rose-tinted-kalopsia

[rose-tinted-kalopsia]

There it is.

The little tilt of his head, the way his eyes round over slightly into that little doe-eyed look, the fondness and sprinkle of hopefulness in the way he smiles at her.

She takes his hand gladly, stepping into place beside him, enjoying the closeness she'd missed on the ride here. His hand is warm in hers, nearly covering her palm. The comfort of it makes her feel safe. Though they'd just about gotten lost a few moments ago, she'd never stop thinking that... as long as she was with him, everything will be okay.

"You picked a nice hotel," she hums quietly, looking around. The lobby is spacious, and the lights are invitint. A smile plays at her lips. "I'm kind of impressed. I didn't think you'd put so much thought in the planning..."

She can't help but look at him, a little hopeful. "The, um—our room is...?"

"...Xav, wait." She pauses the pedaling, catching her breath. There's a little frown on her face as she looks around. "Are you—are you sure we're going the right way?"

It's a pretty little village, she'll give it that. It's a little older, more peaceful—brick houses and cobbled streets, birds chirping, squirrels scuttering around. A few brightly-colored flowers and berries catch her eyes, and it's a nice getaway from the bustle of Linkon City.

But it's not quite the area their hotel would be in, and she hops off her bike, looking at him with a little pout.

"You... We're not lost, are we?"

His hand immediately comes up to the back of his neck, rubbing at the skin there as he looks around. He doesn't think they are lost, but he's been wrong (and lost) before. This is an unfamiliar area for him, but he's certain (is he certain) that their hotel was this way.

He shoots her a wide eyed look, "Are we lost?"

Xavier doesn't realize how silly it is to echo her question back at her, because well it proves her point quite well. They might be lost, maybe. He sighs, "I have a map in my bag."

#ʚɞ*.ﾟ. lnds #☄︎*.ﾟ. lndrp #specifically thinking of the puppy eyes he gives when we tease him 😭

[rose-tinted-kalopsia]

≡;-꒰ 𝐉𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐀𝐇 ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ I 𝑺𝒐 𝒊𝒕 𝒈𝒐𝒆𝒔...

╰┈➤ ❝ jeremiah x afab!reader | smut nsfw 18+ mdni

tags : angst, friends with benefits, forbidden love/"we shouldn't be doing this" vibes, hints at friendship betrayal, the pain hits more if you've read main story ch8 and xavier's myth ch5, kissing and making out, mentions of nipple play, mentions of oral (f and m receiving), fingering, clit play, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, cumshot, dirty talk, praise, cursing, use of nicknames "pretty" "princess" "milady/my lady", lmk if i missed any tags!

wc : 4.5k

an : LOOK. BEFORE YOU SAY ANYTHING. before you "roxie... what—" me !!!!! writing for him is probably a one-time thing, but listen. he's CUTE!!! and if he's cute, i will write for him...!!!!! (sorry, xavier)

You didn't really know when it started.

After all, what were the odds for you to be strolling around long enough, just to chance across this quaint little flower shop that would eventually became part of your every being?

He'd been arranging some flowers out in the front when you first saw him, light brown, curly hair shining with a gleam under the sunlight. He was humming some kind of tune—it wasn't one you particularly knew, and yet, oddly enough, it was one you found familiar, in ways you couldn't really describe.

In retrospect, the flowers were pretty. Pastel colors blending in with limes and greens, a splash of vibrancy against a largely black exterior. Blues and yellows seemed to be predominant amongst the hues, almost tiny and star-like—a galaxy of flowers, you remember thinking.

And something about it had you easily magnetized.

"Hi!" You'd walked up to him without really thinking; lamely telling yourself in your head, that, hey, maybe your apartment could use some extra decorating...!

(It didn't, but now that you'd approached the florist like this, you felt compelled to at least buy something.)

Jeremiah, however, had been completely spooked by your sudden appearance. One look at you, and his eyes went wide and his humming immediately ceased—you could have sworn a hint of recognition had passed in his eyes, but it was gone before you could truly make out what it was that you saw.

"W-whoah!" he'd laughed, hints of both nervousness and awkwardness glaringly obvious to you—and any busybody that happened to be passing by, for that matter. "Uh!? Sorry, I wasn't expecting anyone so, um... Early?"

You could feel it was a feeble excuse.

Sure, it had been your day off, and sure, maybe it was odd for you to be out and about in the morning at all—but it hadn't been that early. You almost wanted to say something about it out loud... but something in you told you to cut him some slack.

Instead, you'd offered a smile.

"No, I'm sorry. Are you not open yet? You have some beautiful flowers, and I couldn't help but want to look at them a little..."

It was amusing to you how easy his expressions were to read. They had changed seamlessly from bewilderment to joy, and he instantly gestured inside. "Oh! We are open! Wow, maybe I'm just really distracted this morning, haha! But hey, thanks, I'm actually pretty proud if them myself. Though I get some help from a friend in taking care of them, I think they're pretty too..."

You'd known from the start that he was quite the talker, but as a smile played on your lips, you thought that you didn't really mind so much, anyway.

He looked cute, and his voice was just as cute.

But the store, you later realized, would take your breath away in an instant.

The inside was just as majestic as the outside. You found that despite the fact that it looked rather small from a distance, its exterior was actually quite misleading. The inside was beautiful—a floor and a loft worth of flowers, and, you could spot all the way in the back, a door that seemed to be leading out into a garden.

