#i'll gladly show him other ways to get my heart rate up

[betweenbreaths]

i am honestly so mad that I didn't get Xavier's Heating Up card. T_T

[inklore]

sweet serial killer

premise: it doesn’t matter if he’s killing you or you're killing someone else. you’re putty in his hands right now, and you’re both fucked. 

pairing: ethan landry x (f)reader

word count: 1.7k

contents: piv, more psychotic feelings than anything, choking, mentions of knife and blood play, murders, dirty talk, stalking, au since this is not in correlation with the film, pain kink.

note: this is my first time writing for this little fucked up curly q even though i have drafts upon drafts of ideas for him, which i'll gladly write if ya'll want more.

haunted hoedown day three.

You should be surprised. 

You should be pissed. 

Scared. 

Running for your life.

Something. Anything.

Other than standing in front of a murderer, your knuckles curling around the edge of the dresser your ass is pushed against. Your excelled heart rate pounding in your ears the closer he steps to you, leaving no room for you to breathe without touching him. Without smelling him. Stealing each other's air. 

Your eyes should be mapping out a quick exit. Coming up with a plan to get the hell out of here. Not looking into his. Not seeing the deep hue of nothingness that is abnormal to see in a sane person's eyes. The dilation of pupils letting you know that he’s got a plan either way. No matter how you take what he just told you.

“I’m ghostface.” 

The darkness in his eyes tells you you can run, but you won’t get far. You can tell someone, but we both know you won’t because I see you.

It’s why you haven’t moved. Why an escape is the last thing on your mind. Because your eyes are casting that same darkness right back at him. 

“You don’t have to pretend with me.” 

His words are like a fire engulfing you, more dangerous than the performance of normality you constantly put on. The sweet, rich girl whose parents gave her a free ride to college, who dote on her like a prized show pony because she’s the perfect child—the perfect daughter. 

The one thing in their lives they didn’t screw up. 

Being born screwed up and hiding it well, no fault of their own.

Known psychopaths rarely get what they want. They might, for a little while. But the lavishes never last. There's always more you need, more you want. And there are only so many people in this world who will give you what you want out of fear. 

Fear leads to trouble. Fear leads to getting caught. Turned in. Turned upon.

Hidden psychopaths, however, have an advantage. A perfected way of being that makes them seem like the nicest people you’ve ever met. The person you can run to. Trust. Count on. The person you wish you could be. 

That’s how you get what you want. 

That’s how you make the high of deceiving, hurting, and killing last. 

And if rich parents who like to hire nannies have taught you anything, it's that it is very easy to pretend. To perfect this little act. To be perceived as loving and being able to love when really all you want to do is gouge the person next to you’s eyes out. 

You have a system. A routine. You never let your crown slip. You never let anyone see you for what you truly are. You’d lose everything. Lavishes gone. That control you have gone. 

You didn’t care about being loved or feared. 

Feelings meant nothing to you. 

But watching the emotions of pain enacted on someone's face when you caused it? Nothing compared to it.

Besides, maybe the way Ethan is looking at you right now. 

The look someone gets when they look into a mirror and like the monster they see looking back at them. 

Part of you should have known. Should have seen this coming with the way his eyes were always already on yours when you looked his way in class. Or that night you caught him following you around campus, but you pretended you didn’t see him—much like the night he caught you red handed, literally, with blood staining your nails, and your pre-rehearsed explanation only making his eyes grow wider and fill with darkness, he quickly smiled away. 

And the nail that should have been pounded into the coffin when your roommate got attacked and all Ghostface did was wave his shiny little knife in your face, a gloved hand around your throat, and then disappeared down the fire escape. And the next day, when everyone was making your skin crawl from sympathy hugs and the fake tears that were glossing your eyes, Ethan had only given you dark looks from across the courtyard. 

Brows low and casting a shadow over his eyes in class. 

You should have known then. 

You’re usually so much better at reading people, trying to understand their normality to copy it. Use it against them.

But Ethan wasn’t normal. That much was clear. 

“I didn’t think you had it in you,” he chuckles under his breath as he shrugs, “this perfect little daddies girl, the girl everyone wants to sleep with, is crazy.” A slow smile lifts the corner of his mouth, “so many nights I’ve followed you, and you’ve kept your facade going. Even when no one was watching. Until the night I ran into you in the hall, the night I knew. I could see it written all over your face.” 

He leans in closer, his curls ghosting over your forehead. His voice a whisper, “but you’re not very good at hiding your messes, so I did it for you. I saved us both the trouble. You getting caught and me—well, Ghostface—taking credit for a kill so messy. And when I gave you my little present, that pesky roommate of yours gone, I could see it in your eyes. That trust. That you would have been happy with me either killing you or fucking you.” 

Your breath halts in your lungs, burning the back of your throat from the noise you let out when Ethan grabs it. Squeezing just enough to make it hard to swallow and to make that growing hunger move past your belly and throb between your legs. 

“Which is it now? Do you want to be fucked or killed?” 

Your lips try to form words, but the hand around your throat mingled with that perfected crown falling and shattering to the ground has your darkness making itself known more than just in the fire that’s so clearly burning in your eyes—the gasps that sound like weak whimpers, the warmth of your body against Ethan’s, the way your insides feel like molten lava when you consider both objectives—your mind is clouded with a pleasure you’ve only ever felt when you’ve watched the agony of pain fade out someone's light completely, your nails smelling of copper for days after.

If Ethan pulled out his knife right now and put it to your throat, you’d come before he made the first cut.

And as he says, “if I went downstairs and grabbed one of your fans and brought them up here and slit their throat for you, would you like that? Would you prefer that instead?” 

Your body shivers from his words, from the free hand that's running down your hip to the apex of your inner thigh—your sorry excuse for a skirt giving him more than enough access to press his thumb to the growing wet patch on the outside of your underwear. The pad of his finger pressing in and adding just the right amount of pressure to your aching clit to make your eyes flutter. 

“Or is it your insides you want me to see?” 

The involuntary whimper of his name, the motion of your hips trying to rub yourself against the miniscule touch between your legs, his last words, and the accuracy of it all are the finality for both of you. 

The thing that finally lets you both know that it doesn’t matter if he’s killing you, or you’re killing someone else, or blood is spilt for you, you’re putty in his hands right now, and you’re both fucked. 

So when his lips come down on yours, it’s hard and rough and lacking any sort of passion. 

Any sort of fake pleasure you’ve always had to give to past lovers. 

There's nothing fake about the heat inside of you. The sauna of depravity that Ethan is pulling out of you—devouring it with bloody teeth that match your own hunger. Your own fucked up way of getting off. Of feeling something. 

When Ethan starts to descend to his knees, leaving a trail of bites along your neck that feel too hard and imprinting to not be a personal vendetta of anger, of want, of a need to make you feel pain, to want it from him—you stop him. 

Yanking his curls so hard, he’s hissing against your mouth. Your fingers move in a flash of pushed away fabric, buttons, and zippers to free him and wrap a hand around his cock. Giving it a couple pumps. Watching the way his mouth parts and his lips curl in pleasure when you tighten and twist around the head. 

Wordlessly telling him what you want when you turn away, pushing your ass out for him as you bend yourself over the dresser. 

If you didn’t have him inside of you one way or another, you know you’d lose your patience. Know that darkness would simmer away into something worse, something that would leave the both of you in more agony than pleasure. 

You needed him. 

And by the sound Ethan makes when he thrusts into you—hard, without warning—you know he needs you too. Know that he’s probably gotten off to the thought of you bloodied and underneath him, his knife pressed to your throat, threatening to make you bleed if you didn’t let him come inside of you. If you didn’t let him lick the wounds he wants to create against your flesh. 

The pace he sets is rough. 

Harsh against your body that rubs against the rigid edge of the dresser. His nails dig into your hips as he pulls you back onto him, as he grabs the back of your neck, digging his fingers into your skull. 

The palm that snakes around to your neck pulls you up and against his front, putting your body at a new angle that has your muscles stretching in pain and making your eyes roll back. The noises of pleasure and pain like a fucked up hymn. 

“That night I was in your apartment, your life in my hands, do you know how much self control I had to have to not slice this pretty throat?” His teeth graze against the skin below your ear, his own groans and hitches of breath making you feel lightheaded. “To not make you bleed and spread it against my cock and make you jerk it off. Make you use your mouth to lick me clean.”

It’s those words and the lack of air his palm is allowing your lungs to intake that make you come. That has the gasp falling from your mouth sounding like something dying, something begging for life. 

Portraying the opposite of his words. Of why you’re coming. Of why the rush has you going lax against him and smiling. 

[aynavaano]

Do I look moderate to you?

Part six of the Crosshair × you series

Rating: Explicit

Wordcount: 3k

Summary:

Rex's call for your assistance on a mission, a few days ago, had stirred mixed emotions, particularly for Crosshair, who expressed reluctance about your involvement. Eventually you decide to go together but when Crosshair learns that you had a crush on Howzer before he met you he get’s really cocky and wants to fuck shit up.

Notes:

After a huge chapter of hurt/comfort I wanted to grace us with peak Crosshair smut. After working through his traumas he is back to his cocky self and decides to fuck shit up. We have fingering, edging and rough unprotected sex, soft dom Crosshair, just how I like him and I hope you too.

