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rookthorne · 7 months

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⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐈𝐧𝐤

Fairy Tales and stories always had one ending, that the prince would find his princess and all would be well; a masterful, happily ever after. You had never believed that would be you, not in your wildest dreams. Until the day that two knights in inked armour walked through the door of your castle and made themselves at home in your heart.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𖠺 Tattoo Artist!CW!Bucky Barnes x Florist!F!Reader x Tattoo Artist!Nomad!Steve Rogers

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 𖠺 6.7k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𖠺 Fluff, light show of dom/sub

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 𖠺 I sincerely blame my hype squad for this, but a very special thank you to SC for her genius mind for helping me build this world, and to @sebstanwhore for putting up with my screaming about it constantly. 𖠺 This is officially my longest published fic as of September 2023!

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒔 𖠺 So This Is Love by Ilene Woods, Mike Douglas 𖠺 I See The Light by Mandy Moore, Zachary Levi

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒂 𖠺 @smutconnoisseur

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 𖠺 @stuckybingo 𝗚𝟰 — Tattoo Shop AU (September Adoptable) — Masterlist 𖠺 @allcapsbingo 𝗕𝟰 — Old Married Couple — Masterlist 𖠺 @anyfandomfluffbingo 𝗕𝟭 — Florist AU — Masterlist 𖠺 @mcukinkbingo 𝗚𝟱 — Poly Relationship Negotiation — Masterlist

𝐆𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐈𝐧𝐤 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Sunlight streamed through the window as you stood behind the shop counter. It was a bright, clear day, and the possibilities that a new day could bring excited you.

The perfume of freshly bloomed buds and bouquets filled your senses, each petal of the flowers that surrounded you just as pretty as the last. Walking into the place you built from the ground up since botany had run in your blood for generations. The love for floristry, specifically, had been passed down from your mother, then her mother before her, and her mother before her.

As a child, with their guidance, you grew up with such kindness and compassion for all flora and fauna, and you were an avid daydreamer.

Your daydreams of fairy tales, of wonder and love through the petals and veins of the ages, was how you came to affectionately name your haven and shop Fantasy Floristry.

Lanterns softly lit the way between the rows of bouquets and arrangements in the shadier corners of your store, and the walls, which were devoid of shelves with bouquets, were covered with pencil drawings of fantasy creatures and characters from many Disney movies – all signed by a local artist. That of which, was you.

It was a slow morning, customers sparse and fairly few between. Which, in itself, was never unusual, and afforded you the opportunity to potter about. Each bud you passed had a loving caress and gentle touch before they were spritzed with a soft spray of water, and you hummed along to the music playing over the speakers, a classic, timeless Disney tune.

You smiled as you looked upon the shelves fit to burst with blooms – each bunch set to a theme of a movie. Red and yellow matched with a brown ribbon for Simba and his mane, black and white with a red ribbon for Patch and his collar, and your most popular theme, one for Rapunzel; purple and yellow, with a gold ribbon to tie it in.

The chime of the doorbell sounded at the front of the store, and you looked up just in time to see your best friend and employee walk in, steaming to-go cups in hand. “Late again,” you scolded, and she smiled sheepishly.

“I brought us coffees to make up for it, darling,” Wanda simpered, holding out one of the coffees and a small brown bag. “And I bought you a bagel. Don’t say I never do anything for you.”

You rolled your eyes and took the coffee. “Thanks, Wands.”

“I’ll be out back,” Wanda called as she strode to the cool room. “See you later!”

Things progressed as usual after that – customers came and went with bright smiles as they left with small or big bouquets.

You were behind the counter working away on the store’s social media when the bell chimed loudly, followed by two sets of heavy footfalls and low voices. “She’s off with Ma, you know that, punk,” one of them said, almost as though they were exasperated. “It’ll be nice for them to come back to something, don’t you think?”

“Alright, alright,” the other voice replied placatingly. The door closed behind the newcomers with another chime, and their boots thumped quietly over the tiled floor. “Which do you think- Oh, wow. They’re beautiful.”

You looked up from your phone just in time to see two men approaching, only they had stopped at the Rapunzel and Simba bouquets, the blond one of the two pointing at the purple roses and yellow lilies. His other hand… was holding the other’s – interlocked so their tattoos aligned, and a wedding band shone brightly on his ring finger.

They were beautiful – far more so than any bouquet you could imagine or conjure. The blond was broad and lithe, his long hair swept back and beard neatly trimmed. A black plaid shirt covered his frame, and the top two buttons were undone, revealing coloured ink creeping up his collarbones. A bright, intricate yellow sunflower was tattooed along the contours of his neck, from the back to the front of the pale skin.

It seemed to match the other man’s, who, in place of a sunflower, had a bunch of purple daisies arranged in a loosely assembled heart. His hair was dark and long, down to the top of his shoulders, and he was bigger, broader than the blond man, though they stood at the same height. His skin was covered in ink – visible under the rolled up sleeves and open collar of his navy henley.

“Oh, lord,” you whispered, blinking rapidly to try and discern if you were dreaming.

You were, in fact, not dreaming.

The dark-haired man looked up at the counter and sent you a charming grin, pointing at the flowers himself. “Did you do these?”

Don’t make a fool of yourself, you chastised silently. “Yeah, they–yeah, I did them,” you stammered in reply.

“They’re stunning,” the blond offered, awestruck. “You’ve done an amazing job, doll.”

The two men walked to the counter, hands still interlocked as they neared, and you gulped – they were married, keep it together.

“I’m Steve,” the blond said happily, holding his hand out to shake, which you accepted politely, with an added bonus of being able to look at his tattoos. “And this is my husband, Bucky.” He pointed at the dark-haired man who also offered his hand, only he brought it to his lips and kissed your knuckles – just like a prince would. Your stomach and heart swooped at the gesture when Steve continued, “We own the tattoo shop next door.”

“Oh!” you chirped, immediately cringing internally. You offered your name, then, “I’ve seen the art in the windows, and it’s all so beautiful. Have you been here long? I know I’ve only recently set up shop, but business has been so busy I haven’t had a chance to come and say hello.”

Bucky grinned. “Too long, we would say,” he chuckled and glanced at Steve. “We saw you set up shop back when you moved in, and I have to say, we were very intrigued.” Both men looked around your store before their focus was back on you. “It’s a beautiful set up, nice ‘n cosy.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, shy but proud.

Steve smirked and nodded to the display of Rapunzel flowers. “What would a professional recommend for two hovering mother hens–just to remind them that we love ‘em.”

“Oh, that is so sweet,” you rushed before you could clamp your jaw shut, and Bucky snorted. “What? What’s so wrong with that?”

“Nothing,” Bucky rushed, still grinning. “It’s just–if you met them, you wouldn’t be saying that.”

A loud smack sounded as Steve slapped Bucky’s shoulder and shoved him away. “Stop being such an ungrateful son, honey,” he teased as Bucky rolled his eyes.

“Anyway,” you said haltingly, making your way around the counter. More to yourself, you mumbled, “You can do this, it’s fine, they’re just handsome men, keep it together.”

Coming to a stop at the far corner, you stopped and watched both of them as they bickered, much like an old married couple, “You know Ma would like that more. She likes teddies and shit-” Bucky emphasised, but Steve raised a brow.

“You’re telling me that you want to shell out for a damn bear–well, aren’t you son of the year,” Steve teased, staring at the shelf full of small, soft stuffies. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt.”

“Oh, now he agrees with me-” Bucky was cut off by Steve’s hand, who covered his mouth and held his thumb under his chin to keep his mouth shut. The display made your lips part in surprise, though it went unnoticed. Bucky’s brows furrowed, and it looked as though he was pouting. You made out a muffled but determined huff of, “Lemme go.”

“Do as you’re told then, boy,” Steve whispered harshly.

Internally, you were screaming at the show of intimacy – albeit restrained, and you couldn’t help the shiver that crawled up your spine at the sound of Steve’s command. You shook your head and cleared your throat to get their attention.

Both of their gazes snapped towards you as though they had forgotten where they were. “D-Do you still want–want help?” you stuttered.

“Yes, please, doll,” Steve said happily, and he wandered over. Bucky followed soon after and rested his chin on Steve’s shoulder, wrapping his arms from behind – the creak of leather made you look down to see Bucky on his toes to have the slight height advantage.

You realised a second too late that you were still staring at them because they chuckled and winked at you when you glanced back up at their faces.

A sudden shyness blanketed your mind at their undivided attention, but you pushed through the murky waters of confused intrigue and desire – the latter a shock to your system. “So, we have these, especially for motherly bouquets,” you explained, pointing at the purple, pink, and yellow hues of petals. “Otherwise…”

The tour of the shop was an eventful encounter. Both men were enraptured and entranced by the beauty of the flowers, and each compliment to any arrangement made your heart soar with pride. It was only when you made it back to the Disney themed arrangements did Steve’s eyes light up.

“Mom would love these,” he breathed, gently brushing the petals of a yellow lily before doing the same to a purple rose. “She loves this movie. It’s a job to convince her to watch anything else.”

You giggled and nodded in agreement. “I have to say it’s one of my favourites, too. So beautiful.”

“Yeah,” Bucky said suddenly, and you looked at him. He was already staring at you. “Really beautiful.”

The humming of Ilene Woods came over the speaker at that moment: “So this is love, so this is what makes life divine.” Steve nodded in agreement and looked at you with a fond smile.

It was surreal, and it was all you could do to hold in a squeak of shock. On autopilot, while you recovered from such an insinuation, you blurted quickly, “I saw the tattoos on your necks. What do they mean? They’re so beautiful, and I adore them.”

“Oh, these?” Bucky pointed at his and then Steve’s, the flower tattoos bright in the sunlight from the window. “My Ma loves purple daisies, loved ‘em since she was young. I always bring her some each time I visit, and since she and Steve’s Mom are best friends, it’s only natural that this punk has to get Sarah some of her own. Don’t want him lookin’ like the bad son, after all.”

Steve shoved Bucky off and sighed heavily. “Yeah, shut it, jerk.” He rubbed at the tattoo, smiling absently. “Mom loves sunflowers. Dad used to get her a bunch every Friday night.”

