#sunlight filtering through the foliage

[metasattva]

Autumn 2024_178 4 seasons in the neighborhood, Japan

[smartie-ya]

Spent all day watching youtube videos by this aesthetically pleasing indoor-plant care channel based in california and if that isn't the most profound symptom of seasonal affective disorder I don't know what is 😭

[moaan]

Greenery by Katsuaki Shoda Via Flickr: Ricoh GXR+GXR MOUNT A12+Super Angulon 21mm f/3.4

[mangoslixes]

“Shadow and light are the most stable and perfect tools of creation: they unite colors, shapes, and dimensions,” says Moldovan artist Sergiu Ciochină, adding that “shadows move us through diversity, enhancing our perception, while light fills us with the joy of discovery.” In saturated hues, he captures dappled sunlight as it filters through the trees and the rich tones of the golden hour as it casts deep bluish-purple shade onto the sides of houses.

Taking cues from the Impressionists, Ciochină focuses on the nuances of light and its ability to reveal outlines and forms. He works in thick, impasto oil paint on board, emphasizing the shapes of windows, doors, and stoops and transforming otherwise ordinary buildings into compositions glowing with the patterns of foliage, architectural angles, and the texture of brushstrokes. “The symbiosis I create between nature and architecture is intended to evoke a love for space,” he says.

on Sergiu Ciochină

[puppybei]

Unsaid Dreams

Chapter 4 (Series Masterlist)

Pairing: Modernau!Sukuna x Mother!Reader

Genre: Hidden Baby Trope

Summary: Reader opens up a bakery after running away from her three year relationship with Sukuna, effectively ghosting him and hiding away in the middle of the countryside. Unknown to Sukuna, reader also had a baby, and now is living peacefully until an unfateful meeting starts to pull her back into the life she so desperately escaped from.

Tw: Past pov, in depth description of anxiety, reader and Sukunas first meeting explained, this entire chapter focuses on their past, reader is called a charity case by Sukuna, Sukuna threatens reader, lwk stubborn reader, Highschool au!, Their first kiss!!

Word count: 2.7k

The first time you met Sukuna was in High School, you had managed to get a scholarship into one of the more prestigious schools in your district. The sun glared above you, the straps of your bag suddenly feeling light compared to the weight of the swirling anxiety in your stomach. 

The school was huge, no amount of adjectives you used would truly be able to capture the magnificent and almost fantasy-like essence. The bare bricked walls freckled with the overgrown foliage that was just a bit too messy to be considered purposeful. A georgian style building with gabled roofs, large windows that let sunshine peak into the corridors and classrooms with silk furnished curtains. The whole campus just screamed old money.

It just made you feel more out of place if anything, sticking out like a sore thumb against similar sixteen year olds. The white uniform shirt felt too scratchy against your skin, your tights sticking to you like second skin, heart heavy like something was weighing down every step you took forward. 

But you couldn’t let a few stray butterflies in your stomach stop you from going into the school your fifteen year old self worked her ass off for. You had gotten into the culinary department, mixed with a few other classes that were compulsory to all students. 

The Home Ec lab from this school was praised even in professional settings and you were buzzing at the thought of finally seeing it, state of the art equipment along with teachers that personally taught you. Graduating from their course would basically give you a head start into the culinary world, well at least that’s what you learned from reading comments on reddit and the official school website. 

Your feet basically carried you to the lab on instinct and that's when you saw him for the first time, sitting on the marble countertop next to the electric stove top. His blazer strewn across the stove, tie haphazardly done, sleeves folded upwards to show the tattoos that corded against his muscle. Head turned away from the door, a cigarette placed in between his index and forefinger, smoke clouding the room in a haze. The silk curtains were pulled halfway open, letting the smoke filter out.

The window was propped open, an unfinished garden with multiple cigarette butts on the garden bed found underneath it. Sunlight poured through the window, casting half his face in a shadow as he blew smoke outside, your breath stilled for a moment and for a second all your worries had vanished, that was until he turned his head around and scowled at you, eyeing your very obvious second hand clothes with a condescending look. 

“The fuck you looking at newbie?” 

He got off of the countertop, throwing the cigarette butt out of the window and switching off the exhauster. The pink haired male pulled the blazer over his broad shoulders, uniform shirt straining from where it was tucked into his pants. Shoving your shoulder aside as he left the lab murmuring under his breath about some kind of charity case. 

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment, and you fortunately fought the urge to curse at him. You quickly learned that the boy you saw was Sukuna Ryomen, the heir of the corporation that basically funded the school as well as the Student Council President. He was feared by the student and staff bodies, no one dared to go against him except his group of friends, and it was apparent to everyone else to not go near the Home Ec lab before the morning assembly and after the last bell. Well at the very least you didn’t seem to piss him off too much. 

Contrary to overexaggerated teen shows about scholarship kids, most of the student body were from upper middle class families, and just 10% of the school were heirs of some kind of corporation. You made friends with the kids in the Home Ec and they filled you in on all the people to avoid at every cost, as well as the people you should get close to.

Unfortunately for Sukuna, you were someone who used the facilities given to you as much as you could, this was also backed up by the fact that unlike the other kids that went to the same course, you were not provided with a fully furnished kitchen and high end ovens. So if you wanted a fair chance at competing with the other kids you were going to have to use the facilities, Sukuna or not.

The next time you met Sukuna was in the compulsory English Literature classes. Surprisingly enough, to squash any rumours of the heir being favoured over other students, and to avoid any bribery scandals he was placed in the same class as the ‘scholarship student’. He was sitting a few rows behind you, looking way more like a President than when you first saw him, his gaze bore into the textbook in front of him, spinning a pen around his finger lazily. He didn’t notice you stealing glances at him. 

The minute you got permission from the Home Ec teacher to use the lab after school, you immediately made your way to the culinary labs, spinning your keychain around your finger, humming a happy tune as you basically skipped to the lab.

Though you did expect to see Sukuna, it still stirred a feeling of irritation in your chest to see him walk around like he owned the school- granted he kind of basically did, but that’s an abuse of power. 

Only this time Sukuna was completely lying down on one of the plain countertops, set there so that students could present their dishes in bulk. His eyes were shut in slumber, chest rising up and down in slow breaths. Pink hair fell against his forehead, a rare display of when he didn't have it gelled upwards, mouth set into a loose scowl, which came as a shock to you because you were sure he was born with that permanent frown stuck on his face. 

You moved to the other side of the lab, pulling the curtains open to let as little of light in without waking up the heir. Cooking came easy to you- or atleast baking did, the quiet repetitive movements, the sweetness of the pastry, the swirl of the whipped cream. Your dream was to hopefully become a baker, or a patissiere- you hadn't yet decided. Being a patissiere meant you got to work directly with just pastries and sweets, while being a baker meant you got to work with broader horizons. 

By the time you were done thinking to yourself the oven beeped and you almost fell out of the high stool chair, scrambling to shut it down and pull mittens over your hands.You had made madeleines, a comfort bake of yours.The madeleines came out near perfect if you had to say so yourself, smooth crispy outer layer with a contrasting softness when you bit into it. A giddy smile danced across your features, happy that the first thing you made in the lab came out so well even if you baked them on stealth mode to not awaken the short tempered President. 

What you failed to notice when you were too busy stuffing your face with madeleines was the dark figure that loomed behind you, snatching one from your hand, 

“So you’re the little rat that decided to disturb me,”

His voice came out in a low growl, threatening almost, and you stiffened up at the heat that seeped through your clothes even though he held an appropriate amount of distance between you both,

“Is this some kind of new tactic? Playing housewife to garner for my attention?,”

As you turned around he popped the baked good into his mouth, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, 

“At least it doesn’t taste like ass, should’ve expected that from the charity case,”

He wiped the crumbs off his fingers on your apron, gripping your shoulder tightly, bending down to meet you at eye level, 

“The next time you pull this shit again I’m going to fucking kill you. Capisce?” 

You felt your eyebrows tug upwards in shock, shaking your head no while you muttered something about facilities. You remember his face twisting into something dark before he pushed you, the back of your hip hitting the counter, 

“Get the fuck out of my way pest,” 

The six foot man snarled, pushing past you once again as he left the lab, the scent of his cologne still lingering in the air long after he left.

No way in hell were you going to let a man boss you around after how hard you worked to get into this school- especially if he was some kind of stuck up spoiled brat.

The next day you went to the lab again, this time baking a rose tea pound cake. Sukuna sat on a stool opposite to the oven, glaring at you- basically seething as he grumbled curses every time you moved past him to peek at your creation. You ignored every word he said though, mind steeled down, no matter what offensive insult he spewed out. By the end of the day he even stole a slice of the pound cake and a small part of you was smug, there was no one who could fight the goodness of your pastries, you didn’t get into this school without a reason after all.

This cat and mouse game continued for the next few weeks, at one point the insults had boiled down to mere grunts when Sukuna would spot you. Most afternoons he spent lying across a cushioned bench underneath the huge windows, letting the sunlight dance across his features as he dozed off. He would always grab a slice of what you made though, you figured he was taking it as some kind of compensation for letting you bake in peace. 

Some days his friends would come over, barging into the room and interrupting the comfortable silence you and Sukuna had formed. A loud group consisting of Gojo, Geto, and Toji who got in with Sukuna’s help, though he excelled in sports and could've gotten a sports scholarship if he wanted. Sukuna would always leave immediately when they came, casting you a glance backwards. You always left behind a little of what you made on those days, finding them gone when you checked the next morning, though you said nothing to him. 

The quiet sort-of-friendship you had formed changed completely when the English Literature teacher paired you up for a project, forcing you both to talk to each other and be in slightly uncomfortable proximity. Your irritation had long disappeared for the KOC heir, now replaced with something akin to fondness. 

“You smell sweet,” 

Your head jerked up from where you were bent over trying to make sense of the poem you were assigned to analyse, 

“Sweet?” 

You questioned, quirking a brow upwards.

“Like that brown thing you use when making your shit,”

You pondered for a second, Sukuna’s sharp eyes gaze resting on your features, 

“...you mean vanilla essence?”

A giggle erupted from you and Sukuna looked like you had personally offended his entire family, his ears heating up as he rested his face on his palm, elbow propped up on the table,

“Whatever. Finish your work pest,”

You smiled in return, watching Sukuna turn his concentration back to researching more about the poet’s life, 

“You smell good too,”

You hummed, turning your attention back to your own work, sneaking glances at Sukuna in between. Unbeknownst to you both, Sukuna had fallen for you- hook, line and sinker. He felt his heart stutter in his chest when you giggled, nothing had sounded more soothing to him and he had already staked his claim on you long before you were even his. 

You on the other hand, had started to regret your notions about the heir, unknown to the general student population, Sukuna was quite the hard worker. He would never skip a Student Council meeting, coming to the lab afterwards with a heavier gait, exhaustion weighing down on his shoulders. Other days he would bring his work into the lab, face scrunched up as he worked through the papers. He always stayed at the top of the grade, Gojo and Geto falling right behind him. 

The English project lasted a week exactly, though the after effects lasted far longer. Sukuna had now deemed it okay to constantly be in your vicinity, brushing his arm or thigh against you whenever he moved closer. Even after you had moved back to your old place, Sukuna shot one look at the guy sitting next to you who scrambled away without a peep, giving the heir his seat.

The pink haired man had even started asking about your day and unfortunately your heart was betraying your brain with every month that passed by. The small physical contact you and Sukuna shared sent electric shots down your spine. Heat creeping up your neck once he moved from vaguely admitting your skills were up to standard to complimenting them. You had also started to talk more with him, he was a quiet man at heart and you were more than glad to fill the silence with your chatter. 

Quiet evenings in the lab turned to him following you around or sitting right opposite to you as you baked, following your every movement with a softer gaze. He would still fall asleep occasionally but it was always after acknowledging your presence and making small talk with you. When he worked on his documents he sat right opposite to your workstation, taking breaks where he would just bore holes into your cheek as you talked. 

On colder days he would drop his blazer over your shoulders, complaining about hearing your teeth chatter with a blush across his face. You accepted, perhaps even more flushed. The goods you baked were now put in a little plastic bag with ribbons, ones he pocketed and never returned. 

One day he had fully switched to calling you by your first name, stopping you in your tracks as your heart thumped so hard against your chest you were sure he could hear it too. In response you started to call him by his first name too and when you accidentally called him ‘Ryo’ and he didn't seem murderous, you let it continue. 

Sukuna did not allow anyone else the privilege of that and your feelings for him grew stronger by the start of the third year. When Sukuna caught you getting confessed to by one of the underclassmen in your program, he merely whisked you away with a grip on your arm, crowding you against a wall in the Home Ec lab, lifting your chin up using his hand to cup your cheek as he silently motioned for consent. You nodded and Sukuna pressed his lips against yours, it was an inexperienced naive kiss but within a few months he had mastered the art- as expected of Sukuna, even with something so intimate he would not fall second place.

Sukuna’s favorite part of the day was when he got you all to himself after school, nuzzling his head into your shoulder like some kind of overgrown bear while he had you seated on his lap, petting his hair as he grumbled about the rest of the incompetent members of the Student Council. Freshly baked goods sat on the countertop and he forced you to feed them to him while you giggled, fuck he could just die there and be at peace.

You never asked Sukuna about the nature of your relationship, not when he cornered you almost daily in the lab, not when he had you seated on his lap whenever he was in need of a little more comfort, not when he had his head on your lap while he dozed off, not when he forbade Gojo from touching your pastries, not when he glared at any guy who approached you and not when he allowed only you to see him vulnerable.

This unlabeled relationship continued well into college, where you both denied having a significant other but neither of you touched another human being on campus, he was yours and you were his and that was all that mattered back then.

Previous Current Next

A/n: Omg this was so much longer than my last one!! I put my blood sweat and tears into it haha. I hope yall enjoyed!! Feeling a bit evil as the confrontation doesn’t happen yet.. hehe.. I was so tempted to split this into two chapters but I really just wanted one chapter for the flashback. Likes, reblogs and Comments appreciated!!!

Taglist: @lady-of-blossoms @shokosbunny @after-laughter-come-tears @glads-stuff @acidrefiux @linny-bloggs @dahliadaenerys @gojotech @emi311 @nina-from-317 @katsukiseyebrows

[beautyinafruitfulworld]

*Monodam walking through the woods by himself, slowly realizing that he's now lost and has no idea where to go. He continues to look around, trying to find any kind of landmark to get a better grasp on his current location. What will he see?* @human-monodam

Monodam continues to wander through a dense forest, where sunlight barely filters through the lush foliage. The air is filled with the optimistic chirping of birds and the rustling of leaves as a fox chases down a rabbit. Desperate to get his bearings, Monodam scans his surroundings for any clue that might reveal his current location. After a few more minutes of walking, the trees part to reveal a large castle in the distance.

The castle's four sides are flanked by four large dark red banners. Emblazoned on each banner is a white circle, outlined in scarlet, with a black dragon at its centre. The dragon, its sharp claws clutching a human skull, has its wings outstretched. In the distance, the castle rises from the rolling green landscape, its stone walls enclosing a front yard that immediately captures Monodam's attention. Before him stands a wrought iron swinging double gate, barring his entrance to the castle. Flanking the gate are two shielded soldiers, their eyes scanning the surrounding area, watchful for potential threats and unwarranted intrusions.

[sparrowclangen]

The two young cats, fur dappled by the sunlight filtering through the leaves, explored the sunny forest with wide-eyed wonder. The vibrant green foliage created a canopy overhead, casting a playful dance of shadows on the forest floor. As they meandered through the underbrush, Riverpaw caught a glimpse of something colorful peeking out from behind a cluster of leaves.

Eagerly, the feline approached the hidden treasure and discovered a bush laden with ripe, juicy berries. Excitement bubbled within him as he carefully plucked the berries one by one, his nimble paws working with precision. The berries were a rich purple, promising a sweet and delectable treat.

Unable to contain their enthusiasm, the cat bounded over to their friend, who was exploring a nearby patch of soft moss. With a triumphant meow, they proudly presented the bounty of berries to their companion. Crestpaw, momentarily distracted from their mossy exploration, looked up in surprise and delight at the colorful display.

MOON 2 | SPARROWCLAN

[springtyme]

𝐂𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐞 ♡

Emily Prentiss x BAU!Reader || Main masterlist || Spotify

summary: You and Emily takes a break from the case you're working on together.

word count: 875

𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞: 𝐃𝐚𝐲 ��) 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐃𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞

The leaves crunched under the tires of the SUV as you drive down the winding road, the vibrant oranges and yellows of fall foliage creating a picturesque backdrop that contrasted with the weight of the case you were working on. It is one of those crisp autumn mornings where the air feels electric, vibrant leaves swirling like confetti in the wind, the windows rolled down and crisp autumn air is swirling through the car.

Emily sits in the passenger seat beside you, her focus directed at her notebook, scribbling down notes. Every once in a while, she will look up, scanning the tree line as if the answer to the case might materialize from the colorful landscape.

You can’t help but steal a glance at her, your heart fluttering. Something about her is just so captivating—the way she focuses with such intensity, the slight furrow in her brow as she brainstorms, and the way her dark hair falls around her face, framing her features in the golden morning light. It would probably all be easier if you weren’t colleagues, you wouldn’t feel as bad or as complicated about your attraction. 

The conversation had been light so far, but a lull has settled in the cabin of the car. When you had told the others that you would go for a little drive to clear your head and contemplate the next steps in the case, you hadn’t expected for Emily to ask if she could come. As you navigate the road, you think about what to say to bridge the silence.

“Hey, Em,” you finally break the quiet, keeping your voice casual. “A penny for your thoughts?”

She tilts her head slightly, pulling her focus from the notebook to meet your gaze. The sunlight catches in her dark hair, creating a halo effect that amplifies your stirring emotions. It takes a second for her to respond, her brow relaxing as she launches into her thoughts.

“I was just going over the timeline of the events,” she says, tapping her pen against the side of her notebook. “There’s still something off about the alibis we were given. I can’t shake the feeling that someone’s hiding something.”

She looks away, eyes drawn to the swirling leaves outside. “I just wish we could find a way to crack this, you know? It feels like we’re chasing shadows.” 

“Right, and there’s still so much we don’t know about our suspect.”

She nods, her eyes narrowing as she considers the situation. “I feel like we’ve overlooked something crucial. Maybe it’s in the way the incidents are connected? We should  try and see if we can get an overview over everything and see if we can find a common thread.”

You lean back in your seat, contemplating her words as you keep your eyes on the winding road ahead. Emily's passion for detail and her determination to solve the case only deepen your admiration for her. “A detailed overview is a good idea,” you reply, trying to channel your thoughts into a structured response.“Let’s map it out when we get back,” you suggest. “If we can visualize everything—the timeline, the suspects, the alibis—it might give us a clearer picture. 

You nod thoughtfully, but as you shift your gaze back toward the winding road, a sudden gust of wind sweeps through the open windows. The vibrant leaves from the trees dance gracefully into the air, swirling around the SUV like golden butterflies. As one particularly daring leaf flutters in through the window, it makes a delicate spin before settling on Emily’s notebook.

Startled, she looks down, her eyes widening in surprise before breaking into a radiant smile as she picks up the leaf up between her fingers. The light filters through it, revealing an intricate pattern of veins that almost resembles a work of art. 

You can’t help but grin at her delight. “Well, if that isn’t a sign of inspiration, I don’t know what is,” you joke lightly, grateful for the moment of levity amidst the weight of the case. 

Emily holds the leaf up to the sunlight, allowing its golden hues to shimmer in the light, her expression a mix of wonder and thoughtfulness. “Maybe it’s the universe telling us to take a break,” she suggests, her tone playful yet earnest. “I don’t know about you, but I could use some coffee and a pastry right about now,my treat.”

You chuckle, unable to suppress the warmth blooming in your chest at her offer. “I’m always down for coffee and pastries,” you respond, glancing at her with a playful smirk. “Especially when you’re the one treating.”

Emily laughs, a sound that mingles with the rustling leaves outside, bright and infectious. It feels good to share this lightness with her, especially in contrast to the heaviness of your work.

As you navigate the road that leads to the quaint little coffee shop you have in mind, the vibrant landscape outside only adds to the cozy atmosphere you’re creating in your head, intermingling with the scents of pine and damp earth that waft through the open windows. The trees close in, their leaves glowing under the sun, and for a moment, all the weight of the case seems to fade into the background.

[vampiriito]

Summer was my first solace.. (JJ Maybank x shy! kook! reader) Chapter 4

A/N: Hi loves! Here's the fourth chapter of summer was my first love! Again, if you have anything to share don't forget to comment or send asks, i love interacting with you ^.^ have fun reading (this was more JJ's POV focused for some reason, so enjoy JJ freaking out over the fact that he's starting to crush over our sweet reader.)

Summary: You and JJ both share the love for the marsh, and one summer day you cross paths after a few weeks of sharing secret looks and sweet smiles from across the street.

The marsh was your sanctuary, a haven where time seemed to slow and the cacophony of the world faded into a gentle symphony of nature's whispers. It was always full of spots so breathtakingly beautiful they stole your breath away—mundane and earthy in their allure. The emerald moss cloaked the ancient trees, while iridescent insects flitted over the bark, like living jewels adorning the forest. Sunlight filtered through the canopy, casting dappled patterns that danced upon the ground. The way the rays pierced the foliage, making the tranquil ponds glisten like scattered fragments of sky, compelled you to keep the camera pressed to your eye, desperate to capture every fleeting moment. You found yourself constantly photographing and admiring, each click a testament to the beauty that surrounded you.

You cherished how your small interactions with JJ had become more frequent, even if words were seldom exchanged. It was as though timid glances and shy smiles were a secret language spoken only by the two of you. Those brief connections were enough—they became the highlights of your quiet, unassuming days. Each shared moment sent a gentle thrill through you, adding a layer of warmth to your solitary explorations.

The ground beneath your boots squelched with each step, the thick mud pulling at your feet as if the very earth sought to keep you there. A heavy mist clung to the air, wrapping around you like a cool, damp veil and mingling with the rich scent of decaying plant life and brackish water. Tall reeds swayed gently in the breeze, their whispering rustle the only sound aside from the occasional splash as unseen creatures darted through the waters. Every movement required effort, your legs sinking into the spongy ground as you weaved between clusters of wild grasses and shallow pools. The marsh was alive, teeming with the quiet hum of insects and the distant croak of frogs—a hidden world thriving beneath the veil of mist. Each step was uncertain, the mud thick and unforgiving, clinging to you as if reluctant to let you pass.

Yet, despite the marsh's resistance, you felt an inexplicable connection to this place. It mirrored the depths of your own soul—lush yet secluded, vibrant yet understated. Here, in the embrace of nature's raw beauty, you found solace. Your camera became an extension of yourself, capturing not just images, but emotions—fragments of time that spoke to your heart.

As you paused to catch your breath, a beam of sunlight broke through the mist, illuminating a cluster of wildflowers that peeked through the dense foliage, causing you to raise your camera to your eyes for the countless time in the last 10 minutes. Their petals glistened with dew, fragile yet resilient.

JJ, ever the restless teen he was, often found himself wandering the winding paths of the marshlands. It was a sanctuary of sorts—a place where the world's noise faded into the background, replaced by the gentle whisper of rustling reeds and the melodic calls of distant birds. The marsh wasn't just off the beaten path; it was a hidden realm untouched by the throngs of tourists that flocked elsewhere. Here, the air was thick with the scent of damp earth and wildflowers, and the golden sunlight filtered through the canopy, casting intricate patterns on the muddy ground. Something about this place resonated with him deeply, drawing him back time and again.

On this particular day, as JJ trekked along the familiar, muddy trail, his boots sinking slightly with each step, he was lost in his thoughts. The chorus of crickets and the gentle lapping of water against the banks provided a soothing backdrop. Suddenly, a soft but distinct sound caught his attention—the gentle click of a camera shutter. It was a sound he recognized instantly, one that stood out amidst the natural harmonies of the marsh. A spark of curiosity ignited within him.

A sly smirk tugged at his lips as his eyes scanned the landscape, searching for the source. There you were, crouched among the tall reeds, completely engrossed in your art. The delicate breeze played with a stray strand of your hair, and the focused determination on your face was palpable. The way the light caressed your features made you seem almost ethereal, a seamless part of the serene environment you were so intent on capturing.

JJ watched you for a moment, a mix of amusement and something softer warming his chest. You were so absorbed that you hadn't noticed his presence. The sight of you in your element was both familiar and captivating—a silent testament to why he found himself drawn to these marshes more often than he'd admit.

The way you focused intently on your photography, the way your gentle smile curved on your lips as you looked through the viewfinder, the way the sunlight danced in your hair, it all felt strangely captivating to him.

He waited a beat, debating with himself whether he should approach you or just leave you to your hobby. But his curiosity and strange pull towards you won out.

"Hey, little mouse."

He called out, the familiar nickname slipping off his tongue with ease. He sauntered over to where you were taking pictures, his boots squishing through the mud. He stopped a few feet away from you, shoving his hands into his pocket, and looking down at you with a casual smirk.

