would be a time and place for holding hands and truly living.

Cooper and Rachel took their bows to more thunderous applause. “That’s how I want it!” Cooper shouted, egging the neighbors on in their admiration of his performance until everyone was too tired of shouting.

“Look what you started!” Kurt said to Blaine as people drifted back inside their apartments.

Blaine shook his head, but his eyes smiled over his mask. “Cooper was driving me nuts. I had to think of something to keep us both from cracking. And I had wooing people on their balconies on my mind. Put two and two together, and voila!”

“Well, as good as Romeo was at wooing,” Kurt said with a soft smile hidden by his mask, “I know someone who's even better at it.”

“Do you, now?”

“I do.”