Rex's call for your assistance on a mission, a few days ago, had stirred mixed emotions, particularly for Crosshair, who expressed reluctance about your involvement. Since the Batchs last mission went sideways, he hasn’t left your side and has gotten very protective and vocal about his fear of loosing you. Nonetheless, you remain steadfast in your commitment to assist Rex, despite Crosshair's reservations.

"I'll be fine, Cross. Rex needs my help and I promised him," you assert, meeting his concerned gaze with reassurance. “Before we met I was perfectly safe with the team”

But Crosshair insists on at least accompanying you to ensure your safety. «Fine but I can't let you go alone. I'm coming with you," he declares, his tone tinged with worry. Despite understanding his concerns, you stand firm in your decision, affirming your trust in Rex and his team to keep you safe. But Crosshair makes it clear: You either go together or you won’t be going anywhere near a mission and eventually you give in, at least you won’t have to miss him then.

When Echo arrives to transport you to the new improvised base, everyone is happy to see him but as you say goodbye to the rest of the crew and get onboard the ship a slight tension creeps in. Just when you settle in for the journey Echo's words resound through the ship, a sense of nostalgia and regret lingering in the air. "Everyone will be so happy to have you back for a while, your skills are often missed, and your laughter made every mission so much lighter" Echo remarks, his tone tinged with sincerity. "I honestly never thought you'd leave us. We all kind of knew you joined because you had a crush on Howzer. Just Howzer probably didn't realize it until it was too late" he jokes with a hearty laugh.

Crosshair's reaction is immediate, a sharp gasp escaping his lips as he turns to you with a questioning gaze. "You never told me that," he states, his voice tinged with surprise and a hint of hurt.

Caught off guard by his reaction, you pause for a moment before responding. "I didn't think it was necessary," you admit, meeting his gaze with honesty. "Nothing happened between us, Crosshair. Howzer seemed not to be interested in me, and I was over my crush on him long before I met you," though you know that it probably wasn’t the best idea to keep this from him, just now that he is trying to learn to trust and accept the situation with Hunter.

The tension is uncomfortable, Echo's off-the-cuff revelation hanging between you and the weight of unspoken emotions adding to the unease of the moment. Despite the discomfort, you know that honesty is the only way forward. Since he recently opened up more to his emotions he has also become more vulnerable, you love that new side of him but you also know that you need to be more careful with him now.

“Okay listen, Echo is right, back on Ryloth I had set my heart on Howzer and when he offered me to come with him and join Rex’s crew, because they needed every help they could get, I gladly accepted. I wanted to spend more time with him and hoped it … ah I don’t even know what I hoped for. But he never showed any interest in me and what eventually made me stay was Rex and the others, they became friends and I was of great help. But I left all of that behind to be with you” …”Crosshair," you say softly, reaching out to gently touch his arm, "I love you. There's no reason for you to be jealous." Your words carry a sincerity that echoes through the tense atmosphere, a reassurance meant to soothe the doubts that lingered.

Echo, sensing the weight of his words, interjects with a note of apology. "I'm sorry," he says, his voice tinged with regret. "I didn't mean to drop that info on you like this, I thought you know Crosshair"

Crosshair doesn’t answer but he wraps his arm around you and pulls you close, resting his head on yours and so you spend the rest of the journey in uneasy silence. The tension is palpable, especially with Crosshair's presence beside you, however, the atmosphere shifts as the Remora finally sets down on Rex’s new makeshift base and you step off alongside Crosshair.

The welcoming committee displays a mix of surprise and joy at your arrival, but the unexpected appearance of Crosshair raises a few eyebrows. Rex is more than happy to see you and pulls you into a tender hug. "Thank you for coming in for assistance. Glad to see you both. Didn't expect you, Crosshair. Everything alright?"

Crosshair's response is blunt and tinged with arrogance. "We all know how the last visit went, Rex. I'm not taking any chances here."

You quickly step in to explain Crosshair's presence, emphasizing his concern for your safety. "Crosshair insisted on coming along. He's just looking out for me."

Rex nods, understanding but still wary. As the group makes their way to the briefing room and Rex starts to explain the mission, Crosshair's protective instincts are on full display. He shadows your every move, his presence both reassuring and stifling. He makes sure to keep you as far away from Howzer as possible and if looks could kill he would already be dead by now. When Crosshair insisted on coming with you, you already knew he wouldn’t leave your side and you didn’t mind, but to have him jealous made it worse and when Howzer makes a light-hearted but sardonic comment about leaving your "pet" at home next time, Crosshair's patience wears thin.

"Say that again" he growls, his eyes narrowing dangerously as he steps forward carefully pushing you behind him guarding you with his body, his fists clenched, ready to throw hands.

You interject quickly, placing a calming hand on Crosshair's arm. "It's okay, Cross," you say soothingly, shooting Howzer a pointed look. "We're all just a little on edge. Let's focus on the task."

Since the escape from Teth, the tension between Crosshair and Howzer had simmered down a little, but the dynamic between them remained volatile and the situation with you is pure fuel to the fire.

"You had your chance with her and you messed it up, now leave her alone." Crosshair hisses at Howzer “She’s mine now, if you like it or not.”

Howzer tries to look completely startled but he is not good at it, no one in this room would fall for that “so this is what’s it’s all about” he growls.

“How touching. Don’t think I’m a fool, I see the way you look at her, try to be close to her, try again and you will not live to see the next sunrise.” Crosshair grunts, grinding his teeth and getting ready to fistfight Howzer.

Rex, sensing the need to diffuse the situation, interrups "Moderation please. Let's keep it civil, everyone," he says, his voice firm but measured. "Believe it or not we’re all on the same team here."

Crosshair scoffs incredulously. "Do I look moderate to you?" he retorts, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "I'm not here to play nice. I'm here to make sure she’s safe" …»and I’ll do whatever is needed» he adds with a hostile glance towards Howzer while drawing you closer, one arm around your waist.

You quickly intervene, trying to diffuse the situation. "It’s okay Cross. Don’t let him get a rise out of you, let's focus on the mission, the faster we get through the sooner we’ll be back home."

Crosshair reluctantly relents, but the tension between him and Howzer remains palpable, simmering just below the surface.

As Rex tries to continue the briefing, Crosshair leans in close behind you, his voice low and husky as he whispers dirty thoughts in your ear.

"I can't wait to get you alone, love. I’m going to rip those pretty clothes off and have my way with you, remind you that only I can make you feel that way"

His words send shivers down your spine, the heat pooling between your legs as you struggle to focus on Rex's explanations.

"I’m going to make you scream my name, make you beg for more. I want you writhing beneath me, completely at my mercy."

Each whispered promise from Crosshair ignites a fierce craving within you, his desire overwhelming your senses. It’s been a while since he let his dominant side get a hold of him and you love it.

«Remind you who you belong to and fuck you absolutely senseless.»

"Cross» you whisper and shot him a sultry but warning glance, your mind already racing at the thought of what he’s going to do to you. You know this is because of Howzer, because you didn’t tell him and he feels the need to prove to you that no one loves you like he does and show everyone you’re his. It’s either this or letting him throw hands with Howzer. He might deserve it for calling Crosshair your pet but you’d much rather have Cross all over you.

"I’m going to make you scream so loud, Howzer won't even think about coming near you again." he continues and you have to hold back a chuckle, cause it’s just like you thought, you know him so damn well. You can’t help but smirk, his words sending a jolt of arousal through you, making it hard to focus on anything else. You try to pay attention to Rex, but Crosshair's naughty whispers keep drawing you in.

«I want to feel you squirming under me, clenching around my cock when I finally have mercy and let you cum."

Each word he utters fuels your desire, making you ache for the moment when you can be alone together. Rex's briefing becomes nothing but background noise as Crosshair's fantasies consume your thoughts.

As the briefing finally concludes and everyone begins to load the shuttle and make preparations for departure, you make your way to one of the cargo rooms to retrieve some gear. Crosshair follows closely behind, and as soon as he enters, he locks the door behind him.

In the dimly lit cargo room, his eyes gleam with a primal hunger as he pins you against the cold wall, his body pressed firmly against yours. His hands roam possessively over your curves, igniting a firestorm of desire within you. With a hungry growl, he captures your lips in a fierce kiss, his tongue dancing with yours taking in your taste, leaving you breathless.

He trails kisses along your neck, his fingers delving between your thighs, immediately teasing and tormenting your clit with an overwhelming precision. You gasp and moan as he plunges two fingers deep inside your dripping wetness without a warning, his touch sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body, already leaving you a whimpering mess in his arms «What do you want my love?" he murmurs, his voice a low, seductive growl. "I want to hear you beg for it.."

You can barely form words as pleasure consumes you, your body aching for more. Crosshair's fingers work you mercilessly, edging you closer and closer to the brink of oblivion. "Come on," he whispers, his voice dripping with sinful promise. "I want to hear you moan louder, or I’ll edge you until you can't think straight anymore"

Your breath catches in your throat as he quickens his pace, driving you completely crazy with each stroke of his fingers. "Please," you whimper, your voice barely more than a desperate plea. "I need to cum, Crosshair. Please let me cum."

