#flowers still sprout every spring

[c0mbatchameleon]

Snippet / microfic / something idk

Aka where Regulus wakes up half drunk on the floor of his brother’s apartment and forgets that the spare bedroom is no longer a spare bedroom

The moonlight has carved out a hollowness into the room when Regulus opens his eyes. There’s music playing, still, for an audience of empty cups and a few toppled chairs and the snoring bodies of his friends on the couch.

Barty is splayed out over Evan, face buried into his neck like he doesn’t need air, but rather, he lives and breathes the boy beneath him. Evan’s hand has planted roots in his skull, twisted into matted hair. Flecks of glitter sprinkle every inch of the boys, a sparkle here and there in their hair, embedded in their skin, their eyelashes and parted lips. They’re a grimy sort of angelic in their blacked-out state, sleep blanketing them in an innocence you’d never find otherwise.

It’s not the first time he’s waken here, stiff back and sour taste in his mouth. He stumbles to the kitchen sink and sticks his head in, letting the water run rivers down his face and neck as he drinks it in gulps. It’s about a full minute of that, and then running his hands over his face for good measure, before he continues his trek to the bathroom, scouring the cabinet for mouthwash and taking a swig straight from the bottle and then swishing it and spitting into the sink, hands gripping the porcelain to hold up his own weight. It’s a wonder he’s been able to stand for this long with exhaustion dragging him down like an anchor tied to his limbs.

He trails behind himself into the hall and then his usual room, hands held out in front of him in the absence of sight. It takes a minute to find the bed. Once he does, he’s unceremoniously tugging back the covers and collapsing onto the mattress, sleep already overtaking him.

He sighs, half in relief and half in pain, pulling up the covers and-

“Well this is new.”

“JESUS FUCKING CHRIST.”

Regulus’s skull collides with the headboard before he can form a cohesive thought.

Sleep has made a hasty retreat, driven out by adrenaline and pure fear. The man in his bed—James, to be specific—instinctively shoots a hand out, clasping onto his arm.

“Shit, are you okay?”

“What the fuck are you doing here!?” Regulus whisper-yells, propped halfway up on his arm with the other hand clutching his head.

“What am I doing in my bed?”

Regulus blinks. Fuck. He forgot this bed actually belonged to someone. Not just someone. Of course, never just someone.

“I… forgot you lived here.”

His eyes have adjusted to the darkness, now. He watches James stare at him, dumbfounded, for a few beats. And then he bursts into a fit of laughter.

Of course the fucker is laughing. It blooms on his face like Spring itself; even here, dimly lit and squinting, it’s blinding. Rays of sunlight cutting through his teeth as he gasps for breath inbetween. Flower and leaf and fruit sprouting from his throat, and Regulus is just too tipsy to avoid the vines coiling around him, his arms and legs and chest, taking root in his own throat, planting seeds in his lungs.

He’s too tired to fight the branches stretching out like hands and pulling at the corners of his own lips, coercing a smaller laugh. He doesn’t even think it’s that funny, maybe James is just delirious. Maybe he’s still a little drunk, too.

“You forgot I lived here. In my room. In my apartment.” James relays, his hysterics reigned in to a splitting grin. Blinding, blinding, still blinding. He’s on his side, head resting in his hand—the other hand is still on Regulus, a light touch burning holes through his clothes, the skin on his shoulder, the muscle and bone marrow, planting more seeds, sprouting more life. He’s staring up at Regulus with sparkling eyes. Who gave him this much joy? Who gave him the idea to direct any of it his way?

Even here, in the middle of the night, waking him up just to shed glitter on his clean sheets and yell at him for existing in his own home.

Regulus doesn’t deserve it. But he can’t find it in himself to deny it right now.

“I may have, uh, passed out in here drunk a few times when you weren’t here last year.”

“A few times?” James asked, eyebrows raised, hand still there.

“Ok. Maybe a lot. Forgot it wasn’t actually mine,” Regulus admits, trying not to shortcircuit from the contact. Trying to relocate the mask of indifference he misplaced after the 3rd or 4th shot. He can just barely feel he’s still smiling, stupidly. He can’t find the right muscles to make it go away.

The analog clock on the dresser across the room reads 3:27 AM in a blue glow. Regulus knows the sensible thing to do now is get up, but the soft arms of sleep are extending from somewhere below, furling around his body and pulling down. The mattress, James’s mattress, might be the softest thing he’s ever laid rest on and it’s enveloping him like quicksand. He lets his head drop forward like dead weight as he musters the strength to move.

“Well don’t let me stop you, then,” James says, amusement and something strangely resembling adoration painted on his face. “I can sleep on the couch, if you want.”

It’s all way too casual for the absolutely absurd offer.

Regulus stares at him in disbelief. “You’re just gonna let me kick you out of your own bed.”

James shrugs, “You look comfy.”

There’s the distant hum of a car engine passing outside, an intermittent clicking sound from the run down heater in the room. The window shade is somewhat transparent, which defeats the whole fucking purpose of the thing, much to Regulus’s annoyance—he’s awoken, against his will to many a sunrise in this room—and a nearby streetlight gently pollutes the darkness, illuminating James from behind in a halo of muted yellow light.

“That’s fucking ridiculous,” Regulus replies, still not moving. James laughs softly. A few daisies sprout in the garden growing between them. “Barty and Evan are on the couch, anyway.”

“I’ll take the floor then.”

“You’re not sleeping on the fucking floor for me.”

“Well I’m more than happy to share, then.”

“You’re not- what?” His bemusement distracts him momentarily from the growing effort of keeping his eyes open. James squeezes his shoulder lightly, the bastard, drawing a small breath from him that he hopes to god goes unheard, before finally drawing back his hand.

“I sleep on the floor or we both sleep here. Your choice.”

“And if I sleep on the floor?”

“I’ll still sleep on the floor out of spite. I don’t think you could get up if you tried, right now, anyway.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Regulus groans. He fully collapses in defeat onto the pillow as he says it, which might take some of the edge out of the remark.

“I really don’t mind the floor, love. Good for the back and all. I’ve got tons of extra pillows and blankets, anyway,” James says, gesturing to the floor next to his bed.

“Just sleep in the god damn bed,” Regulus sighs. He shuffles so he’s on his back, one arm bent over his head rather dramatically, and closes his eyes. He’s fully relented in his battle with his own exhaustion now, and it’s closing in fast.

James doesn’t move for a moment. Regulus can feel his gaze like a beam of sunlight through a magnifying glass. He doesn’t need to open his eyes to smell his own clothes begin to smoke in the wake of it. “Are you sure?” he finally asks, playful tone receding. “I just- I should warn you I’m a bit of an.. active sleeper. And I know you don’t always like people touching you-“

“It’s alright when it’s you.”

It comes out nearly a whisper now as he sinks. He’ll blame it on alcohol or delirium, tomorrow, if he’s not outright denying having said it. He doesn’t actually know why he said it out loud. Regulus usually keeps the truth to himself, as a general rule.

The last thing he hears before falling asleep is James’s small intake of breath, followed by a faint “Oh. Yeah?” and then reality rescinds entirely.

#this is my first time writing fanfiction since I was 13 #it’s also a random scene from a bigger story that’s been in my head the past couple months #but yeah #idk what I’m doing #jegulus microfic #jegulus fic #jegulus #james x regulus #regulus black #james potter #starchaser #sunseeker #unnamed physics fic #writing stuff and things

[crvptidgf]

Take My Time

Rafe Cameron x Reader

➸ summary: during one of his infamous parties, rafe can’t seem to keep his hands to himself.

➸ warnings/notes: smut (18+), fingering, reader is afab, use of petnames, no use of y/n, soft!rafe (?), idk what else

A/N: i’m not too experienced with writing explicit stuff so this is just practice!!

word count: 1.6k

————————

IT WAS FINALLY spring. The leaves began to sprout on the trees, and Tannyhill’s flowers have already bloomed, the array of colors washing across the perfectly manicured garden. So - what better way to celebrate the end of winter than a classic Rafe Cameron party?

It had been a while since he’s hosted one. What with him overtaking Cameron Development and settling into his new office, he didn’t have much time to unwind like he used to. He had stopped taking drugs, and his mind was too preoccupied most of the time to even think about touching any alcohol. All he wanted to do when he came home was to lie down in bed with you and chill.

Of course, you had no objections to this. You loved having him to yourself. However that could not be said for others.

Topper and Kelce were growing increasingly frustrated. They would never admit it but you could tell they missed him (in their own weird little way). Rafe not being around most of the time was taking a toll on them and you started to feel bad for them. It wasn’t your fault, but you felt like you should do something to help.

So, swallowing your pride, you brought up the idea of a party under the guise that he needed to let loose and relax for a little while. While that was true, it wasn’t your main reasoning.

That’s how you ended up here, drink in hand as you listened to the conversation flow around you. Rafe’s arm was draped around your waist, holding you to him as you got comfortable on his lap. You could feel the vibrations reverberating on your back, his laugh loud and carefree. It was nice seeing him like this. His cup was full of alcohol, work far away from his mind, just like you had hoped.

You felt very accomplished as you stood up, noticing how the boys were finally getting to catch up after what felt like forever. Whispering to Rafe that you’d be back, you entered through the back door to refill your drink, the buzz only starting to get to you now.

Truthfully the party still wasn’t as crazy as they used to be but you chalked that up to it still being early in the day.

Your summer dress flowed with every step that you took, the thin fabric doing wonders for you with the blazing heat outside. Before you returned to the party you decided to venture upstairs to take your phone. You had left it there to charge earlier and you were curious to see if your friends were on their way here yet.

Outside Rafe was getting impatient. Sure he was glad to be reunited with his best friends, but he wanted you here with him. What use was it to be at this party alone when you were both hosting it together? Not to mention that he missed the weight of you against him, your little dress raising up your thigh each time the wind blew slightly, the smell of your shampoo invading his senses as he tried to focus on his friend’s stories…

He needed to find you.

When he didn’t see you in the kitchen or dining room, his next guess was his bathroom.

The doorknob clicked behind you as Rafe stepped into his room, heavy footsteps sounding against the floor as he closed the door after himself. You were leaned over his nightstand, your dress riding up just under the curve of your ass. He felt like he was going to go insane if he went one more minute without you.

“Hey, baby. What’re you doing up here?” he asked as he eyed your legs from where he was standing.

Turning around to him you sighed. Your friends said they’d still be another hour, their high maintenance pregame routine was taking longer than usual. Getting up from your previous position, you met your boyfriend’s gaze, noticing how his eyes drooped upon seeing your necklace glimmer in the sunlight, the golden ‘R’ shining beautifully against your skin tone.

“Just checking when the rest will be here. I want today to be perfect.”

“Today is perfect. You’re perfect,” he whispered the last part, his hands finding your hips almost instantly. “Don’t worry your pretty little head, you’ve already done so much to help around here.”

You only nodded, your hands dropping against his chest as he walked you backwards towards his window. Dropping your eyes to his lips, you leaning in for a quick kiss - but Rafe had other things in mind.

“Y’know if you’re stressed I have something in mind to help.”

His words became muffled towards the end as he dipped his head into the crook of your neck, lips already trailing kisses along your skin. The soft pecks he was giving you mixed with the want in his voice made your knees weak, and you nodded your head even though he couldn’t see you.

“Yeah? Like what?” you asked, your heart thrumming against your ribcage as Rafe settled you onto the window sill, his strong hands gripping your thighs and bringing them to wrap around him.

He only squeezed your legs in response, his mouth traveling lower and lower down your chest until he reached your clothed breasts. Wrapping his lips around the thin cloth, he sucked lightly causing you to take a sharp inhale. Hands caressing the plush of your thighs, he began to venture upwards slowly.

His fingers drew feather light shapes on your thigh while the other grew closer and closer to where you needed him, before finally reaching the cotton covering you. Taking one finger he grazed it across your core to feel your arousal.

You let out a soft moan at the contact, throwing away all your worries as you were overtaken by pure need.

“Do you want me as bad as I want you right now?” Rafe asked breathlessly, his lips coming into contact with yours again as his deft fingers applied pressure against your heat. You could only moan in response.

“Tell me,” he said as he began to draw tight, lazy circles against your clit.

Throwing your head back against the glass behind you, you breathed out a small ‘yes’, as you silently begged him to continue.

That’s all he needed to hear as he pulled your panties to the side, his fingers meeting your hot, wet hole.

“Fuuuck,” he drawled out once he noticed how easy it was to slide his fingers against you.

Collecting your arousal on his fingers, he circled upwards again towards your sensitive nub. He could already feel the tent in his pants growing, the fabric constricting him too much. Without thinking anymore, he plunged a finger into you without warning, loving how you clenched around him.

“Rafe,” you gasped. Your hands were grasping at his shoulders now, your body all but trembling at how slow he was moving. “Please. Faster.”

Rafe groaned at the desperation in your voice but he made no move to quicken his pace. “Mm, no. Wanna enjoy this,” he said, “wanted to touch you all day.”

His free hand came to lower your shoulder straps down, freeing your tits and putting them on display for him. He ignored how his pants tightened dangerously at the side and instead focused on curling his fingers upwards, listening to your whines and sighs.

“You thought I wouldn’t find out didn’t you?”

So caught up in the pleasure you almost didn’t hear him. The knot in your stomach began to build as Rafe’s thumb entered the mix, pressing against your clit.

Rafe’s tongue returned to your chest now, tongue swirling around your nipple as you wracked your brain for a response. What did he just ask you?

“Huh?” you managed to reply.

He only added another finger into you in response, his thrusts slightly getting faster now. Moving to your other nipple, he responded before he wrapped his lips around the neglected peak.

“How you planned this just so I could see Top and Kelce. Y’so good to me,” he groaned, feeling your walls flutter in reaction to his voice.

“Wanna repay you. Wanna show you how much I-“ his voice cracked as you wrapped your legs around him tighter, causing his dick to rub against the inside of your leg, the friction making his mind go hazy. He continued his previous sentence, “how much I appreciate it.”

“Yes. Please!” you practically screamed as the knot in your lower abdomen built with each twist of his thumb, each curl of his fingers as he fucked you with his hand.

Rafe made no signs of stopping as your hips now moved in sync with his hand, meeting the thrusts of his experienced fingers.

“Gonna cum all over my fingers?” he said, saliva coating his lips from sucking and kissing your chest.

You nodded furiously, your eyebrows scrunching in concentration.

“Give it to me, baby. Wanna see your pretty face.”

That was all you needed to hear before the coil burst, your orgasm wracking through your body. Rafe’s eyes were trained on your face, admiring how your jaw went slack, your fingers scratching at his shirt and your legs clenching from the pleasure you felt.

Once you calmed down from your high, he pulled his fingers from you slowly, not missing how your body followed him, your pussy suddenly feeling empty. He almost moaned at the sight of you grabbing his hand and stuffing his fingers in your mouth, sucking your release off of him.

“I wanna feel you, Rafe” you said, still panting from exhaustion as you played with his buttons of his shirt.

Rafe only smiled at you, his ego inflating at your statement. He helped you slide the straps of your dress back up before patting your thigh gently.

“That’s for tonight. I wanna take my time, yeah? Wanna thank you for being such a good girl f’me.”

The mere thought was dizzying, and you could tell he was as impatient as you. Yet if he was promising such a thing, you knew you’d be in for a good night.

#rafe outer banks #rafe imagine #rafe x reader #outerbanks rafe #rafe smut #rafe fanfiction #rafe cameron #rafe obx #rafe fic #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fic #outerbanks fanfiction #outer banks #obx fic #obx fanfiction #obx x reader #obx imagine #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x kook!reader #obx smut #obx #outer banks x reader #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks fic #outer banks smut

[yuutaok]

⊹ ‧₊˚✿ Spring Leaves, But I Never Will

Yuuta Okkotsu x Reader

In the eerie mountain forest, you seek to find what is missing. Lost and disoriented, you encounter a mysterious boy with eyes like the dead, his presence is captivating. With a gentle hand, he beckons you, and you follow.

⊹ ‧₊˚✿ Word Count: ~4.4K

⊹ ‧₊˚✿ Content Warnings: 18+ MDNI (Minors Do Not Interact), P in V, AFAB! Reader, prone bone, unprotected sex, creampies, posessiveness, supernatural/paranormal stuff happens, open-ended ending, Reader is lost in a forest and meets Yuuta, Yuuta is a freak

⊹ ‧₊˚✿ Author's note: Hiii I am back with a vengeance. Belated birthday fic for Yuuta ♡ Life exploded me so I never got the chance to finish until now. Also, I would like to thank Sen (@/ banjjakz) for inspiring some of the horror aspects of this <3 They have such a lovely way of writing such mysterious horror that I deeply wanted to try my hand at, so please go read their Yuuta fics bc they are sooooo delicious ok I'll stop swooning now byeeeeee

Lost amidst the dense, foreboding forests of the mountains, you trudged forward, the fading sunlight casting long shadows across the winding trail. Your heart felt heavy with the weight of recent events, the memory of your painful breakup still fresh in your mind. It had only been a couple of days, of course your heart would still hurt and your hands would still shake. And still, the need to escape, to clear your head and find solace amidst the solitude of nature, had driven you to embark on this day-hike alone.

The townsfolk often whispered about this mountain as a haunt for the heartbroken.

And so, here you were.

The hike was pleasant. You took the time to leisurely look at every interesting formed rock or beautiful sprouting flower that you had stumbled upon. Spring had just begun and it felt nice to be in the calm serenity of nature. You took care to not stray too far from the beaten path but still found your way crunching through the trees to look at specimens that caught your eye. It was a great way to get your mind off of things, to forget about life for just a moment.

But now, as the sky darkened and the woods grew eerily silent around you, regret gnawed at the edges of your resolve. Perhaps venturing into the wilderness alone had been a mistake, a reckless act born of heartache. Panic tightened its grip on your chest as you realized that dusk was fast approaching, and you had yet to find your way back to civilization.

With each step you took through the dense undergrowth of the forest, the sense of urgency weighed heavy on your shoulders. Nervously, you glanced at the sky, watching as the sun dipped lower and lower, casting long shadows that danced ominously through the trees. Hope flickered like a dying flame within you, faltering as the daylight waned faster than anticipated.

Your mind wandered to the rumors that had long circulated about the mountain, tales of heartbroken souls seeking solace among the towering trees, only to vanish without a trace.

It was said that the forest held secrets whispered confessions etched into the bark of the old oak trees, and love letters left behind by those who had come seeking solace from their pain. But these were not ordinary declarations of affection; they were haunting, twisted reflections of despair, each word filled with grief, obsession, and heartbreak. You have heard people say that love is the worst curse of all.

Some claimed to have heard mournful voices echoing through the woods, the ghostly whispers of lovers calling out into the darkness, their cries fading into gusts of wind and rustling leaves. Others spoke of strange symbols carved into the earth, cryptic messages left behind by those who had succumbed to the forest's embrace.

You still had decided to come, despite the unsubstantiated rumors that were whispered by the old grannies in the surrounding town. You’d be damned if you suffocated under the weight of your heartache. But as you delved deeper and deeper into the forest, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched— honestly, maybe the old ladies knew something you didn’t.

Panic clawed at the edges of your mind, threatening to consume you whole. Desperate, you called out into the silent woods, your voice echoing into the vast expanse of darkness that surrounded you, “Hello…? Is anybody out there? Can anyone hear me?”

But the only response was the feeling of eyes on the back of your head and the haunting whisper of the wind through the branches, carrying with it a sense of desolation that chilled you to the bone.

With each passing moment, the forest seemed to close in around you, its shadows stretching like grasping fingers eager to ensnare their prey. You were never quite fond of the dark.

Heart pounding, you broke into a run, stumbling through the underbrush in a frantic search for anything familiar. Each rustle of leaves and snap of twigs beneath your feet sent a jolt of fear coursing through your veins, your breaths coming in ragged gasps as you raced against the encroaching darkness.

And then, just as panic threatened to consume you whole, you burst through a thicket of bushes, only to collide with an unexpected figure standing in your path. The air left your lungs as you fell flat on your ass.

You looked up at what, or who, you had just crashed head-on into.

It was a boy, his dark eyes gleaming with an unsettling intensity as he regarded you with an enigmatic smile, despite you just pummeling into him with your full force. The shock of the encounter left you speechless, frozen in place as the realization dawned that you were not alone in the woods after all.

You made eye contact with the stranger, and a chill swept through the air, sending a shiver down your spine. His dark hair fell in tousled waves, framing his pale face in an unsettling contrast. His tired eyes bore into you with an intensity that made your skin crawl. A curtain of bangs parted across his forehead, framing his features in a shadowy veil. His lips twisted into a smile and held a hint of something that lurked just beneath the surface.

There was an undeniable aura of unease that surrounded the boy, a sense of foreboding that lingered in the air like a haunting melody. As he extended a hand towards you, offering salvation in the darkness, you couldn't shake the feeling that there was something deeply unsettling about him.

"Are you lost?" he asked, his voice low and soothing. "It's dangerous to be out here alone at night. I can lead you to safety."

You looked up at the stranger incredulously, as if you would be dumb enough to follow a stranger you met out in the woods!

Sending your apprehension, the raven-haired boy smiles kindly, “I promise, I don’t bite. Please, it’s getting late and I don’t think I could live with myself if I left you out here by yourself.”

Weighing out your options, you realized that maybe this was your best choice. It’s either that or freezing out in the woods, or better yet being eaten by some wild animal that you hardly can find yourself against.

You looked around, dazed. With darkness closing in around you and no other options in sight, you accepted his offer.

“Alright,” you sighed. “But please don’t try anything, I’ve been told I have a killer right hook.”

He looks at you, obviously amused, “Of course, I’ll be on my best behavior.”

And begrudgingly you had to admit, despite everything in your body screaming for you to keep running, you felt completely and utterly relieved to see him.

As you followed the raven-haired boy deeper into the woods, the sense of unease only intensified, wrapping around you like a suffocating cloak. "Where are we going?" you finally asked, your voice trembling slightly with apprehension.

His dark eyes flickered with an unreadable emotion as he turned to face you, his expression guarded yet strangely calm. "To my cabin," he replied, his voice low and steady. "It's not far from here. You'll be safe there for the night. You can rest for as long as you need to."

Though his words offered reassurance, there was a lingering doubt in the back of your mind. You had heard stories of people disappearing in these woods, never to be seen again, and the thought sent a chill down your spine.

There was something about the dark-haired man that unsettled you, something that whispered of hidden dangers lurking beneath his calm exterior. And even so, something about him drew you in, made you feel so immediately safe with him.

"Who are you?" you pressed, your voice wavering with a mix of fear and curiosity. "And why were you out here alone?"

Yuuta hesitated for a moment as if weighing his words carefully. "My name is Yuuta Okkotsu," he said finally, his gaze meeting yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. "I live in the woods, away from civilization. As for why I was out here...let's just say I have my reasons."

His cryptic response only fueled your apprehension, but as the darkness closed in around you and the sound of rustling leaves filled the air, you realized that you had little choice but to trust him, at least for now. With a nod of reluctant acceptance, you followed Yuuta deeper into the woods, praying that you had not just made a grave mistake.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

His cabin appeared suddenly, a rustic structure nestled amidst the towering trees, its windows glowing with the warm light of a fire within.

"I don't usually invite strangers into my home," Yuuta admitted, his gaze lingering on you with a mix of curiosity and something you couldn’t quite place your finger on. "But I can't leave you out here alone. You're welcome to stay until morning." Though grateful for his offer of shelter, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled over you like a shroud.

There was something about Yuuta's demeanor, a subtle intensity in his gaze, that sent shivers down your spine.

You stepped into Yuuta's cabin, grateful for the warmth and shelter it offered. The cozy interior enveloped you in a comforting embrace, dispelling some of the tension that had gripped you since your encounter in the woods. It was humorous actually, how warm the cabin felt in comparison to the uneasiness its owner gave you.

“Home sweet home,” Yuuta said as he took your coat and nodded his head for you to follow him.

Yuuta wasted no time in playing the role of a gracious host, offering you a change of clothes and access to his shower. His bathroom was neat, he didn’t have much, just the basics, but it was still appreciated nonetheless.

As the hot water washed away the dirt and grime of the forest, you felt a sense of relaxation seeping into your bones, soothing the frayed edges of your nerves.

Emerging from the shower feeling refreshed and revitalized. You found Yuuta busy in the kitchen, a delicious aroma of spices and savory delights wafting through the air.

As you peered over his shoulder, you caught a glimpse of the bubbling pot on the stove, filled with rich, fragrant curry. The sight stirred memories of comforting meals shared with loved ones, and you couldn't help but feel a pang of nostalgia. "That smells amazing," you murmured, your mouth watering at the thought of indulging in the hearty dish.

Yuuta glanced up from his cooking, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "It's just a simple curry," he said modestly, though there was a hint of pride in his voice. "But I find that simple comforts are often the most satisfying."

You offered to help, eager to contribute to the meal in some way, but Yuuta shook his head gently. "No need to trouble yourself," he insisted, his gaze softening as he gestured for you to take a seat at the table. "Relax and settle down. I'll take care of everything."

Though you hesitated for a moment, the warmth of Yuuta's demeanor and the promise of a delicious meal were too enticing to resist. With a grateful smile, you sank into a chair, content to watch as Yuuta worked his culinary magic, the comforting rhythm of his movements lulling you into a sense of peace and contentment.

As you settled into Yuuta's cabin, you couldn't help but take in your surroundings with a sense of curiosity. The interior was simple yet cozy, with polished wooden floors that creaked softly underfoot and walls adorned with faded photographs and intricate tapestries.

The cabin had a rustic charm to it, its bare furnishings lending an air of simplicity to the space. Yet, despite its minimalistic design, everything seemed meticulously arranged, each item in its rightful place. There was a sense of order and precision that spoke to Yuuta's meticulous nature, a trait that you found oddly comforting.

On the shelves lining the walls, you noticed an eclectic array of books, their well-worn spines bearing the marks of countless readings. From classic literature to obscure texts on folklore and mysticism, the collection spoke of a curious mind.

Nearby, a shelf displayed a collection of handmade erasers, their vibrant colors and whimsical shapes. You couldn't help but smile at the sight of these charming little creatures. There was a sense of warmth and homeliness to Yuuta's cabin that made you feel strangely at ease. It was as if the space itself radiated a sense of comfort and belonging, welcoming you with open arms into its cozy embrace.

Before you knew it, the food was done and Yuuta served you a steaming plate.

“Thank you for the meal,” you said, nervous.

“It’s my pleasure,” Yuuta replied.

With the two of you sitting down to eat, you found yourself opening up to Yuuta in a way you hadn't expected. You told him about your recent breakup, the pain and heartache that had driven you to seek solace in the wilderness.

Yuuta listened attentively, his dark eyes reflecting a depth of understanding that surprised you. "It's dangerous to be out in the woods alone," he said softly, his voice tinged with a note of concern. "Who knows what evils could be lurking in the darkness? I'm glad I found you when I did." A chill ran down your spine.

Though he had shown you nothing but kindness, you couldn’t quite shake the feeling of anxiety that crept up around Yuuta's presence. He was good company, however, and you worked hard to ignore the way your hands clammed up and each hair on your skin stood up when he leaned in closer to speak with you. You chalked it up to your nerves.

The two of you continued to converse, him asking you more about your life and you asking about his. As Yuuta shared snippets of his past, you found yourself drawn to him in a way you couldn't quite explain. There was a sort of charm to him, an undeniable allure. Despite the lingering doubts that were dancing in the back of your mind, you couldn't deny the attraction you had towards him. You felt like a moth catching fire as it approached an open flame.

With a sigh, Yuuta leaned back against the cushions, his gaze drifting to the dancing flames of his fireplace as if lost in thought. "You know," he begins, his voice a low, melodic murmur that sends shivers down your spine, "I wasn't always a hermit living in the woods." His words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken sorrow.

"What happened?" you ventured softly, your voice barely more than a whisper, to not disturb the mood.

Yuuta's gaze flickered to yours, a hint of sadness lurking in the depths of his dark eyes. "I used to live in the city, surrounded by noise and chaos," he admitted, his words tinged with bitterness. "But... I lost someone very dear to me." His voice trailed off, grief etched into the lines of his face.

"She was my childhood sweetheart," he continued, his voice barely above a whisper as if speaking the words aloud pains him. "We were inseparable, bound together by pure, untainted, love.”

A heavy silence fell between you, broken only by the crackling of the fire and the soft rustle of the wind outside. "She was taken from me," Yuuta murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. "And I... I couldn't bear to stay in that world any longer."

As he spoke, you sensed the weight of his sorrow pressing down on him, a burden too heavy for one mere person to bear alone. "I tried to move on, to forget her and the pain of losing her," Yuuta admitted, his voice raw with emotion. "But no matter how hard I tried, I could never escape the memories of our time together."

“So I left," he confessed, "I left everything behind and retreated into the solitude of the forest, hoping to find something to fill the hole in my heart.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of his sorrow, and you could not help but feel a surge of empathy for the man before you. At that moment, you realize that Yuuta and you are not so different after all, both haunted by heartbreak, seeking solace in the expanse of trees. In his eyes, you saw a reflection of your desires, a longing for connection and understanding.

But even as your heart yearned to unravel the secrets hidden within Yuuta’s dark and mangled heart, a sense of unease lingered at the edges of your consciousness. There was still something unsettling about the way the shadows seemed to dance around him, as if alive with an energy of their own. Something you couldn’t quite put your finger on…

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

As the night stretched on, the air thick with a palpable tension, you felt a strange sense of drowsiness wash over you. Your eyelids grew heavy with exhaustion as you let out a quiet yawn.

With a soft smile, Yuuta reached out to you. His was touch gentle, yet firm, possessive even. You felt yourself lean into his touch as if he weaved an invisible spell around you.

"You look tired," he murmured, his voice a soothing melody that seemed to echo with the whispers of the forest itself. "Come with me, let me take care of you."

His words washed over you like a warm embrace, dispelling the last glimmers of doubt and fear as you allow yourself to be guided by his steady hand. With a silent nod, you allowed Yuuta to lead you to the bedroom, the warmth of his presence enveloping you like a protective shield as you sank into the soft embrace of the bed.

The room was bathed in the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the curtains, casting shadows across the walls like dancing spirits. He leaned over you, his body flush against yours, his hand steady and reassuring against your skin.

As you lay there, the haze of drowsiness clouding your senses, you felt Yuuta begin to pull away. You grasped at the hem of his shirt, silently begging him not to go.

His features were veiled by the shroud of night, his smile, though unseen, seemed to materialize in the darkness. With a gentle pull, you drew him down to lay beside you.

"Do you want me to stay?" Yuuta's voice, a soft murmur, caressed your ear as his head nestled against your shoulder.

"Yes," you found yourself pleading, the words slipping from your lips in a whispered plea. "Don't leave."

Yuuta's lips brushed gently against your neck, his touch tender yet possessive. "I won’t,” he murmured, “I won’t ever leave,” his voice a velvet whisper that sent shivers down your spine. “I’ll keep you safe, I promise,”

In your sleepy state, you found yourself melting into his touch. Yuuta's kisses trailed a path of fire along your skin. Each kiss was a feather-light caress that seeped into each layer of your skin, burning you from the inside out.

Slowly, he moved up your neck, his lips leaving a trail of warmth in their wake as he explored every inch of your skin with adoration.

As Yuuta's lips found their way to your jaw, you felt yourself melting into his embrace, lost in the dizzying whirlwind that you now understood as Yuuta Okkotsu.

His movements were calm and deliberate, his touch gentle yet commanding as he explored every curve and contour of your body with dedicated devotion. Each touch left you yearning for more. You would die if it meant you could feel this loved forever.

Soon enough, Yuuta’s lips found yours, his kisses both tender and possessive, his passion evident in the way he claimed your lips.

As his lips danced with yours, you found yourself with the thought of never being apart from him. It filled you with a sense of completion. You could feel the depth of his devotion. Could he feel yours?

As if to answer your question, Yuuta’s touch became more urgent, his hands roaming over your body with a ravenous hunger. You felt happy that you could be consumed so ardently, that you found yourself secretly hoping that you at least tasted good.

Breaking out of your thoughts, you realized Yuuta was removing your borrowed clothes bit by bit. He made sure you were left in your panties.

