#with small rose buds weaved through

[achaotichuman]

Make the bottom green and DO NOT TELL ME TAMLIN WOULD NOT SHIFT INTO A FEMALE JUST TO WEAR IT

Paris Street Style

[soldrawzz]

"Fox Chase" - A Super Short Moomin FanFic

A friend of mine and I were chatting on instagram when we came across an ADORABLE little video of a red fox kit prancing in some wildflowers (fox zoomies, so cute!) It got me thinking and in a spur-of-the-moment move I wrote a super short Moomin Valley oneshot Fic. My friend encouraged me to share it here for others to read. I'd like to invite anyone who feels compelled to doodle/draw/sketch for this lil fic idea to go ahead and do so (I might try as well at some point). Be sure to share it with me if you do so I can see what amazing stuff you came up with!! HAPPY SPRING EVERYONE!!

FIC BELOW

Moomintroll awoke earlier than usual. A whisper called out through his dreams from deep inside him; Something Needed To Be Seen. Rather than roll over and sleep away the feeling he rose from his bed, stretched with a yawn and peeked tired eyes out his foggy window into the early morning light. The sun hadn't quite made it over the mountain peaks yet. The valley was blanketed in a thick fog, obscuring most in view beyond the forest tree line. The whisper grew stronger within, compelling him to abandon the cozy warmth of his room and walk out into the stirring world.

Something Needed To Be Witnessed.

With a sigh Moomin pried open his window, stepped over the frosted ledge and slid down the makeshift ladder, landing with a gentle 'thump' upon the dewy grass. Away he marched across the bridge, glancing sideways to greet his blurred reflection and off he went into the beckoning woods.

At first he wandered aimlessly, admiring the shifts and swirls of the fog as he stumbled over logs, tiptoed around melting patches of snow, until the tug from inside drew his attention to a small animal trail. The trail was only slightly overgrown with dormant weeds; he was certain he hadn't seen it before winter and surely wouldn't have otherwise noticed if not for the nagging feeling demanding he follow it, sooner rather than later. Onto the path he stepped, pace hastened until a ways away Moomin found himself led to a clearing along the hillside. A gentle breeze rustled the early spring flowers ready in waiting for the mist to clear, to meet the rising sun. Still more the feeling called to him, Witness Me, See Me. Moomintroll stepped into the clearing and the world fell silent. The early birds roosted and waited, the trees stood tall, still. He forced himself to breathe, slow, deliberate breaths despite every fiber of his being screaming to hold it in for fear of drowning out the now bellowing call; Watch, See, Observe.

Moomin crouched low to the ground, the grass tickling his chest and chin as he met the moist earth, and waited. Sunbeams broke through the clouds, drifting lazily above the clearing. The fog began to clear in patches as the steam from the heated earth forced it up and away. The purple and pink flowers began to pop into life, opening bit by bit to the inviting warmth of the greeting sun. Still Moomintroll waited, waited. Watching...

A rustle in the trees, A Call, A Cry, A Whistle, A Tune. A song grew in his heart, familiar and longing, loving. He knew now what was coming before he saw but still he waited as his mind and heart caught up with his line of sight. In the distance, across the meadow a small green figure approached the field. Soft footsteps, barely audible, made their way to the edge of the clearing and halted mere inches from the buds.

The figure slid something heavy off his shoulders, dropped it beside his feet and proceeded to remove a pair of old, time worn boots. He then removed a tall green hat from his head and placed it up against the trunk of an adjacent tree. Moomin clasped his hand over his mouth as the figure stepped cautiously into the clearing, carefully weaving between patches of pink and purple, head whipping back and forth like a deer screening the horizon for signs of threat or disturbance in the otherwise tranquil meadow. The coast was clear. Moomintroll was not spotted. He observed as the pull in his heart, the humming voice in his head began to bellow to Watch, To See. His urge to rush upon his friend only just outweighed by his curiosity at the site of Snufkin gingerly sneaking his way to the center of the field. The boy in the tattered green cloak took one more look around before glancing upward to the sky, almost directly into the sun, standing firm and rooted, as if to dare the sun to beam down on him with all it's might. He took in a deep, audible breath, held it. The voice within Moomin suddenly went quiet and he looked on in puzzlement...

The boy raised his arms above his head, stepped forward a few inches with a single toe and with a shout as high as a whistle and jolly as an elf, Snufkin rolled! Cartwheeled into the flowers! He leapt and bounced and ran in a circle, bounded back to chase a tail that was not there. He doubled back and ran from one end of the clearing to the other, laughter like blue bells tinkling in the morning sun. And the world breathed! The birds chirped, the trees swayed, the breeze whipped Snufkin's hair about his face, tugged at the snowy tufts of Moomin's fur as he stared in bewilderment through the tickling grass.

Moomin stifled a startled laugh, the call in his heart returning in full force, changing it's tune. Join Me, Come, Let's Play! And Snufkin danced on in the Spring-filled meadow, relishing the sun and singing back to the breeze, to the trees, to the birds and the bees. A newfound courage overtook Moomintroll, drove him to leap into the clearing and cartwheel into his friend.

Snufkin fell to his knees with a gasp, and stared down the troll in shock. He panted, winded, eyes wide and frenzied; Moomin's own bashful but hopeful. The boy lifted himself from the ground, brushed off his coat with a long sigh. Moomin looked around confused as the silence between them seemed to still the breeze and a cloud passed over the sun, it's shadow engulfing the entire pasture and accentuating the last of the mist that still clung to the treetops. Where did the voice go? What happened to the song?

"Well then..." Snufkin finally spoke after a long pause. "Best get ready." His voice was stern, scratchy from lack of use. How long had it been since they'd seen each other? Spoken to one another? As Moomin glanced up the clouds cleared, the sun returned, willing away the last of the fog to feed the hungry needles of the pine trees. A small hand reached out to the troll. Moomin, shyly, took the hand and hoisted himself up, dusted off his portly belly and made to apologize for disturbing his friend's (very odd) ritual....

"To the boulder and back!" Snufkin roared and OFF like a bullet he ran to the far end of the field. Moomin nearly toppled again in his bewilderment. Chase! Chase! Run, Tag, You're It! The voice rang out and without a second though he dashed away after his friend, never to overcome him, for how could he really? A wild spirit like Snufkin couldn't be caught, couldn't be tamed, but to be invited into the revelry when the song beckoned them, how could Moomintroll resist the chase? Spring had finally come. Welcome Home, a mirthful voice rang out, and Moomintroll couldn't tell whether or not it was his own.

(The End)

[awaitinganorphanera]

Who was going to tell me that in order to produce a fic I actually have to write it >:((((( ??? WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE WORDS DONT JUST APPEAR IN THIN AIR IF I STARE AT THE BLINKING CURSOR LONG ENOUGH WITH MY BRAIN FILLED WITH SO MUCH IDEAS RAHHHH !!!!

Anyway, I just wanted to share a small tidbit of a Hanahaki au CobyMeppo fic/draft/idea/prompt/shitty compilation of words that barely make sense that I've been working on since FEBRUARY but never fucking finished and am currently still struggling to even continue as embarrassing as that sounds because idk whether its cohesive or good enough to even share on Ao3 Its just the idea of Helmeppo developing and struggling through Hanahaki disease would be so neat imo due to how most CobyMeppo shippers head cannon Helmeppo's feelings being unrequited at first (or not at all) and how he just adores Koby so fucking much that he becomes so ruined. I cant. Apologies if the structured and the way it's told is messy and incoherent, I've added the lil space in the indent thingy to depict a different part of the fic since im not very good at transitioning. I haven't written anything in so long and I wanted to pump so much bits that I didn't even weave anything properly so, HERE IT IS: (a lot of it IS corny and a bit cheesy so be forewarned akjsjasjsa)

Koby always liked flowers. Surely then, Helmeppo thought, Koby would like him too. Helmeppo, who dwelled within his prickly walls, each barbed with Rose thorns. Helmeppo, with his muddled virtues, swelling and desiccated like stains from Poppy sap. Helmeppo, with a chest riddled with budding blossoms, all watered by his desolate, weeping heart. Could such qualities appeal to the man he grew to love? Perhaps, Helmeppo thought, and perhaps too, he should have known better.  Known when his feelings had begun to develop into something more than simple tolerance, more than respect, more than adoration and even more than intense attachment to the pink-haired boy. At least then, he would have prepared for the worst. Or at least… That's what he assumed when the worst began. It was a blur, how it started. Helmeppo was always self-aware, extremely conscious of his feelings. He knew of jealousy, anger, longing, all traits that contributed and resulted from his desperate and gnawing want to appease his father. His father, of course. His own blood and bones, the same person who probably caused the beginning of all– this. Was it really a surprise? Helmeppo couldn't think of any fucked up thing in his life that hadn't ultimately been caused by Morgan. He grew to learn how to read the room, read the faces, read the tones, he grew to know his father's thoughts without actually knowing anything about his father's feelings. Did he even feel? Feel for his son? No. Of course not. The only thing Morgan could feel for him was apathy.  Sometimes, Helmeppo wished his father hate him instead, wished that he was worth hitting. At least then, he would have experienced treatment that came with passion and effort, treatment that resulted from feeling, treatment that made him feel at the barest, like he meant something.  The lack of care and lack of anything that Morgan bothered to show to his son was barely even the surface of reasons why Helmeppo is even suffering through this. The cause that made Helmeppos brain chemistry rewire and for his damn neuromodulators to rearrange. To see something as small as a single act of genuine care be perceived as a trick, a lie, a dream that he’d so desperately want to fall into and relive despite the possible consequences. He should have recognized how unhealthy and apparently not normal these thoughts were, should have known that his emotions are unstable and too much, should have seen how horrific he grew to be. But even then, Helmeppo thought, would that have done anything to prevent the illness he'd eventually succumb to?

Of all the horrors in Helmeppo’s life, he would have thought that seeds growing inside his lungs would have been the most and hopefully (though doubtedly, considering his luck in life) last traumatic event that would truly, bring him to ruin. But of course, the world, just like how Helmeppo always found himself to be, would never have enough, and just like the breaths he was left to breathe, would leave him dwindling in the years to come. It started as a blur, again, just like any day in the ship he found himself settled in. A gift. He thought, better than what life offered him when he woke up back in shells town. Or at least that's what he’s been telling himself.  Morgan was cruel, sure, but at least he was familiar. He was easier to navigate, easier to chart and read and hide from.  He couldn’t do this here, when things still felt new. He knew of Garp and his capabilities, but he didn’t know the limits of his patience, he had no clue what and how many things would warrant the usage of his fist. He knew of the shady business of the Navy and the World Government, knew of its structure and how it works; the tutors paid by his father made sure of that much, but he never got to live through it.

SOMEONE PLEASE GIVE ME TIPS ON HOW TO TRANSITION PARTS IN WRITING, I SUCK ASS AND AM OPEN TO CRITIQUES AHJSJAS

[indianflowers01]

Embracing Tradition: Rose Petal Garland Artistry in Live Oak, USA

In the charming town of Live Oak, USA, there's a special craft that's not just about flowers—it's about preserving tradition and creating something truly beautiful. Nestled among the oak trees and winding streets is a small workshop known for its exquisite rose petal garlands. Here at this cozy spot, the art of crafting these garlands isn't just a skill; it's a passion passed down through generations.

Walk into the workshop, and you'll be greeted by the sweet scent of fresh roses and the warm smile of Helen Davis, the master behind these delicate creations. Helen, a local artisan with deep roots in Live Oak, has been honing her craft for decades. Her hands move with practiced ease as she carefully selects each petal, ensuring only the finest blooms make it into her garlands.

Rose petal garlands hold a special place in Live Oak's cultural tapestry. They're not just decorations; they're symbols of celebration, love, and respect. Traditionally, these garlands have adorned weddings, festivals, and important ceremonies, bringing a touch of natural beauty and elegance to every occasion.

For Helen, each garland is a labor of love. She takes pride in preserving the traditional techniques passed down from her grandmother, who taught her the art of weaving petals into intricate patterns. From simple, single-strand designs to elaborate multi-layered creations adorned with tiny buds and greenery, Helen's garlands are a testament to her skill and creativity.

Local residents and visitors alike flock to Helen's workshop, drawn by the allure of these timeless creations. Whether it's a bride looking for the perfect bridal garland or a family celebrating a milestone, Helen's garlands never fail to impress. Each piece is unique, reflecting Helen's attention to detail and her dedication to her craft.

Beyond their aesthetic appeal, Helen's garlands embody sustainability. She sources her roses locally, supporting nearby growers and ensuring her creations have a minimal environmental footprint. The workshop itself is a hub of community spirit, where neighbors gather to learn the art of garland making during workshops and classes hosted by Helen.

Looking ahead, Helen dreams of expanding her workshop's reach, sharing Live Oak's rich cultural heritage with a broader audience. She envisions collaborating with artists and designers to showcase the versatility of rose petal garlands, from contemporary art installations to eco-friendly home decor.

In a world where mass-produced goods dominate, Helen Davis and her workshop stand as a testament to the enduring appeal of handmade craftsmanship and tradition. Through her passion for roses and dedication to preserving cultural heritage, Helen has carved out a unique niche in Live Oak's vibrant community.

So next time you find yourself in Live Oak, take a stroll down Main Street and visit Helen's workshop. Embrace the tradition of rose petal garlands and discover firsthand the beauty that blooms from a deep-rooted passion for nature and craftsmanship. You might just find a piece of Live Oak to take home with you—a delicate reminder of tradition, love, and the simple joys found in handmade artistry.

[blooming-violets]

[tasm!peter x forest nymph, fantasy au] 

Summary: A forest nymph captures Peter’s heart.

Warnings: 18+ smut (mostly smut with a light plot), both fem and male oral, vaginal penetration, slight breeding kink

A/N: I started this for the Kink or Treat event that happened during Kinktober but it’s now the second week of November so...I’m late. Per usual. Better late than never though!

She smiled up at the hazy, autumn morning sun that was beginning to break through the clouds. The day after a rainstorm was always her favorite. The scent of rich, damp earth and decaying plants teased her nostrils. The forest floor was soft under her bare feet, the green moss, covered with a layer of wet leaves, cushioned her every step. It was the last few remaining days before she would take her slumber. Once the air cooled and snow flurries fell from the sky, she would retreat back to the safety of her home. When the last leaf fell from the tree, she would fall with it into her winter dormancy, only to reemerge the following season when the green buds sprouted to life. 

Her long hickory colored mane tumbled down her bare back in wild, untamed waves. The silky tips brushed against her bottom as she strode with a hypnotic sway of her hips towards her favorite bathing spot. A series of small waterfalls, stacked into rocklike steps, that pooled with perfect watering holes. The brown speckled rocks were smoothed down from the centuries of waterflow to create a hidden gem tucked away deep into the forest. As the morning golden rays of sunlight peeked over the tips of the trees, her world was cast into a fiery display of rich reds, shining yellows, and warm oranges. A perfect autumn morning to relish in her few remaining days. 

There was only one thing missing to make her day complete and she hoped she would find it before the night fell. 

He had promised her, after all.

She’d come to trust his promises. He had yet to break one. He was different from the rest. Even the Gods could not be trusted to keep their end of a bargain. But, alas, her Peter was no God. He was merely a man. A mortal man. A trained and powerful warrior but still a man. He promised her his devotion and protection as long as she promised to meet him whenever he called upon her. Last night, his message was carried on the backs of the wind. He was on his way. She longed for his arrival. 

The crystal clear water of Mother Nature's pool felt cool against her skin as she waded into the deepest depths. The cold of the river did not affect her like it would a mortal. It seeped into her skin and awoke each of her senses. She drew the lifeforce from the water and felt more alive with each passing second. A twinkle of light laughter fell from her lips as she sunk down to her shoulders. Her nipples tightened as the water weaved between her thighs, as if it had a mind of its own, to lap at her flesh like a flurry of tiny tongues. She was one with the nature around her. She could feel every breath of life that radiated from the ground. It was her home. Her safety. 

The wind rose up, blowing back the wisps of hair that teased at her cheek, and swirled around her naked skin. When she held her hand above the water, the wind curled through her dripping fingers. It tickled her fingers to elicit another laugh from her. Her hand sunk back under the water to gently cup her soft, round breasts and smooth down her over her belly in growing anticipation for her lover to arrive. Her body was untouched by time, forever in her prime, and eager to be pleased by knowing hands. Many had worshiped her flesh before, many had pushed her to the brinks of pleasure, but none had captivated her like Peter. She never wanted to be tied down to one partner. Even now, she still enjoys her joyous romps with her favorite Satyrs, but none held her heart like her human did. He was special. She couldn’t quite place how. It didn’t matter. All she knew was that Peter was hers. She cradled his soul in her palms. 

She closed her eyes to imagine her lover. She remembered the feel of his warm tongue and soft lips as they glided over her chest, hungry for something only her body could satiate. He would seek out the sweet nectar between her thighs and feast on her like a starving man devouring his first meal in days. There was a particular charm to Peter which other’s lacked. He lived to serve her. He aimed to please not be pleased. It was a rare kindness for the men she often came across. His innate ability for lovemaking resembled more of a woman’s compassionate touch than a man’s. And, still, he had a jealous streak, wishing to never share her with anyone else. She was not meant to be possessed, no matter how hard he tried. No man could ever own her. Not even Peter. 

The rustle of the leaves changed their usual sound to alert her of a new presence approaching. He was almost here. His familiar scent floated before him on the wind to reach her first. She inhaled the comforting smell with a smile. He was coming in from the north. 

