#Funeral Standing Spray

[floristusa]

What Are the Significance of Funeral Sprays in Honoring a Loved One's Memory?

Funeral flowers have been powerful emblems of love, respect, and remembering throughout human history. These beautiful flowers have been used for ages to express sympathy, provide solace, and show respect for the deceased. The custom of giving funeral flowers is deeply ingrained in many cultures around the world and reflects the innate human need to express sadness and honor the lives of the deceased.

#Funeral Flowers #Flower Delivery Scituate MA #Florist Scituate MA #Flower Delivery Norwell MA #Funeral Standing Spray #Funeral Sprays Delivery Scituate MA #Sympathy Floral Baskets #Funeral Flowers Near MA

[querenciasturniolo]

ghost ⮕ s.t.

word count: 4.1k

warnings: depictions of death (no active murder), mentions of death, mentions of vomit, blood, suspense, anxiety, fear, swearing

summary: murders in los angeles have been happening left and right, and right as you think it couldn’t get any worse, one of your best friends is gone.

a/n: this took much longer than it should have, and for that i’m sorry, but i have a few things to say beforehand. this was inspired by multiple edits, two separate convos i had with @floofparker and @champangekisses , scream being one of my FAVORITE scary movies, and, of course, the iconic “WHO’S MOST LIKELY TO BE THE GHOSTFACE KILLERRRR” from chris. this took FOREVER, but i’m so proud of it and so excited to put it out. this is pretty reminiscent to the movie, but i added my own little spin on it. PLEASE read the bolded disclaimer and take it to heart, i don’t think anything that goes down in this fic would actually happen, hence the name fanfiction. it’s supposed to be unrealistic, that’s the point. i hope you enjoy 🫶🏻

everything written is completely fictional. the people i write for are written with characteristics and mannerisms that i made for them, this is in no way depicting what would actually happen in real life.

Twenty year old social media star Christopher (Chris) Sturniolo was found dead outside of his Los Angeles home on September 22, 2023. His brothers, who he made comedy videos with on multiple platforms, Nicolas and Matthew Sturniolo, claim their brother had been out with long-time friend and fellow content creator, Y/f/n Y/l/n, hours before.

Nick and Matt told police moments before they rushed out to find their brother with multiple stab wounds, they heard yelling and a struggle. When they reached Chris, the assailant was gone. Y/n hasn’t spoken about their day together prior to his death, and has refused to answer any questions asked. Her and Matt Sturniolo seem to have ended their year-long relationship shortly after this tragedy, but we all want to know why. Was there an affair? Was the guilt too much to keep the secret after Chris’ death?

On October 13, 2022, Y/n’s brother was murdered brutally, and their mother suffered a very public breakdown. The assailant in her brother’s case has yet to be found.

Chris Sturniolo’s murder was the fifth in a little less than two months. Police have yet to tell the public any of their leads in this string of serial murders, but have disclosed that they are far from closing these cases.

The article had only been out for an hour, and your Instagram and Tiktok were already being swarmed with notifications. So many, that you had to delete both apps off of your phone to keep it from crashing.

You hadn’t left your bed since that day, only to get something to eat and some water when you ran out—you couldn’t even go to the funeral. You couldn’t bring yourself to answer your phone, you couldn’t even answer the countless messages you scrolled through in the days following your best friend’s death.

Today was the day, you decided, that you were going to do something. Three weeks couldn’t have been too late to get your shit back together. You had woken up in the late afternoon and gotten into the shower, standing under the hot spray for what felt like forever and just allowing yourself to relax and release any tension in your body.

You had made a full meal for the first time since…that morning. You were nauseous the entire time you ate, but you had to do this. When your brother died, everyone told you that the best way to get through your grief was to continue your regular routine as much as possible. Filming a video was on your to do list. You weren’t going to post it, it was just for you to get back into the routine of talking to a camera.

Setting up your camera was the hardest part. You knew how to do it blindfolded by now, but the thought of doing anything like this, even if you weren’t going to post it, felt wrong, almost. It felt wrong to look into a camera and talk about that day, talk about your last day with Chris.

You sat down on your couch after pressing record and ran a hand over your face, finally looking into the lens and sighing.

“It’s been awhile.” You started, rolling your eyes at the corniness of your statement. “I don’t even know why I said that, I’m not even posting this.” You grumbled, dropping your head into your hands and carding your fingers through your hair. The burning in your throat started, and you continuously fought through the knot and forming tears.

You looked up again, hoping your eyes didn’t look as red as they felt. “I picked Chris up at ten fifteen, and we spent the entire day together. We went thrifting, as much as he complained the whole time.” You said, a ghost of a smile forming on your face as your eyes focused elsewhere.

“He, oh my God.” You said, chuckling to yourself and shaking your head. “He would throw whatever I had in my hands in the basket and ask if we were done yet, every time I picked something up. I don’t know what his problem was, considering he had gotten a few things too.” You said, sighing softly and glancing over at the camera.

“We went to lunch—that honestly sounds more fancy than it is, we stopped at In-n-Out—and we just came back to my house afterwards. We talked about…a lot of things.” You started, tears pooling in your eyes as you closed them and let yourself remember.

“We talked…we talked about life, and getting older.” You said, dropping your head back and looking up at the ceiling. “Fears, hopes and whatnot. We talked about everything.” You said, sighing softly as the remnants of Chris’ voice in your memory sang through.

“I don’t know what I want right now. I’m grateful that I’m doing so well, but in five years, where will I be?”

“It started getting late, so I took him home. He told me to come in if I wanted, but I…I was tired, I wanted to go home. He…he got out of the car, and I didn’t. I never...” You dropped your head in your hands again, your breathing labored as you fought off the guilt that had been deteriorating you for the last three weeks.

You lifted your head, about to stand and turn off your camera when your phone buzzed next to you. You sighed and flipped it over, frowning at the screen.

No Caller ID flashed before you. Usually you’d ignore the call, but something in you couldn’t resist as you slid the icon over and pressed it to your ear.

“Hello?” You asked, your voice quiet and shaky.

“It was your fault, you know.”

You’d never ended a call so fast, your phone hitting the couch as you stared down at it with wide eyes. The voice was distorted, completely unrecognizable, but familiar at the same time. This was some sick joke, it had to be. You took a deep breath and shook your head.

You stood and walked over to your camera on weak knees, stopping the recording and taking your camera off of the tripod. As you shut off the camera, your phone buzzed on the couch. A sigh left your lips as you placed the camera on the coffee table and ran your hands through your hair.

What was the worst that could happen, right? You picked up your phone, No Caller ID still flashing across the screen. You slid the icon over again and pressed your phone to your ear.

“That wasn’t very nice.”

Your entire body went on high alert. “Who is this?” You asked, your voice trembling.

“That’s not important, what’s important is I know what really happened that day.”

All of the air left your lungs as you shakily sat down on the couch. “What are you talking about?” You asked. A dark chuckle rang through the receiver, your heart pounding in your ears as you waited for an answer.

“You didn’t wait for him to get inside, did you, Sweetheart?”

A broken sob left your lips as you hung up the phone and dropped it, your whole body shaking with each shattered cry that escaped you. The guilt was too much, it was the only thing about your last day with him that you couldn’t bring yourself to even say.

You blame yourself for Chris’ death, if you had just waited a few moments for him to get in the door, none of this would have happened. It was killing you every single day, not knowing if your being there would have changed anything.

You ignored the next call, and went through your contacts. Your finger hovered over Matt’s name, your chest aching as you swiped out of his contact, clicked the one under it, and held your phone to your ear. Before Nick could even finish his greeting, you were straining to get your words out of your mouth through the knot in your throat.

“Nick, something is wrong. Please, please come over.” You whispered into the phone, trying your best to keep your voice steady as his silence on the other end made your skin crawl.

“I’ll be there soon.”

You put your phone on the couch and took your time pacing around your living room.

Nick would be here soon, there was no reason to panic. The person on the phone was nothing, no one. Your phone’s incessant buzzing pulled you out of your pacing. You were frustrated now, the guilt and pain that you’d been holding in for so long was finally out in the open and slapping you right in the face.

How did they know? You hadn’t told anyone, you couldn’t even bring yourself to say it out loud.

It didn’t matter, the person on the phone had no idea what they were talking about, which sounded about as stupid as you thought it did, but it was the only thing keeping you from pulling your hair out of your head.

You pulled your phone from the couch and answered, the buzzing driving you up the wall.

“Listen, I’ve already called the police, and they’re tracing this call right no—”

The laughter on the other end cut you off, your heartbeat pounding in your ears as that sickening, metallic voice rang through the receiver.

“Oh, Sweetheart. We both know that isn’t true. I do know, however, that your little friend and boyfriend are on their way right now. Care to explain how they’re going to help you?”

Every hair on your body stood on end, your chest aching with the intensity of each beat against your rib cage. You fish-mouthed, unable to get any words out as the voice continued.

“How are they going to stop me, hm? How are they going to keep me from gutting you the same way I did your dear old friend, Chris? Or your brother?”

You froze, your gaze stuck to the floor as each word processed in your mind. “My brother?” You whimpered, a sinister chuckle vibrated against your ear.

“You heard me, Sweetheart. He put up quite the fight, too. More of a fight than your little friend.”

“Shut up!” You screamed into the receiver, hanging up the phone and throwing it across the room. You could distinctly hear the shatter of your screen as you crumpled in on yourself.

Michael’s murder had completely destroyed you. Your entire world was uprooted, and your mom, your mom hasn’t been the same since. She spends her days sitting in a rocking chair in front of the window, rocking slowly back and forth in a daze.

You’d never shaken more in your life, your entire body twitching and fighting each movement you tried to make as you stood from the floor. You needed to get up, you couldn’t let yourself stay on the ground or you’d never move.

Before you reached your kitchen, the sound of a knock at the door had you jumping out of your skin. It took everything in you to walk to the door and peek out the peephole, ripping it open the moment you registered Nick and Matt standing on your porch.

You hadn’t said a word before they rushed in and wrapped you in the tightest hugs you’d ever experienced in your life. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you pushed the door shut and held them tightly.

“I’m so sorry.” You sobbed, both of their arms holding you as you completely crumbled. “I didn’t wait for him to get inside, I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault, he’d be here right now if it wasn’t for me. I’m so fucking sorry.” You rambled. Neither of them spoke, but their shoulders shaking softly against you answered the silent question of if they were listening.

When you finally pulled away, you were still shaking like a leaf. The guilt of holding it in for so long had been washed away, but the fear of that voice on the phone was still running rampant.

“No one blames you.” Nick said, his eyes rimmed red. “We’ve never blamed you. So you don’t need to worry about that.” You glanced at Matt, who’s eyes were still on the floor before you met Nick’s eyes again. “What happened?”

You sniffed and shook your head as you wiped at your face. “Nothing, it’s fine. It isn’t important.” You whispered, wrapping your arms around your abdomen as your eyes rested on Matt’s hunched frame. Nick sighed from where he stood and ran a hand over his face.

“I’ll leave you two to talk, but then I want to know what happened.” He said before he turned and walked towards the living room.

For what felt like hours, you and Matt stood across from each other in the mudroom of your childhood home, you staring at him, and him staring at the floor. When his eyes finally met yours, it felt as though your heart shattered and mended itself all at once. You hadn’t seen him since before Chris’ death, and the only message you’d sent him since then was telling him that the two of you needed to break up.

He looked as beautiful as he always had, but he looked different. Under his eyes were dusted in a dark purple, the whites of them tinged pink, his cheeks sunken in.

“Matty,” you whispered and took a step forward. He shook his head and looked back down at the floor.

“Why?”

It took everything in you not to wrap him in your arms and never let go. You knew exactly what he was asking you, and you knew the answer. It had taken these three weeks of you doing nothing more than surviving to realize you had no other reason to break up with Matt, other than the fact that looking at him would remind you of Chris, and you couldn’t handle it. It was selfish, and you could only imagine how he felt.

“I…I don’t have a good reason.”

Matt nodded and sniffed before looking up and meeting your eyes. The blue of his iris’ was striking against the red rimming his eyes. Your own eyes were burning as his gaze scanned over your face.

“Is it true?”

You frowned, confusion clouding your mind as he sighed and shook his head.

“What the article said, about you and Chris. Is it true? Was there…did you…”

You gasped as the realization hit you of what he was asking.

“Matt, what? I would never, I could never do that to you. I didn’t look at Chris like that, you know that.” You rambled on.

Matt nodded. “I know, I know. I’m sorry, just…a moment of weakness, I didn’t mean it.” He mumbled, taking a step closer to you. “Why did you end…us? I needed you, and you just…you shut me out.”

You took a deep breath in through your nose and shook your head. “I couldn’t bear looking at you and seeing him. I know, that’s selfish, and I’m sorry.” You whispered.

“I shattered the mirror in my bathroom the other night.”

You looked up, your eyebrows furrowed as Matt held up his hands. A gasp left your lips and you reached forward, delicately taking his cut up and bruised hands in yours. Before you could ask him why, he answered the silent question brokenly.

“Every time I looked in the mirror, I saw him.” You met his eyes again, and didn’t stop yourself as you pulled him into a bone-crushing embrace.

“I’m sorry, Matty. I should have been there.” You mumbled into his shoulder, his arms tightening around your waist as he breathed you in. Neither of you said anything, just held each other for as long as the other needed.

“Um, Y/n? Did you do this on purpose?”

You pulled away from Matt and turned around, seeing Nick holding your shattered phone in his hand. You sighed and nodded, the fear you’d completely forgotten about creeping up.

“I was getting prank phone calls, it’s not that big of a deal.” You mumbled, pulling away completely and walking towards the living room.

“What kind of prank phone calls would make you shatter your phone?” Matt asked quietly, you turned to face him and shrugged your shoulders, trying desperately to hide the shaking of your hands. You didn’t want to talk about it, you couldn't talk about it. If you talked about it, that would make it real.

Before you could even sit on the couch, Nick’s phone was went off in his pocket. Your heart pounded as he pulled it out and looked down at it with a frown.

“No Caller ID?” He mumbled, your jaw dropping as he pulled it to his ear. It was a few moments of silence before he met your eyes and handed it to you. “They asked for you.”

You whimpered as you took the phone and pressed it to your ear, not saying a word as the mechanical voice spoke again.

“You really thought smashing your phone would get rid of me, Sweetheart?”

“What do you want?!” You cried, the other line buzzing in silence for only a moment before Matt stepped forward and almost snatched the phone from your hand.

“I’m upstairs, come find me.”

The line beeped right as Matt grabbed the phone and pressed it to his ear. You froze in your spot, Matt turning to face you and dropping Nick’s phone on the couch. He grabbed your shoulders and shook you once lightly.

“What did they say? Baby, breathe. What did they say?!” Matt asked, his grip on your shoulders tight as you fought off the panic.

“He’s in the house. He’s in the house.” You whispered, your eyes meeting Matt’s. Nick moved from his spot and stopped right next to Matt, his eyes wide as he scanned your face.

“Y/n, who is in the house?” He asked, his voice quiet in shock. You shook your head, nausea overtaking you as you pushed past Matt and sprinted to the kitchen. You couldn’t make it to the trash, turning and vomiting into the sink, your breaths heaving as you felt a warm hand rest on your back.

It took everything in you not to crumple to the floor as you looked up and shook your head.

“H-He told me he’s the one that killed Michael…and C-Chris.” You whispered the last word, your throat burning and your stomach lurching. Matt’s eyes widened and he shook his head.

“How long have you been getting these phone calls?” He asked, his voice shaky as Nick handed you a bottle of water.

“It’s only been the last couple of hours, I thought it was some sort of sick prank until—”

A shatter from upstairs had your entire body tensing, your breath catching in your throat. Nick’s head whipped to the stairs as Matt reached for a knife and turned away.

“What are you doing?” You asked, grabbing his arm tightly and making him face you. Nick had his phone dialed and already pressed to his ear, speaking quickly to the 9-1-1 operator.

“I’m fucking going up there.” He said, pulling his arm from your grip and continuing his way towards the stairs.

“Matt, are you stupid?” Nick asked, stepping in front of the staircase as he hung up the phone. “The police are being dispatched, don’t do anything rash.” Matt shoved past Nick and ascended the stairs, his knuckles white on the handle of the knife. Nick groaned and faced you fully. “What are we gonna do?” He asked.

“We can’t just let him go up there by himself.” You whispered, walking past Nick and slowly stepping up the stairs.

“Jesus, you guys are gonna get us killed.” Nick grumbled from behind you. You heard a shuffle in the kitchen and turned, seeing him follow you up with a knife in his hand. “What? One of us had to grab something.” He whispered. You faced forward again, listening for any bump or creak that could indicate where Matt or the man that was in your house were.

It was silent as you walked through the upstairs. Each door you passed was closed, the only sound upstairs being the sound of Nick’s and your footsteps, and the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears.

“Matt?” You called out, the back of Nick’s hand hitting your shoulder. You looked at him, bewilderment etched into your face.

“Have you never seen a scary movie? Calling out in a dark house is the number one way to fucking die.” He said through his teeth. You rolled your eyes and opened your mouth to fire back.

“Get off of me!”

You jumped, your head whipping down the hallway to see a door slam. “Matt!” You shouted, running without thinking towards the door and shoving it open. The moment you stepped into the center of the room, you knew something was wrong. The door clicked behind you, and you froze in place.

“Look what we have here.”

You turned, your eyes meeting Matt’s. His entire demeanor changed, the heartbroken boy you’d seen before was gone. In his place, stood what you could only describe as a monster. His eyes were dark, his smirk sinister, and his shoulders were square.

“Matty?” You asked, Nick coming from behind him with an almost identical smirk.

The both of them chuckled and looked between each other. Nick stepped forward, causing you to take a quick step back.

“Oh, Honey. Matty’s been gone for a while.” His hooded eyes stared you down as you fully processed what was truly happening. The both of them had tricked you.

You took in a shaky breath past the knot in your throat as you took another step back.

“You?” You exhaled, your eyes switching between them as their smirks grew impossibly wider. Matt rolled his eyes and looked over to Nick.

“Us?” He mocked, meeting your eyes and taking a step closer to you. “Yes, Baby. Us. Is that so surprising?” He teased, your eyes brimming with hot, salty tears. The cool air in the room had them burning, and your throat felt like it was on fire.

“You two were behind the murders all along?” You asked, your voice barely reaching a whisper as they moved closer to you almost strategically, boxing you in with each step they took.

Nick chuckled and nodded his head, his eyes never leaving yours as he cocked his head to the side. “She’s catching up, Matt. Yes, every single one.” He said, his voice thick with venom.

“But why?” You whimpered, your back hitting the wall. You were cornered, you couldn’t get past them no matter how hard you tried. Nick and Matt’s eyes were wicked as they watched you, Matt’s smirk growing as he glanced over at Nick.

“Hear that, Nick? She wants a motive.” He said, his eyes meeting yours again. “It isn’t enough that we just felt like it?”

“You killed Michael in cold blood, just because you felt like it?” You spat. Nick quirked an eyebrow and lightly ran the tip of his finger over the blade of the knife he was holding.

“See, now you’re getting it. Not everyone needs a motive, some people are just sick and twisted.” He pouted at the end of his sentence, anger flushing through you and coating your skin in heat.

“And Chris?” You asked. Matt chuckled and shook his head.

“You really can’t be that dense, Baby.” He said.

“Don’t fucking call me that.” You said through gritted teeth.

“It was only a distraction. We were getting sloppy, and what’s better to get the cops off of our case than getting rid of one of us?” Nick interrupted. You shook your head.