You smiled softly at his words, feeling the pain of them. “That’s beautiful, Steve.” Bucky’s hand found Steve’s, and you saw him squeeze once. “Would you like two Rapunzel bouquets, then? I can add a sunflower and a daisy to each at no charge–I want to make your mothers smile. They deserve it.”

“Sweetheart, we can’t ask you to do that,” Bucky interjected. Steve hummed an ascension as you grabbed a bouquet. “Seriously. Your arrangements are stunning. We can’t ask for anymore.”

“You’re not asking,” you whispered quietly, looking at the bouquet in your arms. The beat of your heart thundered as you wondered if what you were about to say would spook them off, but their presence had flourished something inside of you – a boisterous and courageous thing. “I am offering, and I want those who leave my shop to be happy, to smile. If I can do that for your mothers too? You bet I will.”

You turned your back and walked towards the counter, entirely missing the look Bucky and Steve shared – one of adoration and affection.

The bouquet sat proudly on the counter as you turned to grab the next one, when you gasped in shock. Bucky had grabbed the second one, while Steve had picked up one of the largest and most expensive arrangements.

“Oh, Steve! Bucky, wait, I-”

“Nope,” Bucky cut in, and he placed the Rapunzel bouquet down next to the other one. Then he turned to Steve to help him lift the bigger arrangement onto the counter. “How about this–would you make us something for our shop? We want something on the front desk. This big one,” he pointed to the elaborate piece, “is going in our home–away from Alpine.”

“Alpine?” you quizzed. Steve nodded, and Bucky pulled out his phone before turning the screen to you – a photo of a fluffy white cat with piercing blue eyes as his lock screen. “They are beautiful!”

“She’s an attention whore, but she’s our baby,” Bucky said fondly, a small smile on his lips. He looked up at you and that smile morphed into a grin. “Now, how ‘bout it, sweetheart?”

You blinked. “Sorry?”

“The arrangement for our shop, doll,” Steve answered, and you started – how had you forgotten that?

“Right!” you rushed, flustered. They watched you, but their gazes were gentle, almost coaxing. “Sure–I, uh, I can do that for sure. When do you need it by?” Your trusty paper pad and pen felt comforting in your hands, and you looked between them expectantly.

They shared a look, and then Steve spoke up, “Are you busy now, honey?”

Mentally, you catalogued the tasks for the day. There were no urgent appointments to meet nor any commissions, and Wanda was around… “No, I am–I am free, today, that is.” You cursed the softness of your voice. They’d see your shyness, your absurd ability to become flustered with the slightest push.

Bucky grinned and then winked. “Perfect, why don’t we take you to the shop? See how quick our clever girl can whip something up.”

By heaven and earth, how you were unprepared for such a statement. Your mouth opened and closed as the words settled in the cogs of your brain, jamming them with the assurance and praise.

“That’s a good idea, doll. You can get a sense for the colours and contrasts.” Steve turned to you more fully. “We can walk you back–do you have someone to watch the store…?”

“Yeah–I, there’s-” You squeaked, gesturing over your shoulder. “I’ll just- Um, go get her.”

The back cooler room couldn’t have been further away at that moment. You rushed towards it, arm outstretched when you heard Steve whisper behind you, “She’s so sweet, don’t you think?”

“She is,” Bucky agreed easily. The words made your heart thump, and you didn’t linger, pushing open the door to the blast of the cool back room air.

“There you are-” Wanda greeted, but she fell short.

You shut the door and rested against it, holding a hand over your hammering heart.

“What the–? Are you alright?” she hurriedly asked, her face pulled taut and brows furrowed. “You look like you’ve… Wait, are you-”

“I need you to watch the shop for me,” you barrelled, breathing deeply in an effort to calm your racing heart. “Please–just look.” The door creaked open to reveal a slither of the front counter where Bucky and Steve stood, conversing and looking around the store. “They want me to make a–a bouquet for their shop, the tattoo–?”

“Oh, babe,” Wanda whispered, pushing the door closed gently. There was an impish smile curling her lips. “Go on, I’ve got this. If you don’t come back tonight, I’ll close up.”

“What do you mean not come back–?” You stared at her, unable to comprehend her secret, double meaning.

“Don’t you worry, sweet summer child,” she said, winking. “I’ll see you later.”

Before you could protest or question why everyone kept winking at you, Wanda had undone the bow of your apron, whisked it off of your uniform, and forced you out the door ahead of her.

“There she is!” Bucky called, his signature grin curling his lips. “Are you set to go?”

Wanda stood beside you, her hand on your shoulder, and she surreptitiously pushed you closer to the counter. She had that same coy smirk on her lips. Both Bucky and Steve waved and greeted her. “Just take care of my girl–she’s going to make you the best arrangement,” Wanda said.

“We will,” Steve assured, and he pulled out his wallet. “I’ll pay for these now, ladies.”

After completing the transaction for the two bouquets and singular larger arrangement, Wanda’s hand found your back, and she forced you forward, closer to Bucky. “See you three later.”

Steve saluted and walked forward, and you followed, your footsteps quick compared to the heavy boot falls of your companions. As you walked behind Steve, Bucky pointed up to a canvas on the wall – a scene painted straight from the movie Tangled, the beautiful soft hues of yellow and gold of the lanterns in the sky. “Who did this?”

“A local artist,” you whispered, glancing between the canvas and Bucky. “She sells her work here–I wanted to help an old friend.”

Bucky stepped closer to the canvas, and by doing so, he stood right next to you. The smell of his cologne and close proximity made your heart skip a beat – even his voice sounded deeper this close. “Whoever she is, she’s very talented. Pass that on for us, yeah?”

“Okay,” you squeaked, and you cleared your throat. “Yeah, I- I will pass that on for you. She would appreciate it.”

“I would be tempted to hire her,” Steve said quietly, voice awestruck. “Her colour work and ability to capture the moment is beautiful. She has a gift.”

Do not faint, you repeated in a mantra.

“Alright, c’mon,” Bucky urged. “Let’s take our Petal to the shop, or we’ll never leave.”

“Petal?” you whispered, and Bucky rested his hand on your lower back, gently encouraging you forward.

“Yeah, that’s you,” he said softly. “Precious and pretty–jus’ like a petal of a flower.”

The outside air was a reprieve from the stifling tension of your shop, and Steve turned around and looked at you, then Bucky, and he slowed to walk beside you – opposite to Bucky. You were walking between them, and could not calm your heart’s thunderous beat.

It was a short walk, but nonetheless, it left an impression. People had hastened to move out of your way as you walked between the two men, both brooding and you had guessed intimidating – if the shocked and double-takes of all passers by were anything to go by.

A dark brick building came into view – black awnings and dark accents made it feel rustic, paired with the striking art on the windows of a star and a set of wings set just below the artistic calligraphy of Quartet’s Tattoo.

“Here we are,” Steve said, gesturing at the front door. “Come on in, Petal–Buck, babe, you picked a nice one. I love the way it sounds.”

“What?” you sputtered. “I-”

‘Yeah,” Bucky breathed, then slung an arm over your shoulder, pulling you close. His lips were suddenly on your temple, a soft kiss that left you reeling. “I agree.”

The door, artfully carved with more stars and in place of wings were skulls, opened with a creak to reveal a dark and moody waiting area. Wooden beams were visible over the ceiling where lights with black shades hung in increments, and designs were all over the walls, each as intricate as the last. Dark slats of wood lined the floor until they reached an open space towards the back of the shop where you guessed the booths were situated.

“Take a seat, sweetheart,” Bucky said, pointing to a black leather couch that seated three, a glass table in front of it. “Do you want a drink–?”

“Water, please,” you replied, sitting down. You suspected you’d need something stronger to dull the nerves, but you refrained from mentioning that aloud. “This is beautiful.”

Art was everywhere, in every nook and cranny. You could see four booths, and managed a peak at the names lining the walls – Steve, ‘Cap’; Bucky, ‘Sarge’; Nat, ‘Widow’; Sam, ‘Falcon’.

“Thanks, doll,” Steve said happily, and he took the seat opposite you. “It’s our pride and joy.”

Bucky appeared with a glass of water and sat on the other end of the couch, tucking his leg up so he could face you. It was silent for a moment as you took the space in. Choices flooded your mind the more you stared around – reds and burgundies to compliment the dark stained wood, but then, whites and yellows would contrast against the deep, rich hues of the mahogany.

You blinked and looked back at Bucky and Steve, only they were already watching you. “Oh, I’m sorry,” you breathed, smiling nervously as you placed the glass of water on a coaster on the table. “I- I was just looking so I could, um, get a feel for the arrangement for you.”

“Oh yeah? And what are you thinking?” Bucky asked, his tone teasing.

Frowning slightly, deep in thought, you looked around the shop once more before finally settling on the reception desk.

The wood was stained dark, like the rest of the shop, but the accents of lightened, bleached knots and ridges caught your attention. Whites and yellows would bring that to light, and then, a fiery arrangement for the glass coffee table… “Uh- Well, I have two ideas,” you began.

Both Bucky and Steve raised their brows, and placed their drinks on the table. Steve leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees and letting his hands fall between his thighs. Bucky, back still against the arm of the couch, leaned against it and put a heavily tattooed arm over the back of it.

“Let’s hear it then,” Bucky said, his grey eyes bright with curiosity. “What’s our clever girl imagined?”

“Let her talk, Buck,” Steve chastised.

You took a deep breath and fought against the urge to run and hide – it was strange to feel so safe and attended to by these two strangers, but they had done nothing to warrant suspicion, at least, not that you had thought.

“Well,” you began, fidgeting in your seat as you nodded to the reception desk. “I thought a lighter arrangement would work. See how the wood is stained dark, but there are lighter streaks and knots?” You pointed at the spots you could see from your vantage point. “Whites and yellows would soften the–I think saturation is the right word?”

There was an affirming hum from one of them, and you continued. “Then it would make the entry feel lighter, as the room feels broody–it isn’t a bad thing,” you rushed to assure, looking at the two men with wide eyes. “The space is beautiful, and I love it–just, some softness might brighten it a bit.”

“Huh, you’re right, doll,” Steve considered, his hand now rubbing his chin as he stared at the desk. “I think we’d do better–maybe attract more clients. What do you think, babe?”

“It would work well, yeah,” Bucky agreed.

