#and now i will go pay a visit to her flower shop

[sassykinzonline]

for my monthly "put some respect on ino's name" post:

if you really want an example of a victim of misogyny by fans, and a woman who is essentially disrespected for being feminine its ino. people project onto sakura because they relate to her tomboy nature and think shes pretty, but on its face they steal a lot of ino's actual feats and character traits and pretend that sakura has them.

what crimes did ino commit? she hugged me once without asking. how many times has sakura done that? she...was interested in sai because he was handsome. so? she was kind to him and always included him after that, while everyone else hated his guts (i mean hes fucking annoying so he deserves it, but that just goes to show how nice ino is). in the chunin exams she tried to use her looks as a distraction? naruto uses sexy jutsu, same thing. later on she uses her actual skills to defend sakura who cant do shit except cut her hair. she calls choji fat? so does everyone else. shikamaru constantly disrespects her so that whole team is full of childhood friends who hate each other.

she was instrumental against pain, instrumental against the akatsuki, instrumental in the war effort. she is also actually shown to be smart both in battle and outside of it, rather than just having it be talked about or only shown in the make believe episodes.

in the meantime though, who's the only other person who cried when the rookies were plotting to kill me? ino. who's the only other person who was happy to see me when i came to join the war effort? ino. who didnt try to kill me or advocate for it? ino. did she ever disrespect me after that one hug? no.

[vivwritescrappythings]

Yours

joel miller x fem!reader

Finally finishing the request for a Joel Miller fic inspired by "Jealous" by Nick Jonas for @prettyinpunk85 (I hope you like it)

You get new neighbors in Jackson, Joel doesn't like how much attention they pay to you so he decides to teach them a lesson.

tw: afab and fem reader, p in v sex, alludes to curvy reader, age gap (twenty years), exhibitionism, some dubcon, dirty talk, no use of y/n, unsafe sex (do as i say not as fanfic writes), oral (f receiving), fingering, finger sucking, jealous joel, written from joel's perspective (may be bad)

Word Count: 4.8k

MDNI

masterlist

—

Joel didn’t know what to do with himself when you’d happily announced that you had new neighbors. The house next to his in Jackson had been empty for some time, it was yours until you decided to move in with him and Ellie. He was hoping the neighbors would be a family, or maybe some older survivors. Really, someone you could be friends with, he knew you were way too extroverted for just his company.

But instead the new neighbors were his nightmare: two guys–in their twenties.

You were young for Joel, he knew that. Part of him had always attributed your interest in him to the fact that choices were limited in the zombie apocalypse. He hadn’t even known how to flirt with you, awkwardly leaving tattered books he had found during supply runs on your front porch, sometimes accompanied by wilted wildflowers. One day he had left you a bookshelf he’d built, endless hours spent in his studio sanding the wood to perfection and carving flowers into the border. You had to ask him to come over to help you move it inside.

That was over two years ago, and he still had no clue why a pretty thing like you had decided to even talk to him, let alone be with him. To be honest, no one else in Jackson understood it, either. You worked at the small bakery on Main Street and wanted to convert one of the buildings into a library. You liked to sew pretty dresses and planted superficial flowers outside of the house in the summertime. 

Joel was nothing of the sort, keeping everyone at an arm’s length aside from Tommy and Ellie. He stayed on the fringes of community events, always present but never participating. Ellie was loud enough for the both of them, boisterous and friendly and everything he wasn’t. He was happy to watch her thrive.

So the first time she asked him to go to the bakery so she could hang out with a friend, he reluctantly agreed. He’d introduced himself to you like a complete idiot, blushing when you laughed and informed him that you were neighbors. Joel had become enamored with you from the second he saw your smile, the way your eyes crinkled at the edges and your cheeks lifted. He could’ve died a happy man right there at the counter. 

From then on, he claimed that bakery visits were firmly his responsibility.

He sucked up every piece of information you gave him, starting with your favorite items at the shop and spiraling until he knew that you loved wildflowers and what books you liked to read. Joel was greedy, he wanted to know everything about you–he wanted to be the only person that knew everything about you. 

That was when he started leaving you gifts at your door, and the rest was history.

So when you swatted his hand away from the cooling cookies on the rack in the kitchen, his brown eyes regarded you with betrayal. “They’re for the neighbors,” you informed him, untying your cute, frilly little apron and hanging it on the hook he’d installed.

The neighbors.

They had already become adversaries in a war that only he knew existed. Joel sighed, heavy boots plodding against the floor until he could wrap his arms around your waist and pull your back to his chest. “Now why are you giving the neighbors my cookies?” he asked, nuzzling the tip of his nose against your temple. 

“To be friendly, Joel,” you said with a giggle, turning in his arms to look up at him. His big, scarred hands were on the small of your back, fingertips rubbing gentle circles through your shirt. He swore his heart stopped every time you looked up at him, your thick eyelashes fluttering as your lips quirked into a smile. “Something that you are unfamiliar with.”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “M’friendly,” he protested, pecking you on the lips as though it would prove his point.

“Oh yeah?” you asked, leaning up and kissing the corner of his lip once before squirming out of his grip. You retrieved one of the few plates that didn’t have a chip missing from the cabinet, transferring the cookies onto it with care. “It took you how many months to talk to me?”

Even if the question wasn’t rhetorical, he decided to treat it that way. He moved closer to you, a possessive hand curling around your waist and lips meeting your shoulder. “To prove you wrong, I’ll come with you to introduce ourselves to the neighbors.” He wanted to keep an eye on them, let them know that his pretty girlfriend was in fact taken before they got any wrong ideas.

Your brow furrowed, immediately suspicious of his motives. “Who are you and what have you done with Joel Miller?” 

He smiled, trying to be sweet and smooth like he used to be when he was younger. Before everything. ���Maybe I just want to be nice, wildflower. Ever thought of that?” 

Your eyes dragging across him let him know that you weren’t convinced. The two of you stared at one another, waiting to see who would cave first. Apparently it was you. “Fine, but I know you’re up to something.”

Joel’s hand was firmly planted on the small of your back as you stepped out into the afternoon sun, the whole world looking like it was dipped in gold. You went up the rickety porch stairs first, Joel only a half step behind you as you adjusted the plate to one hand to knock on the door.

He was staring at the way the blue paint was starting to peel, thinking about how no self-respecting man would let his house fall into disrepair like that. No mind that they had only moved in a few days ago, they should’ve repainted the front door by now–it was people’s first impression whenever they walked up to the house.

It took a moment after you knocked for the door to swing open, two blonde idiots who looked like they were straight out of a magazine advertisement standing on the other side. Their blue eyes lit up when they saw you, easy smiles gracing their features like they hadn’t been battle-hardened by the outbreak.

Not like Joel was.

Joel’s fingers dug into your back, his expression hardening. They tempered their excitement when they saw him, standing so close to you that he could practically be your shadow.

He loathed the way they were looking at you, his jaw set tight and flexing beneath his beard. You were talking, he could hear the notes of your voice like you were speaking underwater–he was too focused on the dopey smiles in front of you to even pay attention to what was being said. You made them laugh, they said something back to you. Probably their names if he had to guess.

Before he even realized, you were tugging him back down their porch steps and into your shared home, flitting away to make Joel his own personal batch of cookies like nothing had happened.

–

Three times that week he had come home to find them loitering outside the front door or talking to you along the edge of the freshly painted picket fence. They were always showering you with compliments, be it about your cookies or the flowers you’d carefully planted in the boxes Joel had built you. They scattered whenever Joel was there, making excuses about chores that needed to get done or errands that needed to be finished.

But he knew better.

Of course, you talked about the nice boys next door over dinner, it took everything in him to not immediately scowl at the mention of them. The fact that you referred to them as boys was laughable, they were closer to your age than he was—maybe a few years difference between you at most. Nothing compared to his whopping couple decades. He tried to brush the thought away as quickly as it sprouted.

He humored you, knowing that you just thought that everyone was kind and friendly and honest because you were. That was what he loved about you.

–

The last straw was when he was out in the back installing a porch swing for you to read on. They were doing something, near enough to the tall fence splitting the yards that he could hear them talking as clear as day. 

Joel almost went over there to give them a piece of his mind, listening to them speculate about why you were with him. They were laughing as they bet that he couldn’t even get it up anymore, that there was no way he was taking care of you like a man was supposed to. 

He was old, angry. And you… you weren’t.

He was seething by the time they finished up and went into their house, his hands nearly shaking when he finished screwing the brackets into the roof. Back in the QZ, Joel would have probably fought them—killed them, if he was honest with himself. 

It would be easy to bust down their door and give them his retribution, he wasn’t always the domesticated beast he’d become for you. But nevertheless, he sucked it up. You would be devastated if he fought with them, as much as he would love to feel their skin split under his knuckles. He couldn’t do that to you.

—

It was a few evenings later that he got what he wanted: an opportunity for his revenge. You were on the porch swing with him, the two of you nestled together in the orange rays of the sunset. You both were reading, Joel’s arm tucked around your shoulders so your chin was pressed against his bicep. 

You always were fully immersed in your books, an earthquake could happen and you would have no clue. So you didn’t hear your neighbors’ back door slide open, but Joel did. 

He barely moved, didn’t bother to say a word as his broad hand moved from cupping your shoulder to gently graze around the side of your breast. It was a lazy day for the two of you, you were only dressed in one of Joel’s flannels and pajama shorts that were so loose around your thighs you may as well have never put them on.

You immediately shivered at his touch, your thumb slipping between the pages of your book to hold your place. “Joel, the neighbors,” you whispered, twisting so you could look up at him. 

“Went on a hunting trip, they’re not home,” he said loud enough for them to hear. Hopefully they would have the good sense to shut up. His thumb circled your already stiff nipple, a smirk stretching across his features conspiratorially. “C’mon, Ellie’s at a friend’s house and no one’s here—let’s test out the porch swing.”

Your lips were already parted, the heat building on the back of your neck so intense Joel could feel it through his shirt. “Joel,” you whined in the way that made him get hard as a fucking rock in his pants.

“Yeah?” he asked, suddenly playing dumb as though he hadn’t started it. 

You pouted, your brow furrowing and bottom lip jutting out as you arched your tit further into his hand. He acquiesced immediately—he always did—pinching your nipple through the well worn fabric of his flannel. His reward was a soft moan from you, your body both melting into and arching away from his. 

“What’s my girl want?” Joel asked, his voice a deep rasp as he stamped his lips against your temple. The small of your back was pressed against his oblique, your cheek squishing into his collarbone as he watched your thick thighs press together. He kept toying with your nipple, his free hand setting his book aside and pulling yours from your clutch. “C’mon, you gotta tell me. Can’t read minds.”

You huffed, you always hated it when he made you ask for what you wanted. “Joel please,” you whined, pressing your heels against the cushion that covered the wooden seat and sitting up so you were flush against him.

“Please what?” His free hand skimmed down your side, snapping the stretched-out, elastic waistband of your shorts. It made you squeak, a quiet giggle coming from your throat.

“God, please just touch me,” you whined, your impatience making him chuckle darkly. His hand moved from your waist, tracing over the pudge of your stomach and dipping into your loose sleep shorts. There was nothing beneath, just your soft skin and the curly patch of hair on your pubic bone.

“No panties? You slut,” Joel teased, his fingers traveling even further down until they sunk into your cunt. You were wet and warm, almost scalding his skin as he parted the lips of your sex to find your swollen clit. “And already so soaked.” 

You moaned, a hand winding around his bicep as your back arched. He kissed the crown of your head as he rubbed your clit between the pads of his pointer and middle fingers, slow and soft. He knew you’d complain, beg him for more. He just wondered how long it would take until you did. 

Not long at all, it was maybe half a minute when you rocked your hips impatiently against his hand. “Joel, you’re being mean.” You were loud, louder than you would ever mean to be with the threat of someone possibly catching you.

Joel chuckled, shaking his head. “Mean? Not true,” he countered, increasing the pressure he was putting on your clit. If he strained his ears he could hear how wet you were, a quiet squelching noise barely muffled by the fabric of your shorts. You pressed your hips further against his hand, your teeth digging into your lower lip to keep your noises to a minimum.

He dipped to gather more slick at your fluttering entrance, teasing it for a moment before returning to your clit. You were being so good for him, so sweet. His other hand unbuttoned the flannel you were wearing down to your navel, freeing your breast for him to knead and squeeze in his broad palm. 

Your eyebrows bunched together, your lips parting as your gaze was stuck on where his hand disappeared beneath your shorts. “Feeling good?” he asked, relishing in your moan of agreement as you nodded. 

Joel smirked, pulling his hand from your shorts. “No–oh my god,” you protested, nearly up in arms. If looks could kill, he would be struck dead. He stood, his dark eyes briefly looking over the fence to see the neighbors still on their porch, their jaws dropped to their chests.

His smile widened as he sank to his knees in front of you, your protests dropping off as you lifted your hips so he could take your shorts off. A wicked grin stretched on your features, you sucked your bottom lip back into your mouth as your gaze roved over him. You settled so your ass was almost hanging off the porch swing, spreading your legs without Joel having to direct you to do so. 

“You want me to eat this pretty pussy of yours?” he asked, rough hands smoothing along the insides of your soft thighs. Joel wasn’t a man with a weakness for pretty things, but there was something about your slick and puffy pussy dripping for him that made his heart nearly stop.

“Fuck, please, Joel.” He loved the way you begged. 

Joel pressed his mouth to the soaking mess of your sex, moaning at your salty-sweet taste on his tongue. He could never get enough of you, settling one leg over the curve of his shoulder as his other hand pressed your knee to your chest. The sun was shining in his eyes, but he didn’t let it stop him from looking up at your face. He lapped at your cunt with firm, long strokes, practically drinking from you.

In a moment of generosity, he pressed the middle and ring finger of his free hand knuckle-deep in your pussy, pulling a loud and broken moan from your chest. He was smiling into your pussy, suckling at your swollen clit as he pumped his fingers into you.

Your fingers tangled into his dark brown curls, grabbing at them in a way that sent shivers down his spine as you pulled his head flush against you. Joel loved the way your soft thighs pressed against his ears, almost muffling the sweet sounds falling from your pretty lips. Almost. Being outside had made you reckless, the promise of Ellie and the neighbors being gone letting you reach a volume that he hadn’t heard in a long time.

Of course, Joel knew better. He ate you like a starving man, proud that every sound you made was heard by the two men–boys–sitting on the other side of the fence.

His knees on the concrete ached, his back protesting being curled so he could keep his mouth pressed tightly against your weepy cunt. The pain was worth it, every second of it was worth it just to make you fall apart. Just to remind the world that you were his and his alone. 

Your head had fallen back to rest on the bench, your eyes scrunched closed as you gasped. Joel’s fingers crooked inside of you, finding the spongy spot at the front of your cunt. It made you writhe, the hand keeping you spread apart for him pinning you down and forcing you to be somewhat still as he pressed at that spot mercilessly. His eyes remained on you as much as they could, taking in every heaving breath and the way your breasts moved under the fabric of his unbuttoned shirt.

It was only moments more until you were coming apart at the seams. You’d squirmed out of his hold, your heels digging into his broad back. Your legs clamped around his head, your back nearly broken with an arch. The sound you made was almost wounded, a desperate cry of his name as your legs spasmed and you practically gushed over his hand.

He worked you through the aftershocks, your pussy fluttering deliciously around his thick fingers. Your hold on his hair loosened just enough for him to pull away, mouthing at the crease between your thigh and your cunt. You came back to yourself, breathing again as your legs relaxed to rest on his shoulder. He peppered sticky, wet kisses on your inner thighs.

“Joel, oh my god,” you sighed, scrubbing a hand over your face as you panted. A laugh left your chest, making him grin like an idiot as he rested his facial-hair covered cheek against your leg and caught his breath.

“Clean these up for me,” he requested, his soaked fingertips now pressing at her bottom lip. They glistened in the afternoon sunlight, a sticky film coating the entirety of them. You narrowed your eyes at him for a moment, your bratty streak coming through before you submitted and opened your mouth to let his fingers slide against your warm tongue.

You sealed your lips around them, sucking your slick off earnestly and rolling your tongue along his digits. “What a good girl, sucking on my fingers like that,” Joel said as he stood, making eye contact with the neighbors before looking back down at you. His knees protested the movement, cracking a bit as he straightened. 