He chuckles darkly, his lips curling into a wicked smirk. "Not yet, sweetheart," he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. "If you want me to make you cum I want to hear you scream my name."

You nod desperately and with that, he intensifies his thrust, pushing you to the brink of madness, two fingers in your drenching pussy rubbing against that sweet spongy spot and his thumb deliciously circling your clit. You cling to him desperately whimpering, lost in a whirlwind of pleasure you writhe beneath his touch, as he drives you relentlessly towards the edge, satisfied that your moans are getting louder and louder. And when you finally reach the pinnacle, it's like an explosion of sensation, your body convulsing with the intensity of your orgasm. "Crosshair!" you cry out, your voice echoing off the walls as pleasure washes over you in a tidal wave, his strong arms the only thing thats holding you up.

Your lips meet his in a passionate embrace, your body still humming with the intensity of your orgasm. Crosshair holds you tight up against the wall, kissing you through the afterglow of your climax until your breath slows down and your legs support your weight again. With a content smile, you gaze up at him, feeling intoxicated by the raw pleasure he gave you. "I'm pretty sure everyone on the base heard that," you remark playfully, a loving glint in your eyes. "Hope you proved your point." you chuckle and kiss him softly.

But instead of a response, Crosshair's lips curl into a wicked grin, his eyes smoldering with unquenched desire. Without a word, he pulls you closer, his hands trailing along your body with a possessive urgency. "Oh, my love," he murmurs huskily against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "I'm far from finished with you."

Crosshair's desire ignites into a burning intensity as he pulls you close, his hands firm and possessive and he guides you into position against the wall. He turns you around and lifts up you shirt, so your bare chest is pressed against the cold wall, the sensation of the cold steel against your nipples making you twitch. With a primal hunger in his eyes, he positions himself behind you, his thick cock throbbing with anticipation as he presses himself against your dripping wet pussy. You moan softly at the sensation, your arousal building with each passing moment.

“Will you be a good girl and take my cock?” Crosshair growls, grasping your hips firmly, his fingers digging into your flesh as he positions himself at your entrance and without warning, he thrusts into you with a forceful urgency, his sizable cock stretching you to the limit as he buries himself to the hilt. The sound of his flesh meeting yours fills the air, the rhythmic slap of skin against skin echoing off the walls as he pounds into you.

He sets a relentless pace, each powerful thrust driving you closer to the edge again, Crosshair's voice fills the room with a stream of dirty words that send shivers down your spine. "You like that, don't you?" he breathes into your ear, «when I make sure everyone knows who you belong to» his words dripping with lust and desire. Your answer is barely more than a whimper. He fucks you so damn good it’s debilitating.

With each powerful thrust, Crosshair's need consumes you both, his hips meeting yours with a fierce intensity that leaves you breathless, one hand tightly wrapped around your neck, restricting your bloodflow. «Tell me what you want, love» he whispers. You cling to the sensation, lost in a whirlwind of pleasure as he drives you towards the brink of ecstasy. "Oh Cross…, please, fi… fill me up" you moan, «I want to… feel you cum inside of me» your voice a desperate plea for more and he obliges, his movements becoming more forceful with each passing moment.

Your senses reel as Crosshair takes you to the edge and beyond, fucking you completely senseless, his relentless rhythm pushing you to the brink of oblivion, his cock now pressing against that one spot deep inside you that wipes your mind of any thoughts and leaves you a whimpering mess. With a guttural groan, you feel his cock pulsating inside you as he reaches his climax, his hot seed spilling into your depths and you cry out his name in ecstasy. The sensation of him filling you up completely sends you over the edge again, your own orgasm crashing over you in a blinding rush of pleasure. You cling to the wall panting for air, trying not to faint, Crosshairs chest against your back, his armor pressing into your sensitive skin as you ride out your orgasm.

After catching your breath, you twirl around and pull Crosshair into a passionate kiss, your lips meeting in a heated exchange of love and desire. Breaking away, you gaze into his eyes, pouring your heart out. "I love you," you whisper, your voice trembling with sincerity. "You're the only one I want, Crosshair, I’m yours."

Crosshair returns your affections with equal fervor, his lips claiming yours in a series of tender kisses. "I love you too," he murmurs against your skin, his words sending a rush of goosebumps all over your body. "and I'll do anything to keep you by my side."

With your legs still trembling from the intensity of your encounter, you walk, hand in hand with Crosshair, back to the main operations room where Rex is probably already waiting for your assistance. As you enter, you immediately notice Howzer, sending hostile glances in Crosshair's direction, ready to spit venom, his jealousy now more than evident. You know there's no way that what just happened remained concealed; the whole base must have heard you scream Crosshair’s name, just as he intended. But before Howzer can voice his objections, Rex intervenes, his annoyance visible. "Can you two just stop acting like two Targons on heat please?" he quips, his tone tinged with exasperation. «So we can finally get going.»

Crosshair smirks at Rex's remark, his satisfaction evident as he places a soft kiss on your lips. "Alright then, I'll let you work, I’ll be with Echo if you need me" he says, casting one last satisfied, superior glance in Howzer's direction before making his exit.

[casspurrjoybell-27]

Our Hearts Collide - Chapter 34 - Part 2

*Warning - Adult Content*

Vince

Simon's hand reached out to mine on the counter, interlocking. Rowan giggled and placed his hand atop ours, eliciting a laugh from us both.

Rowan went back to eating his plate of fruit and diced chicken with the help of Simon when Rowan would accidentally knock it off his plate and when Rowan seemed interested in something from our plate, Simon would patiently cut it into small pieces for him to try.

When Rowan didn't like it, Simon would feed it to me as he did with Rowan, mockingly saying 'ahh.'

Rowan would giggle before picking at the rest of his fruit.

"Thank you," I found myself saying to Simon.

"For what?" I shrugged.

"Everything. This is nice. Including you feeding me like that."

Simon laughed.

"Very well, shall I make Choo Choo sounds too while I feed you?"

"Yes," I said sarcastically.

"I require all the train and airplane sounds."

His nose crinkled.

"You dork."

"Don't you mean, your dork?"

He rolled his eyes before leaning in for a kiss, saying against my lips...

"Yes, my dork."

Rowan let out a squeal before pressing his palm to his lips.

"Muah."

*********

After taking care of the dishes and a plethora of Rowan's little 'muahs' Rowan wanted to show off all his toys that he had, scattering them on the floor and bringing them to me.

When he let his prized teddy bear remain in my lap during our pretend tea party, I couldn't help but look at Simon with that same pout he had worn earlier.

Rowan was too cute for his own good, so much so that I almost didn't want him to grow up, having a small and forever cute Rowan around would be adorable.

Not that he couldn't be cute and adorable when he was older but I had a feeling Rowan would be a force to be reckoned with.

Rowan was already strong for a one-year-old.

Seeing how much strength resided in such a tiny body, watching as he'd lift his little chair and table or push his box of toys around, was remarkable.

While werewolves tend to grow at an accelerated rate, I was surprised to see how steady Rowan was on his feet, walking from couch to couch, pulling himself up one with minimal help.

It made me wonder what Rowan would be like when he grew older.

While Arthur and Aspen's blood would indicate that Rowan would likely be stronger than most, it was more his personality that I wondered about.

Would he be as stubborn or intimidating as Aspen or kind and reserved like Arthur?

Or would he be more like Sarah, who was a mix of both?

Either way, I was sure Rowan could be anything he wanted and he'd have an army of support from his family and friends, me and Simon included but for now, I'd gladly watch as he grew into the person he'd become.

Even if that meant one day, he'd no longer see me in the same light as he does now and with Lilah's growing curiosity, I feared both of Xavier's kids would feel the same way.

It was best to cherish this while I could, so I did.

"You think he'd tired himself out yet?" Simon asked, his hand placed on my lower back.

"It's almost bath time."

I smiled back, removing the pile of other stuffed animals Rowan had gifted me in front of me.

"I sure hope so. He's tiring me out by just watching him."

Simon got up and pressed a kiss against my temple.

"I'll clean up in here if you want to help grab his clothes from his room."

I nodded, sneaking in a quick kiss against his cheek.

"Rowan, it's bath time, bub," I told him, extending my hands out to him.

"Let's get your change of clothes."

In Rowan fashion, he was surprisingly complacent, scrambling to my arms like bath time was a fun adventure.

Lilah and Jonah were the complete opposites when they were younger, almost like dragging two feral cats into a tub.

Whatever sorcery Aspen and Sarah had managed to use, I was eternally grateful.

Rowan clutched my neck as we went down the hall to his room, decorated in dinosaurs and safari animals, a mix of both because Sarah had said she couldn't decide and it turned out Rowan loved both.

He especially loved the elephants, bears and brachiosaurus.

I set him down, checking to see if Aspen or Sarah had laid out an outfit for Rowan on the bed but it appeared they trusted me or rather Simon, to dress him.

Simon would've probably been better at choosing colors that matched or something more comfortable but he was still tackling the mess we, mostly Rowan, made in the living room.

"Alright, Rowan," I preened.

"How about I let you decide what to wear and see if your other Un-un approves?"

He made a noise that sounded like he agreed and I shrugged, heading to the closet, only to realize it was filled with even more toys and stuffed animals.