“Murder isn’t a distraction, you sick fucks.” You spat, looking around the room for any escape.

Matt chuckled, and flipped the blade in his hand. “Oh, Baby. You really aren’t understanding, are you?”

Before you could spit in his face, the door behind them was pushed open, your eyes shifting to the shadowed figure walking into the room. Your heart pounded in your chest as realization slowly set in, a broken cry leaving your lips as you shook your head.

“No.” You whispered.

The white mask on his face would have been comical if every hair on your body wasn’t standing on end. You watched each movement closely, your knees buckling as you slid to the floor. The wood was ice cold as the man crouched down in front of you. He pulled the mask from his face, your choked sob being caught in your throat as you shook your head and looked down at the floor.

His warm finger rested on your chin and he lifted it up until your eyes met his, a broken whimper leaving your lips as you met the familiar blue eyes you’d looked into a million times before.

“What’s the matter, Sweetheart?” Chris said, his voice gravelly and rough as it left his smirking lips. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

tags: @lvrsparadise , @ssturniolo , @floofparker , @cat-loves-music , @geniejunn , @its-jennarose , @dwntwn-strnlo , @20nugs , @hiraethlimerence , @lavieenvalentina , @strniolo , @toyourloves , @jellybeanbby , @thetriplets3 , @mxriverse , @stvrni0lo , @gabbylovesreading , @tylerscreat0r , @angelcake-222 , @obsessivencrazy , @lollibumblebee , @stargirlv0id , @idontexistman , @emssturniolo , @soursturniolo , @bernardenjoyer , @mxqdii , @leah-loves-lilies , @mattsnutsack , @lovelysturniolo

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #scream #scream inspired #sturniolo #querenciasturniolo #nick sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo imagine #ghostface

[webslinger-holland]

I saw that your requests were open and I cant get the idea out of my head about a reader that worked at the crow club and Kaz just cant get them off his mind.

Then after failing to capture Alina and coming home, the crow club was under new Management and Pekka Rollins had taken interest in the reader, keeping them by his side. How would he react and/or get the reader back with the crows?

Heal His Heart | Kaz Brekker

Warning: slight violence, mentions of provocative attire, mentions of being a captive

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4.3k

Ever since the Crow Club fell under the new management of Pekka Rollins, Kaz Brekker had been working nonstop to come up with a plan in order to reclaim his rightful throne. He made his way downstairs to meet up with the others.

Now Wylan had been tasked with creating a substance that had similar symptoms of firepox, but it would only last a day or two at most. He placed one of the two boxes on a small table with Jesper carrying the other. Jesper had been in charge of finding the boxes of their old costumes in which he had forgotten to clean them since last year.

Finally, Kaz had come to approach the table. He went to open one of the boxes, finding it filled with spray glass bottles of a mysterious liquid. He directed his gaze to the young boy standing in front of him.

"It'll mimic it in every way?" Kaz needed certainty.

"Mhmm," Wylan nodded.

With that, Kaz closed the lid to the box. He nodded his head in acceptance. There was a moment of silence amongst the small group. The boss turned his head to look directly at his right hand man beside him.

"You're gonna say you can't do this without me, yeah? And that you hate it when we're angry at each other, but sometimes, brothers fight. And that when all this is over, you'll open a tab for me at the club of my choosing," Jesper was rambling.

Kaz's face remained unchanged by Jesper's words. He looked at him sternly.

"Cause when Pekka's gone, you'll take it all. That's what your were gonna say," Jesper finished. He sent a cheeky smile to the others.

"There's a cap on the tab," Kaz insisted. "But otherwise, yes. To all of that."

"Then let's go take down the king," Jesper replied.

"The plan is this: Jesper and Wylan, you're gonna hand out Komedie Brute costumes and vials of the compound to all of the Dregs," Kaz began.

"Per Haskell's gang," Jesper claimed.

"Our gang now," Kaz interjected. "By sunset, the streets will be crawling with Sankt Emerens revelers. They'll provide us with the cover we need."

Sure enough, Wylan and Jesper had succeeded later in the evening when passing out costumes and the vials to the other members. They themselves wore their own costumes for disguise.

"Hit all of Pekka's businesses: The clubs, the brothels. All to destroy Pekka's reputation," Kaz ordered. He further explained Inej's part in delivery the message to Pekka's driver.

In that moment, Nina had come to join the small group by standing beside them. She had a pint in her own hands.

"Nina and I will handle the Emerald Palace," Kaz glanced at Nina beside him. His eyes drifted over the others. "See you there," Kaz dismissed them.

Naturally, Jesper and Inej had shared a look between one another. He had forgotten a vital piece of information to the plan, but he must have had his reasons. He didn't say anything about her.

"No mourners," Jesper began.

"No funerals," the rest of them said simultaneously.

As Jesper and Inej began walking away, Wylan caught up to them to ask why they always said 'no mourners, no funerals.' Inej gave a simple explanation of wanting to keep their expectations low.

Back at the table, Kaz and Nina stood in an awkward silence. She was quick to finish her pint of beer, lowering onto the surface of the table. Kaz kept his gaze on the box in front of him.

"You've been quiet," Kaz noted. He turned his body to address her. "Ready?"

With that, Nina landed a swift punch to the left side of Kaz's face. She had honestly been wanting to do that for some time.

The Emerald Palace was located in Ketterdam's East Stave, being owned and operated by the notorious gang called the Dime Lions. The gambling hall was always bustling with pigeons, bringing in heaps and heaps of money for Pekka Rollins himself.

When Pekka had taken over the Crow Club, he oversaw the distribution of its employees. He had them all line up and he made his decision where he wanted them to work for him.

He liked the big bouncers, opting to send them to the Emerald Palace where he often spent his nights. They'd serve as good additional protection. Many of the waitresses were sent away to work in his various brothels. Others were forced to go to the clubs. Then, there was her.

She was the one who had caught his eye. She stood timidly under his gaze, refusing to make eye contact with him unlike the others. He grabbed her chin to forcefully make her look at him. This caused her to let out a small gasp of surprise.

"Now..." Pekka's deep voice growled as he finally got a chance to look over her striking features. "What's a pretty lass like you working for scum like Kaz Brekker?" Pekka wondered.

"H-He pays me well," Y/n stuttered. She tried to pull herself out of his grasp, but he quickly grabbing onto her arm to hold her in place. "I-I'm just a waitress," Y/n claimed.

"Mhmm, just a waitress." Pekka almost didn't believe her. "Nothing more?"

"N-No," she lied under her breath.

Much like Inej, Kaz had chosen to pay off her indenture at the Menagerie. In turn, Y/n worked for him as a waitress at the Crow Club. She worked the tables, listening in on other people's conversations to hear the latest news circulating around the barrel. It was just another way to hear intel.

She was a resource to him. She was often the reason why he heard about specific jobs or who was no longer a reliable investment. However, that wasn't the only reason why Kaz Brekker liked keeping her around. As she was also a healer.

They shared many late nights together. He'd sit in front of her as she healed some painful wounds inflicted onto his body. Her being a healer was another valuable resource to have at his disposal.

At first, Kaz was wary when Y/n offered to heal a nasty wound inflicted to the side of his head. It caused a dull throbbing pain directly into the side of his head. To ease the almost unbearable pain, Kaz agreed to be healed by her.

He tried to prepare himself. He closed his eyes in order to try not to think about the feeling of ones skin against his own. His past coming to haunt him once again.

But when her fingers came in contact with the side of his face, Kaz didn't flinch away in pain or in disgust. In fact, Kaz felt rather comforted and maybe it was because she was healing a rather painful wound. He almost wanted to lean into her touch as it felt so warm and so gentle.

He kept his eyes closed to relish the feeling, taking a moment to appreciate not feeling the urge to vomit at physical contact. When Y/n had finished healing him, she took a single step backwards and lowered her gaze to the floor.

"I'm sorry," Y/n said softly as she already knew that he despised contact.

Instead of scolding her or demanding that she leave his office at once, Kaz approached her with an evident limp in his step. He stood right in front of her with his hands clasped onto the top of the crow head cane.

"Thank you," was all that he said.

They didn't label themselves with anything. There was some undiscussed attraction to each other that they both knew about. Due to his reputation and for her safety, they chose not to discuss such matters ever. This left them in a short of grey area.

"No," Pekka repeated. She was drawn back to reality, facing the heartless man in front of her. "Well, I can tell that Brekker didn't see your worth. How'd you like to come work for me? I pay handsomely," Pekka bargained.

Just by looking at him, Y/n knew that if she said 'no,' he was bound to put a bullet in the side of her head. Therefore, she was left with no choice but to join his side. She went to work for him at the Emerald Palace, serving as his personal attendant.

On that particular evening, Y/n was dressed in the finest lace and silk that the barrel had to offer. Her corset made it extremely difficult to breathe in, much less move around in. She brought another drink to Pekka as per request.

"Thank you, my love." Pekka said while laying a hand on the small part of her back. She wanted to wiggle out of his grasp, but stayed where she was as to not upset him further.

One of the bouncers came into view, stating that someone was there to see the boss. With some hesitation, Pekka Rollins rose to his feet and placed his glass of alcohol down. He dismissed himself from the group.

In the main entrance, Kaz Brekker was laying on the soft red floor. It looked like he had been in a fight as his hair was in disarray and there was sweat on his brow. Behind him, Nina Zenik stood with her hands held in a certain position. She could feel his beating heart.

"No match for a heartrender, are you, Brekker?" Pekka looked most pleased. "A real boss knows how to inspire loyalty in his people. Isn't that right boys?" Pekka glanced to his men.

"That's right," the other members of the gang agreed with him.

"Good job, lass. I've got it from here," Pekka gestured to Nina. His men were quick to pull their guns on her, which brought a tone of surprise.

"Move those hands and you lose them," one of them said. They knew what kind of power she could manipulate. They needed to keep her accountable. She raised her hands in defeat.

"I'm gonna make you regret the day that you crossed me," Pekka said to Brekker. He began to take off his jacket, rolling up the sleeves of his white button up shirt.

In the background, Y/n had pushed her way through the crowd of men. Her gaze landed on the familiar figure laying on the floor. She raised her hands to her mouth in hopes of covering the gasp she left out. He lifted his head and looked directly at her.

"Get him on his feet," Pekka demanded.

"Wait!" Y/n exclaimed from the side. She took a single step forward.

Just as Kaz was hauled to his feet by two men, Y/n had also been held back by another two members. She thrashed against their tight grip on her arms, desperately seeking to be released. She couldn't stand to watch this play out.

"You told me..." Pekka redirected his attention to his personal attendant. He strode towards her slowly. "That you were just a waitress for him," Pekka said.

He knew the weight of his words. He had always wondered if there was something unspoken happened between the two. This could easily be used against Brekker.

"Nothing more," Pekka glanced back to Kaz. "That's what you said, isn't that right?"

She couldn't deny it, so she chose to say nothing instead. She hung her head low, not wanting to even look at Kaz in fear of seeing the hurt in his eyes.

And her words (though not spoken in that moment) did hurt him. They both knew that she was much more than just a waitress for him. She was more than just another one of his investments. She had done more for him than just healing his wounds. Because she had also managed to somehow heal his heart which ached from the pain of his past.

"He'll never be able to offer you anything. Nothing worthwhile at least," Pekka continued. He went to approach the young teenage boy. "He is nothing more than a lowlife who feeds off the dirt from the ground," Pekka spat in his face.

"You're wrong," Y/n said with a slight quiver in her voice. Pekka turned to her once more. "He is more of a man than you will ever be, you witless worm."

A few people left out a gasp of surprise upon hearing this. Now Pekka's blood was really boiling to the point where his face had turned beat red. It could have been from utter embarrassment or it could have been from pure anger.

Without another word, Pekka Rollins went to approach the girl he had taken under his wing. He stopped to stand right in front of her. In a flash, the back of his hand had met the side of her cheek. Her head whipped to the side from the slap and she winced from the stinging pain she felt in her cheek.

In that exact moment, Kaz wanted nothing more than to bash Pekka's head in for what he had done. But he could only watch as Pekka gripped her face with a single hand. He squeezed hard and forced her to look directly at him.

"You do well to remember who you belong to," Pekka growled.

"Go to hell."

In response, Pekka released his tight grip on her face. She could now feel the distinct taste of copper lingering in her mouth. She also did not know that there was a small cut on her cheek from where his ring had come in contact with her.

"I'll deal with you later," Pekka pointed to her threateningly. He turned back to his old rival. "Right now, I need to make an example out of this rat."

"You'll pay for this, you double-dealing witch!" Kaz finally spoke to Nina with venom in his voice.

Without warning, Pekka delivered a swift punch to Kaz's stomach. He doubled over from the searing pain, kneeling on the ground. He couched in attempts to catch his breath.

Reaching down, Pekka grabbed a fist full of Kaz's disheveled hair. He forced him to look upwards in which he could now see the line of blood trailing over his mouth.

"After I beat you, I'm gonna hand your body on a post as a reminder to anyone who forgets that I'm king of this city." Pekka claimed.

"Do your worst," Kaz challenged.

Another punch was brought down onto Kaz's face which sent him to the ground once more. He swiftly kicked his stomach many times over. Each time being more painful than the last. Kaz kept his eyes squeezed shut as if to try to manage the pain.

On the side, Y/n wanted to rush over and kneel beside him. She'd gingerly lay her fingers over his aches and pains in attempts of bringing him some sense of comfort. She needed to heal him. And she didn't know how much more he could take.

With one final blow to the side of the head, Kaz fell unconscious to the ground. His blood trailed down the length of his face, staining his skin. He blinked a couple times as he was brought back to a painful reality. He could hear the sirens now.

One of Pekka's men had come to inform him about the sirens, which initiated a quiet conversation between the two of them. He announced the return of the firepox. But all the places that had been reported to have been hit where nowhere near each other.

"There will be outbreaks at all of your establishments," Kaz said as he found the strength to stand to his feet. "And only yours," Kaz breathed heavily.

For a moment, Y/n was very confused. She furrowed her eyebrows as if trying to make sense of what he was claiming. She wondered. What are you up to, Kaz Brekker?

"The path of contagion will be clear. A ship in your harbor spread the disease to your clubs," Kaz explained.

"What did you do, boy?" Pekka wondered.

From earlier, Nina could remember the conversation she had with Kaz. How Kaz was going to pay to keep Matthias out of the fights in Hellgate. But Nina needed to do something for him first and she needed to make it look real.

"There is nothing an island nation fears more than disease," Kaz told Pekka. "The Merchant Council's going to want a proper investigation."

Meanwhile, Pekka was loading one of his handguns. He slipped another bullet into the barrel. He cocked it in his hand.

"You've got my attention," Pekka confessed. "But you're not worth the time it'll take to put a bullet in your head."

"Fifth harbor is shut down. Your businesses are tainted," Kaz continued.

Unbeknownst the the others, Jesper had slipped through the doors wearing a glorious red and golden cape. He managed to slip through the heavy crowds with the intent of listening in on the conversation.

"My businesses will be fine," Pekka raised his gun to Kaz's head. "But you?" Pekka began.

"I'd reconsider," Kaz interjected. "If you want to see your Kaelish prince again."

"What are you gonna do? You gonna blow it up again?" Pekka wanted to chuckle. "You need to learn some new tricks."

"Your other Kaelish prince," Kaz emphasized. "Fond of sweets. Blond hair."

Now Pekka had shifted from one foot to the other. He tried not to show any signs of weakness, suddenly realizing who he was talking about.

"Alby," Kaz seethed.

"I'll kill everything you love, Brekker." Pekka promised. He half expected him to look over at her in the corner. But Kaz kept his gaze locked on Pekka.

"The trick is not to love anything," Kaz claimed. Naturally, Y/n could only feel her heart plummet into the deep confines of her chest. She sniffled her tears away. Maybe she was just another waitress to him. "Your mistake was that you let someone get in. Someone you'd sacrifice everything for and it makes you weak," Kaz spat.

"Then I'll just kill you," Pekka tried.

"Do that," Kaz encouraged. "And you'll never find your son in time."

"What did you do?" Pekka looked horrified.

"I buried him. Six feet deep," Kaz spoke heavily.

"He went into that box so easily. Didn't even cry," Kaz pulled a small wooden train out of his pocket. "Until I took this from him."

"Where's my son?" Pekka demanded.

"Make smart choices. And you might just reach him before the air runs out," Kaz explained.

"You trifling piece of barrel trash," Pekka growled. "What the hell do you want?"

"I want you to remember," Kaz stated firmly. The images of his dead brother flashed through his mind.

"Remember what?" Pekka wondered.

"A con you ran on two farm boys. Orphans," Kaz explained. "A promise to replace the family that they'd lost. And then you duped them out of everything. They ended up on the streets and they both died. But one of us was reborn," Kaz finished.

Despite the description, Pekka Rollins tried racking through his mind. He recalled every single job that he tried to pull off, specifically singling in on the ones that had gone wrong. But his mind came up blank.

"Too many pigeons to remember? Let me help you. Jakob Hertzoon," Kaz spoke.

"That was a long time ago," Pekka said slowly. He hear nothing in response. "So that's what this is all about? Why you look at me with murder in those shark's eyes of yours?" He scoffed.

In the background, Jesper began to make his way to the backside of the men who were holding Y/n captive. He remembered the plan that Kaz had laid out. He brought his hands to the handles of his pearly pistols, preparing himself for the worst.

"You were just two pigeons who I just happened to have plucked. And if it hadn't been me, it would've been somebody else." Pekka insisted.

"Bad luck for Alby that it was you," Kaz spoke loudly.

Upon hearing this, Pekka seized for Kaz's collar. He slammed his body against a nearby pillar, keeping one hand firmly on his chest. He pressed the barrel of his gun into the side of his neck as if to threaten him. But Kaz only smirked at him.

"You...you tell me where to find me son!" Pekka demanded.

"It's a simple trade, Rollins. Speak my brother's name and your son lives," Kaz explained.

In utter defeat, Pekka stumbled backwards in his place. He locked his jaw in place, feeling his teeth gritting together painfully. He clenched his fists at his sides. He was seething with anger and frustration.

"How about another hint?" Kaz pushed himself off the wall. "You called your daughter Saskia. She wore red ribbons in her hair," Kaz described.

At that moment, Pekka began to mutter under his breath. He was desperately trying to remember the name off the top of his head. He raised his hand to point at him.

"Okay. T-two boys from Liji," Pekka recalled. But this wasn't exactly what he wanted.

"Yeah," Kaz confirmed.

"You had a piddling little fortune. Your brother fancied himself as a trader. Wanted to get rich quick like every other nub who steps foot in the barrel," Pekka said.

"I want you to say his name," Kaz growled.

The room had fallen silent. The older man's heart began beating faster and faster as the desperation quickly began to settle in. He couldn't stand still, shifting from one foot to the other. He mumbled a few names under his breath, but they weren't the ones he was looking for.

"Come on!"

"I don't remember his name! I just want my son. He's all I have," Pekka claimed. He took a step forward. "I'll give you whatever you want, Brekker."

Now, Kaz's gaze shifted to the one who was once and now who claimed to be 'just a waitress' for him. Those were the exact words he needed to hear to get her back. He felt a heavy weight lift off his chest.

"I'm begging you," Pekka drew him back to reality.

"Are you?" Kaz wondered curiously.

With some hesitation, Pekka Rollins had found himself lowering to the ground on his knees. He hung his head low to hide his shame. The other members of the Dime Lions glanced at one another. They didn't really know what to think of the situation.