She lifted herself out of the water to perch on a large rock at the edge of the river. The sun had been busy warming it for her and the heat felt nice absorbing into her skin. She pulled her long hair over her shoulder to run her fingers through the locks, humming a soft and enchanting melody while she patiently waited. The light inside of her was growing the closer he got. By the time she watched his shadow emerge from between the trees, she was practically bursting with excitement. Still, she feigned ignorance to his presence, continuing to hum and brush out her hair. 

He was watching her in silence. He always took his time to approach. The first time they met, he had spied on her for nearly three hours before making his entrance. She knew. She always knew when she was being watched. She loved the attention and enjoyed showing off for her unsuspecting suitors. This morning was no different. 

Her hands fell to her breasts, tweaking her nipples between her fingers with a soft sigh. Peter loved her chest. He could spend an entire evening doing nothing but nursing on her ripe breasts while his fingers twirled through her hair. They would lay together for hours, lazily exploring each other’s bodies while listening to the sounds of the forest sing around them. She could hear him give a sharp inhale from the opposite side of the river and knew he was enjoying what he saw. 

Her upturned eyes, phthalo green with shimmers of gold specs, unique to her kind, finally crossed the gap to land on him. She gazed at him through long lashes. A smile tugged at her lips at the sight. His chestnut hair was longer than it was the last time she saw him. It curled around his ears and at the nape of his neck. He looked older. Men always age so fast to her. A new scar cut along his cheekbone. White but prominent. Something that must have happened a few months ago while he was away. She knew he was a warrior fighting for his people’s freedom and that was a job that came with many dangers. She didn’t concern herself with many human issues though. As long as he kept safe and returned to her, she didn’t mind what disheveled state he showed up as. 

Peter straightened up when he saw he caught her attention. She stood on the rock, tossing her tumbles of hair behind her. His warm brown eyes danced over her nudity. To see a woman stand naked and unabashed out in the open was forbidden where he was from. Her sight stunned him every single time. His eyes sought out her chest, taking in the rise and fall of her breasts with their dark, budding tips and continued down to the indent of her waist and over her generous hips to her long, sturdy legs. She allowed him to look upon her in silence before she dove, head first, into the pool. 

She swam with a dazzling grace under the water until she emerged directly in front of him with a wide, teasing smile. Peter knelt down in front of her, reaching his hand out for her to take. The moment they clasped, he effortlessly pulled her from the water and onto her feet. Time seemed to come to a standstill as she pressed her face against his chest to breathe in his intoxicating scent clinging to his shirt. His strong arms wrapped around her wet body, crushing her breasts against him, and drawing her up against the rising hardness between his thighs. Fingers brushed the long, silky strands of wet hair over her shoulder, lowering his head to the exposed flesh, as his lips drank from her skin. 

She hummed with content at his touch, “Have you been with another since we were together last?” It was something she always asked. She played it off as curiosity but the blatant, underlying jealousy was easily noticeable. She could be others but not him. He belonged to her and only her. 

Peter sighed, shaking his head against the crook of her neck, “No. I’ve told you. You are my only one. The women try but none compare to you. Once your eyes have been blessed with the sight of a nymph, you can never see beauty the same way again.”  

She’d never met a human woman before. Their appearance was forgein to her so she had no input on the subject. If Peter claimed that her beauty outshone a human, then she could only go off his word, and his word satisfied her question. He was still hers. 

“I have been with others,” she replied, hoping to elicit a particular response from him. “No humans, though. I saw one pass through once but I stayed hidden.” She knew he wasn’t fond of that answer but he understood how nymphs lived. This was a part of her. Her sexuality could not be held down. Still, she enjoyed toying with his emotions. Men were so easily manipulated by beauty. If she asked, he would fight wars in her honor. 

His arms tightened possessively around her and she smiled. His male pride and ego fought his own war raging inside his head but he took a deep breath. He didn’t want to share her but knew he had no choice. If he wanted her, this was how it would be. She would always come when he called. She would always be his when he needed her. She would choose him over another if given the chance and that would have to be enough. 

Calloused, rough fingertips slide down her spine to cup her bottom and draw her even harder against his evident desire for her. He was showing her what he could offer, why he was there, and everything she wanted. A devilish smile spread across her face followed by a chiming laugh. She wriggled out of his grasp and dived back into the pool, swimming back to the rock she had been lounging on when he arrived. 

“Hey!” He called out after her, a smile of his own growing on his rosy lips. 

She kept her back to him, hearing him strip off his clothes behind her, and folded her arms on the rock’s surface to rest her head in them. Her eyes set sight into her dying forest. She took care of it. Her soul and the trees were tangled into one. Soon they would be put to rest so new life could grow. It was a beautiful cycle she had been a part of for years now. There was something special in the days leading to winter. A hopeful sadness. Death that would lead to life. The end of one thing and the birth of another. The circle of life starting over once more. 

Icy hands stole around her waist and leaned her back against his bare chest. Peter wasn’t built like her. The chill of the water wouldn’t be pleasant for him but he endured for her sake. His chin rested on her shoulder, her head nuzzling against his, letting his wet hair tickle her ear. She could sense his sadness. He knew what winter meant. She would not be around for him to call upon until the snow melted. This would be the last time of the year they would get to spend in each other’s arms. He missed her already. 

“Do you promise you will return to me?” He whispered. 

She gave a soft, pleased sigh, “I promise. When the first sprout pushes through the frosty ground, you will be the first I seek. Be waiting for me. You know my tree. Keep it safe while I sleep. As long as it is still standing, I will awake in the spring.” 

“Then I will protect that tree with my life.” 

She turned around in his embrace, locking her arms around his neck, and softly pressed her lips to his. His lips were already colder than normal. She tried to warm them through their kiss. Her eyes, holding the heart of the forest in their depths, gazed up at him with a playful amusement. She liked that she would be missed. She knew her winter dreams would be filled with him but time would pass quickly for her. Peter would be the one to carry the burden of the wait. His lips parted, forcing his tongue to dance with hers, as he pressed her tighter against the rock. His movements were fueled with a demanding desire. He wanted to have her. He knew he’d be forced to wait a long time for their next encounter so he refused to wait now. Today, she was his, and only his. He would prove to her that he was better than any other one she made love to. That was why she liked to bring it up each time they met. It turned him into an animal in need of her utter devotion. 

Cool waves of water sloshed up over her sides as she melted beneath his urgency. Quivers of heat shot between her thighs every time he ground his lips against hers. A cold, muscular thigh wedged its way between her legs offering a place to sit. Her heat pressed against his skin as she angled her hips to better situate her delicate nub to rub against him. Peter shuddered when her hand sought out his cock. She marveled at the perfection of man. She’d seen many sizes and Peter was perfect. Not too big to cause pain like some of the Gods she’d been with but perfectly sized to get the maximum amount of pleasure. She loved the way it twitched and throbbed against her palm, her fingers encircling his girth to slowly pump him between her fist. 

Peter gave a low groan into her open mouth. He gripped at her hips and lifted her, away from him, to gently sit on the rock. He never let her tend to him first. She smiled down at him shivering in the water and let her legs fall open so he could be face to face with her hidden treasure. His eyes nearly rolled into the back of his head at the sight. 

“I worship you,” he whispered. 

His hands rose from out of the water to wrap his arms around her thighs and pull her to the very edge of the rock. She gave a light laugh, enjoying the feeling of being so well adored. The muscles in her thighs tightened as fingers deftly parted her lush folds, still clinging to the sparkling water in the morning sun. Peter took a moment to enjoy the beauty bestowed onto him before easing his head down between her thighs. Anticipation curled through her stomach as he gazed at her sultry core. She felt his cool breath tickle her sensitive skin just before his warm tongue darted out, slowly licking a path from her dewy gate up to circle her throbbing clitoris. 

With a heavy exhale, her head fell back to stare up at the sky and her lips parted on a soft moan, “Oh, Peter, how I’ve missed you.”

Peter’s hands held her thighs wide apart as she squirmed against his mouth. Her breath came out in shallow, uneven pants. Honey flowed between her thighs and his tongue sought out every last drop. Fingers pressed against her entrance, seeking admittance and coating in her slick, before pressing forward to slide between her tight walls. Her body clenched around the thrusting digits as his mouth expertly sucked on her nub. Heat scorched through her, pushing away the autumn chill, as tension coiled in her stomach. Nymphs were known to be very sensitive and easy to please but Peter never did a sloppy job of anything involving her. He took his time. He got the majority of his pleasure from worshiping her body. 

She whimpered as the fingers withdrew from her warmth and were replaced back with his hungry mouth. His tongue thrust up inside of her, fucking her slowly. The grip around her thighs tightened, pulling her bottom off the rock to press against his face. He gave loud moans as he savored her taste. That familiar burning ball of pressure started to grow in her stomach. Her hips grinded against his mouth trying to force his tongue deeper into her depths. She was close to reaching the place of pure euphoria. He could sense her anxious, pulsating, need and sped up his ministrations, pinning her tightly to his mouth as he ate her out. 

A screaming gasp echoed off the forest trees as that ball untangled into a bright light of passion. Her hands gripped onto fistfuls of his hair to keep her from falling off the rock and she rode out her high with a series of shrill shrieks. Her body shook and trembled while Peter continued to drink from her lifeforce until she finally collapsed on top of him. 

He collected her protectively in his arms, dragging her back into the water, to cradle her against his chest. His fingers brushed through her hair and he shushed her soft whimpers, “You did so good, my little nymph.” Lips pressed against her temple. “Thank you for letting me taste you. I will never tire of your sweetness on my tongue.” 

She felt the steady beat of his heart and tried to match her breaths to the beat. Her eyes opened to gaze through half closed lids up at his handsome face. His lips were dusting with a light blue. Despite trying to keep them from shivering, he couldn’t quite control his chattering teeth. She laughed, cupping his cold cheek in her palm. 

“Come on, my love. Let’s get you out of this water.” She grasped his hand and swam him to the other side of the pool where his abandoned clothes and bag lay strewn over the soft grass. She knew he wouldn’t leave the waters depths unless she instructed him to. Wherever she was, he was going to stay.

Droplets clung to his thick lashes and dripped off his bottom lip. She had the urge to catch it on her tongue. Peter gave her a loving smile and grabbed the bag off the ground. He pulled out a wool blanket and wiped off the excess water from his body before laying it over a bed of leaves. He laced his fingers with hers and laid down with her in his arms, using her body heat to help warm himself. 

He cherished the moments after her orgasm the most. Her usual mischievous playfulness dulled to a deeper intimacy while her strange colored eyes softened as she studied him. Their times together were never long enough. Passing ships. He craved her by his side. He’d dream of stealing her from these woods and dragging her back to his village so she could spend the rest of her life with him but he knew his desires were fueled by selfishness. She would hate it there. She could never leave her forest. He thought of moving out into the forest to be with her. He could build himself a little hut and live by her side but she always refused his advances. She could never be his. Not fully. She knew him too well. He wouldn’t be able to sit in his hut knowing that she was out giving herself to someone else. If a God came calling for her, who was he to challenge them? She needed her freedom as badly as he needed her and he would never deny her that right. 

Despite his aching heart, his desires only grew. He listened to her soft, labored breaths in his ear and admired the way the sun dried the droplets from her smooth skin faster than normal. Even her long, thick hair was already starting to dry out moments after leaving the water. She was an enigma to him and he was completely enraptured by her mere existence. He wanted more from her than what he was given. He couldn’t help but dream bigger than the life they were currently living.

Peter had heard stories about human’s mating with the nymphs. There were legends of the beautiful half-nymphs who walked between the two worlds. It was a new desire that had been tumbling around his thoughts for the past few days. He wanted to be the one to give her a child.

“Have you ever given birth?” He asked, breaking the silence. 

Her laughter filled his ears at his unexpected question and he felt his ears burning in embarrassment. 

“No, my love. I have not. Not yet. I assume some day I may bear a child. Why?” She blinked up at him with her curious, innocent eyes. 

A blush deepened his chilled cheeks, “Have you ever thought about it?” 

An understanding sparked in her expression, “Do you wish to give me a child, Peter? What about your future wife? Won’t she be appalled by the idea of you impregnating a nymph? I’ve heard stories about what humans think of us. You’d never get a proper wife if they found out.” 

“What future wife?” He countered. “I have no need for wives.” 

“Someday you will need to find a spouse to carry on your family name. That is what you men do. That’s part of your legacy.” She waited with bated breath to hear his reply, knowing his answer would determine her next move. If he asked her to have his children, she would not deny him.

Peter shook his head, “No. Not me. I have no legacy if it’s not with you.” 

A smile tugged at the corner of her lips, “Then I will not stop you from the legacy you deserve.” 

Peter felt the throbbing in his loins. Everything but the thought of spilling his seed into her welcoming womb disappeared. He needed her. His fingers caught her chin as he lowered his mouth to settle over hers, letting her taste her own lingering passion as his tongue explored her mouth. He had answered correctly and passed her test. 

She kissed him back, that familiar tingling feeling of excitement starting to grow in her belly the more urgent his kiss became. His mouth ground itself against hers, devouring, seeking, and demanding her attention. Heat shimmered through her when his hand closed around her supple breast, teasing the aching tip. If she left him to his devices, Peter would undoubtedly shimmy his way back down to her core for another taste. This time, she wanted to be the one to please him. A reward for only choosing her. Her mouth pulled away to catch her breath.

“Roll over,” she ordered. 

Peter did as he was told and flopped onto his back. The golden sun reflected off his damp chest with dancing light. It only served to highlight the perfect beauty of his toned body. She rose above him, joy filling her eyes at the sight. Her mouth lowered to sink her teeth into his shoulder, a teasing bite to awake his senses, and she laughed when she heard him hiss at the quick pain. He was her favorite plaything. 

Her hair feathered across his tanned skin, the result of hours spent working in the sun, as her lips trailed down his chest. The pads of her finger tips tickled over his sides, causing him to squirm, while she continued her slow descent to her prize. When she reached his tight stomach, she paused, resting her cheek above his belly button to gaze lovingly at the hard, throbbing shaft resting against his thigh. A familiar friend. Her fingers gently reached out to stroke over his length and wrap around his girth. Exploring him. Inquisitive, round eyes admired the beautiful sight he had to offer. The more she caressed him, the shorter his breaths became. 

“Would you like me to taste you, Peter?” She offered, knowing she was going to, but wanting to hear him say it. 

He took a shaky breath, “I’d prefer to have my mouth on you but do what you think is best.” 

She giggled. It was what he always said. He hated the idea of making her work for his pleasure but she never saw it as work. She adored feeling him against her tongue. He deserved to lay back and enjoy her talents. 

Her tongue teased over the glistening tip. Some days she would tease him for longer but, this morning, she could not wait. With a low moan, she took him into her mouth. His satin globe settled between her cheeks as she began to work him inch by inch down her throat. Peter was a mouthful but she could handle herself. She licked the sensitive underside of his head before swallowing him back down. Her head fell into a bobbing rhythm causing him to groan and lean back against the blanket. His eyes fixated on the colorful trees painting the deep blue sky above him. He couldn’t think of a better way to spend his morning. His hand fell down to grasp onto the back of her head. He took a fistful of her silky hair in his grip, helping ease her up and down in his lap. 

“That’s it,” he sighed. “Mm, you make me feel so nice.” 

She smiled around the mouthful of cock. She was starting to crave his praise. In a show of appreciation, she relaxed her throat and brought her lips all the way to his base. His curly patch of coarse pubic hair tickled the tip of her nose as he let out a loud whine. His hand held her head down for a few seconds, enjoying the sensation, before pulling her back up with a fistful of hair. She took a quick gasp of air but almost immediately went straight back to tending to her lover. It didn’t take long for an all consuming heat to begin burning through him as her mouth treasured his manhood. Her lips were like magic. She could coax even the most powerful man to his knees with nothing but her tongue. His bottom clenched and rose from the ground, thrusting deeper, and meeting the downward plunge of her mouth. A quiet whimper fell from his lips as his breathing labored. 

They both knew he was close. Usually when he found his release, he would need to take a while before they could play again. Today, he wanted to save himself for her. As much as he would love to feel her swallow his every drop, he would not be denied the pleasure of emptying into her fiery heat. He would save everything he had for their love making. 

Peter carefully lifted her head from his shimmering, saliva drenched cock as she gave him a pout. He chuckled at the sight of her disappointment. 

“Not now,” he said, trying to resist her pleading eyes. “That’s not where I want to finish. I need it to be inside you.” 

Her eyes sparkled with mischief and a smirk spread across her pouty lips, “Never disrupt a woman from her work. Now you must pay the price. Catch me if you can!” 

She sprung up and darted off into the forest. Nymphs were known for their playful spirit and she was no exception. Peter couldn’t help but softly laugh to himself as he struggled to his feet. His body felt like it was on fire in need of a release and playing a game of chase was the last thing on his mind. Running naked through the forest wasn’t something he was used to until they met but it never phased her. She cared little for the ache in his lower half, only caring for him to play along. He knew better than to deny her of her fun. He followed the sounds of her laughter, catching flashing glimpses of her silhouette through the trees. It didn’t take long for him to gain on her. Peter was swift and agile. He was hot on her heels, her joyous laughter bathing over him, as she tried to loop him back to their blanket. Before she reached their place of rest, his arm extended and he lunged forward, wrapping around her waist to pull her tight against his chest. He gripped her hips to spin her around and shove her backwards, pinning her against her large, smooth boulder lining the river.