He had to check to see if they were paying attention, the blush across their faces visible from across the yard.

A hum against his fingers brought Joel’s attention back to you. You watched him through your thick eyelashes, the sight alone making him feel like he was going to blow his load.

Your hands found the tie at his sweatpants, pulling the bow apart impatiently. You let go of his fingers with a pop, your soft lips shiny with a mix of your spit and slick as you started to pull his sweatpants down. “Wanna suck your cock, Joel,” you said, almost sounding drunk on it as your fingers hooked in the elastic waist.

He couldn’t help his smirk, his hand caressing your cheek and jaw as he looked down at you. He could feel two sets of eyes burning into him as he let the silence hang for a moment. You were being so perfect for him and you didn’t even know the extent of it.

“Nuh uh, not tonight,” Joel said, stooping down to press a wet kiss to your forehead. Your whine of protest made his chest puff up with pride. 

He shook his head with a smirk, kneeling down on the cracked concrete again. His poor knees–he would certainly regret the entire escapade tomorrow. Really, he wanted to get you up on his lap and have you ride him until you were crying–but he didn’t want to risk you seeing the neighbors. Or the neighbors seeing any more of you than the back of your head.

Grabbing you by the waist, he pulled you so your entire ass was hanging off the porch swing. The only thing keeping you from falling was his hands and your legs hooking around him for some stability. You were already grabbing at him, fingers twisting in the shirt he still wore. “Want me to fuck you?” 

“Uh huh,” you panted desperately, nodding with a frantic look in your eye. “Please, Joel.”

He smiled, pushing his sweatpants down around his thighs and taking his cock into his hand. You moaned as he rubbed the tip of it along the seam of your pussy and pressed it against your clit. 

“Fuck,” you whimpered as the blunt head of his cock caught, Joel filled you with a quick slot of his hips.

Your head fell back, a whine pulling from your throat as you bore down around him. He almost lost his mind right there, no matter how many times you’d had sex you still were so tight. You both stilled, panting and gripping at one another as you become acquainted, blinking in the afternoon sun.

“God, I love this pussy,” Joel grunted, trying to talk you through it as he started thrusting gently. No matter how quiet he was in his normal life, as soon as he felt you squeezing around his cock he started running his mouth. The hinges of the swing creaked a little as it moved back and forth, his hands anchored to your hips. 

He took you slow, wanting to savor the moment as much as possible. Bitten down grunts and grit teeth were met with your sweet mewls and dulcet moans as he split you apart. One of your hands reached for his, your fingers lacing with his before he pressed your knuckles onto the cushion of the swing. “Wanna hold my hand, sweet girl?” he asked, voice borderline condescending as he did.

You nodded pathetically, gasping every time he rutted inside of you. He’d reduced you to mush, partially formed words dying against your lips as he hit home against the spot inside you that always made your breath lock up in your chest.

“Who do you belong to?” Joel asked, squeezing your hand to get you to come back down to earth. You looked a mess, completely fucked out as you blinked slowly and took a deep breath. It took you a minute to really focus on him, your hand weakly squeezing back. 

“You, Joel,” you answered, teeth scraping along your plump lower lip as you fisted the open flannel still draped around your shoulders.

He chuckled darkly, leaning down toward you as he kept up his almost machine-like pace. “Louder, be a good girl,” he murmured, pressing a wet and sloppy kiss to your throat. You clenched around him at the praise, it had always been one of your weaknesses.

“Joel, m’yours,” you gasped, words broken up by the reverb of his thrusts and the slap of his heavy balls against your ass.

He never had reason to doubt that he was who you wanted to be with, but the reassurance helped ground him. The whole week he’d been wondering if he was holding you back, if you actually wanted something else from life. But with the way you were taking his cock? The way you moaned for him? Hell, the way you looked at him was more than enough. There was no mistaking it for anything other than love. 

“That’s right, you’re mine.” You shifted under him, the angle of your spine letting him hit deeper inside of you. His hand left your waist to grab the soft cheek of your ass, keeping you steady and supported. “No one else’s, right?”

“Yeah, Joel. Just yours.” The assurance was breathy, your voice faltering in your throat as you started to go rigid. You were looking up at Joel so sweetly, tears starting to glisten in your eyes as you tugged against the fabric of his flannel that you wore on the porch swing that he built you at his house. He had a mean possessive streak, but look at you–so happy to be his.

He lost himself. He worked on pure instinct, pistoning into you as he became blind with the desire to pin you down and fill you. You whined as he slammed into you, his sweaty forehead pressing against your sternum and his hands gripping you tight. He could feel you draw up like a spring beneath him.

You lurched on a wail, your cunt clenching around him so tightly that it almost hurt as you came. Joel moaned in sympathy with you, greedily taking in every expression you made beneath him. You whimpered and mumbled unintelligibly, your grip tightening around the hand you still clasped as your limbs locked up. 

Joel lost all semblance of coordination and control, hitching up one of your thighs and driving himself deep into you. Instinct dictated his every move, overriding common sense as he grunted above you like an animal.

He thought his jaw would crack in half from how hard he was clenching it, mumbling nonsense to you through his teeth. There was a lurch deep in his stomach, his abdomen starting to flex as he fell out of his rhythm. It was only a moment more before it felt like his skin was too tight and everything was too hot and he was spilling inside you while groaning your name. 

You were so full that you were leaking around him, come dripping down his balls and splattering on the concrete. Both of you were shaking, breathing each other’s air as your foreheads pressed together. Love filled your expression, making him smile tiredly.

You felt for him, your fingertips caressing his jaw as you brought him in for a gentle kiss. You always brought him back, reminded him to be soft with you when he nearly forgot. His tongue licked into your mouth for a moment before he ducked his head and lazily sucked at your breasts, his hips grinding against yours. You both hissed.

“Want me to run a bath for us?” he asked, his voice thick as he mouthed at the skin of your sternum. 

“Yeah,” you whispered, nodding weakly as your fingers skated up from his beard to curl into his hair. It was sweaty at the nape, curling more violently than before. 

He hummed good-naturedly, pulling out of you with a groan before tucking himself back away in his sweatpants. Joel looked down at the mess he made of you, his come already running down the crack of your ass and dripping onto the concrete. He moaned at the sight, even the shitty porn magazines he’d found on supply runs didn’t compare to this.

He helped you back into your shorts, a fist closing your flannel around your chest as you both shakily stood. You were like a newborn fawn, knees knocking together as you leaned into Joel’s chest. He chuckled breathily, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and holding you close. A soft I love you was whispered against your temple, a gentle reply following from you.

Joel glanced over the fence as he walked you to the sliding glass door, a proud glint in his eye as he met the shocked stares of your new neighbors. He winked at them, squeezing you tighter before bringing you inside with him.

[vscabarca]

how about a gavi fic where they’ve been dating for a long time but long distance so the whole relationship is basically a secret and the public finds out and the internet sort of breaks and keeps commenting on how gavi is so different with her. if you do end up liking this and writing this please tag me <33

sant jordi - pablo gavi

summary: you visit your long-distance boyfriend Gavi and he accidentally hard launches your relationship.

genre: fluff!

a/n: @weekendlusting that request was so cute, thank you for your patience!🫶🏼 Also, i was listening to this song while writing, check it out for the full experience;)

———

Exhausted, you placed your school bag onto the floor of your hallway, walking towards the darkly lit living room. Just as you sat down, your phone buzzed and Pablo appeared on the screen.

With an immediate smile, you pressed the green button, accepting his call.

„Hello my love.“ He chimed, already laying in bed with his hood up.

„Hey amor.“ You tiredly answered, now also kicking your feet upon the couch.

„How was your day?“

„Exhausing but I wrote my last exam today.“ A feeling of relief washed over your body when you realized you‘d have now two weeks of pure relaxation, without having to do any schoolwork. But this feeling of relief was over quickly. Being in another country, several hours away from your boyfriend was hard. Especially if you had now so much freetime, you would love to spend it with Pablo.

„I‘m proud of you. Any plans for the upcoming days?“ Your boyfriend asked while playing with his hair.

„Not much. I wish I could spend them with you, I miss you.“ You pouted, feeling sad for only seeing him through the screen.

„Fly to Barcelona. I‘m having a few days off and I wanna see my gorgeous girl again.“

That’s how you ended up on a plane on a Tuesday, flying two hours to visit your long distance boyfriend for the next week.

The reunion was more than sweet. Pablo surprised you with flowers as he waited in his Audi for you. You two were over four months together, but still kept the relationship from the public. You wouldn’t actively try to keep it a secret, but also didn’t have the need to show everyone you two were together. After all, Pablo was Spain‘s teenage heartthrob and you were just a normal girl going to university.

He drove to his house first, giving you time to freshen up and put down your luggage. As it was the 23rd of April, also known as Diada de Sant Jordi, a catalan holiday, the city was decorated in red roses and Catalan flags.

As you two strolled aimlessly around a more quiet part of the city, Pablo never let go of your hand. To be not recognized too often, he wore his sunglasses and a cap, looking as handsome as ever.

The touch of his hand made you blush and the smile never left your face.

Suddenly, Pablo walked towards a little shop at the end of the street. It was so small you wouldn’t have noticed it if it weren’t for your boyfriend. Outside, there was a shelf filled with second-hand books and roses. Like the tradition says, Pablo grabbed a book with the most romantic title and went inside to pay. He stood in front of you, his signature smile plastered across his face as he gave you the book and the red rose.

„Feliz dia de Sant Jordi mi amor.“ You couldn’t help but blush, your face turning red from the charm of your boyfriend.

„Muchas gracias Pablito.“ You mused and stepped closer to press a gentle but yet passionate kiss onto his lips.

After you two enjoyed a fun day in Barcelona, you headed back home to cook dinner and have a relaxing night together.

During cooking and occasionally dancing to the music playing in the background, your phone started buzzing almost every two seconds. At first you dismissed it, thinking it was your friend filling you in on one of her hookup stories, but even Pablo turned his head in curiosity after the buzzing wouldn’t stop several minutes later.

„Don’t you think it’s important? It won’t stop.“ He asked with furrowed eyebrows, just as confused as you were. Your phone screen was flooded with people you barely knew asking about Gavi. Gavi here Gavi there, things like „you’re really together?“ or „could you ask him to sign me something?.“

It was so confusing until one of your family members told you to check Pablo‘s instagram.

You opened the app, seeing your boyfriend posted a story. Clicking on it, you saw a picture of you, holding the rose and book in your hands. Written was next to it „Feliz dia de sant jordi mi amor💞“

The blood froze in your veins. Did Pablo realize he just hard launched you?

„PABLO! why did you post me on your instagram account?“ You asked, eyes wide while he just shrugged his shoulders.

„I always do that. I thought you were okay with me posting you on my private account. You know only my family and close friends follow that account.“

Now it dawned on you. Pablo mistakenly posted the picture on his official account, the one with sixteen million followers instead of his private one with only twenty-seven.

„Baby… Of course I‘m okay with that, but you posted it on your main one. The one with sixteen million followers.“ You started laughing in despair, finding the situation oddly funny, even though whole Spain now knew about your relationship with the famous footballer.

Pablo grew red, standing in front of you in horror as he took a look himself.

„Fuck… I‘m so sorry. I swear I didn’t want to post that on there.“

„It‘s fine. I bet there are picture of us anyway from today.“ You said and assured him it was alright. He embraced you in a hug, kissing your head softly.

„At least I don’t have to hide you anymore.“

———

footy.gossip: teenage heartthrob Pablo Gavi is not on the love market anymore ladies!💔

He was seen spending the romantic holiday Sant Jordi with a mysterious girl by his side, buying her roses and a book. What a true gentleman!

view all comments:

user1: she’s really living the Y/N lifestyle…

user2: Gavi is for sure such a sucker for his girlfriend

->user3: I mean you can even see the heart eyes behind the sunglasses😭

pedri: yn finally you came to visit… he wouldn’t shut his mouth

->pablogavi: how could I not

->user4: HE‘S NOT EVEN DENYING IT??

user5: not pedri exposing gavi😭😭

user6: WE WANT A GF REVEAL!!

user7: I just know she dresses him

->user8: fr, the change from skinny jeans to this is a blessing

->user9: pedri step up your game

user10: don’t know who the girl is but… mamá y papá.

author: wish that was you huh?🫵🏻🤨

———

pablogavi: whoops accidental hard launch… anyway yn te amoo🫶🏼

comments are turned off

[thedensworld]

Location App | C.Hs

Pairing: Vernon x reader

Genre: fluff

Summary: You finally found the right function of the share location apps

Vernon isn’t a man of many words—he’s a man of action. He doesn’t tell you to quit your job at the event organizing company or give up your dreams of becoming a writer. Instead, he quietly hands you an allowance and pays for a writing course, making it clear that he's got your back. He even takes it a step further by personally checking in on your progress almost every day, making sure you're staying on track.

When it comes to food, Vernon doesn’t bother asking about your favorite dishes. He just brings everything you could possibly want to the table. You might crave vanilla ice cream tonight, but he’s already stocked up on both vanilla and chocolate for tomorrow’s cravings, always anticipating your needs before you even voice them. And each time, your heart swells with gratitude for the way he cares for you.

Vernon isn’t one to hang out much, either. Even when he does go out twice a week to catch up with his friends, he never stays long—two hours at most before he's back home. Without missing a beat, he slips into your arms, eager to share everything about his day, all while showering you with the little tokens of affection he picked up for you along the way.

“What’s wrong?” Vernon’s voice breaks through your thoughts, his brows furrowed in concern.

You blink at him, raising your eyebrows in surprise. “Why do you ask?”

“You seem restless. Are you in pain?” he asks, his eyes searching yours.

Every time he instinctively picks up on how you’re feeling or goes out of his way to make your life easier, you find yourself wanting to kiss him right then and there, overwhelmed by how effortlessly amazing he is as a boyfriend.

“What’s this?” you asked Vernon as he showed you an app he had just installed on your phone.

“It’s a shared location app. I’ll always know where you are, and you’ll know my location anytime you open it,” he explained, his tone casual.

Ever since you joined a writing course last year, you’ve started attending small gatherings with fellow authors, usually at libraries or cozy cafes.

“Since you’ve been going out more without me, I just want to make sure I know where you are,” Vernon added, his eyes glancing at yours for a reaction.

“You could always just text me,” you pointed out, raising an eyebrow.

“I know,” he replied, “but sometimes it’s better if you can have your day off without feeling the need to update me constantly. You should have fun and not worry about checking in.”

In the beginning, you found yourself using the app frequently, but after a few months, it slipped your mind. You could barely remember where the app was on your phone. Vernon, on the other hand, kept checking it now and then, making sure you were safe when you weren’t together. He never intruded but would casually ask about your day, subtly referencing the places you’d visited.

“How do you know?!” you exclaimed one afternoon when Vernon asked what you were doing at the flower shop near his work. You hadn’t mentioned anything because you were preparing a surprise for him.

“I saw your location this afternoon. I was surprised to see you so close by,” he admitted with a soft chuckle.

You grinned and pulled out a bouquet of flowers you had arranged just for him. “My friends and I attended a flower arrangement event, and I got these for you!”

His face softened, and he leaned in to kiss you. “Thanks, babe. I was actually planning to drop by and see you, but things got crazy at work. These are beautiful—thank you.”

With a warm smile, he kissed you again, and the simple moment of shared affection made you realize how much thought he put into even the smallest aspects of your relationship.

*

"Hey babe, I see you’re at the convenience store. Can you grab me a tampon and some sweets?" you called him, feeling curious after checking his location and noticing he was near her apartment.

“Yeah, I’m actually about to head over to see you and pick up your monthly essentials,” he replied smoothly.

"Babe, are you near the snack aisle? Could you grab me some chips, too?"

"Alright, love. Anything else?" he asked with a smile in his voice.

"A milkshake, please? Hehe."

"Snacks and a milkshake coming right up," he said, humoring your request.

“Wait, you’re at Kimbap Heaven? Can you swing by the pet shop two doors down? Kiwi hasn’t been eating her regular dry food!” you called after you found out he was out around Hongdae.

"Send me a list of everything you want me to grab, and I’ll get it done," he said, always efficient and patient.