"First, you will return what is rightfully mine," Kaz hissed.

The sound of two guns clicking could be heard in the background. When the men turned their heads to look over their shoulder, Jesper was standing there pointing his guns at them threateningly. He motioned for them to release her.

Rather roughly, Y/n was released by the two men and pushed forward in her place. She stumbled from the force, landing on the floor in a heap. She groaned to herself.

Recognizing that she was now safe, Kaz proceeded to pull two pieces of paper out of his coat pocket. He held them up for the whole crowd to see. He explained what they were.

"A confession for the murders of Tante Heleen and Constable Sem. And a quitclaim deed for Inej Ghafa," Kaz dropped the papers to the ground. He made a pen appear in his hands. "Sign both if you want to find your son alive," Kaz further explained.

On his knees, Pekka Rollins did not hesitate to take hold of the golden pen and papers. He signed his name on both of them before handing them back. He had been bested.

Slowly, Pekka rose to his feet. He hated how this whole ordeal had gone down, how he had been humiliated in front of his men, and how he had been called out for being weak. But he did everything that he had been asked to do for the sake and safety of his only son.

"Where's my son?" Pekka wondered humbly. His voice sounded tired.

"Black Veil Cemetery," Kaz answered. He spared a glance to the room full of men surrounding them. "You'll need all your men digging to find him in time," Kaz claimed.

Without a moment to spare, Pekka Rollins was the first one to leave with all of his men following behind him. The only people left were Kaz, Nina, Jesper, and Y/n. As soon as those doors closed behind the men, Kaz finally caved in.

In a split second, Kaz had rushed to be at her side. He knelt down in front of her, ignoring the aching pain he felt in his right leg. He gripped her arms tightly, shaking her a little.

"Are you alright?" Kaz demanded an answer.

"Kaz..." Y/n said breathlessly.

"Are you alright?!" Kaz said a little louder. He shook her until a few strands of hair had fallen in front of her eyes. He could see the evident tears forming in the corners of her eyes. She shook her head in response.

Now Kaz had pulled her forward into a bone crushing hug. He could feel her shoulders shaking as she sobbed into his shoulder, clinging to him so desperately. He closed his eyes to relish the feeling of her being in his arms once again. He brought his hand to the back of her hair, brushing down her hair in attempts of calming her down.

"My darling..." Kaz whispered into her ear. "You're safe now. I've got you."

For the first time, Kaz had turned his head to press his lips against her temple. He whispered her name over and over again to bring her some sense of comfort. Her eyes grew heavily and she melted in his grasp. He rocked the two of them back and forth in a soothing manner.

His arms remained around her for comfort. He even managed to carry her back to the Slat, though it pained his leg badly. He laid her down in his bed and brought a blanket to drape over her body. He stayed with her all throughout the night.

Earlier, Kaz had lied blankly to Pekka's face. Though it was a trick to not love anyone, Kaz had failed miserably at that task. Because he had fallen in love with the person who managed to heal his heart.

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker fluff #kaz brekker angst #kaz brekker smut #kaz brekker oneshot #kaz brekker request #kaz brekker series #kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker x y/n #six of crows

[kitkatscabinet]

Whumptober 02 - Blood loss

John Mactavish x f! reader

The metallic stench of blood filled the air, soaking into your nasal passages and staining your tongue. It’s cold, the dampness of the cement wall you’d propped yourself against soaking into the back of your vest and shirt. Your wheezing breaths the only sound present in the dark hallway you’d stumbled into. The radio attached to you crackles but you already know it won’t work. The spray of bullets you hadn’t managed to avoid having rendered the damn thing inoperable.

Another rattling cough shakes your frame, your torso lighting up in pain as your injuries were forcefully jostled. Throwing your head back against the wall you glared at the ceiling, trying to prevent the tears from overflowing. Tears of pain accumulate as you forcefully press down against the bloody hole in your right collarbone. Gritted teeth prevented you from crying out but it was a close thing. It was becoming harder and harder to retain consciousness but you were stubborn. Someone would come for you, you just had to hold on until then.

At some point, you must have closed your eyes because the next thing you knew there was a frantic voice pulling you awake. Blinking, you're greeted with the furrowed brows and concerned blue eyes of your Scottish teammate.

"Soap?" your confusion is blatantly apparent, eyes squinting as you blink sweat and black spots away.

“Aye lass, there’s my good girl. Keep those beautiful eyes open for me, okay?” As much as he's trying to hide his concern, you aren't so far gone that you don't notice the waver in his voice or his mechanical movements. Any wisecrack you had in reply to his flirtation dies on your tongue as he presses down on your wound. You're unable to stop the pained cry his actions draw from your lips, tears sliding down your cheeks in earnest.

“I know it hurts, I’m sorry, it’ll be over soon.” You know he's trying to reassure you, but you honestly think his words are more to comfort himself.

"It'll be over 'cause I'm dead." You wheezed humorlessly, frantically blinking the sweat from your eyes. Soap seems to find your remark as funny as a funeral as he practically snarls at you.

"You're not dying on me. That's an order, you hear?" Despite the blood that has started to coat the inside of your throat, your mouth runs dry at his sudden ferocity. Too stunned to do anything but let yourself be manhandled into standing, Soap practically holding up your entire weight.

“Order me? We’re the same rank dickhead” you snorted, instantly regretting the motion as pain lit up your nerves like fireworks. Your knees buckled briefly, but Soap was a solid wall of muscle that kept you upright.

It's a slow and rough process, with Soap having to practically drag you from the building towards the extraction point.

Maybe it's the delirium brought on by blood loss, or it's the looming reality of your imminent demise but just before you make it to the medics your mouth slips.

“You know, it's usually a lot more fun in my dreams when we're this close.” His eyes burn holes into the side of your face, jaw slackened in your peripheral vision as his grip slackened slightly and you tipped forward for a few seconds. Laughter burns in your chest, as you lose the last of your strength to look into his pretty eyes one last time, the three words you'd been aching to say for months tumbling forth as your breath slowed.

Eyes shuttering closed and body lurching, you don't notice Soap lunge to catch you. Holding you close against his chest as he swore at you to wake up.

That he'd say it back if you listened.

His hands clutched your face, marring your skin with your own blood as his tears painted your brow. "Please lass, wake up so I can say it back" he begged, burying his face into the skin of your still warm neck.

#x reader #soap x reader #cod mw x reader #john soap mactavish #john mactavish #john mactavish x reader #cod soap #whumptober #cod john mactavish

[inkskinned]

it's not always going to make sense, and it's going to be hard, and the way that you feel her push through your ribs will make the rest of you ravenous. you will be standing in your tiny kitchen looking down at your feet and the loneliness will spray in buckshot over your whole life until you are a crimescene and you will still have to remember to get groceries. you will think about her hair, the wheat, how she has stained your life in yellow, and how before her you were almost-happy but now somehow you are starving. you will think of her weight in your hands and over your skin and her impossible grin. you will want to force your entire fist into your hand and bite down, but you won't, because you're an adult, and you only cry at funerals. so much of her reminds you of fire; the shock of her hair and the swordblade of her laughter - so you sigh and drink water instead. you have emails to send around the shape of her. you have chores to do that avoid remembering the last time she held you. you have to take the trash out and avoid the sensation that she is hanging in the air, all that desire in the back of your throat. you will have to apologize to your dog. i promise. i'm trying. the way you want her is almost reverent, an amber crescent. she has annexed the whole apartment, has made her way under your fingernails. and yet you still have to pay rent. you still have to pay bills.

#writeblr #>:( #i keep!!! fucking!!! burning my popcorn!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! #AND I DON'T KNOW WHY!!!!!!! IT JUST KEEPS BURNING!!!! #I HAVE TRIED EVERYTHING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! #I FUCKING R E S I D E NEAR THE MICROWAVE AT THIS POINT. RAVENOUS INDEED!!! JUST GIVE ME MY FUCKING SALT FIXATION #the only thing left i hadn't tried!!!! was writing a fucking passive aggressive poem about it!!! #(goblin currently expressing his Doubt At My Cooking by skulking quietly off to the Other Room) #but yeah i mean uhhhh death of the author actually this poem is about whomever u were thinking about #and it's actually about u #edit in the tags: it's also about love just fyi. u know when u burn ur popcorn n ur like. #''no one loves me and im going to die alone'' #if ur relating to this ur supposed to relate to it

[lokis-army-77]

Left behind

Eddie Munson x female reader

Word Count: 1884

After a funeral, Eddie feels he's being left alone and says some hurtful things to the reader. After some time apart at home, he comes to apologize and is assured by the reader that she will never leave him.

Warning: Talk of death, at a funeral, angst, fluff, Eddie says some mean things.

A/N: I'm so sorry..

Masterlist

The wind whipped around us and the chill it brought stung like ice. My cheeks had already started to turn pink from the cold, my nose numb and as red as could be. A December afternoon in Indiana is a dreary thing, put a funeral on top of it and it's the physical manifestation of Depression. 

I stood just behind Eddie, who was dressed in his only suit with his long hair pulled back in a bun out of his face. My own black dress clung to me in the wind, the bottom hem whipping around at my knees. 

The pastor provided by the funeral home spoke in a bored and monotonous tone, by this point I had drowned him out. I was too concerned for Eddie right now to worry about being led to christ while we buried a loved one. 

He was hiding it well. No emotion showing on his beautiful face. His eyes almost glazed over as he bored a hole into the casket. 

It was a simple thing, the cheapest we could afford. Grey aluminum with the smallest casket spray on top. Those flowers weren't even the nicest and the wind was doing a number on the soft white petals. 

Quietly, I placed my hand on Eddie's shoulder, letting him know I was there for him. I felt him stiffen before reluctantly pulling my hand away. 

Looking around us, only a hand full of people were gathered. A few guys who worked at the plant and a waitress from the diner we visited almost every Saturday morning. 

They all gave me sad smiles when they caught my eye. I gave them one back. 

I hadn’t noticed the preacher had stopped talking until a hand was cupping my own. Turning around it was the waitress. 

"Saturday mornings sure aren't gonna be the same without him." She squeezed my hand. "I've got a casserole with your name on it, just come on by the diner and I'll bring it out to you." 

I shook my head. "No, no, Mrs. Janice, that's too much. You didn't have to do that." 

"Oh Hun, you shouldn't have to worry about cooking or finding food when you're going through a loss." She pouted. "Come on by and I'll give it to you and if you need any more, just give me a call." 

"Yes ma'am. Thank you."  I gave her a tight smile and she left. 

Next were the three plant workers who introduced themselves as, Randy, Carl, and Jimmy. They gave their condolences as they shook my hand before taking off. 

The Pastor was last. "Mrs. Munson," he started. I only nodded not wanting to correct him on the fact that I wasn't married to Eddie yet, only engaged. "They are going to start lowering the casket. I don't know if you want to watch that but you can if you would like." 

"Thank you, I think we might." 

"Well then, I'll be on my way. I'm very sorry for your loss." He turned on his heel and followed the others through the cemetery to where all the vehicles had been parked. 

I went back to Eddie, who hadn’t moved to talk to anyone. 

"Eddie, sweetheart, why don't we go? Hum?" I linked my arm with his. 

He didn't budge when I pulled on his arm so I stood there with him as he stared and I watched the men begin to lower the casket into the ground and shovel the mound of dirt back into the hole. 

Once they were finished and gone we still stayed standing, looking at the grave with the casket spray decorating the dirt. It was getting colder by the minute since the sun was starting to set and Eddie still hadn't given any sign that he wasn't a statue. 

"Eddie?" I question, going to stand in front of him, eyes searching his face. "Eddie please, I need you to say something, move, anything." I couldn’t hide the wobble of worry coming through in my voice. 

He opened his mouth, closed it, opened it, then closed it again. 

"Want me to give you a minute alone?" He nodded. "Okay. I'll be in the car when you're ready to go." 

Slowly I let go of him and braced myself against the wind towards the car. Slipping into the passenger seat, I hurriedly turned the key and started the ignition, thankful for the heater. 

Ten minutes later, Eddie opens the driver's side door. The rush of cold air taking away the warmth had me shivering once again. 

He sat quietly for a few seconds before suddenly slamming his hand shown onto the steering wheel. 

"Fuck!" 

I jumped, startled at his outburst. That was the only sign of emotion he had shown since this morning. 

"Fuck! fuck! fuck!" Each shout was emphasized by him hitting the wheel. 

"Eds, be careful, don't want you hurting yourself." 

I reached over pushing his hands down into his lap. His breathing had become rapid and his eyes were no longer glossed over. The haze cleared up and nothing but anger shone through. 

"Why do I keep being left alone?" 

I place my hand on his shoulder and rub my thumb into the tissue. "What do you mean, baby?" 

"Everyone fucking leaves me all alone at some point or another. First, it was my old man, then mom died, and now Wayne." His words were warped with anger and frustration. "You'll probably leave me too. You might at well go now while I'm already in pain. Rip my heart out while it's already broken, it would be better than leading me on." 

I shook my head at his words. "Eddie, what are you saying? I'm not going to leave you, ever." 

He looks up at me, eyes rimmed in red as tears he's been holding in for days begin to pour. 

"Didn't you fucking hear me? Everyone always leaves me." The crack in his voice was only the beginning of Eddie’s breakdown. "I'm just a worthless kid from a worthless family and if you knew any better you would run like hell." 

"Eddie don't say that, please. I know it's hard right now but we'll get through this." I tried to comfort him but I didn't know what to say. 

"That's easy for you to say, Wayne wasn't your Uncle. He didn't take care of you when you were dropped off at his doorstep because your dad was an abusive asshole and your mother had you get you away from him. He didn't struggle, morning, day, and night just to keep you fed and let himself starve. He wasn’t yours then and he’s not yours now." 

Eddies hand came up to swat mine away from him and when he did I placed it in my lap. Too stunned by his words to speak I just sat quietly. 

I thought to myself, He doesn't mean to be rude. The man who raised him just died. He needs time and space. He doesn't mean it. 

We sit in silence while Eddie drives us back to our apartment. I fiddle my thumbs and sneak careful glances over at him. Silent tears streamed down his face and my fingers itched to wipe them from his cheeks. My heart ached at the sight of him barely holding it together.

“Eddie, maybe I should drive?” The statement came out more as a question as I watched him struggle to stay on one side of the road. 

“No.” It came out in a rasp then he cleared his throat. “No, I’m fine. I always drive.” 

He wiped the tears from his eyes and stepped on the gas more. After that, the drive went more smoothly. No more veering into the other lane or stopping too long at a red light turned green. 

Finally home we went inside. The darkness added to the somber mood and the quietness rang in my ears. 

“I’m gonna heat up some dinner, okay?” I spoke, heading into the kitchen to take the leftovers out of the fridge. 

Eddie only grunted in response, kicking off his nice shoes and languidly undoing his tie. I listened to him slowly walking to our room before the door clicked shut. 

As I stood there, the refrigerator door wide open, I let the slip. A choked cry erupted from my chest and my hands came up suddenly to cover my mouth. I had wanted to be strong for Eddie, a shoulder he could come cry on if he needed, a support for him to fall on.  But honestly, I was almost as broken as he was. 

Wayne might not have been related to me but when Eddie and I became the best of friends in Junior High, he took me right in. He had looked after me like I had wanted my own father too. He’s the one that finally talked some sense into Eddie and I, separately, and made us realize we liked one another. 

None of that was equivalent to what he had with Eddie but what Eddie had said to me in the car had stung and although I knew it was coming from a place of grief, I couldn’t help but cry. 

Staggering back into the counter, I slid down them to the floor, head hanging into my knees as I let myself weep, body shaking. It felt good to cry even if my face began to feel puffy and my throat had a huge lump in it. 

I don’t know how long I stayed like that, but when the fridge door finally closed and a warm body sat next to me on the kitchen floor, I realized that my body ached from being there and my tears had all but dried up. 

Eddie slung his arm over my back, pulling me in closer to him, his other hand smoothed back my hair, fingers catching in the knots. 

“I’m sorry I yelled at you.” He apologized. 

“It’s okay,” I mumbled into my legs. “You were just letting out your emotions.” 

“Even so, I shouldn't have said what I did. It was unfair of me.” He sniffled. 

Looking up my puffy swollen face met his and I gave him a short sorrowful smile. He gave me one back. 

“Eddie, truly, you don't have to apologize.” I sit up and lean into him. “I should have just given you some space.” 

He shook his head but didn’t reply, I think he knew arguing with me would yield nothing. We held each other on the floor for a while longer before finally I stood to my feet, reached down for his hand, and pulled him up. 

“I love you Eddie Munson and I promise I will never leave you.” I gently lace my fingers in the hair at the base of his neck, he had let it down from its bun at some point, and pulled him down to my lips. Kissing him like this, soft and sweet and full of all the love I could give, felt wonderful. Like being cleansed of all your worry and strife with white-hot fire. 

“God, you’re too good for me Sweetheart. I really don’t know what I would do without you.” He pulled away, cupping my face in his hands. 

“You won’t ever have to find out.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #joe quinn fluff #joseph quinn fluff #angst #female reader #eddie munson angst

[shakingparadigm]

Some more stuff to add onto Till's new performance outfit:

Based on these previous glimpses, it's safe to assume that most people expected a more punk-rock style for Till's new outfit. Even in his default performance costume, signs of rebellious spunk are present in the graffiti that he spray paints onto his shirt and his lack of shoes. For someone dressed like that since his debut, surely his new outfit should be equally as scrappy. A black leather jacket befitting a rockstar seems like a perfect fit together with his fingerless gloves, and in most fanarts before this point he wears exactly that. Because the Till that we know is brash, unapologetic, and doesn't give up. Surely his blood is running hot for this round! Maybe he's angry, maybe he's determined to win, but regardless his outfit should be a reflection of that right? Strong, rough, and rebellious.

Yet the Till we get in actuality is so incredibly subdued. There's no black leather jacket, no cool accessories, not even his signature guitar. Even his hair has grown out to reflect his more muted disposition. It's as if he can't even take care of himself. In this frame he bears more resemblance to a robot than the Till known and loved by the audience. It's odd to see him stand so still and lifeless. His clothes seem more like funeral attire, plain and unremarkable in a fashion that past Till would have despised.

Most of all, his face is dropped down into an expression of defeat. The normally sharp and angular lines of his character design make way for softer, drooping shapes. This change is most evident in his eyes, which are usually the most striking part of his face. Till's eyes have lost their edge, and the composition of this shot seems to emphasize a loss of color as well. All of these changes in appearance transform Till into a character that isn't even recognizable at first glance. It's as if he's a shell of his former self, and instead of exploding outward in the way he seemed likely to do, Till has instead burned out.

#what did they do to him... im torn between him being upset over mizi or upset over something the aliens did to him beforehand #alnst #alien stage #alien stage till #alnst till #alien stage round 6

[aconflagrationofmyown]

That lil house, between your legs, where all my dreams wait

A Sarge & lil Mama fic -the Proposal

Summary: Elvis informs a certain girl of his dreams that she’s gonna marry him…she’s got some concerns and conditions, one includes him making sure his babies will fit in her lil house

Warnings: Umm, the mild usual with this universe? Themes of breeding, housewife and innocence kink, ill informed consent regarding a pussy inspection and said pussy inspection and descriptions of a vagina (ok, it’s Elvis being a creep and looking up her skirt on her request, but made cute ok?) mentions of Gladys’ death

-February of ‘58 timeline change

“It’s been decided.” is the first thing out of his mouth that morning as he strides up to Elaine where she stands in the shade of her father’s porch.