Rowan giggled as he stumbled to the other side of the room toward the dresser, as if he knew exactly where to go for his clothes.

He tugged on the bottom handle, almost managing to open it fully.

He tried to crawl inside before reaching for the second and third handles above him.

Assuming he was trying to pick his own clothes or grab another blanket, I let him be, awed at how much energy this kid still had in him.

After hours of playtime and no intermittent nap, I didn't understand.

It wasn't until his little hands managed to reach the top drawer did I realize the problem too late.

It played out like some sped-up video in my head, watching as the dresser came crashing down on Rowan.

Call it some sort of premonition or an overactive imagination, I had little time to dwell on it.

My body just reacted.

It happened so quickly that I didn't register the pain, nor did I register the sound of the dresser hitting my head and back.

My hands wrapped around the one-year-old as I felt my legs buckle from the dresser's weight.

If I couldn't manage to keep it upright, I couldn't let it slip and hit Rowan.

All I could think was I needed to protect Rowan, even if that meant getting crushed by a dresser.

[missorgana]

you shine, i'll shine for you

pairing: alina starkov/genya safin, background nina zenik/matthias helvar

fandom: shadow and bone (tv)

rating: general

word count: 5163

warning: referenced cheating, swearing

summary: Genya thought she’d seen it all, until today, where a young person her age rushes through the door and approaches her with a strange question, “What sort of flowers do you get to tell someone to go fuck themselves?” (flower shop au)

(a fluffy au that’s been loooong underway !! inspired by this post, naturally. had a bit too much fun searching up flower meanings as well so... hope you enjoy!)

read on ao3

Genya believes flowers speak their own language.

They show love, adoration, and everything in between, and there’s a reason they’re used for most special occasions, she thinks; although a staple gift when you barely know someone, they’re also an invitation to get to know someone better.

Like Nina and Matthias. It didn’t surprise her in the least that he wanted to ask Nina out, alas, he asked Genya for help on the bouquet, since he just started. The look on her friend’s face when she told her about their fast date was too precious.

And naturally, this is why she opened her little flower shop in the first place. She loved the area, homely and cozy, the atmosphere and the residents.

She’s helped their clients with gifts for any situation you could think of; a last minute anniversary gift, flower arrangements for that big fairytale wedding, the perfect Mother’s Day bouquet, and the businessman getting flowers for his beloved sister’s grave touched her deeply.

Genya thought she’d seen it all, until today, where a young person her age rushes through the door and approaches her with a strange question, “What sort of flowers do you get to tell someone to go fuck themselves?”

She’s simply baffled by the request.

The client’s got restless hands and fire in their eyes, dark hair in a braided bun and wearing a baby blue dress, neck and ears dressed with gold jewelry and a matching septum piercing. They’re almost glowing in the late autumn sun, to be completely honest.

In fact, they’re already reaching for their purse, while Genya tries to work through her confusion and do her best - this is an assignment like any other, she reminds herself, this is her job.

“Oh, uh, depends on the occasion, really…” she starts, and since the customer in front of her curses themself as they find their wallet, the clear anger on their face intensifying, she figures she’ll need to keep her cool, “If I may ask?”

In customer service you’ll have to deal with rude clientele, God knows Genya has, and although this person in no way seems like  that type of person, she still keeps it a priority to not upset them anymore than someone else already has.

She smiles, giving them less of her staple customer service smile, more a hesitant smile because the client also sniffs, and wipes their eyes rather stubbornly before looking back at her.

They’re also more beautiful than sunflowers in bloom, that much is obvious. But someone’s hurt them, and it makes Genya’s heart ache for them with a stinging kind of certainty.

“Sure,” they reply, sniffling again, “My boyfriend’s cheated on me for the second time.”

Second time? Dear God.

Genya doesn’t even know this man, but she does know he’s an asshole, mind the language. She’s sure she must look shocked, because the client chuckles bitterly, clutching their wallet a bit tighter.

“I just need him to fuck off for good. It’s long overdue, really.”

She decides to smile again, nodding, hoping she’s conveying her sympathy right, “I understand.”

And since she gets a timid smile back, albeit still with clenched fists down their side, it makes Genya a little more sure of herself again. If the person wasn’t pretty before, they’re even prettier now. She mentally curses whoever this man is for making them this angry, and making them cry. No one deserves that, but especially not them, Genya thinks.

Luckily it’s a Monday, a slow day for flower sales, and they’re the only customer inside, so she’s reaching for her encyclopedia immediately.

“I do know a bit about flower meanings,” she explains to them, “It’s not common knowledge, but I got a few ideas.”

The client nods, satisfied, and their eyes turn a little less angry and more curious.

“What’s your budget?” she asks while flickering through the pages, and the person in front of her takes less than a second to answer, “The biggest you got, he- We were supposed to go to Paris, so I’ve been saving up. Got some money to blow.”

What a fucking douchebag. Again, excuse the language, but this really sounds like the sort of person who’s drink she would gladly spit in. She might be really excited for this bouquet, now. Serves him right.

Everything that jumps to her mind should be in stock, actually. Genya’s never had to look up negative meanings to the flowers before, admittedly, but she does find some scribbled notes in what appears to be Nina’s handwriting next to the black roses.  Revenge roses. Okay, maybe a bit too sinister, but she’ll keep them in mind.

She finds herself moving out behind the counter before she knows it, and when she picks up the first bunch she notices her client looking over her shoulder in an adorable kind of confusion, so Genya speaks up, “These are yellow carnations, they signal disappointment.”

They nod again, the small smile on their lips growing just an inch brighter. Their hands seem more relaxed, she finds herself noticing.

“Perfect,” they approve, “Is there a hate flower, you think?”

The bluntness no longer surprises her, and since the client huffs at themselves, Genya returns the smile with more certainty. Fair enough, she decides.

“Yes, surprisingly enough,” she chuckles, “Orange lilies. I also have foxglove for insincerity?”

“Oh, definitely.”

“I thought so,” Genya likes this person, she decides, probably way more than she should for a complete stranger, but… can you blame her? 

She likes the guts it takes to make a bouquet like this, to be honest. And it’s like they keep getting prettier and prettier the more Genya looks at them, is that crazy? Probably. Matthias would roll his eyes at her, but she and Nina both know how cheesy he actually is, so whatever.

This client is also getting a hate bouquet for a soon-to-be-ex, though, so she’s real with herself, she can’t allow herself to get attached or anything. Would be unprofessional, regardless, but she can admire them anyway, right?

“What else, what else…” Genya wanders a bit more, her client following in tow, she’s got the centerpieces, but the white of this flower would add nicely to the overall look, “Meadowsweet! It, uh, it stands for uselessness.”

The person in front of her lights even more up at the suggestion. She’s thrilled, because honestly, not only helping them but also maybe, possibly impressing this client is suddenly very important to her.

“Alright, I think that’ll do nicely,” she finally tells them, writing the names and price ranges down on her notepad. “Unless you want to add some geraniums, too?” The customer looks at the sample she shows them, biting their lip in contemplation.

“It’s beautiful,” they confess.

“It is,” she agrees, “But it also signals stupidity.”

They laugh at that, a ringing sound like bells or… butterfly wings, maybe. This is just about making Genya’s whole week right now.

“Yeah, I need those.”

And so it’s decided, and she returns to her counter with the notes and shows the client the different bouquet sizes. She figures they might need a card, too, “I don’t have any ‘Fuck you’ cards, unfortunately. Will a blank one be alright?”

They nod, more eager than ever.

“Actually,” they’re running their finger over the sheet with the sizes before looking back at Genya again, “I know this is a big ask, but I was gonna leave the bouquet at his office. Do you think… we could, maybe, cover his desk in these flowers?”

Yet another suggestion that has her standing wide-eyed.

The client chuckles at themself again and fumbles a strand of hair behind their ear, “I’ll pay whatever it costs, I promise. If it’s even possible, that is.”

Genya considers this, and well, it’s definitely possible, they’ve got enough stock for it. The same thing as decorating a chapel for a wedding, sort of, but on a smaller scale. It’s doable.

“I do think my delivery guy can carry it, actually,” she replies, hoping Matthias won’t ask too many questions, but oh well, “We would need entry to the building, though-”

“I have the keys.”

“Oh.”

This person is well prepared. Genya loves it.

“It’s just really a matter of how many bouquets will be needed…” she’s thinking hard, an office cubicle is what she imagines the client is talking about, not too hard to fill up, realistically, “20? Will that be plenty?”

They full-on grin, “God, yes. Make it 22. I, uh, I got cash.”

And so it’s sorted, and a promise of scheduling the delivery for Wednesday, said soon-to-be-ex’s next work day, is settled. Matthias delivers the flowers a little before 8, the customer lets him in and they carry the load together, foolproof plan, Genya’s sure. “This is his number, Matthias Helvar, if you have any trouble, running late or getting into the building, whatever it may be.”

“Thank you so much for this, seriously,” they’re smiling almost from ear to ear, and honestly, she’s a little embarrassed that making this particular person as happy as they appear to be is making her feel so… warm? “This is perfect. I cannot wait to see his face. And walk away.”

It’s a funny sort of bonding experience, or feels like it, less than a transaction. 

