#what's a dream petals date

[readwritealldayallnight]

It’s been months since Simon has been home

All he wants is to see you, his sweet girl, so much so that he loses track of what the actual date on the calendar is, in favour of counting down the days, hours, and minutes until you’re in his arms again

That’s why Simon’s surprise when he walks in to the local shops is genuine, before quickly turning into annoyance, when he notices that almost all the shelves are stocked with things for Valentine’s Day

Bright red, pink, and purple gifts covered in glitter and sparkles, sequins and jewels, all of them screaming out one word, over and over and over again for shoppers to see

Love

It’s a word Simon tries not to think about too often, in spite of it being part of his daily vocabulary

Yes, while your hunk of a man’s favourite pet name for you has always been love, it’s a word he has yet to say to you outside of being anything more than a name, a word he has yet to say he feels for you, even though his heart spells it out with ease each time he is with you

It’s hard for him because he can remember exactly the last time he told someone that three word sentence

Christmas Eve, a lifetime ago, he’d just gotten off the phone with his brother, sister-in-law, and nephew, hearing the young boy shout out into the receiver that he loved his uncle Si, a light hearted chuckle slipping past the Lieutenants lips before he’d replied back without issue that he loved him too, before he hung up and never heard his family’s voices ever again

He wants to say it to you because it’s true

He does love you more than anything, but he just can’t bring himself to say it

Those memories have become so tangled up in trauma, his mind associating darker times with those three goddamn words, the ones he knows would mean so much for you to hear he just can’t bring himself to speak aloud

He has dreams where he forces himself to say it, where he tells you a thousand times over that he loves you, whispers it in your ear, shouts it from the rooftops, writes it down everywhere for you to see and even etches it into his flesh with a needle and ink, until the dreams become nightmares and he’s yelling those words at your bloody corpse, writing it in the snow dusting your tombstone, waking up in a cold sweat, dreading the day you say those three words to him and he can’t explain why he can’t say them back

And while he can’t yet explain to you all of the demons that continue to call his skull their home, he finds himself not needing to, not with you

With you, there is no pressure to say things that cause him more pain than joy, there is no need to explain things that he struggles to fully comprehend himself, there is no need to perform or act in any way that isn’t true to him, not with you, his sweet girl who somehow understands him more than he feels he understands himself most days

Instead, with you, he gets to say things that are his own version of I love you, no matter how grand or small:

“I see you”

“You’re the best thing I’ve ever had”

“I can’t believe I get to call you mine”

“You make me so happy”

“Let me carry that for you”

“Put your seatbelt on”

“I made dinner”

“I’ll do the dishes, you go sit”

When the 14th of February eventually rolls around, you aren’t expecting anything out of the ordinary, never having acknowledged the upcoming gimmick of a holiday with Simon

Which is why you’re so surprised when you wake up to find the spot next to you in bed empty, noises in the kitchen letting you know Simon hasn’t gone far

Bare feet slowly padding towards the sounds of a grand breakfast being prepared with much frustration from a seasoned soldier who struggles to use seasoning, you can’t help the overwhelming grin that takes over you face when you see nothing more than a simple card standing up on the dining table, no bells or whistles, no flower petals thrown all over the flat, no orchestra serenading you awake, just you and Simon, all you need, all you want

Reading the card stretches your smile further than you thought possible, quickly sneaking up on your love to wrap your arms around him from behind, his own matching smile etched upon his face as he scrambles up the eggs, imagining you enjoyed the card, which reads in his scratchy handwriting:

“ I ♥️ you ”

[hrrtshape]

culture shocks after shifting back from 536 b.c babylon to....modern day.

the cold. the all-consuming, soul-devouring cold : one moment, i’m basking in the golden warmth of babylon, where the air is thick with the scent of incense and ripening dates, where the evenings are a balmy +20°C and the closest thing to “cold” is a mild desert breeze rustling the silk curtains of my palace chamber. and then!!! then i shift back. i shift back and step directly into lithuania in february. -13°. my body went into immediate protest. my bones are rattling. i am a victim. i am the protagonist of a tragedy.

clothing feels like a violence...or better yet, torture !!! : listen. i spent my week draped in the finest silks and linens, soft and whisper-light against my skin, wrapped in golden threads, my hair perfumed with exotic oils. i woke up, and attendants dressed me. i didn't even have to think about it. now i am expected to put on my own socks. my own sweater. my own coat. and the fabrics......cotton.....polyester??? harsh. unforgiving. i feel like i am being punished. i tried to wear a wool scarf and nearly ascended out of sheer tactile suffering. babylonian me would never have allowed this.

i am, sadly, no longer surrounded by attendants : where is my handmaiden with my morning pomegranate juice? where is the soft-spoken scribe noting down my musings on the stars? where is the sandal-bearer? WHERE IS THE GIRL WHO BRAIDS MY HAIR? i woke up and realised i had to brush my own hair, and i almost threw myself back into the astral plane out of sheer disbelief. you’re telling me I have to function independently??? this is unacceptable.

food.........what is this. where is the saffron. where is the date honey. where is the spiced lamb : i had a divine diet. every meal was a poetic masterpiece. rosewater-soaked figs. almond pastries. fresh bread dipped in olive oil infused with crushed herbs. every bite was an experience. i shift back and suddenly i’m eating…what? a supermarket garlic bread which i had to put in my oven? a reheated pizza? where is the ceremony? where is the flavourful indulgence? i used to sip my honey scented wine from a bejewelled goblet. now i’m drinking coffee from a mug that says "box box box." i have fallen from grace.

the architecture is just... sad : babylon, the city of wonders. towering ziggurats kissed by the sky. intricately carved stone reliefs. courtyards framed by towering columns, fountains flowing with cool water, golden mosaics depicting stories of gods and kings. my palace was a dream. i shift back and... panel housing. grey buildings. sad little sidewalks. a lidl. where is the grandeur?? where are the hanging gardens?? i used to roam marbled halls, and now i’m stepping over slush.

bathing ??? suddenly a logistical nightmare : in babylon, my baths were rituals. steaming water infused with rose petals, attendants scrubbing my skin with fragrant oils, golden pitchers pouring warm water over my shoulders. i would emerge radiant, perfumed, divinely cleansed. now? i have to turn on my own shower. i have to wait for the water to heat up. i have to use... store-bought soap. i have to wash my own hair. i feel abandoned. i feel forsaken. my shampoo is called “extra volume & repair,” but what about my soul? where is the repair for that???

transportation is an insult. to my dignity. : i rode in carriages. i walked through palace gardens in soft, embroidered sandals. now i am… on public transport? now i have to walk in the cold? now i have to wait for a bus? and it’s late???? babylonian me would have ordered someone to bring the chariot around. 2025 me is standing in the freezing wind, waiting for a vehicle that has no golden embellishments whatsoever.

the lack of supernatural occurrences : babylon was enchanted. the gods were real (or as real as the city made them), the omens were real, magic flowed through the city. dreams carried messages, the stars whispered secrets, the high priestess could look into a bowl of water and tell me my fate. every moment meant something. i shift back and... nothing. no divine prophecies. no sacred visions. i check my horoscope and it tells me to “avoid making big financial decisions.” where is the drama. where is the destiny.

conclusion: i am suffering. but i am also so powerful for having lived through it. would i shift back to babylon? yes. will i survive modern lithuania in the meantime? .........tbd.

[prythiansprincess]

poison paradise.

pairing: theodore nott x reader.

song inspiration: toxic by omido.

author's note: smutty unhinged theo won the poll. here’s your silly little treat. this came to me in a dream proving that even my subconscious isn't safe from theodore. this is pure filth, but ya'll already know that that's what i do best 🤪

The taste of cherry chapstick lingered on your tongue as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. Lost in euphoria, you cried out just as a wave of pleasure crashed over you, dragging you to the depths of sensual self-indulgence. 

Back arching off the bed. Fingers gripping the sheets. Moans echoing off the walls. 

This was hedonism at its finest. 

The heady scent of sweat, skin, and sex permeated in the air long after your orgasm passed, inducing you into a foggy haze as you scrambled to anchor yourself back to the present. Between your legs, your girlfriend lifted her head up with a pleased smirk and pressed a chaste kiss against your lips. 

The kiss tasted like cum and cherries, a sweet and intoxicating combination that sent your head spinning. Hannah hummed, her pretty doe eyes focused on you while your own fluttered open. 

“Babe, I’ve really got to get to practice now,” she whispered softly. “I’m late enough as it is.” 

You chuckled, twirling a strand of her red hair between your fingers. “Whose fault is that? You’re the one who dragged me in here, love.” 

Hannah grinned sheepishly as she pulled your red and gold skirt down. “Can you blame me? I can’t control myself when you’re strutting about in your cheer uniform.” 

“Then go out there and give me something to cheer about, babe. I expect a win against Slytherin tomorrow.” 

“If Potter doesn’t kill me first for being late,” she said with a final kiss to your cheek. “See you after practice?”

You nodded as you tossed her jersey over. “I’ll be here.” 

After taking a much needed shower, you sat in front of the vanity and blasted music as you diligently adhered to your skincare routine. The best thing about having a girlfriend was that you shared everything. Since dating Hannah, your makeup, clothes, and shoe options doubled overnight. 

As you combed through your hair, a sudden knock at the door caught your attention. You figured it was just a courtesy from Hannah’s roommate. Merlin knows that the poor witch had walked in on you and your girlfriend in countless compromising positions. 

Tightening the scarlet robe around your waist, you sauntered over to the door, fully expecting Emma to greet you from the other side. Instead, a looming figure eclipsed the doorway. You were surprised to find none other than Theodore Nott staring back at you. 

While you two weren’t exactly the best of friends given the rivalry between your houses, you and Theo were civil. You sat beside each other in Herbology and occasionally shared a laugh every time you caught him muttering sarcastic remarks under his breath about the ridiculous bloody plants that Professor Sprout had you wrangling during class. 

“Well, what do we have here?” you teased, cocking your head at the dead eyed Slytherin. “A serpent in the lion’s den? What brings you behind enemy lines, Theo?”  

Theo smiled back in response, shuffling a bit and allowing a glimpse of the wine bottle and bouquet of roses cradled in his arms. “Waiting for my girlfriend to leave so I can set this up for our anniversary.” 

You grinned. “Oh, how romantic!” You had always been a sucker for cheesy gestures. It was the hopeless romantic in you.  “Come in, then.” 

To his credit, Theo kept his eyes firmly on your face as you ushered him inside the room. Taking the hint, you quickly excused yourself to the bathroom and changed into something a little less revealing than your silk robe. When you came out, Theo was sprinkling rose petals on the bed. 

“Those are gorgeous,” you fawned over the flowers. “You’re definitely getting laid tonight.” 

Theo smirked in response as he set the vintage wine bottle into a fancy crystal ice bucket. “That’s the plan.” 

Slipping into your fuzzy slippers, you cocked your head at the arrangement. “Wait. I think you set it up on the wrong side. Emma’s bed is over there.” 

Theo nodded absentmindedly. “Yeah, I know. This is for Hannah.” 

Whatever warm, fuzzy feeling his sweet gesture invoked suddenly soured at the mention of your girlfriend’s name. “What do you mean it’s for Hannah?” 

“Hannah,” Theo repeated slowly. “As in, my girlfriend, Hannah.” 

The words hit you like the Hogwarts Express. Surely, Theo was mistaken. He had to be. That was the only explanation. “This can’t be right. I’m sure I heard you wrong. You can’t be dating Hannah.” 

The confusion in your face was mirrored in Theo’s features. “And why is that?” 

“Because I’m dating Hannah.” 

Theo stared at you. You stared back. The room fell silent as the declaration hung heavy in the air. 

“Wait,” he backtracked, furrowing his brows. “What? That’s not possible.” 

“We’ve been dating since term started.” 

“We’ve been dating since summer,” Theo countered. Disbelief dawned over his handsome features. “This is for our three month anniversary.” 

Desperate to make sense of the situation, you pulled out your phone and scrolled through your photo album. It didn’t take long to find a recent picture of you and Hannah. “See?” you said, pointing at the screen. “This is us sharing a hot fudge sundae in Hogsmeade just last weekend.” 

Theo’s mouth gaped open as he pulled out his phone in response, scrolling through his pictures just as you had done moments ago. “This is us swimming in the lake last July.” 

The photo of your girlfriend smiling up at the camera while Theo’s arms wrapped around her bikini clad body made your stomach plummet. The confirmation left a bitter taste on your tongue. There was no reason for Theo to be making this up, which left only one possible conclusion. Hannah was dating both of you. At the same time. 

You pursed your lips. “Hannah played us both.” 

Theo looked about as dejected as you felt. “I can’t believe I didn’t realize it,” he muttered to himself. 

“All that tension between you during the quidditch match,” you recalled. The lingering looks that Hannah and Theo shared during last month’s scrimmage flashed before your very eyes. In hindsight, it was obvious that there was more to it than rivalry. 

“You know, I think I saw her kiss you on the cheek in the halls once, but she said that the two of you were just really close.” 

“Oh, we are,” you said rather bitterly. “She’s kissed a lot more than my cheeks. Gods, how could I have been so stupid?” 

“You’re not stupid,” Theo said softly. “How could we have known? Outside of Herbology, the two of us don’t really interact. We’re in different houses and our social circles rarely overlap. If you think about it, it’s actually the perfect plan.” 

“Yes, bravo to our girlfriend for being the cleverest fucking liar in the castle.” You winced at the title. "Correction, ex-girlfriend."

Nott nodded in agreement. "Definitely ex-girlfriend."

"What a bloody mess."

Theo rubbed his temples. “Well, fuck.” The sentiment of total and utter confusion was one you knew all too well. “I am way too sober for this.” 

Without a word, he swiped the bottle of wine from the crystal bucket and popped it open. You stared at him with slight bewilderment, which he responded to with a nonchalant shrug. “What? It’s not like I’m going to drink this with Hannah now after I found out that she’s been lying to me for three whole months.” 

While Theo was taking the perfectly understandable approach of getting absolutely pissed off his arse, you weren’t willing to take the hit so easily. You were angry. Correction, you were fucking livid. Seething in the heat of your fury, you snatched the wine bottle from Theo’s grasp and chugged a good amount. 

“That’s a vintage from my family’s vineyard. You’re supposed to sip slowly to really appreciate the flavor—“ Theo grimaced as you leveled him with a glare. “Or drown yourself in it. That’s fine, too.” 

You swayed on your feet as you gestured dramatically. “I can’t believe she cheated on me!” 

Who the fuck did Hannah think she was? You didn’t need this bullshit. She was the one who chased after you. Before she pursued you, you were perfectly fine ruling this school under your thumb, flashing pretty smiles and innocent doe eyed looks to the unsuspecting masses. You were head cheerleader, for fuck’s sake! You could’ve had your pick of boys and girls in this whole bloody castle. Even worse, Hannah dragged Theo into this too. While the Slytherins certainly had a reputation, he seemed sweet if not a little sardonic and cynical at times.

”I can’t believe she cheated on you.” You added, surveying the now tainted roses and wine. Indignation weighed heavily on every word. You and Theo were both hot as fuck and a complete catch. Neither of you deserved this. “We can’t let her get away with this.” 

Theo sighed in response, taking the bottle from you and drinking a decent amount before wiping his wine stained lips with the back of his hand. “If I’m being honest, this isn’t the first time a relationship has imploded on me. Usually, it’s my fault. But I can’t say I’ve ever gotten cheated on. My ego’s taken a little bit of a blow, but what can we do? She fooled us both.” 

“What can we do?” You repeated incredulously. “Obviously, you haven’t dealt with a Gryffindor’s wrath before. This is a matter of pride, Theo. She hit us where it hurts the most. I say we hit her back.” 

Theo blanched, his watercolor eyes glazed from the alcohol. The wine was no joke. You never would’ve known it from the smooth taste, but this shit was strong. “As upset as I am, I hardly think violence is the answer. My mum told me to never raise a hand against a lady and I don’t intend on breaking that promise. No matter how angry I may be.” 

For the first time in that fucked up night, you managed a laugh. Something about that was so endearing to you. “Relax, Nott. I don’t mean we hurt her physically. That’s not really my style. I have a much more effective way to enact revenge.” Your lips curled into a smile as Theo hung onto every word. “We’re going to wage psychological warfare on our ex-girlfriend, Theo.” 

“I’ll confess I’m a little bit scared,” Theo declared as he gulped down the last of the wine. “And a little bit turned on. Guess that says a lot about me, huh?” 

You smirked as you retrieved the wine bottle and gingerly set it on the nightstand. Theo glanced up at you curiously, anticipation evident on his handsome face. “What exactly is the plan, dolcezza?” 

Whether it was the alcohol or your anger, a devious plan started forming as you looked over your ex-girlfriend’s now ex-boyfriend. “Hannah comes back from practice in an hour,” you stated, toying with the neck of the bottle. “She’s expecting to find me in bed waiting for her.” 

Mischief danced in Theo’s eyes. Up close, you could see flecks of green swimming in his blue irises. Those mesmerizing eyes—the very same ones that had the entire castle weak in the knees—locked on yours. Now that you were single through no fault of your own, you had no reason not to ogle Theo and ogle you did. Your gaze flickered over his lean physique, examining his solid chest and broad shoulders before snagging on the sliver of skin that revealed the hard abdominal muscles beneath his light grey shirt as he stretched. A cocky smirk graced his handsome face when he caught you looking.

Merlin, he was fucking pretty. 

How had you not noticed that before? Oh, right. You were too busy being a good girlfriend. Well, fuck that. 

“Oh?” He murmured, his gaze flickering over you. 

Though you changed into a baggy shirt and cotton shorts, you might as well have been naked with the way Theo was looking at you. His dead eyed stare burned holes into your skin and a shiver crawled up your spine as he gravitated closer. 

“And she will,” you said with a smirk, closing the gap between you. “You’ll just be in it with me.” 

“Oh,” Theo hummed salaciously. 

“Wouldn’t wanna waste those pretty roses you got, do we?” 

The low rasp of your voice seemed to entrance Theo as he shook his head, appearing dazed as you pulled him in by the front of his shirt. “No, no at all. We should…” The nervous bob of his Adam’s apple sent a thrill through your body. “We should definitely make use of them.” 

With a grin, you led him towards the bed. Theo walked backwards, his eyes never leaving yours even as he landed on the mattress. The golden glow of the lamp kissed his sharp cheekbones, its warm hue coloring the slope of his nose, which were smattered with moles and freckles, before emphasizing his wine stained lips. The red roses fluttered around him as the bed dipped, soft petals tickling his skin as he settled against the headboard.

Theo felt like he was under a spell as you crawled over him. He couldn’t tell whether he was dizzy from the wine or if it was just the effect you had on him, but either way, he wasn’t complaining. There were worse things to suffer from than a pretty witch straddling his lap. 

Instinctively, Theo gripped your waist while you settled over him. The sight of you leaning over him, your face mere inches away from his felt like a fever dream. One that he had no desire of waking up from. 

“I thought you liked girls,” Theo whispered softly as your lips brushed over his. Teasing, taunting, tasting. Fuck, what he would give to have you devour him whole. 

“I do,” you replied, tickling his cheek with a rose petal. Theo shivered as the low rasp of your voice pulled him in. “But I like boys too. Especially pretty ones like you.” 

Theo couldn’t help but blush. Obviously, he was aware that he was attractive, but he’d never been called pretty before. He was surprised to find that he really fucking liked it. 

“Don’t flatter me, dolcezza. Not unless you plan on following through.”

“I’ve never been with a Slytherin before,” you whispered huskily. “Tell me, Theo. Will you sink your teeth into me tonight?”

A part of him pondered the slightly fucked up situation that Theo managed to get himself into tonight. Was he really about to fuck his ex-girlfriend’s ex-girlfriend in her own bed? Yes. Did he feel an ounce of guilt over what he was about to do? No. 

Honestly, fuck Hannah. But more importantly, Theo needed to focus on fucking you. 

“Fuck yes.”

When you leaned in and pressed your lips against his, it was over. There wasn’t a single trace of self control in him as he kissed back, his mouth hot and eager against yours. The infamous Gryffindor boldness didn’t disappoint as you moaned into his mouth, your fingers threading through his silky brown waves before tugging in a way that made Theo weak in the knees. As he parted your lips with his tongue, you grinded against him and laughed seductively when he whimpered in response. 

“Yeah?” you purred as you rolled your hips. “You like that, pretty boy?” 

“Bloody fucking hell,” Theo groaned before he kissed you again, rougher this time. 

There was something satisfying about the way he grabbed you, his big hands guiding you to grind over him, providing a delicious friction between your clothed sex. Theo was hard and throbbing underneath you. By the feel of him, you knew you were in for a ride. The sheer size of him was going to absolutely destroy you. 

You pulled away and a glistening trail of spit extended between you as a result of your sloppy make out. Theo panted as you tugged at the hem of his shirt, keeping your eyes trained on him while you licked a path down his abdomen. He watched hungrily as you grazed your teeth over his hard muscles, flicking your tongue expertly while he shuddered underneath you. 

“I can see why Hannah went for you,” you hummed against his tan skin. “You’re hot as fuck. Your abs are unreal and your happy trail,” Theo groaned as you pressed soft kisses along his torso. “It leads to something delicious, doesn’t it?” 

“Fuck, bella. You’re killing me,” Theo groaned as he fisted your hair in one hand. The whimper that slipped past his lips as you palmed his cock was utterly shameless. “You’ve got a filthy fucking mouth, Y/N.” 

“Yeah? Shut me up, then.” 

His head lolled back against the headboard as you released his cock from his boxers, stroking purposefully and savoring the filthy moans that echoed against the walls. Those pretty eyes of his were nearly black with lust as he looked down at you, biting his lip while your tongue swirled over the head of his cock. Licking up his precum, you smirked before fully wrapping your lips around him. 

Theo tugged at your hair and bucked against your mouth as you sucked, licked, and pumped every inch of his thick, hard cock. You knew you were good, but the desperation in Theo’s voice all but confirmed it. 

“Dio mio, right there. Fuck, you’re perfect. Your throat was made to be fucked. You can take it, bella. Choke on my cock, just like that.”

You gagged as he hit the back of your throat. Sucking dick had never been your favorite, but sucking Theo’s dick was something else. He looked so pretty with his waves plastered to his forehead, rosy cheeks flushed as he fucked your face with a dominance that had you growing wetter by the second. Tears streaked down your cheeks as you choked on his cock, but it was worth every second to hear Theo moan your name. 

“Fuck, Y/N,” hissed Theo after a particularly rough thrust. You could tell he was close by the way his body seized underneath you, but you weren’t done with him yet. You wanted more and so did he. “So fucking close, but I don’t want to come yet. I need…Fuck, I need more.” 

You released him with a pop, but kept stroking him with your right hand. “Use your words, pretty boy.” 

“I want to feel you,” Theo whined. “I need to feel your pussy clenching around my cock, principessa. I need you so fucking bad. I’d get on my knees to be inside of you. Please.” 

“You sound so pretty when you beg,” you said as you kissed his temple. “Who am I to refuse?” 

Theo watched as you shuffled above him, barely breathing as you slipped out of your clothes. When you threw your shirt off, Theo cursed to find you completely bare before him. He cupped your tits, flicking his thumb over your nipples before wrapping his lips around them. You could tell he was eager to please and that alone was a huge fucking turn on. It was rare to find a man who cared about pleasure beyond his own, which is why you usually preferred women. Theodore Nott seemed to be the exception. 

With rapt attention, Theo helped you lower down onto his length. He kept his eyes on you as you adjusted, gasping when your walls stretched to accommodate his size. 

“You know, I thought the rumors about you were exaggerated,” you groaned as you sank lower. “But I’ve never been so glad to be wrong.” 

Theo smirked as he nibbled at your earlobe. “What kind of rumors, dolcezza?” 

“That you had a huge dick,” you responded, sounding slightly winded once Theo was finally fully sheathed inside of you. “And that you fuck like a—“ You moaned when Theo shifted his hips to rut into you. He was so big that the minuscule movement felt like you were being split apart. 