You smiled, feeling so lucky to have someone who knew how to make even the smallest errands feel like an act of love.

As the days went by, you found yourself checking Vernon's location more and more. It became almost a habit. Whenever you craved something or needed him to pick up something, you'd open the app, locate him, and call him with your requests.

One evening, you were lying on the couch when you checked the app and noticed Vernon was at the grocery store. Without hesitation, you grabbed your phone and dialed him.

“Babe, can you pick up some ice cream? And maybe a few packs of those cookies I love?” you asked casually.

“Already got the cookies in the cart, but I’ll grab the ice cream for you now,” he replied, used to your requests by this point.

A few days later, you noticed him at the mall. Your mind immediately went to that cute hoodie you’d been eyeing. You picked up the phone again.

“Hey, babe, I see you’re at the mall. Could you stop by that clothing store and see if they have the hoodie I wanted in stock?”

“Sure, love. I’m already near that area. I’ll check it out.”

It became a little routine—wherever Vernon went, you’d check his location and call him to ask for favors. He never complained, always happy to run the errands or pick up whatever you needed. You loved how he made you feel so taken care of, and he seemed to enjoy it too, never missing a beat.

"Where is he?" you muttered, surprised when you couldn’t find Vernon’s location on the app. His profile was completely offline, leaving only yours visible on the map. You had texted him earlier, letting him know you’d be out with a friend, but that was over three hours ago, and he still hadn’t replied.

You didn’t want to call him. After all, you’d been asking for his help a lot through the location app lately. Maybe he had turned it off intentionally because he was busy, you thought, trying not to overthink it.

Just as you were about to distract yourself, the sound of your door unlocking caught your attention. Kiwi, your cat, sprinted toward the door, her sixth sense alerting her that only one person could be invading her territory—Vernon. Sure enough, he stepped in, holding Kiwi in one arm and a paper bag from your favorite bakery in the other.

You let out a squeal of excitement. "How did you know I wanted this?" you exclaimed, rushing over to grab the bag from his hands.

Vernon smiled warmly. "I saw your Instagram story where you said you missed the cake. I checked around and found a branch that still had some, so I picked one up for you."

Your heart melted on the spot. In a fit of affection, you scooped Kiwi from his arms and said, “Kiwi, listen carefully—Chwe Vernon is your only father. If anyone else claims they’re your dad, they’re lying!”

Vernon burst out laughing at your playful words, but then your mind drifted back to his location being turned off. Your smile faded into a pout as you looked at him.

“I couldn’t see your location today,” you told him, a little hint of disappointment in your voice.

“Ah, yeah, I turned it off,” he replied casually. “Why?”

“If I’d known you were on your way here, I would’ve asked you to grab some tissues,” you said, half-jokingly.

Vernon chuckled. "Tissues? I actually got you some in the car, i accidentally left them. I figured you were running low, so I picked some up yesterday."

Your eyes widened in surprise. “Really? Thank you! You always think of everything.”

He smiled softly, stepping closer. “Honestly, I like surprising you like this, getting what you need or want before you ask. That’s why I turned off my location today. It feels more special.”

You couldn’t help but smile back, feeling even more grateful for his thoughtful nature. He always managed to find ways to care for you in his own quiet, yet deeply meaningful, way.

"You want to get married, babe?" you asked playfully, your voice full of gratitude as you grinned up at Vernon. He let out a laugh, clearly amused by your sudden question.

“You want to marry me because of this?” he asked, his eyebrows raised in disbelief.

“Of course!” you exclaimed, holding up the bakery bag. “This is amazing! You shouldn’t underestimate your thoughtfulness and how considerate you are. It’s everything I could want.”

He chuckled again, shaking his head. “Alright, then,” he said, leaning in closer with a mischievous smile. “Let’s get married.”

Your heart fluttered, and for a moment, you both stood there, the playful banter hanging in the air. But behind the jokes, you couldn’t help but feel the warmth of what he’d just said linger, making the moment even sweeter.

[brain-rot-central]

Sonnet of the Lone Cardinal, Ch. 2

A/N: HEAVY TW FOR PREGNANCY AND TALK OF CHOICES. I understand this is a sensitive topic for some. Feel free to skip over this chapter; I will completely understand.

Rating: M - soft E Word count: 3.7k Pairing: Ascended Astarion/Fem!Tav Warnings: pregnancy, discussion of pregnancy termination, mention of prior sexual acts, emetophobia tw, angst, loss of consciousness, druids are connected with nature and shit, stalking behavior

Summary: Astarion's visit wasn't a one-off event. He and Tav have continued to meet nightly over the last few months, Tav all but losing track of time. It isn't until she ends up at the home of a certain druid that time catches up to her. She's now charged with a difficult choice, all while under the never-ending watch of her clandestine lover.

♥ Previous Chapter ♥ Next Chapter ♥ Link to Ao3

It's a day of rest for the citizens of Baldur's Gate, and the market is restless. Errands that have been pushed off for the last tenday all beg the same level of attention as shoppers flit from one store to another. Children laugh in the streets as they run past, mothers hopelessly screaming their names in an attempt to track them down.

Tav peruses the wares of various street vendors and shopkeepers. Her bag is already full, though she makes a quick argument with herself that she could absolutely use a new scarf. Mindlessly, she scratches the side of her neck while browsing the collection of woolen scarves at an upscale boutique. A sting of pain shoots down her neck, an unpleasant reminder of the discolored welt she had sucked into her flesh a couple nights ago.

The visits have continued since that first night. Astarion never gives much warning as to when or if he will return. It’s always the same modus operandi - he shows up unannounced, they spat, they have sex, and he's gone come morning. Tav rubs over the sore spot on her neck again, wincing as she recalls the evening's events.

Astarion was particularly rough that night. She could tell something else must have been preoccupying his thoughts as he didn't care much for their usual banter. No, he very quickly got straight to work, his fingers sinking into her cunt as he sucked the mark deep into her throat. Feeling a blush rising to her cheeks, Tav shakes her head in an attempt to rid her mind of the memory. At least until she's no longer in public.

Gazing across the store, Tav settles on a particular scarf. It's a light-gray color with various types of flowers embroidered throughout. Bringing it to the shop owner, they make light conversation regarding the detailing of the scarf as Tav expresses her desire to buy it. Tav pays the fee, stepping over to the shop’s mirror to place it around her neck. She gasps as she narrows in on the bruised skin of her neck, seeming to be worse now than earlier this morning. Heat rises to her cheeks once again as she winds the scarf around the column of her neck, paying extra care to position the fabric over her secret.

Waving to the shopkeeper, Tav exits the boutique and heads toward her next destination - the butcher's. Her freezebox is running empty, and there's only so much more vegetable soup she can eat before tiring of it. 

Truth be told, however, her appetite has shifted dramatically in the last few weeks. Even Astarion has commented after she nearly upchucked all over his loafers. He's agreed to go lighter on the cologne going forward, and thank the Gods he's obliged. Tav vaguely wonders if she's fighting off some type of illness, though it's been much too long for a simple stomach bug.

She's reminded just how tender her breasts have become as well, yelping aloud as she collides into the back of another shopper out in the street. “I'm so sorry!” Tav says quickly, ducking out of view before the victim can get a good look at her. She winces at the soreness of her bosom as she adjusts her bodice, dipping into her favorite butcher shop.

“Ah, Tav!” greets the butcher, warm and welcoming. A halfling, his amber eyes finding her as his lips pull into a smile. “Haven't seen your face a good while,” he comments. “I was startin’a wonder if you'd run off on yet another adventure.”

Tav chuckles and gives a nod. “Good to see you, Gideon. I'm still here!” The scent of meat is oddly strong today. Tav feels her stomach beginning to twist and turn as she surveys the various cuts of meat and fish laid out on the ice of the display cases.

They exchange pleasantries; Gideon shares quick stories about his family, Tav telling him more about her adventures to stop the Absolute. Disappearing into the back of the store, Gideon yells out, “Were ya interested in tryin’ some sausages, Tav?” Before she can reply, Gideon reappears holding a tub of meat trimmings.

Her nostrils are assaulted by the smell. Her stomach is lurching at this point, ready to spill freely up her throat and onto this poor man's pristine wooden floor. “I-Is it a new recipe?” Tav asks, feigning interest. She places a clenched fist over her mouth as she belches.

“No, not a new one,” he explains. Tav watches as he slips a sausage casing onto the spout of the meat grinder. “Improved!” Gideon grabs a handful of trimmings and places them into the funnel atop the grinder. Holding the casing in place, he begins to twist the crank with the opposite hand, machinery grinding the trimmings into mince.

Tav registers the sound of Gideon’s voice in her ears, though none of the words make it across her brain. She's transfixed on the way the meat mince fills the casing. Saliva pools thick on her tongue as a wave of sickness strikes her. The grinding of the meat has intensified the smell; it's not a particularly bad smell. In fact, it smells rather pleasant. But it's a smell; a strong smell, nonetheless, and strong smells are not something she can handle, as of late.

“Tav? Tav!”

She snaps from her daydream as Gideon's voice cuts through her mind. “Oh,” she says, “I'm so sorry. My mind was elsewhere, Gideon. Forgive me.” Tav’s eyes follow Gideon's hands as he gathers more meat trimmings to place within the funnel.

“That's totally fine, dearie! I was just goin’a tell you-”

Gideon cranks the handle again, grinding more meat into the casing. The accompanying smell overwhelms her nose again, and suddenly she's retching, violently, onto the pristine floorboards below - exactly what she didn't want to do.

After some time she's dry heaving, having emptied the full contents of her stomach. Tav then sinks to her knees, vaguely hearing Gideon scream from behind the counter. Her ears are filled with little else but the rapid beating of her own heart. As her chest heaves from the power of her emesis, Tav’s vision narrows a single tunnel. She falls gently onto her side, the touch of Gideon’s hands holding her head the last thing she remembers before slipping away into unconsciousness.

—------------------------------------

The ceiling is unfamiliar.

Tav snaps awake, rising curtly from the bed she lay on, certainly not her own. Immediately she's met with the soothing, pleasant scent of patchouli incense. And sage, lots and lots of sage.

“Ah, you've finally awoken,” a gruff yet feminine voice speaks from the far side of the room.

With a swivel of her head, Tav meets the hazel eyes belonging to this mysterious being. Wild blonde hair is woven into locks, adorned with beaded jewelry. Sun-kissed skin wrinkled by the passing of time, alluding to the beauty she beheld in her youth.

 “Jaheira?” Tav asks in confusion. “How did I…?”

“You passed out in the market, little cub,” she explains. Jaheira comes to sit on the edge of the bed, a laugh escaping her. “Boy, you gave that poor shopkeeper a fright. I happened to be not far from where you were when I heard the commotion.”

Running a hand through her hair, Tav recoils after touching a particularly sore spot on the side of her scalp, face pulling into a scowl. “Did you bring me back here?” Tav asks.

With a quick laugh, Jaheira says, “With some help, yes.” She gives a quick nod to Tav. “Don't worry, we maintained your dignity.”

The episode at the butcher's begins to replay in her mind. “Oh, Gods, Gideon!” Tav exclaims, holding her head in her hands. “I ruined his beautiful floors!”

“He seemed more worried about you, little one,” says Jaheira. Quirking a brow as she tilts her head, Jaheira asks, “Who is this man to you? He's not exactly your type.”

Disbelief settling across her face, Tav yells defensively, “Jaheira! He's my butcher!” She winces as another bolt of pain shoots down the side of her skull.

“Ah, go easy,” coos Jaheira, hands coming up in a calming gesture. “I only tease.”

With a sigh, Tav pulls the covers off herself and moves to sit up. She rubs the back of her neck, stretching it side to side. A gentle “pop” is heard once she flexes her neck to the left, shaking out her shoulders before standing.

Looking down, Tav realizes she's naked. Embarrassed, she quickly grabs the duvet from the bed and wraps it around her body. “Why am I-”

“You hit your head on the way down,” Jaheira explains. “I had to check if there were any other injuries.” Seeing Tav’s pained expression, Jaheira adds, “No need to worry, there are none. I've also treated you with balms and oils to ward off a concussion.”

Nodding her head toward Jaheira, Tav scans the room until she finds her clothing in a neat pile on the dresser. She walks over to retrieve her garments, dropping the blanket onto the floor to begin stepping into her trousers.

Tav catches Jaheira's gaze in her periphery. Jaheira is studying her intently, looking curiously at the bruise on her neck. Her vision dips lower to the swell of Tav’s breasts, and further still to the unusual softness of her lower belly. Tav dresses hurriedly, feeling uneasy under Jaheira's watchful stare. She secures the embroidered scarf around her neck before searching for her boots.

“Forgive me for prying,” Jaheira says, cutting through the uneasy silence that has befallen the room. “I couldn't help but notice the mark on your neck.” Lips pulling into a smirk, Jaheira asks, “That isn't a gift from the butcher boy, is it?”

With a laugh, Tav bends down to pick up her boots that rest in the corner of the room. “Oh, most certainly not,” comes her answer. Sliding her feet into her boots with a huff, Tav says, “No, this is from…” Her voice drifts off as she thinks of Astarion. How to describe their situation? The question baffles her. “An old flame,” she settles.

“Ah, so you know this boy?” Jaheira inquiries while raising a brow.

Having tied the laces of her boots, Tav returns to the bed. “For some time, actually,” she explains, taking a seat. “We're… trying to rekindle what once was, I think.” An uneasy discomfort spreads throughout her chest.

Jaheira lifts a hand to Tav’s chin, gently turning her head to the side, exposing the marred flesh of her neck from under the scarf. “Is he handsome?” Jaheira asks jovially, her eyes roaming the young woman’s skin.

With a gentle laugh, Tav replies, “Quite.” Her eyes track the older woman's face, holding her chin steady within Jaheira's grasp.

“And how long have you been rekindling what once was, hmm?”

Furrowing her brow, Tav slowly turns her head, fully facing Jaheira. “I beg your pardon?” Tav asks, befuddled. “That's a rather personal question, don't you think?”

A heavy sigh escapes from the druid’s chest as she closes her eyes. Reopening them, Jaheira asks, “When was the last time you bled, little cub?” The hand that was on Tav’s chin now reaches up to tuck hair behind an ear.

Rage swells within Tav at the emboldened line of questioning. Before a response could form on her tongue, realization washes over her. “I-” she stammers, “I could have sworn it was a few weeks ago, but…” 

It has indeed been quite some time. Months, in fact. She's been so preoccupied by Astarion's return into her life, the new dynamic they have formed, working on settling back into how things once were… 

Tav simply… forgot. Forgot to keep track.

“Oh, Gods,” Tav exclaims, voice cracking as anxiety begins to take root. “Do you think… I could be…?”

“I have reason to believe,” comes Jaheira’s graceful response, compassion evident across her features. “It would only take a few moments to confirm, if you wish.”

Averting Jaheira's watchful gaze, Tav nods her head. Jaheira motions for Tav to lay down atop the bed, Tav hesitantly complying. A strong sense of despair settles over her as she rests against the pillow. Does she even want to know? Probably, as that would be the more responsible thing to do.

Right?

“Close your eyes and relax,” Jaheira says calmly, hands hovering over Tav’s abdomen. A faint green glow emanates from the palms of Jaheira's hands, and she hums softly. Tav closes her eyes and breathes in a cleansing breath, releasing as much tension on exhale as she can.

The room is silent for a few moments, until Jaheira suddenly jerks back. “By Silvanus,” she gasps, mouth falling agape. Eyes wide as she stares into Tav, who is now sitting upright on the bed.

“What is it?” Tav asks, panicked. “Am I..?”

Jaheira's face twists and contorts before finally settling on bewilderment. “You… are,” she confirms, hushed. Tentatively, she questions, “You… refused your father, did you not?”

Bhaal, her accursed paternity. The source of murderous rage and never-ending blood lust that once threatened to consume her. Something she and Astarion bonded over deeply, back then.

“I did,” Tav answers. “Why do you ask?” She studies Jaheira as the older woman falls silent, lips pressing into a thin line. “Jaheira, what is wrong? Tell me!” she demands.

The druid casts her eyes down at the floor. “The child… is unnatural,” Jaheira gasps, sucking in a large breath. “The aura… It goes against every law of nature.” Disbelief sours her expression further as she shakes her head. “It is an abomination.”