Before the client leaves, Genya gets their contact information in return, and an excited wave as the doorbell rings them out. Alina Starkov, the card says, and she/they pronouns right underneath.

She wonders if she’ll ever see them again. She doubts it. But she hopes she’s wrong.

*

Genya does, in fact, see a particular client again, one that for some reason stays on her mind after the delivery is done and in the five weeks till she sees them again, embarrassingly enough.

Matthias didn’t ask a lot of questions, besides the wide eyes and then looking the happiest she’s seen him since Nina kissed him for the first time. He didn’t need convincing, to put it simply.

“Whoever this Alina is, they got some guts,” he laughed to her while they were packaging all those flowers for him, “Practically covered our expenses for the month.”

That’s true, it’s lovely, that pure luck that sometimes hits them like a flood.

She’s over the moon, but of course, she doesn’t mention the part of it being because of that person’s bright smile replacing dried tear stains, and how the change made Genya feel like she’s never done anything more important than making her happy. God, Safin, Nina is rubbing off on you.

The boy lets her know the delivery went smoothly, and that Alina thanked him profusely, but that’s as much as she knows before the bell rings on a late Thursday and Nina’s voice calls from the front of house and reaches to the back where Genya is currently cutting stems.

She dries off her hands in their signature lavender apron - credit to Nina for that, as well - you’d be surprised how dirty a day’s work can get, and Genya takes care not to ruin any of her many, many floral dresses. Yes, she wears florals only to work. Once again, sue her.

She’s not sure why her friend would need assistance, she rarely asks for it, yet, there she stands.

Alina Starkov gives her a smile once again, but it’s less timid today, in no way tearful, instead calm and curious. Like they’re happy to see her, almost.

“Genya! Hi!” she says, and she’s more than a little surprised, much like their first meeting. Did she ever introduce herself? “Sorry, I hope I’m not disturbing, I, uh, I told Nina how grateful I am for your help with you-know-who. Wanted to thank you in person.”

That’s just way too adorable, isn’t it?

She feels her smile growing without even controlling it, and the brunette next to her is definitely looking like she wants to ask some questions ( many  questions), but she’ll have to wait, geez, Genya cannot be having a romance novel moment in her store of all places.

Realising she also has to collect herself while being in front of the client and her best friend, and not zone out because her inner hopeless romantic is firing up inside her, she decides to brush it off and try to act casual, somehow, “I’m just happy to help. I assume it went as planned, then?” “Better than planned, even. He’ll be regretting it for the rest of his life, I hope.”

Alina laughs, and Genya gets that warm flush inside her chest again. And out of the corner of her eye, Nina looks less curious and more just straight up smug. Damn her.

“I think Matthias is calling me,” is actually how Nina first speaks up, and while the client nods, like they’re away in thought, Genya sees right through her.

“I didn’t hear anything.”

“You didn’t?” her friend questions, tilting her head, already moving towards the door Genya just came through, “Oh, I did. Can’t leave him hanging, might be urgent.”

“Nina-”

“Back in a jiffy!”

She’s left alone with Alina. Which is fine, you know, they were alone when they first met, right- but listen, Genya is still very much thinking about the person saying her name and the realization that she is, of course, wearing a name tag hits simultaneously with another shock: she  remembered her name.

Logically, that’s not out of the ordinary at all. Gosh.

But she knows it’s not because it’s a shocking experience and more that a person who’s as beautiful as them is smiling at her and that they might just be the prettiest person she’s ever seen and that the thought of making her happy is making Genya happy, believe it or not. She doesn’t understand why this is different from any of her other experiences, but it is.

She hasn’t seen a smile like theirs before, that she knows. It makes her feel all strange and bubbly, like drinking champagne.

However, Alina is speaking up again, so Genya desperately needs to get out of her head.

“I was actually… uh, wondering if you’re maybe able to help me out again?” she starts, looking a tiny bit nervous, “If you’re not busy, that is, oh my God.”

And maybe Genya shakes her head way too quickly, but sue her, “Not at all!”

The client grins, the blush in their cheeks surely must be from the cold wind outside, and it just makes them prettier, if that’s even possible. “You’re a lifesaver.”

Now, she’s gotten this nickname before. Of course those times weren’t from Alina, and she makes sure to hide just how flustered she’s becoming, shaking her head and swinging her hand, “Stop it. I’ll try my best, heh.”

Alina clears her throat before continuing, “My best friend’s coming home, I haven’t seen him in over a year, and… Do you have, like, friendship flowers? I wanna surprise him at the airport.”

Once again, the person in front of her is just downright adorable. It’s almost frustrating.

Genya chuckles, because she doesn’t need the encyclopedia for this request, and easily makes her way over to the roses.

The client looks over the bouquet she picks up with the very same joy as their first meeting. “Yellow rose is  the friendship flower, actually! Usually put together with violets, but I can change it up if you want…?”

“No no no!” they hastily reply, already taking the offer of grabbing the bundle, looking down upon it with visible dimples and eyes shimmering with excitement, “They’re perfect. Mal’s gonna love them, I know it!”

“Ah, I hope so.”

She feels almost shy with all this flattery coming her way, especially from Alina, of course, and once more she thanks her just about five hundred times before hurrying out the shop, phone chiming in the distance.

Even after they’ve left, Genya still cannot believe they came back. And remembered her. Or like, specifically sought out her help, again. Huh.

Nina immediately peeks her head around the corner when the front door has shut, her face lit up like it’s Christmas Eve, “They seemed nice. And pretty.”

“Nina,” is all she can come up with, giving her best glare, while her best friend feigns innocence.

“Yes, Genya?”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

She sighs, “Just don’t.”

*

If Genya’s second encounter with Alina Starkov wasn’t surprising enough already, imagine her shock when she finds exactly this person entering her shop two months later. Events requiring flowers aren’t constant, which, again, is why she didn’t expect to see her ever again, but she’s not complaining, of course.

She’s working the counter when the door opening reveals Alina, their golden earrings present as always and her hair in two buns, wearing a cropped rainbow sweater and dungarees. Looking just as pretty as last time she saw them, oh God, that fluster’s coming right back.

Except she’s not alone this time. Alina’s got a taller stranger in tow, with curly hair, lip ring and pink floral shirt layered over possibly the most ridiculous graphic tee Genya’s ever laid her eyes upon.

Her recurring client waves when they spot her, heading straight to her, while their friend is almost spinning around in awe.

“Hello again,” Genya greets her, because fuck, she might just get excited over the mere sight of them. Meeting again. Is the universe trying to tell her something?

It’s an absurd thought that shouldn’t matter at all, get yourself together, she tells herself.

“Hi!” They seem even more excited than last time she saw them, and Genya wonders what the occasion could be before Alina continues, “How’ve you been?”

There’s that funny feeling again.

It’s kind of like a lump in her throat, this time, but still as bubbly and warm as before. It’s also just endearing for many different reasons, one being that she rarely gets customers twice, or thrice, and casual conversation is never as easy as theirs. She’s overthinking it, definitely.

“Busy, but good,” Genya tells her, and is about to return it, while remembering their companion, “You? And sorry, ah, I’m Genya.”

Alina’s eyes are like fireworks, almost, and she waves over her friend who’s entranced by the lilies. They’ve got a spring in their step as they make it over to them.

“This is Jesper,” they introduce them, and the tall stranger winks in greeting, “Jesper, this is Genya. I told him all about the shop, cause you’re like… the queen of flowers.”

Oh my God, why is she so sweet? It almost makes her feel embarrassed, the two of them looking at her as she imagines a blush rising just from the client’s words.

“Pleasure to meet you.”

“Right back at ya!” he replies, one hand in his pocket and another gesturing wildly in the air, “This is amazing, by the way. I see why Alina goes to you for stuff like this.”

Genya laughs, feeling strangely more comfortable and less nervous now. Still, she figures she should probably get to business, they wouldn’t have come here if they didn’t have a purchase in mind, right? As much as the compliments are much appreciated, Alina being the source of them is yet again making her slightly incapable of functioning normally. 

She can only hope she’s improved at hiding crushes since high school, because, well… that is what this is. Genya can’t really lie to herself anymore, or pretend it’s nothing.

It’s making her slightly breathless, this person appearing and reappearing in her life.

But she does need to get over it, because as she tells herself every time, Alina is a customer and she is a salesperson. Her life isn’t a rom-com, as tragic as that may be.

“I hope your friend liked the flowers,” she said, not even needing to wait for a response as they lit up again and confirmed, dimpled smile and all, “Can I help you with anything today?”

Alina nods and hooks her arm with Jesper, “You know it. Friends of ours just got engaged, we wanna have a, uh… tiny celebration for them.”

“By that we mean surprise the shit out of them,” he follows with no hesitation, and Genya and Alina laugh, in syncron. Alright, that’s also totally fine.

“I’m sure we can figure something out for that,” she tells them. She figures flower meanings are less necessary this time around, and when she spots the bottle of champagne and heart shaped box in the client’s tote bag, she decides on a simple question, “Well, red roses are the classic. Most romantic. Do they have any favorite flowers or colors, and such?”

Jesper seems to be squinting in concentration, and Alina bites their lip. It’s quite endearing.

But the client’s eyes widen, then, and they blurt out with only a beat difference, “Pink!”