She’d been over at Graceland all day yesterday and the evening, too, -most days here lately- trying to make him eat, trying to keep him company, trying to get him out of his mother’s closet. It had been in the reverse order of all that, but she had done it. She was the only human that Private Elvis Presley would take orders from, though he reckoned she didn’t guess that. Sweetly, softly, efficiently, she’d gotten him out and gotten him calmed down and gotten him fed. Probably would have put him to bed if he hadn't given her a weak smile and told her to run on now, he wanted to discuss something with her father.

And now he’s here on her porch, looking like maybe he did sleep after all, judging by the rumpled state of his usually pristine hair. It’s growing out a little since they shore him of his prized locks. She thinks he looks better this way, prettier and sweeter without the gel and the sulk. He looks older, too, the way his arms bulge from push-ups and bootcamp, highlighted by the way they bracket the porch posts as the heavy weight of his gaze flicks over her.

“What’s been decided?” Elaine asks him from the gloom of the porch, squinting at his looming silhouette as it’s outlined by the white, bright, February sun.

She’s unable to recall a single loose end regarding the funeral arrangements he had charged her to oversee. It’s over and down with. Miss Gladys is six feet below the sod in Graceland’s backyard and the fans and family have been hosted with impeccable hospitality by herself, the obituaries and memorials written, the flowers preserved as long as possible. Elaine noticed a few petals had started to fall from the Peace Lilly spray when she was over yesterday. She’d picked them up hastily, hoping he didn’t notice that even those were dying. The decisions are all over and done with, he’s due back to the army in a month. And she’s back to teach and produce at RCA.

“It’s been decided and don’t you go objectin, it’s for the best.” he repeats insistently, but his jittering leg gives away the bold act. He’s nervous, she realizes.

“What is it, Elvis?” she asks, voice soft and encouraging as it’s been all week.

“You’re gonna marry me,” he says, “talked it over with your daddy an’ everything, it’s settled. Graceland hasn’t got a mistress no more, and you belong there. Saw it all week, you’re perfect for it.”

He informs her -not asks, ask would imply some free will on her part- like it’s her required duty to the nation or something. Marry him. Like taxes or the draft.

“You outta your ever lovin mind?” she whispers, genuinely worried he’s snapped under the weight of his publically analyzed grief. She’s seen how useless Vernon has been in comforting him, she knows how lonely it gets when one’s mama isn’t there to comfort you for her dying on ya. Elaine really feels for him, she does.

He was there for her when it happened to her, so she’s been there for him. But she knows this can’t be more than a half baked idea.

“I’m dead serious.” he growls, his ferocity taking her aback, she shifts her weight from foot to foot and eyes him warily, “I told ya, it’s all settled, your daddy said yes, you ain’t got anythin to object to.”

“Don’t I just?!” she laughs, “Elvis, you’re just sayin this cause I’ve been with ya during these last few days, and you’re hurtin and you’re lonely and it’s understandable and I’ll be there for ya, always. But you just had a girl, and this’ll pass sure enough. You’re Elvis Presley, your life’ll go on after this. And, and I-well, I’ve been wanting to get married and I want babies and I’ve wanted it for awhile now. I’ve waited on ya to help me like ya promised but I won’t be played with, I won’t! Not even by you. Not even when you’re sore.”

“You want babies?” he asks, his voice low and a sweaty hand leaves the porch post and cups her cheek, calloused fingers digging into her scalp when she goes to pull away, “I’ll give ya babies.”

“I’m being serious, Elvis!” she complains, neck craned away from his assessment of her lips. She never jokes about children, and she won’t let him.

“So am I.” his soft, boyish face looks hopeful suddenly, and rather capable. “I’ll give ya babies, far more than most men could manage.”

“How?” she whispers, his persistent sobriety throwing her into confusion.

“How?” he repeats, copying her quiet tone, distantly hearing the faint squeak of the porch swing chains as the breeze lazily rocks it.

“Yes,” she hesitantly goes on, “how do you know you can? How does anyone know if they can?” It’s something that's bothered her for awhile now. The idea of marrying a man who fails to give her children like Mrs. Myers husband down the street. Five years married and no kids, it’s the talk of the neighborhood. Or those starlets who manage to never have a child and disfigure their waists, no matter the amount of masculine company they keep.

Elvis cocks his head to the side, a puzzled glimmer in his eyes as Elaine’s bashfully inquiring eyes plead with him to understand her burning curiosity. And when he does -fully understand her naïveté, that is- he feels his cock twitch beneath his belt.

“Wellll,” Elvis draws the word out and she is swaying towards him now, that boiling hunger to learn coiling her tight as she hangs on to his every syllable, “I’m pretty confident, it’s just a thing that a man can tell, ya see, it’s a guess, but an educated one. But, we could make sure.” he’s winging it at this point, and shaming his heavenly mother while he’s at it, but he can’t seem to stop himself, not now that he knows he’ll be her teacher and her claimer if he can just make her agree, “We could check and make certain I ain’t overpromisin’, make sure the furniture fits the house, if ya get my drift.”

She doesn’t get his drift. That’s plain to see by the quizzical furrow of her eyebrows and the gape of her plump mouth as she tries to make sense of his euphemisms. Clever and bright Elaine Phipps looking a bit dumb as she blinks up at him in the shade of her front porch makes him smirk wickedly.

“You want children?” she asks, instead of taking him up on his offer just now.

“Most certainly do, we talked bout this before, Elaine.”

“You were complainin bout Anita, back then. Anything to find fault with her, doesn’t mean ya like children.” she crosses her arms and it pushes up her girlish bosoms, pale and promising beneath her gingham check house dress. He’s gonna make those bigger, so plump they’ll spill over that merely adequate neckline.

“Look here you got it wrong, Anita and the rest, they were nice gals, yeah?” he concedes, but it’s just to launch his next explanation, “But they weren’t mama material, ya see? My mama, she told they weren’t fittin, and she told me you were. Just as all the twiggy boys and sleek doctors and the artists fellers ya hang round, they either want your money or they’ll only make decent beaux -but they ain’t gonna make good daddy’s. Mark my words.”

“And what, you don’t want my money?” she teases.

“Now, ‘Laney honey, I’m the one who makes ya your money.” he laughs, tweaking her nose with his fingers and she bats his hand away with a giggle. “And conversely ya own my voice, you’re on my label as a producer, right next to your ole man.”

“Speaking of,” she grows earnest, “ya know Sam Cooke? Signed onto RCA right after ya?”

“Yeah, what of ‘im?” he frowns, impatient this conversation has gotten derailed from its original purpose -to the topic of another man, and a swanky one at that, “You gonna marry him?” he balks.

“No, no! though if he asked…” she winks and he squeezes her waist in warning, feeling the soft flesh give under her girdle from his pressure. That’s how it’ll feel to hold onto her when she rides him.

“What bout him?”

“So, he’s gonna start another record company,” she looks so earnest and invested in the topic he has to let her go on, “one where the artists will have control and rights to their music! And he’ll stay at RCA in the meantime but he’s tryin’ to find supporters and other to join him, a few have already this first month. And, well -“

“What?” he asks again, and it makes her lashes flutter as she gets shy under his stare, “Ya want me to join?”

“Well yeah! Though I doubt Parker would let ya. But that isn’t what I was gonna tell ya.” she bites her lip, “My point is, the point is -that Sam has offered me to be a producer! I mean -Elvis! We’re talkin Cooke, Redding and Smokey and well Burke and- lord it would work for you! But the point is, I’m gonna be doin that, I’m thinkin of taking him up on it.”

“Now hang on a second.” he shakes her gently by his hold on her waist, “One minute you’re objectin to marryin me cause I’m ‘Elvis’ and you say that as if babies an’ me don’t go together like cookies and cream -and now here ya are all talkin bout hangin with cool cats and producin and climbin the laddeh. Which ya want honey? Thought you wanted to be a mama?”

“I’m just saying,” she stamps her foot in the little bit of floor space his crowding has given her on the porch, “You’re talkin bout marryin and Graceland havin a missus and meanwhile you’re gonna be gone across the ocean! How’s that make any sense? Ya don’t need a wife for that, I could be house sittin for ya just as well, while producin with Cooke in the meanwhile and when you get back, I’ve no doubt you’ll fall in with some starlet or other. See? There, fixed. Sensible plan now. And I agree to it, yer welcome.”

“Little girl, yer not hearin me at all.” he raps his knuckles against her oh so sensible yet silly head, her startled indignance the cutest thing he’s ever seen, “I want me a woman to marry before God, to give my children to, to raise those children to a right legacy, to help me make a change for good in all this mess. And I want that to be you.” he articulates the last sentence clearly and prods his index finger against her chest, like the finger of fate marking her out for this.

“Elvis i-“she shakes her head adamantly, and he thinks it must be a little hard for her to understand that his every daydream, every evening prayer, every midnight spill into the sheets these last two years have been about making a family outta her. But she will get the vision, she’s gotta. She has to. Or else. Else he’ll do somethin rash and unchristian if she doesn’t relent to bind herself to him before he goes back to Fort Hood.

Somethin real rash, like wring her neck or admit he’s a goddamn slave for her. Embarrass them both. She probably can tell, the way he’s gripping her and nearly salivating over such close proximity to her lips and body and everything. He has to remember his mama, has to remember how to treat the gal she pointed out to him in the manner befitting a new Mrs Presley.

“You want babies? Hmm?” he’s breathing in her exhales he’s so close, as she’s bowed backwards as he leans in, her little head almost bumping her fathers front door in an effort to keep their lips apart, “I’ll give ya babies. You wanna make good music? The best in music is holdin ya right now, baby. You wanna make a difference? I know ya do, ya want power and ya want security and money and ya want love, don’t ya? Way I see it, I’ll give ya that. Better and more of it than anyone. Sensible plan, ain’t that what ya called yours? Well, here’s one, damn sight more sensible than yours and tryin all this solo.”

Her pretty lips are puffing with each labored breath she takes to steady herself and her eyes track over his face intently, and he knows she weighing the pluses and the minuses, his fame verses money and his moods over his devotion and his appetites over his loyalty and anonymity over influence. The hands she has pressed to his chest to keep them apart soften with each passing moment.

“But -do ya even love me, Elvis?” she asks, a note of something very sad but a little hopeful lingering in her voice. Like she’s mourning the fact that she’s considering this for all the reasons that make her so wonderfully practical, but the girl in her can’t help but wish for a little romance.

A gust of a breeze whips her hair around her in a swirl of brushed out curls and her eyes sparkle even in the porch’s shade. He cups that precious, brave little face in his hands and presses her against the screen door, neighbors and street traffic be damned

“Oh honey,” he gushes then, cool demeanor abandoned and all that lovely passion she adores in him coming out at last, “I have for a long while now. And I can’t think of a stronger way of showin ya than to give you my babies. To make a life with you, give ya mama’s house and my name. Please say yes, Elaine. Please, please I need ya to say yes.”

“Oh Elvis,” she breathes, feeling him hold her and promise to her and want her is every bit as naturally compelling of obedience as that night of the funeral, but she never once imagined it as his wife, “I just don’t wanna be alone Elvis,” she tries to make him see her true fear, “I’m real honored by this but, but I’m so lonely and I want all this so I won’t be! And you’re gonna be gone. Gone to Germany and then gone to make music and movies and-“

“I’m gonna take ya with me! Always, always together, I swear!” he closes the distance and presses his lips to hers firmly despite her lack of response, “I need me a wife, Elaine,” he pants against her mouth and she can smell the spearmint of his gum, “I need a good woman, and you’re the one mama pointed out to me. Shouldn't of put it off so long but I-I was a fool. I need ya with me everywhere I go, don’t send me across the ocean without you! Don’t, you wouldn’t be so cruel, please baby, please!”

He’s not sure how it happens but he’s slumping down the length of her body, hands sliding along the gorgeous outline of her and suddenly he’s on his knees, painted boards hard against his knees, begging like a groom oughta, his face is pressed to her womb. This womb he’s got such plans for and such right to and he has to make her see that in his head they’ve been married for years already. “I’ve taken care of ya, haven’t I?” he begs her to remember, “You trust me to take care of ya, to love ya, to cherish you, don’t ya, Elaine?”

The kicker is she does. And she’s not sure why she worries more is needed. All she wants right now is to be needed, and the crying, grieving young man clinging to her right now needs her badly. She runs her fingers through his hair soothingly and likes the way that makes him shudder. “Will you always need me, Elvis? Really? Even when good times come round again?” she asks what really worries her.

He pulls his face away and looks up at her, lips puffy and his dark lashes clumped from tears, “Always, Elaine, always.”

“And you’ll give me Graceland?”

“Yeah, course baby, you’ll be my wife, it’ll be yours!”

“I mean...legally, you’ll give it legally.” she doesn’t ask this time, she’s stating conditions.

“I-I-if it matters so much, sure. What’s some more papers?” he laughs. “Why?” he adds with a flicker of dread.

“You won’t divorce me if I’ve got Miss Gladys’ house, will ya?” she explains and has the audacity to grin.

It hurts deeply that she still doesn’t get just how badly he wants her for all eternity. “Why you talkin bout divorce, honey?” he asks wounded.

“So many people get them.” she says mournfully, “And mostly entertainers.”

“That's cause they marry icy bimbos and are selfish bastards.” he states, rising up to his own two feet again, the topic back on safe ground -ground he has the upper hand in. “See, darlin, there’s plenty of men who want wives, and cause the wives want children they tell the poor girls they want kids, too. But they don’t, so once the wives have got the kids they move on. Real dastardly thing to do and more common than you realize. And with your money and your looks, you’ll have a line of such good for nothin bastards linin up with fake promises. You understandin me?”

“Yeah.” she swallows thickly, knowing he knows far more about all this than she does.

“So it’s important to marry someone ya trust, right?” he prods.

“Yeah.”

“More so than even someone ya love, dontchu think?”

“I suppose so.” she nods, care creasing her face, “You don’t mind that I don’t love ya Elvis?” she asks worriedly, “Because I am really fond of ya, and I enjoy you I just -I don’t think I love ya.”

“I’m willin to bet that’ll come.” he says solemnly, “And I’m willin to put in the work to make it grow. Just as I will our babies.”

Her face softens at the mention of the longed for babies. A smile even plays around her mouth, beginning to plump up her cheeks. “Will ya check, then?” she whispers.

“Check what?” he asks, absently thumbing the beautiful line of one of her collarbones.

“If it’ll work.” she blushes, ignorance both emboldening and shaming her all at once, “Make sure we can make babies for sure, you and I.”

“Gotta do that before you say yes?” he laughs, disbelieving and feral at the prospect.

“Yes, it’s important to me, Elvis.” she remonstrates against his humor. “Most important thing of all.”

“A-a-alright, I-I-I’ll check.” his mouth runs dry at the prospect of seeing, smelling, maybe even wetting his fingers in that place he’s wrung himself dry imagining night after night and morning after morning. And the fact she’s asking, offering -under ill informed pretenses as it is. “Can’t do it out here.” he whispers, the depravity of his taking advantage like this actually taking a toll on his bravado.

“Come in then,” she whispers in turn, though from a different motivation, “but be quiet, daddy’s still sleeping, ya kept him up so late.”

She opens the creaky screen door with painstakingly slow care, and the large wooden one, too, with its familiar stained glass windows. It is cool and dark without a lamp on or blind raised inside their den, she’d barely gotten dressed and come downstairs to start breakfast when she heard his car peel out in the front drive.

She spins around just short of the coffee table, her circle skirt swirling and swooshing tantalizingly, no stockings on yet as she wasn’t prepared for guests.

“Where should I….” she trails off as she surveys the different flat spots upon which to perch for this examination, her devout ignorance of the socially condemned nature of it all giving her a chipper confidence that Elvis finds throbbingly attractive in an unschooled virgin.

His voice sounds gravelly and about three octaves deeper than usual when he croaks out, “Anywhere's fine -how bout here…” he picks her up by her waist to sit her on the high top, Oriental imported side table, a gift her father gave her mother as an anniversary present.

It’s taller than the couch and it lets her legs dangle apart naturally. He could easily take himself out and slide right into her at this level. It makes him dizzy when he hears her shaky exhale as he seats her, belying a real, deep seated nervousness on her part that he’ll find some abnormality with her that will crush her dreams. The fact he’s certain she’s not as nervous over a red blooded boy lifting her skirt and looking at her bare cunt makes him so painfully hungry to devour her that he has to gnaw on his bottom lip to keep from groaning. -And taking advantage of what’s not yet his. For his mama's sake, for his mama's dream of this, he’s gotta keep ahold of himself and refrain from anything God might find fault with. For them to be punished with barrenness because Elvis couldn’t hold back before the proper time would be too cruel. He can’t do that to Elaine or himself. He’s gonna be the man in her life, has already been so for awhile now, and he’s gotta do right by her. He thinks this even as he gives her lips another peck and sinks to his knees to give her pussy an inspection that is as futile as it is arousing.

He rubs at her thighs over her dress soothingly, though by her quick breaths he suspects she’d rather he hurry and give a verdict. Her eyes that have been turned towards the staircase, making certain father is still asleep, drop to his face expectantly.

“Here I -let me, I should probably-“ she says determinedly and suddenly she’s pulling at her skirt, the thin fabric sliding from beneath his palms as she lifts it and then he’s holding onto warm flesh instead as she gathers the fabric to her waist.

He chokes on his own spit at her innocent brazenness and has to glance away for a moment from the blood stirring sight of graceful thighs bracketing plain white panties, a wet patch visible on the crotch and a few stray wiry curls sneaking out from the seams at her groin.

“You ok?” she asks, and the genuine concern in his voice tells him that the agonizing need he feels is visible on his face.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re just so goddamn pretty.” he admits, truth the only thing he can manage to blurt and it serves him well.

She looks relieved and gives him a pleased smile and chooses to spread her legs wider. So wide in fact that she has her heels propped on the sideboard beside her hips. Who needs stirrups for an examination when a girl can bend like that? Bend…oh god he can’t wait to bend and bury and dump inside her…

Elvis has never wanted to dive face first into a muff so bad in all his life. The wedding is gonna have to be next week. He can’t wait longer than that, he doubts he’ll sleep a wink until he knows what she tastes like.

“Can you tell like this?” her soft voice reminds him he gave her a fucking excuse for this perverted cock tease torture and he reels through the options of backing out now or pushing this a little further. “Or do you need to move these?” she voices the second option for him, the barrier of her panties implied if not mentioned.

“Yeah, gotta look at the lil house.” his voice comes out wavering and wrecked, “Lemme just-“ he tentatively raises his hands to her precious place and hooks his fingers to the cotton panties and pulls them to the side.

She’s so goddamn pink. Glistening and swollen like she’s been freshly teased. Something about him excites her, without her even knowing. Her curls are sopping wet, they slick up his fingers as he holds her apart, and in their strands they’re trapping the most delicious essence he’s ever smelled in his entire life. She hasn’t shaved, she hasn’t primped, she hasn’t stretched herself out, she’s exactly as God made her and he’s the first man to see it.

It causes him to whimper, long and gut wrenched, his whole throat throbbing as he wiggles on the floor.

“Oh…Jesus.” he wheezes.

“What?” she demands peering down at him, and she’s the authoritative one here, now that he’s all but humping the floor in his delicious misery of viewing Elaine Phipps’ perfect, unused cunt. “Will it work? Is something wrong?”