His strong hands moved to caress your bare skin, his fingers leaving imprints on your body. Yuuta’s nails and grip dug into your skin as he kissed you. His hands moved to explore every curve and contour of your body with a reverence that bordered on worship. You wondered if he was trying to memorize every inch of you.

You leaned up to deepen the kiss, which only furthered Yuuta’s excitement. His lips moved hungrily against yours, his touch seeming eager, desperate, or perhaps so incredibly lonely, even.

Yuuta’s wet kisses left you dizzy, your senses were overwhelmed by him. Noticing the strain between his legs, you reached your hands down to unbutton his pants & paw at his boxers. Yuuta obliged by tossing them off to the side with your lost articles of clothing.

You moved to guide his hips to meet yours. With him between your legs, you moved to grind against him. You both gasped as his hard member pressed against your soaked panties.

You look up to see his reaction but notice something in Yuuta’s eyes become dark. His grip on your hips became tighter as his nails dug crescents into your soft skin.

Yuuta took this moment to grind himself deeper into you, his cock sliding between the lips of your pussy soaked panties. You let out a wanton moan, grinding back against him, desperate for any form of friction or release. You felt his cock rub against your swollen clit, moving back and forth in a way that left you crying out for more.

As Yuuta continued to tease you, he paused for a moment, his breath warm against your ear as he spoke in a low voice, "Do you want this?”

You shivered, a chill running down your spine.

With a hitched breath, you nodded.

“Will you be mine?" He asked, his eyes peering deep and dark into your own. You felt like he could see right into you like he was clawing his way into your soul to make a home in it.

You were okay with that.

You nodded again, “Yes, I’ll always be yours.”

With a glassy darkness in his eyes, he flipped you over onto your stomach, his movements rough and commanding as he positioned himself behind you. He tsk’ed as he ripped your ruined panties off, throwing off into the darkness of the room.

Well, you didn’t need those, anyway.

You could feel the heat of his breath against your ear as he whispered, “I’ll make it so you can’t ever think to leave,” sending shivers down your spine.

Yuuta trailed hot kisses along your skin as he positioned himself above you. With a low moan, he pressed himself against you, the throbbing hardness of his member seeking entrance to your dripping heat.

And then, with a thrust, he entered you. Yuuta’s hands gripped your ass as he slowly sunk his hard length into your wet core. You sucked in a breath, a wave of pleasure crashing over you as he filled your pussy completely. He was big. So much bigger than you anticipated.

‘We fit together perfectly’, you thought to yourself.

His pace was slow, with him getting used to the tightness of your cunt. You looked up at him with adoration as he leaned over your shoulder to give you a sloppy open-mouthed kiss. A trail of saliva left between your lips when you parted.

Yuuta’s spent no extra moment finding his stride, his movements becoming rough and unyielding as he fucks you with such devoted reverence. You’re helpless. All you could do was beg for more as you gulped in the air.

It’s obscene, the way he makes you moan. You’re powerless to fight against the way he makes your heart skip and your stomach churn. You feel on fire like he’s burning you to a crisp of ash and dust only to resurrect you again if only to just keep fucking you.

Yuuta’s movements become more urgent and the tension between you reaches its peak. With each thrust, you feel yourself teetering on the edge of ecstasy, your senses overwhelmed by Yuuta.

Suddenly, you feel a surge of pleasure coursing through your veins, your body convulsing with the intensity of your release. With a cry, you shatter into a million pieces, the only thing able to leave your mouth is the chant of, “Yuuta-- Ah, Yuuta, Yuuta.”

“I’m here,” he replies, voice strained feeling your pussy tighten around his cock, “I’m right here.” Feeling the wetness and tightness of your cum triggers Yuuta’s climax, and with a stifled moan, he follows suit, pouring his hot cum into you.

Yuuta pulls you into his arms, his leaky cock still hard inside of you. Your dark-haired lover kisses your temple and leaves sweet whispers across the sweat of your skin. He holds you close, entwining you into him as your eyelids get heavy and you feel sleep take over your spent body.

You feel loved.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

In your dreams, you find yourself lost in a labyrinth of shadows, the air thick with the scent of decay. Whispers echo through the darkness, taunting you with half-formed promises and cryptic warnings.

You stumble through the endless maze, searching for an escape, but the shadows seem to shift and twist, leading you further into the depths of your despair.

And then, just when you think you can bear it no longer, you see him. Yuuta stands before you, his dark eyes looking into yours as he reaches out to you with a hand shrouded in darkness.

He whispers something, you don’t understand. But you still reach out, taking his hand into yours.

You awaken with a start, the echoes of your nightmare still lingering in the recesses of your mind.

Heart pounding, you sit up in bed, the room bathed in the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the curtains.

Yuuta is gone, but his warmth remains.

A sense of foreboding settles over you like a shroud.

#₊˚ 彡✩ ₊˚ writing #⋆୨✿୧⋆ jjk #⋆୨♡୧⋆ yuuta #yuta okkotsu x reader #yuuta okkotsu x reader #yuta okkotsu x you #yuuta okkotsu x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #yuuta smut #EXTREMELY BELATED BDAY FIC LETS GOOOOO #idk if u will see this but #hiii sen i hope u dont mind the mention o///o your newest Yuuta fics had me in such a chokehold that i started this… #but then u finished my comm and my braincell was literally screaming #I NEEEED TO WRIT EJ NEEED I NEED I NEED #so basicallt thank u for making me insane

[minimujina]

you make me so nervous !

sᴛᴀʀʀɪɴɢ. heizou, albedo, wanderer/scaramouche x f!reader

ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ. reader has a dendro vision, and when you get flustered or injured your powers go crazy :0

ᴄᴡ. sickeningly sweet fluff, wanderer is given a name, wanderer’s is a bit different than the other two so specific warnings are right before his, ARCHON QUEST SPOILERS!1!

heizou had never met someone so easy to read in all his days of observing people.

the mere presence of the detective seemed to fluster you impossibly—and your dendro vision would react in accordance, much to your dismay.

take the time that you decided to go for a mid-morning walk—something you didn’t usually do. you were looking for easy ways to change things up, bored of the stagnancy that so often came with a rigid schedule.

upon seeing you, the detective was surprised, since he knew that you were usually in your garden at this time of day. he shrugged it off, though, approaching you eagerly. and i’m not saying that he had the intention of frightening you, but that’s exactly what i’m saying.

“my dear sweetflower!” heizou exclaimed, startling you with an obnoxious poke on the shoulder. sweetflower was an endearing nickname he’d come up with when he first met you. “what brings you here at this fine hour?”

mischief and arrogance seemed to just seep from his voice. but still, he was a good friend to you, and a good person. just a bit of a bastard.

you gave a loud yelp and a flinch—he had to steady you with his arms amidst good-natured laughter to keep you from smacking him.

after you’d calmed down and he stopped laughing, heizou noticed something peculiar and novel: flowers had begun to bloom in your hair. by the time heizou had released you from his grasp, the mess atop your head had become more than abundant with clusters of posies.

you were none the wiser, since you were too busy trying to sort out your muddled thoughts—but heizou brought the issue to your attention with a silvery hum and a grin, reaching behind your ear to pluck a single leaf from its vine.

“did i scare you that much, dear?” the detective’s voice was teasing, but kind, and his smile more than reached the marks under his eyes. he was clearly amused at this predicament of yours.

the next time, however, had nothing to do with you being startled. you simply took notice of heizou in the distance—and the next thing you knew, flowers were sprouting up like weeds all around you. the detective hadn’t spotted you, though, so you bunched up as many of the fresh sumeru roses and sweetflowers in your little arms as you could, scurrying away in a panic.

ever since then, this problem persisted relentlessly. you’d learned to control it more with time, but every chance encounter with the detective spelled your inevitable embarrassment—at least one plant would spring up somewhere in the vicinity, and more often than not it would be in your own hair. heizou honestly wasn’t sure what to make of it—he might have been good at discerning motives and teasing out evidence, but for the life of him, he couldn’t unravel your seemingly complex feelings about him.

it was the beginning of the end when the detective stumbled upon a peculiar path of flowers and droopy vines. it was painfully obvious that they did not belong there among the sakura, and heizou had a feeling that he knew just who the culprit was.

after following the trail for no more than a few minutes, he was confronted with an amusing sight—you, sprawled on the ground, snarled in the sheer abundance of plants that seemed to have tripped you. he wondered what you’d been running from that made you so afraid.

heizou flashed you a smug smile, but he leaned over to lend a hand anyways. and yet, more flowers sprouted to shroud you from his view, as if tucking you away. but the glimpse of fear he’d seen in your eyes was enough for him to finally come to a conclusion—it was him you had been running from.

but.. you weren’t scared of him. this he knew.

you liked him.

oh, what an ego boost this was for shikanoin heizou.

he sighed, almost dreamily. “oh, my little sweetflower, you can come out now—i know about your little crush on me, so there’s no need to keep running away.”

when you made no move to emerge, heizou smiled to himself. of course it wouldn’t be that easy.

“love,” he mused, “what i’m saying is that i—“

suddenly, heizou’s throat tightened. it came out of nowhere; he was so confident when he started, and this went so smoothly in his head. so why did his tongue suddenly feel so heavy? why did his chest burn the way it did?

it took the detective a moment to collect himself—he found it difficult to quell the sudden thought that maybe he liked you even more than he realized.

deep breaths, detective.

“what i mean to say is..”

another deep breath, heizou.

“i find you rather.. endearing.”

he cleared his throat, unconsciously stuffing his hands in his pockets. oh, if only he could see himself—he was being so obvious that even an amateur could see right through him.

“well, that is—i like you.”

he hadn’t meant to say it so plainly, but it seemed that his words, however hesitant they were, gave you the push of courage you needed.

the flowers parted ever so slightly to reveal your eyes again, less terror-filled, though still quite shaken.

but what was most surprising was the detective’s expression—you caught it for only a split second, but it was there. his eyes were blown wide, as if he were incredulous with himself. but a whimsical grin that could fool anyone quickly replaced all evidence of that uneasiness.

“…really?” you whispered, voice thinned and small, as if you’d swallowed your confidence.

a baffling, earnest sincerity crept into heizou’s expression—of all the times he’d been able to conceal his true feelings, this was not one of them.

“really.” his response was firm, his gaze softer than it had ever been.

“and..” you took a deep breath, looking anywhere but at the detective. “…you aren’t bothered by the whole…flower thing?”

heizou laughed mirthfully—“why would i be?”

under the cover of your plants, you fiddled with the petals of a sumeru rose as you spoke. “i don’t know.. it’s just embarrassing, is all. i thought it was overbearing.”

“oh, dear,” heizou tutted. “was it blatantly obvious? yes, yes it was”—your expression turned sheepish—“but overbearing? you? never.”

heizou reached out to part the sea of plants away from your face so that he could properly see you, letting one hand linger to lift your chin. “ah, there’s my lovely girl,” he grinned. “now, let’s get you out of here, shall we?”

and with that, your shaky little hand emerged to place itself in heizou’s steady palm, and he pulled you up, watching as the leaves and florets spilled all around your form like water.

and for once, heizou had nothing to say. all he could think about was the feeling of your small hand in his own, and how beautiful you looked in that moment. if he didn’t know any better, he’d think you were the long-departed goddess of flowers herself.

heizou very promptly decided that he could not tolerate the way his heart was acting. no, no, no, it was simply out of character. you were the one who was supposed to be flustered—not shikanoin heizou, the tenryou commission’s top detective, a young and brilliant genius whom nothing could unnerve.

the detective tugged you forward suddenly, fastening his hands around your waist as he stooped down—but he froze just before he reached your lips. he seemed to study you, admiring the brightness in your eyes, the dancing reflection of sunlight.

“wanna make out?” he asked out of the blue, a shit-eating grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

what you wanted was to slap him for his god-awful sense of humor.

but also yes, you did want to make out.

you decided to make this very clear by grabbing a fistful of his shirt and just making the move yourself for once. from the way he smiled into your lips, your intuition told you that he liked your spontaneous impatience.

when albedo discovered that his own presence regularly caused your vision to malfunction, his curiosity surrounding you became insatiable.

he would hum, stepping around you in a measured circle while he observed the various flowers that had sprouted from your vision. a thick vine had found itself stuck to the surface of your vision, almost as if it were trapped in the glass, not fully emerged. it trailed all the way to the ground of albedo’s workshop, branching off into more vines with sweet flowers, roses, and all sorts of pretty blossoms.

“how peculiar,” the alchemist murmured. “i’ve never seen anything quite like this before.”

yeah, me neither, you wanted to mumble and grouch, but you settled for a subtle pout instead.

albedo hummed thoughtfully again before completing a full circle around you, coming to face you eye-to-eye. you could see the mischief in his gaze, and your tummy fluttered with nervous anticipation—one could never know what the chalk prince would do next.

“i wonder… could we possibly encourage the vine to grow more? perhaps then it wouldn’t be stuck—which, again, is fascinating in itself.”

albedo was staring at you so intensely that you couldn’t make yourself meet his gaze. he continued nonetheless, “i’ve really never heard of someone’s powers emerging straight from the vision and manifesting that way. you are very curious—very curious indeed.”

seeing your blank expression and watery eyes, albedo decided to continue with his procedures in a more considerate fashion. he understood that you probably felt scrutinized, but he didn’t mean it that way, truly. he was filled with genuine curiosity about this predicament—though perhaps he did have an ulterior motive hidden somewhere.. but who’s to say?

“let’s go ahead and see if we can make it grow, then, shall we?” oh, there was so much mischief in his voice, and you did not like it one bit, nor did you like the way your stomach buzzed.

albedo suddenly leaned down very close to the side of your face—close enough that you could hear his gentle breathing and feel it fan across your blushy cheek.

“would this suffice to do the trick?” he asked lowly; you spotted his subtle grin out of the corner of your eye.

and sure enough, the floor all near ruptured with greenery, so many flowers poking up through the cracks of the dirt that it almost looked like a garden in the middle of this dry, frigid mountain.

“oh, my,” albedo chuckled, his mirthful gaze burning your face. “that did the trick indeed.”

you stepped back out of shame, though your flustered expression failed to escape him—nothing could ever fool those sharp eyes of his.

how endearing, he thought, amused at the manner in which your feet shifted and the way your cheeks bloomed a shade much darker than before.

hoping to quell your fears, albedo leaned down to pluck a single flower from its stem—a cecilia, native to mondstadt, yet fabricated by your own hand. he approached you to carefully tuck it behind your ear, his hand lingering for but a moment to brush your cheek.

another cecilia popped up from the ground, right next to albedo’s feet—your hands flew up to cover your face.

this prompted a warm chuckle from the alchemist. your anxiety subsided a bit at his comforting, familiar laughter.

his hand remained near your cheek, thumb just barely ghosting the skin; it was as though you were made of a delicate porcelain he was afraid to crack. and yet, oh, and yet, the way he was looking at you was so piercing that you thought you may fall apart at the seams. those eyes of his drilled holes into your face, but their gaze still held so much affection—how could he possibly analyze you with that cold calculation and still make you feel so warm inside?

“it’s still stuck in the vision,” he murmured without breaking eye contact, his even and composed voice dragging you out of a daydream; it took you a moment to realize he was talking about the plant. although.. his hand was still cupping your cheek. your heart thumped in your ears like a rabbit’s foot to the ground—why was he still touching you? this wasn’t like the distant, calculated albedo you were certain you knew… though it’s not like you minded.

the alchemist took a step forward with one foot, slow and careful. the other followed suit, bringing him ever closer, so that now you could feel his breath against your cheek again. it was a stark contrast to the frigid atmosphere, and a shiver racked through your body at his touch. and that was when you realized just how close he was—so close that your noses almost brushed; so close that he was craning his neck to meet your gaze; so close that you almost thought he might…

..well, albedo just couldn’t help himself, could he? archons, he knew he was supposed to be trying to fix the problem with your vision, but this entire experiment was his own self-indulgence at this point. but he would not be doing it if he didn’t already know that you were quite taken with him—your vision going haywire when he got close to you gave albedo all the evidence he needed to come to the conclusion that you were smitten.

and so, when the alchemist placed his other hand on your jaw, holding your face with that steadiness and carefulness you knew he possessed, more flowers sprung up around your feet. but neither of you cared.

“this should fix it, yeah?” albedo mumbled, and before you could even process what he had said, he was swooping down to capture your lips in a kiss.

it was gentle yet fervent, brief yet fulfilling. your whole body felt warm and fluttery, so when he pulled away, you found yourself leaning forward and standing on your tippy toes as if to beg him not to—but he did, just so that he could see the expression on your face: flushed, sheepish, happy, perplexed. he was satisfied knowing that his own affections were very obviously returned.

before you knew it, his lips were crashing into yours again, just a bit more eager this time. you had no idea the great albedo was capable of such a feat as this—you’d never even entertained the thought of him reciprocating your feelings. it was just out of the question to you, until now.

albedo’s lips were slightly cracked from the cold, but there was nothing unpleasant about it. he held your face so gently and rubbed his gloved thumbs over your skin so tenderly that you didn’t know what to do with yourself, but he took the liberty of grabbing your hands and placing them on his chest. you could feel his breathing, feel the air fill and vacate his lungs, feel how he shuddered when a sudden wind invaded the workshop.

the chilled air did not help your flustered state, for your knees had already buckled more than once, and albedo’s hold on you was the only thing keeping you standing. for now, though, his lips remained on yours, and plants continued growing in his workshop until there was literally no space to walk.

albedo didn’t mind. the vision had fixed itself due to your excitement, allowing the vine to mature properly. though not to mention…a few other plants had joined in on the process.

but he loved this. he loved the view, he loved your presence, and he loved how beautiful you looked when he pulled away: eyes shining, lips a bit swollen, cheeks rosy. the fact that he could no longer move in his workshop didn’t matter so long as you were here.

he was going to paint you like this when he got the chance, he decided—and there would be no lack of flowers to reference, that’s for sure.

ᴛᴡ. ARCHON QUEST SPOILERS!1!!!1!1!! FROM HERE ON OUT !!1! ……… mentions of the reader being injured, not specified from where (nothing too descriptive); flowers grow from the reader’s wounds (again, not too descriptive); slight angst but it is immediately fluffified and everything else is good :] auntie buer basically assigned him a babysitter and thats you ehehyeyegeh

the wanderer had gone by many names in his lifetime, names that engendered fear into his enemies and allies alike.

though, had he ever really had an ally after the losses he had perceived as betrayals? in reality, scaramouche held everyone at arms length no matter what, never allowing anyone close enough to see, much less touch, the fragile shards of his psyche.

but you—an insignificant little woman, his appointed caretaker—you had given him a name.

it was unlike any of the other titles he’d been assigned. rather, this time, it wasn’t even so much that you had assigned it to him, but that it had been set aside for him—like you had let him step into it on his own, try it on for size, and decide if it suited him.

it’s a name that was reserved for him by someone kind. someone with good intention. someone who reminded him too much of the ones he had lost.

you called him junpei. pure. genuine.

the wanderer found it amusing how ironic your choice was. but upon seeing your eager grin, he could not bring himself to reject the name.

junpei.

was that how you saw him? or was it what you wanted him to be?

“junpei, would you help me with this?” sure, he would—did he have a choice, anyways?

“jun, have you eaten?” no. food was not a necessity to him, as he was a puppet. but you would make him eat regardless.

“you look tired, jun, did you sleep alright?” no. he did not sleep alright. but he felt a bit better after hearing those words come out of your mouth, truth be told.

after hearing the name (and its subsequent nicknames) on your lips day after day, it began to feel less strange. in fact, he even started to like the way it rolled off your tongue so easily.

and he liked the way you cared for him.

why did you do it?

he didn’t know. he couldn’t even begin to guess why you took on the task of watching after him. he knew how much a piece of work he was.

it turned out that you just genuinely believed in new beginnings and second chances for everyone—and to you, the wanderer, junpei, was no exception.

he was not aware, but the reason you named him junpei was because of the first time he fell asleep in your presence. his face—it was so quiet. his expression was subdued. he had become gentle.

if it was possible for him to look so peaceful in his sleep, then you were confident that he was made up of something much milder on the inside—something tender, something soft, something placid that he had carefully tucked and folded away, hidden from the prying eyes of anyone who would ever try to hurt him again.

but you did not want to hurt him. you wanted to show him beautiful things, wonderful things—things that require that benign temperament to appreciate. and if you had to give him the stars and the moon to make him open up, to make him show you that small, humane fragment of himself, then so be it. you weren’t going anywhere.

he never truly began to trust you until your own insecurities and weaknesses were exposed.

it was beyond the wanderer how someone so seemingly innocent and sheltered could be littered with so many wounds—so many wounds, and so many scars.

but then, under that short cape you never removed, there were the flowers.

pretty flowers that grew from your arms, that sprouted from the ugly gashes like beautiful weeds, that made you feel ashamed and gross. lovely flowers that were not so lovely to you. flowers that illustrated your pain. flowers that only served to make your skin crawl and remind you of what you had suffered.

it astounded the wanderer when you admitted that you had never shared this with anyone else, had never taken your cape off in the presence of another. this was a secret, something special, a sign of your trust and dedication to staying by his side. even if this was your job, he realized in that moment that this had never been just a job to you. you were there for him.

but.. still, he had his suspicions that you only wanted to “fix” him. so it wasn’t until he’d witnessed your composed display crack, fissure, and boil over that the wanderer began to trust you completely.

“jun,” you cried. it was such a helpless, pathetic sight—or, that’s what scaramouche would have thought. but junpei found himself rushing to your side, something inside his chest pounding wildly against the ribs caging it. a feeling of desperation began to claw its way out of his stomach when he saw your tears.

and the flowers. they crowded your arms, one of your thighs. were they lovely, or were they horrendous? he could not decide.

there was one tiny flower on your cheekbone. a small, yellow daisy, poised there as if your face had been its home all along.

the wanderer spat curses under his breath. “you idiot.. you stupid, stupid human..” his breathing became erratic as a violent panic overwhelmed him.

“what did you do?”

his voice was painful and strained. quiet. but most of all, it was angry.

you couldn’t give him a proper response, only shaking your head as more tears spilled from your eyes. and at this, a hole formed itself in the wanderer’s gut.

that old fear. that feeling. that horrible, dreadful, terrifying feeling.

suddenly, he was kunikuzushi again, watching the people he loved abandon him. break their promises to him.

you promised. you promised him.

but hadn’t they all?

what could a promise even mean anymore if it could be so easily broken?

you could see the gears turning in his mind, the rage that you hadn’t witnessed in so long shifting and blazing behind his eyes. and you knew you had to say something.

“i’m not going to die, you know,” you muttered, using what little strength you had to give him a watery smile. “i’m only crying like a little bitch because it hurts, okay, jun?”

his expression immediately shifted, as if the anger had been doused by a bucket of water—but it wasn’t relief you saw. it was sadness.

“i promised you, didn’t i?” you whispered, noticing how his face contorted into something distraught. slowly, painfully, you extended your pinkie from your arm’s limp place on the ground, and though it took him a moment to consider, the wanderer linked his fifth finger with yours.

“you did,” he replied, his voice no more than a whisper. then, humorlessly, he smiled, all color drained from his face. “so you better not break it.”

“is that a threat, my dear wanderer?”

he couldn’t fight the genuine upturn of his lips—you always chose the most inappropriate times to make an attempt at comedy. the wanderer shook his head, gently pinching your unwounded cheek while he chastised you with something like affection in his voice.

from then on, junpei tended to you as if curating a garden, as if you were a little flower he had planted and helped grow all along. not once would he allow you to put yourself in danger—and if you tried, he would flick your forehead and make you sit in the tent in time-out. but if you really pushed him, really, he could get genuinely angry with you, but only because he cared for you. the worst he’d ever do was raise his voice at you, and even then, you could hear in his tone how worried he was under the aggression.

at some point, you realized that junpei had only become this caring since the day he witnessed you so vulnerable. it was as if he had not allowed himself to trust you completely until he was certain that you needed him, too.

you couldn’t blame him for it—you were glad to know that he no longer viewed vulnerability as a weakness. it was a sign that he was healing and finding comfort in something other than the despair he’d harbored for so long.

“juunyyy,” you sang from your tent, where you had been forcibly stowed away under a nest of blankets and shoved into junpei’s suzukake (outer robe). you were sick, and dreadfully so.

when he poked his head through the flap of the tent, the way your face distinctly brightened upon seeing him made the wanderer’s stomach plummet to the floor. granted, you were a bit loopy from the fever, but it’s not the first time you’d looked at him like that. he felt himself falling in love with you all over again every time he saw you—now in particular, since you were bundled up in his jacket looking so awfully adorable.

“what is it?” he asked, trying with all he had to conceal the fondness in his voice with a scowl. your coy smile hinted at his unfortunate failure.

“i have something for you,” you whispered giddily, even though nobody else was around, and there was nothing you’d said that even remotely suggested you needed to whisper.

junpei sighed, entering the tent with an air of indifference despite how his chest fluttered. your childish grin was really making it hard for him to keep up the act, though.

and when you placed a flower crown on his head, taking the time to smooth down his dark, inky hair to make a place for it, junpei thought it was really going to be the end of him.

this is it, he mused. i’ve officially become soft.

what would scaramouche think if he saw himself now?

but.. that didn’t matter, did it? no, no it didn’t. it truly did not matter. he was no longer bound by the person he had been—or rather, the puppet. the heartless balladeer. scaramouche.

maybe you’d seen this in him all along. maybe you’d always known he would thaw out someday. maybe that was why you had called him junpei.

if that was the case, he suddenly realized that you were smarter than he gave you credit for. perhaps he had judged that dense pea-brain of yours too harshly, no?

..archons, but you were still so stupid at the same time.

he found himself scoffing at the conclusions he’d reached about you—and he had the sudden urge to wipe that goofy little smile off your face.

so he threw all caution to the wind, grabbing your chin, albeit a little rougher than he’d meant to. there was nothing stopping him from kissing you anymore, so he did just that. although he was a bit stiff about it at first.

after a few moments, his rigid posture softened, and he let go of your chin to instead cup your face, a surprising tenderness to his touch—at the same time, you recovered from your shock, becoming lucid enough to wrap your arms around his neck and reciprocate the way he pressed into you.

a few minutes later, the two of you were breathless and rosy-cheeked, and the wanderer’s steady hands held you closer than they ever had before. you remembered when they used to shake and tremble—it warmed you to think just how much you’d seen him grow.

even though you’d both surely had your fill of kisses, he kept leaning in and stealing more small pecks from your lips while you dissolved into laughter. every time a giggle managed to escape you, it was swallowed by a chaste, almost playful, kiss, something you didn’t know your grumpy little wanderer was capable of. more uncontrollable laughter soon followed each time his lips left yours.

the wanderer’s assault of smooches finally stopped when your amusement started to die down. the two of you were left with a tender moment as he held you firmly, closely, his eyes making a silent promise to you that he was the one you could depend upon now. that you didn’t have to babysit him anymore. his loyalty belonged to you.

well, it’s not like you couldn’t infer that from the way he’d just desperately made out with you. but the reassurance was nice!

he rested his head on your shoulder, almost in a defeated manner, as if all that affection had truly exhausted him to the bone. you found that very amusing. and of course, as always, you’d spotted the perfect opportunity to say something that would no doubt ruffle his feathers.

“ . . . you know i’m sick, right? ”

thank you for reading😳

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#mujimade #wanderer x reader #scaramouche x reader #kunikuzushi x reader #albedo x reader #shikanoin heizou x reader #heizou x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x you #heizou #shikanoin heizou #albedo #wanderer #scaramouche #kunikuzushi

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Amends

For maybe the first time ever, Rafayel was late. And not just late, but very late. And when the minutes turn to hours and still he doesn't arrive for their date, she begins to panic, beginning a frantic search for her lost artist. Once he's found, she doesn't know what will happen next, but he'll have to do a lot to make up for it.

Pairing: Rafayel x MC Tags: Fluff, established/implied relationship, forgiveness/making it up to her, emotional hurt/comfort Taglist: @aluneposting

For the first time, she was early.

Not to say she was ever late. She would arrive right on time for days she planned to spend with Rafayel, only for him to whine at length about how long he had been waiting for her, time slipping away like water through fingertips as he aged and the world crumbled in his impatience.

Sometimes she would try to arrive early. Five minutes, ten minutes, fifteen. Yet no matter how early she arrived, Rafayel would always be there, tapping his foot dramatically, lamenting how he was withering away into nothing while he waited for her.

And on the days he was feeling most impatient, she would find him at her door, pouting as he demanded to know why she hadn’t let him in earlier, why she was still getting ready when he wanted to see her now.

A memory of his petulant whine as she wrote down the code for her apartment so he could just let himself in next time he was feeling restless rose to the forefront of her mind. He had been standing outside her building, tapping his foot furiously, arms crossed, his lips pulled into such a magnificent pout that birds could have perched on his bottom lip. She wouldn’t have even noticed he’d been there if her windows hadn’t been opened, if he hadn’t been whining so loudly she’d been able to hear it from inside her apartment.

He’d been early. Hours early. He’d decided that they’d needed to meet earlier in the day, that his artist’s heart had called on him to do something different than what they’d been planning that day.

She hadn’t really understood what he’d been saying, too focused on handing him a slip of paper with the code to her apartment on it so that the next time his heart or his intuition or his whatever decided their plans needed to change and he didn’t want to text her, he could just let himself in.

He had been so delighted he’d quieted instantly, tucking the paper into his pocket and throwing himself onto her couch, waxing on about how lucky she was to have someone like him in her life, and that she must adore him to trust him with her apartment code.

Whether she adored him or not had been something she’d been planning to keep to herself, although the truth that she’d been keeping buried in the soil of her heart was sprouting, emerald green shoots emerging, pale pink buds beginning to unfurl.

It was because of that feeling, the one blooming as languidly as flowers in spring, that she felt a fist squeezing around her heart, that she felt the air rush from her lungs even as they spasmed helplessly. Because if she was early, that meant that Rafayel was late.

She drummed her fingers on the top of the café table she had snagged when she’d arrived. She’d felt so terribly smug when she’d slid into her seat, arriving early enough that Rafayel would have nothing to chastise her for. He would undoubtedly tease her for arriving before him, but his pleased laughter was sunlight to the garden of her heart, coaxing seedlings from the ground. She would happily listen to his teasing, rolling her eyes and feigning annoyance, as he chattered on when he arrived.

But then the minutes had slipped by, water spilling through the cracks between her fingers, and Rafayel had not appeared. There had been no echo of his voice, no tap of his foot.

His presence filled every room he stepped into, and yet the café had remained empty, hollow as marrowless bones, sucked clean. All around her people were talking, laughing, indulging in the company of their friends, their family, their lovers. But it was dull, like she was hearing their voices from beneath the surging waves of the sea.

Her heart slowed, her stomach lurched. Her blood slowed to a sluggish flow, congealing in her veins. Winter spread through her body, latticed frost coating her bones, the spring she had felt flourishing in her marrow barren, decayed.

Panic should have been a wildfire, the furious flight of her heart, jackrabbit beats pounding in her throat, so quick, so wild in its panic that her veins pulsed from her skin. She should have heard nothing but the rush of her burning blood, fiery rapids drowning her beneath their foaming churn.

But Rafayel was fire, warmth. Without the glowing embers of heat that he coaxed to life, she felt herself wilting, withering in the cold left in his wake.

She wanted to shake herself for such dramatics, knowing that Rafayel would never let her live this down if he ever got wind of the frenzy she had worked herself into. But with even the threat of eternal teasing hanging over her head, she couldn’t seem to push away the oily nerves slithering in her belly.

She drummed her fingers on the top of the table, staring at the little clock hung on the wall of the café.

He couldn’t always be early, surely. Rafayel’s moods were as changing as the tides, ebbing and flowing at his whim. He could be a summer storm, waves so powerful they could erode stone in one moment, calm and steady as a beating heart in the next.

The thought did little to calm her as the seconds slipped by. Each breath was a grain of sand slipping through an hourglass, piling at her feet as her anxiety grew. She checked her phone, opening up her texts with Rafayel and scanning them, trying to figure out if something was wrong, if she’d upset him.

It didn’t seem like anything had been out of the ordinary. She’d sent him a picture of a goldfish she’d seen at a pet shop the day before and he’d sent a stream of emojis followed by demands to set it free. He’d texted her just after midnight demanding attention, followed by a number of photos of a shade of green he was trying to perfect. And then she’d woken up to more messages, asking her to help him come up with an excuse to turn down a party invitation.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard as her eyes trailed over the string of texts she’d sent him since she’d arrived at the café. Gloating first, at arriving before he did. Five minutes later asking him if he wanted her to order for him, if he was hungry. Ten more minutes later asking if everything was okay.