“That I fuck like what, bella?” 

Never one to be outdone, you tugged at his hair and grinded against him. “That you fuck like an absolute demon.” 

“Yeah?” He drawled, sliding in and out of you with a cocky smirk. “Well, you’re no angel either, Y/N.” 

“You haven’t seen anything yet, Theo.” 

The sight of you bouncing on his cock and riding the fuck out of him was almost too much. Theo was mesmerized as you used him to get off, head thrown back as you placed your hands on either side of his legs before bending in an angle that he wasn’t even sure was possible for a human to contort to. 

Damn, he should’ve fucked a cheerleader sooner. He should’ve fucked you sooner. 

“I guess you’re not the only one who listened to the rumors. They said you were flexible, but goddamn, this is something else. You’re something else, Y/N.” 

“Oh fuck, Theo,” you keened as you gripped the sheets. “You’re so big. It feels so fucking good, baby.” 

“I like the way you moan my name,” he said. “Gods, I could’ve had this all along. Why was I even wasting my time with Hannah? Sei una fottuta dea.” 

“I have no idea what you just said,'' you panted, picking up the pace. Your legs ached from the effort, but it felt too good to stop. “But I’m soaked now.” 

“I said,” Theo grunted as he fucked up into you and tugged your hair back. “You’re a fucking goddess, Y/N.” 

When he rubbed circles on your clit, you absolutely lost it. The room spiraled around you as you came hard, creaming Theo from tip to base. He pulled out suddenly, making you whine at the loss of contact until he replaced his cock with his mouth. Theo flattened his tongue, licking up along your soaked folds. His nose brushed against your already sensitive clit and you cried out as he lapped you up like a man starved. 

“Can’t take anymore,” you whined, tears pooling in the corner of your eyes as you pushed against Theo’s broad shoulders. “It’s too much. I’m so sensitive.” 

Theo gripped your ankles and spread your legs wider. “Where’s that Gryffindor bravery, bella?” He chuckled, tracing circles on the inside of your thighs. His mouth glistened with your cum and rose petals stuck to his skin as he looked up at you. “Surely you can take more. We barely just started. I want you drenched in tears. Shaking, crying, and moaning my name. Right now, you’re not even close.” 

He sucked on your clit and you swore to Godric your eyes rolled back so hard that you saw heaven. Theo was determined to drive you to the brink of insanity. “I know you want it, baby. Let me make you feel good.” 

“Oh gods,” you cried out as he filled you with two fingers. It wasn’t as much of a stretch as his cock, but the way he curled them inside of you, touching that sensitive spongy spot within your walls made you whimper all the same. “Fuck, yes, gods. I want it. I want you, Theo.” 

A satisfied smile graced his handsome face before Theo flipped you over, pressing you headfirst into the pillows as he feasted on your pussy from behind. There wasn’t a single thought in your head as he unraveled you with his tongue and fingers. It was a deadly combination that had you on the edge quicker than you thought possible. 

“Turn around, principessa,” Theo cooed. “Come ride my face.” 

For Godric’s fucking sake. The man was absolutely insatiable. You liked to think that you had excellent stamina. Most of the time your partners struggled to keep up with your pace, but Theo was seriously challenging that. You didn’t know if you could come three times in a row without passing out, but tonight was as good as any to find out. 

Theo rewarded you with a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss before positioning your thighs on either side of his head. You held onto the headboard above him. Part of it was for balance, but mostly to keep yourself from collapsing all together. You felt so overstimulated that the line between pleasure and pain was blurring by the minute, but still, neither one of you had any plans of stopping. 

At this point, you actually couldn’t give less of a fuck about revenge. Hannah had long become a thing of the past. It seemed ironic that you and your ex-girlfriend were in this exact position mere hours ago yet you couldn’t even recall anything past the Slytherin fucking you with his tongue. 

“Theo, oh my fucking gods,” you cried out as you grinded against his mouth. “Right there. Yes, that’s it. So good.” Theo squeezed your thighs in response, which elicited a hoarse laugh out of you. “You like when I praise you, pretty boy?” 

Theo hummed against your clit and squeezed your ass in confirmation. “You’re so pretty when you’re eating my pussy,” you cooed, brushing his wavy locks back. “But you’re even prettier when you’re fucking me.” 

That seemed to be all the encouragement Theo needed. Before you knew it, your back was against the mattress as he hiked your legs over your shoulder. Theo slipped in easily, thanks to the juices coating both his tongue and cock now that he was filling you up again. 

“How’s the view now, principessa?” Theo asked with a cocky smirk. 

You bit your lip as he pounded into you, holding your gaze with every sharp thrust. His tanned skin glistened with sweat and his muscles flexed while he buried himself inside of you again and again, watching you take all of him with rapt attention. His balls slapped against your ass every time his hips snapped to yours, drilling so deep that you struggled for words.

“The best in the castle,” you quipped back, putting on a serene smile as Theo grunted and fucked any and every coherent thought right out of you. 

Neither one of you noticed the door opening nor the sound of the broom hitting the floor. You were too busy staring into Theo’s pretty eyes to care. 

He turned your head towards the door, but didn’t stop fucking you as Hannah watched with her mouth hung wide open. Theo made sure that your ex-girlfriend had a clear view of the money shot as he claimed you with his mouth, moaning your name against your lips as he came with a loud cry. He filled you to the brim and you could feel him leaking out of you and onto the sheets as your eyes rolled back.

Theo collapsed on top of you, sweaty and sinful. As you lay boneless and blissed out of your mind, you couldn’t quite believe that you’d just fucked your ex-girlfriend’s ex boyfriend. In her own bed, nonetheless. If that wasn’t poetic justice, you didn’t know what was. Merlin, you hadn’t gotten shagged like that in—well, ever. The Slytherin really knew how to slither in. You lifted your head to find Theo already looking at you. When you made eye contact, the two of you burst into laughter.

Your ex-girlfriend, on the other hand, was not as amused. “What the fuck!” Hannah screamed. 

Her shrill voice brought you out of the post haze aftermath of your earth shattering orgasm. Completely unbothered, you stretched lazily and waved your fingers at Hannah. Theo smirked as he tugged his sweatpants back on, but opted to remain shirtless as he pulled his oversized shirt over your head like a proper gentleman. You were grateful, since you had absolutely no desire to walk around in your ex-girlfriend’s clothes. Plus, it didn’t hurt that Theo looked absolutely delicious from the afterglow.

You bit your lip, already thinking of all the ways you’d like to have him. Again and again. As often as possible.

With a little smile, you met Theo’s gaze. It was clear that neither of you had any intention of calling it an early night. You had a feeling that you had a lot of sleepless nights ahead of you. Theo looked like he wanted to tear you apart and you were more than willing to let him. “My dorm?” 

“Whatever you say, dolcezza,” Theo said as he slipped his fingers through yours. “You could lead me off the astronomy tower and I’d follow.” 

Theo didn’t bother looking at Hannah as the two of you passed her. You, on the other hand, couldn’t pass up the chance to get the last word in. 

“By the way, we’re breaking up with you. Have fun cleaning up the mess.” 

Theo chuckled darkly as he tugged you out into the hallway, smacking your arse as the two of you raced back to your dorm. Behind you, your long forgotten ex-girlfriend gaped as she watched her ex-girlfriend and ex-boyfriend walk away hand in hand.

[staryuee]

WHAT THEY DO WHEN THEY’RE IN LOVE!

꒰warnings꒱ not proofread, dainsleif/pantalone may be ooc (´°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥ω°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥｀)

⠀꒲ ` synopsis . . . just cute habits, actions etc that they do, whether intentionally or not, after being struck with cupid’s arrow.

⠀꒲ ` characters . . . jean, diluc, zhongli, xiao, nilou, xianyun, dehya, wanderer, arlecchino, pantalone, dainsleif

⠀꒲ ` notes . . . scrolling through the genshin tag makes me wanna die sometimes…i’m trying to do investigative work and i have to quickly scroll past the same smutty language like it’s booktok torture + also i’ve been playing baldurs gate 3 for the past several days and i think i’ve developed a problem…

G. JEAN — 琴

ʚ jean is very subtle in the way she loves someone, she doesn’t want to keep it secret per se, but her love is always almost adjacent to a puppy crush; something that seems fleeting but in the long run returns harder and hits oh so much worse.

ʚ she can’t necessarily abuse her powers, and she wouldn’t dare dream of messing up the order she so carefully has managed to maintain, so the way she tries to convey her feelings across isn’t too brash or loud.

ʚ simple things like letting her hands brush against yours when she passes you documents, allowing you to visit her office whenever you please even if it’s to just sprawl down at a nearby couch and read a book you found in the library while meandering, and even letting you join her on her daily walks across the courtyard.

ʚ during windblume festivals she won’t hesitate to strike up a seemingly harmless and friendly conversation, all the while sneaking a flower into your hair that resembles the feelings you stir up inside her fuzzy heart.

ʚ jean is overall quite an awkward person when it comes to anything related to romantic or plantoic ties, she’s a bit of a people pleaser in that way where she prefers to assume everyone’s a friend before an enemy… or in this case, “interested”.

ʚ with backup and sought guidance from her good friends lisa and kaeya, she’ll try a myriad of tactics to get you to notice her; a little shoulder massage there, a heartfelt sticky note placed on your workstation there, inviting you to classic candlelit dinners etc.

ʚ yes, believe me, she even tried the cartoonish “rose bit between teeth and uncomfortably arched side lean on a wall” approach before deciding it’s much better to listen to herself than the flamboyant duo.

R. DILUC — 迪卢克

ʚ diluc is the actual epitome of a gentleman. his love is so pure and genuine you can’t help but flower press every petal from the various bouquet he personally delivers to you on special occasions (anything from you completing a particularly hard or draining mission to doing something you thought you’d suck at).

ʚ his coat is also yours now. it’s like a six sense at this point to notice when you’re shivering out in the cold winds, and it’s become even more of a routine for him to simply shed that fluffy coat of his and drape it appropriately over your shoulders, trying to maintain a comfortable distance between you two as he adjusts it both to ease your tension and assure the pounding of his heart goes unheard.

ʚ diluc doesn’t enjoy using his riches to woo someone, it’s uncouth and just shows a desperation unbecoming of someone who dates to marry. if he wants to know you’re in it for the long haul, he’ll be much more sensitive and thoughtful when picking out gifts for you, each them have to hold some level of significance in your life.

ʚ the whole fiasco with his poor maids and some sneaky, perverse stalkers and diluc’s flaming great sword certainly applies to you as well; he’ll quietly ensure your safety in the night, helping you walk home with his arm hooked under yours, and in broad daylight he won’t hesitate to swing that polished wolf’s gravestone of his against any onlookers.

ʚ diluc is extremely closed off but deeply sentimental, he can so easily find himself rambling about his childhood stories to you; anything from how he used to collect seashells with kaeya to bring back to their dad, or how him and jean used to let baby barbara braid their hair together while babysitting…to things that are slightly more troublesome and heart wrenching to even mutter.

ʚ he may be less vocal than most in terms of feelings, but that doesn’t mean he won’t commit to it if he’s in love with someone. diluc isn’t the slightest bit dumb, he understand in order to get his feelings across he needs to do more than take random days off to spend time with you, he needs to at least hint it in a way that clearly gets his intentions across.

ʚ believe me, whenever you come by to dawn winery per notice, everyone raises a brow at you with curious smirks and gazes as diluc nearly stumbles on his words to get the phrase: “you look lovely tonight” out.

ZHONGLI — 钟离

ʚ he has up to thousands years of romantic customs under his belt, he understands the vague signs and ways to further communicate how much he adores you.

ʚ … that would be the case in its full if not for the fact for the first thousand couple years of his life he wasn’t busy maiming other gods and shedding blood. safe to say, his memories of mortal “courting” is slightly, if not absolutely, a massive, weaving and overlapping trail of various centuries and cultures he’s been accustomed to; anything ranging from the days when khaenri’ah was still in its prime to nowadays with newfound slang.

ʚ he’ll recite the most beautifully heartfelt and awfully sincere poem all the while you’re fighting your life in a haunted house (he’s heard this activity is helpful to get couples closer to one another, and given the fact you’re clinging on for dear life at the edge of his coat, he assumes he’s on the right track!)

ʚ he wants to impress you while also maintaining an air of genuineness to his actions, and while that does sometimes end in awkward situations where he ends up wearing regal attire to what’s supposed to be a casual dinner at wangmin, his heart remains completely pure in its endeavours.

ʚ oh, let’s not forget this man is quite literally a dragon too!

ʚ sometimes he can forget you don’t have the same complexion as him and will proudly present you some sort of glimmering relic from his hoard, forgetting that certain materials that existed back in the day were deadly and or toxic for mortals to touch let alone possess.

ʚ with a little nudge in the right direction, he’ll quickly learn everything there is to know for how to properly handle your precious heart. whatever you’d like, you may have — if it’s within his reach, that is. but it doesn’t mean he’ll stop at what’s available, no, just how much he’s willing to risk for you.

XIAO — 魈

ʚ he’s already embarrassed and awkward enough with accepting the fact he likes you, so accepting the fact that he loves you had left him with a lengthy exorcism spree down in some forgotten areas in liyue (it didn’t help).

ʚ in all honestly, not much changes; both because he’s rather emotionally constipated but also because he’s more than sure he’s loved you for longer than he seems to currently acknowledge.

ʚ letters that came only on special occasions like your birthday or his became much more frequent and a lot less poetic, it felt more like he was writing about his thoughts at the time, a little akin to how you’ve made him feel less constricted and much more free; he can finally have the courage to step out of his comfort zone.

ʚ all those small acts of love he used to subtly express (i.e gifting you two crystaflies, personally inviting you to come hang out, etc) he manages to double, he can’t have you thinking his intentions are the same as before. no, they’re much stronger now.

ʚ his guard softens around you regardless, but when you randomly fall asleep on his shoulder on your weekly visits at wangshu inn, instead of taking you to one of the rooms, he’ll sit there and allow you to rest, and if he’s assured you’re not awake to ridicule him, maybe, just maybe…he’ll sneakily loop his arm around your waist.

ʚ even just the thought of you makes him spiral into daydreaming, sitting atop a tree and swinging his leg back and forth carelessly as he stares up at the night to await for a new light, knowing full well the only sun he wants to see is you…just imagining his hands holding your waist like they did so long ago makes him shiver (hopefully this time he’ll get to do it when you’re not falling, and instead are falling for him)

NILOU — 妮露

ʚ nilou is basically a disney princess, if you see her singing to random birds that come watch her performances, everyone in the grand bazaar already knows it’s because you’ll be in the crowd that night.

ʚ each step within her routines are done with the little more passion, if that even is possible given her character, all because she imagines that pride and hopeful heart eyes in your eyes as all the attention is on her.

ʚ sometimes this fixation can lead to dumb mistakes on stage which bring her to sulking away with a hand on her forehead dabbing away at the sweat, but even the mention of your name as you pass by several sumeru streets is enough for her to brighten, do a quick wardrobe switch and run off to tackle you within her embrace.

ʚ nilou is not loud, but definitely not subtle. the exact representation of how she feels when you come to encourage her at her lowest (though those days are few). you’re there for her in ways you don’t imagine, and that alone is enough for her to daze away into the night as she cuddles her pillow, legs wrapped around it and all, and begins thinking about the what ifs of your relationship.

ʚ sometimes it’s a little comedic the way she speaks about you, it almost sounds like she’s reminiscing about a fictional book character with how much she takes pride in whatever little thing you do. no one tires of seeing her footsteps lightly tap against the ground in circles as she gushes about how when you complimented her the other day, you touched her cheek seemingly subconsciously ∩^ω^∩

XIANYUN — 闲云

ʚ she’s a little embarrassed at just how obvious she can be sometimes, it doesn’t help the fact her own children keep using this love of hers to their advantage.

ʚ she keeps nagging them about not taking care of themselves (she’s all too keen about their health and whereabouts now that she dwells alongside liyuean people) and yet just the mention of your name has her slightly stuttering in a ditzy trance as she hooks her glasses back up her nose bridge.

ʚ without hesitance, she’ll show you a photo album she has of all those close to her; would you like to see the drawing little ganyu made when she just barely had her horns? or perhaps the polearm young shenhe broke when she miscalculated her own strength in training?

ʚ her family is her pride and joy, it’s only natural for her to want you to be part of it even if it’s something as silly as raking through photos of a chubby ganyu eating the stem of a flower or teeny shenhe napping on a tree.

ʚ a peaceful life mingling with mortals has left her with ample time to enjoy the trivialities of life, and yet she finds her mind all too quickly wandering to you; had you been taking care of yourself? were you feeling lonely? did you need her to make something for you?

ʚ a secretive worry wart that quickly becomes that ancient adetpus she used to pride herself as soon as your delicate hands accidentally brush against hers; suddenly she’s perked up, chest heaven up high with a confident hand on her shoulder: you wouldn’t even think that flurry of pink hues gushing across her cheeks was real if not for the light providing evidence.

DEHYA — 迪希雅

ʚ oh she’s absolutely ecstatic!!

ʚ there’s genuinely nothing better than love in her eyes, especially just having the ability to love and trust someone fully when you haven’t been able to do so for a plethora of years.

ʚ doesn’t try to hide it, like at all, if anything she makes it rather obvious with the way she constantly pulls you closer as if you were already an item, arms constantly clinging onto you and your sides or her hands messing up your hair as you greet her.

ʚ she’ll take you anywhere you ask, free of charge of course (just promise to smile…and maybe if you’re up for it give her a kiss on the cheek, that’s sure to be enough reimbursement).

ʚ she’s already quite a confident and outwardly friendly person (if the price is right that is) but when in your presence? what’s wrong with just a little bit of showing off…

ʚ dehya needs you to see the best side of her!! maybe then you’ll finally give in and realise that her constantly asking for you to come join her on her travels and commissions isn’t brought out of mere timed coincidence

WANDERER — 流浪者

ʚ i saw that a few people were upset and confused by wanderer’s sudden switch up into being more kind/friendly, but i think we all forget what kind of person he was before his betrayals.

ʚ he loves wholeheartedly, if he adores something it consumes him in a warm pit of mushy domesticity — he doesn’t hate love or being kind, he hates the way it makes him vulnerable and the way it reminds him of the way he used to be.

ʚ that also means he’ll completely ignore you, or, try his best to rather.

ʚ wanderer knows within his heart that he completely years for you, just the accidental slip of his gaze meeting yours makes his brain go haywire, sending volts of electricity down his spine — you make him feel so alive.

ʚ it’s terrifying to return to a person you once were especially now with the knowledge of how being the way you were lead to some sort of tragedy, he’s managed to build up these walls so high and here you were, sneaking in through cracks he didn’t even know he had.

ʚ and he both loves it and hates it; loves the fact he can still feel, but hates how he’s so easily susceptible.

ʚ loving you turns into self-loathing and brooding, his feet pacing up and down every street at night to clear his muddled head. small distractions like taking strolls in meadows or sleeping up in the vines of trees lead to just thoughts of you and you alone.

ʚ wanderer refuses to be overly friendly and buddy-buddy with you even if he’s aware that if you decided to just one day hold him sincerely he’d burst into tears, but he can compromise with being less cutthroat.

ʚ “shut the fuck up” turns into him just rolling his eyes at you as you ramble (he soaks up any piece of information he can and locks it away), items you gift him now are more apparent in their value as he yells at those who dare question the dumb aranara pin you bought him and placed sneakily on his hat…oh and he gives you hat privileges.

ʚ it’s raining? …get close to him so you don’t begin complaining about the way the rain feels on your skin.

ARLECCHINO — 阿蕾奇诺

ʚ she starts treating you less like an asset in her “contact if in need of assistance” roster and more like a friend — of course, she maintains that distance between you two, but she lets you wriggle around in her heart to see if you manage to fit.

ʚ chances are, you will — unknowingly she’d grown to love you in ways that may have even gone unnoticed by her given how natural they were; inviting you to random gatherings when the whim arises, pulling your chair out for you when out for brunch, or even tucking away strands of hair and twirling it around playfully.

ʚ arlecchino’s love isn’t something immediate or expected, she’s a woman who keeps every card close to her chest and her children even closer, you have to prove to her that you’re worth it, in a way that doesn’t necessarily mean spilling blood but more so answers the question: do you care, and are you willing to accept her blinding love?

ʚ it’s like a shepherd dog with a lost lamb, but that little sheep is just you, and she’s a wolf in need of a muse.

ʚ cute tea parties aren’t uncommon with the two of you, she’ll happily let you indulge yourself in treats as she leans back with scorching tea in her hands while memorising every curve of your lips as you chew and swallow, she loves watching the way your eyes crinkle when you smile and the little sway from side to side you occasionally do as an expression of joy.

ʚ once arlecchino notices that she’s began treating you as another authority figure in the house of hearth, she’ll reach and collar you gently, intertwining her dark, cursed hand into your flowery one.

PANTALONE — 潘塔罗涅

ʚ one of the most attractive qualities a man can have is knowing when to shut the fuck up and to slide his card over during a dinner — both such things pantalone can do effortlessly, especially when it comes to you.

ʚ arlecchino claims that: “he allows his actions to be governed by the vengeance and hatred locked in the depths of his heart.” something that definitely translates into his love affairs in more than obsessive manners.

ʚ don’t be afraid of the massive hauls of clothing and sparkling jewellery galore that are being trudged in by multiple men, darling, it’s just a menial souvenir from his latest travels and newfound connections that he thought you might enjoy ^^

ʚ while his grandeur usually stems from his deep hearted desire to overthrow the imbalance between immortals and mortals, rest assured the luxury he provides you purely stems from his desire to make you his.

ʚ whether that entails you being his pet for him to seek comfort from on the occasion or a genuine connection where he can comfortably hold you at night purely depends on you.

ʚ oh, you’ll let him chew your ear off about his recent expedition and extravagant plan? consider your rent payed for the next few months and a few kisses on your cheek that certainly aren’t actually part of the snezhnayan custom (let him indulge in those little cravings or else he’ll undoubtedly be petty).

DAINSLEIF — 戴因斯雷布

ʚ has a breakdown.

ʚ a little dramatic, but honestly if his entire life wasn’t a disgusting mess already, you’ve come to make it worse. fate is deliberately mean to brooding blondes it seems, given the fact he’s now stuck pacing around back and forth on a trail of dead abyss mages as he rereads a letter you’ve sent him weeks ago.

ʚ everything you give to him, everything you say, do, write, whatever, he remembers implicitly. each word you say is engraved into him as if they were important artefacts regardless of how pointless and mundane.

ʚ it can honestly get a little…scary at times? you’ll mention liking something once and all of a sudden you find it within your possession at least a few weeks later.

ʚ dainsleif doesn’t have enough time to wallow in the glory of mushy, all consuming love despite desperately wanting to imagine how your hand would feel caressing down past each of his scars, but what he can do is protect you, and to him that’s a greater blessing than intimacy he knows will end eventually.

ʚ a big tough man who would honestly fold the moment you call him any variation of a pet name, specifically with the word “mine/my” at the beginning — hey, it’s nice knowing you mean something to someone the point they view you as inseparable.

ʚ the timings at which he comes to aid you are all too convenient and believe me he’ll try his best to downplay it as coincidence, all the while he’s breathing heavily both from the face your eyes are scanning his so closely and the fact he used up so much energy to merely make a portal to sneak into your space.

©STARYUEE do not copy, steal or repost ♡ ᴜsᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ɪʜᴇᴀʀᴛɢᴀɴʏᴜ

[back2bluesidex]

Sweet Dreams - JHS (18+)

Pairing: Idol!Hoseok X Staff!Reader

Wc: 1k

Theme: pwp, smut, fluff

Summary: Hoseok is going to take you home and let you know how much he actually likes you.

Minors Do Not Interact!

Masterlist | Patreon

A/N: UNEDITED BECAUSE I AM ONE IMPATIENT BITCH.

