#there is so much weight behind this interaction. What she says here and the place of this conversation in their story

[yeleltaan]

From @hexenjagd

It is a gentle gesture. With a turn of her wrist she cups his chin, cradling his head within her welcoming palm and holding him there. Her fingers fitted to the shape of his jaw perfectly as she delicately tilted his head her way.

A gentle urging for him to turn her way and face her. A beckoning.

"Come now, raise your head. Lift your gaze and meet mine." it was a command, gentle in intent-- uttered through a half whisper.

"I've rarely seen such success in many an era. You rose from nothing. Hardly able to stand or even give me your name, narrowly avoiding the embrace of death, from embers to flame. Look at you. You've come so far-- transformed. Whole and beautiful. Now, raise your head with pride. You have survived."

There’s little else to see. Nothing worth a look upon the grotto’s ridged arching walls, reverberating the whisper of rain outside past the faceless bushes. Still his gaze remains downcast, absorbed by earth-sunk stones. Every so often a stray glance dares peek through black strands to briefly settle upon some corner of her contours, reaffirming him with the glimpse of boots, of a hand or the ends of her ebony locks that she is indeed still beside him. But neither stare lasts, none dare remain, he simply cannot bring himself to fully look at her.

How many times has he thought back to the distant days spent inside that tent? Thought about all the things he could have told her if he could speak the way he can today. With a solid dominion over the language they shared, understanding him would have proven much simpler. Restlessly deterred by the suffocating hold of his ignorance, so much more could have been said had he been free of it from the start. When solitude struck low, he knows he wished he had more to remember her by. Wished that and more.

And yet, is this moment not weaved from the same thread of impossible opportunity? The same wishfulness as those dreams, the sort that visited him when exhaustion got the better of him. What is this silence then, Cayin? Has she returned, made her way back to you against all probability, so you could fall quiet beside her again?

This is your chance to say what you could not.

Her touch settles under his jaw, mindful, deliberate. It doesn’t bear the same warmth it once did, but then neither did her hand in those liar dreams. Scarred bearer of comforts, it still shapes a feeling of shelter truer than any walls, as does her velvety voice, first bringer of speech to his ears. At last she brings him to look upon her, truly and sincerely. So much more vivid than any product of the mind, yet perfumed in a strange bittersweetness. Perhaps because this isn't how he imagined it. Perhaps because his eyes do not lie, and they tell clearly that the two of them are changed, so very changed since then.

But where the proof of time roots him in this indecision he cannot explain, she responds in opposite: acknowledging it in a most celebratory manner, all in recognition towards him, towards what he is today in relation to what she knew him as. In this praise, in this short tale worthy of being preserved as an epigraph in a book, she welcomes him.

Success. When she puts it that way, it’s difficult to deny. Every need fulfilled has been followed by the search of the next, but to consider what has already been achieved is a pleasure of its own worth lingering in. She continues, calls him complete, calls him beautiful, names him survivor, like titles conferred by the sword that settles upon the head and shoulders of the newly knighted. Only he does not bow, as his head is called to rise. And rise it does, hesitantly, in spite of the knot tugging at his throat. Fists clench under their sleeves until the urge to shiver ceases, and they release, open hands rising to meet the one she placed under his chin.

“Not nothing.” He speaks in a quiet certainty. Claws grasp her fingers tenderly, delicately pulling her hand down and turning his wrists so his thumbs may rest on her palm. “I had you.”

[pandapetals]

First Impression

professor logan howlett x professor fem!reader - established relationship (y'all married), cute, fluff, teasing, no y/n used, no reader description, your an english professor, logan is a history professor - imagine days of future past logan with the white streaks in his hair

Your first impression of Logan along with your first interaction.

read on ao3 or find more parts for the series: here

"Watch out for Logan, though. He’s... a bit intense when it comes to new people." Scott’s warning came with a half-smirk as you both walked through the winding halls of Xavier’s mansion. The place had already started to feel like home, even though it was only your first week.

Scott, Jean, and the others had gone out of their way to help you settle in, easing you into the strange, wonderful world of the X-Men. But there was one person who had remained a bit of an enigma.

"Logan isn’t that bad," you countered, though your voice carried more curiosity than certainty. You hadn’t been able to shake the image of him ever since your first encounter. Something about him intrigued you, even though you barely knew him.

Scott raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "Rude? Gruff? Stubborn as hell?" He let out a laugh, shaking his head. "Yeah, he’s something. I’m just saying—don’t be surprised if he keeps his distance. He’s not exactly the friendly type."

You shrugged, though your thoughts were already drifting to the man Scott was describing. Gruff didn’t begin to cover it. When you had first met Logan, he had barely mumbled a greeting, his eyes flicking in your direction for all of two seconds before he’d disappeared down the hallway without so much as a second glance. That brief moment had sparked something. Beneath the rough exterior, behind those unreadable eyes, you sensed something deeper—a sadness, maybe, or a weight he carried with him.

"I don’t know," you said, glancing out the window as the two of you walked. "He didn’t seem fazed by me either. I got the sense that... there’s more to him. Like he’s got a story to tell, even if he doesn’t want to share it."

Scott chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Well, you’re not wrong. But good luck getting him to talk about it."

You smiled to yourself, that quiet curiosity about Logan growing with each step you took. There was something there, something unspoken in the way he held himself, in the way his eyes flickered with emotion even when he was silent. You had the strange feeling that beneath the gruff exterior, there was more to Logan than anyone realized.

Logan remembered that first meeting, too. He hadn’t meant to come off so cold—it was just easier that way. Easier to keep people at arm’s length. He had seen you in the hallway with Scott, fresh-faced, a little overwhelmed by the mansion but already fitting in as if you belonged there. He had taken one look at you, and immediately, something inside him had stirred.

He had only mumbled a quick "hello," and kept moving, but in those brief seconds, you’d managed to knock him off balance in a way he hadn’t expected. You were different. Most people flinched or looked away when they saw him—he could come across as intimidating, and frankly, he liked it that way. It kept people from getting too close. But you? You’d looked him right in the eye like you saw him, really saw him, and hadn’t been scared off by what you found.

That had thrown him.

"She’s new," Scott had said, trying to fill the silence as the two of them walked down the hallway after the encounter. "English professor. Seems smart, not too intimidated by everything around here."

Logan had grunted in response, his eyes narrowing slightly. "She’ll learn soon enough," he’d muttered, though even as the words left his mouth, he didn’t quite believe them. You hadn’t seemed like the type to scare easily.

The truth was, Logan had felt that spark from the start, and it bothered him. The way you smiled, the way your eyes lit up when you talked to the students or the other professors—it was genuine. Real. He wasn’t used to that. Despite himself, he couldn’t help but be drawn to it. He’d watched you from a distance, caught snippets of conversations in the hallways, little moments where you laughed or rolled your eyes at one of Scott’s sarcastic comments.

And, damn it, he liked it.

Logan wasn’t the type to go around making connections. People got hurt when they got too close to him. He’d seen it happen time and time again. So he did what he always did—kept his distance. It was safer that way. For both of you.

Except, as the weeks passed, it wasn’t so easy to stay distant. He found himself watching you more closely, his ears picking up the sound of your voice in the staff room before he even realized what he was doing. The more he saw you, the more intrigued he became. You were good with the students—patient and understanding. You handled yourself with confidence but without arrogance. You treated everyone with the same warmth and genuine interest.

You weren’t like anyone he’d ever met.

It was a few weeks later when you found yourself in the library hunting down rare first editions for your literature course, combing through the shelves with a mix of excitement and determination. Your fingers skimmed the spines, pausing over titles that caught your eye, though none were quite the one you were after. The air was rich with the scent of old paper and leather, a kind of stillness hanging in the room that made it feel as though time itself had slowed down.

Then, you saw him.

At first, you didn’t recognize Logan. He was seated at one of the long, mahogany tables, surrounded by an imposing stack of military history books, the kind that had spines so worn the titles were barely legible. His posture was tense, his broad shoulders hunched over a notebook as he scribbled something down, crossing it out almost immediately, frustration etched into the lines of his face.

You’d been so focused on your own search, that you hadn’t even noticed him at first. Then he shifted, the sound of his chair scraping slightly against the floor catching your attention. You paused, studying him for a moment—gruff, serious, and deeply absorbed in whatever it was he was researching. The contrast of his rugged presence in the refined, quiet elegance of the library intrigued you.

Curiosity piqued, and you cleared your throat softly as you approached. "Researching something exciting?" you asked, the words light but friendly as you glanced down at the sea of books spread out before him.

Logan looked up, his sharp hazel eyes meeting yours for the first time. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just regarded you with that steady, unblinking gaze, as if he were trying to figure out if you were a distraction or someone genuinely interested in his work.

"Somethin’ like that," he grunted finally, his voice low and rough, but not unkind. He gestured vaguely to the stack of books. "Xavier roped me into teaching. History. Gotta brush up on the… academic stuff, I guess."

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Military history, huh?"

"Yeah. Lived through most of it," he said with a dry smirk, his eyes flicking back to the page as if he couldn’t help but glance over the words again. "But apparently, livin’ it ain’t enough. Gotta teach it."

You laughed softly, the sound carrying in the quiet room. "Well, Xavier can be pretty convincing. I’m teaching English across the hall. Just hunting down some rare editions before my first class." You gestured to the shelf behind you, filled with leather-bound volumes of Shakespeare, Chaucer, and a few first editions of Dickens tucked away in the corner.

Logan nodded, but you could tell by the way his jaw clenched that he wasn’t exactly comfortable. He picked up the notebook, flipping through a few pages before letting out a low grunt of frustration. "All this talk about 'curriculum' and 'lesson plans'—never thought I’d have to deal with any of that."

You smiled, your curiosity about him deepening. "Well, you don’t have to stick to the script," you said, leaning a little closer and catching a glimpse of his messy notes. "Creative interpretation can go a long way."

Logan shot you a sideways glance, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "What, you want me to get all poetic about the Battle of Gettysburg?"

"Why not?" you teased, leaning against the table and folding your arms. "I’m sure those soldiers had more than just strategy on their minds. Give ‘em a little humanity, maybe throw in a dramatic monologue or two."

He shook his head, chuckling under his breath. "That sounds like the kind of stuff you'd come up with." He nodded toward the books you were holding. "Lemme guess—Shakespeare?"

You shrugged, pretending to look thoughtful. "Maybe. But I’ve been known to dabble in Tolstoy and Austen, too."

Logan huffed a laugh, shaking his head again. "You’re all about the romance, huh?"

You smiled, meeting his eyes, feeling the spark of something playful beginning to build. "What’s wrong with a little romance? It’s a nice break from all that… gritty truth you’re always chasing."

He was silent for a beat, studying you again with those intense hazel eyes of his. Then, to your surprise, he leaned back in his chair, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little. "Maybe. But truth’s more reliable. There’s a lot less... drama."

"Drama is what makes life interesting," you countered, your voice light but with a hint of challenge. "If all we ever did was stick to the facts, the world would be a lot duller. Plus," you added, smirking, "you can’t tell me the truth didn’t get a little dramatic when you were fighting in some of those battles."

Logan’s lip twitched—just the faintest hint of amusement—and then, to your surprise, his face softened. He smiled, not the usual half-grunt or quick smirk, but something warm. "Guess you’ve got a point," he said, his voice rough but carrying a note of concession.

Your smirk widened, enjoying the rare moment of seeing Logan let his guard down, even if just a little. "You know," you continued, watching him closely, "Scott told me you’re not big on new people."

Logan raised an eyebrow, his arms folded across his chest in a way that made him look even broader. "That so?" His voice was edged with a challenge as if daring you to explain yourself.

"Yeah, but I don’t believe him. I think you’re just... selective." Your eyes lingered on his, feeling the tension between you shift into something more playful.

For a moment, Logan didn’t say anything, his eyes studying you carefully like he was trying to figure you out. Then, slowly, his mouth curved into a smile again—soft, almost reluctant, but genuine. "Maybe I am," he murmured.

Your laugh came out softer than you intended, your own heartbeat a little faster than before. "So," you ventured, your voice carrying a mix of humor and curiosity, "do I pass the test?"

He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees as he studied you, that warmth still lingering in his eyes, but now with something deeper. It was like he was weighing his next words, considering whether to let you in a little further or keep you at a distance.

Finally, he gave a low chuckle, shaking his head as though he couldn’t believe the conversation had gone this far. "You’ve got guts," he said, his voice a rumble of amusement. "I’ll give you that."

You couldn’t hide your grin, feeling a small thrill of triumph. "I’ll take that as a yes, then."

Logan huffed, his smile fading into something more familiar—gruff, but not unkind. He leaned in just a bit more, his gaze locking with yours. "Don’t go gettin’ cocky now," he muttered, though there was an unmistakable spark of amusement dancing in his eyes like he secretly enjoyed your boldness.

From that moment on, something shifted between the two of you. What started as a shared glance across a table in the library grew into late-night conversations about literature, history, and everything in between. You’d debate the merits of creative interpretation versus historical accuracy, teasing each other mercilessly, but always with that undercurrent of something deeper, something unspoken.

That library—where Logan poured over old battle strategies and you hunted down rare first editions—became the place where your story began. A place where two people, so different in some ways, found common ground over books, lessons, and the slow realization that they’d found something they didn’t know they were searching for.

As you stood there now, watching him in that same library, lost in thought once more, you felt a warmth spread through you, the memories of your early days as friends and newlyweds mingling with the present. So much had changed, yet this—the quiet, shared moments—remained the same.

"You know," Logan’s voice broke through your thoughts, "if you keep starin’ at me like that, I’m gonna think you’ve got somethin’ to say."

You smiled, crossing the room to sit beside him, your fingers brushing against the book's worn cover in front of him. "I was just remembering when we first met," you said softly.

Logan glanced at you, his eyes softening with a quiet understanding. "Yeah? That was a good day," he murmured, reaching over to rest a hand on yours. "Still is."

You smiled, leaning into his touch. "Still is," you echoed.

[missmimii]

✍︎︎ 𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬

@st7rnioioss request (ily babydoll♡︎)

୨ৎ － 𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 | In the heart of a quaint town, Matt finds himself stumbling into the isles of a dear bookstore, adventuring through the labyrinth of towering bookshelves, he finds himself captivated not just by the titles, but by the girl who tells them.

୨ৎ — 𝐂𝐖. Teensey bit suggestive, but mostly fluff!

ℳ𝒾𝓂𝒾’𝓈 𝒩ℴ𝓉ℯ𝓈 － I’ve been so inactive due to medical reasons, but I’m back, and currently working on more projects. I love you all so very much, and am beyond grateful for all of the support (300 followers?! Ily)

✩－ With a soft thud, the glass door fell shut behind Matt as he stepped inside, instantly enveloped by the charming surrounding, a faint fragrance of crisp book pages and an aromatic cedar-like essence. Huh, he thought to himself, the weight on his shoulders falling as he took in his atmosphere. Unlike the usual bookstores or libraries that hustled restlessly, and made his heart jump in his chest, this was a sweet contrast.

✯－The idyllic store was faintly lit with a pink hue, soft on the male’s eyes as he glanced at the decor placed around. He felt as if the enchanted looking environment was far more traditional, rather than the bookstores that were designed in a modernized manner. Rustic furniture that he was shamelessly fond of, cozy looking chairs sat at wobbly tables, and a ticking clock.

✩－Matt drew his gaze from the small detailings, smiling at the odd by-passer as he shuffled through the aisles, before he turned toward the right end of the quaint store. Tick tock, tick tock. The clock hung just aside the array of shelves that leaned against the wall behind a large desk, ticking insistently in his mind. Keeping his distance, Matt curiously ran his eyes along the counter with interest.

✯－Pens and markers were sat inside a dusty little organizer, some upside down and others right side up. The comforting melody of ‘Here Comes the Sun’ by the Beatles flooded from the speaker of an old record player, the disc making a little err’ every now and then as the vinyl spun. Thousands upon hundreds of books aligned on the shelves, many collecting dust from the prolonged placement.

✩－Mere seconds passed before Matt swallowed the anxiousness gripping his lungs, eyes flicking around the store as he took a step forward. The male bit down on his lip as someone abruptly dodged in front of the triplet, making him mutter a small “shit”. I guess this place doesn’t attract the most civil customers. “Hey sweetness.” The grey haired male spoke seductively, making Matt’s nose crinkle with distaste.

✯－Suddenly a head popped up from behind the counter, a meek girl standing from her crouched frame. “Two day’s in a row?” She sheepishly chuckled, tucking loose tendrils of hair behind her ear as she nipped at her bottom lip. Uncomfortable, she looked uncomfortable. Matt observed her small movements, becoming uneasy as her hands shook in the slightest.

✩－The man, who was visibly at least ten years older than the girl, placed a hand on the desk. “What can I say? Something’s caught my eye.” He mused, grinning like a fool as he leaned forward. Her lips parted, no words emitting as she stepped back. “Is there a particular book you’re interested in, sir?” Smart girl. Matt felt a smile twitch on his lips as he heard her switch the subject swiftly.

✯－Her eyes widen as the sleezey male points an outstretched finger toward the shelf behind her, quickly flicking her eyes to the area. “What about that one?” Glancing at the array of all the books, she nervously looked back at the smirking man. “Uh－sorry, what one?” Hands nervously wringing together, feeling as if she was failing at her job. Such a simple one at that.

✩－With a careless shrug, Matt lifts an eyebrow at his next request. “Surprise me.” Surprise him? Scoffing, Matt crossed his arms while watching the interaction. The urge the smash the male’s face into the counter was a little too tempting, but the triplet brushed it off as he watched the girl turn around. Looking meek, she stepped a pink sneakered foot onto the latter.

✯－The weak light shone down on her skin irresistibly, Matt’s breath hitching at the sight of something so normal, glimmering with such a provocative tone on her. It was such a captivating sight, his eyes glued onto her hand as iridescent glitters twinkled off of her rings as she plucked a book from the shelf. Was this one too romantic? But this one would be to much Sci-fi. Gosh, why couldn’t he have just picked a book?

✩－Matt watched as the unknowing girl flicked through the books, before glancing at the grey haired man whose eyes couldn’t keep off of the girls backside. Disappointed and disgust built in the triplet’s chest as he shrugged off the wall, a sharp glare on his face as he stalked toward the counter. “Fuck outa’ here man.” Matt muttered, the man who bit his lip while looking the girls ass, snapping his eyes in the boy’s direction. “Sorry?” He scoffed, sounding baffled.

✯－ “I said,” the neckline of the male’s shirt got balled in Matt’s fist as he grabbed ahold of the material, his eyes flying open at the contact. “get your eyes off the girl’s ass, and get the fuck out of here.” He counted in his head, one, two, three, four－rolling his eyes, the older man shrugged off Matt’s hand, storming away with a scowl.

✩－ “I’m not too sure if this one－” Stepping down from the latter and turning around, the girl was expecting to meet eyes with the odd man from before. Instead, the uneasy feeling that swirled in her belly came to a stop as she met eyes with a brown haired man. Matt cocked his head while looking at the girl, nonchalantly smiling her way as if he hadn’t just shocked the life out of her. “I’m not really into the whole ‘romance’, thing.” The triplet joked.

✯－Slowly parting her lips, she drew her eyebrows together in perplexity. Matt’s face dropped a little, clearing his throat as he waved at the book she held. “The book － I meant.” Oh. She felt warmth flood to her cheeks at the realization, blowing out an airy laugh as she glanced down at her shoes. “No?” He hummed, smirking with amusement as he gently shook his head. “Can I ask why?” The murmur made his heart flutter.

✩－Cute. He thought to himself. “Why do you like it?” Matt drew out, forearms lazily falling on the desk as he leaned over a bit. The girl bit her lip in temptation, eyes flicking to his hands that rested on the counter. Veins outlined the soft skin of his hands, two rings on the fingers placed aside his middle and ring. Slim, she thought, the sinful thought leaving her breathless. Clearing her throat, she shifted her gaze up to Matt’s heated one. “Who’s to say I do?”

✯－Matt opted to leave her waiting for a moment, too caught up in his own mind to put together a proper response. The way her lips moved was a fascinating allure, the sight of it playing over in the triplet’s mind over and over until he felt the heat flutter in his abdomen. Fuck, not now. “Just a hunch.” Flicking his blue eyes to her neck, he ran his tongue along his bottom lip. “Pretty,” he whispered to himself, just loud enough for her to hear.

✩－The girl’s heart locket rested sensationally against her flawless clavicle, a mouthwatering sight to the boy as his hungry gaze took in her enticing character. Tilting her head with curiosity, she spoke. “Tell me.” Matt lifted an eyebrow, seeing the perfect twinkle beneath the surface of her lustrous eyes.

✯－He silently admired her for a moment too long. “Tell you what?” Was he really making her do this? The girl peered into Matt’s eyes with an indescribable look, before sighing. “The hunch.” Ah, there it was. Matt tipped his head back with a soft chuckle, nodding a bit,“Well, for starters,” he waved a hand around her neck. “that.” The pink ribbon that was weaved snuggly around her neck got tugged at by her index finger as she dipped in under the satin, making a small ‘ah’. “It gives off a very .. romantic, look.” He explains, watching as her eyes lit up. She liked hearing that.