Unnatural. Abomination. Jaheira's words repeat in her mind. Tav's breath hitches as truth sinks in, her vision narrowing.

She is with child. An undead child.

Astarion's child.

“No,” Tav cries, “no, you have to be wrong. It's not possible.” Denial floods her chest, heart beating wildly. The fine hairs of her arms stand on end as a wave of nausea rushes over her; she feels sick. And stupid. So incredibly stupid.

Reclaiming her seat on the bed, Jaheira places her hands over Tav’s. “Oh, sweet girl,” Jaheira says, rubbing circles into her skin. Tav physically recoils at the pity laced within her voice. “Did he tell you he couldn't? They all say that, and none ever mean it.”

Tav shakes her head in disagreement. “No, it's… It isn't that,” Tav begins, voice cracking as a sob pushes past her lips. With a huff, she pulls her hands from Jaheira's and throws them into her lap, defeated. “It… it would have happened already…?” She stares into Jaheira’s eyes, searching desperately for a ledge to pull herself up and out of this nightmare.

Jaheira returns her gaze, her hand cupping Tav's jaw tenderly. She tilts her head, eyes full with understanding before asking, “Cub, do you mean to tell me the father is…?”

Her throat feels tight, almost to the point of suffocation. Pressure builds in her head as Tav tries to choke back the string of sobs that threaten to overwhelm her. Her stomach is flipping violently, much like earlier in the day, though she's unsure of what would come up. Her eyes burn as tears begin to roll down her cheeks, and she finally buries her face within Jaheira's chest, giving herself over to acceptance of her current situation.

Jaheira says nothing at first, placing her hands across the young woman's back, mindlessly rubbing up and down. She presses a kiss atop her hair and begins rocking Tav within her arms, all in an effort to comfort the distraught human. “I thought you left him, Tav?” the druid asks, delicately.

Pulling herself from Jaheira's bosom, Tav wipes her tears with the back of a hand. “I did, but he came looking for me a few months ago.” Stupid, she scolds herself. So godsdamned stupid to ever let him back in. Throwing her hands up, Tav says, “What do I do, Jaheira? He can't ever know.”

“No,” agrees Jaheira, rising from her place on the bed, “he absolutely must not.” Walking over to the dresser at the opposite end of the room, Jaheira opens the top drawer and begins rummaging within. Tav sees her retrieve a small midnight blue bottle, closing the drawer before stepping back over to the bed. “Take this,” Jaheira insists, holding out the bottle to Tav.

Raising a hand, Tav hesitantly retrieves the potion. She studies it intently, rotating the bottle within her grasp. “Essence of Moonshade,” Tav reads off the faded label, inquisitively. “What is this?”

Jaheira sits again on the bed next to Tav. “The wife of a tyrant's most trusted confidant,” explains Jaheira, leaning in closer to the younger woman. Raising her hands, Jaheira encloses them around Tav’s and the bottle. Their eyes meet, concern apparent across the druid’s face as she says, “Drink this, and you needn't worry any longer.”

Furrowing her brow, Tav takes a moment to consider Jaheira's instructions. She quickly stands, ripping her hands away from Jaheira as the puzzle begins to align. “Are you asking me to purge this child, Jaheira?” Tav questions, distraught.

The druid woman is silent for some time before weakly nodding her head. “I am giving you a chance to rid yourself of the curse that grows within.”

Tav clenches her fists rapidly as anger swells within her, beginning to boil over. “His seed sprouted in my belly; does that make me wretched, too, Jaheira?” she shouts, utterly bewildered by what the druid is asking her to consider. “Should I also be purged? Punished for my womb being so favorable as to nurture the child of a monster?” she yells, venomously.

“Tav, no-” Jaheira coos, eyes soft as she extends a hand.

But before the druid can continue, Tav begins to weep. Unrestrained sobs pour from her lips as she sinks to her knees, hiding her face in her hands as she screams, “I can't do it, Jaheira!” Wrapping her arms around her torso, Tav begins rocking herself back and forth. Her skin prickles with anxious energy, heat rising throughout her chest. “They're half of me,” Tav tries reasoning, weakly. Tears fall freely from her eyes, though the sobs begin to subside. 

At least, until her arms press down over her chest and she winces at the tenderness of her breasts. A reminder that she is, indeed, pregnant. That this is not a dream. She's transported back into the hellish nightmare she sought such desperate momentary relief outside of, the sobs continuing.

Jaheira kneels down next to the young human woman, a gentle hand rubbing her back. “I am sorry, little one,” says Jaheira, mournfully. “To aid you was my only thought.” Jaheira elaborates while raking a hand through Tav’s auburn locks.

With a gentle shake of her head, Tav says, “No, I apologize, Jaheira. You're only trying to help and I'm…” Being ungrateful, she finishes within her mind. Her thoughts are muddled. A multitude of emotions rushes through her like a river after rain. Tav digs her palms into her eyes and rubs, giving her head another shake as her hands drop into her lap.

“Tav, look at me,” states the druid, a hand coming to hold Tav’s chin again. She lifts the young woman’s face to meet her eyes. “I do not fault you for being beguiled by him. I, too, was once a young woman,” Jaheria with an honest laugh. Her expression softens. “Whatever your decision, please know that I am here.” Jaheira gently strokes a thumb over Tav’s chin and adds, “You may always come to me, whenever you feel the need to.”

Warmth begins to radiate from Tav’s core as Jaheira's words settle over her. She feels pressure mounting in her face again, tears imminent, but for a much different reason. “Thank you, Jaheira,” Tav says, wrapping her arms around the other woman’s waist in a tight embrace.

Jaheira raises her arms, bringing them around Tav’s shoulders. “You are a beautiful, intelligent young woman. I trust you will be fine,” she states emphatically, pressing a kiss against Tav’s temple.

The two women separate, Tav wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. Jaheira helps them stand, nodding toward the forgotten bottle on the bed. “Take that home with you,” Jaheira insists. “You still have some time to decide.”

With a quick nod, Tav walks over to the bed and retrieves the bottle, tucking it into the front pocket of her trousers. “I don't know how to thank you,” admits Tav.

“Ah, don't mention it,” replies Jaheira with a wave of her hand. “Now, be on your way. I'm sure you've grown tired of spending time with an elder.”

Tav laughs as she picks her pack up off the floor, situating it upon her back. She exchanges parting pleasantries with the druid as they walk down the stairs, Jhessem and Tate running past them as they reach the door. Tav waves back as she descends onto the streets of the city, Jaheira yelling something unintelligible toward the rambunctious children as she closes the front door.

Taking a deep breath, Tav pulls the dark blue bottle from her pocket and gives it a quick glance over. She shakes it slightly, watching the liquid slosh to and fro within.

The sound of a bird squawking above draws her attention from the potion, and Tav looks up. On the roof of the home across from Jaheira, a black raven sits perched on the gutter. It cries again, twisting its head in various different directions before taking flight. Tav watches the bird fly off, disappearing from view. Strange, she thinks. Tucking the bottle back into her pocket, she begins the trek back home.

—------------------------------------ Atop the tower wall he stands, golden chalice adorned with rubies in hand. The sun is beginning to set over the city, a golden glow illuminating the many alleyways below. The man extends his opposite arm as a raven appears. The bird perches upon his offered ledge, hopping slightly closer to him as it chatters. “Hello, darling. What news of my damia do you bring?” he purrs to the bird. It squawks in response, the bird's head turning rapidly. Bringing the goblet of wine to his lips, Astarion takes a strong sip. “Is that so?” he responds. Licking his lips, he comments darkly, “How very, very interesting.”

[dreamwritesimagines]

Garden of Secrets [30] - Lunaria

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback and support my loves, it made my whole week, you’re amazing!❤ I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think, thank you! ❤

Thanks so much to @theskytraveler​ for helping me with the chapter!

Summary: After arguments comes sincerity.

Warnings: Regency era society and social rules, some gender specific language and terms, mentions of trauma and violence, angst.

Word Count: 5000

Series Masterlist

 Any married couple would tell you that fights were normal in a marriage.

You knew that, but this whole silence was beginning to feel more and more like the end of the said marriage.

You and Benedict hadn’t talked to each other since the night of the dinner party at Lady Margery’s house, and you and Benedict were getting quite good at sharing the house without even talking about it. You wouldn’t have known he was actually staying in the house if you hadn’t paid attention to the occasional sounds of door closing and the footsteps.

You didn’t know when you had learned to recognize him from his footsteps alone, but apparently it had happened somewhere along the line.

You knew Benedict had left an hour ago because you had seen him pass through the garden from the window of the library. You had been so immersed in your book that you didn’t even notice the familiar carriage pulling in front of the house until you heard Teddy’s voice ringing through the hallway.

“Y/N?”

You turned your head and put your book down, then rushed out of the library to go downstairs.

“Teddy?” you asked as he ran to you, clutching a couple of flowers in his arms and you let out a laugh, then hugged him.

“Hello there,” you said and smiled at your aunt as you saw her at the end of the hallway. “And hello auntie.”

“Hello my dearest,” she said, coming to kiss your cheek. “We figured we could pay you a quick visit on our way to the pastry shop.”

“I’m glad you did,” you said and took the flowers from Teddy. “These are beautiful Teddy, thank you!”

“They’re from your garden,” he said helpfully and you nodded your head.

“Mm hm, I recognized them,” you said and held his hand so that you all could go to the drawing room. “Pastry shop then?”

“Yes and then we will go to the park,” your aunt said. “So that I can meet my friends and Teddy can play with his friends.”

“The weather is pretty nice,” you mused and turned to your maid. “Paula, could you bring some lemonade and biscuits please? Thank you.”

“Of course ma’am,” she said and left the room, and you hugged Teddy sideways as he sat beside you.

“How is uncle?” you asked your aunt and she heaved a sigh.

“He is alright.”

“Any um…” you trailed off and stole a look at Teddy before clearing your throat. “Any letters?”

“None,” she said with a smile. “I told you, there’s no need to be worried.”

“Seems to be engraved in me by now.”

A maid walked in, carrying a tray and made her way to you to place three glasses of lemonade as well as three plates of biscuits on the coffee table. You thanked her as Teddy grabbed his glass, then took a huge sip.

“Is Benedict home?” he looked up at you and you heaved a sigh, then shook your head.

“No my sweet, he left an hour ago.”

“When can I make more sculptures?” he asked and you tried to smile.

“Whenever you want,” you said. “Is it alright if I help you though?”

“Not Benedict?” he asked, his brows furrowing slightly. “But he knows so much about art.”

You nodded your head.

“Benedict has been working on a new painting lately,” you whispered as if giving him a secret. “He’s a bit busy but we can do it together?”

He thought for a moment, then his head whipped up.

“I could teach you!” he said as if the thought just hit him and you let out a laugh.

“Exactly!” you said, “It would be fun!”

“Benedict is working on a new painting?” your aunt asked and you looked up at her, then nodded your head.

“Yeah,” you said. “He’s been…he’s been busy.”

She raised her brows, her eyes searching your face as if she wanted to see whether you were telling the truth but the gong of the clock on the wall made her turn her head.

“Oh I’m going to be late,” she said and got up from her chair with you following her suit. “We’d better go, come on Teddy.”

“Alright,” Teddy pushed the biscuit into his mouth, making you bite down a smile and he came to hug you.

“I’ll see you later,” you said, pressing a kiss on top of his head before you hugged your aunt. She hugged you back, then pulled back to look at you better.

“Y/N?”

“Hm?”

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

Your stomach did a painful flip but you managed to offer her a small smile.

“Of course,” you assured her. “I’m fine.”

She heaved a sigh and kissed your cheek.

“We’re having tea as soon as possible.”

“Works for me,” you said and watched her and Teddy walk out of the drawing room to make their way downstairs. Your smile dropped and you let out a breath, then sat back down on the sofa again.

“Great,” you muttered to yourself. “Today should be fun.”

                                                                      *

 Towards the afternoon, Lottie had sent you a note, asking you to join her for a picnic but you had written back, saying you weren’t feeling your best. It wasn’t a lie at all, you really didn’t want to see anyone, instead all you wanted was just burying yourself into the covers and ignore the outside world.

But apparently you wouldn’t be so lucky.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t even notice the approaching footsteps while you laid on the sofa, your gaze fixed on the fireplace until someone cleared their throat by the door, making your head whip up.

“Josie?” you asked and pushed yourself up off the sofa to stand up. “What are you doing here?”

“Came to see how you were, obviously,” she said and entered the drawing room. “Not well as I can tell.”

You rolled your eyes. “Did auntie talk to you?”

“No, why?” she asked. “Should she have?”

“No, it’s just—” you motioned vaguely at outside. “She came by for a visit today with Teddy.”

“And?”

“And nothing,” you said. “She seemed worried about me for some reason.”

“Could the reason be that you were staring into nothing like a corpse by any chance?” she asked you and you shot her a look.

“I was just in deep thought, don’t dramatize it.”

She frowned slightly, then shook her head.

“Anyway,” she said and went to the armchair to sit down. “Has there been any other letters sent from hell and its biggest demon?”

“Auntie says no,” you muttered, pressing your palms into your eyes before lowering your hands. “But I don’t know. I’ll have to talk to uncle to make sure.”

Josie hummed.

“What about you?” you asked. “How have you been?”

“I’m fine,” she said without so much as any hesitation and you tilted your head.

“Josie.”

“What?”

“Come on,” you said. “Don’t do that to me at the very least.”

“I really am fine,” she said. “I’m married now, he cannot do anything to me. The days he would threaten to either sell me to a brothel or send me to the madhouse are gone.”

A shiver ran down your spine. “But if they speak to anyone—”

“Andrew is a respected lord who inherited his respectful father’s title and wealth,” she said. “Father is a no one. There’s nothing he could say that the ton would believe over our word.”

You started pacing in the room.

“I suppose,” you said. “But even if they do come here, we’re not telling Teddy.”

Josie shook her head fervently. “Of course not. He will not know or talk to them.”

You could feel the tension coming back to your muscles as the throbbing in your wrist returned, and you rubbed at it, gritting your teeth.

“Why doesn’t he just die?” you spat. “He was coughing like crazy when uncle took me and Teddy in years ago, he spends most of his days drunk, why doesn’t it just get to him already?”

“Trust me, I’m looking forward to that day,” Josie said. “I’ll celebrate it.”

“If he so much as tries to get Teddy like he said in that letter—”

“He’s not going to do that,” Josie said. “None of us will let him.”

You massaged your temples and huffed out a breath.

“What did Benedict say?” she asked you and you turned to look at her, then pursed your lips.

“That’s not important right now.”

Josie sat up straighter.

“What?” she asked. “Wait Y/N you have told him, haven’t you?”

“No because I don’t need to,” you said. “I can handle it if they come here.”

Josie gawked at you in complete silence, then a dry laughter spilled from her lips.

“You’re jesting,” she said. “Surely you are jesting.”

“Why would I tell him?”

“Why would you not tell him?” she hissed at you, jumping on her feet. “What are you going to do if father decides to come here? And the staff hasn’t been told—”

“I’ll tell them.”

“And if he walks up to Benedict on the street?”

“I doubt father even knows I’m married,” you said. “There’s no reason for Benedict to—”

“There’s every reason for him to know!” she said. “If you don’t want to give him the details, fine! But you need to tell him especially if they decide to come here, you know what father is like—”

“I can handle father.”

Josie threw her hands up in exasperation. “Have you gone insane?!”

“I don’t need Benedict’s help,” you said tersely, shrugging your shoulders and Josie heaved an impatient sigh.

“If you’re doing this because you two had a small lover’s spat…”

You narrowed your eyes at her. “Josie.”

“You had a fight, is that it?”

“That’s not important.”

“It is important if you’re going to make stupid choices because of it!” she snapped. “If it were any other time, you know I wouldn’t push you to do anything but if mother and father are in fact coming here, you’re going to need all the support you can get.”

You scoffed. “Sure, let me just go and cry to Benedict because what? Father is coming here?”

Josie raised her brows. “How’s your wrist?”

The anger rushed through you so fast that you didn’t even have the chance to remind yourself it wasn’t Josie you were angry at, just the memory itself and how it managed to make you feel helpless every single time.