Hoseok has always considered you as one of the most beautiful women he has ever laid his eyes upon - contrary to whatever you believe. 

The gentle slope of your nose, the soft looking petals of your lips, your chubby cheeks - everything - every single thing drives him crazy. 

And he loves it all. He loves how overwhelmed you make him feel with your beauty, your kindness, your soft voice, your enchanting smile and your presence. 

The only downside is that you don’t know or don’t want to acknowledge his feelings. 

He understands a part of it. Anyone would be intimidated with his status of a global star and anyone would expect him to date someone similar but Hoseok doesn’t want someone from his own world. 

He wants you. He wants a quiet, peaceful relationship with you. 

And tonight, he will make it clear to you. 

“You sure the buses are still available?” he jogs upto you - a little breathless. 

You jolt at his sudden invasion. 

“Huh?” you turn your head towards where he’s now walking right beside you, “oh. Yes. the last bus is still available.” 

You offer him a kind smile and he wants nothing more than just to claim it as his own by kissing you. 

“I can drop you home.” he offers straight away. Honestly, he has done enough of that beating around the bush kind of thing - his patience is now running thin. 

Your eyes go wide, “I- no- I can go home.” 

“I insist, please. Let me drop you home.” he takes a scandalous step towards you. You breathe him in instead of stepping away. Hoseok smiles internally. 

“Hoseok-ssi, I can get fired.” your pupils shake but you keep looking at him. Hoseok wants nothing more than just to pin you to the nearest possible wall and take you right here. 

But he will wait. 

“You trust me, right?” he asks as softly as he can. 

You nod in affirmation. 

“Good. Now let me take you home.”  he envelops one of your hands with his and tugs you towards the elevator. 

The car ride is silent apart from the soft jazz he has decided to put to cut in the awkwardness. 

Your eyes stay out of the window and Hoseok’s eyes stay on the road. You have given him your address and it’s easy so he doesn’t feel the need to force a conversation. 

He will ask you out on a date once he reaches your destination - that’s what he has decided to do. 

The car comes to a halt right outside the entryway of your building and then you finally look at him. Hoseok stares back at you, suddenly feeling the need of not letting you go, keeping you all to himself for as long as he can. 

“Thanks.” you give him another of your kind, gentle smile but this is not enough anymore. Hoseok wants more, more and more. 

So he lets his intrusive thoughts win. Lurching forward Hoseok places his lips on yours. The seatbelt is making it a little tough to kiss you properly but he manages to pull you close by your neck. He wastes no time in capturing your lower lip between his hungry ones. 

You taste as sweet as he imagined. That’s not a shock. 

The shock is when you kiss him back instantly, as if you have been waiting for him to make a move forever. 

The kiss is sloppy at first, then a little hungry - when both of you manage to unbuckle your seatbelts, Hoseok deepens the kiss. 

You give him free access to your mouth, his tongue takes the chance of exploring every corner. You, too, push your tongue inside his mouth, tasting him thoroughly. 

Only when the air becomes less and less available in both of your lungs - you two part. 

Hoseok is insanely happy. He got to taste you. But now that he knows how you taste, he only wants more. 

Your expression matches his. Lips glossy with his spit, eyes wide, shaking, hazy with lust. 

“I don’t want to sleep alone tonight.” you let your voice be heard. 

“You won’t have to.” he dives in for another kiss. 

Hoseok’s bare chest touches your bare one.

Your perked up nipples sit on his skin making him shiver all over. His mouth fits just right on the crook of your neck. 

He sucks in a bruise there. 

As he trails his kisses further down, he reaches the swell of your breast. Taking a nipple inside his mouth, he sucks you hungrily. 

You produce the sweetest sound he has ever heard. 

His teeth skin in your pebbled nipples as his finger brushes through your sleek folds. He parts those by scessoring his fingers and puts his index finger inside your heat. 

“Ummph.. Hoseok..” You whine, clearly satisfied with his ministrations. 

Hoseok drinks your sounds, makes up his mind to write a couple of lyrics about it later. 

He pushes his cock in your cunt. You are so tight, so warm - just perfect. 

He wants you all to himself for the rest of his life. 

“Baby, you feel so good.” he praises you softly, tugs a stray strand of your hair behind your ear. Having you naked under him, with nothing but a necklace dangling from your throat - this is heaven to him. 

“Hoseok- ah- hobi” you moan his name. Oh he loves having you like this. 

You are so pure, so beautiful - he can fuck you forever just like this, without having to rush anything. 

Hoseok understands that you are reaching your edge, your walls close up around his shaft. He loses his breath. 

“Let it go baby.” he whispers in your ear sweetly. 

You keep his request. 

He fills you in with his own arousal right after you cream his cock. 

And then he pulls you in another kiss.

Now as you lay down beside him, still naked, sleepy - he smiles at you. 

“Sweet dreams, Y/N.” 

“Sweet dreams, Hobi.” you place a kiss on his forehead. 

He wants to keep you close forever just like this. 

[daylighted]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ𝐒𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐔𝐏 !!

𐚁 bull rider ! beau arlen x high school sweetheart ! reader !! home has never been a place but a person, and he's finally ready to go back to you . . . six years too late. ℧ mdni !! sexual content. high school sweethearts to exes to lovers. couple's quarrels. festering tension. angry sex? word count : 14.1k (LMFAO) ☆ minor characters !! kelsey. daisy. delilah gaylestone. rhett gaylestone. moonlight. sunshine. brooks williamson. abigail williamson. ella gaylestone.

FIVE YEARS AGO —

“you really are livin’ proof of the american dream, ain’t you, beau arlen?” 

“why, yes ma’am, i’d say so.” 

you pause the tv on his face, taking in every single detail about beau that had changed in the last 6 years. his facial hair was fuller, hair a little longer and a lot less kempt. his eyes held deeper bags beneath them, but still shone with the glimmering gold-green that swayed you toward him in the first place.

you hit rewind, and then play again.

“mr. arlen! another victory under your belt buckle,” the interviewer says, sounding breathless even though she had not been the one atop a bucking bull, grasping at the horn of a saddle for purchase to keep from tipping off. “i’m sure this feels typical for you, by now.”

three championship belt buckles, four second-place trophies, and so many medals and roses that the mere announcement of beau arlen being next had the stadium littered in petals. 

not that you kept up with him, or anything. 

“the thrill never dies, no matter how many times it’s happened,” beau says, dimples dipping into his cheeks. he lifts the stetson off of his head, runs a sweaty hand through sweatier locks of hair. 

the interviewer’s name fades onto the screen below her too wide grin. kelsey jones wants in your man’s pants, and you aren’t entirely convinced that he didn’t take her home that night. how many fingers had undone that giant championship buckle, while you sat at home, waiting for a man too busy chasing thrills to remember what he left in the montana dust? 

“you really are livin’ proof of the american dream, ain’t you, beau arlen?” 

you turn the tv off.

behind you, daisy arlen clacks her toy blocks together, building a tower taller than she was. her gold-green eyes flick up to meet yours, little mouth parted in wonder, forming babbling sentences that were only ever semi-coherent.

this one sounded devastatingly close to the innocent ramblings of a little girl asking for her father.

you scoop her up, placing her in the crook of your hip that she lived in. "sorry, sweetheart," you say on a sigh, with a final glance toward the blank tv screen, "daddy ain't comin' home."

beau arlen was a friend of a friend of a friend. your best friend was a princess of a girl named delilah, most fondly known as del, who was dating a farmer's son named rhett, who was best friends with beau.

of course you knew all about beau. del couldn't seem to go a day without bringing up rhett, which most of the time had beau's name in her mouth too. you'd never properly met him except the occasional shared class in your small town's smaller high school, but you had a backlog of blackmail on him in the back of your mind.

he went to church every sunday after partying all night saturday with his friends. he snuck into rhett's barn to go for a late ride with his favorite of the gaylestone family's horses, moonlight. he so often stole from the arlen liquor cabinet that half of the vodka was water, and he misplaced which bottles were which all the time.

but meeting him? no, you'd never had the pleasure of it. del spent a lot of her time with rhett, but she never skimped on a girls' night every weekend, where you'd get to hear all of the shenanigans that the montana boys got up to.

it was routine. you got to know all of the little things about one of your town's most notorious rebellious cowboys, and pretended that you didn't know that, in turn, he probably got to hear all about you.

del sat on your bed, navy blue nail polish still wet on her fingers as she idly waved her hand around, humming along to whatever song drifted through the radio on your sidetable. "rhett wants to hang out tonight."

you startle from your spot next to her, a second coat of maroon drying on your own fingernails. "what? no. he knows every saturday is girls' night and," you wave your hand in a mock imitation of hers, "boys' night for him, or whatever."

"i know," she hums, like she wasn't trying to completely skew this routine you guys had built up since you were in junior high. "s'just that brooks is sick, and rhett doesn't like hangin' out one-on-one with beau. says they get all drunk n' sentimental."

you could think of so many worse things they could get up into besides cuddly and pouty, but teenage boys were prone to thinking a molehill was a mountain.

you don't look over at del, not wanting to look her in the eyes as she so casually tries to abandon you for a boy. you know, something that best friends always promise they won't do, before they do it. "so, you're gonna go hang with rhett and arlen?"

her eyes are on you; not glaring, but staring hard enough that it could singe your temple. "no. rhett and arlen wanna come over."

"what?" you sound like a broken record at this point, but seriously, what? "no way."

"you've got that ol' barn!" she argues, conveniently looking away when you fix her with your own stare. "your folks will never find out."

"delilah."

del stumbles on a little giggle, examining the handiwork of her freshly painted nails. dark blue like the sky and the headband she wore to keep the stray curly bangs out of her eyes. "it's just a one time thing," she assures, curling her fingers around your wrist, "don't you wanna meet beaauuu?"

"no." passing him in the halls was plenty, thank you. "no, i do not wanna meet beaauuu."

"beau wants to meet you." you close your eyes as if that alone could erase that sentence from your reality. "rhett said so. that's why i ever even brought this up, y'know? i wouldn't drop this on you if i wasn't desperately tryin' to get my girl coupled up for double dates with me."

the ulterior motives were sickening. you were in pajamas, for crying out loud, and now two of the three hellions of your grade were about to be at your house. not that you cared what rhett thought of you, or really what beau arlen did, but...

del had been your best friend since you two were in diapers. she could have read your expression without seeing it, looking straight through the back of your head. she nods toward your closet. "the white sundress. with those boots of yours." she smiles wide, like she wasn't turning the tides of time completely on their axis in one sentence. "beau likes cowgirls."

your family's barn was a rundown little thing on the edge of your property before it delved into fields. your father kept it up for sentimental value, having built a newer, sturdier one closer to your home. makes the walk shorter for me n' my old bones, he'd said once.

the ladder to the loft was unsteady and rickety, but you could still remember climbing up there when your hands were too small to properly grip the rungs, could remember running back to the house at sunset and your mom plucking pieces of hay out of your hair before supper.

it was oddly intimate, having this many people in a space that was once your favorite place. hell, even del had only been in here a couple of times, and now here she was, and her boyfriend, and... beau arlen.

he had that gleam in his eyes that mothers warned their daughters about, a head of hair that poked out through the brim of the hat he wore. he had a plaid jacket tied around his waist, leaving him in a dirt stained white tanktop and an equally stained pair of faded blue jeans.

rhett was already drunk and incredibly sentimental. he clung to del's arm like a bride walking down the aisle, nuzzling his face into her neck like a cat marking its scent. you didn't even get a chance to wish her good luck before he was attaching himself to her.

which left you and beau. beau, who stood in the corner of the barn, looking elusive and mysterious without even meaning to be. he had a sweaty glass bottle of beer in his fingertips, his other hand tracing idly over the splintering wood.

wanted to meet you, your ass. he'd isolated himself, looking just as awkward as you felt. it really was your fault for believing your best friend wouldn't make up some sort of tall tale to get to spend a full weekend with her boyfriend.

beau turned on a dime, his eyes finding yours, too fast for you to pretend you were not, in fact, staring at the back of his head. half of his mouth lifted in a smile. he doesn't say hi, or address it, just jerked his head in the direction of the wall he'd been looking at.

"there's writin' on it," he said, taking a quick swig from the bottle he held. "'m guessin' you're princess peach."

your face flushed against your will. you'd forgotten all about— "no, actually," you blurted out, as eager to throw del under the bus as she'd been with you, "that's del."

his smile widened for a second, before he turned back to the engravings on the wooden paneling. "so you were princess strawberry."

this was not a good idea. this space was not for anyone else but you and the littler versions of you that still lingered in memory. beau arlen did not do anything to earn seeing these glimpses of you.

"come over here n' stop wallowin'," he laughed, tapping a nail against the writing, "'m not judgin' you or anything, sweetheart. i happen to think it's endearing as all get out."

you really did not want to see his live reactions to the little scraps of your childhood in these walls, but what else were you supposed to do? let beau arlen walk your space on his own and third wheel with rhett and del?

so you walked up to him, the chipping wood barely doing anything to mask the words you and del had scratched into the walls many years ago. "if it makes you feel better," beau drawled, his voice softer now that you were shoulder to shoulder, "i used t'do the same thing when i was a kid."

"pretend to be a strawberry princess?" you asked incredulously, eyebrows shooting up on your forehead.

his laugh was as warm as a shot of whiskey. his teeth were straight and blinding in the moonlight. you'd been so adamant on never properly meeting him that you'd forgotten why you wanted to stay away so badly. boys like him, with smiles like that, were nothing but trouble.

"no, i used to..." he shook his head, glancing back toward his friend and yours on the other side of the barn. del was stuck in a sloppy slow dance with rhett now, and somehow, the stetson on his head was now on hers. you barely restrained the amused smile, and beau didn't even bother to try. "i used to pretend i was a cowboy," he finally said, head tipped down as he stares up shyly through his eyelashes. they were so long. his eyes were so green. good lord. "wrasslin' up all of the angry bulls. takin' care of business as the arlenville sheriff."

"arlenville?" you broke into a little surprised laugh. "no. no way."

beau nodded, his lips curling higher up at the sound of your laugh. this was a terrible idea, leaving you two alone like this, because now you were beginning to think that the double dates with rhett and del didn't sound so appalling. "yes way." beau sat the empty bottle in his hand down on a mottled barrel next to him, using both of his freed hands to throw a pretend lasso. "beau arlen, arlenville's hero, gatherin' up all the wild horses and settin' 'em back loose. cleanin' the streets."

it's so damn ridiculous that you couldn't help but laugh again. beau kept the invisible lasso between his two hands, tossing and tossing until he hooked you. his eyes told you that he was well aware of the fact that he'd already gotten you hooked, lined, and he was just waiting for the sinker.

"are you trying to say i'm wild, beau arlen?" you asked, and you couldn't even help it, really — he did have you lassoed! — when you inched closer by his pretend pulling.

beau's eyes raked up and down your figure, and something shifted in his gaze. another thing you'd heard down the grapevine of your interconnected friend groups was that beau arlen didn't date. he didn't ever really have interest in anyone, just on taking care of the farm he grew up on and causing mayhem every saturday before church with rhett and brooks.

but the look in his eyes said otherwise. those dangerous, golden green eyes. "i'm sayin' i'd sure as hell like to find out."

PRESENT DAY —

the radio filters through the speakers of beau's faded red pickup truck, the cab of it rattling as he presses the gas pedal down more firmly. the window is down, his elbow propped out of it, fingers tapping idly on the door's frame.

he hadn't been back in montana in six years.

he still remembers the day he left. you, standing on the arlen family farmhouse's front porch, waving bye as he backed down the dirt driveway. i'll be back after this competition, baby, he'd promised, the gps on his phone spouting monotone directions through the aux. you couldn't yet afford a plane ticket, so he opted to drive the twenty-two hour trip. a small price for following his dream, wasn't it?

you'd given him a kiss goodbye for good luck. it'd worked. he won the bull riding championship down in dallas's championship rodeo. he stayed an extra day to bask in the victory, following where the party went, enthralled by the way his name sounded in everyone's mouths. beau arlen, bull riding champion. had a hell of a sound to it.

and the following day, when the thrill of the rodeo died down, beau went chasing down another, and another. montana became a blurry memory in the back of his mind. he never forgot you, but you were definitely a reason that he kept away. how could he face you after he broke a promise like that?

but it wasn't easy to maintain a champion status when younger, more wily riders kept popping up left and right. there was a reason that most retired before their mid 30s. beau was getting up there, closing in on his thirtieth that year. it was hard to hang up the hat, harder to not think of it as giving up, but he had to be sensible somehow.

god knew he hadn't used his brain six years ago, when he threw something stable away for a job that gambled on his life, risking it for an adrenaline rush and a belt buckle to add to the collection.

still, beau was only a man. he rolls back into the town he grew up in wearing the most recent of his buckles, the final one he'd won. he may have been giving up the lifestyle and dream he'd chased for so long, but he wasn't going to undermine his accomplishments.

he remembers the path home, even years later, without needing to look it up. his parents had gifted him the family home as a wedding gift, making him promise to put it to good use. give us some grandbabies, his mom had told him, in front of you and the entire rest of his family and your family and all of your friends, with the sweetest smile on her face.

another promise he didn't keep. another one in the back of his mind that haunted him, day in and day out.

your car is parked up by the shed when he pulls in beside it. beau doesn't expect a warm, welcome greeting from you. hell, he's sure he's gonna walk up to the front doorstep and be met with your hand stinging his cheek. he'd deserve it, too.

there were so many memories in this house. you didn't want to go anywhere for your honeymoon, so you both spent it breaking in every piece of furniture, the air in the house so thick that the open windows condensated. rhett and delilah's wedding gift to you was moonlight's foal, sunshine. he'd take you down to the river on his property, tucked away between shady trees, paving trails with sunshine's hooves.

what could he possibly say to fix this?

beau bites the bullet, shoving the driver's door open and stepping out. he grabs his duffel from the bed of the truck and hooks it over his shoulder, his expression set in a grimace as he glances at the house again.

you were watching. he could see the bottoms of the curtains swishing with the sudden jostle. the front door stays closed.

he deserves this. he knows he does. but he'd kill to see you smile. to feel your arms around him as you welcome him home. but that sort of treatment was earned, and he hadn't earned any of it, not when he abandoned you for six years for a short-lived dream.

the porch steps creak under his boots, the wood soft and splintered with age. for a moment, beau just stands there. he can hear you moving around on the other side of the door; the soft sound of music drifts out from the gapped windows, your laughter echoes through the the heavy door he raps on.

three knocks. the doorbell doesn't work. he kept promising to fix it, and then he was gone.

your warm laughs gets closer, the music louder when you pull open the heavy door and meet his gaze through the screen door.

beau watches the realization settle on you. surprise, heartache, and horror, all in quick succession. your lips are parted in some semblance of mortification, and beau can't possibly understand why. anger and upset were what he expected — hell, his jaw was tight and steeled, still expecting the slap to come.

he does not expect the screen door to shove open into his shoulder, and a little toddler in a white sundress and cowgirl boots to barrel into him. "playtime!" she shouts, barely even processing the man attached to the leg she'd caught herself around.

his old cowboy hat falls off of her head and on his feet. he's on autopilot, his brain not catching up to the forefront of his mind yet, as he bends to grab it for her, anything to avoid the look in your eyes.

"t'ank you!" she says, flashing him a toothy grin, a prominent gap in the middle of her little baby teeth. she's off again before he can get another word out, but not before he sees her eyes. pale gold-green and glittery; the eyes of a dreamer.

a month passed, and beau and you ended up dating. rhett called it, getting a twenty dollar payout from brooks when he recovered from the bout of flu he'd gotten. they'd had a running joke that you'd end up being the girl to tie him down. it was just fact and fate; rhett was dating your best friend, delilah, and brooks was dating abigail, the third to your little friend group. who else would pair together with the single of his friend group, but the single of yours?

his parents brought you up every chance they could. it was an endless cycle of, when are you bringing that sweet girl of yours over? and do we ever get to meet your little girlfriend, beau? as if the town wasn't the size of his pinky, and they hadn't watched you grow up as much as they'd watched him.

beau wasn't keeping you from them, not really. he'd meant to bring you over for your first anniversary, but you'd both gotten a little tied up in each other in the high school parking lot. and then he'd meant to on prom, but your parents wanted pictures even though you were already running late, and, well, he loved your parents, so why would he deny that?

now, there was no escaping it. you'd both just graduated, and on a day full of celebrations, beau thought there was no better time than now to show you off to his family.

the entire family. he didn't intend for his parents and grandparents and every person in between to be back at his farmhouse when he'd drove up the driveway, but why else wouldn't they have been there?

"no." your feet are firmly planted on the car's floor, your arms petulantly crossed over your chest. "no, beau, i did not sign up for this."

"hell, neither did i," he grumbled, turning off the engine and spinning in his seat to face you better. the hand he had on your thigh squeezed reassuringly, a sympathetic smile on his lips. "c'mon, maybe it'll be fun."

your eye twitched. beau loved the hell out of that eye twitch. "is this revenge for our first date?" you asked, a look of disbelief in your eyes, mouth trembling with all of the panicked words that threatened to spill out at once. "when my dad bombarded you at the front door?"

beau blinked. "honestly forgot about that."

"bull."

"bull?" he laughed, putting his hands up in a mockery of surrender. "okay. you're right. i didn't magically forget about the time your daddy walked outside to meet me with a rifle—"

you poked him hard in the shoulder. "unloaded."

"—unloaded rifle." beau snatched that hand of yours and kissed each of your knuckles. "but i did not set this all up. my mama's been pesterin' me about bringin' you over, so i thought now was a better time than ever, and—"

"apparently the entire arlen bloodline caught wind."

beau snapped his fingers with his free hand. "bingo." already, he can see the curtain's ruffling with the breeze and movement inside, shadows dancing across the glow of gold through the thin fabric. he was pretty sure that was his uncle howling with laughter, too, so loud he could hear it through the inside of his pickup. "hey, maybe it'll be fun."

you gave him a look that said you did not believe him within an inch of your life.

"we can drink?" he offered next, running down his list of reassurances. they were dwindling.

"all of your alcohol is water." you lurched forward to poke him again, and he caught your finger once again. more reassuring kisses. they were all he had to offer.

beau hmphed. "forgot about that too."

you could sit in his passenger seat and argue until your face turned blue. so he takes the initiative and let go of your fingers, shoving his door open with his shoulder.

he circled around to your side of the pickup, pulling open your door for you, a hand extended for you to take. "c'mon, sweetheart," he murmured, nodding toward his hand for you to take, "y'look too damn pretty to hide away in my truck all night."

you really did, too. a part of beau felt bad for dropping all of this on you so suddenly, but the other part is damn glad that all of his family gets to find out at once about the pretty girl he'd managed to snag.

you stared at him, and beau really expected for you to put up more of a fight. you'd fought him harder over less, like how much butter and salt to put in your popcorn at the movies. but you took his hand with nothing more than a little sigh.