✩－ Grinning like a Cheshire Cat, her head tipped to the side as giggled softly. “Romantic?” Matt hummed, a smile of his own growing on his lips. “Mhm.” Fair. The girl absentmindedly toyed with the fabric as she looked into his eyes shyly, feeling a tad intimidated by his heavy gaze. “What else?” So unprofessional, she thought to herself, but her smile didn’t die down.

✯－ He pondered for a second, before answering without a beat missed. “You picked that particular book without knowing what the customer would think,” Matt started, watching as not only her eyes took everything in, but how her facial expressions changing with every word. “meaning that you probably were thinking of what you would’ve liked to be chosen, if you were in their place.” As his explanation came to an end, the girl felt speechless.

✩－Her heart swooned at the male’s interest in her, feeling special almost. It was a safe bet to say that her store didn’t attract the most intriguing men, especially not ones that would ever take such an interest in her of all girls. She was awkward, and said all of the wrong things － and probably should’ve spent all of the time she spent reading, out having a social life.

✯－And if anyone were to get that, it would be Matt. The two individuals shared the glimpse of each other’s stares for a while, the silence never awkward, and always deep. So much behind the surface of one look, an untold story swirling in the distance. Drifting from her irresistible gaze, Matt’s eyes fell on a small homely looking tote bag that sat behind the desk, a stack of books poking from atop. “What’re those?” The triplet mused, watching as her face lit up.

✩－ “Oh.” Peeking a look behind her, she felt embarrassment fill her body as she caught sight of her tote bag, various books of her own open to the eye. “Yeah..” Her hand reached up to nervously itch at her freckled cheek, seeing Matt’s smirk grow at the slightest. “it’s just a few I’ve been meaning to read on my breaks.” As her lips moved in the shy like allure, Matt fell something erupt in his heart.

✯－A tranquil mix of fresh air and adoration sinking into his chest while he melted into her gaze. There was something so simple about the way the two individuals caught up in conversation, neither of them having to even think before speaking. It was almost too easy, Matt pondered. “Have any recommendations?” The triplet inquiries, tilting his head with a curious expression.

✩－She bit down on her lip, hiding a grin. “You don’t like what I like.” Matt’s eyebrow rose with surprise at the bold statement, leaning in closer as he huffed out a sound of amusement. “And what is it that you like?” She’d really done it now. Warmth spread across her cheeks, pink tinting the soft skin as she unknowingly seduced the male with her star-struck eyes.

✯－ Butterflies pressed against her gut as she thought about all of the obscene things she’s read in all of her years, the sinful details written on cedar pages as she bit her lip while imagining all of the things happening to the female character, were taking place on her body. Only this time, the girl was thinking about him. The mysterious man across the counter dragging his calloused finger tips across her bare torso, slowly gliding down her dewy skin until he thumbed at the rough material of her lace undergarment. She could practically feel the chills going down her spine at the mere thought of him whispering sweet nothings against her ear. “Takin’ like the good girl you always were, huh?” It seemed too real to fantasize.

✩－A small －sick, part of the girl knew that if Matt was to demand or request something, that she’d comply without a second thought. Not in the sense of being forced, but because deep down something inside of her ignited with a burning need to please every time she met his eyes. And if anything, to the girl, submission was trust. Such a poorly portrayed dynamic in the books she read, but some aspects she found herself drawn to.

✯－ Swallowing the lump she felt in her throat, she gained the strength to fiercely look into the male’s domineering eyes. “I don’t mind romance.” She murmured, cocking her head with a shy glint in her eyes. Matt, already having caught onto this, urged on. “Yeah?” At her nod, “and what kind of romance, kid?” The inquiry came out in a condescending manner, making the girl’s thighs squeeze together shamefully.

✩－The way her shoulders tensed was all Matt needed to know, a small chuckle leaving his lips as he ran a hand down his jaw. “Not so innocent, huh?” Her eyes narrowed in defiance, shooting him a small glare. “Do I look innocent?” Matt shrugged carelessly, the diamond pierced through his ear glimmering with a gentle shine as he looked off. “Look, yes. Inside ..” Lifting a brow, Matt’s lips tipped up. “Not for a second.” Like he would know, the girl thought to herself.

✯－ Rolling her eyes playfully, a hand ran through her tangled hair with a sigh. “Yeah, because you’re inside me.” She says in a sarcastic manner, eyes widening as she realized what she’d actually said. Her hand halted from its place in her hair as she blanked. Oh my god － cheeks going red, she blew out a breathy laugh. “that is not what I meant －all I was saying was,” Matt listened patiently as she rambled, hooded gaze glued on her as she waved her hands around, making excuses for the silly slip up she’d made.

✩－Physically, innocence practically radiated off of the girl. The pink converse with frilled socks, a little skirt that often rid up her lustrous thighs, sending Matt into a whirlwind of arousal. Though, under all of the ribbons and pearly little bracelets, the sinful persona she hid under the faux innocent facade came eye to eye with the male. Did she think he was oblivious to it? Or maybe she knew, and was being a cute little tease.

✯－Shocked from his daze, Matt looked up as a book was plopped down onto the counter with a thud. The Love Hypothesis, he read, eyes that held a curious glint lifting to meet the girl’s timid one’s. “And what’s this?” He drawled out, watching as she girl offered a little shrug while flicking her eyes away momentarily. “Your recommendation.” So fucking cute. Matt huffed out a small chuckle, placing his hand atop the book. “Well aren’t you a doll?”

✩－The book was a makeshift pedestal for Matt’s larger hand, showcasing the silver glittering rings woven around his slim fingers, and veins that were littered gorgeously over his rough skin. Her heart fluttered with an indescribable warmth, as well as heat coursing through her core at the sight that gave too much attraction. Lifting her eyes to the unknown man, she finally uttered the words. “What’s your name?” She whispered in a melodic note, tilting her head gently.

✯－Flattening his palm onto the hardcover book, he slowly slid it across the counter and into his arm. “Hm..” Tucking his bottom lip into his mouth, he took a step back from the counter with a hidden smirk. “Maybe you’ll find it somewhere in those books you like to read.” Matt murmured, winking playfully as he walked from the gleaming class doors.

✩－And later that evening, just as the last gust of wind swished through the door that now held a CLOSED sign, the girl had found herself unraveling untold stories that made her heart erupt with blooming flowers. Bottom sat on a small stool, and a misplaced book sat in her lap as her palms folded the cover open with a little sigh. Swoop. Just as the book opened, a small paper slipped from dust-cover with ease.

✯－Her eyebrows came together with confusion as she plucked the folded sheet from the floor. ‘This was in the non-fiction isle, right next to a small piece of paper that has my number, which is also non-fiction.’ Corny, she thought, placing her palm over her lips to blow out a breathy giggle. Matt, it signed at the bottom, the name followed by a cheesy smile breaking across the girl’s lips.

✩－Too many more inked stories to come.

𝒯𝒶𝑔𝓈 － @fratbrochrisgf @jetaimevous @sturnstvr @sturnrc @stonermattsgf @imwetforyourmom @st7rnioioss @endereies @pkfferoo @mqttittude @mattsbrowser

[fake-sturniolos]

𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭'

SYNOPSIS: A girl who falls in love with her best friend but keeps it to herself, not wanting to ruin their friendship, until one night, in a surge of emotions, she lets it slip.

WARNING: none just fluff!!

word count: 544

ʜɪɪɪ ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴍʏ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ᴏɴᴇ-ꜱʜᴏᴛ ꜱᴏ ʙᴇ ɴɪᴄᴇ!

I've had feelings for my best friend Matt for a long time. It started as a little crush, but now every time I see him with a girl, I feel crushed.

Now here I am in his room, acting like I'm not wishing I was here as more than just a friend.

We are sitting on his bed, looking at the TV in front of us as 'The Notebook' played.

"I hope one day I find someone that I can be in love with like that," Matt spoke.

and just like that there's that feeling in my chest again.

“yea me too.”

The movie ended, and I looked over at Matt who was asleep. I sighed leaning my head against the headboard

"I wish I could be the girl you fall in love with," I said, looking at him still asleep.

"I love you, Matt. I love you so much it hurts. I wish it didn't bother me when you talked to other girls or talked to me about them." Tears welled in my eyes. I got up and walked out of his room, shutting the door softly so I wouldn't wake him.

I got in my car and couldn't stop the tears from streaming down my face. So there I was sitting in his driveway crying like an idiot because I fell in love with my best friend. I pulled my knees up to my chest, wrapped my arms around them, and put my head down.

I heard my car door open, and I looked up to see Matt get in the passenger seat.

i quickly wipe my tears “sorry I was just about to leave.”

he looked at me with a sad expression “whats wrong?”

i looked down at my hands “nothing.”

“Did I do something?” he asked

“No.”

“cause if I did something I'm sorry I didn’t-”

“No Matt you didn’t” i snapped

“Its my fault for being an idiot. I fell in love with my best friend that clearly doesn’t think of me in that way” I felt tears fall down my cheek.

Matt opened his mouth to speak, but then closed it, hesitating.

"I didn't want to ruin our friendship, but I can't do this anymore. I'm tired of acting like I'm not in love with you, Matt," I continued, my voice cracking

“i love you too.”

“what?” I looked up at him

“i’m in love with you too.”

Matt reached over and grabbed my hand

“Can I please kiss you?” Matt said gently

“yes”

His hand slipped behind my neck, and he kissed me.

I placed my hand on his cheek, leaning into the kiss. I feel his tongue slide over my bottom lip.

Oh. My. God.

A shiver ran down my spine, and I could feel my heart pounding.

He pulled away, looking me in the eyes, a smile present on his lips.

“We'll talk tomorrow, yeah?" Matt says.

I nod, still in shock. He smiles and hops out of the car. i watch as he walks back inside, the echo of his words lingering in the air. With a heavy sigh, I lean back against the seat, the weight of our interaction settling in my chest, tethering me to the uncertainty of what tomorrow may bring.

ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ʟɪᴋᴇᴅ ɪᴛ! ɪ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ɪᴛ ᴡᴀꜱ ꜱʜᴏʀᴛ ʙᴜᴛ ɪ ᴅɪᴅɴ'ᴛ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴇʟꜱᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴀᴅᴅ.

ʟᴏᴠᴇ, ʟᴀᴜɴᴀ

[cottonlemonade]

How You Met

word count: 950 || avg. reading time: 4 mins.

pairing: post time-skip Akaashi x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff

warnings: one person being casually rude about your weight (it’s quick tho)

The taiyaki were still hot in the white paper bag, the smell reminding you it was almost lunch time.

Looking the street up and down for a bus stop or a waiting taxi you turned on the spot. A little ways up the pathway you could make out the typical black boxy shape of a Tokyo taxi and readjusting your handbag you headed towards it, only for a busy looking person in a suit to snatch it up before you could reach it, muttering something about how you would be better off walking for some exercise.

In disbelief about such rudeness you shook your head, pulling your coat a little closer around your chubby form.

You were sure another taxi would take its place soon enough and got on tiptoes to examine the traffic, on the lookout for one.

A mischievous breeze blew up your coat collar, making you wish you would have worn a scarf after all. Although April was right around the corner, the weather today was icy cold.

Giving up for the time being you headed towards a little flower shop you had passed just a few meters back to warm yourself.

A bell chimed when you opened the door. Pots with regular and more exotic house plants stacked on shelves along the wall, one display case behind the counter held the fresh cut flowers while another showed already bound bouquets in varying sizes and color schemes.

The woman standing behind the cash register called a friendly greeting and held the beginnings of a new arrangement at arm's length to check for possible improvements.

"What can I do for you?", she asked, putting the flowers down and folding her hands over a small pregnant belly.

"I would like a bouquet with peonies and… some eucalyptus, please."

The woman smiled and got to work, asking here and there for specifics in color or fullness.

She was about to come to an end with the simple coral and cream bouquet when the doorbell rang again and a young man looking remarkably like a substitute literature teacher entered the shop, a phone to his ear.

"Yes, father, I am getting flowers. I’ll be there soon. Oh, actually, I might be a while, there are quite a lot of people waiting."

You heard an angry voice yelling something unintelligible from the phone, when he simply hung up and sighed. He reached to tug at his collar like it was too tight and closed his eyes for a second, then, remembering he was in public, gave a bow to you and the saleswoman and apologized.

"Please take as long as you want.", he said, almost pleadingly.

He looked like he had a headache, grabbing his collar again.

"O-on second thought,", you began, turning to the owner that was just about to add the last eucalyptus branch, "I forgot I wanted more. Silly me. Uhm, could you make one with… hmm, those blue ones, some of the small greens, those white tulips, and lots of those light blues there, please? And then another one… with those yellow ones there, there and those, too, please." Your best friends would be delighted.

"Oh", the owner caught on immediately, "that was quite a lot. I don’t think I could memorize which ones you wanted all at once."

"No problem. I can tell you one by one."

The young man gave a small grateful smile at the stage-play-like interaction, letting out a “Thank you very much” under his breath.

As the shop owner wrapped up the first bundle of flowers at snail speed, you turned to the young man, wanting to cheer him up.

"So, where do you not want to go?"

Seemingly too exasperated to care about talking to a perfect stranger he said, "A blind date. Which, by the way, isn't actually blind but with a woman I have absolutely no interest in talking to about anything."

"Oh fun.", you said and trying to lighten the mood added, "Why not bring some flowers that say Thanks for coming, I don’t wanna be here?"

Everyone laughed, but the guy stopped after a second or two, looking at you for the first time, then turned to the florist.

"Can I do that?"

She thought for a moment, then slowly nodded, "I can add some candytuft, for sure and… hm, something really neutral for… and then… maybe I still have some butterweed. Yeah, I think I can do that."

You stayed even after your third bouquet was done, keeping the conversation going, joking around and glad when the young man gave a genuine laugh.

"Let me.", he said, sounding tired, when you drew out your wallet to pay for your flowers.

You shook your head, smiled and handed your card to the owner. Then you reached into the paper bag.

The buns in the meantime had turned lukewarm, but still smelled heavenly when you fished one out in a napkin and handed it to the woman - the other still in the bag you placed on the counter for a moment, grabbing a pen from your pocket. You quickly jotted down your name and number on the paper and handed it to him.

“And here. If you need rescuing from your blind date, send me a text and I’ll call you right away with some made-up emergency.”

Then you raised your free hand that wasn’t busy balancing the flowers with a “You got this.” and after a final wave you left.

Akaashi was still staring at the door for a few long moments after you had gone.

“You’d make a cute couple.”, the saleswoman mused and grinned when the young man blushed profusely, holding tighter to the paper bag.

[nova-is-a-writer-now]

Hidden embers

Chapter 6

Chapter summary: They say drunken words are sober thoughts, and Joel is about to hear all about yours.

A/N: Hello hello, HE wednesday is back!!! Im so excited about this chapter, it might be the longest one so far. I wanted to wait until i had chapter 7 completed before i posted this but I can’t wait any longer for y’all to read this, i appreciate the comments and reposts you guys have been giving me SO MUCH, it fills my heart 🤍 anyways enough yapping, enjoy!!

Warnings: No outbreak AU, no use of y/n, no sarah, Age gap, DBF!Joel, Slow burn, a tiny bit of angst, Alcohol consumption.

Series masterlist

You're halfway down the cereal aisle, arms full of groceries because, as usual, you convinced yourself you didn’t need a basket. Just a few things, you thought—when have you ever had that kind of self-control?

You shift the items in your grasp, trying to keep them from toppling over, when you hear a voice behind you

“Oh, bless your heart, need some help with that?”

You turn to see a blonde girl about your age, her smile warm and her Southern drawl as sweet as honey. She’s holding a basket in one hand and offering you the other

You chuckle, a little relieved. “Please. I thought I could manage, but I clearly overestimated myself.”

“Here, take mine,” she says, handing you her basket. “I’ll grab another.”

Before you can thank her, she’s already grabbed a new basket from nearby, her movements quick and effortless.

“Thanks, you’re a lifesaver,” you say, feeling the weight lift from your arms.

“No trouble at all,” she replies with a bright smile. “I’m Charlotte, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, I’m—”

“—I know who you are,” she cuts in, her smile widening. “Our dads are friends. Your’s always braggin’ ‘bout you.”

You chuckle at that. “Yeah I think he’s mentioned yours too, Bill and Frank, right?”

“That’s them,” she grins. “We live just a few blocks down from your place.” As you both walk down the aisle together, she glances over at you with a curious look. “You just moved back, right? How’re you liking small-town life?”

“I’m… taking it day by day,” you say, half-joking.

“That bad, huh?”

You let out a breathy laugh. “You could say that.”

She gently touches your arm, stopping you in your tracks. “Got any plans this Friday?”

“Not really, why?”

She gives you a grin that could charm the pants off just about anyone. “A few of us are going out. Just some drinks, a few laughs. Maybe a fun night out is what you need.”

You think it over for a moment. Sure, you’ve kept in touch with your college friends, but since moving back, you haven’t really hung out with anyone besides your parents. And, well… Joel.

The thought is enough to convince you. “Yeah, alright. I’m in.”

“Perfect! I’ll swing by and pick you up around seven. You won’t regret it, promise.” She winks and turns down the next aisle, leaving you with a lighter heart and a basket full of groceries.

It took a while, but you finally dug out the perfect black top from the back of your closet. Paired with some flared jeans and a leather jacket slung over your arm, you had yourself a killer outfit.

You hopped down the stairs, hearing the hum of Charlotte’s car idling out front.

“Mom! Dad! I’m heading out now, I’ll be back around midnight!” you call, pulling the jacket on as you reach the bottom step.

Your mom emerges from the kitchen, a towel in her hands, mid-dry. “Heading out where?”

You sigh, already regretting the interaction. “With Charlotte, mom. I told you earlier.”

“Oh, Charlie! She’s a darling. She’s doing the pageant this year, you know? Took a bit of convincing, but she’s a star. I’ve got all my money on her winning. That body, that face—she’s got it in the bag.” Her eyes flick over you then, slowly dragging up and down your own body. “Glad you’re hanging out with her, maybe you’ll pick up a thing or two.”

You’re used to the digs—decades of practice, really—but lately, it’s been harder to brush off. The grip you have on your emotions feels like it’s slipping more every day.

Still, you hold back the biting retort on the tip of your tongue. Not worth starting a third world war over this.

“Goodnight, mom.”

You turn and walk out the door, heading straight for Charlotte’s car, ignoring the sting of her words as best you can.

The car ride there flies by. Charlotte, despite your previous judgment after your mom mentioned her being a pageant girl, is beyond fun. You do karaoke the whole way there, getting to know each other a bit better in between songs. She’s not just sweet but also insanely smart. She’s finishing up nursing school and has her entire future pretty much planned out. You envy her a little for that last part.

Once she parks in front of the bar, she turns to you and says, “You ready to wild out?”

You laugh, nerves bubbling under the surface, trying to play it off. “Always ready to wild out.”

Stepping out of the car, you smooth down your top and follow Charlotte toward the entrance. The place is a little louder than you anticipated, music spilling out into the night air along with bursts of laughter. It’s a small town bar, but it’s packed.

“Come on, let’s get a drink first!” Charlotte grabs your hand, leading you through the crowd with ease, like she’s been here a hundred times before. You feel the warmth of her energy, the way she confidently navigates the room, and you can’t help but feel a little more at ease.

At the bar, Charlotte orders for both of you, flashing the bartender a bright smile as he hands over two drinks. She passes you one. “Here’s to new friends,” she says, raising her glass.

“To new friends,” you echo, clinking your glass with hers before taking a sip. The burn of alcohol feels like the start of something good, a buzz already settling in.

Charlotte leans closer, her voice cutting through the noise. “So… any cute guys on your radar tonight?”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “Not really here for that.”

“Oh, come on, there’s gotta be someone.” She gives you a teasing nudge, but when you hesitate, her eyes narrow in playful suspicion. “Wait. Don’t tell me. You’ve got a guy already?”

Your heart skips a beat at the question, and suddenly, Joel flashes in your mind. You try to shake it off, but Charlotte’s quick. She catches the flicker of emotion on your face, and her smile shifts into something more knowing.

“Oh, girl… you do, don’t you?”

You can’t help the way your face heats up, and you take another long sip of your drink to cover it. “It’s not like that.”

Charlotte leans in, her smile turning mischievous. “Uh-huh. Sure it isn’t. Spill—who’s the lucky guy?”

“It’s complicated,” you mutter, feeling a little ridiculous. You came out tonight to get away from these thoughts, not drown in them.

“Complicated usually means interesting,” she says, taking a sip from her own glass. “Is it someone I’d know?”

You hesitate. The thought of saying Joel’s name out loud feels… wrong, somehow. Like it’ll make everything you’ve been wrestling with real, something you can’t just shove aside like you’ve been trying to. You shift in your seat, tapping your fingers against the cool glass.

“Maybe,” you finally admit, your voice quieter now. “But it’s not a good idea. He’s older. Like, way older.”

Charlotte raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued but not judging. “Well, you’re an adult, that shouldn’t be much of an issue. If the chemistry’s there, it’s there.”

“Yeah, but it’s not just that, he’s also a family friend. I don’t even know if he’d be interested, you know? It’s just too messy.”

Charlotte gives you a sympathetic look. “I get it. Messy’s never fun.” She takes a deep breath before flashing you a soft smile. “But for what it’s worth, you don’t have to feel guilty about liking someone, even if it feels complicated.”

