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familyvideostevie · 6 months

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time you will not spend alone

joel miller x fem!reader, 18+ mdni romance at the end of the world is this: flowers, lazy nights in bed after long days, and savoring every moment | or, joel makes you something. jackson!joel au, fem!reader, fluff, maybe a bit cheesy but idgaf, ellie cameo cause i can't do a damn thing without her, tommy gets some page time here too, smut (riding, unprotected p in v sex, some finger sucking lol), tenderness, gift giving | 5.7k a/n: i think this is the last part of the just and just as series for the foreseeable future. thank you for reading about this little au and these two lovebirds! i adore them. thank you @frannyzooey and @macfrog for your eyes and support on this. and thank you everyone else for being patient. <3

Spring sweeps into the valley seemingly overnight. The peaks remain snow-capped but the bare branches of trees between the evergreens begin to bud. Chilly mornings lose their bite and frost turns to dew and every day there is more light.

You've always thought Jackson looks its best in winter, but it's a damn sight to see as life and color return. And the latter is your favorite part -- the rolling hills outside the walls and the forest patrol paths are dotted and then overflowing with flowers.

It makes you feel more alive. Patrol isn't a freezing ordeal anymore -- it's an opportunity to see the remaining beauty in the world.

Today's shift is short and easy but you find yourself lingering, running your hands through pine needles and turning your face to the sun. Your horse is happy to munch on a patch of grass in a clearing just off the main trail, but your patrol partner is less than impressed.

"Are you serious?" Ellie moans. "You're stopping again? What the fuuuuuuuuck."

She sags in the saddle. The pout on her lips makes her look like a kid sent to bed without supper rather than an almost-twenty-year-old forced to spend some extra minutes in the fresh air. Shimmer has no problem chewing on some weeds despite her rider's moaning.

"Let me enjoy the sun," you say. "When you get older you'll appreciate the little things, too."

You hop off your horse and Ellie sighs loudly.

"Jesus, you're not that old," she mutters. "Seriously, what are you doing?"

You sweep your arms around you, gesturing at the meadow. "These flowers are nice," you tell her, pointedly. She adjusts the rifle slung over her shoulder. "I think I'm going to pick some and bring them home."

She snorts. "Oh, is Joel suddenly into flowers?"

You ignore her bait and crouch, gaze sweeping over the array of colors in front of you. You tried to learn the names of flowers years ago when you found a book on them in an old bookstore but they never stuck. Purples, pinks, and yellows, large petals and small ones, delicate yet hardy to survive the world past its end.

Joel isn't a fussy man. Young fathers don't get to be, and anyone alive these days sheds that impulse just as quickly. He's happy to wake up every day with you by his side, his kid in the garage out back and walls around everything he loves, keeping it all safe.

It makes it both easy and hard to please him -- you want to give him everything but he seems to want nothing. A perfect paradox, a puzzle to solve.

God, you love him. You love spring, you love Joel. Everything feels good.

So, you start to gather stems, snapping them at their bases, humming as you work.

"How do you choose which ones to pick?"

"Fuck," you gasp, careening forward onto one palm and looking over your shoulder. Ellie is off her horse and much closer than before, standing directly behind you. "Jesus, you're stealthy."

She shrugs, her smirk a pleased slash across her face. "You're oblivious as fuck."

You roll your eyes at her.

"Seriously," Ellie says, crossing her arms. She jerks her chin at the small bouquet you've got in one hand. "How do you make it look so nice?"

"Oh, so we've moved on from the making-fun-of-me part of this?"

She crouches next to you, elbows on her knees.

"I, uh -- " Her cheeks go pink, freckles standing out against her blush. "Dina likes flowers."

You bump her shoulder with yours. "I'm going to be so nice and not tease you."

"Fuck off," she scoffs, tucking her smile into her shoulder.

It's quick work. Ellie follows your lead, balances out the blooms she picks with some leafy weeds. She ties them together with one of the minimum four spare hairbands she has on her person at all times -- bits of cloth, occasionally a rare unused elastic from before if she's found some on patrol.

"Isn't it kinda shitty?" she muses, nimble fingers turning her bouquet this way and that to admire it. "We're killing them. The flowers, I mean."

"Little late to have a conscience about killing," you say lightly. The two rabbits she pulled from Jackson snares hang from her saddle. You've seen her in action, too -- gun raised, hands steady, blood splattered across her cheek. It's not an accusation, far from it. Violence is a language you both speak, one she's known for most of her still-short life.

She rolls her eyes, every bit a teenager. "Whatever."

You sigh. "You're right, though," you say. "There were whole shops dedicated to this before. Selling flowers, making bouquets and centerpieces and all that shit."

She probably knows this, but she lets you describe it. Ellie soaks up bits of the old world like it will materialize before her if she listens hard enough. Joel says it was much worse when she was younger, right after they settled into Jackson. She wanted details about everything and watched every movie she could get her hands on. You think she was satisfying her curiosity, sure, but also that she was trying to understand him better -- but didn't know how to say so.

"Weird," she mutters. "And you just...bought them for other people?"

"Or yourself." You pat her shoulder and stand. Your horse tries to nibble on your flowers before you haul yourself back in the saddle. "It was just a nice thing to do, I guess."

"Killing something to make someone else happy," Ellie says with a dry laugh. She tucks her bouquet in the crook of her arm once she's back in the saddle. "I guess everyone does that these days."

It's absurd when she puts it that way, but it's true. You've all got blood on your hands. You would kill for this girl, for Joel, for pretty much anyone in Jackson. And you have.

The flowers are for Joel, they're for your house, they're for you. Something beautiful to bring home alongside your dirt stains and scarred hands, your haunted eyes and nightmares. No one is spared those.

It's only mid-morning by the time you get back to the wall. You and Ellie left at dawn, short sticks drawn for the early shift. She leaves you in the stables with a mock salute and a shout of thanks, practically jogging to Dina's to give her the flowers.

You're untacking your horse when you hear familiar laughter, a deep chuckle and Ellie's faint indignant protest.

"Mornin'," Joel says from behind you. "Was hopin' to catch you at the gate."

"Can you hold these?"

You blindly extend the hand with the flowers. His fingers carefully extract the bouquet and you return to brushing out your horse.

"Does this have somethin' to do with Ellie runnin' out of her with flowers of her own?"

"Never let anyone say you're unobservant, Joel Miller."

He snickers. You leave your horse with a final pat on the neck and thanks for a job well done.

When you face Joel, he looks tired -- he's been pulling extra long days replacing windows and roof tiles after the winter's damage. God knows that man never seems fully rested, but it's a little worse when the seasons change.

He's told you time and time again that standing two stories off the ground is a hell of a lot safer than fighting some Infected on patrol, but you still worry. Just like you know he worries about you beyond the walls, how he's a little tenser whenever you're not in sight, whenever he hasn't seen Ellie for a few days ‘cause they're both busy. It's just how he loves. It's how you both love.

You make no move to take the flowers from him, instead brushing some sawdust from his shoulder.

"Did you have a job already?" you ask.

"Small one. Fixin' a crooked over mailbox." He looks pointedly at his full fist. "You gonna explain now?"

"They're for you."

Joel blinks once, twice, brows furrowing like you're speaking a different language. Maybe a few years ago you'd start to feel self-conscious, unsure of your romantic gesture and insecure in his reaction. But now, as fully in love and connected to this man as you are, you lean in.

"If you're too manly to carry flowers through town --"

You make to take them from him but he snaps out of his daze and wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you to his chest in a smooth motion.

He also holds the bouquet in the air and out of reach.

"Hey, now," he says. "Hands off. These ain't your flowers."

"I picked 'em," you remind him, poking him in the ribs for good measure.

He flinches just a little but doesn't move. His embrace is warm and familiar and you sink into it. "Gettin' romantic," he mutters and brings the flowers back down to eye level to examine them.

"I'm just trying to catch up to you," you say into his jacket. He huffs and his palm rubs a slow line up and down your arm.

You wiggle out of his embrace to shoulder your pack.

"I am pretty romantic," he muses.

It's true. Even if he's joking and even if no one but you gets to see it, Joel has always made sure you feel loved. Courtship and romance look different these days, but it still comes naturally to him -- loving. Dinner dates, jewelry, and trips to the airport have become a battered paperback, a sharpened knife, and bloody knuckles, but it rings just as true. He loves you and he loves his family the best way he knows how – by keeping you all safe.

And you do your best to convey the same thing. You tell him, of course, but you also mend his shirts and chop wood when his back is acting up, and you look after his kid like she's your own.

Joel deserves to know that he can receive all that he gives, too – the protection, the tenderness, the beauty. Moments of softness and rest where he knows he’s taken care of, thought of, that he matters beyond the things he can do for everyone else.

So, you also do things like bring him flowers.

Sometimes you feel like it will never be enough. You will never have enough time to show him how much he means to you, how he's saved you, how important and cherished and loved he is. How good he is.

Joel reaches for your face with his free hand. He traces the line of your cheekbone with his thumb and smirks when you inhale sharply. Another patrol returns and the stables are suddenly louder and more crowded than before. If you're both free for the rest of the day, you want to drag him up to your bedroom and spend the hours there. You want to show him, for the millionth time, how much you love him.

"Okay, Mr. Pretty Romantic," you say, grabbing his hand and tangling your fingers together. "Let's go home."

___

Joel is hiding something from you.

The flowers last for a week and you watch him eye them and smile every time he enters the kitchen.

But after they droop and go in the compost pile, something shifts. Something subtle, sure, but you spend most of your waking hours looking for or at Joel, so you notice.

He starts keeping his workshop door closed. Normally you'll sit and watch him work, or he'll teach you a few chords here and there on the guitars he's making, but your lessons move to the porch and the upstairs hallway loses the scent of wood glue and stain.

In fact, he actively steers you away from the room altogether. He's all just needs a deep clean and it's messy, is all. It's not rocket science -- he's making something for you, clearly. But giving him a hard time is too fun to pass up.

One night, you and Ellie wait at the bottom of the stairs. There's a dinner and movie night in the old church and you're taking the opportunity to make it a family outing.

"You coming?" you holler up the stairs. You hear the door creak open.

"Gimme a second," he calls back down.

"Jesus," you mutter. You tap the side of Ellie’s sneaker with your boot. "You know anything about that?"

Honesty is important between all of you, but you know Joel and Ellie need to have their secrets. There is too much tangled history between them for you to understand it all. It's important to you that they have a relationship all their own, even if it means they scheme.

Ellie is examining her switchblade with intense focus. "I might," she says with a smirk. "He's a lovesick loser, I'll tell you that."

You lean on the banister and raise your eyebrows. "Do you remember when you asked me how to embroider so you could put Dina's name on her jacket?"

The knife swings closed with a snick and she rolls her eyes at you, cheeks pink.

"Shit, dude," she says. "Why do I tell you anything?"

"She liked the flowers, though, didn't she?"

Ellie crosses her arms and smiles at whatever memory she's seeing in her mind. "Yeah," she says. "She did. Jesse gave me so much shit, though --"

The door upstairs closes and Joel's heavy footfalls cut her off.

"Finally," you grumble. He trods down the stairs, arms half in his jacket when he catches sight of the two of you. "Are you hiding state secrets in there?"

"What the fuck does that mean?" Ellie asks.

"Might be," is all he says. He's got that twinkle in his eye that means mischief but he looks proud of himself. You can let him have this, whatever this is. You trust him and you'll find out eventually.

"Alright," you say, pushing off the banister and heading for the door. "You're going to breathe toxic fumes with the door closed."

"No, seriously," Ellie says. "What kind of secrets would a state be keeping?"

"Ain't nothin' toxic in there," he says lightly. He bumps Ellie's shoulder with his. "C'mon."

She throws her hands up in the air. "You know, it's shitty when you ignore me."

"Did you hear somethin'?" Joel says to you.

You shake your head, swallowing your laughter. "No," you say. "Nothing."

"Assholes." She pushes past you and down the steps onto the street. "I'm going to make sure there are no mashed potatoes left when you get there."

You don't mind letting Joel do whatever he's up to in all of his spare moments. It does mean you have more time to yourself, so you pick up some extra wall shifts.

And when one of those shifts is with Tommy? Well, you can't help but needle him a little bit about it all.

"Do you know what your brother is up to?" you ask him.

The wind today carries some lingering winter bite, so you've got the collar of your coat pulled up around your ears. Tommy’s hair whips around his face when he raises his eyebrows at you.

"Gonna have to be more specific," he says. "My brother is always up to some shit."

"I think he'd say the same thing about you."

Tommy laughs. He's got the reputation for being the more easy-going of the Millers, but you know he's more a match for Joel than most think. Out in the world, they work as one, silent and deadly, always in step when it counts. They still speak a language all their own with just a look and you see so much of them in each other when you pay attention.

"Well, I learned it all from him," he says. He adjusts his grip on the rifle and sighs. "I happen to know what you're talkin' 'bout, though."

"Is he just telling everyone but me?"

"Nah," Tommy scoffs. "Asked me and Ellie for help, s'all. And you know he tells that girl everythin'."

You both smile for a moment at your fondness for them.

Tommy clears his throat. "Does it bother you? Him keepin' a secret?"

You know Tommy won't let your answer get back to Joel. He's asking as your friend, as your kind-of brother. He's asking because he cares.

A patrol crests the hill, green flag waving in the air. They whistle and shout for the gate to be opened.

You step closer to Tommy so he can hear you. "No," you say. "I just like to gossip."

"Don't I know it," he chuckles. "You two are the eyes and ears of this damn town. Knowin' everything."

"Except what happens in my own home," you tease.

He shrugs. "You'll like it, if that helps," he adds.