“Caught ya,” he smirked down at her. His sparkling eyes wandered lower to her heaving chest to eye her breasts as they lifted with each gasp for breath. Her skin was radiating with excitement and she felt like she was vibrating under him. She was the epitome of light. 

“You win,” she breathed. “That means I must be your prize.” 

She offered no resistance as his hands captured her wrists to pin them against the rock wall. His one hand was large enough to ensnare both her wrists in his single grasp. He pinned her there, watching her carefully, his expression turning hungry as his mouth watered. Anticipation shivered through her at the look in his eye. Dark and wickedly seductive. A provocative change from their usual warm, soft appearance. She wiggled against him, teasing him, rubbing on him, inciting him until he hissed through clenched teeth. The air shifted. The playful fire sizzled out into a needy desire. 

“Tell me what you want,” he commanded. “Tell me that you belong to me.” 

He caught her knee, shoving it to the side, and rubbed himself against her wet channel, drawing a restrained whimper from her. Her eyes widened at his touch. His free hand glided up her leg to delve between her thighs. She arched against the rock the moment he found her throbbing nub nestled between her lush folds. His fingers coaxed her clit until she whined and her legs trembled.

“Peter, please,” she gasped. He had never made her state her loyalty to him before. She always just assumed he knew she loved him most. She never knew he wanted her to actually say it out loud. The fire grew inside of her. She ground her hips against his finger, begging for something more.  

“Tell me,” he repeated. “Tell me what it is you want and tell me who owns your heart.” 

Her breath came in uneven pants. He was an expert with his fingers. She ached to feel him surging up inside of her, stretching her, filling her. Her slick coated his shaft sliding between her thighs as his fingers deftly toyed with her, keeping her on edge but never allowing her to peak. 

She gave a loud whine, finally allowing herself to give in to the feelings she’d been trying to suppress, “You! I need you, Peter! I love you. My heart belongs to you and only you. I don’t want anyone else! No one compares to you. You are my only love. You are the only one I truly crave. Please, please. I need you Peter. I want you to fill me, make me yours, give me your children and let me be a part of you forever.” Tears sprang to her pleading eyes. They pooled with a strange, leafy color and left hazy, green streaks down her cheeks. He’d never seen a nymph cry before. It was mesmerizing. 

A soft smile spread across his lips and he closed his eyes upon hearing her words, “I love you, too.” 

She fell forward, her wrists being released from his grasp, to throw her arms around his neck and seek out his waiting lips. He kissed her hard as he grabbed at her thighs to lift her up, her legs wrapping around his waist, as he pressed her back against the rock. He angled himself into her warm, welcoming channel and slowly pushed into her. A mewling cry fell from her lips as he pushed against her, his full thickness wedging into her tight entrance. The stretch was delicious and heavenly. He fit her beautifully like he was the perfect key to her lock. Everything about this human was tailored just for her. She couldn’t pretend any more. She belonged to Peter like he belonged to her.

“I love you,” she sighed. “I love you, I love you, I love you. Only you. When spring returns and I return with it, I will cover this forest floor in a carpet of white flowers as far as the eye can see. Each one will represent my adoration for you and lead you like a path straight back to me.” 

Her fingers tangled into the soft curls at the nape of his neck while she rested her forehead against his. He supported her with ease, hands gripping onto the soft flesh of her bottom, and closed his eyes to relish in her words of love. He had waited so long to hear them. They sounded better than he could have ever imagined. 

“I will make you mine forever,” he whispered straight into her ear. A promise. “We will have a family. I’ll move out to the forest and leave my life behind for you. I don’t care if I have to share you as long as you come home to me at night. We’ll find a way to make it work. Stay with me. Let me have you. All of you. Forever.” 

She shuddered at the thought of having Peter close to her for the rest of time. He would age. She would not. They could raise their children in the forest, they could be together for real. Finally. It wasn’t like a nymph to settle down but she couldn’t resist the allure of his safety. It was the most tempting offer she’d ever received. 

Before she could contemplate any further, Peter thrust her up against the rock. She cried out at the exquisite friction as he eased out of her only to drive up deep inside of her with heavy, powerful thrusts. He took her hard against the rock wall. He turned all his unspoken devotion into his lovemaking. Peter’s nails dug into the soft flesh of cheeks, holding her steady against him, as her back scraped over the rock's surface. She knew she’d be feeling the impact of it on her sensitive skin tomorrow morning but it would only serve to remind her of their risque meeting. Scratches of their love etched into her back. Her thighs curved around his while she gripped tightly onto fistfuls of his hair to keep her balance. His eyes burned with passion as he sunk into her with a burning need.

Peter tried to hold back a whimper but was unsuccessful. His bottom lip quivered. She could turn him from a fearless warrior into a shivering, begging mess in mere seconds. No one else had that kind of power over him. His strokes increased their tempo, forging a burning path between her thighs to her very core. His breath was ragged in her ear. She knew he was close. Long, powerful thrusts took over all of her senses until all she could see was Peter, all she could hear was his moans, and all she could feel was his cock driving into her. Her body yielded to his fierce possession. Each throbbing thrust seared her, branded her as his and only his, as he took her with a relentless determination.

“Fill me, Peter,” she cried. “Give me you children. Let me be tied to you forever.” 

His whine in response was quickly followed by a cry as pleasure seized him. His cock twitched inside of her, his seed spilling out as he took her with sharp, jerky thrusts, no longer in control of his actions, giving himself over to his body. 

Her head fell back, hitting into the hard rock, as she gave a cry of her own. Her wail of passion echoed off the trees, alerting the forest to her heightened senses. The wind picked up to swirl around them, cooling their sweat and tickling their skin, wrapping them in a hug to force them closer together. She wrapped her arms tight around his neck to hold her body taut against his. She clung to him like a bear clings to a tree trunk to escape danger. While she protected and looked after the forest, Peter protected and looked after her. She decided then and there that he was all she would ever need to satiate the hunger inside of her. Ecstasy tore through her body. Her sheath fluttered and quivered around his piercing sword, gripping him tightly to keep him in place, making sure she took everything he had to offer. 

They clutched each other tight, each breathing heavily, until she felt him begin to soften. He slid out of her with a quiet moan. She could feel some of him drip down her inner thigh and she finally untangled her legs from around his waist, settling with unstable feet on the earthy ground. His finger sought out her hair, damp with sweat, as he pushed it out from her eyes and over her shoulder. His lips fell down to her face, kissing away her tears slipping down her cheek. Happy tears. Tears of love. 

“Let me stay with you tonight,” he whispered against her lips, catching them with a kiss. “Lay with me while the day passes and the stars emerge. Tell me your favorite stories while I savor your taste and make my home between your thighs. Let me fall asleep to the sound of your beating heart. Tomorrow, you can start your slumber. Today, stay with me.” 

She smiled. Soft and warm. 

“Anything, Peter. Anything for you.”

[prismaticpichu]

OKAY prompts!

How bout Zack finding out about an embarrassing hobby that Seph enjoys? We need wholesome content!

Oml what an adorable idea!!! <3

(This is so much longer than it needs to be. Sorrryy!)

x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x

On Pins and Needles

Zack had woken up at 6:00 in the morning.

This was a miracle, astronomical, a day where the stars aligned in such a way that the young SOLDIER's cocoon of dreams splintered earlier than usual. Two hours earlier, to be exact.

He tried counting sheep, he tried reciting the alphabet backwards, he tried naming all breakfast foods... but whatever spirit wanted him up was very adamant in doing so. It seemed better to start the day vitalized rather than zombie-hobbling out of bed, so after a small internal grapple, Zack did just that.

And good thing he did! Now he was waltzing down the corridor, blue eyes aglow and charcoal hair dancing with his frivolous steps. A smile bloomed on the SOLDIER's lips; Seph would be so proud to see him kicking early.

The poor guy rose every morning when dawn smeared the sky, sifting through files and reports until Zack joined him hours later. Sure, Seph had the stamina of a mechanical bull with a plugged in wire, but after months of working with the General, it was clear that some of his energy actually did bleed out.

Not today it wouldn't! Zack grasped the doorknob, scintillating like silver in the artificial light, and turned it aside.

“Goooood morning, bud! You got an early package to...!"

His voice trailed off like rising smoke as, with widening eyes, Zack took in the sight before him. Seph was there alright, and he was islanded in paperwork... though there was another object in the sea: not a pen, not a stapler, not even polish for Masamune, but a spool. A spool. Lustrous black thread was twined around the device, sandwiched between two beige plates like hamburger buns; a single black thread snaked around the desk, weaving through keyboard keys, tarring papers, until finally, rivering into the cascade of string that was spilling down a pair of scissored needles.

Sephiroth's entire body stiffened. His laser focus was shattered in those unfortunate seconds, his head whipping towards the door where he just stared, paralyzed, like a viper had crunched into his thigh.
Zack shut the door behind him, slow and hesitant. Suddenly it felt like his presence was very unwanted.

"Whatcha doing, Seph?" he blinked, trying to sound as neutral as possible.

Sephiroth set down the needles, burying them under his documents in hopes Zack would mistake them for a mirage—or at least neglect their existence. "Work," he answered dryly, schooling his features as the warrior straightened from his slouched position.

Ok, Zack may have thought the sun was a planet, or put tin foil in the microwave, but he wasn't amnesic. "Seepph," the brunet smirked, starting towards his friend's desk. "Whatcha dooooing?"

“Why are you up?" Sephiroth dodged the question, glossing over with his natural authority.

"Wasn't tired!" Zack chirped, then folded his arms over the workspace. His visage melted into genuine curiosity. "I didn't know you like to knit, Seph!"

Zack never saw Seph's cheeks flush so coral—actually, he never saw Seph's cheeks flush coral. Must be a full moon.

Busted, Seph tried veiling it all with his bangs, duckling his head so that the mercury tresses would spill over. "Hmph..." he grunted. "I am surprised you had the strength to resist sleeping in.”

“C'mon, Seph." Zack’s amusement was ebbing, replaced by nothing but warm and earnest sincerity. Seph was being reclusive again, like a silvery glass statue… and in this fragile state, Zack knew better than to laugh. Just a little push against the shell. "I won't judge, bud. Promise.”

He knew that much. Sephiroth closed his eyes, letting the sincerity of Zack's words sink in; it was like his body fighting off allergies, his immune system battling and antagonizing emotions that meant no harm, going through security, checking for doubts. For loop holes.

But then he remembered that this was Zack.

"...I've been doing it for almost a year now," Sephiroth admitted quietly. "I wanted something else.”

In Angeal and Genesis's time, it became apparent that his two old companions weren't as strictly devoted to the company as he was. Their spare time didn't consist of swordwork, and for them, the borders between practice and combat weren't vague. He wasn't quite sure how long it took Sephiroth to realize, but the man eventually came to an epiphany: Angeal and Genesis had lives outside of ShinRa. Genesis enjoyed swordplay and poetry; Angeal enjoyed swordplay and cooking.

And he, General Sephiroth, thought it appropriate to knit. He always had exceptional dexterity, and being able to create something that was his, from his own two hands...? No barking scientists. No directions. Tools wielded with his own hands at his own pace.

Him, General Sephiroth.

Him, General Sephiroth…

“Seph?" Zack blinked. "You okay?"

“What am I doing…?” Sephiroth massaged the bridge of his nose, his words riding on a tired sigh. Feline pupils traveled to the mass of inky yarn, boneless and freckled with knots, undefined in shape. Time for nothing. A waste. Unfitting and unnecessary.

Zack also stared at the ball of obsidian, indistinct and full of potential, snarled up with trial and error, loose, but intact all the same. He gaze returned to Seph, a tender heart twisting at the man’s conflicted expression.

"Hey." Zack lowered to his friend's line of sight, offering a gentle smile. "I think it's amazing! Sure it's a little messy, but that's okay! You put so much time into it, and you can't stop now!"

Sephiroth lifted his chin, the emerald eyes rippling with a vulnerability that both broke and healed Zack's heart. Seph felt safe around him. It was all he could ever ask for. His grin broadened as he scooped up Seph's project, ticklish strings filtering through his fingers. "I'm so glad you have a hobby, Seph."

Sephiroth canted his head, almost confused. "...You are?"

“Of course!" Zack beamed. "I'm always bugging ya to get out of the office."

“I'm still in the office."

“You know what I mean!" Zack draped the yarn around his neck, toying with the loose end. "The office or the training room or anything! Sure you're General Sephiroth, ShinRa's rough-tough star, but you're also a person! And every person has hobbies. Keeps them healthy in the head." Zack rapped his knuckles against his skull, flashing a derpy smile; Seph shook his head, clearly trying to resist chuckling. Score!

He sobered then, just a bit, meeting his friend’s gaze. “And Seph,” Zack started, “you know you don’t ever have to hide things from me… right?” There was an undertone of plea laced in his voice, as if it was another barrier the boy needed to climb in their friendship. A newly discovered one.

It was a wall Sephiroth had made himself, unintentional, and now he would shatter it. “….Of course,” Sephiroth inclined his head. Starting now, of course.

Zack’s smile rejuvenated, more blissful than ever. He continued to wrap the fabric around his collar like a little leash, though thankfully, Seph didn’t make the parallel. “Hey, this thing makes a neat scarf y'know! Just needs a bit more, er… scarfing!”

Sephiroth stifled another chuckle, so unsurprised. He watched his best friend flaunt his knitting as if it was prized jewelry, the azure eyes beaming through the scarf and into his own. Blue eyes that pooled with a rainbow of emotions: joy, pride, gratitude… acceptance. Sephiroth supposed he could only smile back, because the message was clear.

Zack would always love him, no matter what he enjoyed. He always did.

“Well then,” Sephiroth smirked. “I will try my best to make it into a scarf for you."

[teamxdark]

SMASH!! SMASH PLEASE!! 🌹

💕 ❤️ 💕 ❤️

(ROOK! ROOK ME FRIEND HANG ON I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS YOUR KNOWLEDGE HELPED WITH THIS ONE!)

“Oh my dearest… You look wonderful.”

Lottie’s eyes glanced downward as she smiled, her mother’s words warming her even through the chilly mist. Nimue had taken care to dress her up for tonight; exquisite, soft materials made up her dress, all in an array of stunning blues that went from nearly as dark as her fur to a delicate periwinkle that she never thought possible to see on a piece of clothing. The Lady of the Lake had taken great pains to weave white and pale blue roses into the dress as trimming, magical blooms that were never to wilt nor to lose their petals, eternally looking, feeling, and smelling as fresh as though they were just picked.

Nimue slid a circlet of the same roses onto Lottie’s spines; small, shy buds poked out to brush against her forehead, while large, bold blooms settled proudly amongst her quills.

“I’ve always loved roses,” her mother sighed fondly, and Lottie couldn’t help but agree. Such beautiful, graceful, romantic flowers… they suited her mother perfectly.

As though reading her mind, her mother beamed at her, gesturing her to look at her reflection in the water. “They look stunning on you, my darling Lottie.”

(Glamour)

[potter-imagines]

Flowers in Braids (Fred Weasley)

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Request: Could I request something please? 🧡 I just had a thought, a concept if you will, okay, so, Goblet of Fire Fred, and his gf y/n braiding his hair? 👉🏻👈🏻

Warning: None, just fluff

Word Count: 3k (short n sweet, hope you guys enjoy!)

Cloudy rays poured into the windows of Hogwarta giving a small glimpse to the declining temperatures outside. Crowds of students jogged out beyond the castle grounds all meeting up in the small village outside Hogwarts. Hogsmeade was buzzing with life as where the castle was empty besides the students who had yet to reach the age of permission to even enter Hogsmeade. Despite the younger kids cooped up inside their dorm rooms and wandering around the grounds, your boyfriend, Fred Weasley, and yourself had chosen to skip out.

The two of you were locked away in his dorm room, chatting amongst yourself as you kneeled over him, eyes trained on his hair. After working him in for quite some time, you managed to convince Fred to let you give him two French braids. His hair had finally reached the perfectly length and you had been itching for months to try different braids in it.

“Does that feel good, Freddie?”

Your fingertips raked against the skin of his scalp as you reached for another strand. The long orange strands slipped like buttermilk through your grasp. Braiding the outside piece of hair in, you tied it under the middle section of his hair, pulling tightly. Fred jerked back at your force causing his spine to smack against your knee. You mumbled a quick apology, having lost yourself in the rhythm of the weaving pattern. When you braid your own hair, you had conditioned yourself to the scalp piercing pulls. Fred was new to this, so you had to take it easy so he’d let you braid his beautiful locks again. Your boyfriend just smiled smugly with his eyes drawn shut and hummed.

“Mmmhhh.”

Taking a small section of his hair, you braid it into the pile of fiery hair and gave a softer pull to tighten it lightly. The further down you got, the faster your finger moved. Sitting on your knees, you continued weaving while taking a peek at his face. Fred looked half asleep, a small smile displayed across his face. You paused your work to leave a chaste kiss to the side of his rosy cheek. Fred’s eyes pried open by the touch and gazed up at you.

“Is that a yes?” You asked, giggling like a child. Your boyfriend just melted into your touch as you ran your free hand through the left side of his head that wasn’t braided yet. Tracing your fingers through his free strands, Fred leaned further in your touch. He was always a sucker for having you play with his hair.

“Hmmm.”