You let her words hang in the air for a moment, absorbing them. You know she’s right, but knowing doesn’t make it any easier.

“Come on,” Charlotte says, pulling you from your thoughts. She stands, taking her drink with her. “Let’s dance. Forget about the complicated stuff for a while.”

You give her a small smile, grateful for the distraction. “Yeah, okay.”

You follow her to the dance floor, the thrum of the music vibrating through your body as you try to let yourself go, to let the rhythm take over and drown out the noise in your head.

A little while passes before Charlotte’s friends finally arrive. She spots them first, waving them over from where you're both standing near the dance floor.

“Over here!” she calls out, her voice rising above the music. “Guys, this is the girl I was telling y’all about.”

You turn to see a group heading your way—two girls and a guy, all dressed up but casual in a way. The girls reach you first, both of them with that same easy warmth Charlotte exudes.

“This is Amber,” Charlotte says, gesturing to a brunette with big doe eyes and gorgeous caramel skin.

Amber flashes you a wide grin. “Hey! So nice to finally meet you. Glad you survived a car ride with Charlotte, without any permanent hearing loss, I hope?”

Charlotte gasps, playfully smacking Amber on the arm. “Excuse me, my car concerts are a privilege to experience.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Honestly, the karaoke was the best part.”

Amber raises her eyebrows with a smirk. “See? She gets it.”

Charlotte rolls her eyes before motioning to the girl beside Amber. “And this is Josie,” she introduces, pointing to the girl with sleek black hair and striking hazel eyes.

“Hey there,” Josie says, pulling you in for a quick, friendly hug. “Welcome to the chaos.”

You chuckle, feeling instantly comfortable around them. Charlotte then glances over her shoulder at the guy lingering behind the girls—a tall, brown-haired guy with an easygoing smile.

“Oh, and this is Alex. He’s Amber’s brother” she adds, nodding toward him.

“Hey, nice to meet you,” Alex says, stepping forward with a relaxed grin. “Charlotte’s been talking about you all week.”

You can’t help but laugh. “All good things, I hope?”

He nods, his voice smooth and calm. “All great things.”

His energy is different from the girls—more laid-back—but he’s just as welcoming.

The rest of the night is exactly that—effortless fun. Laughter flows as freely as the drinks, your mind slipping into a peaceful place that you haven’t felt since you got back. It’s a feeling you cling to, desperate to keep it alive for as long as you can. Like being wrapped in a bubble where everything is light, easy, and uncomplicated. You don’t want it to burst.

But eventually, thirst creeps in, and you find yourself craving another drink. You make your way to the bar, Alex trailing behind you.

“You having fun?” he asks, once you both have drinks in hand.

You nod, smiling as you prop your head up on your closed fist. “Actually, yeah. A lot more than I expected.”

Alex chuckles, leaning against the bar, his eyes studying you in that way you’ve seen before—soft but curious. “Well, contrary to popular belief, us small-town folk know how to have fun too.”

His smile is kind, warm. It suits him. You take a moment to really look at him, now that you're out of the haze of the dance floor and the dim lighting. He’s undeniably handsome—those soft features, the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he grins. He feels safer, easier. A lot more inviting and open than… fuck.

Even as you take in all of Alex’s best features, your thoughts drift elsewhere. To a man whose presence has been ingrained in your brain for the past month. The way his rough edges make him so different from Alex. How his gaze isn’t soft at all, it lingers like a weight, heavy and consuming in a way that you can’t shake off.

Fuck.

You’re sitting here, comparing this sweet, charming guy to Joel, trying to convince yourself to like Alex more. You should. He’s age appropriate, and your dad would love him. It would make everything so much simpler. But no matter how hard you try, Joel lingers in the back of your mind, refusing to leave you alone. You haven’t been able to escape him, not even with a handsome guy straight-up flirting with you at a bar.

The realization hits you like a punch to the gut. You blink, lost in the mess of your thoughts.

“Hey,” Alex’s voice pulls you back to the moment, concern etched on his face. “You alright? Where’d you go?”

You force a smile, waving it off like it’s nothing. “Sorry, just spaced out for a second.” But the truth is, you’re spiraling, and you desperately need air. Suddenly, all the drinks you've downed feel like too much and not enough at the same time. Everything looks hazy and blurry, and you just need space.

Once the bartender hands you your new drink, you turn to Alex. “I’m uh… I’m gonna go get some air. Would you let the girls know for me?”

Alex looks at you for a second, sensing there’s more to it, but he concedes. “Sure, take your time, I’ll let them know.”

With that, you step outside.

The cool midnight air hits your skin the moment you push through the doors, instantly grounding you, but it doesn’t quite settle the buzzing in your chest. You take a few deep breaths, trying to calm your racing thoughts, but it’s impossible to ignore the weight that’s been sitting there for weeks.

Joel.

You hate that it’s him filling your mind right now, after everything. You should be enjoying this—cute guy, fun night, no strings attached. But instead, all you can think about is the way he makes you feel.

It’s frustrating, and you’re tired of carrying it around in silence.

You’re realizing now, with an empty glass in your hands, that this last drink might’ve been a mistake. Without fully thinking it through, you pull out your phone and scroll to his name. You hesitate for only a second before hitting the call button. It rings once, twice, then a third time before it goes to voicemail.

You should hang up—calling was a bad decision in the first place—but leaning against the wall of the bar, staring up at the sky, you can’t help the words that spill out.

“Hey…” Your voice is low, slurred with alcohol but steady enough. “I went out with a friend tonight, Charlotte. I’m sure you know her. We came to this small, crowded bar that I don’t feel like going back into, and there was this cute guy, dazzling smile, pretty puppy eyes, you know the kind. God, he used to be my type too—me from a couple of months ago would be screaming to go give him my number. But he was talking to me, and I just… I couldn’t concentrate on what he was saying. It was like he was missing something, a bit more of a drawl or a patchy beard or kicking me out of his house randomly ‘cause he started touching my leg.” You chuckle softly. “But it’s not just him, Joel, it’s all of them. Every boy I see now—they're all either too soft, or too short, or too lanky, too nice or too chatty. They're just… I don’t know, not you. And it’s funny, ‘cause you don’t care. I’m here losing sleep over insignificant glances and touches and whatever, and you’re walking into my house to watch the damn game with my dad like it’s nothing. Like this is all nothing. Which I guess it is. It makes me a bit stupid to be acting like there was ever something here to begin with.”

You pause, your chest tight, mind buzzing.

“It doesn’t matter. This whole thing is stupid. I should probably figure out a way to get myself back home.” You pause again, biting your lip. “Please delete this in the morning and let’s never talk about it again, okay? I’ll be mortified. Goodnight.”

Your breath hitches as the words tumble out, and you clench your jaw, suddenly embarrassed by your own admission. But it’s too late. You’ve already hung up.

Steam still clings to the bathroom mirror as Joel steps out of the shower, towel slung low on his hips. The day has weighed on him—long hours, sun beating down, the usual aches and stiffness creeping into his bones. He runs a hand through his damp hair, catching a glimpse of himself in the fogged-up glass, the lines on his face more pronounced tonight.

With a heavy sigh, he pads barefoot across the room to his nightstand, reaching for his phone. There’s a part of him that wants to just lie down and shut the world out for a while, but old habits die hard, and checking his phone before bed is one he can’t seem to break. He unlocks it, thumb absently scrolling through notifications until your name flashes across the screen, and a voicemail icon blinks at him.

He freezes.

Your name.

For a moment, Joel just stares at it, thumb hovering above the screen. He hasn’t heard from you since the other night at your dad’s house—since that awkward, tension-filled game that still sits heavy in his mind. It would’ve been easier to keep the distance if you weren’t always… there. But you were.

He hesitates.

Maybe he shouldn’t listen.

But then, with a quiet curse under his breath, Joel presses play and brings the phone to his ear. There’s a beat of silence, a soft crackle before your voice comes through, and he feels something knot tight in his chest.

“Hey…” Your voice is quiet, a little slurred, like you’ve had a few too many. His brows knit together as you continue. You start talking about the bar, about a guy. A cute guy. A pang of something ugly twists in Joel’s gut, though he forces himself to keep listening.

"...used to be my type too… me from a couple months ago would be screaming to go give him my number."

Joel exhales, hand gripping the phone a little tighter as he leans back against the bed frame, legs stretched out in front of him. He swallows down the strange burn in his throat when you laugh, your words sinking in deeper with every second.

It’s when you mention the comparisons—how no one quite measures up to him—that something flickers across his expression. You shouldn’t be saying this, shouldn’t be thinking this, and yet… here you are. His jaw clenches when you talk about him touching your leg. He remembers that moment, how he’d pushed you away, forced that distance between you both before it got out of hand. But the way you bring it up now makes his pulse quicken, heat rising in him despite his efforts to keep it at bay.

"Every boy I see now—they're all either too soft, or too short, or too lanky, too nice or too chatty. They're just… not you."

His heart pounds harder at that, the breath he didn’t know he was holding finally releasing in a quiet exhale. Damn it. You weren’t supposed to feel this way. And he wasn’t supposed to like hearing it.

Your voice wavers when you say it doesn’t matter, that the whole thing is stupid, but Joel knows better. He hears it in the way you trail off, that vulnerability you can’t quite hide when you tell him to delete the message, pretend it never happened.

The voicemail ends, the room falling into an almost oppressive silence as Joel lowers the phone. He’s still staring at the screen, his thumb hovering over the delete option, but he can’t bring himself to press it. He should. You told him to. It would be the smart thing to do—erase the evidence, keep things clean between you two, never bring it up again.

But instead, Joel lets the phone fall to his chest, closing his eyes as he leans his head back against the headboard. His pulse still thrums in his ears, the weight of your words hanging heavy in the air. He knows he should forget it, but deep down, he knows it’s already too late for that.

A gnawing worry creeps in, pricking at the back of his mind. The slur in your voice, the way you sounded just… off. The mention of getting home by yourself.

He tells himself it’s just concern, that’s all. You’d been drinking, probably too much, and you shouldn’t be out alone at this hour. What kind of man would he be if he didn’t at least make sure you were alright?

But even as he gets up, throwing on an old t-shirt and grabbing his truck keys, Joel knows it’s not just that. There’s a deeper pull, something he can’t shake, and it’s not only about your safety. It’s about you, being near you, even when he’s spent weeks trying to keep that distance. The line he keeps redrawing in the sand has blurred so many times now, and yet, here he is, crossing it again.

He grips the steering wheel tight as he drives, headlights cutting through the dark, each street he passes tightening the knot of anticipation in his chest. He shouldn’t be doing this. It’s reckless, irresponsible. He’s trying to justify it—hell, he could call Charlotte, or maybe your dad, someone else to check on you. But no, he’s out here, already halfway across town, and that says more than he’s willing to admit.

Finally, he spots you. The dim glow of a streetlight casts a faint circle around where you’re sitting on the sidewalk, head resting on your arms, knees pulled up close to your chest. You look small, lost, and it tugs at something inside of him.

Joel pulls up slowly, parking a few feet away, his eyes locked on you through the windshield. For a second, he just sits there, watching. You’re still, unmoving, save for the occasional shift of your shoulders. He debates turning around, leaving before you even notice, but he knows that’s not an option. Not now.

Stepping out of the truck, Joel takes a breath, steeling himself before approaching. His boots scuff softly against the pavement as he gets closer, his heart thudding in his chest.

He clears his throat softly. “Hey…” His voice is low, careful. “You alright?”

You lift your head slowly, blinking against the bright light of the streetlamp as your eyes meet his. For a second, you don’t say anything, and neither does he.

Then your soft voice breaks the silence. “Are you really here or am I that drunk?”

He can’t help but let out a breathy laugh. Just like that, all the worries and the guilt, the pressure to do what’s right, it’s all gone in a heartbeat. It doesn’t matter. Not right now. Because you're sitting there in front of him, beautiful as ever, looking up with those glossy, wide eyes that make your usual sweetness seem even more disarming.

So he let’s go. Just for tonight, he can enjoy this feeling instead of shoving it down.

“Come on, party girl,” he murmurs, his voice softer now. “Let’s get you home.”

You try to stand, but your heels betray you, and before you can fully straighten up, you’re stumbling. Joel’s right there, catching you without a second thought, just like he always is. His hand wraps around your arm, steadying you, like it's second nature.

“I need to stop tumbling down every time I’m around you,” you mumble, slurring your words with a hint of frustration in your humor. Your brows furrow in concentration as you focus on taking the small, careful steps toward Joel’s truck. “I swear I’m usually not a clumsy person.”

He chuckles, his hand still holding onto you as if it’s where it belongs. “It’s alright. I like you tumbling onto me.”

There’s a subtle warmth in his words that he doesn’t even try to hide now.

He helps you get situated in the passenger seat before rounding the truck and sliding into the driver’s seat. He doesn’t start the engine right away, though. For a second, he just sits there, hands gripping the wheel, his eyes flicking toward you and then away, not knowing how far he’s allowing himself to go tonight. He needs to say something, move this goddamn situation forward somehow.

You break the silence first, your voice softer now, pulling him back from the spiral. “Joel… You didn’t have to come get me.”

His fingers flex on the wheel, jaw tightening. He knows he didn’t have to come. He shouldn’t have. But Lord, the second he heard that voicemail, his mind spun into a frenzy—your voice all slurred and honest in a way it never had been before. You sounded… lost. He doesn’t want to admit how incapable he felt of doing nothing in that moment.

He lets out a slow breath, rubbing his hand over his face. "Yeah, I did."

You look at him, blinking slowly like you’re trying to figure him out. He can see the alcohol buzzing behind your eyes, but there’s clarity there too, something cutting through all that fog. “Why?” you ask, your voice soft, hesitant. “Why did you come?”

He swears he hears the crack in his own chest before he even opens his mouth. Why the hell did he come? He knows the answer. He knows what you’re trying to get him to say. But he can’t say it, not without giving something away he isn’t ready to give. So he falls back on the one thing that’s easy. “Because you called,” he says, his voice low, rough. “And I—” He hesitates, the words sitting on his tongue like they’ll choke him. “I was worried.”

Worried. It’s weak, but it’s the best excuse he’s got.

Your gaze softens, and it’s like you see right through him, see all the bullshit he’s trying to keep up. “You don’t have to keep doing that,” you murmur. “Act like you’re just worried about me because of… whatever. I’m not stupid, Joel.”

His heart stutters in his chest. His first instinct is to argue, to push back, but something about the way you’re looking at him makes him pause. He clenches his jaw, trying to harden his expression, but you’ve always had this way of seeing past that. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he manages, though his voice comes out more defensive than he means for it to.

But you don’t back down. You never do. “I think I do. I think you do too.”

Joel’s heart starts pounding harder in his chest. There’s a moment where everything feels too quiet, like the whole world is holding its breath, waiting for him to do something—say something that’ll either make this all blow up in his face or force him to admit things he’s been burying for weeks. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He shakes his head, trying to break free from whatever hold you’ve got on him.

He starts the truck, the sound of the engine a relief. “We should get you home,” he mutters, trying to steady his voice, even though everything inside him feels like it’s tipping over the edge.

But as he pulls onto the road, his grip on the wheel tight, he can’t stop glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. He’s trying to keep his distance, trying to convince himself this is just him doing what’s right, being a good man. But the truth’s gnawing at him, clawing its way up, no matter how much he pushes it down: He didn’t come here just to get you home.

"Can we get something to eat?" Your voice startles him, bringing him back from the place he just mentally went to. “I’m starving.”

“Um… sure. What do you feel like?”

“Anything greasy and fast. Something that’ll soak up all the bad decisions I made tonight,” you joke, but there’s something in your voice, a vulnerability that Joel doesn’t miss.

You end up at a late-night drive-thru, ordering burgers and fries. He pulls into a quiet spot and turns off the engine, the warmth of the food filling the truck. It’s quiet for a moment, the air between you heavier than it should be.

“You alright?” he asks, turning to look at you.

You don't answer right away, staring out the windshield, your fingers playing with the edge of the fry wrapper. “I don’t know,” you admit quietly. “I’ve just… been feeling off lately.”

Joel’s not sure how to respond. He’s used to your bratty quips and playful banter, but this—you letting him in like this—feels different.

“You don’t have to explain,” he says, his voice low, gentle. “Sometimes things just get… heavy.”

You nod, taking a small bite of your burger before setting it down, barely touched. “It’s been weird being back home. Everything’s familiar, but nothing feels right, you know? Like I should fit here, and I don’t.”

He shifts in his seat, turning slightly to face you. “Yeah, I get that,” he says, surprising even himself with the admission. “Felt like that for a long time. Still do sometimes.”

You look over at him, really look at him, and for the first time tonight, there’s no walls between you. No snarky comments, no tension bubbling beneath the surface. Just two people who’ve been through a lot, trying to figure out how to navigate the mess.

“You? Really?” you ask, genuinely surprised.

He nods, glancing down at the steering wheel. “Yeah, really. Even when everything seems like it’s where it’s supposed to be, it still doesn’t always… fit. It’s hard to explain.”

For a moment, you just sit there, sharing the silence. It’s not awkward, though—more like a mutual understanding, something deeper than words could convey. Joel finds himself relaxing, letting his guard down more than he intended.

“Thanks for coming to get me,” you say softly.

He smiles at that. “Couldn’t leave you out there like that, darlin’” he replies, his tone soft but firm.

You return his smile, small but genuine. It makes Joel feel like maybe—just maybe—this isn’t a mistake after all. It’s not about crossing lines or getting too close. It’s about being there for you, like he wants to be, like you need him to be.

And somehow, that feels right.

Tag list: @yesjazzywazzylove-blog , @untamedheart81 , @mellymbee , @wintersquirrel , @chyannealaniz , @spiderman-n-n , @ghostofzion , @sjc7542 , @yyiikes , @pedrofan @loveisacowboy @sageluvsjoel

[girldreaming]

Lemon Color, Honey Glow

hiiii she’s so… honey… I couldn't stop listening to Lemon Glow by Beach House hence the title <3

pairing: service top!abby x afab!reader

summary: abby hangs out with her ex owen a little too long and reader gets insecure! (she will never escape him)

warnings: angsty, reader cries, established relationship, spit stuff, reader receives penetration via fingers and also receives oral, abby mouth fucks reader with her fingers? pet names used - sweetheart, doll, baby, (mama, slut, and champ are used once), alcohol mention, comfort and validation af

wc: 4.3k

minors do not interact fank yew

She’d been gone all damn day and you tried, really tried to distract yourself and relish in the alone time you’d thought would be used to self-reflect, pick up a new hobby, something! Anything productive actually.

But it just wasn't happening.

It’d been a slow morning filled with picking up the tiny apartment - if you could even call it that. You’d done all the laundry at least, gone to the cafeteria twice, and tried to read a book but still, you couldn’t stop spiraling.

Abby’s with Owen, Abby’s with her first love, Abby chose him to spend her day off patrol with, not you.

It was ringing in your ears like a gunshot every time you’d forgotten how alone you were. Like clockwork, whenever you'd found the perfect distraction, the conviction would just come barreling back. The feeling was no doubt due to the fact that Abby was your first love, almost your first everything and there was an unconscious possessiveness that came along with that. Which, of course, made it much fouler to think about, that there was a time in which she’d felt this for someone else and the fact that she would never feel it again, and certainly not for you.

Ergo, here you are, the moon barely grazing the skyline, getting ready for bed when you hear the unlocking of the front door, a flutter buzzing in your stomach. The heavy sound of it closing and the locks clicking back, however, makes your heart drop to the tile of the bathroom floor, the anticipation you’d been building all day coming to a grating boil. It would’ve been fine if it weren’t for the fact that you'd been thinking about this moment for hours. Fucking hours. Now that she was here it only filled you with panic, the blood leaving your head, hands freezing in motion kind of panic. What were you even gonna say to her? What if she smells different? What if she saw him again the same way she did when she was a teenager? Everything about it just made you sick.

All of the insecure shit you thought you’d gotten rid of was baring its ugly teeth. The jealous, nasty parts of you want to push her away so terribly that she has no choice but to go back, simply so you don’t have to look at her and act like you haven’t been pacing all day, imagining killing him in every way you could possibly think of.

Even though you know deep down nothing happened, the humiliating weight of the possibility was enough for you to beat her to the punch.

So, naturally, you leave your place in the bathroom, following the sound of Abby’s booted feet to the kitchen. I can do this, I was normal today, you hype yourself up, or try to.

“Hi, baby.” She coos, pulling you into a hug. You don’t want to punish her but you also can’t help the way your body tenses as she squeezes you, hands around your waist.

You pull away first and she moves back in for a kiss, your lips connecting for a mere moment before she’s stepping back. She smells the same, tastes like something slightly familiar - alcohol?

“What was that?” She laughs nervously, making a face. God, you were so transparent with her it wasn’t fucking fair, couldn’t hide anything.

“Nothing.” You shrug, the panic building back up in your chest, this time though, it felt like you did something wrong, the shame coursing through your veins. Your fingers instinctively fidget with each other, quickly moving behind your back to hide them from Abby, who would clock your nerves pretty damn quick.

“You sure?” She doubles down, bending over to unlace her boots, kicking them off into the middle of the room. It takes everything in you not to bitch at her, ask her to put them away, ask her don't you know better?