At the sound of the familiar nickname and voice, you peered away from your viewfinder, blinking a couple of times and adjusting your glasses. You didn't expect to see JJ there, even more so all alone, his friends nowhere in sight.

"Hi.." you mumbled in greeting, standing up from your crouched position, smiling sweetly at him.

JJ chuckled at your shy little greeting, his smirk transforming into a lazy, lopsided grin that sent a flutter through your chest.

"Fancy running into you here," he drawled, his voice carrying a teasing undertone.

He took a few casual steps closer, the space between you narrowing as his gaze roamed over you with a warm, appraising look. You stood amidst the tall reeds, clad in your favorite photography attire—a comfy jacket layered over a simple shirt, jeans slightly damp at the hems from the marsh, and well-worn boots caked with mud. Your trusty camera hung around your neck, its weight familiar against your chest.

JJ couldn't help but notice every little detail about you. The way your hair was slightly wind-tousled, stray strands escaping to frame your face in an effortlessly charming manner. A few wisps clung to the corner of your mouth, and he had the sudden urge to brush them aside. There was a smudge of mud on the lens of your glasses, a testament to your dedication and the dorkiness he seemed so captivated by.

The soft light filtering through the canopy cast a gentle glow over you, highlighting the delicate flush on your cheeks. Your eyes reflected the shimmering waters nearby, mirroring the hues of the marshland. To him, you looked like a part of the landscape you loved to capture—natural, unpretentious, and undeniably beautiful.

He smirked when he saw the smidge of mud, gesturing with his chin at it.

"You got mud on your glasses there, little mouse."

He teased, the smirk on his lips widening. He had a strange urge to just reach out and wipe the mud off himself but he shoved his hands deeper into his pockets to stop himself.

"I know.." you frowned, your eyes un-focusing a little to study the smudge of mud on the lenses of the glasses. You haven't been able to wipe it off, given you forgot your cleaning wipes at home. Classic you.

JJ chuckled, watching you frown at the smudge. He found the little frown on your face oddly adorable.

"What, you don't have anything to clean it off?"

He said this with genuine curiosity, taking another step closer so that he was standing just a foot or so away from you. He tilted his head to the side, his gaze studying your face closely.

You shook your head, your frown still in place.

JJ found the frown still on your pretty features amusing, and he chuckled again. Seeing you in such a situation somehow made him feel... a little protective. Which took him by surprise because he never felt protective over anyone.

He took a step closer yet again, his smirk replaced by more of a soft smile than a smirk. "Here, let me..." He said, gently reaching up and slowly removing your glasses from your face.

He held your glasses delicately in his hands, his fingers gingerly grasping the frames as if they were the most fragile of artifacts. Without the familiar barrier of the lenses, his eyes met yours directly, unfiltered and penetrating. He studied you closely, taking in every subtle detail—the way your lashes framed your eyes, the faint freckles dusting your cheeks, the vulnerability that seemed more pronounced without your glasses shielding you. The world around you appeared softer, edges blurring gently, casting everything in a muted glow. Without them, you seemed almost ethereal, a delicate presence in an otherwise sharp world.

A sudden, inexplicable urge welled up within him—a desire to protect you, to wrap you in his arms and shield you from anything that might cause you harm. It surged through him like a quiet storm, unexpected and intense. He quickly brushed the thought away, mentally shaking his head. That's silly, he chided himself. Why would I feel the need to protect her? Yet, the feeling lingered, a warm ember nestled in the corner of his heart, resisting extinguishment.

Glancing down at the glasses cradled in his hands, he became acutely aware of the faint blush creeping up his neck, the warmth rising to tint his cheeks a soft pink. The realization made his heartbeat quicken ever so slightly. He hoped the dim lighting might conceal his flushed complexion, that you wouldn't notice the subtle betrayal of his composed façade. The delicate frames felt almost weightless between his fingers, yet they carried the significance of this intimate moment. Gathering himself, he looked back up, offering a small, almost shy smile. His eyes searched yours, a mixture of uncertainty and something deeper flickering within them.

You pressed your lips together nervously, looking down at your own glasses in his big hands, feeling a bit exposed without your glasses on. The way he was holding them like they were fragile and priceless made your heart stutter and the pink dusting your cheeks intensify for some reason.

JJ couldn't help but notice the way you looked down at the glasses in his hands, a tinge of nervousness on your face. It stirred something within him, a strange softness that he didn't know he possessed.

He cleared his throat, a bit awkwardly. "Uh, hold on a sec," He reached into the back pocket of his shorts, pulling out completely the bandana which was tucked half way in.

He looked back at you and found himself staring into your wide, nervous eyes. For a brief moment, the world around them seemed to blur, and the only thing he could focus on was your pretty eyes, gazing at him with a mixture of anticipation and vulnerability.

He swallowed, his heart suddenly beating faster as he gently lifted his hand and used the bandana to carefully wipe off the smudge on your glasses.

The tenderness he used to wipe your glasses made you shift in your spot nervously, trying not to look like a lovestruck idiot. You were already doing that while waving at him across parking lots and across streets when you saw him. Why were you so goddamn inept at socializing?

JJ could feel the tightness in his chest, his hands trembling as he wiped the lenses with an almost frantic precision. His heart pounded in his ears, a heavy rhythm that felt far too intense for something as simple as cleaning glasses. But there was nothing simple about this moment. The way your body shifted nervously, the subtle flush creeping up your neck and staining your cheeks—it all felt too intimate, too close. And in the chaos of it, JJ could feel a tide of emotions he wasn’t prepared to face. He had spent so long building a wall around himself, convincing himself that he didn’t care about anyone. Not really. Especially not a kook.

But there he was, standing too close, unable to escape the pull of your presence. The weight of the moment pressed on him, suffocating him with feelings he had long kept buried. He was JJ—wild, untouchable, and fiercely independent. Yet here he was, handing your glasses back with a lingering hesitation, careful not to meet your eyes. He was terrified of what he might see if he did.

"Thank you.." you thanked him weakly, the world becoming much more sharper and clear with the help of your glasses back on. The smudge was gone now and although they weren't completely clean they had to do for now.

You found yourself just staring at him, your hands lingering on your camera, fidgeting with it once in a while, your expression bashful and admiring.

JJ was completely captivated by the way you stared at him, your eyes soft and unguarded as your fingers absently toyed with the camera. In that moment, his heart beat a little faster—this wasn’t the smoldering, lustful gaze he was accustomed to, but rather one filled with pure, innocent wonder. It disarmed him, unraveling defenses he’d built up over years of being seen as nothing more than a bad boy. The contrast left him reeling, emotions swirling in ways he hadn’t anticipated.

He cleared his throat, the sound breaking the fragile silence that had wrapped around the two of you. Sliding his hands back into his pockets, JJ fought to mask the vulnerability simmering beneath his cool exterior, desperate to reclaim some semblance of nonchalance even as every part of him felt exposed by your sincere admiration.

"What were you taking pictures of, anyway?"

He asked, his voice a little bit huskier than he would have liked. He glanced around, noticing how the sun was beginning to set, casting a beautiful golden hue over the entire marsh.

"Moss and... bugs." you spoke, your words so quiet that they almost looked they were only being mouthed, "i dunno if you remember... but i told you i usually use the pictures as inspiration for my paintings.."

JJ remembered that, though he would never admit it. He noticed that his mind wrapped around things you mentioned and later mulled over them when he was lost in thought. The small—and frankly not often enough, conversations were the highlights of JJ's days and he didn't know how to process the notion just yet.

He looked over your shoulder at a spot you'd been taking pictures of just before he walked in, noticing all the tiny, iridescent little insects scattered on the mossy ground. "Mosses and bugs."

He murmured to himself. There was a hint of a smirk on his lips, but it was a soft, almost fond one this time. He opened his mouth to crack a joke about how bizarre it was to find inspiration in something as ordinary as moss and bugs, but the words vanished the instant he met your gaze. You were still there, your eyes soft and unassuming, that same shy expression lingering as if you were hiding a secret only the sunset knew. The warm, fading light bathed you in a gentle glow, making you appear almost angelic, and for a heartbeat, his usual cool composure shattered into silence.

Clearing his throat once more, he averted his eyes, struggling to mask the tender vulnerability stirring within him. With a hesitant smile and a feigned casualness that didn’t quite reach his eyes, he ventured, "Right. So... you do that often?"

"Uh yeah... i like the marsh and the beach... they're usually full of small critters and such.." you nodded with a hint of excitement in the small grin tugging at your lips, although it was still reserved and quiet.

JJ found himself nodding along, amused by your soft, reserved excitement. Seeing you get so animated about the things you loved was somehow beautiful to him, and it made him curious to learn more. He studied your face as you spoke, his gaze following the way your lips moved.

"Sounds peaceful," He mumbled, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets as another silence fell between the two of you.

He knew he should probably go. The evening was slipping away, and here he was—standing in the twilight and chatting with a kook as if you were one of his closest friends. And JJ liked to think he was your friend. Even though his pride and prejudice against kooks stood on the way sometimes.

Yet, something about this moment made him want to stay. The gentle cadence of your voice, the quiet comfort of your presence—it was unlike anything he had felt in a long time. It reminded him of the distant memory of his mother, the way she'd smile down at him and speak in a soft, reverent voice as if she was scared JJ would break. He didn’t want the moment to end.

He turned his gaze back to you, and for a heartbeat, your eyes met his. The final rays of sunlight danced across your face, wrapping you in a soft, golden glow that made you seem almost otherworldly. In that fragile, beautiful light, he found himself utterly breathless, caught in the wonder of it all.

Your eyes darted away from his nervously, noticing the golden hue washing over the marsh and the small pond to your side. You hesitantly raised the camera to your eyes, adjusting your glasses before snapping a couple of pictures of the sunset before lowering the camera to gaze back at JJ. In times like these when he looked so beautiful and glowy, you'd snap a picture from afar, but you couldn't do that now. So, you just stuck to staring up at him like a dumb idiot.

JJ noticed the way you raised your camera, focusing on the beautiful scenery around you. He watched you quietly, his gaze studying the way the light danced on your face as you got lost in the moment.

He was about to speak when he saw you lower the camera, your gaze returning to his. He froze under your intense stare, the silence growing between the two of you. For a brief moment, he forgot where he was and who he was with. You just looked at him with those wide, innocent eyes of yours, and he was frozen in place...

He swallowed, trying to think of something to say, something to break the silence. His mind was a jumbled mess, and he could feel the heat creeping up his neck. Damnit, why was he getting so flustered? He was JJ Maybank, the loose canon, the complete opposite of you. He didn't get flustered. He didn't get lost in the beauty of a pretty girl with innocent eyes. He did not get caught in the moment like some stupid lovestruck idiot...

"Sorry... I'm staring like an idiot again.." you mumbled, frowning gently. You felt compelled to speak, to apologize for being a dumbass and just going quiet on him.

JJ was snapped out of his daze by your soft, quiet voice. He quickly shook his head, a small smirk appearing on his lips. "No, it's... it's fine. I, uh..."

He ran a hand through his messy locks, looking away from you. He didn't know why he was suddenly so nervous. He felt flustered and off-kilter, like you had thrown him completely off his game, and he didn't know what to do about it.

He looked back at you, his gaze tracing the lines of your face. The last remnants of the sunset were fading, bathing you in a soft, golden glow. You looked even more pretty like this, and his heart did a strange little flip in his chest, coming to the realization that his stomach was full of butterflies.

"You know, uh... it's getting late." He said, his voice a bit hoarser than usual. He hated the way he sounded so flustered, so off his game for such a little thing as looking at you...

"Oh yeah... sorry, I'm holding you off aren't i?" you quipped up nervously, adjusting your glasses and fidgeting with your camera.

JJ chuckled softly at your nervous apologies, shaking his head. "Nah, you're not holding me up. I just... I should probably get going."

He shoved his hands into his pockets again. He wasn't sure why he was so reluctant to leave. There was a part of him that wanted to keep talking to you, keep standing here with you under the twilight sky. But he squashed the feeling, reminding himself that you were a kook. Kooks and pogues could never get along...

You found yourself frowning at his words, small and imperceptible but still a frown. You probably made it weird and awkward, again. And now he was trying to leave politely, as someone would.

You nodded, humming, "yeah.. uh, don't mean to hold you off from... stuff."

JJ noticed the tiny, almost imperceptible frown that formed on your lips, and it confused him. Why were you frowning? Were you... disappointed? That he wanted to leave? The idea made his heart skip a beat for some reason.

He shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. "Ah, it's not like I got anything special to do. Just gonna hang out with the guys, nothing exciting."

He found himself talking, almost rambling on, as if he didn't want to leave.

Of course he did, he wasn't a loser like you whose only friend was now out of town and you were stuck just walking through the marsh like a troll.

You opened your mouth to say something but closed it again, nodding like a dork once again, fidgeting with your camera still.

JJ was beginning to feel desperate for something, anything to keep this conversation going. He didn't want to leave yet, but he didn't know what to say. Why was he being such a dumbass? He was usually so confident, so cool and collected. Why were his palms suddenly sweaty and his heartbeat suddenly out of control?

He looked at your camera, which you were fidgeting with still, and blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"Can... uh... can I see your camera?"

"Oh yeah… uh, here," you murmured, stepping a little closer as you nervously extended your camera toward him. There was a tentative relief in your voice—a quiet gratitude that he had finally said something to break the heavy, awkward silence between you. You kept the camera hanging from your neck, a small act of defiance against normalcy, even though you knew that most people would have taken it off to smooth over the moment.

JJ accepted the camera, his fingers gently wrapping around it. He was suddenly very aware of how close you were standing to him, and he felt a strange flutter in his stomach.

He studied the camera in his hands, noticing the way you hadn't taken it fully off from around your neck. He suddenly smiled, an idea forming in his mind.

He raised the camera and suddenly pointed it at you. "Smile for me," He said, the grin on his face growing wider. He loved this, seeing your eyes widen as he suddenly raised the camera and aimed it at you. Your nervous, flustered expression on your face just made him want to tease you even more.

You were taken aback, your camera had never been pointed at you. You hated having your picture taken, and you usually hated the way you looked in photos, your eyes looking weird and your expression tense and awkward.

You furrowed your brows, frowning gently, "i usually, don't like my picture taken.."

JJ smirked at your comment, noticing the way your frown deepened slightly. He knew he was getting under your skin, and it was fun.

"Oh, come on, don't be so shy. Don't you wanna see how pretty you look through the lens of your own camera?"

He chuckled, his finger hovering near the shutter-release button, ready to snap a picture of you at any moment...

He watched the way you fidgeted nervously in front of the camera, your eyes widening slightly as you realized he was serious. He could see the way your hand clenched the strap of the camera around your neck, and he couldn't help but find it amusing how flustered you were getting from something as simple as him taking your picture.

He took a step closer, the camera now just a few inches away from your face. "Smiiiiile, pretty girl..."

You found yourself smiling weakly, your fingers reaching up to adjust your glasses in case he actually decided to take the picture. If not, you would just be sitting there smiling like an idiot. Which would be worse than the awkward, chopped conversation you had up until now.

JJ chuckled at your weak attempt at a smile, his eyes fixed on your nervous expression. You looked adorably cute, like a little bunny, and it was making his heart race like crazy. He loved how flustered you were getting from just a picture, and he was tempted to tease you even more. "Nah, that won't do. Smile bigger, come on.."

He moved the camera even closer, his finger still hovering over the button.

"Don't-.. you're not supposed to get this close when taking a picture." you scolded gently, the words not even sounding like a scold.

JJ smirked at your scolding, rolling his eyes. He took a step even closer to you, the camera now only an inch away from your face. He could see every detail of your pretty features at this distance, the way your eyelashes fluttered as you blinked, the way your cheeks were dusted pink, the way your lips parted nervously...

"Who cares about rules, yeah? Besides, now I can get a really good shot of your pretty eyes.."

JJ's gaze lingered on your face for a moment, his eyes tracing the contours of your cheeks and the shape of your lips. He was suddenly overwhelmed by a powerful urge to reach out and touch you, to feel the softness of your skin beneath his fingers, to cup your face in his hands. He shook the thought away, clearing his throat.

"Just smile for me, nice and wide. Think of something funny, something that makes you happy..."

Your thoughts drifted back to that one sunlit afternoon on the beach, when his laughter floated over the waves and filled the air with an effortless joy. You remembered the way you’d leaned in, peering through your viewfinder to capture that radiant smile—the subtle upturn of his lips, the spark in his eyes—as if each detail was a secret waiting to be discovered. In that quiet moment, your own smile, though still shy and tentative, had bloomed into something more honest and heartfelt. You couldn’t help but laugh softly at the memory, realizing with a blush that you must have looked like a lovestruck idiot, utterly captivated by the magic of his simple, unguarded happiness.

JJ, who had been preparing to tease you some more, stopped suddenly, his breath catching in his throat. Your smile was suddenly wider, more genuine. It was beautiful, radiant, and it lit up your entire face.

For a moment, he was speechless. Seeing you smile like that, it was like a punch to the gut. His heart was hammering in his chest, and he could feel his palms getting sweaty. "There we go," he mumbled, his voice surprisingly hoarse.

He continued to aim the camera at you, his finger hovering over the shutter-release button. But he didn't take a picture, not yet. He was too caught up in the sight in front of him, the way your beautiful smile widened as you continued to think of something funny.

He swallowed, unable to tear his gaze away from your face. You were so goddamn pretty, it almost hurt to look at you...

JJ finally pulled himself together, reminding himself that he was supposed to be teasing you, not getting lost in the sight of your pretty smile.

"Okay.. say cheese, mouse." Before you could even react, he pressed the button, snapping a picture of your smiling face.

He lowered the camera, looking down at the screen to check the picture he had just taken. He expected it to be a silly, awkward picture of you as you made a funny face. But what he saw instead was something completely different.

You looked beautiful, radiant, your smile lighting up your face. But there was something else, something in your expression that he couldn't quite place. He just stared at the picture, his heart thudding faster and faster in his chest.

"I look so silly.." you mumbled, stepping a little closer to inspect the picture, your voice tinged with something like insecurity and disappointment.

JJ glanced up from the screen as you stepped closer, his breath catching in his chest for a moment as you stood right next to him. Your shoulder was almost touching his, and he could smell the faint scent of your perfume, something light and flowery that made his head spin, even with the different smells coming from around you both.

He looked back down at the camera, at the picture of you smiling so beautifully. Silly? How could you think that? You looked breathtaking. "What do you mean? You look gorgeous.."

The words slipped out before he could stop them. He felt his cheeks flush as he realized what he had just said, but he didn't take it back. It was true, you looked beautiful, and he suddenly had the urge to tell you just how absolutely stunning you were.

"Well... it's taken too close and... i look stupid.." you rambled a bit completely glossing over the fact that he called you 'gorgeous', grabbing the camera gently from his hands, studying the picture.

He watched as you grabbed the camera back, his fingers grazing yours accidentally.

He could see the insecurity in your expression as you studied the picture of yourself, and it made his heart ache. You didn't see it, didn't see how beautiful you were. He wanted to reach out and wipe away that frown on your face, to pull you closer and tell you just how beautiful you looked.

"You don't look stupid," he said, his voice a bit hoarser than usual.

You swallowed, looking up at him. You felt a sudden strike of confidence, aiming the camera at him nervously. You had a reason to take a picture of him now, given he also teased you. You adjusted the lens and stepped back a bit, your finger hovering over the shutter-release button, waiting for him to have a reaction.

JJ blinked as you suddenly aimed the camera at him, a surprised expression on his face. He hadn't expected you to turn the tables on him, but he couldn't help the thrill that raced through his body.

He had a brief moment of panic as he realized how unprepared he was. But instead of being his usual cocky self, he found himself feeling strangely giddy and nervous. He flashed you a quick, charming smile, trying to act nonchalant. "Go on then, take the picture." he drawled softly, his southern accent a little more accentuated since he was feeling nervous.

You smiled widely behind the camera, captivated by the way his smile lit up the fading light. In that golden hour, as the sun dipped over the marsh, his grin seemed to ignite the whole world—radiant, infectious, and utterly sincere. He looked breathtaking, as if he were glowing from within; even the soft breeze played with his hair, adding a touch of effortless charm.

You had taken countless pictures of JJ before, secret snapshots kept hidden away, but this moment felt different—special—because he’d actually asked you to capture it. With a gentle press on the shutter, you immortalized his smile, preserving his expression before it could fade away. Lowering the camera, you studied the image, your heart swelling with a tender warmth as you cherished this rare, genuine moment.

JJ's heart skipped a beat as he heard the shutter of the camera go off, the sound seeming to reverberate through his entire body. He suddenly felt incredibly self-conscious, wondering if he had looked okay in the picture. Had he smiled too much? Not enough? Had his hair looked weird? He couldn't tear his eyes away from your face as you studied the picture, his stomach doing somersaults in anticipation.

"Well, how did I look?" He asked, his voice cracking slightly.

"Beautiful..." you murmured reverently without realizing, "-i mean you look photogenic.." you mumbled, tilting the camera screen towards him to see the picture. The small flash from your camera had illuminated his face just a bit, combining with the hue from the sunset, giving the picture such an intimate soft look that you hoped he wouldn't tell you to delete it.

JJ felt a shiver run down his spine as you called him beautiful. It was a word that he had never associated with himself before, but coming from you, it sounded like the highest compliment in the world.

He looked down at the screen, his heart pounding as he saw the picture of himself. He had to admit, he looked pretty good. The light from the sunset gave his hair a soft, golden glow, and his smile was... sincere.

"Damn, I do look good," he joked, the corner of his mouth twitching.

He looked back up at you, his eyes fixed on your face. You looked so soft and pretty, holding the camera in your hands like it was a fragile bird, just how a Disney princess would. He suddenly had the urge to reach out and touch you, to run his fingers through your hair and pull you closer to him. But he resisted, knowing that he couldn't do that. It was too risky, too dangerous. Pogue and kook relationships didn't work out, he knew that.

Instead, he cleared his throat, forcing himself to look away from you and back at the picture in the screen.

"I can delete it if you want me to..." you spoke up hesitantly, looking at the side of his face adjusting your glasses.

JJ's heart sank at your words. Delete it? No, the last thing he wanted was for you to delete that picture. It was the first picture of himself that he actually found good, and it was taken by you.

He swallowed, trying to keep his voice casual.

"Oh, uh... nah, you can keep it. I mean, I look so good, it'd be a shame to delete it, right?" He forced a cocky smile onto his face, but it felt like a lie.

You smiled up genuinely at him, nodding "i just don't want you to think it's creepy that I'm keeping it."

JJ felt his heart flutter at your smile. You looked so adorable, a little bundle of sweetness and innocence. How could you possibly be creepy?

He cleared his throat again, trying to sound nonchalant "Nah, it's not creepy. I mean, it's just a picture, right? And I do look pretty damn good in it, can't blame you for wanting to keep it."

"Okay.." you looked back down at the picture, your eyes scanning over his smiling face in the screen of your camera. He looked so pretty it almost hurt.

JJ watched as you looked down at the photo, your eyes tracing the contours of his face. He could see the way your expression softened as you took in the sight of him, and it made his heart race even faster. He wanted to say something, to tease you and make a snarky comment, but he couldn't find the words. Instead, he just stood there, his eyes fixed on your face, watching the way the light bounced off your hair and glasses. He was starting to think he got it bad for a stranger..

"I'm telling you, Maisy... look!" you exclaimed, your eyes sparkling with excitement as you pointed to the screen of your laptop. Your voice held a rare enthusiasm that immediately captured Maisy's attention.

She leaned in closer, her strawberry-blonde hair cascading over her shoulder as she peered at the images displayed. The glow from the screen illuminated both your faces in the dim light of your room, casting a soft, warm hue.

"It's like those pictures that couples take of each other," you continued, a shy smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Your cheeks flushed ever so slightly, a gentle pink that hinted at the emotions swirling within you.

On the screen were two photographs—one of you, captured by JJ that day at the marsh, and the other of him, taken by you moments later. In JJ's photograph, you stood amid the tall reeds, the golden rays of the setting sun enveloping you in a radiant glow, camera fairly close to your face. Your eyes reflected the shimmering waters, and a serene smile graced your features, natural and unguarded. In your photograph of JJ, he was bathed in the same golden light, his carefree grin infectious, eyes bright with a hint of mischief. The soft breeze had tousled his hair just so, making him appear both rugged and ethereal.

Maisy's eyes widened as she took in the images. "Wow," she whispered, a knowing smile spreading across her face. "These are... incredible. There's so much chemistry here."

You felt warmth flood your cheeks again. "Do you really think so?" you asked softly, biting your lower lip. Your fingers nervously traced the edge of your laptop, the significance of the photos settling deeper into your heart.

"Absolutely," Maisy replied, nudging you playfully. "I mean, look at the way he's looking at you in this one." She pointed to JJ's photo of you. "And the way you captured him... it's like you both see each other differently than anyone else does."