Not to mention, your and Josie’s fights would always be fiery, ever since you two were little.

“Fuck you, I’m not going to listen to this,” you growled and Josie’s gaze turned into a glare as you walked past her toward the door.

“No?” she asked, making you whirl around on your heels before you got to the door. “If you don’t want people to ask you questions, maybe don’t act like a little girl throwing a tantrum.”

“I’m not!”

“By keeping the one person who you’re actually close to in the dark?” she snapped back. “The one person who can actually protect you as far as the ton and the law are concerned? For God’s sake, you’re married—”

“It’s a sham, Josie!” the words left your lips before you had the chance to stop them. “Wake up, will you? It’s a sham, it’s not real! None of this is!”

That got her to stop talking and if you weren’t so exhausted by the nervousness and anger rushing through you for days now, you would have stopped talking as well but you were nearly hysterical at this point.

“We’re not in love,” you said, breathing fast. “The only reason why we got married is because people saw us together, alright? He knows it, I know it, even goddamn Anthony knows it! And everyone around us is so gullible that they believed we were in love because what? We pretended to be just to spare their feelings? Honestly Josie, I’d expect you of all people to be smarter than that—”

“What?”

The different voice that reached into the room came from behind you from the door and you turned around to see Lottie staring at you in shock. Your breath got caught in your throat and you swallowed thickly.

“Lottie…”

“Your butler let me in, I wanted to see if you were alright after your note but—I—” she stammered, tears rushing to her eyes. “You both…you all lied to me? All this time?”

“No,” you said quickly. “No it’s just complicated, I didn’t mean—”

“Excuse me,” she said and turned around to rush downstairs, a curse leaving your lips before you rushed after her.

“Lottie- Charlotte!” you called out as she stepped outside with you following her. “Please, can we just talk?”

“That rumor Lady Whistledown mentioned,” she said, turning to look at you better. “That was true?”

You ran a hand over your face. “It’s not exactly—”

“Y/N,” she insisted and you heaved a sigh.

“Things between me and Benedict are complicated.”

“But you didn’t get married because of love?” she asked. “You got married because someone saw you two together, unchaperoned?”

You paused for a moment and she raised her brows.

“Y/N?”

“…You could say that,” you admitted after a beat and shook your head. “I know how it sounds, but we didn’t want to upset you—”

“Thank you so much for that,” she said with a sad laugh and you pinched the bridge of your nose.

“Lottie…” you said, following her as she walked to her carriage. “I’m sorry, I really am. I didn’t want you to find out this way.”

She looked at you for a moment, then swallowed thickly.

“I’d say you didn’t want me to find out in any way,” she muttered and got in the carriage before you could say anything else, then the coachman drove away, leaving you there.

You groaned, that heaviness in your heart getting even worse as you watched her carriage disappear into the road and dug your fingernails into your palms before you looked up at the sky and let out a scream, the birds in the nearest tree flying away. You huffed out a breath, then turned around to see Josie leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed, and her brows raised.

“I’m glad you got it off your chest I guess,” she said. “Now, want to tell me what the fuck that was about?”

                                                                      *

It took you almost an hour to fill her in on the details of everything that had happened. Even if you still felt incredibly bad for how Lottie had found out, -and how you had kept it from Josie- it still felt sort of relieving to actually share it with someone. Josie sat beside you on the stairs that whole time and it was only when you had finished telling her everything that she heaved a deep sigh, leaning back on her elbows.

“Fuck.”

“Mm hm,” you said. “Sounds about right.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

You scoffed a laugh. “Look me in the eye and tell me you would have let me marry him if you knew why that wedding was happening.”

“Of course I wouldn’t have let you!” she said. “That’s exactly why you should have told me!”

“And then?” you asked. “You know how the ton would have been like.”

“Who cares about those idiots?”

“A scandal would have affected uncle and auntie as well, Josie.”

“Scandal or not, I think uncle and auntie would want you to be happy.”

“I am—it’s not…” you massaged your temples for what felt like the hundredth time today. “It’s complicated.”

“It really isn’t,” she said. “If he forced your hand—”

“He didn’t force my hand,” you cut her off. “No more than I forced his hand at least. I wanted to kiss him, he wanted to kiss me…It’s only because people saw us together that it got to this.”

“And you’re sure he didn’t plan this?”

“I know he didn’t,” you said. “Trust me, I’d love to be able to blame someone but Benedict is not to blame.”

“Neither are you.”

You clicked your tongue.

“I don’t know about that,” you said. “I could’ve walked away.”

“So could he,” she said and you heaved a sigh, then shrugged your shoulders.

“I don’t know,” you repeated, running a hand over your face. “God, it feels like I haven’t slept in years.”

Josie bit at her lip, deep in thought before she turned to you.

“Clover?”

“Hm?”

“Technically speaking, this marriage is invalid,” she said. “No consummation.”

“So?”

“Would he apply for an annulment?”

Your heart dropped to your stomach but you frowned, shaking your head.

“I don’t think so.”

“Would you?”

“I’m not going to apply for annulment,” you brushed her off and she sat up straighter.

“Then we could leave whenever you want, you can come with me and Andrew and Bess—”

“I’m not going to do that Josie,” you said and she scoffed a laugh.

“Why not?” she asked. “If you’re worried about a scandal…”

“That’s not why,” you told her. “Not really.”

“Does it have something to do with the fact that you kissed him?” she asked and you shot her a look.

“Don’t,” you said. “Seriously. It was just desire and I’m pretty sure anything he may have felt for me is long gone after that fight.”

“And yet you want to stay for some reason because you want to make yourself suffer?”

You heaved a sigh.

“No I—I’ll think about it,” you lied to her. “After this whole mess is over.”

“Alright,” she said and stood up. “I’d better go but are you going to be okay?”

“Sure thing,” you said, waving a hand in the air before standing up as well. She pulled you into a hug, then kissed your cheek.

“I’ll kill you if you hide things from me again,” she said, drawing a chuckle out of you before she walked to get in the carriage. You lingered there for a moment as the carriage drove away and you shook your head slightly, then walked back into the house.

                                                          *

You were still so tense that you couldn’t even bring yourself to have dinner even if you would be all by yourself. Benedict was still outside, so even though you knew there was no way you could get a wink of sleep, you still went to your bedroom. The sky was dark already, your room only illuminated by the moonlight and the flames in the fireplace. You took out the pins in your hair, then massaged your scalp and heaved a sigh before putting the flowers Teddy and your aunt had brought you on the windowsill so that you could air dry them, but as soon as you did, the carriage by the stone road caught your attention, making you frown.

Ah.

That had to be Benedict.

You had just placed all of the flowers when the knock on the door reached you and you looked over your shoulder.

“Come in?”

Benedict opened the door and stepped inside, and you frowned at just how rigid his whole body looked.

“Can we talk?”

“About?” you asked and he took a deep breath as if reminding himself to be calm.

“Did you do it on purpose?”

“You might want to—” you started but then the idea hit you, making you stop for a moment. “Ah. Lottie?”

“Yeah,” he said. “So did you?”

You gawked at him and scoffed a bitter chuckle. “Why would I do it on purpose, exactly?”

“Because you’re angry at me for some reason?”

You could feel the anger rushing through your system so you gritted your teeth.

“Contrary to what you seem to believe, I don’t go behind people’s backs when I’m angry at them.”

He raised his brows, disbelief etched in his features.

“Sure,” he said. “So it was what, a coincidence?”

“Well you seem to have all the answers,” you bit back. “I’m sure you can answer that on your own as well.”

“Y/N.”

“What?”

“Why would you tell Charlie that?” he insisted. “She’s angry at me and Anthony because apparently you decided to tell her he knew as well.”

“Oh well that’s devastating,” you deadpanned. “Because I spend all my days trying to make sure everything I do makes Anthony’s life easier—obviously I didn’t know she was here! She’s angry at me too, or has it escaped your notice?”

“Then how did she—”

“Because she was apparently there when I told Josie, but I didn’t know.”

Benedict stared at you. “Wait, Josie knows as well?”

“Lapse in judgement, we were having an argument,” you said and Benedict blinked a couple of times.

“Y/N, I thought we agreed we would keep it to ourselves,” he said. “We told everyone—”

“I have more to lose than you if it gets out, Benedict!” you snapped. “You don’t have to remind me what I already know!”

He took a deep breath as if reminding himself to be calm.

“We’re married,” he said, motioning between you two. “We need to be on the same page on things like these.”

“Oh now you remember we’re married?” you asked with a bitter laugh. “You can act like a bachelor and spend a whole night partying and doing God knows what without so much as letting me know—”

“I did let you know!”

Your voice rose before you had a chance to stop it; “Oh sorry, how nice of you to invite me to the party as a second thought!”

“I already told you nothing happened!”

“That’s not the point!” you snapped back, “The point is that you told me we would talk and we didn’t because you were too busy having fun at a party!”

Benedict shook his head. “You told me it wasn’t important!”

“Because you—” you started but your body automatically flinched back when Benedict’s hand shot up to run it through his hair, a gesture you had seen him do over and over again but in the heat of the argument, it was enough to make the rest of your sentence get lost in your throat.

Benedict’s hand froze in the air as the sudden panic rushed through your veins, the flash of various memories shooting through your head but even through the haze of absolute fear, in some corner of your mind you knew.

That was then, not now.

That was not going to happen again, not with him.

Benedict stared at you before he held up his palms, all the fire of the fight and anger gone from his gaze.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, his voice so gentle and soothing that your throat tightened. “I promise you.”

You blinked back the tears and nodded. “I know.”

“I would never—”

“Benedict, I know,” you cut him off and let out a bitter chuckle. “I believe in you on that at the very least, trust me. It just used to happen a lot whenever anyone moved too fast around me, it’s involuntary.”

Benedict swallowed thickly, his eyes searching your face before he very slowly lowered his hands as if trying not to make any sudden moves. The panic retrieved from your body like a wave at the shore and you heaved a sigh, then leaned back to the wall before slipping down to sit on the floor.

“I can leave you be if you’d like,” Benedict said softly. “Do you want me to go?”

You scoffed a dry laugh and patted the spot next to you. Benedict lingered there for a moment, then made his way to you to sit down on the floor beside you, leaning his back to the wall while you pulled your knees up to your chest, resting your chin on them.

“But you…” he paused for a moment. “You know I would never, right? Really?”

“Yeah,” you said. “I know. I don’t know how, but I know.”

“Okay.”

You stared at the moonlight spilling over both of you through the window before you ran a hand over your face.

“Benedict?”

“Yes?”

“Do you want to get an annulment?”

That made him turn to look at you better, his brows furrowing as you shrugged.

“Technically speaking, this marriage is invalid,” you quoted Josie. “We never consummated, so…We could get an annulment.”

He stared at you. “Do you want to get an annulment?”

“I asked first.”

If it were any other time, it would have made him smile at the very least but not this time.

“No,” he said. “But I won’t force you, I’ll never force you into anything so…Do you want one?”

You shook your head.

“No,” you admitted. “No I don’t.”

A silence fell upon you and he leaned his head back to rest it against the wall before stealing a look at you.

“So this is marriage huh?” he asked and you felt a sad smile curl your lips.

“Yeah,” you said. “A never-ending emotional torture.”

“Well you did warn me, so…” Benedict mused and you nodded your head.

“I really did,” you murmured, twisting your wedding ring around your finger. “Jesus I’m exhausted.”

A bitter chuckle climbed up his throat.

“I know the feeling,” he rasped out. “Can you um—can you sleep at night? Because I can’t.”

“Not at all,” you said. “And I can’t really focus on anything. Can you?”

“I need to,” he said. “I need to be focused on something all the time, otherwise…”

“What?” you asked after a beat and Benedict shook his head.

“It’ll catch up to me otherwise.”

He didn’t need to specify what it was, you knew it very well because it was the same thing that had been twisting your heart for the last two weeks.

The wave of pain that was so strong that if it managed to get to you, you weren’t sure you’d be able to stand.

“It’ll turn into hate one day,” you said, your voice determined as you nodded your head to yourself. “It will. It’s a marriage, it has to turn into resentment and one day we will wake up and we’ll hate each other.”

He tilted his head. “Do you really believe that?”

“I want to believe that,” you said. “I hope it does turn into hate, I’m better at it.”

“Dear God, it would be so much easier,” he murmured and you nodded.

“Exactly,” you croaked out as the burning in your eyes came back but you bit at your tongue, fixing your gaze on the wall.

“Can I ask you something?” Benedict asked and you glanced at him.

“Sure.”

“I’ve always wondered if you…” he trailed off. “Do you regret it? That night at the gazebo?”

“Do you?”

“I asked first,” he quoted you, a ghost of a smile appearing on his lips and you smiled back, then shook your head.

“No,” you said. “Do you?”

“Not a single second of it,” he stated and a nearly hysterical giggle escaped from your lips.

“You know, Lord Easton said something the other night,” you said and sniffled. “And I have a theory about this whole thing.”

“I’m listening.”

“Call it artist and muse, call it desire, whatever it is,” you said. “I’m beginning to think maybe it was fate.”

“You don’t believe in fate,” he said and you thought for a moment, then shook your head.

“Well, I don’t but think about it,” you said, wiping at your nose with the back of your hand, then turned sideways to see him better. “We kept tempting fate even if we knew we weren’t supposed to and—be completely honest with me, can you imagine yourself being married to someone else?”

He grimaced. “Not without a shudder and a nightmare to go with that idea.”

“Exactly,” you insisted. “Even after everything. So we’re—we’re not star-crossed, we’re not each other’s promised but maybe we’re something else completely different than all that.”

“Like what?”

“Maybe we’re just doomed to torment each other.”

He blinked a couple of times as if trying to wrap his mind around it and you sniffled again.

“Does it not make sense?” you asked, sitting up straighter, your eyes locked in his. “Neither of us regret that night even if it would make perfect sense if we did, both of us could walk away right now, a luxury no other couple in the ton has, and yet…”

“Yet here we are.”

“Yeah,” you muttered. “Yet here we are. Doomed to torment each other, in this life and beyond.”

He hummed. “That’s a relieving thought.”

You turned to shoot him a look of disbelief. “The idea of being tormented is relieving?”

“Compared to the idea of not having you?” he asked. “It is. I can take the torment from you, just not…just not your absence.”

A silence fell upon the room and you rubbed at your eyes, then dropped your hands to your lap.

“Well then I shall haunt you,” you managed to say. “Even after death, like in those awful stories. If we are to torment each other, we will not be free of each other. Dead or not, no absence.”

A sad smile crossed Benedict’s lips and he held up his pinky.

“Do you promise?” he asked and a teary laugh climbed up your throat, then you looked up at him.

“What?”

“Do you promise to haunt me?”

You blinked back the tears before they could blur your vision, then stuck your nose in the air.

“Do you promise to haunt me back?”

Benedict tilted his head. “Do you want me to?”

“I do,” you said without any hesitation and hooked your pinky with his. “Whoever goes first will haunt the other. Deal?”

There was no sign of hesitance in his eyes, only determination as he smiled slightly, making your heart skip a beat.

“Deal.”

Chapter 31

[ofstarsandvibranium]

My Sweetheart: Part 1

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary: You purchase a vintage sweetheart bracelet from an antique store and with it, comes the spirit of the woman who owned it. Through her, you go on an interesting journey to find out what happened to her old lover.

A/N: I’m obsessed with sweetheart bracelets and I hope to purchase one some day. This idea came to mine while I was looking at some online. Also, look, I’m writing for Bucky again! uuuhhh i guess this is a mini series.

You'd been eyeing the bracelet for a month now. Ever since you came across the little antique shop in Brooklyn, you've been coming twice a week just to make sure the bracelet was still there. It was a gold stretch bracelet. In the middle, the charm was heart shaped and had a cute but simple design of a flower etched into it. It was $150 and you're somewhat surprised it doesn't cost more. Looks like it's in great condition, looks practically brand new. Nonetheless, you needed to save up for it. Living in New York wasn't cheap.

After you visited the shop for the fourth time in a row, the shop owner, Stan, said he'd keep it on hold for you since he knows you plan to buy it.

"No rush, sweetheart. I know you're good for it."

"How? You barely know me?" you can't help but ask the old man.