You hum a response, not giving her enough time to question you before you ask, “How was your day?”

“Oh, you know, Owen’s still Owen.” She smiles at you, leaning back against the countertop. The dagger of delusion you stabbed into your own heart twists, and you’d like to fall to your knees and scream but you must keep up the illusion you’ve so poorly curated for her.

“Yeah? Y’all have fun?” You distract yourself, picking her boots up from where she left them in the middle of the kitchen and returning them to where the rest of the shoes live.

“We snuck out.”

A deep breath leaves you, body tensing. You shake your head, “Abigail, what the fuck is wrong with you.” and she just laughs.

The entire time she was gone today, the aspect of her safety not once crossed your mind, and that made you feel. so. much. fucking. worse. The all too familiar knot builds at the back of your throat, threatening to take all of your words and swallow them whole.

“You know I’m smart about it, baby, I’m fine. I’m here, aren’t I?” Abby grins.

“I trust you, I do. I just would’ve liked to have known.” You seethe, a frown adorning your face as you stare at her across the room. You huff as you walk back to the bathroom, needing a second to gather your thoughts.

Unfortunately, the only thoughts that come are images of them running around, giggling together as they sneak past the gates. You can already hear her socked feet following yours, causing you to hurry in and splash water on your face, it's fine. everything is fine.

“Don’t you wanna hear about my adventure? I found you somethin' doll, you’re gonna fucking love it.” She gushes - a rare and adorable occurrence - while leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom as you turn off the faucet.

“M’ really tired, Abs, can you tell me in the morning?” You sigh.

“I’ve got patrol tomorrow.”

You've gotta be fucking kidding me.

“All day?” The dagger twists again, you'll be bleeding out soon, you think.

“Won’t get back until Friday morning, maybe Thursday night.” Abby shrugs, not too sure what the plan is.

It’s Tuesday. Yes. Definitely bleeding out now.

You try your hardest to look up, to stop the tears from forming but it’s not possible, the presence of her only making it more difficult to push down. Your signature lip quiver was the straw that broke the camel's back, Abby’s face instantly falling as she takes the two steps to be directly in front of you, grabbing your cheeks. It should feel comforting but you couldn't help but feel humiliated. You were trying so hard to regulate yourself and your emotions, but it was so difficult when you knew she was there to console you, regulate for you.

“Hey.” She breathes, your eyes squeezing shut, the tears falling with them and wetting her hands.

“What’s goin’ on with you, sweetheart?”

But you can’t speak, your throat feels like it was ripped out of your neck and you know no sound would come out even if you tried. So, you shake your head, and she hugs you again, the second time tonight you’re tense in her arms.

But she won’t let you go, so you relax, melting into her, your snot sticking to her shoulder where you bury your head.

She’s shushing your hiccups with a palm smoothing over the back of your head, holding you to her. You try to think about what you’re supposed to say next, if you should back down and go to sleep or have the conversation you’ve been rehearsing in your head for the past twelve hours.

“Are you drunk?” You sniffle into her shoulder, choosing neither. It’s quiet for a moment, a confirmation. She was too embarrassed to say, yes! My ex boyfriend and I drank too much of his homemade moonshine together, hope we don’t get botulism!

“Why are you so mad at me?” She whispers, her voice so fucking small. She sounds like a child who’s gotten into something they weren’t supposed to, meek.

It didn’t feel right, any of it. You can’t help the sob that falls out of you, shaking your head.

“I'm not.” you blubber, not very convincing.

“Do you want to be with him?” You utter, the delusions winning. They managed to take enough of your brain over to ask such a stupid, silly question that you already knew the answer to.

It was embarrassing, really, the way she pulled back, still holding you by your shoulders, a confused look on her face.

“What?” She blurts, her eyes moving around your features. You immediately look away, down at the ground, at the wall. Anywhere except her, the guilt eating you up and spitting you back out.

“You’re serious?” Abby snickers, covering her mouth, trying to control herself.

“Don’t laugh at me.” You croak, the tears slowing but your nose still running as you wipe it with your sleeve.

“I’m sorry, I jus-“ She starts, hands leaving your shoulders, going to her temple. Turning around, then turning back around, she looks at you. Long and hard.

“Is that why you’re upset? You think I cheated on you with Owen? Fucking Owen?”

“S’not funny.” You practically wail, your hands shooting up to your face, hiding yourself from her.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” She’s still laughing.

“Fuck you.” You spit, on a mission to get out of this small room with her. It wasn't because you’re that upset over her laughing at you, but the anger you feel at yourself has to go somewhere and you know you'll end up taking it out on her, which just wasn't fair.

“Hey, no, come here.” Abby's serious now, walking behind you as you sit on the edge of the mattress.

“I’m sorry I was gone all day, really, that wasn’t my intention.” She mumbles as she squats down in front of you, her elbows resting on her knees, hands hanging between them.

“Well, it’s what happened.” You look down at her, blue eyes wide, apologetic.

“Do-do you want me to leave?” She stammers, mouth sitting open.

“No, I don’t want you to leave, Abby.” You grimace, rolling your eyes. You were still being mean and didn't know why.

“Don't like it when you roll your eyes at me."

"Abby, please." You sniffle, tears threatening to spill once again, you didn't want that part of her right now, just needed the nice part that was obsessed with you, and just you.

Your stuttered breaths interrupt the silence in the room, Abby’s temple resting on your knee in response, snuggling into you. She was obviously finding it difficult to let you ride out your mood on her, but knew she didn't have much of a choice.

“Today was so fucking hard.” You squeak.

“M’ sorry, pretty. I kept thinking it was over and then Manny showed up with Leah an-“ She starts, head detaching from your leg to look back up at you.

“It’s fine, seriously, just haven’t felt insecure like that in so long. I feel so crazy.” You interrupt, hoping the more you let it out of your body the more it’ll actually leave.

“Sweet girl.” She sighs, pressing a soft kiss to the skin of your knee.

“I would’ve come home.”

“It’s so embarrassing.” You whine as you look up again, the ball in your throat reappearing, threatening. She’s still squatted before you, her hands beginning to rub the smooth of your thighs, shushes leaving her mouth as she tries to calm you down. You feel relief for the first time today, knowing she was here, choosing to be here.

"Shh, eyes on me." She directs, you tilt your head down to her, blue eyes studying yours. Her lips push out to a pout considering your state, puffy eyes, and red nose. She moves her head closer to your stomach, butterflies swarming.

“Don’t be embarrassed, baby.” A peck to your inner thigh, which her palm is pushing apart.

“I’ve done worse without you.” She nods, breathing onto your exposed midriff, the hot air tickling, your own breath hitching. The memory of that instance comes flooding back. Your first and last four-day patrol without her.

She'd followed you around like a puppy as you were prepping, making sure you'd gotten first pick at the gun range. Not before having a long sit-down chat with those who you were being sent off with about you and your safety, the consequences that would follow had you not come back up in one piece. She'd followed you all the way to the car, a not-so-quick kiss and a soft "Be safe mama," farewell.

After you'd gotten back - with nothing more than a few scratches - you were told Abby hadn't slept the last two days of the trip and that she'd been an absolute menace to Isaac and anyone who had their hands on a radio. She'd gotten kicked out of the gym for hogging the equipment on top of the situation which supposedly had sent her into even more of a nosedive.

No one really likes to bring it up though, her face erupting in a tomato-red flush whenever you did.

"I know, my love." You sigh, hand reaching up to rest on her head, following her braid down to the band, pulling it out and placing the elastic on the bedside table.

"We should go to bed." You whisper. And you really wanted to, to end the evening as you did any other night, wanted to feel the same you did then. Wanted to feel like yourself again. It was obvious how tired Abby was, her eyelids falling after every word you spoke, her own body weighing her down.

"M' not done." She drawls onto your skin, nipping at the fat of your thighs, her hands planted on your hips, fingers kneading. The thought of asking her to take care of you had crossed your mind, but you shook it off in fear of demanding too much of her.

"Abs, you'll be exhausted tomorrow." Your hand still rests on her head, twisting the strands you set free around your fingers, pulling them until they untwine.

"Need to make it up to you, please." She groans, looking up at you, she was wide awake now, that's for sure.

"You don't owe me anything." You croon.

It's so hard, trying to shut down such an immovable force, and the fact she knows you need her just as badly doesn't help. Your legs are essentially spread for her, her palms pushing you apart, pinching at the skin of your inner thigh. Yet, it’s still surprising when you feel her fingers graze over your clothed core, the small wet spot causing her to groan into your skin, your face felt like it was glowing. When the fuck did that happen.

“You always get drenched when you cry, sweetheart?” She laughs as her eyes find yours.

“Only when it’s cause of you, Abby.” You practically purr, taking your hands out of her scalp and leaning on them behind you. The familiar coil begins to thaw inside your stomach, her body heat radiating, passing onto you.

"You are depraved." Leaves her with a chuckle, thinking for a moment, reading your face.

"Take your shirt off." She scoffs, climbing up onto your lap, straddling you as your hands reach the hem of your top, swiping it off. Her hands go straight to your face, holding your cheeks together, lips smushing with the wet, sloppy kisses she’s pressing onto them.

Your hands instinctively go to the back pockets of her cargo pants, pulling her impossibly closer, her ass taut in the tight fabric. She leans forward, the force of it putting you onto your back with an oof, teeth clacking together, kissing Abby through her smile.

Her covered knee slots between your thighs, the curve of her pressing against your thinly veiled clit. The cave of her mouth vibrates with your moans as she rolls you onto her thigh, hands rough, but steady. Your fingertips underneath her shirt, running along her abs seems to ignite the same fire that's living inside of you, her breath hitching when you reach the small swell of her breasts, palming and grasping at her, wishing it was feasible to tear her open and create a cavity the size of you.

“Got - fuck - gotta get these off, kay?” She rambles, eyes scanning your boxers, hers, she's just shy of drooling, or combusting.

You whimper at the loss of contact, hips instinctively lifting up as her hands wrap around the waistband of the shorts, tugging them off and tossing them to the ground. It was never balanced with her, you lying on the mattress bare while she hadn't taken off a damn sock.

She’s still straddling you, farther down over your knees. Her pants are somehow unbuttoned and her shirt messily skewed to the side. You just really couldn't get over her hair, god, it's frizzy and crimped from her braid yet framing her face so perfectly, draping over the expanse of her shoulders, golden threads cascading down her back.

"Can yo-" You start, hands fumbling with the bottom of her top but before you can finish she's already pulling it over her shoulders, bra following. Abby's mouth is immediately back on yours, palms pressing into the mattress at the sides of your head.

You whine when she leaves you again, weight on her knees as her fingers go to the roots of your hair, grabbing your scalp and craning your head up off of the bed. Her other hand sits at your chin, palm up as she looks down at you. Can't help but notice the look in her eye, the look she does when Abby knows she's broken down any bit of modesty you would've scurried away with and kept for yourself if it weren't for her sitting on top of you.

"Spit.”

Obeying, drool and saliva drip down out of your mouth, onto your chin, and then to her hand. Strings of your spit link the two of you until she breaks the cord, her palm connecting with your mound, barely moving, just enough to saturate you with your own saliva. Finally, she shifts, her middle finger sliding up and down your folds, circling slowly around your clit. She wants you to watch, you realize, her hand still in your hair, still holding you up. So you do, as two fingers sink into your aching slit, disappearing with a moan from you, and something of the sort from her.

Her other hand leaves your head, causing it to hit the mattress and your eyes to squeeze shut from the impact. She's already curled her fingers, squelching them in and out of you, hitting the spot that you could never reach, that you didn’t really know existed before Abby.

"That feel good? Feel full?"

mhm a little too good, you think.

"Little slower, Abs." You whimper, knowing how prone she was to getting ahead of herself and how easily you were gonna come like this. Wanted to take your time with her, make her work for it for a change. She crawls in between your knees, spreading your legs over her hard thighs.

"Shit - sorry you're fuckin' soaked." She pants, her pace slowing.

With her middle and ring finger still hooked inside of you, her other hand rolls under your back, shifting you farther up the mattress. She sets a new tempo, slowly surging.

"Better?" She asks, thumb dipping inside of your cunt, drawing out the wet and smearing it over your clit.

"Yes, f-uck," You moan, back arching, hips bucking up dying to feel her deeper and deeper. Her free hand scoops your leg up and rests behind your knee as she pushes onto you, now hovering over your limp frame. Her hand leaves your leg as it lazily hangs near her waist, her arm now inches away from your face as she supports herself. You can't look at her, you really can't, so you throw your head to the side and breathe into her forearm, your own wrapping around it, hand gently squeezing her flexed bicep.

"Did so good today, m' so proud of you." She mewls, adding a third finger. It's definitely a tight squeeze, your walls clenching around her, rejecting the speed she desires. "Gotta relax, sweetheart, it's just me."

You nod, trying to release the built-up stress you've been carrying all day, remembering that she was here, she was yours. Remembering what she taught you, deep breaths into your nose and out through your mouth. Even though it ached, you didn't want her to stop.

You feel her fingers leave you, your lips parting on instinct. As you anticipated, her fingertips run along the tip of your tongue, following the muscle back, farther and farther.

"That's it, just like that. You're so good." She purrs, eyes on your mouth, your lips closing around her. Can feel her fingers fucking your face, her other hand playing with your clit in incomplete, sloppy circles. She gives a final jolt, and you can’t believe you don't gag, but you’ll pat yourself on the back later. They’re back within you without missing a beat, the lubrication your spit provides allowing her to have her way, her speed.

"So fuckin' pretty takin' me, wish you could see yourself, champ."

"I believe you." You beam, grabbing her face to plant a fat kiss on her lips, trailing past her mouth to her cheek. A quiet "Jesus, fuck," spills from your throat without a second thought after her thumb bumps your clit just right.

“Whose fingers are these, huh?” She groans at the sight of you, wrapped around her, inside of you. Gotta make it better she thinks, gotta make it go away.

“Mine.” You breathe, clenching around her. You believe it too, at this point, they were fucking yours. But how couldn't you? The fingers you'd trace as you fell asleep, just to then have dreams of. The same ones that'd roamed every inch of you, threatening to kiss your organs if she went any fucking deeper, god.

“That’s fuckin’ right. There’s my girl.” She praises, the sweet sound dripping all over you like a syrup, coating, sticking to every cell. Her lips practically live on your jawline, your head back to being tilted, giving her full access. She's moaning like she feels it too, and maybe she can with the way your bodies are just about conjoined. Your hand shoots down to her wrist, holding onto it as she pummels you. A shiver tickles its way down your spine.

“Right there, please, s’so fucking deep, oh my god,”

“You think I’d fuck anyone else like this?” Is whispered into your neck, a moan of your own echoing off the walls. Your puffy eyes fill with tears again, though this time it’s from sheer satisfaction, pure comfort.

You shake your head no, "Just me, Abs."

It feels so nice to reassure yourself, so right, the validation from her beaming through you and the molten coil in your core threatening to burn.

"Only you, pretty." She smiles, punctuated by the lick of your nipple, the popping of it in and out of her mouth, and of course, teeth sinking into the flesh. She had quite the obsession with your chest, grabbing them often just to have something warm to hold.

“Ow,” You blush, your legs relaxing, spreading and making space for her as she scoots down.

“Fucking slut, you love it when I bite you, can feel it.” Another chomp, this time on your stomach. A nibble on your thigh. It was mortifying how much of you she recognized. So much of yourself you never thought would be shared with anyone else that Abby did next to nothing to get out of you.

All you can do is moan, clench around her, repeat.

Your eyes are closed when her tongue meets your core, moans being replaced with groans, her hand that was used to support herself now supporting you, wrapping around your thigh that's threatening to squish her head like a melon.

“Keep ‘em open, doll, you got it.” She breathes onto you, her arm realistically doing all the work.

“Abby, m’gonnacome,” You’re nodding, slowly, building up the courage to look at her, meeting her eyes as you do to find she’d been looking at you the whole time. "Please?" She mumbles into your cunt, sucking your clit inside of her mouth.

“God, please yes, fuck yes,” The rubber band finally snaps, your hands going to her scalp, to your thighs, grabbing, pulling. One of them settles on her hand on your thigh, which she grabs, holding you through your orgasm.

Your hips are grinding against her face and you use your leverage on her head to pull her off of you, quickly getting overstimulated. Abby’s got her pussy-drunk smile, eyes turning to slits from happiness being paired with exhaustion. She kisses the inside of your thigh, one last peck on your swollen bud before her fingers reappear, glimmering with you.

"Mmm, you gotta pee, sweetheart." Is all she says before she collapses onto her side on the mattress, a small huff following. You're still catching your breath, feeling your rapid heartbeat slug to its typical pace. She definitely wasn't asleep, but she sure as shit wasn't conscious.

"Baby, your pants." You heave.

Abby grumbles, fingers fumbling with her zipper.

"I'm gonna get you some water, don't move." You insist, feeling your body snap back together as you stand up, only slightly seeing stars. In the kitchen, you wet a rag for her and clean yourself up with one while you're there, before grabbing a couple of cups.

"Gonna show me what you got?" You speak up to reach the room, two glasses of water in hand as your bare feet shuffle along the hardwood floor. At the lack of response, you pick up your strides toward the bedroom. It was so quiet at this point in the night - or early morning. Hard to tell. So peaceful.

"Abs?"

As you peek your head into the doorway you're met with her, sprawled out on her stomach, naked, and softly snoring.

[ateez-himari]

[ARCHIVE] FLIGHTLESS BIRD

...

A whole lot was happening back then Don't know why things are so hectic I'ma bring back my memories, I can't even remember

Hushed conversations echoed through the apartment building as the seven trainees opened the door to their shared space, only to still in shock at the sight of movement on their couch, although the figure was much too small to pose a threat. Tension instantly dissolved when the living room lights revealed that the strange shadow was none other than the young girl they had become closely acquainted with over the past months, sleepy eyes struggling to remain open. In what seemed near panic one of the older members ran over to take her in his arms, brushing away hair strands still dripping with melting snowflakes while inspecting every visible inch of skin.

'What are you doing here, Hima ?!' He nearly yelled, causing his sister to flinch slightly. 'I'm sorry I just...does Hanzo know ?'

'Nii-Chan is still locked up in his room, but I left him a note saying that I was coming to visit you!' She said proudly, holding out a bus ticket. 'Aunt-...mom and dad said we'd go together but they had to work late again...so I came alone.'

The shattering of a normally hardened heart was almost audible as he realized what was implied in this short explanation; with the only remaining biological tie she had being completely lost in grief, there was no one at home to care for the clearly distressed child and much like every other day, loneliness haunted her. It should have been tears marking her flushed cheeks, yet the usual beaming smile so adored by their town's elderly remained unmoving, as though nothing was wrong, as though the weight of independence was not placed upon her frail shoulders.

'G-Go greet everyone, I'm gonna get you some milk.' He finally spoke up after clearing his throat, hurrying into the kitchen.

Running into the young men's arms, the little girl who remained blissfully unaware of the emotional breakdown her brother was nearing with every thought regarding the situation at home began introducing them to the small tiger plush sent by their oldest sibling. While closing the fridge, the rapper in training could not help but to admire the radiant smile adorning bruised lips, taking a moment to laugh at the little fangs he had always found rather odd. Perhaps this was what happiness truly felt like, not simply certain moments in life but the appearance of someone so bright they acted as the sun chasing away grey clouds without effort.

...

When the younger rapper entered the living area with the intention to relieve stress by watching whatever movie channels would play at this hour, he found the lovely intruder sound asleep on her brother's chest as one of his hands soothingly ran along her back, the other thoughtfully hovering over a gauze covered ear. Watching this loving interaction made him realize that this broken little girl was one of the few things keeping his friend going in such hard times, yet this was also saddening news as he knew the weight of life made him rely on her unknowingly.

Their bond brought warmth into everyone's hearts as despite the harshness of trainee life the members had watched their friend take the little time they had off to pick her up at school, to teach her basketball, to take her to the zoo, spending almost every second taking care of his unfortunately neglected sister. The older members however were aware of darker truths behind this relationship as they bore witness to the impact his poor mental state was having on this already fragile girl, one drunken night revealing that it was her who saved his life while in the midst of grieving. They knew the man made desperate attempts at becoming the presence she was missing, yet the child kept so closely to herself that it was clear most days were spent with very little interaction, leaving her to navigate an unsure world alone.

'What the hell am I doing, Hoseok ?' The man asked absently, pulling the blanket over his sister as she stirred slightly. 'I've been with her since she was a baby, but when she needs me the most, when her entire world just fell apart, I can't even show up.'

The responsibility had fallen on his shoulders out of nowhere during a time where he could not even care for himself, and not once could he blame the girl's biological brother as grief was slowly eating the young man alive no matter how hard he tried to fight. Times where the high schooler stepped outside for more than academics seemed almost distant to their sister, who often slept in front of his door as an attempt to feel even the slightest hint of his warmth that once served as comfort during stormy nights despite the lack of response that her endless affectionate actions faced.

'I don't think she sees it that way.' His friend carefully sat next to the couch, observing the sleeping figure for a moment. 'Hima is such a loving soul, I doubt hatred is even part of her vocabulary. The world is just too harsh for someone like her...that's all.'

'We'll make it.' Yoongi whispered. 'I have to make it all worth it, I can't have abandoned her and Hanzo for nothing.'