You gazed back at the images, your mind replaying the moments from that day. The marsh had been your special place, but sharing it with JJ had made it feel even more magical. The unspoken connection, the comfortable silences, the shared appreciation for the beauty around you—it all seemed to culminate in these photographs.

"Maybe," you murmured, a hopeful glint in your eyes. "It just felt... different. In a good way."

Maisy grinned, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Sounds like someone has a crush."

You laughed softly, shaking your head. "It's not that simple. He's... well, he's JJ. And I'm just me."

"Exactly," she said confidently. "And maybe it's time he sees just how amazing 'just you' really is."

You sighed, a mix of happiness and uncertainty swirling within you. You shifted closer to your best friend on the floor of your room, smiling brightly, "i can't believe he actually came up to me in the marsh on his own agenda.."

Maisy shook her head in disbelief, a small smile on her lips. "I know, right? He actually talked to you. And he let you take a picture of him." She looked at the photo of JJ's smiling face on your laptop screen, her eyes narrowing in thought.

"You think he has a crush on you or something?"

You smiled appreciatively at her question, the possibilities dancing in your mind. Turning back to the laptop, you allowed yourself to linger on JJ's image for a moment longer, your heart fluttering softly.

"Why would he? I looked like a swamp troll when he saw me... maybe he didn't even recognize me at first.. that's why he came up to me." you furrowed your brows, studying JJ's face with a look of longing.

Maisy rolled her eyes at your comment. "Are you serious? You looked adorable and he knows it. Trust me, guys have a sixth sense for when a girl looks good."

She poked your shoulder teasingly, a smirk on her face.

"And he definitely knew it was you. Why else would he come up to you out of the blue like that and let you take his picture?"

"Yeah he did call out to me using that nickname... the mouse one. And besides who else would be in the marsh crouched down between reeds to take pics of bugs..?" you chuckled, shaking your head.

Maisy laughed, nodding her head.

"Exactly! Only you would be doing something like that. And he knows that. Trust me, there's no way he didn't recognize you."

She leaned closer, a mischievous gleam in her eye.

"And the nickname? That's a dead giveaway. He clearly has a thing for you, babe."

"You think so? You know at the party... when the whole thing with 7 minutes of heaven happened? He offered to help me with speaking to people... and he was like: 'you could talk to me.'" you turned to face her fully, "Since that day; he kept waving back and smiling whenever he saw me around town... winking sometimes too."

"Are you kidding? That's, like, the biggest sign ever." Maisy said, her eyes widening in disbelief.

"He offered to help you talk to people? And he waves at you and smiles? And FLIRTS?! Come on, girl, he clearly likes you." She grabbed your shoulder, giving you a little shake.

"You need to make a move before it's too late."

"How am i supposed to?" you laughed, adjusting your glasses after she shook you gently, "i told you, i barely even speak whenever we interact."

Maisy rolled her eyes, letting out an exaggerated sigh. "You don't need to do any fancy pickup lines. Just try actually talking to him sometime. I know you're shy, but I think he likes that about you. He wouldn't be waving and smiling if he didn't."

She thought for a moment, a sly smile spreading across her face.

"You know what? I have an idea..."

Maisy grabbed your shoulders in excitement. "I've got it. You need to find an excuse to talk to him again. Like, ask him for something, anything. Just get him alone so you can have a decent conversation."

She paused, her eyes narrowing in thought.

"But it can't just be a normal conversation. You need to catch him off guard. Surprise him. That way, you'll be in the driver's seat and he'll be the one flustered."

Easier said than done. You despised surprises—they made your heart race and your palms sweat, catching you off guard every time. Yet, despite your aversion, you'd confidently told Maisy you’d figure it out and win over JJ in no time. As if that was possible. The mere thought made you scoff internally; JJ was like the wind—free, unpredictable, and impossible to capture.

The afternoon sun bathed the town in a warm, golden glow as you strolled along the familiar streets. Shopkeepers were beginning to prop open their doors to let in the summer breeze, and the scent of freshly baked bread wafted from the bakery on the corner, mingling with the sweet aroma of blooming jasmine and the ocean breeze. You made your way toward the quaint bookstore nestled between the café and the antique shop—a favorite haunt of yours since childhood.

The sidewalk was dotted with clusters of wildflowers pushing through cracks in the pavement, their tenacity a quiet inspiration. You felt a pang of melancholy realizing that summer was slipping through your fingers like grains of sand. The stack of books in your tote bag was a tangible reminder that the season of freedom was nearing its end.

As you approached the bookstore, its faded sign creaked softly in the breeze: The Novel Nook. The peeling paint and ivy-covered bricks gave it an ageless charm, a sanctuary for dreamers and seekers of stories. Pushing open the heavy wooden door, a tiny bell jingled above, announcing your arrival. The familiar scent of aged paper and leather-bound volumes enveloped you, calming your restless thoughts.

You wandered between the tall shelves, running your fingertips over the spines of countless books. Each title whispered promises of distant lands, epic adventures, and lives so different from your own. The hushed atmosphere was occasionally broken by the soft rustle of pages and the distant sound of whispered conversations. This place was your refuge, a world away from the uncertainties that awaited with the start of your senior year.

The thought of returning to school filled you with a mix of apprehension and resignation. Hallways buzzing with chatter, the pressure of exams, the unspoken social hierarchies—it all felt overwhelming. And then there was JJ. The corners of your mouth twitched upward involuntarily at the thought of him. His easy laughter, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, how a single dimple appeared on his left cheek—it was ridiculous how effortlessly he occupied your thoughts.

"Thinking of anyone I know?" A familiar voice pulled you from your reverie.

You glanced up to see Maisy leaning against the end of the aisle, a playful smirk on her face. Her strawberry-blonde hair was piled into a messy bun, wisps escaping to frame her freckled face. She sipped an iced coffee, condensation dripping down the sides of the cup.

"Just lost in thoughts," you replied with a modest shrug, a slight blush creeping into your cheeks.

Maisy sauntered over, her eyes glinting mischievously. "Let me guess—tall, blond, and infuriatingly charming?" She nudged you lightly with her elbow.

You rolled your eyes but couldn't suppress a smile. "Am I that transparent?"

"Only to me," she laughed. "So, have you made any progress on that little mission of yours?"

You sighed, glancing down at the book in your hands—The Great Gatsby. "Not exactly. It's not like I can just walk up to him and say, 'Hey, JJ, fancy a date?'"

"Why not?" Maisy challenged. "What's the worst that could happen?"

You shot her a skeptical look. "Public humiliation? Crushing rejection? Need I go on?"

She waved a dismissive hand. "Please. JJ's not like that. Besides, I've seen the way he looks at you."

Your heart skipped a beat. "What do you mean?"

Maisy grinned knowingly. "Like you're a sexy Rubik's cube that he can't wait to solve. Trust me, there's more to that boy than meets the eye."

You pondered her words with a small amused chuckle, a flutter of hope stirring within you. Could it be possible that JJ saw you as more than just a passing acquaintance? The notion both excited and terrified you.

"Maybe," you conceded softly.

Maisy linked her arm through yours. "Tell you what, there's a beach bonfire this weekend. Perfect setting for a little serendipity, don't you think?"

You hesitated. "I don't know, Maisy…"

She squeezed your arm gently. "Come on, what's summer without a bit of adventure?"

Looking around the cozy confines of the bookstore, you took a deep breath. Perhaps Maisy was right. Maybe it was time to step out of the pages of your books and start writing your own story.

"Alright," you agreed with a tentative smile. "But no meddling."

"Scout's honor," she said, holding up three fingers in mock sincerity.

As you both headed toward the register, the weight on your shoulders felt a little lighter. The prospect of the bonfire filled you with a mix of nerves and anticipation. Outside, the sun began its descent, casting long shadows across the town and painting the sky with hues of pink and orange.

Exiting the bookstore, you glanced back at The Novel Nook, its windows aglow with warm light. You bid your good-bye with Maisy, given the red-head was in one of her moods and 'desperately needing to run by the beach', and started walking down the side-walk leisurely.

JJ was leaning against the wall of a corner store across the book store, his arms crossed over his chest as he talked to his friend John B. He was smoking a cigarette, his head tilted back against the bricks as he blew out a plume of smoke into the air, waiting for his other friends to exit the store so they can dip.

He was in a good mood. The day had been nice, the weather warm and the town fairly peaceful. He was enjoying chatting with his buddy, when something across the street caught his eye.

He lifted his head off the brick wall, a small frown on his face as he squinted at the figure walking down the sidewalk.

"Is that...?" he muttered to himself. He watched as the figure came closer, their face becoming more clear with each step. His heart skipped a beat when he realized it indeed was you.

He took another puff of his cigarette, his eyes not leaving you. He felt the familiar jolt of excitement in his stomach as he watched you approach, his mind going blank for a second.

John B, noticing his friend's distraction, followed his gaze to see what he was looking at. He smirked, elbowing JJ in the side.

"Hey, why don't you go say hi?" he teased, a mischievous grin on his face.

JJ's head whipped around to look at John B, an agitated expression on his face. He tried to brush off his friend's comment, pretending like he didn't care.

"Who, her? She's a kook. She's probably here to shop for some fancy dresses or something."

Just then, your gaze caught sight of a familiar figure across the street. JJ was leaning against the weathered brick wall of a narrow alley, one foot casually propped behind him, his hands tucked into the pockets of his worn jeans. The golden rays of the late afternoon sun cast a soft halo around him, highlighting the tousled strands of his sun-bleached hair. His eyes were hidden beneath the shadow of his lashes as he watched and laughed with his friend intently, a picture of effortless cool that made your heart skip a beat.

Ever since that conversation at the party, these chance encounters had become a cherished part of your day. Gathering your courage, you offered a shy wave, your fingers barely lifting from the hold on your wallet. A gentle smile curved your lips, a silent greeting that you hoped conveyed more confidence than you felt.

JJ's gaze shifted from John B, his piercing blue eyes locking onto yours across the expanse of the street. For a moment, everything else seemed to fade—the chatter of passersby, the distant roar of the surf—all muted in the background. A slow, genuine grin spread across his face, dimples appearing as he lifted a hand in return. The simple acknowledgment sent a warm flutter through your chest, like the wings of a small bird taking flight.

Traffic passed between you—a blur of colors and movement—but neither of you looked away. The world continued its hurried pace, yet here, in this shared moment, time felt suspended. You noticed the subtle way his posture shifted, as if he was considering crossing the street. The possibility sparked a mix of excitement and nervousness within you.

Mustering a bit more bravery, you called out, your voice carrying over the ambient noise. "Hi, JJ!"

He cupped a hand around his ear playfully. "Can't hear you!" he shouted back, a teasing glint in his eyes.

Chuckling softly, you took a step closer to the curb. "I said, 'Hi, JJ!'" you repeated, louder this time.

He laughed, the sound genuine and infectious, his best friend watching the scene unfold curiously. "That's better!" he replied. "What brings you out on this fine day, mouse?"

"Just picking up some books," you replied, holding up the bag as evidence. "Summer reading list waits for no one."

He nodded appreciatively. "Always the studious one. Any good titles?"

Before you could answer, the pedestrian light changed, and without thinking, you began crossing the street toward him. Each step was a blend of eagerness and hesitation, the distance between you shrinking with every heartbeat. As you reached the other side, JJ pushed off the wall, standing a little taller. You shot John B a hesitant nod of acknowledgement, the brunette smirking slyly.

JJ was once again struck by how adorable you looked. Your soft voice, the way you looked at him with those big eyes behind your glasses, it sent a thrill down his spine. He mentally cursed himself for feeling this way.

He cleared his throat, his mind racing to find something to say, deciding that he'd be more content on talking to you without his best friend watching the 2 of you.

"I'll be back in a minute," he mumbled to John B, signaling for you to follow him down the sidewalk, a bit further away from the prying ears of his best friend.

"Books, huh? What kind of books are you into? Fancy romance novels or something?"

He mentally slapped himself for asking that question. Romance novels? Seriously? What a stupid question.

"Doesn't really matter... i read every genre, if the book is nice." you smiled almost reassuringly, shrugging nervously.

Despite his teasing, JJ actually found your answer interesting. It's not what he would have expected from a kook, but then again, he was starting to realize he had a lot of misconceptions about you.

"Every genre, huh? Damn, that's a lot of books. You must read like, 3 books a week or something."

"Well... yeah especially since i don't really enjoy social stuff.." yeah dumbass, he found you lurking around alone 2 separate times, once on the beach and the other in the marsh, you thought sardonically.

JJ found himself secretly pleased at your confession. Yeah, he knew you didn't enjoy social stuff, but hearing you say it out loud made him feel... special in a way.

He raised an eyebrow at your comment, a small smirk playing on his lips. "Well damn, you're really an antisocial little mouse, huh?"

He stepped a little closer to you, his eyes roving over your face. He wanted to see if he could get a reaction out of you, to see if he could get you out of your shell a little.

"So you'd rather sit at home and read a book than party or hangout with your friends?" he teased, his voice just a bit lower than usual.

"Friend. I only have one friend.." you corrected almost shyly, shuffling on your feet.

JJ found himself chuckling at your shy correction. One friend? Only one? How was that possible? You were so damn cute, how did nobody want to be friends with you?

"And who's your only friend, mouse?" he asked, his smirk growing wider.

"You saw me get dragged around by her... Maisy? She's got the strawberry blonde hair? kinda bubbly and confident?" you mumbled thoughtfully, trying to describe your best friend in a way that made sense. "...and well... i assume you're also my friend in a way." you added more quietly, hesitant that he might think it's weird and correct you.

JJ's heart skipped a beat as you mentioned him being your friend. Damn, he was not expecting that. He tried to keep his expression neutral, but inside he was practically jumping for joy. It was silly, but for some reason, the idea of you liking him as a friend made him really happy.

"Yeah, I remember Mimsy. She's pretty cool. And uh... you consider me a friend, huh?" he asked, his voice a little softer than he intended.

He took another step closer to you, reducing the gap between you to almost nothing. His eyes flicked over your face, studying your expression intently. He was secretly hoping to see some sign that you felt the same fluttering in your chest that he was feeling right now.

"That's, uh... that's interesting. I didn't think you'd want to be friends with someone like me."

"Why not? you... uh, you said you wanted to help me to speak with people more freely... if you remember.." you felt like your awkwardness was rubbing off on him, like a disease. You tried to gauge out his expression, for any hint of being weirded out by your declaration.

JJ's heart skipped a beat once again as you brought up that conversation where he'd offered to help you to speak to people more. He remembered it vividly, the way he'd felt an unfamiliar draw towards you after the party game.

At your question of why he'd be surprised that you wanted to be friends with him, he let out a small chuckle, shaking his head.

"Mouse, I don't think you realize just how different we are from each other. It's not normal for a pogue and a kook to actually want to be friends."

You furrowed your brows in confusion. Status was never your concern, especially having been in love with JJ for years now. But maybe he minded? and he was selective about that stuff. "oh.. well i don't-... care about that. I'm sorry if i came off weird.." you mumbled, stumbling over your words a little now.

JJ was quick to step closer to you, his arms moving to gently grab your shoulders as you stumbled over your words. He didn't want you to think that you had somehow messed up by saying you wanted to be friends with him.

"Hey, hey, hold on. You didn't come off weird at all. I'm just... I'm just surprised that you want to be friends with me, that's all. No matter the status difference between us."

"Well... the whole thing with people living on figure 8 is that they almost never see past the kook thing.. i like every part of the island. I prefer the cut anyway.." you swallowed hard, adjusting your glasses and clutching the wallet you were holding in your hand nervously.

JJ couldn't help but be amazed by you. Here you were, this shy, antisocial, bookworm kook who preferred the cut to her own home, who saw past all the nonsense between different social classes. You were so much different than all the other rich, snotty, entitled kooks he knew.

He realized he had still been holding on to your shoulders, his hands moving down to grab your wrists instead. He gently squeezed them, his eyes locked on yours.

"You... you're really something else, mouse."

JJ continued to hold your wrists, his fingers subconsciously tracing small circles against your skin. For once, he didn't feel like he had to keep up his usual laidback, arrogant act around you, and it felt nice.

"I gotta say, it's refreshing to hear a kook say they like the cut. And it's even more refreshing to hear a kook talk about people and not just status or things."

He gave a slight shrug, his smirk growing sly once again.

"You know, I'm beginning to wonder if you're really a kook at all."

"Maybe I'm not even real.." you joked quietly, your heart racing and your palms sweating a little as he held onto your wrists, a small smile making its way on your lips.

JJ chuckled as you jokingly mentioned not being real. His fingers continued to run gently across your wrists, enjoying the feel of your skin under his touch.

"Nah, you're definitely real. I can feel you right here."

He gave your wrists a small squeeze, his eyes looking at you in a way that made his stomach flutter.

Your expression became a little more bashful as he squeezed your wrists, feeling like you were losing the sense to speak again, especially while you looked up into his eyes. They looked so pretty, like ocean water and jewels, the look in them was genuine, like he actually enjoyed speaking with you.

JJ didn't miss the way your eyes softened and your expression grew bashful as he gently held your wrists and squeezed them. He felt his heart skip a beat and his pulse quicken. Looking down into your eyes and seeing the way you looked up at him... he'd never seen a more beautiful sight.

He took a tiny step closer, his body almost pressed up against yours now. His voice was a little softer than before as he spoke again. There was no teasing in his tone anymore.

"Y'know, mouse, I gotta admit something."

His voice was low, almost a whispered murmur. His gaze was glued to yours, still gently holding onto your wrists.

"When I offered to help you with talking to people, I didn't really think you'd actually take me up on the offer. But... I'm glad you did."

"Well another friend won't hurt... that's one more than... well one." you chuckled, grimacing awkwardly. Your brows raised a bit as if you remembered something. Maisy's idea! Surprise him-

You fidgeted slightly, your wrists slipping from his grasp as you dug through your tote bag, pulling out a couple of small polaroid looking like pictures. The ones you took in the marsh, the one of him and the one he took of you.

JJ's heart leapt when he saw the pictures you held out to him. They were the pictures from the marsh, proof that you had actually taken them. He took the pictures from you, his fingers brushing against yours, causing a small shiver to run down his spine.

He looked down at the pictures, then looked back up at you. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

"You... you went and got these developed, huh?"

"I thought you uh, wanted... the one of you. Since you said it looked good" you extended the picture of him slightly, holding the one he took of you in the other hand. He probably wasn't too interested in that one anyway.

JJ's eyes flicked from the picture of himself to the one of you. He wasn't expecting you to have gotten one of you developed as well. He was a little surprised (and maybe a tiny bit excited) to see it.

"Actually..." He hesitantly pointed at the picture of you, his heart thudding loudly in his chest. He was curious to see your reaction.

"I wouldn't mind having both."

Oh my god. You probably looked like a dumbass again. You felt your self blush furiously at his words, your brows raising. Why would he want that? A picture of you? "Uh yeah.. sure here.." you fumbled with the picture of you, almost dropping it to the ground as you handed it to him.

But you also wanted to have the one of him, so he'd have the one of you and you the other. You pointed shyly to the picture of him mumbling nervously, "can i have this one then?"

JJ couldn't help but chuckle as you fumbled with the picture of yourself, your cheeks going adorably pink. Seeing you flustered like this... He couldn't help but smile as you handed the picture of yourself to him, and then shyly pointed to the picture of him, asking to have it.

"Yeah, it's all yours, mouse."

He didn't even hesitate as he handed you the picture of himself, secretly loving the way you looked as you blushed and got all flustered.

JJ watched as you carefully tucked the picture of him into your wallet, a small smile on his face. The fact that you had gotten the picture developed, let alone wanted to keep it, sent his mind reeling.

He wasn't used to people wanting anything to do with him, let alone someone actively wanting a picture of him. It made his heart flutter in an unfamiliar, but not unpleasant way.

He cleared his throat, trying to keep his voice steady. "So... uh, how come you decided to get these developed, anyway?"

"Well i developed so many more and uh yeah..." lies; liar liar, pants on fire, you scolded yourself mentally. You were gonna develop the one of him alone, but somehow you ended developing the one of you too. So him asking you to keep yours felt so... i dunno, romantic to you? Like couples doing stuff for each other.

JJ raised an eyebrow at your response, his eyes narrowing slightly. It was kinda weird that you had developed so many pictures all of a sudden. But he didn't pry too much further. He mentally shrugged it off, secretly enjoying how adorable you looked as you blushed and fidgeted nervously.

He silently stared down at the picture of you in his hand, his fingers gently tracing the edges. The soft, shy look on your face made him feel weirdly giddy. Like there was a swarm of butterflies all fluttering in his stomach.

JJ continued to stare at the picture as if in a daze, his thoughts racing. The more he looked at the picture, the more his heart thumped in his chest. He didn't understand why he was feeling so flustered. This was just a picture, right? So why did it feel so damn important to him? Like the picture was suddenly the most precious thing in the world?

He could feel a slight heat rising in his cheeks. He took a small breath, trying to calm himself down. He glanced down at you, studying your expression.

"You don't have to keep it if you want to... i won't... mind." you found yourself speaking, anxious that he was rethinking the whole thing now that he was staring at the picture of you more intently. Beside he had no reason to keep it right? you had barely known each other. Well he barely did, cause you knew him pretty well given how long you had been in love with him.

JJ's eyes snapped up from the picture at your words, his heart skipping a beat. Did you really think he didn't want the picture? He quickly clutched the picture tightly in his hand, his heart fluttering as he spoke.

"No... no I want it. I definitely want it."

He gave a shake of his head, his thoughts awhirl. Did you know how cute you looked in the picture? How it sent a strange, fluttery feeling through his body every time he looked at it? How much he found himself wanting to study it?

JJ's heart continued to race as he held the picture in his hand tighter. He found himself glancing from you, to the picture, to you again, his head practically spinning. Why the hell was he feeling so flustered and nervous now? He always had some sort of control over his emotions, but not anymore. Not with you around..

He was torn between wanting to look at the picture and wanting to look at you. Both made his heart race and butterflies swarm in his stomach, but he just couldn't force himself to look away from you.

"That's good then..." you smiled up at him, adjusting your glasses and glancing down at the picture of you in his hand. You had glanced over his shoulder, noticing his best friend still waiting for him intently. "i think your friend is waiting for you." you pointed shyly at John B over his shoulder.

JJ's eyes flicked up to look in the direction you were pointing towards. Sure enough, John B was still standing there by the corner store, a slight curious but impatient expression on his face.

JJ muttered a small curse under his breath. He'd been so distracted talking with you, he'd forgotten that he'd told John B to wait for him.

He glanced back at you, his heart sinking even more now. How the hell was he supposed to leave you?

JJ let out a small sigh, his shoulders slumping a little as he realized he had to reluctantly leave you to go back to John B. His heart was practically doing cartwheels in his chest as he spoke.

"Yeah, I guess I should get going. Sorry, I didn't mean to keep you, I know you were probably walkin' home.."

He mentally scolded himself for the disappointing tone of his voice. He really didn't want to leave you, but he didn't want to upset and ditch his best friends either. Damnit, it was so confusing.

"Oh no it's okay... besides you said you wanted to help me speak to people more easily, and it kinda helped a little... -talking to you i mean.." you reassured him almost too quickly hands shooting up on a assuring gesture, cursing yourself inwardly at how desperate you sounded.

JJ's heart thumped hard as you reassured him that you didn't mind talking with him, the small, almost giddy feeling welling up inside him more and more.

He didn't want to admit it, but he was actually really happy that his presence somehow helped you. And he secretly couldn't wait to have another excuse to talk with you again as well. But he didn't want to seem desperate either - or admit that he actually wanted to spend more time with you.

He quickly nodded his head at your words, stuffing the picture carefully into his pocket. He tried to keep his voice steady as he spoke again.

"Yeah, anytime. I... uh, I enjoy talking with you too, Mouse."

His eyes flicked over to John B behind him, then back to you. Damn it, why did he feel so reluctant and torn about leaving you?

Another small curse went through his head as a thought suddenly occurred to him. What if he didn't see you again? Even though he'd said he'd help you with your shyness and talking to people... there was no guarantee he'd see you again. The thought was somehow painful, even though he could just walk away from you right now.

He hesitantly took a small step towards you, a bit of nervousness in his voice now.

"So, uh... can I see you again sometime? Just so I can help you... y'know, more with talking to people?"

"Yeah of course." you agreed almost too quickly once again, your eyebrows shooting up in nervousness and excitement. "of course we can hang out.."

JJ felt his heart flutter once again as you eagerly agreed to hang out with him more in the future. He mentally cursed his excitement and anxiety, trying to keep a cool, collected expression.

He nodded his head at you, a small smile on his face. It was a struggle to keep the smile off his face actually – he suddenly felt like grinning like an idiot. But he had to keep his cool, he couldn’t show how excited he really was.

"Awesome, mouse. I’m looking forward to it."

You gave him a small grin, not being able to keep it off your face as looked up at him, reaching up to pat his forearm awkwardly and quietly. How casual, just an awkward pat? how's that for making a move? Maisy would be disappointed if she saw you right now. She'd be expecting at least an awkward side hug or something.