“No no no.” he garbles out, one hand slipping from her slick folds and gravitating to his own lap out of natural instinct, crushing his twitching bulge into submission, “You’re perfect, Elaine, absolutely perfect.” he wants to cry, maybe because he's so horny, maybe because he loves her so damn much. He’s really not sure, nothing makes sense except that he was meant to live inside that perfect little haven of hers that is honest to God trickling before his very eyes. His thumb involuntarily swipes up and spread it to her clit, making her buck towards his attentions.

“It’s achey, Elvis, it’s always achey.” she informs him, “Does that mean anything? Is it wrong?”

And he knows she means wrong as in humanly abnormal, not morally incorrect. He’ll never let her know anyone would think differently. As long as he possibly can he’ll keep her eager and unabashed.

“Nah honey, nah that’s a good sign.” he breathes heavily, still stroking that dribbling, untried place, “Means you’re fertile, means you’re ready for a baby. It’ll keep achin till ya have one in ya.”

“Oh.” her mouth rounds childishly and she nods as if this were a sudden epiphany.

“We should give ya a baby, then, shouldn’t we?” he prods now that he’s got her attention and her arousal.

“I’spose so.” she agrees, tentative, her lip drawn between her teeth, still contemplating this marital bargain with the fabric of her hem crushed in her palms. “Your babies’ll fit?” she asks once more for good measure.

His babies. She’s no idea it’s his cock she should anticipate. “Yeah, perfect fit. Don’t think anyone else’s would.”

“Oh….good.” she lets out a massive sigh of relief she has been holding in for most of her teenage years.

“Gotta marry me, first.” he reminds, swirling his thumb faster and she keens a little before remembering her father upstairs, “I can’t go round givin babies to someone who ain’t my wife, ya know.”

“Alright.” she agrees to marry him in a soft whisper, her hand coming to cover his own tenderly as it works between her legs, stalling his distracting movements.

“What’s that?” he asks again, breathless with hope.

“I’ll marry ya Elvis, if you’re sure we’ll work.”

“I’m sure.” he swears, watching the way her pink hole flutters, “I’ll give ya a baby and fix the ache, darlin. Won’t have to fret over anything again your whole life.”

The floorboards upstairs creak and Elvis nearly yelps in shock, so far gone was he in their own little world he’d forgotten that he’s got her spread bare in her father’s den. He stands up abruptly and pulls her skirt down gently, making her proper again.

Wedding night. He’s gotta wait till the wedding night before trying anything, or even explaining the mechanics of it, he thinks. He doesn’t wanna spook her, and he wants to have her stuck with him before he drops that final little detail about the necessity of a man going inside and blowing his load in order for the miracle of life to occur.

Yeah, that’s not something you tell a skittish little girl who just barely agreed to marry you for your mansion and security.

He’s pulled from this scheming by the feel of her arms winding around his neck, drawing him forward gently and to the immense relief of his battered heart he realizes she is about to kiss him. It’s a sweet kiss, gentle and tentative and growing in surety as she decides she likes it, and it’s the loveliest one he’s ever had, made so by the relief that she must care for him somehow, even if it’s no match for the insane obsession he harbors for her. It’ll do, it’s a seed he can water and grow.

“You’ll stay for breakfast?” she asks him as they pull away, drowsy and a little cross eyed from how long they’ve smooched.

“Love ta.” he murmurs, pulling her off the table and drawing her close so he’s holding her to him, swaying gently and savoring the feeling of his soon to be wife as she nestles into his chest.

Father comes down shortly after.

“It’s settled, sir.” Elvis informs him, a respectful title tacked on to a declaration that leaves no room for argument from either of you, “She’s agreed. And I’m the happiest of men.”

Most fathers might tell him, “congratulations” or “welcome to the family” or if it were someone besides Elvis Presley they might venture a “be true to her.”

Father says not a word, all advice and remonstrance and conditions already expended on this headstrong young man the night before. He surveys the young people as they embrace with a genuine smile on his lips and a world of melancholy in his eyes. Elaine wonders if he is mourning the loss of his own bride, or mourning her future as Elvis’.

For Elvis, though, that day is remembered as the most joyful and blessed of days when he lucked out and snagged the loveliest creature living. And how he came to eat French toast and cantaloupe beside her father without having washed his hands.

#sarge and lil mama #most wholesome breeding kink you ever did see #proposal #elvis fanfiction #elvis fanfic #elvis imagine #elvis presley #elvis x you #Elvis one shot #mine #elvis x reader #Elvis x Elaine #elvis austin butler

[risustravelogue]

Until Your Very Last Breath

Summary:

Alhaitham died in an ambush, leaving you as his widow. P.S. As always, your mental health comes first! 💚

Featuring:

Husband!Alhaitham; Best Friend!Tighnari and Best Friend!Kaveh (brief appearances). No pronouns used, but written with f!reader in mind.

Tone:

Hurt/No Comfort. You have been warned. Heavy angst because Alhaitham dies in this piece. Why do I do this to myself...

Note:

I have no excuse for this. I just wanted to bawl my eyes out, so I wrote this down. Not canonically in the series, but I did borrow some elements from this piece. Enjoy getting hurt! 💚 Additional note: Reader can fight using a bow and has a Vision.

🔗 AO3 | masterlist 🔗

How did it come to this?

You were accompanying Cyno and the matra to investigate some suspicious cult activities in the ruins. You decided to scout ahead, and Alhaitham insisted on coming along with you.

“Two heads are better than one,” he had said. You rolled your eyes. He was being overprotective again. But that made you smile, so you let him follow you.

In hindsight, you should have made him stay behind.

The cult ambushed the two of you, their troops standing between you and the room’s entrance. You took your positions, with Alhaitham slashing through their toughest fighters while you picked their archers off one by one with your arrows and Vision.

You thought you had taken care of every cultist in the room, but then, in your peripheral vision, you saw a shadow behind your husband, a glint of sharp metal in their hand—

“Behind—!” you shouted.

But it was too late. The serrated dagger slid across his throat, red spraying violently onto the sandy stone floor. You nocked, aimed, and let loose, and the assassin fell lifeless to the ground with a soft thud. You rushed to your husband’s side and cradled him in your arms.

“Haitham—”

Blood sputtered onto your clothes as he coughed. “I’m not… going to make it.”

“No. No no no. Stop talking nonsense. Cyno and the matra will arrive soon, and everything will be okay.”

“Love…”

Your voice cracked, tears spilling from your eyes. ”No… stay. Please stay— somebody help…”

“My love… shh. It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay!” you sobbed. “Help… someone, please… anyone…”

You felt his bloody hands pull you down into a kiss.

“Be strong… my heart.”

“No…”

“I love you. Only you… Always.”

“Stay…”

He sighed, and you could only watch as the light slowly went out from his eyes.

—

Only your close friends attended his funeral. It’s what he would have wanted, you thought.

As you gave his cold lips one last kiss, the vow he had uttered on your wedding day echoed in your head.

“Until death do us part—no, until the end of time, I will always, always love you, and only you.”

A whisper fell from your lips, along with tears you thought you no more had:

“I’ll love you forever, my heart.”

The next thing you remembered was being a sobbing mess in Cyno and Tighnari’s arms, who were holding you back from throwing yourself into your husband’s funeral pyre.

—

“I’ve overstayed my welcome,” you say to Tighnari with a thin smile on your lips. You squeeze his hands in reassurance. “I’ll be fine.”

Your best friend sighs in resignation. “Alright. But promise me you’ll come back here if you’re feeling unwell.”

You nod in agreement and climb into the carriage, letting it carry you to Sumeru City. After staying at Gandharva Ville for a month, you’re finally going back home.

Kaveh quietly greets you, holding the door open to let you come in whenever you’re ready. You inhale and exhale several times before finally stepping into the house. You thank the blond architect for taking care of the house in your absence.

“I left your bedroom and his desk alone,” he tells you. “I thought you’d like to go through them yourself.”

You give him a thank-you smile and start walking toward your bedroom, but his hand on your shoulder stops you.

“I’m here if you need me,” he says. You notice that his crimson eyes are swollen.

“I’m sure I will,” you reply, giving his hand a squeeze, and leave.

Truly, your bedroom feels too large now that Alhaitham’s gone. You walk toward the bedside table on his side of the bed, where you had put his urn before you left for Gandharva Ville on Tighnari’s insistence.

“I’m home,” you whisper, your fingers trailing the patterns on the cold clay. “Did you miss me?”

A tear falls from your eyes, quickly followed by another, and another, and another until they form small streams on your cheeks.

“Every day, without you by my side when I wake up, I am made aware that you… are no longer with me.”

A sob shakes your body. “Come back… come back to me… please,” you plead, but only silence answers you.

You cry into the pillow—his pillow. You hug it tightly, taking in what remains of his scent, only to find yourself deep in regret afterward because by the time you run out of tears, it has already been replaced by yours.

You decide to visit his desk in the study next. You sift through the books to find his fine handwriting scattered everywhere. Most are mere notes, but some messier ones contain his frustration. You chuckle at the expletives he had written into the whitespaces of some official Akademiya documents.

Fuck you, Azar. Making my life more difficult even now.

Shit. I don’t think this fucking issue will ever get resolved.

Who thought this crap was a good idea?

A sad smile grows on your lips as you find yourself missing him even more. Your hand trails to open the middle drawer of his desk. The various pens and brushes inside are neatly organized. Nothing looks suspicious… except that it feels shallower than it should.

Typical Alhaitham, you think.

You quickly find the mechanism to open the bottom compartment at the very back of the drawer. Inside is a single white envelope, with your name carefully written at the front. Contained within is a letter… and his will. You set the will aside and open the letter. Tears stream down your cheeks again, dropping onto the paper, soaking the words he had left for you:

My heart,

I knew you would find the bottom compartment. The thought of you opening it brings a sad smile to my face. I love you.

I want you to live well after I go, okay? Go travel the world, at least once. The Mora I had saved for you should cover for the expenses of two trips. I love you.

If you find love again in another man, I promise I won’t get mad. I love you.

I’ll always be yours, and you’ll always be mine. This is a fact not even the heavens can dispute. I love you.

I know you’ll miss me. I know it will hurt. In fact, my chest hurts as I write this, because I love you.

But that’s exactly why you need to accept the fact that I’m gone, and not live as if I’ll come back to you in this world. I won’t, my love—as much as I want to be within your arms, as much as I want to envelop you with my warmth again.

I love you. I love you so much. You’re my only one. Always.

I’ll see you again, my precious heart, and on that day, you better prepare to receive my kisses.

Forever yours,

H

P.S. I love you. 愛してる。Aku sayang kamu.

© @risustravelogue 2023 • no to reposting, yes to reblogging. feel free to send an ask to suggest, chat, etc. :)

#alhaitham #alhaitham angst #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x you #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin angst #genshin impact angst #kurisu writes #WAAAAAAAAAAHH DON'T LEAVE MEEEEEEEE

[bassguitarinablackt-shirt]

January 7th, 2024

I stand here today to pay tribute to a kind soul, a stubborn heart, and a genshin impact addict; my best friend Ash.

I knew Ash for around two years.The first time we met, I was stealing dandelions from his world. Never did I know that I would soon be stealing OCs from his house.

He didn't like Madds Buckley at all. As I learned soon after we met, Zhongli was his favorite genshin character, so I placed a body pillow next to him in the casket today, so they may be together forevermore. He was the most straight person I knew, however, so it’s a genderbent pillow, so no homo. It has huge bazonkers, can confirm.

Everyone agreed that he was the gingeriest ginger to ever ginger, the swiftest swiftie to ever swiftie, and the weezeriest weezer fan to ever weezer. To say that he resembled Childe from Genshin Impact would be an understatement.

He absolutely hated the gays. Most homophobic and transphobic person l've ever met. Thought neopronouns were the most stupid shit ever.

Ash was also a very passionate writer. His primary work was PDGG. The main relationships were very straight. Matthew's girlfriend was Salveria and Alex was canonically dating Aria. All of his OCs were also, cis and straight. His OC Orion was the most empathetic, kind character he ever created. And definitely not inspired off of his ex who doesn't exist because Ash was very very straight and homophobic, not to mention transphobic. He spent his Sundays at Floridian Trump rallies yelling at little gay children.

The only man he felt more than straight fondness towards was Donald Trump, whose spray tan he adored. If a show gave off any queer vibes, and if there were any short, depressed, pretty male characters, he would automatically despise them.

He loved the Mike/El relationship and hated Will. Ningguang/Zhongli was his favorite Genshin ship, and he also self-shipped himself with Taylor Swift. He was also part of a band called Corrupted Virtue, which was composed of people who shared his homophobic, transphobic views. Fuck them gays, amiright?

Now, onto a slideshow of women that his best friend Ara found hot. Afterwards, we will be listening to a eulogy given by his beloved father, to whom Ash was very close. Rest in Peace, and your ocs are now mine. <3

OH MY FUCKING GOD. I CANT.

you have succeeded. if this is my funeral im coming back to smite you.

DONT BRING INNOCENT SIN INTO THIS.

THE LAST PART. NO THAT WAS NOT IN MY WILL YOU ARE NOT GETTING MY OCS >:((((

this has prematurely killed me.

#asher answers

[circle-with-me]

‘tis the damn season - part 3

Pairing: Will Ramos x OFC (Gen/Viv/Vivvy)

Content Warning: hurt/comfort, more hurt/no comfort, angst, fluff, mentions of death, funerals, mentions of alcohol,

Word Count: 2.7k

Tag list: @concretenoah @deathblacksmoke @midnight-eternals @bngurngheart @malice-ov-mercy @witchyweeb34 @lyschko666 @cookiesupplier @lilrubles @meekahy @lacktoesandtoddlerants

If you would like to be added to my tag list for this series or my other works, please sign up here.

Author’s Note: Hey guys. I’m so sorry this part took so long! Getting sick really threw me for a loop but I’m back at it now. Thanks for being so patient! I promise we’re getting into the cute stuff soon! I won’t make you suffer much longer 😂 Thank you all for reading 🫶

The funeral home didn’t look as mundane with all of the flowers decorating it. A pleasant floral scent was doing its best to cover up the previously musty one, but it still lingered in the air. Gen observes each arrangement quietly. Recognizing some names, others she didn’t. She appreciated the gesture but didn’t have a clue what she was going to do with all of these flowers after the funeral was over.

She walks further into the visitation room avoiding the open casket. The casket spray lying on the closed end looked better than the photos. A mix of red rose and white carnations on top of green ivy and salal. A variety of standing sprays and tabletop bouquets with the same arrangement were scattered around the room. It was all part of a decor package the funeral home offered that Gen hastily picked to make the experience as painless as possible. It all turned out much better than she expected.

“Ms. Taylor?” The man’s voice startles her as she whips around to see Mr. Akins, the funeral director.

Gen smiles at the man. “Morning, Mr. Akins.” He smiles back. “I hope everything is placed to your liking.”

“Everything looks great, thank you.”

“Do you have any other family members coming for the preview?” He asks. Gen shakes her head. “Well, would you like to have a moment alone with your father?”

“I’ve had plenty of time already, thank you.”

Mr. Akins smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Very good, ma’am. There are already guests waiting in the lobby. I’ll let them know the visitation has begun.”

Nearly two hours later and her head was pounding. Her cheeks were hurting from faking smiles. If she had to listen to one more person tell her how much Gabriel had missed her and how they couldn’t believe she had stayed gone so long she was going to blow her brains out.

The line finally starts to thin out and Gen feels herself relax a little. She spots a mess of blonde curls a few people back and tenses again. She avoids his gaze until he’s right in front of her, his eyes soft as he peers down at her. It wasn’t a look of pity but of understanding. Despite their years apart, no one in the room knew how she felt in this moment better than he did.

“What are you doing here?” Gen asks quietly.

Will shoves his hands into his dress pants pockets and bounces on the balls of his feet. He shrugs and smiles. “What else do I have to do on a weekend other than attend my ex-girlfriend’s estranged father’s funeral?”

Gen laughs. “Literally anything else sounds better than this. You shouldn’t torture yourself at my expense.”

Will bobs his head from one side to the other. “Maybe not, but I figure I at least owe you a drink or something after I showed my ass yesterday.”

Maybe it was the sweetness of the gesture. Maybe it was the exhaustion. Maybe it was how good he looked in those dress clothes. Or maybe she was just desperate to get out of that damn funeral home, but she decides to take Will up on his offer.

It was just a drink. That was all. An “I’m sorry for being a jerk” drink. She owes him one of those by her count, as well.

Luckily, the funeral went by quickly with no complications. There was no graveside service and Gen was thankful she had made that decision. She wasn’t sure she could sit through another fake speech about the man.

“Hmph.”

Gen turns to see Will leaning against a pew toying with the knot of his tie. A look of discomfort was plastered across his face. She smirks and walks up to him. Loosening the tie she raises it over his head and hands it to him.

“I practically had to threaten you to wear a tie on our prom night and you wear one willingly to my father’s funeral? You really are sucking up.”

Will chuckles. “I’ll have you know I wear ties to all major occasions now, thank you.”

“Mmm. How very grown up of you, William.” Gen says, smiling.

“Yeah, I’ve done a bit of that.” He says it so plainly Gen couldn’t quite catch the meaning behind it. The look on his face didn’t give anything away either. He certainly didn’t appear angry so she didn’t overthink it.

“You ready to get out of here?” Gen asks. He nods. “Where are we going?”

“We can always go to Gabriel’s. I’m staying there as of this morning until I can get it sold. To no one’s surprise, there is plenty of liquor there.”

“Hell yeah, I’m down. He always bought the good shit.”

Gen places a hand on his shoulder as she starts to walk out of the room. “Great, you can also help me start to clean some of his shit out while you’re there.”

Will’s mouth drops open as he follows her outside. “Uh-uh, that’s bullshit! I didn’t sign up for that!

Will helps Gen bring her bags into the home, the floors creaking as he sits them down in the foyer.

“Fuck.” They say in unison.

Gen definitely had her work cut out for her. Hundreds of newspapers, magazines, and books were in stacks all over the house. Some of the stacks were nearly as tall as she was. The kitchen was a disaster. She didn’t even dare to open the refrigerator and she was pretty sure the mold in one of the bowls in the sink had developed its own space program. Every surface of the home was covered in a thick layer of dust and it clearly hadn’t been cleaned at all in years.

She’s seen worse episodes of Hoarders. She could handle this.

Her biggest concern was somewhere to sleep. She avoids her father’s room because fuck that. She wasn’t quite ready to go into her childhood room yet. So that left the guest room. She opens the door and it appears to be perfectly intact. Thank God for that.

Gen shut the door quickly.

“Well, the good news is, I have a place to sleep.” she says loudly.

“I have better news.” Will yells from across the house. “I found the good shit!” His head pokes out from around the corner as he raises a bottle of liquor in his hands.

“The couch is still in good condition too. Get your ass in here.”

“Okay, so you’re telling me that’s you?”

Will grins and nods. “That’s me.”

Gen blinks rapidly and points at his phone where the song was playing. “That is you? It sounds like an animal!”

Will threw his head back laughing. “They’re called pig squeals, Vivvy.” Gen starts to say something about the nickname but was too occupied by the smile on his face. It was a smile that spread across his whole face causing his cheeks to crease, showing his dimples. Her favorite part was his scrunched nose and how his eyes crinkled around the corners.

A warmth that she had not felt in years carves its way into her chest and spreads through her. The temptation to let it consume her was strong, but she shakes her head, almost as if she was telling her body no, and pushes it away.

“That’s definitely a sound I have not heard in music before.”

“Oh come on.. none of the artists you work with do pig squeals?” Will nudges her with his elbow.

Gen looks at Will and snorts, causing him to laugh again.