He shifted closer, almost imperceptibly, but your keen, anxious senses saw it immediately. What frightened you more was the fact you were not scared of it. The thought of him being close made your body heat up from some depth that had been untouched. They were married, you intoned. They were married to one another, no less.

“What would be even better, though,” Bucky continued, his tone impish. “Is if you told us the second idea.”

“Oranges and reds–fiery colours to bring attention to the mahogany wood and dark stain,” you said in one breath. Nerves had started to make your stomach roil and flutter with butterflies. As you stared at your hands while breathing shallowly, a tattooed hand rested over your fingers, effectively stopping your bad habit of picking at the skin. “I-”

“It’s alright, sweetheart,” Bucky said quietly, squeezing your hands. “You’re alright. It’s cute that you're so shy, but trust us, you’re okay. If we are comin’ on too strong for you, we will stop.”

The world stopped. Time froze, your place in the expansive universe suddenly too much to comprehend. “Coming on too strong–?” you asked hoarsely, unable to take in the words. “Are you- You two are flirting with me?”

There was a chuckle from the seat across from you, and you looked at Steve sharply. A bright smile was on his face, one of which conveyed affection, not patronisation. “Yeah, we are, doll. Do you want us to stop?”

You blinked, looked at Bucky, then back to Steve. “But you’re married!”

“We are, happily so,” Bucky said, and he took his hand away. You suddenly missed the warmth of it. “And we know what we want. We were in your shop today for more than just flowers, sweetheart. I wasn’t lying when I said we’ve been curious–a pretty Petal like you, clever and downright beautiful, both generous and kind… Well, we were intrigued.”

The words flushed your system and left you hollow with shock, akin to an overwhelming giddiness. “I don’t understand,” you breathed, staring at Bucky. “You want- What do you want?”

“We want to take you on a date. If you are interested, and want to,” Bucky offered gently. “You can say no, and we won’t think any different of you, don’t you worry ‘bout that. Like hell would we skip on your skills as a florist, and we’d still be friends. If you wanted to be, of course.”

“A date?”

“A date,” Steve affirmed. “We know polyamorous relationships aren’t everyone’s cup of tea-”

Bucky snorted a laugh and shook his head. “You sound ridiculous saying that, Stevie.”

“Shut up, punk,” Steve sighed. Then he looked at you again. “As I was saying, yes, it’s not everyone’s favourite. We just- We became smitten with you, doll. So, if you would be interested, we’d like to take you on a date.”

“Oh.”

The world, still tilted on its axis, started spinning once more, taking your insides with it as it moved. You blinked rapidly, and your hands curled and relaxed on your knees.

Truly, the offer didn’t scare you, per se. It was the reality shaking thought that not one, but two men found you intriguing enough that they wanted to take you out on a date–a traditional date.

A truly old fashioned notion, you thought.

Their presence seemed to bring out your reckless, wild side, and you took a deep breath. They said they would still care for you as a friend, even if you said no, and it comforted your heart and screaming, anxious mind. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Bucky asked, brow raised. “Do you want some time-”

“I’ll go on a date with you two,” you interrupted before you could stop yourself. “I would love that.”

Bucky beamed at you while Steve rose from his seat to lean down and kiss the crown of your head. “Perfect, doll. Why don’t you do both of your ideas, and we can pick ‘em up when you’re done?”

Feeling emboldened, you grinned up at Steve and then at Bucky. “I will have them done in a few hours. Walk me back?”

“You heard the lady,” Bucky murmured, his eyes slightly wide at your eagerness. “Someone’s excited to get to work.”

“Well, you have me motivated,” you explained with a shrug and a shy smile. “I won’t let you two down.”

Steve shook his head and helped you up before leading you to the door. “You could never let us down, honey–remember that.”

The two of them walked you back to your shop, opening and holding the door for you. “Such gentlemen,” you teased quietly. They only winked.

“There you are,” Wanda called happily as she rounded the counter to greet you. “Have you organised a theme?”

“Two,” you supplied, chipper. Wanda’s brows raised at your enthusiasm. “I’m going to be doing a light arrangement and a fiery toned one, too. It’ll set the colours off nicely, I think.”

Wanda nodded and grabbed your hand. “You’re the expert,” she said, leading you towards the cooler room. “See you boys later!”

“No, wait,” you rushed, looking back at Steve and Bucky as you pulled away from Wanda’s grip. “Can–can I have your number? So I can text you when they’re done–?”

The smiles on their faces could have made the toughest rose bloom, you swore. Once their numbers were in your phone, they walked from the store, arrangements in hand for their mothers.

As you worked on the bouquets while Wanda minded the store, you thought long and hard about their proposition. They were grown men. It was not like you were dealing with the decisions and minds of growing boys – marriage was a big deal, and opening it to a stranger was even more risky. Did they truly want to risk all of what they had built?

Thoughts spiralled, and your mind whirled with all the possibilities – rational thought long cast out of the equation. Until, “You keep pulling a face like that, babe, and it’ll get stuck.”

You looked up to see Wanda standing in the doorway, hair tied up and a soft, kind smile on her face. Her eyes were bright, glinting in the way that told you she knew something was amiss. “What’s got you all tied up, love?”

The stem of the rose was smooth against your fingers, and you considered the thorns that adorned it – helpfully comparing it to your current predicament. “I just, I don’t know. It seems so sudden–doesn’t it? Them just waltzing in here–”

“Hold on.” Wanda glanced back to the store and then stepped into the room, her arms crossed over her chest. “You will not second guess this. I have seen those two make heart eyes at you for the longest time.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, astonished.

“I meant what I said,” Wanda said a little too easily, and she shrugged. “Have you not seen how those puppies look for you as they walk by the store window almost every single day?”

Your mouth parted in shock. Had they? “No…”

Wanda shook her head slowly, a slow smile pulling the corner of her lips up. It wasn’t a condescending expression, but rather, one of an older sister who cared beyond words for the one they loved. “Babe, you… You have to give this a shot. Give them a chance. I do not know them well, but I know they are kind, and gentle–gentle giants, if you will.”

A strong feeling of ease settled in your gut and over your mind, cancelling out the cacophony of nerves that screamed and pitched their fits. If Wanda, the one you trusted the most, could see something, maybe, just maybe, it would be worth it.

You looked at the bouquets before you, one of angelic and pure white to sunny, happy yellow; the other bright, cheerful orange and fiery, passionate red. It was symbolistic of the clash in your mind; resemblances to the possible opportunities. White for the softness of your soul, and reds to Bucky and Steve’s desire.

“Alright,” you said aloud, voice firm and unwavering. “I’ll do it. I- I want this.”

Wanda grinned, a blindingly prideful smile. “‘Atta girl. Now, get to it!”

A few hours later, as the sun had started to begin its descent, you stood in the back room of your shop filled with awe. The bouquets had turned out perfect – each petal and leaf in place. You snapped a few photos with your phone and then sent a text to Bucky’s number, asking if they would come around after they closed up.

Your ringtone made you jump in place, and Bucky’s name flashed across the screen.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Bucky greeted, the low hum of a tattoo machine in the background with the lull of quiet music. “Did you finish the flowers?”

“Yeah, I- I did, do you think you could–?”

There was a huff of breath, a chuckle, and then a sudden yell of “Babe!” before another voice came through the speaker.

“We’ll be round in about twenty minutes–that okay, doll?” Steve asked.

“That’s perfect,” you replied, looking at the clock. “I’ll be here–I’ll close up, so just knock when you get here.”

“Alright, see you soon.” The line clicked, and you put your phone back in your pocket.

Closing the shop went quickly, and after you had said goodnight to Wanda, you were on your own in the office, waiting as the minutes went by until you heard a knock on the store’s door. “Coming!”

Steve and Bucky were waiting on the sidewalk, huddled in coats as they watched you walk to the door. “Hey, come in, come in,” you rushed, stepping aside. “Thank you for coming and picking them up so late.”

“It’s nothin’, sweetheart,” Bucky yawned. “If we’re honest–we wanted to see you before we headed home.”

You smiled and looked at the floor, unable to look him in the eye after such sincerity. There was suddenly a hand gripping your chin gently, and you automatically moved in tandem with it until you were staring into Steve’s handsome face. “That we did.”

Blinking rapidly, you pulled back with a shaky laugh. “Did you guys have a good rest of your day?”

“Yeah,” Steve answered, looking around happily. “Normal shit with walk-ins and then we got started on a back piece. Poor bastard had to tap out.”

“We warned him.” Bucky shrugged. “Not like the poor fool didn’t know what he was gettin’ into. Anyway–how about those flowers?”

You led the two of them to the counter, where you heard two sharp intakes of breath as the arrangements came into view. They were extraordinary, and you had gone above and beyond for them – using flowers and buds that were yet to bloom to fill the spaces, each and every one placed with care and consideration. All of the colours complimented; a true masterpiece.

“Holy shit,” Steve gasped, and Bucky rushed forward to look at the bundles closer. “Petal– look at them!”

“You are amazing,” Bucky said quietly, his fingers brushing the petals of a white rose. “Absolutely fuckin’ amazing, look at this. You did this.”

“Oh, my gosh,” you whispered, hiding behind your hands. “It’s just two bouquets-”

Steve looked at you, aghast. “No.”

Both of them stepped towards you, and the next thing you knew, you were between them, squished to their chests and their arms around you. “Don’t you dare discount yourself, sweetheart,” Bucky murmured. “Be proud of yourself–it’s not a bad thing to be proud of what you create. And what you created is fuckin’ stunning.”

Many emotions swirled through your mind until you sniffled, pushing back against the burn of tears in your eyes. “O-Okay, thank you,” you whispered. Steve pulled away from the embrace to look at the flowers again, his face slack with awe, and Bucky held you tighter to his chest.

You felt a kiss at your temple suddenly. “Don’t you listen to those voices, alright? We’re louder and you’re gonna learn to love what you do, no matter what.” Unable to answer, you just nodded jerkily, wiping your eyes. Bucky’s thumb brushed your cheek, and he smiled softly as he pulled back.

“Why don’t we get dinner?” Steve asked suddenly, and you looked at him. “This isn’t our date, Petal, don’t you worry. Let’s just get dinner. How do you get home–drive, walk?”

“I walk-” You tried, but Steve shook his head.

