#ta-daaa !!

[seldompathic]

Someone asked me about ears. This is that 🤝

[taegularities]

Last Line Tag

i was tagged by @yoonia! thank you, love, what a great opportunity to share some pending 2024 pieces :P

Rules: Share the last line you wrote and tag the same number of people as the words in the line.

like dia, i'll be sharing a few i've been working on. entertainer, cmi, c&f and the fifth summer are on top of my list, but i've also been looking into a couple others, like you're okay and moonglade <3 enjoy if you do end up reading the snips <3

entertainer | jjk

Your answer takes a seat on his ego and weighs it down. Harsh, sudden, perhaps not unexpected but definitely breaking a string of patience within him. But consent is consent; he understands. He’s grown now.

colour me in: palette | jjk

“Do you know why I wanted you to sleep down here?” “I think I do… I think I figured it out.” Because you’ve fallen out of bed one too many times. Because some days, you weren’t nestled in his embrace, overworked and stressed; and that was when you rolled off the bed once or twice. Tolerating his laughter when he realised; but despite the amusement, he’s still too worried to take the risk.

candles & flames: downpour | jjk

She says, “He’s always such a gentleman. So nice. I do enjoy his company a lot,” and you act as though the praise doesn’t drag yet another knife through your heart. You suppress your tears.

the fifth summer | jjk

You feel like you can breathe again. All because of him. All despite him.

-> personally, i'm the most excited for this bc i feel like it'll become somewhat of a taegularities magnum opus hahah

you're okay | myg

That’s him. He’s always worried. Maybe that’s what you’ve been struggling with so much lately. The fact that you pull him down whenever the weight on your shoulders and brain becomes too heavy.

moonglade | kth

You see the light shining through the window; and a second later, it dies. You leave with a falling heart, and not once tonight can you seem to understand why it’s aching like that.

do u have any thots :]

tagging @btsmosphere @jeonstudios @shadowkoo and anyone else who wants to do this <3

[purplelurkinghini]

I'm a martyr. Or, I will be. But I'm not Christ. Sometimes, I think I might be the other one. (x)

Red Dragon (2002) || Batman Unburied (2022) S1:E1 || Ralph Fiennes as Francis Dolarhyde in Red Dragon (2022) || The Exorcist III (1990) || BU (2002) S1:E1 || Brad Dourif as James Venamun in The Exorcist III (1990) || The Harvester (2022) by ilovedust || Se7en (1995) || BU (2022) S1:E1 || Se7en (1995)

[mymanymerrymuses]

@misfitsandmischief gets Camilo angst

Why today? Why today, of all days? Why any days, actually, because Camilo shouldn’t do this anymore, but if any day, why this one?

Life, apparently, is cruel, and so of course the night he couldn’t sleep is the night before a frankly overly busy day. From first thing this morning, Camilo’s been all over town, shifting from one form to the next, barely getting chance to return to himself, and all with nothing but a couple of broken hours of sleep and a healthy portion of his tia’s cooking for breakfast. Sure, it could be worse, he could have not slept at all and missed breakfast, but it still isn’t ideal.

He was tired before he started his chores for the day, but at least then he had the evening to look forward to. He’s got a date planned with Colin, and the exciement there had kept him going. Each shift got a little harder, a little slower, but he had a goal, and so he pushed through.

Perhaps unwisely, because now, as he approaches the veritable garden of a house where the witch lives, Camilo is filled with dread. Why? Because the feet on which he approaches and the hand with which he knocks on the door are not his own. None of his current form is his own. Instead, his appearance belongs to a young man from town.

And there’s nothing he can do about it.

[mostlyonthefloor]

sooooooo can you fill me in on Viola, please? I am unhealthily curious about Miss Tap-Shoes-And-Survivor-Guilt.

Basically, she was part of a travelling troupe of musicians, actors and general performers who ... travelled around performing. Until (dramatic music) they were attacked by Lore Relevant Creature Or Enemy, leaving baby Viola as the only survivor. She was found by a nearby farming family, named after the viola they found her hidden under while exploring the wreckage. The family took it upon themselves to raise her, which they did with diligence but no particular care, but Viola never really felt like she fitted in. At about thirteen, she left to wander the world as a travelling musician, and possibly to find out more about what happened to her people.

She's my go-to oneshot character because of the simplicity of her build (lightfoot halfling bard) and the adaptability of her backstory and goals. She speaks elegantly, using complex and sometimes archaic language that she learned from the plays, texts and stories that survived the wreckage; she doesn't flirt but she certainly flatters; and she generally aims to get along with everyone, see the world, and earn enough money to do both of the above.