"let's go meet the arlens."

beau's face had never been so red in his life. his family flitted up to the both of you in waves, always with the same routine. congratulations! what a pretty couple you make! marriage? kids? did his mama tell you about the time he played in cow patties thinking it was mud?

he'd never been so glad to have an excuse to drag you away. your family's graduation party wasn't even until tomorrow, but you'd on the spot made up the lie to save you both.

his intentions were pure. they were! he'd planned to sneak you out of the house and take you down into the woods on his family property, to show you the little rushing river deep in the trails, to show you the trees that he'd carved his name into, like you had with your barn.

and then he'd remembered that barn you had.

far enough away from your house to keep the both of you out of sight from your parents, and unofficially deemed as your special place that they never entered without warning.

the story wrote itself. your last act as reckless teenagers before you delved facefirst into adulthood. he'd insisted on being a gentleman, testing the ladder to the loft and making sure it didn't fall. he even held the top steady when you started the climb up. making it back down would be a different story, but you'd get there when you got there.

the stars were so bright from up there, through the open window in the wall. the moon hung high in the sky, the crickets chirping outside, talking to each other through the wind.

you were on his lap before he could even get properly settled on the dilapidated pile of hay, little pieces tickling along his skin as he shifted into it further to let you get comfortable.

he worked your dress's zipper down carefully through the onslaught of kisses. his tongue swiped against your lips, tasting the faint traces of vodka clinging to your mouth. it was definitely watered down, and definitely his fault, but it only made you all that much sweeter to taste.

your fingers trailed down his flannel, working the buttons open with ease as you stumble across them, until the shirt was open and spilling off of him. beau slipped it off of himself, laying it in a beginning pile in the hay next to your jacket.

the kiss broke, and you lifted your head enough for the moonlight to pour in and light your skin aglow. he couldn't look away for a moment, captivated. your teeth held your bottom lip tight between them, looking up at him through the expanse of your eyelashes, and he's gone. he's gone, he's gone, he's gone.

there was no rush to it, no sense of urgency. it was you and the moon to keep him company, and he didn't want to rush through the good things, not when it came to you.

beau slipped one sleeve of your dress off of your shoulder, his fingertips dancing over your collarbone. he followed their kiss with a proper one of his own, mouthing softly at the sensitive skin until he made his way up to your ear.

the words that came out aren't what he expected. he meant to say i love you, to seal it into your skin with his lips, to embed it into your veins and bloodstream. maybe he even would have said it a few times, permanent ink below your ear, on your neck.

instead, beau said, "marry me."

you stumbled on a laugh, your hands flattening on his chest. "what?"

he should have taken it back. "marry me." he didn't. "don't have to be right now. don't have to be next year, or the year after that. but promise you will."

your eyes glimmered in the moonlight. you looked so damn beautiful. he thought proposing would have been all nerves and jitters, that he'd get cold feet at the simple idea of marriage and commitment, but his mind made the decision for him, and he already knew that you were different. nothing felt hard or scary with you.

"beau," you said his name like a breath, "you're kiddin' me."

he shook his head, and now he was laughing, giddy and bright. his arms encircled your waist, tugging you closer to him in his lap. "say yes."

"no." but you were grinning from ear to ear. "you're crazy, arlen."

"say yes," he whispered again, nuzzling his nose against yours as he steals a kiss. "don't you wanna be a crazy arlen along with me?"

you extended the kiss, prolonging it, your palms going up to his face to hold him that close a little while longer, until you're panting breathlessly on his lips. "yes."

beau eyes popped open. he grabbed your hips with his big hands and flips the both of you so that your back was pressed into the hay. "say it again."

"yes," you nearly squealed with laughter, and he wanted to bottle the sound, he wanted to swallow it whole and never forget how happy you were right here, now, beneath him, "i'll marry you, beau arlen."

your happiness was a virus he was destined to catch; tugging a grin onto his already gleeful expression. "welcome to the arlens," he breathed as he leaned forward and stole another kiss, and another. "now we got somethin' to celebrate on our own."

daisy sits at the kitchen table, legs swinging and kicking straight out in front of her. she has a plate full of peeled apple slices and colby jack cheese cubes in front of her, mindlessly babbling as she pops them into her mouth.

she is oblivious to the tension between you and beau at this table. beau, sat at one end of the table; you, propped up against the other, hipbone digging into the sanded wooden edge.

"when did this happen?" beau asks, and there's some sort of accusation in his tone, but you aren't sure if you really hear it or are just at a predisposition to think negatively about every word from his mouth.

you both stare at each other for a while. certainly he doesn't think that you'd broken your vows when he skipped town. certainly he didn't look at your daughter and not see the arlen green eyes in her.

you glance down at the table, disbelief still clouding in a haze in your eyes. "when do you think?"

when your eyes dance back up to his, his smile is tight-lipped and force. "she's six." it's not a question, or something requiring confirmation. he knew. knew, and just didn't believe what was in front of him, almost like you couldn't, either.

"i am!" daisy pipes in through a mouthful of mashed apples. she offers beau her brightest, toothiest smile. she even had the same dimples as him.

beau spares her a glance, then, like he couldn't any longer ignore the pull toward her. hair in low pigtails over her shoulders, already coming loose around the ponytail holders, shorter strands poking awry from underneath the too big cowboy hat she wore too.

it's tense. you're sure he's going to blow up. beau wasn't really the type to lose his cool, but the beau you thought you knew wasn't this man, either. this man was aged six years, and just as capable of leaving you as much as he promised not to.

daisy holds out an apple for him, kicking beneath the table so wildly that the dining chair's legs screech against the hardwood floor.

he takes it, the tightness of his smile never loosening.

there's something he wants to say. beau always got this twitch on the corner of his lip when he was keeping something back, locked tight away behind a carefully placed mask of coolness. you saw that expression a lot - in high school, when rhett started to get clingy, or brooks got mouthy, or at his family's graduation party, when he was reaching his limit with the endless interrogations. each time, you'd slide in and swoop him away before he popped off with something he didn't mean.

there was no saving him this time, because he'd already lost himself.

you glance out toward the open fields in your backyard. a little playground sits in the dead center of the grassy plains, like it popped out of the earth itself. the chains of the swing ding against the metal poles as the wind blows them wild, bringing inside the scent of daisies and sunflowers.

"coffee?" you ask, because when have you ever been able to help yourself when it came to beau arlen? he'd had you hooked and lined from the beginning. it was just a part of you, by now, that need to calm the storm that brewed behind his eyes.

beau glances over toward the machine by the fridge. "machine's broken."

your turn to smile tersely. "was broken. six years ago."

his parents bought you a new one, after daisy was born. the least they could do, they said, considering their son was across the country living a dream that he promised he wouldn't let get in between you two, while you were at home alone raising his little girl.

there is just as much that you want to say as he does. so much anger and cruelty you want to spew at him, just to hurt him like he'd hurt you.

instead, you turn to the coffee machine to start a pot. it can wait. all of the fighting can wait until daisy isn't here. she was already wrapped up too much in the both of your mess, and she didn't deserve to become a weaponized pawn.

the screen door slams into the wall behind it, just hard enough for you to know exactly who it was without turning around. great.

"where's my pretty li'l berry princess?" abigail calls from the doorway, and from the little whiny fusses, you know that del is right behind her. the guys were probably on diaper bag duty, using that as an excuse to linger in the driveway and smoke.

beau inhales sharply. at least he's aware of how much his leaving and returning would stir things. and now he could fester in his guilt a little more, knowing that his friends and yours rallied behind you.

daisy's out of the chair before you even turn around to greet any of them. her excited squeal and sprint have the cowboy hat falling to the ground again.

the porch steps creak under the weight of the guys' heavy steps, and rhett's cough is a telling sign enough of the cigarette he shared with brooks if the smell wasn't. "delly insisted we bring you some of this cherry pie she made last night—"

"it came out so pretty," del interjects, the closest one to the kitchen doorway now that abigail had gotten hung up with your daughter. "i had to!"

"it's real good, girlie," rhett sighs, a soft thud creaking the floorboards as he drops the diaper bag down, "so damn good, i left it in the car so we can just take it right on back home—"

"rhett gaylestone!"

del peeks her head into the kitchen with a sweet smile. there's a baby carrier across her chest, a tiny head peeking out of it beneath her chin. she doesn't even glance in beau's direction; why would she? no one ever expected beau arlen to show his face back in montana.

"sorry about him," she says, wiping her palms on the skirt of her dress, "you know how the montana boys are. unreliable as sin—"

you watch it unfold. the moment that beau straightens his back, and the movement draws del's attention. she visibly startles, her mouth hung open.

it's a trainwreck. neither of them speak, but the tense smile had yet to leave beau's mouth since the realization of daisy clicked in his head.

"what the hell was all that?" rhett asks with a laugh, coming up behind his wife to prop in the doorway behind her, one hand coming around her to rest his hand on her stomach, just beneath the baby carrier. "about us montana boys being unrelia..." of course rhett would know to look where beau was sitting. they used to sit at the kitchen table, on that exact end beau was at, gambling away pocket money in games of poker, straw hanging out of their mouths. "unreliable."

beau clears his throat. "hey, rhett."

rhett scoffs out a sort of laugh, sounding more discomforted than anything. "brooks owes me twenty bucks."

brooks laughs from the other room. still as oblivious as abigail and your daughter to the fact that her daddy was home now, and what that meant. "no fuckin' way," an audible slap from abigail, and a groan to follow, "sorry, kiddos. no flippin' way. don't flip with me this time, i ain't fallin' for it this time. you can't convince me for nothin' that beau arlen's at that table—"

beau sucks in a deep breath through his teeth. he looks ready to bolt, and you're sure, from previous times, that he will.

"you should stop bettin' against me, williamson." his voice is raspier than it typically is. maybe you'd feel more bad for beau if he didn't do this to himself.

you shake your head. you'd kept silent, and calm, and collected for the last two hours of him being in your space, sharing snacks with you guys' daughter. "no, beau," you say, meeting his gaze when he finally turns it toward you, "i don't think he should."

the river cut through the forest, the sound of rushing water echoing around you. little splashes of waves spilled over the edge of it, sloshing against the damp muddy grass lining it. a little farther up the hill leading down to it, you're perched on a red and white plaid picnic blanket.

there was a book in your hands, held open with your left hand, the wedding ring on your finger glittering under the sunlight. these early days of your marriage were the easiest by far. it felt so natural, being in beau's space, your lives woven together like crochet.

beau was in the river, trying to catch frogs. you didn't remember what even led him to want to, just that you were adamant that you weren't joining him. sunshine was tied to a tree a few feet from you, chewing on patches of grass and whinnying.

"baby, you ain't gonna believe this," beau called from the river, the water splashing as he trudges out of its shallow depths.

you glanced up, and then immediately back down. "i don't wanna see whatever frog you've got captive."

beau laughed, something held in his one hand, the other coming up to run through his wet locks of hair clinging to his forehead. "i gave up on the damn frogs," he grumbled, each footstep squelching beneath him, "ain't no fun when you're a grown adult and not an eight year old. damn things are too quick."

you set your book aside, tucking it back safely in the picnic basket. you snatched a strawberry from the wicker, biting off the sweet end off it. "so what on earth are you about to drop in my lap?"

he flung his arm out at you, throwing stray water droplets across you. you knew he would; that's why you protected your book, after all. you were well adapted to the antics of your husband, by now.

"guess."

"i already guessed a frog." you sat up a little straighter, cringing at the dirty water droplets in your dress. "i lost. now you gotta just tell me."

beau dropped down in front of you, legs crossed, water pouring down his bare torso and onto the corner of the blanket he sat on. he opened up his fingers to reveal what was in his hand.

you blinked a couple of times. "a... rock?"

he groaned. "baby. i love you so much." he leaned forward to snatch your hand, yanking you a little closer to him. "so much, you know that. my beautiful, beautiful girl. you gotta open up that mind a little."

you huffed as you ended up kneeling in front of him, your knees sinking into the wet cloth beneath you. you snatched the rock out of his palm, and just faintly on the rock's smooth surface, in faded white paint, was rodeo champion, beau arlen.

"bingo," he snapped his fingers, leaning up a little to duck his head and see your expression. "told you, remember? when we met? used t'carve my name into tree trunks. used to leave it everywhere."

you tilted your head curiously at it, a small smile curving your lips upward. "i thought you were pretendin' to be arlenville sheriff, not rodeo champion beau arlen."

"when the life of justice got borin', i switched it up." he took the rock back from you, something wistful in his expression as he reads the words over himself. "s'what i wanted the most, y'know."

you did know, somehow. beau wore his dreams and his heart so proudly on his sleeve. you'd lived with him long enough to know that, after work, he'd settle onto the couch, kick his legs up, and turn on reruns of the rodeo championships. he could predict who would win, which bulls were more troublesome than the others, and when a cowboy made a bad call on a dime.

beau glanced up to meet your eyes, that same wistful smile on his lips. "what were your dreams like?" he asked, setting the rock down next to him on the picnic blanket. "not the strawberry princess ones, or the silly ones. what did my little sweetheart see herself growin' up into?"

you hummed a little to yourself, shifting a little so that you could splay your legs over his lap. forget not wanting to get dirty or wet. "a nurse, once," you said, scrunching up your face at the memory, "i used to insist on havin' every baby doll in the market, because i wanted to take care of them. make sure they were alright, y'know?"

beau nods, his arm slipping around your back to cradle you properly against his side. "you would look good in the scrubs," he teased, but you knew, like you always did, that it was never with bad intent.

"mmm, maybe," you agreed idly, "but i didn't want to go through all that school. i wanted to just... just launch into somethin'. and so i shifted gears completely. no more baby dolls, but flowers. made up my own little garden patch just outside that old barn down at my folks' place."

beau's fingers traced lines and shapes down the curve of your spine. "that when the strawberry and the peach princesses come into play?"

you slapped him lightly on the arm, chuckling a little to yourself. "stop it. but yes. del and i planted everything we could to see if it would grow, and call it our princess magic if it did."

"a damn flower girl," beau murmured into your neck, planting little kisses on the skin. "it suits you. what changed?"

"nothing changed," you said, tipping your head to press your temple to his. "i still dream about flowers. havin' a big garden in the backyard, havin' a shop downtown."

beau scooped you up, settling you comfortably in his lap, straddling his waist and the wet denim clinging to his legs. "well, what the hell is stoppin' us now, from gettin' you that flower shop of yours downtown?"

there were those eyes again, the ones you always knew meant bad news, back when you were younger and still dancing on the cusp of being in love and running before he could fully swoop in and steal your heart.

your lips curled, teeth worrying at the bottom one. "maybe nothing. maybe everything."

"no. nothin' is." beau leaned in to capture your lips in his, pulling the bottom one loose from your teeth with his own. "we'll get my baby a flower shop. we'll get you a garden in this backyard. hell, we'll fill all the fields with sunflowers and daisies."

your head fell backward in a laugh. "stop it!" but it's half-hearted, because beau always knew how to lasso you into all of his crazy dreams, and he was already beginning to sell you on it without needing to do much convincing at all.

"we'll name all our kids after flowers," he mumbled against your jawline, kissing upwards until he met the corner of your mouth. "daisy. rose. violet. lily."

"what about the boys?"

beau paused, taking a breath before he stole a proper kiss from your lips. "we jus' won't have boys."

you're silent for a long while. beau always made the impossible and the unachievable seem so pretty and within reach. you lifted your hand to touch his cheekbone, swiping gently across the smooth, sunkissed skin, before you let it fall to the ground next to the both of you, grabbing the little rock he'd placed down.

rodeo champion, beau arlen.

"but then who will continue on with your bull ridin' legacy?"

beau's gaze is unbelievably soft when he meets your eyes. his fingers close around yours, bringing them to his lips to place a gentle kiss to each knuckle. "you're worth more than every dream, sweetheart." again, he kisses each knuckle, one by one, lingering on them this time. "i think a flower girl and a cowboy make a mighty fine pairin'."

you'd let beau tuck in daisy. daisy. his baby girl's name was daisy. she looked just like you, all except for the fire in those pretty green eyes she'd inherited from him. she was tiny, and a little spitfire, and it ached so desperately that he didn't get to watch what shaped this little girl. that, in a way, his absence did more for her than his reappearance had.

her room was a scattered mess of baby dolls and plushie horses. on her small dresser, beau had plucked that old hat of his off of her head and popped it there before he'd scooped her up and tucked her into the baby blue blankets on her bed.

"are you staying?" she asks him quietly, her voice a little slurry and sleep addled, tiny fingers curled into the hem of her blanket, holding it up to her chin.

beau brushes those stray, wild hairs off of your forehead, leaning down to press a lingering kiss to her temple. "of course i'm stayin'. and miss out on my future rodeo champion growin' up? no way."

daisy's giggles spread a warmth through his veins that he hadn't felt in this house in far too many years. for the first time since he came back, he felt welcomed, though he knew that it was only because she didn't know, not really, who he was. "mommy told me about you."

"what did mommy say?"

under her little elbow was a little white horse plush, near identical to sunshine. his smile is hesitant, but there, as he drops his hand down to pat its head, and then hers.

"mommy said you were a dreamer," daisy says wistfully, her eyes fluttering as she forced them open, "that you chased things and chased things, no matter what it meant. she said you rode off into the sunset."

beau frowns when her eyes fall shut and stay shut, the rise and fall of her little breaths deepening and slowing. there was a time when people said that about him and meant it in a good way. there was a time when his name was spoken with reverence and awe.

that was before he'd moved up from local rodeos to the big time, where he proceeded to take all of his dreams besides that single, blinding one and dump them away.

one more time, he leans down to kiss the top of daisy's forehead, before he pushes off of the edge of her bed and flicks the light off as he leaves. he pulls the door shut behind him, leaving it gapped so that the golden light in the hallway filtered through. he didn't know if she was scared of the dark. beau didn't know much of anything about his daughter.

he did know, though, that someway, he had to make this right with you. you, who was sitting on the couch in the living room, filtering through channels on the tv screen. you glance up at beau when his steps creak on the old floors, before you quickly glance away.

"i'll put on the rodeo for you."

beau grimaces. like hell he'd want to see what the newer, spunkier cowboys were doing after he'd hung up the hat. like hell he'd want to watch it anyways, not right now, not after those showings were part of the reason his head got too big and he stopped thinking rationally.

"put on the simpsons or somethin'," he waves a hand idly in the tv's direction, "not that shit."

"whatever you want, arlen." you press the remote into the arm of the couch, your smile forced and sickly sweet at once. "you'll be the one down here watchin' it."

beau sidesteps as you pass, his face screwing up in irritation he didn't deserve to feel and confusion. "we're not even gonna talk? you're just gonna go to bed?"

"yes, beau," you toss back at him, spinning on your heel to face him. there it is, he wants to think. the anger he'd expected and didn't get, not once, until the sun fell and the guests cleared and their daughter drifted off. "yes. i'm gonna go to bed. because in the morning, i have to drop daisy off at kindergarten. i have to go to the shop and work. not all of us have the luxury of hangin' up a hat and callin' it done."

beau's lips thin. he nods a couple of times, his arms crossing firmly over his chest. "go on, sweetheart. keep 'em comin'. what else have you been stewin' on while i was gone?"

"you're a coward," slips out of your mouth as easily as i love you once did. "you abandoned everything at the first sight of freedom from this town. you didn't even think twice."

beau shakes his head, now, and doesn't stop. "you think i was free out there?" he takes a step closer to you, towering over you. you don't shrink. not even a little. "you think i felt free any of the days i wasn't in the ring? that i didn't feel suffocated by the weight of your hurt, back here?"

"you don't know a thing about hurt, beau. not if it hit you in the face."

"so hit me in the face. show me how it felt."

your palm cracks across his cheek, his jaw slackening with the force of it, skin reddening beneath the pale brown of facial hair. "there it is," he says out loud this time, a hand coming up to rub at the stinging scruff, "my pretty girl's fire."

"i am not," you shove his chest back, pushing his spine into the back of the couch, "your pretty girl."

beau throws his arms up and glances around. "and why the hell not? you got another man around here i don't know about? hidin' under our bed?"

your eyes flare. he's lashing out. he knows that all he's doing is finding all of your wounds and prodding at them until they rebruise, but he can't seem to stop. "so it's true, then."

"what's true, honey?" his eyebrows bounce, shoulders lifting in a shrug. "you'll have to talk to me if you wanna get pissy with me."

the eye twitch. beau missed everything about you while he was gone, but goddamn, that eye twitch. there was a twisted sort of comfort in the fact that only he could ever bring it out of you.

"you fucked kelsey."

"hey, watch the language, alright?" he tsks. "baby girl's upstairs tryna sleep n' all that."

"you fucked kelsey jones from tv, and now you're projectin', tryin' to make up some random man that i cheated on you with—"

beau's expression sharpens. "never once did i cheat on you." something has gone awry, and his control in this battle of words and anger has slipped. somewhere in your anger and your hurt and his guilt and shame, something got validated that shouldn't have been. "you think i cheated on you?"

"don't even lie to me, beau arlen, i'll go grab a goddamn butcher's knife, and—"

"i. never. cheated. on. you." his voice comes out firmer, and more harsh, than he intends. you fall silent. the echoing buzz of it in his ears is louder than any of your fight, so far. "never once was tempted."

your mouth trembles with, he hopes, anger and not tears. if you started to cry, he'd crumble. every bit of his resolve would crash down. "she wanted to fuck you."

"hell, a lot of people wanted to fuck me," he laughs, tries desperately to dampen the fire, but it only seems to stoke it a little higher. "kelsey jones only saw the big belt buckle. if terry gold had won, she'd have been all over him, too."

you don't even move. beau would have thought time was frozen in place if the simpsons wasn't quietly playing behind him on the tv.

"and 'i didn't think twice' about leaving?" he continues when you still don't say a thing. "sweetheart, i thought about you every damn day. no win was a win without you there, seein' your grinnin' face on the sidelines. i kept chasin' and chasin' because i thought i'd feel good if i won enough, or if i won the right championship, but by the time i realized that it never felt like a win because you weren't there, six years had passed."

not an excuse. beau knows he has no excuse at all for not just immediately turning to go back home, so he wasn't even going to bother trying to make one.

"i was going to tell you when you came home," you say, and the familiarity of your quiet voice is like a knife. "i knew you'd win. i told you that day that all of our dreams were coming true."

beau winces. "i know."

"and then you never came home." the knife plants itself in his heart and twists. the anger rises like a flush over your heated face. "you just kept movin' around, and i was left in your house, with all these little reminders of you, and an even littler one inside of me, and you were gone."

what can he do besides take it? he did make that choice. he made it over, and over, because he was a coward, and didn't want to face this exact conversation.

he thinks you might slap him again. but all you do is walk closer, like you really want him to feel the force of the consequences, until you're close enough for him to breathe in that perfume of yours.

"i can't even say i hate you," you manage, even though the words are stifled and choked on, a physical lump in your throat, "even though i want to."

beau's hands raise to cup your face between them, tilting your head up to properly look in your eyes. his always shimmered with wildness, something uncontained and dangerous; yours shimmered now with tears and everything broken between the two of you.

he doesn't mean to kiss you. he leaned down to whisper his apologies into your breath so that hopefully you'd breathe them in and know he meant them. but beau was not very good at doing the right thing, or the thing he intended to do.

you're tense when your lips meet. you taste like cherry chapstick, or maybe it was the two bites of delilah's cherry pie you'd had. he almost pulls away, has the apology lined up on his lips along with all of the others, but then you grab his face and force him closer.

your grip is harsh. nails bite into beau's skin as he follows your lead, his hands sliding under your thighs and hoisting you up into his arms, helping you to wrap them tightly around his waist. there's a lot of blind stumbling, but he makes it down the hall to your room.

your room, his room, both — what did it matter anymore?

it's even more haphazard as he collapses down on the edge of it, more focused on keeping you planted in his lap than he is on where he's landing. the room is still decorated the same, in the little glimpses he catches between breaths. the pictures in the frames on the dresser, the calendar still months behind, though he wonders if it's now months and years behind.

beau's heart aches, tight and taut behind his ribs, so he kisses you harder. his fingers find the zipper of your dress and start to trail it down, going back up to unclasp your bra in that same swoop.

your hands are on his chest, ripping at the flaps of his flannel, popping the buttons open, some of them flying loose. you look so beautiful in your anger, all bright eyed and flushed. beau lets you peel his shirt off of him, tossing it aside in the room. he lets you run your soft fingertips down his chest until they reach his jeans.

"stupid ass belt buckle," you grumble under your breath, looking up at him through your eyelashes, almost as if you were teasing him rather than trying to hurt him.

but the words hit their mark. yeah, the buckles were stupid, in the long run. he threw away the first six years of his daughter's life and six years with you for this stupid ass belt buckle. he'd wore it home as if it was some sort of flex that this is what his life boiled down to, on his own choices.