Hands that had never once trembled until this very moment gently grazed over the fresh scars that seemed much too foreign on once flawless skin, finding some humor in the fact that they closely resembled tiger markings. He wondered whether this was the universe claiming that her soft demeanor was hiding the fighting spirit of this animal, or whether this was simply some sick joke after having forever broken a heart too pure for this universe.

'I promise, I'll make you proud.'

[cowboyfromh3ll]

Heyyy there💖 First off i’d just like to say how obsessed i am with your fics🥹 they are perfect and you really nail the characters perfectly so here’s my request if you don’t mind:

Could i request an angsty fic with Arthur where he and the reader used to be together when they were teenagers and they joined the gang together but the reader left after a few years because she has such an innocent personality (kind of like Mary-Beth) and she just didn’t want to live in the gang with criminals so when she leaves she breaks Arthur’s heart. But they stumble into each other in Valentine (where she works as a waitress) when Arthur, Javier, Charles and Bill go to the saloon. At first their interaction goes very good until that fight breaks out where Arthur beats Tommy, after that the reader is in tears because she hates violence so she storms off behind the saloon but Arthur follows her and it’s there where they start arguing and throwing insults where the reader says that she left cause she didn’t wanna be associated with criminals so Arthur calls her naive and is extra mean to her because he can’t hold all his built up anger and judgment towards her decision to leave him anymore. When he returns to camp that night he can’t stop thinking about their heated interaction so he returns to Valentine to find her and apologise for his rough words.

Sorry for this extra long request but i just love how perfect and detailed your fics are so i knew you would be the best to turn to for this request😊🫶🏻

All We Ever Wanted Was Everything

(Arthur Morgan x Ex!Fem!Reader Angst/Fluff)

No smut sorry didn't feel like adding it, also thank u so much ur compliments mean so much to me 😭

Warnings: arguing, depictions of violence, blood

Intimacy is the art of licking wounds. And the way Arthur loved was akin to the way a dog nurses an open wound, laving tongue and bared teeth and all. The truth was, Arthur longed to be loved so much that it made him sick. The smallest gesture of affection would bring a lump to his throat, and when he would inevitably fall into his grave, it would seep with all the longing he’s ever done. But like a dog, he dangles on his leash; and his need grows teeth. There are teeth marks on everything Arthur has ever loved.

Valentine was bleak, but it still maintained that hustle and bustle of a well-oiled machine. The town saw the daily passage of horse drawn carriages and hard working folks. Though everyone seemed to be there unwillingly, as though they had nowhere else to go; as though this was the only option they had. Such was the case for Arthur. He found himself left with no choice but to acquaint himself with the people of Valentine as the gang moved further east. The main road down Valentine had taken on the pungent weight of horse manure and wet earth. Arthur’s heavy leather boots stomped through mud, leaving deep, smeared imprints that proved he had been there. They traced him all the way towards the saloon, where he so ungracefully tracked more mud up the wooden steps and inside the establishment. He heard Javier’s voice call out distantly from inside.

He pushed open the dusty wooden doors of the saloon, the hinges groaning and squeaking as it let in another customer (it seemed even the furniture was equally as weary as the townspeople). The poignant scent of sweat, body odor, and what could otherwise simply be described as testosterone hung lowly amidst herds of inebriated men. The low hum of chatter and the lively playing of piano was nearly drowned out by Javier’s obnoxious hollering. He eyed the ox skull hanging decoratively on the wooden pillar ahead of him, as well as the dull, peeling wallpaper. The place was kempt, but just barely. Similar to the town outside, with folks just as tired and hard working coming through here. He approached Javier and Charles at the bar, who were accompanied by two women. Even with their backs turned to him, Arthur could tell they were escorts. With one of them having an off the shoulder blouse, a beguiling attempt at appearing more enticing; her burnt orange hair tied lowly into a bun that rested just above a black choker. Her counterpart was of a darker complexion, and she sported a floral top with a singular black braid cascading down her right shoulder; they both wore long purple skirts. Arthur sneered. ‘Unbelievable’ he thought to himself.

“Oh, Arthur!” Javier looked surprised to see him, his enthusiasm suggesting ulterior motives. Javier was not yet reeling drunk, but he was working on it (Arthur could tell the moment he saw the group raising shots together when he walked in).

“Arthur, Arthur, come here, come here, come over here” Javier pulled Arthur in by his shoulder, the rest of the group turning to face him. Wordlessly, he looked at Charles and gave him a nod of acknowledgement.

“I want you to meet our new friends.” Javier added.

Arthur looked utterly unimpressed by Charles and Javier’s ‘friends’. Arthur stood to the side, eyeing the women up and down, the ginger one busty, exhibiting her cleavage almost proudly. He could tell the two men were here for a lay. Though perhaps, he supposed they were fulfilling their duty of acquainting themselves with the townspeople after all.

“Pleased to meet you.” Arthur greeted flatly, nodding his head.

“Well ain't you just the tough as teak mountain man.” One of the women teased coyly.

“Oh, you be quiet, Anastasia! Anyone can tell this one is a pussy cat!” The other one added.

Javier seemed to butt in overzealously.

“Exactly, yes he’s a pussy…cat. Ain't that so Arthur?” Javier seemed entranced by these women, his judgement clouded by lust. Arthur thought it only bothersome. Charles said nothing the whole time, but Arthur knew he was just as enraptured as Javier was; spanning one of his hands behind one of the women's backs.

“Whatever you say.” Arthur murmured. “How much you cost anyway?”

The women looked at him scornfully.

“Well ain’t that a nice way to talk to a lady?” One of them said sarcastically. Javier and Charles looked on awkwardly, unsure of how to aid the situation.

“Oh, I didn’t know I was talking to a lady.” Arthur put emphasis on lady, even stepping forward to punctuate his sarcasm. That seemed to be the last straw, as the two women excused themselves and walked elsewhere, their unwillingness to stick around any longer suggesting that years in their business had diminished their tolerance for such derision. Javier and Charles looked on in disappointment, watching as the objects of their desires made themselves scarce.

“Well, I must say, you got a fine way with the women amigo…” Javier sighed in defeat, retreating back to the bar and leaning his elbows on the counter.

“Yeah, a regular and dandy charmer.” Arthur humored. He picked up one of the abandoned shots of whisky on the counter, throwing back the liquid and letting it simmer its way down his gullet. He cleared his throat, not expecting it to be quite so potent. Valentine's saloon didn’t feel quite as dismal as Arthur had expected, despite its appearance. Valentine had its fair share of shady gray alleyways and sordid, dodgy customers ducking in and out of low dark doorways, but the bar seemed lively enough.

“Is there anything else I can get you boys?” A strangely familiar voice called out. It was soft, but very sharp. It cut through Arthur’s tedious judgment like a serrated knife through butter. Pleasantly easy, but jarring. Arthur looked up, blinking away disbelief, as he beheld what he thought might’ve been a mirage in the middle of this stalemate of a town.

Arthur’s eyes squinted as he studied your face, noting with fondness the familiar way your eyes looked at him with a deep seated compassion. Your hair seemed to float around you almost angelically, the wispy ends of your hair illuminated by the gentle lighting coming in from the saloon windows— making it appear as though you were materializing from a dream. But when the hardness of your silhouette came into focus, you proved to be very real. Your hands maintained the same gentleness they had years ago. Your skin had matured wonderfully into a sophisticated womanhood. You had matured wonderfully. Arthur could still see teeth marks all over you.

“(Name)?” Arthur whispered. He watched the way your face hardened with realization before melting into a warm smile.

“Arthur?” You breathed, tightening your fists and digging your nails into your palm as if it would wake you up from this dream-like sequence. Charles and Javier looked at each other knowingly, a silent agreement between the two of them to move away from the obviously intimate scene. Arthur barely took notice of their absence; he was too entranced by the sight before him.

“Oh my god…” Your disbelief turned into happiness, your gasps turning into airy laughs. “How long has it been?” You exclaimed, becoming suddenly very excited. Part of you wanted to jump over the counter and pat Arthur down, unable to fathom that this was really him. Out of some sort of second instinct, you placed your hand over his, as if touching him would ground you in reality. He flinched, but he did not move his hand away, rather, he felt a sprinkling of butterflies in his stomach. Unlike yours, his hands had a new roughness to them, decorated with scars and calluses. These hands held stories; memories.

“How have you been?” You asked, feeling the faint but familiar feeling of tears well up in your eyes. Arthur was bashful, you could tell from the way he was hiding his face with his hat, not quite capable of looking you in the eye again.

“I’ve been just fine.” He smiled politely and nodded, fully taking your hand into his and rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. There was a shakiness in the way he did this; you felt his hands tremble softly. In another act of familiarity, you placed your other hand over his, cupping his own fully. There was a noticeable tension in you as you contemplated your next question.

“You still ride with…uh…” You did not complete your sentence. Both of you knew you didn’t need to. He nodded in response, his smile hardening.

“Yes, still do.”

“Well… it’s good to hear you’re doing good Arthur.” You smiled. The two of you exchanged committal half smiles, not yet letting go of one another’s hands. You seemed to study each other for a moment, and despite customers calling for you, Arthur did not want you to go. And you seemed in no hurry to go either.

You shook your head gently in contemplation.

“Arthur, I… I’ve missed—”

In the not so far off distance, you listened, then watched, as two men bumped into each other. Your stomach dropped in fear as you watched the bigger of the two head-butt the other man, knocking him into a table occupied by patrons. Your hands tightened around Arthur’s as you heard a bottle break, and in a split second, the hammer dropped; the entire bar dissolving into a brawl. All around you, fists began flying and chairs were picked up, as men knocked into eachothers and swung in their clumsy, drunken haze. The testosterone in this saloon alone was nearly tangible. You looked to your left and watched the few women there flee out the back door. With Arthur’s hand still in your own, you began walking towards the back, half expecting him to come along with you.

But to no one’s surprise, and to your disappointment, you watched as he turned his back and threw himself headfirst into the fight. As the only woman there now, you felt safest behind the bar. You feared that if you stepped out, you’d be caught in someone’s flurry of fighting. You backed into the mahogany cases of liquor behind you, feeling the way the bottles vibrated and shook with the far off slamming of bodies against the floor. Your eyes remained fixated on Arthur, and you felt your blood run cold when you saw a man come at him, putting his entire body weight into swinging at him.

His name caught in your throat, but it quickly died down when Arthur dodged the punch, stepping to the side before landing a flurry of punches to the man, kicking him away with his boot. You watched in morbid mesmerization as Arthur continued to fight the man, the fight bordering on unfair as Arthur easily out did the man with skill born of experience. His face was already beginning to bruise a nasty red and deep purple after each punch he took, but Arthur never faltered. Eventually, he knocked the man out cold against a chair, and relentlessly, Arthur moved onto the next. He headed to a group of three men this time, seemingly on his way to help his friend; the same man who started this entire fight.

Arthur’s determination seemed to be helping his friends out of losing fights; it appeared this was something he was used to. Like it was just another daily occurrence for him. But to you, this senseless fighting had no other meaning than to prove who could punch harder.

“What the hell is going on down here?!” Another burling man came stomping down the stairs, his ego just as big as he was, it seemed. Only a man with an inflated sense of self would insert himself into this mess, you thought. You ducked behind the counter, but peered over just enough so that you could see what was going on. You looked to your left, briefly, and saw another one of Arthur’s companions fighting a man. Another man pleaded with this “Tommy” to not involve himself. Your throat became dry as you saw him, with ease, knock back Arthur’s other friend.

Arthur tried to approach Tommy and Javier, but was promptly jumped by another man who wrapped his arm around his neck from behind. Arthur had to continually jab his elbow into the man in order to get him off, the struggle ensuing for excruciatingly long. As soon as Arthur threw him off, he made sure to turn around and land a punch in his jugular, knocking him out. Arthur’s fighting would’ve impressed you, if not for the fact you were terrified.

“Javier could use some help, Morgan!” Bill called out from across the bar.

You watched in terror as Arthur confidently, and calmly, sauntered up behind Tommy, who was ruthlessly slamming Javier into a table over and over, before landing a punch behind Tommy’s head. The impact barely seemed to phase Tommy, before he calmly turned around and punched Arthur across the jaw. The sound of fist meeting flesh made you squirm, especially when it was Arthur’s. You nearly shrieked as you watched Tommy grapple Arthur’s shoulders brutishly before throwing him over the same table. His body tumbled over the surface before landing on the floor with a grunt and a thud. To add insult to injury (and even more injury), Tommy walked around the table and picked Arthur up off the floor once again, before sending his body crashing through the saloon window.

“Oh my god!” You screamed, not caring for your own safety anymore as you followed the scene outside.

Arthur crashed through the glass, gaining new cuts and bruises as he rolled off the wooden porch and onto the mud. He skid across the earth, smothering his jacket and pants with filth. He stood wearily, taking notice of the crowd forming around them. Cold rain poured down on him, only making the surface beneath him even more slippery.

“Come on, pretty boy.” Tommy’s voice was gravelly as he marched down the wooden steps, a parallel to the way Arthur had marched up them earlier.

“Pretty boy? You’re kidding me. Pretty boy?” At this point, Arthur wasn’t sure why he was fighting. To not die, he supposed. He could’ve stepped away at an earlier point, but pride did not allow him to. Now he was stuck in this. The two sized each other up as they got into fighting stances, then Tommy stepped forward and grabbed Arthur’s neck, throwing him to the side.

You heard a cacophony of horrified screams, disapproving howls, and cheers for either Tommy or Arthur. You saw the rage sizzling in Arthur, and felt a combination of pity, horror, and disappointment. It’d been so many years since you last saw him, so many you had lost count, and this was the first time you had seen him since then. The only thing that had changed was how his eyes and hands had hardened. And suddenly, the calluses and cuts on his knuckles that you had seen earlier seemed to explain themselves.

For a moment, Tommy seemed to have gotten the upper hand on Arthur, and you feared the worst. You weren’t sure how far this would go, but your body flinched with each punch you saw Arthur tank. But against all odds, Arthur clambered on top of Tommy.

A smattering of blood and mud smeared all over Arthur’s face, he grunted with each brutal punch he landed onto Tommy’s head. He felt Tommy claw at the thick leather of his jacket, attempting to shove his face away, but Arthur persisted. Arthur got some sort of wretched exultation out of watching the way Tommy’s face turned into one of helplessness. His body thrashed and his limbs flailed as Arthur continued to strike his head, the skin breaking and bleeding from the repeated impact.

Arthur grit his teeth so hard he swore a tooth nearly cracked. He had tuned out the cheering surrounding him, an uninterrupted ringing replacing any other discernible sounds. The only thing he could focus on was the way he would slam his fist, over and over into Tommy’s head, as if in hypnosis. The man below him was a pitiful, bloody pulp; reaching his arms up as if he were begging for some unlikely act of mercy. But Arthur would punch again, and again, and again…

“Stop! Stop! Please!” You watched as Mr. Downes bravely stepped forward, pleading desperately with Arthur to stop. Arthur raised his fist, but did not connect it, instead looking at Mr. Downes. Arthur and Mr. Downes exchanged a few more words before Arthur pushed past him, covered in mud and all, limping away from the scene and pushing past people.

He caught sight of you looking on tearfully, and the gravity of what he had just done crashed down on him all at once when you turned your back and scurried down the alley besides the saloon. Arthur abandoned any resolve he had and followed you. You heard the rugged breathing and heavy footsteps behind you, which only terrified and spurred you on to run deeper into the alley. You turned the corner, back pressed against the rear wall of the saloon. You held your breath, and for a terrifying few seconds, heard the footsteps approaching. As if it were some sort of deliberate jump scare, you yelped when Arthur turned the corner and faced you. Normally you’d find the mud revolting, but now it served to scare you. It made Arthur seem all the more savage, traces of seething rage still present in his eyes. His hair was wild, face bruised and beaten; his blood mixed with mud and smeared his face in a grim unfamiliarity. He took a step towards you, and you flinched, trying to back away but you could not; you could only shuffle to the side.

At once, Arthur was overcome with an unfathomable sense of self hatred and disgust upon seeing the fear present in your face. He felt sickened with himself, and was given a moment of clarity as he looked down at his dirtied hands, his mud smeared clothes, his bruises and bleeding knuckles. Arthur saw his reflection in the window next to you, the person staring back at him unfamiliar, yet startlingly recognizable all the same.

“(Name)—”

“GET THE HELL AWAY FROM ME!”

Arthur’s eyes began stinging, a deep pang hitting his chest. His shoulders slumped and his body sagged, contracting your squared and tensed shoulders, your arms lifted and crossed over your chest protectively.

“You… You… I… I thought maybe you might’ve changed! But you proved me wrong.” You were sobbing at this point, and you weren’t sure whether you were trembling from your anger or fear. Probably both. Arthur could not find the words to respond.

“How dare you! Come into our town, into our businesses, and start a fight! And beat on us like you own the place! You beat that man half to death! WHAT FOR?” Your body buzzed in anxiety, unable to hold in any more of your anger as you shook.

“(Name), he was going to kill Javier back there if I didn’t—”

“You’re an animal!”

Arthur seemed to forget himself once more, feeling rage upon being called an animal. But perhaps it was more than just being insulted. Perhaps it was years of hurt and heartbreak behind his words.

“You don’t know what you’re saying. Listen to yourself—.” He spat through grit teeth.

“Oh I know!” You huffed, lowering your arms now. “Which is exactly why I left in the first place. Why I left you.”

You both felt that one, Arthur the most. The sting was reminiscent of being stabbed in the chest. He turned his sadness to anger, fueling the burning flame inside his chest. It kept him going.

“You left what we had, the good thing that we had, so that you could come and work at some dead end town? Is this really the life you want? Is your way of living any better than what we do?”

“I live a good honest life now!”

“You’re just a naive girl who doesn’t know that sometimes, this is all we got. Some of us don’t have the luxury of being able to just turn away and start anew. For some of us, we only have each other!”

You were enraged at this point, enough to let your guard down and walk up directly in front of him, sizing him up almost.

“I’d rather die working than live my life as a despicable criminal living with a lowdown gang constantly on the run. If that’s your idea of a life, then good god Mister Morgan, I pity you.” Your every word dripped with venom. And you made sure Arthur felt every bit of it, even going as far as to jab your finger in his chest.

“You’re a brat.” He growled. “You seem to forget where you come from. You were once a part of the gang, you went through exactly what I went through and you knew what it was like. And now you wanna act like you’re better than me? Like you’re above me?” He looked back down at you with malice, a hidden layer of hurt and sadness just beneath the surface. He looked somewhere between a kicked puppy and a crazed, rabid dog who’d been rolling in mud.

You said nothing in return, instead falling into some sort of stare off. He looked at you expectantly, but did not anticipate an answer. It was as if by looking into your eyes or expression, he could catch a slight change in your expression that indicated, just maybe, that you did not mean what you were saying. That this was all some adrenaline fueled attack on him after having watched him savagely beat a man. But even he could realize the irony in that line of thought.

But not once did your face soften, or look away from him in a show of discomfort or even intimidation. You stood your ground, heels firmly planted on the mud beneath you both.

Wordlessly, but with a grunt, Arthur moved past you, his arm brushing past and saturating some of your skin and clothes with mud. Arthur grumbled lowly to himself as every fiber in his body urged him to turn around and look at you one last time, to throw himself at your feet and ask if you really meant what you said, but his pride did not allow him.

Even as Dutch spoke to him at the front of the shop, his ears ringed and obstructed any other words from entering and being processed (He hadn’t even questioned Dutch’s sudden appearance with Trelawny). Arthur seemed to look past anyone who spoke to him, only nodding in response when they asked “are you listening?”. It was only when he was able to dunk himself in a nearby barrel of water, did the striking coldness snap him back to reality; the gritty veil over his consciousness being washed away.

The ride back towards camp was a gap in Arthur’s memory. He fell back into a pit of thought that tunneled his vision once again. He was all at once, keenly and uncomfortably aware of every sound and movement around him, but he could not be bothered to give it any thought. The shockwave of impact that traveled up through his body as he got off of his horse rather clumsily did not shake him from his pensive state. He wearily returned the greetings that people sent his way, not in the mood to entertain any sort of conversation with anyone. Arthur wanted nothing more now, than to rest his sore and aching muscles. He changed out of his caked, filthy clothes and changed into his union suit, the clean fabric feeling angelic in comparison to the squalid state of his clothes. His joints began to throb suddenly, as if the pain was triggered at once by laying on his cot, which suddenly seemed to sky rocket in comfortability. A deep ache settled into his side; the side he had landed on after being thrown.

His bed echoed his groan as he rested his weight on it, a large sigh leaving him as pain settled into every cell of his body. His exhaustion overtook him as he slid his eyes shut; his head hitting his pillow like there was a weight tied around his neck. Every bit of his being screamed for sleep, but his racing mind would not allow rest. He thought of you: the terrified look in your eyes after he followed you behind the saloon, the way you looked akin to a wild, injured animal backed up into a corner. He was sure he looked the same.

His bodily aches were accompanied by the pang in his chest as he remembered your heavy words. He squeezed his eyes in an attempt to prevent tears from surfacing, but the pressures in his nasal passages proved to be too much. He turned his back away from camp so that no one could see just how pathetic he looked.