"I know I will."

You look out at the world beyond the wall and smile to yourself.

Joel has made you a few things over the years. He works wonders with his hands all the time: Beautiful, intricate carvings for the house, for Ellie, for new babies in town. The wall of guitars, not to mention the ones he's made for kids to learn on in school. You're better at sewing than he is, but he's pretty damn good – fixing up pillowcases and blankets and clothes of all kinds. Joel is a craftsman.

Hands that hold you can also pull a trigger, punch until there's nothing left, and craft a work of art.

And he knows you. He pays attention -- there is a reason behind everything he does. If he's making you something, you know you'll love it.

"Strange, ain’t it?" Tommy says. You turn to him, a question on your face. "World ended and here we all are, happy. Makin' shit for each other. Gosspin'."

You sigh. “Took a lot to get here.”

“Damn right,” he says with a long whistle. “Lotta shit behind us.”

“Do you ever regret it?” you ask.

Tommy considers your words. You two talk plenty, but you’ve never really spoken about the past. Joel tells you whatever you want to hear about the years before you knew him, so you’ve got a pretty good picture of their lives after the outbreak.

"Can I tell you somethin’?” Tommy asks. You nod. "Alright. I – I never thought I'd see my brother this happy again. And I wish every damn day that Sarah was here to see it. To know him this way, to meet Maria. To know you and Ellie."

Joel has said the same thing before and it’s an honor greater than you can ever explain.

"When I saw him and that girl a few years ago, I thought --" Tommy clears his throat. "I thought maybe he’d made it through all the shit we did. And I was right. She brought him through it. And now he’s here, doin’ stable life shit we dreamed about before."

"Ellie is a force," you say, a little surprised to find your voice watery. The love between Ellie and Joel is fierce and powerful, evident to anyone who witnesses it. They would do anything for each other, even though they're mending.

"She is," he says. "And so are you.” He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “Shit, I don’t know where I’m goin’ with this. Point is – seein' him love you, too, shows me he’s through it. He's alive again, you know? And I’d do all the shit we did over again just to get us all here. So, no. I don’t regret it."

It’s nothing you haven’t thought before, but the words work their way into your heart and sit there, heavy and warm.

“Damn,” you say. You swallow and give him a wide smile. "If you keep going, Tommy Miller, I will start crying and that would embarrass us both."

He laughs and blinks a few times. You join in, wiping your eyes.

"Alright, I won't," he says. "Jesus, all you did was ask what he's doin' in that workshop."

You clap him on the shoulder. "I won't tell anyone you started blubbering on duty."

He snorts. "Ain't that generous of you.”

Days pass. A week. You almost forget about Joel's project because he spends less and less time in the workshop and more on tasks around town as the days get longer. You're both busy -- chopping wood, planting bulbs for the fall, helping de-shed the horses. There's always work to be done.

After a particularly long day on your feet, you come out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel to find he's gotten home while you were in the shower.

"Hey, stranger," you say. You're mostly dry but some water drips down your back and you shiver. Joel is leaning against the headboard on top of the sheets without his shirt, reading whatever book he's onto now.

"Didn't hear me come in?" he asks. He sets his volume aside and pulls off his glasses.

"I was too busy coming back to life under some hot water." He probably heard you singing off-key to some long-lost song stuck in your head for the millionth time. "And you're quiet as hell, Joel."

He shrugs.

You just look at each other, the intimate gaze of two people who know every inch of each other and never tire of it.

The sleep pants he wears to bed this time of year are lightweight, thin enough that you can see the outline of him from here. His stomach is soft where he's bent at the waist and the trail of hair above his waistband is dark, darker than the rest of what's on his chest.

The golden expanse of his skin just begs to be touched, so you make your way over to him in your towel. He makes room for you to perch on the edge of the bed, the bare skin of your thigh pressing into his pants. His palm rests on your knee.

"I haven't seen much of you lately," you say softly. "’Cause of that damn thing you're working on."

His fingers press into your skin.

"Ain't patience a virtue, or something like that?"

"Whatever magic you're working better be worth waiting for," you tease.

Joel's hand resumes its path up your leg and he smirks.

"I can work some magic right now," he says.

You laugh, throwing your head back as his fingertips edge under the towel.

"That was awful," you say. "I should get dressed in all of my layers right now and go sleep on the couch."

You pull away from his touch so you can straddle him, your towel only held on by one hand at your breasts.

Joel snickers. "But then I wouldn't be able to do this."

Nimble fingers find your cunt between your spread legs and you gasp a laugh, one hand on his shoulder to balance you in his lap.

"Smooth," you manage. His other hand tugs on the towel and you release it, your slightly damp skin breaking out into goosebumps in the air of the bedroom.

Joel drags his lips between your breasts and you feel his smile.

"Christ," he says. "You comin' outta there in just a towel and you expect me to go to sleep?"

He pulls his fingers from you and frames your face with both hands to drag it down to his in a lazy, thorough kiss, like he's savoring each moment.

His tongue traces the seam of your lips and you let him in readily, arms wrapping around his shoulders as you grind down on the hardness you can feel through his pants.

"I've missed you," you say, dragging your tongue along down his jaw. His fingertips press into your bare hips hard enough to bruise, but it's a grounding touch rather than an urgent one. You want to take your time because you have missed him, and you think he feels the same way.

"Sorry, sweetheart," Joel groans, dragging your lips back to his. "It'll be worth it."

You pull back to look him in the eyes. The hazel-grey is almost totally taken over by his pupil, but his gaze softens when you cup his cheek and smile.

"I know," you say, and mean it. Naked in his lap in your bedroom, you mean it. You always mean it. You always trust him.

Joel kisses you once, twice, and you pull on his lower lip with your teeth when he pulls away. His nostrils flare and before you can tug his cock from his pants, he holds two fingers out to you.

You laugh, circling his wrist and bringing the digits past your lips. You swirl your tongue around them and really take your time with it, laving at his knuckles before releasing them with a pop.

His cock twitches beneath you and he huffs.

"You're an easy man to please, Joel Miller," you tell him, tugging down his pants and letting his shaft spring free. You stroke him root to tip and he hisses.

"Nah," he manages. "It's ‘cause it's you."

He follows his words with a circle of your clit from his spit-slick fingers.

"See?" you gasp. "Romantic."

It's a bit crowded, his hand rubbing your clit and yours slowly jerking him, but neither of you rush it. You pant together, dotting lazy kisses on any piece of bare skin you can reach. You breathe him in, the combination of sweat and gun oil and fresh detergent that's just Joel. A rush of tenderness hits you so suddenly your nose stings.

"Joel," you say, a bit ragged. "Joel, can you --"

A gentle hand on your face brings your foreheads together, his eyes on yours.

"Whatever you want," he groans. "Whatever you want, it's yours."

You can't help it -- you laugh. Brightly and happily, almost in disbelief that this man is yours. Real and solid under you right now, beside you every night. Yours to love and cherish and all the rest.

"You laughin' at me?" he grumbles, though you can tell he's fighting a smile.

"I just love you, is all," you say. You probably don't say it enough. You and Joel show each other every day, so much so that you can't imagine he doesn't know. As it is, you feel loved by him with every move he makes, every time he looks in your direction, every time he says your name.

"And I want you to fuck me," you add.

It's Joel's turn to laugh.

"Now who's the romantic one?" he says.

You rise from his lap and settle onto your back on the other side of the bed, stretching with your hands above your head.

His eyes follow the line of your bare body, fondness and hunger recognizable in his gaze.

"Always so damn pretty," he grumbles. "Prettiest thing I've ever seen."

"Flirt," you tease.

He rises to his knees and pumps his cock a few times with his fist. You spread your legs for him, knees bent up against your chest.

He settles between your knees and you lock them around his hips. Joel honest-to-god winks at you before dragging two fingers through your folds to make sure you're slick enough.

"Ready?"

You nod. He enters you in one practiced move and you groan in unison as you adjust. It takes some shuffling but he finds a position he can hold, and you wrap your arms around his neck.

Joel fucks you slow and deep. Each drag of his cock against your walls curls your toes and drags whines from both of your throats. He keeps up his usual babel -- doin' so good, feel like a dream, so damn tight, cunt's a fuckin' miracle -- and you press your hands into his bare back like he's a life raft.

Sweat beats on your brow, your chest, everywhere, and you suck bruises into his neck as his thrusts get a little frantic. Your own orgasm sneaks up on you, the pressure building and building and building until it snaps without warning.

"Joel -- Joel, fuck, I --"

You clench around him and he chants your name, that's it, baby, come on my cock, and buries himself to the hilt to finish inside you.

He hovers above you on trembling arms long enough to press a sweet kiss to your lips before rolling off of you.

"Now I'm ready for bed," you say, panting.

You fling a hand out lazily and it lands on his chest. He intertwines your fingers and his gaze finds yours. You smile as you get your breathing under control.

Joel smooths your brow with a thumb. "Don't forget to --"

"I know, I know," you say. "C'mon, you know this isn't my first rodeo." You get up from the bed and head to the bathroom.

"You sayin' I'm a bull?" Joel calls after you.

"Save a horse, ride a cowboy!" you holler back, cleaning yourself up. "Didn't people used to say that?"

Joel doesn't answer you but you laugh at your own joke. You make your way back to the bed in old pyjamas and find him back in his sweatpants, feet flat on the floor like he's about to get up and go somewhere.

"Joel?"

He sighs, his shoulders moving up and down like he's bracing himself.

"It's done," he says. "Your surprise."

The confession stops you in your tracks.

"Oh?"

You know Joel better than mosty, but sometimes he's still a puzzle. The hesitation, the slight air of anxiety about him as he says it confuses you. Because Joel is good at taking care of people, and he has to know it -- those years he and Ellie didn't speak you know he left her things, know that he took care of her from afar as much as she would let him. It's just what he does, he uses his hands to beat and shoot and bloody – but also to carve and hold and love.

They're the same thing, really.

And he's made you something – one of countless gifts he's given you, tangible and not, throughout your relationship.

But he's nervous. As if you wouldn't love anything he made, anything he does. As if you're not gone over every part of him.

"Hm," he says. "Yeah. Let me --"

Joel gets up from the bed and pads over to the dresser to rummage around in a drawer. You meet him back on the bed and he's holding a square-ish parcel wrapped in cloth.

You gingerly take it from him.

"This is what you've been working on?" you ask softly. He nods.

You unwrap the cloth and find yourself holding leather-bound journal. The hide is smooth under your fingertips, scraped clean by hand and tanned a dark chestnut.The spine is about an inch wide, the whole thing swen together with neat stitches of what can only be catgut. A thinner strip of leather is wrapped around the cover and tucked into itself carefully. It must have taken him ages to make.

"Joel," you gasp. "It's...god, it's beautiful."

He tells you how he found it on patrol a few weeks ago. The cover was fucked but the paper was somehow fine, so he dried out the pages and rebound it with a hide he tanned himself. You run your hands over it again almost like you can feel his fingerprints all over it, the hours he poured into the pages.

The inside cover falls open easily when you undo the tie and you see letters in the bottom left corner of it. Your eyes sting.

Joel has carefully burned your name into the leather, each letter perfectly lined up with the next. You haven't had something with your name on it in years.

He clears his throat. "Ellie said she'd give you some of her pens. Show you how to refill 'em."

You look up from your gift and find so much love on his face you can hardly stand it. He was inside you not that long ago and somehow this is more intimate. You surge forward into his space and wrap an arm around his shoulders, burying your face in his neck.

"I don't know what to say," you confess. "Just -- thank you."

He runs his hand along your spine.

"S'nothin'," he says. "Just saw it and thought of you, is all."

You release him and shake your head in disbelief. This man.

"What should I write in it?"

Joel's cheeks darken a little. Of course he's thought of everything.

"Figured you could write about...all this." He waves a hand in the air like that explains anything.

"All what?"

He shrugs one bare shoulder.

"Life," he says. "Jackson. Folks here. Might be nice, havin' the memories."

You scoot closer to him so you're almost in his lap again.

"You want me to write down the gossip?" You mean it as a joke but Joel nods.

"You pay attention," he explains. "Someone's gotta."

You're not much of a writer anymore, haven't had cause to be in twenty years. But you do like to tell stories. You both do.

The pages are soft under your fingertips as you flip through them again. You're going to fill them with stories -- about this town, about Joel and Ellie and Tommy and the people you love. The people you've lost, too. The memories that hurt like bruises, like fresh wounds. But the good stuff, too. The gossip, the love stories, the plants in the yard and the flowers on the trails.

Joel has given you the ability to record your lives.

You reach over him to set the journal on the nightstand before you frame his face with both of your hands.

"I'm going to write pages and pages about you, Joel Miller," you whisper.

He huffs, cheeks warm under your palms. "That's borin'."

You shake your head and lean in until your lips brush and your eyes flutter shut.

"That's the story," you say. "That's my life. This is my life. You are."

“I love you,” he breathes. “So damn much. Y’know that?”

How could you not? You say so and kiss him firmly but without hurry. You’ve got lots of time. You’ve got forever.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction

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the-faceless-bride · 4 months

Text

No. Not again. Not you.

Yandere Cooper Howard/The Ghoul × Vaultie!R

Summary: The Ghoul of the wasteland had exepted the man he once was is dead. He isn't caring. Isn't loving. Isn't feeling. Friendship, companionship, partnership... love? Wasn't for him. Not anymore. But all that comes crashing down when he meets you... you brought something back from the dead.. though it isn't as 'good' as it used to be...

Warnings: yandere content, Cooper being controlling, Canon violence, death (not reader or Cooper), violence towards reader (by both strangers and a litte Cooper), flashbacks, and forced kissing.