JJ felt a sudden rush of warmth at your timid pat on his forearm. It was a small gesture, maybe even a little awkward, but it somehow made his heart skip a beat. He couldn't help but admire the shy smile on your face, his eyes lingering on your lips for a brief moment.

He silently scolded himself as his thoughts strayed to what it might be like to kiss you, to cup your face and finally taste the lip gloss adorning your pink lips. He'd like to think it was cherry, maybe peach? He tried to brush the thought away, telling himself that this was just an innocent, casual interaction - not some romantic moment.

Damnit, he was feeling conflicted and frustrated now.

He quickly shook his head, trying to clear away the conflicted thoughts and confusing emotions swirling in his mind. He couldn't let himself dwell on these thoughts, he had to keep it casual.

He forced a small smile and raised a hand in farewell.

"Uh... I should probably get going before John B flips out. I'll, uh, see you later, yeah?"

You raised your hand, waving at him shyly as he started to walk away, flashing him a genuine smile. Although you were disappointed the moment had to end, you got to keep a picture of him. And he kept one of you. The thought actually sounded insane. It was absolutely out of this world and the little girl in you who fell in love with JJ Maybank that day in 3rd grade was swooning, having a field day and freaking out; all at the same time while you sat there awkwardly waving to him.

JJ was secretly tempted to look back at you as he walked away, to get one more glimpse of your shy, genuine smile. But he resisted the urge, making himself keep walking. He had to keep up his 'cool, collected, don't-care-about-anything, badass' persona.

But as he approached where John B was waiting, he couldn't help but pull out the picture you gave him from his pocket.

He took a quick glance at it, studying the picture closely, taking in your shy expression and the smile on your face.

God, JJ was crushing hard..

—♡‧

A/n: Too long? Also reader's picture definitely looks a little 0.5x, just because JJ is silly 😋 Love the 'she fell first- he fell harder trope.'

Tag-list*:･ﾟ✧ @cali-888, @bee-43, @jjscoquette, @melsbels-zip, @stanseventeen Join the tag-list!

Divider credits: @cafekitsune @fairytopea @strangergraphics-archive

Previous | Next*:･ﾟ✧

[until-you-remember-offical]

Until You Remember

Fandom: LEGO Ninjago Dragons Rising

Chapter: 1/?

Relationship: Jay x Nya

Rating: T

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 2074

It had always been Jay and Nya. They were always together even when she was convinced that she did not want to date him. Having to live without him seemed impossible and so she was going to do something about it, even if that meant staying by his side until he remembered. But could he ever remember or would they have to start over as mere acquaintances?

Sweat dripped down her face, working in tandem with the humidity to make her bangs stick to her forehead. The relentless sun overhead only made it worse, the heat sinking into her skin and sapping her energy with every passing second. She paused to wipe her brow with the back of her hand, only for the motion to smear dirt across her temple.

“Ugh,” she muttered under her breath, glaring at the sun that had begun its descent. She was going to find him no matter what it took. Her resolve burned hotter than the oppressive sun, fueling her steps even as her legs threatened to give out beneath her. The trail was faint—just a series of bent stalks and scuffed earth winding through the dense brush. He was good at covering his tracks, but not good enough. Not from her.

Glaring at the sun one last time she pushed forward determined to find him before nightfall. The forest around her grew thicker as she pressed on, the golden light of the setting sun filtering through the canopy and casting long shadows across her path. The chirping of cicadas filled the air, a rhythmic drone that only amplified her exhaustion. But she didn’t stop. She couldn’t. Every step, every strained breath brought her closer.

The scuffed earth led her to a narrow creek, its gentle burble a stark contrast to her pounding heart. She crouched down, scooping a handful of water to cool her burning face. The reflection staring back at her was unfamiliar—tired, dirty, and relentless. She almost didn’t recognize herself.

Then she saw it: a footprint on the opposite bank, faint but unmistakable. Her heart leaped. He had been here, and not long ago.

"Got you," she whispered, her lips curving into a smirk. Taking a few steps back she ran full force towards the creek and leaped over it thanking her many years of ninja training for being able to land perfectly. She wasted no time running in the direction the footprint was going, she was so close to finding him. The dense forest swallowed her whole as she sprinted, the fading sunlight casting streaks of gold that flickered across her path. Her breaths came fast and heavy, but she didn't let up. She was running out of time. Twilight was encroaching, and with it would come the true predators of the night.

The trail twisted and turned, the scuffed earth occasionally disappearing altogether. She had to rely on more than just sight now. The faint sound of disturbed foliage, the smell of crushed plants, and the barely perceptible shift in the air around her guided her steps. He couldn’t be far.

Just as she pushed past a rather thick growth of brush she saw him. Jay Walker. Her Jay. Except he wasn’t her Jay anymore, at least not yet. “You’re still pretty skilled,” she said causing him to whip around and glare at her.

Jay readied his fighting stance keeping a close eye on Nya as she moved closer to her. “What are you doing here? I thought I made it clear that I hate you and want nothing to do with you.” Nya’s heart twisted at his words, but she refused to let it show. She crossed her arms, planting her feet firmly on the uneven ground, and met his glare with a steely determination that matched her resolve. Nya had to bit back the tears knowing that now was not the time to show weakness, that would only give him the advantage.

“Yeah, you made that pretty clear,” she said, her voice steady despite the ache in her chest. “But I don’t believe you. Not really.”

Jay scoffed, his expression hardening as he took a step back, keeping the distance between them. “You should. I’ve got no reason to lie to you.” Without warning he lunged at her and landed a punch to her left shoulder.

Nya ducked as he aimed another attack at her head and made a quick move to jump away from him. She hadn’t wanted to have to fight him but deep down she knew this would happen. Nya steadied herself, her feet sliding slightly on the loose soil beneath her. Jay’s attacks came fast and precise, each movement charged with an energy she hadn’t seen in years. He wasn’t holding back. She cracked her knuckles and pulled her own fighting stance. Fine, she wouldn’t hold back either.

Running toward him she swung a punch at him nearly missing his face. He tried to counterattack but she caught his wrist and used that to turn him around and pin him to the ground. Jay let out a growl before twisting his body so that Nya’s grip loosened and he was able to get free. Jay wasted no time as he flipped onto his feet, his movements fluid and quick. He launched himself at Nya again, their clash echoing through the dense forest as fists met forearms and feet scraped against the earth. Each strike from Jay carried a raw intensity, but Nya matched him blow for blow, her determination unyielding. The sound of their fight resonated through the clearing, the air thick with the intensity of their movements. Sweat clung to both of them, but neither of them slowed. Nya’s breath came in sharp bursts, matching the rhythm of her pounding heart, while Jay’s narrowed eyes never left her, calculating each move, anticipating her next action.

They circled each other for a moment daring the other to make a move. Nya hesitated, her fist lowering just slightly but that was the worst thing that she could have done. Jay took that as his opening and flipped landing a kick to her chest and causing her to stumble to her knees as she tried to regain her breath. Nya gasped for air, the sudden blow taking the wind out of her lungs. Her heart raced, but she quickly gritted her teeth, refusing to show weakness. Her fingers dug into the dirt as she pushed herself back up, the pain in her chest burning but not enough to stop her.

Jay stood a few feet away, breathing heavily himself, but his stance was still firm, his eyes cold as ever. “You still think you can trick me? Lord Ras told me the truth about you and your pathetic ninja group. I will never be one of you.”

“Yeah, I’m afraid that you don’t have much choice in the matter. You were one of us, you were a ninja. My yin,” Nya said, pulling out half of the yin-yang medallion.

Jay’s eyes narrowed as he looked at the polished token in Nya’s hand. What kind of games was she trying to play? “That means nothing to me,” he spat throwing another attack her way.

Nya dodged his attack, the medallion still clutched tightly in her hand. “It means everything, Jay,” she said firmly, her voice steady despite the chaos. She ducked under his swing and landed a kick to his side, sending him staggering back. “You don’t remember now, but you will. I’m not giving up on you, no matter how many times you tell me to.”

Jay steadied himself, the impact from her kick seeming to only fuel his frustration. “I don’t need you to give up,” he growled. “I need you to disappear.”

Nya's jaw clenched at his words, but she refused to falter. She planted her feet firmly in the dirt, her resolve unwavering. "That’s not going to happen, Jay," she said, her voice soft yet carrying an unyielding strength. "I didn’t come all this way to give up on you. I don’t care what Ras has told you. I know the real you, and I’m not leaving without a fight." Jay’s eyes flickered with something unspoken—conflict, doubt, maybe even recognition—but it was gone in an instant, replaced by a cold glare. He rushed at her again, his movements almost too fast to follow. Nya blocked his strikes, countering with her own as they danced around the clearing, the setting sun casting long shadows of their battle across the ground.

“Then I guess I have no choice but to kill you, and you can bet I’ll enjoy doing it,” Jay hissed shoving Nya to the ground her head colliding with the hard dirt and small rocks beneath as he held her place with her wrists. She winced in pain having no time to react to the punch that hit her square in the jaw. Pain radiated through Nya’s head as she tasted copper, her jaw throbbing from the force of the hit. She blinked rapidly, her vision momentarily blurred by the impact, but she forced herself to stay alert. Jay loomed above her, his expression that of an animal about to devour its prey. Jay’s fist came down once again and Nya only had a second to dodge the attack, tilting her head just as his fist was about to make an impact. She kicked him in the gut causing him to grunt in pain and let go of her.

Nya could hear he heart beating in her ears as she rolled to avoid another punch. She wasn’t sure but she thought she was bleeding, it was hard to tell what was hers and what was Jay’s. She had to think fast, she couldn’t let him get the upper hand. Looking around she saw her naginata, which had been dropped earlier, glinting in the setting sun and made a quick move to grab it. Kicking herself up onto her feet she twirled the weapon in her hands and ran at Jay, ducking as he tried to hit her. “Sorry, Jay,” she said before bashing the blunt end of her naginata into his forehead and watching him stumble back and drop to the forest floor.

Nya panted hard as she stared at the unconscious form of Jay. She hadn’t meant to hurt him that bad but it was necessary if she wanted to help him get his memories back. He would definitely need medical treatment and shelter. Luckily she had seen a shack while looking for him. Grabbing him from the armpits she began dragging him in the direction of safety, nearly cringing at the mess of blood and dirt on his forehead. Nya gritted her teeth as she adjusted her grip on Jay’s limp body. His head lolled to the side, smearing more blood onto her sleeve, but she couldn’t focus on that now. Every step toward the shack felt like a lifetime, the damp forest floor sucking at her jika-tabi and the weight of guilt pressing heavier than Jay’s unconscious body.

“I’m sorry, Jay,” she whispered, her voice tight. “But you left me no choice.”

The shack came into view after what felt like an eternity. It was small and weathered, with a roof that sagged under the weight of moss and time, but it was better than nothing. Kicking the door open with her foot, Nya dragged Jay inside, her muscles screaming in protest as she laid him down on an old, dust-covered bed. The place was small with only a few pieces of furniture that were covered in dust and cobwebs. At least she had the comfort of knowing no one had been here in ages and they would be safe. Rummaging through one of her gear pouches she pulled out a miniature first-aid kit and pulled a worn chair over by the bed. Using one of the alcohol wipes she cleaned the injured area and examined it trying to determine if he would need stitches or not. Thankfully the cut didn’t look that deep and she settled with just bandaging his head. Placing some gause on the wound she could feel the tears pooling in her eyes making the task more difficult than already. Nya’s hands trembled as she carefully applied the bandage, her breath shaky as she tried to steady herself. Every movement felt like it was happening in slow motion, and the weight of the situation bore down on her with every passing second. She wanted to yell, to scream at the unfairness of it all—how they had been forced into this situation in the first place, how she had been left with no choice but to hurt him. Once she was sure that he had been properly taken care of she lay her head on the bed, buried in her arms, and let the tears fall freely.

art by @taddymason

[bakubrattt]

Zayne’s Favorite Dessert

-Zayne x reader

On a sunny spring afternoon, you and Zayne share a quiet picnic with sweets, soft kisses, and even softer words—but no dessert compares to the way he savors you. Between wildflowers and warm sunshine, you realize: no matter the treats laid out before him, you’ve always been his favorite.

word count: 12k

genre/warnings: 18+ explicit content--no minors!--fluff, smut, outdoor sex, food sex, nipple orgasm, domestic, romance, you ride she shit out of him

🩵My Zayne Masterlist🩵AO3 link🩵

It was a bright, golden Saturday afternoon, the kind that made the air feel lighter in your lungs. Early Spring still clung to the breeze, crisp and clean, threading through your hair in soft, playful fingers. Birdsong filtered down from the thick canopy above, each trill echoing faintly between the trees. Somewhere not far off, a quiet river whispered over smooth stones, a steady, lulling murmur in the background. Beneath your sandals, the trail crunched with dry earth and scattered pebbles, the incline gentle but enough to make your calves aware of the climb. You followed closely behind Zayne, letting his tall frame shield you from the sunlight breaking through the green, swaying leaves overhead. His hand, warm and scarred, cradled yours in a tender hold—firm, guiding, never possessive.

The forest seemed content to belong only to the two of you. After the brutal, relentless hours Zayne had pulled at Akso Hospital all week, you understood exactly why he’d chosen this place. It was quiet. Secluded. Not a soul in sight. That deep, intentional kind of privacy he always favored—one that came with silence, not loneliness. Peace, not distance. The kind of setting that carved out a pocket of the world where he could finally relax with you. Where you could finally reach him again. Here, there was nothing demanding your time, no emergencies, no obligations—just the steady rhythm of your steps together and the warmth of his touch.

“I’m surprised how empty it is out here,” you said, your voice soft in the calm. You caught up to walk beside him as the trail curved and the sun dipped behind thicker foliage, no longer blinding, “and it’s pretty, too…I’d expect to see more people in a place like this.”

“What kind of people do you expect to see out in this part of nature?” Zayne asked, his voice that familiar low hum, as he handed you his flask.

He didn’t need to tell you to drink water. He didn’t have to lecture you about hydration or heatstroke or electrolyte balance, even if you knew he easily could. This was Zayne—your boyfriend, your primary care physician, your childhood friend; the quiet boy who was five years older but never made you feel small, who always watched over you with that quiet, steadfast attentiveness. Caring was second nature to him. Embedded in his DNA. A love language that didn’t always require words.

“Mm,” you hummed with a teasing smile, unscrewing the cap and taking a long, grateful sip. The chill of the ice water ran through you like a sweet relief, and you closed your eyes briefly before passing it back. You let your gaze drift over the tall, reaching trees, the wildflowers that spilled in bright patches along the trail, the filtered sun that gilded everything in soft gold—including Zayne. The scattered light caught in his eyes, turning them the exact green of early spring grass, fresh and alive. You blinked at him, “a variety, maybe…”

“Go on,” he coaxed with a glint of interest, taking the flask back from your hands, “entertain me with wherever that wild imagination of yours is taking you.”

You grinned suddenly, grabbing his arm and looping yours through it, tugging him a step forward as you took the lead on the trail. The gesture was playful, spontaneous, and he followed effortlessly, always willing to be pulled along wherever your mind wandered.

“Okay! Well…” You drew it out, gesturing dramatically toward the woods, “I could totally see a bunch of boy scouts out here—on a school field trip or something. Learning how to tie those little rope knots, making booby traps for each other, accidentally setting them off…”

“Causing trouble,” Zayne added, the corner of his mouth twitching. He gave you a knowing look, “speaking of trouble-makers and booby traps…”

Before you had a chance to question his comment, Zayne moved ahead of you—fluid, instinctual—and gently redirected your path just in time to keep you from tripping over the jagged end of a fallen branch hidden in the undergrowth. Your sandal snagged the edge of it anyway, a brief lurch forward, and you might’ve gone tumbling had his arm not shot out behind your shoulders, pulling you into the solid wall of his chest. The impact was soft but firm, anchoring. Warm.

Your hand reflexively landed on him, bracing yourself against the steady rise and fall beneath his dark button-up shirt. You could feel the press of his heartbeat, strong and calm, as his hand slid up behind your head protectively, cradling you. His brows furrowed slightly—not in irritation, never that—but in quiet concern. Always that.

“Be careful,” he murmured, his voice low and affectionate, thumb stroking slowly over your hairline. His gaze found yours, softened immediately by the sight of your wide-eyed surprise, your lips parted, your cheeks blooming with sudden heat, “I’d rather leave my first aid kit untouched today…”

Your laugh was breathy and belated, caught somewhere between amusement and that fluttering ache in your chest that always came when Zayne looked at you like that. Like you were made of glass and sunlight. Like the thought of you hurt was unbearable.

“Well,” you tried to steady your voice, tried to seem unfazed even as your heart raced, “I won’t make you work on your day off, you workaholic…But I still want your tender love and care; just without the injury and the clipboard.”

He exhaled softly, the hint of a smile touching his lips, “I have a lifetime supply of that for you, actually,” he replied, reaching for your hand at your side and curling his scarred fingers gently around yours, “but you already knew. And before you act clueless again, it’s not work.”

You tilted your head with a coy look, even as your chest swelled, as the blush deepened, “you don’t think I’m too much work?”

His answer came without pause, quiet and sure, spoken against your knuckles just before he kissed them, “never. You’re easy to love. And you receive love easily.”

God. It wrecked you in the most beautiful way. The words melted into your bloodstream, making your bones feel light, your breath catch softly in your throat. You tried to play it off, tried to keep walking as if he hadn’t just said something that would echo in your mind for days—but Zayne wasn’t fooled. He never was. His fingers gave yours a gentle squeeze, his eyes flicking down to the pulse hammering just beneath your skin, the way your hand trembled faintly in his. He knew. So you leaned closer. Just for a second. Rested your cheek briefly against the warmth of his upper arm, inhaled the soft, clean scent of him in the filtered breeze. The sun cast your shadows long ahead of you, crossing, overlapping—twin silhouettes swaying together in the dappled gold of early Spring.

“…You are, too…” You whispered, eyes on the way your shadows merged across the dirt and grass.

It was like you and Zayne existed inside your own quiet little bubble, drifting together through the tender hush of nature. Just the two of you. Just the steady cadence of his footsteps beside yours, the faint rustling of leaves overhead, the gentle crunch of pebbles and dirt beneath your sandals, the breeze skimming across your exposed shoulders from your loose dress beneath the soft warmth of spring sun. It was peaceful—so achingly peaceful—that for a moment, you forgot the world outside this one. Forgotten the weight of your duties, his long hours at the hospital. There was only this. Only him. Only now.

When you reached the shade of a large tree, tall and noble with its canopy swaying gently above, Zayne slowed beside you, one hand already lifting to rest gently on your lower back. He paused to survey the area, doing what he always did—assessing, measuring, making sure you’d be safe and comfortable. His eyes scanned the trunk, the branches, the radius of space, calculating something quietly in his mind.

“No killer squirrels?” You asked dryly, watching the way he finally slid the heavy backpack from his shoulders with a soft exhale.

“None in sight,” he answered in that low, thoughtful murmur of his, then stepped toward you with purpose. His hand touched your shoulder and turned you gently, fingers curling behind your strap. He began easing your backpack off with quiet care, “just a mischievous rabbit.”

“Where?” You asked, feigning alarm even as your smile threatened to break.

“Right here.”

His fingertip poked the tip of your nose with such precise mischief that your hand instinctively flew up to shield it, laughter spilling from you before you could stop it, “Zayne!”

You smacked his bicep—light, playful—as he set your bag down beside his with a chuckle low in his throat. His smile lingered in that rare, unguarded way, the one reserved only for these stolen pockets of time with you. Together, you began to unpack your things, working in the kind of natural rhythm that always happened when the two of you were alone. He unfolded the blanket in a smooth, practiced motion and flapped it out over the grass in a broad spread of plaid and softness. You knelt to help flatten the corners as he pulled containers from his bag, lining them up neatly: soft cheeses, marbled meats, jars of honeyed jam, an assortment of olives and crackers, slices of fruit. From yours came the chilled tea bottles and a stack of napkins. Everything was tucked and arranged just right, almost too pretty to eat.

And of course, there was dessert. Zayne, ever the romantic, had handpicked the ripest strawberries at the market this morning, and not just any chocolate dip—but the gooey kind. He’d insisted it was superior to hardening syrup. Melt-in-your-mouth. More decadent. More intimate. And you knew him. God, you knew him. You knew the way his mind worked, the way it spun even when he looked idle. He was never innocent. Pure, yes—in the sincerity of his heart, the tenderness of his care—but never truly innocent. He planned. He anticipated. And always with you in mind. A man who loved indulgence, but only yours and his own. A man who kissed you like prayer, who worshipped at your altar with reverent hands and starved eyes, who devoured your laughter and your warmth and your touch like it was the only thing that sustained him. And you would give him everything. Always.

Once everything had been laid out in perfect, mouthwatering order, you turned to say something—only to pause when Zayne reached out and tucked a wildflower just above your ear. His fingers were soft, careful as he nestled the small bloom into place, adjusting the angle so it faced forward just slightly. His hand lingered near your temple for a moment, his thumb brushing your cheek with a quiet sort of affection that made your chest flutter.

“It matches your dress,” he said simply.

The blue dress. The one he bought for you on a whim last year after claiming it reminded him of the arctic at sunrise. He’d suggested it this morning as the perfect choice for today’s picnic—soft, breathable, shoulderless with those laced billowing sleeves that fell weightless around your elbows. It moved with the breeze, brushing against your skin like sunlight filtered through sheer curtains. It made you feel light. Dreamy. Like a princess out of a painting.

“It does,” you said with a warm smile, plucking a toothpick and skewering one of the olives. You popped it between your lips, then gestured with your hand, “I’m thinking of either wearing this one or my green one with the slit to Tara’s birthday party. What do you think? Oh! Do you still have that green tie with the little lines?”

Zayne paused mid-reach, thoughtful. You could practically see the mental catalog opening behind his eyes. He owned a lot of ties. An ungodly amount, really—neatly arranged by tone and occasion. Most fell within a palette of stormy greys, midnight blues, soft sage and pine. But there was one green tie in particular that came to mind.

“The emerald one?” He asked, still flipping through mental drawers, “I believe so. It might be at your apartment. I haven’t seen it in a long time, come to think of it…” He reached for a toothpick and slid it into a cube of white cheese, his voice as casual and low as the breeze, “if I recall correctly, the last time I wore it was for the Nova Heights Advanced Medical Research conference. That was months ago. We might have to go tie-shopping tomorrow, sometime before the movie.”

“Oh, I’m sure I can find it on Monday,” you rolled your eyes, lips curling as you took a long sip of your bottled tea. The flavor bloomed over your tongue, light and floral, “mm. Your tea came out really good,” you nodded in approval, flashing him a satisfied grin, “I like it.”

“Jasmine green tea is perfect for afternoons like this,” he said with a glance at the sun-dappled canopy above, “calming, but it won’t make you drowsy. It has great antioxidants and it’s good for your heart as well. Helps reduce stress.”

“Doctor Zayne in a bottle,” you teased with a nod, raising the drink like you were toasting his likeness, “got it!”

He chuckled under his breath, “if that’s how you want to see it.”

“Calming, good for my heart, reduces stress…” Your smile deepened as you reached over the spread of cheeses and cured meats, your fingertips finding the bend of his knee and giving it a playful tickle, “although, sometimes he makes my heart race instead…”

Zayne’s hand moved with swift gentleness, his fingers circling lightly around your wrist. A subtle pressure—just enough to center you. He pressed two fingers over the delicate thrum of your pulse, his touch clinical and familiar, yet steeped in something far more intimate. You both fell into silence, counting quietly in tandem. It didn’t take long. You knew he could feel it. Your heart was already racing, your blood humming with warmth and mischief. And when your lips curled into a sly smile, he didn’t need a stethoscope to know the reason why.

You slowly nudged the charcuterie board aside, careful not to spill anything, before shifting onto your knees, settling back on your calves as you leaned forward into his space. Close enough to share breath. Close enough that his scent—clean cotton, jasmines, and a faint trace of aftershave—wrapped around you like a familiar lull. You lifted his hand. Brought it to your cheek. Soft skin meeting softer affection. You kissed his palm, slowly, letting the gesture linger. Then—without a word—you tilted his wrist just so, and your lips met the place where his pulse beat strongest. It drummed steady beneath your mouth. Not calm. Not controlled. Racing.

He exhaled hard through his nose. And still—you weren’t finished. With agonizing care, you let the tip of your tongue trail out, tasting the warmth of his skin as you traced a languid line up his inner forearm, exposed by the sleeves he kept rolled at his elbows. Your hand cradled his open palm as you moved. You traced alongside a long scar of the many carved in by his cruel Evol; the old, pale ridges that lived on his skin as a quiet reminder of what he’d endured. The burden he carried. The intimacy of it made his breath catch, his posture stilling in reverent silence. His ears burned a soft pink, betraying his restraint. You could feel his body struggle to stay composed—but you had already undone him, slowly, sweetly, deliberately. And then, as if none of that had just happened, you eased back down onto your calves with a casual shrug.