He shrugs, "I just know."

"Well thank you, so much. I really appreciate it. I get paid again in two weeks. After I pay bills, I should have enough for it."

He gives you a wave, "I'll see you in two weeks then."

___________________

Once your paycheck was deposited, you paid your bills in an instant. With the rest, you practically skipped to Brooklyn, ready to buy the bracelet.

You enter the store with a big smile towards Stan, "I'm ready."

He claps his hands together, "Congrats!" he goes to the back and brings out the bracelet. You gently pick it up and slide it over your wrist. It fits perfectly. It's not heavy. It's just...perfect.

You pay Stan in cash and you give the old man a hug, "Seriously, thank you so much for holding this for me. I just-I don't know what it is about this bracelet. It's so beautiful, like it was calling me."

"Probably because it was calling you. It's special, just like you."

You give him a wave as you exit the store. You watch your new bracelet gleaming in the New York sun. It's gorgeous.

_______________

At the end of the day, you get ready for bed. You take off the sweetheart bracelet and place it on your nightstand. You slip into bed and as your head hits the pillow, the sink in your bathroom turns on.

You shoot up, turning to the bathroom with wide eyes. You turn on the light and see your bathroom door wide open. You grab the pocket knife you have on your night stand, armed and ready in case an intruder some how snuck into your apartment without you noticing.

Once you approach your bathroom, you turn on your light and see no one. You look down at your sink and twist the handle that controls running water. The water stops for a millisecond before it's on again.

"What the-" you turn it off again and it turns on again. You leave it on, watching in confusion and slight fear. As the water grows hotter, steam starts to form.

That's when you jump back, wide eyed and suddenly frozen.

FIND JAMIE.

"Okay. Um, I don't know who Jamie is, whoever you are. But can I know who you are?"

DOT.

"Dot who?"

You wait for the steam from the water to cover the message. A minute goes by and then another, "Uh, hello? Dot?" You slowly reach out for the sink handle, turning the water off. It stays off.

You slowly shake your head, "I must be really sleepy," you head back to your bed. After turning off the light, you pull the covers over your head and fall asleep.

When you wake up in the morning, you're a little groggy, but well rested. You look towards your bathroom and suddenly remember the events before you went to sleep.

Surely, that was all just a dream right? Just a really weird dream.

You shake your head and slip the bracelet onto your wrist, proceeding to get ready.

_________________

"It's not a ring..yet, anyways," he smiles as his girl admires the bracelet on her wrist, a sign of his love and adoration for her.

"It's so beautiful," she looks up from the bracelet, "You really shouldn't have spent your money on me like this, Jamie."

He shrugs, "I don't care. I just...I wanted to give you something to remember me by. Just in case, you know?"

She shakes her head at what he was insinuating, "You're coming back to me. I'll write to you...I'll wait for you."

"I wouldn't be mad if you don't though," he gives her an understanding look.

She shakes her head again, "I'm waiting for you, Jamie. You don't have to worry."

"I love you, Dolores Millard."

"I love you too, James Buchanan Barnes. You come back to me, okay?"

"I'll do my best," he mumbles as he seals his promise with a kiss.

[wintersongstress]

— mornings ;

In the time of spring when the bark of trees and the flat of pavements were washed with rain, Simon liked to visit the farmer’s market after his morning run. He had left you today in your shared bed, doubtlessly still dreaming as the sun dithered behind the veil of clouds, and shrugged on a hoodie, getting his trainers out from a rack in the closet. His route was dewy with a gentle mist, not enough to keep people from going about their day, but it was the good kind that cleaned the city air and sweetened the long brooms of blossoms hanging over the sidewalks.

The canopy over a flower stall dripped onto his hood as Simon stepped underneath it. Bundles of flowers were arranged in buckets with chalkboard plates sticking out, the signs advertising 3 for £10, and he browsed for a bit, thinking of you.

There was a time when all Simon knew about flowers was the memory of a window box in his childhood kitchen. Long gone, he remembers his mother potting red and pink flowers and relishing the process—the fulfilling feeling of dirt beneath her fingernails and the satisfaction of roots tenderly planted. One day a hummingbird flitted to the window while he ate his toast before school, and it was a still moment of wonder as the tiny bird prodded the ruby petals before zipping on, quick as light.

Now he was in love with his own hummingbird. A love rare and fleeting, one that, when you don’t catch it in your hands and earn every moment of keeping it, would flutter away and never return. Love could speak in flowers, he decided, when he first began to visit your flat and admire the fresh bouquet you kept on your table every time he came. I like them, you had said simply, and he smoothed a petal between his two fingers. And though he saw himself as a brute with hands better suited for violence than caresses, he wanted to learn about the gentler things in life he once thought could never be part of his.

Simon frees his nose from his face mask to smell a strange spire of green, bell-shaped flowers he had never seen before.

“Those are called Bells of Ireland,” the aproned shop lady pipes up from behind her booth. He glances over and finds she isn’t put off by his tall, dark, and out-of-place presence in the least.

“I’ll take them,” he replies. Their scent was light and earthy, like mint and lavender mingled, and their bells resemble leaves with their vein-like texture. Rare and exquisite, and perfectly you. He also picks out a cluster of mauve roses and peachy ranunculus, thinking about the way you smiled with your eyes closed when you smell his bouquets, your lips still curved when you kiss him afterwards, and lays them all on the counter.

“What a lucky girl,” the woman comments, gathering his selections and bundling them in wax paper secured with a rubber band. Simon wasn’t so sure. He always thought you could do better than him, but you would never let him catch himself thinking like that out loud. No matter what he believed of his nature, he vowed to fight like hell to be the kind of man you did deserve. So he pays the woman and bids her good day, heading on to the next stall with you on his mind as he picks out fresh strawberries and bread for the beginning ingredients of a wholesome breakfast. 

At home, Simon fills a vase with the tap and trims the flower stems, arranging each fragrant bloom in harmony with the other. He brews one of your favorite teas and sets out the honey, tending to a sizzling pan in between, then decides to open your bedroom window to gently wake you.

A warm and pleasant wind sways the curtains. Amidst their wispy movements you lay on your back, breathing deep and slow, until the song of church bells and finches twittering from the chimney tops flutters your lashes to take in the tranquil morning. Simon draws his knuckles across your forehead and follows your cheek. With sleep soft in your pretty eyes, this was his favorite view of you.

“There she is, my everything,” he murmurs.

“Hmm. I was dreaming.” With a brush of his thumb over your smiling lips, you open your eyes and gaze at him warmly, happily, holding his hand there.

Funny…he muses.

You kiss his caressing hand. “You smell like oranges.”

“I made breakfast.”

And with that you’re throwing the comforter back, springing to your feet and wrapping a sweater around your nightgown-clad form.

“It’s not going anywhere, love,” he chuckles. These mornings were you had the whole day together were his favorite. You sat out on the balcony, taking in the trees with their sprouting green tips and cutting into your French toast, planning your day together with your bare foot resting over his socked one. The sunshine of your presence fills the depths of his chest to the brim with contentment, and he wants it to last forever.

[catfern]

Cowboy!ellie coming every weekend to see, talk to, and gift a beautiful flower to the beautiful person selling vegetables at the local farmers market <3

turned out a little more sad than i intended, switched it up a bit to fit the current cowboy!ellie timeline i have going in my deranged head. hope you enjoy still gorgeous <3

your house is a looming threat that makes ellie's skin crawl. A wide protrusion on the rolling hill landscape that echoed in its gothic horror.

she likes to imagine that she visits you often. the warmth of a pink sunset on her back as climbs to your window, something sweet and sticky and beautiful sitting in her stomach as you greet her with a giddy smile. here, in this quiet world beyond what's real, you know her name. you know her in many delicate ways that she wants to be known in, like artwork. here, you study her, touch her like glass, your soft comforts bleeding onto a canvas she's familiar with. she imagines that you smell like primrose, and that your voice is soft and kind inside her name.

"hey stranger."

your voice is lilted with a smile, but ellie feels dirty as she pulls out her coin purse. Your shop is quaint, because it's you. you're so detached from the house you hate. "didn't expect you back so soon."

"yeah, well," ellie feigns interest in your summer produce, lightly squeezing a tomato, "someone's gotta keep an eye on 'ya."

there's something graceful and thoughtless about you, the way your hair brushes your neck as you laugh. she seethes at the thought, that she has to pay for your company. would you care to be so kind? if you knew she was only here for you? if your potatoes were the least of her concern?

"keep an eye on me?" you press, an eyebrow raised, "what am i? a criminal?"

ellie laughs, it's kind but unsure, a slow sway crawling from her lips because she can't help but be happy with you. no matter how much ache her body feels when she sees you, knowing she can never touch you, have you. knowing she'll only ever yearn at a distance. it's a breathy chuckle, "yeah, y'know. gunslinging, bank robbing, highway robbery, you do it all."

you laugh too hard. it wasn't that funny, but ellie doesn't mind if you're putting on a show. if it's all for her, if only she gets to see the way your eyes crease, and your lips part, and hear the birdsong that is your little giggle.

she grabs a bundle of carrots, some tomatoes and a can of tinned meat, and you ring her up with a residue smile, "careful now. turn your back for too long and i might just hold you up." you make a gun with your fingers, all too happy with your newfound outlaw personality.

"i'll be countin' on it, sweetheart."

[tired-teacher-blog]

Characters : Tattoo artist Aizawa/ Florist fem reader

Featuring : Eri/ Hizashi Yamada/ Nemuri Kayama/ Oboro Shirakumo/ Emi Fukukado

Warnings and Genre : Fluff/ Romance/ Smut and Angst in future chapters/ Multi Chaptered Story

Summary : In a desperate attempt to get closer to the tattoo artist dominating every speck of your brain, you decide to pay him a visit one evening as a client seeking his service. This encounter will prove to be the beginning of something much bigger between you two, but will this new found passion be enough to stand against the difficulties your future holds?

Notes : Loosely inspired by this/ Art below is by the wonderful @/ael-draw who gifted me this gorgeous piece.

Masterlist|Second Masterlist|Third Masterlist

Chapter Count : Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3 • Part 4 • Part 5 • Part 6 • Part 7 • Part 8 • Part 9 • Part 10 • Part 11

_ "Eri says hi, we're on our way to school now."

You hold the phone closer to your ear, smiling fondly as he speaks, and picturing them stroll their way there hand in hand while he carries her cute little school bag over his shoulder.

_ "Tell her I miss her." you reply immediately with warmth filling up your heart.

_ "Just her? What about her father?" and you can feel the smirk lacing his words.

_ "Of course I miss you Shouta, very much." you breathe out longingly, wishing you could see him right at this instance.

_ "Me too beautiful, I'll see you tonight." and with that, you both say your goodbyes and hang up your phones.

Hours later, and his voice still plays in your brain like a sweet melody, and that same wide smile still refuses to leave you, only a little bit more until you see him.

Time couldn't possibly go any slower when you're awaiting for the moment to be with him, and you rarely ever do on weekdays due to your conflicting schedules, but fortunately you were able to work something out for today and decided to have dinner together in the studio between his appointments, it's not much, but it's more than you can ask for..

_ "Hello." a delicate voice interrupts your thoughts, and your head immediately snaps towards its source.

_ "Hello ma'am, welcome." oh, she's beautiful.

The clicking of her expensive beige heels pierces the calm and resonates across the walls as she steps inside while uttering amusedly, "what a nice atmosphere you have here."

_ "Thank you ma'am, you are more than welcome to take a look around." you have never seen her before, so perhaps she's here for a visit?

She's truly gorgeous, and elegant too, and you're now wondering what could her story be.

_ "So I want to buy a bouquet but I'm not sure exactly what to get, everything here looks gorgeous." she's taking a tour of the shop while speaking, her eyes study the blooms carefully before shifting her gaze your way.

_ "I'm glad you like what you see," you offer her a genuine smile, "I can help you choose, you see each flower and each rose carries a different meaning, so if you have a message that's hard to convey, you can pick a flower that helps with that."

She blinks a few times while hearing you speak before breaking into laughter, "but isn't that a bit too much to ask of a measly plant?"

Your body tenses up as you did not expect to hear such words from someone who has willingly walked into your shop, but maybe she didn't mean to offend you.

_ "Not at all ma'am, if the person receiving the bouquet is someone who likes flowers, then your message wilI surely come across." your smile is now forced, and your palms are starting to sweat as you strive to remain collected.

_ "I never thought they liked them but maybe I was wrong," her eyes are casting a darkness that you cannot for the life of you decipher, "well then, which one says I'm sorry?" her attention is back to the colorful roses.

_ "White roses or white tulips are the perfect ones for that, they express sincere apologies and seeking forgiveness, offering them to someone signifies the desire to start anew." you gesture towards the flowers you're describing and watch as she approaches them slowly.

_ "Alright then, I'll have ten of each."

_ "Of course ma'am." you quickly run to the blossoms and start cutting them carefully, counting in your head so you wouldn't miscalculate the lady's order.

_ "So how long have you been running this business?"

Her question catch you off guard, and you almost miscount the white blooms in front of you, "oh, I've been here for almost a year," you turn her way for a second as you reply, before returning to the work at hand.

You walk back to your counter with twenty delicate whites in your arms, smiling again at the lady before starting to carefully organize them in a bouquet.

_ "What about you ma'am? Are you here visiting someone? Perhaps the lucky person who will receive these?" you try to soften the mood as you ask.

_ "Yeah, that's why I'm here, I need to clear things up with someone." her voice is monotone and for some reason it's making you a little uncomfortable.

_ "I'm sure everything will go well ma'am, this bouquet will be an ideal ice breaker." even with your unexplained uneasiness, you still give her a warm smile.

_ "You think so? You must have a lot of faith in your flowers then." she scoffs with a role of her eyes that you did not need to witness.

_ "Uhm well.. I do, and I hope I'm right." you have never felt this anxious with a customer before, but you have to remain calm and cheerful regardless.

_ "What a cute tattoo." she exclaims with a nod of her head.

_ "Oh, thank you, yeah it's really dear to me." somehow, for some reason, you've always found solace in your tattoo, and you're almost certain it's the thought of him that brings you comfort rather than the tattoo itself, in any case, it's working yet again.

The woman remains silent after that, and you can almost feel her piercing stare digging holes in your whole body.

_ "Here you go ma'am, it's wrapped and ready, I hope you like it." you carefully pick up the bouquet, mindful of the graceful blooms as you hand them to the woman in front of you.

_ "Thank you." she holds it in one arm and hands you her credit card with the other.

It's almost over, she's almost out of your shop and you're almost breathing easily again.

_ "Thank you for your purchase ma'am and have a nice day." you bow your head slightly while returning her card.

The annoyingly loud click of her heels is finally heading away as she walks towards the door, and you allow yourself to heave a sigh of relief.

_ "Oh by the way, say hi to Shouta for me." and that irked expression she had on since earlier, is now replaced with an amused one as she closes the door after herself.

… What?

Shouta.. Shouta.. , she called him Shouta, not Aizawa like most people do, why? Who is she exactly? How does she know him? Was her coming to your shop intentional?

You feel like a fool, she was obviously mocking you until the very end, and for some reason you know that it isn't over.

Shouta.. who is she to you? Is she a friend? A family member? A client?

Countless questions battle within your brain as you freeze in place for God knows how long..

To be continued..

[shotgunbunny]

Hello! how about Sherlock getting jealous of the man the reader is spending time with and his deduction skills go out the window so he doesn't realize they aren't romantically involved 👀

═๑♡𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧♡๑═

WC:1.3k+ GIF by strdstpixie

{srry I got way too carried away in this little plot and I hope you like it anon even though I got side tracked}

{Warnings!! The most fluff!! The love language of flowers!! Literally just heartwarming!!}

♡being engaged to Sherlock could be hard sometimes. He was the most sought after bachelor before he met you when suddenly, he was ready to give his life to you.

♡Sherlock fans would often send you rude mail and menacing glares. Yet Sherlock would always tell you to ignore them.

♡Yet how could you ignore them when you got them everywhere. With Sherlock always at work, you decided to confide in your closest friend: Max.

♡You had grown up with Max and he was your dearest friend. He never upset you and often supported your ideas, he was truly lovely. Yet you both never saw each other in a romantic light.