His hands were folded in his lap, thumbs fiddling quietly. This was by far the most relaxed you had seen him- besides when he was snoring in slumber. Fred was your crazy, energetic, childlike, prankster boyfriend. Although now, he was the exact opposite to his normal demeanor. He hardly uttered a word, basking in the sensation of your touch and pull. His breathing deepened, heavy puffs falling from his chest. You stared for a moment longer then wrapped your hand around the side of his face, other hand holding the end of the braid. Leaning him back a tip, you leaned down to plant a kiss to his lips. Fred grinned against your lips, but soon enough kissed you back sweetly. Whispering you used your hand to guide his head away, closer to the blanket resting on the bed.

“Tilt your head down, love.” You directed him. His ginger hair was as soft as silk, draping over your knuckles with every twist. As your fingers brushed against his neck, you could feel the vibrations of his soothing hums. Reaching around his tall frame, you grabbed a small rubber band and scrunched it around your hand. Hitting the end of the braid, you wrapped the band around the bottom of his hair with ease. Giving one last pull, you took a look at the first finished braid.

“Lemme see, darling.” Fred made grabby hands behind his back motioning for the mirror. You handed him the oval shaped pastel pink mirror and watched on in anticipation. Fred’s eyes roamed your work, examining every detail of your nearly perfectly french braid. He reached up in surprise and lightly tapped the tight weaves. 

“Wicked. Are you planning on finishing the otherside or am I meant to walk around like this?” He asked laughing. Handing the mirror back to you, Fred settled into his previous spot, his back pressed to your knees. You giggled at the sight of him. One braid was secured stiffly on one side of his head while his strawberry locks laid past his shoulder on the other side. You rose up so you were kneeling. Fred was quite tall, his towering height made it difficult to see over the top of his head. Grabbing your comb from the mattress, you curled your fingers around the top section, dividing it into three equal strands. You brushed through the pillow soft mane, another hum sounding from Fred.

“What do you think the next task is gonna be? The dragons were terrifying! Still can’t believe you were cheering for the killer dragons over our own friend.” The recollection earned a mental scoff. Remembering the events of last week, you wondered about the upcoming second task. The first task was not exactly your cup of tea. Despite your boyfriend’s astonishment and eagerness over the deathly dragons, you were petrified. Fred kept his hand laced in yours for the entirety of the task. As he cheered crazily with George, he’d squeeze your hand in reassurance to let you know he was still paying attention to you. George would give you hugs every few minutes- half to calm you and the other half to piss his twin off.

Fred chuckled again, leaning his head back so he was looking at you from an upside down view. He puckered his lips causing you to roll his eyes but reluctantly gave in and left a kiss to his ready lips.

“I think you mean amazing, love. Harry’s dragon was by far the best!” His thunderous roar filled the room. George and Lee were out at Hogsmeade, joining the rest of your friends for the day. Any other night Fred and yourself would be taking the long stroll to the village with the group. Hogsmeade trips were highly anticipated but for some reason, neither one of you really felt up for the trip. When Fred woke up, his only plan for the day was to remain attached to his bed. Not having any desires for a busy day, you decided to join him.

“Doesn’t mean you have to cheer for it, Fred.” You commented, snickering to yourself. During the first match, you sat in the stands of the Quidditch Pitch- now dragon arena- in between Fred and George. The twins hollered in excitement when the task was announced. Each competitor that came out, the twins looked through and waited anxiously for the reveal of the dragon. In all honesty, they couldn’t care less about who won or who was competing, they only wanted to see the dragons and their mass destruction. Even when your dear friend was almost killed by the fire breathing monster, Fred and George jumped up and down in delight, clapping their hands and screaming happily, “Go, dragon!”. It was a bit embarrassing to be sitting with them as other students sent dirty looks, especially the Hufflepuffs cheering on Cedric. Fred merely shrugged as you threaded the end of his hair,

“But I wanted to. Anyhow, Harry said it’s got something to do with water and George and I saw Dumbledore and Snape out on the Black Lake so I’d say it’ll be some task out there. Now let me see!” Fred whipped around as lightning speed, looking for the handheld mirror. You could see the excitement on his face. Dragging the mirror towards himself, Fred lifted the glass but just as he did, you snatched the mirror away from him.

“Wait, Freddie, I’m not finished. The flowers, remember? I picked out the purple and white ones just for you.” You squeaked. Fred had promised he’d let you stick some flowers in his braid once you finished. With everything inside of him, Fred desperately wanted to scream no. It already took you months to convince

“But… I wanna go show George my braids and if I have flowers in my hair…” He stopped mid thought when he saw your pouty expression. Puppy dog eyes and a puff out bottom lip, you gazed up at Fred with a begging stare. A smile hit his lips immediately as rolled his eyes. “Okay, fine. But I only want the little white ones.”

Grinning in victory you started separating the stems from the petals. Getting the flowers laid out on the large bed, your eyes darted up to Fred in question.

“The daisies?” Holding up the delicate flowers, you raised your brow to Fred. His doe gleam hit yours then down to the miniature flowers. A cheeky smirk flashed across Fred’s face as he flirted,

“The only flower I know is you, darling.”

Your face went deadpan as you shot your giggling boyfriend a playful glare, feigning unamusement. Fred could be extremely sweet when he wants to do and today, that seems to be his main motive. Rolling your e/c eyes you resumed your concentration on his braided hair and the generous pile of daisies laying next to your thigh. Carefully, one by one, you twist the flowers to snap the excess stem off. Then you individually tucked each petallful bud into his locks, cautious not to go overboard like you would in your own binding braids.

The pale petals poked out, It was the kind of brilliant white that would even make new snow look grey, the kind of white that sears into your retinas and makes you temporarily blind. The bright contrast made the pumpkin orange shade of his hair pop in the light. Smoothing your hand over the bumps, you gazed upon your work. Handing the mirror back to Fred, you informed him that you had finished.

“Do you like it, Freddie?” You placed your hands together, hiding your face behind them. This was the first time Fred ever let you even attempt to style his hair, and to Fred Weasley, his hair meant everything. Now in your sixth year, it has reached its peak. Fred and George were very proud of their shoulder length orange locks, and you could understand why. Dating for already three years, you could confidently declare this style was your favorite. This being the reason you yelled in horror after the stunt Fred and George pulled during their entry, or attempt of an entry, for the Tri-Wizard tournament. After he finished tousling and rolling around on the floor with his twin, Fred ran up to you for help. Much to his surprise, you took off like a rocket in the opposite direction. Your friends all laughed at the sight of the twins until tears were streaming down their cheeks. His aged state, and frizzed crazy white hair was too much for you to process all at once. You nearly cried in joy when the prankster came knocking on your door hours later back to his normal state. Back again were his beloved ginger locks. The traumatic event still haunted you. Since then, you never missed a moment to admire his beautiful long hair.

One thing Fred loved was your need to constantly touch his locks. Sitting in class, Fred will lean his head on your shoulder as the professor drones one. Muscle memory kicks in and your free hand will sneak up his back and start running your runnings through his hair. When names were being drawn out of the flaming goblet, Fred sat in front of you with George. He squeezed himself between your legs, his arms resting on your knees. While the headmasters snatched their slips of papers falling from the fire, you’d be fiddling with strands of his hair, petting over the velvet like hair. To Fred, it was always comforting to sense your hands on him, no matter where.

You waited patiently, nervous for his reaction. Fred’s large hands moved the mirror in various spots, trying to get a peek from every possible angle. Eyes raking over the braids, a twinkle beamed on Fred’s lips as he exclaimed,

“It looks wonderful, sweetheart. I’m so proud of you, I love it!” Your heart jumped with happiness at his approval. Throwing your arms around him, Fred maneuvered so he was fully facing you. He returned the hug, gripping your body tightly in his arms. His lips sneaked a quick kiss to your blushing cheek.

“Serious? Or are you just being nice?” You asked softly.

Pulling away, Fred slid you forward so you were sitting practically in his lap. Once more he sealed a peck to your lips, then left a lingering kiss on the tip of your nose.

“No, really, I honestly love it. We gotta go find George and Lee! They should be back soon. But if they ask for you to braid their hair, please say no, darling. I only want you braiding my hair, not George’s. He won’t shut up about it if you do.” His tone was a facade of chaff, a hint of seriousness shining through. It was clear he was pretending to be all jokes but the sincerity lingered. You rolled your eyes overtly and smacked his chest like a child.

“You’re so dramatic, Freddie. I won’t touch your brother’s hair, Merlin’s sake.”

Just as you went to stand up, a pair of strong arms wrapped around your frame and yanked you to your previous position.

“Where are you going?”

“I thought we were gonna show George and Lee-”

The warmth of his breath smacked against the chilling skin of your neck. His arms were stiff around your waist, not even giving you a chance to escape. Giggles stormed through you at the feeling. Fred’s fingers poked and probed at your sides, starting an attack of tickles. You tried to pin his hands down although he overpowered you in seconds. He paused his tickle war not long after, allowing you to catch a gasp of air. Smiling brightly at you, Fred extended his legs out so you were placed between them.

“But I haven’t gotten to braid your hair yet! Now, turn around for me, darling. Hand me the brush please. Your braid is gonna be all flowers, no hair.” The contagious laughter of Fred encapsulated the atmosphere. Your hands shot up to cover your face in embarrassment. Fred had tried- at least ten times- to get a braid to stick in your hair and he had yet to succeed. His idea of a braid was starting with holding all three strands of hair at once and just twisting them in a repetitive cycle. The thought of grabbing pieces of hair to braid in was just another level of hair styling to Fred. Glancing up at Fred you gave him an unsure gaze.

“I’m gonna look like a clown, Freddie.”

Not missing a beat, your gentleman of a boyfriend just smirked, replying,

“A cute clown, love. A cute flower clown. You’ll have people thinking Halloween came early!” Already expecting what was to come, Fred cowered behind his arms, using them as shield from your hits. You didn’t strike to hurt, just to sting. Part of dating Fred was falling victim to his teasing. As close as you were, his jokes never truly offended you. There was a line drawn years ago and his toes never even grazed it. Crossing your arms over your chest you scrunch your nose in pretend annoyance.

“Freddie! Not nice.”

Your boyfriend laughed gently then reached over to pick up your basket of flowers on the ground. Sifting his hands through the pile, Fred was deep in concentration as he plucked out about five flowers of various shapes. The thing that stood out to you was the color. Although different in type, all the flowers were a pretty lilac tone. You assumed he had chosen flowers for your hair until he spoke. 

“I’ll let you put some purple flowers in my hair, if you’d like? Would that make it up to you?” He asked you sweetly. Fred knew you weren’t actually mad, a small part of him wanted pastel purple flowers to begin with. He just didn’t want you telling everyone he chose them himself- this way he could say he had to, in order to make you happy. The words lit a spark behind your eyes and you eagerly pivoted on the bed so your back was against his front. Nodding to yourself you agreed to his offer, trying not to show your excitement too much.

“Now face the wall, love. I’m gonna give you a Italian braid so sit still.” Your eyes widen in confusion as you whip around to face him. Fred grinned enthusiastically, holding a small portion of your hair in his hands. Squinting your eyes, you laugh a bit at him.

“An Italian- Freddie, no, darling. It’s called a French braid!”

His saucer like eyes just stared at you, the terminology flying straight over his head. He flickered between your gape, then down to your hair, then back up. Bobbing his head he seemed to agree with you. He grabbed your shoulders gingerly and positioned you so you were looking at the wall again. Mumbling to himself, Fred whispered words of encouragement earning a chuckle from you.

“Oh, yeah… a French braid.” His hands roamed through your hair, fingers brushing against your scalp. Nimbly he separated your strands into small portions. You felt the strong tug on your hair when he suddenly stopped abruptly and asked faintly, “Sweetheart… how do you braid hair?”

[teenwolffanclub-me]

Nothing But A Fuckboy

(Isaac Lahey x Reader)

Request: I loved the Isaac imagine!! U write so well! I was wondering if u could maybe do another one where he’s a fuck boy but there’s a happy ending.

Word count: 2,509

Warnings: slight angst, fluff, mentions of smut

Notes: thank u so much for the compliment!! I love writing for Isaac he’s such a complex bby

———————————————————————

Your eyes narrowed over the plastic cup in your hands as you took a long swig of your drink. You instantly pulled it away with a grimace, the bitter liquid burning your throat as you swallowed it. Someone brushed against your side as they squeezed through the crowd, making you jerk your attention away from Isaac.

You were watching him. You couldn’t help it. The way he was grinding against that girl from your chemistry class was making your stomach twist and you couldn’t decide which one of them you wanted to punch more.

Your eyes flickered over his broad shoulders, partially covered by his favorite scarf, before gliding down to the place where his hands skimmed along her hips. Your jaw tightened as a recent memory flashed through your mind.

A surprised yelp escaped you as Isaac pushed your back against his bedroom wall. His lips attacked yours instantly, and you wasted no time in wrapping around arms around his neck to pull him closer.

For some reason, the two of you kept getting paired together in class, and were supposed to be working on a project right now. This was your third attempt at finishing it, actually, but you always ended up in some variation of tangled limbs instead.

A quiet moan rumbled through your chest as his long fingers gripped your hips and lifted you without effort. Your legs wrapped around him for support, his tongue exploring your mouth in a way that had quickly become familiar.

“Y/N, this is so pathetic.”

You jumped at the sudden presence beside you, your head jerking to the side to glare at your best friend, Lydia, as she stared at you with her glossed lips pursed judgmentally.

“What? I’m not doing anything.” You defended, glancing in his direction again—only to see that he was now gone—before bringing your attention back to her.

She rolled her eyes dramatically and crossed her arms over her chest, leaning closer so that you could hear her over the blaring music. “Just talk to him.”

“Did you somehow forget that I hate his guts?” You scoffed, forcing down another gulp of your drink. If you were going to be at the same party all night, you’d need a little liquid courage to pull you through.

“Did you forget that two days ago?” Lydia’s perfectly manicured eyebrows rose expectantly.

You felt your cheeks prickle with heat, regret washing over you for ever telling her about the recent hookup. You knew you shouldn’t have done it. He was bad news. But there was something about his icy blue eyes that drew you in whenever he was near.

Isaac was a lot of things, but a god guy was not one of them. He was mysterious and unobtainable, a dangerous combination for a girl like you. You’d slept with him three times now, and had basically nothing to show for it. The two of you barely spoke at school, aside from chemistry class when you had to do partner work.

“It was a momentary lapse in judgement.” You mumbled, trying to hide the blush overtaking your face with the now half empty cup in your hands.

Lydia’s red lips parted as if she were going to argue, until she seemingly thought better of it and huffed in annoyance instead. “Whatever. Just find something else to do, because you standing here like a creep is seriously ruining the vibe.”

Your jaw dropped in offense at her snide remark, but she twirled around and walked away before you could say anything. You frowned before downing the rest of your drink. You knew she was right. You couldn’t just stand around watching him with other girls all night.

The worst part is that you knew nothing would come of your hookups, but that hadn’t stopped you from being a more than willing participant. You weren’t the kind of girl that usually had casual sex—although you admired those that were—but you just found it utterly impossible to resist Isaac.

You turned around, determined to find one of your other friends that was surely around somewhere, but reeled back as you slammed right into a broad chest. The reminants of your drink splashed out of your cup, coating your white blouse in a dark purple liquid. A jumbled apology died on your lips as your eyes flickered up toward the last face you wanted to see right now.

“Damn, Y/N. I didn’t think I could get you wet that quickly.” Isaac’s lips quirked into the signature smirk that never failed to raise your heartbeat.

Your jaw tightened as your fingers clutched the cup in your hand tight enough to snap the thin plastic. “This is my favorite shirt.”

His hooded eyes trailed down from your face, very obviously lingering on your now visible hot pink bra. The look on his face—the easily recognizable hunger behind his eyes—had another memory snapping to the forefront of your mind.

Isaac’s eyes widened fractionally as you slid the sweater over your head, exposing your favorite bralette. You may or may not have worn it to your study date just incase something like this happened. His long fingers instantly slid beneath the thin, lacy material before pulling it off in one fluid motion.

He let out a tortured groan, his hands moving to cup your exposed breasts. Your head tilted back as a shuddering breath escaped you when he tweaked one of your nipples gently.

“God, these tits. How have I never noticed these before?” He breathed just before closing his lips around your right nipple, expertly lapping at the sensitive bud.

“Okay, asshole.” You quipped, trying and failing to sound upset through your moan of pleasure.

You felt him smirk against you, an involuntary whine leaving you as he pulled back. His eyes, usually ice cold, where blazing with lust as he looked at you, and you knew you were in for a long night.

“I mean,” His attention finally moved back to your angry face. “This is a clothing optional party.”

You glowered at him, completely unamused. This really was your favorite shirt, and it was probably stained forever now. You honestly had no idea what was in the juice the boys had made for this party, but the dark liquid was already becoming one with your shirt. A frown pulled at your lips as you pinched the drenched material and peeled it away from your body.

Your head snapped upward at the feeling of an arm snaking around your shoulders. You barely processed that you were moving before your eyes landed on the side of Isaac’s face as he guided you through his house. You tried protesting, but your words fell on deaf ears, the music way too loud to hear even your own thoughts in this part of the house.

He weaved you through the dense crowd of half naked gyrating bodies until you reached a door just beside the staircase. He practically shoved you inside the small room, slamming the door shut behind him. All noise instantly cut out, leaving the two of you standing in a silent, darkened space.

You barely caught the movement as he reached up and pulled a string attached to a small lightbulb in the ceiling. It swayed as it sparked to life, illuminating the two of you in dim yellow light.

One of your brows quirked as you realized you were standing in his laundry room.