“Not quite. Most of the music I mix is indie pop or sickeningly sweet bubblegum pop that makes you want to shove the nearest sharp object into your ear drums.” She explains with a sarcastic smile.

Will sucks in a breath. “Yeah, I don’t envy you at all.”

“It’s not all bad. The pay is great and I love L.A. Everything I could ever want is there.”

Will scoffs and takes a swig of his drink.

“What?”

Will shook his head. “Nothing.” He was quiet and refusing to look at her now. A crack on the coffee table had suddenly become very interesting to him. Gen watches him run his index finger over it a few times before looking at his face. His left eyebrow was cocked and his jaw was working overtime. He was definitely upset.

She doesn’t get a chance to pry again because her phone starts to ring. Natalie’s name shows up on the screen and Gen groans at the bad timing. She knew if she didn’t answer that Natalie would call her incessantly.

“Hey, Nat, now’s not the best time. Can you ca-“

“GEEEEENNNNNNNN!!!!!” She hears both Natalie and Ezra yell on the other end. They were obviously plastered. Perfect.

“Guys this is no-“ She tries, once again.

“Gen Taylor! When are you coming home?! We miss you!” Ezra yells.

“I’m not sure yet, Ez.” She says, leaning back against the couch. “I’m gonna have to stay longer than I thought.”

“Boooooo!” There was Natalie. “It should be illegal to keep you in that horrible town, Gen. You need to come back home where you belong!” She says it so loud it makes Gen wince. She silently hopes Will didn’t hear it.

Evidently it was loud enough for Will to hear because he pushes himself off the couch in a huff and stalks to the kitchen. She hears him throw his ice in the sink and fill his glass with water.

“It’s not a big deal, Natalie. I’ll take care of everything and be home soon.”

This time she hears the glass being thrown in the sink.

“Listen, I really have to go. I’ll call you guys later.”

“BYE GEEEEEEN-“ She cuts them off before they can continue. She sighs and gets up from her seat. Guess she was going to have to deal with this sooner or later.

Gen steps quietly around the corner of the kitchen to see Will at the sink, his back facing her. His hands rest on the counter, head lulling between his shoulders. She stands there, fidgeting and trying to come up with something to say. Will beats her by breaking the silence first.

“So, Los Angeles is your home now, huh?”

Gen sighs. “It’s where I live, Will.”

“That’s not what I asked.” He turns around and crosses his arms in front of his chest. “You consider Los Angeles to be your home?”

Gen gazes at him momentarily. “It’s where I live. It’s where my job is. All of my friends live there. So, yeah, I consider it to be my home.”

“What happened to New York?”

“It was great, but I got a promotion. So, they sent me to Los Angeles.” She pauses to consider her next comment. “Clearly I’m not as weak as you thought I was.”

“Viv, I never said you were weak.” Will scoffs.

“I believe your exact words were ‘You’ll never make it in New York. They’ll eat you alive.’ Am I wrong?”

“I didn’t say that because I thought you were weak.”

“Then why did you say it?!” Gen yells

“Because you didn’t belong in New York!” Will yells back. “Just like you don’t belong in Los Angeles!”

“Yeah, because I belong here in Westwood? Suffocating here…. with you? Working at a shitty studio while we’re barely able to pay our bills. Giving up my dreams to make you happy while I’m dying inside?”

Will’s face twists in pain at her words. Gen has never wanted to disappear more than she did at this moment. She did feel suffocated when she was here but it wasn’t his fault. Why the fuck was she like this?

“I- I thought we were happy.” Will stutters, looking down at his feet.

Gen sighs and runs her hand through her hair. “We were, Will. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“I just don’t understand why you wanted to leave so badly.”

“Jesus Christ, don’t you get it? I didn’t want to leave you, I wanted to leave here. I wanted to get away from all the fucking memories of my parents, and start over somewhere new. I wanted our life together to be more than some tiny town in New Jersey where we were constantly living paycheck to paycheck. I wanted to stop having to look over my shoulder to make sure my asshole father wasn’t behind me everywhere I went. I wanted to be able to start a career and get comfortable financially so you could start a band and do what you love, too. All of my plans involved you. I tried to explain this but you couldn’t see past me leaving.”

“Viv- I..”

“When you told me I couldn’t go, I was devastated. It made me feel like you didn’t believe in me. What made it worse was that you just watched me leave. You didn’t even try to stop me.”

“Baby, I was angry. I was so angry for a long time. I was an idiot and waited too long. I tried calling you several months later but you had already changed your number. I couldn’t find your name or address anywhere. It was like you disappeared.”

Gen laughs humorlessly, “Yeah, Will, I did that on purpose. Mostly because of Gabriel but also because I was angry too. I changed my last name and now everyone calls me Gen even though I fucking hate it. And you wanna know why?”

Will gazes at her but doesn't respond. She walks closer to him with tears in her eyes. As soon as he sees them, he inhales sharply.

“It’s because I couldn’t fucking stand the thought of anyone but you calling me Viv. Or Vivvy. It made my fucking skin crawl.” Gen pushes a finger into his chest. “And you stand there and call me both as soon as you lay eyes on me. They just roll off your tongue like you never stopped saying them and I hate it because I can’t let you back in my head. I can’t.”

Will grabs her wrist gently and brings her hand to his face. Gen attempts to pull it back but his grip tightens. He leans into her touch and kisses the palm of her hand. A quiet sob leaves her and he shushes her gently, kissing his way up her arm and to her face. He kisses away the tears falling down her cheeks. His lips ghost over hers as he cups her face. They stare at each other for a moment, both trying to determine if the moment was real.

Will decides he had waited long enough. He had been dying to taste her again for so long. Pressing his lips gently against hers, he feels her go rigid then relax. Her body melts into his as one of his hands makes its way into her hair. He swipes his tongue against her bottom lip and she gives him access.

She tastes even better than he remembers. The mixture of peppermint and whiskey invades his senses. He could kiss her forever and never get tired of it. He never wants the moment to end. She was here. She was perfect. She was his, again.

At least, so he thought.

He feels her tense again, her grip around his waist loosens slightly. He wraps his arm around her waist hoping to keep her close but she was already separating their lips. She stares at him, panting.

“We can’t do this. I’m sorry.” She says as she takes a few steps back.

“What do you mean?” He asks, confused.

“I mean we can’t do this. It’s not a good idea. I’m only here to get this house cleaned up and sold and then I'm going back home. I’m not interested in whatever this is.”

Will stares at her in stunned silence. She won’t even look at him.

“Baby...”

“Will, just… Please leave.” Gen says sternly, she turns slightly and points in the direction of the door.

He starts towards the door and stops in front of her. Turning to face her, she still avoids his gaze.

“Just so you know. This is your home. Not this house but this ‘horrible town’ you’re in right now. Not a single one of those people in L.A. will ever care about you the way that I do.”

Will storms out the door, slamming it shut as he leaves.

Part Four

#will ramos #lorna shore #willramos #lornashore #william ramos #will ramos x ofc #will ramos fanfiction #will ramos fic #will ramos fanfic #will ramos rpf #will ramos x reader #lorna shore band #lorna shore fanfiction #lorna shore fic #lorna shore fanfic #lorna shore rpf #lorna shore x reader

[theangelwithawand]

Good Omens Incorrect Quotes Part 3:

Once again, I did not come up with these, I just have quote generator access…

Crowley : I'm having problems with a guy...

Anathema : Like his dead body won't fit into your trunk kind of problems, or you like him kind of problems?

*

Crowley : Who the fuck-

Aziraphale : Language!

Crowley : Whom the fuck-

Aziraphale : No.

*

Aziraphale and Crowley : I believe in you, Adam!

Adam, to themself: God, I must suck. The nicest thing they can think to say to me is that they don’t doubt my existence.

*

Aziraphale : There are some things beyond our understanding. We must accept them and learn from them. Because these moments of crisis are also potential moments of faith. A time, when we either come together or fall apart. Nature always has a way of balancing itself. The only question is, what part will we play?

Crowley : Did you just make that up?

Aziraphale : No. I read it in a fortune cookie once.

Crowley :

Aziraphale : A really long fortune cookie.

*

Crowley: Could you maybe just like… stab me… right in the gut. Just REALLY twist it in there. ‘Cause that honestly seems less painful than this conversation.

*

Aziraphale, texting Crowley: Text me when you’re home safely.

Crowley: I’m home dangerously.

Aziraphale: Stop it.

Crowley: I’m home lethally.

*

Gabriel : Pardon the intrusion, but-

Aziraphale or Crowley: On this moment or just my life in general?

*

Aziraphale: Why shouldn't you put a toaster in a bathtub full of water?

Crowley: Because your toast would get soggy!

*

Aziraphale: When I said bring me something back from the beach I meant like a conch shell!

Crowley: *Struggling to hold a seagull* Fucking say that next time!

*

Crowley, at Nina’s: Can I get a venti vanilla latte with um, seven espresso shots.

Mrs. Sandwich, in line behind them: Jesus Christ, just do cocaine.

*

Crowley, making coffee: This is going to fix everything.

*

Aziraphale: I have very high standards, you know.

Crowley: I can make spaghetti...

Aziraphale: Oh no! You're meeting all my standards!

*

Crowley: You can do it Adam!

Crowley: But if you can't, at least your death will be quick, painless, and really cool to watch.

*

Crowley: *standing on a balcony and sneezes*

Aziraphale: *standing on the roof* Bless you.

Crowley: God?!

*

Crowley: I'm sorry. Please talk to me.

Aziraphale:

Crowley: Hello? World's most amazing person?? Sweet pea? Precious cinnamon roll that's too good for this world, too pure?

Aziraphale: 'Sorry' doesn't bring back my fucking M&M’s.

*

Aziraphale: Is five a lot of followers?

Crowley: Depends on the context.

Crowley: On Instagram? No, not a lot of followers.

Crowley: In a dark alley? Yes, a lot of followers.

*

Crowley : You know what’s funny about Aziraphale ? They’re my best friend, and anyone who’d hurt them is someone I’d murder, probably.

*

Crowley : Are you busy?

Aziraphale : Yes.

Crowley : Cool, listen to this...

*

Aziraphale or Nina: How would you like your coffee?

Crowley: As dark as my soul.

Aziraphale or Nina: Got it, one cup of milk coming right up!

*

Crowley : I can’t believe all these people are wearing black. black is supposed to be my thing, they’re all just posers.

Aziraphale: Crowley, for the last time, we’re at a funeral.

*

Aziraphale: No more making fun of me when I misuse dated cultural references, alright? Are we cowabunga on this?

Crowley, sighing: Fine. We're cowabunga.

*

Crowley : *trying to get five seconds of sleep*

Aziraphale, poking Crowley ’s arm: Crowley Crowley . Crowley . Crowley .

Crowley : WHAT?

Aziraphale : …We’re out of Capri Suns—

*

Crowley : Valentines Day? I'm ready. *Sprays an entire can of AXE body spray on themselves*

*

Crowley : *makes Aziraphale a cup of tea but puts salt in it*

Aziraphale : *sips tea*

Crowley :

Aziraphale : *finishes tea*

Crowley : Didn't it taste bad?

Aziraphale : Yeah, but I didn't want to hurt your feelings so I drank it all.

Crowley, tearing up: Oh, okay.

*

Aziraphale : How petty can you get?

Crowley : I once edited a Wikipedia article to win an argument I was wrong about.

*

Aziraphale : Crowley, I beg of you. Please, PLEASE go to the doctor.

Crowley : Hey, I'm sorry. Is this OUR stab wound?

*

Crowley, to The Squad: You should change your passwords to “incorrect”. Then, every time you forget it, the system will remind you, “your password is incorrect”.

*

Aziraphale : Not to brag, but I can go into the Spirit Halloween without crying.

*

Crowley : I wanna sleep for 40 hours.

Aziraphale : You know that's called a coma, right?

Crowley :

Crowley : That sounds so refreshing, I could totally go for a light coma right now.

*

Aziraphale : Ugh, crushes are so dumb.

Crowley : I know. Whenever I’m near the person I like I just start acting stupid.

Aziraphale : But you’re always acting stupid?

Crowley : ...

Crowley : Yeah, don’t think about that too hard.

*

Muriel : Hey, aren’t you Aziraphale ?

Aziraphale : You a cop?

Muriel : No.

Aziraphale : Then yes, I am.

*

Aziraphale : Crowley ! Have you no dignity?

Crowley : Of course not! How long have we known each other?

*

Aziraphale : What are you drinking?

Crowley : Vodka.

Aziraphale : Straight?

Crowley : No, gay. Why?

*

Aziraphale : So you like cats?

Crowley : Yeah.

Aziraphale : *tries to impress them by slowly pushing a glass off the table*

*

Cop: You ran a red light.

Crowley : So did you, hypocrite.

Cop: I was following you.

Crowley : That was dumb, I'm a terrible driver.

Cop: Get out.

*

Aziraphale : What is the one thing I told you not to do?

Crowley : Burn the house down.

Aziraphale : And what did you do?

Crowley : I made dinner.

Aziraphale :

Crowley :

Aziraphale :

Crowley : And burnt the house down.

*

Aziraphale : Do you need help getting up?

Crowley : Nah, I'm cool down here on the floor.

*

Crowley : Dracula had it right, sleep all day, live alone in a castle, and explode into bats to get out of all social situations.

*

Anathema: At first I thought you were foolish and incompetent.

Crowley : My apologies for whatever misstep I may have taken to dispel that impression. It was an honest mistake, I swear.

*

Aziraphale to Crowley : Turn that frown upside-down!

*a little while later*

Aziraphale : What are you doing?

Crowley , trying to do a handstand: You told me to “turn that frown upside-down” but it’s not working .

*

Gabriel: Think you can answer some questions without the usual level of sarcasm?

Crowley: If you can ask the questions without the usual level of stupid.

#azicrow #aziraphale x crowley #crowley x arizaphale #good omens incorrect quotes #good omens #aziraphale and crowley #aziraphale #crowley

[lost-onpurpose]

The last month has felt like a badly scripted soap opera.

1/22: Sister passed out at the store. ER found no cause.

1/23: Sister called from school bathroom floor because too dizzy to stand. She went to different ER and they determined migraine/dehydration. IV fluids helped.

1/24-1/26: Residual migraine. Missed school.

2/4: Mom got diagnosed with pneumonia. Started meds.

2/7: J called and said Mammaw's oxygen had dropped into the 70s/80s and they were starting her on supplemental oxygen. She wasn't very coherent but she was alert. The only coherent thing she said was making me and sister promise to take care of Mom. My Aunt S came down to sit with her that night. Alerted her son and the close relatives who live out of state.

2/8: Mammaw fell asleep. Could not wake up. Still breathing. Still had pulse and blood pressure. Called local family and updated our of state family. Stayed with her until 6 pm. Aunt S called at 6:30 pm and told us that Mammaw's breathing had gotten raspy. We went back. She had the death rattle. Called family again. Held Mammaw's hands and talked to her. Told her we'd be okay and it was okay.

2/9: 12:22 am. Hospice nurse called time of death. Called Mammaw's son Uncle J, cousin J, brother, dad, and other Uncle J (didn't realize we had so many J names in the family). 4:00 pm met with the funeral director to start planning. Called Y at the florist and got the casket spray and standing sprays ordered.

2/10-2/13: Helped family find hotels and plane tickets to attend funeral on 2/16.

2/14: Sister did Mammaw's makeup for the services.

2/15: We had private family viewing before services on 2/16. Had dinner with family that we hadn't seen in a while.

2/16: Visitation. Funeral (I spoke some). Graveside service. After service meal.

2/17: Had therapy at 9 am. Cried on my therapist's couch. Went to Barnes and Noble, Five Below, Bath & Body Works, and the mall as an attempt at distraction. Didn't help. Saw family before they left.

2/18: Last of family left to go home. Cried again.

2/20: Mom goes to ER with chest pain (started during funeral planning week but thought it was anxiety). Admitted to hospital with fluid on right lung (lower lobe collapsed, middle lobe collapsing).

2/22: Going to drain lung but she had too much eliquis in her system

2/23: Drained lung. Lidocaine didn't help. She felt it all. 1.4 liters of fluid pulled off. Chest X-ray showed it was almost all of the fluid and lung was reinflating.

2/24: Mom discharged from hospital.

#lost onpurpose #medical stuff #death #family death #funeral planning #hospital #hospice

[godmerlin]

last night i had a weird merlin-related dream. i was friends with merlin and sort of arthur too but we just did dumb stuff, nothing important, but anyway, suddenly one of the knights died (none of the roundtable) and we were carrying his body to a funeral fire pit (i forget what they're called sue me) and while we did it people kept disappearing around us like...fading out. and once we placed him down arthur disappeared and suddenly the field was empty and it was just merlin and I and i walked around the large like cottage that was where we were and suddenly everything became modern-ish. there were cars everywhere but nothing past like 1992. there were SO MANY old cars. like classics. and I turned around and Merlin was like washing a car from the 1930s, he told me it was his car, and I started crying. I was so upset. I just kept crying and crying and he was trying to comfort me and I kept asking what happened to everyone and where was Arthur and then he had this pained expression on his face and was like Arthur's dead and has been for a very long time now. then i realized he was crying too and i like jumped into his arms and we were both crying and holding onto each other?? but then suddenly water was spraying everywhere (because the hose was loose) and we were screaming and running away for shelter. and then we started laughing and he was like "i like to think that was arthur telling us to stop crying" and i was like me too and then ??????? 90s take that appeared and started singing LMAO and we were dancing and then mark was like it'll happen soon guys. and they disappeared and it was like a time lapse happened and it was like where we're at now and arthur was there standing in a meadow. and merlin ran to him and they were hugging and then I woke up. sO weird dream. hopefully that means arthur returns soon. 🤣

#my dreams #merlin #merthur #iM TAGGING IT BECAUSE I CAN. #and also i want it there on my blog. #so there. #mark owen the prophet apparently

[moonbeamwritings]

wc: 1.3k, spoiler free!

jolyne x fem!reader

suggestive, alcohol mention

Friday nights mean only one thing in your tight-knit friend group — girls night out. It’s an evening jam-packed with bar hopping and drinks; with music, snacks, and sleepovers. And as you always do before a big night on the town, you, Ermes, and Foo gather in Jolyne’s bedroom to get ready.

Ermes and Foo crowd each other in the bathroom in a flurry of limbs and excited conversations. The blow dryer stops and starts again and again to punctuate their gossiping and teasing. Clothes and shoes are strewn across the tile as they decide which of Jolyne’s outfits to commandeer this weekend. You emerge from the bathroom, a slight sheen of sweat clinging to your brow from the heat of the blow dryer (and from being packed in Jolyne’s bathroom like sardines). 

Leaving your friends behind, you face a new challenge.

Shoes and clothes and open chip bags litter Jolyne’s carpet like landmines, and you hesitate to take a step, weary that something may explode or crunch beneath your heel.

Jolyne sits on the opposite side of the room, makeup palettes strewn about in what can only be described as organized chaos, wrapping around her as she sits on the floor in front of her full length mirror.

She looks devastatingly beautiful with her hair cascading down her back in perfect waves, makeup immaculately blended to accentuate the high points of her face and the color of her eyes. You try not to gawk as you stand behind her, watching as she applies highlighter to her cheekbones, but you feel locked in place. Completely mesmerized.

Is your heart supposed to race like this watching your friend do her makeup?

No, you think as it practically thunders in your ears as Jolyne’s lips pout to spread lip gloss across their silky surface. Definitely not.

“Hey, want me to do yours too? I’m almost done.”