Then another ten minutes later asking again if he was okay, where was he?

There were more messages after that, her growing unease palpable in her words, the use of the crying emojis that he liked to tease so much, and then no emojis at all as time had ticked on.

He would tease her for the string of texts, but it was too late for her pride now. She’d lost that when she’d given him the code to her apartment and started stocking his favourite foods for when he showed up starving and delirious after painting nonstop for days, anyways. A needy stream of texts was the least of her concerns, weak ammunition for his sharp words when they both knew she had a drawer dedicated to his clothes whenever he came over.

So she didn’t hesitate to send another message, another ‘where are you? I miss you,’ that made her stomach lurch as she tapped send. She shoved her phone into her pocket before she could think on it, heat flaring in her cheeks, her fingers trembling.

It was from worry, from concern. At least she told herself it was, anyways. She couldn’t bear to think about the alternative, about how she was admitting to something still growing, a planted seed that hadn’t yet begun to sprout. Green shoots vibrant in the soil of her heart, yet too small for her to willingly acknowledge.

Yet, anyways.

They would bloom soon, but there was fear lurking in the shadows between her ribs, in the hidden places between the knots of her muscles. A predator surveying its prey. The sharp prick of teeth as that worry bit into her, refused to let go.

That he did not have the same garden buried within him, that he was not tending to seeds and emerald shoots that promised a technicolour explosion when they unfurled.

She shook herself, trying to dislodge the thought, trying to ignore the stutter of her heart as the fear buried its canines into her flesh. What mattered right now was that Rafayel was nowhere to be found, and the minutes were forever ticking by, and there was not a single response to her embarrassingly long thread of unanswered messages.

Grinding her teeth to try and stop the shake in her hands, she pulled up his contact again. She couldn’t let herself think, absolutely not. Because this would be the icing on the cake, the nail in her coffin. Rafayel could be lying half-dead on the side of the road and finding out she had not only texted him more than twice, but that she had called him, would revive him instantly. If only so he could tease her about it until she could hardly speak from how flushed she became, from how the gears in her mind had ground to a halt.

Although the image of him lying near-death in some ditch made her heart clench, an iron fist clutching it, refusing to allow it to beat.

She tapped the call button, lifted her phone to her ear. There was no way he was lying dead somewhere, absolutely no way.

She listened as the phone rang and rang and rang, the high-pitched ring like a siren sounding in her mind. When finally she heard Rafayel’s voice her heart began to soar, and then just as quickly it plummeted as she realized it was the automatic message for his voicemail, a facsimile of his smile in his recorded voice.

Breath shuddering, she did her best to keep her message brief, hoping her panic didn’t stain her words before she hung up.

Her coffee had long since cooled, turned to ice in her mug, but she drank it without thought as she tried to quell her growing alarm.

It was again without thought that her body moved once more, her mind still swimming, trying to figure out where he could be and why he was late. She packed up her things, shrugged on her jacket, clutching her gloves and the handle of her purse in her hands as she hurried to the door.

Only once she had stepped into the embrace of the winter, stray snowflakes dancing on her cheeks as they were ushered through the air by the wind, sunlight refracting through dripping icicles, casting rainbows against the sides of shops and businesses as she passed by, did she realize she was on her way to his studio.

The cold air sharpened her mind, brought her back to herself. It banished the fog of her anxiety, the path clouded by her fear. She would check his studio first, and if he wasn’t there she would check the beach. And if she still could not find him then she would try to contact Thomas, because surely he would know where Rafayel was, and why he never showed up for their date. Without so much as a text.

She was nodding to herself, her little plan easing the tension holding her taut. She could feel the way her muscles began to loosen, unknot themselves.

It wasn’t much, but it was enough. Just enough to settle her mind, enough to stop the shaking in her hands.

Although the tremors returned when she arrived at his home, her footsteps echoing through the near cavernous rooms as she searched behind couches and under tables. She threw open doors, pulled back the messy sheets of his bed, tossed pillows to the side, unable to quell the trembling in her bones, the aftershocks of a quake that promised more devastation in their wake.

She was being dramatic and she knew it, but chest heaving, the entire house turned upside down, she began to wonder if her dramatics weren’t that dramatic. Not anymore.

It was so bizarre she pinched herself, wondering if this was a dream brought on by stress, or maybe she was in an alcohol-induced haze from drinking too much on an empty stomach.

But no, the upturned house didn’t melt into a darkened void, she did not feel the beginnings of a migraine as she slowly roused. It was entirely real, which meant Rafayel was entirely missing.

Your plan, she reminded herself, tucking her hands into her pockets as she hurried from the house. Don’t forget your plan.

She was going to check the beach next, in all of the spots he liked best for sketching or daydreaming until the sun melted into the horizon. It was his favourite place to be, where she did often find him when he wasn’t at home.

He would be there. He had to be there.

Yet for all her bluster when she arrived on the sandy shore, the grey of the ocean reaching icy tendrils across the sand, there was nothing. No one. The beach was as barren as her withered hope, nothing but the cry of a lone gull and the heavy thrum of her heart echoing in her ears.

The wind was colder here, and it stung her cheeks, flinging sand and salt into her ears even as she blinked furiously, trying to keep them clear. Her hair whipped through the air, the cold, callous hands of winter raking through it, tugging at it like it might tear it free from her scalp.

Hands red from the cold, shaking from nerves, they fumbled as she tried to retrieve her phone from her pocket. It slipped from her fingers, tumbled into the sand, sinking into the soft ground as the wind keened.

She stared at it, a shiver creeping along her spine. The shine of the screen lighting up washed over the ground, warming the colour of the sand until it seemed to glow gold. It was a notification from one of her mobile games no doubt, a reminder to collect her daily stamina or coins.

She didn’t care to pry it from the sand, instead watching as grains slipped over the sides of the case, collected over the screen. Fatigue washed over like the gentle lap of the ocean waves, her mind little more than seafoam as she stared and stared at her phone.

What was going on today? Why was she in such a panic? Why could she not quell the overdramatic whir of her thoughts, like a carnival ride that was out of control.

She needed to pull herself together. She needed to settle her mind.

The rational part of her mind told her, over and over, screamed it at her from the corner it had been tucked into. But she barely heard it over the cry of that lonely gull, over the thud thud thud of her heart.

But she didn’t do anything that could be described as rational, most of her thoughts a senseless cacophony that was all too easy to drown in.

She sank to the ground, blinking back the sting of sand, the bite of the wind, the unrelenting burn of her tears. All of it gathered in her lashes, painted the world in strange colours and shades, dewdrop silver over ashy grey, blurring to form something new with each blink.

Gathering her legs to her chest, she pressed her face into her knees, intent on staying there until she could calm her racing heart, until she could quell the ache of tears behind her eyes. She was being absurd, ridiculous, but she couldn’t seem to stop. All she could feel was panic, seeping through her like poison in her veins. With each beat of her heart it spread further, until all she could feel was the cold, oily fear running through her, dripping from her like blood from a wound.

She couldn’t bring herself to pick at the wound, to untangle the knotted feelings hidden beneath the sinew and bone. But thankfully it was then, as she was considering it, as understanding rose like a shadow stretching long at dusk, a muffled buzz sounded from her side.

It was soft, near silent with the cry of the wind and the hush of the waves against the shore. But it was incessant, insistent, refusing to be ignored. She could feel the vibrations of the buzzing through the sand, rattling their way through her bones.

It demanded her attention, a familiar feeling that plucked at the strings of her heart. Some of the pressure behind her eyes faded, the tightness on her chest loosening its hold as she looked to her side, to where her phone had fallen into the sand.

The screen was bright as starlight, notifications from an unknown number flashing on the screen, one after the other, piling over each other so she could not read their messages before the next one appeared.

Her phone flashed again, persistent in its demand for her attention, her phone buzzing harder as the unknown number attempted to call.

She stared at it, let it go to voicemail before slowly plucking her phone from the ground, brushing away the grains of sand as her heart waited, seemed to stop entirely.

Barely a breath went by before the number tried to call again, her phone shaking so fervently in her hand she nearly dropped it again. The reverberations kickstarted her heart, sending its beats into a wild sprint, an erratic rhythm that no melody could follow.

She clicked ‘answer’ without thinking, bringing the phone up to her ear, her bottom lip wobbling as she asked, voice thick with unshed tears, “hello?”

“Where are you?!”

She blinked at the familiar voice, at the image of cerulean touched by carmine eyes, the petulant pout tugging down lips, the creases between brows. “Rafayel?”

“Who else? I thought you’d be at the café but you’re not here! Did you forget again?!”

She sniffled, almost laughing at the absurdity of such an accusation. “What are you talking about? I waited for over an hour and you never showed up!”

A huff sounded, and she could see the way he was wrinkling his nose, the way he was tensing his shoulders. “Well where are you now?”

“I went looking for you! You weren’t at home, so I went to check the beach!”

He groaned. “Alright, just stay there, okay? I’ll be there soon.”

Now she couldn’t help but scoff, the first flicker of anger alighting on her bones like fire taking to kindling. “I’ve been waiting for you for ages. You didn’t answer my texts or my calls. Why are you calling from a different number?”

“I’ll explain everything soon, just stay there.”

The line clicked off before she could argue any further, the phone screen going dark.

For a moment she heard nothing, thought nothing. Just stared at the blank screen, at the ocean waves, at the flecks of white of the gulls circling overhead.

Then slowly, like the rush of the high tide, her mind began to buzz, emotions swelling like seafoam, washing away her anxiety, her fear.

What was left was a tangle of things, a knot that would take her a long while to pick apart. Relief and joy and an unnamed ache, all threatening to overwhelm her, to crash over her like a summer storm, like angry waves against stone.

Beneath them all, annoyance, anger. A pyre catching flame, growing brighter, demanding her attention, prickling her frozen fingers with its heat.

There was no way she was staying put.

She stood quickly, shoving her phone in her pocket, not bothering to brush away the sand that clung to her body as she left the beach. She was resolved not to wait any longer, certain that if she did she would catch fire and turn to ash before Rafayel could appear.

She turned a corner, clutching the strap of her purse so tightly her knuckles turned white, chest heavy with that knot of happiness and irritation that had taken root when she’d heard his voice.

It was like a bulb, planted deep in the soft soil of her heart, already beginning to grow, viridescent shoots reaching towards the sky. Eventually it would bloom, petals unfurling towards the sun. But for now it was still growing, not yet ready to unveil itself to her.

She pressed a hand to her chest, feeling that heavy weight, so focused on the strangeness of it, and on finding Rafayel, that she didn’t even see him. Not until she was running straight into his side.

“Shi-” She was reeling, stumbling to the side, looking up as she careened backwards to meet his eyes. His cheeks were flushed, his breath clouding from his lips as his chest heaved. His hair, normally so perfectly styled, was in a disarray, like he’d raked his hands through it once after rolling from bed and deemed that good enough.

Distantly, she thought it looked like he’d been running.

The ground rushed up to meet her, and she squeezed her eyes shut, cutting off the image of a disheveled Rafayel as she prepared for impact.

An impact that never came.

Arms had wrapped around her, steadying her, firm and warm and gentle. They drew her forward, setting her back on her feet, pulling her against a familiar chest.

Only then did she open her eyes, when she knew she wouldn’t be pinned in place by Rafayel’s smug smirk. When she knew he wouldn’t see the relief and joy in her eyes at seeing him, at hearing the frantic beat of his heart, of being wrapped in his warmth.

Not that hiding stopped her from hearing his soft laughter, the click of his tongue as his fingers splayed over the swell of her hips. She was so desperate for his touch, but she absolutely could not let him know it, especially not right now.

“Didn’t I tell you to stay put?”

His words, lilting with the promise of laughter. She could see his smile without needing to look up, could feel the twinkle in his eyes like she was standing in fizzing starlight.

Something in her snapped, and she took a step back, crossing her arms as though to shield her aching heart. She tilted her head back, glared up at him, the wind brushing against her cheeks reminding her that her tears hadn’t even fully dried yet.

A part of her wondered if she shouldn’t have kept her head lowered, so he wouldn’t see the evidence of her tears, so he wouldn’t see the red, puffy skin around her eyes. But just as quickly as it came, the thought flitted away.

“Last time I ‘stayed put’ you never showed up!”

A muscle flicked in his jaw and he rolled his eyes, groaning in clear exasperation. Which was fine, since she was exasperated too.

She pretended not to notice how he was still breathing hard, how his ears were turning pink, then vermillion the longer she stared. How his manufactured scowl was faltering as his eyes searched her face.

“Where were you?!” She jabbed a finger against his chest and his brows shot up. “I waited for ages. I was worried sick, I’d thought you’d died, or you’d been kidnapped!”

Her hand trembled and she dropped it, shoved it back against her chest. He made a halfhearted attempt to reach for her, his eyes narrowing, his brows drawing low.

“You made me wait for so long!” Her throat was closing up now, all of her twisted feelings rushing out of her, clogging her throat, bubbling into a sob. Her eyes were burning again, and she blinked furiously, cursing herself silently.

“I texted you! I called! Over and over and you never answered!” She threw her hands up, hoping it would distract him from the wobble in her words. God only knew she couldn’t seem to keep it in check. “You left me waiting for so long and you terrified me! What, and then you call me from an unknown number and tell me to ‘stay put?’ Are you serious?”

He scoffed, his cheeks a messy cerise that reminded her of overripe cherries. “Well, this is your fault too!”

“Oh? How exactly?” She was annoyed, hurt. Her heart tangled into itself, twisting into knots of frustration and anger and pain. He was always chastising her for not being early enough, for always being too late. And now he was pushing the blame onto her? When he’d been the one late? When he’d all but abandoned her?

“You should have come looking for me earlier!” He all but cried, throwing his hands up too. His bottom lip was trembling, on the verge of pulling into a pout.

“No, no.” She pointed to his lips, to his pout, to the wrinkle of his nose. “I’m not falling for that! You are the only one to blame. I texted you, I called you, I went looking for you!”

“Why didn’t you check any museums or galleries? Did you even take a look at the news?”

She blinked, her words stolen from her lips, her mind grinding to a halt. His face was flushed, his hair and clothes a disarray, his brows furrowed and his eyes narrowed, something she didn’t recognize flickering in their depths.

Whatever he was thinking, whatever he was feeling, as unknowable as the darkest depths of the ocean.

“Are you serious?” Her words came out small, melting in the puff of breath that gathered in the air before her. A contrast so stark from her earlier raised voice it could have been a slap. Tears gathered in her eyes, staining the world in silver, blurring the edges, but she no longer cared if he saw her cry. “Are you actually serious?”

She had spent how long today being utterly terrified for his well being and here he was telling her she hadn’t done enough. Telling her she should have looked for him sooner, should have worked harder to find him.

“I thought we were meeting at the café.” She couldn’t seem to find her strength anymore, wilting beneath his stare. “You’re always early, you’re always telling me I’m late. When you didn’t show I texted you, I called you. I checked your house, I checked the beach. What else was I supposed to do?”

The last of her words came out as little more than a hiss, belied by the crackle of her voice as the sob fought to escape. His expression began to crack beneath their razor sharpness, fractures cutting through his indignation like the shattering of stained glass.

“I went because you wanted to go out.” She swiped the back of her hand over her eyes, taking a step back, refusing to think about the widening of his eyes, the creases in his brow. “You were the one who never showed up, never told me anything.”

There was more she wanted to say, words made of acid that would have surely burned her tongue as she’d given them form. But instead of setting them free, she pressed her lips together, turning away so she did not have to see the hurt on his face, the kicked-puppy pout that usually would have had her falling to her knees as she tried to comfort him.

“I’m suddenly really tired,” she said, staring at the ground, at the stones and remnants of long-dead leaves scattered on the sidewalk. “So I’m going to head home. I’ll talk to you later.”

She took one step, then another, muscles tensing as she forced herself to move, to not look back. If she looked back she would fall apart beneath whatever heartbroken expression he had schooled his face into.

Cold winter air swept into the growing chasm between them, freezing claws scrabbling down her spine, making her shudder. She wrapped her arms around her middle, trying to quell the shivers, but just as quickly as the whole of winter had descended on her in his absence, warmth enveloped her again.

Rafayel’s hand snapped out, grabbing her wrist and dragging her back. Like a wound stitched close, the space between them vanished, winter making way for spring.

“Rafayel.” She was knocked breathless by the sudden movement, even as a part of her mind told her she should struggle, should shake off his grip.

“I’m sorry.” His voice was firm, kind, the edges melting into regret. “I’m sorry, I took it too far. I didn’t-”

She blinked, watching quietly as he ducked his head, feeling the unsteady beat of his heart, the rise and fall of his chest with every deep breath. Her eyes still burned, and the tears gathered in her lashes caught the light, turning the edges of the world into a silver blur.

When he looked up again his eyes were wide, earnest. She had gotten used to his moods, to the shifts in his eyes, his mouth, a change in how his voice lilted and his eyes danced. But this wasn’t like all those times before, when he would feign distress and hurt, when he would exaggerate his emotions until she caved.

This was different, more like the quiet moments between breaths, when he bared a hidden part of himself to her. When the air grew heavy and quiet, when his voice turned lullaby soft. She always felt tucked close to him, even if there was space between them, like she had nestled herself in his heart, like he had given it to her to make it her home.

His words would be genuine then, no teasing, no jokes. There would be no razor sharp comments, no snarky retorts. Just him, trusting her as he laid down his armour, his mask, vulnerable only to her.

Sometimes he would be sweet, kind, murmuring gentle words that made her heart sing. And others he would look lost, his voice faraway, as though he’d been caught up in an undertow and dragged out to sea.

It felt like that now, his voice steady, ardent. There was a solemnity in his eyes, no flicker of laughter, no glimmer of playfulness to be found. The blue of his eyes darkened, the red fading like flames being doused, drowned.

He wasn’t messing around with her any longer, no hint of that petulant pout or his puppy-dog eyes to be found. His mouth was set, a line forming between his brows as they drew low.

It anchored her to the spot, the tenor of his voice from the beginning of his apology alone, the shift in his countenance as he grew somber.

Rafayel squeezed the hand he’d pressed to his heart, as though he hoped it would prove his sincerity as she felt its rhythm pulse through her bones.

“I didn’t think about how you felt. I was only thinking about myself.” He didn’t look away now, instead holding her gaze fast, leaning closer. “I wanted you to find me and rescue me, but you were the one who needed rescuing.”

When she did not move from him he grew bolder, fingers lacing with hers, head bowing until his bangs tickled her brow. “I’m always asking you to stay, but I was the one who abandoned you. I made you worry, didn’t I?”

She didn’t trust herself to speak right now, not when anger still churned hot as a firestorm, when the last of sourness of worry finally eased and her belly no longer roiled with it, when he was so close her knees felt like jelly and her skin prickled from his breath.

The desire to forgive him spilled through her like champagne bubbling through cracks in crystal. He was so close, so warm, and he smelled so nice, and she hated being angry with him. She wanted to lean her head on his shoulder and close her eyes and breathe in the smell of his cologne. She wanted to tell him he was forgiven and melt into his embrace.

As much as she whined and railed against his unending demands, his last minute day-plans, his surprise visits to her home, she missed him when he wasn’t there. He had become the sun lighting the world each morning, the susurrus of the wind through the trees, the hush of the ocean as it foamed against the beach. She felt like a flower reaching through frozen ground, small and weak, petals still clinging together, but growing stronger beneath golden sunlight, each moment closer and closer to blooming, to filling the world with her colour.

But whatever scraps of rationality remained held her still, reminded her that she could not just forgive him so easily, especially not when he had not yet finished his apology. Her tears were not yet dry on her cheeks, not yet fully spilled. They were still gathered in her lashes, still burning behind her eyes. A headache was beginning to spread from the pressure of it, pulsing against her skull, in her temples.

No, she could not give in to the ache in her heart, yearning so terribly to throw herself into his arms that it felt like it was pushing against the cage of her ribs, fighting against the prison it was trapped in.

She nodded in response to his question, keeping her mouth firmly closed. If she opened it then her resolve would crumble and forgiveness would fall from her tongue, so she said nothing instead.

The lines in his face deepened, and now his eyes did slide down, focused on his shoes, or the pavement, or perhaps on nothing at all. His shoulders slumped, curving inwards. If he were a painting she would have titled him ‘remorse’ for how heavy it hung on him, pressing down on his body like it could break him against the sidewalk. He seemed to fade, amethyst hair fading to lilac, tinging with grey. His eyes dimmed, waning like the moon before it vanished from the night’s sky.

He looked back up slowly, the movements of his eyes shadowed by his other hand, gently coming to rest on her cheek. “I made you cry. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“Well you did.” She snapped, then quickly bit her tongue, before anything more could escape her lips.

His brows rose, drew together. “I’m sorry. I haven’t been fair, or kind to you at all. This is all my fault, I should have reached out to you sooner.”

Now she was the one looking away, withering beneath his earnest gaze. “You should have. I was starting to think you’d been kidnapped, or hurt somewhere all alone.”

His touch was gentle, the pad of his thumb wiping away the tears on her cheek, gathered in the corner of her eye. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for making you worry, for today, for everything.”

She said nothing, although she couldn’t help but lean into his touch, just a little.

“If you still want to go home, at least let me walk you back.” He spoke softer now, hesitant, something hidden behind his words.

Please still spend time with me, please don’t leave me yet. Please say you want to stay with me.

She mulled it over for a moment, picking apart his words like a necklace chain knotted together. Her heart pressed against her ribs, uncaring that it would be shred by the breaking of her bones. It only wanted him, to be near him, and the aching that built in the cavity of her chest was far too strong for anything else.

She did want to forgive him, and she didn’t want to go home. She wanted to spend the day with him, something she’d been looking forward to when they’d made plans the day before.

Although he wasn’t off the hook quite yet.

She lifted her eyes, finding hope in his gaze as she met it, held it as steady as she could.

“I think I’m feeling a little better,” she said. His eyes widened, hope sparking warmth in them once more. “So I don’t think I want to go home just yet.”

The corners of his mouth curved upwards, the first hint of sunlight cresting over the horizon. “In that case, we could find another café, or a restaurant if you’d like an early dinner.”

She narrowed her eyes, even as the first strains of a melody began in her heart, elation blooming at seeing his smile, at knowing she would be spending the rest of the day with him. “Don’t think you’re getting off that easy, Rafayel.”

His brow arched. “Rafayel? Not ‘love?’ Not ‘darling?’ Not ‘baby?’”

She arched her brow, tipping her head back, away from the hand that had been cupping her cheek. “I think you have a lot more apologizing to do before you get those privileges back. Rafayel.”

He sighed, shaking his head. Despite the rejection, his lips were still curving up, his smile turning playful. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“Mhmmm.” She tried to pull her other hand back, the one still firmly held to his chest, but he held that hand tightly, smirking. “Rafayel, you can let go now.”

“And what if I don’t want to?” He cocked his head to the side, all mischief now. His fingers tightened around hers as he brought her palm up, as he pressed his lips to her palm. “What if I want to keep holding it?”

She huffed, ignoring the heat in her cheeks as his teeth scraped against her hand, as his tongue flicked over the spots where he’d nipped.

Rafayel, however, did not ignore it, and she knew it as she felt his smile grow wider.

“What do you think you’re doing?” She’d meant to grind out the words, to sound annoyed, but it came out softer, quivering as the warmth from his lips made its way through her veins, coiled low in her belly.

He chuckled, lowering her hand from her lips, although he did not let go. His fingers remained twined with hers, keeping her close. “What do you think? I’m making it up to you.”

“You can’t just-” Her voice cracked, squeaked, and she bit her tongue as his brows rose high, delight dancing like firelight in his eyes. “You can’t just kiss my hand and expect things to be alright!”

She sped through her words, stumbling in her haste to speak as her voice wobbled and cracked, uneven and weak from his lips, from the heat blooming in her core and the feeling of her body slowly turning to jelly.

For his part, Rafayel did not tease, although his expression told her that he had taken everything into account; her rushed words, her crackling voice, her flushed face, all of it noted by his keen eyes.

“That’s only the first part,” he said, sounding on the verge of laughter. “I promise I’ll make things better.” Then his voice softened, a delicate caress to her traitorous heart. “Just let me keep holding your hand.”

“Fine,” she grumbled. She had to look away so he wouldn’t see the colour deepen in her cheeks, not as the heat flared, bonfire bright, beneath her skin. She was certain that if she looked up she would combust, leaving nothing but ash on the sidewalk.

Rafayel seemed to find her answer satisfactory, as he murmured a delighted “let’s go” before tugging her forward.

Her curiosity got the better of her as he continued to beam, and she tapped his side as they walked. “Where are we going?”

“Well we had made plans to go to a café, and there’s a new one not far from here I’ve been meaning to visit.”

She let him drag her along, tucking her hand into his jacket pocket when the wind whistled past them and shivers arced across her like lightning. She was still annoyed, but she wouldn’t deny the joy that spread rosy fingers like the blushing of dawn through her heart, or the warmth that blanketed her as he kept her close. He was here, he was safe, he was smiling.

She would have to blame the wind for her ruddy cheeks, for how difficult it was to catch her breath.

And thankfully, Rafayel did not comment on it, although his eyes did brighten, round shimmering pools of light assessing the colour in her face, the breathless gasps from her lips.

“Not much further,” he said, his lips caught in a pleased smirk.

She rolled her eyes, deciding it best not to comment. Surely whatever she said he would find a way to twist, to use as a weapon to tease her with.

But this too, was enough for him. “What’s wrong? Too cold to speak?” His smirk only widened, a sharp slice across his lips as one brow quirked high. “We’re almost there, but do you need me to warm you? Would it count as part of my penance?”

He didn’t give her a chance to respond before tugging her closer, wrapping his arm around her waist. He ducked his head, lips grazing the shell of her ear, and shivers cascaded down her spine, having nothing to do with the cold wind.

“Although,” he breathed, sending goosebumps across her skin. “I don’t particularly mind. If you need me to do things like this then I think I’ll enjoy this very much.”

“Things like this?” He was being awfully brazen considering the circumstances.

He drew back, beaming, looking far too smug. “Like snuggling.”

She yanked her hand from his pocket, pinching his side. “Watch it!”

He yelped, but only tried to draw her closer, like her presence was a comfort, a balm to the sharp pain she’d inflicted on him.

She struggled against his hold, if only slightly. She was far too besotted to truly fight to escape his arms.

“Don’t be like that,” he whined, lips pulling into a pout. “I’m cold too, you know. Just because you’re mad doesn’t mean we both have to be punished.”

Huffing, she crossed her arms, refusing to tuck herself so closely against him. But she also didn’t untangle herself from him entirely, either. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not that cold.”

“You don’t have to lie.” He laughed, pulling her closer. “You’re shivering, I can feel it.”

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

He clicked his tongue. Something strange flitted in his eyes, but it was gone in a breath, no more than a shadow flickering over him as they walked. “You can be such a princess about things.”

“Oh? And what about it?”

“Whatever pleases you, your highness.” He bowed his head, smirking. His bangs fell over his eyes so she could not see them, but she could feel the heat of his gaze, the weight of it. “I am but your humble servant.”

She couldn’t help giggling then, covering her mouth as she snorted. “Come on Rafayel, stand up, you’re going to run into someone.”

“Only at your highness’ command.” He tipped his head to the side, and she caught sight of the glitter in his eyes, twin pools shining as brightly as sunlight caught in diamonds.

“Rafayel!” There was no stopping the snorts now as she grabbed his arm with both hands, tugging him to the side before he ran straight into a streetlamp. “You’re going to get hurt!”

His lips lifted higher, creases forming around his eyes. “If that’s what you wish, your highness.”

She had to look away, pressing her lips together in a vain attempt to stifle her laughter. “What I want is for you to stand up so you don’t get hurt!”

“Your highness is most benevolent.” He straightened, mischief alight like flames in his eyes, his smile. He looked so boyish, so delighted, that she wanted to squish the apples of his cheeks beneath her palms.

“Well, we’ll see,” she said, barely able to contain the urge to squeeze his face. She was pretty sure if she gave in then he would win.

Win what she wasn’t sure, but she had a feeling. It was one of her favourite things to do, squeezing his cheeks when she was overwhelmed with joy at seeing his face. If she did it now he would undoubtedly take it as being forgiven entirely, and so she could not.

As she was musing to herself, his arm remained securely around her, slowly bringing her closer and closer until their sides pressed together. She made no comment, allowing them both this, and as he guided her through the doorway of the café, regret twinged in her heart.

She would have been content to walk next to him for hours, and she wished the café had been further away, so she could have remained close to him for a while longer.

Rafayel brought her to a spot in the corner of the cozy space, a small window just above it, honey-warm sunlight pouring over the tabletop. He pulled out one of the wooden chairs for her, gesturing for her to sit.

“For you, my lady.” He was clearly enjoying himself.

She made to pinch him again, but he was quick, anticipating the attack. He snatched her wrist, lifting it up as he grinned wider. “I’m trying to be so good, so why can’t you behave yourself?”

Now she was the one pouting, trying to wiggle her hand from his grasp. “You’re teasing me.”

“Oh? How?” He schooled his expression into one of innocence, his eyes widening until they were saucer-round. All of it was belied by the twitch of his lips, his devious smile too strong to be smothered behind a mask. “I’m just trying to be helpful, your highness. I’m pretty sure princesses don’t pull out their own chairs.”

She tried to pinch him with her free hand, but he caught that one too, his faux innocence falling away. He smiled, all devilish delight, his eyes bright even as they narrowed. He tugged her closer, his breath ghosting over her lips as he lowered his head.

“Nice try,” he sang, bringing her hands to his lips, brushing a kiss against the back of each. “Now why don’t you sit down, and I’ll get you a treat, okay?”

He spoke in a sing-song cadence, like he was barely holding back laughter. But there was something underneath his words, and she found herself sitting when he released her, glowering at his grin.

“I won’t keep you waiting long,” he said, squeezing her shoulder before turning to go.

He paused then, turning back around, his expression a fragment more serious.

“One more thing.” He slid his jacket from his arms, draping it over her before she could ask what he was doing.

With a satisfied nod, he gave her one last smile before heading to the counter to make their orders.

She felt impatient, restless, as she watched him from across the café. Part of her worried that she would blink and he would vanish, gone once more. But he remained where she could see him, an anchor keeping her steady in a storm.

“Did something catch your eye?” He asked as he returned to the table, setting a plate in front of her, a slice of cake with a deep red strawberry balanced on top and a chocolate cookie bigger than her hand.

“What’s this?” She asked, ignoring his knowing smirk. “Two whole sweets for me?”

He nodded, reaching out to brush her hair back from her face. “As part of my apology.”

“You’re going to have to do more than that to make up for today,” she said, even as she took the fork he handed her. “But it’s a start.”

He chuckled, nodding his head. “As you wish, your highness.”

“You’ve got to stop with the ‘your highness’ thing,” she said, heat beginning to spread across her face anew. It felt a little silly, something strange and intimate to be called it so loudly in public.

He cocked his head to the side, contemplative as he watched her. “You don’t like it?”

He almost sounded a little sad, and her heart twinged again.

Her heart was a traitorous thing, summoning words that tumbled free from her lips before she could give them thought, trying to wipe away the sadness she had heard.

“No that’s not it,” she said, stumbling over her words. “It just-”

Her breath caught as he gripped the back of her chair with one hand, leaning closer with that infuriating smirk still plastered across his face. “Oh? Then what is it?”

“It… It’s…” She swallowed, trying to look away. But he was everywhere, so close that he became her whole world. Everywhere she looked was Rafayel and his smile and his bright eyes. “It just feels like you’re teasing me with it, you know? Like you’re making fun of me.”

“Would it be so bad if I was?” His voice lowered, a warm tenor that had her toes curling, sending butterfly wings flitting through her stomach. “You’ve been so unforgiving, can’t I tease my princess a little?”

“Rafayel-” She didn’t get a chance to finish her thought before he was pressing a quick kiss to her cheek and hurrying away, calling to her about fetching their drinks while her brain shut down like an aging computer.

She couldn’t seem to get herself to think, her brain still buffering when he returned with the drinks. The click of a mug settled before her drew her from the fog he had cast over her, if only slightly.