“Come on, off with it.” His slender fingers gestured for you to remove your soiled shirt.

Your lips pulled into a frown, honestly surprised that he cared enough to try and wash it for you. You played with the edge of the thin material between your fingers, hesitating.

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before, love.” The edge of his lips twitched into a sinful smirk.

You rolled your eyes as you pulled the sticky material over your head, grimacing at the uncomfortable residue it left on your skin. “It’s not that. I just don’t trust you with my favorite shirt. You’ve already ruined it once.”

“Oh no, I’m not doing it.” He scoffed as if the idea of him doing laundry was ridiculous. “I just brought you in here so you could fix it.”

You were about to snap something about him being a sexist pig, but the words got caught in your throat as you saw the way he was looking at you. His tongue languidly swept along his bottom lip as his hooded eyes flickered around your exposed torso. It was almost as if he couldn’t help but appreciate your body while it was right in front of him.

Your heart skipped a beat and you silently cursed yourself for being so responsive to him. He hadn’t even touched you, and yet you felt heat pooling between your legs in anticipation. Your gaze drifted downward as your shirt slipped between your fingers, fluttering down to the concrete floor.

Isaac’s attention flickered up to your face, eyes blazing as he slowly dropped to his knees in front of you. Your breath hitched as he scooped up the ruined material and gripped both hands around your hips.

“I guess I could help a little...” His eyes never left yours as he took his time leaning forward.

A shudder wracked your body as he placed a gentle kiss just below your navel. His tongue darted out to brush lightly against the skin of your stomach, dragging all the way up to your ribs. Your back arched and one of your hands immediately fisted the curls at the top of his head.

Your quiet gasps were the only sound in the otherwise silent room, as he slowly licked the sticky liquid from your skin. Your core throbbed desperately for attention beneath your mini skirt, but he didn’t seem likely to stop until all traces of your spilled drink were gone.

Finally, after what felt like several minutes, you tugged him up by the hair between your fingers. You couldn’t take it anymore. He popped to his feet, a devilish smirk pulling at his lips. You didn’t even care about his smugness at this point. You just wanted him.

You stood on the tips of your toes and pulled him down to you, crashing your lips against his. He returned the kiss immediately, using the hands that still held your hips to walk you backward until you ran into the washing machine.

Your hands trailed down his sides, eliciting a low moan from him, before you gripped the material of his shirt and yanked it over his head. Your lips separated just long enough for him to get the thing off before reconnecting heatedly.

He slid an arm around your waist and hauled you up on top of the washer. A chill ran up your spine as the chilled metal hit your skin, but the uncomfortable feeling was quickly pushed to the back of your mind as Isaac stepped between your parted legs.

His fingers wrapped around your thighs, squeezing gently before sliding upward slowly. You dragged your fingers through his hair, tugging on the roots at the base of his skull. Somewhere, deep in the recesses of your mind, your subconscious was reminding you that you shouldn’t be doing this. But you honestly didn’t give a fuck at the moment.

“Mmm, wait.” Isaac suddenly pulled back, and you blinked a few times to clear away the hazy lust that had overtaken you. “Before we do this, I have a request.”

“Really, Lahey? Right now?” You pouted, wrapping one of the curls at the back of his head around your finger.

“You’re gonna let me take you out.” His eyes flickered between yours, all traces of his usual cockiness gone.

“Wha-what?” You sputtered, pulling back slightly. You honestly weren’t sure if you’d even heard him correctly.

He quirked an eyebrow at you, removing his hands from your thighs to rest against the washer instead. A shiver moved up your spine at the loss of warmth as he stepped back a few inches. You craned your neck up to look into his eyes as he leaned over you.

“If we’re going to continue doing this, I want to take you out.” He said the words slowly, as if they needed to be dumbed down for you to understand.

You scoffed, not appreciating his attempt at a joke. There was no way he was being serious. If there was one thing you knew about Isaac Lahey, it was that he did not do relationships. In all the time you’d known him, he’d never been linked to anyone seriously. He had a few flings, but they never lasted longer than a month or so. And you’d definitely never seen him take anyone out.

“Ha, ha. Very funny.” You mused, rolling your eyes when his face fell into a frown. “Absolutely not.”

His brows pinched, as if it were the first time someone had ever told him no. “Why is that?”

“Because, Isaac, this thing we’re doing? It’s just...I mean. Not to be rude, but you’re nothing but a fuckboy. And I have more self-respect than that.”

He hesitated for a moment, his expression completely unreadable before his lips slowly pulled into a smirk. “Meaning a boy you’ve fucked?”

You scoffed, putting a hand against his chest to push him away. “You’re impossible.”

“Hey, I’m being serious.” He placed a hand over yours, making you freeze your attempt to get off the washer. Your heart skipped a beat when his eyes rounded as they gazed into yours almost pleadingly. “I...like you, Y/N. Let me take you on a real date that doesn’t include school work.”

Your eyes flickered over his face, trying to find any signs of dishonesty. Surprisingly, there were none. He was giving you this look, like this was the most important thing to him right now. Like you were the most important thing.

Despite the quiet doubts ringing in the back of your mind, you found yourself nodding, a slow smile pulling at your lips. You couldn’t deny that you liked the idiot. You had since even before you’d been forced to get to know each other as partners. Once things got physical, you knew you were a goner.

“Okay.” You breathed, your heart soaring at the happiness shining in his eyes as he grinned at you.

“So it’s a date?” He asked, needing that tiny last bit of confirmation.

You chuckled lightly and snaked an arm around his neck to pull him in closer. “It’s a date. Now kiss me already.”

“If you insist.” He chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the edges, before connecting your lips again.

You kissed him back as if you’d never stopped, your body molding against his like it was made for yours. It was at that moment that you realized you wouldn’t rather be anywhere but here—making out with Isaac in his laundry room—no matter how ridiculous that was.

Turns out, he might not be as bad as you thought.

[lune-hime]

Chocolate Kisses (Remus Lupin/f!Reader)

You found him after minutes of dodging floating books and weaving through numerous aged shelves. He was tucked into a booth in a secluded nook of the lavish Hogwarts library, mussed hair buried into a book while his hand twirled his quill idly as the printed words passed silently past his lips. The dimmed lights paired with the crackling of one of the library’s many fireplaces made you wonder how the boy hadn’t been lulled into a cozy slumber yet.

He was brought out of the riveting world of the next transfiguration exam by the padding of your saddle shoes against the cedar flooring. You smelled of coffee and rich chocolate, a fragrance that never failed to be comforting to him.

“Hello darling.” He greeted with a warm smile at your approach. You returned the gesture as you slid into the opposite side of the booth.

“Hi Rem. Or should I say good evening, you haven’t left this spot since you came here after lunch.”

Remus sighed with a tired nod and wiped his hands across his face.

“Yeah, well-” He began with a breathy exhale. He paused to stretch his arms above his head, the sleeves of his knit sweater sliding down his wrists. A few crisp pops sounded throughout the otherwise quiet room followed by a groan from Remus and a slight chuckle from you.

“As you know, my little monthly problem wasn’t so little this time. I have to make up for all the days I was in the infirmary.”

He leaned his head onto the back of the leather booth, secretly thankful for your interruption. It forced him to take a short break even though he knew he shouldn’t.

You regarded him with sympathy. It was unfair how such a sweet boy was burdened with an affliction that drained him so mentally and physically. He was right. This month was particularly rough and Remus has sustained more injuries than normal, meeting you in the infirmary with a few cracked ribs and multiple gashes that needed stitching. You could see how drained he was; gentle plum bags were beginning to form under his glazed eyes and his posture was as limp as a cooked noodle.

“Even more reason to take a break.” You said with a tender smile.

“Eventually everyone must stop studying at some point, especially tired boys named Remus who can’t stop yawning.” You quipped playfully. Remus immediately attempted to halt himself mid-yawn and waved it off as a cough. You giggled at his half assed attempt at masking his fatigue and he couldn’t help but laugh as well.

“That’s why I brought you these!” You said with an excitement that made Remus’ heart swell. The simplest of mundane things such as small presents in the library could make him feel like the most loved person in the world. When you opened up the canvas flap of your school bag, Remus’ nose was overwhelmed with his favorite scent. His head rose from its resting spot following the delicious smell until he sat upright.

Remus’ eyes widened at the delectable sight now displayed in front of him. He was a literal kid in a candy shop when you placed the two chocolate frog containers on the table.

“How did you get these?” He asked bewitched by their delicately sweet aroma.

“I saved them from our last trip to Hogsmede.” You replied. Remus moved to reach for one, but you swatted his hand away. He looked up at you with confusion.

“Nuh-uh. I’ll give you one if you stop studying.” You declared, swiping them so they were now protected by your encircled arms. Remus pouted, amber eyes sparkling in the baked light of the hanging lamps.

“Love, I can’t. I have three more chapters to go through tonight. Just let me have one bite.” He persuaded, slowly reaching towards your arms to unlock the sweet treat hidden within. You averted his grabby hands and swept them into your lap. He huffed and plopped back into his seat. When the plush pink of his tongue darted over his bottom lip in chocolatey desire, an idea popped into your mind.

Without explaining you popped open the paper box of one of the frogs. Remus, believing you had changed your mind, awaited your present with a grateful grin. To his horror, instead of placing it in one of his palms, you took its head and brought it to your mouth. His horror turned to allure, however, when you licked the soft chocolate from your lips tantalizingly slowly.

“Well, if I can’t get you to stop then I’ll have to get you to take breaks. Let’s make a deal.” You proposed.

“Every time you finish a chapter, I’ll let you taste a piece of this chocolate frog. Deal?” You said. You brought your thumb to your lips to suck a stray dab of chocolate all without breaking eye contact with Remus. He gulped and nodded.

“Deal.”

~ೱ~

“Alright, done with chapter 12.” Remus declared eagerly, dropping his quill on his notebook. He was so ready for you to be done exploiting his chocolatey addiction. You looked up from your own textbook with a slight blush. Remus watched in perplexion at your rosy cheeks.

You broke off a leg of the chocolate frog and once again to Remus’ dismay, popped it into your mouth. You indulged in its lavish warmth until it had faded out of existence.

“Y/N I thought the deal was that you would give me chocolate, not that I would watch you eat it.” Remus said, slightly annoyed at your incessant teasing.

You then looked at him with a honey dipped gaze that made Remus feel as if you had used incendio on his nerves. You rose and leaned over the table, setting your weight on your forearms until your face was so close to the boy’s that your noses almost brushed.  

“I did say that I would let you taste it, didn’t I?” You invited lowly, breath so delicate that when it caressed Remus’ skin goosebumps peppered its surface.

Remus did not need to be persuaded any further. Your lips felt like creamy velvet against his own chapped ones. They molded onto him like a wave of decadent chocolate syrup in an intoxicating mixture of his favorite desert and tastes that were so distinctly you. As he was savoring in the feeling you suddenly deepened the kiss. Remus felt like he was floating and the exquisite flavor melted into his taste buds. When you finally pulled away, he was wearing a boyish grin.  

The outline of his faded scar crinkled when his handsome smile lit up his cheeks as he caught his breath.

“I quite like this deal.”

[insaneasgardian]

Haircut Of Love - Sambucky

Summary: Confessions are made, and lives are changed the day Sam gives Bucky a haircut.

Genre: FLUFF

Warnings: Bucky being slightly sad while thinking of Steve, Bucky thinking that his feelings for Sam are unrequited (they're not), Idiots in love.

A/N: I have actually worked on this for longer than I should've XD A big thank you to @cassiecasyl and @aixabi for being such great friends and helping me out by proofreading, and making suggestions!

He knew he should've stopped Bucky tagging along, but the moment that infamous, "I'm coming with you!" so eagerly left the super soldier's lips, Sam knew it was pointless to persuade him to stay behind.

Not that he really minded, the mission he'd been assigned with was a tough one, and it would've been lonely if Bucky hadn't been so adamant about accompanying him.

Sam stared into the fireplace and focused on the embers as he let his thoughts wander. There were some terrible people to be stuck with in a log cabin in the middle of nowhere, but Bucky certainly wasn't one of them. He was an interesting character for sure, and Sam was sure he still didn't know a whole lot about him, but their relationship had developed all the way from 'a couple of guys' to 'almost best friends'.

"Hey", came the voice of the man Sam had so deeply been thinking of. He turned around with that signature smirk he reserved especially for Bucky, and watched with delight as the White Wolf turned a light pink color, and it wasn't because of the cold.

"I thought you might want to catch a shower, the water's nice and warm" the brunette said, and Sam nodded as he noticed his friend's damp hair from his own shower.

"Man, you need a haircut" Sam remarked, and much to his pleasure elicited a chuckle from Bucky.

"Do I?"

"It has gotten kind of longer..."

"Well, it's not easy to find a hairdresser in the forest"

"I could cut it for you"

The words slipped from his mouth before he could stop himself, and he didn't miss the way Bucky's widened ever so slightly. Sam internally scolded himself, feeling that he'd made things awkward somehow.

There was a slight pause in the atmosphere, but the ex Winter-Soldier eventually smiled. It was a weak smile, but genuine nonetheless.

"I'd like that," he told his friend, "would you mind?".

Sam shook his head, a bit too enthusiastically, and that made Bucky raise his eyebrows

“I can do it now if you want, so I don’t get your greasy ass hair all over me after I’ve gotten out of the shower”, Sam casually slipped in to look less ecstatic than he really was.

Bucky scoffed and crossed his arms at the statement, but his grin only grew wider.

“So… are you gonna give me something to cut your hair with?” his friend asked him, making a scissor snipping motion with his fingers.

The brunette’s lips tugged downwards into a frown and bit his lip as he often did when pondering. Sam couldn’t help but let his eyes wander to the bottom lip in between those pearly white teeth, but he forced himself to snap out of it.

After a brief moment, Bucky snapped the fingers on his vibranium arm and turned to walk towards the room he was staying in. “Wait there!”, he had instructed Sam, who had no intention of getting up from the comfortable position he was in anyway.

Promptly, Bucky had returned, clutching a pair of scissors that Sam immediately identified as a pair of Captain America themed kiddie scissors he had recently bought for his nephew, AJ. He burst out cackling.

“What’s so funny Samuel?” the White Wolf pouted, plopping next to his friend who was dying of laughter.

“You stole that from AJ didn’t you?” Sam pried, inwardly dancing at the thought that his secret crush would want something with his face on it.

“Psh, no… I permanently borrowed it, that’s all”, Bucky insisted, moving from the couch to sit on the floor in front of Sam’s legs so that the other man would be able to cut his hair with more ease.

“Mhm”, Sam hummed, already weaving a piece of Bucky’s hair between his fingers, and snipping it off, just like that. It seemed easy enough, so he kept on going, chopping bits of hair here and there, trimming the areas which really needed it, and taking care not to overdo the cut and end up making Bucky look bald in certain places. He was doing quite well considering that he was equipped with nothing but a pair of small, blunt kiddie scissors, which Sam was certain professional hairdressers did not use

A lovely period of pure silence fell in between the two men. The only sounds were the scissors delicately doing their job of cutting the brown locks, accompanied by the gentle crackle of the fireplace, creating a relaxing atmosphere.

“Steve used to cut my hair, you know… Used to do it all the time in the 40’s” Bucky said, breaking the silence. Sam froze in his movements, but only for a second. It was rare for this man, who had been through so much to talk about his past like this.

“We’d sit outside on the street in the summer, he’d be on a chair with his scissors and I’d sit down in front of him, punk gave a damn good haircut to be honest”, he continued, and Sam chuckled.

“People would give us dirty looks as they walked by, it wasn’t uncommon for people to think Steve and I were a couple, but it was frowned upon to be in a same-sex relationship back then… sometimes still is of course”, his tone was now sad, as if he wanted to admit something, but was refraining from doing so. Sam stopped what he was doing, and set down the scissors, obviously sensing the shift in the atmosphere.

“Still, Steve and I were just friends, that’s all he’d ever wanted to be anyway”, Bucky finally finished.

Sam got off the couch, and slipped down onto the floor next to the 107 year old. “And what about you? Did you ever want to be more than friends?”

Bucky ran a hand over his face, which donned a neutral expression, “It’s complicated Sam… I’d be into a girl one second and thinking about Steve the next”.

Sam gently nudged Bucky’s shoulder with his own, and gave him a small smile, “Bisexual then?”, he questioned.

The other man nodded, and looked at Sam with a grin now gracing his features, “Yea, but you know what? I forgot all about Steve…” he paused to dart his tongue out his mouth and wet his lips, “The day I met another guy I haven’t been able to stop thinking about”.

Sam’s world shattered the moment those words left Bucky’s lips. The thought that the man he had pined after for so long was yearning for another made him want to burst into tears right there. However, Sam Wilson was not the kind of man to be salty over the choices of others. So he kept on the smile he had been wearing the entire time his heart broke over and over again. Yet, he had been so absorbed in his own mind that he failed to notice the longing glances Bucky was shooting at him, the ones he had been giving Sam ever since he first met him.

“Happy you could get that sorted out for you man!” He said brightly, patting Bucky’s back and climbing back onto the couch to resume the haircut.

The ex winter soldier was dumbfounded. Had Sam not noticed how he felt? What if he had? What if he didn’t appreciate the advances?

There was stillness once more, but this time it was incredibly awkward. The two sat absorbed in the silence, no longer so focused on their own thoughts, but on every movement and action the other did.

“All done,” Sam finally said, and gestured towards the large wall mirror in the living room. Bucky looked into it, and nodded.