The insults on him, his gang, his way of life. They were all too much to bear. He did not anticipate seeing you at all. He looked back regretfully on how the sweet encounter had turned so sour so quickly; part of him blamed Bill. He could at least find solace in the fact that you had missed him after all these years. As he did. Though he had had women since then, he never did quite forget about you. A boy never forgets his first love. And now that he was a man, those feelings amplified, and he knew it had been more than just puppy love. Part of him could not understand your rejection of the lifestyle. When you initially left the gang, and Arthur by proxy, you explained you could not withstand the violence and bloodshed, but that you respected and understood that this was his way of life, the only way of life he had known, even before he met you and joined the gang. But with the way he had heard you speak so lowly of the gang, he could not understand where all your compassion had gone, especially since you had been part of it.

Part of him still held onto a childlike sense of anger, feeling as though you wronged him in leaving him. But he could at least understand why you decided to up and leave. Perhaps his own judgment of your life had been harsh. You weren’t wrong in saying you lived an honest life, objectively it was better than his. You got to live freely without fear of the law, you made honest clean money, and as far as he knew, you only had yourself to support with the money you made. Arthur hadn’t even considered the possibility you were seeing someone, his stomach dropping at the thought. He was guilt ridden and anxious, nauseated by the thoughts. His temporary solution would be falling asleep to quell it.

When Arthur awoke, it was nighttime. The sun had set, the sky tinged with dark purple that faded into night. Most of the activity around camp had calmed, but many people were still awake. Arthur stood at once, bee lining towards his horse. He ignored any gang members that attempted to come forth and ask him if he was okay, where he was going. Wordlessly, he mounted his horse and spurred it on, riding back towards Valentine.

Perhaps it was unwise to go back into town so soon after raising hell there. But Arthur couldn’t care less. His objective at the moment was to see you. And he hoped to god you’d still be at the saloon. His heart thrummed in time with his horses running, and he began to pant as if he was the one doing the physical activity. Perhaps it was the anxiety that made him so short of breath.

He saw the promising glow of Valentine as he approached the small town, pulling on his horse's reins to try and slow down. His horse trotted down the streets of now dried earth, the prints of shoes and wheels having dried up into casts. He cringed internally when he saw the still broken window of the saloon, the glass having been cleaned up long ago. Luckily for him though, the lights of the saloon were on, and he heard the same lively piano from before. From the outside, it was almost as if nothing had ever happened, but he knew that as soon as he stepped inside, all heads would turn in his direction and stare him down. Arthur was used to looks, he would pay it no mind. But it was the thought of you sending him a disgusted look his way that had his head spinning in apprehensiveness.

Arthur was not a man who was scared of confrontation, and when it came to violence, he was best at letting his fists speak for him. But for more emotional matters, he sounded as eloquent as a child learning how to read for the first time. He would get stuck on using the right combination of words, and would opt towards not saying much at all. But this was something he wanted, and he knew that if was going to ask for your forgiveness, he’d have to put effort into sounding decent.

The hinges of the saloon doors creaked, and as Arthur expected, the volume level of the saloon lowered, the lively chatter dissolving into whispers and grumbles of threats. He looked over towards the bar to see if coming here had been worth his time. And there you were, standing in your confused, and frankly appalled, glory. You were wiping down a glass, continuing for a moment too long as you stared at him.

You had not expected to see him back here, grimacing at the tender purple skin of his cheek. Part of you felt pity, but it was replaced by indifference as you remembered he brought the injuries onto himself. As he began walking towards you, you slammed the glass down on the counter with a sigh and rolled your eyes. The sudden slam startling, but not fully waking, the passed out patron slumped against the counter.

“What are you doing here.” You asked, hand on your hip. It came out as less of a question and more as a statement professing your annoyance. Arthur leaned on the counter, moving his head to the side so he could look anywhere but at you as he attempted to find the right words to start off with. He opened and closed his mouth, and you were beginning to get impatient.

“I’m sorry…”

You were about to demand Arthur either leave or speak up, until you heard his meek apology. You felt your facial muscles relax from the scowl you had held for so long.

“What?” You asked in disbelief.

Arthur fidgeted where he stood, occupying himself by drumming his fingers along the counter. You lowered your arms to your side, fidgeting as well.

“I’m sorry too.”

A moment of awkward silence hung over the two of you before you grabbed his hand; bruised and callused, taken into soft and gentle. You pursed your lips in a half hearted smile before nodding your head towards the stairs. Before Arthur could even understand what you were implying, you were leading him past the bar counter and up the stairs towards a private room.

“What do we need this for? I just wanted to apologize…”

“I know. I just didn’t want my patrons hearing, y’know…” You laughed awkwardly. “A little privacy is nice, they don’t exactly keep their noses to themselves.” You fumbled with your keys, a sweat forming on the back of your neck as you struggled to jam the key into the lock before turning it. Arthur found it rather suggestive, but he decided to move along anyway. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t have the hots for you anymore.

The two of you stiffly scooted over towards the bed; first you, then him, the bed dipping significantly from his weight. The sudden dip caused you to bump into his arm, which neither of you wanted to acknowledge outright. Your thighs rubbed against each other, and at last, you were able to see side by side how much Arthur had grown since you last saw him. Seeing the way he dwarfed you tugged at your heart strings.

“Oh, Arthur… How I’ve missed you… I’m so sorry for saying all those nasty things. And I know it’s no excuse but I was scared and… I felt a little betrayed that you had gone off to fight instead of… coming with me.”

Arthur nodded as you spoke, processing each word.

“And I know I shouldn’t have expected that. They’re your gang afterall, they’re your family. And I don’t think you’re all lowdown, or any of those nasty things I said.” You were gripping Arthur’s arm by now, as if holding onto him at that moment might better help him understand and accept your apology.

“I know sweetheart, I know.” He began. “I’m a fool and fighting’s all I know. It’s all I’ve ever known. I ain’t the smartest… but…” Arthur seemed to lose his train of thought, physically pained by his own mental fumbling. “I’m just trying to say that I’m sorry. I especially don’t have any right to judge your lifestyle.”

It was your turn to nod, slowly breaking into a smile.

“I’m glad you came.”

“I wanted to see you.”

The two of you slowly began to intertwine hands, shyly at first, until you fully sent it and gripped his fully. You felt his arm go tense against you as he looked back and forth from where you two conjoined to your face. The tension in the air had a nostalgic feel to it. It brought you back to all those years ago when you and Arthur had first gotten together. You were so young then. Holding hands also allowed you to feel the size difference, causing the both of you to blush.

“You’ve uh… really grown.” You giggled together. “I mean, you always were much larger than me but my my…”

Arthur nodded, looking down at the noticeable differences between you.

“Yeah, I always did love giving you piggy back rides.” He added. The recalling of the juvenile memory had you laughing even more.

“Oh, how I missed those! And you were always so helpful. Could be really helpful to have you around the saloon, can intimidate some guys away like you did for me when we were younger.”

“Gladly will, sweetheart.”

As the laughter died down, you hesitantly leaned upwards, looking for a sign to stop on his face. Though with more hesitation, you abstained from kissing him.

That is, until he went ahead and did it himself. He let go of your hand so he could cup your face, using the other arm to wrap around your waist and hold you close, as though you might disappear if he didn’t. Your lips molded perfectly against one another. It felt like the reunion of lips that should’ve always been together. And even though you had attempted to peel away from Arthur for so long, the meeting was like two sides of a wound finally mending back together.

The muffled chatter of the downstairs saloon was drowned out by your and his heavy breathing. You pushed your own lips hard against his teeth, gripping the downy tuft of hair at the base of his neck. He was taken aback by your enthusiasm but returned it nonetheless. The men you had had in Arthur’s absence were insipid compared to his passionate kisses. The two of you idly palmed and groped each other, the same tenderness as when you two were younger, but with the renewed passion of lovers long separated, finally reuniting with a more carnal desire.

Memories come in waves, and tonight, you were drowning.

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PHEW this took me days, I can finally work on all my other requests. Thanks for being patient y'all

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All We Ever Wanted Was Everything - Bauhaus

[thebottomfromhell]

In regards to the post about reader dying in their arms, could I request something along the lines of once the upper moons die, reader was waiting for them so they could go to hell together?

Thank you!

Got it. This is also an interesting one since there would be [mentioned in some, to make my life easier] interactions with Koyuki, Daki and Shinobu. I would like to add that this last one wouldn't be a positive one, so sorry if you are a fan of Shinobu, but she is not liking reader so reader is not liking her neither.

Uppermoon meets their male (tbh in this one is more GN, I just say male bc the other prev. ask was more explicit in the gender) demon S/O reader after dying before going to hell. Previous ask here. Also an incorrect quote inspired in the Douma hc.

Warnings: Manga Spoilers, A bit of angst (pk, maybe a tad more than a bit, but still), Mentioned dead/murder, Akaza and Douma have things going on with female characters, Gyokko and Douma are their own warnings, and Karaku starts making out with you the second he sees you.

Gyutaro + Daki:

"Y/N! What is this place?! It's awful! Where is onii-chan?!" You hear a well known high pitched voice first, but the girl in front of you... you knew Daki was young, still a girl rather than a woman, when she was transformed, but this? She can't be older than fourteen. She looks so similar, and yet so different. Unlike you, she looks human and doesn't even seem aware of it. "Daki... stay close, we will find your brother." You say as you turn around, offering your hand whish she takes, feeling the light following you, almost heating up your back, as if telling you to hand over the girl to it. You only fix your grip as you look for Gyutaro in the nothing, and it doesn't take you that much to find him.

"Onii-chan!" Daki screams as she speeds up, still holding your hand to force you to do the same. It's a relief that Gyutaro looks the same as always, you missed that ugly face of his, as he puts his attention on his little sister as she complains and orders him to fix things. Then he looks at you. "Y/N... what are you doing here, ne?" You smile at him gently, he doesn't seem good, beyond the fact that he is dead. He looks... sad. "I was waiting for you, Gyutaro." You answer honestly as he turns around. "Make Ume go towards the light." Ume? Who is U- "What?! What do you mean?!" Oh......... oh...

You are still processing everything as the siblings fight, Gyutaro trying to scare Daki... Ume towards the light, saying hurtful things as she begs to not be left behind. Daki begging? It's just so wrong, but again... this is Ume, just a little girl that has the chance to not pay for more than a century of murder, in between other crimes. And she is the little sister of a young man who is nothing but willing to let her go in order to protect her, the same way he didn't hesitate to become nothing but an extension to her so she could get the lives she wanted and with him only there when she actually needs him. "You and I are not siblings anymore, you are nothing to me." "Gyutaro! We both know you don't mean that!" You have to shut him up after that, but he just sounds so defeated... "Daki, your Onii-chan wants to protect you, to have a better chance that we will. Do you want to go towards the light?" There is little to no people that asks them what they want, you were always the one to fix that.

Ume shakes her head as tears still fall from her face. "NO! I WON'T GO! IF ONII-CHAN DOESN'T GO THEN I DON'T WANT TO! HE PROMISED! HE PROMISED ME WE WOULD ALWAYS BE TOGETHER! HE PROMISED!" When Gyutaro turns around you already have her in your back, shutting her up by the surprise. "Take her hand, she will need her big brother by her side. I will take her there so you don't have to." So he doesn't have to feel the weight of being the one to bring his little sister, his beautiful child, to hell only because he doesn't have the strengh nor the ability to get her something better. "Ne... thank you, Y/N, for everything." He says as he takes her hand, and you step into the fire as she cries.

She probably doesn't even know why she is crying, but she is. You also tear a bit and when you look at your side, Gyutaro is crying too. It's the end, but at least you are together.

Gyokko:

You don't have to say anything, just smirk as you arch one eyebrow as Gyokko's head appears in your hands. "Hey, Gyokko. So you died too, huh?" He barely showed any sympathy towards you when you were dying, and honestly... this is karma. "Urg. Y/N, you will not believe the night I just had!" He inmediately starts complaining, just like the good old times. Honestly, you don't know how much time you spent sitting in the... ground? Is this even a ground? Still, it's nice, you even massage his scalp with your fingers as he goes on. Alive, he could do this for hours, but now there is no time, no real worries, not even the damned sun.

"And everything has been so stressful since you left. Everyone else lacks taste and talent, don't know how to do anything! For the enlightened, I really should have protected you better..." he remains in silence after that, making eye contact with you, as you atill process how to take it. It's a confession or regret? An apology? An "I love you"? None of them? All of them? It still manage to turn your smirk into a brave smile. "I missed you a lot, I didn't really expect you to die but... I guess I really hoped we could be like this once again." He also smiles at that, probably remembering your last conversation when you were dying.

"I also missed you, don't ever go on your own again." "Will you miss me?" You asked that day, and you got the answer you hoped for a second time. "I'm also glad you haven't changed a bit, you are the same as always. The demon I fell in love with." "I love you, Gyokko. Never change" you told him, and he still remembers, you can see that by his facial expressions. Did he think about you the same way you thought about him, you want to ask but at the same time... you know exactly where you are. "Your body is not regenerating." You point out and he sighs in frustration. "I will probably have a full body again the second we step into hell... " there is a pause there, Gyokko is probably as scared as you are to get in that place.

"You know? I remembered that my parents died when I was a kid, their corpses were just in front of me, but I could only feel fascinated by them. I wanted to keep them in the hallways to always be able to contemplate them, but I wasn't allowed. People don't understand the beauty of death, if you had left something behind I would have kept it." It makes sense, maybe because you are still like a demon, but it makes sense. Keeping those you hold dear close even after death, if you need a corpse to do so, so be it. So be it... you stand up, holding Gyokko's head against your chest, protecting it with your arms as you walk into hell. "You will also need a body for me to keep you around." He looks at you a bit surprised, but relaxes and laughes "Well then, I trust you."

Hantengu:

Hantengu inmediately starts a tantrum, throwing himself at the ground (can you even call it ground?) when he saw he was in front of the gates of hell, crying and screaming, trying to gain sympathy of beings that were not around. Just you, but he is so scared he hasn't noticed you yet. "Hantengu." You call him, making him turn around to see you before running straight towards you, hiding his hace in your chest as he wraps he arms around you to keep crying. "Y/N! Y/N! Oh, thank the gods you are here! Why are you in this awful place? It's so scary!" You pat his hunched back to comfort him as you smile, he hasn't changed one bit. "Hello to you too, Hantengu."

It's hard to say how long did you stay like this, Hantengu holds into you as if you were his last chance of salvation, but you were not able to even save yourself. The best you did was stay in this place, awful as he called it, to avoid stepping into hell. You know Hantegu's sanity, if there is any left, won't be able to handle the darkness and emptyness of this place. He is the first being you have seen in what it feels ages, and while you know having a dear face should make it easier... maybe the best is to keep going. Still, you only try to help him to feel better, not knowing how to voice out your opinion. "Please talk to me... say something, anything..."

So you talk, not of anything in particular, you tell him how much you missed him, how much you thought about him, how much you love him, as he rubs his face against you, looking for both physical and emotional comfort. You talk for an even longer time than he was crying, being listenes as he uses your voice as a medium to scape reality, to relax against you and pretend everything is fine. "And... Hantengu, I think we can't really stay here. Nobody is meant to be here." He sighs against you, keeping quiet before answering weakly. "I know, but it's so scary. Why must this happen to us? What did we do to deserve this?" You both know what you did.

You smile, ignoring Hantengu's attempt to fool everyone, himself included, that he's innocent. You only take one of his hands and put yourself behind him, covering his eyes with your free hand. "Do you trust me?" You asks as he trembles against your touch as you blind him, he has always been so paranoid... "I do." But you have always been his safespace, and so he leans on your hand as you guide him to hell, both of you together. There isn't much left to say, but it's ok... it's ok as long as you have your beloved by your side.

Sekido:

{You didn't say anything to Hantengu when you saw him and he doesn't notice you are there. What were you supposed to say? You were not with him, you were with one of his clones, who were just that. Clones, not their own individual, so none of them should have an existence besides Hantengu's Blood Demon Art. But he was not just a clone for you, he was the one you fell in love with, with his defects and quirks. The main body shrieks and cries, trying to hug the ground or whatever this is, not wanting to move on the same way you don't. The black smoke starts to cover him as you only think about your beloved, then you notice said smoke is actually covering him instead of passing as air. When you can hear Hantengu anymore you go where he was and manage to grab his arm to pull him up, only to find him instead.}

"Sekido?" You aske before recieving a hit in the face that makes you fall down, Sekido is clearly angry at you still. "YOU! YOU DIED! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE! HOW DARE YOU SHOW YOUR FACE AFTER ALL YOU PUT ME THROUGH?! YOU LITTLE SHIT! FUCKING BASTARD!" He is still the one to grab you to help force you to stand up before hugging you. "Fuck you, Y/N.... fuck you.... I'm so fucking pissed with you. I told you to not leave." You start to feel the tears in your shoulder, there are so many questions of how this is possible, but for you, the only important thing is that you have Sekido in your arms as you hug him back tightly. "Why did you have to leave?"

You pat his back to comfort him, you didn't want to leave him neither. You genuinely thought you would never see him again and didn't want to go to hell until you came in terms with that. But Sekido is here, so you grab his face softly, tears still falling off his eyes as you go for a kiss. "I missed you too, Sekido. I'm glad I was able to see you again." You smile at him as he begins to curse and avoid looking at you, trying to hide his crying face. "I'm sorry for hurting you" you say even though you know he won't say it back, but your priority is to make him feel better, or at least good enough so he won't hit you again. "Whatever.... I missed you too."

There is a lot going on in your mind right now. Is Sekido real? Or will he turn back into Hantengu the second you both step into hell? The idea scares you, and a lot. You just got him back and you don't want to lose him just now, not yet. You don't even dare to ask, you just want to spend a bit more with Sekido. He notices eventually as you just hug him in silence, he inhales deeply before pulling apart. "You have been here long enough." He takes your hand to guide you to hell, but you refuse to follow. "We will go.... later.... right now can we stay together? Just cuddle?" He sighs tired before hugging you "Fine, we will stay here for a while, but we have to go to hell sooner or later. I'll just wait for you... to feel better about it. But we can avoid it forever." and you say everything you wanted back then but couldn't because of time. You will go to hell eventually, but right now you just want your Sekido in your arms.

Karaku:

{You didn't say anything to Hantengu when you saw him and he doesn't notice you are there. What were you supposed to say? You were not with him, you were with one of his clones, who were just that. Clones, not their own individual, so none of them should have an existence besides Hantengu's Blood Demon Art. But he was not just a clone for you, he was the one you fell in love with, with his defects and quirks. The main body shrieks and cries, trying to hug the ground or whatever this is, not wanting to move on the same way you don't. The black smoke starts to cover him as you only think about your beloved, then you notice said smoke is actually covering him instead of passing as air. When you can hear Hantengu anymore you go where he was and manage to grab his arm to pull him up, only to find him instead.}

"Karaku?" You ask before he takes softly the sides of you face to kiss you in this same position. He sucks into hour mouth as if he was a drunk with his favorite drink, hugging you as he wraps his free hand through tha back of your neck. He doens't pull apart for a while, but grins in a just so wholesome way when ge does. "Hey, hot-stuff~. It's been a while, hasn't it?" There are some tears accumulated in his eyes as he stands up and lunges forward to hug you again. "I missed you so much. You have no idea how glad I am to see you again." You really never thought you would see him again.

"I missed you too." He breathes in by the side of your neck before kissing you again, hungry for you as his arms remains wraped around your neck. There are slurping sounds as he slips his tongue in, making this as messy as he can, and you let him. As if you need this to prove that this is real, that Karaku is really here with you and is not leaving anytime soon. Maybe he also needs to convince himself that this is real, but the trail of saliva joining your tongues together definetely is. "Your kisses are still the sweatest." He says rubbing the liquids of both tears and saliva off his face before using his thumbs to do the same to you as you were to numb to do it yourself.

"What now?" You find yourself asking, because everything is so new and so scary. You don't want to lose Karaku again, and he seems to notice your fear, so he grins with confidence. "Well, Sekido would tell us to hurry up and go to hell, as we are supposed to be doing... but I'm not Sekido. I say we stay here for as long as you need, together." He kisses you again as be both start openly crying, none of you really know what you will do. Or if you even will ever be ready to go to hell... but you are together, chasing for a good time as always. There is no hurry, just enjoy the present if you think the future will take said gift away. Karaku will support you, so stay with him a little more.

Urogi:

{You didn't say anything to Hantengu when you saw him and he doesn't notice you are there. What were you supposed to say? You were not with him, you were with one of his clones, who were just that. Clones, not their own individual, so none of them should have an existence besides Hantengu's Blood Demon Art. But he was not just a clone for you, he was the one you fell in love with, with his defects and quirks. The main body shrieks and cries, trying to hug the ground or whatever this is, not wanting to move on the same way you don't. The black smoke starts to cover him as you only think about your beloved, then you notice said smoke is actually covering him instead of passing as air. When you can hear Hantengu anymore you go where he was and manage to grab his arm to pull him up, only to find him instead.}

"Urogi?" You barely manage to ask before he jumps over you, making you fall down in your ass, wraping his arms and legs around you (around your neck and around your waist, like he used to do), using his wings to shield you both from everything. "Y/N! Y/N! YOU'RE HERE! YOU ARE ACTUALLY HERE!" He digs his talons into your skin as he digs his face in your neck, just under you jaw so you are careful with his head, speacially his horns. You can feel him smelling you as if yo make sure you are... there? That you are you? It's hard to tell, but you hug him back, just relieved you got to see him again. "Hey birdie. It's nice to see you. I missed you a lot."