“There were a lot of drinks I thought you’d like, but I think you’ll like this one best,” he said, seeming entirely unfazed by his surprise attack.

Wasn’t he supposed to be making things up to her? What did teasing her have anything to do with making up for abandoning her earlier?

She continued to stare, scrabbling to find even a single thought. Her skin where his lips had touched burned, still warm from his touch, and all she could smell was his cologne and the faint touch of his soap. She could feel the tickle of his hair against her face, the curl of his breath against her lips.

It was all far too much for her. She would surely melt into a puddle, her body giving way to the heat he had kindled in her.

For his part, Rafayel seemed entirely unperturbed, although she was much too flustered to notice the crimson that had flared on the tips of his ears and dusted along his cheeks. He gave her an encouraging smile, nodding with his head towards her mug. “Well? Try it, tell me what you think.”

She blinked, mumbling a quiet ‘thank you’ as her hands wrapped around the mug. She brought it to her lips, warm sweetness blooming on her tongue. Sweet, delicious, with a touch of floral notes beneath it.

She took another sip before she set the mug back down, a comforting warmth spreading through her chest, reaching along her arms and into her fingertips.

“It’s very good,” she said, smiling up at him, lost for a moment in the bliss of a warm drink and sweet treats and him across from her.

His own drink remained untouched, although his hands wrapped around it, lithe fingers drumming against the porcelain. “I’m glad you like it. Perhaps this means I’m one step closer to forgiveness.”

She rolled her eyes, taking another sip. It really was good, and although she was not planning to admit it yet, he really was a step closer to being forgiven.

Already was, if she was honest, but she was going to milk this for a while yet.

“Alright, you’ve bought me food, and a warm drink. Now I want to know what happened.”

He opened his mouth, breathing in as if preparing to launch into his tale, but she held her hand up to quiet him before he could.

“And I want the truth, Rafayel.” No melodrama, no embellishing.

“Alright, alright.” He lifted his hands, palms towards her, in surrender. “I won’t paint myself as a hero who boldly rescued a child from a wanderer attack.”

Her heart stopped. “Was there a wanderer?”

Panic must have shown on her face, because he shook his head quickly, his smile only slightly teasing. “No, nothing like that.”

“You’re awful,” she huffed, staring out the window, focusing on the remains of what was surely a very pretty garden in the spring and summer. “Don’t scare me like that.”

“Is it my fault you believed me?” He reached out to poke her, earning a scowl that had him laughing. “I did say I won’t paint myself as a hero.”

She didn’t respond, staunchly staring out the window, refusing to meet his gaze.

The sound of his chair squeaking as he sighed, drew her attention, and she peeked from the corner of her eye to see him slouching, the pad of one finger running along the rim of his mug. “I got a call from Thomas earlier today, there was a gallery featuring some of my work, and a number of ‘fans’ were insistent on speaking with me themselves.”

It was the way he rolled his eyes when he said “fans” that told her exactly what kind of event this was, exactly the sort of people in attendance.

It was the type of thing he loathed the most, and no doubt these “fans” were wealthy art collectors who waxed on about his paintings without knowing a thing about them.

She turned back towards him, dropping her veneer of irritation. “Why didn’t you call me? I would have come with you.”

He shrugged, looping two fingers around the handle of the mug, twisting it back and forth on the surface of the table. “I thought I would just go and answer a few questions then pretend I got a phone call and leave. I didn’t want to drag you into it today.” He flicked his eyes up, mischievous. “You’re always running late, so I didn’t want to distract you and make you ever more late.”

“I’m not late,” she snapped. “It’s just that you’re always early, and you’re so impatient.”

“Me? Impatient.” He snorted, lifting his mug to his lips, his eyes watching her over the rim. “I’m the epitome of patient. It’s a virtue, you know.”

“Exactly,” she deadpanned. “You’re not exactly a paragon of virtue, Rafayel.”

He groaned, although it was undercut by the twitching of his lips as he set his mug to the side. “I know you’re mad, but don’t you think you can hold off on disparaging my character?”

She pressed her lips together to stifle her smile, nodding at him to continue. “I’m sorry. Please go on.”

“Thank you.” He huffed, taking a quick sip of his drink. “Anyways, as I was saying. I didn’t want to distract you, and I thought I could handle it myself.”

As it happened, it was not something he had been able to handle on his own.

She listened as he explained what had happened, about how he had walked straight into a lion’s den of overzealous critics and collectors alike. How he had been inundated with their questions and demands like they were a flood, a storm that had torn him from his feet, left him dizzy and disoriented.

She broke off pieces of her cookie as he talked, passing him pieces as he told her how there had been no clocks in the gallery, and each time he had reached for his phone someone had very nearly grabbed him to try and redirect his attention.

“The third time it happened it fell right out of my hand.” He shifted, reaching into his pocket to retrieve his phone.

Or rather, what was left of it.

The screen was cracked, near shattered, showing bars of colour, like the rainbow glow of oil over water. She could see the back of the phone was in just as poor a condition, pieces of the hardware hanging on for dear life.

“And then someone stepped on it,” he continued as she gaped at the remains of his phone. He rolled his eyes, plucking it from the table and tucking it back into his pocket. “Not that the person who stepped on it offered to buy me a new one, either.”

She handed him the last piece of her cookie, thinking that was the end of things.

“And then there was a robbery.”

She coughed, having only just taken the first bite of her cake. It tasted like ash, clogging in her throat as she gaped, eyes bulging from their sockets.

“Hey, don’t choke to death.” He passed her mug to her, and she drank quickly, dislodging the cake.

“Thank you,” she managed, covering her mouth, embarrassment making her face hot and scratchy.

Rafayel nodded, quiet as he scanned her face. His tone had been light when he’d passed her drink to her, his expression casual. But now that she could breathe she could see the flicker of worry in his eyes, the lines etching around his mouth and into his brow as he confirmed she was alright.

She cleared her throat, pointing at him with her fork. “So there was a robbery?”

He blinked, caught off guard as he stumbled through his words. “Yeah-yeah, right. Alarms started going off, and at first we thought it was a fire.”

Evidently it had not been a fire, as he regaled her with all the details. Of the critics and collectors panicking, a stampede of the exceptionally wealthy clawing at each other to escape. Of Rafayel noticing one of the visitors acting strangely, slipping further into the gallery while everyone else desperately tried to escape.

Contrary to his earlier promise, Rafayel did paint himself as a hero, catching the robbers and incapacitating them until the police arrived. But when she pulled out her own phone to validate his story, she saw several articles already detailing how the renowned artist Rafayel had saved an entire gallery and its patrons from the thieves.

For that she offered him a bite of her cake, and he accepted it with a grin, the tips of his ears darkening to crimson.

By the time he was done his story, her coffee had long-since been finished, nothing but dregs at the bottom of the mug, and there was only one piece of cake remaining on her plate.

“So what you’re saying is…” She trailed off, slicing that final piece of cake in two, spearing a piece and lifting it into the air. “That from now on you’re always going to call me before you go to any event like this, right?”

“Obviously.” He eyed the piece of cake on her fork. “I don’t know what I was thinking, not bringing you with me. I need my bodyguard to keep me safe.”

She extended her arm, offering him the cake. “I think I would much rather you call me to accompany you somewhere like that then be worried you’ve been hurt, or worse.”

Icing smudged at the corner of his lip as he accepted the final bite, a brow quirking while he chewed. He said nothing, but it was enough to make her face flame, and she quickly took the last bite, staring out the window so she didn’t have to meet his gaze.

“Hey.”

Reluctantly, she turned. When she met his eyes her heart stumbled, fell, like she had been pushed from a cliff’s edge. His eyes were earnest, sad, and when he reached out to cover her hand, she twisted her fingers through his, holding tight like they were both caught in a storm.

“I really am sorry.” He squeezed her hand, leaning forward. “I didn’t mean to make you worry. The last thing I want to do is make you cry.” His brow arched then, his thumb stroking the inside of her wrist. “At least, not for that reason.”

“Rafayel.” A firestorm raged beneath her skin and she yanked her hand away like she’d been scalded. She tucked it against her side as she crossed her arms, slumping in her seat. “You are unbelievable.”

He chuckled, crossing his arms and leaning forward on the table. “I’m glad you think so.”

When she frowned he only laughed harder, head bowed over as his shoulders shook.

She would be lying if she said the urge to laugh along with him didn’t rise in her, bubbling like fizzing wine gone straight to her head. All of her anxieties and fears gone, Rafayel safe in front of her, the taste of sugar on her tongue, the icing smeared on the corner of his lip.

All of it was so mundane, so simple, and yet it felt like something from a dream, like a scene in a fairytale when the hero realized they were falling in love.

The thought made her stomach twist, her heart beating hummingbird quick. She was thankful that he was looking down, that he wouldn’t see the thought flashing across her face before she could school her expression into one of annoyance again.

After a few moments his laughter began to ebb, like the tide being drawn back out to sea. He straightened, revealing flushed cheeks the colour of dawn, eyes bright as stars wrought of sapphire and ruby. His smile still lingered, although it was softer now.

“Sorry,” he said, cocking his head to the side. “Probably not the best time for a joke like that.”

Normally she would have responded with a sharp rejoinder, making her next strike in the unending clash of their words. She teased him and he responded in kind, he made a sharp comment and her response was sharp as steel.

But she was still half-lost to the fairytale feeling from before, his laughter echoing through her. She could feel it in the hollows of her bones, the sound guiding her through the fog in her mind.

She held his gaze, although her mind strayed as it took note of his ruffled hair, too far gone to think of something sharp and clever to say to him. It was still a mess from earlier, when she’d run into him. It stood up at awkward angles, and his bangs had fallen strangely over his brow, and his cowlick seemed more prominent as hair flicked upwards around it.

“Rafayel,” she said, putting her weight on her forearm as she rested it against the table, leaning closer. “Stay still for a second.”

His eyes widened, his face the colour of cerise, of spilled cherry juice staining fingertips. She could feel his breath, soft and warm, curling against her wrist as she carefully shifted his hair, smoothing his bangs over his brow, brushing back the errant strands sticking up strangely.

He didn’t move, tracking her movements with his eyes. His breath seemed to catch, stutter, fanning over her skin as he tried to steady himself.

It all took less than five minutes, his hair returned to its usual state of looking roguishly tousled while being perfectly styled.

She gave one final nod of approval, appraising her work, tucking one final strand of hair behind his ear.

“There we go,” she said, nodding to herself. “All better now.”

Lightning quick, just as she began to pull away, to sit back in her chair, Rafayel reached for her wrist, catching it and drawing it back to the side of his face.

She gasped, lurching forward at the suddenness of it all. “Rafayel? What’s wrong?”

Only then did she meet his eyes, his expression making her breath catch. His eyes, wide and glassy, his breath, coming out in short gasps, his face, a mess of crimson and scarlet and vermillion like he’d been splattered by his own paints.

He brought her hand to his cheek, her skin tingling as his breath ghosted against her palm, the inside of her wrist. Her gaze fell to his lips, so close they could kiss her if he wanted to.

He didn’t answer, sighing instead, sending goosebumps racing along her arm. He leaned his face into her palm, settling against her cupped hand so perfectly it felt like fate, like he had been made to be held in her hands.

Lungs constricting, unable to draw in air, she felt dizzy, the world softening until it was nothing more than static. She watched as his eyes fluttered shut, felt his lashes tickle her palm. Again, he sighed, and it sounded strange, so much yearning and contentment in the quiet hush of his voice that pain radiated through her, like her heart had finally broken free from the cage of her ribs and had let itself be torn to pieces in the process.

When his eyes opened once again they flicked up, searching for her, watching her. There was so much need and desperation in his gaze, like he had longed for her touch, needed it. Like he needed her to breathe.

She wanted to say his name again, wanted to cup his face with both hands and let him rest. She wanted to hold him to her chest and run her fingers through his hair, ruining her hard work, all so the melancholy in his eyes would melt away. She wanted nothing but happiness in his eyes, his heart, wanted to hold him close until whatever ache in him was gone.

He had upset her so terribly, and yet she wanted nothing more than to keep him close, to hold him, to cradle him against her heart so he was safe and content.

Yet no words rose to her tongue, remaining buried deep as she watched him, as he watched her in kind. She wanted to tell him all these things, the seeds that were planted in her heart.

But how could she? What words could she use to explain it all?

Her lips parted, yet nothing but air passed between them, quiet as the murmuration of wind through branches still waiting for their leaves.

His brows hiked higher, creases forming around his eyes as they crinkled. He was smiling, she was sure of it, but it was soft as the light at dawn, as feather down. Soft as blankets wrapped around her shoulders in the cool air of the morning, as the feel of his lips on her cheek when she was only half-awake.

It was blurry and hazed, softened like memories half-remembered and cradled in her heart. She would have liked to see that smile again, to summon it on quiet days and shadowed nights, to make his eyes dance as his lips curved like the first touch of the sun over the horizon.

“Baby?” His voice was sweet as honey, as spun sugar melting on her tongue. It was a sigh like a spring breeze, like the wind dancing across the ocean.

“Hmm?” She smoothed back his bangs again with her free hand as they flopped forward, obscuring his eyes. She wanted to see them, wanted to lose herself in their depths.

He nuzzled her palm again, letting out another sigh before brushing his lips against her skin. His eyes closed halfway, seemed to darken as he kept them fixed on hers.

It wasn’t until his eyes opened wide again, his cheek settling in the curve of her palm, that he spoke, his breath curling against her skin.

“Am I forgiven?”

And with that the spell he had cast was broken, although the buzz of warmth in her heart remained, like sunshine itself had begun to bloom in her.

She dropped the hand that had been fixing his hair, the other still captive in his grip. He was still smiling, though it was sharper now, the beginnings of a smirk peeking through.

It made her want to tell him no, to give him a cool glare that could freeze the ocean over. He looked smug, so satisfied with himself for enchanting her so easily with his lips and his breath and his pretty eyes.

Her heart was a traitor, making it impossible to hold out against him. And the worst was that he knew it, too.

And yet even knowing how her own heart was betraying her, crumbling her resolve, even knowing that Rafayel was trying to toy with her, she could not find it in herself to be cold, to be sharp.

Maybe it was from the dredges of warmth that remained, or perhaps it was because she really had forgiven him, because she couldn’t find it in herself to continue being annoyed. The desire to be petulant, to playact indignation, shrivelled like leaves cut loose from their tree, flung far from the roots.

Although she wanted to tease him a while longer, if only as vengeance for all the times he’d teased her.

She hummed, lifting her free hand once more, stroking his cheek as he watched her. His eyes were bright, confident that he had been well and truly forgiven after a few desserts and playful kisses.

So when she pinched his cheek she watched as shock took over, like a tidal wave washing against the shore. Pink stained his cheeks, then crimson, his face a mess of colour. His lips fell open, in surprise at first, then quickly recovering so he was pouting once more.

“You’re almost forgiven,” she said, giving his cheek one last tug before letting go, smoothing the tips of her fingers over the spot that was the darkest red.

“Almost?” He sounded almost amused, undercutting his sweet pout.

“Almost,” she repeated. His grip loosened on her hand and she was finally able to pull away, settling in her seat once more. “In fact, I might just forgive you by the end of the day.”

He huffed, lowering his head until she could hardly see his eyes from beneath the curtain of his bangs. “After everything I’ve gone through today, you’re still being mean to me?”

“I’m not being mean!” She crossed her arms, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. “I just think you’ll have to work a little bit harder for my forgiveness.”

He flopped back, throwing an arm over his face as he sighed, all melodrama and histrionics. “You’re as bad as those art collectors, trying to work me to the bone.”

Now she really had to focus to stop herself from laughing, especially as he peaked from beneath his arm, trying to gauge her reaction. “Nothing will be enough for you, will it?”

“That depends!” She reached for her empty cup, hoping to hide her smile behind the rim as she feigned taking a sip.

“Human greed is boundless,” he whined, managing to fall back even more. His head was practically hanging from the back of the chair, giving the impression of a ragdoll tossed aside. “What will you have me do? Will you make me cry and steal the pearls? Will you make me tear my scales off as penance?”

“Rafayel.” She really couldn’t help laughing at his theatrics, leaning across the table to reach for his hand. “Rafayel, please look at me.”

He straightened, if only slightly, fixing a sulky glare on her from beneath the shadow of his arm.

“Haven’t you had enough of me?” His bottom lip began quivering, the perfect picture of abject misery.

In another life he would have made an amazing actor. She could see him on a stage, wailing in agony as orchestral music swelled.

The image brought a smile to her face and she had to stifle it quickly, lest he use it against her.

His cheeks puffed out as he continued to glower at her, as surely as a toddler’s on the cusp of a tantrum, crocodile tears shining at the corners of his eyes.

He didn’t pull away as she leaned further forward, her stomach practically flush with the tabletop as she finally took one of his hands. “Nothing so severe, baby.”

He perked up, arm sliding away from his face, fingers twining with hers as he sat up straight.

She hadn’t just called him Rafayel, but baby; her love, her darling, her heart.

A step closer to forgiveness.

Still, he kept up his gloomy expression, very little needed to bring the tears back into his eyes. She imagined needing only a small gust of wind ruining his hair, or perhaps a splatter of coffee staining his sleeve, to bring his tears back to the forefront, to make him dissolve into a near tantrum again.

His nose scrunched, eyes narrowed, but his hand remained firmly wrapped in hers. “What were you thinking, then?”

“I want to go to the arcade,” she said, stroking her thumb over the back of his hand in small circles. “I want you to win me some new plushies.”

The corners of his lips twitched, the lines in his face smoothing away. “So you want me to earn your forgiveness by going on a date with you?”

“No.” She answered too quickly, too sharp, and she watched with her heart thudding like a stampede and her stomach tumbling over and over itself, as Rafayel’s lips curved upwards, smug and adorable, infuriating and precious all at the same time.

She cleared her throat, pulling back so at least she was sitting, so at least she looked a little less desperate. “No, I want you to prove yourself! Through battle!”

“Against the claw machines?” He was the one leaning forward now, drawn towards her by their connected hands.

“Yes.” His eyes were bright as starlight across water, his voice lilting like a melody. “And I want you to pay for everything. To make up for the emotional damages from earlier.”

He laughed, warm and bright, sunshine washing over her face, birdsong and flower petals in the wind. He was spring, thawing the last of winter from her heart. “I didn’t realize my absence would cause such distress.”

Now she was glowering, relaxing her grip and trying to free her hand from his.

But Rafayel was fast, and strong, and he held onto her tightly, leaning even further over the table, her hand captive in his. “Don’t be like that. Your face is going to get stuck like that if you keep frowning, you know.”

She did not stop frowning.

He pouted, bringing her hand to his face, rubbing his cheek against her fingertips. “Aw, come on, sweetheart, don’t I get to see your smile?”

She furrowed her brows as deeply as she could, wrinkled her own nose. “Win me some plushies first.”

He brought her fingers to his lips, lips brushing against them as he spoke. “As you wish, your highness.”

Like fire to kindling, she erupted in heat, any strength she’d had in her limbs vanishing. She could not even hold onto her glare, and she felt as her face relaxed, as a nervous giggle escaped her lips.

Brows rising, Rafayel’s eyes tracked the shift in her face. She would have pulled away from him to avoid any teasing, had she the strength to do so anymore, but she was caught as surely as a fish in a net.

He refused to let go as he stood, dragging her to her feet with him. “Shall we? I know some pretty good arcades around here.”

She couldn’t argue with him, letting him tug her like a ragdoll from the café, a pleased smirk plastered to his face.

“You know you probably shouldn’t look so smug,” she said once the cold winter air against her face, snapping her back to her senses. “Considering you’re supposed to be doing this as an apology.”

All he did was shrug, his smile widening. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Rafayel, you’re literally smiling right now.”

At that he frowned. “Am I not your baby anymore?”

“You sure are acting like a baby,” she grumbled, rolling her eyes.

“What was that?” He leaned closer, a roguish light entering his eyes.

It was so sudden that she took a step away, her face burning despite the cold air caressing her cheeks. “Oh nothing.”

He hummed, not believing her in the least, but he continued on his way, that self-satisfied smile returning to his lips quickly.

She rolled her eyes again, pinching his side. “But really, you shouldn’t look so happy about having to make up for abandoning me this morning.”

“I didn’t abandon you,” he retorted, his voice rising an octave. “And anyways, can’t I be happy that you still want to spend time with me?”

“It’s not a date.” He hadn’t said it was, but she felt the need to make it clear. If not to him then to her own heart, which hadn’t stopped fluttering as furiously as hummingbird wings. “You’re making it up to me.”

He gave her hand a squeeze as he tilted his head back, regarding her from the corners of his eyes. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure!”

At the spread of his smile she cursed, looking away. She really had to stop answering so quickly, so sharply. She was giving herself away.

Thankfully, perhaps because he knew he did have much to make up for, Rafayel let it drop, although he hummed an upbeat melody as they walked, his pleased smile never leaving his face.

A blast of warmth greeted them as they stopped in front of one of her favourite arcades, the door thrown wide from a gaggle of teenagers leaving with their spoils.

Rafayel snagged the door with his free hand, releasing her only to press his hand to the small of her back, ushering her inside ahead of him. “After you, your highness.”

“I’m going to make you buy me a tiara at this rate,” she grumbled, hurrying inside so Rafayel could follow.

He clicked his tongue, taking her hand again and heading down the aisles of games, searching for the claw machines. “If you want a tiara, I’d rather make you one myself. None of the others would be good enough.”

She quirked a brow. “Since when do you know how to make tiaras? Did you learn metalworking in another life?”

His grin was wide, toothy, the points of his incisors looking sharp in the light. “I’m a man of many talents.”

She squeezed his hand, swinging it gently. “Really? What else can you do?”

“Why? Planning to make some demands?” There was laughter in his voice, a musical tone that made it lilt, but there was nothing but soft warmth beneath it. There was no sharpness, no sarcasm. As though if she really did make a request, he would put everything on hold just to make it for her.

She wouldn’t call what she felt in her belly butterflies, not exactly. The wingbeats too quick, soft and ticklish instead of the gauziness of the butterflies. But she felt it all the same, both nerves and excitement stitching themselves into the framework of her body, her DNA. It summoned pinpricks of light, of heat. Seedlings that would bloom into stars in her heart, a garden of light unfurling behind her ribs, in her veins. 

Without realizing it, she clung to him all the tighter, her other hand coming around to hold his hand, so it was sandwiched between both of hers.

“Well I want to know what your other skills are before I put in any requests,” she said, as lightheaded as when she stepped off carnival rides.

“There’s very little I can’t do,” he preened. His eyes closed, his smile smug as a lazy cat’s. “Just ask, and I’ll make it for you.”

“Hmm…” Just ask, and he’d make anything for her?

He arched his brow as she mulled over her options, over what she could ask him to make. He only shot her a curious glance as he bought tokens for the claw machines, shaking the basket of the little gold coins to draw her attention.

“Well?” He asked, swinging their joined hands again.

“Well what?”

Rafayel rolled his eyes, shaking the basket over her head so the rattling of the coins cascaded over her like ocean waves. “Well, do you know what you want me to make? A painting of your favourite landscape? A sculpture in your likeness? Or maybe in mine, so you can see me even when I’m not around?”

That earned him a pinch, and he laughed, knocking the basket against the top of her head. “On second thought, I think a tiara would be the best fit for a princess such as yourself.”

She scoffed, trying to pull away only to be reeled close again as he stopped in front of one of the machines. “If you’re going to make me a tiara then you’d better make yourself a matching one.”

One brow arched high on his forehead, half hidden by his bangs as he lowered his head. He chuckled, soft and breathy, his eyes slowly finding hers as he turned.

She saw the laughter in them, dancing like firelight across a lake. She saw the sharp curve of his smile, the promise of mischief in the creases around his lips, in the corners of his eyes. She heard the barely contained laughter in his voice, the heat of his breath as he lifted her hand to his lips, as he kissed it slowly, smirking all the while.

What she did not notice, too lost in his eyes and his smile and the unfurling of gossamer wings in her belly, was the red creeping across his face. The delicate flush of coral that deepened to messy crimson, cerise like spilled cherries, burning scarlet like a wildfire catching.

Nor did she notice the quiver in his voice, not from suppressed laughter but from his own nerves, from how his own knees felt weak, from how he would have liked nothing more than to fall into her arms and stay there after the day he’d had.

But instead he remained standing tall, and she did not notice the mess of reds and pinks mottling his complexion, her own face flushing the colour of dusk from the leisurely way he kissed her hand.

“What are you doing?” Her own voice squeaked, cracking from the jump in pitch as he kissed her knuckles next.

“Thinking,” he muttered, not looking at all like he was thinking in the least.

“About?” Nervous laughter escaped her lips, her mind a frenzy of flitting wings and flowers blooming with fuzzy warmth, all of it cacophony clouding her thoughts.

“About how you asked me to make matching crowns,” he said, his words curling against the skin of her hand.

“I was only teasing, you know-”

“And it made me wonder,” he cut her off, his grin as bright as the sunrise. “Does that make me your prince?”

“I- No, I-” Too flustered by his smirk and his teasing, all she could do was sputter as a pyre caught flame on her bones. She was hot, burning, her skin deep reds and blushing pinks all while Rafayel continued to smirk, so smug and pleased with himself.

She didn’t even have the forethought to try and wrench her hand free from his grasp, instead scowling at him as her thoughts ground to a halt.

“Oh?” He leaned closer, still holding her captive. “Was I right? Does your highness see me as her prince?”

“I’ll bite you,” she grumbled, sorely tempted as she eyed his arm.

His grin widened, all teeth and devilry. “Well I’m not much of an exhibitionist, but I could be convinced.”

Lungs constricting, breath catching in her throat, she felt dizzy, the world spinning round and round as the flames beneath her skin threatened to consume her whole. She was so dumbfounded by his comment that she didn’t think to notice the burning colour in his own cheeks and ears, the colour reaching beneath the collar of his shirt.

Rafayel himself wondered if he was losing control of his evol, but surely he would be feeling pain were that the case, the flames burning him until nothing remained.

This was a pleasant warmth, that loosened the tension he often carried, that softened his worries until he could not remember what they were. It flooded his mind like the tide washing the shore clean, nothing but her left in its wake.

There was nothing but her. Only her.

He would say anything to make her blush, to make her smile. He would do anything at all if she asked it of him.

All of it was so clearly painted across his face, in the burning maroon and the sweet cherry and the soft rose splattered over his cheeks and ears and neck. Had her mind not been lost, dragged by the undertow of her own feelings, she surely would have noticed, would have understood what he could not say.

But she was flustered, overwhelmingly so, and she feared she would collapse if she held his gaze a moment longer. Her muscles unravelling, her bones turning to jelly, no support left to keep her on her feet.

Despite it all, she found the strength to wriggle from his grasp, using her newfound freedom to wave at the claw machine. “You have to win me something.”

Beside her, Rafayel hummed, shifting to face the claw machine. “Which one do you want?”

She peered into the glass case at the piles of plushies, the small reprieve allowing her heart to slow, her body to cool. There were so many she wanted that she could hardly pick, little plush ducks and fish, foxes and cacti.

“I want all of them,” she announced. “I think receiving all of them would be a good penance.”

“Alright then, all these cuties for my cutie.”

She rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched with the beginnings of a smile. Rafayel grinned at her, his most charming, confident grin. “And you can just stand here and cheer me on.”

About ten minutes later it was clear Rafayel would need more than a personal cheerleader to manage to win anything today.

She winced, covering her mouth with her hand to hide her smile as another plushie slipped from the prongs of the claw, tumbling over a mountain of plush and rolling until it hit the side of the case.

Rafayel groaned, shaking his head. “This thing must be rigged. Someone needs to tell these plushies that they have to come home with us.”

“Can I try?” She leaned against him, perching her head against his shoulder. He looked on the verge of telling her no, and so she fluttered her lashes, popped out her bottom lip. “Please, Rafayel?”

He relinquished his control with a sigh, shaking his head. “My hands were getting tired, anyways.”

“Hopefully not too tired.” She popped a token into the machine, lights flashing and sound whirring as the claw came to life again. “I’m going to need you to carry all the plushies I’m about to win.”

He rolled his eyes. “This one seems rigged, I don’t know if anyone would be able to get anything from it.”

Twenty minutes later, and she had to hide her smirk behind the plushie she retrieved from the machine, a sunshine-yellow duck with a little beret.

She lifted it to her face, pressing its head over her mouth, hoping her eyes did not betray her laughter as Rafayel glowered at her from around the growing pile of plushies in his arms.

“I thought you wanted me to win you all the plushies,” he said, his voice edging close to a whine. “But all I’m doing is holding them.”

“Well you weren’t having any luck, so I wanted to try.” She managed to get ahold of her smile, if only barely. Enough to lower the plushie, to add it to the pile in his arms.

“I still think the machine is rigged,” he pouted. “I’m usually great at these.”

That might have been a bit of an exaggeration, but Rafayel really was usually pretty good. Of course there was no account for luck, and it seemed he had used up the last of it before today.

“Maybe it is rigged,” she mused, turning her attention to some of the other machines in the arcade. Many of them looked similar, although the plushies trapped within them were different. There was a machine of entirely frog plushies, another with different food themed plushies, one where it seemed like everything was pink, although in all different shapes and sizes.

“Maybe we should try another one,” she continued, heading towards the machine with the pink plushies inside.

“Let me show you how it’s done,” he announced, coming up beside her. “I’ll win every single one in there, just you watch.”

She did let him see her smirk now, shaking her head as she kept the basket of tokens far from his reach. “Actually, I want to keep trying.”

Rafayel huffed, his brows drawing together as his pout deepened, but he didn’t argue.

At least not until she started winning even more plushies, until the stack in his arm threatened to fall.

“Are you going to make me your servant forever?” He groaned, readjusting the plushies.

She hummed as she added another to the teetering pile in his arms, a little pink bunny with floppy ears. “That’s not a bad idea.”

His shoulders slumped, and he balanced his chin on top of her newest plushie. “But-”

“Didn’t you say you’d do anything I asked?” She gave him her brightest smile, clasping her hands together over her heart. “Right? You said you’d do anything for your princess.”

His eyes narrowed, his nose wrinkling as he snorted. “Fine, I guess I can’t argue with royalty.”

She laughed, finding herself growing comfortable with the nickname he has bestowed upon her today. “Exactly. And what I want right now is to try to win a few plushies myself.”

It was another while yet before she felt satisfied, and they wandered around the arcade, trying different claw machines and simple games.

At the end of it all they had to purchase a few bags to store her winnings in, and to make them easier for Rafayel to carry.

As they received the bags to stow everything away, Rafayel very confidently announced to her that he would have no problem at all carrying them. That she should let him carry her purse, too, since he was showing her how loving and sweet he could be.

He even kissed her hands again, and her cheek as he helped to zip her jacket up again against the biting cold just a few steps away. As if she would be able to feel anything beyond the warmth thrumming in her veins after his lips had touched her so generously.

And true to his word he did not complain about the bags, although she could see it in his face as he tried to arrange them so he could still hold her hand, lines forming across his brow, looking as though he greatly wanted to complain.

But he held fast nonetheless, and something about it further eased the tension she had been carrying all day. Rafayel loved nothing so much as the sound of his own voice, and yet he kept things light, if still dramatic, uncomplaining even as he readjusted the bags again and again.

She was mulling over what to do next, whether she should release Rafayel from his penance, when her eyes landed on the sign above one of the downtown bookstores, the door thrown open to let warm air and welcoming golden light spill into the grey of the winter.

“Oh, can we go in?” She asked, forgetting for a moment that he was in her debt. “I want to take a look.”

“Your highness is awfully demanding,” he said, his smile giving away his answer. “But I don’t see why not.”

She beamed, squeezing his hand as she dragged him through the door, into the warmth of the store.

She would have happily let Rafayel wander at his own leisure, or lounge in some of the soft, worn chairs that dotted the front of the store near the windows, but he seemed content to follow along at her heels. He made idle comments on the titles and covers of books, nodding his head towards ones he thought she might be interested in, perching his chin on her shoulder whenever she pulled a book down to read its synopsis.

Rafayel clinging to her shadow also had the added benefit that they were often left alone in the aisles, the bulky bags he carried making it difficult for anyone else to squeeze behind them. It was a welcome reprieve as she wandered through the store, and she was able to take her time, not worrying about someone trying to rush her through browsing the shelves.