“You’ve done a nice job, thanks”, he mumbled.

“No problem” Sam told him, getting up from the couch. “I’m going to go take a shower now”, and with that, he rose and climbed the stairs to get to the bathroom. The footsteps faded away and when Bucky heard the bathroom lock click shut, he leaned his back against the couch with a sigh. He ran a tired hand over his face.

What had he done wrong? He’d watched all the movies, read all the books and listened to all the music Sam had suggested. He’d come to see Sam’s family as his own, he cherished Sarah, AJ and Cas with all his heart.

Hell, he’d even taken dating advice from Zemo…. Maybe that’s where he’d gone wrong.

Bucky wasn’t sure. He may have lost the charm he had back in the 40’s, but Sam had always accepted him for who he was. He never questioned Bucky’s past, or forced him to be more social and open. That’s the reason Bucky developed more than platonic feelings towards him. He was so easy to be around.

However, the white wolf figured that if Sam didn’t want anything to do with him romantically, the least he could do was to maintain the relationship status they had now. Not to mention, he had the perfect way to do that.

Mac and cheese. Sam’s favorite food.

A grin grew on his face as he scrambled to the kitchen. It was a tasty and easy thing to cook and would be done before Sam even got out of the shower. Bucky proceeded to locate all the necessary ingredients they had brought to the cabin, and got straight to work.

It wasn’t a difficult job at all. With his swift speed, and his mind set only on the task before him, he was done within minutes. He even managed to get two servings plated beautifully, and just in time too, because as he finished setting the table, Sam descended the stairs and made his way into the kitchen. A smile was drawn on his face at the smell of the meal, and all the previous tension seemed to have dissipated.

“Smells good in here!” he exclaimed, his eyes then landed on the beautifully presented plates of mac and cheese. He gasped and clapped his hands like an excited child, and Bucky couldn’t help but laugh. He thought it was adorable.

“Alright, alright, take a seat Sammy,” Bucky said, gesturing to the bar stools next to the kitchen island which the food rested on.

Both of them rushed to sit down and dig into their dinner. Bucky watched his friends expression as he took the first bite of his food.

Sam’s eyes closed in pure bliss, as his taste buds thanked him. “Buck, this is heaven in my mouth, tastes even better than what Sarah makes”.

Bucky blushed, but quickly tried to hide it with a chuckle, “Sarah’s my teacher, I owe it to her”.

Sam nodded at the statement, but commented no more on the topic. Instead, he took another bite and made eye contact with Bucky. “So… who’s this guy you’ve been crushing on?” he inquired.

Bucky was taken aback by the question, he blinked rapidly, “huh?” he mumbled, earning an eye roll from Sam.

“Listen man, I’ve never pressured you to tell me anything before, but we can’t pretend like that conversation didn’t happen” Sam said gently, setting his cutlery down, and reaching a hand over to place it on Bucky’s vibranium one.

The brunette gulped, closed his eyes, and took two deep breaths. He’d have to get it out. Or else it would slowly kill him to watch Sam find someone else. Even if his feelings were unrequited, the man had a right to know.

“It’s you” he said quietly before he could chicken out.

Sam slowly blinked, and shook his head, “Sorry, repeat that?”.

Bucky groaned and looked up from his plate which he’d been staring at the entire time. He gazed into Sam’s doe brown eyes with his own piercing blue ones, “It’s you! You’re the guy I’ve been crushing on!” he agitatedly replied.

Once more, there was that silence that seemed to be consuming the two of them so much lately. Bucky wanted to cry, to hide the humiliation. He was certain that Sam’s lack of words meant he didn’t feel the same, because Sam always had something to say.

“Forget it,” Bucky choked out, getting up from his seat, but Sam’s hand tightened its grip on his wrist, stopping him from getting away. The super soldier turned around slowly, trying not to make eye contact with Sam so that he wouldn’t see the tears in his eyes.

Then, all of a sudden, Sam rose from his seat and his lips met Bucky’s in what was a tender, loving kiss which shocked the latter, but he readily returned it. They stayed like that for a while, embracing each other as their arms snaked their way around each other's torsos. It was a moment neither of them wanted to break, but were forced to. Eventually, when they pulled apart gasping for air, they looked at each other in surprise, but merriment. Wide beams adorned both of their gorgeous faces, and their eyes glinted with excitement.

“So…” Bucky began, “you were desperate to get a piece of me, why, is it the new hair?” he said teasingly.

“The next time I give you a haircut, it’s gonna be turned into a mullet”, Sam threatened, making the other man raise his hands in surrender.

The mac and cheese was long forgotten as they clutched each other once again. Their hearts were bubbling and overflowing with love for one another, and it was not a love that was going to fizzle and die out. They fit perfectly in each other’s arms, like it’s where they belonged.

Two men, who had their own individual problems denying them a place to be truly content in the world, had finally found their refuge in each other.

Finit

[loptyrs-moved]

Beyond Eden

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3,088

Pairing: Theodorus van Gogh/Original Character

Tags: married sex, messy, oral, breeding kink but its lowkey

Original Post Date to AO3: 05/06/2021

Preview: 

My paradise is in your eyes.

You are your own art, and I’m falling down.

--Take Me Back by Gemyni

✥﹤┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈﹥✥

After years denying himself the warmth of another, Theodorus van Gogh sinks himself in his beloved's embrace. The night before, they consummated their union with the stars and moon as their witnesses. Now, in the light of day, Joelene implores him to be selfish with her. And how could he deny her, or himself, any longer?

Clouds streaked the heavens on a midsummer day. The scent of summer danced on the wind as it blew through the valley.  While the sun’s rays still bathed the earth in their warmth, some were hidden behind dark storm clouds that loomed in the distance, promising rain, and perhaps even more. But even with the threat of a storm, the surface below was thriving — teeming with life. The rolling verdant hills of the French countryside were rich with the sea of fragrant lavender fields while orchards and vineyards were flourishing with abundance. 

In the villages, people were enjoying what good fortune the summer season was bringing for them. Children ran about, enjoying the simple things like running about in the tall grasses, weaving flower crowns with the wild daisies that grew without a care in the world. Farmers worked — harvesting the fruits of their labor under the heat of the sun while rugged hands shaped the earth.

And further out, past the small village on the outskirts of town, beyond the vineyards, there was a place hidden away. A humble cottage resided at the forest’s edge. Its garden was reminiscent of those in fairytales. Carefully tended rose bushes grew alongside the house. Pink petals littered the yard as they were lifted by the gentle breeze, their aroma traveling alongside them. Ivy was smothering the sides as it grew upward, clinging to the walls. It was a quaint little place. But it was home. 

Within its walls, it witnessed the lives of two lovers whose lives were now joined forever. Their love transcended lifetimes. It overcame the toxic vitriol of revenge, emerging from the embers like a phoenix. It was a love that burned so intensely, it rivaled even the sun itself. 

However, to Theodorus van Gogh, his new wife, Joelene, was far more radiant than the sun, the stars, and perhaps the Heavens themselves. As the midday sun poured through the open window, filling the room with light, it warmed them both as they shared heated, passionate kisses in their wedding bed.

Theo showered Joelene in love, kissing each and every little freckle on her skin. He playfully nipped at her neck, drawing out cute gasps and whimpers. She felt so soft under rough, worn hands. Touching her sent exhilaration coursing through his nerves, making them buzz with anticipation. 

The night before, they were wed, and were forever bound together under vows as husband and wife. 

All night, Theo spoiled his beloved Joelene in all ways. He made her sing like a canary as he brought her over the brink of ecstasy over and over again. Bruises where his hands held her hips down as he stuffed her full had bloomed along fair skin. 

Theodorus was addicted to the taste of her. Her blood stained the corners of his lips as he sank sharp fangs into her neck, feeding from her. Devious hands traveled down the expanse of Joelene's body. He mapped out every inch of her. Theo had taken one of her one of her dusty pink nipples into his hot mouth, and sucked, drawing out a pleasured hum from his beloved. His tongue toyed with the hardened bud before grazing his teeth over her. 

“Theo … my love,” Joelene cooed, carding her fingers through his light brown tresses. “You spoil me every day … ”

As he pulled away from her breast to give the other similar treatment, a smirk graced Theo’s  lips.

“And I will continue to,” he replied before pressing a kiss against heated skin.

Joelene giggled lightly before moaning as her husband took her nipple back into his mouth, suckling it, and teased it with teeth and tongue. 

“Y-yes, but, I want you so much … I want — I want you to be selfish with me.”

Clear blue eyes flicked up to meet her gaze, and was welcomed by hazy, ivy green irises, beckoning him, calling out to him. Lust swirled in them, like a whirlpool, and Theo was being sucked in. Fast. The knot in the pit of his stomach tightened as a familiar warmth began to pool within him. 

He could feel Joelene’s desire course through her fingertips as they ran over his heated flesh. There was no denying it any longer. He needed more than the air in his lungs, or the earth beneath his feet. Joelene was gravity. She was oxygen. And Theodorus never needed her more than now. 

He sat back on his heels, towering over her, and admired the gorgeous, debauched scene displayed before him. Fiery, auburn locks burned over the canvas of white sheets. Sheer, handmade lace hugged her body. His kisses left her breathless as her chest steadily rose and fell with every breath. Hungry love bites littered over pale skin, trailing down from her neck and between ample breasts marking his territory, like he wanted to show the world who Joelene belonged to. Rouge stained freckled cheeks as bitten lips were pulled into a coy smile that would be forever burned into his memory. Thighs were spread open, inviting her husband to indulge himself — to be completely selfish with her. 

“Do you want me to claim you?”

A soft whine slipped from her lips.

“Please … I need you … ”

His heart slammed against his chest like a hammer the longer he drank in the sight of his wife presenting herself to him, like she was an offering. 

Joelene was like a goddess. A goddess of life. Vitality. From the moment he met her, she breathed life back into the cold, dead veins of a vampire. She nurtured the seeds of love that were once planted in his heart so long ago, and revived them from brittle leaves and twigs. His devotion for her flourished. It bloomed into something so intense, so powerful, it drove him to want to be the man she deserved. 

As adoration burned in Theo’s heart, the hunger inside was growing impatient. It was insatiable, like a ravenous wolf. His mouth watered at the sight of his wife on the bed clad only delicate laces he could easily shred under his hands. Sunlight filtered through chiffon curtains, and illuminated her curves, enticing him. His hands itched to take her, and claim her all to himself.

Were it not for the last shred of self control, Theo would have torn the lingerie from his wife’s body, flipped her over with her round ass in the air, and fucked her into the mattress until she was stuffed full, dripping with his cum. 

But he held back.

No. He wanted to take his time with her. As much as he wanted to devour her wholly, and completely, Theodorus would savor her. 

Joelene begged him to be as selfish as he wanted with her. So like a good husband, he would obey his dear wife's commands.

Large hands pushed her knees apart further, revealing herself to him. He pressed open mouthed kisses to milky white thighs. Joelene's fingers threaded through his hair when he sucked along the sensitive skin there, leaving his mark. Sharp teeth lightly dragged along flesh, and drew a wanton moan of his name from his bride's lips. 

"Mijn geliefde," Theo whispered hotly against her soft tummy. “I love when you say my name like that.”

Hooded, iceberg blue irises pierced through forests of green, capturing her in a daze. Her soft legs were drawn up, and hooked over his shoulders. He watched his wife intently as he began his slow descent, like a beast in the afternoon sun. Kisses trailed down her stomach before reaching the hem of her lingerie. Lips pressed against lace. The tip of his tongue peeked out and teased the little hardened nub over her panties, refusing to tear his gaze away from hers. 

"Theodorus… mmm… "

Her grip tightened in his hair.  Nails lightly scraped over his scalp as he pressed his wet tongue against her mound across the fabric. Fingertips pressed into the tops of her thighs as he firmly held them apart. Looking up through tousled bangs and thick eyelashes, Theo drank in the sight of his wife slowly unraveling under his hands and mouth. Joelene whimpered so sweetly, whining as he ghosted his mouth over her sex. Her legs were beginning to shake just from his featherlight kisses. 

As his lips wrapped around her clothed clit, and sucked lightly, Joelene cried out for him. Eyelids fluttered closed as her head lolled back against the white pillows. How she sang for him, like a siren’s song. Hips bucked up against him as fingers pulled him closer to her, coaxing him to continue …  and how could he deny his dear wife, or himself, any longer?

The sound of cloth ripping echoed in the newlyweds’ bedchambers. The remains of the expensive ivory lace were forgotten as Theo’s tongue lapped his wife’s slick arousal. 

Thick fog hazed over any rational thoughts he once had as hunger overwhelmed him. The movement of his tongue over her pussy excited him. Tasting her was a pleasure in itself, and it invigorated him. Reducing such a steadfast woman like her to a whimpering mess sparked a fire inside that refused to be quelled until Joelene finally came. The way her little fingers threaded through his hair, and tugged when his tongue swiped over sensitive folds filled him with a drive to make her cry his name out to the Heavens. 

Theo devoured her like a man starved. The tip of his nose buried into her squishy, freckled tummy when he took her clit into his hungry mouth, and sucked it. How she keened… How Joelene cried for him — her husband —  so carelessly, like it didn’t matter who heard her.  

Her back arched off the bed as his devil of a tongue flattened against the hardened bud, lavishing it with swift, devious licks. He traced little circles over it, relishing in the delighted cries that spilled from his wife’s lips. Praises and prayers danced in his head as they filled his ears as they bounced off the walls. They infected his brain. The longer Theodorus spent between Joelene’s legs, the more he fell in love with her. Tender words, needy moans, and the delicious pull of his hair in her hands served to deepen his desire for her. 

His hard cock ached, and throbbed against the bed, but he didn't care — all he wanted was her. He wanted her to come on his mouth. Theo needed to feel Joelene unravel under him like a thread, and so he would keep pulling her down further into the abyss of pleasure.

And as she sobbed his name, with her toes curling into his strong shoulders, his tongue buried inside her, Theo swore he saw a sliver of Paradise flash in her brilliant irises before she came. 

A hand released her thigh, and reached for hers, grasping it tightly.  He lapped up every last bit of her arousal, pressing gentle kisses along the insides of her thighs as he brought his beloved back down from bliss. 

Pulling away from between her legs, Theo earned himself a displeased whine.

He moved Joelene on the bed so that she was on her stomach, her ass up in the air. Her legs were spread apart, giving Theo a full view of his wife from behind. Arousal ran down the backs of her thighs. She peered over her shoulder, flashing him a coy little smile. The flush that ran rampant over her freckled cheeks quickened the pace of his heart. He could see her bite her lip in anticipation, eagerly awaiting his next move.

His hand moved over her before taking a handful of her plush rear, and squeezed. 

"You told me to be selfish with you, knabbeltje. I'm only doing as my beautiful wife asks of me," Theodorus growled in her ear. "And by the time I'm finished with you, the only name you will know is mine.”

“Oh, Theo — Ah!”

The head of his length rut against her wet slit. She wiggled her hips for him, egging him on. Joelene knew exactly how to drive her husband crazy. The way she begged for him so sweetly, whimpering how much she needed him, infected him. Theo felt like he was under her spell. As much as his wife needed him, he desired her all the more. 

A low moan ebbed from his lips as he slowly eased himself inside her, inch by inch. Filling her nearly drove him insane. It always did. Her slick heat felt like it sucked him in, making him dizzy. The way her cunt squeezed around his thick cock forced a swear to escape through grit teeth. 

"Fuck, Joelene — " Theo hissed. “You take me so well … ”

His grip tightened on her hips as he sank into her. He could feel her flutter around him as he brushed a spot in her that made her weak in the knees, whining into the pillows below. And as he completely sheathed himself inside, a gasp of his name echoed in their bedroom. 

Joelene pushed back against him, forcing her husband in deeper. Nails dug into supple flesh as Theo began a steady pace. It was slow. But purposeful. Rough hands held her tightly as he began to fuck his wife into their bed. 

He withdrew himself almost completely before thrusting himself back inside her. Each movement felt so heavy. The heart in his chest pounded with a vengeance as he watched Joelene writhe underneath him. Fluffy, blazing red hair fell over freckled shoulders. Her fingers dug into the sheets, grasping them desperately.

The wet slap of cock filling her dripping cunt mixed with her sounds of pleasure, and made for a lewd symphony that would be forever burned into his memories. Of all the masterpieces he had seen in his lifetime, his beloved put them all to shame. 

And she was his.

All his. 

A low, deep groan rumbled in Theodorus’ chest as he forgot the rhythm he once had. He rested his sweaty forehead against her shoulder as he greedily claimed her. Thick fingers reached down to rub her swollen clit, making her squeeze around him tightly. 

“Mine, mine … you're all fucking MINE,” he growled heatedly in her ear.  

“Aah! Theo, please!”

She jolted as he ground himself in deeper. Between him mercilessly fucking her, and his evil fingers teasing her sensitive nub, Joelene couldn't hold on anymore. Her legs shook from underneath her, and Theo held her steady as waves of bliss overwhelmed her. Joelene came with his name on her lips. Breathlessly. Wantonly. She accepted him fully, and completely as she cried for him. 

Fangs sank into her shoulder as Theo quickened his pace. Blood filled his mouth. Pleasure flooded them both to the brim. He felt her insides quiver as he slammed his fat cock inside as to chase down his release. Heat consumed him in its gaping maw. Theo couldn’t think clearly when he was buried so deeply in his wife’s hot cunt. She tightened around him as she pressed her plushy ass against him once more before sobbing his name into the pillows. 