“You got a little something on your arm,” you said lightly, reaching for the little tub of chocolate syrup and dipping your finger into it.

Before you could slip it between your lips, Zayne caught your hand gently, halting you mid-motion. His fingers wrapped around yours, warm and careful. You blinked, surprised—your tongue already half-out in anticipation—only to find yourself licking air. He laughed, low and breathy, watching your expression shift from sultry to playfully betrayed in a single heartbeat.

“Did I? My, how clumsy of me,” his voice was warm with amusement, teasing as he brought your finger to your collarbone and dabbed a streak of chocolate just above the swell, “although, it appears you surpass me in that department with sheer, unparalleled talent.”

You scoffed at him, incredulous, even as a giggle slipped from your lips the moment he leaned in and pressed a soft, melting kiss to your neck. His breath was warm, the ticklish brush of his mouth turning your laughter into something breathless. You barely registered the way your pulse quickened, the warmth climbing from your chest to your face—and lower.

“That was all you!” You managed, your voice flushed with delight and something headier, more molten, as the plush press of his lips wandered to your throat and left you gasping.

“I see,” Zayne murmured low, dragging a hand to your hip and pulling you closer. His other hand found the nape of your neck, slipping into your hair to cradle the soft roll of your head, holding you there, tilting you just the way he liked, “you’re blaming me for your lack of coordination. Typical.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but the way he kissed you left nothing clever behind on your tongue. He was too slow, too deliberate, drawing out your pleasure with every lazy pull of his lips, every breath that ghosted over your skin like smoke, like heat, like something holy. You could feel each sound of him—each faint smooch, each sigh—build tension inside you like a storm waiting to break. And then, just when you thought you could breathe again, you pushed him back slightly—just enough to dab the chocolate still left on your fingertip against his mouth. You meant to kiss him. He caught your wrist instead. His eyes met yours—calm, smoldering—and he brought your finger to his lips. He licked it clean with a slow, thorough pull, his mouth warm and wet and reverent. And that—God, that did something to you.

You didn’t stand a chance. The moment he kissed you, it was fire. The taste of chocolate on his lips, the richness of it mingled with the deeper, darker taste of him, made you moan softly into his mouth as you gripped his knee and he the roots of your hair. He inhaled hard through his nose, holding you still, savoring you with the kind of hunger that made your head spin. His kiss only broke when he needed air, his lips parting from yours with a slick, heady pop.

You were both breathing faster now. His hands found your waist, guiding you carefully down onto your back, easing you away from the spread of food as if the only thing that mattered in the world—here, now—was the feel of your body beneath his. You and Zayne paused, breathless and flushed, tangled in the silence between heartbeats. His gaze held yours with an intensity that softened the world around you, and in the dark bloom of his pupils, you caught your own reflection—hair fanned out over the blanket, glowing beneath the filtered sunlight. The swaying canopy above painted him in fragments of gold, flickering over the soft mess of his hair like the shimmer in his eyes.

For a moment, neither of you moved. His palm cupped your cheek with quiet reverence, his thumb brushing the heat in your skin, while you reached up, delicately plucking a leaf from his dark hair that had floated down between you. It felt like you were suspended there, both of you locked in the sacred stillness only lovers understood. Then, slowly—so slowly—Zayne dipped back down, lips brushing yours again in a kiss that reignited everything. You slipped your fingers into the back of his soft hair, pulling him closer as he deepened the kiss, languid and sure. He kissed like he had all the time in the world to learn you again, to savor the familiar rhythm of your mouth, the slight tremble in your breath when he tilted just right, the growing heat between you as his hips pressed firm and reverent between your thighs.

You gasped softly, arching up into him as his lips trailed lower, mapping the curve of your jaw, then lower still, until they reached the line of your throat. Your head lolled gently to the side, surrendering yourself to the feel of him. The weight of his body pressed your breasts against him, bare beneath the thin sweep of your dress, a delicious friction that made your breath catch. His hand slid over yours, fingers interlacing beside your head like he needed you anchored there. His mouth reached the rise of your chest, just above the neckline of your off the shoulder dress, and you could feel your pulse flutter beneath his lips—warm, unhurried, intoxicating. A shiver ran through you when you realized he could feel it too. The soft fabric of your dress clung to your body, rising and falling with every breath, the absence of a bra between you making the moment feel all the more intimate. All the more vulnerable. His lips trailed slowly down toward the delicate hem covering your bare breasts, the sensation sparking like static beneath your skin—too much and not enough, sweet and searing, each subtle pass of his mouth making your nipples ache beneath the fabric.

“I wonder,” he whispered, voice warm and low, his breath ghosting over your bossom, “if you were planning this…”

You shivered.

He leaned back just far enough to admire you, his gaze falling to the hardened peaks of your nipples pressing through the thin fabric, “you didn’t wear a bra,” he murmured, more to himself than to you, “not even pasties,” his nose nuzzled just shy of your nipple, teasingly close.

You whimpered, fingers tightening around the muscle of his shoulder.

“All I said was to wear this dress for me,” he sighed, his voice a tender murmur against your skin as he pressed a reverent kiss beside the curve of your breast, “I didn’t say anything about leaving yourself so…Exposed to me.”

“Is that a formal complaint, Doctor Zayne?” You managed to say through a breathless smile, feigning offense even as your body begged for the heat of his mouth.

“Not at all,” he replied, shaking his head as his lips hovered over you, “you look absolutely beautiful.”

The moment Zayne kissed you—slow, soft, right where you ached for it—your eyes rolled back, your back arching off the blanket. The tip of his tongue dragged over the cloth with aching deliberation, and then he pulled your nipple into his mouth, fabric and all. You moaned, helpless to the way he worshipped you. One hand tangled in his hair, the other clutched the blanket beneath you as your knee curled in, twitching in response.

The sounds he made, the soft, breathy hums of satisfaction, lit a fire deep in your core. Every pass of his mouth sent a tremble through you. The damp cotton clung to your skin, growing wetter with every kiss until a dark stain formed over the bud of your breast. He pulled back then, just enough to admire you—your parted lips, your flushed cheeks, the smolder in your gaze. He drank it in.

His eyes trailed down to where your dress had ridden high up your thighs, revealing the curve of your hips, the faint glimpse of lace underwear beneath. You felt utterly bare beneath him. Beautiful was too small a word for how he saw you then. To him, you looked like everything. Like the world in his hands.

“I can only think of one way to make this picnic even better,” he murmured, his voice low, the heat of his breath catching on the damp spot blooming through the fabric stretched over your peaked nipple.

“How?” You asked, your voice barely a breath as your fingers threaded through his hair, sweeping it from his forehead. His eyes found yours—lit by sunlight and something tender, something devout.

Zayne slipped a finger beneath the neckline of your dress, deliberate and unhurried, dragging the soft fabric slowly against your sensitive skin. He watched the way it clung to you, resisting before it gave way. With one fluid pull, your nipples were exposed, and your gasp met the air—sharp and involuntary. His chest rose with a sigh, reverent, as his gaze drank in the sight before him.

“If you’d be so kind as to indulge me,” he said, his voice molten, his thumb brushing over your nipple with delicate reverence as he tucked the fabric beneath your breasts. “I’m willing,” he pressed a kiss to the valley between them, “to bet,” his lips found their way to the other side, “that you,” he nipped gently, “taste better,” his mouth sealed over you, deeper this time, “than any dessert,” he finished with a low sigh against your skin, “on the menu…”

Your jaw slackened as the warmth of his mouth enveloped you, his tongue swirling slowly, lovingly, as if trying to memorize you. The sensation set your spine arching, every nerve lit in slow, delicious fire. His other hand moved to your neglected breast, thumb grazing across the peak, kneading tenderly as if he couldn’t decide which part of you to adore first. You felt the sun kiss your cheeks through the gaps in the leaves overhead as your head tilted back in bliss. Blindly, you reached for the tub of chocolate, your hand fumbling until your finger dipped into the rich syrup. You pushed him back with a breathless laugh, just for a moment, enough to smear a teasing streak from one nipple to the other.

And Zayne—he froze. There was a heartbeat of silence, one filled with reverence, hunger, and something deeply, irrevocably human. You saw it in his eyes. Awe. Worship. An almost helpless kind of surrender. When you offered your finger to him, he didn’t hesitate. His lips parted, and he took you in to the knuckle, eyes fluttering closed as he sucked the chocolate clean, slow and deep, his hand still cradling yours against his flushed face like he was trying to memorize this moment forever.

“Well,” you murmured, a silken thread of laughter catching at the edges of your breath as you lazily massaged his tongue, “you’ll have to give me your full review on chocolate-covered nipples, then…”

Zayne didn’t answer. He only moaned low, as though the taste of you—sweet and rich and alive—was too much for words. Then his head bowed reverently, the fall of his dark hair sweeping from your sight like the closing of velvet curtains. He descended on you with aching grace, like a man kneeling before something sacred. His tongue made contact in a slow, molten stroke, wet and warm, dragging across your nipple with the kind of patience that felt like worship. Your breath caught. The sensation was a lightning bloom beneath your skin, exquisite in its precision. Your body arched instinctively, offering more of yourself without even meaning to.

There was no rush in him. Only devotion. He kissed his way across your bosom, mouth open and adoring, collecting every drop of chocolate as though it were ambrosia meant for him alone. His lips smeared sweetness across your skin, only to draw it back into his mouth again, licking the mess from you in languid swipes that made your fingers curl into the neatly pressed fabric of his shirt. Crisp cotton twisted beneath your grasp, your knuckles tense with the need to hold on to something as the world blurred. Your other hand found his hair, threading through the silken strands to anchor yourself to the man unraveling you piece by piece.

A breeze whispered through the open air, cool against your damp skin. It played across your breasts, kissing every wet trace he left behind, and you shivered—body caught in the delicate dance of contrast: heat and chill, mouth and wind, chocolate and tongue. But it was his presence that undid you most of all. The way he moved over you wasn’t just sensual. It was reverent. A quiet act of worship offered not to your body, but to you. You felt it in every press of his lips, in every sigh against your skin, in the hush between your moans where his breath stuttered—trembling from the weight of his need, and the tenderness that tethered it.

“Zayne…” His name fell from you like a prayer, your voice frayed at the edges.

The sound made his whole body pause, his breath catching as though hearing it undid him too. He groaned low, voice made of gravel and longing, and then closed his mouth around your nipple again. This time, the suction was deeper. Hungrier. It sparked a cry from you that wasn’t soft anymore. It was sharp. Raw. Real. Your hips lifted in response, searching for relief, for friction, for him. And he gave it—rolling his hips into yours with a grind that was all heat and promise, the length of him pressing right against the ache that bloomed at your core.

“Let me hear you,” he whispered, voice thick with desire, but something else too. Something tender. As if the sound of your pleasure grounded him, called him home. His hand slid beneath you, strong and steady, pulling you flush to him. His body covered yours like a storm cloud descending—beautiful and unstoppable, “no one’s around,” he murmured into your chest, lips brushing your skin with every word, “it’s just us. Only us…”

Another slow, reverent suck drew your nipple back into the heat of his mouth. The noise that tore from you was unrestrained—half a moan, half a plea. He exhaled into it, as if your sound alone filled his lungs. His eyes fluttered shut, and for a moment, you could feel him tremble—not from lust, but from love. From the sheer gravity of what it meant to touch you like this.

“Zayne!” Your cry cracked like lightning through the hush, raw and breathless.

Your knees buckled, one leg lifting instinctively to hook over his back, drawing him deeper into you. He caught your thigh with a tender, grounding hand, guiding it higher, his touch slow and coaxing. As if every inch he claimed was not taken, but gifted. Your dress had spilled in silken folds around your waist, abandoned, forgotten. And then—God—then you felt it. The press of him. The solid curve of his hipbone slid right between your folds, slick with arousal and heat, your panties the last thread between you and his pants. The squelch of wetness was obscene, but the way he groaned at the sound—that was worship. He wedged himself tighter, hip angled with purpose, until the pressure made your whole body shudder.

“Good girl…”

Those words. That voice. Velvet and smoke and praise spun into gold. They detonated inside you, low and warm, unraveling thought and reason. Your back arched, your breasts rising, pressing tighter together beneath his mouth as your whole body seemed to lift into him. His tongue swiped from one aching peak to the other—languid, indulgent, thorough—drawing a moan from your throat that sounded nothing like you. Your breath spilled louder now, the sounds of you filling the space, every exhale deeper, heavier, painted in need.

“I was right,” he murmured, lips popping softly off one nipple, his voice roughened by the taste of you, “you’re my favorite,” another kiss, another suck, “dessert.”

That declaration splintered through you. You felt it like heat beneath your skin, like waves rising, cresting. Your chest heaved, skin flushed, every nerve ending tuned to him. You were burning. Blooming. Bare.

“So sweet,” he whispered, and drew your nipple back into his mouth, suckling like he was tasting a ripe fruit from Eden itself. A fresh wave surged through you, sudden and merciless, and you gasped, clinging to his hair, his shoulder, to anything solid.

“So pretty,” he breathed next, and you thought you might melt entirely.

Your hips rolled helplessly, rhythm born from instinct and need. You pressed your core tighter against him, chasing friction, chasing something. Anything to relieve the aching pulse he’d stirred to life. His mouth never left your breasts, his lips, tongue, and teeth an orchestra of sensation while your body burned beneath him.

“Don’t stop,” you whispered to the sky, to the canopy of swaying leaves above. Your voice was a prayer now, offered up to the heavens on a trembling breath.

The waves came faster. Stronger. Oh. Oh God.

“Don’t stop!” You cried again, louder this time, urgent and raw. You clutched at Zayne like the world might vanish around you, like the only thing tethering you to this moment was him. His name tore from your throat, desperate, “Zayne!”

He obeyed without hesitation—your most faithful worshiper. His mouth sealed over your nipple with reverent rhythm, suckling in time with the frantic beat of your heart. His fingers found the other, rolling it between his skilled fingertips, tugging and teasing until your whole body shook.

“I—I’m!” You gasped, voice a shattered thing. Your muscles tensed, drew taut, trembling with the weight of oncoming pleasure, “I’m! H-hahh! Ahh!”

Your body bowed like a drawn string, spine arched in a perfect curve of ecstasy as the euphoria hit you—wild and merciless, like a wave crashing down with no warning. It stole the breath from your lungs, scattered your thoughts like petals in the wind. For one blinding, shuddering moment, your vision turned black, bursting at the edges with colors like fireworks behind your eyes. Your jaw dropped open on a helpless cry—his name, shouted raw and loud and beautiful.

You clung to Zayne like salvation, arms wrapped tight around his shoulders, pressing his face against your breasts as if you could pull him into the center of your ecstasy. Your body trembled with each aftershock—sharp little jolts that made your thighs twitch, your breath stutter. Your core fluttered uncontrollably, pulsing in soaked, silken friction against the hard jut of his hip. There was nothing you could do but feel. Let it wash over you. Let it claim you.

And Zayne held you through it. His hands—those large, reverent hands—cupped your body with aching affection, as if to remind you you were real, grounded, tethered to something solid. Yet the way he gripped you, the possessive firmness of it, made it clear: you were his. Entirely. And he wouldn’t let you fall. Not even as you broke apart in his arms.

You collapsed beneath him like melted sugar, warm and boneless, breath hitching in shallow gasps as your heartbeat slowly steadied. Every nerve in your body buzzed, weak and blissfully spent. You were liquid and light, reduced to stardust in his hands.

And then—The sky came back. The soft blur of the leaves above you sharpened into shape. Patches of blue peeked through the green, sunlight dappling golden spots across your flushed skin. It felt like waking from a dream—too beautiful to be real, too intimate to be imagined. The world was spinning softly, gently, as if the earth itself had tilted with the force of what he’d done to you.

Zayne rose to his elbows slowly, reverently, to look at you. His face was flushed, lips damp, eyes still dark with wonder—but it was the tenderness in his expression that stole your breath all over again. He looked at you like you were made of miracles. As if you’d bloomed in his hands. As if he hadn’t just touched you—but honored you. He reached for your hair, brushing it back with affectionate fingers, picking a few stray leaves from where they’d fallen like confetti. You hadn’t even noticed. You looked up at him, dazed and glowing, like a woman who had just stepped off a rollercoaster and hadn’t quite found her feet again.

And he knew. He had known long before your eyes could find his again. Long before your flushed cheeks and slack mouth confirmed the truth. But when he saw the stunned, incredulous joy shining in your expression, the absolute awe trembling in your laugh, his smile deepened into something fierce and full of wonder.

“Zayne,” you breathed, voice unsteady, giddy with disbelief. A laugh bubbled out of you, weak and glittering. Your fingers trembled as they reached up to touch his face, swiping gently at his cheek, his jaw, like you were trying to bring him into focus, “I…I just…You m-made me…How the hell…You’re amazing…”

The words dissolved into air, fluttering out on a breath you hadn’t realized you were still holding. And Zayne…Zayne looked like a man who had just heard his favorite song sung back to him through your body. He needed you.

His lips were on yours again in no time—hot, urgent, all-consuming. He tasted like chocolate and breathlessness, like everything indulgent and forbidden, and yours. You kissed him deeper, lips parting wider, pouring every ounce of want into the soft, ravenous press of your mouths. Your pulse stuttered beneath your skin. You were breathless from him. He was drunk on you. Madness. Sweet, burning madness.

Your hands trembled between your bodies as you reached for the collar of his shirt, your fingertips clumsy with haste. One button gave. Then another. And another—each one undone with desperate need, as if revealing him were an act of urgency. As if touching him might be the only thing strong enough to anchor you now.

When your palms finally slid over his bare chest, you gasped at the heat of his skin. Smooth. Firm. His. Your hands spread wide, fingers splaying across toned muscle, reverently mapping the planes of him like you were trying to memorize the shape of heaven. And the sound—God—the sound he made at your touch was sinful. A ragged, choked noise, low in his throat, as if he was barely holding himself together. That sound alone sent a spike of electricity down your spine, straight to where he was already pressing his hips between your legs again. The friction made you gasp. There was nothing soft in the way he slid his hand under your dress to claim your hip with a possessive squeeze—his groin grinding into you, hard and aching, making your panties stick slick to your core.

The last button slipped free beneath your trembling fingers, but before you could slide his shirt off, Zayne was already moving—shoulders rolling, sleeves pushed down and off in one swift motion. He tossed the shirt aside like it meant nothing. Like only this—only you—meant anything at all.

Skin met skin. You both moaned into the kiss like it was too much, not enough. His body was fire against yours. A furnace. You couldn’t help the way your hands immediately slid down to his belt, fumbling with the buckle, fingers jittering with need. The metallic clink of it coming undone made Zayne sigh softly, forehead pressing to yours for just a second as he tried to catch a breath. Then his zipper. Then your palm found him—and you squeezed.

The way he shuddered. His whole body reacted, hips rolling instinctively into your touch, a broken sigh escaping his lips. It was the kind of sound you’d crave hearing again and again—so full of vulnerability and hunger, so full of you. There wasn’t a thought left in Zayne’s mind that wasn’t drenched in you—your touch, your pleasure, the way you unraveled for him. The heat between your bodies wasn’t just lust—it was something greater. A pull, an ache, a truth. He craved the closeness, yes, but more than that…He craved the connection. The invisible thread that tied your souls together every time he touched you like this. Every time he was allowed to show you what you meant without speaking a single word.

And so, with barely a breath between you, he kicked off his slacks and briefs—urgency and reverence battling in every movement. Still, his gaze flickered outward, scanning the secluded grove, making sure—absolutely sure—that it was just the two of you. That this moment remained untouched by the world.

You pushed him back with breathless impatience, urgency laced into your fingertips. Zayne let out a soft gasp as his body met the blanket, eyes wide, caught off guard by the sudden shift—by you. But God, he adored it. The way you climbed over him with fire in your veins and possession in your gaze. The way your hands planted on his bare chest, fingers spreading over warm skin, drawing shivers with every pass. You were a vision—flushed and wild and utterly in control.

And then you ground yourself down. The thick length of him beneath you pressed perfectly against your center, separated only by the wet cling of your panties. You both felt it. The heat. The slick. The shuddering promise. Your eyes locked, breath caught between you, and Zayne looked wrecked. His lips parted. His brows drew in. His control frayed at the edges like thread about to snap, but then—He caught your wrists. Firm. Commanding. He shook his head once, a seriousness in his eyes that made your breath still in your throat.

“Not before the best part,” he murmured, voice like gravel dipped in silk.

And before you could protest, he rolled you back down beneath him in a smooth, practiced motion, your back meeting the soft blanket once more.

“That’s cruelty,” he chided, breath teasing the shell of your ear as he pushed your dress higher, exposing your soaked panties with a hunger so focused it made you shiver, “you need patience and benevolence both, Y/n.”

And then he descended. His lips retraced the fervent path down your body, kisses planted in a hurried, unsteady rhythm—along your throat, over the curves of your breasts, and lower still. He didn’t bother removing your dress entirely. It remained bunched around your waist, like a ceremonial garment halfway removed, forgotten in the face of devotion. His mouth pressed to your stomach, your skin trembling beneath the heat of his breath. Slowly, passionately, he kissed lower, his lips burning a trail into your trembling flesh. Until he was there—mouth hovering over the soaked fabric clinging to your core, pausing like a man on the cusp of paradise.

And then, he stopped. Zayne looked at you—no, gazed—like what lay before him was nothing short of divine. His finger moved with aching slowness, hooking into the strip of your panties, the knuckle grazing along your slick seam. The moment it touched you—just barely—you both gasped. As if the smallest contact was already too much to bear. He peeled the fabric aside. And you watched his expression change.

The breath left him in a warm, staggered sigh that ghosted across your bare folds. He didn’t speak. He couldn’t. But his eyes said it all—devotion, hunger, disbelief, love. He looked at you like this was a revelation, like he would spend forever memorizing the details of this moment. Then his thumb stroked you. Tenderly. Affectionately. A soft press over your outer lips that parted them just enough, exposing the glistening petals of your sex to the open air, to him, to the golden sunlight streaming through the leaves above. The way he looked at you then could have stopped time. And still—he hadn’t even tasted you yet. Your panties peeled away one leg at a time, damp and clinging, and fell forgotten.

“You’re asking for too much,” you breathed, voice husky with need, trembling with the weight of your own longing. As your thighs spread apart in silent invitation, your fingers reached for his hair—those soft, silken strands you ached to bury yourself in—and tugged, guiding him home, “you need to stop talking and start eating…”

That did it. Oh, God, that did it. Zayne groaned low, something primal and reverent, and followed your pull with unrestrained fervor. His hands gripped your thighs—firm, grounding, possessive—as he nestled between them and lowered his mouth to the very heart of you. His breath was a heated offering against your swollen, aching core.

And then—His tongue found your clit. You gasped, body jolting, thighs twitching at the first contact. You were so sensitive. The moment his tongue flicked over that tender, pulsing bundle of nerves, it felt like sparks exploded through your belly. He licked slowly at first—broad, indulgent strokes—his sigh of sheer delight ghosting upward along your trembling stomach like a second tongue.

“Oh…Good God…” You moaned, the words breaking in your throat as your eyes rolled back and your spine arched off the ground. Your hands wound through his hair, threading the dark strands with trembling fingers, tugging at him with affection and unrestrained lust, “don’t stop, baby…Don’t stop…”

He wouldn’t have stopped for anything. Zayne’s stomach tightened with the surge of heat coursing through him. He was aching—cock swollen and throbbing, every fiber of him straining for release. But he didn’t touch himself. He didn’t need to. Not when he had you like this, writhing beneath his mouth, every soft sound you made igniting something holy in him. This—this—was his relief. His reward. Your taste, your trembling, the way you spoke your gratitude with every helpless roll of your hips.

And God, you were grinding—riding the length of his tongue in a rhythm so perfectly matched it made his hands grip harder. He held you open, held you close, as his tongue swiped up and down, finding your rhythm, feeding off your cries, meeting every downward press of your hips with an eager, upward stroke.

“Just like that!” You moaned, voice caught between a cry and a command. You ground down harder, chasing his tongue with desperate precision, “yeah…Yeah, just like that…You’re so good with your mouth!”

And God, was he. Zayne devoured you with reverence, as if he were starved for the taste of your pleasure. His tongue moved in practiced, loving swipes—each one coaxing you closer, deeper into the rising tide of ecstasy. The more you gave, the more he took. The more he took, the more you burned. And the waves—oh, the waves—they were coming fast now. Hot and sweet and endless. They rolled through you, deepening with every pass of his tongue, building inside your core until you were gasping for air, body winding tighter and tighter around the fire he lit inside you.

“I’m close!” The words tore from your lips, breathless and high, like something beyond your control, “Zayne—I’m so close!”