"let me make this right," beau murmurs down the column of your throat, sucking little marks into the skin, tasting the bruising skin with his tongue. "i'll make it right."

the belt buckle unclasps, and you're yanking it off of him wordlessly, though he can hear the little pants of breath falling out of your mouth. "can't," you manage to say, tugging open his jeans and trying to pull them off under your own weight.

"can't i try?" beau tugs the sleeve down your shoulder, helps you slip your arm loose from it.

you nudge his face up with your nose and steal a punishing kiss, teeth colliding and pinching the skin of his inner lip between them. "i'd rather you just shut up."

you'd hate him for this in the morning. hell, you'll probably hate him for all of this the moment that your orgasm subsided. he'd take these little moments of tension-ridden peace while he could.

the dress pools down on his waist, hung up by the fact that you were still in his lap, just like his jeans were. beau raises your arms to work the straps of your bra off, tossing it away as aimlessly as you'd thrown his shirt.

he goes back to your throat, trailing kisses downwards now, between the valley of your breasts and everywhere in between.

beau hooks his fingers into your panties with his lips sucking little marks on the tops of your breasts, tugging on the hem. "gotta get up for a sec, baby," he mumbles, kissing the sensitive marks he'd left, "got us at a standstill."

you raise up on your knees, kicking the dress away from you. the look you give him is some variation of malice, but he can look past the lingering hurt and see it for what it was. passion laced in with your anger, turning into something beautiful and violent, lashing against your veins and threatening to get out.

beau kicks his jeans off, his boxers following suit moments afterwards. he grabs you by the waist to get you to step between his legs, tugging your panties down your legs once you were close enough.

the lack of clothes seems to revitalize that rage warring inside of you. you go from complacent and warm against him to looking completely furious that this is happening at all. beau again expects another slap, but it doesn't come this time, either. instead, your hand shoves him back down onto the mattress.

"i want to hate you so bad," you say to him, a wobble to your voice that is more than enough proof that you meant it.

he reaches down for your hand, tugging you on top of him. "show me how bad," he whispers against your mouth, before he teases at your lip with his teeth.

you interlock your fingers with his, and for a second, it feels like it used to, back when you were both twenty and everything was fun and easy. it feels like the cool wind of nostalgia and the warmth of love. you lift the conjoined hands to rest against his chest as you shift from straddling his waist to settling into his lap, sinking down onto him in one slow motion.

beau watches every second. watches as your lips part as he stretches you open, your eyelashes flutter against your cheekbones. you still fit so perfectly around him, even if it hurt to admit that. how could he have thought for even a second that there was a dream better than the one he had in his lap?

your eyes lock onto his, and somehow, it's more intimate than your first time together was. more intimate than the entirety of your honeymoon. every emotion flashes across your face at once, and he reaches up to thumb across your cheekbone to wipe away the stray eyelash, though all that was, was just an excuse to touch you.

his other hand finds your hip, reluctantly having let go of your fingers, helping to guide your movements on him, even if you didn't need it. you knew what you were doing, knew what you wanted.

"i'm sorry," beau finally breathes out, the words more of a grunt than anything else. he opens his mouth to say more but you slap your hand over his lips, and it's all he can do not to laugh.

you grind down into his pelvis a little harder this time, smearing slow circles where you're connected, your lips open in wordless pants. "i told you to shut up."

"can't." he groans this time, his hips bucking up into you, the tip of his cock brushing along your cervix. he starts, and can't seem to stop it, as he meets your movements and buries himself into your tight walls. "got too many — too many things to apologize for."

even with glassy, dazed eyes, you manage a glare at him. it's probably the sexiest thing beau's ever seen. "you didn't answer my calls."

"felt like a dumbfuck," his voice is muffled against your palm, and your grip tightens over his mouth like a silent urge to shut the hell up, but he's never been one for listening, "sorry. dumbflip. thought it'd make it worse — when i didn't have an explanation."

you're not usually as domineering as this. you weren't exactly submissive to him, but you'd never held the control you had over him in positions like this and used it against him. because one moment you had a quick, steady pace as you rode him, and now you were agonizingly slow, your jaw ticking.

"you should have answered." beau wasn't listening. he could feel each time you stretched around him and could tell by the way your thighs tightened around his when he'd hit that spot deep enough inside of you to make you squirm. your hand squishes his face between your fingers to draw beau's attention again. "should have answered. should have checked in."

"i'm sorry." what was he even apologizing for again? all beau could think about was how his head was tipped back to meet the stern look in your eyes, and how pretty your mouth looked when it was pursed in that little pout. god, he was going to fucking bust like a teenager. "won't do it again."

"that's a terrible apology."

"sorry." all he can say is sorry. he'd been reduced to a mess of a man beneath you, and when he seemed to be reaching the point of desperation that you wanted him at, you finally stopped fighting against his grip's guidance and quickened your pace again. "really sorry, baby."

you move your hand away from his mouth, replacing it with a kiss that was almost loving, slow and languid. "you've got six years to make up for in one night. good luck."

yeah. good luck, alright. he didn't think he'd make it to the morning alive.

the adrenaline and the thrill that came from being in the bullring was an intoxication of its own, but beau found that it was nothing at all compared to the look on your face when he found you in the stands.

he'd pull you half over the gate and kiss the daylights out of you, until your lips were swollen pink and his ached with the loss of it. he'd stand on the podium with the local montana championship buckle on his belt, and it wouldn't even settle in that he'd won at all until you were dragging him back to his truck in the parking lot.

the people around town started saying his name differently now. he was outgrowing the reputation that he, rhett, and brooks had left as a heathen montana boy and was becoming his own name. a renowned name. one that, he could tell, you were proud to have attached next to yours.

"did you see?" you asked him one day at breakfast, sliding the newspaper across the table to him. "the next rodeo's gonna have scouts for the big leagues."

you were always his biggest fan. you told him to pursue this dream of his, ensured him that it was just as important as yours were to him, and so it only made sense that he take this next step for you. that he outshine every other guy in the county and take it big, down to dallas, texas.

and so he did. beau sustained a minor ankle sprain and a dislocated arm, but by god, did he ride hard, setting a local record and capturing the eye of that scout.

dallas has been waiting for a guy like you to come out, the scout told him. and beau saw gold; bright, shining, blinding gold.

"come with me," beau said the night before he had to leave, throwing handfuls of clothes and necessities into a duffel bag. he dreamt big, but he didn't plan big, and when given a week before the championship, he'd waited until two days before it to start and finish his packing.

you're taking the hangers that he tosses onto the bed, hanging them back up in the closet. "can't. i've got a shop to run and a horse to keep happy."

"sunshine'll live without her favorite girl for a few days."

"okay. scratch that." you snatched his stetson off of the dresser and put it delicately on your head. "someone's gotta hold it down here in arlenville."

beau laughed heartily, shaking his head in pure, unbridled amusement. "and you've taken up the mantle?"

"a sheriff's gotta do what a sheriff's gotta do."

he wanted to keep pushing, but he knew that you were stubborn — and right. you had a shop here to run, had a garden to maintain, and someone did have to watch over sunshine. as much as he wanted you there alongside him, he understood where you were coming from.

"i'm gonna bring it home, baby," he said when he rises to his feet, zipped up duffel sitting on the end of the bed. he tugged you into his arms, dipping down to kiss you once, twice. "gonna get the gold."

"i know," you nuzzled up into him, noses brushing together, "my cowboy can do anything."

beau ran his tongue over his bottom lip. "i should teach you how to ride," he murmurs, leaving little kisses down your cheek, just below your ear. "give her a li'l lesson on cowgirlin' up before i head out."

you laughed as he scooped you up in one arm, his other hand adjusting the hat properly on your head.

beau had put the hat back on you, too, that next day, when he was about to head out on the road. "keep it nice n' warm for me."

"don't you want it for good luck?"

beau's eyes ran all over you, his expression melting at the sight of you. "no. don't need it. i'll be back after this competition, baby," he promises, brushing a knuckle over your cheekbone, "and i've got all the good luck i need right here."

he brings his ring finger up to his lips, kissing the wedding band he wore. your eyes were a little glossy, but you still looked beautiful. a little nervous, maybe, but so was he.

beau takes a hold of your face between his bigger palms and drags you down to press his lips to your forehead, lingering there for awhile.

"i've got to tell you something," you breathed onto his lips, glancing between the both of his eyes. "but i'm gonna wait until you're home again. gotta keep your head on straight, don't you?"

beau laughed, taking your hand to kiss your wedding ring, too. "my head's always a little screwy around you."

"i'm serious," you laughed, too, and there those tears were again. he wished he could take them away, if only so you didn't look so devastated about these few days apart. "all of our dreams are coming true, beau."

he nodded, leaning in to kiss the tip of your nose once more. "they are," he agreed, brushing your hair out of your eyes, "and we've got so many more to make."

letting go of you was the hardest decision he'd ever made. if beau didn't, then, he wouldn't have. he'd have stayed there in your arms and wiped away all of those tears as they fell. but some dreams were infinite and some had a time limit, and he wasn't capable of letting this one slip through his fingers.

"i love you!" you called from the porch, waving at him through the windshield of his truck as he turned the engine.

beau hopped up to sit in the open window of the driver's seat, head peeking out over the roof of the truck. "i love you more, baby."

you open your mouth like you were going to argue, but you must have known that again, it would have kept him there for hours, going back and forth until one of you caved and you wound back up in bed.

he gives you a little wave this time, as he shifts to settle back into the driver's seat. beau starts to back out of the dirt driveway, alternating between your shrinking form on the porch, waving at him, and looking out the rearview mirror.

leaving one dream for another. it made him feel a little sick, knowing that he was leaving you here and not having you next to him, but at least it wasn't forever. at least it was just a few days that he'd be gone, and then he'd get to see you again.

just a few days.

the sun crested over the hill that the arlen farmhouse was planted upon, spilling bright gold through the glass and onto the sheets that you'd gotten tangled up in. last night was a blur of sweat and sex and too many apologies to count. at some point, you'd deemed beau forgiven enough to get some sleep, even though you felt a little nauseous over the thought of beau in the bed next to you.

too familiar, and yet not enough so.

at least beau seemed to get it, in a way. it may have taken a fight and a few mean words to get through to his skull that this wasn't something that could be solved in one night. he'd missed the birth of his little girl. he'd missed her first steps, first words, and her first lost tooth. missed her first day of kindergarten.

you felt as angry at him for it as you felt guilty. you did try to tell him, but beau didn't pick up the phone, and there was never a solid address to send letters to. you'd tried, but it still wasn't his fault that you found out about the pregnancy the day that he left. it was just his fault that he chose to not come back.

beau shifts a little in his sleep, his arm tossed over your waist and tucking you closer into his chest. he still smells a little like sex, but underneath it all is that cologne of his that you'd missed so desperately.

"g'mornin', sweetheart," beau rasps into your hair, pressing a kiss into the mop of it, just behind your ear. his voice is like gravel and sin. you'd both changed a lot in these last missed years, but fundamentally, he was still beau, and you were still yourself.

you see those traces of him in his smile when you tilt your head up to meet his sleepy eyes. the alarm clock on his side of the bed read 5:43. you'd have to start rallying daisy for breakfast, soon, so she had enough time to play and watch cartoons before school, like she always did.

just because your life routine changed didn't mean that hers had to.

beau brushes the hair away from your forehead. "what's goin' on in that pretty head of yours?"

"nothing." too quick to reign true. what was the point of trying to lie, anyways? you'd already slept with him. the anger was already dealt with, leaving nothing but a dull sort of ache in its place. "just... thinking how i have to wake daisy up, soon."

and that you felt a little guilty for everything. guilty for the fight. guilty for kissing him. guilty for pulling him back into your bed like he hadn't walked out on you. guilty for hearing his apologies and still not knowing whether it was safe to forgive him.

his smile doesn't fade, not even for a second. there's still the underlying fear that he was going to leave again, but at least there was the reassurance that he was still beau arlen, sweet as a man could be when he wasn't so caught up on the what ifs.

"let me."

your eyebrows furrow. you open your mouth to insist otherwise, but he steals a kiss before you can. his lips dance with yours slowly, savoring the taste and the familiarity of the motion. "i'm serious, baby. let me."

beau shifts again behind you, this time to ease you onto your other side to face him better. words don't come to the surface now that you need them to.

"what was her first word?"

"baba." you smile a little, thinking back to little daisy in your arms, her tiny fingers grasping impatiently for the bottle in your fingers. "she was hungry."

he smiles, too, a shadow replica of yours. just as hesitant, sad; the same feeling of loss over what could have been a shared memory. "first steps?"

"she ran." you lean your forehead against his, closing your eyes for a second, remembering those days when she was littler but just as rambunctious, barreling into everything without a care of the scrapes and the bruises. "i was walkin' with her, holdin' her up on my feet, and she just... took off."

"sounds like you," beau teases, kissing the tip of your nose.

you snort, opening your eyes again. "no. it sounds like you."

beau's little smile fades. he brings a hand up to cup your cheek, brushing his thumb across it. "i'm sorry," he whispers, sincerity oozing out of the words so thick that you could almost taste their bittersweet honey, "i should have been here. hell, i should have long already been here."

"you should have answered the phone, too."

he nods. "should have done a lot of things differently."

it's not that you didn't forgive him, or that you were entirely angry with him. those feelings still existed, but at least he was here now, and at least he knew he messed up. you couldn't exactly make a proper judgement call on if he'd changed and learned from those mistakes, now; not until he proved that he meant these pretty promises he was making.

"daisy..." beau mumbles to himself, a little huff of a laugh falling from his lips, now. "i can't wait to get to know her."

"she's just like you," you say, desperately hoping that he ignores the voice crack in your words. "full of dreams and energy and wonder. she's great, beau. she's really great."

the pad of beau's thumb swipes underneath your eye, tracing the lift of your cheekbone. "we gotta get the hell up," he says around a yawn, a dimple poking through his muss of facial hair as he gives you a little grin, "we've got a little girl to drop off at school."

TWO YEARS LATER —

daisy is seven, almost eight. she calls beau dad with ease, even though she had from the moment that she met him. she brings home report cards with straight a's and b's and notes from the teacher about being a little bit mouthy, a little bit wild, but otherwise a wonder to have in class.

beau has her in front of him on the swingset, pushing her even though she insists she can do it herself. he knows she can, but he has a lot of parenting to make up for, and he was so damn glad to.

inside the house, he could hear the chattering of his friends and yours, cleaning up the remnants of a get-together dinner. ella gaylestone is just as crazy as rhett was, and so she was leashed to his belt loop to keep from running and tearing things up, even though beau knew that she just wanted to come out here and play, too.

he was picking up these things, these natural instincts that came with being a parent. rhett and delilah probably knew that their little girl wanted to play, but they also knew that sometimes, like now, daisy just wanted some time with beau.

he'd never deny his baby girl these moments, either.

abigail was pregnant with her and brooks's first. a boy; the first boy to get granted heir to the montana boys legacy, they'd said, though the girls were already proving themselves to be just as worthy too. daisy was so clever, and ella was crazy; they would pick up where beau, rhett, and brooks left off just fine.

"daddy, you never told me about the bull ridin'," daisy says suddenly, craning her head back over her shoulder to look at him. her green eyes were so pale and bright in the setting sun. "i thought you'd have so many stories."

she loved sunshine as much as beau had once loved moonlight. you and beau had signed her up for horse riding lessons that she didn't need, not when she was already a natural. she was his kid, through and through.

"what do you want to know?"

she hums, tapping her fingers along the chains she holds onto. "was it scary?"

"very scary."

"why did you do it then?"

beau wasn't very good with the why questions that came with parenting, though, but was any parent? he mimics her humming noise, just to make her laugh. "sometimes the scary things are the best things."

it was as good of an answer as he could give. that was something she'd learn with time, just like he'd learned how to slip into the role of father. something innate that clicked into place when the time was right.

it'd been terrifying to leave you, that day. it'd been terrifying to come back. it'd been terrifying falling in love with you, and even more so when he fell deeper in love. it'd been horrifying to meet his daughter at six years old. all of those things were things that he did not regret.

he glances out toward the open fields of land behind the arlen family home. daisies and sunflowers and, now lining the fence of their yard, roses. the wind blew and with it came the sweet smell of flower petals and pollen.

the back porch door swings open, and out toddles a wobbly stepped little girl, heading straight for the playground. rhett looks a bit sheepish in the doorway, tossing his hands up in exasperation. "she's got a mind of her own."

"that's alright," beau reassures, slowly pulling daisy's swing to a stop, even with her protests. "you gonna be okay hangin' out with uncle rhett and little ella?"

"do i get to stay up late tonight?" already bargaining with him. daisy arlen was definitely his little girl. you'd been right about her being just like him.

beau sighs dramatically. "i guess so. only tonight, though. you've got school again in a couple days."

daisy picks up ella and puts her on her hip, and it nearly makes beau's knees buckle. he doesn't want her to grow up just as much as he does want her to. it's so bittersweet, watching kids become adults, seeing how quickly it all happens. he used to carry daisy on his hip like that.

he turns to head back inside, waving away rhett's offer of a cigarette as he does. brooks seems to smell the cigarette through the florally scents in the wind and passes beau on his way in.

"they're havin' girl talk," brooks warns, snatching rhett's cigarette from between his lips, "good luck in there."

beau snorts. what did beau need luck for when he's already gotten lucky enough to have earned your forgiveness and your trust again?

still, he lingers a little longer in the kitchen, listening in for a good time to dip in and see you again. no amount of time anymore was enough time with you, in his mind.

"do you know what it is, yet?" abigail. beau smiles a little to himself, knowing exactly what they were talking about.

your voice chimes in next, a little hum to the words out of your mouth. "no. i don't think we want to know, either."

"that couldn't be me. i had to know the second i could." delilah. her voice is louder than the others, and before he knew it, she was about to run straight into him. "oh, sorry, beau. girlie, your beau's in here!"

beau shakes his head, stepping out of her way. delilah goes straight for the lemonade pitcher, and so beau goes ahead and grabs her a cup. "very original, delly."

"hey, i got a lot of cheesy beau jokes to catch up on!"

beau snorts, letting delilah pour her glass of lemonade before he steals it right from her hand, dipping out of the kitchen and into the living room as she protests behind him.

"beau," you say with a little sigh, looking up from your spot in the rocking chair to meet his eyes. he comes to stand next to you, bending down to kiss your temple.

abigail's nails tap mindlessly on her own lemonade glass. "maybe you will tell me," she says, sitting up straighter, "since your girl here won't."

you roll your eyes fondly, your hand coming up to steal beau's off of the armrest. he lets you take his hand, tracing shapes on his palm with your fingertips. "she's being nosy."

"i'm always nosy! so tell me!" abigail looks over at beau, now, one hand strewn over her swollen belly. "what are your name ideas?"

beau huffs out a laugh, taking the stetson off of his head and draping it on top of yours. "this is what that's about?"

"told you," you hum, your free hand lifting up from your own swollen belly to adjust the brim of the hat on your head, "nosy, nosy."

beau doesn't mind it, though. he's got years of talking about his kids and boasting about his family to make up for. "rose. we were thinkin' rose."

notes. u may be thinking omfg dahlia finally watched big sky !! beau arlen !! no i did not. i stole his name and the lil info i could find on the big sky wiki n i made an au <3 bc that is my specialty!!! not knowing canon shit so i make aus!!! terrified to post this literally bc what if the beau arlen lovers think i did bad. i will pretend i don't see. anyways this is long asf sorry i had a STORY TO TELL !!! LOL

tags. @titsout4jackles @deansbeer @honeyryewhiskey @ultravi0lence14 @figthoughts @theosaurous @stereotypicalbarbie @whyyouegg @eepwtf @rositaslabyrinth @rubyvhs @aileenunfiltered @abox-of-rocks @sunsbaby @bluemerakis @jollyhunter @misatxox @sunsettsam @angelblqde @bombarda-babe @unfortunate-brat @funkycoloured @chevroletdean @chiierful @cowboysandcigarettes @voidsuites @bitchykittenconnoisseur @beausling @soldiersgirl @dulcescorderitas @hyacinnths @couturewinx @blushpinkdoll @mccartneyqp @svbnra

[ghost-proofbaby]

Okay hear me out, Eddie nervous on your first valentines day together wanting to make it special and only knowing how to valentines from what he's seen at school and he panics and is very eddie about the whole thing 👀

please my heart almost couldn't take this. i swore nothing over 1k but nervous and panicking eddie being all cute?? yeah i couldn't help myself. this isn't edited, sorry in advance. no warnings, just fluff.

wc: 2.2k

He feels stupid.

It's the only thought ringing through his head as he sits at the Munson's dining table, scraps of construction paper strewn over the worn wood, glue stick drying out to the side and scissors digging into his knuckles. 

It had started as a prophetic vision after a few hits from his blunt; it was quickly souring into the most ridiculous thing he’s ever done. 

The high had worn off, Eddie had glued his fingers together thrice now (seriously, how was this glue stick approved for children?), and the end product…. Well, he hated it. 

The card was tacky. The flowers were uneven. He didn’t even have the willpower nor time to make a full bouquet as he had originally wanted to while under the influence. Pink glitter was now overtaking the trailer, and he’s never seen his uncle look so damn entertained. 

“Boy, what on God’s green Earth are you going?” 

Normally, the twang of Wayne’s accent would be comforting. But right now, all Eddie could hear was held back laughter choking up his old man’s throat, and a glint in his eye that felt a lot like a taunt, and he felt the farthest from comforted in a very long time. 

“Mind your business, old man,” Eddie grumbles, tongue sticking out as he tries to reglue a corner of a paper heart he had cut out, needing it to stick down properly. He probably should have purchased glue, in hindsight. 

“Where did you get all this paper?”

“I said mind your business.”

“Is that pink glitter?” 

“Don’t you have work?” Eddie huffs, grabbing at the Valentine card he was attempting to salvage, cheeks blushing more vibrant than any of the arts and crafts supplies spread about. 

He didn’t want to admit how embarrassed he was. He didn’t want to give anyone else the satisfaction. It was his own damn fault, really – he had offered for your nightly diner dates to be on him one too many times this last month, and entirely forgotten to put away any extra cash to get you a proper Valentine. And this was his last resort. 

He’d tried to convince the local florist to discount the flowers missing one too many petals for him, he’d tried to scope out the cheapest cards available at Melvald’s. He’d begged and bartered with every option in town to simply get you something for the day of love, and in the end, he’d simply fallen short.

So now, all he had was a palm full of gritty glitter and homemade items that looked worse for wear. 

One of the kinder ladies that lived two trailers down had been happy to offer Eddie some of her scrapbooking papers, throwing in the glitter for good measure, and he still had an old glue stick from when he’d built one of his custom tabletop maps for a D&D campaign. With five hours and a dream, he was now the not-so-proud creator of three handmade paper roses, and a card hardly large enough to fit in his palm. 

When he took a step back to look at it all, Wayne was right to be snickering on the couch over it all. 

“They’re going to hate it,” Eddie laments, glaring down at his creations, “They’re going to hate it, and I’m going to get dumped on our first Valentine’s day together.”

“Don’t be so harsh on yourself, son,” Wayne tries to genuinely comfort Eddie now, leaning forward to get a better look at his last five hours of work, “I’m sure they’re gon’ be happy that you just thought of the-”

“My life is over,” Eddie interrupts, walking over to the couch to collapse dramatically.

Wayne stops him, however, throwing up a hand, “Nope. You’re not gettin’ that damn pink glitter all over my couch. Go mope in your room.”

After a brief stare-off, a whole ten seconds wasted when Eddie could be wallowing in his self-pity, Eddie does exactly that.

He hopes Wayne is right, for all their sakes. There’ll be bigger things to worry about than just glitter if you really do hate Eddie’s attempt at a sincere Valentine. 

—

It takes nearly a full minute of knocking on the Munson’s trailer’s front door before Eddie opens it for you – that’s your first sign that something is terribly wrong. 

Your next sign is when Eddie hardly adds any enthusiasm into your welcome kiss, so reserved, as though he might be in a constant state of cringing; a constant state of preparing for the worst. 