“Not anymore, can’t have our Petal walking home on your own, okay?”

Ordinarily, you would have grimaced and grumbled at the commanding nature of such a statement, but somehow, this didn’t feel out of place. They cared, they just wanted you safe, you reasoned. “Okay, but Wanda normally walks with me, so–”

“That’s fine, we’ve got you both,” Bucky said simply, as though giving you both a lift was, in fact, not a big deal.

“If you’re sure,” you said quietly, and Bucky squeezed your shoulder.

“Let’s go, I’m starved,” Steve said loudly, almost obnoxiously. Bucky rolled his eyes and grumbled under his breath. “Don’t start with me, babe. You know how I get when I’m hungry.”

Bucky looked at you. “Yeah, he becomes more of a pain in my ass.”

“Literally,” Steve chortled, and you gasped in quiet shock as Bucky hit Steve on the shoulder.

“We are in polite company, you fucker!” Bucky shoved Steve, and the two of them bickered as they arranged the flowers in their arms to better carry them out of the store.

Finally, Bucky huffed and stuck his tongue out at Steve. “Let’s get these in the shop, then we can go to that diner.”

The three of you wandered out of your store, bouquets in hand, and Bucky took them into the shop. “How about here?” he wondered aloud, placing the red bouquet on the table, and adjusting it slightly.

You strode forward and adjusted it again, turning the vases and humming to yourself as you righted it. When you were satisfied, you stepped back and nodded. “How ‘bout that?”

Steve hummed approvingly as he placed the white arrangement on the reception desk – perfectly, you may add. Bucky looked between you and the flowers once, twice, then, “You’re decorating from now on, sweetheart.”

“If you say so.”

“We know so.” Steve’s hand was warm on your shoulder, and you briefly glanced down at the intricate designs that covered the back of his hand, the swirls stopping at the gold wedding and engagement bands. He flexed his hand and raised a brow. “What is it, doll?”

You considered your answer, and then ploughed on. “How long have you been married?”

“Feels like our whole lives at this point,” Bucky answered before Steve could open his mouth. “I’ve been with this punk since, what–college? Before that, even.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Steve said. “We’ve been partners for a lifetime, and all those before-”

“Don’t go gettin’ all poetic on me, honey,” Bucky hushed, and he kissed Steve on the lips, then the cheek. “You said you were starved.”

“Can’t I be soft on my love?”

Bucky laughed and shook his head. “You’re a punk–c’mon, Petal, let’s go.” He grabbed your hand and pulled you along – it was hard to ignore how warm his hand was or how your hand fit so perfectly in his. “And, just so you know, we’ve been married for nearly a decade now.”

“Wow,” you breathed, impressed. Neither gave the impression of being much older than yourself, but you supposed they were youthful in attitude, and that was one thing they had in abundance.

“So, what about that old diner on the corner–?”

“Yes!” you cried, brightening at the mention of your favourite spot to eat. “I love it there.”

Steve came up behind you and took hold of your other hand. “Alright, that’s settled then–off we go.”

They led you to a sleek, luxurious looking car parked a few feet from Quartet’s Tattoo. Bucky opened the back door for you, and you slipped into the leather seats with an awestruck gasp. The interior was immaculate and, for lack of a better word, rich. “Whoa–”

“We figured rather than letting that money sit and collect dust, we thought we should spend some of it,” Steve explained as he turned the ignition, and all the screens along the dash lit up. “Bucky spent more on his bike.”

You quickly looked at Bucky, who grinned proudly. “You have a bike?”

“Sure do, sweetheart. I’ll take you out one day,” he promised with another wink.

Steve sighed. “That’s enough, you. Don’t want her passing out before dinner, at least.”

Bucky snorted a laugh, and Steve backed the car up before you were on your way to the diner. For dinner, with the two men that had asked you out on a date. The two married men. Wow, you thought to yourself.

There was a slither of hesitance, but it was nothing next to the bounding hope of your heartbeat. For too long had you been shy and hesitant to take life by the reins, to take control and make something for yourself – your shop being the only proof that you could indeed take risks.

That would end now, you intoned, promising yourself. Maybe this would be okay, maybe it would work.

You could only try.

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

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soapskneebrace · 1 year

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Pairing: John Price x f!Reader Rating: General audiences Word Count: 3.9k Warnings: none Author's Notes: LIKE CHILEAN MINERS (iykyk). I want to express a tidal wave of thanks to everyone for waiting so, so patiently for this chapter. Life got hard and is remaining so, but the kindness I have received has been so incredibly comforting. Please enjoy the longest chapter of Neighbors I have written to date. Also a HUGE shoutout to Lev @yeyinde as ALWAYS for her advice, the pub is a direct result of her guidance. MASTERLIST Now on Ao3!

It’s a cold and windy morning that, as you hover just a little closer to his warmth, you ask him about decent places to eat nearby.

“Fancy pub food?” he asks in response, and it takes you a moment to process what he’s said. Today he’s in a thick, soft-looking knit sweater, which makes it infinitely difficult not to imagine huddling up against him.

You think he’d let you. You’re not sure how you know this. Maybe it’s the way he positions himself next to you, standing at an angle toward you just slight enough to be casual, but open enough to be purposeful. Maybe it’s the way he looks at you, like he’s trying to warm you up with his eyes alone—he asked you once why you always bundled up to be outside, and you told him you were just sensitive to the cold.

Since then, you’ve often caught him checking on you, surreptitiously. Simple once-overs that you think are searching for evidence of discomfort.

What would he do, you wonder, if he found any? Would he send you inside, as he had the first morning?

Part of you thinks that would be better. It would give you an out, open up a path diverting away from whatever this thing is that hangs in the air between you and John Price, this thing that you pass back and forth between the pages of borrowed books.

It’s a thing that breathes with the both of you into the early morning, and you don’t know how to look at it. You don’t understand its shape. It’s a thing you wish you wanted to walk away from.

“Who doesn’t?” you reply, sipping at the cold dregs in your cup.

“How ‘bout tonight, then?” John says, and you swallow a little too quickly.

“W-what about tonight?”

He smiles at you, as if he’s thrown you off on purpose. “Dinner, on me.”

You blink several times. “You—I—I mean—really?”

He shrugs, easy and casual as you wish you could be. “Could show you what’s best on the menu. And I wouldn’t mind having dinner with someone besides m’self.”

You hesitate, because your gut reaction is to say yes, John, I’d like nothing more, and that is not a reaction you want to satisfy. These past several mornings have been nice—nicer than you could have expected. You’ve stopped interrogating yourself as to why you keep bothering, because each time his smile greets you as you step outside is answer enough. The routine has been easy to settle into, even comforting.

You need to protect that comfort, you know, even from the allure of something more.

John does not press for an answer, seeming content to savor the last few inhales of his cigar. You wonder if he’s guessed at your inner conflict, wonder if the quiet he’s giving you is an intentional moment to sort yourself out.

He never presses for anything, ever.

“I suppose I could meet you after work,” you finally say.

The smile that breaks across his face nearly knocks you off your feet. You’re relieved when he says, “Sounds good to me,” because if he’d said it’s a date you think you might have dissolved on the spot.

John texts you the pub’s address, and it’s close enough to walk to. You arrive that evening, in your usual two coats plus a knitted hat, to find that the place exceeds a set of expectations you didn’t know you had. The patio seating is closed in with a white picket fence and hung with strings of fairy lights, and it flanks a red brick building with a large, friendly lantern hanging over the door.

You might have expected something a little grubbier, if you’d given the place any more thought beyond this is John’s pub and he’s having me for dinner here.

Warm air envelops you as you step inside, and your gaze is drawn as if by a magnet to a table further in—John has already seen you, and beckons you over with a wave.

He’s still in the knit sweater, and his fleece jacket is hanging on the back of the seat across from him. He stands as you approach, rounds the table, and pulls that chair out for you when you join him.

You don’t know why the chivalry makes you falter, makes you want to turn and sprint all the way back home. All you know, as you sit down, is that you can practically feel the aura of his presence behind you as he helps push your chair in, can feel it move as he leaves your side to return to his seat. You feel yourself gravitate into it, leaning a little over the table as if trying to keep it close.

“This place is tidy,” you say earnestly, trying for that morning normalcy, as you begin to shuck your layers.

“It’s alright,” he agrees. He’s smiling gently, the cool blue of his eyes vivid in the contrast of warm lamplight.

“Do you—” and then you can’t help but giggle, because it’s such a cliche question “—do you come here often?”

He grins, huffs that little laugh. “Too often,” he says as he sits back in his chair, putting a hand on his stomach. “It’ll start showing soon, probably.”

You look at the flat of his stomach, the broad paw of his hand. Remember the trim waist of that very first morning. “You know, somehow I doubt that.”

He meets you eyes, laughs again, and it warms you to the bone.

Seeing him like this, at night, is an unknown quantity. The John you know how to interact with exists on his front doorstep, painted in the cool palette of sunrise, cold air, cigar smoke. This tableau, composed upon the table between you, might as well turn him into another man entirely. Who is this John, awash in warm light, nearly twelve hours older than the man you spoke to this morning? Who are you, now, seeing him after work and before the end of the night?

You feel a little untethered. Your feet still itch for the door, for the measured, predictable floorboards of your own home.

Maybe John notices, because he takes a menu from the stack of two at the end of the table and offers it to you with a reassuring lift of his brows. “Hungry?”

That question, at least, has an easy answer. You smile a little. “Starving.”

His advice turns out to be necessary—everything looks good, and you both end up ordering too much food. Over a spread of fresh, hot chips, halloumi kebabs, and katsu chicken served liberally with curry sauce, John also has a bottle of scotch brought to the table.

“No, that’s too much!” you protest as the waitress sets the decanter down with two clean glasses. “John, really.”

He sets to pouring, his expression pleased, though you’re not sure what about. “Humor me, love. I don’t get to share very often.”

He hands you a glass, and lifts his own above the food. You acquiesce, and clink the rims.

“Do I take a shot or a sip?” you ask, bringing the glass up to your mouth.

“A sip,” says John, and his expression is genuinely distressed. “Please, don’t ever suggest shooting scotch again. That hurt to hear.”