And was that... a greenhouse?!

He had probably noticed the awe on your face when you stepped in, and couldn't help but chuckle. "You like?" he grinned, obvious pride twinkling in his eyes.

"Well... yeah! I can't belive I haven't found this place before. Don't you get a lot of customers?"

"Hmm... Sometimes. Depends on the day, really. But as it goes, if you know the place, then you know, right? Welcome to Philo!"

He turned momentarily before offering you a single yellow blossom, its petals unfurling like puffs in your hand.

You eyed it curiously.

"This, is...?"

"It's a zinnia flower. I thought its colour matched your eyes a little, so think of it as something to keep you company while you look around!"

That day, you picked out a lovely bouquet of little blue periwinkles, and learned that his name was Jeremiah.

From then on, you would chance upon him more, and more, and more—taking the occasional detour whenever you were free, or even timing your lunch breaks enough so to at least be able to catch a glimpse. For the flowers, of course, you would tell yourself, because each visit, Jeremiah would give you a single stem. "On the house!" he would say, and you would smile.

The first day you met, he'd given you a yellow zinnia.

The second day you met, he'd given you a sunflower.

The third day you met, he'd given you a white camellia.

And the fourth, and the fifth, and the sixth, and onwards—a single flower, handed over with a dismissive excuse of it going with your hair, or your outfit, or your smile—most often accompanied by a nonchalant remark on how pretty you looked.

Sometimes, after that, you'd talk a little. He would ask you about your day, and you would ask him about his day... You've even learned, by now, the things that he liked. Flowers, a given, but also literature—poetry. Though he remarked that lately he hadn't gotten around to reading anything, he's always been quite fond of them.

You found that these little tidbits made him feel less... mysterious, in a sense, and more real. It went without saying that the more you went over to visit, the longer you'd stay—the longer you'd stay, the louder your heart would beat.

In the end, it wouldn't take long before you realized it yourself, but you were no longer going to Philo for simply... the flowers.

And on one particular night, having made it just in time for closing hours, things had started taking a different turn.

...That night had started off innocent.

Cheerful greetings, cheerful chatter—now, you'd grown accustomed to telling him all about how your day or how your week had gone, and then you would never fail to fluster at the way he'd listen to you so attentively. His eyes, you realized, were almost as bright as the sun—honey-brown like his hair, with specks and glimmers of sapphire when the light hit just right enough. If anything else, you thought that a sunflower suited him better than it did you—the cheerful bounce in his curls, and the way his laugh would tinkle in the air and send butterflies into your stomach without even trying.

Perhaps, down bad was an understatement for you.

But no matter how close you had gotten to this boy, you couldn't help but feel as if there was an unknown barrier between the two of you.

That night, Jeremiah gave you a rose.

Cleaned of its thorns, and as pure and pristine as all the other white flowers he'd housed in his store—he tucked it behind your ear, and his gaze softened in a way that you had never seen before.

The air between you was heavy.

But neither of you would make a definitive move.

"Hey, so how are the flowers all doing?" He broke the silence, but his eyes remained steely on yours.

"I'm... taking care of them like I promised to. I still have that bouquet, and I still have all of the other ones you gave me..."

"Hmm." A smile played at his lips, and then he began to list the recent flowers he'd given to you, for the past couple of weeks of your sporadic visits—

"Let's see. Azalea, petunia, iris, lily... a yellow tulip, some lavender—" He stopped, and amusement shone in his eyes. "Hey, don't tell me you're keeping them all in one vase! And with the others, too? That won't make for a pretty bouquet, you know, the colours will all just clash too much!"

You watched as he laughed, but your eyes only furrowed. "What do you mean? I don't have a greenhouse like you do! Might I remind you that I live in an apartment?!"

"I know, I know! But... You didn't really have to keep them..."

"Why not? They're from you..."

Jeremiah's gaze softened.

And then, again, came that same, pensive silence.

And again, you felt like you were drawn to him.

You couldn't have known why.

Despite whatever butterflies and giddiness he'd often bring upon you, it wasn't as if you'd spent all that much time with him—perhaps, you'd try to visit every week if you could, but that was it, wasn't it? A small chat, a few glances... a flower, and then a wave goodbye—

Yet here you were, like a moth to a flame.

"Penny for your thoughts, milady?" he mumbled out as if to bring you out of your reverie, but it almost seemed to you that he was having the same trepidations.

And that nickname.

He would call you by it often—it fell from his lips almost naturally, and then onto your ears equally as naturally. You've always liked the sound of it, reveling in the way he would treat you so sweetly like this, smiling to yourself at the way his eyes would squint in joy whenever he said it.

But, in this situation....

...Closer.

You chanced it, this feeling, and leaned in.

Jeremiah drew in a shaky breath... but he didn't move.

Instead, his eyes—so telling, his eyes—would move downwards over your face, before settling onto your lips.

"...'Miah," you whispered, and you saw him gulp at the nickname. "Can I kiss you?"

Moths, near a flame, never end well. Surely they don't.

But Jeremiah, despite knowing that, had never been happier to oblige.

That night, was the first night he had kissed you. The first time that both of you had given into the thrumming of temptation always in the air; the first time he had you pressed against his counter, hands roaming fondly over your body, kissing you almost as if his life depended on it.

And from that night forward, things changed substantially.