He pull apart slightly to look at you, his face is full of tears as he keeps smiling. "I really missed you too. I missed you a lot. I missed you a million times!" He rambles, repeating phrases and making some expressions he probably doesn't understand as much. He is really all over you, crying and with knots in his nose, not caring of how he looks or if he gets any fluid over you, just that you are finally there after you left. "I love you so much. I don't want you to go like that again, ever. Promise me you won't leave again. Promise!" You can't help but chuckle, it's almost like a child making a tantrum. He is not behaving that different from a dog welcoming it's owner back home after this one left for more than a day. It's cute, but Urogi has always been cute to you.

But you can't help but fear... will you be able to keep that promise, if you make it, once you cross the path into hell? You are just so happy that you have Urogi right here, right now, and Urogi clearly feels the same way about you. But... will it end? Do you want to risk it? Of couse no, you know that you will have to go to hell eventually... "Baby bird... fill me up with what happened since the last time we have seen each other. I want to hear you talk and make up for lost time. Here and now..." he giggles as you rub the liquids off his face, nuzzling against your hands. You kiss his cheek "And once we are ready... will you fly me to hell?" His wings stand up at that, if he realized your fears you have no idea. "Yeah, we have a lot to make up. Specially that las flight! I'll give you the best flight ever after we finish!" He cuddles with you, and you hope it takes the longest time for him to give you what could be again the last flight.... just a little more, you want him for yourself... a little more.

Aizetsu:

{You didn't say anything to Hantengu when you saw him and he doesn't notice you are there. What were you supposed to say? You were not with him, you were with one of his clones, who were just that. Clones, not their own individual, so none of them should have an existence besides Hantengu's Blood Demon Art. But he was not just a clone for you, he was the one you fell in love with, with his defects and quirks. The main body shrieks and cries, trying to hug the ground or whatever this is, not wanting to move on the same way you don't. The black smoke starts to cover him as you only think about your beloved, then you notice said smoke is actually covering him instead of passing as air. When you can hear Hantengu anymore you go where he was and manage to grab his arm to pull him up, only to find him instead.}

"Aizetsu?" "Y/N?" He just makes eye conctact with you for some seconds before standing up properly. "Hi... It's good to see you.... it's been a long time..." He says shyly, playing with his sleeves, and you just have to wrap your arms around him and dig your face on the side of his neck. "Aizetsu!" He instantly husg you back tightly, none of you let the other go, Aizetsu even lets some tears fall down into your shoulder. "I missed you so much. What happened? Are you ok? How are you here?"

Aizetsu doesn't answer for a while, he lets some more tears fall before rubbing them off his face, calming down, before speaking back to you. "I don't know how, we fused into Zohakuten when it happened, but... we died. Please don't feel... bad about it, I wasn't even aware it happened until I woke uo here. I do feel sad for Zohakuten and Hantengu, though..." he explains as sensible as he can, as always. "I just know my last thoughts, even if I couldn't physically have them, were about you, and suddenly you were actually there, pulling me from... I don't even know from what." That only leave one question. "Will you dissapear back into Hantengu once we cross hell?"

There are some minutes of silence before he answers "I don't know, sorry." He looks away, clearly uncomfortable with his own answer, wishing it was different. "Don't apologize. Maybe we could just... stay here... for a little longer." You cup his face in your hand as you offer the idea, having Aizetsu nodding. He closes his eyes and makes a pout with his lips, clearly asking for attention, so you give him a soft kiss. You can stay together for a little longer, hopefully you won't separate in hell... but your now you both just want each other, before the chance of never seeing the other again, this time for real. "Please more. Kiss the sadness away." You were never able to say "no" to Aizetsu.

Nakime:

After Nakime, you knew a thing or two about patience. For her, for music, for goals... you knew how to be patient. But now you were not being patient, with her Infinity Castle and her role on his (still scary to even think it out loud, even if you are already dead) side, you just never thought she would die. You were just... lost, not knowing what to do anymore, not really wanting to step into hell of all places, when she arrived. "Oh my- Nakime? Wha- How are you here?!" She looks at you, just as surpirsed, when you run to her side.

"I..." she starts softly, still as elegant as ever, even when she looks... defeated. "I'va lost..." How? Against who? No matter how hard you try, you can't even phantom how anyone would survive a fight against her interdimentional fortress. She can control it as her will, smashing anyone against walls and rooms, locking up others for as long as she wants, get the ones around to the other side of the castle with one note... nobody us supposed to defeat that. That is why he prefered her as his right hand instead of making her an Uppermoon the second he stablished the Kizuki. Because she was too important, too powerful, to something else to be put with his best fight hounds. It takes you a little to calm down before talking to her. "Do you want to talk about it?"

You give the most gentle and soft voice you have, just like you she never thought she would be able to die. Nakime looks so lost, so confused, maybe even scared without her fortress shifting at her will, protecting from everything and anything. You take her hands in yours as she slowly regains confidence to tell you everything, how the Hashira got into the castle the same time she got careless as he gave her his favor after she was the one to find their base. She became confident as she managed something not even Kokushibou and Akaza could do after more than two hundred years of searching. "I could... should have killed them with one cord.... but I let them sneak into me with the help of some.... random traitor..." You kiss tha back of her hands to comfort her.

You stay like this for a while, both of you knowing you must go to hell right now. You can feel the itch to move on, nothing compared to the crave od hacing her near that you felt since you fell in love with Nakime. "You did your best. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you." She only shakes her head, clearly not wanting to talk about your own death. You just smile at her "Do you want to finish the journey? Or would you like to stay here a little longer?" She only looks at you for some seconds before walking to hell, still holding one of your hands. Even now you are the one following her, and you wouldn't want it any other way. "I love you, Nakime." Ypu day as you both step into the fire, she answers after a while. "I love you too, Y/N."

Akaza:

Just after you died you stayed in the fine line in between heaven and hell, not being properly able to move on, just like Akaza never did. The surprising part was that there was already someone there, waiting for him. A petite young girl, no older than 16 when she died, Koyuki. She was Akaza's, Hakuji's fiance, and wants to see him again. "Do you really think he will get here? He is Uppermoon Three and the reason there is a Kizuki system. There is no way he will die to the hands of slayers." You were partially right, he didn't die at the hand of slayers. He died at his and Koyuki's.

"Akaza?" You found him crying in her arms. You didn't take part in his defeat, you never would, no matter how much you wanted to see him again. You also wanted him to live. Maybe that is why Koyuki didn't, because the one alive was Akaza instead of Hakuji. "Y/N... you still look like a demon..." he looks torn between both of us, and you can't help but glance at his fiance. She won't go to hell like you both will, and even if she could sneak to it, she would not survive as good as you both could. You are his demon love and she is his human love, one was meant for heaven and another for hell. "I am a demon Akaza, or should I call you Hakuji?"

He looks at his human arms. In the end he chose to die for her instead of living for you. "I will head over to the dark, go when you are ready. I will be waiting, but she has already waited enough for you." You don't want to accept he is dead yet, he had long road to go. What about defeating Douma? Kokushibou? To be the stronger? That was his goal, a simple one but a goal you always supported him with, and that support was everything you left to him. But it doesn't matter anymore, as always, you just want his happiness. "Ok... ok... I'll meet you there.... I love you."

You smile at him and nod, you will say it back after you meet again. If you do... for now, you walk into hell by your own, as you should have all those years ago. Maybe it would be the best if he stayed as Hakuji, maybe is he stays here enough time he could. "Take your time." You are not saying goodbye, even if it feels like one. But you know by Koyuki he was already forcefully taken away from his human life and love, and you always supported him. No stopping now. You love him too much for that, so again, you will wait for something that is not meant to come. "Akaza..."

Douma:

"Who the fuck are you?" You really need to curse right now. You stayed to be able to watch over Douma, sooner or later you should be able to have a glimpse lf something, and you knew he would kill a lot of people, but this is the first time anyone just pops out of nowhere in front of you. A Hashira of all humans, a short and young woman with a fake smile and a venomous gentleness. You can tell inmediately she despises you, and honestly? You are on the same page. Such a polite tone for sarcastic insults and toying with you, parts of you wants to kill her. "What the FUCK?!" You curse again when Douma's head also suddenly appears.... in front of her.

"Oh, hi Y/N!" It's all he says with those fake smiles of his and what- Why- HOW the FUCK is he here? He is Upper Two! Did he eat too much human food?! Did he step on the sun because he was bored?! You can't phantom what happened as that gets you worked up as you take his head away from her as the damn Hashira starts a monologue you don't give a damn about. "Douma WHAT happened?!" To what he smiles sheepishly "Oh, I was poisoned by that lovely woman over there and beheaded by a talented girl and Kotoha's son, Inosuke. Do you remember them? She was extrmely dumb but a sweetheart, and his son was just adorable, he has her face and eyes. But let me tell you, the girl was very rude." Inosuke? You barely remember him, it has been 14 years, but you do remember Kotoha. Douma adored her and she was a sweetheart. From the fact that that baby is alive to that Douma got decapitated, it's all too much to sink in at once.

The Hashira doesn't seem too happy to be ignored, so clears her throat and you let her finish her monologue, mostly because you are still processing everything Douma just told you. Then you snap out of it when you hear "I think I'm in love with you.", you turn and see he meant the Hashira... really? This woman? He didn't say this to Kotoha, but to her he does? "How about you come to hell with me?" Now you press his face against your chest as you turn to dhoield it with your body in disgust "No!" Thankfully, she looks as she hates the idea as much as you and sends Douma to fuck himself before leaving, if to heaven or hell, you have no idea, but she leaves you both alone.

"Douma?" You move his head, holding it gently, to your face level to make eye contact. "You have never been jealous before, did I make you uncomfortable?" You just chuckle as you shake your head. "You did make me uncomfortable." You admit, making him lose his smile, showing an empty face, just like the last time you saw him. "Sorry, it wasn't my intention. But what are you doing here? Don't tell me you were waiting for me." You can only nod at that, making him sigh as he laughs "Wow, you are as dumb as Kotoha. You could have stayed waiting forever like an idiot. That sounds boring, and you should now I wouldn't want that for you." You laugh with him, you are an idiot, you know that as you walk him to hell as you both talk. This is a better way to go down. "A lot has happened since you left, things have been emptier since that... I'll fill you up."

Kokushibou:

You will be honest, even though you were waiting... you really didn't expect Kokushibou to die, much less so soon. And yet the familiar three pair of eyes make tou freeze. What is he doing here? There is no way he actually died, is it? Uppermoon One? The most powerful Demon after the first one to exist? You don't even know what to say, if you should say something, more convinced this is an illusion caused by how much you miss Kokushibou that the chance that he is actually here. It's just not possible, that is why you are here instead of hell, because it wouldn't make a difference since in neither case you would see him again. You were not waiting, yearning yes, but not waiting. "Y/N." He is the dirst one to say anything after a while of uncomfortable eye contact.

It is his voice, but you still can't react. It's. Not. Possible. You rub your eyes thinking Kokushibou will dissapear, getting frustrated as he doesn't, on the opposite, Kokushibou walks closer to you. You tense as he is just three steps away from you, then holds your head, just the same way he did to secure you in his lap as you were dying. "Kokushibou?" You have to ask, and he seems pleased to be recognized by you. "What happened?" You really have to ask, because you still can't phantom how did he get here, with you, to the dead ones. He evades your gaze, clearly not wanting to talk about it. "It doesn't matter, I'm glad of seeing you again." You still don't know how to react. Kokushibou died, he actually died.

"Are you ok?" Is all you can ask after some moments of silence, usually you were the one talking between the two, and for the first time since you started your relationship, you don't know what else to say. He looks at you firmly after you asked, also not saying anything, just giving a deep sigh. "Yes... I wanted this." He says, but you know better than to believe that. "Don't lie to me, or even try to lie to yourself in front of me." You can tell, he never wanted any of this. He didn't want to die, he never wanted to die, even as demons you could tell, he feared death, but it was something none of you had to worry about. Until you died, and until now.

"I still need... time to think. I have been doing everything wrong for a long time... I will be better... maybe." Maybe... you really don't know what to make of that, but he offers his hand to you. "We should get going." You can see Kokushibou trembling, he is actually scared to cross... whatever this is. Only because of that is that you actually take his hands and walk before him, guiding him to hell. There is still a lot to think about... but you will have time later. "I missed you." You say as you fix your hold as you both walk through the flames, when you turn around Kokushibou seems fixated by them, to the point you don't know who is he talking to. "I missed you too."

[perpetualproductions]

Never Be The Same- Chapter 8

Stay

- The weight of recent events weighs on everyone, as the couple tries to take a moment to themselves to escape it all... But nothing lasts forever.

(Title Song: Stay by Rihanna ft. Mikky Ekko)

[a/n: A short one. But a doosey. Sorry it took so long. Enjoy.]

CW: Angst. Miscommunication. Overall high emotions.

2.1k words

<-Previous | Next->

The whole car ride home is spent in silence, the heaviness of the situation weighing down on them all. When they eventually pull up to the apartment building, Marie turns off the ignition and no one makes a move to leave yet. After a moment, Jordan starts to get out of the car, but Marie reaches over, placing a hand on their shoulder. Jordan halts their movement, looking back at Marie with a tired and questioning look. Marie looks back to Emma before addressing Jordan. “Hey Em, can I have a minute with Jordan please? We'll meet you inside,” she asks her friend softly, giving her a look that Emma notes, giving back an understanding nod.

“Take all the time you need.” Emma says, giving Marie a reassuring pat on her arm and getting out of the car, leaving the couple to themselves. 

Jordan keeps their eyes on Marie the whole time, waiting to see what she wants. As much as they loved her being back in town, they were admittedly drained (especially emotionally) from their interaction with Andre. Once Emma is inside the building Marie faces forward and starts the engine once again. This earns a confused look from Jordan. “What are you doing?” They ask.

She looks over at them for a second before pulling out and driving back onto the road. “We're going somewhere. Put on your seatbelt.” She adds, simply, not giving Jordan anything to go off in regards to her plans here.

They reluctantly put their seatbelt back on, sighing. “Can I at least know where you're taking me?” 

Marie glaces over, noticing their tense yet exhausted demeanor. “Relax Jordan, I'm not kidnapping you. It's just a short trip. Trust me.” 

Well they definitely trusted her, there was no question about that. And they would argue that this definitely is a kidnapping, but they really weren't feeling up to it, so they relented. “Fine. Whatever…” they sigh, facing forward to the city night streets, trying to see if they could guess where they were headed. 

They'd been driving for almost 20 minutes now, Jordan now giving up on trying to find out where Marie's taking them. The car eventually slowed to a stop, Marie killing the engine and taking a breath. Jordan looks out the window, surprised to find themselves at a park, obviously empty this late at night. “A park?” They ask, turning to look at Marie. 

“Yup.” She responds, taking the keys out the ignition and getting out of the car.

“Okay… why?” They yell after her, also getting out of the car to follow her. Marie doesn't answer them as she makes her way over to the playground, Jordan just behind her. She stops at the swing set, a soft smile finding its way onto her face as she goes to sit down on one of the swings. Jordan takes note of this, looking around, trying to pinpoint what was possibly special about this place. “Um, okay…” Jordan goes to sit down on the empty swing on Marie's left. “Why here?” They ask softly, sensing some emotional significance to this place. 

Marie sighs, before pointing out towards the street. “I used to live just down that road. Before… you know.” She finally looks over to Jordan, meeting their soft gaze. “My sister and I would always come here to hang out whenever we could. She loved these swings.” Marie looks down for a moment, getting a bit emotional reminiscing about her sister. She clears her throat, attempting to recompose herself. “Anyways, anytime I had a particularly rough day, I'd sneak out at night and come here. It's just so quiet and peaceful at night. No one is around to bother you this late.” She shrugs, “I don't know, I thought maybe I'd show it to you and maybe you could use it too-” Marie's ramble is cut short by Jordan, who's now standing in front of her. They move forward, wrapping her up in a big hug, Marie quickly reciprocating it.

Jordan squeezes her tight, burying their face into the crook of her neck, holding her as if they were afraid to let her go. “I missed you.” They mumble to her.

Marie nods, holding on to Jordan as much as she can. “I've missed you too.” she whispers back. Marie nestles into Jordan, feeling right at home in their arms, but a sniffle coming from them causes her to pull back a bit. She's met with a teary eyed Jordan. “Jordan, hey-”

Jordan immediately pulls back, clearing their throat as they wipe their eyes. “Sorry- Sorry, I just-” They switch into their male form, backing up and turning away from her as they try to recompose themselves. 

Marie sighs, shaking her head as she gets up from the swings, stepping closer to Jordan. “No, don't do that, not with me Jordan.” She reaches out to them, to turn them around, which they let her do. 

Jordan looks at her with a tired, tear stained look. They sniffle again, wiping more tears away. “Sorry, I know, I- I'm trying. I'm just…” they take a breath, looking up at the starry night sky for a moment, before looking back down at Marie. “There's just a lot, it's all just a lot. And you know how I get when there's a lot going on, I- I push it all down, I self-destruct or whatever, but-” they pause their rambling for a second as they step closer to Marie, placing her hands into theirs and gently holding them. They look into her eyes as they try to slow themselves down. “But right now… I'm not. Right now, I'm just standing in a park, with you, and- and nothing is moving but me and you. Just- just let me be here, in this moment, with you.” They bring her closer, running their hands up her arms to her elbows and touching their forehead to hers. They look deep into her eyes as their warm breath intermingles with hers in the cold air. “Just for tonight, let's just be here... Please.”

Marie just looks at them, a soft, understanding look on her face as she reaches up to hold Jordan's face in her hands, gently rubbing the tear stains off their cheeks with her thumbs. “Okay.” She whispers, giving a small nod.

Jordan sighs in relief, leaning into Marie's touch. “Thank you.” They whisper back, dropping their hands to her waist, just basking in her presence. 

They stay like that for a couple minutes, holding each other as they gently sway side to side. The warmth of their embrace keeps the cold night breeze at bay as Marie focuses on the sound of Jordan's heart, the steady beat bringing her a sense of comfort that she hasn't felt in a while. She instinctively pulls them closer, wrapping her arms around them, heads resting against each other. She can feel their breath on her face as she leans up, Jordan meeting her halfway till their noses touch. They stay there, lips hovering less than an inch apart from each other. They're hesitating. A few months ago they would have never hesitated to kiss one another, but at this moment, the last time they kissed was weeks ago. They've just been apart for too long. So what were they waiting for? Jordan thought before closing the distance between them, not wasting another second. Lips crash together as they melt into each other, the kiss immediately deepening as they grip the other as if it were the last time they ever would. One of Jordan's hands gently holds Marie's jaw, the other gripping her hip as Marie's hands tangle into Jordan's hair, keeping them close. And it's as if everything is right again. Any and all problems and troubles going on in their lives fade away. There's no work or college or Vought, and they aren't miles away from each other. It's perfect, they're perfect, this moment is perfect. But then, a small nagging thought reminds Marie… perfect doesn't last. 

The thought worms its way into Marie's head, ripping the curtains down and blinding her with reality, her responsibilities. As perfect as this moment is, as much as she loves Jordan, she knows this can't last forever. She's been wrestling with these thoughts for a while now. She wants it to last, she wishes she could stay here in their arms forever, but she has to go back to Maryland, back to school and work and… Annabeth. 

In between all the chaos of balancing school and work, she resumed her search for her sister. She has found something, a clue. She saw a photo from a Facebook account, she recognized a face that could belong to a slightly older version of her little sister. She wasn't tagged, but she tried her best to follow the rabbit hole, figuring out the others in the picture, who took the picture, where it was taken. It could be leading to nothing, another dead end, but Marie feels it, in her gut, that she's close to something. She can't give up on that. 

Jordan feels Marie tense up in their arms, causing them to pause, pulling back to make sure she's alright. Their eyes meet for a second before Marie quickly shifts her gaze away from them. She takes a step back, putting some distance between her and Jordan, but they follow her step, reaching out to hold her arms. Jordan desperately tries to get Marie to look at them, gently squeezing her arms to get her attention. Marie closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, trying to steady herself. She reminds herself that she can't get pulled back into the moment, or she might never be able to leave. They've had their moment, and they'll have another one the next time she can visit. They're busy people, they both have responsibilities that they can't ignore. They can't stay.

Jordan doesn't even bother speaking. They've had their fair share of arguments today. They knew she was gonna pull away again, like she always does. They know she has to drive back to Maryland in the morning, but they thought they had more time, that maybe they'd be able to convince her to stay just a little longer till she actually had to go back. They know her schedule, basically memorized it, and she doesn't have any classes tomorrow, and she can afford to miss one shift to spend time with them, cause she hardly ever does anymore. Of course Jordan is thinking the worst, that she's leaving them, finally fed up with them, moving on with her life. But no, that's not Marie. She wouldn't do that, would she?