You smirk, and take a slow drink. It hits your tongue with the prologue to a burn, rolling across your taste buds as the twinge fades and you close your eyes. The flavor opens like smoke exhaled into still air; you purse your lips a little and swirl it in your mouth; nutmeg, vanilla, and even a little apple expand across your palate. When it hits the back of your tongue, a short floral burst surprises you, and you swallow it down eagerly.

You find John watching you when you open your eyes.

“Where did you learn to drink like that?” he asks, and there is a new tone in his voice that you’ve never heard before.

It’s low. Resonant. Almost—purring. The look in his eyes, too, is different, the pale blue sharper somehow. Focused keenly, and with some unknown, honed intent, on you.

It pins you where you sit. John is looking at you. John is seeing you.

“Doesn’t everyone learn to drink at uni?” you reply, trying for airy and light. It doesn’t work. Your voice trembles, just a bit.

He’s still watching you, and you think he sees that. Recognizes, perhaps, a change in your expression, some telltale sign that he has shaken you. He looks away from you, takes a drink of his own scotch, and when his gaze returns the keen edge of it has softened. You breathe, and realize you hadn’t been.

You seek something comfortable, something you can measure and control. “How is Actium treating you, then?”

He smiles, and it’s a little rueful. “Octavian’s being a cunt.”

As talk of the most recent book he’s borrowed carries you into more comfortable territory, the two of you make your way through dinner, which is every bit as delicious as John had promised. The food is hearty, greasy in a way that isn’t too heavy, and pairs perfectly with John’s scotch, which you indulge in liberally.

When the alcohol has outpaced the food that is meant to offset it, you think back to what he’d said earlier, about not often getting to share.

“So am I the first person you’ve brought here?” you ask. “Or do you take every neighbor out to dinner?”

John lifts one dark brow, leans in with a tilt of his head. “Only the pretty ones.”

You give an unladylike snort and swirl a cut of chicken around in curry sauce. “You’re incorrigible, John, really.”

The smile he gives crinkles the laugh lines around his eyes, and you feel yourself want to melt at the sight. It is unfair how handsome he is, in that warm sweater, in that golden light, haloed softly in the haze of your verging intoxication.

“When will you believe me when I compliment you, hmm?” he asks, low and resonant in the depths of his chest.

You shoot the rest of your scotch in answer, stuff the chicken into your mouth, and proffer the empty glass.

John squints at your heresy, but obediently pours.

“I suppose your line of work isn’t really great for your social life, then,” you comment. “Always coming and going.”

“My calendar’s certainly empty,” John agrees. “Honestly, it’s been a while since I’ve sat down with someone like this. I suppose I’m out of practice.”

“You’re eating with a fork and knife and not your hands.” You grin. “I’d say that’s pretty good already.”

He smiles back. “Would that chase you off?”

You sip your scotch. “Not if you keep pouring.”

“And she complained when the bottle came out. What about you, then?”

“What ‘bout me?”

“How many blokes have you been to dinner with, lately?”

You scoff at that and wash your food down with a sip. “None. As if they’re throwin’ ‘emselves at me.”

John’s expression changes, and it’s slow grin that spreads across his face, a smile you have never seen on him before. It isn’t the sad smile he’s given you at times, melancholy and resigned; nor is it the one he gives when he sees you in the morning, warm and soft and friendly.

No, this one is—energized. Invigorated. As if someone has given him good news he hadn’t been expecting.

“They’ve got to be,” he says, and his tone is humorous. “You must have your pick of the lot. And none of them have struck your fancy?”

You press your hands to your too-warm face. “John, don’t tease me.”

“Seems I’ve got to count myself lucky tonight, then,” he continues, leaning his elbows on the table. “If you’re as choosy as all that.”

You give him a droll look, and swirl your drink around in your glass. “If you must know, I got out of a relationship not long ago.”

John’s brows lift, and you want to smack yourself for letting that little detail escape you. “Is that so?”

You drink. “That is so.”

“What kind of idiot would let you get away?”

“My head is already spinning, and you’re abusing that,” you protest.

“Sorry, love,” he says, clearly not sorry. “But now you’ve got me curious.”

You sit back in your chair, staring at your plate to avoid his gaze. “I’m afraid it’s not all that dramatic. It just…didn’t feel right. I guess he liked me more than I liked him. We would go out, and I would think, ‘I want to leave him and go home.’”

And you still felt guilty about it. You hadn’t liked him that much in the first place, when he’d asked you out—you’d just said yes, because it seemed like the right moment in your life for something like that to happen. When you’d ended it, your extended social network had scratched its collective head, because there truly hadn’t been any good reason.

You just weren’t happy.

“Suppose I didn’t give it enough of a chance,” you say, downing the last of your glass.

“Hey,” John says, soft and gentle. You look up to meet his eyes—the expression on his face is a mixture of sympathy and resolution. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Sure, John.”

“Love.” His brow creases, insistent. “You deserve something you want.”

You press your lips together tightly, and suddenly you’re struck again with that sensation from earlier, that feeling that John’s presence is a tangible aura, something that rolls and settles across your awareness like a physical touch. You realize you’ve been leaning into it again, drawn toward him like a comet into the snag of a planet’s gravity.

“I’m definitely drunk now,” you say, because the only other words that want to come out are an emphatic I want you.

John smiles. He doesn’t press the issue. “Will I be carrying you home, then?”

“Oh, John, really!” You give a scoff, surprised at the sudden humor. “You couldn’t carry me all that way.”

One dark brow lifts.

“No,” you say. “You’ll have to put me down. I’m not light.”

The smile remains.

You hold his gaze, suspicious, and finish the last of your glass. It does not take long to polish off the last of dinner, and when the two of you agree that the last chips have finally gotten too cold to eat, John pushes his seat back and stands.

“Done, then? I’ll settle the tab. Love, put that away.”

You sheepishly lower your half-lifted wallet back into your purse.

Accounts settled, you make it outside the pub, and then you have to lean against a wall as John watches you, amused. The world is swaying, its pendulum arcing near-horizontal at the amplitude of each swing.

“I just need a minute,” you whisper.

John does the worst thing he could possibly do—he gives you his back and kneels down, arms a little open. “Come on.”

“Come on? Come off it, John, really, you’ll drop me!” you exclaim.

He looks over his shoulder at you. “I won’t.”

You don’t know what convinces you to do it. Tomorrow, you’ll blame the many glasses of expensive scotch, but in the moment you know it’s the way the hanging lights limn his silhouette in gold. You know it’s the soft expression on his face that you are already too fond of. You know it’s the quiet confidence in his reassurance, and above all those things it’s the familiar comfort of his kind blue eyes.

“All right, John,” you say.

As you wrap your arms around his shoulders, John scoops your knees up into the bend of his arms, and you can add now the feeling of his strength to your mental registry of his body. He is broad against you, the width of him obliging your thighs to part farther than they have in a long, long time.

It brings a heat to your face that dwarfs the low simmer of your inebriation. When he lifts you, straightens up and hoists you a little on his back, like you weigh almost nothing, you are unable now to shove back and contain what he has inspired since that first morning.

“This feels nice,” you murmur, tucking your chin on his shoulder. The scotch has the reins of your tongue now. There is no stopping the words that come out. “I wondered if it would. This morning.”

John’s reply is low, humming in his throat as he begins the trek home. “This morning?”

You breathe. “You always look warm and soft. You’re so handsome every morning. Even the first. I wanted to touch you back then. I wanted you to hold me.”

He doesn’t say anything. Maybe he’s trying to focus on the walk back and not dropping you in the middle of it. He hoists you a little, cupping his hands beneath your knees, squeezing.

His silence prompts more of your honesty. “I don’t want to go to dinner with anyone else, John. Even if someone did ask. You’re the only one.”

“You’re drunk, love,” John says. You don’t recognize the tone of his voice, why it sounds…pleading.

Your face is very close to his, your chin pillowed in the fleece lining of his collar. You resolve fully to blame what you do next on the scotch, and touch the tips of your fingers to the coarse umber on his cheek.

His thumbs press into the divots beneath your kneecaps. John says your name, low and breathy. It must be the strain of carrying you that shows in his voice.

You lean in. You press your cheek against the bristles of his beard, inhale, take in the ever-present Maduro that saturates his skin. The friction is a million little pinpricks of sensation, and you think in that moment that if his beard doesn’t leave hot, welted scratches on your face, you might fall asleep crying.

“Oh,” you murmur, not recognizing the languorous, almost wanton sound of your own voice. “Feels good, John.”

“That’s,” he huffs, and audibly swallows. “That’s good. We’re—ah—we’re almost there.”

“Okay,” you say, sighing against him, settling fully into the expanse of his back.

You doze, unburdened now by what you’ve admitted. He does not waver once on the walk, makes no complaint of your weight as street lights pass and the night moves slowly by. He is as steady, when he makes it to your front door, as he was when he first picked you up.

“Where’s your key, love?” he asks.

“Oh,” you murmur blearily, “um. Let me down.”

Even after your feet are back on the ground, his steadying hand does not leave you, ballasting your elbow as you dig around in your purse. It seems like an embarrassingly long time before you find your keychain, and when you try to unlock your door you miss the slot twice.

John’s big hand wraps around yours then, engulfing it with long fingers and broad palm, and guides the key steadily into the lock. The slide of the deadbolt is loud in the quiet night. You have to lean against the door, suddenly devoid of the strength to turn the knob as you look up at John’s concerned face.

“Let me help you in, love,” he says, brow creased. “Please. I’m worried you’ll fall and hit your head.”

Your entire body feels like it’s sinking into a glass of champagne, his words caressing you like rising bubbles, little pearls of air tickling your face as they touch you. You openly stare at him, watch his throat work as he swallows again, rest your eyes along the broad tendon that flexes as he tilts his head.

“Sure,” you whisper, too out of breath to speak aloud. “If that’s what you want.”

So John turns the knob, loops your arm around his shoulders, and walks you inside.

It is very hard to focus now, as John sits you down on your couch. There isn’t much you can hold in your mind besides the moment his hands leave you, and you inexplicably want to cry at their loss. You don’t see where he goes, vision going dark and blurry around the edges—you think he might have left until he comes back with one of your glasses, filled with clear, cool water.