Weekly visits turned to daily—nightly. Chancing upon closing hours became more planned and deliberate, and then the situation would be the same. Lips crashing upon lips, fingers gripping tightly onto fistfuls of hair, the soft resounding of hushed moans into each others mouths.

You no longer remembered when he started becoming more daring, either. When he started sliding his hands underneath your top, when he started kissing at your neck, fingers rubbing your nipples fondly... You don't remember when you made it into his bedroom, having him trace his hands over your thighs, pushing you apart, fingers slipping into your cunt and sliding through your folds in a way that had you absolutely speechless. Or, neither could you remember how on some nights, he had his head between your legs—licking, and sucking, and eating you out, waves of pleasure coarsing through your veins like never before.

No, at this point, you really didn't remember—how many times your night had been filled with him, how many times you would come all over his mouth—his fingers—

How many times you'd moaned his name.

Perhaps, you thought, it might have been the same for him. Your hands, pumping his cock with fervor, tongue swirling around his tip, drinking up ever last drop of cum he would offer you. You knew, by now, that he loved it when your fingers fell through his hair, stroking fondly at his curled tresses, or digging into his scalp as a testament to your passion.

And yet, you'd never gone further.

Each night, you would see a hint of regret flash in his eyes, and though he would hold you, and kiss you, and do everything to ensure you would sleep soundly right beside him...

The ambiguity of your relationship was clear.

The nights would be for pleasure, but there would be nothing more.

No professions of love, no promises of commitment...

Perhaps, the butterflies you'd always felt around him, had also simmered down to nothing but racing heartbeats in anticipation of his touch.

"Does that feel good, pretty?"

Now, Jeremiah had his fingers in your pussy, drinking up the lust in your eyes, watching the way your mouth would hang open in breathless pants.

"Mhm... 'Miah... 'Miah, you're so good..."

He smiled up at you, thumb grazing over your clit, sighing when your head fell back with another moan.

"Staying quiet really was never your strong suit, huh? I love having you like this. You're so, pretty for me, my lady... So pretty..."

"M-Mia—aahn—"

He leaned up to kiss you, his lips feeling home on yours, your back arching to meet the thrust of his fingers.

"You're adorble," he mumbled, lightly onto your lips when he pulled back. "Really adorable. So adorable, damn, I'm so lucky."

Another moan from your mouth, and you tensed beneath him. "C-close!" you cried, "M'gonna— gonna cum!"

"Mhm? Real close, huh, pretty?"

His finger brushed on the spongy spot in your walls, and your high came crashing immediately.

"'Miah! Oh, fuck—'Miah, 'Miah— Jeremiah—"

You groaned as he rode out your orgasm, his fingers slowly pulling out of you, drenched in your slick, and you trembled beneath him with pleasure.

"'Miah..."

"Aww... Now I'm hard for you again..." He almost whined as he pressed against you, the feeling of his bare cock on your folds making you hiss in pleasure.

"Should I..." you panted, chest heaving as you struggled to catch your breath. "Do you want me to suck you off again?"

Your offer came out genuinely, and you propped yourself up on your elbows as if to prepare yourself—but he shook his head, guiding you back down. Jeremiah smiled and placed kisses all over your face, rolling over to lay down next of you as if to make a point. "No need, princess. We've done enough for tonight, right?"

You expected this.

Jeremiah never went too far; always keeping your activities to a minimum, always shaking his head when you asked for more. His self control was impeccable—but it was ironic, almost, considering that these activities had already very much become a nightly adventure.

But you pouted.

Instinctively, you reached out a hand for him to hold; "Why do you hold yourself back when you're with me?"

"What do you mean?"

You could at scoffed at the obviously feigned innocence on his face when he turned to look at you.

"This. You won't let this go... further. Like there's—there's something stopping you, or..." You paused, and squeezed his hand "Jeremiah, what... are we? What are we doing?"

It was a question you'd never dared to ask, but one that you had always felt burning in the back of your mind.

He didn't answer immediately.

You probed him further.

"Even when we're like this, it's almost like... You're still so far away from me. I just... I want to understand where this is all coming from, because, 'Miah, I think I—"

"Don't..."

His voice, interrupting you, was twinged with guilt. He shifted closer enough to cradle you into his chest.

"We're just... We're friends, right? Who just... fool around, from time to time..."

The more words fell out of his mouth, the more he seemed to sound... regretful.

You looked up at him with a searching gaze. "Is that why you'll never really go further than this? Because we're... friends."

He nodded, slowly.

But something wasn't sitting right with you.

It was almost as if he knew something; as if he was hiding something so desperately from you that it was taking every ounce of his being not to give in and tell you everything.

"'Miah..."

"...Ah, fuck—please. Not that nickname, not right now..."

You couldn't understand the pain in his voice.

"...Jeremiah, then."

He looked at you, chewing on the inside of his lower lip, and his eyes held a glimmer of something you couldn't quite understand.

"Do you... Want this, Jeremiah? Is it... Is it not enjoyable for you? If— If you don't want to anymore, then we could just—"

"N-no! It is! God, it is! You're so perfect for me, princ—" the nickname caught in his throat, and he gulped. "Y-you... You always feel so good. I more than want it, I love doing this with you—!"

"Then why are you so sad?"

Your words hung in the air, the silence that followed laying thick with a mix of your emotions. It was almost like he took a moment to process the truth of what you'd said, and then he looked away, gaze flitting to the bedsheets, grip tight around your arms.

"'Miah..."