Your voice cracked as the pleasure surged, building with an intensity that made your whole body shake. Every nerve felt strung like a wire, trembling beneath the mounting tension. Your fingers curled in his hair, clutching with growing desperation, while your abdomen pulled tight—muscles contracting in that sweet, terrifying edge between holding on and falling apart.

Your spine arched, deep and taut, as your head fell back and your lips parted in a silent gasp. It was too much. Too perfect. Too consuming, “I’m gonna cum hard! I’m gonna cum—really hard!”

And then—Your thighs snapped shut around his head, locking him in with a strength born from ecstasy. Your heels dug into the earth. Your hands fisted the roots of his hair with a helpless cry. You were trembling, shuddering from the inside out, every part of you contracting around the lightning bolt tearing through your core.

“Zayne!” His name burst from you in a scream—pure, unfiltered, and beautiful—ripped straight from your soul. Loud enough to shake the trees, to reach the heavens. And even muffled between your thighs, he heard you. Clear as a bell. A benediction in his ears.

You twitched violently beneath his mouth, each pulse of your climax crashing against the steady rhythm of his tongue. Your slickness coated him, a flood of heat and sweetness that he devoured without hesitation, without pause. He held you through every convulsion, his grip firm and grounding—one hand clutching your bottom, the other splayed across your lower back, pulling you up into his face as if he could drink the pleasure straight from you. Your hips lifted off the blanket, off the earth, body no longer tethered to gravity as your orgasm tore through you in waves—mind-shattering, soul-scorching waves. Zayne rocked you with each one, his mouth greedy and tender all at once, coaxing every last ripple from your trembling form.

You couldn’t think when you came down. Couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak. Your mind was scattered, dissolved into stardust. You forgot your own name. Lost all sense of time and place. The forest spun gently around you like a dream you couldn’t quite reenter. The only thing you were sure of was the echoing aftershocks that trembled through your thighs…And the arms that still held you like a treasure that had finally been unearthed. And then—Zayne’s lips found yours.

The kiss was slow, grounding. He tasted like you—like heat and salt and sweetness—and the moment your tongue brushed his, a soft gasp hitched in your throat. It snapped you out of the haze. Brought you back to earth. You melted into him again, one trembling breath at a time, as your hands lifted to cup his face, your kiss growing firmer, deeper—full of something sacred neither of you could name. You didn’t want to stop. Your body was still burning for him. And so was his.

You guided him onto his back with unspoken understanding, flipping him over with a shaky determination. He went easily, eyes heavy with awe as you straddled his hips. His hand found your waist, steadying you, helping you climb over him, positioning you with a touch that was both guiding and giving.

God…You looked like something out of a fever dream. Hair tousled and tangled, cheeks flushed in soft rose, lips parted and kiss-bitten. Your eyes—glazed, molten—searched his like you still weren’t sure any of this was real. Light bruises kissed your bosom, where his mouth had worshiped you, and your breasts rose and fell in the soft breeze, crowned with perked nipples that caught the sunlight through the canopy of green above. The dress he’d bought you still clung to your curves. It draped in loose elegance around your arms and waist, bunched up over your hips, the soft fabric pooling between you and him like the remnants of something once innocent, now marked by the divine.

Zayne looked ruined beneath you. His chest heaved. His lips were parted. Sweat shimmered at his temples. His pupils were blown wide, drinking in every inch of you like a man seeing his religion made flesh. He looked undone. Destroyed by the sight of you. And he hadn’t even felt you yet. Then your hand reached beneath you—slowly, carefully—and you guided him in. He groaned. So did you. Your slick folds spread with a yielding glide as you lowered yourself onto him, inch by inch, your walls stretching with that beautiful, aching snugness. The first full inch of him sank in with a shared gasp, high and broken, as your inner muscles fluttered around the thick throb of him.

And then you took the rest. Your breath caught. His did too. For a long, shivering moment, neither of you moved. You simply sat there—full, flushed, shaking, gasping—grinding your hips down ever so slightly until you felt his pelvis kiss your lips. The short prickle of his trimmed hair brushed against your clit and you whimpered, the contact sending a ripple through your body. His hands flew to your hips, gripping tight, grounding you through the slow, burning pleasure. Your hands pressed into his chest—warm, solid, flexing beneath your palms—and the moan that escaped you both felt like a vow made in flesh.

You braced yourself. Rolled your hips back. Then rose. Sank. Rose. Sank. Lifted and sank. Each movement was deliberate, fluid, drawn out to savor the friction, the stretch, the sheer euphoria of being joined like this. The way he filled you was perfect—thick, deep, and pulsing. Every grind coaxed a deeper sound from him. Every rise and fall carved you open with pleasure. His cock rubbed against your most sensitive places just right, like he knew the shape of your body better than you did.

“Sweetie—” The word poured out of you on a trembling moan as your body dropped faster, harder, your thighs slapping down in rhythm as Zayne’s hands gripped your hips with feral urgency. His fingers dug in with reverence, pulling you down with a choked groan that echoed from deep in his chest, “I wanna hear it…!”

That plea—half-demand, half-devotion—broke him. With a guttural sound, Zayne surged upward, lifting you in his hands and yanking you down with a sharp slap of his hips. The collision knocked the breath from your lungs. His cock buried itself so deep inside you, your eyes rolled skyward—wide, glazed, lost in the unbearable pleasure of it all. You bounced harder. Faster.

Your hands planted firmly on his chest for leverage, fingers clawing at the taut muscle beneath your palms. The heat, the slick, the sound of skin on skin—it was overwhelming. Each time you sank back down onto him, your inner walls fluttered, desperate to cling to the thick, pulsing girth of him. You were burning alive.

And he watched all of it. Zayne’s expression was wrecked, his control unraveling by the second. He couldn’t stop staring at you—at the way you moaned for him, rode him like you needed him, like he was the only thing that could satisfy the fire licking through your veins. His emerald eyes drank in every detail: the twitch of your brow every time your soaked core came down with a slick squelch against the base of his cock, the bounce of your breasts—marked in deep, blooming bruises from his mouth—swelling and falling with the rhythm of your hips. You were radiant. Unholy. Divine.

“Y-you feel so good,” you stuttered, voice high and breaking with each bounce, each greedy, self-driven grind. You were fucking yourself on him—wantonly, wildly—taking everything he gave and demanding more, “you feel so—oh my—oh!” Your breath caught. Your body jolted, “damn it, I’m getting close so fast!”

You were panting now, your whole body trembling, nails digging into his chest. The coil was tightening again—hotter, sharper, wickedly fast. Your hips couldn’t stop. You were insatiable. Like the prettiest little bunny in heat, using him to satisfy the unbearable ache between your legs—letting him see every second of your need, every second of your unraveling. And Zayne—God, Zayne—he was barely hanging on, caught between the pleasure of your movements and the urgency to give you more.

He reached for you. In one breathless motion, he slid a hand behind your shoulders and lifted his knee, knocking you forward. You fell onto his chest, arms bracing on either side of his shoulders, gasping as he locked his arms around your back, holding you to him like something precious.

And then—Oh God. The first thrust shattered you. A powerful, upward stroke of his hips punched into your body like lightning, forcing a cry from your lips. You saw stars. Pleasure exploded in white-hot bursts behind your eyelids as heat bloomed through your core, wide and pulsing. His thrusts came quick after that—loud, deep, unrelenting—and all you could do was hold on, panting into the crook of his neck as he pounded into you with the force of a man entirely consumed.

You opened your heavy lids, lifting your head with effort, and found his eyes locked to your face. That clouded emerald gaze. Wild. Fierce. But so full of something else. Something deeper. Emotion. Raw, unfiltered emotion that made your heart stutter in your chest. Love. Awe. That barely-contained wonder that you were his. That you were choosing him. Again. And again. And again. You couldn’t look away. You wouldn’t. Not as he thrust harder, deeper, his cock dragging delicious friction inside you, and not when he brought a hand up to your hair, snaking firm fingers up your nape. He pulled your forehead to his, breath shaking, chest rising fast. And then he whispered the words that wholly undid you.

“You’re the prettiest little rabbit,” he breathed against your lips, the words a fragile thread of breath woven from awe. His voice trembled—fractured with restraint, with reverence—each syllable spoken like a secret prayer. And God. That sentence lit a firestorm in your veins.

Your breath hitched. Your walls fluttered around him. Every nerve burned alive as your hands grabbed for him—pulling, clutching, needing—and he met you with equal desperation. His hand stayed behind your head, cradling you with that beautiful, tender strength, holding your forehead to his as he kissed you like he couldn’t bear to let even your moans escape into the world without tasting them first. Your lips locked in wild rhythm—hungry, trembling, soaked in breathless need. His tongue moved against yours in sync with the hard rhythm of his hips, and you mewled into his mouth, helpless against the avalanche of feeling consuming you.

“Mm-mmph—!” You shook, thighs trembling, body tightening, “fuck me!” You gasped into his mouth, the words raw and messy, torn straight from the heat pooling in your belly, dripping off your tongue like sin dressed in silk.

And it destroyed him. Zayne’s breath hitched. His eyes flared. He gave a nod—sharp, wordless—and then slammed up into you. The thrust stole the air from your lungs. Your body snapped taut, pleasure detonating like a firework behind your eyes. You cried out, soundless and broken, as he began to drive into you with a reckless, focused fervor—each thrust deep, pounding, blinding in its intensity. Your body was trembling, your mind unraveling, your moans fractured into breathless whimpers and strangled cries.

He filled you completely—gloriously, brutally, beautifully. It was too much. Not enough. Everything. Only Zayne existed now. Only his body, his voice, his rhythm, the hard heat of his cock claiming every inch of you. Your thoughts dissolved into stars. All you could do was feel—the slick slide of him, the slap of hips meeting yours, the unbearable drag of friction in all the right places, the love in every single thrust.

Your eyes fluttered open, and his were right there—so close, so focused, they swallowed you whole. You saw everything in them. The wild depth of his gaze, ringed in green. The desperate awe. The trembling edge of restraint. And your own reflection, glassy-eyed and undone, mirrored in his pupils like a prayer written across his soul. You were caught. Trapped. Owned.

Your jaw fell slack, your nails digging hard into the meat of his shoulders as your body seized around him. You barely breathed. You barely moved. You just clung, holding onto him as he pounded up into you like he knew—knew—this was your moment. That familiar stutter in your moans, the tremble in your frame, the way your eyes began to lose focus—He felt it.

“Cum for me,” Zayne pleaded, voice low and wrecked, every syllable soaked in aching need. His forehead pressed to yours, breaths tangled in the scarce space between you. And then—his eyes. God. Those eyes locked to yours with such ferocious intensity, it stripped the world away. Time, space, sound—gone. There was only this moment. This gravity. His body inside yours and his gaze inside your soul, “let me feel you…!”

Your body was already there—fluttering uncontrollably around him, muscles clenching in frantic pulses, your grip on his shoulders white-knuckled. You were trying to keep your eyes open, to see him through the storm building inside of you, but the pressure—God, the pressure—was too much. And then it broke.

“Zayne!” Your voice cracked like a hymn sung too loud for a human throat.

The dam inside you burst open, a searing wash of heat flooding your core, blooming outwards in thick, rolling waves. You couldn’t hold it back, couldn’t contain it—it crashed through you, wild and consuming, every thrust of his cock fanning the flames higher as he filled you over and over, stretching you wide, pushing you deeper into the pleasure. It was devastating. It was divine. You were undone. And still—you couldn’t look away. Because he was unraveling too. Right in front of you.

Zayne’s mouth parted in a silent gasp, his brows twitching, his hips stuttering beneath you. He was watching you as you came, and you were watching him, and there was something so unbearably beautiful in that exchange—the way his control shredded right along with yours, how he looked like he was feeling every inch of your ecstasy in his own skin.

“Fill me,” you moaned, breathless, broken, inches from his lips. You didn’t even recognize your own voice—it was pure need, pure instinct, soaked in affection, “fill me right now!”

His eyes widened, glassy with awe, already teetering on the edge.

“I want every last drop,” you whispered fiercely, one hand grabbing his face, thumb stroking his cheek as you held him still—watching him, owning him—as he fell apart.

And he did. Zayne shattered. Completely. Utterly. His body convulsed as a helpless, high-pitched whimper left his throat—raw and unfiltered—ripped from the deepest part of him. His face crumpled, jaw slack, as the pleasure tore through him like lightning. You watched it happen. Watched every last ounce of control fall from his features as he spilled into you. Hot, thick pulses of him filled you in long, heavy ropes—deep, searing shots that you felt hit inside you, so deep it made your walls clench down again just to hold him there. Your legs tightened. Your arms wrapped around his shaking frame. You milked him for everything—every twitch, every spasm, every ragged breath—as his orgasm painted you from the inside.

You were both still locked in that gaze. Neither of you could look away. You fell into each other in a cacophony of shudders and gasps, lips searching blindly until they found their way together. You kissed through it—hard, deep, trembling. His mouth was frantic, full of gratitude, of surrender. His arms wrapped around you like he’d lose his soul if you drifted even an inch away. And you felt him. Every ripple. Every trembling breath.

Zayne was still twitching inside you, buried deep, his cock softening slowly within the warm cradle of your release. You were joined—physically, emotionally, sacredly—still wrapped tight around one another, chest to chest, heart to heart, as you both floated through the afterglow, blind to everything but each other. Slowly, your kisses softened—less hunger, more hush. Your hands moved lazily through his hair, fingers trembling faintly as the last threads of ecstasy unraveled into calm. Zayne cradled your face in his warm, callused palms, his thumbs stroking gently along your cheeks as if to soothe every aftershock from your bones. You were a mess. And so was he. A beautiful, blissful mess. And then, gradually, the world returned.

You heard the birds again—soft chirps threading through the canopy. You felt the sun, golden and kind, warming the bare skin of your back. The breeze kissed the sweat cooling on your shoulder blades. And suddenly, it all rushed back in: where you were, what you were doing before this—the picnic. The still-unfinished food. The quiet nature retreat that had turned, as it always did with Zayne, into something uncontainable. It always happened this way with him. Because when you loved a man like Zayne—a man who didn’t just speak his love, but showed it, proved it with every aching thrust, every trembling kiss, every whispered plea—you learned to surrender to spontaneity. To passion that couldn’t wait. To being wanted in a way that was reverent and carnal all at once. This was how he loved you. How he worshiped you. Not with flowery speeches, but with his body. With the way he made you feel every ounce of his devotion.

Your breaths were still coming slow and heavy, your foreheads pressed together, slick with sweat and love. His hands never stopped moving—gentle circles traced over your back, grounding you, easing you down from the stars he’d flung you into. You were both limp. Spent. Tangled limbs and cooling skin and hearts still racing, sprawled over the picnic blanket like lovers at the end of the world. There was no rush to clean up. No urgency to move. Just being. Just this. You let him guide you, let yourself melt against him, head resting just above his heart. His skin was warm. Steady. You could’ve stayed there forever. And maybe, in that moment, you did.

You laid like that for a long time—no words, no need for them. Just the sound of his breathing. Yours. The birds above. The faint rustle of the trees swaying in the wind. Somewhere nearby, the river murmured over smooth stones, a lullaby of motion and time. It was soothing. Your mind—normally brimming with thoughts—was blissfully quiet. Every worry had dissolved into the breeze. Every ache in your soul had been kissed away. There was only Zayne. The warmth of him beneath you. The soft glide of his fingertips tracing lazy patterns between your damp shoulder blades. The quiet certainty that you were safe, that you were seen, that you were so deeply, irrevocably loved.

You didn’t know how long you stayed like that. You only knew there was nowhere else you’d rather be. No one else you’d ever need but him. Every part of your being—your body, your mind, your heart—felt at peace. As if he were the place your soul returned to after a long, aching journey. As if you’d been running your whole life and had finally found where you were meant to stop. And just as you felt the heavy haze of sleep begin to creep in, Zayne’s voice stirred the air. Soft. Low. And laced with something that made your breath catch before he even spoke the words.

“Y/n,” he whispered, your name falling from his lips like a secret meant only for the trees and the sky to hear. His fingers moved slowly through your hair, combing the damp strands back with a tenderness that made your chest ache, “can I tell you something?”

You nestled closer into him, your cheek pressed against his heart, “anything,” you murmured, voice thick with the weightlessness of peace.

“I…” He paused, the hesitation threaded not with doubt, but with softness. His voice was husky, worn out from groaning your name, but light now—buoyant with affection, “I secretly snuck something for us into my backpack…I’d forgotten all about it the moment your lips were on mine.”

A quiet laugh broke from you, shaky and spent. Of course he had. That was so Zayne. A man whose mind emptied completely at the taste of your kiss. A man whose entire universe hit pause the second your mouth met his—who let go of everything, who forgot time itself, when you welcomed him into the molten, messy worship of your body.

“Hmm…” You smiled sleepily, lifting yourself off his chest with the grace of a flower too heavy with dew.

Your limbs trembled, but it didn’t matter. He was watching you like you were the sun cresting the horizon. He reached up and tucked your hair behind your ear, mirroring your smile with his own—soft, flushed with affection. You traced his cheek, fingers gentle over skin still flushed and glowing.

“Let me guess,” you teased, the corners of your mouth lifting, “more sweets for your inevitable post-sex cravings?”

He let out a quiet laugh, warm and raspy in his throat, “am I really that predictable to you?”

“Yes,” you said simply, eyes sparkling, and leaned down to kiss the tip of his nose.

He blinked, lips curling as if your touch had surprised him—and pleased him more than words could say.

“Very well,” he replied with a small shrug, tone mockingly resigned but playful, his hands smoothing down your back.

When your bodies slowly disconnected, it was with a lingering tenderness that left your nerves humming and your breath shallow. Zayne let out the softest sound, the barest sigh—sensitive, overstimulated, as if even the cool air meeting his flushed skin was too much. You were trembling still, your limbs boneless, your chest rising and falling in slow, deep waves of recovery.

With careful hands, he reached for the loose folds of your dress, helping you tug the fabric back into place—breasts covered, your modesty slowly restored, though the heat still lingered beneath your skin. You gave him a grateful smile, a bit dazed, and reached for the napkins to begin the quiet, unavoidable task of cleaning up between your thighs. It wasn’t glamorous. It was sticky. Embarrassing. Real. But he didn’t look away. He didn’t wince or shift or pretend it didn’t happen. He simply dressed—buttoning his shirt, leaving the top few undone to let the breeze cool his flushed chest—his gaze still soft, still full of that rare, unspoken devotion. As if he thought you were beautiful even like this. Especially like this.

You glanced around, growing reacquainted with your surroundings: the breeze rustling high in the trees, the birds chirping like your moans hadn’t just filled the entire clearing. The appetizers still sat abandoned in their artful arrangement, half-finished and forgotten in favor of other indulgences. And then there was Zayne. Always Zayne. You couldn’t help yourself. You reached for a strawberry—plump and red, sun-warmed and glistening—and brought it to your lips, sinking your teeth into it with a soft chomp.

“So,” you said with a hint of mischief, licking a little juice from your thumb, “where’s our super mysterious surprise?”

Zayne finished buckling his belt and shot you a look—playful, devastatingly fond, “what did I say about patience, my love?”

Before you could sink your teeth into the rest of the strawberry, he leaned in and caught your wrist, gently pulling it toward him. With infuriating charm, he crooned and nibbled a bite right from the fruit in your fingers—his favorite way to make you scoff and swat at him.

He only smiled, brushing a kiss to your lips that tasted of strawberries and satisfaction, “close your eyes,” he whispered.

You gazed at him suspiciously but played along, lips twitching as you obeyed and closed your eyes. A hush settled between you as the sun warmed your skin and the sounds of nature filled the stillness—birds chirping somewhere above, the rustle of leaves, the distant trickle of the river. Then came the soft ruffle of the blanket as Zayne shifted beside you, followed by the quiet zip of his backpack. You heard the familiar sounds of him rummaging through it, something shifting, crinkling—A quiet crumple. Plastic wrap. Your brows twitched faintly. Just what was he up to?

“Give me your hand, now,” he said, returning to your side.

You lifted your palm, curious, and felt him gently wrap your fingers around something smooth, flat, and wooden. A tongue depressor?

You let out a soft laugh before you even opened your eyes, “can the patient look now, Doctor Zayne?”

“Yes,” he chuckled, “open your eyes. Tell me if I’m still as predictable as you think.”

You blinked your eyes open—and found a popsicle resting in your hand. Bright blue. The color jolted something in you. Not a memory exactly—more like the ghost of one. A taste from long ago, clinging somewhere at the edges of your childhood. Fuzzy. Warm. Fleeting. Then your gaze slid to Zayne.

And there he was—kneeling across from you, a small white plastic baggie open in his hand, filled with thick blue syrup. You watched in awe as he focused, the air shimmering faintly as his Evol pulsed through his fingertips. Slowly, the liquid inside the bag solidified around the wooden stick, freezing into the same familiar shape. Your breath caught. You knew what it was now. A grin broke across your face. And just as you looked up, he caught it—his own smile tugging with quiet pride.

“Old popsicles,” you both said simultaneously.

You looked at your popsicle with disbelief, then at his as he crafted it into a smooth shape, “how’d you even-…”

“I drove very, very far for my mischievous rabbit,” he answered sincerely, holding his out as you instinctively did the same, “cheers.”

You both clinked your popsicles together in a quiet toast, the sound light and crystalline against the backdrop of Spring. The first taste was immediate and familiar—sweet, icy, simple—and yet it tugged at something deeper, something hidden in the folds of your memory. The flavor stirred your tongue in ways your mind couldn’t catch up with, not at first. It was the taste of something lost and soft, something sun-warmed and teary. Like a melted popsicle…

Like that melted popsicle. The one Zayne froze for you all those years ago, back when you were both just children. Back when the world was big and uncertain and cruel. Back when his parents worked tirelessly at the hospital and the orphanage that became your temporary home. You’d been alone, grieving, small—and he, the quiet boy with a difficult-to-wield Evol, had offered you a lumpy, uneven popsicle. The one you’d cried over melting. The one he’d tried so hard to fix for you.

A sharp gasp tore from your throat as the memory bloomed—soft and blurry and yet so vivid you could almost feel the stickiness on your fingers again. The scene returned not through thought, but through feeling. The memory he’d once brought up in passing during his last toothache, finally came back to you on its own.

“You truly remember, now?” Zayne asked softly, a knowing smile curving the edge of his lips as he caught the look in your wide, misting eyes.

You nodded, unable to speak, your throat thick with feeling. So, instead, you bit into the popsicle—sharp and freezing against your teeth—to anchor yourself, to keep the emotion from spilling over.

“Mhmm,” you managed, voice wobbling, “y-yeah…Thanks, honey…”

He didn’t say anything more. He didn’t need to. His free hand came to rest gently on your knee, grounding you. Your fingers instinctively slid over his scarred forearm, warm and familiar beneath your touch. You held him like that. Quiet. Present. A tether in the soft breeze. Then you leaned in and kissed his cheek. A simple thing. But it carried everything you couldn’t say aloud.

And for a moment, beneath the filtered sunlight and the hush of leaves, the picnic felt like a full-circle kind of peace. A gentle return to something that had started long before either of you understood how deeply it would matter.

[jayaury]

Faith Deflowered

If you enjoyed this, check out more stories on my Patreon! https://www.patreon.com/c/JayAury

With a mighty swing of his sword Sir Werre slashed through another cluster of vines, the force of the blow urged on by his memory of the villager’s pleas.

“We’re not sure what to do, to be honest, m’lord,” the headman had said, wringing his withered hands in desperate worry. “Happens to any lad who wanders into the woods looking to fell some trees or do some hunting. They stagger out days after they shoulda returned, dazed and drained. Wasted and needing a good week to recover. They don’t remember a thing a what went on!”

“I see,” Werre replied. “And have you any idea what foul creature causes you such problems?”

The headman nodded nervously. “Well… ah, tell you the truth, my lord, we fear it may be a… an alraune.”

Sir Werre understood then the villager’s fears. For there were few creatures in the wilds which were more perilous than a plant girl. Though there were many varieties, all were dangerous in the extreme, using their intoxicating pollen and perfumes to entice, corrupt, and feed upon the essence of mortals.

“I see,” he’d told the terrified cluster of villagers. The very image of the hero in his shining plate and blade, he’d looked over them confidently. “But fear not, good people. For I will slay this creature which troubles you, and make free your town once more!”

And so he would.

And he was getting close.

Sir Werre smirked as he hewed another mass of vines from his path, the clank of his armour accompanying every motion. After all, what had he to fear? He had slain monsters of all sorts. Be they demons, beastmen, goblins, orcs and even trolls. All had fallen to his blade and might. For he was not just a knight, but a paladin! Brave and true. And no monster would harm or threaten the innocent while he stood against them.

And the monster’s lair was near. He could tell as the overgrowth became thicker. So much so that the light from above was completely cut off, leaving him hewing his way through almost pitch darkness. But more. There was a scent in the air. Something floral.

And… singing.

This last gave the paladin pause, his head cocking attentively. It was a fair voice. Rich yet throaty with almost sensuous promise in the wordless music. But she was no siren. Not that it would matter if she was. For Werre was a paladin, and immune to such compulsion so long as he was pure.