You stumble around behind Cooper talking about the town you were about to come up apon, you were happy to babble away to him, and though he wouldn't always answer, he would always listen.

You liked traveling around, especially with Cooper; you were in a vault all your life, not by choice. But to be out of it was an amazing feeling, even if in the start Cooper didn't take your optimistic outlooks to kindly.

You remember how dumb he thought you were...

You'd just escaped your vault. And you were so confused...

You remember 'yesterday' you were baking a pie waiting for your husband to come home, when you heard a big bang, your husband rushed in took you. And you just passed out... you had always told him you didn't trust vault-tech or the people who were a part of it. But he didn't care, he was desperate.

When you woke up, the Vault was empty... quiet... bloodied... you stumbled around, trying to find something, someone... anyone... when you heard a whistle,

"Pphheeeww- looks like I've got a live one," a voice called out; turning around meeting the face of the goul... it shocked you at first your face contorting, but it wasn't so much fear as it was confusion... who is that? Had the war started? How long has it been? "If I were you I'd hope my pretty ass back into that ice block and let the world rot away,"

God, you remember him putting you through hell and back; no water or food, hot unforgiving sun, the fighting, crying, begging, and eventual acceptance.

"You think the people here will be friendly?" You babble as you reach for the canteen on his side; he let's you take it, moving his coat to the side for an easier reach. "Friendly?-" he laughs like you've told him the funniest joke he'd ever heard, "when is anyone out here friendly? What did it teach you? You need a reminder?" He smirks, turning to look at you, "Oh no thanks!" You yipp as you take a swig of water.

You and Cooper walk into the town, eyes all around you. Some curious, some cautious, other dangerous... most eyes not on you, but Cooper. The Ghoul. Most people would never know you were a Vault dweller, you'd exchanged the blue and yellow suit in for a teal top and brown loose pants and some boots, Cooper made sure to tell you that if you kept that look somebody would've tried to sell you. You got lucky to be with him.

You didn't want to run off, You'd learned your lesson before; but you were hungry, and you saw what looks to be a place for food and bar. But you didn't want to just run off, especially if it could be dangerous... you wouldn't want Cooper to get in a brawl again.

"What do you think Cooper?" You whisper to him, only for him to hear, you whisper his name.

You liked saying his name. You didn't say it often, but when you did, it always felt good; even if it was a little strange. You still remember the first time he'd told you his name.

You'd woken up to russeling sounds when you spotted the small group trying to steal your supplies. And you yelled "Ghoul!"

You yelled as loud as you could, and He woke up, the Group of four masked raiders all attacked. And you sat there like a complete idiot while he took on all four men while little to no effort.

And even if you hadn't actually fought, you'd felt like you were on the edge of a panic attack, what if something happens to him? You'd be alone. What would happen to you? Would you be killed? Sold? Forced to-

*BANG*

The last gunshot that rang out, the last body falling ti the floor before he walks over and kneels down to your stance where you sat on the ground. "I'm- I'm sorry Ghoul, I just- I saw them I panicked it was like I couldn't even move- I'm sorry Ghoul, I just-" -- "Cooper." -- "what?" -- "My name. It's Cooper."

"Cooper." You smiled.

He didn't smile back, but you could see his eyes change. He didn't look so angry when he looked at you.

He nodded his head and handing a handfull of caps to you, a silent 'okay' for you to break away from him. At least for a little while.

You'd sat in a stool up at the bar eating the first hot meal in God knows how long, and sipping on a sweet drink that was a bit too strong for you, "what's a cutie like you doing here alone?" You heard a man call to you. He wasn't much, scruffy, scrawny, but had very pretty eyes.

"I'm not alone,'you say confidently with a sweet smile, one you're sure he's never seen before.

He takes the stool next to you and tries to have a conversation with you. But quickly gets irritated when you don't play along. And that's when he became ugly...

Yelling, cursing, name calling, everything under the sun wa seeing tossed at you because you told this strange man, "No." You hadn't taken his as anything serious, all bark no bite. Throwing a hissy fit because you wouldn't let him fuck you for a few caps.

And it wasn't until you felt a sting on your left cheek and your head snapped to the side when you realized. He had struck you. Before he grabbed you, pulling you to him, kissing and grabbing at you. The other bar goers had found this... funny. At least until a loud bang was heard and the mans brains splattered all over your face and bar.

"Now who the hell do you think you are to mess with another man's woman?"

"Cooper?"

A rope found its way tosses around you as Cooper shoved you down and into a corner, "don't fucking move."

You were on the road again, Cooper muttering curses under his breath. Still at the man who'd dared lay a hand on your sweet skin, damning him and all his friends who laughed.

No matter how hard you tried you haven't been able to get to him. He just mutters over and over. He could've lost you.

That man would've done much work that just kiss and grab you had he not been there.

Much worse. You would've been killed by the end of it.

"I won't lose you. I won't. Not again."

"Cooper." You tried to move around him to get infront of him, but a harsh grasp hand you in place. "Ouch! Cooper that hurt."

"Where do you think you're going?" -- "No where! I'm just worried about you!"

"I won't lose you. Not again."

"Wha-"

You didn't have time to talk, Cooper kissed you.

"Humph!" Your shock is muffled. You try to pull away.

He doesn't let go...

#yandere monster #yandere #yandere monster x reader #yandere character #fallout x reader #fallout ghoul #cooper howard x you #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x you #the ghoul x reader #monster fucker #monster x reader #faceless bride's tag! 🪦🦋#sorry its kinda rushed at the end. tumblr fucked me over and i was angerly finished it

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cosmic-ghost-hermit · 3 months

Text

Pick a Card: Message from Lord Apollo

Take what resonates and leave the rest behind, baby. But always be open to new experiences. Decks used are Ethereal Visions Illuminated Tarot Deck, True Black Tarot, believe in your own magic oracle and pure magic oracle.

🌤Tip your Reader🌻

_________

PILE ONE

Astrology: Libra, Leo, Aquarius

Song: Apollo by Faith Zapata

Vibes: Yellow, red, white, indigo, owl, pidgin, scrunchies, tot bags, forge, swords, renaissance, skulls, poison, dancing, bus rides, public transport, arm tattoos, 333, 8787

Cards: Justice, 3 of Swords, Queen of Swords, 8 of Cups, The Sun, 7 of Wands, Hidden Familiars, Confidence, Belladonna Visions

Welcome to your message from Lord Apollo, pile one! I can see you had to walk away from something that meant a lot to you to gain a dream come true. You do not feel confident about your decision at all. Mostly because you haven't been able to feel the rewards from this huge change yet. You might have moved away from home or left a job that you have been at a long while. You knew you had to do it. The energy from where you were was changing into something that didn't resonate with you anymore. There was a chip on your shoulder where you used to be. You were not being treated with respect. Where you are going is meant to remove that chip and show you how you genuinely deserve to be treated.

Lord Apollo wants me to let you know that the heart break will be worth it. He knows that you are scared about the future and what is to come. He wants me to tell you that you have been guided to this new experience. Good things are coming and you don't need to be scared. The rewards will come with time and practice. Stand firm in your decision and know things will work out for you. You will receive anything and everything you need to help you succeed where you are going. He knows this isn't something you would normally do. You are a very logical person and you always have a plan. This feels like it is something you jumped into without much planning and it feels really anxiety inducing. Trust yourself. Trust that your guides will have your back. Not everyone is going to agree with your decision and you need to know you don't need their approval to make this decision. Things will work out without the approval of others. It is okay to be unsure. It is okay to be scared. Clarity will come to you on why things needed to go the way they need to go.

_________

PILE TWO

Astrology: Scorpio, Gemini, Cancer

Song: SUNRISE by MICHELLE

Vibes: Yellow, gold, blue, pink, black, squid, octopus, crows, activism, spiral, swirls, fencing, fairies, bubbles, stars, oranges, grapes, peaches, apricots, fruit, 4444, 88, 13

Cards: King of Swords, 4 of Wands, Death, 7 of Swords, 8 of Cups, Page of Swords, Raindrops, Opening Circle, Baraka

Welcome, pile two! Lord Apollo wants me to tell you to take a chance on that person. It could be someone you are romantically interested in but it could also just be someone you want to get to know better. This person you are interested in feels like an air sign (Gemini, Libra, Aquarius). Remember you aren't as naive as you used to be. Broaden your horizons. You don't have to sell yourself short anymore. Change how you think about yourself, my dear. You have changed in nature but you still see yourself in the same light that you used to see yourself. You aren't a victim anymore. I will also say don't throw all caution to the wind. Make sure you have a back up plan and remember to keep yourself safe. Just know you don't have to be as scared as you used to be. You are strong. You are driven. You are powerful. You don't have to hide in fear anymore.

Lord Apollo knows you have been through some scary stuff in the past. What you went through wasn't your fault. You have spent a while mourning and that was important for you to do. You don't have to mourn anymore. You can open your heart up to healing. You can look for love in other people again. He recognizes how much you have grown and wants you to know he is proud of your progress. You have learned what you needed to learn. You are protected from the pain you felt before. It won't happen again. The universe, Lord Apollo and you are looking after you. You are safe. Lord Apollo promises that.

____________

PILE THREE

Astrology: Aries, Taurus, Capricorn

Song: Under the Sun by TWRP

Vibes: Grey, purple, orange, green, shore line, salamanders, lizards, raven, lion, baby's breath flowers, nest, wedding cake, birthday cake, solar plexus chakra, sacral chakra, 1010, 1111

Cards: The Tower, King of Wands, Queen of Pentacles, 10 of Swords, 10 of Cups, 6 of Wands, Wings, Earth Mother, Mantra Medicine

Hi, pile three. Lord Apollo really wants you to listen to your mentors and friends. There is something you want to do. I don't want to sugar coat it, my dear. It is a bad idea. Your guides have been trying to steer you from this path because it is going to be very hard and it doesn't have to be. He asks you to listen closely to the music you have listening too. Pay attention to the music you hear when you are out in public. The lyrics are trying to tell you something important about this big choice you want to make. There is a reason things have been delayed so much. There is a reason why everything has been going wrong. Your friends and guides are trying to protect you from someone who is hurting you. Why are you letting them hurt you? Why are you letting them control you? Why? I want you to really REALLY think when I ask you this. Is this person hurting you? Do they actually make you feel good? Are they erasing who you are? Do they make you wear a mask when you are around them?

Lord Apollo showed me visions of my ex when I started doing this reading. He showed me how depressed my ex made me feel. He showed me how all my friends told me not to go with my ex, but I did anyway. The song I put in this readings description was a song I listened to when I was with him to cope with the pain he put me through. (I hadn't read the cards yet when I put that song there.) Please hear me. Please hear you friend and please hear Lord Apollo. Do not trust someone who says they love you but then treats you like trash. You are so much better than that. You deserve better than that. I see that there are two paths. You can either deepen you connection and trap yourself with this person who is not treating you right. OR you can leave them and give yourself the freedom you deserve. If you choose to deepen the connection it will prolong your pain. You will still end up leaving this person. You will just leave with darker bruises and no self esteem. I have been with someone like this. My guides told me to leave too. It took me a long time to listen and it hurt more the longer I stayed. Please trust Lord Apollo. Please trust your friends. They truly love you. They want what is best for you.

_________

PILE FOUR

Astrology: Sagittarius, Virgo, Pisces

Song: baseball by Hippo Campus

Vibes: Light yellow, light blue, light purple, pastels, black, alternative fashion, yoga, smoke cleansing, geckos, flowery patterns, florida water, perfume, white roses, red dress, sunflowers, hyacinths, cats, 333, 4, 22, 111

Cards: Ace of Wands, Queen of Swords, Page of Swords, The Lovers, Queen of Wands, The Well, Tower, Vervain Everlasting, Salamander

Hello, pile four. Welcome to your message from Lord Apollo. Lord Apollo is telling me you lost someone. You think about them a lot even though you are trying to be independent. Your heart longs for this person all the time. I'm so sorry you lost them. I don't mean to be insensitive but you need to let go of them. They aren't yours anymore. You aren't theirs even if you are still under their spell. I'm very sorry. I can hear your crying to love songs you two used to share. It hurts deeply to listen to something that used to give you so much pleasant emotion. Lord Apollo knows how that feels. He know how it feels too long for someone and cry for days at the loss of them. It is hard to move on. I won't doubt that. He apologizes for your pain. Apollo wants to help sooth your heart.

Lord Apollo wants to help you express the pain you feel. I think you may have felt the need to write something recently. He wants to encourage that desire. He will help you. Write poetry or journal. Whatever you feel drawn to do with writing. I think writing romance stories might help you sore heart heal. Your emotions are a well of creativity. Harness the pain and turn it into ecstatic beauty. If you still feel lonely after writing you heart out my dear. You should get a cat and some rose quartz. You are spellbound by this person who had to go. Cats are good at protecting you from energy from spell work. They absorb negative energy and neutralize it. It will be good for your heart to love a little creature. Cats are also very good at teaching independence. Plus, they are very good cuddle buddies. Apollo and me wish you luck. I hope you heart moves on from the pain. I believe in you, my dear.

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the-kr8tor · 3 months

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Oh my god i was scrolling through instagram and now i want lifeguard hobie x reader or lifeguard reader x hobie. Like either would be cute and imagine they start talking more and more. Think of how cute itd be. Maybe itd both be when they were teens and now they are looking back on it. Young summer romance and love? And now it could be fast forward where they are at the beach together instead of the pool one of them had worked as a lifeguard at. Heksndnekdksjeabandsk

I chose the first one! Thank you for requesting, bestie! ❤️❤️❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, FLUFF.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

You've been up and down the same whirly slide for at least an hour. It's not even that special, the slide, it's just an ordinary one that has a drop and a short loopty loop. It's so common that there's only a handful of people lining up for it, they prefer to go down the most popular one that has the strobe lights and a hundred feet long tunnel.