"No, don't... I— Please. Please, I just—I want you so bad. To have you beneath me—to fuck you, to make love to you... You don't even know how much. And even more than that, I... The more we do this, the more I realize that I don’t want to just fool around with you..."

"Then why don't you? Jeremiah... all this time, I—"

"You're not mine."

You paused. His voice came out barely a whisper, and though he refused to look at you, you could make out the tiny glistening of tears in his eyes.

"What... What do you mean?"

"You... You belong to someone else—"

"No, I don't! I don't have any other man in my life, 'Miah, you know this—"

"But you should!"

"...What? What are you saying?"

He finally looked at you, moving you onto your back once more, clear, pure conflict in his eyes, even as he leaned down to nip at your jawline. His hot, warm breaths were against your skin once more. Immediately you felt your hair raise up, all manner of thoughts seeping through your mind in an instant, desire stirring inside of you—

"'M-Miah..." You drew in a sharp breath. "W-wait, you're not— not making any sense, what's going on...?"

"I can't—I'm not—I'm not supposed to be doing this with you..." His voice shook, but he rolled his hips against yours, and you had to let out a gasp. "I'm not, but I... God, you're just so tempting..."

"I don't... U-understa—ah, shit—!"

"Wh- What's your... call..." Jeremiah let out a shaky breath near your ear, his eyes pleading, his cock resting neatly between your folds, the heat of his touch sending your mind into overdrive. "You— Is it okay? Can I put it in? You... Y-you said..."

Oh...

You swallowed thickly, melting under the intensity in his eyes, failing to hold back a whimper at the way he was sliding against you.

"Yes," you breathed, immediately, wrapping your arms around his neck. "I said yes... I still say yes..."

His hips stuttered at your words, and you could see him grit his teeth as he bit back a loud moan. "O- once. Just once. Once, and I'll pull out, I promise... Just once, let me be inside you..."

Despite the fact that you had already given him consent, he seemed almost as if he was reassuring himself more than you. It didn't sit right with you—something was wrong, and you knew it. Jeremiah wasn't drunk, to have been possibly saying this while not in his right mind, but, this... this was...

What was holding him back?

You, being in such a situation where you understood nothing, didn't know what to do.

Should you stop him...?

Something in your mind was screaming at you to tell him to calm down; what if he didn't truly want this?

But his cock was rubbing so nicely into your clit. You could feel the pool of arousal gather within seconds of him rutting against you, and how—how could you think?

If this were up to you, you've wanted this for so long.

And he was asking you...

He was asking you if he could finally put it inside of you...

You shuddered at the thought, your walls clenching around nothing.

Fuck.

"You can take me, 'Miah," you whispered, breath shaking. You steeled yourself to keep from bucking your hips upwards. "But you have to promise me... Promise me, promise me, that you won't end up regretting it..."

Something flashed in his eyes.

Uncertainty, perhaps—

Jeremiah let out ragged pants, but for a moment, he didn't speak.

Ah...

You moved your hand slowly, trailing his skin before resting to cup his cheek.

"...Do you truly want this, Jeremiah?"

"Yes," he breathed. "Fuck, yes..."

"Okay. I want this, but I'm not forcing you. You have my consent, but I... I want yours."

He sighed, and leaned into your touch, something like a hopeless resignation now made clear in his eyes. He was like a deer in the headlights, almost—so embrolled in whatever internal conflict was at the forefront of his mind, that you almost pitied him. With a pout, you kissed him, slowly, softly, and he lay his forehead to meet yours.

"What if," he whispered, "there was... someone out there, who's loved you all this time?"

"...'Miah?"

"What if... What if I'm stealing you from him? What if it was never supposed to be this way? I just... I feel like... You were never supposed to be mine to hold..."

It wasn't something you could understand at a surface level. You knew that there was more to it—things he couldn't say out loud, and things he couldn't make you understand no matter how hard he tried to.

So you sighed.

"Well, 'Miah, I haven't met him, whoever he is."

"But you hav—"

"The point is that I'm here, now, with you. And, if... If, it makes you feel better, then..." You swallowed your pride, swallowed all the feelings you might have grown for him through your time together, swallowed all hope that you could ever have a normal relationship with him. "We're just... friends, right? Fooling around, like you said. Just... like we've always been doing."

Your heart buzzed, numb, almost.

The look in his eyes told you he didn't believe you; almost as if he'd known, all this time, that you've fallen in love with him, very likely just as he had with you—

But you didn't pay it any mind.

If nothing else, you didn't want to lose what you had now.

It was okay, like this.

You could live with it.

Maybe.

All things considered, your words seemed to bring him to relax just a little bit, and he nuzzled your nose, the fondness in his eyes resurfacing and drowning out any remaining traces of guilt. "Okay," he nodded, "you're right. Of course. We're just... fooling around. Friends, just... fooling around."

It was a false sense of security.

Somehow, the both of you knew it deep in your hearts that you were lying to yourselves.

But it didn't matter, right?

Not when the first push of his tip through your walls had you gasping your air, not when the feel of his length moving right into your cunt felt so perfect—so right. And along with you, Jeremiah let out quiet whimpers, sinking into you slowly, slipping in inch by inch, allowing the both of you to savor this very feeling.

"Holy shit," he cursed, breathless, gritting his teeth as he looked at you almost pleadingly—"How can you feel so good?"