It comes out as a half-yell, actually, judging by the sweet elderly woman from down the block jumping in the other end of the shop, and Matthias nearly dropping the bunch of tulips he’s carrying onto the back of his bike wagon. The two look awfully apologetic during it all.

“Inej’s favorite color,” Alina explains with an embarrassed giggle, ducking their head, “It’s pink.”

Genya nods, “I see. How about… pink and white lilies, then?”

Jesper seems to smile in approval. “I like that. See, I would’ve just gone with pink roses.”

She gives them a sample, which they both seem pleased with, she hopes so at least, while chuckling once more at his statement, “Could work as well. But these are popular for gifts, they symbolise admiration.”

Her (favorite) client scrunches her nose with as big a grin as hers, already made up their mind, “I think she’ll love them.” And Genya, of course, feels a massive honor in helping them. Again. She can’t believe Alina’s come back two times. Gosh, she’s thinking too much.

“I’ll write these up for you, then,” she tells them while they’re already following her to the counter. At the same time, Jesper’s got furrowed brows in a thinkful sort of face, and Genya doesn’t really know if this is directed to Alina or herself, nevertheless he wonders aloud, “Not sure what my favorite flower is. You got one, Alina?”

“Duh,” the shorter person answers, without hesitation, “Sunflower. Everyone’s got one, right?

Sunflower .

In her mind, nothing else has made as much sense as this. This was the flower she first associated her client with, what their beauty could only be compared with. They shine, so much it’s near blinding Genya, at this point. Yes, she knows it’s cheesy, but it’s only in her head, after all.

Genya realises this question, however, is very much meant for her, and so she answers while typing in their total, bouquet already wrapped up to go, “I think so, yeah. I think your favorite means a lot for you, as a person.”

The taller man seems to consider this.

Then, “I like daffodils.”

“They mean rebirth,” she tells him, “Good choice.”

He looks pleased by her explanation. Alina seems to be the one deep in thought now, though, in fact, they’ve already paid and got the bunch in hand, Jesper saluting Genya in goodbye when the client asks, “What’s your favorite?”

As many times before, they never cease to surprise her, do they?

“My favorite flowers?”

She nods.

“Magnolias,” Genya needs no time to consider this, it’s easy, “Perseverance.”

Alina’s got her wide grin again, but… it changes, a little bit. It’s almost secretive. Promising. Regardless, Genya doesn’t know what to do with her thoughts about it, or the client bidding them their own farewell with, “Till next time!”

She’s quite sure this person will be the death of her, sooner or later.

And as if they could read her mind, Nina and Matthias appear at her side, the man’s arms crossed and her best friend’s arm around his waist, both looking at Genya like they could somehow dig into her brain and know all her secrets. They’re so annoying sometimes. When they’re not adorable. Mostly annoying, though.

“What are you two looking at?” she asks them, and the couple exchange a look before Nina grins.

“They asked for your favorite flower,” she says, her boyfriend nodding in agreement. Genya doesn’t know what to say.

“I know.”

Matthias cocks a brow, “You do?”

She scoffs in disbelief at whatever game they have going on, “Yes?”

Her best friend sighs and puts her free on her shoulder. She tilts her head, “Matthias asked for my favorite before our first date.”

Genya frowns. “I know.”

Nina then chuckles, because they’re both weird and wonderful at the same time, apparently, “You’re impossible.”

“I know what you’re suggesting, Nin,” she then says, because come on, it’s obvious what they’re implying. And it’s bullshit. It was just a question, you know? It must’ve been. Curiosity, that’s all. “But  that  is impossible.”

And because Nina’s looking at her in disbelief, she tilts her head in return, and her friend gives up on the staring contest soon enough. “Whatever you say, babe.”

*

As Genya expected, although much to her disappointment, it seems she won’t see anymore of her beautiful client with raven hair and smile like the sun itself, tragically.

It’s her own fault, really, getting… a bit too attached. She’s fine!

Of course Nina and Matthias are right about her crush, she already knew this. And a month after their last meeting, she admitted defeat just so they could get off her ass about it. Now, though, her best friend looks at her with a sad smile sometimes, like she can sense the disappointment that Alina’s presence is missing entirely from the shop.

They don’t have anything requiring flowers, she didn’t expect them to, all the time. And like, asking for Genya’s favorite flower didn’t mean anything, as her friends kept insisting. They were having a conversation. Customer and shop owner.

Why does she miss her? God, Genya needs to get a grip. It’s just a bit annoying, because she doesn’t feel bubbly and light anymore without Alina Starkov, and she still loves her job,  of course , but maybe she does find herself a little bit jealous when the wedding season kicks in and the boutique is full of couples day in and day out, young and old, all looking at each other like no flower can compare to their love. It’s making her a little nauseous, not that she’ll ever admit it out loud.

Strangely enough, she does get a visit from a couple, a grumpy fellow and a woman with a soft smile, who never let go of each other’s hands while Genya sketched out ideas for the flower arrangement. They wanted geraniums. She somehow recalled her name: Inej Ghafa. And Kaz Brekker. Huh.

Matthias’ birthday passes, where Nina gets him cornflowers (of course), and a month later yet, a familiar face returns when Jesper stumbles in the door in excitement, eagerly purchasing a bouquet of irises for his boyfriend.

Even her mom’s in love, she tells her over the phone, and God, she’s happy for them all. Maybe Genya’s just been lonely too long.

She hadn’t even thought of dating in forever. Hadn’t thought of being single could possibly bore her, or tire her. Until, you know. Alina.

Whatever, whatever!

She’ll get over her stupid infatuation, eventually, she just needs to focus on her work, it was just a string of coindences, and once wedding season is over she’ll forget all about her favorite client who got away. Hopefully.

The universe has way, way different plans for her, though, apparently, because as she and Nina lock up for the evening, Matthias helping them carry the last load of a busy day even though this is technically his off-day (probably an excuse to be with his girlfriend even more, she suspects, but hey), Genya stops in her tracks in the parking lot.

The couple a few steps in front of her appear totally unfazed. They must know what’s going on.

And her suspicion is right, because Nina’s grinning from ear to ear when she looks back at her, “You okay, Gen?”

Genya blinks in disbelief.

Her car. It’s completely covered in… in  magnolias.  She can barely see any trace of her car, in fact, if it wasn’t for the lights blinking when she unlocked it.

What the hell is going on?

She’d had a rather normal day, busy but normal, and scheduled to drive back home to her mom for her birthday early tomorrow. But this is strange. Unreal. Not necessarily in a bad way, the flowers’ smell reaches her all the way over here, but just strange.

Matthias cocks his head and grabs Nina’s hand, “Aren’t you gonna look at your gift?”

“My… my gift?” she asks him, not sure what to say anymore. They definitely had a hand in this. “You already gave me gifts yesterday,” she tells them, dumbfounded.

Her best friend rolls her eyes, “It’s not from us, dummy.” “Who’s it from, then?”

“Shh! That’s a surprise.”

“Nina,” she warns, feeling the exhaustion take over her ever so quickly.

The brunette kisses her cheek and then tugs at her boyfriend’s arm towards her own car. Matthias winks. Screw them.

“Take a look!” they yell to her.

Well… okay then. Genya approaches her car slowly, only a little scared someone’ll jump out from the mountain of pink flowers and scare her half to death. Of course, this isn’t a prank, because her friends are bad at pranks, and the magnolias are so gorgeous she may be getting a little teary eyed.

These little ones reminded her to keep going, when she was at her lowest. It’s stupid, but she felt like she could overcome anything, learning the flower’s meaning and finding a blossom outside of her window back then, like a little reminder from the universe. That’s why they're her favorite. Perseverance.

Bugger, she should probably get started on digging her vehicle out from somewhere in there. Except… her eyes fall upon a little pink card, secured on the wiper. And on it, her name is written, in cursive, gold letters.

Her curiosity takes over, of course it bloody does, and she picks up the card immediately, and when she flips it over…

Is this a fever dream?

Happy early birthday, Genya Safin. Call me? Sincerest wishes (and apologies for the car, grand gesture), Alina Starkov.

This is most definitely a fever dream. Except the card is very real in her hands, and the smell of the magnolias embrace her like a warm hug, and her friends honk as they leave the lot, laughing audible even with the windows all the way up.

Alina’s phone number is written at the bottom, underlined and everything, with a tiny heart next to it.

A grand gesture. A grand romantic gesture, at that. Genya cannot for the life of her stop smiling, big and in shock and flushed and excitement flowing through her veins.

They remembered.

[tuancore]

Lost You (Part 15) :

Starring- Jinyoung x reader

Genre- Angst

Summary- It's your choices and actions which made you miserable.

Jinyoung was growing impatient by the rate with which the meeting was proceeding, three hours in the meeting and he felt like he has already spent an year inside the conference hall. Hyunjin kept on mouthing incoherent things to him, trying his best to prevent Jinyoung from daydreaming in such an important meeting.

"I hope you liked the proposal, Mr. Park" The new business partner exclaimed happily, standing up from his seat, finally getting Jinyoung's undivided attention. Jinyoung nodded his head with a polite smile standing from his seat as well, "Mr. Jung, I'm really looking forward for our collaboration, thanks for your precious time".