You've been going on it for how many times that you've lost count and going down the slide isn't even as fun anymore. The number of times you've gone up and down has significantly made it less thrilling. You're sure that your friends might think you're crazy because you've left them for a water park slide. But they don't know that it isn't the slide that you've grown fond of, it's the hot lifeguard that keeps smiling and making conversation at you while you're in line.

Your hair clings to your wet face and you stink of chlorine but the lifeguard that you only know from his nametag still beams at you like you're the only person in the entire water park. ‘Ned’ once again greets you at the top of the slide, chiseled face shining in the late afternoon sun. It's that late and you have no idea or concept of time anymore because of the fit bloke talking to you about how Olympic synchronized swimmers need to put gelatin in their hair so it doesn't mess up their routine and thermodynamics.

“A bit weird, innit?” He taps the yellow floatie in his arms, rubber squeaking as the familiar rush of water filters in your ears. “Imagine me using that instead of hair gel before a show. Less mess I bet,” he blinks, the cogs in his head turning. “Huh, I guess it's not that bad. It'll last longer too.”

You look behind you, expecting a few people waiting their turn, to your happiness, you find no one. You've got the slide all to yourself, or him for that matter. “I guess so, but wouldn't it be hard to take it off?” You're intrigued by the word ‘show.’ Your new friend has a side you never knew in the last two hours you've been chatting with him.

“I might buy one of those little shovels to get rid of them.” He shrugs, and you tilt your head, wanting to get to know eachother better especially now that the water park is about to close. “Just scoop it out y’know.” He gestures like he's digging in his head.

“Or you could ask for help.” Your heart hammers in your chest, hoping, praying to any entity out there listening to you that he wants to know you too.

He chuckles, piercings shining, laugh rumbling in his throat. “You volunteerin’?”

You inhale, trying to act nonchalant by leaning over the mouth of the slide. Arms crossed on your torso, you finally ask. “If you want to, I'm curious about those shows you're in.”

Nodding, his heart pounds with excitement. “I'm in a band, love. If you'd do me the honour.” Your hands are getting sweatier and sweatier, you don't notice your body slowly sliding downwards. “Do I have to dunk my hair in gelatine so you'd come to our show next week on Friday at the white horse pub at eight pm?”

“It's not a prerequisite. And that was very smooth, Ned, very smooth.”

His loud laugh echoes, you're sure that the entire park heard it louder than the thrumming of your heart and your big fat crush on the lifeguard. “Thanks, love, but uh,” he leans forward, you can see every green speck in his hazel eyes. “My name isn't Ned.”

“W-what?” With one wrong foot over the other, you slip and fall inside the slide, ‘Ned’ gets smaller and smaller by the second you're inside. “What's your name then?!” Your voice echoes inside the plastic, warbling as you go down the slide. “Fuck!” You plunge into the pool, water in your ears and eyes as you swim up and cough out chlorine filled water. “Goddamnit,” you splash the water with your hands, frustrated that you might've lost who could've been the love of your life. At least you know where his band would be playing.

“It's Hobie.” His voice suddenly appears above you, hand reaching downwards to help you. Chest noticeably heaving, sweat dripping down his temple. He ran down the long steps to get down to you as fast as he could.

“What?” You splutter, not the most attractive thing to do.

“My actual name, it's Hobie.” ‘Hobie’ points at his nametag. “I nicked this from a friend so I could get in for free, the manager found me so now I had to work a shift. But I could think of one good thing that happened to me today though.” His smug smile makes you hide under the water.

“You could've started with that, Hobie.” You reach towards his helping hand. “You do not look like a Ned—!” With a pull, you yank him inside the pool. You laugh, and he resurfaces drenched from head to toe.

“Cheeky.” He wipes his palms on his eyelids and he blinks at you standing over him.

“I'll see you on friday, Hobie?” You saying his name is music to his ears, or that might be the water in his ears. But the sight of you with the backdrop of the cotton candy orange sky makes his thwarted evil plan all worth it. “I'll bring the gelatine.”

“And I’ll brin' the little shovel.” Hobie smiles up at you. Maybe he should bring something nice to Ned as a thank you and compensation for almost getting him fired.

#request done #hobie brown x reader #spider punk x reader #the kr8tor's creations #atsv fanfic #atsv imagine #atsv x reader #atsv hobie #hobie brown imagine #hobie brown x fem!reader #spider punk x fem!reader #hobie brown x you #hobie x reader #hobie fanfic #hobie fluff #fanfic #x reader #hobie spiderverse #hobie brown fluff

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bedoballoons · 1 year

Note

Heyo! First off I gotta say your last post *chef kiss* lol I've really enjoyed reading all your fics!

May I request y/n giving Gorou, Tighnari, and Scaramouche and maybe Xiao forehead kisses?

Thank you<3

Eeeee thank you so much!! I'm so glad you've enjoyed them all! I hope you like this! <3

Genshin Men Headcanons:

~You giving them forehead kisses~

(Includes: Gorou, Tighnari, Xiao, and Scaramouche!)

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Gorou:

You smiled at Gorou, laying next to him on the soft ground, his arms wrapped around you holding you close to him. Above you the sakura tree showered you both with its silky light pink leaves, the gentle breeze shaking its branches and the sun slightly peeping through, making you feel warm in its rays.

He leaned in closer to you, your noses touching slightly as he looked into your eyes, his tail wagging gently behind him, letting you know he was enjoying the moment just as much as you were. Your face heated up a little as you moved, placing a soft kiss on your boyfriends forehead and watching lovingly as his cheeks turned a soft pink before he returned the favour, kissing your lips softly.

Tighnari:

Tighnari was deep into his paperwork, studying some plants you had never heard of before, while you organised a couple of his shelves and tidied up some of his loose sketches, taking your time to look at each one of them. It still amazed you how close to life he could make them look, even with just a few swipes of his pen.

Suddenly a small note caught your attention, your name being printed in his handwriting as well as a checklist. The checklist wasn't like any one he had written before or at least none that you had seen as you read each one of the goals:

⊡ Tell them they are beautiful at least once a day.

⊡ Bring them flowers for every date.

⊡ Say I love you more often.

⊡ Make sure to take a break from work to spend time with them.

By the time you had finished reading you had a dark blush on your face, noticing how he had marked them all and remembering just how loving he had been towards you recently. Your heart swelled and as he shifted in his seat you decided to hide the note back where it was, making your way over to him.

As soon as he looked up at you, his eyes filled with curiousity, you placed a gentle kiss on his forehead before hugging him, a large smile on your face. "What's gotten into you hm? You didn't eat any aphrodisiacs did you?" He chuckled teasingly his face turning a slight pink as his arms wrapped around you tightening the embrace.

(Went a little crazy with this one! Hope that's okay! >w<)

Xiao:

You looked at Xiao who had taken to resting his head in your lap, looking up at you as you gently ran your fingers through his dark teal hair and hummed a quiet melody. This time with him felt so peaceful and calming, not a worry in the world, just the wish of wanting to stay like this with him forever.

You glanced down at him, his eyelids looking heavy like he was about to fall asleep and his normally threatening yellow eyes looking gentle, you couldn't help but wonder just how long it had been since he had last relaxed like this. You smiled leaning down to place a sweet kiss on his forehead, watching as his eyes widen for a second and his cheeks turned slightly pink, before he could say a word sleep got the better of him, his eyes slowly closing as he rested on you.

Scaramouche:

Scaramouche smirked, looking at your blushing face like he had won a medal, his teasing had worked on you and despite calling you pathetic he actually enjoyed watching your cheeks turn red. "This isn't even a challenge anymore, just a simply victory like taking candy from a baby. Honestly I'm starting to think you'll never get me to blush." He gloated, each word full of self confidence and overwhelming pride.

For a second you considered giving up on ever making him feel flustered, wondering if it was actually impossible...till a idea popped into your head. It would be a last resort but it was all you could think of. You stepped closer to him tipping his hat backwards, he made a annoyed noise but you didn't take the time to care as you kissed his forehead gently.

You watched, savouring the moment as his face turned slightly pink and his smirk fell into a frown. He attempted to hide away behind his hat but you wouldn't let him get away so easily, as you ducked under the brim, your face inches from his. "What were you saying again?" You couldn't help but giggle at him as he groaned in annoyance.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

~Requests open!~

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entryn17 · 11 days

Text

working on an isat comic. i've spent a bit too long trying to figure out how stars would be classified in a world where people can't see color and about the worldbuilding. described the sun as a "midshaded dwarf" rather than a yellow one and it's getting to me

i think lore-wise it isn't that colors no longer exist it's just that people can't see them anymore right. and colors are just.. different wavelengths, you can still track wavelength frequency without being able to see it, right? i like to think the people from the forgotten country would still call them white/yellow/brown dwarfs/giants/etc. out of like... necessity in labeling the wavelengths and because terms for colors are still a thing but they're more like... fossil words. so terms like "brown dwarf" could just be a phrase that was preserved from a time that did have colors

i know colors are supposed to be a recent discovery, but maybe the islanders would've known about them long before vaugarde did and everyone just forgot. the stars are pretty important to them and astronomy is pretty reliant on physics so i can't imagine they wouldn't know about the properties of light

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duskandcobalt · 11 months

Text

stargirl

Elain and Azriel are spending a bit of time together when she has a vision, a vision of her nails in the kitchen...

surprise! I wrote this little quickie on a complete whim over the last couple of days because I think Elain deserves to have a sexy little vision that isn't about cassian dying

1.7k words ft implied sex via prophetic visions

Read on AO3

inspired by....

It’s a crisp Autumn morning in Velaris but the River House kitchen is toasty, the fire from the brick oven warming the space. The sun is only just beginning to rise, vibrant colours seeping into the otherwise dark sky outside the large picture window that overlooks the garden.

Most of the house is still asleep but Elain is already hard at work, the sleeves of her pale yellow dress are pushed up to her elbows as she puts her heart and soul into rolling out dough for the cinnamon rolls that she’d woken up extra early to make… all because a certain someone had mentioned in passing that he had a particular penchant for them a few days ago.

That certain someone in question is the only other person awake. He’s perched on a stool across the counter, nursing a steaming cup of black coffee as he watches her work with eyes that are still bleary with sleep. His dark hair is messy - strands going in every direction. He’s in a white t-shirt, a few tiny holes around the neckline indicate that perhaps it’s his preferred sleep shirt. A pair of heather grey sleep pants are slung entirely too low on his waist.

Not that Elain had noticed.

He’d come downstairs half an hour after she’d started puttering around the kitchen, quietly mumbling a ‘good morning’ before he made them both coffees and began his “interrogations” as Elain had lovingly come to call this ruse of his. A routine he’d developed where he’d find an excuse to be wherever she was and ask questions about whatever task she was working on that particular day.

She’d held back a smile when he’d asked her what her preferred type of flour was this morning. Knew that this was his way of finding reasons to talk to her, to spend time with her - just the two of them and these quiet moments before anyone else had woken up or long after everyone had gone to bed.

Elain didn’t mind. Quite the opposite actually, she’d be lying to herself if she didn’t admit to the warmth that built in her chest and low in her stomach whenever he approached her. She always answered his questions, asked him a few of her own just to keep him around longer.

Afterwards, when time caught up with them and they were forced to go about their days or nights separately, she’d think of his small smiles, the way he blushed each time she looked at him a little too long. And sometimes, more often than she’d ever admit, she allowed herself to think of the smattering of dark hair under his belly button that travelled down under the waistband of his pants, visible only when his shirt would rise as he reached for the mugs that she kept unreasonably high in the cupboard for this very reason.

…

Elain is explaining the merits of grinding her own cinnamon to Azriel when it happens, that familiar haziness clouding her eyesight as everything fades and she’s whisked into some sort of alternate space.

The vision comes in stages, as it always does.

The sight in front of her is the first to transform.

The dough she’d been rolling out is gone - the counter clear except for the rag that she uses to wipe it down. Azriel isn’t sitting in front of her anymore and the rising sun is nowhere to be seen. A sliver of moonlight and a few flickering candles are the only things illuminating the otherwise dark kitchen.

Her yellow dress and apron have been replaced by a thin cotton nightgown that’s currently bunched up around her waist, one strap hangs off her shoulder. Her hands are splayed out on the counter, fingertips spread wide as her nails desperately scratch at the surface for leverage.

She glimpses the golden arms on either side of her body, the dark swirling tattoos. Recognises the pair of obscenely large hands braced on the countertop directly next to her own, notices the distinct scars that cover them.

Before she can wrap her head around what she’s seeing, she begins to feel it.

She feels the strain on her calves from being raised up on the very tips of her toes. The cold granite of the benchtop is agonising against her peaked nipples as her breasts brush roughly over the surface. She’s conscious of the heavy weight of his strong body over hers, the glide of his bare chest against her arched back - the friction eased by the thin sheen of sweat covering their bodies.

The last thing she feels before the sound fades in is the delicious burn in between her legs, the blissful stretch of her body around him as he sinks deep into her.

She’s just caught on to exactly what this is when she hears it all - the unmistakable sound of skin meeting skin at a punishing pace, the rumble of his low voice in her ear saying things that are so unbelievably filthy she’d never dream of ever repeating them out loud. She hears her own voice but the rasp in it is unlike she’s ever heard it before as she screams. Actually screams .

It’s Azriel’s name she’s crying out, over and over. It’s his name that echoes through the kitchen, punctuated only by the primal moans escaping her lips as she pleads for more. Begs him to go harder, faster.