By now he'd bottomed out and your bodies were flush against each other, feeling the echoing of your heartbeats in sync, heavy pants filling the equally weighty silence that followed. Leaning forward slightly, he moved to rest both of your legs on his shoulders, and you couldn't help but moan at the way the slight adjustment had him shifting deeper within you.

"'M-Miah—"

"Fuck, can I... Can I move?" He placed a chaste kiss on the skin of your calf, before letting his hands fall down to your waist, his grip firm yet gentle, his eyes still searching yours almost expectantly.

"Please..."

You could have melted at the way he smiled at you.

And then Jeremiah wasted no time in pulling out, before slowly easing back in. The way your name fell from his lips in a drawn-out moan had you tingling, and you held him tight against you, eyes closing at the way he stretched you out.

He felt so... warm. So safe.

Each of his thrusts were thoughtful, intentional; slow, but long and deep.

Filling.

"S'good, Miah..." you whispered, latching your hands onto his soft curls. "You fit so well..."

"I know... haah... I can't believe we're—I think I'll ruin you for him—"

You didn't dare dwell on his words and only clenched around him at a particularly deep thrust, having the both of you moan in synchrony.

"Fuck! My lady, please— g-go easy on me...!"

"Y-you're the one w-who's so deep—ah—!"

You pulled at his hair, feeling the way the sensitive head of his cock would delightfully brush against your most delicate spot. Your eyes clouded with want, raking your nails over his scalp, shuddering at the way he would moan and moan, on and on about the pleasure of your heat.

"Mhm... so good, 'Miah, s'perfect..." You moaned in tandem with him, whispering praises, matching his thrusts with every movement of your hips. It was too much, almost, even though all he was doing was thrusting into you, doe-like, unfocused eyes transfixed upon your face.

If you weren't lying to yourself, you were inclined to think that he, too, mirrored your exact thoughts.

"Princess... Fuck, my princess..."

Ah. That nickname.

The way his cock would twitch inside you at the mere sound of this nickname from his lips had you gasping, and you wondered, truly, why it had him so worked up. This wasn't the first time you'd seen him so attached to it—but you adored it; you reveled in the way he would use it on you.

"S-say it again," you breathed, heart racing at the wet sounds of your pussy with each of his thrusts, every roll of his hips pushing him so deep inside of you, gliding against that spongy spot. You could barely hold back your moans anymore, words turning into broken, unintelligible whimpers.

"You..." Jeremiah closed his eyes, gritting his teeth, and you felt lightheaded at the image of it in front of you. "Y-you... You like it? When I call you princess?"

Another whine escaped from your lips, and you continue to coax him, pleading him, praising him—anything to get him to bring you closer to your high.

And he listened.

"Fuck, princess— princess, princess, princess— my princess, my pretty, pretty princess—"

Your eyes rolled back as he picked up his pace, precise with his thrusts as the bed rocked steadily beneath you. Cries and moans spilled from your lips, your hands falling to twist into his sheets.

Perfect.

He was perfect.

You'd barely started grinding your hips upwards to meet his thrusts, and then your body was tensing with pleasure

"'M-Miah!" Your fingers raked down to his back, gripping tightly when he hissed into your ear. "M'cumming, 'Miah! M'gonn— I'll—!"

He thrust hard and deep inside of your cunt, and you trembled, crying out his name, mouth falling open—

Jeremiah buried his face into your neck as he pulled out of you, spilling his load all over your chest, broken chants of your name.

"I—fuck—shit—" He whined into your skin, barely lifting himself enough to relax your positions, crawling back over to give you the sweetest of kisses.

"Jeremiah..." You stroked his cheek once more, gently, lost in the way that his eyes would look at you with so much adoration that your heart could beat right out of your chest.

"I..." he started, a pout forming at his lips. "I'm sorry, my lady..."

He didn't explain why, but he didn't need to.

You could see it in his eyes.

His eyes, his ever expressive eyes, holding so much warmth and so much love—

He loved you.

Even though you had dared to reach this illusion of mutual agreement, even if you'd promised yourselves only just a short while ago that this wouldn't happen.

That it couldn't happen.

And you closed your eyes.

"I know," you whispered.

I love you, too.

Your words would remain unsaid.

⁺₊ / an: flower language is cute and the flowers mentioned here represent things like compliments/love/growing attraction! the zinnia symbolises welcoming back a missing friend! because jeremiah would totally flirt via flowers... haha... florist, right....... did i just make myself more attached to him? 4.5k wordcount says yes!!

© rose-tinted-kalopsia. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.

#if i speak and bring this back bc madi dragged me back into my jeremiah feels

[rose-tinted-kalopsia]

LAUGHING CRYING AT THE WAY WE'RE YELLING IN EACH OTHER'S DMS AND YOU WENT ALL THE WAY BACK TO SEND ME THIS 😭 oh madi we're just incredibly incredibly downbad...

Midnight Dew and Promises

Pairing: Jeremiah x MC {reader}

*Tosses this out into the wind*

After a long week of strategizing with your fellow Lightseekers and finally receiving a quiet moment, you find yourself unable to sleep. With Jeremiah being your constant companion for 200 years, you've begun to see him differently.

Since @hirayaea asked, although this is expanded on something I originally wrote to pester @caisjunlis.

Jeremiah sits next to you on the grass where you're sat under the moonlight. The wet grass beneath you soaks into your skin making you shiver but you can't seem to move. In the distance you can hear critters rustling and bugs chirping, creating a soft midnight lull. You barely look over at him while he moves his hand over to yours, gently grazing his thumb over your own. In 200 years and being your constant companion, it was a familiar form of comfort whenever you got that lost look in your eyes.