Naturally she's very attached to her viola - she will almost never leave it, and spends a lot of her time and money protecting, caring for it, and upgrading it. Her go-to tavern act is her excellent fiddling skills along with the heel-and-toe style of dancing that she learned from the rural community she grew up in, often on a barrel or box to elevate her to eye height and to clarify her dance noise.

[tennant-davids]

GOOD OMENS 2019 - present

You idiot. We could have been... us.

[nexttm]

👥🔫

headcanons  ||  accepting  ➜  @crimeloyalty

As much as Harley talks endlessly and Simon doesn't he actually finds a certain level of comfort in her blabbing after a while. It becomes a familiar sound that is hard to escape, so even if he don't pay super attention to all her rants, he listens just well enough out of duty to provide the occasional hum.

He wouldn't necessarily kill for her after knowing more about her, simply because he wants to be sure the perspective isn't just her ego asking for something. As long as it isn't just the "because I want that" he don't mind lending a helping hand so to speak.

Diners at fuck o'clock of the day with Harls? An experience he rarely says no to.

Will actually go shopping with her simply to see where she even finds half of the things in her closet.

[femmeetart]

A mom helping her kids beat a hard level in Super Mario Land, 1990s.

edit: omg wha tha fak thanks for all the notes <33

[fluffsnake]

had to pay my respects to the Senshi panty shots 🙏✨

[argoii-official]

let’s be real, annabeth was doomed from the start

(send me asks! think of these real art posts as ads)

[nthflower]

Photo studyyy

[hannahssimblr]

“Evan, can I sit?”

He glances up at me and shrugs, patting the ground next to him so I slump down heavily on it and take a healthy gulp from my bottle. 

“You good, man?”

“Yeah, amazing.”

“I, uh, I see you were chatting to Leah, there? You know each other?”

“Nah.”

“Really? Well... she’s a weirdo anyway, you’re better off getting away from her, like, I just sell her weed and stuff, I don’t really like when she hangs around too long.”

“Yeah, fair enough.” 

“Was she being weird with you?” 

“Nope.” 

We’re silent as we watch the flames. I begin to wonder what time it is, and whether I've stayed long enough now for it to be acceptable to go home. As I watch all of the other friends around the fire have fun together I’m struck by how much of an outsider I really am. Sure, Rob and Katie are nice, but will any of that niceness extend into normal life with the eyes of everyone else at school upon us? Surely they will go back to the steps at the back of the school while I go back to the rugby changing rooms, or the library, as it may be and things will resume as they are, as they've always been and always will be. Realistically, would they ever be seen with me? Would I ever be seen with them? There's this weird, empty feeling in me, a feeling that just compounds day after day, month after month, year after year, and it's like I don’t belong anywhere or to anyone. I'm just floating in the in-between, and who even am I? What does it mean to even-

“Hey,” Evan interrupts my spiralling inner dialogue, “I meant to say to you that it’s cool that you came along, you know, even when Jen and Michelle didn’t.”

This takes me by surprise, “You think?”

“Yeah, I mean, I suppose I kind of thought you were just hanging out with us sometimes because of them, and that you didn’t really want to be there, but,” a shrug, “I suppose that isn’t true.”

“No, I like hanging out with you.”

“And it’s not just because you’ve been ostracised by your other friends?”

I hesitate for a beat, “No.”

Evan laughs, “Wow, I’m so convinced!”

“No, come on,” I rock to the side and nudge his shoulder with mine, “Like, yeah, sometimes it’s nice to have Jen here, but I’m fine, I can handle myself around the emos… and as for Michelle, well, she hates me, so it’s actually kinda comfier when she’s not here, and- oh,” I realise immediately what I’ve said, “um, well I don’t really mean that, it-”

“No, it’s okay,” Evan says, “I know that you two aren’t exactly best friends or anything.”

“Ah, so she’s talked to you about me.” 

“Nah, you’ve honestly never come up in conversation.”

“Somehow that’s worse.”

He snickers. 

“How are, um,” I pick at the beer label with my thumb, “How are things going with you guys? Like, the last time we talked you were feeling kinda…”

A sigh, “Oh, yeah, it’s the same. Like, she’s so nice but sometimes I don’t feel like I get enough from her.”

“Uh huh.”