His name is halfway out of her mouth again, a wave of unfathomable pleasure just beginning to crest within her, when the haze lifts and it all changes back as quickly as the vision came.

The rolling pin has dropped from her hands and is laying at her feet. Her fingers are wrapped around the edge of the countertop, knuckles white with the force of her grip. The morning sun is shining bright through the kitchen window, the soft golden light matching the colour of her dress.

Elain’s chest heaves as she tries to catch her breath. The only thing that lingers from her vision is the desperate ache between her thighs. When she dares to look up, Azriel is staring at her - hazel eyes wide with shock. She wonders if maybe she’d said his name out loud. Prays that the way she’d been screaming it had occurred solely in her vision.

She looks away from his gaze quickly, her face heating as she glances at his hands only to remember how they’d been positioned on either side of her body. Flashes of what the two of them had been doing play on repeat in her mind.

It was only a few months ago that he’d noticed that she was a Seer and since then she’s had a number of visions. But none like this, none directly about herself . And certainly none like this - so visceral and explicit that there were no hidden meanings to be found, no need to decipher what she had just seen.

Never in her life had she felt like that before, not that she had much experience. She just never fathomed that it could be that good. All she could think of was the feeling of him inside her coupled with the glorious weight of his body pressing hers into the benchtop. All she could think of was how much she wanted that vision to come to life, how much she wanted to hear him whisper all those filthy things again.

“Elain?” Azriel’s voice cuts through her racing thoughts. Had he been saying something to her this entire time?

She lifts her eyes back to his, watches as his eyes scan her face… her throat. Watches the way they drift down and linger on the rise and fall of her breasts as she attempts to slow her racing heart.

“Are you alright? Did you see … something?” He enquires, voice gentle although she doesn’t miss the heat in it. She doesn’t miss the shift in his scent either, the heady musk of it intermingling with the sweet scent of her own arousal.

Elain nods slowly, searching for anything to say. Any lingering hope that he hadn’t picked up on exactly what type of vision she just had is immediately dashed when his eyes lock on hers again and she sees the way they’ve darkened - sees the desire in them that she’s sure matches the desire in hers.

She thanks the gods above when they both hear the sound of creaking floorboards at the top of the stairs. Azriel’s shadows come out from wherever they’ve been hiding, whisking away the scent of arousal in the air, just as Cassian appears at the bottom of the stairs.

“Morning Elain, Az.” Cassian greets them as he saunters into the kitchen. “How are we ruining my diet today, El?”

“Cinnamon rolls…” Elain’s voice is traitorously breathy. She turns to face him, releases a deep sigh and attempts to plaster a smile on her face as she runs her sweaty palms over the front of her apron. She’s still flustered even with the distraction of a third party. “I just forgot I needed to do… something. Do you think you could finish grinding this cinnamon for me while I run upstairs?”

“I’ll do it.” Azriel speaks up before Cassian has a chance to reply. She doesn’t even look back at him before she nods and practically flies out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

Elain curses under her breath as she quickly shuts the door to her bedroom and collapses on her bed. She tries to ignore the relentless need coursing through her body as she stares up at the ceiling and contemplates how months of this unspoken slow growing tension between them has suddenly culminated into something so tangible.

She wonders how she’ll be able to ever look him in the eye without thinking of him inside of her. Wonders how she’s supposed to continue with life as normal while knowing that this vision would stay embedded in the forefront of her mind until it came to fruition.

After all this time spent fighting thinking of Azriel in this way, now that she’d gotten a glimpse of what could be, Elain thinks she may just go insane waiting.

#elriel #azriel x elain fanfiction #azriel x elain #elain x azriel #my writing #mine #fanfiction #elriel fanfiction #elriel fanfic #acotar fanfiction #elain archeron #azriel #elriel smut #Spotify

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cathyun · 2 years

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Home

pairing: choi beomgyu x fem!reader genre: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort wc: 2.8k warnings: yn overworks herself :(, mentions of food, terrible parents, yn not taking care of herself, gyu got ur back dw summary: when the happy-go-lucky student crosses paths with the infamous overachiever, what happens? or: y/n finds something akin to home.

You are an overachieving student, which everyone knew. Always seen raising your hand to recite, being active in class. Whenever there was a test coming up, everyday after class had ended, you'd be found in the school library even until the sun had set. You would lock yourself in your room to study. It wasn't a suprise to anyone anymore when all you've received are A's and B's.

You are punctual. Never late and specially never absent. No matter the reason was, you would still attend class and have a perfect attendance by the end of every school year. Feeling unwell would not stop you from going to school as much as your body begged for you to rest.

It was clear to everyone that because you're too dedicated to spend all your time studying, you forget to take care of yourself. The dark circles under your eyes are much more evident today, the only thing you have consumed is coffee.

As you walked through the long halls of school, you planned what you would be doing for today. As usual, you will spend your break at the library. Your stomach grumbled in protest.

When you opened the door to your first class, all the thoughts in your mind disappeared. There, placed on your table, a strawberry milk and a sandwich. As you approached, you could feel the lingering stares of your classmates. The noisy classroom now filled with hush whispers.

They were quick to look away when you turn to them. You sigh and turn your attention back to the food placed on your table. You sat, holding the strawberry milk, you inspect it with your eyes, making sure they weren't messing with you.

When you confirmed that it was new, you placed the straw and took a sip.

It felt nice to have something inside your stomach other than coffee. But it felt nicer to know that someone out there was trying to look out for your well-being.

While drinking, you looked around the room, trying to see who had their eyes on you. Maybe that'll give you a hint of who gave you this.

But even after trying to look at them through your peripheral vision, you couldn't spot anyone that was obvious enough. When you finished with your drink, you took a bite out of the sandwich after many moments of hesitation.

It tasted nice. You silently thanked the person who gave you this. You'd never admit it, but you were starting to feel the effects of lack of sleep and food in your system.

When you look back down at your food, your eyes spot a yellow paper sticking out at the bottom of your sandwich. It was a sticky note, it said,

"here's some of my favorite snacks! i can't help but notice that you're barely eating bc your hands are almost always occupied with books. studying isn't a bad thing, but you should take breaks! enjoy your food :D"

A small, but genuine smile formed in your face. Your chest filled with unexplainable warmth.

And as you continue to eat, still staring at the note, you failed to notice the boy a few seats behind you, hiding his face behind a textbook. Beomgyu smiled, feeling relief spread throughout his chest at the sight of you enjoying food.

What you thought was a one time thing, is now a daily routine. At first, it was hard to get used to — receiving snacks along with the yellow sticky note you've grown fond of. There would always be words of encouragement written in a rushed, but neat handwriting.

You treasured it all.

Soon, you got used to it. You would always look forward to what they bring you next and what set of encouragement they would give you. This became your boost and motivation.

This also helped you lose your terrible habit of consuming nothing but coffee.

Today, you were at school slightly early than normal. Mainly because you wanted to get out of your house as soon as possible. Your mother had brought up the tests where you got B's when you were eating breakfast together, causing another argument.

The air was tense. It always was.

This is the place you've grown used to calling home, although it felt nothing like it. The suffocating pressure was always there, but you gulp it down with your breakfast.

As soon as your mother spoke, you knew you preferred the uncomfortable silence more.

"I saw the results."

You didn't bother looking up from your plate. You already knew she was wearing that face that held all the disappointment. Your father was probably staring at you the same way, letting your mother do the talking.

"Why was there a B? Me and your father work so hard just so you'd be able to study and this is how you repay us? Why can't you be more like your cousin? His parents are bragging about his straight A's, meanwhile—"

You blast the music you're playing in your headphones a bit more louder. You don't want to have these thoughts while you were at school. The grip you had on your bag had tightened.

You didn't even notice you were already outside the classroom until you placed your hand on the doorknob. You opened it and quickly got in. You were about to make your way to your desk, but all your movements come to a halt.

Your previous thoughts about home has been pushed to the back of your mind.

The room would've been empty if it wasn't for one person.

Standing in front of your desk, hands full of snack, is Beomgyu.

Choi Beomgyu, the famous social butterfly. The guy who's famous for his talents and his likeable personality. The same guy who you had been thanking silently for caring for you.

Your mouth opened on its own, shock plastered in your face. It seemed as if the sound of closing doors had caught his attention, placing the food down on your table before sparing a glance at the door.

His eyes widened for a second, before he grew flustered. "Oh. You're here early today."

"Yeah." You slid off your headphones and slowly walked closer. "Um. These are for you." He spoke, gesturing awkwardly towards the snacks he was holding a few seconds ago.

"It was you this whole time?" You asked.

He nodded his head, smiling a bit. "Yeah. I noticed you weren't really taking good care of yourself, so I decided to do it for you."

You were shocked to say the least. Although you knew he'd probably do things like this if he wanted to, you never would've expected him to do it for you.

"...Thank you. So much. This is kind of embarrassing, but you have been such a big help to me." Your mouth tilted upwards. He smiled back, a sight you liked seeing. "I'm just glad you're feeling better now."

You adjusted the strap of your bag, readying yourself. He's been helping and spending his money on you, you must thank him somehow. "If you don't mind, would you like to join me during lunch?"

"Already asking me out?" He teased lightly, in which you roll your eyes with a smile. "Yeah. You better agree, I don't usually invite people for lunch." Although you had been joking, your words had a splash of truth in them.

This was the first time in months that you're asking someone to join you for lunch, you rarely even have lunch so this was new.

"If you insist." He replied, smile never leaving his face, even as he walked away from you. You sat on your own seat as well, watching as your classmates entered the room one by one.

Once the teacher arrived, they began their daily lesson. Your eyes never left the clock.

"This is weird."

You sat beside Beomgyu in the crowded cafeteria. He laughed before commenting, "It is different from the library. Much more... noisy."

Ignoring the burning stares of the students behind your back, you nodded.

Beomgyu watched as you took out the snacks he gave you before, sharing some of it with him.

"I know this isn't enough to repay you for all the things you've given me, but it's all I have for now, I wasn't really prepared to meet who's been helping me." You said.

He only shook his head. "Those are yours. You don't have to repay me for anything. I wanted to help you, so I did. Don't feel obligated on repaying me."

Your heart felt warm.

He wanted to help and he wasn't expecting anything back. He genuinely just wanted you to feel better.

"But I want to share these with you." You smiled. "Besides, I don't think I can finish it all."

He grinned, "I guess I can help you finish it. I did give too much today." He took a banana milk and you took the strawberry milk.

Lunch time with him was spent with laughter and playful banters. You tried to get to know each other, throwing random questions and each of you answering.

You weren't used to it, but it felt oddly nice doing something other than studying. Perhaps it was because you missed bonding with your peers and messing around like teens again. Or maybe it was because you liked Beomgyu's presence.

Either way, your lunch time was well spent and you're almost certain this wont be the last time this would happen.

You were right. After that day, he stopped his routine of giving you snacks, now joining you during lunch time.

Sometimes, you'd both be spotted at the most quiet part of the cafeteria. Most of the time, students would see you together at the library.

It wasn't long until you fell into another routine. Instead of being alone in the library during breaks, you now have Beomgyu beside you. Because of this, you don't spend most of your time forcing knowledge into your brain. You both usually chat until lunch break is over while your hands are occupied with food instead of books.

The two of you had also exchanged numbers. You don't use your phone that much, only using it to update your parents if you were planning to come home late. But now, whenever you weren't next to Beomgyu, you'd be on your phone texting each other. Sending memes, planning what to eat next lunch break, random rambles, and so much more.

It seems as if the students from school weren't the only ones to notice how much time you and Beomgyu had been spending together.

You just got home, a smile brought by Beomgyu couldn't be wiped out of your face. He simply had that effect. Going up the stairs, you planned to go to your room only to be stopped by your mother.

"We need to talk."

You froze.

She wasn't speaking in her usual voice. It had a slight edge, and that made you uneasy. You walked away from the stairs, following your mother into the living room where your father was waiting. All three of you sat in silence.

You wanted to be anywhere but here.

"Who have you been spending your time with?" Your father broke the silence. You sat still, dread filling your body.

How did they know?

When you came up with no response, your mother spoke up.

"First, we hear that you got a B. We thought you would've learned your lesson by then and start studying harder. But now we suddenly start hearing that you're hanging out with a boy? Was he the reason why you've been getting such low results?"

"No, he wasn't." You defended.

"So, you admit it? You've been hanging out together?" Your mother countered. You felt helpless the more you spoke to them. If this conversation didn't go the way they wanted to, the possibility of you seeing Beomgyu ever again would disappear.

"Yes, we have been hanging out. But he's not a bad influence at all! He took care of me in moments where I couldn't take care of myself." He cared for me more than you ever could, you wanted to say, but you didn't want to add more fuel to their anger and disappointment.

"This shows how much freedom we've given you. You're grounded. Maybe it would be better for your studies if you never see him again." Your mother decided.

They missed your entire point.

You wanted to cry out of frustration.

Couldn't they see how much happiness he brought you? It hasn't been long since you've met, but the changes in your life was apparent.

Without thinking, you ran out.

You didn't spare them a glance, even when they were screaming at you to come back.

It was almost midnight when Beomgyu received a text. He squints as he reads the notification, fingers immediately clicking as soon as he saw your name.

y/nnie: gyu

y/nnie: are you there?

gyu: im here im here

gyu: everything ok?

y/nnie: i need someone right now

y/nnie: please.

gyu: where are u?

y/nnie: im at the park near our school

gyu: im omw, stay where u are

The moment he arrived at the park, he easily spotted you. Alone in the swing set, eyes puffy, nose red, as if you've been crying.