Thus, instead of stumbling along towards the owner of the voice like some love sickened puppy on a leash, he forced his way forward with a swirl of his cape and a gleam of his steel.

Almost at once the foliage grew thinner, as if inviting him deeper into the realm of the forest. A glow made itself known, and the brambles pulled back like curtains, admitting him into a lonely glade.

Sunlight filtered through from above, shining in speckles of gold. It fell down upon a great flower which bloomed from the middle of a crystal-clear pool of water like a lily. Yet, it wasn’t just petals which spilled from the bulb. Instead, a woman rose from the flower, her shapely hips growing from its base, her skin a yellow so rich it could have been worked from gold.

Werre felt his face warm as he took in the carnal image of the alraune. She was shaped like a busty naked woman, utterly unfettered by shame. Her huge, heavy breasts swelled from her chest, counterpointed perfectly by her wide hips. Her face was breathtakingly lovely, with hair like a carpet of vines blooming with marigolds. Her hands glided over her body, making her honeyed flesh glisten with the water she bent forward to scoop up, gathering more in her cupped hands, though that wasn’t what caught Werre’s eye, but instead the way her immense bust wobbled with the motion like two bouncing melons.

Naturally, Werre had no use for such immense breasts. For he was a paladin of holy orders, and had taken a vow of chastity. One from which all his powers did spring, his oath bound him to resist the lustful potency of degenerate creatures like the alraune. But he would admit that he was still a man, and so could appreciate the sheer physical perfection of the presentation before him.

Perhaps a little too much, as his pause caused him to shift his weight, and under his boot snapped a twig.

Werre tensed as the plant-girl’s eyes snapped to him, the shining browns piercing the shadows in an instant. A smile grew on the plant girl’s luscious lips, and her hands glided lazily down her curves once more.

“Well well,” she cooed. “It seems I have a guest. Come out of the shadows, sweet fauna. Let me see who’s been spying on me.”

Vexed, Werre cursed himself, but nonetheless stepped into the light, his blade brandished and gaze hard and stern. “Monster!” he declared. “I am Sir Werre, paladin of the order of the Sacred Flame, and I have come to put an end to your vile presence in these woods!”

“Well, I am Marigold, and I must say I take exception to being accused of vileness,” the alraune said, her full lips pulling into a pout. “Can you really claim that when I have a body so… soft?” she asked, her hands grasping her breasts and hefting them tantalizingly. “So… curvy,” she cooed, hands sliding from her breasts and down her front and hips. “So… lovely?”

Werre smirked. “Your wiles won’t deceive me, fiend,” he informed her as he took a firm step forward. “I am blessed by my goddess to resist your accursed powers, and with her aid, I shall purge you from root to stem!”

“Oh my,” the alraune breathed, inhaling heavily, her breasts rising, quivering upon her chest. “You mean you can’t appreciate a luscious pair of melons?”

The paladin’s eyes followed the bounce of those orbs. “Nay!”

“Oh, brave paladin,” the plant girl cooed, her eyes glinting playfully. “I think you may be… lying.”

Werre braced his sword. “Think what you will, monster. For your time is done!”

With that defiant shout, Werre surged into motion, racing for the plant girl. She raised her hands, and from the base of her flower whipped a dozen thick vines.

Werre was forced to stop, his stance wide as he hewed with his sword, slicing through the assaulting greenery. He shouted in defiance as he ducked and dodged, his sword cutting a silver arc and severing the thick roots with ease.

He bellowed a laugh as he began to advance, every slash of his blade bisecting another assaulting vine. “You’re a fool, alraune! I’ve faced stronger monsters than you, and overcome them all! You shall be no exception.”

“Is that right?” Marigold giggled, her lashes lidding her glowing eyes. “Well, sir knight, it’s true you may have faced stronger beasts than me. However…”

A vine suddenly lashed at his face like a whip. Werre swung, driving it away. Yet even as he twisted with the motion of his blade, he felt something grab his ankle. He let out a shout as his leg was ripped out from under him, slamming him hard to the floor of the clearing.

“I doubt you’ve met one trickier,” the alraune finished.

Werre grunted, trying to twist back to his feet. Only for more vines to dip down, wrapping around his arms and legs. He pulled against them, but his fall had driven the breath from him, and before he could muster the strength to resist, he was hoisted bodily into the air, his fingers scrabbling for his sword before they were dragged away.

“Now now,” the alraune cooed as Werre found himself dangling helplessly before the buxom plant woman, her full lips smirking playfully. “We don’t need that anymore, do we? Such sharp, nasty things aren’t for good boys to hold. There’s only one sword you need to wield, and that’s the one between your legs.”

“F-fiend!” Werre snarled. “Release me at once!”

“Now why would I do that when you’re so very stressed?” the alraune asked sweetly. “Poor boy. All pent up in that tight armour. Let’s fix that, shall we?”

Werre tried to pull away, but the alraune’s vines were as strong as they were deft, more tendrils winding across him and pulling off his armour and clothes. Werre grunted as the last came free, leaving him naked and dangling from the vines, his face reddening with humiliation. Especially at how blatantly hard he was.

“Why look at that!” Marigold giggled. “It seems my big, brave paladin finds my pretty body appealing after all.”

Werre knew it was pointless to deny it. Instead, he bit his tongue and simply glared wrathfully at the plant woman.

For her part, Marigold’s eyes ran shamelessly up and down him as she leaned in. “Mmm. And I suppose these big… heavy balls are what keeps my noble paladin from ah!”

She yelped, yanking her hand back at a shock of holy power. Werre laughed at her as she sucked her fingers petulantly.

“Stupid monster,” he told her scornfully. “You cannot break my oath of chastity, nor can your powers corrupt my mind. My goddess keeps me pure and strong. You have no power here.”

Marigold glared at him, but then a cunning smirk wove its way across her lips. “I guess so,” the golden woman breathed, licking her lips. “I can’t brainwash you, big boy. But that doesn’t mean my pollen can’t affect you, does it?”

“Your corruption has no power over me,” he scoffed.

“My magic, maybe not,” she said, looking up. “But my toxins? Well…”

A niggle of uncertainty worked through Werre. He glanced up and saw a number of yellow flowers stir in the brambles above them. They opened like bells, and a pinkish pollen began to rain down.

Werre winced as the motes touched him, but as he expected, their enchantment simply sparked and disintegrated on his skin, repelled by his blessing. But with their singing, a strange scent filled the air. Something thick. Potent. It seemed to cling to the inside of his nose and back of his throat as he breathed in. A heavy perfume that smelled… smelled…

Good.

Very good.

He scowled, wondering just what the perfume did. But it was a momentary thought, for the next moment his attention was fully on Marigold as she began to move again.

Once more the plant girl was humming. Once more her deft fingers were wandering over her mouth-watering curves, her eyes lidded and lips smirking in sultry amusement. Werre glared defiantly at her, refusing to give her the satisfaction of seeing any weakness in him.

“Do you like my body?” Marigold cooed as her hips rocked to the tune of her humming, swaying like a pendulum. “Do you like to look at me? My big breasts? My plump bum?”

“Of course not,” Werre snapped.

“Ooooh, your lips are so naughty. But your eyes don’t lie. And neither does that,” Marigold noted with another coy look at his cock.

Werre felt his flush grow again as his manhood throbbed with desire. Angrily, he turned his head away. “Just kill me, monster!”

A look of bemusement painted Marigold’s gilded face. “Mmm? Now why would I do that? Especially when you’re so eager to stare at my breasts. My big… soft… bouncy breasts. Imagining them wrapped around your big, powerful, girthy cock. Bouncing and stroking you. Teasing and rubbing you.”

Werre swallowed hard, shutting his eyes tight. Yet the image invaded his imagination. Swirling in his mind. The potent pollen in the air was so thick he couldn't help but breathe it in. But of course, it couldn’t affect him. Of course, he was immune. So long as his vow remained, she couldn’t control him. He was his own man.

But gods was he horny.

He found himself breathing hard, his body growing warm, the throbbing in his groin aching through him. He tried to shake it off, but he couldn’t dispel the image of her body in his mind.

“Poor boy. So needy. Your cock so thick. Your balls soooo heavy.”

“Lewd creature,” he spat.

“Maaaybe,” Marigold giggled. “But is that a bad thing? It’s only natural for you to feel attraction. All fauna do. They’re just dumb animals, led by their instincts. Slaves to their desires. Your goddess is so cruel for denying you that. Poor, poor boy. You must be soooo pent-up. Not even able to stroke yourself.”

“S-silence, harlot!” he snapped.

“But I’m right. So very right. But you know… maybe we can do something about that…”

Werre felt the vine around his right arm shift. His eyes snapped open, and he found himself once more staring at the naked alraune. For a moment he couldn’t look away. Just the sight of her curves made his jaw drop, another throb of desire racing through him like his veins had turned to fire. But only for a moment. The next he looked down to see what the vine was doing, and discovered it had moved his hand down to press on his naked cock.

“Wh-what are you doing?” he demanded incredulously.

“Oh?” the alraune asked with a coy smirk. “What’s wrong? I’m just putting your hand close in case you needed a bit of… relief.”

“F-foul creature! You cannot make me-”

“That’s right!” Marigold giggled, her breasts wobbling with her girlish glee. “I can’t! That naughty blessing of yours keeps me from touching your big, throbbing cock. How naughty! But you can still touch it, can’t you?” she asked with a knowing look. “You can still stroke yourself while you watch me play with my tits. While I rub my tender… slick pussy…”

Werre tried not to look. Yet his eyes seemed to have a mind of their own, wandering down to the slick folds at the delta of her waist as her finger lazily strummed her slit. Sap slickening her thighs and drooling into the bulb at her base.

“I…” he gasped.

“You can still stroke your big… thick… cock all on your lonesome,” Marigold cooed, her voice a thrumming song that seemed to shimmer through him. “You can satisfy that naughty need you feel. You don’t have to cum, though,” she added with a playful look. “You don’t neeeed to cum. You can just do it until you feel some relief, right?” Marigold asked playfully. “Just until you’re not so… terribly horny…”

It was a trap.

Werre knew it was a trap.

And yet he found he couldn’t look away.

Couldn’t avert his eyes from her.

She was so lovely.

So sexy.

Yes.

Sexy.

That was the word. Sexy. Carnal. Physically tempting. Made to appeal and be lusted after. Formed to arouse man’s appetite for the flesh despite the fact she was more vegetable than anything. But those melons demanded attention. Her hips begged to be adored.

Werre shuddered as he felt his fingers wrap around his cock.

“That’s it,” Marigold breathed, her voice so soft. Gentle. Not threatening at all. Not even with that undertone of mocking cruelty that somehow only made her loveliness more evident. Made his pulse quicken and shaft pulse. “Good boy. You just can’t help but stroke. You can’t when confronted with my big breasts. My lovely body. Just a few strokes is fine. Just to get the pressure off. You can stop any time. You can give it up at a moment’s notice.”

This was wrong.

So very wrong.

Werre knew it. There was no mystery. He knew this was wrong. That she was tempting him. Seeking to corrupt him. Yet he couldn’t stop. It just… it felt so damn gooood.

“That’s right,” Marigold purred, moving in closer, the bounce of her breasts utterly captivating his eyes. His attention. “Just keep stroking. Keep feeling good. So good. But you can’t cum, can you?” she teased. “Your oath stops you from it. You can just stroke and stroke as long as you want. As long you can. As long as it feels good. Just stroke as I bounce my breasts. Massage my tits. Letting you imagine how goooood they’d feel around your big… horny… cock…”

Oh gods.

Gods, it would feel good. Werre knew it. It would be so damn good. He could picture it. Imagine those massive breasts wrapped around his length. Rubbing him between those glistening green orbs. Her nipples grinding against his thighs as he frantically pumped into those jiggly green breasts. And they’d be soft. So soft yet firm. Perfect as he rutted between them.

A moan escaped Werre as his hand pumped up and down his length. Marigold giggled, and Werre flushed as he realized she’d heard.

“Poor horny boy,” she cooed, her voice filled with honeyed mockery. “So horny and needy. So big and thick and heavy with cum. But you can’t let it out. If you let it out, you’d break your oath. If you broke your oath, nothing would be stopping me from turning you into my brainwashed boy toy. My handsome plaything that I could fuck and milk and make you moan and whine and writhe with pleasure. Make you cum so much your brain just broke. Just popped! Just stopped thinking of anything but how pretty I am. How horny you are. And how good my big breasts feel…”

Werre writhed in the grasp of the vines, groaning and whining like an animal in heat. His hand furiously pumping his cock, the pressure of his orgasm throbbing in his balls. His shaft. The pleasure throbbing within him. Begging for release.

Yet he couldn’t.

He mustn’t.

“You know,” Marigold murmured, her voice as sinuously poisonous as an adder’s, “I bet if you did give in… I’d be too busy playing with you to bother with anyone else for a while. You’d be saving everyone after all by becoming my dumb bimbo. You’d be a hero. So, isn’t that reason enough to get a little… reward?”

“Oh… oh g-goooods,” Werre groaned.

“It probably won’t even be that bad,” Marigold continued, the tempting poison of her voice and silkily seductive tone dripping into his ear word by word. “Maybe you got the oath wrong. Maybe your goddess would still protect you. She’s a merciful goddess, right? She’d take mercy on you, right? It’s okay to cum just once. Just once…”

Would his goddess see it that way?

Unlikely.

Terribly unlikely.

But… what if?

Maybe she would?

Maybe she’d still be protected. Then he could cum.

Gods.

To cum.

He almost sobbed at the idea, his hand desperately stroking himself, the need of his body defied by the power of his oath. His balls so heavy and body so tight with orgasm denied. But oh… oh, how he neeeeded to cum. How he haaaad to cum. How there was nothing he needed more than to spurt and moan and empty his heavy balls. To find freedom of the heavy lust that burned like fire in his veins. His eyes swimming, his chest heaving with panting breaths that sucked in gasps of sweet pollen. Sweet, arousing pollen.

“Just cum,” Marigold cooed. “Just cum. It’ll be so good. Just do it. Just give in. Give in, my silly fauna. My bimbo. Good bimbos cum. They can’t help it. They’re just too dumb. Too horny. They can’t help but cum. Can’t stop cumming. They just have to. You just have to. Just need to cum

“Cum.

“Cum!”

Werre couldn’t help himself.

Couldn’t fight it.

Couldn’t resist it!

“Ohhhhhhhh!” he cried out, a sound of despair. Of failure.

Of utter and terrible pleasure.

Cum fountained from his pulsing cock, a feeling of glorious euphoria surging through him. Swirling in his head and body as he gave in to that final sweet high. Blessed release washing through him as he shuddered and bucked in the grip of an orgasm stronger than any he’d known before. It was so good. So powerful.

So fucking perfect.

“There now,” Marigold cooed as Werre panted, sagging like every ounce of himself had been expended onto the grass along with his seed. “Look at that. Poor fauna. I didn’t even have to touch you! You just gave in all on your own. How pathetic. How silly.”

Werre felt himself blush. And yet, he didn’t feel even the slightest anger as his blessing burned from him, his goddess’s protection fleeing in the breaking of his vow.

No.

As he breathed in deeply, he felt the brainwashing pollen kept at bay swirl into him, stuffing his head with cottony happiness. With tingling pleasure. A smile touched Werre’s face, his expression growing slack. His eyes dimming.

“That’s it. Gooood fauna. Breathe in and out. Niiiiice and deep,” Marigold cooed as her vines lowered him towards her, his head coming to rest just before her immense gold breasts.

Werre did as bid, breathing slow and heavily, feeling more of the tension in him unknot under the heady influence of the pollen. His eyes lidding and jaw going slack.

“Oh just look at you!” Marigold giggled with delight. “All dumb and brainwashed just like that! And look at this,” she added, her fingers cupping his balls, making Werre groan in pleasure as her deft fingers cradled and massaged them. “Why, I can touch your big, dumb, horny cock all I want now! Isn’t that nice?”

“Yessss,” Werre moaned dimly. “Soooo niiiiice!”

“Mmm. I know it is, dummy,” Marigold said mockingly, touching his head and pushing it into the soft heaviness of her breasts. “Hee hee! I know it is. And I’m going to make you feel so good for just as long as I want. Would you like that?”

“Mmm hmmm,” Werre moaned into her bust, shuddering as he felt something kiss the tip of his cock.

“Good boy. Now, why don’t you start humping my pretty flower, hm? And give me aaaaall that heavy cum of yours, like a good fauna?”

Werre nodded, uncaring, barely understanding what she was telling him. Only knowing that he loved her voice, whether it was mocking or playful. Only knowing how to thrust as the soft petals of one of Marigold’s flowers wrapped around his manhood, slickening it with wonderfully arousing sap.

Only knowing to relax.

To sag.

That he was in good hands.

That he was loving… mistress Marigold’s clever… lovely hands…

[solsticehymns]

basket case: oneshot (hogmarch 2025!)

sirius black x f!reader / fluff / forbidden forest / soft!sirius / very lovesick

(part of @thatdammchickennugget's hogmarch 2025 challenge, week 4, prompt: the forbidden forest!)

summary: out collecting berries in the forest for a class assignment, you stumble upon a helpful, drooling companion.

a/n: AAAAAA LAST ONE OF HOGMARCH!!! i had so much fun writing this month and it’s been the best seeing people enjoy my little works of chaos :’) this has been such a fun challenge i am endlessly thankful to mari for setting it up and showing her support, and to the readers as well!!! i hope you enjoyyy, xoxo sunny ☀️🌻

wc: 1400 (yes, exactly. i'm that much of a perfectionist)

The Forbidden Forest bursts with an organic vitality the castle cannot replicate.

Branches, gnarled and ancient, stretch skyward like skeletal hands, weaving shadows over the damp, spongey ground. The air is moist and heavy with the scent of iron-rich soil, mingling with the faint fermentation of overripe fruit and decomposing vegetation. Each breath floods your senses with chlorophyll and decay.

Sunlight, split apart by the dense canopy overhead, filters in golden streaks, diffused and indecisive, as if the forest will only allow you to see so much. Silence does not exist here, nor does stillness—the wilderness is actively living, breathing, humming, with each ginger step you take along the worn path.

Basket resting in the crook of your arm, you move deliberately, thorny offshoots snagging your cloak and nipping at your ankles playfully. You’re out here to collect potion ingredients—scarletberries, if you can spot them. It’s routine, but not urgent. You've been wandering lazily along the trail, hands grazing waxy leaves and trembling fern fronds. The isolation is not loneliness; it’s reprieve.

You pluck a berry from a low, spindly shrub, its skin sun-warmed and firm. It pops softly in your hand, releasing a thin smear of juice across your palm. Into the basket it goes. You wipe your hand clean. That must be five. Maybe six.

You have to do a double take back at the basket when you drop the berry in.

There are more. A great deal many more than you remember picking.

The fabric lining is damp. There’s a congealed cluster at the bottom—half-crushed, glossy with split skin, their syrup pooling into the linen in thick, violet smears. A long, wiry hair threads through the mess. The whole mass glistens unpleasantly.

Your brows knit tighter. You did not pick those.

Slowly, your gaze trails across the silent woodland, pulse picking up as uncertainty prickles at the back of your neck. The forest, moments ago peaceful, now feels watchful, as if the trees are holding their breath along with you.

You spin quickly, cloak swirling, eyes darting between shadows, ears straining. Everything looks the same, still, undisturbed—but your instincts are screaming otherwise.

Then—a soft crunch of leaves. The tiniest sound, a whisper against the quiet, yet loud enough to spike your pulse further. You freeze, muscles tensed, every nerve alert.

Another flicker of movement, blurred and dark, draws your attention sharply. You squint through the thick foliage, breath caught in your throat.

There—beyond the closest pine, nearly hidden within its deep shadow. A shape emerges cautiously into view.

A black dog. Large. Unmistakable.

It meets your gaze. Doesn’t move.

You narrow your eyes, heart still pounding softly in your chest. Surprise mingles with irritation, a strange relief washing over you. "...Pads?"

It blinks slowly, almost sheepish, yet somehow smug.

Annoyance tightens your jaw. You lift the basket accusingly, bewilderment shifting swiftly into irritation. “Did you—did you do this?”

Its ears twitch innocently, head tilting as if feigning confusion, tongue lolling out of its mouth with a dumb, happy grin.

You exhale sharply, incredulous and slightly amused despite yourself. “They’re covered in spit, Sirius.”

The dog advances towards you, unashamed, tail flicking deliberately. Your irritation wars briefly with affection, a familiar battle you're far too accustomed to losing.

You sigh softly, shaking your head, unable to suppress the faintest smile tugging at your lips. “You've genuinely been following me around, secretly dropping foraged berries into my basket like some deranged woodland gremlin?”

A bark—sharp and smug—breaks the quiet. He sits back on his haunches, about a meter from where you stand, blinking up at you with those sweet, infuriatingly innocent canine eyes.

You lean down, inspecting the mess contained in your basket more closely. The pulp clings to your fingers, sticky and strangely warm, with a faint, unpleasant animal tang.

Then, the shift: the air folds, bends. A soft snap, a shimmer at the edge of your vision. You look up, and where the dog had stood, Sirius Black now grins back at you, devilish, self-assured. Your heart softens just a little at the sight of that smile—the one that's always been your undoing. His hair is tousled, his shirt askew. A twig clings stubbornly to his curls like an accidental crown.

“Well, someone’s ungrateful,” he quips lightly, brushing leaves from his shirt. “You looked so peaceful on your walk—I didn't want to disturb you too much. But honestly, there was an entire patch of berries back there, and you walked straight past them. Couldn't let them go to waste.”

You glare. “You slimed my ingredients.”

“Donated, generously,” he retorts, placing a hand to his heart, all drama.

“You’re disgusting.”

“Creative.”

“You’re lucky I didn’t hex you.”

“You wouldn’t. You missed me.”

His words might be smug—snarky, even—but his voice softens when it's just the two of you. That quiet, careful cadence he saves for no one else. One hand lifts to brush a loose strand of hair from your face, thumb lingering at your temple, and the teasing fades from his eyes for just a moment. It's not lost on you. He can't help it—how gentle he is with you.

You start to protest, maybe roll your eyes, but he doesn’t give you the chance. His hands are already on your face, thumbs brushing your cheekbones, touch reverent despite the smugness in his voice. It’s infuriating—the way he always acts like you belong to him. Worse still is how easy it is to let him.

He’s already leaning in closer, eyes shameless, lips twitching like he knows exactly how to undo you. Yet he hesitates, pausing just short of contact, the space between you charged and electric. Your heart flutters in your chest, breath hitching softly as anticipation coils tighter.

His eyes dip briefly to your lips, lingering in quiet longing, before returning to meet your gaze, vulnerability threading softly into his expression.

"Just wanted to be near you," he whispers finally, voice low and achingly sincere, like a secret too precious for daylight.

Your irritation slips away in soft layers, leaving you feeling oddly defenseless and utterly transparent beneath the affectionate intensity of his stare. For just a heartbeat, you're suspended, caught in the space between mild annoyance and an undeniable, consuming tenderness. You roll your eyes, sigh, and yet your lips curve upward helplessly.

It’s the look—the stupid, soppy, lovestruck look he always gives you—that makes you melt despite your best efforts, because it's a silent confession. A quiet promise that he’s yours, utterly and shamelessly.

And you know—you absolutely know—that you're just as hopelessly his.

He grins, all teeth and triumph. “Admit it, darling," he murmurs, kissing your cheek softly, lips warm and comforting. "Say I'm helpful.”

“They’re soggy.”

A kiss near your lips, a noncommittal hum.. “Efficient, then.”

"But—I can't make a potion with these," you protest with a slight giggle.

He hums against your skin, satisfied. "But you’re smiling."

You are. But that doesn’t stop you from swatting his arm lightly, smearing berry pulp onto his sleeve.

“Ugh, Sirius. This was supposed to be a clean harvest.”

He jerks back, pretends to look offended. “Well, be picky if you want, but I gave you forest-fresh ingredients.”

“Forest-fresh and dog-drool marinated.”

“Adds depth of flavor,” he suggests, kissing the corner of your mouth again. “Slughorn will be thrilled.”

You groan, laughing despite yourself. “I’m going to fail this entire assignment because you’re obsessed with lurking in the woods like some kind of personal guard dog.”

He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer until the basket squishes slightly between your bodies. “Not obsessed,” he murmurs. “Just invested.”

“In what? Ruining my academic career?”

“In you.”

You go quiet at that, even though part of you already knew—of course you knew he liked you. He wouldn't be trailing you through the forest, trying to help in the most ridiculous, endearing ways if he didn't. Yet, somehow, hearing him admit it so simply, with such open sincerity, hits differently. It settles inside you with a warmth and certainty you didn't fully expect.

He kisses you again, slower, and the basket bumps gently between you, berry juice dripping silently into the moss. The forest exhales around you. Soft. Watching. Approving, maybe.