"I'm tired, Jeremiah." You say after a moment.

He doesn't speak. Then a sly smirk you've grown accustomed to starts to form on the tips of his mouth and you immediately regret speaking up.

"If you ever committed to sleeping at all-" he begins, "You might not be."

Because of his proximity, you can feel him stretching forward, fingers laced together as if he's straining to soothe a muscle.

"Gracious, my shoulders could really use the weight of- oh! what's this? Yes, indeed!" He pretends to be examining your head with his fingers, framing your facing while squinting through them. "Incredible! Your head is just the correct size and weight."

You burst into a groan, but you're giggling too. "You're impossible," you say.

He chuckles. "Impossibly dashing if I do say so myself."

You indulge him, for once, leaning your head into the crook of his shoulder. For once you take in his scent. It's crisp, refreshing, but different from the scent of the dew soaked grass beaneath you. It's familiar, comforting. He pulls his arm around your shoulders to pull you a little closer.

"Ah, see here? Your head fits just so. Will you rest now?"

"Only a little. If you ever shut up."

"Shutting up."

For a while neither of you speak, so when he does, you almost think you imagine it.

"I'm tired too," he breathes, "but not of you."

It's not like him to be so earnest, but you're grateful for it. Grateful for the stability that his companionship has granted you. He's grown now, matured in ways that only war could bring. You have to admit, the light touches of humor he shares are a breath of fresh air. He knows when to hold his tongue when it counts.

"And will you ever tire of me?" You ask quietly. "What will you do?"

He's leaning his head against yours now too, pondering your question.

"Tire of you? I'm not sure that's possible. You have a way of keeping things interesting. Even if that means at my expense."

You snort. "If only you were a lesser target."

"If only? You wound me."

"You should carry a salve."

"Trust me, with your constant battering, I do."

With his free hand, he fishes through the pouches on his pockets and reveals a small vial of healing salve. "See! It says here, the instructions in fine print. Take one drop for every instance of blows received from Miss [y/n]."

You smack his arm playfully.

"Careful! For a blow such as that, I might need to administer the whole bottles' contents."

"You've made your jest, yet you neglected to provide an answer."

He places the bottle back in its pouch and lifts his head to look at you. The moonlight catches the blonde flecks of his curly hair so that it looks like he's glittering. It's not a windy night, but the coolness of the air still catches your cheeks as his warmth pulls away from you, making you keenly aware also of your wet clothes.

"[Y/n], if I ever tire of being your companion, it will be because I no longer possess a sane soul."

Satisfied with this answer, you smile and hold your hands out to catch his, rising as he lifts you to your feet. You shake the dew best you can away, but know that it's useless.

"See? Always an interesting day with you," He says, already lifting his outer coat off to wrap around you, pinning your arms against your body as he wraps you tightly. He really never had a problem with these gestures of physical closeness. "Today's occurrence of interest is," he continues, "My companion leads me to be soaked to the bone with wet and cold in the middle of the night. Will we grow ill and die a most painful death? More tomor-" Since you can't move your arms, you cut him off with a blunt headbutt to the chest. He yelps in surprise, not in pain.

"Alright, alright. I'm serious! You cannot be outside like this at your own leisure like this again."

You groan again, leaving your head where it landed on his chest.

"Well! I couldn't sleep. I wanted to see the stars."

"You and your stargazing..." He shakes his head, pulling you tighter, somehow, into him. "You leave me no choice here."

In one motion, he scoops you up in his jacket bridal style so you have to throw your arms around his neck to hold on.

"Jeremiah!" You holler in surprise, not knowing yet that he just does these things because he likes it when you say his name the way that you do.

He laughs as he begins trudging through the field with you in his arms like you bear no extra weight to him. Despite knowing his physical strength by now, knowing it and experiencing it are two different things. You can feel the strength in his arms and you feel strangely secure and relaxed.

"Apologies. It was time for bed, Miss."

"I see. You're tired of me already."

"Never. But somebody needs to keep you in check."

He carries you the whole way and for the remaining duration of it you don't speak. His footsteps and the lull of the night noises begin to make you sleepy. You suddenly realize how tired you actually are.

When he sets you on your feet at the entrance of your current military base, you thank him but don't necessarily let go of him immediately.

"Jeremiah?" You start timidly, tiredness seeping into your vocal chords.

"Hmmm?" He answers, his curls sticking to his forehead from the sweat of carrying you.

"I'll not tire of you either then."

"Is that so?" He grins, tiredly too, but looking a little too cocky. You smirk, glad for the playfulness to ease your pounding heart.

"Just one thing..." You continue, reaching up with one hand to brush the curls away from his brows. He almost leans down into you as you do.

"Another request? Free of charge I assume?"

"Jeremiah..."

"Fine, let's hear it then."

You pause.

"You're not allowed to leave me."

He grows serious at your words, something flashing in his eyes that settles into understanding, arms curling around your waist as if you're made of delicate glass. You can feel him breathe against you as his head draws closer. Something has changed, he is meek, yet there's a strength and confidence in his tone. He doesn't waste another second pulling you into another tight embrace.

"Consider it done."

#ʚɞ*.ﾟ. lnds

[rose-tinted-kalopsia]

You know, I find people very into their work pretty hot ;)

You know what I find hot?