Regardless, they've been here before. They know why she isn't looking at them, but still they stare at her, begging her to look back, just this once, and just stay with them. They take a breath, stepping closer and holding her jaw in their hand, trying to get her to look up at them. She lets Jordan lift her head up, as she steadies her breathing, preparing herself to look them in the eye. She opens her eyes, looking right at them. As much as it hurts her to look into their deep, pleading eyes, she knows they'll understand. If anyone understands prioritizing academics and future career, it's Jordan. It was one of the many things she admired about them. And Jordan would understand Marie focusing on finding Annabeth, (Though, she hasn't told them yet. She was trying her best to not get her hopes up. If this path actually leads somewhere, then she'll tell them). Besides, this will only hurt for a moment, but they will be back together again. They always come back together. That's what she holds on to as she steps back, gently pulling herself out of their hold. “I have to drive back to Maryland tomorrow. We should get going.” She speaks in a flat tone as walks past Jordan and back towards the car. 

All Jordan can do is watch as she walks away from them. They hate seeing her walk away. They used to not mind because they knew she'd always come back, but this time… they weren't so sure. 

— 

The ride home is spent in complete silence, neither of them wishing to acknowledge the multitude of unsaid words they really should be communicating with each other. Once they get back to the apartment, Marie b-lines to Emma's room, closing the door behind her before Jordan could do anything. They sigh, switching to their fem form as they shove their jacket off and throw it on the couch. They walk over, pausing for a moment as they contemplate walking into Emma's room, but they give up, walking into their own room and slamming the door shut behind them. 

…She was gone by morning.

--

[Finally did the thing! So sorry it took me so long to upload this. Things just kept getting in the way. But here it is! It's a pretty short one, but it's also filled with angst. Thank you so much for reading my stuff, I'm glad people are enjoying it. And a huge thanks, once again, to Venus @minthandsoap 💜 for helping me out big time with this fic. I'm considering this the end of this act of sorts. Kinda. Really just me saying the next update won't be for a while. Kinda waiting till life calms down a bit, so maybe around august. Until then, thanks for reading.]

Much love, 😎👍❤️

-PB

[mxmoonjelly17]

PEARLJELLY RAMBLE!!!!

oops all insanity - sponsored by me :]

I believe that Frilled Jellyfish Cookie and White Pearl Cookie is unrequited feelings yuri. The one with the unrequited feelings being Frilled Jelly. It feels like out of all the gem mermaids, Frilled Jellyfish cares about White Pearl the most. If she had her memories, i’m sure she would have insisted on finding a way to talk to Black Pearl despite the dangers. Not only that, but her extra dialogue (for when you unlock her as a playable character and she’s able to wander around your kingdom/you’re able to view her stats, etc.) White Pearl Cookie often. (I think crimson only mentions her specifically like ONCE lmaoo) Ik using this as evidence for lore might be not the best but it must hold some weight considering devsis will drop information like Butter Roll Cookie being a student of the darkness school place thing in the form of an interaction with Espresso Cookie. Which they wouldn’t add for no reason. Anyways examples of Frilled Jellyfish Cookie mentioning White Pearl that are relevant here are; (important stuff is in italics, with notes sprinkled in)

“My job is to keep White Pearl Cookie beautiful as always.” (She thinks shes pretty 😭)

“I’ll never forget the day I met White Pearl Cookie!” (She says this like it was the best day of her life and yk what good for her honestly she needs a win)

“Almighty Sea is behind all fateful encounters!” 

“The Sea guided me to my lady. T’was Fate!” (this and the two previous lines of dialogue mentioned HAVE to be connected in some way im sorry yall)

“Doesn’t the rippling moonlight remind you of a shiny pearl?” (I feel like this could be connected to Seamoon in a way. With Frilled Jellyfish taking the role of Moonlight Cookie, someone White Pearl yearns for even though she’s ‘gone’ [gone as in dead but not really] and can’t reach her iff that makes sense)

“Dear jellyfish, do you got any stories for White Pearl Cookie?” (Goes out of her way to make White Pearl Cookie happy)

“White Pearl Cookie is who I serve!” (the way this line is delivered makes her sound so proud of this fact)

“White Pearl Cookie is the most lovely gem mermaid there is!” (GUYS COME ON???? THERES NO WAY SHE ISNTINLOVEAUFIGUSHGS IUOH)

Anyways, as shown, Frilled Jellyfish cookie talks about White Pearl a lot. Moreso than Sea Fairy Cookie references Moonlight Cookie which is saying something considering what she does in A Mermaid’s Tale LMAO. Another example of Frilled Jellyfish Cookie showing how much she cares about White Pearl is being on her deathbed and deciding to tell White Pearl how happy she made her (I liked the life of following the currents aimlessly, but only having met you down here made me truly happy.”) and comforts her as she nearly dies. Also there’s “Soon i’ll get back up as if nothing happened. To be with you.” like???? Cmon ya’ll. Then, post near-death, even after losing her memories, forgetting her name. There’s still a small part of her that somewhat remembers White Pearl, or at the very least recalls that there’s someone important she’s missing. 

So yeah, Frilled Jellyfish Cookie is in love with White Pearl Cookie. No cap.

As for White Pearl? I think she doesn’t have any feelings for Frilled Jellyfish Cookie beyond platonic at the moment. But if she were to hypothetically, get a redemption arc then maybe, just maybe. She’d begin to fall for the jelly. If Black Pearl and Frilled Jellyfish cookie reunited then it’d be an arc of Black Pearl learning to be vulnerable, accept love, and push past her probable trust issues and love again. Also get over yk, losing her pearl. With Frilled Jellyfish cookie, having accidentally stumbled upon her (still without her memories, though she may have recovered some because of the gem mermaids.), and slowly recovering her full memory while falling in love with the Lady of the Black Sea all over again. They both fall for eachother basically and it’s great and omfg i need to write a FIC.

As a bonus, here’s some headcanons.

WP and FJ would swim through the sea currents together for fun. Very relaxing.

FJ is older than WP by like a year I think. To me they both seem to be in a similar age range but FJ seems slightly more mature. Though not on the same level as Crimson Coral who’s probably in her 30-40’s(?) she seems old.

If my redemption arc idea happens it’d be FJ who’d find Black Pearls’ pearl somehow and then try to return it to her <3 it’s like a proposal.

I think WP would have taken FJ to the surface once or twice, though FJ was too hesitant to stay for too long. Even if she loves her lady.

The two will go out together and WP will listen to FJ tell her stories, the two have a secret designated spot for it that nobody knows about.

I have more but like. This post is long enough. 

This is my ramble!!! Sorry for this CRK Tumblr i couldn’t resist. Oh yeah their shipname is Pearljelly and I love them. 

[artistsfuneral]

Hello! My current project is a ciri x Roche- lol sorry, I couldn't resist, what is with this girl. 😂 I'm working on a jaskier/Geralt fic today, or I will when I'm permitted to move. Right now my labor is required to pet a very good cat. He is orange and very fluffy. Do you have a current project you're excited about? If you're still taking prompts, how about something with cutagens? :3 Do you think cat wtichers, or witchers in general, scent mark the way real cats do? Now I'm picturing Geralt rubbing his jaw against Roach lol. Or you could do something with Jaskier discovering that wolf witchers all sleep together in piles in the winter, like puppies. Whatever you feel like. Have a good day!

VERY THIN ICE my dear 😂😅 [they had us in the first half, not gonna lie]

I hope you got into safety from your hostage situation and managed to work a bit on your fic!

My creativity is a bit all over the place right now, I'm doing lots and lots of things. I returned to journaling, did a lot of crocheting, drew a bit, wrote a bit, got into fantasy map making, consumed a lot of Gab Smolders horror Let's Plays, started learning norwegian for no reason, etc. etc. Chaotic, but I'm having fun!

Fandomwise I'm also all over the place, but maybe returning a bit to the witcher? Honestly I just love this fandom so much, that's why I keep coming back. So many talented people. ❤❤❤

I have SO MANY cutagen thoughts. So many. So, so many. Have you read my stories? You should totally (re)read my cutagen stories! My main... focus? when I think about how different schools interact with each other is to think about how each school should have different cutagens to make them unique and kind of to keep things interesting? (a cut here because this got long)

See, I've had cats for most of my life and currently we have one cat and two doggos, so I can get a bit particular about cutagens. So whilst I definitely love the thought of all witchers purring when they're happy, part of me says NO! only kitties purr! (which would include Griffins and Manticores) What do wolves do then? Dogs and wolves have this kind of happy growl that's not really a growl just a kind of noise they make that varies from dog to dog. Some have a barky-howl, a soft awuu, others whine or huff. It's a bit hard to describe if you never heard it, but if you watch enough funny dog videos you know what I'm talking about. Especially some of the more vocal wolves just growl constantly which sometimes sounds like a dangerous growl, but they just have these... gravely growly voices.

Cats playing versus dogs playing is also super interesting. Both chase each other around the house, swat and paw at each other, biting is on the table but cats will just use their paws a lot more and dogs definitely bite more. If your cats get loud while playing, 60-70% of the time that's an angry noise. Dogs are almost always loud when playing rough and they're having the time of their life.

I actually fell in love with dogs when my friend took me out to walk two of them and she let them off leash and they immediately started playing like two feral viking gods- It looked so rough, they were so loud and fast and you could see the power behind it when they tackled each other with their full body weight. Absolutely chaotic. But they were having the time of their lives. (they were very well matched strength and size wise and had known each other for years, so it was totally normal for them to play this crazy)

Okay getting off track, you did this to yourself nonny. ❤😂

My favorite wolf witcher cutagen headcanon is that they have hackles. Just- a row of really dense, thick fur that starts just above their shoulder blades and grows along their spine/neckline up and into their hair. And it first starts to grow in when the mutagens slowly settle into their genes (there's this whole eating magic mushrooms thing before the Grasses) and some of the wolves decide to shave it off (especially those that spend more time in cities - makes them appear more normal) butthe hackles actually help a lot with communication. A raised hackle means distress of some sort and depending on how high it's raised the higher the level of stress is. But it's also great for character design- A dog's hackle depends on their fur texture and length. Really short hair means a spiky little hackle, icredibly long hair means you can't really see it rising and some dogs (like my own :3) have a type of fur that makes their hackle look like a hyena/dinosaur monster. Very prominent, very obvious and easy to read. (Lambert would have one of those.) I actually drew you some fanart that I will add to this post if I remember, where you can kind of see what I mean. 👀😁

Scent marking is a dominant trait in the cat cutagens. Everything and everyone has to be marked as someone's. No argument here. I don't really know if wolves do it as much as the cats, but at least a little bit. (I do like to write it into my stories because it's the right kind of possessive behaviour *swoon*) I think from a logical standpoint the big difference would be that dogs/wolves smell very strongly when wet and that anything they use a lot (like a favorite blanket or Jaskier) equally starts smelling like wet dog when wet. Can't say I noticed that with my cats. Also wet dogs are more prone to rub themselves against you? Don't know if that's a scent thing or a "you make a great towel" thing.....

Yeah, I think I will leave it here for now 😂😂😂😂 kudos if you've come so far. If you have anything else cutagen wise that you need my opinion on let me know XD

[blackfilmmakers]

Gwiles is not a thing in their respective comics. They never dated and aren't even close friends in them. They had one crossover where Gwen kissed Miles after visiting earth-8, immediately apologized for it, said she didn't want them to feel pressured into anything, and they agreed they rather be friends. Dassit. They hadn't been in each others comics before that and haven't been in each others since. I think what's throwing is in the original atsv preview, Miles had one drawing of Gwen, and that's much more in line with how his comic character views her. He was not pressed. But they scrapped that to make it more awkward.

But Miles looking so gone on Gwen because he's mistaking unresolved trauma for deep interest in her would make sense given his age/everything he's been through/the theme of the films. And taking time to actually face/process his trauma looks like it's been setup to play a huge role in btsv.

Margo and Miles spider senses going off so specifically and having them shook also means something since the creators focus on it. The art book confirms Margo thinks Miles is cute and says she plays a bigger role than expected. Maybe just by being her confident/ brilliant/caring/funny/cute self, she helps Miles see what direct mutual attraction is like when you're talked to and treated like an equal (not a kid), don't have to constantly worry about proving your value, and aren't dealing with mixed signals. Maybe he helps her embrace the possibility of being fully present in a relationship with someone who listens to and values her, and helps her to stop isolating to avoid her trauma as well. Or maybe Miles puts the spider society behind him but he and Margo forge some other specific forever bond.

Either way, the black director knows the weight of the position he is in and is very protective of Miles, Margo and Hobie. There's often only so much we can do at times, but you can see the love for black history and culture in big/small places and interactions all throughout atsv, and places where it's a relief that a black person who cares has been present in the room to say not on my watch to things. While spiderbyte and Hobie weren't written to have a ton of screen time in atsv, every second was made the most of and they're genuinely well written/acted/drawn/animated and authentic. I also think the the writers and directors do really want to get this right, people are in for a surpise and many of the fears around btsv will be proven wrong. But given media's treatment of and white ignorance around handling black main characters, some vigilance probably doesn't hurt.

I don’t go here, so I’ll have to take your word on the comics thing

But I do think your take of Miles’ crush being a result of his trauma is plausible. Regular teen crush moments aside, the idea Miles puts so much focus onto Gwen he forgets about the others doesn’t sound like his character

But at the same time, my bar is low. We’ve had Black creators that still succumb to the stereotypes, despite all the good rep for Black stories they do. So I have to wait and see

[do-it-for-the-fandom]

Fic prompt: Linchpin, after the iconic “maybe you should ask your girlfriend” jealousy scene, Castle shows up at Becketts place and they have sex k thanks bye

“Castle?”

There was something about her voice - hushed and a little raspy, but filled with concern - that temporarily simmered his anger.

Is everything okay?

The words remained unspoken but he knew they were there, on the tip of her tongue. Because, of course they were there. Why else would he be frantically banging on her door in the middle of the night, if nothing was wrong?

He was here because he couldn’t sleep.

He couldn’t sleep because of her, because of their argument, because of her jealousy.

Jealousy that had been an ominous presence from the moment she met Sophia; lingering, festering, bubbling below the surface just waiting to explode.

He could see it in her eyes when he’d caught her watching his interactions with Sophia, hear it in the way she spoke so clinically, professionally. Mostly, he could feel it in the distance she kept. From him, from Sophia. He hated it.

But he hadn’t done anything wrong, of that he was adamant! So, he had a past: who didn’t? And, sure, he wouldn’t particularly want to work with one of her exes… but it’s not like that’s never happened before.

And - as much as he hated it - he wasn’t hers. She had no claim to him.

“You have no right,” he said, his thoughts stumbling from his mind and out of his mouth without his permission.

He didn’t give her time to register the words, just pushed his way past her and stalked further into her apartment. He had something to get off his chest and he was sure her neighbours would appreciate if he didn’t do it from the hallway.

“Please, come on in,” she muttered sarcastically, closing the door behind him.

“It’s got to stop,” he stated firmly as he turned around to face her. “The sarcasm, the snide remarks. I’m sick of it.”

Beckett rolled her eyes.

“And that!” he blurted, jabbed a finger in her direction. “The eye rolling! You can’t be mad at me for something that happened a lifetime ago, Kate. And, you know what? Even if it did happen to be just last week, you still have no right.”

She stared at him, folded her arms across her chest and shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “I have no idea what you’re on about.”

“You’re jealous.”

“Jealous?” She scoffed. “Of what?”

“Of my relationship with Sophia,” he replied, matter-of-factly.

She paused, taken aback by how… present tense that answer sounded.

As if he could read her mind, he continued. “A relationship that ended a long time ag-”

“I see the way you look at her,” she interrupted bitterly. “The way she looks at you. She loved you.”

“She loved me,” he reiterated, working on calming himself down. “In the past.”

He took a slow, deep breath as Sophia’s voice echoed in his mind: I’m still quite fond of you. His eyes drifted, seeking out a safe place to hide his guilt.

“You said 'it was never the way it is with us'. What did you mean?” Kate asked. “Did you love her?”

“It wasn’t love,” he admitted. He waited, but when she didn’t say anything he forced himself to meet her eyes again and continued. “I know love now and- and what Sophia and I had wasn’t it.”

“It wasn’t… the way it is… with us,” she repeated his sentiment shyly but surely.

He stared, dumbfounded.

Was he dreaming? Or, did she just-?

She stepped forward, invading his space entirely and his brain just couldn’t comprehend that this was reality.

It wasn’t the way it is with us.

Because, with ‘us’, it was love. He knew it… and apparently so did she.

“Castle?” She said his name softly, luring him from his thoughts.

She obviously wanted him to say something, but no words would form, no words seemed… enough.

Her hands found his face, held him gently as her thumb brushed across his cheek.

“Nothing is- nothing ever has been the way it is with us, Kate,” he promised.

He tried to wait, to hold back long enough to let her absorb his words, their meaning, the sincerity; but her lips called to him, coaxing him. He brought his hand to the back of her head and guided her closer.

He couldn’t hide the desperation he felt as their lips met; frantic, heated, devouring.

Her arms wrapped around his neck and she pulled herself closer, pressing her body against his and he never needed anything as much as he needed her right now.

He trailed kisses from her mouth to her chin, along her jaw and down the column of her neck; nipping and sucking at flushed and sensitive skin. Each sweet, little moan that came from her sent shivers down his spine, encouraging him to continue his exploration.

"Tell me you're mine," she said between ragged breaths. "No one else."

"There's no one else," he promised, taking the lobe of her ear between his teeth.

She pulled back and he forced himself to stop, to look into her eyes, to make sure they were still on the same page.

"Just us," she whispered.

She reached down and laced her fingers with his.

"Make me yours, Castle," she said breathlessly before leading him to the bedroom.

[lady-villain-imagines]

hi!!! I absolutely adore your writing,female characters are so underappreciated! :< could I request the huntress, the spirit, the pig, and maybe danielle dimitrescu (if that's not too many characters) with a gn!reader who's very flirtatious when they should be intimidated? tysm in advance, have a nice day ^^!!

Aww, thank you so much hun! <3 <3 I'm glad you like it!! Sorry this took so long :') Here you go, giving the girls the rizz.

Huntress, Pig, Spirit & Daniela Dimitrescu x gn! Flirtatious reader

The Huntress

Anna could confidently say everyone she had met up to this point in her life was intimidated by her. She was a hunter, and even if they hadn't realized it yet, they would be the prey. You, of course, were different. She had reflexively lifted her hatchet at the sight of someone, keeping it raised as you made your flirty advancement. That took her aback. To be unswayed by her and try to gain her affections?

Lowering the hatchet, she stared down at you with her shiny black eyes behind her mask. When you do not falter, she bends down to make eye contact. Placing the blunt top of her hatchet against your chest, she gently rests it against your breastbone.

"You are silly prey" her voice was gruff from disuse and a thick accent, "Walking to a hunter." Pulling her hatchet back to her side, she stepped forwards to be looming over you, maintaining eye contact. She was clearly waiting to see what your plan was now, but now she had the slightest smile on her face.

The Spirit

Rin had no idea how long she had been dead, exacting her rage into helpless survivors. In her time, however, she had learned that survivors typically backed away from her as she manifested herself next to them. It was anticlimactic for you to turn at her and hit her with a smile even as her katana had already been drawn from her own arm.

She couldn't help but pause, tilting her head and her joints crackling as she shifted around. When you flirted with her immediately, she just sat there staring at you with a slightly gaping mouth. The rage that encompassed her softened for a moment as she was hit with a rare memory from her past of such softness, before her murder.

It didn't feel real to hear and left her reeling. In a way that was almost shy, she phased away, deciding to just avoid you for as long as she could. When she was able to be alone again, she couldn't get the interaction out of her head. If anything could warm her frozen heart it was that smile you had given her, and she wasn't going to avoid you for long once she figured herself out.

The Pig

With a roar, she tackled you to the ground, her hidden blade digging into the flesh over your ribs as she wrestled you underneath her. She sat up, ramming her knee into your chest to keep you down on your back as she reached to grab a bear trap from her belt.

Amanda's pig head mask damn near flew off her body as she snapped her head back to stare at you when she heard you purr out a compliment. She couldn't have possibly heard you right. But you continued to flirt, not wiggling a bit under her weight, not fighting even as Amanda unhooked a trap. Amanda's thin hands were clutching the piece of metal as if she was frozen staring down at you.

She tilted her head, reaching a hand under your head to lift you up towards her, never breaking direct eye contact through the masks beady emotionless eyes. She let herself twist her fingers into your hair before bringing the trap around to snap it onto your head.

"Very cute." She leaned forwards as she cranked the trap into place, breath fanning over you face. "If you get out of this, we'll have to have a date or something." With that, she shoved herself off of you and continued her hunt like nothing had happened.

Daniela Dimitrescu

Oh, she liked you. She loved you matching her energy even as she had you at her mercy. Her venomous yellow eyes were glittering as she held you tightly in front of her.

"Look at you! You're really not scared at all?" Her face was close to yours, and as you continued to give her honeyed words her grin stretched wider, the blood at the edges of her mouth cracking a bit.

Pulling you closer to her, she entertained no idea of you pulling away and it was entirely your doing. Dragging her face along your neck, smelling your blood in a deep breath. Your pulse wasn't racing yet, and she did find that a little annoying. Weren't you excited?

"I didn't even have to try to make you fall for me... and you smell so good." She purred with her chest pressed against yours, her wild strands of hair brushing against your face. "You're a treat I'll have to savor... I hope I can convince mother to let me keep you."