“I kind of get a bit annoyed about it sometimes, like, how are we supposed to be together properly if I hardly see her? Like, man, she’s allowed to come to my house like, once a week. In the afternoon. And that’s the only time we can… uh, hook up or whatever. It’s so annoying.”

“Just from an outsider's perspective, you know, you seem pretty happy.”

“Yeah. She’s definitely into me,” He musses up and fixes his fringe, “I dunno. It’s fine, just sometimes I wonder about shit. You know what I mean, right?”

“I’m probably not the best person to ask, seeing none of my relationships have worked out so far, and I’m also fairly drunk, so…”

“But you know what it’s like to be with someone who wouldn’t give you the things you needed, right?”

“Yeah, ‘course.”

“So you do get it.”

“Mm, I suppose,” as our conversation tapers off I let my mind drift into thoughts about love and loneliness and the hollow disappointment of all of my relationships. These are bitter, useless, self destructive thoughts as usual, made even worse by the fact that I’m not exactly capable of rational thought while inebriated. Is drinking bad for me? Am I a miserable drunk? I have to physically shake myself out of my own head before I start talking myself into a hole again.

I turn to Evan to start saying something else about, I don’t know, whether he’s ever tried pranking someone by turning their school bag inside out and putting the books back into it or something stupid like that, but I see he’s distracted by something else across the bonfire. 

It’s that girl with the pink hair. She’s leaning over a bag to rummage for more beer, and her short skirt rides up when she’s bent over like that so that her underwear is visible through the sheer material of her tights. I frown at the dirty little smirk on his face, the way hungry eyes follow her movements, and the look between them as she glances over her shoulder and sees him watching her. I nudge my knee against his to interrupt whatever is going on.

“Wow, nice legs, huh?” 

He looks at me, surprised, but lets out a rough laugh, “Yeah, for sure.”

“Is she into you or am I just seeing things?”

“Nah, I don’t know about that.”

“Oh, c’mon, no, I’m just messing with you, she just looked like… I dunno.”

“Like what?”

I shift awkwardly, “You know what, don’t mind me, I’ve had too much to drink, I thought I detected flirting, or whatever, I guess I was wrong.”

The girl kneels onto the ground and starts asking around for the bottle opener, and Evan doesn’t take his eyes away from her. “She’s pretty though, isn’t she?”

“Hm?”

“Carlie. That’s her name. She’s pretty, do you think?”

“She’s single?”

“Yep.”

“So are you trying to set me up with her or are you just pointing that out?”

“I’m not trying to set you up.” Evan seems agitated by this idea that I might try to date pretty Carlie, who, by the way, treats me like I am contagious. As though it’s any of his business what she does, as if he should even care. Something sour settles in my gut, but I can’t tell whether it’s that I'm weirded out by this conversation or if the alcohol is nauseating me. 

“Right, well, she’s not my type,” I watch his face carefully, “Is she yours?”

“She’s pretty hot.”

Maybe he's looking for my approval or my agreement, which I don’t give him on purpose. To see where it leads me I respond with a benign, “Oh, you think?”

“Uh huh,” They catch eyes again and she smiles coyly and quickly looks away to resume her conversation. That’s flirtation. She’s flirting with him, and him back, right in front of my face. 

“You know, a lot of people would consider your girlfriend to be pretty hot too.” It’s true, I’ve heard those rugby boys saying it before, the only time they ever had anything remotely complimentary to say about any of the emos was to point out the things they fancied about Michelle and what they might like to do to her if she A. wasn’t emo, or B. nobody knew, so that they wouldn’t have to suffer the social consequences. I feel disgusted again at this memory. I know where I was, sitting on the bench lacing up my boots and saying nothing while they spoke casual filth about a girl I know. 

It’s a similar feeling to the one I have now at this bonfire with Evan, and maybe this is how he is when he’s drunk, maybe he just gets a bit… leery, but when he stares across the fire at someone who isn’t his girlfriend I swear I am looking at Willy FitzHerbert. 

He waves my comment away, “Yeah but at least Carlie is interested in sex.”

“How do you know that?”

He leans closer, “Obviously because I’ve done it with her.”

“Yeah?” I say, “When?”

He smirks and says nothing.

I push him again. “A few years ago?”

He lowers his voice and looks at me with eyes that glitter with salacious excitement. I don’t think I’ve ever once seen another boy look so pleased with himself as he says: “Try a month ago.”