♡One morning, after you had woken up alone due to Sherlock going to work. You decided to go and visit Max and see how he was doing as he was currently trying to woo a woman.

♡When you got there you were immediately encased in a hug and Max dragging you down the streets of London to go shopping while he spoke about how he was going to find the perfect bouquet of flowers to woo his lady.

♡As you were both strolling down the market with your arms linked, you felt eyes watching you. No doubt the folks that detested you for stealing Sherlock from his work.

♡When you turned to look you were shocked to see, Sherlock and Ebola stood there. Enola was talking to him yet he had his eyes dead set on you. You could see his jaw tighten and his hands crumple into fists.

♡You felt your heart race, Sherlock had never been angry, let alone angry at you which is why you were so nervous to see him angry now.

♡Max pulled your arm and dragged your attention away from your fiance babbling excitedly about seeing the perfect bouquet.

♡As you stood next to Max as he was looking at the variety of flowers, you heard the familiar voice of Enola grow closer.

♡Before you could even turn to see the girl, a hard chest was pressed against your back and an arm wrapped around your waist making you gasp. You turned and there was Sherlock.

♡He wasn't glaring at you, rather at Max. He jaw still clenched. You squeezed his bicep and he focused his attention on you. You raised an eyebrow at him.

♡Max turned his attention to you both and Sherlock spoke, "Dove, come on we must return home. We must continue planning our wedding. Enola had a few ideas."

♡You looked at him shocked, "My darling, can it not wait? I am busy here trying to help my friend."

♡"My dear, I do not care if he is your friend, I am your fiance and I require your attention more than him."

♡You glared at him, "Sherlock how hypocritical of you. You never pay me any attention so why should I give you any? If you are going to let your foolish jealousy talk for you then I suggest you stay away from me."

♡Max stared and looped his arm through yours and you continued strolling down the street, all the while Sherlock felt his heart crack.

♡He turned to Enola, "Have I really not shown her how much I adore her? Does she feel that deprived of my presence?"

♡Enola stared at him, placing a hand on her hip before glaring at him, "You are silly dear brother. You often go to work rather than talk to your dear future wife. You haven't even professed your love for her you stupid man."

♡Sherlocks eyes widened, "Help me Enola, help me fix my wrong."

✧──────────────────────────────────✧

♡It had been a day since you had seen Sherlock and you felt your heart ache a fraction over not seeing him.

♡Max had been wonderful and allowed you to stay at his house for the night where finally revealed he was trying to woo Lady Ristunberg.

♡You were awoken by a knock at the door. You grabbed a night coat and sorted yourself out so you looked mildly decent and opened the door.

♡Your heart hammered at seeing Sherlock stood there with a bouquet of flowers in his hand.

♡"Sherlock? What are you going here? It's so early." You stared at his beautiful puppy dog eyes and how he was starting to get eye bags. "Have you slept?"

♡He stared at you, "I have not my lady. You see I require you to be happy with me so that then I can sleep peacefully. And due to the fact you are not, I have not slept and have dedicated the night to searching for ways to prove my love for you."

♡You stared at him and then at the flowers in his hand. "Will you give me a minute to change so that then we may return home?"

♡A sigh left his lips, and he nodded relieved.

✧──────────────────────────────────✧

♡When you arrived back with Sherlock hiding in your shadow, you were surprised to find the flat organised.

♡You watched as Sherlock walked past you and handed you 5 books. All the books that you had given him to read while he was trying to court you.

♡"What is this Sherlock?" He walked over to you and took the first book you ever gave him from your hands.

♡He opened the book and flicked to a page where a flower rested. A pink camellia. You looked at him, "A pink camellia. It symbolises longing. The first book you ever gave me when I was courting you. I marked the pages with how I longed for your love."

♡He took the second book, and there rested a blue salvia. "The second book, where you started to slowly give in to my advances. And then the first time I heard your laugh, your cute little giggle. I marked it that day with a blue salvia, it means thinking of you. I thought about the beauty of your voice for days on end."

♡The next book was taken and the next flower shown, a pink rose. "Happiness. A pink rose is happiness because everything you did, you do, makes me happy."

♡You felt tears gather in your eyes, as the fourth book opened and there was a red rose. He smiled shakily, "The day you agreed to court me I marked it with a red rose. It means I love you. Truly my heart belong only to you."

♡You felt a few tears slip at finally hearing those words. Sherlock leaned forward and wiped your tears before he took the last book from your hands and opened it.

♡Held between his fingers was a red flower, he handed it to you and you took it before staring at him. "A red salvia."

♡"What does it mean?" Your voice was so soft.

♡He chuckled, "It means forever mine. The day you agreed to marry me, you were forever mine. But the day you first spoke to me, I was forever yours. You held my heart before you even knew it. I know I am a hard man but my love,"

♡You watched as he got on he knees infront of you and stared up. You placed the flower on the side close to you, and put your hands on his face.

♡"I love you. I worship the ground you walk on. I am thankful to be near you. I adore you, and though I am terrible at showing it, I hope you know that I truly mean it."

♡You got on your knees and kisses Sherlock embracing the overwhelming amount of love that was in the room.

♡When you both pulled away, you placed your forehead against his and closed your eyes. You felt him take your small hand in his and you smiled.

♡"I love you too Sherlock Holmes so very much, all I ask is that you come home and spend time with me more."

♡"My dearest dove, I promise you I will. I will make sure you wake up drowning in my love. And then when your Mrs. Holmes you will carry our love." He chuckled and you blushed.

♡"You were quite attractive jealous though I must admit."

♡A laugh echoed around the room and he pulled you up against him and he dragged you to the bedroom. "Well then I must admit you're quite attractive covered in my marks."

[fimmiest]

I'm serious - nakamura kazuha x fem!reader

sypnosy: being friends with a florist had some advantage, which being the "I'll pay you later" talk. but when a pretty lady is on the counter instead of your friend, you try to not look like a idiot in front of her.

tags: non-idol au, mutual pining, fluff, just zuha being flirty

Something about the symbolism of flowers always got your attention. as a decoration or a gift, even if you don't know the name or meaning, flowers were pretty to look at anyway. and the flower shop near your university was your favorite place since you visited it occasionally, didn't took too long to you be friends with the owner, sakura.

probably because both of you shared similar ages, just two years apart, the interaction was easy going. and sure, after you totally failed to impress and get out with her, the friendship you both shared was better than any you ever had.

You always mantain a routine of visiting the little flower shop after class, even for studying, you preferred to see pretty flowers in front of you instead of boring books, sakura always tease you saying it is placebo effect and in reality you just can't stay away from her. so naturally, after stressful classes you wanted nothing more than just to complaining and rant about it with your best friend and recharge at your favorite place.

Entering mindless throught the flower shop the bell at the top of the door jingles indicating your familiar presence, and oh how you should've realized sooner before starting a rant that the person behind the counter today wasn't your friend sakura that you were used to.

"Good afternoon, how can I-"

"Kkura I swear to God that if that dumb blonde american girl be loud again at class I-"

you stopped, freezing in your place, when your gaze met a tall, dark haired, pretty pretty woman, behind the counter looking at you in amusement since you just entered and started talking, interrupting her.

"Hum, miss sakura isn't here today, she got sick so I'm taking care of the shop today" the lady said and you weren't expecting such a calm and sweet voice from her, audibily there was a tone of interest in her voice but you didn't notice it.

if sakura was sick why she didn't just closed the shop for the day...

"Right, uhm, sorry about just now I.. wasn't expecting a.." you clear your throat and take a breath to calm down and not stumble over the words before embarrassing yourself even more.

" I'm y/n, a friend of sakura so i'm always around here, and not seeing her got me by surprise because I thought she was the only one that worked here" you finished feeling a little embarrassed and scratched the back of your neck shyly.

"Oh! i'm kazuha, nice to meet you." she says flashing a pretty smile and leans forward on the counter resting her chin against the palm of her hand

"hmm sakura told me about you, but i didn't expect you to be this cute." kazuha added casually with a clearly playful grin.

Your eyes widen a bit surprised and you fidget with the collar of your shirt.

"Oh.. ha well, uhm, thank you. you are very pretty too.." you match her eye contact but bite the inside of your lip nervously.

Kazuha giggles softly observing you and straighten up before speaking

"tell me sweetheart," she tilt her head a little "did your original plan was to come and chat with sakura or are you going to buy a flower? because, unfortunately, I have class in a hour and will have to close the shop in a few." her eyes soften in a apology but she smiled at you in a queit expectation.

Your shoulders relaxed when you felt a good warmth in your chest and kazuha didn't missed the small smile on the corners of your lips as you replied "well, i won't lie saying i did indeed came for a little chat, but uhm, let's see. what flower is good for a 'hope to meet you soon' wish?"

Kazuha playfully shook her head when she understood what you were saying and couldn't hold back the smile growing on her face.

"Well, most of bright flowers carry good meanings with them, so for you.." she starts explaining and soon after roam around the place thinking in your request

"astilbe flowers for example mostly stand for dedication and patience, it stands as a promise to wait for a loved one."

You attentive listen to kazuha explanation while she took a pink and white astilbe flower. you couldn't help but notice the trained gentleness of her touch while she was handling the flowers, petitly wrapping a lace around the stem.

before kazuha handled over the flowers, you watch as she writes something on the lace and after seeing what it is your chest squeezes warmly again.

"remember to take care of the flowers and as it meaning I'll be waiting for at least a text from you later, okay?" she finishes with the same pretty smile from minutes ago and a quick wink, the honesty in her eyes made you let a smile on your own.

paying a considerate tip and leaving after longing stares and a shy goodbye, you quickly take your phone to text your good friend.

you: can you like

you: stay sick for a whole week??

kkura 🌸: ???? what happened

note: writing and learning about body language and meaning of flowers made this one worth it

[ivoryghostyy]

「 image isn't mine. sourced from pinterest. 」

「 this was supposed to be a re-vamp of "love bite" but, well, i guess i got a bit too carried away. this one's pretty long, so have fun! 」

「 tw: possessive behaviour, swearing, non-consensual biting, mentions of blood, mentions/implications of violence — read with caution. 」

"don't touch that!"

crash!

"oops. :("

"oops? that's all you have to say- don't give me that look."

":("

"fuck you."

"ohhh, i like the sound of that-"

you groan in frustration, rubbing your throbbing temple. pieces of a broken flower pot lie carelessly on the tiled floor—a flower pot that was meant to house your newly grown Daffodils if someone could keep his hands to himself.

he frowns at your distress, snaking an arm over your shoulders to pull you in. his free hand rests snugly on the small of your back. right where it belongs.

"i'm sorry, sweetheart. i'll get you a new one, okay?"

you shake your head, making your way through the array of potted plants within your shop. once your hand grasps the familiar wooden handle of your broom, you reply.

"no. it's alright. i can just order another one; it wasn't that expensive, anyway."

he hums, looking through his phone. at this point, you know he hadn't listened to a single word you said. he's been your closest friend for years. by now, he's probably-

"i got you a new set. they'll arrive in a few days. is that alright, honey?"

-already ordered another one. actually, he ordered more. you don't even need that many pots right now! you can feel another headache settling in.

"okay, whatever. what are you doing here, anyway?"

you sweep up the sad pieces of the flower pot, sending your Daffodils an apologetic look. 'i'm so sorry, my babies. i'll get you a new home soon, i promise.'

he watches the exchange, eyes squinting. you're no stranger to the look. you've seen it more times than you could count on two hands.

or, well, you assume that was the case. you're not really counting-

while you're cleaning his mess, the man in question leans idly on the counter.

'how strange,' he muses. he's seen the way you coddled your.. shrubs. for the last time, they're not shrubs!

maybe you were unknowingly born with the ability to talk to plants? or you simply have some form of connection with your babies, as you liked to call them.

or perhaps you've simply lost your mind ages ago, so you've convinced yourself that the shrubs- they aren't shrubs!!

-sorry, the not-shrubs could communicate.

wait, did you talk in his head?

you ignore his sudden confusion, opting to mourn over the loss of a perfectly good pot. fly high. you will be missed. after dumping the broken pot, you turn back to the insufferable man.

"you didn't really answer my question."

"what? am i not allowed to visit my favorite florist?"

"mind you, i am the only florist you know. besides, you're too busy to pay any unnecessary visits."

he laughs, muscles flexing as he pushes off the counter.

"alright, you got me. so you remember when i told you that i've found her?."

her? oh! he means his, uh, what did he call it? ah, right. his destined pair. pfft, that sounds cheesy as hell. why can't he be normal and say he fell in love?

"yeah? are you going to man up and tell her? you've been dancing around it for years; you haven't even introduced me yet!"

with a snort, he crosses his arms.

"well, sorry. i don't really find the need to introduce you."

eh? you take personal offense to that!

with a dramatic gasp, you clench the fabric of your top, right where your heart is.

"i've been your best friend for this long, dealing with your stupid ass for years, but you won't tell me who the love of your life is? i see how it is."

he smiles, "i.. don't think we'll still be friends after i tell you.."

what?

"don't tell me, is it my sworn enemy!? i can't believe you would settle for that-"

he denies it immediately, face scrunching in disgust.

"absolutely not. i would sooner choose to marry a horse."

you crack up at that, clutching your stomach as you laugh.

his eyes soften with a small grin. sometimes, he wonders what he'd done to deserve you.

you, with eyes that light up every time you see him. with that smile stretching your lips into a carefree curve; delighted and so full of life. you fill his heart with an immeasurable amount of love. if only you know what you do to him.

everything about you is so perfect. you're mesmerizing. you're his everything.

but he's not the only one.

just thinking of all the eyes who've dared to look at you..

his smile falls.

if only he could gauge their eyes out; or better yet, he could keep you all to himself. he'd mark you as his own, give you everything you could ever want or need. it isn't hard for him to do as he pleased.

but at what cost? you wouldn't be happy. you would hate him. but worst of all, he would hurt you.

and he couldn't hurt you. never.

and yet, as he watched a customer—another man—flirt with you, he couldn't help but rethink his choices. would it be better for him to take you, after all?

his eyes darken.

you're stuck.

after you had closed the shop, you were forced down.

he held your trembling wrists, firmly pressing them against the counter. 'his hands are cold,' you noted, breath hitching as he stared you down.

"look, i know i said 'fuck you' earlier, but i didn't mean for you to actually do so-"

"shut up."

you did.

he was mad, you could tell. frustrated, even.

why? did you do something wrong? were you being too mean earlier? did he find the secret stash of snacks you've been hiding from him-

you squeak when he hauls you up by the waist, fully lying you against the wide counter instead of the previous awkward position.

"w-wait, seriously, we can talk about this-"

you're cut off when he grips your chin, roughly forcing your eyes to meet his own.

"you know i don't like it when you avoid my eyes."

he's only an inch away from your face; his stare holds an intense wave of emotions. they swirl within his eyes, almost unreadable to you—but one stands out.

you lean your forehead against his, facing him head on. you don't avoid his eyes. you're not scared of looking directly at him, even in this situation. that might be another one of the reasons why he's fallen so hard.

"why're you hurting?"

his eyes crinkle as he grins. such a sweet human. no matter the circumstance, you never lose your heart. do you not find him threatening? he stares at the guilty little twinkle in your eyes. how can one be so cute.

you're not making this any easier for him, are you? he can barely control himself as is.

your eyes catch a glint, honing onto his sharp fangs.

what-

"ah, the cat's out of the bag."

his voice sends shivers down your spine, and unconsciously, you move back.

he doesn't allow it, however, as he guides you closer. his fingers draw up your leg, leaving a trail of heat despite the contrasting temperature of his hand.

he stops at your thigh, pulling it up to his hip.

he's so fucking close.

"i can feel you shaking, sweetheart. are you scared?"

you shake your head, but he's already caught the traces of fear that linger on your features.