It didn’t take much more for Theodorus to follow Joelene into the abyss. Her name was like a hushed prayer on his lips as he felt himself caught in the rip current. White bled into the corners of his vision. Eyelids screwed shut as his teeth grit together. Nails dug into flesh, leaving crescent moon marks in her hips as he held her close, breathing her in as he pumped her full of his hot, sticky seed. 

But he kept going. He wasn’t finished with her. Not yet. 

Harsh thrusts shook the bed, making it creak as Theo drove himself into her. One of his hands planted down at one of her sides, trying to hold himself steady. Joelene trembled like a leaf, but she arched her back for him, giving her husband such a delicious view of his wife bent over as he fucked her like a beast. His head was swimming in the loud, desperate cries that crescendoed in their bedroom. The open window allowed the breeze in carried Joelene’s sweet moans out to the outside.

But he didn’t care. The whole village could hear Joelene scream for him, and Theo wouldn’t have paid it any mind. All that mattered to him in that moment was claiming her. Owning her. Filling her with everything he had to offer.

And not before long, he was losing himself once more in her welcoming heat. She took him in, and accepted him entirely. 

They both collapsed on the bed together, exhausted and sweaty. The sound of their panting was the only thing that could be heard, besides the birds chirping away outside the window. Strips of light created little shapes along their tangled mess of limbs. Theo remained fully inside her, not daring to pull out. Little streams of white trickled down the backs of Joelene’s thighs, soiling the duvet. 

It felt like forever once Theo finally decided to withdraw himself from her. A soft pop echoed in the room, followed by a soft gasp as he pulled out. And what a sight it was, watching his essence run down her love bitten thighs. It was hypnotizing. He wanted to do it again, and again, and again until she was guaranteed to be round with his child. 

The thought hit him like a pile of bricks. To have a family of his own … to start anew with someone he adored more than the vast wheat fields stretched out endlessly into the distance … it didn’t seem like a mere daydream anymore. No -- happiness was at his fingertips. The future wasn’t a looming, dark entity that seemed so out of reach for him, but now within grasp. It wasn’t so dark anymore, for there was warmth, and light at the end, welcoming him with open arms and nothing but love. 

He reached over for the towel sitting on the nightstand, and cleaned up the mess he made of Joelene before lying beside her. Theo pulled her into his arms, pressing little kisses along her cheeks and forehead before capturing her lips with his.

Flesh pressed against flesh. Once heated, passionate kisses were now slow, tender ones as fingers caressed the other. Hushed words of love were shared as they snuggled together on their bed under the thin veil of bliss. 

They only had forever… and Theodorus would spend all of it loving Joelene. She was his new beginning, and he couldn’t wait to start to live again.

[1-800-seo]

1-800-SEO’s 𖣘 ‘Healing of the Heart’

- pairing: Taeyong X Y/N

- genre: drabble, fluff, alternate timeline, non-modern AU, herbalist/apothecary!taeyong, pining best friend!y/n

- warnings: mentions of mice and ill health. I wrote this ages ago for another idol and it has been sat in my drafts for a year and a half, I apologise if the writing is subpar ://

- words: 1307 (unedited + open ending)

Taeyong felt the patter of tiny feet running all the way up his arm as the brown mouse made its way to the hood of his cape. It rested there, its tiny head poking out and sniffing the air. Taeyong lifted his arms up and felt around in his hood until he touched the warm furry body of his pet mouse, Ida. He picked her up in his large hands, scooping her tiny body, and brought her down to rest on the desk before him. She walked in a small circle before deciding to climb up his stacked pile of encyclopaedias, making her way up them like an enlarged staircase. To avoid her falling off, he picks her up again and places her back in her cage, and then turns back to his large boiling pot of mixed herbs and roots. The pot bubbles and sloshes as he mixes the contents around with a wooden spoon, the herbalist thinks of what to add next. His latest concoction is a blend intended to soothe a fever, something his village will most likely need as winter draws near.

The autumnal sunlight seeps in through the adjacent window and the small beams light up Taeyong’s shop. It illuminates the plants sat in the window who are assumably soaking it up, and sheds light through the glass herb jars along the dark wooden shelves. Taeyong racks his brain for the correct herb combination for his creation. As he lands on an appropriate root he has in his collection, you walk through the door of the shop, little bell alerting him to your presence. It’s not the first time you’ve been in Yongie’s shop, in fact it’s not even the 20th time, since you’ve been in ‘TY’s Herbal Healing’. Your regular visits to his shop had become a daily thing, the title of best friend had been bestowed after you became his regular customer ever since the opening of the shop. The only good thing your ill health had brought about was you meeting Taeyong, ever since you’d met him that day he’d opened the shop up, you had been inseparable. Your shared love of plants being the building blocks of that once budding friendship with him.

“Hey Yongie” you say, unwrapping your scarf from your neck and placing it on the counter. “How’s your latest broth?” “Not bad, thank you, I’ve just been attempting to level out the acidity in it, I’m thinking of adding some ginger to make it more palatable. Could you pass me some from the shelf please?” “No problem.” You reply whilst taking some from the shelf and jumping over the shop counter to his brewing quarters. The front of his shop is arranged neatly, the counter clear, bar from his old bonsai stood stout over in the corner. This neatness isn’t carried over to his brewing quarters; open jars of roots and herbs lay open on his worktops, the stove is on heating the bubbling broth, a few books are open and strewn across the sides. Even Ida’s cage is a bit untidy although you doubt this is Yong’s fault, she has a habit of upending her little wooden house and throwing her bedding everywhere.

You pass the ginger to your herbalist and watch as he works, picking up a chunk of the root and chopping it up on the board he has off to the side. He then promptly tosses it into the pot and stirs it a few times. You love watching his deft hands work, seeing how much care he puts into each and every one of his creations. His love and care doesn’t just extend to how he makes his medicines. You can see his loving touch in his shop, in his home, in his music. It’s demonstrated through his care for his plants that litter his shop, through the carefully arranged displays, his well thought out diagnosises to patients. You see it in the delicately handsewn patchwork bed sheets he has, the expertly placed candelabras, the devotion to his pets. And most of all you see it in his beautiful songs, the way he arranges for the lyre is unearthly, and only in the sense that the songs he creates are so ethereal it sounds as if it was plucked from heaven.

The time’s when you are so lost in thought like this lead you to wonder how close you are to your precious Yongie; and your precious friendship, would you prefer if it was something else? Something more intimate, something where you could greater witness the inner workings of his world. You could watch all day his loving works and his caring deeds, you could love him with all your heart. You wonder, whether it would be so bad belonging to the village herbalist, you don’t think it would be hard to cross the boundary from friend to lover. You stare into your herbalist’s deep onyx eyes and realise you could get lost in them forever.

Your thoughts had lead you to make a move, you had to do something. Spending all your life single wasn’t your plan anyway; having resided yourself to a life alone, convinced no one would love you with your many ailments and need to be looked after. But with Taeyong, that didn’t feel the case. You were sure he could love you properly and care for you in all the right ways, the question is, would he want to? You longed to find out. Those days you’d spent pining for him as you weaved a basket or baked some bread. He permeated your thoughts, seeping into the the fabric of your mind at all hours of the day and night, never did you stop thinking about him and you were a little ashamed to say that. But time had come to say what must be said, and so, you did.

“Taeyongie? Have you ever thought about courting anyone?” You query, legs swinging as you sit on the counter, an anxious tremor making itself known through your fingers.

“I have... I’ve thought about this before, I’d like a doting partner, I’m not sure if anyone could love me though. Who would want to put up with me?” He replies, following his sentence with a nervous chuckle.

You gulp at his words, mind racing. “I-I could put up with you. I wouldn’t be ‘putting up’ with you though, I’d give you all my love.... I’ve thought about you for so long Yongie, I wasn’t sure if you liked me, loved me even. I want to be the one who loves you. Will you let me?”

His mouth hangs open, eyes wide with shock. He’s stopped staring his broth and has paused his actions. “I- I’m so sorry for springing this on you. It doesn’t matter. I was stupid to think you would ever love me like I’d hoped.” You look at your hands, head hung low.

Taeyong interrupts before a tear can make your way from its eyes. “No— no! I love you y/n, I really do. I was just so shocked you felt this way.” He takes your head in his hands and rests his fingers on your cheeks, hands splayed. “How long have you felt this way?” He asks.

“Umm, about a year.” Embarrassment flushes your cheeks, staining them rose red. “You should of told me, I’ve loved you for so long. I just thought no one could love the clumsy healer at the edge of the village. I told myself I was ok alone. Now hearing you say this has made me realise how much I need you in my life.” He punctuates his sentence with a tender kiss on your forehead, such a sensitive and emotive action, you feel see his shoulders release tension as he does it.

Some risks are worth taking.

[mrsgiovanna]

A series of Firsts - Don Giorno x Fem! Reader

A cute Valentines day scenario with husband Giogio, nsfw-ish toward the end, just something that's been on my mind for a little while. Cut for length🥺💭❤️

Word count: 2318

Everything that could have gone wrong had inevitably gone wrong. It was the first Valentines day that you and your beloved would be spending together as a married couple, so needless to say, you wanted to make it a tiny bit more noteworthy than the usual extravagant outings you’ve grown accustomed to. You knew that things like this weren’t really important, but blamed your sentimental self for wanting to commemorate each “first” event in your first year of wedded life. As luck would have it though, every single one of your plans would be foiled, however, in retrospect, your end goal would actually be achieved.

There was still a chill in the February air, but it was a beautiful sunny day nonetheless. Giorno had already left by the time your sleep had broken, but you had woken up to a beautiful red rose and a small heart shaped chocolate on his pillow with a simple note in his handwriting. You smiled when you read the note, three simple words, but it meant more to you than anything. You lazed about in bed for a while, thinking about all the things you wanted to do today. The villa was quiet, save for the few guards that Giorno would not compromise on, you had given most of his other staff the weekend off, wanting it to just be the two of you. Or so you’d thought…

The spanner foiling this plan, came in the form of some important conference call with an associate from the Speedwagon foundation. Well, calling him an “associate” might be a bit cold, seeing that it was Giorno’s relative, Jotaro Kujo, who wanted to speak to him himself. Giorno knew it must have been something very important for Jotaro to reach out to him of all people given the circumstances and how suspicious he was in the beginning. So off he went, you presumed to his study, to discuss whatever issue was plaguing Jotaro. Deciding it was time to get out of bed, you quickly showered and threw on something comfortable, knowing you were going to put on a knock out outfit later on. No sooner had you stepped out of the master bedroom did you hear a loud bang, and felt something whizzing past you, missing your face by a hair’s breath. Being immediately on guard, you summoned your stand ready to attack the enemy that had infiltrated your home when you heard the familiar whining of Mista’s sex pistols…

“Mistaaaaa, he’s not here, can we go eat now?”

“Well good morning to you too number 5,” you said to the miniscule stand, who started to hide himself in your hair to escape the harassment from number 3.

“Awww has Mista has been starving you guys again? How awful, lets go find you guys something to eat,” you teased, earning an annoyed look from the gunslinger, to which he retorted, “Excuse me, they’re well fed and have nothing to complain about!”

As you both made your way to the kitchen, you asked Mista what brought him to the villa this early in the morning. You were hoping against your better judgment that it wasn’t anything too serious, but by the time Mista was done relaying his report about the unrest in some of the outlying areas, you knew it had to be nipped in the bud before it gained momentum. Wanting to feed the tiny gremlins, but being unsure of what they would eat in the morning, you set up some cured meats, fruits, nuts and some warmed cornetto on a platter.

The delicious smell of warm, buttery pastry had whet your appetite as well, so you decided to warm up more pastries for you and Mista and started making cappuccinos for the both of you. By this point you and Mista had been around each other for long enough and had been through so much together, that the bond felt more familial than anything else.

Setting down the food in front of you and Mista, the facts of his report were still playing on your mind.

“So where is Giorno anyway? I thought he’d taken some time off, which is why I came straight here,” asked Mista as he bit off a piece of his strawberry preserve filled croissant.

“He’s in the middle of an important conference call, he might be a while… what do you think about what’s happening in in the new territories? Do you think we can handle the situation among ourselves?”

Perplexed by your question, Mista thought for a while before answering. “I suppose they aren’t the strongest stand users, between you, Fugo and myself, we should be able to take them out if the need arises… listen, I don’t like where you’re going with this,”

It was all the confirmation you needed as you spoke with determination, “Let’s go then, if we can end this before it has a chance to blow up then we should do it. Call Fugo, I’m sure he’ll be willing to go with us, I’ll text Gio to let him know.” It was the first time you’d taken a bold decision like that without so much as consulting with Giorno… and just like that, you had thrown the second spanner in the works without even knowing it, because what should have taken a couple of hours had ended up taking the better part of the day.

“I wonder…. where could she be… ” mused Giorno as he walked around the villa looking for you. The conference call had taken longer than expected so he sought you out to make it up to you, but you were nowhere to be found. Deciding to call you, he’d come across the text message you’d sent him just before you left. His eyes darkened as he tried to call you.

“Oh hi Gio, are you okay? We’re kinda in the middle of something here,” you answered, trying to sound unfazed despite the ruckus taking place behind you.

“Cara, how can you just rush off into a dangerous situation like this? I’m very upset with you, come back here immediately,”

You felt very guilty when he still addressed you with his usual kindness despite how angry he sounded.

“Gio, I’m so sorry, I’ll explain everything when we get back, it will be over soon I promise,” you say, trying to placate both his temper and your own feelings.

“You guys have an hour to come back, failing which, I’ll have to come there myself. Honestly, you’re lucky I love you as much as I do, amore…” with that Giorno ended the call and went back to his study, hoping that you guys would be okay.

Upon arriving at Giorno’s study, you found him to be the picture of serenity, quietly working at his desk with some soft music playing in the background. He was relieved to see that you three delinquents were okay, most of all, you- his wife, who unfortunately was the biggest troublemaker of the lot, however he didn’t let that relief show on his face…

Just as Mista was about to speak, Giorno raised his hand to silence him,

“Did everything work out as expected in your marvelous misadventure?”

“you could say so… the job is done”

“is anyone hurt?”

“no, everyone’s alright,”

“then go home, it’s been a long day,” sensing everyone’s surprise, Giorno explained himself further.

“I trust you all, I want to make that clear… but for God’s sake, at least 1 person needs to be the voice of reason, nonetheless, I’m glad everything worked out for the best, just think before wildly rushing out next time,”

Mista and Fugo left the office leaving you alone with Giorno. You waited to hear the little electronic beep that the door made when it locked before you gently lowered yourself into Giorno’s strong arms, settling down comfortably in his lap.

“I’m sorry for upsetting you tesoro… you have so much to do, I just wanted to share some of the burden with you,”

“I know bella, I’m sorry too, I didn’t mean to snap at you earlier, I was just worried, I’d like to keep you away from these things as much as possible,”

“I can hold my own, you know,”

“I know bella, but you shouldn’t have to,” replied Giorno, lazily weaving his fingers through your hair. He drew your head closer for a kiss, starting off gentle, growing ever more passionate until you both stopped yourselves.

“Come amore mio, there isn’t a lot of time left, you have to get ready for our date, remember?”

Reluctantly, you got off his lap and left him with a feather light kiss to his temple.

After a long while of titivating with your look, you made your way back to Giorno’s study, finding him dreamily admiring the final seconds of the winter sunset. The fading golden light made his hair shine like spun gold and drew out the various jeweled specks of his eyes. He turns towards you, and his expression changes entirely, as if time itself had stood still.

“What do you think?” you ask, doing a little twirl and ending off in a pose, you giggle at your gesture.

“Sei cosi bella, you’re absolutely breathtaking amore mio,” Giorno says as he extends his arm to you, “are you ready to go?”

You smile sweetly and link your arm through his, just as you’re about to leave, the electricity cuts out.

No matter, you both wait patiently, expecting the generator to kick in at any moment, but nothing happens. Giorno’s study is more akin to a bunker, an impenetrable fortress built with the intention of keeping you both safe if the need ever arose. Grabbing his cellphone, Giorno calls one of the guards and asks him to check out the problem, as you are effectively stuck until you can get electricity back into the mechanism of the door.

You tinkered around the draws and cupboards, and managed to find all the aromatherapy candles and burners you got your husband to help him relax, you would have been annoyed that they were buried away if you weren’t as relieved as you were. It was quickly getting dark, and without the twinkling lights of the skyline, the room was becoming evermore difficult to navigate. After lighting up a considerable amount of the candles, you had to admit that the atmosphere was quite romantic.

“Well, they’ve found the problem, but can’t say how long it will take to fix, I could always try to use GE to break us out,”

“Break us out and do what my love? It looks like whole city is out, we’re probably in the safest place there is, come on, relax, we’ll just wait it out,” you reply as you pull him over to the couch. “see, this is nice right?” you say as you take your usual spot in his arms.

“Of course cara, I’m sorry, you’ve been patient with me recently, I know I’ve been very busy, so I just wanted to spoil you a bit,” Giorno’s voice was so gentle as he spoke, his fingers tracing circles onto your arm.

You were relieved as you felt him relax under your embrace, “for what it’s worth, happy Valentines day tesoro, I know things didn’t go according to anyone’s plan, but I’m still happy right here,” you utter, burying your face into the crook of Giorno’s neck.

“Happy Valentine’s day Amore mio, at least we’ll never forget this, and besides we have the rest of our lives to make up for it.”