“Is something the matter?” you ask innocently enough, toeing off your shoes and shifting your bag in hand. You’d picked up a few movies for the night, a variety of cheesy rom-coms Eddie expressed a slightest bit of interest in along with a few more up his alley. A horror film that neither of you had seen that looked to have a budget of $10 and a dream, and Labyrinth. 

The latter, you’d both already seen. Neither of you would pass up seeing David Bowie in his full glory, though. 

“It’s fine,” Eddie huffs out, still refusing to meet your gaze, “Want me to put on some popcorn?” 

You can’t help but light up as you follow him in his rush to the kitchen, “God – yes, please. I also got some sour patch kids, your favorite, and-”

You cut off when you catch sight of the dining room table. 

Eddie doesn’t glance back as he reaches up to the cabinet holding the stash of popcorn he keeps around for your movie nights, “And?” 

“Eddie…” you slowly draw out in a questioning tone, looking at the mess before you, “What, uh, happened here?” 

It’s an explosion of quintessential Valentine’s day. Pink paper hearts, strips of deep reds discarded messily. A shimmering glitter covers the table, and you can’t recall any DIY projects of Eddie’s for Hellfire that might involve that. 

“What?” He’s quick to turn around at that, and you watch as all the blood drains from his face, “Oh, fuck, I-” he launches himself back around the kitchen counter frantically, grabbing at any piece of paper he can find, “Shit, I meant to clean this up earlier, I’m sorr-”

“What were you making?” 

Eddie pauses all movement, glancing up at you in fear. 

You’re not even sure what he’s afraid of. All you can do is furrow your brows, twist your lips, scrunch your nose. 

Was it meant to be a surprise of some sort?

He swallows hard, standing up straight as he shifts uncomfortably on his feet, “I….”

When no words follow, you raise a brow, trying to silently encourage him to continue on. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

And oh, he’s such a bad liar. A pretty one, but a terrible one. 

There’s no sign of the stellar poker face you’ve seen him wear during Hellfire sessions, no impeccable cockiness to cover up the obvious. His wringing hands draw your attention to his knuckles, all the drying glue and glitter peeling off bit by bit.  

“You sure about that?” you press, grin slow spreading as you take a step closer to him, eyeing the mess he tries to shift in front of to block from your sights.

“Positive.”

“Has anyone told you you’re an awful liar, Munson?”

“I’m not ly-” 

You scooch around him effortless, dropping your bag in the process and making him yelp out as he tries to catch you. His arms are quick to wrap around your waist as you try to get a clearer view of what he had been so desperate to conceal, but even his best efforts can’t stop you. 

It’s all a bit childish from the outside. Reckless giggles, flailing limbs – even Eddie is smiling in his panic. 

“Let go of me!” 

“Then leave it alone!”

“I wanna see what you made!” 

Each screech between the two of you is overcome with laughter as he pulls you flush to his chest, caging you in and yet failing to cover your eyes. 

You spot what he was trying to hide, and all attempts to escape his hold cease. 

“Are those…” you start, a little breathless as you stare in awe. You swear, you could burn up from the warmth blooming in your chest. When his arms go the slightest bit limp, you have your answer before finishing the question, “Are those for me?” 

A small jar, one that had once held some of Eddie’s pick collection, now holds three handmade paper roses. Mingling petals of two different shades of red, with tightly rolled pieces of green paper servings at their stems. Two even have leaves, cut jagged and true to nature. 

Leaning against the small paper flower display is a card.

It’s a messier ordeal than the flowers, but you’re still prying Eddie’s forearms from your stomach in a rush to grab it. 

“Hold on,” he rushes out, no longer laughing as you get a hold of the card, “Wait, listen, I can explain. I just- I spent most of my money when we went to Benny’s for shakes last week, and I forgot I wouldn’t get any more cash before today, and I just-” he’s stumbling over his words, a mess of flying hands and wide eyes as you turn to face him, “I… I’m sorry, okay? I swear, they’re just placeholders until I get you a real gift for Valentine’s Day.” 

You’re hardly listening to him as you look down at the small paper, folded over fairly impressively to mimic one of the fancy cards from Melvard’s. It’s thinner, sure, but you’re mesmerized as you trace over the heart cut out of the center. It’s filled with pink glitter that clings to your fingertip as it passes, and you can’t help but let out a small laugh. 

And then you open the card. 

The outside was plain white save for the heart, but the inside is gorgeous. Hand drawn vines and flowers fill the empty space inside. Roses, mums, lillies – every flower you can think of is amongst the bunch. All etched out in ink, an ink you recognize from Eddie’s favorite pen, and every gentle line sketched out to make the larger picture sends your heart racing a few beats faster.

Underneath the glitter heart is a large bee, made with a speech bubble. 

“Placeholder?” you laugh breathlessly, biting your lip to stop from smiling like a fool. “You call all this a placeholder?” 

Bee mine? 

It’s so cheesy, it aches. 

Written in makeshift cursive, not quite as neat as it could have been, but clearly a valiant effort from the shy man standing before you. You can’t fathom how he’s embarrassed about this when you look up at him with fluttering lashes and a chest full of fizzling love. 

“I thought you were going to hate them,” he hoarsely whispers as he reaches a hand to the nape of his neck. 

“Hate them?” you repeat in disbelief, turning your attention back to the handmade flowers. “In what fuckin’ world would I hate these?”

You lift one of the roses from the mini jar, and sniff it on instinct. It should only smell like paper and glue, but it doesn’t – Eddie’s obviously spritzed his cologne onto the flowers.

The miniscule detail has your heart bursting. 

He’s still petrified as he stares at you, shrugging hopelessly, “I just know it’s our first Valentine’s together, and people usually go all out-”

“This is going all out, Eddie.”

You can’t imagine being capable of any more love for the boy in front of you. Genuinely – you don’t believe your bones could handle the weight of it, that your heart could take it. You’re filled to the brim with it, buzzing like summertime cicadas beneath your skin from all the vibrant emotions you have for him. For every blemish across his skin and every kink in his curls, for those big brown eyes simply staring at you now. Those knuckles covered in glue and glitter. Those lips that you can’t handle another second not kissing. 

And so you don’t. Not another second is wasted as you fling yourself forward, nearly dropping the paper flower in hand as you grab each side of his face, bringing him to you in a hard kiss. 

You hope he feels all that love. You hope the weight of it presses down on his shoulders, even if just a little, so he gets it. 

“I fucking love it, Eds,” you laugh into the kiss, pressing your forehead, “I- Honestly? I think this is the nicest Valentine I’ve ever gotten.” 

“Really?” his eyes pop open, pulling back from you slightly until you simply won’t allow it. You want him close – you need him pressed against you. “Well, shit. I thought you were going to hate them and break up with me.” 

“Me, breaking up with you? After this?” you parrot back in disbelief, shaking your head, tip of your nose rubbing against his through the action, “God, you’re an idiot, Eddie Munson. My idiot, but still.” 

He finally cracks a smile, and you lose yourself in the dimples that appear as he asks, “Does this mean you’ll be my Valentine?”

“Absolutely.”

[lulu-fic]

𝚂𝚄𝙻𝚃𝚁𝚈 𝚂𝙴𝙳𝚄𝙲𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽

Synopsis: Your boyfriend just cheated on you. But you can't just let him get away with that, can you?

Warnings: Cheating ( not by y/n), swearing, sfw, mdni

Wc: 2.1k

An: My first published work. Genuinely nothing too crazy just dipping my toes in water but dw next chapter will be something 👀 also the ending is a bit rushed because I was sleepy 😛

Aggressive typing sound echoed through the walls of a dingy restroom, accompanied by someone's sobbing hiccups. That certain someone was you. Who would have thought your so-called lovely evening would end up with you crying in a stall of a dirty restroom? When you thought your life was finally rainbows and sunshine, god had to give you a reality check.

Flashback

"Here's your order, sir! That'll be $6.80." You said with your fake polite voice to the customer. The said customer took his coffee and fished in his pocket for cash. He finally handed you the required amount and exited the cafe. "Huff god today is draining me." You say. You check the cafe's clock and see it's 2:00 pm. "*Sigh* Still couple of hours to go." You think. But you did not let that bother you.

You are in your most optimistic energy today. Well, today is your most awaited date with Nick, your boyfriend of one year. Your experience with dating him has been nothing but nice. And you believe he's the one. You're finally going to propose him today.

"Y/n! Give me a hand here!" You're pulled out of your day dreaming when your co-worker calls for you. "Yeah, coming right away." You yell back. "*Sigh* life is good." You thought and smiled, resuming with your day.

Time skip

It's 5:13 pm. Your shift is almost over. God, was it a busy day today? You never had such a hectic shift. "Well, my shift is finally finished." You think. You were about to start packing up for the day when the bell jingles, indicating someone had entered the cafe. It was a man.

He was intimidatingly tall and it kind of scared you. His jet black styled hair fell on his face, covering some of his features. He wore a overcoat over a three-piece suit. Perfect attire for the chilly weather. Even though he looked like a gangster. When he finally looked up, it seemed like the time has stopped.

He looked enthernal. He had sharp features- somewhat neck-to-shoulder length hair, strong jawline, siren eyes straight nose, high cheekbones- everything about him was breathtaking. He also had light eyebags, giving signs of late night work. And his lips, god his lips. He had thin, soft looking lips, like rose petals. As if the Adonis himself craved his face. If you weren't so much of a loyal partner, you would have definitely shoot your shot. But he seemed oddly familiar to you.

"What would you like to order, sir?" You ask with your most professional voice, making sure there is no tinge of emotion. "A black coffee and a chocolate muffin, please." He said. And god if you already didn't thought he was attractive, now you definitely do. His voice sounded mature, rich and gravelly. His voice was a little rough too, it felt like he spent years smoking through his stressed moments.

"Y-yeah, right away, sir." You nervously replied. Yep, now you're definitely cursing your whole existence for stumbling in words just because you thought a guy's voice was hot. Seriously, what's wrong with you?

You turned around to make his order, which wasn't some rocket science. It's just a plain black coffee. But it actually felt like that. The man just kept watching you, observing your every move. How you ground the roasted coffee beans, how you brew the coffee, how you pour the coffee into the cup. No matter how much you tried to ignore the staring, it felt like he was boring into your soul. God damn, you didn't feel this nervous even on your first day of work. Ugh!

But you forgot to ask him a crucial question, will he takeaway the coffee or drink the coffee in here? You turned around to see him...still staring at you. "Will you takeaway or drink it here, sir?" You ask. He didn't reply at first. He just kept looking at you. Okay, now you're creeped out. "Sir?" You call out again. This time he's finally out of his whatever dreamland he was in.

"Will you takeaway or drink it here?" You ask again. "Um, takeaway." He replied. You nod your head and kneel down to take out the chocolate muffin from the freezer. Genuinely, he didn't seem like a guy who would like sweets. But oh well who are you to judge someone's taste bud? You take out a white cupcake box and put the sugary treat in it. When you're finally ready with his order, you extend it to him on the counter.

"That'll will $9 dollars. Also I'll be needing your name for the bill." You say. He still just kept looking at you. Okay, now he's starting to annoy you. Why he's looking at you like you're some kind of piece of meat? "Sir?" You call out again. He still didn't reply. "Hello, Earth to sir?" You wave your hand in front of him to grab his attention, which you finally did.

"Oh, yes?" He politely ask, while blinking twice. "Your name?" You ask back with a irritated voice. He chuckles at something.

"Colter Hunt."

God, Even his name was hot. You quickly write down his name, to make it seem like you weren't just fangirling on his name. Suddenly a black card comes in front of your vision. You look up to see him holding it out with his index and middle fingers. Your attention averts to his wrist which is adorned with a silver Cartier bracelet and Rolex watch. "Damn," you think, "so he's rich rich." You add after.

You take his card and inserting it quickly in the card swip machine, telling him to punch in his passcode. He type in his passcode and takes out his card after the transaction was completed.

"Have a good day, sir!" You say, back with your professional voice. He takes his order and was just about to exit the shop when he turned around to look one last time at you, and then finally leaves.

Huff, a hectic day it was.

At the Restaurant...

You are finally at your most awaited destination for the night. You open the gate to the restaurant and are greeted by the receptionist. "Good evening, sir. How can I help you?" She asked. "Uh I have a table reserved for two under my name. Hong it is." She checks her computer real quick and give you your table number with a polite smile. You thank her and go inside.

You see Nick already seated and waiting for you. You quickly take your seat. "Sorry for being late. I had a customer last minute who was taking some time." You quickly apologize for being late. "So, what should we order, huh?" You ask while picking up the menu. "Well I wanted to try the main course of here for long time. I saw the review online and they said it's very good, even the customer service. Oh and the dessert choices are also-" You stop with your rambling in the midway when you notice Nate not responding to any of your babble. He seemed to zone out. "Hey, Nick? What happened baby?" You ask. He breaks out of whatever dreamland and finally looks at. "Huh? What did you say?" Ugh why's everyone seemed to zone out today?

"I asked did something happened. You seemed lost." You repeat. "Oh um no- I mean yes- uh I don't know." He babbles. You make a puzzled face. "What do you mean?" You ask. "Did something happened at work?" You ask again. "Uh yes- I mean no but it was someone from so technically yes but no." He again keeps puzzling his word. "Nick what are you even talking about? I don't get it." You say in a baffled voice.

"Ugh, y/n I don't know how to say this but I have been wanting to say this, but it's just I never got a chance." He explains a bit. "It's okay. You can say now." You say. "Maybe he will be the one who's going to propose me." You think with a happy voice.

"I-I...I sleptwithsomeoneonemonthagoatHalloweenparty."

"What? What did you say?" You ask not understanding his "explanation".

"I-I...y/n I slept with someone. A month ago. And I-I just feel more attracted to her." He finally says it.

"What." You depanned. "Y/n, I'm sorry! I tried to tell you this multiple time but never got a chance and-" he tries to explain but you raise a hand to make him stop. "When was it?" You ask trying to keep your temper at bay.

"At halloween party of my office." He nervously admits. "So someone from office then, huh?" You interjected. "Yes." He confirms, not trying to make eye contact with you. "Who is it?" You finally ask. "Huh?" He looks up at you baffled. "Who. Is. It." You grit your teeth.

"Rachel." He breathes out. You exhale a breath of air you didn't know you were holding. The chair makes a screeching sound as you slowly get up. "Y/n I-" He tries to utter something but you beat him to it by splashing a glass water on his face.

"Do. Not. Tell. Me. Your. Filthy. Excuses!" You yell grabbing the attention of other customer. You finally leave that place, ignoring the calls of your name from behind. You stop at your pace and take a turn and make your way towards the the restroom door that had "Staff Only" written with bold letters.

End of flashback

Tears are flowing down your face as you type out the message to your bestfriend, basically explaining the situation. You're not hurt about the fact he cheated, you're just angry on the fact that he cheated on you? Hong Y/N. You remember thinking how guys used beg for a chance to even let them take you on a date. And when you finally decide to settle down, this happens?

No, you cannot let a man control your emotions like this. Nope. You reject the fact that you are crying over a man.

You get up from the toilet seat and go outside to quickly wash your hands. You make a quick text to your bestfriend saying that you'll be late and call for a uber.

You go outside the restaurant and breath in the cold air of the chilly weather, finally feeling at peace a little. Your uber quickly arrives at your destination. "Square Town Club, please." You quickly inform the driver as you take a seat. Tonight it'll be all about you. Not someone cheating asshole.

The uber driver reaches at your said address after 10 minutes and you pay him the amount required as you get out of the taxi.

When you enter the club, it seemed like you stepped into another world. Neon red and green lights blinding your sights, party music booming through speakers, people making out or even having sex in the middle of the dance floor. "Ew, disgusting." You think. But that's main goal of tonight, only stuff like these can take your mind off that bitch.

You go over to the bar counter. You knew the bartender , Ricky, through social media. Also the reason how you got to know about this place. He looks over at you and asks, "The usual?" "No." You answer back. "Give me anything. But 10x stronger." You add. He raises his eyebrows but says nothing. As he was preparing your drink, you felt a little uncomfortable. It felt like someone was boring their eyes into you. Yes it's a club, of course you will grab attention.

But this one seemed a little off. A little familiar.

As you looked around to catch the supposed person, you attention is caught by a person sitting at the most secluded place of the club. It was a very dark corner. You try your best to ignore him. Keyword: Try.

Because the moment you look away a scary looking bodygaurd comes up to you with a drink and says, "Sir, this drink is offered by our master with the small note." Turns out the said master is none other than the guy you tried to take a good look at before.

This time you trun around and squint your eyes to take a good look at him. And this time, by some miracle, you're finally able to get a good look of him. But Oh. My. God.

It's the cafe guy.

© lulu-fic, 2024. All rights reserved. Don't copy, translate or modify my work. And Do not post my work on any other platform.

[astrolovecosmos]

❤️‍🔥Venus & Mars❤️‍🔥

Written from the perspective of Venus representing femininity and Mars masculinity. Please take this with a grain of salt.

Aries Venus: Warrior Queen, hellfire eyes, won't take no for an answer, upfront, hungry for action, red petals and lips, all eyes on her, can leave a burn or scar.

Aries Mars: Ardent eyes and lips, fiery protector, a good competitor, rescuer, conquering libido, always at 100, hot days and unforgettable nights.

Taurus Venus: Irresistible charm or look, low-key seductive, enduring and magnetic, slow burn, dream weddings or dates, romantic touch, comforting and content, careful with hearts.

Taurus Mars: Caring hands, hedonistic attitudes, down-to-earth until they're not, things are always on their time, level-headed or stable assertiveness, smells good, shares with those they love their soft spot.

Gemini Venus: Shapeshifting enchantress, leading you astray or into ecstasy or both, bright feathers and dazzling wings, sharp talons and a sharper tongue, curious creature, get lost in her eyes, movements, or storms.

Gemini Mars: Lightning-fast energy but airy to be around, wins you over with humor, takes pride in his intellect, upbeat and always around a crowd or working one, bewitches with ease and passion.

Cancer Venus: Mysterious and soft glows, gentle and kind, a protective force of nature, messy and engulfing feelings, hard to fall but when they do they fall hard, can be others safety, gets her way.

Cancer Mars: Silent and strong type or insightful and tenderhearted, deep and sensitive, trustworthy vibes, that moody artist or introverted mystery, a wall or door people are tempted to investigate, a powerful guardian, never gives up.

Leo Venus: Strength and beauty of a goddess, instant connections and passion, object of adoration or desire, demands your attention, worship and heart, romance in their veins, she is the sun - center of your universe.

Leo Mars: Draws you in with his performance, wins, or adventures, brave in the bedroom, will risk it all, life of the party, maybe vain or selfish but always on top, a king, lust and power, feverish and flirty, are you his muse, trophy, or queen?

Virgo Venus: The answer to all your prayers or questions, devoted blood, sensuous and erotic, always has it together, earthy vibes and quiet affection, thoughtful, but may bite, will you grow with her or will she outgrow you?

Virgo Mars: Innocent eyes with a mischievous or know-it-all smirk, reliable arms, secret vitality but not-so secret intellect and wit, observational, appreciative, discerning in preferences and partners, will work hard for you but what will you do for them?

Libra Venus: You can't miss her when she walks into a room, candlelight and wine, charm, beauty, and brains, falls easily, likely has a line of admirers, elegance and grace, now you know why lust and love are seen as ✨magic✨.

Libra Mars: Knows how to make you happy or calm, secretly a hunting hound, hard to resist, if you're with him you're BEAUTIFUL, affectionate and chivalrous, charismatic one minute and introverted the next, can you figure him out?

Scorpio Venus: THE seductress, passionate and dramatic temptation and lust, says forever and means it, rapacious lover, deep and hypnotic, a heart-stopping and mystic medusa, jealous and unforgiving but will give you everything.

Scorpio Mars: Eyes that look into your soul, the dark and edgy type, sex-appeal is their weapon along with mystery or secrecy, an intense enigma, sensitive yet powerfully assertive, an unstoppable force, may be obsessive or easily misunderstood but knows you more intimately than anyone else.

Sagittarius Venus: For true adventurers only, free spirit and a rebellious heart, more independent than you, the most fun you've ever had, a huntress, lucky in love, desire + lust + companionship, can you handle her honesty?

Sagittarius Mars: Always taking their shot, will explore and challenge you, a wild ride, infectious and attractive optimism, humor, or even clumsiness or awkwardness, chronically adaptable and energetic - can you keep up?

Capricorn Venus: Ice you want to melt, respect or admiration are the only options, reliable and grounded, always in control, you know when she's approaching, true faithfulness, hard to satisfy, she's the authority.

Capricorn Mars: Relentless and calculated pursuit, private and cool-headed, #relationshipgoals, provider vibes, an underrated smooth talker, powerful influence and drive, all about longevity...

Aquarius Venus: Magnetic sorceress, intellectual babe, sparkling and different, always keeping you on your toes, can do it all on her own but likes your company, unconventional relationships, falling in slow motion or fast-forwarding into love at high speed.

Aquarius Mars: Visionary wizard with enticing charisma, pushing boundaries, special aurora and bedroom moves, erratic and strong-willed, sees the best in you, channeling passion into each other's minds and bodies.

Pisces Venus: Sensational siren, dreamy and karmic, elusive moments, drowning in feeling, flip a coin for love or lust - throw it in the fountain for both, making your dreams and/or nightmares come true.

Pisces Mars: That hopeless romantic, sweet and sensitive, imaginative moves and touch, will give you their heart and soul, captivating and addicting, your fantasy lover.

[themeraldee]

I think a great awkward sex fic could be homelander making love for the first time.

Not losing his virginity, but having sex with someone he loves

anon you're sooooooo smart!!!! I love this idea so much. After being in such a funk this reignited me and I had to write it now!! It took a different turn at the end but I don't dictate what the characters do!! thank you for this idea and please enjoy 🩷

Imperfectly Perfect

[Masterlist] [AO3]

18+ Only | 2.7k | Homelander x fem!Reader | Awkward sex. Realistic sex. Embarrassing sex noises. Feelings of inadequacy. Homelander being a mild drama queen. Cunnilingus. Unprotected sex.

Looking back at it, it was meant to be perfect.

Homelander eagerly ushered you back to his penthouse after an incredible date out. He pulled out all the stops, renting out the top rated, most expensive restaurant just for you. He spent the entire night charming your pants off with his strangely charismatic and at times awkward self. 

Buzzing with anticipation he couldn’t wait to show you what else he had in store for you. You’ve changed his perception of everything. Ever since you’ve wormed your way into his heart, he’s locked the way out and threw away the key. You’ve made him feel like nobody else ever has and he thought it high time he repay the favor. That’s why tonight had to be perfect. 

He wanted to show you what awaits you in your shared future.

He had some poor Vought employees absolutely drown his penthouse with bouquets of rich red roses, rose petals strewn across most surfaces, candles illuminating every corner, highlighting the glittering gold of the picture frames adorning his walls. Smooth jazz played in the background at a low volume sealing the deal on what ended up feeling like a scene plucked from an elaborate Valentine’s day ad.

“Wow! This is—wow! Homelander, you didn’t have to do all this.” You looked around the space, taking in the change with a shock and awe on your face. This quickly turned into a beautiful bright smile that made Homelander feel like he was on top of the world. He’s obviously doing something right.

“Anything for my girl.” He pulled you in gently, making the dress he’s picked for you twirl prettily. “Come with me,” he pressed a kiss to your soft lips, letting them linger for a little while while he inhaled the scent of your perfume—also his choice—and the roses surrounding you both. At that moment he thought that tonight would be perfect, one for the books.

And now? It didn’t take long for it to already be turning into a disaster.

From his point of view at least.

You’re sitting at the edge of the bed, leaning back on your arms as you watch the show. You asked to watch him take off his suit, promising that you’d give him just as good of a show as he would. 