When she found a few she wanted to read, he was holding out his hand, bags swinging from his wrists, to hold them for her.

“But your hands are already full,” she said, eying the bags, and his other hand still tangled with hers. “It’s okay, love. I can carry them.”

His lips quirked up, and he reached out to take them from her hands before she could protest. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgiven me already, have you? And just for carrying a few plushies around.”

Laughter bubbled in her chest, although she managed to stop its escape. Instead of laughing, she merely tilted her head back and turned away, hoping she appeared haughty. “Fine. You carrying the books is the least you can do, anyways.”

“Ah, come on princess, you don’t have to be so cold.” She was sure if she looked he would give her his widest puppy dog eyes, but he didn’t sound like he was. He sounded like he was close to laughing, too, like he was barely able to hold back his smile.

She tried tugging her hand from his grasp, but she remained ensnared, caught in his pull. He squeezed her hand once, as if to say he was happy to play the penitent, but he was not about to let her go.

So she dragged him all over the store, handing him books as she did her best to playact an imperious noble. Each time she turned to hand him another book she would sniff, and she would catch Rafayel’s lips stretching wide like the sunshine spilling across the ocean at dawn.

She didn’t know if it meant she was doing a poor job and he thought it funny, or if she was doing an amazing job and he was finding it funny. Either way he was smiling, so she supposed it was a win.

After they had looped all her favourite sections multiple times, and had wandered through the section that curiously had racks of robes and simple outfits and cocktail mixes, she turned to him fully. “I think that’s everything.” She gestured to the stack of books in his arms, undoubtedly heavier than the plushies and yet he had brooked no complaint. “Let me take them now and I’ll go and pay.”

His brows furrowed, his mouth quirking to the side. “Do you think I’m not strong enough to carry a few books? I’ve lifted canvases heavier than these.”

She sighed, rolling her eyes. “No, Rafayel, that’s not it. But you’ve more than earned my forgiveness, and a little bit of rest. Let me take those and you can sit down while I pay for them.”

But he did not relinquish her books, and instead began dragging her towards the registers. Even as she protested, he ignored her, grinning wide like she wasn’t yanking on his hand, trying to convince him not to waste his money on her.

It was a fruitless endeavour, and five minutes later he was accepting a bag from the cashier, who was giving her a knowing grin, whispering under her breath that Rafayel was a keeper.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she whined once they were back out on the street. Rafayel was beaming, smug, the paper bag carrying the books crinkling as he swung it at his side. “You didn’t have to waste your money.”

“Waste?” One brow arched as he shook his head. “I promise, your royal highness, that nothing is ever a waste when it’s for you.”

Despite the chill, warmth crept into her face, and she was thankful that she could blame the flush of her cheeks on the bite of the wind. 

Rafayel leaned closer, looking like he wanted to cup her cheek. But with his hands full, all he could do was close the distance between them, squeezing her hand, thumb stroking the inside of her wrist, his nose bumping against hers so all she could see was the ocean of his eyes. The melting of blue into red, the lick of ruby flames overtaking the sapphire sky.

“Nothing is too much, or too expensive when it comes to you. I’ll do anything that you want if it makes you smile.”

She wanted to say something clever, something witty, but all that passed between her lips was air. Like she was emptying her lungs as she swam deeper and deeper into the ocean-blue of his eyes, his hand her only tether to land.

“I’ll buy you all the books you want,” he continued, eyes glinting like sunlight dancing over water. Like the flicker of silver fins and rainbow scales beneath the waves. “And plushies, and food, and anything else you could ever want.”

He drew away, straightening just enough that the cold of the wind could whistle between them, just enough so she could see his smile in full. It could have been teasing, jovial, but instead it was soft, tender as a morning kiss. There was something fathomless in his eyes, both lost and found, a longing that echoed in her own heart.

“I’ll make you any painting, cry a million pearls.” His words were feather-light, nearly torn away in the air. “And I’ll make sure it’s all perfect. Only the most perfect things for you.”

She would have liked to tell him that none of that mattered, that the only thing she wanted was him. That she didn’t care for perfection so long as he stayed with her, so long as he held her hand and continued to smile and laugh and continue his shenanigans.

But she didn’t know how to say it, the words lodging in her throat, unable to form on her tongue.

“Rafayel, I-” Her lungs spasmed, her fingers tightening around his hand. He cocked his head to the side, like a bird listening to the symphony of the world around it.

She closed her mouth, swallowed, tried again. “I don’t… I mean I want…”

An unpleasant heat was beginning to flush in her cheeks, different from when he had flustered her before, this one sharp prickles that made her itch. But he didn’t speak, watching her quietly, patiently.

She breathed slowly, licked her lips, tried one final time. “Rafayel. I-”

But what she said wasn’t anything that she had been thinking, or perhaps it was, all of it stitched and embroidered into the fabric of the words she did say.

“I forgive you.”

At first he did nothing, although the slow climb of his brows told her that he had heard her, but that understanding hadn’t quite sunk in.

The moment realization hit him was like light flaring suddenly, like the explosion of fireworks in the sky. His eyes brightened, his mouth opened, a grin so wide she could see the sharp point of one of his incisors.

He laughed, bright as bells, warm as spring, pretty as birdsong. “You mean I have earned my freedom, your highness?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, you’re free. You’re forgiven for earlier today.”

He continued to chuckle, swinging their joined hands. “Thank goodness. I was beginning to worry it would take a hundred years for you to forgive me.”

“Well don’t test your luck,” she grumbled. Her face still burned, although the discomfort had eased, and her voice was thick from the words still caught in her throat. She would have liked to cling to an ounce of feigned annoyance, to turn away in a huff so he could not see everything unsaid in her eyes, the colour in her cheeks. But Rafayel’s laughter was infectious, and the delight in it bubbled like champagne in her veins, fizzed in her mind and blurred her senses.

Rafayel seemed utterly unperturbed by her own personal turmoil, swinging their hands higher, his smile fixed to his face.

“What would you like to do now?” He asked, winking. “Should we go to the beach? Or would you like to go somewhere for dinner?”

She eyed the bags in his hands, the slope of his shoulders as he was weighed down by them. She could feel fatigue beginning to creep over her, like the slow stretch of ivy over aging brick. She could only imagine how tired Rafayel was too, his day just as long as hers, along with the addition of carrying everything around for her.

Having dinner sounded nice, but she wanted to relax, she wanted to lean her head on his shoulder and breathe in the smell of his cologne, barely masking the smell of salt and the sting of paint.

“What if we went home and ordered something instead?” She suggested. “It’s been a long day and I’d like to rest. Maybe we could watch a movie too?”

Rafayel hummed, his eyes ever-so-slightly narrowing. “Can’t get enough of me, huh? You were acting so mad, but now you want to stick around.”

As if he hadn’t just suggested spending more time together either.

She rolled her eyes. “I just thought it would be nice. It was a stressful day for the both of us, and I thought doing something lowkey could be fun.”

“I suppose we could do that,” he mused, his smirk a sharp curve of his lips. “It would probably be best to indulge your highness’ whims. I would hate to upset you again.”

“If you don’t want to, you can just say so,” she huffed. “It was just an idea.”

“I never said I didn’t want to.” His smile hiked higher, the corners of his eyes creasing. “But I want to pick out the movie. And where we eat.”

“I think I should be the one to pick out where we eat,” she argued, reaching over with her free hand to pinch him. “Since you scared me.”

“What, so now I’m unforgiven?” He whined, staring at her as though she’d just kicked a puppy. “I had to put up with dumb art collectors and my phone broke!”

“You’re not unforgiven,” she said, heat spreading in her chest, reaching down her arms, making her fingers tingle. “I just think I should get to pick where we eat!”

“Yes, but if I’ve been forgiven then shouldn’t you owe me now?” His brow arched. “Since you’ve made me do such hard labour?”

The heat continued to spread, her fingers itching. “That was part of your apology. And I think that after the day I’ve had I should get to pick out dinner.”

He snorted, rolling his eyes. “You really are a princess. I did so much to make up for-”

It was on impulse that she moved, yanking her hand free from his and grabbing hold of his jacket. Rafayel paused, brows high, eyes wide as he turned. It gave her the opening she needed to snag his front with her other hand, yanking him close.

“Rafayel.”

He blinked, colour flaring in his cheeks like fireworks exploding in the indigo of night. It made his eyes seem darker, their colour deeper, so deep and fathomless she could have drowned in them.

His lips fell open, a silent question on them as his breath slipped away.

“You scared me today. Don’t ever scare me like that again,” she said, hands firmly twisting into the fabric of his jacket.

A brow arched, the corner of his lip twitching like he might grin. “Or what?”

“Or else.”

She had no real threat for him, and yet it seemed to do the job just fine. He smirked, lowering his head until he was peeking up at her from beneath the fringe of his thick lashes.

“Yes ma’am.” His words were hushed, warm and heavy, settling deep in her belly. “I promise I won’t ever make you wait again. I’ll always be with you.”

Whatever had possessed her to grab him was beginning to loose its hold on her, and she loosened her own grip on him, although still she clung close. “And?”

He huffed a laugh. “And you can pick the movie. But I’m still picking dinner.”

She dropped her hands as she gaped. “You can’t!”

“Oh but I can, love.” He flashed her a teasing smile, tapping her brow before straightening. “I know a place that just opened, and they don’t normally do delivery, but they will for me. You’ll absolutely love it.”

She made to pinch him, but he caught her wrist, smirking. “Doesn’t that get old?”

So instead she pinched him with her free hand, biting back a smile as he yelped. “No.”

“You’re lucky my other hand is full,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “Or else you’d be in trouble.”

She giggled, a snorting, bubbling sound that made his smile soften. “I think that’s an empty threat. You wouldn’t retaliate.”

“Oh wouldn’t I?”

“Of course not.”

He shrugged, sighing. “I guess we’ll never know.”

“Well-”

“Anyways,” he cut her off before she could tease him, dragging her down the street. “Come on, I’m starving. Are we going to my place?”

“If you don’t mind,” she said, stumbling after him.

He tossed her a grin over his shoulder. “Of course not. Although if you’re planning on staying over you have to cook breakfast tomorrow.”

His eyes met hers for half a second, less than a breath, before he rolled them, shaking his head. “Never mind.”

“What?” She hadn’t even said anything, hadn’t so much as frowned. “What did I do?”

“Nothing yet, but I know what you will say.” He groaned dramatically, tilting his head back.

She actually wouldn’t have minded, although she did not say as much as Rafayel quickly went through the five stages of grief.

“I’ll make something tomorrow morning instead. It might give me some inspiration since all of it was drained after going to that gallery.”

She reached out to cover his hand with hers, fingers interlacing. “Well maybe there’s something I can do to help with that.”

“Suddenly feeling benevolent?” He arched a brow, drawing her closer.

She shrugged. “I know you had a difficult day too, and I’d like to help if I can.”

Surprise melted into warmth like the night beneath the dawn across his face. His cheeks flushed, and she could have sworn she felt the quick pulse of his heart. But his smile was tender, his gaze soft.

“You know, I think I can feel it returning already,” he mused. “You might have to stay over for more than a day.”

She smiled, let herself sink against him as they walked. The frantic fear of the early afternoon was little more than a distant memory, a half-forgotten nightmare nearly swept away. Rafayel was safe, he was smiling, and his hand was twined with hers. That was all she’d wanted, to be close, to stay beside him today. 

And tomorrow too, and the day after, and all the tomorrows after.

“You’ve gone quiet,” he said, squeezing her hand, drawing her attention back to him. “What are you thinking about?”

“I’m trying to figure out what kind of food you’ve picked,” she said. “Since you won’t tell me anything about it.”

“Are you worried it won’t be up to your royal standards?” He chuckled, swinging her hand again. It was silly, a little childish, and yet it made her incandescently happy when he did. “Well you don’t have to fear, your highness, it’s something you’ll love.”

“And if it’s not?”

“Just trust me,” he insisted.

“Alright.” Now she swung their joined hands too, tossing them high. He laughed, eyes tracking the movement, his smile making her heart stumble, trip, no better than a toddler learning to walk. “I guess I’ll trust you.”

More laughter, warm as sunshine, sweet as sugar. She could have listened to it forever, an enchanting siren song that she would have happily let lead her to her doom.

“Don’t sound so excited,” he said, although his smile belied the annoyed roll of his eyes.

She giggled. “Sorry, sorry. I do trust you, I’m looking forward to whatever you have planned.”

His answer was simple, and yet it warmed her as surely as a star unfurling behind her ribs. “I hope you’ll like it.”

Where once there had been grey and white, pallid despair and shadowy fear, now everything seemed to be bright as technicolour. Streaks of cerise stained the sky, buttery yellow poured from windows, starlit silver washed across the sidewalk as the streetlights flicked to life. There were emerald greens and cerulean blues and plum purples, all filling her sight. They were embers catching and blooming to life, flowers unfurling at the first whisper of spring.

She leaned closer, pressing her cheek against his arm, listening as he hummed. It was because of him that her world was filled with such colour, each new brushstroke, each new shade, brilliant as the glitter of gemstones, bright as the shine of the sun.

Hope bloomed like spring, like blushing pink across his cheeks. Hope that he would stay with her, their hands always intertwined. Hope that he would find her, even if she was late. That she would find him, even if he was too. Hope that her world would always be bright, and filled with colour.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace rafayel #lnds rafayel #lads rafayel #qi yu #rafayel love and deepspace #qi yu x mc #rafayel x mc #rafayel lads #message in a bottle

[abiiors]

the spring curse - ross x reader ˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧💌˚.⋆🌿

a/n: this is essentially a sickfic with so much yapping in there oh my god 🙄 yapping and yearning are the two things i operate on cw: brief suggestive content but no actual smut. being ill i suppose but it's very mild and fluffy. also pls we're going to suspend our disbelief here because i have no idea what being a florist entails. wc: 3.4k

they get together at the beginning of winter. 

the last of the leaves are already a deep shade of orange, falling and falling everyday until the trees go barren and white snowflakes start fluttering all around. they’re already exclusive by the time the first proper snow of the season falls. 

ross is a boyfriend. to the girl of his dreams. it makes him feel as giddy as a teenager every time he thinks about it; every time she gives him a sweet smile and an even sweeter kiss. 

he always holds her hand just a little tighter, cuddles her closer just a little longer every time she has to go—he’s making up for the lost time, he thinks. all the time he’s wasted being stupid and a coward. and so whenever she stays over he stays near her, follows her around from room to room. she finds it infinitely amusing, so endearing that she can’t help but kiss him every two minutes for it. 

a florist’s job is pretty slow in the winter. ross learns that quite early on in their relationship when he gets to take the slow days extra slow—cuddling on the sofa and dancing in the kitchen and every other cheesy thing he can think of. 

he fucking adores the slow mornings after she stays over—loves waking up with her in his arms, loves the slow, lazy morning sex where she’s moaning and squirming and cumming on his cock barely awake, loves how she looks at him with sleepy eyes hooded with lust. 

“‘s gonna be so awful when my job picks up again and the spring weddings start happening,” she says one morning while they’re in bed still, her head on his chest. ross hums. “you’ll be lucky if you see me two days in a row.”

he pouts. “it’s not that busy is it?”

“it is! so many new flowers coming into the shop and scott wants us to make sure each one of them is absolutely perfect. individually. fuck and the pollen—you’re not allergic to pollen are you? because i get so covered in it…”

ross racks his brain. maybe he does remember being a bit more sniffly in spring but nothing severe. it’s never been noteworthy. he shrugs and holds her tighter. “nah, don’t think so. it can’t be that bad though.”

she laughs mirthlessly. “you don’t know the half of it. my ex was so allergic i had to stay away for all of spring pretty much. like three months every year where i’d move back in with my parents because it was just that bad for him.”

he pretty much stops listening halfway through, stuck on the part where she had to stay away for three whole months. he can barely stay away half the week. 

“don’t have to worry about that,” he strokes her hair, brushing off the silly unwanted thoughts. 

and it turns out to be true—even when she stays in the shop longer, busy catering to new year’s parties and other events, ross hardly ever has a reaction to it. it’s blown out of proportion, he thinks. sure pollen allergies are real, but they must be incredibly rare.

what are the odds that he has it just as bad as her ex? 

soon enough he forgets the conversation. everything is so blissful, so perfect that by the time valentine’s day rolls around, he’s already asked her to move in. 

“are you serious?” she shrieks, giddy with excitement. it works great for them—for one, the floral shop she works at is so much closer to his house. and then just as an added bonus, he doesn’t have to compromise to seeing her only half the days of the week. 

“yes. oh my god, yes! it’d be perfect…”

and he agrees. it would be perfect… until, well, it’s not. 

spring arrives with a riot of colours—little weedy flowers grow in his backyard, daisies and buttercups cover grassy patches on the ground. even the dead trees start sprouting new leaves. 

everything outside is cheery and pretty and colourful. in comparison, ross feels…weirdly tired. not that it’s an everyday thing but on days when he’s outside more, he’s way too fucking exhausted to do anything else. it’s only when the sneezing starts does the conversation come back to haunt him. 

my ex was so allergic i had to stay away for all of spring pretty much…

ross shudders, thankful that it’s not that bad for him. it’s not! he’s certain about that. it’s only a scratchy throat and mildly itchy eyes that he could have gotten from eye strain too frankly, and maybe just a little case of the sniffles. it’s annoying, sure, but it’s not the end of the world. there’s no reason she needs to know about it and worry that she'll have to be away from him when she just moved in a week ago. 

he can very easily chalk up all his symptoms to a plethora of other things. 

and well, denial’s worked great for him—for one whole week, at least. 

towards the end of her second week, ross feels more tired than usual. she’s been slightly more busy at work (there’s a big wedding coming up) and ross has taken it upon himself to do a deep clean of the house now that he has a bit more free time—spring cleaning, to get rid of the pollen that may or may not be there. 

everytime there’s a persistent cough, he brushes it off. it’s dust—of course, that’s what’s making him cough and sneeze. 

it’s all the cleaning—that’s why he’s so tired.

all of it melts away though when he hears the keys jingling and the door opening. there’s a bit of a shuffle, a door shutting softly and then he hears her. 

“ross?”

he’s out the kitchen and walking towards her the next second, smiling huge. she looks like a fucking delight—hair a bit messy from the wind, surrounded by the smell of her perfume and a whole mix of flowers, plus something inexplicably green. 

she grins when she sees him and almost tackles him into a hug. 

“i love coming home to you…” the words are muffled by his t-shirt but his heart speeds up regardless. ross smiles and tucks his nose into her hair. 

“hello, you. had a good day?”

she nods and stays exactly like she was. the bliss only lasts another second though. ross feels it only a second before it happens—the string of sneezes he lets out with only a split second’s warning from his body. 

one, two, three, fifteen… until his eyes are watery and his throat stings from the effort. she looks at him with a bewildered expression on her face, slightly confused about…all of it.

he shakes his head. “shit, sorry! must have inhaled some pepper… i was just making dinner.” 

which isn’t a lie. he was making dinner and yes he has got the pepper out on the table. she throws him one more skeptical look but doesn’t push it further. 

ross takes her bag from her. “go wash up, i’ve got a movie picked out for us.”

she brightens instantly, and gives him a gorgeous smile, one that makes the tiny dimple by her lip appear. ross watches her nod and walk away from him, making her way to their bedroom. his smile is real for the most part until she finally shuts the door and he lets the cough he’s been holding in loose. he tries not to agitate his throat more, he tries to clear it so it would get rid of the itchy, sticky feeling. 

pollen, the logical part of his brain tells him. there was a tonne of pollen in her hair. but ross stubbornly gulps a glass of water, sighing at the way it makes him feel better instantly. he splashes some water from the kitchen sink on his eyes to get rid of the stinging.

it’s only a bit of allergies, he’s not going to die from it. besides, once she showers, the pollen would be washed away…right?

the other delightful symptoms show up hours later when he’s in bed, tossing and turning, trying to get comfortable. his head feels fucking heavy, like there’s suddenly a dumbbell placed on there. the itchy eyes won’t let him get comfortable and the constant urge to sneeze has him almost on the verge of fucking tears from how uncomfortable he is. 

ross curses silently, staying as far away from her without falling off the bed—for one he wants to try limiting his exposure to pollen. and if there’s a slight chance that he’s coming down with something then it’s better that he stay a bit away from her anyway. 

that just makes him even more miserable. all he wants to do is cuddle and fall asleep and not wake up until it’s at least 8 am the next morning but apparently he’s not afforded this luxury. 

sighing, ross gets up and checks his phone. 1:03 am. 

then he makes his way to the kitchen. maybe some tea might help… at least out of the bedroom he can finally sneeze into the crook of his elbow without worrying about waking her up. 

ross stumbles into the kitchen, his footsteps heavy with exhaustion and frustration. he flicks on the dim light above the stove, wincing as it illuminates the small space. his head throbs with each heartbeat, and he reaches up to massage his temples, hoping to alleviate some of the pressure. 

he tries not to be miffed about it—the fact that being out of the room instantly feels a bit better. it must the the honey in the tea, or the warm water. whatever it is, he refuses to admit it to himself that it may be her. that he’s been cocky about it this whole time only for it to bite him in the ass. 

“ross?” he startles and whirls around. 

despite the painful headache, his heart melts. she looks sleepy and soft—hair half out of the braid, his giant t-shirt drowning her a little, sliding off her shoulder. she squints her eyes against the light and rubs the sleep out of them.

“what are you doing, it’s—” she has to wait till the yawn passes “—so late. you alright?”

he nods, maybe a bit too quickly and fails to stifle a wince. the movement makes a twinge of pain slice through his head and her eyes train on him. 

“you’re being weird… are you unwell?”

“‘m not being weird,” he tries to reassure her. ross walks up to her, placing a hand on her waist so he could gently steer her back to their bedroom. “i’m fine, love. my throat feels a bit dry so i thought tea would help.” 

“your eyes are all red.”

“yeah, babe. i just woke up.” lie, lie, lie. “come on, you’ve got to be up early. go back to bed, i’ll join you in a sec.”

the skepticism on her face remains. “ross, if you’re ill—”

“i’m not ill, come on. would i do this if i were ill?” and then he kisses her. for a good thirty seconds. 

predictably (and to his delight) she goes all loose in his arms, clinging to him as if the kiss is the only thing that matters. that convinces her though and once they break apart, she hmphs. 

“fine, don’t be long.” and then she drags her feet back to the bedroom. 

ross stays in the kitchen for a bit longers, massaging his aching temples and hoping the tea works as some magical cure. he even manages to convince himself a little that it’s working, and maybe it is! 

finally, fifteen minutes later he gives up. he just wants to be in bed at this point. he’ll figure out the rest tomorrow. 

ross wakes up alone to warm sunlight streaming in from the window, perhaps a bit too warm for an early spring day. everything feels weird and uncomfortable and stuffy, almost like he can barely breathe. exhaustion coats every cell in his body. 

what the fuck… 

he just woke up too, how is it possible to be this tired, this early in the morning. he stretches a little, trying to shake off the ickiness, until his eyes land on a post it stuck on the nightstand. 

i don’t know if you remember me telling you i was leaving for work early so i thought i’d leave a note. you looked really tired and uncomfy :( call me if you need me xx 

her neat handwriting stands stark against the paper. how did he miss her leaving for work? he has absolutely no memory of being even half-awake and he never sleeps in until this late. ross frowns and checks himself for a fever but his skin feels cool to the touch, normal. 

allergies. a voice chimes in again. allergies to pollen and spring and. allergies to your girlfriend. 

it’s incredibly childish to think of it that way, he knows it. but he also knows that if she knew her job was causing him this much discomfort, she’d be quite sad about it. so ross just shrugs it away and sends her a text

awake and feeling a lot better :) 

thirty seconds later, his phone pings. 

good, because i took half the day off to spend it with you ♡

despite himself, ross beams, feeling giddy like a teenager. it takes him some effort to get out of bed and shake off the fatigue. he should probably clean the room a bit before she comes back. his thoughts wander back to the last time—to him uncontrollably sneezing and coughing because of the pollen in her hair.

ross groans and tries to clear his throat again. 

somehow he manages to pass the time, doing little things here and there, getting on his playstation to see if any of his friends are free for a game (the are, but only for a bit). he makes himself a lazy lunch, quick and easy tin ravioli that she would 100% wrinkle her nose at (“pasta should be fresh though!”) and then he waits, scrolling on his phone to pass the time. 

he wakes up to an onslaught of kisses and a huge bouquet of daisies. 

for a second ross wonders when he fell asleep. he didn’t even mean to fall asleep, the tiredness just dragged him under… 

“there you are,” she grins at him and places another kiss on his nose. ross tries not to blush like a high school girl. instead, he pulls her into a quick kiss. 

“i got you flowers!” the bouquet of daisies is thrust into his hands. the flowers are beautiful, each about the same size, white and fresh and pretty and she beams at him proudly. “made that one for you.”

“you are perfect…” he kisses her again and cradles the flowers closer. “any special occasion though?”

“nah, just thought you were a bit unwell and thought i’d get you flowers.”

ross brightens. he loves how thoughtful she is, loves that she made sure to get him flowers because she suspected he was sick.

all of it comes crashing the moment he feels the familiar itchy feeling build at the back of his throat, feels his eyes starting to water. he tries not to throw the flowers away as if they were made of fire but he has twist his body away from hers when he breaks out into a coughing fit. hacking and trying to get the flowers away from him. 

“shit, you okay?” she sounds alarmed and rubs her hand up and down his back. it barely registers while ross struggles to breathe. 

quickly she runs to the kitchen to get him some water. it takes him a bit to breathe and stop coughing so he can get some water down. 

“i didn’t know you were this sick!” 

“i’m not,” his voice sounds strained but she ignores him entirely and places the back of her hand against his forehead. 

“no fever,” she frowns. “but you looked so run down before…”

“i haven’t caught a bug i promise!”

she opens her mouth again to argue, about to say something but stops halfway through the sentence, her eyes widening and ross watches in real time as the realisation dawns on her. the room goes drop dead silent. 

“fuck…” she murmurs, “it’s hay fever, isn’t it.”

ross wants to deny it so desperately but all he can do is sit there and pout miserably. there’s nothing he can say that will undo it now. 

“how long?”

“how long what?”

“how long have you been feeling it? itchy eyes, the sneezing, coughing. you know what i’m talking about.”

he does but he doesn’t want to admit it. quietly, she move the flowers as far away as possible. ross palms the back of his neck, sheepish. “two weeks.”

“you’ve been miserable for what–two weeks? because of me! and you didn’t even tell me.” her face falls more and more with each word and ross wants to point out that this is exactly why he didn’t tell her, and now she’s upset anyway. convincing herself that she’s the reason he’s been feeling so horrible. 

“why didn’t you tell me?”

sheepishly, he spills everything—how he remembers the conversation about her ex, how he doesn’t want her to feel like she’s the one making him sick. 

“and i didn’t want you moving away for three months! you just moved in”

he sounds so petulant and childish to his own ears, he sounds like a seven year old, not a fully grown man. 

for a moment she says absolutely nothing. she only looks at him, bewildered and speechless. 

“did–do—” then she has to pause to take a deep breath. “did you take any antihistamines?”

and that’s when it dawns on him. ross opens his mouth and closes it again, like a fish. antihistamines. allergy medicine. a miracle of modern science easily available to him over the counter. something he didn’t even bother thinking about.

“did you?”

“no.”

he hangs his head in shame, embarrassed that he didn’t think about it sooner until peals of her laughter jolt him back. she looks like she’s ready to collapse on the sofa, completely fucking floored by the giggles she can’t seem to suppress. 

“you are so dramatic!” she shrieks, manages to even get the whole sentence out between gasps and giggles. “you’d think you caught the black death or something.”

“oi!” ross flicks her her on the nose but joins in on the laughter too. he has been a fucking idiot, of course he has. “you said you had to move away every spring! because your ex had it that bad!”

“yeah because he had asthma, you idiot.”

with every new piece of information she reveals, ross feels his face warm up more and more. okay yeah… he really has been fucking dramatic about all this. 

“you really are an idiot, you know that?,” she catches her breath with a bit of effort and moves a bit closer to him. ross pretends to grumble but pulls her on his lap and holds her close.

“your idiot?” 

“don’t try to be cute, you’re not living this down.” she sounds stern for about two seconds before bursting into another fit of giggles and burying her face in his shoulder.  

“i’m not moving out the house just because you’re allergic to me, you know?” she teases once she’s sobered up enough. “you’ll be fine with some pills.”

he would be, now all he wants to do is make a mad dash to the pharmacy and buy whatever otc medication they have. it’s been hell as is, he just wants this feeling to go away. 

i’m not moving out the house…

his heart leaps up to his throat and relief floods his body. ross feels like he can finally breathe again (figuratively, at least). 

“i’m not allergic to you,” he counters, “i’m obsessed with you if anything.”

“flirting will not get you out of this!” but ross doesn’t miss the way her smile widens and she struggles to meet his eyes. if only he could stay like this forever…

he would have even, if not for another round of sneezes building up again. ross cringes, turning to the side. 

“shit shit! still, radioactive, sorry.” 

ross snorts, silently begging for the sneezes to go away. 

“let me make a pharmacy run for you,” she declares, putting her shoes back on and shushing him with a look before he can even protest. it’s fine though, he thinks, it's only twenty minutes. she’s coming back home to him anyway. 

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#spring fics #seasons #the 1975 #ross macdonald #ross macdonald x reader #ross macdonald x you #ross x reader #ross x you

[storiesfromafan]

Dandelion

A/N: Back with Part 2! If you haven’t read Traitor, please do :) Hope this one lives up to what I wish it too. Haha. There will be a Part 3, just not sure when it will be up. As I haven’t started writing it yet. Been in a bit of a writers burnout.

Feel free to comment/message me with idea’s or anything.

Pairing: Mattheo x Fem!Reader Ravenclaw

Out of all the season’s Spring had always been your favourite, Mattheo recalled as he found himself out in a small field of wildflowers, that was a reasonable distance from the castle. It was a spot you both had spent every free moment at in Spring together. But now he was here alone, no you by his side. And it was his own responsibility you weren’t, for he ended it with you over four months ago. He had done it for the right reason, saving you from his father. From getting hurt because of him. Saving you from his darkness. Yet he missed the light you brought to his life. He missed who he was with you.

Brushing his fingers over various wildflowers that surrounded him, Mattheo recalled their individual names. Such as oxeye daisy, lesser celandine, cow parsley, dandelion. The last one being a mix of yellow flowers and the seed heads, most commonly picked and blown, its white sprouts flying off into the sky. A past time you enjoyed, claiming to make a wish with everyone. Nearly everything in his everyday routine and life reminded him of you.

When someone would say his name. Mattheo recalled how you would say his name; be it when you were happy, sad, angry, scared, breathless, sleepy, laughing. Or when he flirted with Anna. He remembered the first time he flirted with you, you had either been oblivious to it or playing hard to get. Because he knew you liked him, as he liked you too. You’d been a bit of a challenge, but in the end you both won when you got together. He hadn’t known anyone like you, still didn’t. He knew there would never be another you. He was glad about that. There was no one like his Y/N…or rather was his Y/N, he had to remind himself of that a lot.

Maybe, it's the way you say my name

Maybe, it's the way you play your game

But it's so good, I've never known anybody like you

But it's so good, I've never dreamed of nobody like you

You had come into his life during a hard time. His father and the Death Eater’s had been plotting and planning their next move and possible future moves. His father had been continuously hard on him, and only getting worse. The expectations he had to live up to were great, greater than anyone his age. But then there was you.

And I've heard of a love that comes once in a lifetime

And I'm pretty sure that you are that love of mine

Meeting you at a Ministry party that he attended with Lucius and Draco. Your father putting the three of you together. You all knew each other, or rather knew of each other, rarely your path’s crossed. There were a few classes together, but Mattheo had never talked to you. But he was glad he had been placed with you, for talking to you was a breath of fresh air. You treated him and Draco like any other student. You tried to make conversation, and he tried to return it, which you were grateful for. And from there it only became more. Once back at school he seeked you out, making time to chat with you. Talking turned to flirting, and flirting led to dating. Then you became his Ravenclaw beauty, then Ravenclaw Princess after you helped him through so many spiraling moments because his father.

Mattheo picked one of the dandelions with the fuzzy white seed heads, bringing it up and examining it. He never saw the fascination you had in the weed. It didn’t hold any real beauty like a rose, but it had a unique quality.