Your potion might turn out to be a disaster. But with him, out here, among the thorns and trees, in the shadowy spaces between rays of sunlight—you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

☀️🌻 masterlist

pls feel free to leave thoughts in the tags or reblogs, they make my day! 🩷

[sonamytrash]

Temptress

An: As usual, I don't have anything to say for myself. I started this off quite enchanted and romantic, and it turned to filth pretty quickly.

Warnings: Pure smutty filth, public sex, outdoor sex, poor tree, fingering, dirty talk, multiple orgasm, squirting, creampie, unprotected sex, name calling, dom Levi, daddy is used, female anatomy described, porn with plot, but mostly porn. MDNI.

The air was thick with the musky scent of damp earth and the crisp tang of pine needles as Levi made his way through the dense woodland, the sunlight filtering through the canopy above, casting long, dappled shadows over the forest floor.

A light breeze rustled the leaves, carrying with it the sweet scent of newly bloomed flowers. In the distance, the gentle murmur of a nearby stream provided a soothing background score to this picturesque scene. It was in this serene setting that Levi Ackerman found himself, taking a shortcut through the woods as he made his way back from a nearby town where he'd been to buy tea. Suddenly, he heard a rustling in the bushes nearby. Curious, he carefully crept closer, peering through the foliage. There, hidden among the undergrowth, he spotted you, one of the scouts' medics. You were clad in a blush pink dress, your hair loose and flowing down your back, catching the golden rays of the sun. You seemed to be engrossed in your task, humming softly to yourself crouched down, carefully plucking plants from the ground.

You smiled to yourself, your hands expertly weaving through the dense undergrowth. The woods were your sanctuary. You knew every nook and cranny, every hidden path and secret grove. It was here that you found solace from the chaos of the world beyond the trees.

Having studied medicinal plants since you were young, and now, as a member of the scouts medical team, you were able to put your knowledge to good use.

The fabric of your dress was cool against your skin, a welcome relief from the muggy air. You bent down to pluck a particularly plump-looking leaf, your movements graceful and fluid.

You paused for a moment, listening intently to the sounds of the forest. The rustling of leaves, the chirping of birds, the gentle sigh of the breeze. It was a symphony that only nature could compose, and you found yourself lost in its beauty.

Levi cleared his throat, making his presence known. Startled, you looked up at him with wide, expressive eyes. "Ah, Levi," you said, her cheeks flushing slightly, "I didn't hear you." You glanced back at your collection, clearly torn between finishing what you were doing and attending to the stoic, dark-haired figure standing before you.

"What are you doing out here?" Levi asked, his voice low and curious. He leaned against a nearby tree, crossing his arms over his chest. You stood up, brushing the dirt from your knees, straightening out your dress as you smiled sheepishly. "Just collecting some medicinal plants," you replied, gesturing to your collection.

Levi arched an eyebrow, amused by your reaction. "I couldn't help but wonder what kind of strange animal might be lurking around in the bushes." he teased, stepping closer. A smirk crept across your lips. "Oh, you know, just the type of weird animal that spends their day's off in the dirt."

There was an awkward silence as you both took in each other's presence. You felt your cheeks flush again, remembering the flirtatious banter that you often shared. Always tethering on the edge of something more. But never had you been alone like this before, away from the eyes and ears of the scouting headquarters.

Levi, on the other hand, couldn't help but notice the way the sunlight danced across your shoulders, and your breasts filled the dress you had chosen to wear highlighting the soft curves of your body, a welcome change from the usual scouts uniform. He cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "So, did you find everything you needed?"

You nod, your eyes not leaving his. "Yes, I think so. Thanks for asking." You shifted your weight from one foot to the other as you tried to climb back up the rockery, not entirely sure how you managed to get down there in the first place. "You're not out here just to chat. Are you, Levi?" You gave him a playful smile, trying to break the tension.

Amused, Levi didn’t return your smile, but his expression softened. "No, I just wanted to make sure you were okay. You know, in case there were any other weird animals around." He teases, reaching his hand out to you for assistance.

You felt a thrill run through you at his touch as he effortlessly pulled you up. "Nope, just me," you teased, your voice a little breathless. Your final step closed the small distance between the two of you, as you laid a hand on his chest for support. The contact sent a wave of heat through your body, and you could feel the strong muscles and steady beat of his heart beneath your palm, "And I'm fine." You assured him.

Levi looked down at your hand on his chest, his own hand curling gently around your waist to support you. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. You raise your eyes to meet his, your gazes locked, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. The air between them seemed to crackle with an almost palpable energy, and time seemed to stand still.

No, you were not okay. You were never okay around this man.

Levi's grip on your waist tightened ever so slightly, drawing you closer still. Your heart racing. You could feel the warmth of his body, the strength in his arms, and it made you want to be even closer.

"I'm sure," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the rustling leaves. You could see the desire flickering in Levi's eyes. It was a look you had seen many times before, and it sent a shiver down your spine. You knew what was coming, and you wanted it. You wanted him.

He took note of your features. Delicate and beautiful, but there was something wild about you, too. Something untamed. You seemed to be waiting for him, and he could feel his heart racing with anticipation.

"You've been waiting for this, haven't you?" he asked, his voice low and steady despite the pounding of his heart.

You smiled at him. The expression on your face was both mischievous and enchanting. "Maybe I have, haven't you too?" you replied, tilting your head to the side. His hand reached out, gently brushing against your cheek, and you instinctively leaned into his touch, closing your eyes for a moment. "Tch, don't get cocky, brat." his fingers further ghost along the side of your face as he tucks a stray lock of hair behind your ear. "I may be a man, but I still have control over my urges." his gaze smoulders with a hint of barely restrained desire. "Though I admit. You make it damn difficult sometimes."

With a gentle nudge, he guided you backwards until your back was pressed against the rough bark of a tree.

He leans in, your breaths mingling as his lips brush against your own.

You gasp, your hands finding their way to his shoulders. Your lips were soft and yielding beneath his, and he could feel you respond to his touch, your body moving in time with his. He deepened the kiss, his tongue darting out to explore the sweetness of your mouth, and you moaned in response, your fingers tangling in his hair.

He reached around, his hand finding the softness of your backside, and he squeezed, pulling you closer still. You arched your back, pressing yourself against him, your hips grinding together desperately.

You broke the kiss, gasping for air, and looked up at him with eyes that were now dark with need. Your hands moved over his chest, his shoulders tracing the lines of his muscles, feeling the tautness of his skin. "I want you," Levi rasps, his voice thick with desire. His hooded eyes roam hungrily over your form. "Right here, right now." His calloused hands slide down to caress your curves, igniting sparks of pleasure. "I can't wait any longer." He kisses your neck and nips his way lower until he reaches the valley between your breasts. With a growl, he pulls the fabric loose, freeing your flesh from the confines of your dress. He cups your breasts in his hands, feeling the weight of them, the warmth that emanated from your skin. He takes one nipple between his lips, sucking gently, teasing it with his tongue while rolling the other one between his fingers. You arch your back, hips grinding against him, your fingers tangled in his hair. "Levi," you moaned, your voice dripping with desire.

He watched as you lowered your eyes, taking in the hardness of him through his pants before meeting his gaze again. "Then take me, Captain." You reply, and with a slow, deliberate motion, reaching down to free him from his trousers. You let out a moan at the sight of him, his gorgeous cock, hot and twitching in your hand.

Levi's breath hitches as you free his throbbing erection as his grip on your waist tightens. "You're a fucking temptress, you know that?." he growls, pressing you harder against the tree. He reluctantly leaves your nipple and captures your lips in another hungry kiss, his hips instinctively bucking into your touch. One hand continues to caress your plump breast while the other slides beneath your dress, teasing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

Pulling away briefly, he murmurs against your lips, "You're going to be the death of me," His voice is thick with want. "Humanities strongest soldier, reduced to this by a fucking siren. Tsk." With that, he spins you around, pinning you firmly against the tree, hiking up the skirt of your dress, his hard length presses insistently against your backside as his nimble fingers work to divest you of your undergarments, a satisfied smirk painted accross your lips the entire time. "But what a way to go." He relishes the feeling of the heat of your skin and the dampness between your legs. You gasped, your hips moving restlessly against his hand.

He bunches your dress up around your waist, revealing the curve of your rear. "And what a tempting sight," he murmurs, his hands caressing your supple flesh, parting your folds with his fingers, teasing you and circling your sensitive bud. You cry out, hips bucking against his hand. He presses one and then two fingers inside you, feeling your tight, wet cunt. You were so ready for him, so desperate for release. He slides his fingers in and out of you, in time with his thumb, circling your clit, as you moaned and writhed beneath him, your hands gripping the bark of the tree. Levi's fingers curl inside you, stroking all of the right spots. A guttural groan escapes his lips as he feels your silken walls clenching around his digits.

Your body arched, your back bowed as his name spilt from your mouth, and then you came, your voice shattering the tranquillity of the woods. Your muscles spasmed around his fingers, and your breath came in ragged gasps as the pleasure coursed through you. Levi's eyes flash with wicked delight at your wanton display.

"You have no idea what you're in for, pet." He growls, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your neck as you catch your breath. "I'm going to ruin you for anyone else."

Slowly, inch by agonizing inch, he sinks his cock into your slick heat, stretching and filling you deliciously. Your body still sensitive from your first orgasm. His hands grip your hips tightly, holding you in place as he hilts himself fully. "Levi!" You cry throwing your head back.

"Fuck, yes," he groans, pausing momentarily to allow you to adjust to his impressive girth. Then, with a sharp snap of his hips, he begins to pound into you relentlessly, "That's it, let me hear those delicious sounds."

A guttural moan escapes his lips at the sensation of your velvety walls enveloping him. He fills you completely, stretching and satisfying your aching need as you moan loudly for him.

Bracing his hands firmly around your hips, he begins to thrust into you with deep, powerful strokes, his hips snapping forward with a primal urgency. "You feel so fucking good," he growls through ragged breaths mingle with your desperate moans, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh filling the air around you. "So hot and tight around my cock."

He sets a hard, relentless pace, pounding into you against the tree. His mouth latches onto the delicate skin of your shoulder, sucking and nipping, determined to mark you as his. One hand snakes up to knead your heavy breast as they bounce and slap one another from his assault. His other hand clutches your backside, pulling you flush against him with every powerful thrust.

"Levi...it feels so good," you mewl, He leans forward, his chest pressing against your back as he grunts with each powerful thrust. "That's right, keep saying my name with that pretty little mouth." he commands, his voice rough with lust.

His hand snakes from your breast to your clit, stroking it in time with his ruthless thrusts.

"You feel so fucking good, taking my cock like this," his breath hot against the back of your neck. His teeth graze the sensitive skin there, no doubt leaving his mark. Levi's pace becomes increasingly frantic as he drives into you, his hips snapping sharply. Each powerful thrust elicits a wanton moan from your lips, driving his lust even higher.

He slams into you with bruising force, his hips snapping against your rear with each powerful thrust. The pressure and friction is delicious, and he can feel your walls fluttering around his throbbing shaft.

You arched your back, crying out his name as you came, your body shuddering with release. He continues to thrust into you relentlessly, feeling your body relax and then tense again with each thrust, your wet heat enveloping him as he continues to apply pressure to your clit expertly allowing you to ride out your orgasm. And then, just as you thought it couldn't possibly get any better, you felt it building again as you allowed the overstimulation to consume you, a second wave, and with it, the rush of hot liquid that trickled down your legs leaving you breathless and astonished as you moaned breathlessly beneath him, you inner walls desperate to milk his cock. Levi felt the fluid spill over his hand and smirked, bringing his fingers to his lips to taste your essence, "Dirty fucking girl," he says with a groan of pleasure, "I don't think you even knew you could do that." He comments seductively as he his thrusts grew more frenzied, his hips slapping against your ass with an urgency that left you both gasping for breath. "Give daddy one more." As he reaches down to rub your clit again, you mewl at the contact of his wet, slippery fingers returning to circle the already sensitive nub. He feels your body quickly contract around him, your muscles gripping him in a vice-like hold again. You felt yourself losing control, tears of pleasure streaming down your cheeks, "Don't stop, daddy please" you mewled, the words effortlessly rolling from your lips. With a loud cry, your body convulsed, your muscles tensing as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you. "Fuck, that's it. Milk my cock dry." His thumb circles your swollen clit as he chases his own release. Consumed with feral satisfaction at the sight of your debauched state. "You're such a good slut for daddy." With a final few deep thrusts, Levi buries himself to the hilt, spilling his seed deep inside, moaning your name as empties himself into you.He holds you flush against him, painting your walls with his hot, thick cum.

Levi's chest heaves as he catches his breath, his grip on your hips unwavering. "Tch, look at the mess we've made," He gazes down at you with a glint in his eyes. "But I have to admit, it's a sight I quite enjoy." 

You blush furiously at the events that have just unfolded. Your sweat-slicked bodies pressed together, hearts racing, and your breaths coming in ragged gasps. Your grip on the tree had turned your knuckles white as you turned to meet his gaze. "Guess I'm not the only animal around here."

[neverniko101]

Niko we need to yap more about Icv!Dream and Curd.

Pretty please a moment of your time 🥺🥺

Something is wrong.

“Obviously, feather-brain,” the Hero huffed from his perch on Curd’s shoulder. “There’s color, for one thing.”

The usual monochrome silence of the woods was broken by the gentle hushing of a nearby ocean, small blossoms and tropical plants shining like gemstones between the grey trunks. Glittering beams of sunlight filtered through trees too high to see the top, a light mist signifying the humid breeze.

I like it.

“Yes, it’s pretty, but does that mean something’s wrong? This has never happened before- the Narrator’s gone too, isn’t he?”

“Oh noooooooo,” the Contrarian commented sarcastically. “WhatEVER shall we do without that overbearing son of a bit-“

“Okay, yes, shut up,” Chara interrupted, flapping his wings irritably.

“You shut up. We’re not getting anything useful just standing here.”

“I guess,” the Hero muttered reluctantly. “It’s not like we can do much other than go to the cabin, anyway.”

Curd nodded, starting down the marked path. Soft dirt stuck to his talons as he walked, foliage whispering as he passed. At the crest of the hill overlooking the cabin, he had to stop, doubling over to catch his breath.

“You’re more built for cold weather, huh,” the Hero said as he examined Curd’s thick white coat of feathers, frazzled in the humidity.

I’m sweating through my feathers.

“Gross. Can birds even do that?”

“Let’s just focus on getting to the cabin. It’s usually nice in there, right?”

The avian skeleton managed to stumble through the cabin door, sighing with relief at the break from the sunlight. He wanted to lay facedown on the smooth marble floor to cool off, but he had the feeling that would be considered rude.

“It would. You should do it anyway.”

“It’s not like there’s anyone here that would see you, right? The Prince is always locked in the basement…if we’re assuming that still applies here, and that there’s even a Prince at all.” The Hero paused scanning the room. “It looks like there’s The Blade, though.”

Should we take it?

“Up to you. I personally would, for protection, but it could also give the wrong impression if we meet someone new.”

“Throw it out the window.”

Curd frowned at the thought of shattering one of the intricate stained glass windows. They filled the tall marble hallway with bright rays of color, each depicting a different intricately painted figure. Curd liked the ones with images of suns, moons, stars and planets.

“You have weird taste,” The Contrarian said, landing in front of the window with a dark, multi-eyed figure. “This one is clearly the best-“

“Shh, I hear movement from below. Whatever your choice, Cross, please make it quick.”

Leave the blade.

“Alright.”

Curd cautiously crept down the massive marble staircase, the towering columns and sweeping carvings making him feel small- which, as a 7’2” bird creature with the strength of a Royal Guard, was pretty impressive.

The room they arrived in was stiflingly hot, even more so than outside. Every inch of wall seemed to be covered in tall, arching windows that poured sunlight into the room like the crystal stream that ran along one wall. Curd had to shield his eyes from the blinding light, thus he didn’t see the other figure in the room.

“And who are you?”

Curd barely suppressed a yelp as the temperature shot up to that of an oven as a voice radiated around a room.

“Shit.”

“Well…guess we aren’t alone.”

“J-just a…Royal…Guard-“ the avian managed to gasp through constricting lungs.

“Are you? One of my sibling’s?” The figure asked, taking a step closer to examine him. The chokehold of heat released somewhat, leaving Curd collapsing to the ground. “Mm…no, I don’t think so.”

From the ground, Curd has able to get his first good look at the other. She was an impossibly beautiful skeleton clothed in shimmering silks and trimmed in gold, eyes like twin stars that bored into him and heated the room around them. A delicate gilded circlet mimicking the rays of the sun rested on her head.

Curd pulled himself from the marble floor and into a bow, wings spread out at his sides.

“What are you doing, putting yourself in a vulnerable position?” Chara hissed, flapping circles around his head.

She’s clearly royalty with immense power, Curd replied to the Voice. I’m not sure I could survive very long in a fight.

“Simp.”

“What are you?” The god interrupted his inner conversation, tilting her head slightly. “You most certainly aren’t a god, and yet you aren’t a scrawny mortal, either. Get up.”

Curd shakily rose to his feet as Dream slowly paced around him in examination. “I’m not…quite sure what I am,” he said. “I don’t really remember much beyond waking up in these woods.”

“Ah, a mystery.” Her face remained composed but a spark of interest shown in her eyes. “Well, perhaps someone I know can- ah.” She sighed in exasperation as Curd fell again, this time fainting from the heat.

[andy-15-07]

Would you do Joel miller x f!reader

You & Joel were very close. In woods, you seem to help Joel up for firewood. You are generous of him about how survive he is. In night time you felt something going on. Ellie help with you for tents. You are good with cooking for materials that you have. Joel help it out with you, so they have dinner together. Rest assured they are in tent with sleep bag. Ellie went to tent to sleep. As you two alone in firewood. They started same words as you say you go first. Joel really have feelings that you didn’t tell him. He knows that the way he looks at you. You simply think he cared for you. Sometimes you two scoop each other as they made eye contact on each other thinking about chemistry that is very close. They kissed so incredibly. Joel never let you go. You two chuckles for happiness that you two get to tent together and sleep

(Hope you will write it as much as you can, thanks and have a lovely day)

Whispers in the Woods

Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader

Word Count: 1471 | Requests are open! (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

The woods were eerily quiet as the three of you moved through the dense forest, the sunlight filtering down through the trees in fragmented shards, like beams of silver dancing on the forest floor. The sounds of nature felt distant, as if the world itself had fallen into a hushed reverence. The usual birdsong was absent, replaced only by the faint crunch of your boots on the underbrush and the occasional rustle of wind through the leaves. Joel, ever the stoic leader, moved with purpose, his broad frame cutting a path through the thick foliage, his hand resting on the shotgun slung over his shoulder, alert and calculating. Ellie, ever the restless one, kicked at the dirt path with a half-hearted scuff of her boot, occasionally muttering to herself as she moved. You kept close behind Joel, your senses on high alert, eyes scanning the surroundings for anything that might be useful. The hunt for firewood, herbs, or any hint of danger never ceased, no matter how familiar the forest might seem.

When Joel stopped abruptly, you nearly bumped into him, a sudden collision that snapped you out of your thoughts.

"Sorry," you muttered quickly, taking a half-step back to regain your footing.

Joel glanced over his shoulder, his expression as unreadable as ever, but his eyes softened just slightly. With a small nod, he spoke, his voice low and commanding, yet tinged with something less harsh. "We’ll set up camp here for the night."

Ellie, clearly eager to take a break, groaned dramatically, dropping her pack with a thud onto the ground. "Finally! My feet are killing me."

You couldn’t help but chuckle at her exaggeration, kneeling down to gather a handful of dry sticks for the fire. The forest around you seemed to breathe with a quiet anticipation, but Ellie’s complaining was a welcome distraction.

Joel’s deep voice broke through the silence, sharp yet calm. "I’ll handle the heavier stuff."

You straightened up, a small bundle of firewood in your arms, and shot him a playful look. "Don’t worry, Joel. I’ve got it."

But then you saw it—the familiar look, the one that said he wasn’t interested in arguing but wasn’t going to let you do all the work, either. With a resigned sigh, you handed over the firewood, offering him a teasing smile.

"All right, Mr. Macho. Don’t hurt yourself."

"I’ll be fine," he grunted, though the corner of his mouth twitched ever so slightly, betraying the humor he often kept hidden.

As the sun dipped low, casting a soft golden glow over the landscape, Ellie helped you set up the tents. The air was starting to cool, the first bite of night creeping into the world. But it wasn’t the chill that caused the unease—it was something else. A subtle shift in the air between you and Joel. Something unspoken, hanging in the quiet space between you both, like a thread waiting to snap.

"You’re really good at this, y'know," Ellie remarked as she secured one of the tent poles. Her words were sincere, almost in awe. "Like, survival stuff. Cooking, setting up camp... all of it."

You smiled at her compliment, giving her shoulder a light pat. "Thanks, kid. You’re not so bad yourself."

Ellie grinned in return, her eyes sparkling with mischief before she zipped up her tent. "If you need me, I’ll be in here—asleep."

"Got it. Sweet dreams, Ellie."

With the last of her energy spent, the night settled in, and you found yourself sitting beside Joel by the crackling fire. The flames cast warm, dancing shadows on the surrounding trees, the firelight flickering in your eyes. The silence between you was comfortable, but it felt heavy, laden with something unspoken, something both of you had been avoiding for so long. As Joel stirred the pot of stew, a subtle but deliberate motion, you could feel his gaze on you every now and then, his focus shifting from the fire to you, then back again.

"Smells good," Joel muttered, his voice low and rough.

"You helped," you replied with a small smile, watching him for a beat.

He shook his head, almost dismissively. "You’re the one that makes it taste decent."

A laugh bubbled up from your chest. "Guess we make a good team."

Joel didn’t respond right away. His gaze lingered on you, softening for just a second before he seemed to catch himself, looking away as if the moment had passed. The flickering firelight played across his face, casting shadows that only deepened the mystery in his eyes.

Ellie had long since retreated to her tent, the night settling around the three of you like a blanket, and you found yourself more aware of the quiet than usual. The stars above twinkled like distant promises, the world around you seemingly frozen in time. The crackle of the fire was the only sound.

Joel’s voice cut through the stillness, surprising you. "You’ve been quiet tonight."

You glanced up at him, your breath catching in your chest. "Just... thinking."

"‘Bout what?"

You hesitated for a moment, unsure whether to voice the thoughts that had been swirling around your mind for so long. Finally, you spoke, the words tumbling out with a mixture of vulnerability and admiration. "About how you’ve kept us alive this long. You’re... incredible at this, Joel. Surviving. Keeping Ellie safe. Keeping me safe."

Joel’s brows furrowed slightly, his usual gruff demeanor softening. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his gaze fixed on the ground. "Ain’t just me. We’ve all pulled our weight. You especially."

You felt a warmth spread through your chest at his words, a quiet sense of pride that settled over you. "Thanks."

The air around you seemed to grow heavier, the night pressing in on both of you. A long silence stretched between you, filled only by the crackle of the fire. Then, his voice broke the quiet, softer now, almost hesitant. "You ever wonder why I look at you the way I do?"

Your heart skipped a beat at the question. You turned to face him fully, your pulse quickening as you searched his face for any hint of jest, any sign that this was just another joke. But there was none. He was serious.

"I thought... maybe you cared about me. As a friend."

Joel shook his head slightly, his lips curling into the faintest of smiles, though it didn’t reach his eyes. "It’s more than that, and you know it."

Your breath hitched, your heart pounding in your chest. The world seemed to stop for just a moment as you locked eyes with him. The space between you felt charged, as if the air itself was humming with the tension, with the weight of years of unspoken feelings and unsaid words. Then, as if drawn by an invisible force, you leaned forward. And so did he.

The kiss was tentative at first, unsure, as though both of you were testing the waters. But when you didn’t pull away, when you met him halfway, something shifted. His hand moved, gently cupping your cheek, deepening the kiss, and the world around you fell away. The kiss was more than just an exchange of lips—it was the culmination of everything that had been building between you both for so long. The years of shared hardships, the unspoken understanding, the trust and the care that had always been there, hidden beneath the surface.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, the weight of the moment hanging in the air like a delicate thread. There was no need for words; everything had been said in that brief, perfect kiss.

Joel chuckled softly, a sound that seemed to shake off the last of his tension. He reached up, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. "Didn’t think I’d ever get the guts to do that."

You laughed quietly, resting your forehead against his in a rare, tender moment. "Better late than never."

The fire crackled on, its warm glow casting shadows around you as you sat side by side, closer than ever before. It felt like the world had shifted, like something essential had finally fallen into place. The night seemed softer now, the forest around you no longer so cold, no longer so dangerous.

Eventually, you both made your way to the tents, the quiet comfort of each other’s presence filling the space between you. For the first time in a long while, you felt truly safe—not just from the dangers of the world, but from the loneliness that had gnawed at you for so long.

And as you drifted off to sleep beside Joel, his warmth beside you and his steady breath in the darkness, you knew that no matter what the future held, you would never be alone again.