It takes all my self control not to react. I just pause for a second as a shock of revulsion rips through my body, I feel it from my feet to the top of my head, and then, when I decide to speak, my voice is strange to my own ears, “While you were with Michelle.”

A shrug, “It just happened on a night out when she wasn’t there. I dunno.”

“She doesn’t know?”

“Course not. She’d break up with me.”

“And... you don’t want that.”

“No, because we’re in love. This stuff with Carlie, it was just… you get what I mean. It’s not like that with her.”

I sigh, “Uh, yep.”

So it appears it is the same for Evan as it is for all the others. Michelle is the virgin, Carlie is the slut and he wants it all at the same time. A girl worthy of love, and a girl interested in sex, two things that cannot converge. There is no girl that can be both.

“It felt good to let loose with someone who knew what they were doing, and like, not have to think so hard about making the other person all safe and comfortable and, blah,” he rolls his eyes, “Carlie is cool.”

“Right, yeah, she seems it.”

“You get me, right? Guys like us, you know, we need to be able to just relax sometimes, not think so hard…”

“Yeah, for sure… Guys like us, huh?”

“Hell yeah!” He clinks his beer bottle against mine, “I knew you’d get it, honestly, I wasn’t sure if I should say something but I feel good now that you understand what I meant.”

I try to laugh but it sounds weird and strangled, so I bring the bottle to my lips in the hope that drinking will disguise my discomfort, or at the very least numb it a bit. I finish the last two thirds of it and toss it somewhere amongst the miscellaneous rubbish, remnants of a hundred other miserable bonfire nights on Dollymount strand.  

Then, after a minute or two Evan nudges me again. It’s hard to look at him but I force myself to because it is what I would do if this situation was normal, “You’re not going to say anything, right? Like, to Michelle or Jen? Like I know you probably won’t...” A laugh as he adjusts his fringe, “That'd be insane, I know, but I wanted to make sure.”

“Me? Nah,” I say, “Why would you even have to ask? Don’t worry about it,” I scratch the back of my head, “your, uh, your secret is safe with me.”

Beginning // Prev // Next

[alvaroz-starrs]

Headcannons for Clancy!

•He's not a guy in a suit, he's an inflatable. In the brawl talk, he was said to not be a real lobster, but they never stated he was a guy in a suit like they did with Berry. Clancy also doesn't have a zipper anywhere in him.

•Clancy's the fun uncle who never takes any responsibility until his husband (Hank) makes him

•He chose a paint ball gun so he could play with Otis

[maxbegone]

etched in gold

Husband makes his heart race. His breath catches in his throat, his smile grows on its own accord, and the world comes to a pinpoint of focus, slows, because he has a husband.

TK’s head falls back, revealing the beautiful line of his neck as he laughs at whatever someone said in the circle of their friends he’s standing in. He’s golden in this warm light, catching on the ring that he slid onto his finger mere hours ago, a symbol of forever, through anything — not that they need one. It’s been proven, and their love is more than enough.

Most of their guests have gone home, leaving just their family, immediate and found, to enjoy the extra time they opted for at the venue, their conversations merely accompanying the soft music playing from a speaker somewhere, a glorious hum of people who came together for them.

Carlos finds himself unable to look away, like so many times before. It always catches him off guard, those moments of this is mine, this is my life and I get to have it, that make him practically pinch himself so he knows he’s not dreaming.

“Carlitos,” he hears. It’s a feat to pull his gaze away from TK, only to find Luisa leaning gently toward him. She has his niece in her lap, fast asleep against her chest as she strokes her hair. “You should be with your husband.”

“In a minute,” he replies. He’s enjoying this moment from afar.

His sister clearly isn’t having it, nudging his ankle with her foot under the table, laughing when he gives her an amused look. “Go,” she says again. “It’s your wedding day, you don’t have to entertain us so much.”

And she’s correct. “Alright, alright.” Carlos gets to his feet, but not before leaning over to kiss his niece’s curls.

He sighs contentedly as he crosses over, catching TK by the waist and pulling him in to kiss his cheek from behind. TK startles a laugh, only to fall comfortably back into Carlos’ arms as he leans up to kiss him back, lips just hitting his jawline.

“I’m not interrupting, am I?” He asks the circle, though it’s mostly directed at TK, whose arm is linked with his own as he runs his thumb in little swipes over his sleeve.

“Not at all, baby,” TK replies with a grin,

“We’re just hounding your husband a bit,” Paul laughs, and Carlos eyes him curiously.