"No worries Mr. Park, I'm glad that we are able to work together" He chuckled again with a genuine smile, "I'll let my secretary send you the drafts of the agreement, you can have a look at it and if you would like to make changes you're most welcome".

"Sure, thank you" Jinyoung spoke for the last time shaking hands with Mr. Jung, "Sir, I would like if you don't leave the meeting hall until I'm done escorting them" Hyunjin bowed politely before guiding Mr. Jung and his secretary the way out of the company. Few other employees who were also requested to attend the meeting left the hall after greeting Jinyoung.

With everyone out, Jinyoung immediately fished out his phone dialling BamBam's number. He ran his fingers through his luscious locks biting on his bottom lip impatiently. He wasn't able to concentrate properly in the meeting but he did take note of the main points, he was growing way too impatient to be beside you again, in these two months it's for the first time that he has left your side for so long almost three and a half hours.

"Why the hell isn't he picking up my calls?!" Jinyoung yelled tossing his phone on the leather chair, after BamBam failed to receive his calls.

Hyunjin entered into the room swiftly, standing in front of Jinyoung from the other side of the table, "Hyunjin, I have to go. Whatever the agreement will be just email them to me", Jinyoung expressed striding towards the door to leave.

"Ma'am is not in the hospital" Hyunjin stated slowly turning his head to face Jinyoung, who halted in his steps before he could even push the door open, "What do you mean by that?".

"Sir, ma'am is not in the hospital. Yugyeom hyung messaged me that Ma'am gained consciousness almost an hour ago and that they are taking her with them".

"S—She woke u—up?" Jinyoung's lips quivered with happiness, which he wasn't able to supress. He hugged Hyunjin tightly almost cutting his oxygen supply, "I—I understand but you're k—killing me—me...".

He broke the hug placing his hands on Hyunjin's shoulder, he reconfirmed "You sure, that they were not joking.....She really is......I mean she.....Oh god finally!". Hyunjin's heart warmed seeing Jinyoung so happy for the first time in these past months.

"I'm also very happy Sir".

"Why didn't you inform me earlier?"

"If I had informed you earlier then you would've surely left the meeting and rushed there, and you know this meeting was very important for us, for the company.....I'm sorry Sir", Hyunjin hung his head low in guilt for not informing him about you soon just because he was being thoughtful for the company and not for you who is Jinyoung's life.

"Yah!" Jinyoung called, shaking Hyunjin's shoulders, "There's nothing to be sad about, I'm so glad that you were always there beside me, always handled the official work whenever I failed to, I know these past months were hard for you as well. But not even once did you complain and I appreciate you heartily for that, Hyunjin-ah".

Smiling softly, Hyunjin nodded his head. Many of the employees of the Park Inc. wondered as to why Jinyoung tolerated Hyunjin when most of the times Hyunjin bossed Jinyoung around, but the thing which both of them hid very well was that Hyunjin was Jinyoung's cousin, he offered Hyunjin to work for him for the sake of work experience which Hyunjin gladly accepted.

He was afraid that people in the company would think that Hyunjin was trying to take advantage of being Jinyoung's brother, so he decided to not let anyone know that he was related to him instead he'll work as a normal employee along with others. Reluctantly Jinyoung accepted it, being such a young lad Hyunjin was super smart in every aspect of business administration, just like Jinyoung was. And within a small amount of Hyunjin became the most dedicated and hardworking employee of the company.

"Thank you hyung...." Hyunjin muttered softly, "So enough of this melodrama, we'll continue it later, I was starting to like it though", he teased Jinyoung for getting sentimental as he barely expresses his feelings to someone.

"Yeah.......sometimes it's good to cry and rejoice like people in daily soaps" Jinyoung added, both of them laughing heartily.

"Let's go and have Ma'am back in your arms now shall we?".

__________

"Will you both speak now?" You asked the two boys standing in front of you sternly, eyeing them in irritation. After the little confusing revelation of Youngjae being your bff, you started losing your temper growling at both of them for their stupid attempt to protect Youngjae and Jinyoung and have you to forgive them. Not knowing specifically what has to be done they brought you to their studio.

Crossing your legs on the only couch in their pretty decent studio, you sighed, "I have no idea what you both are trying to pull off.....but it's not enough to change my mind".

"Noona to be honest we are also as clueless as you", Yugyeom stated sitting on his swivel chair, "What do you mean?" You asked tilting your head.

"Can we know why you're so mad at Jinyoung and Youngjae?" BamBam cut in with a humble smile, "What did they both do? That you don't even want to hear their names".

"Did you both hit your head hard?" You blurted in disbelief, the two have been sticking around with you since the beginning of all the mess and now they are acting as if they don't remember a single thing. Unbelievable.

BamBam and Yugyeom both didn't want to force things on you seeing your still not very stable state, but your words were getting to their minds they have to know what's the reason behind your outburst, your anger for the other two.

Giving you a stoic face, they insisted for you to explain the thoughts going inside your head. With that you let everything out from the beginning to end, how Jinyoung alleged you of cheating on him with Jackson, how BamBam came to know about Jinyoung and Jisoo seeing eachother, how Youngjae was in love with you because of which he caused misunderstandings between you and Jinyoung. How your heart got broken by him because of which you lost your child and attempted suicide.

"But I'm alive any way" You grimaced rubbing your temples. BamBam and Yugyeom felt their souls leaving their bodies, their face got pale with cold sweats forming on their forehead.

"Th—That w—was.....What w—was t—that?" Yugyeom stammered wiping the little sweat beads from his head, "None of this has ever happened? Then what are you talking about?" BamBam spoke with widened eyes staring into your chocolate orbs.

"Please don't act as if you've forgotten everything! Their betrayal is not something to be forgotten within two months!"

It's not like they wanted to shout on you, but your stubbornness made it impossible to let the things run smoothly, they had to burst your bubble because whatever you were saying was nowhere close to normal and if extended it can cause harm in real as well.

"We haven't forgotten anything! You— Whatever you're saying has never happened, none of it is true. You said I was the one who told you about Jinyoung hyung cheating on you right? Then why the fuck don't I remember a single thing?!" BamBam snapped rising from his chair pacing back and forth in the room.

"What the fuck do you mean by you don't remember a thing?" You snarled at BamBam, "How can you forget everything so easily? Or you're sympathizing with Jinyoung and Youngjae?".

"I'm not sympathizing with anyone Noona! I'm fucking not!" He yelled back, "You said you committed suicide, but let me tell you, you didn't commit such a crime!".

"BamBam stop! I clearly remember that I slit open my wrist with a shard, wait let me show yo—", You pulled the sleeves of your shirt, to see your wrist but words got caught in your throat.

"What? Show us" BamBam added, crossing his arms to his chest, almost challenging you. You traced your wrist which was badly teared open by the shard, "How—How....c—come there's n—no mark?".

BamBam stood beside you taking your said hand in his, "You slit it open here?", He emphasized, "And there's clearly no mark, do you think it some sort of a joke that hurting yourself with a sharp piece of shard will leave no scar?".

"Okay, let's assume it didn't leave a scar but after stitching your wrist up will the stitch mark fade so soon?" BamBam proclaimed, "Two months are not enough, sometimes the scar remains for lifetime".

"And that's the proof that whatever you told us.......was something that never took place" Yugyeom concluded, nodding his head at you.

Thats true, even a knife cut would take months to heal then how come such a severe wound will heal this fast. Your skin seemed to be absolutely normal, same as that of your other hand, yanking your hand from BamBam's grip, you bellowed "But all I remember is dying and then all of a sudden I woke up to your face! Can it be some coincidence?".

"We don't know what it is, but all we know is that whatever you are saying is nothing but your own imagination, since nothing, not a single thing has ever happened in these past few months!" BamBam grunted, almost losing his calm.

Your mind was spinning like anything, every single moment is burnt in your memory, you can call out every single detail of whatever you've said to them. Then how come they both are trying to defy your not so old past. Everyone was aware of how much BamBam and Yugyeom are fond of joking and pranking but this time there was not a slightest hint of humour in their eyes or body language instead their faces were emotionless and voice was stern.

"What is happening?" You mumbled trying to soothe your pounding headache which suddenly caught upto you. Rotating your eyes across the room you eyes fell onto the desktop calendar.

Striding towards the table, you grabbed it, pair of eyes following your each and every move, "What month is it?" You asked.

"It's November".

Your gasped at the reply, "How can this be even possible?" You mumbled to yourself. When you committed suicide it was the month of November. Then how come it's still November.

"If I didn't commit suicide, then why was I admitted to the hospital?".

"Yes you were admitted to the hospital, but not because you had committed suicide but because you had a severe concussion", Yugyeom revealed, pointing at your head and that's when you realised a bandage was wrapped around your head the entire time which you failed to pay heed to.

"Two months ago, you had an accident in which a lorry ran into your car", BamBam professed looking at your wrapped head, "Your car was found upside down, your head smashed against the dashboard, it was a huge trauma for all of us".

"Noona we don't know what's going on with you, but trust us, none of it ever happened. We can never do injustice to you by saving them if they would have done such a terrible thing to you", Yugyeom expressed softly with a subtle smile, "And the truth is that Youngjae hyung is your bestfriend and Jinyoung hyung never cheated on you".