Solitude.

#THE LAUGH I LET OUT #ʚɞ*.ﾟ. lnds #☄︎*.ﾟ. lndrp

[rose-tinted-kalopsia]

“I firmly believe in small gestures: pay for their coffee, hold the door for strangers, over tip, smile or try to be kind even when you don’t feel like it, pay compliments, chase the kid’s runaway ball down the sidewalk and throw it back to him, try to be larger than you are— particularly when it’s difficult. People do notice, people appreciate. I appreciate it when it’s done to (for) me. Small gestures can be an effort, or actually go against our grain (“I’m not a big one for paying compliments…”), but the irony is that almost every time you make them, you feel better about yourself.”

— Jonathan Carroll

[rose-tinted-kalopsia]

She bursts into a fit of laughter. "'Miah!"

And she isn't ticklish, but the sudden touch makes her nearly squeal. "Is this any way to treat your Queen?!"

Her hand goes to poke at his forehead in response, as if to nudge him off. Yet she can't help the way he makes her grin, always so enamored by even the silliest of things he'd pull off with her like that.

"Aww, c'monnn. Wanted a little domestic moment with you, can't a girl dream a little?" She huffs playfully, the penguin show already once more forgotten in the back of her mind. "But, okay, okay! I can't say no if my oh-so-beloved-knight would offer to spoil me..."

She shifts to sit up, her eyes twinkling with adoration. "Althoughhh...." She leans in, teasing. "One more kiss. Or maybe two. Then maybe I'll accept your proposition. Can't have you dragging me off to an alleyway this time, you know?"

"you remind me of..."

a closed rp thread with @jeremiahofphilo (because your girl is invested invested)

It doesn't take too long after the text for her to be walking up to his flower shop, already engulfed by familiar aroma of various flowers.

She almost knows it like the back of her hand, by now. The steps to the door, the simple signeage, the flowers up on display at the front that change every so often. The familiarity of it makes her smile; it's been a few days since the last time she stopped by, and she catches a particular arrangement centered around roses and azaleas.

Her eyes glint as she steps inside, and she's quick to skip over and give his back a little poke.

"Still working on that research, 'Miah?" She tilts her head, unwilling to pry, but unable to stop the curious glance she makes over his shoulder. Even the warmth of his presence is familiar enough, and she can't help but lean into it. "Flower for your thoughts?"

#(i'm actually probably the most ticklish person you'll ever know but) #(she needs the upper hand with jem so we'll also shhhhh) #LMAO #i laugh everytime i read this thread theyre so silly 😭 #ʚɞ*.ﾟ. lnds #☄︎*.ﾟ. lndrp

[rose-tinted-kalopsia]

"i live through pictures as if i was right there by your side, but you'll be good without me, and if i could just give it some time... i'll be alright."

mmmm thinking thoughts...

#jeremiah-core kinda..... #(from paper hearts - tori kelly!!) #*ੈ♡. rose talks

[rose-tinted-kalopsia]

#oh idk but this gives “was there a lifetime waiting for us in a world where i was yours?” :((((( #gone away vibes.... #he's so hot but ALSO this makes me sad somehow... #𝄞*.ﾟ. skz

[rose-tinted-kalopsia]

i wanna send u so many things thats like zayne core, but im holding myself back bc itd be a lotta spam. So expect it once a week fr

ANONIE <3 omg don't hold back at all!!! i may not answer asks immediately sometimes but i'm all open for you to spam with zayne thoughts 👀

#been in a zayne mood lately #so this checks out #please continue <3 #ʚɞ*.ﾟ. lnds #*ੈ♡. rose jar

[rose-tinted-kalopsia]

@jeremiahofphilo <3

i want to know you like a familiar book and have your pages drawn into my heart

#LMAO #philos boys with the special treatment #ʚɞ*.ﾟ. lnds #☄︎*.ﾟ. lndrp

[rose-tinted-kalopsia]

that was impulsive, actually

#(but i'm not taking it down) #maybe i'll tag jem in one too hold on....

[rose-tinted-kalopsia]

@xavier-starlight

I think if we made out and cuddled for long enough all my problems would disappear

#WHOOPS BYE #roxie when did you get so bold?! #ʚɞ*.ﾟ. lnds #☄︎*.ﾟ. lndrp

[rose-tinted-kalopsia]

It's easy to make her melt; he always does it. Even such a simple line—knowing he probably didn't intend it that way—brings butterflies to her stomach, it's as if everything he says always sounds so... sweet.

With a little smile, she pulls out her phone, and hops back on the bike.

"I think it's still nice, though," she admits as she sets up their directions. Her voice falls soft. "If I get to see views like this with you, maybe I don't mind getting lost every now and then..."

The pedaling starts again, thankfully only a few minutes from the path they're supposed to be on, and the wind in her hair picks up. But there's something in the way the smell of the flowers seems to dance with the breeze, the way the sun shines over them in the bluest sky, that makes her want to cherish the moment.

"Xavier?" she glances to the side, falling into a casual, steady rhythm of pedaling. "I'm really happy I get to spend this holiday with you."

"...Xav, wait." She pauses the pedaling, catching her breath. There's a little frown on her face as she looks around. "Are you—are you sure we're going the right way?"

It's a pretty little village, she'll give it that. It's a little older, more peaceful—brick houses and cobbled streets, birds chirping, squirrels scuttering around. A few brightly-colored flowers and berries catch her eyes, and it's a nice getaway from the bustle of Linkon City.