'Cause I'm in a field of dandelions

Wishing on every one that you'll be mine, mine

He recalled the first time you’d both came to this spot. You had named the wildflowers before laying down on the grass, the wildflowers surrounding you. He thought you look breathtakingly beautiful; you were made for wildflowers. From how your soft locks sprawled out around you, to the content smile that graced your tempting lips.

Then there were your eyes. Your bright E/C orbs staring up at him, a warmth and admiration shining in your eyes as you looked at him. It brought a soft smile to his lips, as you returned his smile. In that moment Mattheo felt comfortable, at ease from how your warmth brought him happiness.

And I see forever in your eyes

I feel okay when I see you smile, smile

Mattheo slowly twirled the dandelion between his fingers, as the memories crossing his mind of you reminded him of what he missed. Silently praying he had kept you by his side. Anger slowly began to build, anger at himself for hurting you. But he slowly let it go, reminding himself over and over it was to save you.

Wishing on dandelions all of the time

Praying to God that one day you'll be mine

Wishing on dandelions all of the time, all of the time

I think that you are the one for me

You. The brightness in that darkness of his life. The tether that kept him grounded. The one who showed him compassion and love, knowingly or unknowingly. You were everything to him. You were the one for him...but he couldn’t allow that.

The memory of the Yule Ball came to Mattheo’s mind. The first time he’d seen you dressed like the Princess you were. The dress you’d had chosen to wear was the perfect shade of F/C, fitted your frame perfectly with a skirt that flowed to the floor like water. The neckline was tasteful and the straps just thick enough and perfectly adjusted against your skin. Your neck and shoulders were on display, as your hair was up.

'Cause it gets so hard to breathe

When you're looking at me, I've never felt so alive and free

When you're looking at me, I've never felt so happy

Mattheo, watching you walk towards him, left him speechless. And with some tempting thoughts. Upon coming to stand before the Slytherin male, the bright smile you gave him caused his heart to skip a beat. This beauty before him had chosen him. You took his arm, while greeting him. The happiness and pride Mattheo felt as he led you into The Great Hall, eyes looking at you both, had him standing taller and confident.

That night you had both danced the night away; be it a formal dance or when the Weird Sisters took over the stage, and you both just let go. Mattheo was able to let go, a night to be free. You were just as free. Laughing, dancing and showing Mattheo attention. From dancing together, holding hands or little kisses. He had wished that moment could have been forever.

And I've heard of a love that comes once in a lifetime

And I'm pretty sure that you are that love of mine

'Cause I'm in a field of dandelions

Wishing on every one that you'll be mine, mine

Being the gentleman that he was, and wanting every possible moment with you, Mattheo had walked you back to the Ravenclaw house door. During the walk you had both tried to take as long as possible. First taking a long route to the door, walking slowly, taking moments to appreciate paintings or sculptures on the walk. Anything and everything to make this moment together last.

And I see forever in your eyes

I feel okay, when I see you smile, smile

Eventually you made it to your destination. You both looked at each other, neither wanting to unlock your hands from the other. Mattheo brought his hand up to brush some of your framing hair behind your ear, before cupping your cheek with that hand.

“You look so beautiful tonight” he said softly, eyes locked with your own.

“Yes...you already told me that” you replied just as softly, scared if you were any louder it would break the moment.

Mattheo smiled. “I know, but you deserve to be told every minute of every day how beautiful you are”.

Those words of his made your breath hitch, before shakily exhaling. These were the moments you treasured. The reassurance of Mattheo’s feelings. He might not speak of his feelings for you, but words like this, with the looks he gave you, spoke louder than anything.

Moving closer, Mattheo finally dipped his head down and captured your lips with his. The peck was soft, testing the waters. Pulling back, he looked to your eyes, and seeing the joy and restlessness in them, he went in again. This time he was firmer, tongue coming out to run along your bottom lip for permission. You didn’t waste time, opening your mouth to him. Mattheo took the lead, his tongue dancing with your own, in a breathtaking kiss. You both could feel how the other felt.

Pulling back when air was needed, you both watched the other with a blissful smile on your faces. Mattheo continued to caress your cheek as you watched each other. But time was fleeting, and you both had to part ways. With one final peck to your lips, Mattheo stepped back, his hand leaving your cheek.

“Goodnight Princess” he said softly. “Till the morning”.

You nodded your head, “goodnight, Theo”.

Reluctantly you turned from him and stepped up to the Ravenclaw door. Briefly you stopped and looked over your shoulder at him. He gave you a cheeky smile and a final goodnight, and you then passed through the door. It closed with a small noise. And Mattheo was left alone, but he felt on top of the world.

Tossing the dandelion from his hands, Mattheo scrunched up his face at the weed. How silly it was the believe making a wish on the weed would come true. It was childish. Yet you did it. You believed in it. You had confided in him that once you’d made a wish on the weed, asking to do well in Snape's class once, for the potion you’d be making was tricky. And you had managed to not ruin it. So, it became almost a ritual of yours, making wishes on weeds.

Wishing on dandelions all of the time

Praying to God that one day you'll be mine

Wishing on dandelions all of the time, all of the time

Looking at the dandelions around him, Mattheo contemplated taking a page from your book. But then the rational side of him told him too not be stupid. So, he turned from the weed and back to the school in the distance. But the curiosity of making a wish crept up, and with a sigh Mattheo picked another dandelion.

He glared at the weed, silently telling it to work. Drawing in a breath, he blew the white fuzzy seeds from the weed, and thinking ‘I wish my father doesn’t hurt her...’

Dandelion, into the wind you go

Won't you let my darling know?

Dandelion, into the wind you go

Won't you let my darling know that?

Mattheo put everything into that wish. He didn’t want anything to happen to you. He wanted to keep you safe, from his father...and from him. With what was to come, he would wish on every weed on the grounds if he had too. If anything happened to you, Mattheo wouldn’t be able to forgive himself.

I'm in a field of dandelions

Wishing on every one that you'll be mine, mine

Picking another dandelion, he intended to make the same wish, hoping to make it come true. But before he blew the fuzzy white seeds, you came to mind clearly. And as he released his breath, freeing the seeds, he found himself wishing to see you right then.

He watched the seeds float up in the sky, dancing from the breeze before floating off back towards the castle. For a moment he watched them float before disappearing, and an approaching form came into his line of vision. As they got closer, Mattheo’s breath caught in his throat, as he saw who it was. You. If his wish had been answered so soon, would his first wish come true too?

When you drew closer you finally realized your spot had been taken. For sitting there among the wildflowers was the last person you wanted to see; Mattheo. The look that crossed your face was sour, which Mattheo saw. You went to turn around and head back to the castle before he got up quickly, calling your name.

“Y/N! Wait” Mattheo called standing a meter behind you.

You looked over your shoulder, “what?” You spat.

Mattheo sighed. “You...you can have the spot” he said softly, looking down at the ground. “I was going to leave anyways”.

He walked around you slowly, and once he was five steps from you, Mattheo stopped before turning back to you. You had been watching him the whole time, studying him closely. You noted the sullen look upon his face, how his eyes lack any shine and how he seemed to have no fight. He was a shell of himself, like you had seen time and time before.

“Are you alright?” You found yourself asking, not thinking. For he was meant to be the bad guy.

Your question caused his heart to ache. Even after all he had done you still asked if he was alright. You may not entirely care, but still took time to ask him. Sighing Mattheo looked away from you. Unsure how to answer you. He didn’t want to lie, nor did he want to upset you. Damned if he do, damned if he didn’t.

“I’m...okay” he breathed, trying to convince himself. “Things have been...hard lately, with home”.

You nodded. “Understandable” you said softly, watching his every movement. Not fully believing his words. For there was truth but also a bit of skirting around it.

Silence took over after that, the spring breeze picking up in that moment. You watched as the breeze tossed Mattheo’s curls around. How you had missed combing your hands through those curls. It was something Mattheo had enjoyed; it soothed his mind and relaxed him. The temptation to do it now growing strong, for the boy before you were in turmoil. You shook your head at the thought of being close to the one who broke your heart.

You had thought it was the breeze playing tricks, but seeing his moving lips showed it was Mattheo who spoke. “I’m sorry” was what he said softly, almost missed by your ears.

At first you were shocked by his apology, followed by a small warm feeling in your chest. Before it died and a slow burn of anger began to take hold of you. How could his words make up for everything? How could he so bluntly say sorry.

“Excuse me?” You questioned, tone a little sharp.

Mattheo looked to you, and seeing your reaction to his words, he was shocked. He had hoped it would have helped. “I’m sorry” he repeated turning to face you. “I didn’t mean to hurt you like I did”.

You blinked a few times, blood slowly coming to a boil. “How can you just say that?” You questioned a little loudly. “How does apologizing make up for what I’ve been through?”

Valid questions Mattheo noted. “It doesn’t. But I want you to know that I am sorry-”

You scoffed. “Yeah right. The Mattheo Riddle I know would never say sorry. He might show it, but never openly apologize”.

He frowned. “That is true, but I wanted to put it into words. I at least owe you that”.

“You owe me nothing! Nor do I want it!” you yelled, hands clenching. “You hurt me. Simple as that. And for that I don’t want your apology. So, keep it”.

Mattheo nodded his head. “I deserve that”. His face fell, eyes looking at the ground. He looked so weak.

You took a step back. Taking in his demeanor. You could see cracks of how effected Mattheo was. You wondered how long before it would shatter. The want to hold him, run your fingers through his curls while telling him that he was alright, was strong. And though you didn’t want to, you decided to say the next words.

And I see forever in your eyes

I feel okay when I see you smile, smile

“It’s alright” you sighed. “I don’t entirely forgive you, but I half accept it” you said watching his face.

Hearing your words, Mattheo’s eyes snapped to you. His dull brown eyes, now shinning with confusion, looked right into your E/C orbs. He could see how unsure you were in their reflection. But with it was a small familiar look; admiration. After all he’d done, you still admired him. Part of you wanted him to apologize but majority of you wanted to punch his pretty face.

“You do?” He choked out. “Why?”

Your face softened, thinking over his words. “I won’t lie. I was hurt. I was angry” you looked him dead in the eyes. “But what has it gotten me? Where has it gotten me? It has left me bitter, and it’s gotten me no where”.

He nodded his head slowly.

“So, I’d rather accept some of it than nothing. Because I look back at our time together and I know I was happy” you said fondly, memories coming to mind. “You made me happy Theo. And I would love to see you in as much agony as me, but part of me still hates to see it”.

“Just part?” Mattheo said with a small smirk, trying to lighten the moment. Which you softly smile at.

There might be so much, good and bad between you both, but some familiarity was there. As well as some closure. He said sorry, and you believed me meant it. You had half accepted his apology, which lightened Mattheo’s worries.

You both continued to stare at the other. Unsure what to say, or what to do. But you were the one to break eye contact when you turned, planning to take the spot Mattheo had been occupying. He looked at you, mind thinking so many things. But the one thought screaming to him was your safety. He had to make sure you were safe.

Wishing on dandelions all of the time

Praying to God that one day you'll be mine

Wishing on dandelions all of the time, all of the time

“Would it be strange if I asked you to stay away from Hogwarts next year...to not come back?” Mattheo was unsure but voice a little panicky.

You turned back to him, confusion on your face. “Huh? What are getting at?”

Mattheo moved from foot to foot. “Next year, don’t come back to Hogwarts. I can’t say anything...but I need you to be safe”.

You studied the Slytherin, unsure if he was pulling your leg. But his eyes told you he was serious. “Answer me this; will you be safe here next year?”

He shook his head. “Probably not”.

You gave a short nod. “Then I can’t promise you anything. I will be here next year, no matter what”.

Mattheo’s heart ached at your words. Not what he had hopped. But you were honest. And he didn’t give you a reason why not to return to school. He just hopped you wouldn’t be in the cross fire of what’s to come.

With that, you took your spot amongst the wildflowers while Mattheo took a moment watching you. He was taking in the sight before him, putting it to memory. With it all said and done, Mattheo turned from you and started to head back to the castle.

He wasn’t sure what was to exactly come. But he would make sure, as best to his abilities, that you would be safe from it all. Mattheo needed you to be safe, for no harm to come to you. Be it his father or him, you would be safe.

Tags: @iheqrtaustin @ash-whimsicalfanfic

I'm in a field of dandelions

Wishing on every one that you'll be mine, mine

#mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo x reader #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo x y/n #mattheo riddle x fem!reader #Spotify

[monzamash]

the good, the bad and what could’ve been — lando norris (part three)

summary – nine years. an age gap that you didn’t know would cause so much heartache. you tell yourself that it’s fine, he tells you that he could give you the world but this was a cautionary tale of what could’ve been if you just let love win. pairing – lando norris x you (female reader) chapter warning – 18+ (smut, language, age gap/older woman) word count – 8k a/n – the third and final part! thank you all for being so patient x inspired by charlie puth's song called boy. masterlist

part one | part two | part three

Previously...

For the first time in a long time, you felt safe. And maybe you didn’t need all the wisdom and baggage that came with someone older, someone who had already lived a life. In contrast, Lando was exciting and living life to the fullest, travelling the world, seeing it all and not burdened by responsibility.

But that’s what made him the dangerous choice. All these insecurities and fears swirled around in your head as you fell asleep in his warm embrace, limbs tangled together like a web, tender between your thighs and an ache in your heart.

You were falling in love with Lando; that much was true but what would the cost be of handing your heart over to someone who had the world at his feet, everything still to experience?

Winter had come and gone and spring was blossoming in all it’s glory, bringing with it new opportunity. Little by little, leaves sprouted on the branches, chirping birds returned to their homes and the scent of fresh flowers filled the busy streets of London – life resuming to normal after a long, brutal winter. The New Year proved to be quite fruitful, with you landing a freelancing job and loving it. It was time to recalibrate your goals and aspirations, reconsider where you saw yourself in five years.

The closing of one chapter gave you permission to want more, to expect more than the mundane and experience what the world had to offer. You’d settled for less for far too long but now you were finally stepping up and advocating for yourself – to yourself.

“You seem so happy.”

Rae couldn’t help herself. She’d kept tight-lipped until now, sensing the shift in your mood weeks ago and loving how much you’d been smiling lately. And she knew why. A certain curly haired man had shown you what happiness looked like, what it felt like and most importantly, how it could mend a broken spirit. You were stumbling through life, chasing unattainable goals and it made you miserable. You were free-spirited, a lone wolf – and Lando allowed you to explore that, to be spontaneous.

“I am,” You simply replied and took a sip of the coffee she’d made you, watching your eyes glimmer in the morning light. There was a sparkle ever present when you talked about him or thought about him – a spark ignited deep within. Burning.

“And how does Lando feel about being the reason you’re so happy?” Rae asked with a sly, knowing smile as she clasped her hands under her chin, waiting for you to spill all the tea she’d missed out on over the last couple of week.

“Don’t know, to be honest. I assume he knows he’s the reason – and hopefully I’m part of the reason why he’s racing so well. We talk nearly every day…” You confessed, cheeks every so lightly blushing underneath the thin layer of foundation.

Rae nodded and flicked through her phone, “He’s going very well apparently. Mark gives me an update every weekend – kinda strange to think that he’s on the other side of the world right now.” She glanced up with furrowed brows, face-palming her forehead, “As if you need to be reminded of that. I'm sorry.”

You shrugged, “It’s totally fine. I actually… No, I shouldn’t say it.” You hesitated, knowing that if you said the words out loud, they would suddenly become real and you didn’t want to put those thoughts and feelings out into the universe – not yet.

“Well you have to now,” Rae chuckled, her full attention all yours.

“I thought that maybe he would’ve asked me to come along to a race – his home one at least but it hasn’t come up… and I’ve been pathetically hinting at it – it’s really lame so forget I said anything,” You quickly muttered, fumbling over your words and feeling your heart start to race.

“That’s like, the opposite of lame. You should ask him.”

“No fucking way. God, even just thinking about asking him makes me want to throw up,” You laughed, almost choking on your words as if it was the last thing on earth you would ever do, “No, if he wants me there, he’ll ask.”

Rae nodded and went back to the coffee in her hands, “Your call but I think he’d appreciate you being forward. I can hear how much you mean to him when you’re on the phone… don’t take what you have for granted.”

“Sage advice, Sensai.”

You promised to think about it. But things were perfect with Lando and the last thing you wanted to do was over step boundaries when everything had been smooth sailing. You strongly believed that if he wanted you there, he would ask and you were sticking with it. It wasn’t the end of the world if he didn’t either, and maybe he was worried that the whole spectacle would scare you away. The endless rotation of thoughts tumbled around in your head until you finally fell asleep, curled up in his bed, waiting for him to come home.

The sound of his soft voice a few hours later woke you from your nap, “What are you doing here? Where’s your Mum?” You heard him ask your puppy who was skating around his feet, scratching the floorboards and no doubt nearly weeing herself with excitement.

The faint squeak of the bedroom door made your heart flip in your chest, watching him step through with a small smile. His eyes were dark and those wild curls you loved fell flat over his forehead – physically shattered from a whole day of travel, flight cancelations delaying his return home but he exhaled when he spotted you propped up in his bed, relieved that you were still here after weeks away. A weight had been taken off his weary shoulders when he saw your face.

“Welcome home,” You whispered as he dropped his luggage at the door and unclipped the backpack on his shoulders, eyebrows furrowed in contemplation.

“God, I’ve missed you.”

Lando jumped up onto the bed like a shot and summoned the last remaining ounces of energy he had, crawling over your duvet-covered body. You had thought about surprising him with something cute, like a new two-piece lingerie set because that’s what you’d always done for men. Dolled yourself up until you were unrecognisable, servicing them and not wearing what you wanted. But Lando worshiped the ground you walked on, made you feel sexier than you’d ever felt before. Oversized t-shirts and track pants were his love language. Comfort was important to him and there was nothing he loved more than seeing you relaxed. Cosy and content.

“Missed you more.” You sighed as Lando grasped the duvet and ripped it back, along with the sheets; a smirk teasing on his lips, “Doubt that very much.”

The unruly curls were even more frazzled close up, the bags under his eyes darker than the last time you’d seen him. His cheeks were hollowed, bone structure more prominent and small blemishes had surfaced on his soft skin, reminding him that even in the chaos of a double header, he still needed to follow a skincare routine. His sullen features made your heart sink as he hovered above you; his cheeky expression the only thing keeping you from asking if he was okay, if he was struggling. There was glimmer in his eyes that settled your fears, a bright spark igniting behind the bloodshot whites giving you silent reassurance that being here with you was the lifeline that he needed right now.

“I thought about this every day… about you, about us. Feel like a muppet for being away from a creature as beautiful as you for so long,” Lando chuckled through his confession – reflecting on how ridiculous the last few weeks had been, how stupid he was for not calling more. 

“A really cute muppet though,” You teased, making him giggle and lose balance, fatigued arms giving out and causing him to land on top of you with a loud huff. You took his entire body weight with a sigh, arms wrapped around his torso; head nestled into the crook of his neck. Lando did the same – lips dancing over the shell of your ear, whispering how beautiful you looked, how desperately he craved the feeling of you tangled up with him but his voice was strained, depleted.

Lando managed to lift himself up and save you from the crush, propped up on his elbow, eyes trained on the side of you face in the dimly lit bedroom. The only light source coming from the laptop to your left, white light blasting up the dark walls as you laid peacefully, fingertips brushing over the exposed skin on your shoulder.

“Did Max let you in? I didn’t see him downstairs,” Lando asked, curious to know how you managed to surprise him like this, welcoming him home with open arms.

“He gave me his key – he’s gone up to Bristol for some racing thing, he said. And Chompy and I couldn’t wait to see you so he offered. I hope that’s okay…”

You felt awkward all of a sudden, like you’d overstepped one of those invisible boundaries that were in place, about to explode on a grenade. But Lando’s rolling eyes softened you, a smile erupting on his face as he leaned in and captured your lips, “More than okay. Wish you were here all the time.”

He didn’t mean for that to sound the way it did. Moving in together wasn’t on the agenda but he appreciated you being there tonight, a familiar face to ground him again after weeks spent flying around the world, Austria being the last stop.

“How long are you back for this time?”

The question was laced in faux curiosity – you knew how long you had him in London, down to the hour if you were being totally honest. The innocent question made Lando think, mind flicking through the days like a diary in the palms of his hands, “A bit over a week, I reckon. Silverstone’s this weekend – home race,” He replied animatedly, eyes wide and shining bright.

“Exciting,” You whispered as Lando stretched his back, hand squeezing your hip.

“I’ve got you a pass for the weekend but realised I hadn’t actually asked if you were free… You are, right?” His question quelled all of your fears of him thinking you weren’t interested in his life, not willing to take that next step with him.

You nodded, simply, wordless while you turned onto your side. Lando smiled and closed his eyes as your hands trawled through his uncontrollable hair, curls tangling around your fingers while you pulled him closer and pressed another sweet kiss to his lips, “I’ll be shitting myself the whole time but that’ll be out weighed by seeing you in your race suit, I guess.”

Lando huffed out a soft chuckle, eyes cracking open ever so slightly – playfully narrowed, “I do look really sexy in the kit.” You hummed in agreement, nodding while closing the gap again, lips softly touching before his hand snaked up and held your jaw gently, holding you in place.

The two of you stayed like that for the rest of the night, wrapped up in each other; slowly drifting off to sleep. Having Lando home brought you more joy than you thought it would, a comfort that caught you by surprise. You were an independent woman, self-reliant but he gave you something that you didn’t even know you needed – companionship. A sounding board to all your shit, someone who listened without judgement, unfiltered opinions on anything and everything.

And unbeknownst to you, Lando had made it his mission to be that person for you. He was quickly learning all your whims, the good and the bad and appreciating how you saw the world so differently to him – so wise. This was, after all, his first serious relationship and he was in uncharted waters, with an older woman.

But once you’d gotten to know more about each other than what was underneath your clothes, the age gap was merely a factoid in your story. You were everything he could’ve conjured up in a dream journal – smart, sexy, funny, down to earth and into him. Well-travelled, cultured, successful; you were everything and still, after three months, couldn’t believe that he was the one you were falling in love with; that you were his.

The morning of race day was utter madness. Lando was running late, as per usual, rushing around his apartment trying to find his sunglasses until you picked them up from his kitchen counter with a smile. Thank you, he whispered, pressing a hurried kiss to your cheek before hiking up his backpack and pulling you towards the front door. You’d kept your outfit simple and boringly beige, not wanting to stand out too much in the paddock. The white knitted dress that came down to mid-thigh, black tights, combat boots and a taupe Burberry trenchcoat did the job at staying low-key, blending into the background noise and avoiding the chaos.

Max had promised to metaphorically hold your hand the entire day, making sure you weren’t separated from the small Quadrant crew that had also been invited along to the British Grand Prix. You didn’t know much about them, nor did you realise how renowned they were but everywhere they went, they were bombarded with people asking for selfies and autographs.

“It’s getting fucking stupid now. We’ve gotta go!” Ria, who you’d met barely five minutes ago, yelled at Max who was pointing towards the paddock entrance with a panicked look on his face. “You go first babes,” She smiled, more of less pushing you towards the turnstile with your pass around your neck, finally making it through the gates.

You wondered how they ever got used to that – the constant attention. And if it was this bad for them, you couldn’t imagine how intense it was for Lando. Truth be told, you’d never actually gone out on an official date together, always opting for post-mates and spending quality time alone at home – away from prying eyes and ill-mannered people who had no sense of personal space. But would it be like this everywhere you went with him? Were you prepared to have your whole life on display for the world to see? You had no clue.

“I’m so sorry about that,” Max exhaled, grasping your shoulder with sympathetic eyes. He was more shocked than you were about the whole situation and you couldn’t help but chuckle at how stunned he was, readjusting his Quadrant cap.

“Didn’t realise you were so famous, Maxy boy. Kind of impressed,” You teased back, earning a chuckle from Ria who had walked up beside you, arm linked with yours, “Don’t stroke his ego too much.”

“Good point.”

There were celebrities filing through the crowd in droves and the pit lane was absolutely loaded with people trying to get a glimpse of the teams. McLaren were the epitome of formula one in the United Kingdom, you’d been told and that was backed up ten-fold when you peeked into the garage, searching for their star drivers. Lando had spoken about Daniel fondly and admired the way he was able to put his head down and tune out the bullshit. You told him to let some of that resilience rub off on him, knowing that the external noise is never as bad as what’s going on inside his head. But you could only control one of the two.

You could almost see those internal thoughts swirling above Lando’s tilted head when you spotted him in the back of the garage – intently analysing jumbled numbers on a screen and biting his fingernails. He looked almost angelic standing amongst the madness in the white skin-tight fireproofs, suit folded down and hanging around his jutted hips. His thumb was basically in his mouth, teeth violently chomping away at the skin as he processed whatever it was the man beside him was saying, eyebrows rising when he mentioned something of interest.

“Don’t be offended if he doesn’t come over and say hello – he’s usually in the zone by now and blocks everyone out.” Max explained, managing your expectations and you appreciated the heads up. You didn’t know what to expect from the day but having a reassuring voice giving you the low down helped more than he knew.

“Oh, of course. It’s awesome to see it all in person – so much crazier than on TV,” You replied with wide eyes and an understanding smile.

Max nodded and continued to meet people while you stood beside him and the Quadrant team, taking in the scenes. The main difference between being at the track on race day and watching it on TV were the television crews. Everywhere you looked there were several people swinging around a cameraman, trying not to run into people or disrupt other stations broadcasts. You chuckled at a couple of the pit crew dancing in the background of a shot, knowing that their weekend had been a lot longer than anyone else’s here.

You were so preoccupied watching them fooling around that you hadn’t felt someone sneaking up behind you, hand gently gripping your waist; the whispered ‘hi’ in your ear assuring you that it was Lando. His hand retreated before you spun around, the other holding a water bottle up to his mouth.

“Hi you,” You replied sweetly, instinctively reaching out to nudge his hip but deciding mid air to keep your hands to yourself. Lando noticed and chuckled as he took a gulp of water, eyes scanning your face.

“You’re a little bit sunburnt, baby.” He stated with a smirk, taking in your flushed cheeks and feeling his heart flip at how happy you looked. “Are you having fun?”

“Lots of fun. And I’m being very well looked after – thank you by the way,” You replied quietly, Lando taking a step forward so he could hear you over all the commotion. He scanned the small group of his closest friends and internally jumped for joy that they had stuck to their word and kept an eye out for you.

“Better fucking be. I’m paying them the big bucks,” Lando winked and pulled up the rope that was separating the two of you, “Want a tour?”

Naturally your eyebrows rose with excitement and you nodded, quickly whipping your head around to see where Max had gone and thankfully catching Ria’s attention. You pointed towards Lando who was already dragging you away and she held her hand up to her ear, gesturing for you to call her when you needed to meet up with them again. You figured there was enough time for this tour before Lando needed to be under lock and key and you hoped you weren’t being a distraction as you sheepishly followed him through the garage.

“I’m just gonna grab my gloves from my room and walk her back to the paddock,” Lando whispered to Jon, who had been one of the sweetest people you’d met so far. No worries mate, he replied with a smile before returning to his phone.

Once you were out of sight of the crowd and cameras, Lando held out his hand for you to take, clasping it firmly as he tugged you through the narrow hallways and behind the motorhomes set up side by side. He was strategic in his route, giggling when he spotted all the media looking around to bundle up drivers and team bosses for a quick comment before the race, “We’re so sneaky.”

You stayed close to him as he weaved you around once last corner and up a couple of steps, whipping the door closed as quickly as it was opened. The room was snug - only a few metres wide each way, a small daybed tucked against the wall and a desk beside you. Lando had video called you a couple of times from here, giving you the grand tour of his tiny drivers room but it was surreal to see his sanctuary in person.

“Wow, I knew it was small but you can barely swing a cat in here.” Your comment made Lando chuckle as he tidied the bed that he’d clearly been napping in before leaving to find you.

“But it’s cute and I like this a lot…” You pointed to the Polaroid stuck to the large mirror hanging above his desk – the photo was of the two of you on New Years Eve, tipsy and falling in love, “Softie.”

“How dare you call me a softie,” Lando scoffed, snaking his arms around your waist and pulling your back to his chest, trailing soft kisses up the side of your neck. “’Cause you’ve made me like this, you know.”

The rational little voice in your head was telling you to put ice on whatever Lando had on his mind, his hands doing all the talking as they skimmed over your stomach, heading north towards the two things he loved the most. You stopped their course and tutted, turning in his embrace and pining his hands to his chest, “Don’t get yourself all worked up before the race. We don’t have enough time.”

“Oh, there’s always time for this.” Lando wrestled out of your grip, way too easily you’ll admit and resumed his hold on your waist, seizing your lips in a deep kiss.

It took your breath away momentarily but you quickly snapped back to reality and slung your arms over his shoulders, bringing him closer again. He was warm to the touch, the skin on the nape of his neck sizzling under your fingertips, curls tangled from the humidity. Lando wasn’t fucking around when his tongue swiped across your bottom lip, splitting your lips and deepening the kiss even more. There wasn’t much you loved more than kissing him, wrestling each other for dominance through soft moans. The rush of blood between your thighs indicated that this was all a little bit too steamy for a pre-race catch up and you reluctantly pulled away, lips ghosting over his as you both caught your breath.

“You were right – I’m really fucking hard now,” Lando winked and brushed his fingers through his messy curls with a smirk. You rolled your eyes and shoved his chest, putting as much distance as you could between you in the tight confines.

“Zero self-control,” You playfully scolded and readjusted your trench as Lando stepped forward and straightened your collar, “But I can’t really talk because you look insanely sexy in this…” You tugged on the race suit hanging on his hips, wishing you could peel it off his body – right here, right now.

“Oh, really?” He taunted, “How sexy?”

“Like, bend me over this desk and fuck me sexy,” You stated bluntly and Lando threw his head back with a groan before rushing you with another kiss.

You couldn’t help but laugh at how desperate he was, hands friskily roaming your backside before he pulled himself away and grasped your face between his hands, “How I can simultaneously love you and hate you baffles me.”

Lando’s eyes were sincere, soft and mesmerized. You bit down on your lip, hiding the smile tugging on the corners of your mouth while you thought of a response worthy of his words. Of course you felt the same way but there was always something stopping you from saying it back. I love you too being the response Lando was looking for, pleading for. He’d said it so many times without hesitation, receiving a kiss or some kind of diversion every single time.

And it was killing him.

“I am a woman of many mysteries, my dear.”

Like a dagger to the heart.

“That is very true.” Lando averted his eyes from yours and brushed himself off, pulling the race suit over his shoulders and zipping it up. He was smiling and you breathed a sigh of relief, reassured that you hadn’t upset him before the race. At least that’s what you thought. Lando’s mind however, was racing – so many fears eating him up inside but he needed to focus on the challenge ahead.

And that’s what he did for the next three hours. Raced the wheels off that papaya car like his life depended on it, his sole focus was getting it over the checkered flag and having a respectable race after weeks of struggling to secure points. 

“That’s P4, Lando – great race, mate.”

Lando cheering into his radio and thanking his team had you beaming with pride. He’d been doing it tough these past few races so finishing in the top five at his home race was exactly the kind of confidence boost he needed. It was a long season after all and he needed keep his spirits up – something that you were more than happy to help with.

“You were an absolute killer out there!” You enthused as your arms wrapped around Lando’s waist, pulling him into a hug with a contented smile. He immediately nuzzled into your neck and sighed, squeezing your shoulders in his embrace before pulling back with a grin. “You were amazing.”

“Time to celebrate, yeah?” Lando asked, glancing over at Max who was nodding with an equally large smile before leading everyone towards the parking lot.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

After rushing back to your apartment and changing into something nightclub appropriate, Max texted Lando the address for the place you would all be going to. A few of the other drivers had been invited, George Russell being the only one you’d been introduced to and all of Lando’s high school mates who had come along to the race. You knew from the second you stepped into the claustrophobic club that you’d be looking for a familiar face to latch onto, fully aware that your safety blanket would be pulled in every possible direction – and that’s exactly what happened.