When he got closer, he immediately engulfed you in a tight hug. You sit in shock for the first few seconds, before slowly hugging back, burying yourself in his warm clothes.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" He gently asked, combing through your hair with his fingers. You shook your head, "Let's stay like this for a while."

So he did. He gave you all the time in the world to sort out your thoughts and feelings. He rubbed circles on your back as you recount what happened back at your house. With a sigh, you tried to speak.

"It was my parents."

When Beomgyu didn't budge, you took that as a sign to continue.

"They thought you were the reason why I had B's on our tests, so they wanted me to stay away from you." You spoke, playing with the ends of his shirt.

He moved away from the hug to face you, "They wanted you to stay away from me so you can have good grades?" He asked.

You nodded, "Yeah. But even then, you weren't even the reason as to why I received results like that. If they think it was, then they're focusing on the wrong thing."

When your eyes set on Beomgyu, his eyes were already looking at you. Urging you to continue.

"The pressure of being good enough for them got to me." Your voice quivered. You tried to cover it up with a pathetic laugh, but you could tell he heard it.

He reached out to hold your hands in an instant, sensing that this was a hard topic for you to talk about.

"I feel like I'm trying so hard to be something I'm not. I can't do it. I've been trying all my life and it still feels so unreachable." Your voice began to turn quiet each word and you try to stop yourself from falling apart.

"You don't have to be another person around me. I want you to be you. I want to see the real you." He replied. You want to tell him that he has seen it. Because the only person you can be Y/n is when you're with him.

All the bottled up feelings, the repressed thoughts, it was all bound to be let out someday. A few weeks ago, you would've guessed this breakdown would happen in your room. Isolated. Cold. Alone.

The complete opposite of what was happening now.

And for the very first time in many years, you let yourself cry in front of another person. This was something you never would've done, but this was Beomgyu, and Beomgyu is not just another person in your eyes.

As soon as he noticed the moist in your eyes, he opened his arms.

An open invitation for comfort.

Something you had been craving all these years. Something you needed and have always wanted to feel. Something you received from Beomgyu twice today without having to ask.

You went closer and let yourself be ingulfed in his warm embrace. This time, the tears wouldn't stop flowing. No matter how much you tried to wipe them away, another set of tears would come out of your eyes.

Beomgyu does not let go. No matter how long it took you to get everything out, his hold did not falter. He would squeeze you gently whenever you let out a sob. A comforting hand placed on your back and on your hair, as he whispered words of affirmation in your ears.

You think it's selfish of you, having thoughts about not wanting this moment to end. But you bask in this feeling longer, the feeling of comfort that Beomgyu has to offer.

Everything is uncertain, specially in the world we live in. Few years after this, you could still be in the same shit position. Crying about what your parents have said without any regard to what you'd feel. Nevertheless, you didn't care.

Because right here, in this moment, you have Beomgyu. And you're certain that he's the closest thing to a home.

note: i got this idea based on the line, 'The voices that implore, “You should be doing more.” To you, I can admit that I'm just too soft for all of it.' — it's from taylor swift's song called sweet nothing :) hope u enjoyed reading, lmk ur thoughts!

#beomgyu x reader #beomgyu x you #beomgyu x y/n #beomgyu #txt beomgyu #txt imagines #txt x yn #txt x reader #txt reactions #txt #choi beomgyu

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oneiroy · 6 months

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Ryssrael Waenwyn

B A S I C S

Name: Ryssrael Waenwyn

Nicknames: Ryss (for all her friends), and a few pet names for Fornax only (like sunshine or captain)

Age: 26-32 (ARR>EW)

Nameday: 1st Sun of the 5th Astral Moon

Race: Sea Wolf Roegadyn

Gender: Butch

Orientation: Bisexual

Profession: Warrior of Light (for non-WoL AU: either mercenary / freelancer or pirate)

P H Y S I C A L A S P E C T S

Hair: Black, ranging from short to shaved, always messy (well, unless it's shaved. but still messy in spirit vjkfnvjsdf)

Eyes: Rich brown that almost looks reddish

Skin: Green pulling towards yellow (yes technically green... the shaders never do it justice though. i need to come up with a fix that doesn't mess the rest of the coloring)

Tattoos/scars: A wide variety of scars all over her body, with a higher concentration on her left arm. A small red tattoo under her right eye.

F A M I L Y

Parents: Unnamed sea wolves, former dockworkers, who she is not in contact with anymore. Probably still alive somewhere in Limsa.

Siblings: She would say that the friends she grew up with are her siblings. Swynfyr, Servan and R'osen, three adoptive brothers.

Grandparents: I didn't get that far tbh

In-laws and Other: Uhhh yeah idk. Most of her blood family isn't that relevant to her current story tbh. But! Other, spouse: Fornax :)

Pets: No pets, she doesn't feel like her lifestyle is compatible with that.

S K I L L S

Abilities: Fighting with pole and axe-based weapons of all kinds. She is very athletic and maintains her body as strong as it can be. She also pulls from her inner rage, or from the strength Midgardsormr grants her, depending on the situation.

Hobbies: Hiking, swimming, fishing, training. Cooking, but mostly eating good foods.

T R A I T S

Most Positive Trait: Her contagious confidence

Most Negative Trait: Her impulsiveness paired with the fact that she's quick to anger

L I K E S

Colors: Black, green, red

Smells: Ocean breeze, blood and metal, rain, broth

Textures: Worn leather, calloused hands, wood bleached by the sea and warmed by the sun

Drinks: Beer, rhum, water

O T H E R D E T A I L S

Smokes: Sometimes but not often, only if offered.

Drinks: Often in good company. She can drink a lot before being visibly affected by it.

Drugs: Recreationally but not regularly

Mount Issuance: She still has her black chocobo! But when it's not conveniently around, she often goes on foot or hitch a ride.

Been Arrested: So many times when she was young. She stole a lot, and got in trouble for doing "jobs" for less than reputable folks. Now less, in part because she's less struggling with gil, but also in part because she got better at it.

Tagged by: @hazelkjt, thanks!

Tagging: @elliewiltarwyn, @viiioca, @necro-man-sir, @chadhunkler, @fantasmagoriam, @elf-simp, @sealrock, and you if you want to do it!

#tag meme #thanks for the tag!!#as always no pressure to do it if i've tagged you #just see it as an evil boop >:)#ryssrael

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quecksilvereyes · 8 months

Note

“You cannot live your life to please others. the choice must be yours.” Susan

Uh. So this prompt possessed me a little bit, I sure hope smoking isn't a trigger for you, anon.

____

Sometimes, in the summers, when the air is thick and heavy, dripping with unshed rain and pressing into the hollow of her clavicles, Susan Pevensie stands in her mother's garden, and bathes in the sun. She drapes her blouse, soaked with sweat, and her skirt, soaked with perfume, over the old rocking chair that has long since splintered under the weight of its age, and then:

A breath.

With closed eyes and soft mouth, rouge-dotted and lipstick-smeared, Susan Pevensie tilts her face towards the light. Her brassiere is damp with English rain that won't fall, her petticoats are stiff with English breeze that won't blow and her wrists are strung up by English strings that won't pull.

Blue skies are rare, here. England is grey, and England is cloudy, and England rains and rains and rains until it has made itself sick and its ground unsteady. Some weeks, the clouds hang low for so long that the sun cannot reach what it wishes to nourish. Some weeks, Susan sits by her window, her head pressed against the glass, and watches the clouds drip into fog, the fog drip into the earth, and the earth drown and cry. Until her skin matches the grey of the skies, until her mind drips from her every breath onto the paneled glass, until she can't see through the fog, anymore.

"Su", says her brother, then, his hands on her forehead, his mouth in her hair. "Susie." His hands, shaking and unsteady, are warm and getting warmer with every passed winter. His voice, soft and careful and stripped of teeth, drops steadily deeper. When he turns his head, the beginnings of a stubble scrape against her cheek.

"Light of my life, sun of my skies."

The skies are grey. The grass is grey. The fence is grey. The world is grey.

Peter's eyes are blue. The clouds don't gather around his pupils, and his irises are clear as they've been for days. The English sky has never echoed the yellow freckles.

The Narnian skies were ever centered around the pupil of her sun, in the soft yellow streaks of Peter's eyes.

Susan wets her lips. She doesn't wet her cheeks.

Peter climbs onto the bench. "My sister", he says softly. "Where have you gone?"

Susan buries her face in his chest and leaves behind great streaks of make-up on his bleached dress shirt: a mouth of lipstick, a blur of rouge, a dust of powder. Splotches of mascara, lines of kohl. Marks of eyeshadow.

Peter rubs her back, and Susan doesn't cry.

In the summers, she drinks the sun with greedy mouth and empty stomach and hungry, hungry skin. In the dripping air and the burning grass, Susan Pevensie strips to her undergarments - and breathes.

In, and out.

A breath, and then another.

Beyond her closed eyes, the world drips reds and oranges, and bright, stark yellows. Beyond her hollow mouth, the air coats her windpipe; a slow dripping of heat.

She is alone, here. She drops her ball-jointed limbs and her painted porcelain face, turns her opal glass palms right side up, and breathes.

Until her lungs settle, and the fog has run dry. Until the colours are a bit sharper, a bit brighter. A smear more familiar.

The party is slow. Nicotine gathers heavy on the ceiling, and the music is a little too loud to be ambient. The drinks are spiked, the hems are lifted, and Susan is standing by the door, watching her friend lose the last of her lipstick to a stranger's mouth.

The boy is. Well, he's fine. Polite and gentle, soft-spoken. He ducks his head and worries the tips of his fingers and the spread of his lips until they bleed. His hair would curl, if it was long enough, and when she blows smoke in his direction, he coughs.

Smiles.

Susan takes another drag of her cigarette. Flicks the ash to the floor. Smiles.

"You'll have to forgive the cigarette", she says around the smoke seeping from her mouth. "It calms me down."

The boy blinks at her, and wets his bottom lip. It is dark with blood, dotted purple where he has almost broken skin, swollen with the almost-injury. "I can't imagine anyone ever denies you much of anything", he says. "You're too pretty for that."

"Too pretty to be annoyed with?"

He shrugs. His shoulders are slumped forwards, and it makes his suit jacket sit oddly on the rounded curve of his back. "People love pretty things. Better to keep them around."

Her cigarette is stained with her lipstick, and the tips of her fingers drip with it. The smoke in her lungs is warm, and the alcohol in her blood is warmer, still, so Susan tilts her head. "When I was a little girl, my mother bought me a little lace collar. I wore it until it broke, and begged her to fix it when it had long become too threadbare to even be touched."

The boy nods, and takes a breath.

Susan clicks her tongue. "I'd gotten beet juice on it, and it wouldn't come out in the wash. No matter the soap, no matter the scrub. There was a small pink stain near the lapel, and it simply bled in all directions. So my mother soaked it in bleach."

The boy cannot pull his shoulders forwards any further. He cannot bend his back more. He digs his teeth into the purple marks on his lips.

"The bleach dissolved most of it. The lace was too delicate." Susan throws the cigarette stub on the floor and savours the last breath of it, the hot coating of her tongue. "If she hadn't tried to get the stain out, it wouldn't have broken."

The boy's teeth break his skin. The blood pools, dark and shy, around the enamel and into the corners of his mouth. "You couldn't have worn the stained collar", he says, with his soft voice and his soft eyes, his soft, soft hair.

"Why not?"

"Well", says the boy. His shirt is starched and bleached. There is a wrinkle ironed firmly into the placket. He coughs again. "It was already ruined before your mother bleached it. It was stained."

Susan crushes the stub underneath her shoe. The music covers the sound of the grinding and the soft hiss of the dying embers. "It was mine, and I loved it", she says. "Was it my mother's call to make what I could bear?"

The boy shrugs. "It's a lace collar. There are others."

Susan hums. "Perhaps. But I wanted this one." Across the room, someone spills red wine over someone else's lap. Someone else holds their cigarette too close to their lover's sleeve. "You shouldn't live your life to please others. You mind the smoke, and you mind the talking. And yet-"

The boy laughs. The corners of his eyes wrinkle, the apples of his cheeks flush dark, and the blood on his lips spreads slow across his teeth.

"And yet", he says, "here I am."

#narnia #the chronicles of narnia #tcon #susan pevensie #peter pevensie #tcon fanfic #tcon fanfiction #narnia fanfic #narnia fanfiction #the chronicles of narnia fanfiction #the chronicles of narnia fanfic #seasonal depression #smoking #susan flirting at a party #susan having a panic attack about english weather #she contains multitudes #the problem of susan #sort of #larissa makes things

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bettyshoweduptotheparty · 1 year

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Eras tour thoughts, part 3: Burning the Lover house

So, after my Anti-Hero/Matilda theory, here's another brain dump of thoughts on style choices for the Eras tour, now that the first leg has officially finished and we are on the international leg of the tour. Warning, this is bit of an essay...

This part is about maybe the most glaring visual choice of the whole tour, one that pretty much every swiftie has picked up on: The burning of the Lover house. I've seen a lot of confusion in the fandom about this and some theories about how this could represent 'burning down' her old work as she releases the re-recordings or making space for new albums because the house is full if every room represents an era.

In terms of gaylor theories I've only seen one and that is THIS one by @keepingsecretstokeepyoutk (I hope you don't mind me borrowing your theory for this post). It's a brilliant theory that burning the house is another step on the road to coming out and I'd like to extend this with a few observations on my own.

Firstly, I'd agree that the midnights cover image of Taylor holding the lighter was definitely a sign that something was going to get burned before the tour even started. Even with the midnights songs themselves, if we think of it as a journey of stepping into the daylight, the songs on this album are definitely pretty gay and only one song with he/him pronouns. But back to the lover house...