Prior to this he has taken his elaborate suit off thousands of times anytime he’d go to bed. Now he’s struggling as if both of his hands were left-handed and this was his first suit fitting. He’s so tense, his nerves tighter than a bow string making his hands shake while he unclasps the cape, immediately folding it on the rack out of habit before he continues unzipping his suit. His heart is beating like a drum in his ears, he wouldn’t be surprised if even your ordinary ones could pick up on it. 

It’s not that he’s never had sex. It’s just that the anticipation of what he’s built up in his head is making him overthink his every move. He needs you to know that he can be like this for you. Because the perfect mainstream image of romance is what every woman dreams of—right?

When the zipper gets stuck and doesn’t let him unzip like normal he panics internally. There were meant to be no hiccups today! 

Observant that you are, you stand up as soon as you see him struggle and swear and take the step closer to him. “Let me help you.” You put your hands on his before sliding them up his forearms, then shoulders before going down to rest on his chest.

“How about you let me undress you and then you undress me.” You give him a cheeky smile, trying to break the tension he put himself into. “Does that sound good?” You ask quietly and breathy as you undo the zipper he was struggling with. 

He nods curtly, feeling ashamed that he’s admitting to a fault on his part.

But with the continuous dreamy eye-contact you slowly help him out. Undoing clasps, and zippers of his convoluted uniform. 

He was less worried about you seeing him naked than he is about the whole performance of it all. He’s let you see him without the suit before. Early into your blooming relationship you’ve stumbled upon him covered in blood. It only made sense to take the shower together as you helped him wash all of it off. But even then, he didn’t want it to go further. He said he had plans and asked you to let him make it perfect. 

When he’s finally fully naked he pulls you in for a hot kiss. It’s almost in gratitude at helping him mend the situation and put it back on track. He walks you back to the bed pushing you on it. He’s only about half hard, which is unusual for him as Homelander easily gets a hard-on in a split second anytime you just look at him a certain way. So it’s a surprise that he’s not panting and leaking with the way you look tonight. 

Clearly, he’s still stuck in his head.

With each kiss he presses into your skin, tasting the softness of your every spot he gets more and more excited. Slowly melting into you with each little huff you let out as he kisses your body, undressing you in tandem. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” He growls into your ear before kissing you flush on the lips. Hot and heavy, he licks into your mouth, moaning at the way you pull at his hair when you rake your fingers through it.

Just as you want to take some control back, treat him the same way he’s treating you, he stops you.

“Nuh, uh. Ladies first. Let me make you feel good.” He rumbles as he pushes your hands off his body. You look pleased at his words, giving him an excited little grin.

And just like that, he’s finally taking control of the situation again. He’s got a script in his head and he needs to follow it to a tee.

Down on his knees, he pulls you closer to the edge of the bed. Already spreading your legs open, unabashedly inhaling the scent of you, already aroused and wet for him. He grins like a shark to himself. Without giving you much heads-up or taking it slow he just straight up buries himself in between your legs.

Just the smell of you had his cock finally turning rock hard, now with the taste of you he feels it twitching, drooling precum from the tip.

He’s licking you open, spreading you with his tongue. Like a mad man who doesn’t know where to focus first, with little rhythm he changes between strongly sucking at your clit, pointing his tongue sharply and running circles around your clit right before shoving his tongue into you, tongue-fucking you just like he imagines will leave your mind blown.

Except. 

“Little softer, please.” You sound out in between sweet little sighs. You’ve taken to running your nails through his hair, giving his scalp a little massage while he went to town on you.

“M’sorry.” He mumbles into your pussy as he quickly looks up at you. He slows down with his urgency though he’s a little peeved at the way he’s not been able to rock your world yet. 

“Don’t be—ah—it’s great. I just like it a little softer.” 

It’s great? Great?! It should be mind-blowing, incredible, glorious! Not just great. Immediately his ego takes a hit but he doesn’t outwardly show it. In his mind you should’ve been moaning and shaking for him, coming on his tongue while he got his fill of you. 

This doesn’t happen.

And while he’s doing better, making you moan a little louder, forcing small gasps out of you as he softens his tongue flat, gently laving over your clit before sucking on it softly. He’s not making you cum and that’s killing him.

You suddenly sharply tug on his hair and at first he thinks you’re getting close but you pull again and he looks up at you confused.

“Come up here.” You guide him up.

“But you didn’t finish.” He scrunches his eyebrows confused and for a second he looks like an innocent sweet puppy. 

“I don’t wanna come yet. I’m actually usually done after one orgasm so I reaaally want to have you inside me for the big finish you know?” You sign that off with a wolfish grin that he immediately eats up as he climbs up to devour you, making you taste yourself on his lips. 

With the thoughts of being inside you where it’s all soft and warm and really just made for his cock, he abandons his thoughts of inadequacy. 

And as much as you want to participate, Homelander keeps pushing you off, instead focusing on your body and all the places he hasn’t managed to kiss yet. 

When he swats your hand away from his cock again you ask. “Why won’t you let me return the favor?” 

“Another time.”

“But I wanna blow you! It’s not fair, why can’t I?” You keep pouting and you’re as adorable as you are annoying because as much as he’s sure your mouth will feel amazing he’s even more certain that your pussy will be fucking incredible. And he definitely won’t make it through both.

“Because I’ll bust, alright?” He swats your hands away instead pinning your wrists down onto the plush bedding making you yelp in surprise and arousal. He can sense the way that got you all excited. “Now just let me fuck you… please?” He says before kissing you again.

You automatically spread your legs. He kneels on the bed, sitting on his heels as his eyes immediately lock onto the sight of your pussy, still pretty and wet for him. A sight that makes his heart swell. Part of him was worried you wouldn’t want him with such voracity. He made sure to keep some lube on hand in case you wouldn’t get wet enough for it to be comfortable for you but he was preening that he managed to get you this wet. 

Homelander let one of his fingers glide down your slit, gathering the slick before pushing a finger in, immediately groaning at the intense heat of your cunt. He couldn’t wait to get his cock in you.

He gathers more slick that you seem to be making an abundance of but this time he gives his cock a few strokes, giving it a nice, wet coating. “So perfect for me.” He whispers out more to himself than you before he shuffles closer, holding his cock in his hand, rubbing it up and down your slit before eagerly pushing in.

The sheer tight heat of you has him gasping, you’d almost think he was in pain if it wasn’t for the blissed out look on his face.

When he sinks all the way in, he takes in your pretty face, your softly parted lips, gently flushed face and a look in your eyes that he’s sure he’ll never forget. You look at him with such love and adoration it’s impossible for him to stop the, “I love you,” that comes out of him before he kisses you.

“I love you too.” You say with a bright smile when he lets you breathe.

 He thinks at this moment, there’s no way this could be anything less than perfect.

Getting lost in the sensation he picks up the pace. He fucks into your faster and harder with each stroke and it’s not bad but it’s too too much from the get go. Homelander doesn’t see this. In his head he wants to make you cum before he himself finishes which with his track record might not be a very long time.

“Hey hey hey, slow down. You don’t need to go all hard and fast so quickly okay?” You say with a breathless little laugh, looking a bit rattled from the way he’s been fucking you into the mattress.

Fuck. He fucked up again. He’s disappointing you. That thought makes his heart hurt and jaw clench. But Homelander doesn’t let it show as he just nods at you, kissing his tension away, trying to get his head back into enjoying himself as much as he should.

But the universe isn’t kind to him and when he eases himself back into you, pressing his body against your sweat-covered one, the glide of skin on skin well… It makes a sound that could only be described as a fart!

You burst into giggles at the comical sound and you seem to think that’s it but Homelander is mortified. His eyes widen and he gasps, pushing himself off your sweat-slick skin. “That wasn’t—I didn’t—”

When he tries to explain that it wasn’t him it just makes you laugh harder.

He doesn’t get it—you’re laughing! It’s so incredibly embarrassing and it’s ruining the vision he had for the night. Tonight was about him finally opening up to you, letting you feel just how strongly he feels about you and it’s been a disaster from the start.

He feels himself softening inside you so he pulls out before you notice and he grumpily pulls away from you, turning to sit at the edge of the bed to sulk.

Your giggles died out as soon as you noticed him pull away. “Baby? Don’t be upset. I’m not laughing at you.” You sit up, reaching over to him, moving closer. 

“It’s fucking embarrassing! Tonight was meant to be—well not like this!” He’s upset and he’s trying to take it out on you as if pretending that it’s your fault is gonna soothe his hurt ego.

“It’s okay. It’s normal, it happens. It’s literally just skin on skin. Bodies make funny sounds!” You try to soothe him by rubbing his arms and shoulder, occasionally pressing a kiss to his head or side of his neck.

“You shouldn’t be laughing at it like this whole thing doesn’t matter.” He said with a bite in his tone, almost accusing you of not sharing his feelings.

“I’m laughing because this does matter to me. I’m comfortable around you. You make me feel at ease and let my guard down. I’m laughing precisely because I love you.”

He doesn’t respond and you continue soothing his hurt feelings.

“It’s beautiful, the way you’ve prepared this place. But do you wanna hear a secret?” You move closer to him and turn his head with your finger. “It’d be just as romantic without all of it. Even if the first time we had sex was in a broom closet. Or whatever. The point is—it’s you. That makes it all so special.”

He sighs with palpable relief and he nuzzles his head into the hand you placed on his cheek. He could just about devour you for being so amazing. 

“I just wanted it to be perfect for you.” He admits his insecurity, giving you the ammunition to rip his heart in two if you wanted to. He knows you hear the ‘I want to be perfect for you,’ he’s really trying to convey. 

“It is perfect. Tonight, the whole thing. Everything that’s happened. It’s been perfect. I’ve been loving every second of it.” You kiss him on the lips and he melts. He turns so he can embrace you with the kiss, feeling the tension finally slip away. With no expectations, he can enjoy you the way he should have from the start.

“Come on, lie down. Stop thinking.” It’s your turn to press him into the mattress as he lies on his back staring up at you with pure adoration.

Just like that, after seeing you on top of him all pretty and loving his cock is back at full hardness. You finally wrap your hand around it, giving it a few strokes before you lower yourself down on him.

“We’re getting to know our bodies. You learn what I like, I learn what you like. None of this thinking of what it should be like. Okay?” He nods at you although he’s very preoccupied with taking in the incredible feeling of you wrapped hotly around him, sending his mind into a frenzy.

You bounce on him, showing him exactly how you like it, what angle and what pace and in the meanwhile you coo sweet, soothing words. Clearly seeing just how much work his hurt ego will need to get back to normal. 

And somehow, in the end, it’s so much more perfect than he could ever imagine it to be.

Taglist (you can add yourself to be notified anytime I publish a new Homelander story): @infinetlyforgotten 

[bernardsbendystraws]

Fresh Air

Matt Sturniolo x Reader

Check out my pinned post for more of my writing.

00 01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08 09 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 FINAL

Summary: One night at a party seems to change everything. A strange man with a friendly smile and a sleeve of patchwork tattoos seems to make you feel at home for a change. You're finally happy to have made a good friend to lean on - especially when it comes to your not-so-great relationship with your boyfriend. But what happens if you lean too much...what happens if you fall?

Warnings: 18+. This series contains mature themes, read at your own risk. (SMUT, angst, parental troubles, financial hardships, and more. Don't like, don't read.) This warning is made for all parts.

A/N: To be added to the taglist, send a request in my inbox or comment on the pinned post. I'm far more likely to see requests sent to my inbox.

With love and big tits, Rose.

12: Sweet Gravity

wc: 1500+

Maybe I should’ve said no. When Matt asked me out on a true date, my heart stopped. But - we had already gone on a date technically, so what was the harm now? 

Shuffling through my clothes, I was facing the same issue as before. Nothing felt right. Even though I knew Matt like the back of my hand, the anxieties rushing through my mind kept weighing down more and more. 

|  From Matt: Are you almost ready? No rush, just wondering when I should come pick you up :)  |

Sighing, I type on the keyboard with reluctance. 

|  To Matt: Um kinda. Just struggling to pick out an outfit lol  | 

The texting bubbles on the screen reappearing make my stomach twist in knots. Should I have told him that? This is supposed to be our first date - he’s not my friend helping me get ready anymore. 

|  From Matt: I’ll come over and help? If that’s okay with you?  |

He wants to help. He always wants to help. And who was I to say no?

|  To Matt:  yes please  | 

A smile spreads across my face, relief flooding my system as he lets me know he’s on his way. I look around the room, wincing at the mess of clothes scattered across the bed and floor. My hands hurriedly grasp onto the different tops and jeans, rushedly pushing the back into their designated spots. 

It would only take Matt a couple minutes to drive over. I didn’t want him to see how much of a mess I had made, based on the fact that I was overthinking so much, but I just couldn’t help it. This going perfect felt like a dream come true. 

Even though it felt like a nightmare to remember reality. 

Cheaters were awful people - and I was one of them. Even if it wasn’t just one sided, how could I stoop so low? There were signs. I always wanted to be around Matt, even Hayden knew something deeper was going on. He called me out on it and I ignored it. And maybe that was on purpose. 

Before I have any more time to sink in pity, I hear three soft knocks on the door. Matt. I take one last glance around my room. Good enough. At least I could see the floor now.

Taking steps towards the door, I open the door to find Matt standing with his hands behind his back. My head cocks curiously as he stares at me with a mischievous glance. 

“Hey?” I question, laughing as he stays planted in place. 

Matt bites on his lip, maneuvering his hands to the front. A slight gasp purses through my lips as I see the small bouquet of flowers come into view. He got me flowers. When was the last time I even got flowers? 

“These are for you,” he says, pushing them forward into my hands. 

Taking the bundle of florals, I smile at the fresh scent. I can’t believe he got me flowers. 

“Matt,” I gasp, looking up at him with a soft smile, “-you didn’t have to get me flowers, oh my god.” Stepping to the side, I allow him room to waltz in. I shut the door, still admiring the petals beneath my nose as I hear him slide his shoes off. 

“I know, I know. But,” he grabs the bouquet from my hand, walking over to the kitchen and pulling down a vase - a vase he had gotten for me when we went thrifting together. Piling the flowers neatly inside, he sets them on the counter, looking down at me with a glimmer of admiration. “I, um, I’ve always wanted to. I was just, I don’t know…scared of overstepping?” 

Something in the pit of my gut lurches to my chest. Fluttering waves of excitement rush through me, my teeth biting down into my lip hard as I try to remain calm. I just wanna jump in his arms. 

“Oh,” I breath out, suddenly breathless as he inches towards me even closer, his eyes peering into mine with intensity as I feel his nose brush against the tip of my own. 

Fuck. 

“I’m not overstepping?” he asks, his voice rough and strained. 

I swallow thickly, shaking my head subtly. His hand reaches onto my hip. My eyes widen as I realize just how close he is. I want him to kiss me. So bad. 

Starting to let myself give in, I keep leaning forward. This was finally it. I’d finally know what it feels like to have his lips on mine. Would it feel as good as I had imagined? 

His hand squeezes on my hip. Matt leans backward, my heart sinking in my chest. 

He pulled away. He didn’t wanna kiss me. 

“Let’s go get you ready, yeah?” 

Nodding my head softly, I try to keep a blank expression. 

“I, uh - yeah…yeah..” 

Why didn’t he wanna kiss me?

___

I kept forgetting about the almost-kiss. And then I kept remembering it. Over and over and fucking over again. 

Matt was sweet. Everything about him screamed that he wanted this just as bad as I did. After a short drive, he had taken us to the beach. It wasn’t a very popular one. A sore sight of a rusted swing set and a lack of parking spots made this place deserted. 

He had packed a bunch of my favorite snacks. Including Lunchables. 

About a month into our friendship, we were at the grocery store, picking up snacks for a movie night. We passed the Lunchables. Matt had explained how Chris always wanted the mini pizza one, but he always wanted the other ones. 

“I’ve never had one.” 

The statement made his jaw drop. He insisted on getting every type, letting me try all of them. And I loved them. 

I loved the food almost as much as I loved the memory. 

Waves crashing and salt air. The blanket beneath us is a thin shield from the cold sand. Luckily, the outfit he helped me pick was doing a good job protecting me from the cool breeze. It was simple. Jeans and a cardigan, a cardigan he had let me borrow ages ago that I forgot to return. 

Honestly, I had forgotten it wasn’t mine to begin with. I’d never seen him wear the green dinosaur sweater, but I bet he’d look cute. 

“Thanks for doing all this.” I remark. 

Matt looks over at me, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to my cheek softly. “Anytime,” he breathes. 

His lips. The almost-kiss. Why did he pull away? I sit up straighter. Matt’s arm slung around my shoulder gets stiffer as he feels me readjust. “You okay?” he asks. 

“Yeah.” 

I don't even believe it. My words are blunt and dull, the weight of my shoulders tugging down even more as I feel him hug me tighter, reaching his other arm to grab my hand and clutch it gently.

He’s holding me so delicately. It almost makes me forget why I feel so drained. 

Almost. 

“Hey, what’s up? Talk to me,” he urges, softly pressing his lips to my knuckles. 

A deep sigh purses through my lips. I look over at him, my eyes feeling heavy as my eyebrows knit together. “I just…earlier - I…” Matt squeezes my hand tighter, rubbing his thumb along the back of my palm, “-why didn’t you kiss me? Do you…do you not want to?” 

Dry laughs echo through the air. I curl into myself, my heart tugging in my chest as I curl my knees up to his chest. Matt stops abruptly. His hand holding mine drops to the top of my knee, his eyes dazing into mine with an apologetic glance. 

“Hey, hey,” he soothes, rubbing his hand over my thigh, “-I want to kiss you, I really do-”

“Then why didn’t you?” 

Matt sighs deeply. He looks out to the ocean before trailing his eyes back to me. I feel his hand move, lifting from my knee and cupping my cheek. “I…” 

His words catch on his tongue. The warmth of his palm cupping my jaw makes my body relax as I let myself lean into his touch. “Tell me,” I urge.

Shifting to face his body directly towards mine, he puts each of his hands on either of my cheeks. I feel my eyes water. So many emotions are rushing through my system and the way he’s looking into me only makes it so intense. I should be panicking, but the way he’s staring at me makes me feel calm. Dangerously calm. 

“I…I don’t wanna fuck this up.” His statement makes my face crinkle with confusion. “Just - even the flowers. You deserve something special, I just…I don’t wanna rush things. You...you deserve it all.” 

Oh.

The semi-bitter feeling turns into tooth-rotting sweetness. 

I can feel the sunsetting emit a soft glow, curing the soft blow of wind with a gentle warmth. His eyes only aid the soothing sensation, igniting a peaceful heat from inside of my chest, making my body feel dizzy and light. 

No bed could amount to the comfort he brought. The energy between us seems to muddle into a wishful beckoning - one that makes my eyes water with an overwhelming, fragile gravity. It’s so easy to fall. It’s so easy to let go.

It’s just so sweet.

A/N: Thank you for reading. Any interaction is appreciated!!! Let me know your thoughts! I’m sorry I love edging sm <\3

[shinigamigloss]

lazuli

✎ two years since the night Leon left you, and today is Leon’s 23rd birthday (yes yes yes!! part two of bye bye baby blue <3)

cw: emotional hurt / comfort, angst, grief, second chances, hallucinations, post-traumatic stress, unreliable narrator, and one more chapter to go! (written with leon in mind in the opening scene of re4r) word count: 2.5k and tagging some lovely people here: @preeyas-world + @carmendanny2 + @senawashere

⌕ part 1 ┃looking for a playlist while reading?

You have been, for a while, in the habit of mingling with the gloom and the rain – either your ally or your persistent nemesis.

Ever since the night of September 30th, you’ve been suspended in an ambivalent state. Insomnia and carmine question marks prowled in the depths of mind.

The trouble is that your memory, like your very dreams, has grown weary of storing the minute remnants of Leon.

So long has it been since you’d last seen or heard from him that sometimes, even when all alone – or in the midst of friends and interim ‘lovers’ – you’d find yourself searching for him in the measly details of your apartment.

It was a big, bare space.

The bedroom had become a strange void. The lonely, withered corner of the mattress felt too wide on its own. You were very little in that perfect bed, and yet so enormous – like some foolish victim of Procrustes, who should have been cut and reshaped to fit, just to feel whole again.

There were certain days when you’d find yourself evading people’s and coworkers’ probing questions as though skirting bullets.

Queries about the boy you were once engaged to, back in your hometown, would venture into your private matters like razor-edged knives through gauze. Mercifully, the silence that followed a lethargic ‘we broke up’ – spoken to eyes dilating with anticipation – came as ephemeral as the flight of a butterfly.

Friends, relatives, and colleagues soon learned how to retreat into the safety of their own routines, folding away their curiosity like a letter that needn’t be read in the first place.

Many more years rolled by, yet not once did he answer the letters of penitence you sent.

---

Time only ever flies, and all you ever do is wander through the decays of memory.

There begins the first stage of separation, ringing your doorbell.

Recognizing his absence, you suffer the lesions and tears of a once-treasured love, now gathering only grayish dust. A proper heartache for the sake of long years, followed by sundry seasons of solitude.

Nightmares precede a mosaic of nights and intricate dreams that can no longer be manually captured.

Phase two comes out of the blue.

You sell the house the very next morning. Donate what little remains of his belongings to a local orphanage, pawn the ring that once mattered, cut your hair shorter than ever before, and leave the shelter with a cat.

So, it happens. Leon is no more.

Blessed by the passage of seasons, you grow inured to this new state of reality.

April arrives bearing its recognizable heat.

It’s a crisp morning with the aroma of damp earth and tentative blossoms. The cemetery is deserted, save for the distant whistling of the brisk wind through the rows and lines of stonework.

You still stall around.

There are very many names written over the tombstones.

A bouquet of lazuli-pigmented forget-me-nots in your hand, the petals evanish glum beneath your grip. Always the same flowers. He would’ve liked them, you suppose. A pretty blue had always been his hue.

You once read it with a lump lodged in your chest: the contents of a frosty letter sent by the department. At the bottom, a single signature. No words of clarification. No remission.

Nothing but a grave and a date: September 30th, 1998. The date of the ice-cold night he stormed out of the house you two nursed.

Your fingers splay out to touch the name carved in stone.

Leon S. Kennedy.

Crouching next to the epitaph, you sow your flowers beside him, ritualistically so.

“Happy birthday,” you whisper aloud, although you’re not sure if your hushing has even left your throat. It’s all a misguided venture as it is.

Two whole years. So easy to count. So hard to go through.

And yet, for some odd reason, you never believed that he was truly gone. Not ever, not so much for the sensitive elements of a moment in space.

It may be your mechanism that’s playing a backstage trick on you. Perhaps science has another name for it: a molecular aversion for recognition, a chemical romance with escape.

Does it matter, and to whom?

Such is the viscosity of your staircase of thought that you barely register the voice beside you, even the second time it demands attention.

“Dying. It’s so strange,” the voice intones, neutral and dry.

What an absurd observation. Who even says that?

No, wait.

Who dares to say that?

Why should anyone seek a stranger’s take on the great hard knocks?

Much as this puts you in a tailspin, you decide not to look up and face the man talking to you. There are weeds growing underneath Leon’s tombstone, and you pluck them out in lieu of bothering.

“Strange or not, it’s the most real thing there is,” you mouth all the while.

“No kidding,” the man carries a glimmer of suspense to his phrasing.

Quietness creeps in between you. The April chill mingles with drifting dust motes from spring blossoms. The stranger, patient and hollow-eyed, waits for you to finish tending the grave.

“Who is this Leon guy again?”

Why prod, and to what end?

It’s his words, his calm, his stillness – all coalesce into one terminal voltage, a shock so searing that it rends your very composure.

You turn, face twisted into the sourish form it identifies itself with.

He looks back at you. An unfazed kind of smile touches his lips.

It could be right then – that moment when your world collapses in on itself. Your knees give a gross shake. The reflection of the man in your eyes dilates your pupils enormously.

“Hi, love,” he greets heartily, and you blink at the dead.

No dream has ever felt as visceral on the skin as it does now. No dream until today: the middle of April, the twentieth of the month. Leon’s 23rd birthday.