You barely hear her over the sound of the music and the hammering of your heart. You watch through the mirror as she spritzes setting spray across her features, no doubt gaping at her like a fish.

She pays you no mind, smiling a little as she waves you over. “C’mere. I have the perfect eyeshadow for your outfit.”

You nod dumbly and make your way across the carpet, narrowly avoiding Doritos bags and platform heels along the way. You settle beside her and her grin widens.

“You know the drill,” she tells you, sweeping stray hairs away from your face. “I’m gonna be all up in your business.”

“That’s fine,” you manage to squeak out, praying that she can’t feel the heat of your cheeks beneath her fingers.

“Just,” she leans around you to prop some pillows up behind you, “Lean back. I think the angle’ll be a little easier.”

Doing as you’re told, you press your back into the mountain of pillows and adjust until Jolyne seems pleased. Without another word, she moves until she’s straddling your hips, skirt riding up as she does.

You practically choke as the strong, smooth expanse of her thighs presses into your sides. In all your years of friendship, in all the times she’s done your eyeliner or eyeshadow, she’s never done this before. Is this the up in your business she was talking about? As you concentrate on settling the pounding of your heart and deciding where to put your damn hands, Jolyne sets to work, crowding your space even more to dab primer onto your eyelids.

“This okay?”

You’re thankful your eyes are closed because you can practically hear the smirk in her voice. How considerate of her to ask, you think as you start planning your own funeral at her proximity. “Mhm.” You try to act natural despite the way your cheeks burn. “I’m fine.”

“Okay,” Jolyne drawls, pulling away. “You just sit there all pretty and I’ll be done before you know it.”

Your hands find a home at your sides, mere inches from her bare knees, and you feel like a horny teenager as you think about how close you are to ghosting your fingertips over her skin.

With your eyes closed, you feel like she’s everywhere. You can faintly smell watermelon from her favorite gum, the subtle hints of coconut from her shampoo. Her long hair tickles your cheek as she leans impossibly closer, swiping and blending eyeshadow across your lids. God, you don’t think you’ll survive.

“Will you open for me?”

You blink open and, just as you suspected, her face is a hair’s breadth from your own. Her green eyes sparkle in the lights of her bedroom as she inspects her handiwork.

“Mmm,” she hums thoughtfully, lips pursing and brows furrowing in thought. “Close ‘em again.”

Jolyne spends another few minutes blending, shifting around in your lap as she picks up and discards different palettes. It’s made all the more painful when she takes your chin between her thumb and forefinger, tilting your head this way and that to peer at your eyelids. When she’s satisfied, she instructs you to open your eyes again.

“So pretty,” she croons. Your chin is still locked in her grip, and you watch in disbelief as her gaze flickers between your eyes and your lips. “I’m just gonna add eyeliner and lipstick, if you want it, and then you’ll be golden, okay?”

“Sounds good.”

You feel her breath on your lips, causing goosebumps to rise across your skin. “My creative vision’s being realized.” She holds your cheek to keep your head in place, dragging the cool tip of the liquid liner across your lash line. Silence falls between you for a second before she continues, “This might be my greatest work yet.”

“Oh yeah?” you tease, a smile pulling at the corners of your mouth. “You think so?”

Her chest presses closer as she does the other eye, and her knee brushes against your fingers with the movement, her hips dragging ever so slightly against yours. Your breath hitches.

Quietly, sweetly, she tells you to open your eyes again, and when you do, she has a look on her face that you can’t quite place. And for a moment, as your eyes flicker from hers to her lips to the dip in her shirt that exposes the smooth skin of her chest, you forget about girls night, and about your friends in the bathroom. You forget about the vodka cranberry you left on her bedside table. Hell, it feels like you even forget your own name. All you can think about is Jolyne Cujoh and her pretty eyes and the curve of her cupid’s bow. The heat of her thighs against your hips. About how badly you want to ruin your friendship.

“Yeah,” she murmurs after another beat of silence. “I think so.” She caps the eyeliner and drops it somewhere along the carpet, eyes not daring to separate from yours as she does. The blow dryer hums in the other room, Foo and Ermes still distracted, and you pray you have another moment alone.

As if reading your mind, Jolyne leans into you further, tilting your chin up. “Can I?”

Heat rushes to your cheeks, and your fingertips ghost over the curves of her knees. “Please.”

It’s a desperate plea that spurs Jolyne into motion, dragging your lips to hers in a kiss that sears your skin. And just as before, she’s everywhere. Her palms on your cheeks, her fingers in your hair. Her weight settling over your hips, pushing you further back into the pile of pillows. It’s as if heaven has crashed right through her ceiling to make a home in her room, in your lap.

Jolyne’s chest heaves as she pulls herself away with a quiet, but lewd smack. She drags her thumb along the now plump, swollen swell of your bottom lip and smirks. “Well, I don’t think you need lipstick anymore.”

You catch your reflection out of the corner of your eye and notice the slight shine of lip gloss, her lip gloss, across your lips. You bring your gaze back to hers to find her already looking down at you. Squeezing her hips, you ask, “How do I look?”

“Pretty,” Jolyne whispers earnestly. “Really pretty.”

#jolyne cujoh x reader #jolyne x reader #jolyne cujoh imagine #jolyne imagine #stone ocean imagine #stone ocean x reader #jjba x reader #jjba imagine #im SO down bad for her no one look at me #im BI thank you very much

[skz317cb97]

Teasing Poppy

Lee Minho x Thick reader

Word count: 7.3k

Synopsis: Your beloved grandfathers death triggers a downward spiral in your life that your new neighbor Minho seemes intent on fueling. Lines get crossed that shouldn't be and you start to avoid him at all costs, until you run into a little problem and Minho is the only one you can ask for help.

A/N: 18+ only! This is the 6th installment of the thick reader series. I cried SO much writing this! I honestly don't know if it's because it's just that sad or #trauma from my childhood✌️Also I don't know shit about plants or the study of them, anything in this was googled or gardening jargon i was familiar with so if its not accurate (shhh yes it is) Anywho! I hope you all like this one! If you do, like, comment, reblog, send an ask, LET ME KNOW! I love hearing from you all and the reaction to this series has been amazing! As always warnings and smut below the cut!

Warnings: MDNI 18+ONLY! Strong language/swearing, mentions of cancer and death, oral (m&f receiving), fingering/jacking off, "dry" humping, protected piv sex (use your head and condoms please!), praise/pet names (beautiful, kitten of course), slight Minho dom/MC sub dynamic if you squint. I think that's everything but if I missed anything at all please let me know and I'll add it to the warnings immediately.

It was so easy being ten. Walking through your grandfather’s greenhouse, looking at the beautiful blooms of all the different flowers as he watered his plants, sprayed leaves, checked soil pH.

He was a botanist by passion and profession, the top in his field, and you were his little assistant, you had been since you could say flower. If you weren’t in school, or doing homework, you were with your grandfather in the dirt. Learning about *magnoliophyta and *tracheophyta.

You didn’t really have any friends. You were an awkward kid. Chubby and kind of nerdy. While other kids rode bikes, had sleep overs, and played video games, you would much rather be learning about the classification and proper soil drainage for a California poppy with your grandfather.

Any poppy in fact, all poppies. They were your favorite; your grandfather knew and that’s why he called you Poppy, his little poppy plant. He adored you, tended to you like you were another beautiful flower in his garden, helping you grow. He was everything to you, your whole world.

Being ten was easy. This, this was hell. Standing at your grandfather’s casket, completely covered and surrounded by flowers from friends and family sending their condolences. Flowers that usually would bring you a sense of comfort but no longer did because your whole world was crumbling.

Your mom and dad, they were there and did their best to console you but it didn’t really matter. You had been on auto pilot through the whole ordeal, just numb, still in shock that he was actually gone. The cancer had spread so quickly, he had deteriorated so fast. You thought you still had time. You thought you would see it coming, you'd get to say goodbye and hold his hand.

You had been out of town. Speaking at a college to an auditorium full of hopeful youths wanting to be the next great scientists in your field, botany, like your grandfather of course. He was so proud that you had gotten asked to speak. He hadn’t been feeling well just before the trip and you told him you weren’t going to go but he would let you do no such thing.

So, you went. You could still hear the applause as you walked off stage finally able to check your phone. When you saw dozens of missed calls from your mother, you knew.

When you got home from the funeral that day you took every poppy plant you had in your little apartment, which was a surprising number really, and donated them to a nearby nursery. The first day back from your trip after your grandfather had died you wanted to smash them all in a rage but you knew how he was and he would be disappointed in you if you took a beautiful healthy plant and destroyed it. So instead, you cried yourself to sleep that night. The night after the funeral too. Most nights really.

About two weeks after your grandfather’s funeral a new neighbor moved in on your floor. When you saw him carrying boxes into his apartment your first impression was based solely on appearance and he was extremely handsome, like ridiculously so. His eyes and nose were sharp and yet there seemed to be a softness about him, you weren’t sure why, maybe because of the three cats you saw him take in to his place in carriers.

Not much had changed from your childhood, you were still awkward and chubby and with your grandfather gone, now more than ever, you preferred solitude. You didn’t stop to say hi or introduce yourself as you walked past the new neighbor to leave to see your parents.

Your mother had insisted you start coming once a week for dinner with her and your father. Your grandfather’s passing had reminded her that you only get so much time with your family and she wanted to see you more often. Your mother had never asked for much from you, always letting you run off with your granfather doing this and that, because of that you agreed.

So, you were leaving to go to her weekly dinner and walking past your new neighbor who you refused to even look at the closer you got. He looked over the boxes he was carrying and saw you just as you were passing him.

“Oh heyyy.” You stopped and hesitated to turn around because; why would he be talking to you? You didn’t know each other and the color beige is more noticeable than you.

“You live up that way yea?” You faced him this time when he spoke and pointed at yourself.

“Me?” He scoffed and laughed.

“No, the supermodel behind you, yes you.” Your second impression of him was that he was snarky and rude. You shook your head answering him that yes you did.

“Great! Should I be over for dinner when I’m done unpacking then?” Your eyebrows scrunched together.

“Excuse me?” He smirked, cocking one of his sharp eyebrows at you.

“Well, you seem like the type that cooks well. I’ll be hungry. I like pasta or chicken would be oka-...” Was... was he making fun of your weight?! He hadn’t even introduced himself! What an ass! You thought to yourself. You turned and walked away unwilling to let him finish his teasing remarks.

“Is that a no?!” He called after you and laughed a little as he took the boxes he had into his new apartment and you continued on with your dinner plans, thoroughly irritated by the first meeting with your arrogant new neighbor.

Your next run in with him didn’t fare much better or any other after for that matter. You had managed to learn that his name was Minho and he had cats. That was all you knew and honestly all you wanted to know. Every time you saw him, he always had a smart-ass remark or teased you. It got under your skin which seemed to just fuel him. You didn’t know why he had zeroed in on you but he was relentless.

It had been a particularly rough morning for you. Everything you saw reminded you of your grandfather that day. You decided to put on a floral printed dress that you didn’t wear often for just that reason, it was one of your grandfather’s favorites but it reminded you of fond memories so, you decided to wear it to run your errands for the day.

When you were on your way out you ran into Minho in the hall yet again. It was like he staked you out or something. You were always coming or going at the same time it seemed. If you were on your way in, he was leaving, you were heading out, he was just getting home. ALWAYS! This day was no different apparently. You were just going to ignore him and walk past when he called out to you.

“Hey y/n?!” You stopped and turned to him against your better judgement.

“Yes?” You spoke flatly. The way your morning had been you didn’t have the energy to fake pleasantries, especially not with Minho.

“Nice dress.” You were shocked. That was the first time Minho had ever said anything that wasn’t sarcastic or borderline insulting. He complimented you, actually complimented you! You wouldn never tell him but you were glad to hear the compliment from him, you really needed it after how the morning had been. Then his eye brow quirked and that smirk crept onto his face.

“Very Little House on the Prairie chic.” He laughed at his own joke and you could feel the beginning of tears prick your eyes. You weren’t giving him the satisfaction of seeing you cry that was for damn sure. You turned and walked away from him while he called after you.

“Come on! y/n! That was...” The stairwell door slammed closed behind you, cutting Minho off.

“A joke...” Minho said, even though you were long out of ear shot. It was just a joke. When you walked past him that day you looked great in your dress but you also looked upset, well you always looked down but especially so that day. So, he tried to make you laugh.

That’s all Minho ever tried doing. Getting you to loosen up and laugh a little, you always looked so serious. When he had first seen you the day he moved in, his attempt at flirting and asking your out for dinner had epically failed. Minho had a weird sense of humor and tended to deliver his jokes rather dryly so, sometimes they came off as rude or his genuine thoughts when they were not.

Minho decided maybe it was time to try a different approach, he needed to find out something you did or you liked so he could bring that up instead of trying to land jokes that clearly, failed. He sought out the help of the old lady that lived on the same floor as the two of you. She had practically fallen in love with Minho and his three cats as soon as he had moved in.

The next time he saw her he managed to casually bring you up in conversation and she mentioned a couple of things. She knew you liked gardening with your grandfather and that he called you Poppy because it was your favorite flower. She knew you worked from home quite a bit but traveled from time to time also but she wasn’t sure what exactly you did for a living and you stuck to yourself mostly. She’d never seen any friends coming or going only your grandfather mostly and your parents on occasion.

Perfect that was the in Minho needed. The flowers. Minho did some research and found a nearby nursery that happened to have a bunch of different poppies in stock. He asked if they would set one aside for him and he left immediately to pick it up.

It was a Himalayan blue poppy apparently from what the owner of the nursery said. Minho thought it was pretty. He could see why it was your favorite. He saw a pretty blue pot that matched the color of the flower and decided to get that along with some potting soil. He would put it in the new pot and figure out a subtle way to give it to you.

When Minho got back home, he got started on transferring the plant into the new pot immediately. He had just gotten a little dirt in the pot and taken the poppy plant out of the old planter when you came walking out of the building.

You saw Minho and tried to ignore his presence as you walked past him making some kind of mess. As you started to pass him, he didn’t say anything to you. He always had a little quip to throw at you but today was the first time he didn’t. You chanced accidently getting his attention by glancing over and saw your Meconopsis Betonicifolia you had gotten rid of in his hands as he started to put it in a pot with zero drainage holes in the bottom.

You remembered exactly when you had gotten Blue, your Himalayan poppy. It was a graduation gift from your grandfather when you had finished high school and announced you would be going to university and majoring in plant biology, just like him.

When you saw Minho go to throw more dirt into the pot you walked over stopping him.

“No, no, no do you have any idea what you're doing?” Minho hadn’t heard you come out so when you walked up behind him, you caught him off guard. He wasn’t ready for you to see the plant yet and he definitely wasn’t ready for you to know it was for you.

“Wha-” You cut him off.

“There are no drainage holes in that pot, do you even have any rocks in the bottom to prevent over saturated soil and root rot? You want moist but well drained soil for that kind of plant and the soil should be acidic to neutral. You should really do your research on a plant before committing to buying one especially one as temperamental as Meconopsis Betonicifolia.” Minho looked at you absolutely gob smacked. The way you just rattled off all that information was impressive and the way you talked about plants like they were pets was endearing. Clearly gardening wasn’t just a light hobby for you.

“Holy shit what are you THE plant nerd of the whole fucking universe!?” Your face contorted, then turned into a frown and you scoffed.

“You’re such an asshole all the time, whatever, just don’t plant it in that, you’ll kill it.” You mumbled, rolled your eyes and walked away. Minho wanted to say something but everything he said always seemed to be wrong, so he just let you go. You decided you were going to do everything in your power to avoid Minho at all costs from then on. He was just so crass and teased you all the time. It was like he couldn’t be serious, or nice for that matter.

You had been successful at avoiding Minho for a whole week. Well into your second Minho free week you had been doing well. Still not great but not tormented on top of being miserable. You were doing well until your mom’s weekly dinner. Apparently a little before he had passed away, your grandfather had written you a letter. Your mother wanted to wait to give it to you until you seemed better and that night at dinner was when she decided it was time.

The letter sat on your counter, unopened. You weren’t sure if you could open it. You didn’t know if it would ever be time. It sat there for days after your mother had given it to you, taunting you.

At the end of your second Minho free week, you got a knock at your door. When you opened it, you found Blue on your door step; in the same blue pot you had told Minho wasn’t right for the plant the last day you had seen him. Had he not listened to a word you said about this pot? This plant? Or did he do it on purpose to get at you for ignoring him? It made your blood boil. You avoided him and he still managed to taunt and tease you.

You picked up the plant and brought it inside. You wanted to go over to his apartment and tell him off but you knew all that would happen is you would lose it on him and he’d get the satisfaction of seeing all his hard work pay off. No way.

You sat the plant on the counter by the letter from your grandfather and went to get in the shower. You had hoped a nice hot shower would relax you, calm the anger bubbling inside but what it did was give you more time to think, stew, and get angrier. By the time you got out of the shower you had convinced yourself you had to confront Minho RIGHT then.

You put on your kimono robe, grabbed the plant, and stormed out of your apartment to give him the ass chewing he deserved. By the time you got to his door ready to pound on it, the haze of anger had already started to lift and you stopped yourself before your fist made contact with his door.

You looked down at yourself, still half wet from your shower, in a floral silk kimono that didn’t do much to hide your... assets, holding a potted plant like a baby on your hip. You came to your senses and quickly made your way back to your own apartment. When you grabbed the handle of your door it wouldn’t turn.

“You. Have. GOT! To be SHITTING ME!” You, in the midst of your blind rage, walked out of your locked apartment with no keys and there was only one thing you could do about it without calling the super or a locksmith, both of which were timely and a head ache you didn’t want to deal with.

You walked back down to Minho’s door and knocked, still holding Blue. When Minho opened the door and saw you standing there in a little silk robe, towel dried hair, fresh faced and a little flushed from your hot shower still, his eyes went wide. When his mouth fell open to say something you put up your hand and interrupted whatever insult you were sure he was priming.

“I don’t want to hear whatever little dig you have. I’m locked out of my apartment. My patio door is unlocked I just need to climb over from yours. So please will you let me on your patio so I can get inside my apartment?” Minho kept his mouth shut while you explained. It had been two weeks since he’d seen you.

He didn’t really get to see you much to begin with and he had missed the small interactions he’d gotten with you from time to time when you started avoiding him. When you explained the situation, he didn’t hesitate to help. No matter what you had knocked on his door for he would have helped but he still tried to make a joke, make light of the situation, to break the tension.

“There is no way in hell I’m letting YOU use MY balcony.” Your face scrunched up into a disgusted look and you were just about to tell him exactly what you thought of him when he gave you that sharp eyebrow and smirk that made your blood pressure rise.

“You’re in that little robe and it’s not safe. I’m not letting YOU climb my balcony. I will climb over and unlock your door for you.” He stood there like some knight in shining armor and you pressed your lips together tightly, letting out a heavy breath through your nose.

“Okay fine, will you please just do it quickly?” Minho nodded and gave you a little salute.

“Right away Chloris.” Before you could even ask, he turned on his heels and headed towards his patio. Once you saw him climbing over you checked to make sure his door was unlocked, not about to make that mistake twice, pulled it closed and waited by your own door. Just a few seconds later you heard footsteps and then your door opened. Minho leaned against the frame, blocking the way in, looking down at you with that god damn smirk again.

“Sorry no solicitors Chloris, thank you.” He went to shut the door but stopped and opened it letting you into your apartment, grinning like the Cheshire cat. You took a deep breath trying to be nice since he just helped let you into your apartment.