The temperature started to drop the later it got, so Giorno decided to make use of his fireplace to make sure you didn’t get too cold, your slinky little evening dress offered little protection from the cold, not that he was complaining, it just meant that you would snuggle up closer to him. A yearning stirred in him when he looked back at you, bundled up in his large coat on the couch, you just looked so beautiful, the candlelight danced about in your eyes and your smile was the purest he’d ever seen.

“Are you okay bella? The room should warm up in a few moments. Ah, I know what would speed up the process… I recently acquired a very impressive bottle of wine…” mused Giorno as he found the bottle of Screaming Eagle Cabernet.

“Gio, isn’t that an insanely expensive bottle?”

“I’d hope so, it’s the 1992 vintage, imagine, we were just kids when this was made” he quipped, genuinely excited to crack open the extravagant alcohol.

“I thought you’d save something like that for a huge milestone like the birth of our first child or something of that magnitude. I just know how pricey it is,”

“Ah the birth of our child… conception of our child, it’s all the same”

Perplexed you asked, “caro, what are you saying?”

“What I’m saying bella, is that we’re freezing, the night is young and all we have for entertainment is each other’s wonderful company, whatever happens from here on out is up to the gods of fate, salute,”

And with a clink of your glasses and a gaze into each other’s eyes, you both took a sip of the wine. There was something irresistible about the way Giorno’s eyes glinted in the soft lighting. With a confident smirk, he drew you in for a passionate kiss, giving his hands permission to explore your beautiful body, drawing out those pretty sounds and lustful expressions that only he had the privilege of observing. Giorno was an intuitive lover, and you completely surrendered yourself to him. You both spent the rest of the night reveling in each other’s beauty and affection.

With arms and legs intertwined lovingly, breathing even and peaceful, you both slept blissfully unaware of the plans the mischievous gods of fate had in store for you.

[seokmingiggles]

peonies.

Prompt: "Going somewhere?"

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x gender neutral reader

Genre: fluff, established relationship, quarantine!au (if that’s what you’d call it?), non-idol!au (this isn’t a typical tag of mine, but I want to make it clear!).

2.36k words

No warnings.

Being cooped up inside for the protection of others can become a redundant routine. Today, your boyfriend breaks that cycle and goes on an unexpected outing—safely, of course.

Alternatively, Taehyung decides that he wants to remind you of his love with the surprise of little gifts. Not that he needs to, but he wants to.

A/N: Here’s a little something I wrote in the span of a couple of hours tonight to separate my Seventeen teacup drabbles. By ‘quarantine!au,’ I mean this one-shot takes place in our current situation with Covid-19 :/ I truly hope all of you are able to stay safe and healthy. Please wear a mask when you go out! We will fight this pandemic!! ♡

•• The distinct metal clinking of keys jingling by the front door catches your attention.

"Going somewhere?"

Taehyung looks up from his feet after slipping on a pair of brown boots. He's got his keys in one hand, along with a slightly crumpled list of something illegible to you from your spot on the couch. A black medical mask is hung haphazardly to the side off of one of his ears.

He stands up tall, "Just got a couple of errands to run. I'll be right back." Your boyfriend flashes you a smile, rounding his cheeks into rolls of puffy dough.

You hum out, "Okay," and return his small wave as he leaves your shared apartment.

There's a slight crisp to the air outside today. It nips on the tips of Taehyung's cheeks exposed from his mask. The boy considers if he should have put on a scarf, too, overtop his jacket. Overtop his mask? It's too late now, he muses. At least his hands are warm inside his fleece-lined pockets, and his round nose is sheltered from the late-winter air. He clutches the piece of paper tightly in his right hand. Writing lists may be obsolete now in the digital age, but Taehyung can't deny how he likes the feel of pen on paper, even if he can recite each written line from memory; crossing off his to-do lists makes him feel accomplished.

His shoes gently click on the sidewalk. The streets are emptier than he's used to seeing. The light snowfall from a few days ago has already melted. Instead, some dead leaves rustle across the dry ground. Someone is walking on the same sidewalk, heading in Taehyung's direction. She's wearing a similar medical-grade mask with hands stuffed deeply into her pockets too. Her hair blows violently in the head-on wind. She looks up from her footsteps, and Taehyung swears he can see what might be a polite smile beneath her mask. The boy's eyes crinkle slightly at the corners in response, continuing on his way.

His first stop is the used bookstore. The smell of old paper and the slight dryness from the dust make their way through Taehyung's mask, into his nose. He doesn't have anything specific in mind. He does, however, know the types of books you like to read. Shelf after shelf, he scans the spines one by one, in search of a title that stands out to him. Stardust, he ruminates, eyes inspecting the plain royal blue cover. It seems simple enough, and if you don't like it, he may consider reading it.

Taehyung weaves through the maze of piled books laid out on the floor; there are far too many for the small shop to accommodate. The owner of the store is sat behind the desk at the side, likewise surrounded by stacks upon stacks of books. Some are dustier than others; some look newer than others.

"Just this one today?" the bookkeeper ponders, face half-masked.

"Yes, please."

The blue-bound book finds a place in the crook of the boy's elbow, pressed to his chest as he returns on his walk. This time, someone is on a run with their dog, jogging on the opposite side of the street. Taehyung never sees his face, only the back of his head as he moves ahead. But he does notice the little elastics of his mask tucked around his ears once he passes by. Muscular, yet lean calves push him to run further; the brown spotted dog seems to skip happily along the sidewalk next to its owner.

The aroma of the bakery is mildly evident before he crosses the street. Located as the first shop on the corner of a new avenue, the little store contains your favourite treats, Taehyung's too. A family-owned business, the boy wants to support their shop during this time of limited sales. Frankly, the boy wishes he could do the same for all of the little stores lining the streets here downtown.

The bell above the door chimes when Taehyung enters the store; the sound resonates in the single room. A rush of hot air smacks his face.

With the sound of footsteps coming down from the upstairs attachment, the shop owner appears in a blue mask. "Welcome!" her voice is jolly, eyes in crescents. "Is it the usual for today, Taehyung?"

The boy in question nods with a smile, fluffy bangs bouncing with the movement, "Please."

The patissier moves to the windowed counter displaying significantly fewer treats than what would have been a year ago.

"Is it a special occasion?"

"No," Taehyung admits. "Just because."

There's a twinkle in the baker's eye. "They're a lucky one."

Taehyung doesn't say anything, and instead, he thinks how he's the lucky one out of the two of you.

He pays with cash, rounding up as an extra tip. The two exchange thanks and other pleasantries, and Taehyung sets back out in the cool air on his way. The paper gift bag holds the two cardboard containers with mouth-watering snacks inside. He slips the novel carefully into the bag, making sure it doesn't rip.

The florist is his final stop on today's little journey.

Blooming buds of each and every colour of the rainbow and then some invade Taehyung's vision. He's sure the fragrant floral scent would be more potent without wearing his mask. He tries to sniff one of the bunches of tulips near the entryway. No, it's mostly neutral with a hint of dust leftover from the bookstore.

"For any reason in particular? Birthday? Anniversary?"

Taehyung is brought from his flower-sniffing, seeing the florist behind the counter bearing what might be an amused grin. The boy hides his frustration at being unable to read people's expressions properly when concealed by the masks.

"Ah, no," his face flushes slightly, "not today. Could I still get some flowers, though?"

"Of course," she beams. "Anything specific?"

The boy ponders, examining each prearranged bouquet laying about. They all look beautiful to him, but Taehyung also doesn't know much about flowers. What's more important to him is how much you like them; that's all he needs to know.

"Surprise me," is his answer, confident in the florist's abilities.

Taehyung ends up leaving the store with a combination of delicate daffodils, carnations, roses, and two large peonies in the center. The bright yellows of the daffodils compliment the ivory carnations and ruby-red roses. The pastel pink peonies, Taehyung thinks, might be his favourite from the bunch. Maybe the two of you are peonies? You're certainly pretty like a flower, yes, so why not a peony?

Taehyung heads in the opposite direction from his travels, starting the walk back to the apartment. The paper bag containing the pastries and the book is still clutched tightly in one hand, while the colourful, decorative flowers are held with significantly more care in his other hand.

The sky is grey today, filled with an abundance of dense clouds. Taehyung swears it had been blue when he had left the house earlier, although now, it looks like there may be another snowfall. More leaves scatter with the wind, blowing in Taehyung's direction. They dance in the breeze, scraping the cemented road and landing in the crook of an alleyway between two shops, both with their lights off and variations of 'Closed' signs decorating the doors.

Sure enough, what can barely be classified as snow begins to fall from the heavens. Tiny flakes of white flutter down, instantly melting as they hit the sidewalk. The only evidence of their existence is when they land on Taehyung's black woollen jacket, but even then, they don't last for very long.

The distinct metal clinking of keys signals your boyfriend's return home. Taehyung takes in your appearance, now off the couch and facing the stove with your back to him. You've changed out of your trusty pair of sweatpants you've been housed in for the past months, opting for something slightly more form-fitting, but comfortable still, nonetheless. Your hair looks washed. Maybe you took a shower in the time Taehyung had been out. You're boiling some water in a pot, from what the boy can tell. Yes, upon moving closer, some pasta swirls around in the churning bubbles, steam escaping only to be swept up in the oven range above.

"You're done with your errands?" you call out over your shoulder, returning your gaze to the cooking pasta as you listen to your boyfriend removing his outerwear by the front door. "How was it out there?"

Taehyung moves his sock-clad feet to where you stand. After washing his hands, a pair of warm arms tenderly wraps around your torso from behind, followed by a brisk peck to your cheek.

"It was quiet out there, as you'd expect," the boy mulls over as he traces some unknown shape onto your hipbone. "Do you want to see what I got?"

You comply with his request, turning the stove's burner down before moving in his embrace as he shifts the two of you to the kitchen island. There, the array of treats are splayed out.

Your eyes immediately land on the flowers: the colours nearly take your breath away. It's been so long since you've seen something so alive. You don't fail to notice the brown paper bag with your favourite bakery's emblem stamped on the side. Something else is peeking out of the bag, something blue that you can't distinguish.

"Why?" you can't help but ask Taehyung. "What's the reason for all of this?" Still held in his arms, you slightly twist so you can glance upwards at your boyfriend.

He's already looking at you with his big brown eyes. Little droplets of melted snow rest daintily in his hair. You reach upwards to brush some aside, also smoothing down some of the astray strands displaced from the wind.

"The reason is that I love you."

"You're too good, Tae," you whisper, hugging the boy properly and burying your face into him. "I love you too."

Another kiss finds your head before you pull away, but only to move closer once again to place your lips on Taehyung's. His nose is cold, but his mouth is hot as you move together with years of practice. You're the first one to part, but staying close enough for noses to brush. Taehyung has a hand cupping the side of your face, thumbing over the roundest part of your cheek from your smile: a shape comparable to a soft bread bun.

Being stuck inside has its downfalls; you and Taehyung are no exception. You've had more arguments in the span of the past ten months than all of the years in your relationship combined. Considering them as arguments may be putting it harshly, disagreements or miscommunication are more accurate depictions of your quarrels. Perhaps the fatigue of being confined indoors is to blame. The worst dispute was a couple of months ago, where you and Taehyung grimly doubted the status of your relationship—if any of it was worth it anymore.

Clearly, you managed to work things out as here you sit on the sofa now, biting into one of the flaky, buttery croissants—one of the few treats adorning the inside of the paper bag. The raspberry preserves on the inside burst across your tongue in a pleasant tartness, complementing the sweet pastry. The pasta on the stove now forgotten, moved to the side and off the burner for another time. You offer Taehyung a bit of the croissant to which he complies, taking a large bite from it. Little flecks of gold decorate the corners of his mouth; one finds a spot on his upper lip beside the dimple of his cupid's bow.

"You're cute," you mumble, gently removing the crumbs from his mouth.

Taehyung disagrees, a voice so soft you'd nearly miss it if he weren't in such proximity, "Not as cute as you, my love." He takes your hand in his, pressing a string of little pecks onto your fingers. Your hand stays in his even after the kisses placed, digits now laced comfortably.

You take another bite of the raspberry croissant until there's one mouthful left. You wordlessly offer it to your boyfriend.

The floral bouquet occupies the center of the kitchen table. It's a fluorescent sight between the dulled walls of the apartment. Like a little piece of sunshine, the flowers provide you with a sense of warmth or energy that you no longer experience trapped in your confined space day after day.

The snow has picked up outside. The clouds have only gotten denser since Taehyung's return home. The sky is gradually growing darker with the hour; streetlamps flicker on one-by-one, lining the streets in glowing amber and putting spotlights on the colourless, falling flakes. Rooftops and tree branches gradually become covered in a dusting of white.

"I love you," Taehyung repeats out of the blue, causing you to remove your gaze from the winter landscape forming outside.

You examine his face as his eyes flutter between yours. A pretty shade of pink blossoms on his cheeks while his mouth lifts into the smallest of smiles.

"I love you too," you say with all earnest. "Thank you for everything today."

"Of course," he nuzzles into the top of your head, pulling you close against him. "I'm sorry we have to stay indoors most of the time."

"It's not your fault, Tae."

The boy hums in acknowledgement. "Sometimes I wish I could solve it all, you know? Like if I wish or pray, or maybe if I believe hard enough, everything will be fixed. Everything will be normal again."

"Things will be normal again," you return. Your thumb strokes over Taehyung's on the hand you're still holding. Your head finds his shoulder.

Taehyung is warm and familiar and possibly the only constant in your life right now. Your eyes reach the flowers in the vase on the dining table once more—vibrant and attractive yellows, reds, and pastel pinks.

You squeeze your boyfriend's hand: a silent thank you; an unsaid I love you.

Taehyung squeezes your hand back.

To do:

live for today

and cherish (Y/N)

••

[polandspringz]

MC helping a sad mammon by watering plants, going on walks, having karaoke parties to help him feel better ♥ :3

Here you go! It’s a short drabble so the whole fic is posted below, but the AO3 version will be linked in the notes.

Title: Summer Wars

“Hey, hey! Be careful with my sleeve! This is a leather jacket, I don’t want you ruining it,” Mammon complained even as he continued to let them tug him along. MC had pinched the cuff of his jacket with their fingers and had been dragging him all the way from the living room to the middle of the gardens. The sky was a dark purple tinged with reds and pinks at the horizon, the light from the south of the kingdom staining the artificial sky with more colors than it normally displayed. The stars were twinkling a bright white overhead instead of fading into the oppressive background, and it left the grounds of the House of Lamentation in an unusually vibrant twilight that let Mammon see everything clearer than he had in days.

“Sorry, sorry,” MC laughed apologetically but did not take their hand away, “But I wanted to show you something! You’ve been holed up inside for too long. I’ve already prepared everything! Even the watering cans!”

“Watering cans?” He cocked an eyebrow and stumbled as they tugged him harder accidentally. They were hurrying along the path, ducking underneath the vinecovered arbors towards the orchard on the back of the grounds, leading him deeper and deeper into the gardens that he had long since forgotten who tended to.

They reached a small flower bed, full of small sprouts with baby petals beginning to form around buds. They were planted in two neat rows in front of the azaleas and roses, or at least the plants that resembled the azaleas and roses of the human world. Mammon had never paid much attention to flowers and plants once they arrived in the Devildom. There had never been much to look at, afterall. He didn’t think there was much that could grow in a place without sunlight.

But somehow, they grew after all.

“Look!” MC let go of his sleeve, and for a moment Mammon embarrassed himself when he realized how his hand followed after them. He forced it back down to swing at his side idly as MC walked over to a pile of gardening supplies that had been set to the left of the flowers, “I got so much stuff! We can start by watering these, and then I prepared another bed that you can select the seeds for! See?”

They held up an assortment of tiny, paper pouches decorated with the names of devilish plants, spread like a deck of cards in front of their smiling face. It was infectious, and Mammon couldn’t help smiling as well when he saw it. He marched on over to them and rustled their hair, snatching one of the seed pouches from them.

“Gardening was never something I was good at. Always hated getting dirt under my nails, but for you, I’ll make an exception. What do we got here?”

**

The two of them were soaked and mud covered. At some point, the watering cans were empty, and so MC went to drag the hose out from where it was wrapped up by the side of the house. When they came back and started to refill the bulky watering cans, Mammon silently crept up to their side, pouncing to grab the hose and cover the stream of water with his thumb making it spray everywhere. MC screeched as Mammon wrestled control of the hose, completely turning it on them and raining a shower down until MC was saturated in water. Cold and with renewed vigor, once he had lowered the weapon they came sprinting back at him, sending the hose into a frenzy as water flew everywhere.

Mammon’s back hit the ground and MC was merciful and gave him enough time to throw his jacket to the wayside before they jumped him and sought retribution. He gave them a few seconds of fun before he wrapped an arm around their waist, and flipped the two of them over. The hose was knocked away, bubbling water into the grass that slowly formed rivers that bled underneath their heads, and while mud was getting in MC’s hair and under Mammon’s nails as he ran his fingers through it. They were both soaked to the bone but they were laughing, their chest vibrating against one another as they buzzed with laughter and joy as they bumped foreheads and giggled like children.

Their hands slowly found one another again, weaving together beside their heads as they laid next to the flower beds and whispered to each other, secrets and songs and pinky promises that Mammon knew they would never break.

Eventually, one of them would need to get up and shut the hose off, and eventually their clothes would be too muddy and sticky and heavy with water for it to be comfortable, but for now they were together in their own warmth and they were happy.