Tearful, as if betraying your brain, which signals your twitching lower lip to halt. A blue color rudely paints the flesh as you worry it.

Love? What love? How come love?

Leon holds out his hand, but you don’t so much as flinch.

He stands there, breathless and tall, as if Hades had granted a day-pass for the dead men.

You’re still falling – not in love, no, but through the dented tunnel of disbelief.

“You’re dead,” you lock your jaw.

His helping hand comes to naught. On your own, you get back on your feet.

“I’ve got no time for this anyway.” You wear an overly stern expression and gesticulate awkwardly to be entirely convincing. Cast out the unwanted from your vision.

Leon sighs in the wake of this. His brows crease with something sedated, whilst the downward curve of his mouth speaks of a telltale concern.

He looks devastating.

His clothes (all dark and ink blue, tailored well to his physique) are disheveled and distinctly perfumed with the pleasant tang of his cologne in the breezy, pollen-laden air around him.

“Maybe I was dead,” there’s a bounce in his voice.

Does he ever hear the things he speaks? How completely impertinent can he be?

“Don’t give me that shit,” you blurt out the first thing that lights up in your thoughts.

“What shit, exactly?” Leon asks.

“This. Shit. This and that.”

Your gaze wanders to him. The patches of the past on his skin remind you of young bruises: yellow, pallid, and rimmed with green.

He’s as in your sleepless visions: cynical and, above all, blinkered. Maybe if you looked at him from a good angle, you could feasibly see the riverscapes of the things he had been up to. Pity you can’t do such a trick in a million dreams.

“Hmm,” is the most Leon says.

Hot reds pump through your veins. You tell yourself that if you only close your eyes, all should be well.

So, you close your eyes, reopen them, hoping to be taken all the way back to the earthly population of your dull, mean world.

“That won’t be at all necessary, sweetheart.” Endearment escapes him through a habitual slip of the tongue.

Fuck.

“No, it’s absolutely necessary,” you counter sharply.

“It’s not.”

“Why don’t you shut the hell up?”

In that little snippet of the reunion scenario, the cooling affection of his hand falls from your shoulder and lingers in the palm of your hand.

“Can’t,” Leon says calmly. “I found you once. I’m not just going to leave you. Not like this.”

Your lover assumes the shape of your sightline the minute you blink into existence. A larger Leon, with a face marred by the lines of tiredness. Longer hair that has faded to a shade of silken gold. Mocha once fondled his crown, but no longer.

What your eyes behold is not the sum of what your heart already knows.

“Bullshit,” your teeth kiss the bottom of your lip; Leon curls his fingers about yours, as if you might slip away from his hold.

“You can’t be real,” you breathe in deeply, “this has happened before. Happens all the time. You just walk in, piss me off, and walk out.”

“I’m here anyway,” he returns in a controlled intonation, lest he wake the world around you.

“I had to come back for you.”

He brings your hand to the right side of his face. No other layer of skin has felt so genuine since flesh forgot tenderness and, instead, digested the mechanics of sex.

Cautiously, you take a small step. The gravel underfoot crunches listlessly away.

“This is a hallucination. That’s all it is. Side effect.” You shake off a chill first.

“The doctor told me,” you go quiet then.

Rubbing his chin with a gloved hand, Leon adopts the barest of attitudes.

“If I were your imagination, I would have a better way in. And what doctor are you—”

“Stop talking. This isn’t funny.”

The admonition strikes a jarring chord. A privilege, even after all these years, to have known him well enough to catch that flicker of mortification sparking briefly across his face.

This sting – not so readily trivialized. It hurts still.

He needs to see what an impossibly starless path you’ve meandered since his omission.

“They said you were dead. You were buried,” you broach the matter; he’s already marrow-deep in your gaze.

The buried aren’t meant to return, and it’s to the banshee’s dismay that the living should witness what has already died. It’s the rule, is it not?

Leon’s stare glaciates to shades of electric blues.

“You think I wanted this?” His question is fractured like the snap of a twig at his feet.

Impulsively, he closes in on you, one more step into your orbit. That’s his vivid tint shimmering in your irises.

“I was protecting you,” he talks trash under his breath.

Classic.

“By dying?”

“No,” he rasps, “by staying dead.”

“Oh, my God! Of course you did. Played the hero as always. Well, Clark Kent, where might your glasses be?” Sarcasm gushes from your tongue, and with good reason.

How utterly vulgar you can be when you want to be.

Leon pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Is it really that damn hard to put your trust in me?” he gnashes his teeth.

“Funny, I remember how you gladly dumped me that night.”

“That’s the part you know!”

“And that’s more than enough to hate you!”

Leon teeters and flutters an eyelid, gobsmacked in the most graphic condition possible.

The air chokes the soul. Pinpricks of raindrops flutter and splatter in the heart of a moment of whirlwind daze. Dappled on his shoulders and dripping on his face, a drizzle catches on his lashes like the dew on cast iron.

Leon’s everything aches: his cadence, his posture. His hand twitches in an attempt to gloss something indecipherable and unspeakable. You no longer listen to him.

Against all sense, you come one step to the fore. You desperately need to be sure he’s the genuine article.

Halfway through his sentence – “If I had stayed, they would’ve—” your mouth collides with his. Teeth knock.

There’s no precision to it. No poetry written into the pell-mell kisses. No. It’s rather an open wound under the gelid water.

His lips are mist-tinged and piteous, but just a touch belated. Yet as your hands reach for his collar and fist the sodden fabric, something inside him gives way. His breath betrays him. Mouth softens, and the kiss burrows deeper with a distant clap of thunder in the sky.

His fingers clamber up to frame your mizzle-kissed face. Flesh and heat and bone.

He feels it all in the precious jostle of a millisecond into the present.

At last, the skin honors the color of his touch.

“I fucked up real bad. Shit, sweetheart. I lost you.” He leans close to you then, severing the kiss.

His eyes twinkle like they’ve been washed in the storm and then reddened in the incandescent flames.

You trace a cool hand along the faint arch of his jawline, newly chiseled since the last time your lips connected with his.

To draw him closer to you is to abrogate every wound that is still healing.

To pull away would be to abandon the part of you that has never stopped waiting.

Oh, but this is no fantasy; gone is the brutal game born from the illicit marriage of chimera and sorrow.

He’s real.

What a way to get a hit in. What a kiss.

Like the first breath after drowning, it’s a lovely but cold blue sinkhole. Takes much to last.

“Oh, God,” you breathe through lips bitten raw. “The letters… they… God. No way.”

A shallow draft of wind punches through your lungs. You come to a stop.

“They said… ‘Leon was like this and like that. Very brave, and—”

Beautiful cursive on blank paper – robotic condolences from men and women in polished shoes – flare up behind your eyes like credits ticking down within the frame of a movie’s swan song.

“Sweetheart, I can’t really understand you when you’re like this.”

“Do you feel the ground moving, or is it just—”

Your knees give out as if you’re an archaic scaffold. A marionette whose cords have been snapped.

Leon catches you in the nick of time – but only just.

Your sepia-tinted filter, already bleeding at the margins, begins to blur his features.

Leon’s flustered shock hangs above until his visage is brush-stroked in a moonless black.

[meinii]

“just-because”

summary: Sylus takes you out on a surprise date (๑> ₃ <)

content: fluff

୨୧･｡｡･♡･∴･♡･｡｡･୨୧

you have no idea where he’s taking you

Sylus only told you to be ready by seven, didn’t offer a clue about the plan, just dropped a single black box on the bed with a card that said, wear this for me

inside: a gown

not just any gown—one that fits your body like a secret whispered to silk. deep midnight in color, with delicate red accents that ripple like fire under light. the fabric flows when you walk, catching shadows and starlight all at once. it’s elegant. intricate. you in fabric form

you step into the living room, smoothing your hands over the skirt, only to find Sylus already waiting by the door. he’s dressed in black, as always, but tonight the sharpness of his tailored suit is softened by the smallest details—an undone button at his collar, the ruby crow pin at his chest, and the way his eyes stop on you like he’s forgotten how to speak

he doesn’t say anything at first

he just looks at you

“you’re staring” you tease, suddenly shy

“i’m trying to remember how to breathe,” Sylus says, voice low “you’re going to ruin me tonight”

you look down, flustered “you picked the dress”

“i didn’t think it’d look that good,” he mutters, more to himself than you, then he steps forward and offers his hand “come on, you’ve kept me waiting long enough”

he drives

not in one of his usual, inconspicuous cars—but a sleek, black luxury model you’ve never seen before. everything’s quiet inside, the city lights flickering past the windows while Sylus rests one hand on the wheel and the other on your thigh, thumb tracing idle circles, gaze locked on the road, but attention clearly on you

you keep trying to guess the destination

he doesn’t give it away

not until the elevator opens on the top floor of a building you’ve never noticed before—a towering place with crystalline walls and soft golden light spilling from inside. he leads you in without a word, ignoring the surprised looks from staff who clearly know him, guiding you past velvet-lined halls and private rooms… until you step into a glass-walled rooftop restaurant that steals the breath straight from your lungs

the view is unreal

the city sprawls below like something from a dream, all blurred lights and soft movement, stretching out in every direction. above, the stars are visible between drifting clouds and in the middle of it all—your table

lit by candlelight

a perfect arrangement of your favorite flowers waits at the center, delicate petals catching the flicker of flames. there’s no one else around. no other guests. no noise

just you. him. and the sky.

you blink “Sylus…”

he pulls out your chair for you, hand lingering at the small of your back “sit.”

you do, still dazed

he takes the seat across from you, resting his elbows on the table as he watches your expression shift—surprise, confusion, awe, and something softer, warmer. his smile turns smug, but there’s a gentleness under it, something only you ever get to see

“you like it?” he asks

“you did all this?”

“booked the restaurant. kicked everyone else out. had the dress made a month ago” he leans in slightly “i would’ve dropped rose petals from the sky, but i figured that was too much”

you laugh under your breath “you’re unbelievable”

“good unbelievable or bad?”

“good. really good”

he smiles just a little “good”

the food is flawless, each course arriving like clockwork, perfectly timed and plated like art. you talk. he listens. he talks. you tease. and every now and then, his foot brushes yours beneath the table, like he needs to remind himself you’re real

when dessert arrives—your favorite, naturally—you glance at him over the candlelight

“what’s the occasion?” you ask

he twirls the stem of his wine glass between his fingers “do i need one?”

“yes,” you say with a teasing grin “because this is way too perfect to be random”

Sylus leans back in his chair, eyes fixed on you like he’s memorizing something

“you’ve been through hell,” he says quietly “you’ve bled for me. cursed me. saved me. stayed with me”

you open your mouth, but he lifts a hand to stop you

“and i know i don’t say it the way you want to hear it. i don’t always give you soft things. but tonight, i wanted to give you something beautiful. because you are.”

your chest tightens

he stands, walking around the table, then crouches beside your chair. one hand on your waist, the other slipping up to your cheek

“this dress. this view. the flowers. none of it compares to you.”

you swallow hard “Sylus…”

he kisses you

slow. reverent. like you’re the last thing in the world he’s afraid to lose

when he pulls back, he whispers against your lips

“happy just-because.”

and somehow, that means more than any anniversary ever could

[jaylalolz]

❛ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐄 ❜ . . . nicholas chavez

SUMMARY, nicholas’ takes his crush on a special special date, blindfolding her as he leads her to a romantic setup he has prepared.

A/N, have fun reading !!

WARNINGS, none 

Nicholas had been planning this date for weeks, constantly going over every detail in his mind until it was perfect. Now, as they drove through the city, the late afternoon sun painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, he glanced over at her, her face glowing even under the blindfold.

"You’re killing me, Nick," she laughed, fidgeting with the edge of the blindfold. "Can I please know where we’re going?"

"Nope," Nicholas grinned, gently reaching over to still her hands. "It’s a surprise, and we’re almost there. Just trust me."

She huffed dramatically, but there was a smile on her lips, her excitement bubbling underneath her playful complaints. "I do trust you," she said softly, "I just really hate not knowing."

Nicholas squeezed her hand, the butterflies in his stomach fluttering wildly. "You’re going to love it, I promise."

A few minutes later, the car slowed to a stop. Nicholas parked and came around to open her door, guiding her out carefully. Her fingers tightened around his as they walked, and he could sense her curiosity growing. The smell of roses and fresh air surrounded them, and Nicholas led her to a spot he had chosen just for this moment.

"Okay," he whispered, standing behind her now, gently holding her shoulders. "On the count of three, you can take off the blindfold. Ready?"

She nodded eagerly, her heart pounding in anticipation.

"One… two… three."

Her fingers quickly untied the blindfold, and when her eyes adjusted to the soft golden light of the setting sun, her breath caught in her throat. In front of her was a beautifully laid-out scene: a large poster that read, "Can I be your boyfriend?" written in bold letters, surrounded by rose petals scattered across the ground. Balloons floated gently in the breeze, a teddy bear sat waiting by the poster, and a box of chocolates rested beside it. The entire area felt magical, like it had been pulled from a dream.

Her hands flew to her mouth, tears welling in her eyes as she turned to Nicholas. "Are you serious?"

Nicholas’s face was flushed, nervousness and excitement mingling together as he stood there, waiting for her reaction. "I’ve been serious about you since elementary school," he confessed, his voice soft but steady. "I’ve liked you for so long, even back when we were kids. I just never had the guts to say it. But now… I don’t want to wait anymore. I knew back then that you were the one."

Her heart melted at his words, the emotion flooding through her as she stepped closer to him, tears of happiness spilling over. "Nicholas…" she whispered, her voice shaky. "I don’t even know what to say."

"Just say yes," he smiled, his hand reaching out to take hers. "Say yes, and let me be the guy who makes you happy every single day."

She laughed through her tears, overwhelmed with joy. "Yes," she said, nodding emphatically. "Of course, yes!"

Nicholas let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, and in an instant, he pulled her into his arms, wrapping her in a warm embrace. "You have no idea how happy you just made me," he murmured into her hair.

"I think I do," she teased, looking up at him with shining eyes. "Because I feel the same way. I’ve felt the same way for so long, but I never knew if you did."

Nicholas smiled, brushing a stray tear from her cheek. "I’m going to make sure you never doubt it again."

They stood there, holding each other, surrounded by the soft glow of the evening light, the rose petals dancing around them in the breeze. Everything about the moment felt perfect—like it had always been meant to happen this way.

As they pulled back slightly, Nicholas leaned down, his forehead resting against hers. "I’m so lucky," he whispered.

"We’re both lucky," she corrected, her hand gently resting on his chest. "I’ve always known it was you too."

They kissed then, softly, tenderly, the world around them disappearing as they lost themselves in each other, in this moment they had both waited for so long.

[starwovenkiss]

goodnight n go

You continue your daily tradition of calling Kyle while he's away for deployment. A/N: this man has unfortunately taken up too much real estate in my brain and at this point, the only solution is to write it out. <3

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ── ♡ ─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─ ─ ⋅

The dial tone rings, and you count the seconds until he answers. Thirty-two today, nine quicker than yesterday.

“‘Ello love.” A murmured drawl crackles through, and you smile, turning over into the pillow directly next to you. You take a deep inhale, savoring the fact that Kyle’s body wash still lingers. You know you have another week before it fades completely. “It’s a bit late for you to call me. I thought you would’ve been asleep by now.”

“I was,” you giggle, “but I had a dream about you.”

“A dream, eh? And what was this dream about?” You roll your eyes at the shift of tone, knowing that if he were here, he would get a smack in the face with his pillow for the innuendo. And your heart tightens, wishing for a moment that he was lying right next to you instead of 5,000 miles away in some war-torn country.

“Our first date,” you hear his chuckle, smiling at your memory. You close your eyes, painting a picture of the freckles that litter his nose, the whiskey color of his eyes, and his flat curls after lying in bed all night. Your fingers reach out, feeling cold sheets rather than the warmth of where his hand should be.

“Tell me about it,” he asks smoothly.

“You should know, you were there,” you laugh.

“I still wanna hear.”

“Well, you were late.”

“Only by 15 minutes. You’ve been way later than that!”

“It was our first date!” you giggle. “And you were wearing flip-flops!”

“I didn’t know I needed to dress up,” he groans. “We were best friends! We had hung out by ourselves all the time.”

“Kyle, we grew up together. You would think I would’ve taught you how to impress a girl on a first date by the time you were 25 years old!” you laugh incredulously, and you hear his laugh back. 

The window creaks slightly as an evening breeze passes through, open to combat the summer heatwave in England. You smile fondly. It had been sweltering the day the two of you met. You were running down the street, chasing the ice cream truck, and were short a few pence for an ice lolly. Only seconds away from putting it back, when Kyle, a boy with sunburned cheeks and grass stains on his knees, stepped in without hesitation. He handed over his allowance and just grinned when you tried to protest. You shared it with him, of course, and from that moment on, the two of you were inseparable.

It wasn’t until he turned sixteen that something shifted. His voice dropped. His limbs stretched. His back straightened like he was growing into a version of himself the rest of the world hadn’t seen yet. Gone was the scrawny boy who still secretly collected trading cards and snuck over to yours to watch rom-coms under the guise of “movie night.”

And you weren’t the only one who noticed. Girls started paying attention, laughing loudly at his jokes, twirling their hair around their fingers. You told yourself the jealousy was just a habit. That it only hurt because you’d gotten used to having all of him. 

It wasn't until after his first deployment that the fear of losing him completely led you to reckon with the love you had been trying not to name since you two met.

“I’m pretty lucky that you gave me a second chance then.” Kyle’s smile laces every word, and you shuffle closer to his side of the bed as if you can will him closer to you by moving into the space he normally occupies.

“Well, you brought me flowers!”

“Lilies. Your favorite.” And almost instinctively, your gaze catches the vase of lilies on your nightstand, delivered the day Kyle left for deployment. Your brows knit as a petal falls, the dying buds serving as a marker for how long Kyle’s been gone.

He hears the pause, and always Kyle seems attuned to the shift in your emotions even through a phone call, so when he suggests “tell me more,” you follow. 

“At least the restaurant you picked was nice.” The cafe was only a short walk from your apartments, perfect for Kyle to show up grinning ear to ear at your apartment door, holding a bouquet of lilies. You had spent the entire morning on the phone with your friend, worried that you were making the wrong decision, and that would be the end of you and Kyle. That everything would be weird and awkward with this new romantic subtext in your friendship. But when you looked down and met eyes with a pair of thong flip-flops, you couldn’t help but laugh in relief that Kyle would always be Kyle.

“I miss you,” You whisper. He’s quiet for a beat too long, and the absence of his voice feels like a weight in your chest. You briefly wonder if you overstepped. It’s not easy, you knew that before you even started dating Kyle, comforting him as ex-girlfriends couldn’t handle the strain of not seeing him for months and months. Yet you could’ve never imagined yourself in the same position of wanting more from a man who could only give so much.

“I miss you more,” he whispers back, voice hoarse with longing.

You're quiet, and you can almost see Kyle’s frown before you hear it in the next words that leave his mouth.

“You’ll call me tomorrow, yeah?”

“Of course. I love you,” You whisper, barely audible over the rustle of the sheets as you shift beneath the sheets.

“I love you always. Now get some rest. I’ll be here until you fall asleep.” You set your phone beside you, eyes fluttering close at the gentle hum of Kyle’s chatter. 

Forty-eight minutes tonight, seven longer than yesterday.

[kkotkkoji]

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･° where did you go? ❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

what do the wind breaker boys do when someone they care about is dissociating?

┌──❀*̥˚───❀*̥˚─┐

◘ featuring sakura haruka, suo hayato, kaji ren... and whoever is reading this!

◘ a handful of angst with an armful of comfort

◘ a/n I definitely have more wind breaker characters that I want to write for—especially for this prompt—but if you have any requests, please ;; let me know ;;

└───❀*̥˚───❀*̥˚┘

𐙚 haruka sakura.

he never knows what's wrong with him when it happens—one moment he's there, the next... he's floating in the currents of his past as memories froth over the present—but he knows that something's wrong.

and right now, he can see it in your eyes. you were smiling and laughing with kotoha seconds ago, but now you're staring blankly at the counter, still wiping down a dish you started drying five minutes ago. sakura noticed the shift when a customer dropped their plate. you blanched, fear flickering in your eyes, as the sound of porcelain shattering struck you.

kotoha cleaned it up while you stared, and stared...

"hey, how long are you gonna dry that bowl for?" sakura asks while sliding into a seat at the bar, leaving suo and nirei at the booth.

you turn your head so slowly, it makes sakura think that every muscle in your body has been replaced by tsugeura's weights. "oh." just as slowly, you eye the bowl in your hands. "I guess it's dry now."

your laugh is soft, weak, as you set the bowl aside. "hey," sakura starts again, drawing your attention back to him. "are you almost done?" when your only response is a vacant stare, he bolts upright, gripping the edge of the counter. "I mean, are you... are you almost done working here? like, for today?"

you glance sidelong at kotoha, who smiles knowingly—then mischievously. "she's actually done right now, sakura. why, are you gonna take her out on a date?"

sakura balls his hands into fists, stopping himself from slamming them on the counter. "so—so what if I am, huh? you got a problem with that?"

your heart skips a beat, fluttering. "a date?"

seeing the light in your eyes, sakura's expression softens. he stands up, hands in his pockets, and nods toward the door. he intentionally lowers his head, hiding the red dusting his cheeks. "yeah, so... hurry up."

𐙚 hayato suo.

his kind, watchful gaze never misses the subtle caveat of your consciousness floating away. he sees the warning signs in your taut muscles, how they'll start twitching sporadically as you brace yourself against an invisible threat. he sees them in your eyes, how they'll dim as your pupils dilate, like you're lost in a dream.

a nightmare.

your name floats on a gentle murmur as suo leans so he's in front of you, so your eyes meet his. "did you go somewhere?"

memories flit across your vision as your mind bounces back and forth between past and present, until everything is hazy and distant, and you no longer know what's real and what's not.

his hand cups your shoulder, gently squeezing, as he shuffles closer. "you did, but... you don't have to be there anymore." that same hand slides in-between your shoulders as he leads you away from the bustling sidewalk and down a quiet, dimly lit alleyway. "because you're here in makochi, with me. don't you feel the ground beneath your feet?"

you nod.

"tell me," suo whispers. "tell me what you see."

you tell him what you see: gray concrete flecked pink with cherry blossom petals, an overflowing dumpster that reeks, and a rainbow of graffiti sprawled along the walls. the alleyway opens up to a quieter, slower part of makochi, and you realize that suo is leading you to his favorite tea shop.

suo smiles. "don't you think the tea shop will smell better than this alleyway?" you breathe in—hot, stinking air—and wrinkle your nose. suo laughs, squeezing your shoulder again. "I agree. but I'm glad you're back."

you turn to face him, only to find him still smiling at you, worry swirling in the depths of his eye.

"you see the cherry blossoms and smell the trash. that means you're here, in makochi, with me." he gingerly intertwines his fingers with yours.

𐙚 ren kaji.

he can't empathize with you the same way sakura does. even though he knows what it's like to lose himself, it's never in the same way as you. it's like your mind slips between the fabric of reality, caught between past and present, but he simply loses his mind—loses it to the ever-festering darkness inside of him. a monster.

it makes him wonder what you've seen... if he ever looks like the monster who hurt you.

it's when you fall silent and retreat deep inside of yourself that he notices. you walk slowly, lower your head; you flinch at the slightest touch, a sudden sound. and when it happens as you walk side by side, he'll crouch down in front of you, his steady, worried gaze capturing yours.

then you feel the weight of his headphones. music floods your ears, drowns the haunting echoes of your past. when you open your mouth to protest, he sticks a sucker in—peach, of course it's peach—and stands back up, lifting one side of the headphones up. "did you snap out of it?"

you fumble for words, caught between the music in your ears and the sudden sweetness in your mouth, and the all-consuming fog shrouding every passing thought.

"is it too much?"

you shake your head.

"good. just focus on that, then." he grabs your hand. "I'll make sure you don't get lost."