"lying is a sin, love. weren't you the one who taught me that?"

the next moment is a blur.

he leans down, fangs poking the skin of your neck. dread settles into the pit of your stomach. the fear comes after; and then the panic sets in.

but it's already too late.

you whimper, biting your lip to distract you from the pure, unadulterated pain. your trembling hands find their way to the back of his shirt, tightly clutching the fabric.

you don't even realize that you're crying until he rubs your cheek, and you feel the tears sliding against your skin.

his fangs sink deeper, and the agonizing pain melts away, replaced with a growing heat in your abdomen. you stifle a moan, the metallic taste of your blood lingering on your bitten lip.

he keeps you against the counter, a hand tracing circles on your waist. suddenly, you're not scared anymore. your heart beats erratically, but you find nothing out of place. in fact, everything feels right.

a headache surfaces, and you groan into his shoulder as he pulls away. a drop of blood trails down your neck, but he licks it off. you shiver, feeling hyperaware of every movement.

he smiles at your dazed state. he rubs your head, pulling you closer when you bury yourself in his chest, nuzzling into his embrace.

his eyes trail down to the mark on your neck, and he grins with pride; kissing your temple.

you'll probably be mad when you're not dazed anymore..

no matter, he'll make it up to you later. right now, he can't wait to take you home.

[fancyfeathers]

@luckycharm1 sorry I am getting back to this now 😭. Okay I still have quite a few chapter to catch back on because I am currently working my way through the Emerald Witch Arc, but I have had a bunch of spoilers, so please forgive any gaps in my memory. So for this I am just going to be going by when he still worked, if that’s the right word. as a funeral director.

So I am a florist and a botanists and my biggest clients are wedding parties and funerals so I had the idea of his darling being a florist because of how closely those two jobs work together like for reference I meet with about six different funerals directors and their clients about every two weeks or less than that sometimes like a week. So I honestly picture his darling having a little flower shop nearby so he goes to her little shop when she opens to introduce himself and I think it would be instant obsession. Honestly to literally everyone else it is painfully obvious of how obsessed he is with her, like in his shop he has a flower from every single one of the funerals she had helped with preserved, and that would be a lot of flowers, but she had worked with many eccentric individuals before and have had a lot more stranger requests for flowers besides a funeral. Her obliviousness to his obsession would only fan the flames even more, his darling is focusing on the positives in her life rather than the “negatives” of his relationship with her.

If she ever found out about his true nature and he was no human, it would be a rude awakening, like her seeing something like that happened in the Luxury Liner Arc and her finding out was completely by accident because he never wanted her to find out. I could see her being invited by one of her other clients, maybe a young couple she had done the flower arrangements for at their wedding and had became friends with, and there she sees everything first hand is absolutely horrified and her brain just shuts down because it was all a lie and just how could she be so blind. The other way I could see her finding out is someone like Ciel paying her a visit after the events transpired and informing her of what happened and the reaction would be quite similar besides the fear and panic of the situation. I could honestly also see the Phantomhive estate taking her in after that due to the shock and her own personal safety since given how close she was with the Undertaker she may prove to be useful.

[wakacreations]

Author's Note:

My contribution to the Doni fandom. Thanks to @falcatamandarina for inspiring the piece.

Doni: I Will See You Again Soon!

Word Count: 1703

Summary:

Doni writes a letter to his father recapping of all that has happened to him so far.

Dad,

It's been awhile since I wrote to you. A lot has happened in just a short amount of time but I just wanted to let you know I'm safe and sound. I made it to Baldur’s Gate just like we promised to each other. The other tieflings from Elturel took me in as a part of their family. You know how I wished for a big brother or sister? I got both! 

There is Rolan who is a famous wizard. Can you believe a tiefling could own a big tower? There is Lia who is the head of a team of flaming fists. She could beat all the fists in an archery match! I once saw her run after a thief on the roof tops and caught them midair. There is Cal who runs a fun orphanage. Everytime I visit the other kids he's planning a secret surprise. Last time the secret surprise was fireworks from Rolan’s tower and we got to eat some yummy food Cal made.

Alfira has been helping me learn how to sing again. I know how much you loved watching and hearing me sing back in Elturel. It's been hard because sometimes my voice doesn't want to come out when I want it to. Lakrissa has been cheering for me everytime during practice. I feel shy sometimes when she does it because I don't feel like I'm doing a good job. I know I can sing really good like you've told me. I just don't sing as good as I used to now. Alfira believes I'm still a good singer but it just takes time to sing like before. She said that I'm a better singer than Lakrissa. She once summoned a pack of worgs to come using her voice alone. I believed her because when Lakrissa started singing we heard howling in the distance. Our lessons had to end early that day. I got to eat some nice cinnamon rolls that Lakrissa paid for. 

Sometimes I visited Dammon’s forge even when I'm not supposed to. He said that I should send him a letter first so he can finish his work early. I try to write to him ahead of time but I would forget. He would be too busy to talk but I liked watching him work on the forge. Mama K would take me on an outing if that was the case. I would help her with the groceries and we would go around visiting the new shops that just opened. I helped her pick out a new shirt for Dammon to wear. Mama K said he can always use some more. It'll eventually become a rag with how many shirts he goes through, she joked. Dammon has a lot of neat projects he's working on. A customer requested to make them a giant warhammer! The hammer was bigger than I was! Dammon, let me wrap the handle with leather. He gave me a lollipop for a job well done. He asked me if I would like to work at the desk while he worked on the forge. I told him I would love to but only when I visit. 

So, Dad when you come to Baldur’s Gate I can treat you to a meal. I have two jobs that pay well. I work at Dammon’s and Rolan’s shops. Don't worry, they said I can stop working for the day when I get tired. I can come into work whenever I want to. I can go restock the shelves or work the desk for the day, it was up to me. You don't have to worry about me spending my earned money on you. Zevlor gives me an allowance and extra pocket money to spend on myself. I sometimes use that money to give him flowers. The Commander would always smile when I handed them to him. It's nice to see him smile because he used to not smile often but I think that's changing now. Tilses said Zevlor’s been making more friends and opening up to people. Hearing that makes me happy. I sometimes worry that he would be lonely in his garden.

He has a big garden with flowers, vegetables and fruit trees. Zevlor even has those fancy hedges that look like little animals. He asked me what animal he should make. I watched him make a cute bunny. They were called “topiary artwork” , he said. Sometimes we would have a picnic in the garden for just the two of us. Other times, which is most of the time, Cal would bring the kids over to have lunch there. 

Zevlor was the host for the outdoor parties whenever there was a celebration for a tiefling from Elturel. The last party was for Lia's promotion. Everyone was so happy it was nice. Even grumpy Rolan smiled. When I went inside to use the toilet, I heard Rolan crying alone. He said he was so proud of his sister and something about the suffering he endured was worth it. I didn't know what he meant by that. I did give him a hug after I found him again. He asked me why I was hugging him. I kept on hugging him. He didn't push me away but hugged back tighter. When he let go, I walked off. Lia noticed the hug and made a comment about if he was crying. Rolan said it was his allergies. His sister said that my hugs were tear worthy and wished that I would hug her too. I gave her the biggest of hugs and then everyone wanted a hug too.

Dad, I'm not as lonely as I used to be back in Elturel. I've been making more friends. Today, I got to play with Arabella, Umi and Xan. Arabella showed me the new powers she got from studying the weave. She said she wanted to be peepaw Wither's apprentice but he kept telling her no. So, Rolan and Gale became her wizard teachers instead. Gale told her she could enroll at Blackstaff Academy and he would put in a good word in for her should she accept. 

Arabella said she didn't want to be far away from everyone again. "Who knows how rude those kids would be there anyways”, she told us. So, she is staying in Baldur’s Gate. Rolan and Gale had set up a portal that connects the two towers just for her lessons. They tried using a scrying eyes for their shared lessons but creating the portals was a better solution. They showed her the new set up for her lessons. The scrying eye would accidentally broadcast whatever the other was doing, Rolan explains to her why the sudden change. Arabella said she saw Rolan and Gale shiver but he didn't explain what they had seen through the eye. 

Umi and Xan described what it was like to live at Wyrm's Rock Fortress with the Duke and Wyll. Umi said it was strange having so many people waiting for you to say something. You had servants that would bring you everything you needed. He felt bad asking them for anything. Umi didn't want to be a bother to them. Wyll said the staff liked him and always mentioned how adorable he was. Umi was happy he didn't need to learn how to wield a sword anymore. He got to learn how to ballroom dance instead. Wyll said the next best thing to dancing in battle would be dancing on the dance floor. Umi said I could join in their dance lessons with Wyll.

Xan explained how Sa'Varsh Lae'zel (his mother) was away on her campaign to tackle the crèche strongholds that still pledged allegiance to Vlaakith. His Sa'Varsh insisted he was to stay at the fortress till she summoned for him. In the meantime he should diligently complete his combat training and learn all he could about Faerun. He enjoyed speaking with the guards that patrolled the fortress. Seeing all the nobles that entered the premises bewildered him. All the flashy jewelry, layered furs and silks looked cumbersome to move. Xan made a face when he mentioned all the perfumes that assaulted his lungs that made him cough and the smells that made his nose hurt from sneezing. As part of his training Xan had insisted to Varsh Wyll he would join in their ballroom dancing lessons. He showed us the steps had learned with Umi from his training.

We spent the whole day playing at the park. We played hide and seek. Arabella and Xan were too good at it. Next game we played was Simon says. Xan was too good at that game. So, we decided to prank him. He got embarrassed when we asked him to say "Faerun" during the game. He wasn't too mad at us for embarrassing him since it was a part of the game. We asked him if there were any githyanki words for friends. He told us it was k’chakhi ra’stil (Wyll later told us that meant idiot ally or dumb friend). There was a patch of grass that had a lot of dandelions. Arabella said we should make flower crowns but she didn't know how. Umi shyly told us he knew how and taught us how to make them. I made you a picture to show you what it looked like.

I think I would train to be bard again, Dad. I missed singing so much. Who knows, maybe you'll be in the audience once again. I don't know if I will only become a bard. I'm still unsure if I want to learn how to be a ranger or a cleric. I'll one day travel around again to find you wherever you are Dad when I'm all grown up like you. I want to let you know I am happy with the life I live now but my life doesn't feel complete without you. I miss you dad. So, write to me when you have the time. I hope you've been receiving my letters even if you can't write to me back. I'll continue to write to you till I'm old and grey. 

I'll write to you again soon! I love you dad. 

-Doni

[arminsumi]

FLEUR

Oneshot | Eren | ♪

Eren works as a florist at his mom's flower shop, and just next to it is his dad's clinic. After your check ups, you browse the flowers. Eren always glances over at you longingly.

But he never manages to work up the courage to talk to you, and it always gets him down.

⚠️Cws; fluff, light angst

Notes; black!fem!reader

"Ah, Eren." Armin sighed pitifully at his friend.

Eren lowered his chin onto his forearm, and let his gloomy eyes flutter closed.

"You really need to do something about this." Armin said.

You had yet again come into the store, bought a bouquet, and vanished from sight. All Eren managed to say to you were simplicities, hello how are you that will be $6.99 thank you see you again.

Eren sighed heavily and rubbed the tension out of his face with his hands. "She'll come by for another checkup at some point again; I promise to really talk to her then."

"Uh-uh! You said that last time!" Armin shook his head.

"Well, this time I really mean it."

"You also said that last time."

Eren let his head fall back and groaned. He always became lethargic at the end of a long working day, especially when this happened.

His mom descended the stairs from the upstairs apartment. She didn't need to even ask what had gotten Eren in this mood, it was all too familiar.

"Eren?" She called out, but he closed his eyes and rested his jaw heavily in his palm.

"Yeah?" He mumbled lamely.

"Get off work early for today, okay? You two go out and stretch your legs, take your mind of things." She spoke gently.

She sighed and turned to Armin after Eren was unresponsive, "Armin, take this poor boy out somewhere nice." She asked.

"Yes ma'am." Armin clapped his hands together, "Eren, let's go, come on." Armin encouraged, and tried to move Eren by his arm, but he wouldn't budge.

He let out a throaty groan, like he was in pain at the sight of embarrassing memories in his mind. There they were, projecting onto his eyelids like a movie.

At that point he was being so dramatic that it became comical.

Armin laughed, and tried to move him again, "Come on, big boy, we'll go get some food and bitch about life, how does that sound?"

He gave Eren another encouraging tug on his arm, "Come on! Move, move, soldier!" He shook him playfully.

"Alright." Eren sighed heavily, and finally moved. Though, he moved as if his whole body was made of lead.

They exited the flower shop together and headed out onto the sidewalk. The winter sun gave the street a sharp, crisp quality.

Eren had such a heavy mood all around him, so Armin tried to be funny to make him feel better. But all of Armin's work didn't pay off because Eren's gloom was stubborn.

"Wanna get some takeout?" Eren suggested lamely.

"Eren, you've had takeout every day for almost a week now." Armin looked over at him pitifully, "Let's get something good to eat, okay? My treat."

"Alright, fine then." Eren agreed.

They ambled down the street, talking while window shopping down the block.

During midday time in the city, it felt like a beehive. The incessant rumbling and buzzing of cars, the unnecessary hooting, the sighs of braking buses rolling to a standstill at the gleaming red stoplights.

Even babies were crying somewhere in the distance. It felt like New York. No, it was worse than New York. A city like this was a nightmare.

Still, it's home. And Eren felt happy to live in the same city as someone like you, even if he only ever got to see you and not talk to you.

If there were god above, then they took great pity on Eren that day, and cast a spell of luck over him and you. In this beehive rush at midday, Armin and Eren wound up at a secluded restaurant.

It was one of those restaurants that the eye easily skips over unless you're really hungry. The only reason you visited there was because your mom and grandmother ran it together.

It had been some time since you'd been to visit, though, so really... this was a truly lucky day.

The doorbell chimed, it sounded rusty, and Eren entered with Armin at his side. The latter scanned his environment with bright eyes, but his best friend didn't have even a trace of light in his gaze.

That is, until he caught a glimpse of your hair from behind.

"Armin, three o'clock." Eren whispered into his ear.

"I saw, I saw." Armin nodded, noticing you an instant after Eren did. He had a lopsided grin on his face.

You were cheerily talking to your mom, by chance, about the boy who works at the florist's down the block.

"Sounds like a match." Your mom teased, "Why not talk to him?"

You shrugged, "He doesn't seem to be interested. I mean, otherwise, wouldn't he have talked to me by now? I always visit after checkups, you know, like I said."

Eren and Armin took a seat by the window near the entrance. A soft light filled the restaurant. Each time Eren took a glance at you, he felt like he was laying eyes on an angel.

"Eren, go on." Armin encouraged, "This is prime time to introduce yourself."

Eren pursed his lips, folded his arms on the table, and shook his head slowly.

"Come on, if you don't do something, I will."

"Don't even think about it." Eren snapped.

Armin leaned back in his seat and let out a sigh. His best friend was always stubborn like this.

When your mom came around to take their orders, Armin asked her where the bathroom was. Eren didn't pay much attention, but his friend was brewing a little plan to help him out.

Very smoothly and swiftly, Armin weaved through the tables, went to the bathroom to fix his hair and practice what he would do, and then emerged confidently.

Eren looked over and saw Armin talking to you. At first he felt this confused jealousy, but then watched as you laughed and rose from your lonesome table and walked over to the table he was sat at.

It was all quick, and before Eren could stutter out a confused hello, Armin introduced the two of you.

He did it with a smirk, "This is Eren. Oh, Eren, hope you don't mind, I thought she looked lonely and might want to join us for lunch."

Armin gave Eren a wink.

Hearing your voice once more, and viewing your dark complexion in this angelic light, it had Eren's heart panging nervously in his chest.

But Armin threw jokes around, and lightened the mood, so Eren's tensed shoulders relaxed and he finally eased into the conversation.

Though, you noticed, he stuttered and spoke quietly when you asked him questions.

"Your dad runs the clinic, right?" You asked.

Eren nodded, "Uh, yeah, he does. And my mom runs the florist where I work..."

"You help your mom's florist business?" You tilted your head adoringly at him, "That's so sweet of you. I love that."

Armin pursed his lips to keep from smiling, watching as how Eren's face grew extremely red at your compliments.

"Oh, I just remembered, I've got to return that library book." Armin lied.

"What library boo – ohhh, yeah, you do that..." Eren played along.

Armin rose from his seat, "I'll be back in a bit, it's a long walk." he got to his feet.

"Alright! See you, Armin." You kindly waved goodbye.

And so he left, and left the two of you alone together in that golden light. Good conversation and subtle flirting filled the air between you and Eren.

Clearly this was the start of something good.