True to my TRUE Lover

So the lover house to me has always represented her public relationships, it's not where her real lover lives and that is for two reasons:

The OG lover house is in a snow globe (see lover mv) so it is to be displayed/looked at but not to be actually lived in. And

Maybe most importantly, the house doesn't have a kitchen. In all of Taylor's music the centre of her domestic life/the place where her lover is, has always been the kitchen. Dancing in the refrigerator light / barefoot in the kitchen/ you're in the kitchen humming, and so many more. Not to mention that her actual love story literally started with the line 'your kitchen or mine...' So yeah, the absence of a kitchen in the lover house has always been pretty telling to me, that this is the 'love's for show' house and her true lover is somewhere else.

What happens to the house during the Eras tour?

So not surprisingly, the house first appears during the lover era set which is the opening act of the tour. Notably though, it isn't furnished and 'lived in' anymore like it was in the lover mv, it's empty and the lovers have very clearly moved out. It's also not night time anymore, it's now daytime and the sun is shining in through the windows:

The only person we see in it, is Taylor in a yellow dress in the pink bedroom where she climbs into the big mirror and disappears. The first 'burning' then occurs at the end of the set, during the transition to fearless era. The last song of the set is the Archer, during which golden arrows fly around on the stage that form a ball of light that explores into a cascade of sparkling rain that sets the house on fire.

It doesn't really burn like a normal house fire though, it just stands in the rain of sparks, looking almost peaceful and golden. So much so, that she added a massive smoke effect to drive home the message that the house really is burning. Look how much smoke there is:

So at the end of the lover era, the contents of the house and a few of the walls have burned, but the house is still pretty much intact. It can be repaired. And that's pretty spot on for the actual lover era, which was meant to be her coming out era, but ended up just being a nice gentle golden (aka pastels and rainbows) fire that left some damage to her straight image but could ultimately be repaired and the public bearding continued. Keep that in mind, because we now don't see the house again until way later in the show.

1989 - Now it really burns

During the 1989 set (which is the second to last in the show) there is a ton of fire imagery, starting with the flame in the hand and the bed on fire during Wildest dreams and then finally, during Bad Blood, the final song, we see the house again looking a bit charred. Now, this is where things get interesting. We see Taylor walking in wearing Karlie's 2014 VSFS outfit, full strut and including the flick of the cape as she sits down at the vanity. She then flicks a match at the floor and the rooms lights up in blue flames.

So despite this being Taylor, I think the outfit and the strut make it pretty clear that this is Karlie who is lighting the house on fire again. And I think now in hindsight we can safely assume that this was foreshadowing Karlie showing up and setting in motion the events that follow. Even in the last few weeks since Karlie's appearance at the LA show, the fandom has been pretty much on fire over it, no matter what side of the fence you're on. And this time it's not a gentle sparkly rain, it's a blazing inferno, blue first, then it turns orange (or whatever colour normal fire is) before the house eventually collapses in a smoking heap and is gone for good.

video credit: ryan pily on YouTube

So...are we nearing daylight?

My interpretation is, that the blue flames indicate that 1989 TV will have a significant impact on this journey, and the different cover images that we have seen so far have confirmed that for me. They are all imitations of original 1989 era polaroids, but taken outside in broad daylight with seagulls flying freely and Taylor's face smiling on full display. They are also the first re-release covers that have the album title and Taylor's Version written on them so she wants her name on these, which feels significant. Now, I don't think that this will be the 'coming out era' or anything, I still think we are 12-18 months away from the end of this whole process, but I think Karlie showing up was a big shift in the story and I hope we'll be seeing a lot more of her and a lot less of any 'boyfriends'. But let's not forget that the general swiftie fandom still have a long way to go from 'she's straight and has only ever dated men' to 'she's been madly in love with the same woman for the last 10 years'. The house finally collapsing suggest to me that we are done with the bearding narrative, and tbh Taylor seems over it. She's been the happiest ever on this tour and didn't even attempt to look sad over her supposed breakup with Joe... I'm trying to collect my thoughts on how the remaining two re-release albums will further this journey, but it's all a jumble at this point. I wouldn't be surprised if tour visuals for the Asia/Australia/Europe leg of the tour change as time goes on to reveal more as we get closer to rep and debut re-release. And personally, I think that once the tour and all re-releases are done, we will get TS11 and that will be the gayest album yet, songs with she/her pronouns and all. 🤞😉

If you've made it all the way to here - Thank you indeed, you are a star!

(pictures and gifs not mine)

#gaylor #taylor swift #kaylor #gaylor swift #eras tour #1989 tv #the eras tour #lgbetty #lover house theory

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familyvideostevie · 8 months

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my dear i think i need 8. "I like when you're being so soft." with my bf sirius if you're feeling generous <3

valentine's day prompts 8. "I like when you're being so soft." | sirius black x reader summary: just a walk with your new-ish boyfriend. life is simple and good. | grumpy-ish!reader, fluff, teasing, silliness. new love is fun, people!!! | 0.7k a/n: cute, dude. anything for u and your bf. this was fun! first sirius in a while, hope it satisfies.

__ The sun hangs low in the sky, golden-hour light bathing the park in yellows and pinks. The warmth that has everyone outdoors on a February afternoon is slowly fading. You feel the chill nipping at your nose and your fingers and wish you brought gloves.

"I actually can't fucking believe it's not January anymore," Sirius says.

You knock your shoulder with his. "Weren't you complaining last week that January is the longest month?"

"Was that me?" He flicks a curl from his face, mouth tugging up in a smirk and nose ring glinting. "Doesn't sound like me. I'm not a whiner. You're probably thinking of James --"

His smirk turns to a shit-eating grin when you fail to swallow your laugh. It's just one of many in the park full of children running around, friends lounging on benches, and couples pressed close like you two.

Sirius is remarkably good at that -- making you laugh. Making you smile, pulling you out of your head. He likes it when you're in your head just fine, or so he says, but having someone willing to put in the effort is new. It's novel.

Well, new-ish, anyway. You've been seeing each other long enough that a walk in the park isn't really a date so much as spending time with him. You'd give him every spare moment if you could. You love whispering secrets in the dark, love the crease of your pillowcase on his cheek when he wakes up next to you. You love the riot that is his hair in the morning and the way he kisses you, the way he treats you like someone to be worshiped, like someone he's waited for, like --

"God, they're a fucking nightmare, aren't they?" he grumbles, tearing you from your thoughts. Sirius has tugged you to the edge of the pond to watch the two swans chase away ducks. "Don't know why anyone likes birds, if you ask me."

"They're romantic," you chide. "They mate for life, you know."

He laces your fingers together. "Nature expert, are you?"

"Come on." You roll your eyes, cheeks warm. "Everyone knows that," you mutter.

His thumb gently strokes the back of your hand. You can feel his eyes on you but you keep your gaze on the swans.

"News to me," Sirius says, softer. "Do you think that happens for us?"

The question surprises you. He's not the most romantic guy, your kind-of-boyfriend, preferring to leave that to his friends. He treats you plenty well and takes you on nice dates and calls you on days he doesn't see you but he's not exactly...serious. He's not open like this, at least not to you, not yet. Not outside of your bed. It's still so new, this feeling in your chest when you see him, when he touches you. The future stretches out in front of you and instead of being daunting, it's exciting. You want him there for it.

"Like, soulmates?"

You turn to look at Sirius just as he looks away, his own cheeks a little pinker than before. He wrinkles his nose and shrugs. You trace the strong line of his brows and his sharp jaw with your eyes and squeeze his hand.

"I guess so," he says. "Silly, I suppose."

"I don't think it's silly."

Sirius looks at you, dark eyes swirling with something you can't put a name to.

"No?"

You step a little closer to him, close enough that the tips of your shoes almost touch. He smells like leather and the cigarettes he sneaks when he's stressed. You inhale deeply.

"If birds can have that, why can't we?"

"Romantic."

"You started it," you whisper. Your eyes flutter shut and you feel his breath on your lips.

"I like when you're being so soft," he says.

Before you can retort, he's kissing you. It's firm but unhurried, just the press of his lips to yours, his tongue tracing the seam of them before he pulls away. On the scale of kisses you've had with him, it's pretty chaste, but your heart picks up all the same and you blink a few times when he pulls away.

"It's February," he says.

"Uh, yeah?" you say, a bit stupidly. "We -- we talked about that already."

He laughs and wraps his free arm around your shoulder to tug you in for a hug.

"Will you be my valentine?"

Before you can answer, a loud squawk startles you both. Sirius yelps and leaps back from the water's edge, pulling you with him.

"Fucking menaces!" he shouts. "Up to no good!"

The swans flap their way onto the path and crane their necks at you, hollering all the while.

You throw your head back and laugh.

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here!

#sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius black fluff #valentine's day prompts #emma's asks #marauders fanfiction

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cosmic-ghost-hermit · 3 months

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Pick a Card: Message from your Spirit Team

I love connecting with everyone's guides! Thank you to the collective and their spirit guides for your support in this reading. I love you! The universe loves you! and your guides love you!!! <3 Take what resonates and leave the rest behind but always be open to new perceptions.

Decks used are: Alchemy Oracles, Archetype Oracle, Necronomicon Tarot

🕯Donate to my CashApp🤍

(U will feed a queer person if u donate)

Drop any reading suggestions, request readings, or reading recommendations in my ask box! Can't wait to see what y'all wanna see!

_________

PILE ONE

Astrology: Virgo, Gemini, Scorpio

Song: Shooting Star by Owl City

Vibes: Black, white, green, blue, thunder, rain, prophetic dreams, illusion, secrets, finders-keepers, forests, 9999, corsets, darkness, frozen fruit, con artist, narcissistic, Hera

Cards: 6 of Swords, Eros, Destroyer, Quicksilver

My friend, you have bitten off more than you can chew while standing upon a really unsteady foundation. It will crumble eventually. It isn't a matter of "if". It will happen. It is a matter of "when". You can't go on like this. You can't play both sides. You are going to lose people who you dearly love if you keep it up. Your intentions are pure I know. You don't want to rock the boat. You don't want to make the wrong decision. The actions you took were driven by a good heart but you are stretching that good heart too thin to be able to continue like this. What you are doing was supposed to be temporary but you are treating it as if it is sustainable and permanent. Luckily, there is an escape from the desolation you could face. You must be honest about how you feel to yourself. You must be true. You can't just follow anymore to make everyone happy. Decide for yourself because there is no staying out of it anymore. If it takes you time to decide that's alright. If you need time to do research on whatever decision this is that is fine. Take your time deciding. But you MUST decide and if you don't decide then it will be decided for you.

This feels like a different decisions for different people reading this. I can see it might be about a situation-ship or familial/friend drama. It could be political as well. Either way you have spent most of your time in this situation sitting on the side lines and not making any moves. You believe if you ignore whatever is happening it will solve itself. It won't. I'm sorry. You are being tested and being indecisive is the only way you can fail. Not deciding will have the most cons and very little pros. I can definitely tell why it has taken you a bit to think about. Either decision you make there will be pros and cons to whatever it is you decide. You think you can escape the cons by not addressing it at all. However, being complacent is a decision, my dude. Not deciding is still a decision to do nothing.

When you do decide, you must stand firm on your decision. You MUST. Don't be wishy washy about it and change your mind once you have chosen. Even if you have regrets you MUST stand firm. Your guides will reward you after with many gifts of love. I also see gifts of knowledge. Later down the line you will see why you had to make the choice. You will be enlightened on what would have happened if you chose the other route. I can hear you sighing in relief when you learn this and not regretting your path. I wish you luck, my dear.

_____________

PILE TWO

Astrology: Sagittarius, Leo, Capricorn

Song: Gold on the Ceiling by The Black Keys

Vibes: Yellow, pink, red, crows, bats, crowbars, dirt, grave yards, 333, courtesan, aging, mushrooms, pine needles, sewing, weaving, looms, large dogs, Persephone, Hades

Cards: The Sun, The Poet, The Lover, Smoke

My dear, why are you so mean to yourself for attempting to be happy? What is the logical purpose of that? Listen, I get it. You have been through so messy messy stuff. It fucked up your head and it corrupted the way you think and talk about yourself. But seriously, can you think of any reason besides "it feels familiar to hurt which means it's safe." Dude. For real, stop being so mean to yourself. It doesn't get work done faster. It doesn't help you when you aren't working and you are trying to rest. It isn't doing you any good to put yourself down for what you enjoy. It just makes life harder than it already is. It doesn't have to be that hard. It SHOULDN'T be that hard. I know what you say to yourself, dude. You mimic those who have criticized you in the past. You are parroting the pain they caused you and repeating the cycles of abuse you faced. The people who hurt you before were looking in mirrors. They weren't truly looking at you. Their opinions of you don't resemble reality. They just wanted to bully someone besides themselves to feel better about themselves.

The insults you are repeating aren't how you truly feel. You are a so much more than a victim. First of all, you are an important person. Second, you are an artist. A very good artist, I might add. You can capture the emotion you are feeling perfectly when you create. When you write, you communicate what you wish to say so clearly that it touches the hearts of even the most emotionless people. That is power. That is magic. I am not going to say you are talented, my dear. Because I know your skill came from years of practice. Years of love drenched artwork and thoughtful choosing of words. You are more than talent, my dear. You are driven. You are intelligent. Any road block you faced you gracefully jumped over or powered through. Do not be mean to yourself. Do not. You deserve more recognition than that. Only you can do what you do. You are inimitable.