“About what?”

“Last names, mostly,” Nancy says, leaning into Mateo. “And how one hyphen sounds better than the other.”

“Just let them do their thing,” TK says to him.“They’ve been at it all night.”

“And they know we’re keeping our own?”

Marjan holds up a finger. “Uh, for now. That’s what TK said.”

Carlos hums. “Okay, well, you all start placing your bets, I’m going to steal my husband.”

A series of teasing and childish ooohs follow them as they make their way down a cobblestone path that winds down to the lower level.

They walk in slow, happy silence for a little while, hand-in-hand, until they reach the area their ceremony was earlier in the evening. TK sighs happily as they take a seat on the stone wall at the back of the aisle. The chairs have since been put away, the flower petals swept up, leaving an open and empty space for another couple to tour someday soon and fall in love with, a place to showcase their love to the world just as they did today.

TK rests his head on Carlos' shoulder, and Carlos leans his head on his. In the distance, music thrums softly as laughter is carried throughout the venue. It's perfect, in this charming and private moment of theirs.

"What are you thinking?" TK asks him quietly, as if speaking any louder will break the spell that's fallen on them.

"That this really is the best day of my life."

TK lifts his head up and smiles. "Mine, too. I'd say it's almost perfect."

"Yeah..." Carlos breathes out shakily as he tries to stave off the tears for what feels like the hundredth time today, and he does it, but barely. "Almost."

"Baby." TK shifts to kiss him, letting go of Carlos' hand where it sits in his lap to hold the side of his face.

The kiss is tender enough to make him melt, and Carlos finds himself putting his entire being into it. He pulls away with barely any space between them, foreheads touching and noses bumping as TK sneaks in one last one.

"They're here," Carlos hears him whisper, fingers toying with the lobe of his ear, a comforting gesture. "They're here. Nothing could have stopped them."

He doesn't want the bittersweetness to show, but he knows he can let it out with TK. He's his safe space, his lifeline, someone he's vowed to love and fiercely hold onto until the end of his days. So he lets it out, a choked shudder, then shakes himself. Carlos sits up tall as he catches TK's eye and knocks his finger gently under his chin.

"Did you check your ring?" Carlos' eyes drop down momentarily to the band that rests on TK's finger.

He smiles. "No," he says with a laugh, "I haven't. I told you I wouldn't until we could look together, and when I tell you that was one of the hardest things I've had to refrain from doing..."

Carlos raises a brow. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. Almost as hard as not shoving cake in your face initially."

"Well, you did in the end."

TK laughs again. "Only after you did it to me," he points out. "Did you look at yours?"

"Nope. We made a promise."

"That we did." He moves a little closer. "You first."

Carefully, Carlos slides his ring off his finger and holds it up so he can see. The lighting isn't bright, but it's enough to make out a line of Hebrew characters inside the gold band.

"Ani l'dodi v'dodi li," TK recites beautifully, watching as Carlos squints as he thinks. "I am my beloved's..."

"And my beloved is mine," he finishes, watching as TK's eyes light up.

"You remembered?"

"Of course I did. It's beautiful."

TK beams. "You're beautiful."

He holds up his ring next, and Carlos watches carefully for his reaction. It goes from curious to realization in less than a second, and TK's eyes are shiny when he turns back to him.

His mouth hangs open. "I—is this...?"

He nods. "Now I'll always be there to hold you, no matter what."

TK lets out an audible breath, shaking his head as if he cannot believe what he's looking at. "Baby, this...this is amazing."

Carlos pulls the ring a little closer so he can take a look himself, trailing over the whorls of his very own fingerprint etched on the inside of TK's wedding band.

"I didn't even know this was an option."

"Neither did I," Carlos tells him, "but I did my research."

TK's shoulders drop as he leans into him, pressing a kiss against his jaw. "I love you so much."

"I love you." He pulls TK in for a proper kiss, holding his face in his hands. "Thank you for marrying me," he says with a gentle laugh. He knows it sounds ridiculous, but he needs to say it.

TK hums. "Thank you for saying yes."

They kiss again, longer this time, more drawn-out, before TK goes to slide his ring back on. Carlos stops him.

"Let me."

TK returns the gesture, and for a little while they sit there in complete, contented silence, comforted by each other's presence and peace.

There's a whole life ahead of them waiting to be discovered. Carlos has plans, and he knows TK has plans of his own. He can't wait to see what's in store. But, for now, Carlos needs nothing else — just his husband, who is his entire heart, and the promise of forever.