He kneels in front of you and proffers it, doesn’t let go of the glass until both your hands are wrapped around it. He watches you as you take a sip.

“Drink all of that, alright?” he says. “You had a lot.”

You hold the glass back out to him. “You did too.”

His brows lift, lips parting. Have you surprised him? He pulls the glass closer with a little tug, puts his lips to the rim and tilts it from the bottom as you hold it. His eyes do not leave yours as he drinks, as he takes only a little, and then he pulls away and gently pushes the glass back toward you. Your gaze falls from his eyes, down to the little droplets of water clinging to his mustache, down again to the steady line of his mouth.

You bring the glass back up and take a deep gulp.

“Good girl,” he says, low and rumbling, and heat floods your body.

You realize then that his other hand is on your knee, the weight of his palm heavy and broad, his thumb rubbing a comforting circle into the edge of the cap. You are washed in the blend of his warm comfort and the sudden, almost violent sear of your own desire.

When the glass is empty, he eases it from your hands and sets it aside on your coffee table. When he turns back to you, your hand comes up, unbidden, to curve itself along the angle of his jaw. Umber bristles are coarse beneath the sweep of your thumb.

“Not soft, is it?” John murmurs, and there is something stormy and intense in his gaze.

You take a deep breath. “Maybe I’m okay with that.”

His hand grips your knee suddenly, vicelike, and you know this is pushing too far. He does not lean in to you, makes no move toward you, but his entire body is a bank of energy that he is holding, holding, holding back. His chest rises and falls rapidly. His eyes pin you to the couch as he works the muscles in his jaw.

“You’re drunk, love,” he says. It is not the pleading assertion he’d given earlier. It is a conclusion—fond, but resigned.

The room has begun to gently spin, with John at its axis. “I’m drunk,” you agree, whispering and fragile.

It breaks whatever has been building since you’d left the pub. John draws back. Nods. Gives you a smile—that smile. The one that had taken hold of you the first time you saw it. Trying, with every scrap of willpower it had, to be happy, to be alright with what little it had. Failing to do so.

Unable to hide how much it wanted.

“You got a spare key?” he asks. “I can lock you in.”

“Key hook,” you say.

His hand drags down from your knee to stroke along your shin, and then he’s rocking back on his heels, standing to his full height. He looks at you for a moment longer.

“Get some sleep,” he says.

When you blink, he’s gone, and the deadbolt is sliding home.

Bonus A/N: Some housekeeping. First, if you see your username on this list and it's struck through, it means you did not come up when I tried to @ you. I will try one more time, but if it doesn't work I'm taking your name off the list. Get right with the tumblr gods if you can. Second, a few people have told me that they did not get the tag notification on the last update, so let me know if that's the case for you and I will see about trying a different format. And third, I've been editing the format for neighbors across all chapters, so sorry in advance if you get notified twice. Tumblr knows even less about coding a website than I do.

Taglist: @yeyinde @guyfieriiii @aduckingpain @jaimiespn @aconstructofamind @trashy-panda777 @lich1 @smoggyfogbottom @cielobgers @antigonusyuki @bubble-dream-inc @monsterhighsblog @so-scarlet–it-was-maroon @itsthetiredstudent @misshoneypaper @wasteland-babe @jxvipike @deadbranch @mildlyhopelesss @yes-music-is-my-religion @shuttlelauncher81 @xback1021 @zero-ice @hailstrum18 @ramadiiiisme @glassgulls @simonea27 @kitty-satan1 @tianotfound @solarslushee @mmmothballz @wiserebelpartypie @randomchick546 @stripeycatt @shurikan17 @staymetalmacie @capt-soaps-bbg @cold-blooded-girls @rdeville

The taglist is closed. Thank you everyone for your interest.

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project-sekai-facts · 10 months

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Since the start of the game, it has been heavily implied, if not outright stated, that Minori has a crush on Haruka. To a lesser degree, it has been implied that Haruka has feelings for Minori.

In chapter 17 of MORE MORE JUMP!'s main story, when Minori performs a show to give Haruka the hope she needs to perform as an idol again, she tells Haruka that the first time she received fanservice from her was the first time she ever felt the happiness of falling in love with someone (altered in official translation).

In Minori's self-introduction, she flubs a line towards the end, but Haruka insists that they keep it in because "it's so Minori". Meanwhile, in Haruka's self-introduction, Minori thanks Haruka's parents for bringing her into the world and allowing them to meet. Haruka then says that she should be the one thanking Minori's parents, for letting her meet someone like Minori, causing Minori to become extremely flustered. Minori thanking Haruka's parents for giving birth to her is also referenced in 4koma #6 and her menu voiceline for Haruka's birthday in 2021.

In the side story for Miku's Stage SEKAI 2* card, she blows a kiss to Minori during a show. Minori then imagines Haruka blowing her a kiss, causing her to blush and think that she was about to have a heart attack.

In her 2021 Valentine's menu voiceline, Minori became extremely flustered over finally having the opportunity to give Haruka chocolate. Haruka comments that Minori getting all red in the face will make her embarrassed too. Even Airi comments on Minori's bold decision to give Haruka chocolates.

In their White Day menu voicelines from that year, it was revealed that Haruka gave Minori a return gift. Minori says that she will treasure it forever.

There are multiple instances of Haruka looking fondly at Minori. Perhaps the most notable is both her untrained and trained You Deserve It 4* card.

Minori passed out when Haruka wished her a happy birthday in 4koma #41. Haruka insisted on performing the birthday show for Minori even though Airi had warned her about what would happen.

In Airi's Unyielding Indomitable Spirit 4* story, it is revealed that while Airi and Shizuku went to the picnic with Ena and Mizuki, Minori and Haruka went to Phoenix Wonderland together. Their trip is shown in Luka's Fairy Lantern ♪ 2* story.

Minori's Passionate Call untrained 4* card speaks for itself, being the first time she was depicted with 'heart-eyes' around Haruka. This card is from Haruka's first event, Break Time for the Hardworking You!, which featured the commissioned song Ai no Material, which is explicitly a love song. While Haruka and Shizuku took the duo centre of the song, Minori was the only character to receive an Another Vocal for it.

The future that you were gazing at, I don't know if I can take you there. I hope I can support you, and keep walking with you.

In Haruka's Someday, I'll Deliver Colorful Festival 4* story, it is mentioned that MORE MORE JUMP! played a game called "No Blushing - Smiling Staring Contest!" on their stream that day. Minori lost the game because she couldn't keep a straight face whilst looking at Haruka. Minori later adds that Haruka's smile has the power to "make anyone's heart race".

Haruka's fragment SEKAI is born from her reminiscing about the idol that inspired her and was able to make her smile when she was younger, and wishing she had the chance to meet this person. Haruka thinks she spots her idol in amongst a crowd, and proceeds to chase her throughout the SEKAI. Although she keeps losing track of her idol, she is determined to tell her about how she inspired her. While thinking to herself, Haruka remembers Minori telling her how she was her inspiration to become an idol. She continues to think to herself, remembering how she was genuinely happy when she met Minori and was able to get on stage again because Minori gave her hope. This makes her more determined to find her idol and tell her how much she was inspired by her.

When she runs into a dead end again, she finds a dove with a clover in it's beak. It gives her the clover and then leads her to a house filled with more doves. While it is dark inside, she thinks that she recognises the room. She feels compelled to open the windows and let all the birds fly free out of the darkness, just as her idol did for her. She then notices that all the birds have clovers in their beaks that they want to deliver to other people as they did with her, and she frees them. Haruka's idol then appears behind her and talks to her. Haruka recognises her voice and tries to talk to her, but the SEKAI disappears before she gets the chance.

It is heavily implied that the idol that Haruka was chasing around the Fragment SEKAI was Minori. From her remembering Minori's message of hope while she was trying to find her childhood idol, to wanting to tell her childhood idol about this event, to the doves that were carrying clovers (MORE MORE JUMP!'s symbol that will bring hope to their fans, that was Minori's idea). Not to mention the fact that the dove gave Haruka a clover and led her straight to where her idol was. The woman who appears in the SEKAI even looks like Minori with longer hair.

However, it could be argued that Haruka's childhood idol just heavily resembles Minori, seeing as Haruka recognises the voice as nostalgic and identifies the woman as her childhood idol instead of Minori (it was in a crowd though). However, after returning from the fragment SEKAI, Haruka only refers to the mystery woman as "her", adding to the ambiguous identity.

Minori and Airi covered the song Ren'ai Saiban, a song about someone who is trying to win back their lover after an unspecified incident. The 2DMV for the cover plays up the "winning back the lover" aspect, since at the end, after Minori and Airi free themselves from their handcuffs, they free Haruka and Shizuku as well. Miku seems to approve of this ending despite trying to sentence them for the first three and a half minutes of the MV.

In Buddy Funny Spend Time ♪, the two go on a "double date" with An and Kohane. While ultimately it is treated as platonic and neither of the couples are considered to be in a relationship outside of or even in the event, An at the very least does seem to consider it as romantic (Peak Excitement 3* story).

Still on the topic of BFST, in chapter 1 of the story, An says that Minori really likes Haruka, and that Haruka feels the same way. Later on in the event, Minori relates to how flustered Kohane is around Haruka, saying that Haruka is really cool and cute, and her heart raced when Haruka first called her by her first name. She also relates to Kohane's jealously over An and Haruka's close friendship later on in the story.

At one point during their outing, the four girls go shopping for street style clothes. Minori doesn't think she fits the look, until Haruka tells her that she suits the clothes and she decides that she will keep them forever. The event 4koma also shows that Minori is very attracted to Haruka's street style look.

At the end of the event, Minori confesses to Haruka that she doesn't know much about the real, non-idol Haruka, and that she had been trying to get closer to Haruka during the event by trying to please her (such as going on a rollercoaster when she didn't want to). Haruka tells Minori that she likes her just the way she is, and that she doesn't need to force herself to do things she doesn't like.

Haruka's trained A Street Style Idol!? 4* card from this event can be seen at the top of this post, depicting Minori and Haruka with their arms linked.

In 4koma #92, Kohane tries to understand the emotions that An an Akito felt while watching RAD WEEKEND, although she can't get a clear image since neither of the two can express it in words. Minori chimes in and explains that she understands not being able to put feelings into words, describing "emotions swirling inside of her" while she thinks of Haruka. Shiho remarks that what Minori is feeling is not the same as what An and Akito felt at RW.