You found yourself sitting alone in a small booth at the back of the club, watching Lando laughing along with his friends, smile lines more present now than you’d ever seen. The condensation on your glass had seeped down onto the table, a perfect excuse to distract you from the sickly pit forming in your stomach as you watched girl after girl attempt to make their move. It was a weird feeling – far from jealously. Guilt. A sense of shame rippled through your body as you watched him politely excuse himself and search the dance floor for you. I’m just going to the bathroom, you’d told him nearly twenty minutes ago. A little white lie to slip away but now, here you were, hiding from the man who loved you. Guilt-ridden.

“Can I sit?” You heard a loud voice ask, startling you out of your thoughts and into his chocolate brown eyes that were glistening under the dim lighting. Carlos Sainz.

“Of course. Congratulations on your win… you must be buzzing,” You leaned forward with praise, hoping he heard you over the loud music blasting through the speakers above.

He smiled in acknowledgement before taking a sip of his cocktail, “Ay, yes. Very happy but what makes me happier is to see little Lando so happy – he speaks of you a lot, you know? Doesn’t shut up sometimes…” Carlos trailed off with a knowing smirk, suggestively wiggling his eyebrows. He was tipsy.

“I’m sure he’ll hate you telling me that.” You returned the smile and grasped your glass for stability. There was something about what Carlos had said that made you nervous, pressured somehow when all he was doing was teasing his friend.

“I don’t get to make fun too much with him – so serious all the time but no,” Carlos mumbled, trying to keep track of his sentence, “Very happy he has found you.”

A couple of beats passed before you opened your mouth to speak but as you did, you felt a hand snake across your shoulder, sending a jolt down your spine before you turned to see who the hand belonged to. “Sneaking off with Sainz already? I thought you’d at least wait a couple of hours before leaving me for him.”

Lando was teasing and you knew that but Carlos in his drunken state waved his hands around like a madman, assuring his younger friend that he would do no such thing, to which Lando just snickered and brushed him off. She is beautiful though, Carlos loudly whispered, Lando's eyes catching yours as the Spaniard launched himself into his arms. It was comical and sweet the way the two of them stood there, silently hugging before Lando managed to escape his friends grip, slipping away as if nothing had happened and immediately meeting your eyes again.

“Wanna get out of here?” He mouthed; memories flashing back to the first time those words were muttered between the two of you – sparking this whole whirlwind romance. Of course you nodded, needing some fresh air and a new perspective, hoping the cloud of doubts swirling around in your subconscious for most of the night, and month, would just disappear.

The two of you hadn’t even made it through your front door before Lando’s hands were roaming your skin, fingertips leaving chills as they explored your body. You hadn’t had much to drink; a cocktail and a glass of bubbly in hospitality hours ago and Lando was the same – leaving the drinking to his mates like most of his nights out on the town. He wanted to have a clear mind for when he found himself alone with you, completely focused on the task at hand and soaking in every little detail so he could take that with him next weekend when he couldn’t roll over and have you whenever he felt like it. He hated leaving you like that – deprived of his touch.

“I don’t need foreplay,” You moaned into his mouth, breathless and needy as you straddled his lap – slowly grinding down and working you both into a whining mess. Lando had managed to lure you to the bedroom, mumbling something along the lines of your dog watching us fuck is a mood killer and you couldn't contest that. He loved taking you on the couch, hearing your screams echoing off the concrete walls downstairs but not tonight.

“That turned on for me, huh? Barely even touched you,” Lando teased while you lined him up, eyes never leaving his as you slid down and took every inch of him with ease. You nodded in response and leaned back, fingernails digging deep into his tensed thighs as you rocked back and forth, setting the pace and finding that angle that had you aching with pleasure.

“That’s feeling un-fucking-believable for me, baby. Holy shit…” Lando gasped, fingertips deeply entrenched in the skin on your hips, rolling them back and forward between his rough palms.

Eyes closed and bottom lip securely clenched between your front teeth suppressed the amount of pleasure you were feeling as he stretched you out, meeting your thrusts with a growl as you rode him. Lando struggled with relinquishing control, always wanting to be the one giving it to you on a silver platter, either missionary or hitting it from behind. And you loved that but you felt greedy for always being the lazy one, and after a long weekend, the least you could do was take some of the load off the gorgeous man whimpering below you. Begging you to come with him.

“I’ve been so pent up today, seeing you in that fucking dress and having you grinding up on me in the club. I nearly exploded in my fucking pants and right now, you feel so tight – so warm and I can’t hold on when you move like that… Jesus Christ,” Lando muttered and groaned, throwing his head back into your soft linen pillows, chuckling at how good you felt wrapped around his throbbing cock, clenching every time you bottomed out.

Lando lifted his head from the pillows he was buried in and licked the pad of his thumb before brushing it over your swollen clit and setting the bundle of nerves alight. He needed you to be where he was; desperately chasing your high and he could tell you weren’t quite there yet until he heard it – the tell tale sign that you were feeling as good as he was. It was a low moan, unlike any other sound he had ever heard before and it had him grinning like a Cheshire cat when it slipped past your beautifully parted lips. Angelically flushed face scrunched up in concentration as you chased your ecstasy and blocked out all of the thoughts rushing through your head. All you could think about now was your body bursting into flames.

Your name was falling from Lando’s lips as he squeezed his eyes shut, mouth falling agape while he watched you start to unravel above him. His gaze was hindered by lust, vision blurry as grasped your hands that were pressed down on his perspiring chest, heart beating wildly under the taut skin. You could feel it thrumming against your palms, matching your pulse as you let the knot in the pit of your stomach detonate, pussy fluttering as your high hit with ferocity. Give it to me, you chanted over and over until you felt him filling you up, spilling out and giving you every drop you were desperately begging for. 

"Fucking take it, baby. Take it all," Lando growled as you slowed your movements, sensitivity now making every stroke more and more unbearable – so much so that he had to still your hips while he composed himself, eyes closed and tongue licking his chapped lips.

You leaned down and kissed them, still warming his cock but knowing you needed to get up – the pain in your thighs urging you to stretch before you started cramping from straddling his lap for so long. There was something different in the way Lando looked at you as you got up from the bed. It was hard to decipher; several shades of emotions spread across his face, ones that he couldn’t quite express in the way he wanted. And one’s you maybe didn’t want to hear.

“What’s that look?”

Curiosity got the better of you.

But deep down there was a part of you that knew that look anywhere – the look of complete adoration. You’d seen it so many times before, most recently with your friend Rae and her husband; both of them being wholly and utterly in love with each other, til death do they part. There was no doubt in your mind that they were soul mates, destined to be together for the rest of their lives, living a full life in each other’s company. What they had was a happily ever after kind of love.

Lando propped his back up against your bedhead and smiled to himself as you slipped under the sheets beside him, “I was just thinking about how fucking perfect you are and that I’ve never felt like this before. Ever.”

But his face dropped when you looked away from him, avoiding his eye contact. “You know, you do that every time I say something like that.”

You sighed and reluctantly captured his gaze again, “Do what?”

“Look away from me, like you don’t want to admit to your feelings. Because I know you have them – I feel them every time you kiss me, every time you touch me and it’s different with you… You’re special to me. I think you might actually be–”

Without even thinking, your fingertips flew to Lando’s lips and stopped him mid sentence. You didn’t know what came over you – maybe panic, trying your best to mitigate the damages that you knew were inevitably going to come. It pained you to do it and it hurt even more when Lando’s dark blue eyes widened, as if a crushing weight had just come down and pummelled his spirit.

“Don’t say it.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to say,” Lando chuckled against your fingertips and through the pain, reaching up and tracing his thumb across your jawline with a strained smile, “Please let me finish.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?” His voice was stronger, stare narrowed in faux confusion. He knew what was coming, he wasn’t entirely oblivious, but he had to play dumb; act like what you were about to say was the most ludicrous thing he’d ever heard and convince you that whatever had you worried, he could fix.

But you weren’t stupid. You knew that he had sensed your wavering, the diversions every time he proclaimed how much he cared about you, the little gestures of affection that left you awkwardly speechless. It wasn’t because you couldn’t express your feelings, hell, you were a grown ass woman and it wasn’t because you didn’t love him because deep down there was a part of you that did. And maybe in some alternate universe where you weren’t in your thirties and he wasn’t a young, hotshot driver, you could’ve waited for everything to fall into place. But that wasn’t your situation. It was complicated – too much so.

“You know why…”

He wasn’t expecting the tables to be turned back on him so quickly. But the realisation hit him like a tonne of bricks; of course you knew. Of course you could see right through him, like a ghost – you’d done that since the second he laid eyes on you, read him like an open book even when he thought he was being slick, as if you hadn’t experienced all of this before. He hated that you were two steps ahead with him always on the back foot and playing catch up. He should’ve known better than to call your bluff, putting on a brave face when all he wanted to do was rewind and follow your lead. Take it slow. Easy does it. Don’t scare her off.

But he loved you; Lando couldn’t hide that. You were different. You were special. You were everything he could’ve asked for and now he could feel you slipping away.

“Don’t do this to me.” He whispered; head titled and voice meek, unsteady. The façade had finally fallen, all cards laid out on the table for all to see. You couldn’t look at him after those words left his mouth, chills surging down your spine. The room was dark, lit only by the hallway light seeping through the open door but you could see him clear as day; shattering into tiny pieces and simultaneously trying to pick them up as they fell to the floor.

“You can’t do this – not now. We’re just starting to get into a rhythm. You said you wanted this and I thought it was going well, like, you are enjoying this, right? What’s changed?” He was desperate now, clutching at every straw in the pack, searching for answers while you sat silently, mustering up the energy to tell him the cold hard truth.

You sighed and grasped his hand, shaking as you interlaced your fingers. It was selfish to want him close while you broke his heart but you were hurting too; gut-wrenched and guilt ridden that you’d allowed it to go on for this long. Four months of pure bliss masked your reality, blinders shielding you from the truth.

“I guess tonight I realised how much you have left to experience and I can’t hold you back from all of that… You should’ve been dancing with those girls tonight, living it up while you still can, you know?”

“Frankly, I don’t.” Lando scoffed, shaking his head fervently, “Who do you think I am? Fuckin’... Joey Essex or something? I’m not a player. I’m not some guy who fucks around for the sake of it. If that’s who you think I am, then fuck me. You don’t know me at all, baby.” His voice was venomous with a hint of amusement and you couldn’t help but crack a small smile.

Because he was right.

“Okay so maybe you’re not Joey Essex,” You rolled your eyes, “But you’re young! And hot and rich and famous and… There’s so much more out there for you than settling for this. For me.”

“But I want you.”

“You don’t know what you want.”

“I know that I’m in love with you.”

“You don’t know what love is.”

The longer the back and forth went on, the more nauseous you were becoming – whiplashed by words. You didn’t want to fight with him but he was adamant to fight for you, to convince you to forget about it for tonight. But your accusation that he didn’t know what love meant cut deep, slicing through his heart and belittling everything he’d done for you, how he felt about you. Undermining what you have together.

“Don’t treat me like a child. You don’t treat me like that when I’m making you scream my name or when you’re begging me to fuck you. So why are you doing it now?!” His voice was raised, teetering on the edge of a full-blown screaming match.

“Because I’ve been lying to myself! Telling myself that this was okay, that maybe we could make it work because you were so sweet, so charming. And I love what we’ve done together; you’ve made me feel alive again. But I’ve taken enough from you – you deserve more. And I deserve more – someone who isn’t away seven months out of the year; someone to start a family with and I can’t do that with you.”

A single tear silently rolled down your cheek and you hadn’t even realised that Lando was frozen in place, watching his world crumbling in around him. He wished he had the right words, prayed to a higher power to give him the words that would ease your mind and forget about the future until you realised you couldn’t live without him. But he wasn’t that lucky, not today, not ever – he just had to hold his ground and fight.

“I know that you’ve been in more relationships than me and I know that you’ve been fucked over more times than you deserve. One is too many since you are the single most beautiful person I have ever met.” Lando’s voice was low and faltering as he spoke, tears now prickling the corners of his eyes.

“But I want those things with you, maybe not right now but I see a future with you – I really fucking do. And I’ve tried to be that guy for you every single day since the moment we met but you haven’t let me. I want to be the guy you call in the middle of the night when you can't sleep – someone you can rely on. I’ll be the man you need me to be, I swear. Give me a chance to show you.”

Silence filled the dark room, distant sirens outside your window took some of the edge off but the tension was thick – suffocating as you threw the duvet off your legs, suddenly feeling like your chest was on fire, flushed red. You blinked a couple of times before burying your head in your hands, raking fingers through your tangled hair. There were no more tears, just unfiltered emotion running rampant in your mind, weighing up everything that had been said – figuring out where that left you. But like in the weeks leading up to this moment, you found yourself back at the same place every time. Broken.

And nothing could change the way you feel.

“Your future is my present, Lando. And I hate this – I don’t want this to be the end but I don’t have time and you have so much living left to do. I know that you can’t see that now but I promise you that I’m right. I promise you that you will forget about me and find someone worthy of your love, someone who can wait for you to be ready for all the things you want out of life – someone to share the journey with because I’ve missed all of that and if I could turn the clock back and start again with you, I would do it in a heartbeat because you are so much more than I could’ve ever asked for. But life is cruel and I can’t take those years away from you, I can't.”

There was an eerily long pause before Lando spoke, time really feeling like the burden it had always been.

“You’re right – I don’t understand.”

You wanted to shake him, make him believe your words more than anything but you remembered what you would’ve thought at twenty-three. Wide eyed and naïve, hearing the person you loved telling you that your feelings weren’t real and you hated to think that he would resent you for all of this; but of course he would. Why wouldn’t he?

“But it doesn’t change the way I feel about you.” Not yet, you thought.

“I know it doesn’t,” You barely whispered as Lando stood up to pull on his boxer briefs from the floor, feeling vulnerable and exposed, physically and emotionally.

“Do you want me to go?” He asked, solemn and quiet. Eyes hooded with fatigue as he gazed down at you in bed, arms limp at his sides while he waited for your answer; bated breath rushing through his lungs, heartbeat pounding in his ears.

You shook your head and gently patted the spot he’d left beside you. It was barely warm as your fingertips brushed over the white sheet, a subtle reminder of what it would feel like without him there, out of your life. Maybe it was immoral to tempt him back into your bed and it was definitely wrong to let him kiss you, to touch you, to make love to you until the sun came up. But the way he stared into your soul as he rested his weary head on your pillow, eyes pleading with you for one last memory together, you couldn’t refuse him that. You couldn’t deny him the closure he needed, if that was even something you could give.

One of the several alarms on your phone jolted you awake, the jingle making your stomach flip as you reached over and silenced it with a huff. Your head was thumping, eyes sealed shut with sleep, mind numbed and an ache between your thighs that reminded you of the events that transpired last night. You could be easily forgiven for the pang of regret coursing through your body as you remembered the words that were said in the heat of the moment. For pushing away the only good thing in your life at present.

A cold shiver travelling down your spine sent you on a mission to find that good thing, your hand reaching for the warm body you’d become so accustomed to feeling beside you.

But when you turned over, he wasn’t there – his side was cold, wrinkled. Empty.

You sat up in disbelief, eyes searching the room for any signs of life besides you. Lando? You called out and wrapped yourself up in a robe, thinking that maybe he was downstairs making a cup of tea or watching TV. For some reason, you hadn’t even considered the obvious as you walked around your apartment, looking in the kitchen and the courtyard, phone in your hand.

Maybe the harsh reality was too hard to stomach, too hard to comprehend. In hindsight it didn't seem that unbelievable, that for Lando, waking up next to you knowing it would probably be the last time he ever saw you was a painful memory he would rather not have locked away in his subconscious for the rest of his life.

And once reality hit, you stopped in your tracks. Stood still in your cold, lonely apartment once again. Tears streamed down your face when you came to grips with your own self-inflicted pain. Lando was gone. You knew it was for the best, better for both of you and in time that would become clearer; easier to bear. But what killed you the most was that there was no way of knowing if he was happier now than he was with you because you never heard from him again. Not a knock on your door, not even a drunken text. And you deserved that. You had no right to his life from that day on.

But all of the late nights, the stories, the deep, dark secrets and the whispered sweet nothings you had shared together haunted you for years, even after you married the love of your life.

Forever left wondering, what could’ve been?

a/n - i promise that i'll do happier lando fics in the near future but i hope you enjoyed this series and thank you again for all the support on it x lots of love! thoughts? feelings? i wanna know all of them! or click here for more of my writing if you liked this x

#lando norris #lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #lando norris smut #lando norris one shot #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #formula 1 one shot #formula 1 #f1 one shot #f1 x reader #monzamashmasterlist #what could've been fic

[ramayantika]

Sakal Ban

Oh look how the streets have been adorned with colourful banners and flower boughs. The flags of my kingdom fly high on the beautiful carved towers, showing the grandeur of my city.

It's the time of the Spring festival. The fields look as golden as the sun with mustard flowers sprouting from the brown soil, their slender stalks flowing in the flower-laden spring breeze, and maidens wearing colourful robes with chiming anklets on soft red-dyed feet run through the golden fields.

I used to be one of them ages ago. These young girls donned in light shaded robes look as beautiful blooms of the royal garden, which used to be a place for my secret trysts with the handsome young lover, who is still elegant and regal as ever, but alas, no longer mine.

Mango buds hang from the branches, and little children play with stones and pebbles under the young tree. Somewhere in the distance, in the extravagant places of the courtly dancers and musicians, I see a lovely maiden adorn flowers in her braid.

Oh, honeybees, you traverse in circles

around the lone nectar-filled bloom in vain.

When you have the whole garden behind her head

Why go for the single little flower of a shrub?

I make my way through the crowded colourful streets once again like I do every Spring Festival, every year and pay my respects at the Nizamudin's shrine.

Dusty paths permeate with a fragrance of jasmine and lavender, and the bazaars are teeming with sweet shops, with small vendors selling savoury snacks. A husband gently feeds a milk sweet to his wife who glows with the little child growing inside her.

I clutch my stomach, and my heart grows fond but also silently weeps at the fate that I was shown but mercilessly snatched away from.

The chitter-chatter of the streets grow louder. In every courtyard, poets and singers sing verses of lovers and romantic union in spring. The patronisers of art fling their gold and silver in fine silk bundles.

And finally the Royal trumpet blows. The crowd stills. The garden girls with large flower garlands stand on the sides, their smiley faces glowing under the pleasant sun. I smile too.

The palanquin bearing the queen enters the street to the shrine. I caress the ring on my finger, a metallic symbol of a broken promise of yesteryears.

The soldiers cheering the empress's name flank the palanquin. Her maidservants and handmaidens donning simple shades and cotton skirts that lightly flutter in the wind walk by. The crowd amazed at all the riches, power and grandeur swoon in delight.

And then the announcer announces the arrival of the empress. He rules over everyone. He rules over our hearts and souls, but foremost mine, even when I can no longer claim his heart, forget the soul anymore, but some springs before, he was all mine, body, heart and soul, where we claimed each other in the golden fields of mustard blooms.

And fate is a popular jester, its jabs hurt the heart at times, but you have to keep smiling, keep laughing, for the show must go on. Life must go on.

An old singer sings:

woh mohe awan keh gaye ashiq rang aur beet gaye barson, sakal ban, phool rahi sarson sakal ban

The emperor hasn't once seen my eyes in all these years, and I never crossed my fate with his. Not all wishes come true at the shrine, and not all promises can be kept.

For some hearts, there is never warm beautiful spring

All they get is a merciless cold winter until death claims their breath,

With Death granting an illusionary hope of a sweet union in the afterlife...

Fate, a cruel jester! The emperor's eyes meet my steely ones. A lone drop falls and I drag the thin veil around my face. The Spring breeze burns my flesh, it's cool winds freezing my once warm and hopeful heart.

But the show must go on, and the Emperor of my city, the lovely Prince of my youth, the sole Ruler of my heart walks away majestically on the royal elephant.

Not once does he turn back and I feel the sharp chilly winds of winter enter my heart.

*＊✿❀　❀✿＊**＊✿❀　❀✿＊**＊✿❀　❀✿＊*

Tags: @alhad-si-simran @houseofbreadpakoda @swayamev @arachneofthoughts @krishna-priyatama @navaratna @inexhaustible-sources-of-magic @madoucesouffrance @jessbeinme15 @kaal-naagin @aesthetic-aryavartik @krsnaradhika @krishnaaradhika .

Um so I have been listening to Sakal ban from heeramandi. Looked up to the translation a little and I am writing this inside my Pharmaceutical analysis lab before viva which I am actually not prepared for but we ball.

Please please tell me how it was okay. I haven't written, read and danced due to this continuous shower of exams and it feels so restless and suffocating. I was desperate so wrote this on my phone. So, yes, do leave reviews, comments etc.

Maybe I will post a dance cover after internals later on.

Also, if there are others who wsnt to be included in my writing taglist, do let me knowm

#samridhi writes #desiblr #sakal ban #stories

[onyourowndaisymae]

cool about it

just some little drabble-esque musings about the angst of being the attendant to people who don't know you like you know them

content + warnings: angsty, some romantic coding but nothing explicitly indicating a relationship/interest, nightbringer timeline

Once, I took your medication to know what it's like And now I have to act like I can't read your mind I ask you how you're doing and I let you lie

But we don't have to talk about it I can walk you home and practice method acting I'll pretend being with you doesn't feel like drowning Tellin' you it's nice to see how good you're doing Even though we know it isn't true

{cool about it, boygenius}

life carries on.

the world still spins, the sun still rises, and the devildom grows busy with the hustle and bustle of demons. they laugh and cry and hug and party just as you remember they should. it's thousands of years before you're even a sprout in your own family tree, but you don't get a say in the way that time moves forward.

the demon brothers aren't how you remember them-- then again, you never met them shortly after the fall, did you? what a strange feeling, loving someone who's a stranger to you now...

mammon tries to be nonchalant as he steps in front of you again, shielding your body from the chaos of his family's antics. there's a strange sense of protectiveness he feels over you, even though he knows damn well you're a capable demon. but being around you leaves his head devoid of all reason. he craves you like flowers crave rain in early spring, like the dead of night craves the gentle kiss of dawn. he's glued to your side as you drift from room to room, fulfilling your attendant duties with care. there's just something about you that makes him need you. he needs to be your favorite, your closest demon, the one you think of first when anything happens. he wants to be be good enough to earn your approval-- if that ends with him humiliating himself just to get a smile from you, then he considers it time well spent.

levi hears your voice echo down the hallway, and it makes him flinch. is that your laughter? his ear presses against the cold wood to listen in. envy stirs in his gut, makes his tail flick impatiently against the wood as he strains to hear you. he certainly doesn't care about a normie demon like you. so what if you helped him keep snake? so what if he's jealous of how easily his brothers have made their way to your good side? you make him feel things he'd never thought he'd be able to feel. so... just hang out with him, alright? just sit near him and talk about snake and let him pretend for just a moment that you want to hang out with him as much as he does you.

beelzebub smiles at you from the kitchen counter, watching you curiously as mammon and asmo toddle after you. you gather ingredients from the fridge-- strangely colored, odd, completely native to the devildom-- and lay them out on the counter. then you carefully show that what to do with each ingredient, what they pair best with, what they're supposed to taste like when prepared correctly. his brothers watch wide-eyed, fascinated as you cook scary ingredients into delicious food. beel doesn't blame them. you feel like home. you're a warm hug, a nice meal, a shoulder to lean on as things get rough. he doesn't question his fondness towards you. you're just... special. he doesn't want to question what makes you feel so nice to be around-- he'd rather just bask in your warmth, like a child savoring the summer sun.

asmodeus' lips curl into a grin each time he bounds towards you. his words are honey, his expression the sweetest confection as he dotes on you. he eyes you with curiosity. you are a puzzle to him, a mix of familiarity and newness that has him wondering if he'd met you before in some previous life. he can't get enough of you, and yet, he doesn't know why. he wants a spot at every table next to you, an invitation to every event you attend, a reason to stick by your side as much as he wants to. you're something special to him. he doesn't exactly know why his heart races when you brush his hair off of his face or admire his nails when he shows you, but he's excited to find out.

satan knows rage very well. it's who he is, a fundamental part of his being like the color of his eyes or the barbs of his tail. yet when he's around you, his anger quiets-- once a snarling beast, he's reduced to a curious feline in your presence. what are you doing? why? he skulks behind you in the shadows to observe your daily happenings. he wants to analyze you. if he could pin you between microscope slides and study you as closely as he'd like, he would. you fascinate him. his wrath is a wildfire, destructive and all consuming... but around you, he finds himself to be a lit fireplace. always capable of danger, but content crackling beside you to keep you warm.

belphegor curls into his spot on the couch with a smile knowing you're nearby. the room just feels a little lighter when you're there to wrangle his older brothers. the fire crackles pleasantly, intermingling with your voice as you lecture one of his brothers outside the library. your footsteps sound louder, now, and he peeks one of his eyelids open to see your feet nearby. there's a few shuffling noises before he feels the pleasant weight of a blanket draped over his "sleeping" body. that's you. you're an old knitted afghan, familiar and cozy yet new all the same. he doesn't understand why he feels so comfortable around you. but he's never been one to question his blessings-- he waits until you leave to get cozy under the covers.

lucifer regards you with a chilliness that makes your teeth chatter. his eyes are hard as he watches you scurry about, dealing with his brothers' nonsense. his gaze is always piercing, his lips in a hard line to prevent them from curling into a sneer. just because he's a demon now doesn't mean that he embraces others-- especially not lower level demons like you. he doesn't trust you or your intentions. why do you feel so familiar? why do your smiles make him feel fuzzy inside, like he holds some unseen fondness for you? he doesn't know you! there's no reason he should gravitate towards you, and yet, he does. and it scares the shit out of him. so he'll keep putting walls between you and him until he understands the extent of your emotional sorcery.

your heart breaks a little more with each and every interaction. it's hard to put on an aloof persona to tend to the brothers' needs, but you do it. you do it because you love them. you plaster on a fake smile and walk through the doors of the house of lamentation with your head held high. if you stand tall enough, maybe you can avoid drowning in the memories you've made here in another life. you can act your way through each interaction, saying all the right things and being what they need at this time in their lives.

maybe, just maybe, you can help them become the demons you love so dearly in your own time-- even if that means breaking your own heart with each fake smile.

#songfic haters this is NOT a safe space for you #technically this is barely a songfic but. still #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me nightbringer #obey me nb #otome #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #obey me beelzebub #obey me beel #obey me asmodeus #obey me asmo #obey me satan #obey me belphie #obey me belphegor #obey me lucifer #obey me x reader

[crystaljade22]

Forgotten Batsibling Pt2!!

Y/N: Your name

H/N: Hero Name

F/C: Favorite color

TW. Sad stuff, guilt, self-blame.

It’s been a month since Y/N died. After the flames were doused, the fire department and the police scoured the building looking for the body of the fallen hero. The only thing they found of the lost hero was the mask. There was no body left to be found, no remains, no ashes. The warehouse fire consumed all of them. The mask stays inside of the case which once held their suit, now empty. A memoir to the house without you, empty.

Bruce has tried his best to be strong, to be the hero that Gotham needs. But he can’t help but spend hours looking at the mask with regret and guilt. Regret for letting you go in to save Jason, and guilt for not realizing that the savior needed to be saved. Guilt for letting another child die. 

Damian has refused to even enter the Batcave. All he sees is a constant reminder of the sibling he once had, the person who would go to the moon and back for all of them, now gone. He swears he can still hear your voice calling his name from downstairs, and he can’t help the tears that spring to his eyes when he thinks about you. 

Your room hasn’t been touched since their death, the door shut and locked up. No one has ever been able to look at the room, their guilt or sadness overpowering their will to do so. 

Dick constantly wishes for just one more patrol with you, to hear your voice one more time. He regrets every moment he tried to get away from you, or left you behind. He glances behind him, hoping that you’ll be right there, just like you usually would despite his attempts to shake you off. 

Tim has noticed now when his coffee runs out and tastes different than usual. Whenever he’s on a mission, he notices that his success percentage is lower than normal. There is no one there to jump in when a step goes in the bin. No one waiting to check on him after a mission. He’s finally noticed and acknowledged the fact that you’re gone. And he’s shut down any emotions that come with it. He is probably the only one in the family who could open your bedroom door, but he can’t bring himself to do it because he feels he isn’t worthy to do so. 

Now Jason on the other hand, can’t pull himself out of his work. He feels he can’t take off the mask because if he does, he’s afraid he’ll crumble and fall apart. He keeps telling himself to stay strong, and to stay Red Hood because right now, the people of Gotham don’t need Jason, they need you. They need H/N. As soon as Jason takes off the mask when he gets to one of his safe houses, he instantly breaks down. All he can see is the moment he knocked you down, and caused your demise. The last thing he saw of you was you holding the beam up for him to escape. He swears he can feel you watching over him, even though he caused your death. All he can think is that he’s the reason you're dead. He killed you, the only person who ever seemed to care, even when he had tried to hurt you. 

You didn’t get the proper funeral that everyone felt you deserved. The people of Gotham mourned for days, the Commissioner and the Mayor themselves speaking at your funeral. Funny enough, even the Joker took the day off despite the clear opportunity he had to go and create utter chaos. There was no body to bury. The city lowered an empty casket into the ground, and then erected a statue of you over it. A memory forever ingrained into the people of Gotham’s minds of the hero who once lived to save the city. 

Of course, Bruce had to figure out how to tell the press that Y/N Wayne was gone, without revealing the fact that you were H/N. They managed to make up a story of you falling seriously ill, and succumbing to it. They played it off to the media as having a private funeral and having the body buried in their graveyard. Y/N was buried beside what was Jason’s grave, an F/C flower sprouting from the dirt over the empty casket. The gray headstone reading:

“Here lies Y/N. A sibling, friend, and a loving person. May their memory live on. 20XX-20XX”

Now, for the super short scenario.

Damian stood at the grave, looking down at the gray stone. Tears stung his eyes, rolling down his face, but he didn’t care. The rain hid them anyway. He stood soaked and cold, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t feel it anyway. The cold rain continued to pelt his body, leaving him soaked to the bone. His eyes fall to the F/C flower, its petals still bright. All he could think about was the fact that there was nobody under his feet. All that was there was an empty box covered in a layer of soaked dirt. He couldn’t help the sob that escaped his throat at the thought of never seeing you again. The last he saw of you was you running into the building to save Jason, a brave face filled with worry plastered onto your face. He couldn’t help but blame Jason slightly, but he knew that you went in fully knowing the risks of what you were doing. As he stared at the grave, he couldn’t help but feel like someone was watching him. Something was telling him, he needed to go back to Robin. The people needed Robin. He wiped his eyes, standing up straighter before turning and heading back for the manor, determined to prevent another family member from dying. Little did he know, after he had left the grave, a figure stood over the grave, reading the stone. Their shoulders rose and fell with a laugh before the figure disappeared into the rain. All that remained was a crumpled F/C flower, the petals littering the ground.

#batfamily x batsis #batfam x batsis #batfamily #dcu #angst #no fluff #sorry for being depressing #tim drake #damian wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #Joker is kinda nice #bruce wayne

[hannahssimblr]

On a bright, clear morning, our art class gets permission from the principal to embark on a trip to the park. It’s an exciting prospect to us students, a trek all the way across the road from school, totaling a distance of one hundred metres from the back gates. It feels every bit as exciting as our fourth year school tour to Rome.

It’s cold, but there is the slightest tinge of spring in the air, and though the grass and the earth is damp I find a place to sit nestled among the newly sprouted wild flowers because I think it might be nice to try and draw them, but also because Michelle and Evan were sitting here first and Jen still has me on a mission to befriend them. 

“Pay attention to the colours when you’re doing your drawings today,” Ms. O’Reilly says, “Oftentimes things aren’t as they seem when you really look at them. Yes, the grass is green, but can’t you see yellow there too? Blue in the shade? There’s a whole range of values and hues that you don’t see at first glance, nor will you unless you take the time to really observe and take it all in.”

“That’s how you should think of me,” I nudge Michelle, “Like the grass. I’m not just green, I’m shades of blue and yellow too.”

She rolls her eyes, “Oh wow, so now you’re a poet.” 

“I knew you’d think that, and you know what? It comes naturally to me, I’m just that kind of person.”

I catch her smirking before she turns her face away and pretends to be interested in what Evan is drawing in his sketchbook. “What’s that?” She asks him, and he flips his hair out of his eyes, “the drain. I think it’s more interesting than the trees and shit, you know? Like, that juxtaposition of the man made in the middle of nature.”