But it's not quite the area their hotel would be in, and she hops off her bike, looking at him with a little pout.

"You... We're not lost, are we?"

His hand immediately comes up to the back of his neck, rubbing at the skin there as he looks around. He doesn't think they are lost, but he's been wrong (and lost) before. This is an unfamiliar area for him, but he's certain (is he certain) that their hotel was this way.

He shoots her a wide eyed look, "Are we lost?"

Xavier doesn't realize how silly it is to echo her question back at her, because well it proves her point quite well. They might be lost, maybe. He sighs, "I have a map in my bag."

#EE #op you have the most beautiful way with words :( #i had to stop for a moment and clutch my chest bc :( #augh... like a guiding star.... (weeps in a corner) #ʚɞ*.ﾟ. lnds #☄︎*.ﾟ. lndrp

[rose-tinted-kalopsia]

HAHA

#OKAY #ill sleep i swear!!!! #this was just funny #love you madi mwah #*ੈ♡. rose talks

[rose-tinted-kalopsia]

Hello lovely Roxie 🩷🩷

Since I want to keep your beautiful letter in my inbox FOREVER! So I can’t see it everyday and bath myself in your words of appreciation and love, I sending you an ask myself instead of answering your ask 🥰

I‘m so grateful to meet you and the others in our little playground!! And you especially because your so sweet and lovely and precious and heartwarming and cuddly and sweet and and and… could continue forever 🩷

Your writing is stunning and you are a stunning person!

For me you are like a fluffy warm Belgian waffle with whipped cream and strawberries and syrup. Your warm and sweet and fluffy. And you remind me of cotton candy, all rosy and fluffy and sooo soft!

I would love to go on road trips with you to see the world and to show me your favorite places or having endless conversations with hot lattes and pastry in comfy places

Your nickname: butterfly 🦋 🥰

Love you sweetheart and thank you for making the end of April better with just your words 🩷

In love, Ira 🦄🩷

OH IRAAAAA 😭😭😭 OH MY GOSH 🥺 I AM SO INCREDIBLY SOFT IM JUST??? FLOORED??? AAAHCKK 🥺 waffles with whipped cream and strawberry syrup oh my gosh :( i adore you SO MUCH my heart is all fuzzy inside 😭🤍

i'd love to go on road trips with you too my beloved!! <3

#*ੈ♡. ira 🌹 jar #*ੈ♡. rose jar #HUHU IRAAA 🥺 YOU ARE THE SWEETEST EVER! 🥺

[rose-tinted-kalopsia]

She hums, her attention much rather focused on him than the television. Still, the narration and little penguin noises playing in the background, she finds, add a little bit to the moment.

Her eyes soften. He's just being incredibly endearing today.

"I know," she laughs softly, bringing her lips to the crown of his head in a little peck. "I mean, I better be. Maybe I want to be a little selfish and have you all to myself..." She gives him a little squeeze to reassure him that she was only kidding, and closes her eyes for a moment. "Jokes aside, you know I trust you, right? Doesn't matter to me how many other girls you've been with in the past, if I have you now."

And she means it, really. There's little place for jealousy in her heart over what's happened before, and she's expected it, anyway. In her mind, it would've been impossible for someone like him to have never been in a relationship before. She'll take it—there's a certain sense of pride that bubbles in her heart, knowing that in this moment, he's hers.

She's not the type to ask any more of him.

She sighs contentedly as she continues to play with his hair. "Mmh? Sure, I don't mind. Guess you haven't been out of the area as much with your work?" Her ears perk up at his words. "Oh, we could cook together!"

It comes out more excited than she intended, but she looks at him with a certain sparkle in her eyes. "I've kind of always wanted to do that... Could we, 'Miah?"

"you remind me of..."

a closed rp thread with @jeremiahofphilo (because your girl is invested invested)

It doesn't take too long after the text for her to be walking up to his flower shop, already engulfed by familiar aroma of various flowers.

She almost knows it like the back of her hand, by now. The steps to the door, the simple signeage, the flowers up on display at the front that change every so often. The familiarity of it makes her smile; it's been a few days since the last time she stopped by, and she catches a particular arrangement centered around roses and azaleas.

Her eyes glint as she steps inside, and she's quick to skip over and give his back a little poke.

"Still working on that research, 'Miah?" She tilts her head, unwilling to pry, but unable to stop the curious glance she makes over his shoulder. Even the warmth of his presence is familiar enough, and she can't help but lean into it. "Flower for your thoughts?"

#realistically #i dislike the kitchen #and anything to do with cooking #but for jem... anything goes 🥰🥰🥰 #ʚɞ*.ﾟ. lnds #☄︎*.ﾟ. lndrp

[rose-tinted-kalopsia]

HIII just here to drop this off if u haven’t seen it already 🤭 this is so canon for xavier IM CALLING IT

https://www.tiktok.com/@flyamantia/video/7357762026556640558?_t=8lvoUijt0w6&_r=1

- 🍒 anonie <3

SCREAMINGJSJFJHSJF omg 🍒 anonie ive missed you!! <3 and you drop this absolute TREAT <3

totally bet 90% of the time he has a few inappropriate thoughts going on in his head when he looks at you... he hides so much behind that cute little smile of his, i swear on it

#*ੈ♡. 🍒 jar #ʚɞ*.ﾟ. lnds #*ੈ♡. rose jar