Minori's Enthusiastic Talk! untrained 4* card depicts her holding a drawing she did of a costume for Haruka. The drawing is surrounded by pink hearts and one of the annotations reads "cute!".

Minori's 2022 White Day menu voiceline reveals that Haruka gave her chocolate for the holiday, causing Minori to get extremely flustered yet again.

In a flashback during the Dear Me, As I Was Back Then event, we see Minori attend an ASRUN concert, during which she shouted out her love for Haruka. In Minori's untrained Beyond the Spotlight 4* card from this event, you can see Haruka watching her in the background.

In Scream!? Welcome to the Wolf Forest!, Minori is comically blinded by Haruka's cat cafe costume. She says that she can't look at Haruka because the cat ears suit her so well, but at the same time she really wants to look, and feels like her head is going to get torn off.

A similar instance of Haruka's presence 'blinding' Minori was shown in 4koma #61.

Minori's 2023 Valentine's Day menu voiceline reveals that Haruka gave her Valentine's chocolates, rather than the other way around. Although Minori wants to eat it, she isn't sure if she wants to sacrifice the gift.

For that White Day, Minori gave Haruka three times the amount of gifts that Haruka gave her for Valentine's Day as her return gift. Haruka suggests that they eat the sweets together, since she won't be able to manage them by herself.

During MORE MORE JUMP!'s 1st live, during one MC game, Haruka tells Minori that she loves her, causing the latter to nearly faint.

Haruka: Thank you. I love you, Minori Airi: Woaaah! Knock out! Shizuku: That's amazing, Haruka-chan

The second set of birthday cards show the gifts that each character was given by the other members of their unit. In Haruka's card, you can see a handwritten letter, with an opening line that reads "I lo-lo-lo-looove you, Haruka-chan". Minori's card features a letter from Haruka in return, as well as some ASRUN photographs.

In Haruka's card, you can see that Minori also gifted her a T-shirt that matches the otter one that she wears for training, only this one has a penguin, Haruka's favorite animal, on it as well. In 4koma #15, Minori picked out a similar shirt for Haruka, featuring only the penguin.

Minori also keeps a collection of Haruka merchandise in her room.

#love wins #project sekai #haruka kiritani #minori hanasato #yes this is the post that won the poll at the beginning of the month #and here we go #4koma #cards #2dmv #fragment sekai #theory #this is not everything i am aware of that. seasonal voicelines and gacha unluck got in my way #oh theory refers to the fragment sekai stuff. not mnhr. that's canon this is a whole post proving that it is

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vampirevatican · 2 months

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Bedtime in the House of Lamentation

pairing: om! brothers x reader

summary: you have a special sleep speaker that changes colors. they check in on your room when they hear noise at night, but it's not you and they find a lone light glowing their nail color or power

Lucifer - blue/red

classical music, but it's the chill kind... ya know the ones you can fall asleep to

fave songs but piano version

white noise

This was one of the nights he does his rounds of the house. Making sure his brothers, Mammon, weren't out causing trouble for him to deal with later. Being the eldest, when he does these check-ins, he'd just open the door and then leave the bedroom resident to whatever they were doing. He never thoroughly checked a room unless something suspicious was going on, or he's heard rumors regarding the resident and their bedroom.

So when he finally gets to the first floor he notes that there's a faint sound of classical music. He ends up at the front of your door and without a second thought he opens the door and is met with the speaker glowing, music flowing from it and your sleeping form.

It seems you tried to pull an all-nighter. Your phone still in your hand, covers not properly covering you, but sleeping so peacefully. A small smirk appears on his lips as he pulls the covers over you, making sure you don't get a cold, and then leaves the room. Maybe he'd need to get not cursed records and finish work earlier so you can fall asleep together.

Mammon - white/yellow

r&b. look me in the eyes and tell me he's not black. go on, yeah that's what i thought.

jazz... now hear me out, casino things

continuing casino stuff, casino ambience

When hears the faint sound of slot machines in the House of Lamentation he's in a whiplash of excited and confused. Didn't he just leave the casino? And there's no way in west devildom that Lucifer agreed to him wanting a mini casino in the house. So naturally he follows the sound and hopes for the later.

But no, it's coming from... your room?! Quickly opening the door he finds a small speaker emitting a light and your phone, charging, right next to it. "Casino ambience..." he whispers reading the title of the video in your phone screen after getting closer to it.

Awww his human missed him, well it's only right that he adds to this bedtime immersion by slipping into bed with you. Crawling into the bed with you, holding you close, he notices you almost stir awake and the small smile on your face. Damn, could you possibly be any cuter right now?! He rubs your back and soothes you back into your deep sleep and soon drifts off as well.

Leviathan - purple/orange

gamer lets plays are playing through the speaker

or maybe a game ost that has sleepy/chill vibes

acnh w/ rain background anyone?

He had left his room for a food break between gaming. He had a few raids and team rounds to do, but right now refueling was more important. That's when he hears something near the kitchen. Putting down his cup noodles he follows the sound and finds it coming from your room.

There was a faint light glowing from the crack in the door and it wasn't the usual bright yellow from the lanterns and fairy lights in the room. Pressing his ear to the door he recognizes the music being one of your cozy games. Gaining no answer from knocking on your door, or calling out to you, he opens the door and instantly covers his mouth. 'Oh my gosh they're so cute! WAIT NO THIS IS CREEP BEHAVIOR!! but...' He practically tip toes into your room and sees the speaker.

Doing a double take he leaves your room as quickly and quietly as possible... after a picture of you with the speaker's light on you first though... you're just too pretty and it's too heart-warming to know when you don't or cant sleep in his room, because you can't sleep, this is how you remedy it.

satan - green

or maybe r/no sleep, r/aita, r/dndhorrorstories, buzzfeeds are you scared

cat radio... no really cat fm

book readings

He's used to you falling asleep while reading to you, or when you'd spend time with him just to fall asleep on his lap waiting for him to finish his books. And yes he'd go cat watching with you. Even plotting to adopt a few if you both ever got the okay from Lucifer. Though he wouldn't have guessed things like that extend to you getting a good night's rest.

This particular night he was entranced by a book in the library when he heard... meowing? Though it wasn't normal meows, it was to the tune of some song. He knows that cats are known to sing sometimes but since when did either of you sneak one into the house? Following the sound he soon realizes that it's some kind of recording because what's next is a narration of a book he's read before.

Noticing the green glow from under the door he decides to check in on you and sees you knocked out. The sound of a narrator, close to his tone of voice, reading you a story as you dreamt away. He couldn't help but smile as a warm feeling took over his heart. To think you needed to hear him, or someone like him, read stories for you to properly sleep was too sweet to bare. He quietly closes the door and heads off to bed for the night.

asmo - pink

meditation or ocean sounds

true crime, makeup or both

honestly smthn that'd be trendy and recommended for sleep

First of all, he didn't expect for you to go to bed so early. Usually he's the one with an early bedtime but tonight was an exception. There was a party he was invited to and he couldn't just ignore his adoring fans.

So when he came back and heard a sleep meditation coming from your room, his curiosity gets the better of him. He decides to take a peek into your room and has to hold back a squeal over how you look sleeping. When it comes to beauty only you could rival him, and this even counts when you're sleeping!

His eyes follow where the faint pink glow is coming from and surprise! it's your little speaker. He can't help admire you and be glad you took up one of his trends. You really do care! Of course he does his bedtime routine and then cuddles up in bed with you. The pink mood lighting and how peaceful it is was just too hard to resist.

beel - red/orange

lullaby music, or 80's rock songs in music box style

podcast

snoring sounds

Beel is known for his late night kitchen rummages. Infact he got used to you not stopping him but helping by joining in or just keeping him company, you'd rarely scold him for his late night rampages. Though tonight you were no where to be found.

When he first passed by your bedroom it was relatively quiet, so he figured you were asleep. Not being able to eat how he usually would, concerned over your absence, he took only a couple snacks and checked on your room again before going back to his.

This time he notices a music box playing and a light coming from under the door. He peeks through a crack in the door he makes from opening it a little, and notices you sleeping. He smiles warmly and the grin becomes bigger when he sees where the light and sound is coming from. You and Belphie slept the same, covered with blankets and surrounded by pillows. It was endearing and he couldn't help but curl up in your room that night with his snacks.

belphie - purple/teal

fave songs but it's in music box style

asmr, and it's like a muffled city, keyboard typing, or rainy day, with music from another room

lofi

Being the Avatar of Sloth, he didn't have to go to you room to see how you were sleeping. Though you did peak his curiosity a little when he heard lofi music coming from your room. Surely you couldn't be so diligent, or a nerd, that you'd be studying at this time of night. Turns out his suspicion was correct, you weren't studying.

He was currently a by-stander of your dreams tonight and he takes note of how he appears in them. It wasn't like he was fully in your dream, no dream self to speak of, but instead things you associated with him.

Taking his powers a bit further he astral projects and finds himself right by your bed. A glow of light seems to pass through his spirit form and looking over he finds where it's coming from, along with what's making your dreams what they are. Smiling a little he looks over at your sleeping form, a bit of your face peeking out from the mass of covers, and notices that you're smiling too. "Cute." He whispers and decides to insert himself into your dreams. You wanted him so bad then fine, he'll be there.

#omswd #obey me! swd #obey me x reader #om! lucifer #om! satan #om! asmodeus #om! mammon #om! leviathan #om! beelzebub #om! belphegor

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fairy-verse · 5 months

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He is the fairy of autumn and spring, of endings and beginnings. He is the grace that is his mother and the wildness that is his father. Beautiful and unpredictable he travels across the lands of the fairies in search of adventure and wonderment, tireless in his want to see more; and hear more. With the lantern of winter white light, he fears no darkness as he braves the territories of trolls and wraiths. With smiles and laughter, he stalks the big folk in their cosy homes, trying to see what their short lives are like.

Often, he is gone, but always he returns to those who hold him dear, whether it be a mother or a lover.

I just love the way you made my Lumin’s eye lights appear so alive in their relatively passive state. It’s almost like he’s feeling mirth over something he knows that we don’t, plus it feels as though he’s looking directly at me. I love it! It gives him an unsettling look despite his loveliness. Thank you, @aoi-kanna!