___________

PILE THREE

Astrology: Aries, Libra, Aquarius

Song: Charmer by Aimee Mann

Vibes: Rainbows, candles, moths, reading, pearl, gold bars, ripped clothes, 555, 88, garden, ghost trees, vampires, higher self, lions mane, alternative beliefs, collecting, coffee, Athena, Artemis, Apollo

Cards: 4 of Swords, The Self, The Cave, Mystical Sisters

I am so proud of you. You have locked away who you are for a long time. You recently started to do some self discovery after you left a person who wasn't good for you behind. I don't think you understand what a huge step you've made. I don't think you really see how what you have done is a huge fucking deal. You stood up for yourself. I think you really water down this accomplishment because you had an ally help you. My dude, even if they helped you. Do not forget you have free will. They did not force you to start exploring yourself and standing up for yourself. You could have ignored their offer of assistance. You totally could have said "Nope, I don't want to." Did you forget that? Please don't water down how well you have done. Acknowledge yourself, please.

You are realizing how wonderful you are. You are finally seeing how kind you are and how considerate you can be. I know leaving that person was painful and it is difficult to reopen the book of you without them in it. It is for the best for both you and them. Again, I am very proud of. Your guides congratulate you as well. It is okay to be guarded for a while. I encourage you to protect your peace while you are exploring more of yourself. I encourage you to ask for help if you need it. Especially because I can still feel your heartache from the loss of someone important to you. If it helps your feel better maybe put some energy to your spirituality. I know it might be tempting to look at old photos and dwell on the past connection. It is okay to do that a little bit while you heal but don't get too caught up in what could've been. It is time to focus on the present and keep your mind on where you want to be and not where you were. Your guides are backing you the whole way through.

__________

PILE FOUR

Astrology: Taurus, Cancer, Pisces

Song: Sunrise by More Plastic and Halvorsen

Vibes: Red, light blue, yellow, grey, white, cats, divine geometry, snakes, science, spills, reality tv, 1111, hearts, wine, falcon, dragon scales, astrology, grand square/trine, Hermes, Zues, Chronos

Cards: 8 of Cups, Kairos, Gnosis, Conjunction

Alright my dear, the time is going to be right soon. You know what to do and you know when to do it. Don't question it. Even if it makes zero sense logically, just trust that inner knowing. Trust that you know what to do and where to go. Trust. You will be leaving something soon. Perhaps a group, a relationship or a club. Again, you WILL know when and how, when the time comes. The stars are aligning for this escape route of yours. I know it is a bummer to leave because you have had such good times where you are at. You worked really hard on everything you built there. I know you are really anxious about hearing this because it is a bit vague but you knew this was coming, darling. You could see the signs way before any of the drama started. When shit hits the fan you need to be ready to dip out. Don't worry about preparation. Don't worry about details. The universe is going to take care of that for you. You just have to watch and listen to your heart.

Yes, you are in the right. No, you haven't done anything wrong. Spirit is sorry that it might be kind of sudden but I really believe you have already seen the red flags in the place you are leaving. The BIG drama that is about to take place isn't supposed to be part of your journey. It is meant for others to figure out on their own. You are not their teacher. You are meant to be their friend and companion and I think they have been parentifying you in a weird way. Spirit doesn't want you getting in the crossfire of everything that is about to hit. It wants you to listen closely to your intuition and trust yourself to know. This part of your journey is supposed to be mostly chill at the moment. Except for the sudden upheaval. That part is probably gonna be rushed. Everything will be just right for you, I promise. Keep your eyes narrowed and your perception high. Someone is sprinting in your direction and you will need to keep pace with them when they arrive. They will be your getaway driver. I believe in you. The universe will protect you. You will be rescued. Good luck, darling.

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poetryandfluffycats · 18 days

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Rosé, Please

A/N: saluting all bsd fans currently coping with chap 118 heres some kunikida for your troubles

Pairing: Kunikida Doppo x fem!reader, sight Dazai Osamu x fem! reader

Content: Its not that Kunikida is jealous of men like Dazai who often pick up girls at the bar, not at all! He's perfectly content with his singleness and his co-workers constant affairs, and he's well aware what to do when one of Dazais lovers shows up at the Agency's doorstep. But this time.. this woman, shes different somehow.

Warnings: suicide mention(dazai being dazai), alcohol mentions, reader is mentioned to have green eyes and short hair

Words: 2.1k

Oneshot under cut!

Kunikida Doppo was a man of ideals. His whole life was structured around these ideals to create the perfect life. Perfect life, perfect job, perfect wife and perfect family. Courting by age 25, a wedding on the beach at age 28, first child at age 30 and two children alongside a golden retriever and a white picket fence to match by the age of 35. In his mind, that was the ideal life for a man to have.

A life that didn't account for the dangers of being a member of the Armed Detective Agency.

The sun was settling along the Yokohama skyline, creating a ray of yellow that shone through the Agency's office. Kunikida sat perched in his chair notebook in hand as he jolted down the events of the day. Paperwork, check in with the president, one small case solved by himself Kenji and Dazai and there was the report regarding that. He glanced up at the date, Thursday. He could go grocery shopping after he left work and still have enough time to cook a hot dinner of chicken noodle soup and rice-he remembered having some left over from the previous night. 4:45pm. If he left now he could get a head start on the after-work traffic and make it home a bit earlier.

Kunikida sighed. The office was quiet. He liked the quiet, although it hardly ever was quiet enough for his liking. With the other members of the Agency constantly causing trouble for the man he barely got any time to himself anymore. Whenever he thought he was alone and free to relax, Dazai would pop up beside him bagging on about some new way to kill himself or a woman he kissed in a drunken state at the bar, or Atsushi would show up with a bruise the size of Japan after having a meltdown while on a mission or the Tanizaki siblings would appear out of no where and ruin his evening g with their constant touching and moaning. He felt that he could never catch a break in this place.

But today, all was at peace. Not even a spare peep from that bandage waster he called his partner. It was a change, a welcome one. Kunikida could feel his bones relaxing, his muscles softening and the joints of his knees popping under the table as he stretched out his long limbs. Polished dress shoes tapped gently against the tile of the floor. Kunikida thanked whatever force was out there that he was able to rest even if for a few mere moments. He didn't need much. 30 minutes would be nice, an hour would be amazing, even longer and he'd be on his knees praising the gods for blessing him with such leisure.

A knock.

Peace isn't everlasting, Kunikida often found. He closed his notebook and placed it down on the desk in front of him, moving a hand behind his head to release his hair from his ponytail, inhaling deeply but not allowing the scowl on his face to set in.

"Come in"

The door creaked open. Not Dazai, Dazai would have flung it open whilst shouting something about how bored he was or something, Dazai wouldn't have knocked at all. A small sigh of relief could have been heard from the blonde if anyone was listening carefully. Instead of the brunette, a pair of unfamiliar eyes and a mess of black hair peered around the door frame, accompanied by a voice that sounded almost too timid and unsure for a human to have.

"Hi... I'm sorry to disrupt you, Mr Kunikida. Is Dazai here?"

Ah, Kunikida remembered those eyes now. Dazais latest lady friend, the woman with bight green eyes, the softest tuft of hair and a voice as sweet and sugary as cold vanilla ice cream on a hot summers day. She looked too naive for Dazai. A bunny rabbit being lured into a trap by the big bad wolf, her sweetness would most definitely get her heart broken by the man. Kunikida couldn't quite remember her name, although it wasn't as if he expected her to stay around long enough for it to matter.

In his ideals, Kunikida wished for his partner to find someone to live out his future with. The ideal woman for Dazai would be one that could hold out on her own, someone strong with an even stronger backbone who could settle Dazai down and get him to sit down for a change. Someone to ground him. Aside from that, long hair, a small and slim frame, and a good fashion sense were all things Kunikida believed his so called friend would be interested in. Staring at the girl in front of him, he realized that she checked none of those box's.

"He's gone home. Was there something I could help you with?" Kunikida pushed his glasses up his nose with a singular finger, straightening in his posture in the process to appear more professional. To think, this woman had almost caught him slouching! What a tragedy that would be. He made a mental note to add 'check building is clear' to his list of evening tasks before he made the mistake again.

The woman's face dropped immediately, her gaze falling to her heels. She was dressed up, Kunikida noticed, a pair of sparkly stilettos on her feet and her body wrapped in a black dress that stopped a few inches too high for his eyes not to wander. He prided himself on being a man of pure modesty, however, it was hard not to notice when a young ladies legs were exposed in such a way. A white coat hung over her shoulders to complete the look, short hair clipped back with a silver star hair pin.

She shook her head, fiddling with a loose thread on her coat. Perhaps it was old and that's why it was fraying on the edges. "No...no, its fine. We were supposed to meet for drinks tonight but I guess he forgot... again"

"I see. Do you want me to pass on a message?"

Kunikida could almost see the metaphorical dog ears on her head droop downwards. Being a man of his certain ideals, it was harder for him to pick up girls than it was for the others in the agency. His standards were high, although he hated to admit it. Unlike Dazais woman, Kunikida wanted his soulmate to have a good head on her shoulders, but not be so smart that she would outshine his duty as a man to protect. A stable job, forgone of the Port Mafia and agency alike, perhaps a lady who worked at a cafe and always smelt of freshly baked sweets would do. Someone he could sit at the dinner table with him late a night, a whiskey glass in his hand and a glass of Rosé in hers, her voice smooth as silk as she told him stories of he day.

Yes. That was the kind of woman he wanted. That was the ideal woman. Not the woman who stood in front of him, staring at him with teary doe eyes and a heart of glass because she fell for the tricks of a man akin to a demon. It wasn't her fault Dazai was a womaniser, he supposed.

"Could you tell him to call me? And that, when he has time, I have a bottle of his favourite whiskey waiting for him... if he still wants to meet"

Kunikida nodded, picking up his notebook off his desk and jolting down a few words to remind himself of the request later on. "Consider it done, Miss..?"

"(name)"

"(name)" He repeated. Pretty, like poetry. "I'll have him ring you tomorrow when he comes in"

The smile he got in return could have melted the ice cold hearts of even the evilest men, Kunikida noted that down in small handwriting as well. A pretty smile went a long way in the world. She bowed her head and turned on her heel, leaving the room just as sliently and as timidly as she entered.

For some unknown reason, Kunikida couldn't stop himself from doing the next thing he did. Maybe he was compelled by his morals, or maybe God was playing a cruel prank on him, but whatever the case his feet were moving on their own and the words were spilling from his lips.

"Miss (name), wait!"

She stopped in her tracks, turning her head to gaze at the man. Kunikida cursed himself for not sounding more confident in his words. them coming out a lot shakier than he had expected. Why was this woman making him so nervous now? She wasn't anything near what he liked, surely his brain had been tricked into going after her because he would have never had otherwise.

"Hm? Was there something else you needed Mr Kunikida?" Her eyes were filled to the brim with disappointment of Dazais forgetfulness and downright disrespectful nature towards woman. Poor thing looked like she would burst into tears at any moment.

He cleared his throat and straightened his back, pushing his glasses up his nose once more and adjusting his blazer vest. He could feel his armpits sweating underneath the suit he wore and he prayed it wasn't obvious to (name). "You say you have a spare bottle of whiskey, yes? I happen to like whiskey myself, so I was wondering if you would grant me the pleasure of sharing it with you instead of Dazai?"

Oh heavens, what was he even doing? This wasn't a part of his plan or his schedule for the night. Here he was throwing away a perfectly fine evening to spend time with a woman that he wouldn't have given a second look otherwise. Who did he think he was? Trying to take home his partners lover? Had the lack of attention from woman made him sink so low?

A soft giggle came from plump lips. Angelic. A choir of angels calling him into temptation. He could see the devil now and he was berating him for not following his ideals to a T. It was hard to care when you saw someone looking so defenceless but so beautiful.

"I won't sleep with you in exchange for company, if that's what you're thinking"

"What! No, I'm sorry, that wasn't what I meant!-"

"I'm messing with you" Another giggle followed by her turning around to fully face him. Kunikida could smell her perfume now, cinnamon and nutmeg. Like the taste of a warm hot-crossed bun on Easter morning. "I'd love to share a drink with you. Theres just a little problem, I don't drink whiskey, I brought it specially for Dazai..."

The blond thought back to his earlier plans for the evening before (name) had appeared and set it upside down. Paperwork, grocery shopping, dinner. He knew what to do. "What's your drink of choice? I was planning on going to pick up some food on the way home, I can pick you up a bottle and bring it round, if you'd like"

"Are you sure? I can pay you back"

"Nonsense, its my duty as a man to provide for the woman I spend time with, you can pay me back with your happiness" He cringed as the line left his lips. He could have willed himself to die in that moment if he had the power to. The redness and sweat of his pits had reached his face now, his cheeks matching the colour of the now setting son.

But her smile never faltered, in fact, it grew. "Rosé, please. Just whatever you can find. I live on the east side of town, apartment 37 in the complex beside the bakery. Come at 6?"

"I'll see you then"

And then, (name) left with a spring in her step, the aura around her looking much brighter than it had been when she walked in. His eyes lingered on her figure until she was out of sight, only the sound of her heels click-clacking against the floor evidence as to her being there. Kunikida glanced at the clock. 5pm. In an hour, he'd be at a woman he just mets apartment sipping alcohol and talking about who knows what. In 2 hours he could be tangled in the bed sheets with her, her soft hands roaming all over his body, his lips pressed against hers and the smell of perfume sticking to his clothes for days after.

Everything was wrong. This date went against every single one of his ideals. Yet, the adrenaline was addicting, just like the smell of (names) perfume. Maybe, just maybe, one day off wouldn't hurt.

"Damn you Dazai, take the woman on a date yourself next time"

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