I snort, “I take it back, I’m not the poetic one after all. Wow, that’s deep. I never thought of a drain into the sewer in those terms before.”

His shoulders stiffen, “Hey, what are you getting smart for? Didn’t you get detention a few weeks ago for vomiting on the floor in Mr. Doherty’s class?”

I won’t give him the satisfaction of acknowledging his rudeness as such, so I laugh, “Nah, man, rumour. I did throw up, but not on the floor. I was hungover,” A shrug, “What can you do, huh?” 

Michelle huffs out a laugh, “Surprised you didn’t see each other in detention. Jude is the only person I know who has to go more often than you, Evan.”

“I’ve got detention again yesterday” he boasts, and I indulge him, “For what?”

There’s a satisfied glint in his eye, “Fireworks.”

“Where?”

“Just in my locker.” 

“No way,” I let out a squawk of a laugh, “I got caught for that once too.”

He glances around awkwardly, unable to decide if I’m engaging genuinely with him or taking the piss again, “Really?” He says with cautious interest, “When?”

“Oh, like a few years ago. Second year I think, sometime around Halloween, but someone ratted me out,” I jokingly jab my thumb at Michelle who gasps in outrage, “It wasn’t me! Jen and I knew about it but we didn’t say anything! I don’t know who it was.”

Evan rests his pencil on the page, “What were you going to do with them?”

“I hadn’t decided yet.”

“Me neither,” he says, actually smiling, “I was just storing them. Actually, I turned myself in once they made that announcement that someone was seen with them. I didn’t want them going through my locker or anything, like, doing the whole search operation thing.”

“Yeah, who knows what might be in there.”

“For sure,” he goes back to drawing his drain and I begin to sketch in the petals of a crocus flower next to my shoe. After another short moment his curiosity gets the better of him, “Hey, what’s the worst thing you ever got detention for?”

I chuckle, “When I was twelve I set a fire in the boy’s bathroom.”

An incredulous pause, “That was you?”

“Yeah, like, it was an accident though. I’m not an arsonist.” 

“Yeah that was wild,” Michelle muses, “I remember having to keep it a secret, because Jen and I knew but nobody else did. We weren’t even supposed to know it. You remember how the school made us all go to an assembly about it and they brought that fireman in?”

Evan nudges her with his elbow, “You knew who it was the whole time? You never said!”

“I’m a good secret keeper!”

He looks at me with intrigue, “What happened? What’s the real story?”

“So I was skipping class. I used to get really bored in Mr. White's History so I hid in the toilets and then when I was there I guess I realised I didn’t have anything to do. I had this lighter in my bag that I’d found in the yard, so I started lighting little pieces of toilet paper on fire, you know, just to watch them burn up and turn into nothing, but if it got too crazy I’d just extinguish them in the toilet. Anyway, I got carried away and decided to light the whole toilet roll on fire and then,” I shrug, “you know the rest, I suppose.”

“I remember that day so well, do you-” he cackles, “-do you remember how they didn’t replace the toilet paper dispenser for the whole year? It was just this big hunk of melted plastic stuck to the wall of the stall.”

“Really? Nah, man, I didn't go back into that stall ever again. That’s hilarious.”

“You mean to this day? Five years later?”

“Yeah, seriously! I can’t face it, it just brings me right back there, to getting screamed at in the principal's office and then them calling my parents and all…” the jovial spirit in me falters and this memory, “...who, um, weren’t happy about it and all. Uh, but the main thing was that we talked the principal out of expelling me. I got suspended for a week and then a month straight of detention instead, so it worked out okay.”

“And you talked them out of expulsion…?” Evan prompts.

“Oh, you know, I’m just good at bullshitting,” I say vaguely, though the reality was that I sat at the principal’s desk, my body racked with breathless, terrified sobs until I almost puked, snot pouring down my face, swearing on my pre-teen life that it was an accident until they let me off easy out of pure pity alone. 

I concentrate on my crocuses for a while while Michelle and Evan draw too, the three of us in content silence while Ms. O'Reilly walks around the group to look at our work. “Beautiful,” She says of mine, and the compliment fills my insides with such joy and acceptance that I can’t hide it from my face. 

“Who’s the teacher’s pet now?” Michelle mutters as Ms. O’Reilly moves on.

“Jealous?”

“No.”

“Can I see yours?”

“Why, so you can gloat?”

“No, c’mon, I’m curious.” 

She sighs and tilts her sketchbook to me so that I can see the trees she has drawn. She has a soft line, feminine, cautious and a little shaky, but she’s captured the scene nicely, how the spindly, bare branches of the chestnut tree cut through the clouds and frame a hazy February sky.

“That’s lovely,” I say. “Not that I’m surprised, you’ve always been a good drawer.”

She looks at her work doubtfully, “I’m not sure, I think I fucked up the scale of some things.”

“Nah, you’d hardly notice.”

“Hm.”

“When did you change your mind about art school?” 

“Huh?”

“I thought you wanted to pursue it. I remember you saying that a while back.”

She scoffs, “Oh yeah, years ago. It’s not a practical choice though. What am I going to do with an art degree? Work in McDonalds? I think it’s better that I go for something with more prospects like, um, law or business or medicine.”

I smile, “Yeah. Okay. I think that’s your dad talking.”

“That’s what I think,” Evan pipes up, “Don’t I always say it, Michelle? They’re all boring choices, and you are so not boring. You’re a creative soul.”

“Aw, thanks baby.”

It takes all of my willpower to resist pulling a face. Baby? I almost say something about how horrendous it is for me to be subjected to their emo love before I remember that my task is to be nice to them. It’s going so well, I shouldn’t jeopardise it no matter how tempting.  

“Hey,” she spins back to me, “Can I see that drawing you did of me in class? You never showed me in the end.”

“Well, you didn’t ask,” I flip a few pages back and hold it up to her, her own face, a direct, impatient gaze and mouth slightly pursed in concentration. She stares at it like she’s gazing into a mirror. 

“You made me look very pretty,” She decides after several moments. 

I steal a glance at her. It’s not difficult to, because she is very pretty, she’s always been that way as long as I've known her with those deep, dark brown eyes and heart shaped face. It is her personality and attitude in the last couple of years that's the real pity. I smirk, “Well, you know, I appreciate you saying that, because it really wasn’t easy for me…”

“God, you’re insufferable,” she complains, rolls her eyes and turns away.

I go back to my crocuses. 

Beginning // Prev // Next

#lucky boy 2009 #thank you to the pose makers for this one #my sims no longer have to use the drawing tablet wooo

[igglemouse]

A scattering of seeds, a sprinkle of water, and one passing night brings forth new life. Little green bushes sprout from the dirt, promising a revolution and proving the Flower Bunny correct. Spring is in full bloom and flowers aren’t the only thing promising to blossom.

How could I not speak of the kiss between Pascal and I, after all? A tender moment between us yesterday that had my mind lingering with thoughts of him. Was that single moment under a warm spring day the sign of something more enduring?

Or could it be that my relationship with him will wither under the hot summer sun when it comes?

But today is a new day and with it comes new possibilities. With it being Friday I figured I would open the stand a little later, catch people coming home from work and ready to wind down after a busy work week. People that might not be up for cooking themselves who would be willing to part with a few simoleons to have a meal from someone else.

This decision gives me a gift of time for the morning, time well spent with laundry so that I too could prepare for what I hope is a busy and fulfilling weekend.

The weekend starts with a workout!

Pascal’s introduced me to this gym and I mean to become a regular here if for no other reason than he endorses it. He’s a professional athlete after all so if this place is good enough for him then it must be good enough for me.

It does not take long to find the appeal. There’s a calm vibe to the gym, a quiet that is only filled with the clanking of weights, machines, and sharp exhales of effort.

The treadmill’s themselves are meditative, the belt thrumming smoothly under each step I take on my journey to nowhere and everywhere all at once. Before long I begin to lose myself to the session, each step a building block towards someone better, each minute proof of my will.

Yeah. I could definitely get into this.

I wipe the back of my hand against my forehead, moistening it with my sweat, satisfied but not yet content. What’s that old phrase? No pain, no gain! I’m sweating but my legs still feel fresh and tell me that there’s still more to go. I reach down on the treadmill to increase the pace-

“You new here?” a woman asks, her voice smacking aside my focus like a clank of weights. “Just wanted to let you know that this one,” she looks down to the treadmill. “Can be a little quirky.”

“Ummm-”

“Yeeep. It likes to challenge people randomly every now and then or maybe it likes the taste of face,” I look at her confused. Perhaps something was lost in translation here because I have no idea what she means. “It’s broken,” she clarifies. “Just a warning!”

“O-oh! Gracias!”

Since I could not afford an injury at this time I stopped off the treadmill right away and followed her outside. Not the wisest of ideas. The sun seemingly mocked the idea that it was spring at all and instead hinted at what a summer day would feel like here in Oasis.

We stopped on a rightfully empty basketball court because who would want to play anything outside in his heat?

“Sorry, Simlish es no my first language,” I tell her as a precaution because I have a feeling she’s wanting a conversation. “I’m Frida.”

“Frida…cute accent! Marjorie but you can call me Marge,” she says with a welcoming smile. “How long have you been here?”

“Not a week,” I reply with a breathy chuckle.

“And already here at the gym? I like your style,” she says with a nod of her head and a wipe of her brow as well. The heat was definitely going to have us seeking shelter.

“You’ll find me here most days,” she continues, tossing her head back towards the gym. “Don’t forget about that treadmill either, better safe than sorry, right? See you later Frida.”

Perhaps I’ve met a new friend.

I get home and sink into a tub of water that has been bombed with a freshly sweet lavender scent. I think I’ve used too much because there are so many bubbles that they foam over the edge of the tub but what does that matter? It’s Friday and I plan on squeezing as much enjoyment from it as possible.

It’s not like I even get weekends off. I run a business by myself. Sola. That means my schedule is filled with work which also means I need to savor every moment of peace I can find.

But just because my schedule is filled with work doesn’t mean it’s actual ‘work’ if you catch my meaning. Cooking, as I’ve said before, brings me joy. Maybe I am easily pleased but buying a new pizza oven and making my own pizza, standard cheese pizza, the classic, completely makes my day!

I think pizza will be a very important part of my stand, it’s affordable and munchable and I can charge per slice! Perfect! Let’s just hope it’s actually good!

I step outside ready to begin my daily sale but am met immediately by a stranger. My neighbor, he claims tobe at least. “Just wanted to say hello and officially welcome you!” His voice is filled with the zeal of an overly enthusiastic neighbor. “I’ve been keeping my eye on you-”

“Oh?” caution leaks from my one word reply. The last thing I want is some neighbor keeping watch over me after all.

“O-oh! No, not like that!” he catches my caution and realizes how his introduction must seem to me. “I’m just down the road and across the street. It’s just a phrase I guess.” He then introduces himself as Oscar Fuentes.

“Hola Oscar! Cómo es-”

“No no no no, sorry, I don’t speak Selvadoradian,” he cuts me off quickly bringing a smirk to my lips. I kind of guessed he might because of his name but it’s actually better that he doesn’t because…

“Sorry, no speak Simlish!” I tell him and basically shoo him along. I have a feeling this is the nosy neighbor type and if that is true then the less interaction with him the better.

“Oh! No, it is I that is sorry! I just wanted to say your food stand adds a real punch to the neighborhood! I wanted to thank you personally and…��� his words drift as I give him my best confused look to really drive the point home. “Ah, I see, well, hopefully another time. See you around?”

“Yes, yes, bye.”

Oscar takes the hint and leaves me to setting up my stand. I must admit that doing it much later in the afternoon just initially has a better feel to it and that is because of the weather.

One thing about hot climates is that there is always a perfect time of day, the sweet spot, and right now I was settled in the middle of it. Maybe that’s why my voice had a bit more pop and energy to it and maybe that’s why I pull in 166 simoleons.

It’s not a huge sum to be sure but it is a pattern, a hint of some consistency, proof that maybe I am catching on and maybe there is a future here for me after all…

A guard blocks the exit to the room with a posture that said he would be ready to defend order with all that he had. Which, in this case, was a simple can of pepper spray. Here at ADX Desierto it was all a guard could have because the risk of a prisoner wrestling away a baton, knife, or gun, was far too much. While a prisoner couldn’t plot an escape with either he could send a man just doing his job to an early grave and anyone who called his place home had little to lose. Some even welcomed the execution that might come from such an option.

Thankfully, this particular guard was here more as a formality. The prisoner who shared the room with him had been one of those tamed with time and religion, a man who only wanted to find redemption through the watcher and through his daughter.

A daughter he called once a week to absolutely no reply. The guard had hoped this week would be different, that she would pick up her phone and offer the man a pinch of hope, but as Anthony slammed the phone down against the receiver he knew that she was still avoiding him. Perhaps even had him blocked…

The guard was ready to escort Anthony back to his cell because usually the man, the killer, he reminded himself, would only try to call his daughter and that was it but today he held up his hand for a moment and started to dial another number.

For a moment the guard thought to warn him that all calls were recorded. Some prisoners, men whose ego were larger than the desert they were housed in, would try to conduct business behind bars and that would only add to their punishment or their time (as if a man with over 100 years left on his sentence cared much about added time). The guard thought to warn Anthony but then reminded himself again that this was a killer. Despite the calm and now tame demeanor all it took was one look into his eyes to know that this was a man who could shoot him dead in the head and think nothing of it.

So he remained in his spot, guarding the door, and instead eaves dropped on his conversation which was mostly pushed through quick and hushed phrases…

“Just make sure she’s okay….she never picks up…just check on her….got it?”

Was all he could make out. Eventually, his 15 minutes were up.

And eventually the guard is back into the heart of the facility, the corridor with steel bars on either side of him, so full and packed that a prisoners can talk to each other (and often do) and even reach across the hall to pass things around.

The guard’s steps are silent, the quiet approach taken more for necessity than fear as this time of night had given way to rest which meant even the more unpredictable prisoners had opted for sleep. Even still, just walking these halls had made him nervous. Sometimes, the best that can happen is prisoners throwing things at you, sometimes even feces, and even still that is better than the story of an officer being pulled to the cage and getting choked out and nearly dying.

Thankfully for him Anthony’s cell was not far and even better, no one messed with Anthony and so it felt more like Anthony was escorting himself to his cell and not the other way around.

The guard’s farewell is soft and filled with a hint of sympathy that would flee with the click and lock of his cell. Leaving Anthony alone in a place he had learned to call home and even appreciate.

He was told when he made his pledge to the cartel that there were only two ways out, in a casket or behind bars, he thought the former was always the only real option. He’d go out in a blaze of glory before submitting to order and begging mercy from the law…and yet, he’s glad to still be alive.

His past is one of death, a thread of lives all worthy of being ended and yet lives all the same. The faces of his victims blurs at best, the names never placed into his memory and the emotions attached to them completely non-existent. He was given a target and a bag of simoleons when the job was done. No questions asked.

It brought him simoleons, that’s all that mattered then, and it allowed him to live a life he could have only dreamed of. A life he would have happily snuffed out himself if it meant being here locked in a maximum security prison for the rest of his life with no chance of escape.

But this was a debt he learned he had to pay and his confinement had left him with his thoughts, his own thoughts, not those tainted by powder or drugs, but thoughts of a father who had once seen the promise of a life he had turned down.

He would survive, he would serve the rest of his hundred year sentence because it is what she asked of him. It is what he owed her. He never planned to father her, he barely knew her mother after all. His concept of family were the men who paid him and never anything more than that. He fought for them, he killed for them, but the cold concrete and steel of this building had taught him that family isn’t who you fight for, its who you live for.

He knew there was no redemption here, that the Watcher would be insane to ever forgive the list of sins he’s committed, his soul had been judged and condemned.

But there was still time for Frida…

Episode List - Next

#The Sims #The Sims 4 #ts4 #Sims #Sims 4 #sims legacy #my sims #generation 1 #soot #sims of our time #frida varela #marjorie whipple #oscar fuentes #pascal alcocer #anthony varela

[kiruamon]

Spring through the Seasons AU

Okay. I know, I know, there are already god-AUs with the DCA. AUs where they are the god of the moon or the sun and so on. But do we also have one where they represent the seasons? Cause I was playing with this thought around in my head and this is what came out of it:

The gods or deities of the seasons live on a ring-shaped island that is evenly divided into four large areas. One for each season in which the associated god lives. The island itself is surrounded by the ocean, while it itself surrounds a large lake with a round, smaller island in the middle. So it's possible to see the neighboring areas from the lake side but not the one on the opposite of the lake, because of the island in the middle blocking the view to it. (As an example: You can see from the spring area parts of the winter and summer area but not the autumn one and so on.)

Things in these areas never change by much. Creating an everlasting spring, summer, autumn and winter in each part of the island. Also the deities haven't meet each other since they usually don't go too far to the borders of their area. Well you can probably guess that this fact will change very soon and creating a bunch of different events happening.

But for now, let's get back to the cast of characters. Who represents which season?

Summer:

It's Sun! Obvious choice here. He represents the warm season. The trees and plants on his side of the island are a rich, vibrant green. Many flowers are in bloom and luring in all kind of insects like butterflies and bees. The weather is clear most of the time and the bright blue sky is rarely overcast. Temperatures during the day can get quite warm or hot in the open air, while the nights are very mild. You can cool down best in the shade of the trees and near the lake.

Sun has his daily routine. Doing stretching exercises every morning and evening. Going jogging after his morning exercises and fishing at the lake during the afternoon and so on. He likes to keep himself busy even when doing more relaxing activities.

There are two smaller flames emitting from his back. And no he isn't a walking fire hazard, because of them. The temperatur of the flames isn't nearly as hot as one would think and they don't cause harm or burns. It's closer to the warmth of the summer sun so one might actually be able to touch them. So the flames kinda represent the warmth that life needs to grow and flourish. I just advise against touching the flames when Sun is angry, cause then the heat goes up by a lot.

Sun can be pretty competitive when challenged by a certain someone. He displays an almost childlike wonder when he discovers new things and is therefore less suspicious and more curious about them. Sun is generally cheerful and usually shows his feelings quite openly. When it comes to Y/N he can be a bit of a show off.

Autumn:

It's Eclipse! He represents the autumn.

His area comes with the colorful hues of autumn. There are colorful treetops with leaves carried by the autumn breezes. The fallen leaves gather on the ground, while some trees are already bare and mushrooms sprout from the soil. The weather in the area is changing often. On some days, the sun still shines warmly through the colorful autumn leafage, while on other days violent storms tear the leaves from the trees. It is definitely the area with the most rain and it is not uncommon for fog to gather over the land and rise above the part of the lake that lies close to Eclipse's territory.

Eclipse likes crafting a lot. Taking what his area provides him with. He will make little figures out of chestnuts, acorns and other things. Or crafting a tiny raft out of some sticks, vines and a red or yellow leaf as a sail and set it onto the lake to see it float into the distance.

I also imagine that his hands are wood like and have a wood grain on them. Fun fact: Out of him, Sun and Moon he is the only one that can swim. Fun fact two: Maybe swimming is said too much. It's more like he will just float on the water like a lump of wood if you would toss him in. If you wonder now what would happen to Sun. He would sink like a stone. So please, don't push him in deeper waters.

From all the deities he is the most chill and mature one when it comes to his personality and behaviour. He is pretty modest and willing to let others talk while being very grateful when being offered the opportunity to talk about himself or his thoughts. Sometimes he holds himself back a bit too much, overthinking the situation and needs a little nudge to understand that it's okay to say or show freely what he wants. All in all Eclipse is a very nice fellow to be around and a good partner for having long and deep conversations and will take the feelings of the ones around him into account.

Winter:

Of course it had to be Moon!

A landscape covered in snow and ice. The only green in this landscape is provided by conifers defying the cold, while snow piles up on the branches of the bare broadleaf trees. Glistening icicles hang from some of the trees and sparkle together with the untouched snow on the sunnier days. But more often the sky is overcast and gray clouds hang in front of the sun as snowflakes swirl around. On some days, the drifting snow is so heavy that you can't even see your own hand in front of your eyes. Moon's area is also bitterly cold and only a few animals are wandering around, retreating to neighboring areas when the weather gets worse.

Moon's fingertips are made out of ice and he has also two curved horns fully made out of ice on his head too. I'm honestly not sure why I gave him a scepter/staff, cause I never drew it again after this image but thought it would be a cool accessory for him to have?

He spends a lot of time walking around in the snow. Surveilling his territory. Watching some animals walking through the white landscape of his part of the island. He is much of an observer, thinking a lot. And while he has taken notice of the autumn and spring area of the island and wondered about them when being at the lake side he never has tried to come near them.

Moon looks often pretty grim or will have a scowl on his face while pondering over things. He won't always share his train of thought with others and comes off as a bit more cold. He can be very snarky. Especially with one of the other season deities. Having a little rivalry going on with a certain someone. He is more considerate as he sometimes let show. But when it comes to Y/N he can't help himself as to let his softer side out more and won't hide that he feels quite comfortable with having them around.

So we had Sun, Eclipse and Moon. Now you might ask who will be spring? Well...

Spring:

It's Y/N! The fourth member of the season deities!

A landscape in which life always seems to have just awakened. The first tender sprouts, buds and young leaves are growing on the trees and have not yet developed their vibrant green of summer. Some trees, however, are in full bloom, while some petals trickle to the ground in the mild spring breeze. Spring bloomers dot the meadows with their cheerful colors. The weather is mild and balanced. The sun's rays are not yet so strong, but already warm and pleasant. Many of the animals that live on the island come here when they are expecting their young and move on to other areas when they get older.

Some little vines and flowers are blooming on Y/N's stole. If feeling certain positive emotions it can happen that more flowers are blooming on the vines. The vines will also move according to the mood they are in.

Y/N as the deity of spring is a somewhat tender and caring person. Often cheerful and optimistic about things. Loving to interact with living beings and watching them grow. They are quite curious and usually just go with the flow. They don't always have a clear sense for dangerous situations, but honestly why should they when living on this island for so long with no real dangers at all around them? Y/N is very talkative and it's fairly easy to impress them or to make them laugh.

It was also Y/N who first set foot beyond the borders of their territory and with this would soonly change the lives of the other three deities.

There are still a few little fun facts left for this au but I think I might share these at another day.

Sooooo that's it for today and for the world building explanation so far. I will tag future stuff for this au as stts au. Hope whoever read to the end of this had a good time doing so.

#fnaf #fnaf au #stts au #fnaf sun #fnaf moon #fnaf eclipse #fnaf y/n #dca #fnaf dca #daycare attendant #fnaf daycare attendant #traditional drawing #sketches #my art #do not reupload #Moon's design keeps changing a little bit in later sketches but it's more like splitting his coat in a darker and brighter side. #It's just a fun little au idea running through my head.

[mizutenshii]

DAISIES.

— pairing ; kaneki ken x human!gn!reader

— summary ; he looks so cute with a flower crown atop his head, how can he be a monster?

— cw ; fluff fluff, pre-relationship, comfort

the breeze that traversed the streets of the city was getting kinder with every day that went by, now that spring had fallen over the country. spending your time outside was starting to become more pleasant and more and more people decided to do so. as a result, the park you decided to visit was quite lively. 

you enjoyed it, but kaneki didn't seem too pleased by the presence of that many people. you could understand why, and you appreciated the fact that he still agreed on going to the park with you.

to compromise a little, you took a spot in the sun a little distance away from the other occupants. you hoped that the scent of humans wasn't too intense this way, and on top of that you could talk more freely – let's be honest, the topics you talked about weren't for everyone to hear; they required a fair level of secrecy in order to protect the ghoul. 

so there you sat, amidst the daisies that grew scattered in the spring green grass. the male paid them no mind, keeping his gaze on the people in the distance. you wondered, what was he thinking?

actually, you didn't want to know. 

when a ghoul laid their eyes upon their natural prey, the images and urges inside their minds surely were not pretty. 

you made a face and plucked one of the tiny daisies that sprouted at her feet. yeah, it definitely took some time to get used to hanging out with a ghoul. you really had to keep yourself from thinking too much into things because it sometimes brought along very disturbing realizations and images. you shivered.

"at some point in my life i really enjoyed spending my leisure time in parks like this," kaneki suddenly spoke, tearing his eyes off the other people and turning to look at you instead. "now it just feels weird, like i don't belong here anymore." 

there was a sadness in his eyes that also laced his voice, and you could read the longing he felt. a painful longing back to his human life – one that he would never get back. the young ghoul was always hurting on the inside, but in moments like these it surfaced, presenting itself to those who cared. 

"why wouldn't you belong here?" you asked, picking another daisy, and another one. "i mean, there's a sign that asks you not to feed the birds but i don't see a humans only sign."

it was an attempt to add a mild and light-hearted joke to the heavy atmosphere that came along with the ghoul's remark, maybe even a small gesture to lift his spirit. 

the boy with hair as pale as the moon snorted, but it was only a brief moment of amusement before his expression fell glum again. 

"would a zookeeper let a lion between their zebras?" he questioned, sighing bitterly. "they don't, and it's for a reason."

"lions and zebras live together in the wild," you shrugged. "look, i really don't see a problem with you being here. you're just enjoying your time in the sun and you have all the right to do so, if you'd ask me." 

you picked another tiny white flower, connecting the stems absentmindedly as you talked to the boy next to you.

"i know," kaneki sighed, finally noticing the daisies around him and lightly touching them with his fingertips. he watched them bounce back gently when he lifted his hand again, and that was as far as his attention for the flowers went. "it just doesn't feel right anymore," he added. 

"do you want to leave?" you offered, about to drop the connected flowers in order to get up and save the boy from his internal struggles.

but a hand that – surprisingly – landed on yours stopped you from actually doing so, and you froze.

"no no, we can stay," the ghoul rushed. "i guess that for as long as you are here, i'm comfortable enough to stay. at least you kinda make me feel like i'm not completely out of place."

"o-okay," you uttered, your wide-eyed gaze on the cold hand that rested atop your own. you felt your heart skip a beat but that must've been because the sudden coldness on your skin startled you, right?

you sat down comfortably again and kaneki seemed satisfied, also appearing to be more at ease now that he got his discomfort off his chest. after shooting the ghoul one last glance, you decided that he was, indeed, okay, and reverted your attention back to the flowers in your hands.

by now you held a pretty long chain of flowers; connected daisies that together formed a flowery garland. it looked really pretty, and you were almost pleased with the outcome.

the boy with hair as pale as the moon looked up at the blue sky, clearly reminiscing about the past. you decided to let him be for a moment, to let him rearrange his thoughts and feelings. you focused on your task at hand; finishing the string of flowers to a point you deemed long enough. by the time you reached your ghoul, you rested your hand in your lap gently, careful not to damage the crown of flowers.

"i'm having thoughts, y/n," kaneki confessed, his dazed gaze now on a group of people in the distance. "i feel like a monster."

you pursed your lips, knowing very well what kaneki meant by that. but then an idea popped up in your mind, and you brought up your hands. admittedly, you made the flower crown for yourself to wear. however, you came up with a better use as the ghoul's demeanor tensed up.

beaming at him, you gently placed the flower crown atop his white locks. the ghoul simply gazed at you in awe, and you couldn't help but coo at the sight. the delicate tiara of daisies sat on top of his pale fringe daintily, and it looked adorable.

"you're not a monster, kaneki," you told him sincerely. "at least not in my eyes. look at you, you're so cute."

honestly, you had to fight the urge to squish his cheeks. although you got along very well, you still deemed it too early for such levels of affection. so you smiled widely at him instead, not paying the churning of your stomach any mind.

you were betraying humanity.

but you didn't care anymore.

a smile found its way to the ghoul's features, so small but unmistakenly there. the pain in his eyes had vanished and was now replaced with unmasked appreciation. your words held meaning, they didn't come from just someone. kaneki believed you.

he belonged. he was valid. he was no monster.

mizutenshii — 29.O9.2O23 — masterlist

at least in your eyes. and that was what mattered.

#nana writes #ken kaneki #tokyo ghoul #anime #tokyo ghoul kaneki #kaneki x reader #tg kaneki #ken kaneki x reader #kaneki imagine #kaneki imagines #tokyo ghoul fanfiction

[allaboardthevespa]

Ellie Headcanons!

I love she. I've been thinking about her a lot lately so I've decided to share some HCs. Both recent ones and ones I've been kicking around in the past.

Her full name is Elinor Madison Hayden.

She grew up on a farm, as I stated before. Her father is the farm's owner, while her mother is an animal carer. Ellie grew up among nature and animals and thus has a strong admiration for them, just like Gabby. Her family in general is utterly chaotic, but they love her and she loves them just as much.

Her mother named her for the titular character of Elinor Wonders Why - a show Ellie grew a strong love for growing up. Bluey is also a family favorite.

Her favorite food is pumpkin pie, especially when baked by her uncle.

She owns a lot of stuffed animals. Not quite as many as her girlfriend but still a respectable amount. Especially bunnies!

She's a very big pop-punk fan. Some of her favorite artists include Boys Like Girls, The Maine, Dashboard Confessional, Yellowcard and All-American Rejects. Her all-time favorite song is, as I mentioned before, "Only One" by Yellowcard. She's also someone who regularly listens to different pop-punk albums every day and thus she's had a lot of wonderful experiences hearing new songs and bands. In particular, "A Twist in My Story" by Secondhand Serenade is one album that had her in tears.

She happens to be an amazing singer, too. (wishing so bad we could have a DC musical season)

Though, she's not particularly a great dancer...she often needs Gabby to help her out lol. But with Gabby's guidance, the girlfriends have shared some amazing slow dances in nature.

Autumn and spring are her favorite seasons. Autumn for the general coziness, warm lattes, orange leaves and happy vibes. Spring because she loves when it starts to warm up again after winter, and also she loves the smell of spring flowers so much. Getting to know Gabby has her loving spring even more - seeing Gabby's energy whenever spring starts is always adorable to her!

I've already mentioned that Ellie's favorite flowers are peonies and lavender (if you count that as a flower lol) but she also loves roses, gardenias, lilies of the valley, hyacinths just like Gabby, jasmine and lilacs. ...Okay she loves most flowers lol. In general, flowers have always been something Ellie has loved. Whenever her jobs were stressing her out, Ellie finds some time to spend admiring flowers, and it calms her down. Gabby has taken notice of her girlfriend's love of flowers and thus uses floral-scented products to wash both herself and the girls' belongings, and Ellie finds it so utterly heavenly.

Ellie's interest in fashion sprouted when she caught some My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic on television as a young girl and really admired Rarity's eye for fashion. Her father also has an old friend who is in fashion school.

At school, Ellie made a couple friends, but was also picked on a lot for her looks and being too much of a "girly girl" for her fashion interest and love of flowers.

Ellie realized she was bisexual not long after joining high school, where she started crushing on two different people - a quarterback boy, and a girl on the soccer team. Her family accepted her the very nanosecond she confessed.

She ended up asking both suitors out, but neither went all that well. While the quarterback let her down gently, the soccer player rejected her pretty brutally, pushing her onto the crowd and calling her nasty names. Ellie didn't ask anyone out again for a while after that. Falling deeply for Gabby truly changed her life.

In spite of her enjoyment of fashion and beauty stuff, Ellie generally doesn't use make-up. It's not her style...and she's pretty allergic to lots of make-up products anyway.

She gives AMAZING hugs. (Might as well be canon)

Her dad has an old Gamecube which Ellie plays a ton, often with Gabby and a couple of their other friends outside DC. Her favorite game for the system is Paper Mario: The Thousand Year Door. You can bet she turned into a squealing little ball of joy when the remake is announced, and now she has a Switch on pre-order!

As a kid she made friends with one of the pigs on her family farm, a girl named Amelia, and spent time every day going to see her and play with her. She loved that pig dearly. Sadly, Amelia ended up passing away not long after she returned from season 1, devastating Ellie. Luckily she did have Gabby as her shoulder to cry on in those tough times.

In general, being with Gabby has helped brighten Ellie up considerably in her daily life. Sure she's pretty cutthroat when it comes to high-stakes reality TV shows like Disventure Camp, but when she's not in a competition, she's a sweet and tender soul. Her family in general is grateful to Gabby for bringing so much happiness out of their little girl. 💖

I've probably forgotten some but whatever, these are just a few of the ones I have.

Yet again I depict Ellie as a soft cinnamon roll I need professional help

#disventure camp #disventure camp ellie #(ft some gabby) #ellabby #gabellie #headcanons #comfort character #soft ellie rights