“Chloris?” You asked with a disgusted look,

"What kind of name is that? It sounds like a venereal disease." Minho laughed he'd never heard you talk like that.

“Not up on your Greek mythology I see? Yes Chloris, otherwise known as Flora? The goddess of flowers?” You failed to realize he was trying to call you a goddess, only hearing snark as usual. You shrugged, wanting the interaction that had already lasted too long, in your opinion, to end.

“Alright well thanks Minho, won’t happen again.” He shut the door standing on the wrong side of it and started walking in to your apartment behind you. You set the poppy plant down on the counter by your grandfather’s note again and turned facing Minho as he stopped in front of you.

“It’s no problem if it does, happy to help, but you don’t think it’s unsafe keeping your balcony door unlocked? You know weirdos?” He wiggled his fingers at you and you rolled your eyes.

“You're the only weirdo with access so, I think I’m safe.” Minho smiled shrugging his shoulders and nodding his head back and forth in agreement. You started to walk towards your room so that you could finish drying off and put some clothes on hoping Minho would get the hit and leave with out you having to be rude.

“Well thanks agai-” Minho interrupted with a question.

“How did you get locked out in the hall with that plant again?” You froze.

“Cause see earlier after I left it on your door step, I took my garbage out and saw that you’d taken it in. So, I’m just wondering if you had already brought it inside why were you out in the hall with it?” You turned facing him again and tried to think of a quick excuse but you are a terrible liar and Minho was answering for you before you could come up with one anyway.

“You were coming to give the flower back?” Your mouth fell open a little, ready to deny the accusation but stopped. Minho looked down at the plant on the counter and saw the letter signed To Poppy from your grandfather. He picked up the letter and held it up.

“So, what’s up with all this, Poppy? Why’d you want to give the plant back? What’s the deal?” The use of your grandfather’s nickname set you off. The last bit of patience you had with Minho was now gone. The explosion that you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of seeing was rearing its ugly head. You snatched the letter from him.

“WHAT IS YOUR FUCKING PROBLEM! Why are you SUCH a dick to me ALL THE TIME!?” Tears were welling up in your eyes and Minho stood there stunned and speechless.

“You want to know the deal, Minho?! FINE! Poppies are my favorite fucking flower, okay?! But you already guessed that huh? You got the plant! You want the real headline of the story yea?! Poppy is the nick name my grandfather gave me, my HERO! AND HE’S DEAD NOW! So yes, Minho I was bringing the plant back, the exact same plant my grandfather gave me as a gift! The plant that I TOLD you were going to kill and you proceeded to plant it in the wrong pot anyway! Yes, I was bringing back the exact same fucking plant that I already donated to a nursery ONCE! I brought it back because I don’t want to see poppies! I don’t want to hear the word, poppy! AND NO ONE GETS TO CALL ME POPPY BUT MY GRANDFATHER! ESPECIALLY NOT YOU!” You broke down crying into your hands uncontrollably and Minho felt horrible. He hadn’t realized. He was too busy trying to tease and flirt, trying to get you to loosen up.

He didn’t know you well enough to know you weren't just kind if serious and grumpy, to see that you were actually struggling, that you were grieving, that you always looked so sad because you were.

The old lady had told him were close with your grandfather and that she would see him visiting you. Only now did Minho think about the fact that, all this time, he had never once seen your grandfather visiting you. You had been on the edge, in danger of falling, and Minho had been nudging you closer and closer over that edge until you jumped.

“I’m so sorry y/n. I crossed a line, several, unknowingly but that doesn’t make it alright. I apologize. There is no excuse for it. I’m truly sorry for what I said and for hurting you and I’m... I’m sorry about your grandfather also.” You lifted your face from your hands, tears still welling in your eyes and streaking your face.

You looked up and saw Minho looking directly at you, his face was set like stone, you had never seen him so serious. The look on his face, you knew there was no teasing remark coming next, no sarcasm. He was well and truly sorry.

As mad as he had made you the last couple of months you knew it would do no good to hold a grudge with the next-door neighbor, especially when he was genuinely apologetic. You wiped you face with your hands and took a deep breath, calming yourself.

“Okay Minho. Your apology is accepted but from here on out don’t just act and talk any kind of way. Don’t make fun of the chubby nerdy neighbor girl about her weight and clothes. Just enough is enough with teasing me. Okay?” Minho frowned.

“I... my teasing was never meant to be malicious, I just wanted to make you laugh. You always look so down. I wasn’t trying to make fun of your weight or the way you dress. There’s not a thing wrong with the size you are or your clothes. I got you the poppy plant as an olive branch when I realized that I was not getting anywhere with my ‘humor’. If you look,” He picked up Blue and held it up a bit for you to see.

“After you gave me all the information about potting that plant, I drilled holes in the bottom of the pot and added a mixture of pebbles and bigger rocks for better drainage. I ordered a treatment for the soil pH too. When I had it all done, I was going to give it to you the next time I saw you, but then you started avoiding me. So, I put it on your door step. Anyway, I am clearly very bad at humor and even worse at flirting.” Your tears had completely subsided by then and you raised an eyebrow at the last part of his statement.

“Flirting?” Minho nodded and you scoffed rolling your eyes.

“Give me a break I just admitted I’m bad at it.” He pleaded. You shook your head in agreement to that statement.

“Yea I’d say telling a bigger girl that she looks like she can cook well, is probably a fairly shitty way to flirt, or telling her she looks like a pilgrim or whatever, or asking if she the biggest fucking nerd in the universe...” Minho nodded again and again putting up his hands in defeat.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any of it like that but in hindsight I can see how it all came across that way. I’m sorry I made you feel poorly about yourself. I think you’re really beautiful y/n.” You shook your head.

“You don’t have to keep apologizing Mi-what?” Minho walked towards you and grabbed one of your hands slotting his fingers between yours.

“I think you’re beautiful y/n and I’d like to spend more time with you, aside from our run ins in the hall, and get to know you better.” You gave him a small smile and considered it before squeezing his hand gently.

“Okay. But no more teasing. Alright?” Minho gave you that eyebrow smirk combo he did when he was about to say something stupid and you braced yourself. He leaned in close to your ear, his breath fanning across your neck making goosebumps prickle your skin.

“No teasing?” He asked, his free hand played with the edge of the opening of your silk robe, his fingers gently grazing the soft skin on your chest as he looked down at you with lust filled eyes. You started blushing profusely and took your bottom lip between your teeth before you moved even closer, putting your arms around Minho’s neck.

“Well maybe a little teasing wouldn’t hurt.” Minho gave you a sly smile, leaned down and kissed you. It was a sweet soft kiss, just feeling each other out at first but when Minho’s hands weaved through your hair, tilting your head for better access to your lips, things heated up quickly.

When he finally pulled away you were breathless, blush now painting your cheeks, neck and chest. His fingers toyed with the closure of you robe, slightly pulling to untie it.

“Is... is this okay? Tell me to stop if-” You cut him off.

“Don’t stop Minho.” You kissed him as he pulled more firmly on the silk tie until it totally came undone. He dropped the thin strap and ran his fingers under the fabric, sliding the shoulders of your robe down, letting it fall and pool on the floor. His fingertips ghosted your skin as he traced them down your arms, his dark eyes soaking in every curve of your full figure.

“Fuck.” He managed to finally breath out and you smiled as he held your face and kissed you again. You lead Minho to your bedroom attached to your lips the entire time his hands gripping and caressing soft supple flesh.

When you crossed the threshold to your room it was like a fire ignited in you. You pushed Minho gently and he fell down on your bed laughing. You climbed on top of him and straddled his waist as you unbuttoned his shirt before gently running your nails down his chest.

Minho’s eyes scrunched closed and he bit his lips. Every touch from you made his cock swell. You started peppering kisses down his chest as you made your way to the waist of his pants. You started to undo the button and zipper and looked up at him.

“Can I...” Minho couldn’t wait for the rest of the question before he was answering you.

“YES! FUCK YES! Whatever it is YES!” You gave him a smirk that was very similar to the one he always gave you and pulled his pants and underwear down freeing his painfully hard dick as he tossed his shirt aside and leveled the playing field, leaving him just as naked as you were.

“Tell me what you want Minho.” He looked down at you and the sight of your thick thighs straddling his body was enough to make his cock twitch.

“Oh god, fuck, suck me off beautiful. Please!” You licked your palm and wrapped your fingers around his hard on.

“Suck on this?” You asked as you blew air on his cock and watched him twitch in your hands. Minho nodded with his eyes closed, gripping his hair with both hands.

“Please.” You took him into your mouth and he let out heavy breath.

“Fuck.” You sucked and slid up and down his length taking more into your mouth each time. Minho pushed your hair to the other side of your face so that his view wasn’t obstructed and he could see you suck him off.

“So pretty, feels so good y/n.” You hummed around Minho’s cock in appreciation of his praise and he groaned letting his head fall back into the sheets.

He looked back down at you and cupped the side of your neck, running his thumb along your cheek as you continued bobbing up and down his cock. You started stroking what you couldn’t take, sucking and licking Minho’s dick while you did.

“Fuck baby I’m gonna cum, don’t stop.” You hummed and started rotating your wrist as you jerked him off and focused on sucking the tip of his cock and teasing it with your tongue.

“That’s it! Yes! Fuck can I cum on your lips gorgeous?” You puckered your lips and rubbed the head of his cock against them as you stroked him faster. You felt his warm seed covering your lips as he climaxed, his cum dripping off them, down your chin, back on to Minho’s crotch and thighs.

“Holy... oh my god. How are you so good at that?!” He laughed and huffed out deep breaths coming down from his orgasm. You grabbed some tissue from your night stand and wiped your chin off, laying down next to Minho and handing him some tissue as well so he could clean himself up. Tissues were tossed in the trash and suddenly Minho was on you kissing you again, groping you.

“Time to return the favor kitten.” You melted into the bed as Minho left a wake of kisses down your soft tummy towards your dripping cunt.

“So wet, all for me.” Were his only words before sliding his tongue between your folds making sure to get a good taste of you. He started with light teasing flicks of his tongue against your clit, then his tongue, flat, lapped at you like a thirsty animal.

“Mmm right there Minho, mm yes harder.” Minho pressed his face into your pussy and slurped and licked at you, taking two of his fingers and sliding them inside you as he did.

“FUCK Min-Minho! God please just fuck me already!” Minho hummed and pulled away still curling and pumping his fingers in and out of you.

“Cum for me first kitten, wanna taste you, cum on my face and I’ll fuck you so good baby.” He attacked your clit with firm quick flicks of his tongue, the tips of his fingers hitting your g-spot with precision. It was the groan and humming against your cunt that sent you reeling into another galaxy.

“OH My god! I’m coming Min fuck! I’m coming!” He gently kitten licked you through the tremors and aftershocks of your orgasm before placing a gentle kiss on your pussy and crawling back up to kiss your lips.

“Such a good kitty coming just like I said, God my cock is so hard right now hearing your pretty moans. Are you ready for it kitten?” You pulled him down into another passionate kiss and whispered against his lips.

“There’s condoms in my bed side table.” Minho leaned over and pulled the drawer open, fishing around blindly until he felt the box of condoms. He took one out ripped the package and rolled the rubber down his shaft before slotting himself between your thick thighs again.

“God this pussy is so pretty baby, so wet, can’t wait to fill it up.” You bit your bottom lip and spread your legs more for him. Minho took his cock and ran it up and down your slit, collecting your juices. He rubbed the tip over your clit that was still a sensitive from your last orgasm, making you clench around nothing.

“Please Min stick it in, fuck, I need you.” Minho cooed at you and leaned down to kiss you as he slid his cock inside you making you moan out as he filled you.

“Ohohoh fuck kitten, you’re soft all over, god...fuck!” Minho sat up, gripped your cushy hips and started to slowly sink into you deeper until his cock was buried deep in you.

“Please move Minho! Fuck me baby!” He would do anything you asked to stay locked inside your warm soft walls. He slowly started sliding his cock in and out of you, rolling his hips trying to hit that one spot inside you that made you crazy, make you melt on his cock.

“So sexy underneath me like this kitten, taking all of me. ” He started fucking you harder

“Fuck your tits look so good bouncing every time I pound into you.” He grabbed both of your full breasts, squeezing gently. Minho’s hands slid back down your sides to your waist, then under you. He pulled you up into a kneeling position, his cock still inside you, now impossibly deep.

“Oh Min-fuck so big... gah! So good, feels so good!” One of Minho’s arms stayed wrapped around your waist holding your plush body against his as the other cupped your jaw, making you look him in the eyes while you took his cock deeper than you thought possible.

“Go on kitty, move for me.” You did as you were told and started rotating your hips as you slid back and forth on Minho’s dick.

“Good kitten, fuck yes just like that. Ride me.” The position you were in made it so Minho’s cock never stopped rubbing against your g spot and you thought your body might combust.

“Minho kiss me.” He could never deny you or resist your lips. He pulled you in and kissed you, his tongue sliding against yours, messy and wet, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth before gently pulling at it with his little front bunny teeth.

He pushed his forehead against yours and his free hand, not holding you against him, gripped your squishy hip tightly making you grind on his cock faster.

“I’m gonna cum Min fuuuck please, make me cum baby.” Minho grunted as he started matching your rhythm giving you small deep thrusts as you rode him hard. A roll of Minho’s hips and your body was lit on fire with ecstasy. Your eyes rolled back in your head and your body went lip as you came hard on his cock.

Both his arms wrapped around you pulling you in, your soft breasts pressed against his firm chest, your sweat mingling as he worked you through your climax. You started coming down slowly, rolling your hips against his still. He threaded his hands through your hair and pulled you in for a sweet kiss. Plump lips pushed together and then pecked again and again.

“You’re so fucking sexy y/n god damn. Coming like that just... FUCK! I didn’t think I could get any harder. You look like you just ascended and came back a blushing angel.” You wrapped your arms around Minho trying to pull him closer although it didn’t seem possible and kissed him.

“Can I cum on you beautiful?” He kissed you so sweetly considering what he just asked while being buried balls deep inside you.

“Where do you want to cum baby?” Minho licked his lips at the ideas of where he’d cum on you going through his head but only had one in mind right then.

“Your tummy? I want you to keep sliding your wet pussy against my cock until I cum all over your sexy soft tummy.” You lifted your hips up enough allowing Minho’s dick to slide out of you.

You grabbed it, slid the condom off him, and pressed the tip of his cock up against your cunt, your hand pressing it firmly against you causing the most delicious friction for not just Minho but you too.

Minho pulled you close again your bodies pressed together. You held onto him tightly both arms wrapped around his neck fingers tugging the hair at his nape as his cock was pressed between you both.

“Fuck kitten I’m gonna cum.” You were panting rubbing yourself against Minho harder.

“God me to Min fuck! Fuck!” Minho could feel your pussy clenching even though he wasn’t inside you and you came the third time that night.

You felt warm spurts of thick cum start to paint your belly as Minho came on you, the way your cunt quivered around him being too much for him and finally pushing him over the edge. More streaks of cum shot from the tip of his cock across your belly and landing on his.

His seed kept leaking from his tip and dripped down your stomach. Once you were covered in Minho’s cum you fell back on your bed breathing heavy and laughing. Minho rolled and fell on his back next to you laughing as well.

“That was so much cum Minho look at me I’m covered.” Minho snaked his arms around you and pulled you close.

“I’ve got some on me too. We should probably shower.” He suggested as he nibbled your ear and neck. You giggled and shook your head, jumping up from the bed and racing to the bathroom, Minho fast on your heels.

You and Minho laid in your bed holding each other after washing each other and fucking in the shower again. You laid in the dark in a comfortable silence, soothed by each other's slow deep breaths. Suddenly a question hit Minho that he had to know the answer to.

“Oh yeah! How the hell do you know so much about poppies?” You laughed at the sudden question.

“I’m a botanist but poppy plants are my specific field of study. I wrote the book on it.” Minho laughed this time.

“I’d say so the way you rattled off all that info!” You shook your head laughing even harder and Minho looked like a confused kitty cat.

“No Minho I literally wrote the book on it. The current textbook used for plant science courses was written by me.” Minho quickly grabbed his cell phone and pulled up Google. When he typed in your name and saw all the awards and honors you had received in your field as well as the book you wrote, his jaw dropped.

“Damn so you really ARE THE plant nerd of the whole fucking universe.” You pinched Minho’s arm and he laughed tossing his phone and pulling you close again, kissing you and relaxing back.

That little google search sparked a slew of questions from the both of you. You carried on talking about anything and everything like two kids at a slumber party until you drifted off to sleep. You’d never had anything like that before with someone.

In the middle of the night, you woke up and couldn’t get yourself to fall back asleep. You sat up and looked over at Minho who was still sleeping peacefully and you couldn’t help but shake your head at the turn of events and how you had ended up there.

Even though it definitely didn’t start the best, in the end, you were happy that everything with Minho happened because it led you to where the two of you were now. As you sat there in your dark room you thought of the unopened letter your grandfather left you sitting on the counter.

You got up and walked into the kitchen, grabbed it and went back to your bed. When you crawled back in you sat crossed legged and Minho shifted, turned over towards you and wrapped his arms around your waist squeezing your soft body, sound asleep. You looked at the letter in your hands. You were still apprehensive but if now wasn’t the time, it never would be.

You turned on the small reading lamp by your bed and tore open the envelope that held the last words your grandfather left for you before dying. You took a deep breath preparing yourself and read.

Dear Poppy,

My sweet little poppy plant. I am so proud of you and the amazingly talented and beautiful woman you have grown to be. You are by far the most precious flower I tended to in my garden. I found the radio station for the college you’re speaking at. They’re going to broadcast your lecture and I’m going to listen to you while I lay here and maybe I’ll learn something from the smartest scientist I know.

I know you don’t want to hear this next part Poppy but you have to and I hope you won’t be too angry with me but, I knew. I knew today would happen while you were gone. I could feel it coming. The selfish part of me wants you here with me now but I’m glad you’re not here Poppy plant, because I want you to remember us in the green house and in the garden. I didn’t want this to be your last memory with me.

You had to go, speak, and show everyone else what I already know. That you are brilliant, amazing and beautiful. y/n, promise you’ll try to be happy. Your happiness is all I want. So, think of me when you see the poppies, think of me when you see Blue. I’ll always be with you my little Poppy plant.

Love always,

Your Pop

You choked back a sob as tears streamed down your face. Your body shuddered as you cried and it woke Minho. He sat up quickly holding your face gently in his hands.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” You held up the opened letter and he understood immediately. Minho held you and let you cry it all out.

When you were done you explained what you had read in the letter to him. How your grandfather had listened to you on the radio up until the moment he passed and how he told you he wanted you to remember him.

You thanked Minho for saving Blue from the nursery, even if he hadn’t known what it meant to you when he did it, because it meant you still had that piece of your grandfather. You both laid back in bed. Minho holding you, your head resting against his chest listening to his beating heart and it was the first time you really felt okay since your grandfather had died.

“Minho?” He squeezed you, kissed the top of your head and hummed.

“You can call me Poppy.”

*magnoliophyta- a division of plants comprising flowing plants that produce seeds enclosed in an ovary.

@caroline-ds-world @jquellen27 @chansynie @ughbehavior @hyunelixies @fixation-dump @lachinitaaaaa @rinrinndou @bangchans-angel @laylasbunbunny

*tracheophyta- a division of plants comprising green plants with a vascular system that contains tracheids or tracheary.

Please do not repost or translate any of my works. My blog and stories are NSFW and 18+ ONLY! Minors, ageless, and blank blogs will be blocked!

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