[tennant-davids]

OUR FLAG MEANS DEATH Ed and Stede in Season Two

Dear Ed, I long for you. Every day we spend apart feels like an eternity. I know you don't want to hear from me, but I write these letters daily, hoping one will reach you. Hope that's okay. And I know we're not through. I can feel it in my soul. A love like ours can't disappear in an instant. We're joined to one another. Intertwined. We wrote our names on each other in permanent ink.

[merakiui]

Ooooo, piggybacking kinda on the roommate!Floyd… what a wonderful adventure that must be, being his roommate!! Cuddly movie nights, cooking times, and playful wrestling that deeeeefinately turns into sexytimes, eventually. :D

It's actually so much fun having him as a roommate. You never get any studying done, so your best options are to go somewhere without Floyd so you can actually focus. But when you're both in the apartment, the two of you have a lot of fun together. He used to go out all the time, but ever since the two of you became friends he's started going wherever you go, doing whatever you do, following your flow. You'll have movie nights or gaming sessions with lots of snacks (he always steals whatever you happen to be eating, sometimes even snapping it up from between your fingers). Sometimes you'll cook together (sometimes a food fight ensues or Floyd steals cooking utensils that you need just to be a nuisance). If Floyd cooks breakfast, you can guarantee he's cooking in just his boxers because he's too lazy to put clothes on.

And wrestling... omg. It all started because he had stolen your phone and wouldn't give it back. He was pouting about how you were ignoring him (you were trying to finish homework), but the minute he's stolen your phone and you get up from your seat he knows he's already won. And won he definitely did when the two of you take your chase into the living room, falling over one another on the sofa while he holds your phone out of reach, having too much fun giggling about how you should give it up. You're on top of him, reaching over him and just barely managing to touch his wrist, before he tosses your phone across the room (he says he'll get you a new one; he'll get you a dozen phones if that's what you want). You have no time to protest because something's poking you from behind.

You and Floyd are just friends; that's what you both agree on when you're shedding clothes hastily and leaning in for sloppy, open-mouthed kisses. You think this might be a one-time thing, but it happens again when the apartment loses hot water and so you have to bathe together to conserve body heat. And Floyd's hands just love to wander, and he loves to pull your shivering body against him. He seems unbothered by the cold water, but he promises to warm his shrimpy up if you'll let him. You do, but you stress that you're just friends. He nods, parrots your words back in a silly, almost teasing tone, and bites into your shoulder.

It happens again and again, so often that it's almost become routine. To think you'd ever engage in friends with benefits with someone... It's not as bad as you thought it might be. But things are definitely...changing in your relationship. Floyd's fucked you on nearly every surface now: against the kitchen countertop, on the sofa, against the walls, in the bedroom, in the bathroom, even in the passenger seat of his sports car. The list goes on and on; you've tried nearly every position there is, too. He loves sex, but then so do you. It's a perfect arrangement. He's always been so playfully casual after every exchange, but this time he's lying on his back and looking up at the ceiling, where a dozen plastic, glow-in-the-dark stars are pasted. The two of you put them up there when the apartment had lost power and you wanted to feel like you were in outer space.

"You ever wonder if there's someone for everyone?" he mumbles, and it's so odd to hear him sound so...reserved.

"What sort of post-nut clarity question is this?" you joke, rolling over to face him.

He peers at you and shrugs halfheartedly. "Dunno. In the sea, everyone's so hung up on findin' a forever mate or...whatever. It's kinda lame, but Jade says that we're like stars. That every star has a spot in the sky."

You're quiet for a long moment. His mismatched eyes never leave yours. Eventually, you shuffle closer to him under the covers. His arm instinctively snakes around you to pull you against him.

"Do you think you have a spot in the sky, Floyd?"

"Who knows."

"Well." You glance at the spaces between each plastic planet, noting stars and moons sprinkled on the ceiling at random. You've never witnessed such a subdued, tender side to him before. "My sky could use a star."

A toothy grin spreads slowly on his lips. He levels you with half-lidded eyes; it's almost challenging, the way he looks at you. "That so?"

"Very so."

His face is mere centimeters from yours. He's leaning over you on the bed, caging you in muscled arms, and you meet his stare with a smirk.

"Your sky better not be accepting anymore stars. You're mine now, got that?"

"I wouldn't want to be anyone else's," you mutter into his mouth.

His hand slithers into yours, a perfect fit.