Youngjae is your bestfriend.

Jinyoung never cheated on you.

Pondering over his words, you forced your brain into recalling the events from the past, shutting your eyes close all you saw was a small glimpse of the time where you were grabbing coffee with Jackson teasing him bout Minyoung. Gripping on your scalps harshly, you groaned at the excruciating pain shooting through your brain.

Part 14 // Part 15

______________________________________

(A/N: I seriously have no idea what you guys are going to think about this chapter so just let me know, sorry for all the mess, probably the next part will be the last one.Anyways thank you so much to you all).

[sourwolfstories]

Hi! I know you're probably slammed with requests but i was wondering if you could rec some long fics without smut or skipable unimportant smut scenes? I'm sex repulsed and it's surprising difficult to find fics that don't make me uncomfortable

Okay so these are all at least 20 or 30 thousand words long each and are all either rated general audience or teen and up and I made sure to go through all of them so they shouldn’t have any smut or sex but if I did miss anything please let me know. Hope you enjoy!

Ghosts In The Suburbs by KaytiKazoo

Stiles gets cursed by a witch and can see dead people.

Here’s to the Static by matildajones

Stiles spends most of his college break in a coffee house where he stares after Derek Hale. For some reason, Stiles is unaware of the fact he’s quite the musician, and Derek amuses himself at Stiles’ obliviousness.

Cupboard Love by mklutz

He’s carefully balancing the sandwiches and the two biggest tupperware containers he could find that both had functioning lids when the front door opens and he almost drops everything right there in front of the stupid fountain.

If that’s Derek Hale, he’s definitely not a mountain man.

Strangers Like Me by Alphaboner

“Stay back! Don’t come..don’t come any closer! Please don’t! Wh..what are you doing?” he let out a little laugh when Derek started to play with his toes “Ah-haha, no, please, don’t, that tickles!” Derek’s hand traveled from Stiles’ toes to his leg “No, get off, get off!” …to his belt “GET OFF!” he kicked Derek in the face, leaving him confused and aching, looking at Stiles with a scowl.

Get Back Up by Hepzheba

After taking the blame for his so-called friend Jackson and his stupid pot, Stiles is forced to work for the Hales at their horse ranch the summer before his last year in high school. At first he absolutely hates it but he comes to realize that there is actually is something fun about this ranch thing and that horses are more likable and complicated than he’d previously thought. He also comes to realize that it’s not only the horses that are interesting; there’s also Derek Hale.

Scowl and Sarcasm by dr_girlfriend

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single alpha in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a mate.

Whether or not Derek Hale felt that way was hardly a concern to the neighborhood — the very fact of his arrival was enough that the surrounding families seemed to consider him the rightful property of one or another of their eligible sons and daughters. That was, of course, before they met the man.

Only You, Sterek by im2old4thisotp

Derek gets the name of his soulmate off a Ouija board when he is ten. He’s obsessed with finding them, but then his life irrevocably changes. He erases the name from his life and determines to live free of those stupid words, “fate” and “destiny”.

But on the eve of his wedding, he gets a phone call that will change the course of his life forever, and show him that maybe destiny does have a hold on him, after all.

Or, the Sterek rewrite of the movie “Only You” that you never knew you wanted.

sorry about the elbows, sorry we lived here. by dreamer_of_dreams

“You’re doing it again, Derek. You’re running away. I know, alright? I’ve always known… You looked at him the way I wished you’d look at me. You came close some days, when you’re folding my tank tops and we’re talking about small, insignificant things. And I thought that was enough for a while. But it was plain to see, you were sitting around, waiting for him to call you home. He never did and you just carried on.”

“I wasn’t really waiting for him to call. I knew he wouldn’t. I don’t know how you got that impression.”

“Hmmm…Maybe because when we both thought you were dying, I leant over and kissed you… and you whispered his name.”

Just the Same by ericaismeg

Something is seriously up with the captain of the lacrosse team. There’s just no way Derek Hale is human.***“I was wondering if you’re even human. You move so quickly. I mean, it’s ridiculously fast. No human should be able to move that fast, y'know? It’s unfair for us. I mean, it’s obvious you work out, and I don’t, so that could be why, but like…I was just wondering if you were human, that’s all.”

“Stop talking, Stilinski, or I'll—”

“Put me on the bench all season?” Stiles asks knowing full well that Derek Hale can’t threaten him with shit.

To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before by Halevetica

What if all the crushes you ever had found out how you felt about them… all at once?

Stiles Stilinski keeps his love letters in a box his mother gave him. They aren’t love letters that anyone else wrote for him; these are ones he’s written. One for every boy he’s ever loved-five in all. When he writes, he pours out his heart and soul and says all the things he would never say in real life, because his letters are for his eyes only. Until the day his secret letters are mailed, and suddenly, Stiles’ love life goes from imaginary to out of control.

If I Followed You Home by tryslora

Stiles is living on his own in New York when he sees the unthinkable: one woman pushes another onto the tracks just before a subway comes. With Scott not moving in for several days, he is on his own with his grief and horror, and he decides to find closure by attending the dead woman’s funeral where he discovers that (1) the guy he’s been crushing on is the dead woman’s brother, and (2) her family somewhat adopts him, and (3) the woman who killed her might just want to kill him now. Life just got complicated.

Notes:

Wolf Pack: Beacon Original by Beerwolves, fearfrost1211

When his father landed the Deputy Chief of police position in Beacon Hills, Stiles moved to his new town gladly, embracing the chance of a fresh start. What he didn’t expect was to find himself hopelessly drawn to the gruff Vice President of the local motorcycle gang, the Wolf Pack.Derek Hale, resident bad boy of Beacon Hills, spent his time helping his sister lead the Wolf Pack and working on motorcycles at his family’s automotive garage. Then, one hot summer afternoon a bright-eyed boy walked into his life and turned his world upside down.

There’s No Escape for the Potato Man by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

“Who is this? Where’s Erica?”

“Wrong number, asshole!”

“Stop calling me an asshole,” the man on the other end snapped aggressively.

Stiles could understand. He’d be pretty aggressive too if he’d murdered someone and texted a wrong number to ask for help burying the body. This guy obviously failed How To Be a Serial Killer 101.

“What kind of idiot thinks I murdered someone?”

“The kind of idiot who got your text messages, you fucking dumbass!” he retorted hotly. “Maybe double check your contacts before sending a random stranger details on your nefarious plans to dispose of a freshly cut up body!”

“What?!” the guy on the other end demanded, crossed between horrendously confused and livid.

home isn’t a place by Spikedluv

Ithaca, New York is known as a sanctuary within the supernatural community, and Cornell University is where creatures such as Kitsune and Selkies can safely attend college. Though Stiles doesn’t think he’s anything special (despite having a ‘spark’, whatever that is), he attends on Satomi’s recommendation; he wants to learn everything he can about the supernatural world so he can return to Beacon Hills and help Scott.

The last person Stiles expects to run into at Cornell is Derek Hale. Derek is gruff and grumpy, but despite that Stiles is drawn to him. When someone begins murdering supernatural students Laura Hale takes Stiles under her wing. Between attending class, hanging out with Kira, adopting a dog, and keeping score for the baseball team, Stiles investigates the deaths to figure out who’s killing his fellow students before he ends up a victim himself.

Through it all, Stiles learns the real meaning of ‘home’.

SuperWing, Stucky and SlaDick, Oh My! by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

“Well,” Nightwing said with an awkward laugh, “this is embarrassing. You are definitely not the Superman I was expecting.”

“You mean I almost missed out on having Nightwing leap into my waiting arms?” Derek asked teasingly. He couldn’t help it, the guy was adorable, and while he wasn’t exactly light, he already knew it was all muscle. This guy definitely worked out.

Nightwing let out a loud, boisterous laugh that had people around them turn to look, but he just grinned down at Derek before speaking.

“In that case, didn’t mean to keep you waiting.” He waggled his eyebrows and Derek let out a small huff of a laugh. “I should probably, uh—get down.”

“Probably.”

Thanks for Thumper, But I Prefer Cheeseburgers by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

The wolf’s head whipped around so fast, Stiles felt like he was watching The Exorcist.

Stiles wondered if he could just stand still enough to make the wolf think he was a tree. A very bright red and jean-clad tree. He doubted it, but one could hope.

He knew it was a lost cause when the wolf turned fully, lips pulled back from its sharp teeth—so very sharp, good fucking Lord!—and began walking towards Stiles.

“I didn’t see anything!” Stiles shouted, both hands out in front of himself and sweat instantly breaking out across his skin. “I swear to you! I didn’t see anything! I didn’t see anything! I won’t tell anyone! I won’t! I’ll keep this to myself, until the day I die! I promise! I promise!”

An Unexpected Familiar by BabyWeWillRise

Homework over break sucks, right? Harris is at it again with making Stiles’ life horrible by giving him an essay over Christmas break and Stiles could not be anymore displeased.

Except…this stupid assignment leads him to something he didn’t think he was missing.

Or…

After his mother died when he was eight, Stiles (and his father) ran away from reality without looking back.

Now, ten years later, when the eighteen year old runs into a familiar face, he’s thrown back into a life he had completely forgotten about and is welcomed with open and loving arms.

To say he’s freaking out would be an understatement.