Lumin by Valacre (me!)

Lumin's design by Lunnar-Chan

#aufairyverse #utmv #lumin the fairy

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thegothicalice · 4 months

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Experiment with wearing all white to highlight the Lucy Westenra choker from Luna Moon Gothic (from the 1992 film). Dress from Retro Fairy, boots Demonia, lantern earrings by Omnia Studios.

#ootd #bloofer lady #retro fairy #demonia #Luna moon gothic #lucy westenra #vampire fashion

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wifiwuxians · 7 months

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happy mid-autumn festival!!! i hope it's a day of good fortune and reunion for everyone! i yearn for the day in which i am able to eat a mooncake.

much to my chagrin this drawing appears very different on desktop and on mobile but oh well. i think i'll take a crack at writing an ID for this one, just because there are a few characters! including xunyang 83 everyone else is offscreen lol but they're there i promise

[ID: a scene depicting a moonlit picnic to mark the start of mid-autumn festival, featuring several characters from MDZS, as well as two of the artist's own characters from a fic titled Dawn Chorus. in the bottom left corner sit Wen Zhuliu, Wang Lingjiao, Mo Xuanyu and Wen Chao. they are conversing pleasantly. the bottom right corner hosts Jiang Yanli, Jiang Cheng, Jin Zixuan and Jin Ling, alongside a puppy version of Fairy. Jiang Yanli has brought her famous soup, as well as some spring rolls. Jin Ling is lying down and holding a lantern as his mother strokes his back. Jin Zixuan has a loving arm around his wife's torso. behind them, Jiang Cheng is attempting to wrangle Fairy and keep her from eating their food. above and to the left sit the Dawn Chorus characters Wen Xun and the fic-specific version of Xue Yang, who has his arm around him as he laughs. they've brought wine. in Xue Yang's lap sits an infant, Hexie, who is reaching out to a fruit gleefully offered to them by Standard Edition Xue Yang, who is sitting a bit ahead with A-Qing, Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan, who smile at the scene while drinking tea and eating. they've brought a platter of crab. to the right of them sit Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji, who are happily holding Lan Sizhui between them. their snack is watermelon. behind them, just arriving, are Mianmian, who is carrying her daughter in her arms, and her husband, who is carrying their lantern and food. behind them is Wen Qing, who is calling out to Wen Ning, who is rushing up to her with a smile and a box in his hands. the corner of a blanket in the top left and the top of someone's head in the bottom right suggest there are more people at the gathering. a few white flowers bloom on the grass everyone sits on, predominantly around Wen Xun. every picnic blanket has mooncakes, and most characters brought lanterns. many other lanterns are seen floating by and up into the sky, towards the full moon. the atmosphere is friendly and lighthearted. /end ID]

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lilimalia · 1 year

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WHAT WE NEVER HAD // zhongli

SYNOPSIS... the lantern rite festival was always the most glorious season of festivity. And yet, the god of geo found no happiness in his heart roaming his nation. If only he had a person to share with him a sprinkle of the festive spirit....

CHARACTERS... zhongli/morax, childe, guizhong, streetward rambler, cloud retainer, traveller/aether, paimon,

DISCLAIMERS... angst, no comfort, female reader, short series, spoilers for Guizhong's story , lunar new year's special !

BARISTA'S INTEL... sorry to all the lumine travellers! please enjoy the first "official post" and a happy lunar new year's to those who celebrate! chúc mừng năm mới <3.

TAG LIST... @sizure , @imma-too-many-fandoms , @yle-xar

CAFE TUNE... Heather // Conan Gray !

“Paimon votes we visit Xiangling!” the giddy floating fairy cheers, bobbing up and down as her blonde-haired companion nodded in agreement.

Turning her head, her eyes landed upon the silhouette of a brunette man, his attention solely focused on the eccentric storyteller in front of him.

“Eh? Zhongli? What a pleasant surprise meeting you here!” the fairy alludes, companion following alongside as she approached the man.

“Come one, come all, allow me to forward you a special tale for this years Lantern Rite, abundant and glorious as always!” The storyteller speaks, hands motioning the pair in as his eyes begin to glow with pride.

“Listen closely now, for this tale is one you won’t ever hear anywhere else! A speciality for my audience” the man grins, winking sidewise at the blonde traveler, motioning him in for a seat alongside the brunette, who merely nods politely before redirecting his attention.

“Listen closely… for our story begins before the age of war…”

Dainty gray eyes laid upon his figure. So divine, so prim and proper, fingers grasped gracefully around a stone cup of tea as he conversed with the two ladies.

Morax he went by, god of mora, Archon of Geo. Cloud Retainer, the women with red rimmed glasses. And Guizhong, the refined goddess of dust, so elegantly did she sit, reflecting the man in front of her. His eyes gazed so… Lovingly. She held his undivided attention, lips curling into a saccharine smile irreplaceable by any.

“Y/n? Who do suppose is correct Goddess of the Forge?” she calls. Her voice so tauntingly pristine as her grey eyes shifted towards yours.

“Hm? Ah, forgive me… It seems I was dazed. Could you restate the question?” you call. Your own voice slightly breaking, pitching off into a unsettled tone.

It was so mocking. How her figure was so respected, so desirably faultless. Both in brain and brawn… Your own stained with battle scars, body tainted with the wounds of the steel, whilst hers was untouched, silk smooth, faultless. All the things you weren’t.

“Ah, no worries! I had simply inquired about your opinion on my design. Our dear Cloud Retainer here seems to think hers is superior…” Her eyes are so beautiful…

It wasn’t fair… How you both shared the same hue of gray for eyes. Yet somehow hers shined so much brighter compared to yours, so bleak and dull like iron ore.

“Hm… This design… It needs some tweaks, but I do believe that Cloud Retainer’s design is superior within this field…” you murmur, eyes gazing upon the blueprints that laid out in front of you.

“Is that so? Morax! You are righteous… Who do you believe withholds the superior model?” Guizhong questions.

Righteous?... Was she… Mocking you? Questioning your values? Your judgment?

“Upon inspection… I do believe that your design is superior Guizhong”, his eyes are so thoughtful, filled with the beautiful waterlike goldens and browns. His eyes narrow, concealing his bright colored eyes like the lakes that adorn themself atop the mountains.

Ah… As you inspect closer… It’s true his judgment is impeccable. And yours, at fault.

Guizhong giggles in glee, shiny gray eyes, the ones that were the exact same shade as your own, reflected so much pure light. Like white iron ore… in every way. She was better.

You watch as he smiles, playing along with her child like joy. His eyes bubbling with happiness, spirit so moved by her own.

He never looks at you that way… Perhaps he never will…

Cloud Retainer stands behind you, concealing her worry for your state as she watches your own hues dim down with envy, discouragement that you failed to fully tuck away.

The day Guizhong was lost. You saw as he retreated away, you saw the scars she left on him. You heard too, the cries he echoed out in the solitude of the mountains.

You watched her soul slowly slip away, body loosening at the lack of character to withhold it. You never knew what it was that plagued you with such sinful cruelty. But… watching her die, perish in front of you, your own body and mind helpless to save her. You could only feel the slightest bit of regret. Regret that you hadn’t saved her.

When you could have.

Instead you watched by the sidelines, watched as he gazed at her so lovingly, mind and body relaxed around her presence, whilst not once, did he ever glance your way.

That night… When the Goddess of Dust had perished, you fled. Fled away to the mortal realm, locked away in an Adepti contraption. War was at brew; you could feel it. You knew of the harm that would come to you when it did, the pain and hopelessness that would plague your mind if ever you were to succumb to the desires of evil divines that would ask for your aid in battle.

Goddess of the Forge.

That was your name. Sealed away in stone.

“Many blacksmiths and warriors alike pray to the Goddess of the Forge for the finest of ores and the best of the best in the weapons they wield. Many adventures that come from this nation of Geo have commonly shared the goal of searching for where she lays… However, never found she was…” the storyteller murmurs, hand stretching out to flicker his fan as he gazed over it darkly.

“But of course! This is merely a tale! Who knows if this “Goddess of the Forge” really does exist!” He coughs awkwardly, shivering at the intense gaze that was being radiated from the brunette man in front of him.

“Indeed… What a pleasant story sir…” he mumbles, face solemn. Eye's blanking out in a distant sorrow. His mind drifting off into an unknown world.

A women walks by the station of the storyteller, gray eyes empty and uninviting. She glances at the brunette man, stuck in his own land of thought, as she hides away from view.

It’s been decades. And yet his memory haunts your every waking step. A scar on your body that will never heal yet comes back to haunt you with the acknowledgement of its story. Succumbing you into a void.

It’s so selfish. How all those years ago you could have saved her. You were there weren’t you? Just a couple fields away picking glaze lilies for him, it wasn’t her… Goddess of Dust, that you were thinking about. Not even when she had laid unmoving in front of you and all the others. Not even when the guilt recked your insides knowing you were just a few sprints away from her; could have saved her.

It was him, his milky golden eyes, his proper figure, so collected.

It was never you on his mind, always her. Always Goddess of Dust, always the prettier, shiny, ore. And perhaps it was why you had left, fleeing in agony and regret. It hurt how his eyes were only ever on hers, how they shared fleeting touches, when you were his forever best friend. Always by his side to guide him in battles and spars.

She was everything you could only dream to be...

The night you had left… You had fled to the far breeches of Liyue, residing in a self-inflicted encagement, meant to trap away the deadliest of monsters.

Whether or not he had truly cared for you, shed tears for you, you never were there to see it...

SPECIAL BREWS... Goddess of the Forge // I found that the irony in reader being the Goddess of the Forge compared to Dust which is a much lighter title compared nicely to her dynamic, I do hope I was able to highlight this aspect well... (Haha get it, irony, forge?...)

White Iron ore // Using this comparison felt very natural and more in depth, I found it easier to be able to relay the emotions of the story to the reader by using a similarity, after all, it's salt to the wound for those who have felt incompetent to someone before

BARISTA'S INQUIREMENT... Would you reader's like if I made a gender neutral and male Y/n version? If so please do ask! Part two will be out soon.

word count. 1220

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Banner credits: @veauwa

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