#this is just way sappier and longer than it needs to be i just wanted to write abt them being happy and in love ok

[steddieas-shegoes]

Hey! I love your writing so much so I figured I’d send a little request!

Could you doing something like Steve hase always noticed Eddie but Eddie is completely oblivious? With some first kiss/love confession?

OH ANYTIME!!! Thank you :) I am always here for pining and love confessions. The sappier, the better. The more nauseating, the better. The more I want to punch a wall, the better. I hope that happens here for you with this one! - Mickala ❤️

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Steve Harrington’s bisexual awakening was Eddie Munson.

He was 14 years old at summer camp for the last time because “teenagers just don’t go to summer camp, Steven.” Which was ridiculous because it was a summer camp for teenagers, but whatever, not worth arguing with his father about.

Eddie was there, hair longer than most of the other boys, floppy and curly like he was trying to grow it out but didn’t know how to manage it.

If there was anything Steve could do, it was manage hair.

So he walked up to him and offered to show him his routine.

Eddie laughed, honest to god tears falling from his eyes as he slapped his leg.

Steve just stared at him, not used to being laughed at, only with.

But Eddie seemed to sense that he was serious, so he calmed down, but kept a small smile on his face.

“Thanks man, but I can’t afford the shit you do. I just gotta deal with it.”

“I mean, you can have mine at the end of camp if you want. I’ll just buy more.”

Which felt like the right thing to say, but Eddie just looked down at the ground and shook his head.

“Nah. Don’t really need your charity, dude.”

He walked away before Steve could explain it wasn’t charity, he just really like his curls and wanted him to take care of them.

------------

It was hard not to notice Eddie at school. He made sure he was noticed.

Everyone said it was because he was a “fairy” and thrived off the attention, even when he was getting beat up.

One particularly nasty rumor said he liked being beat up.

So when 15 year old Steve heard all this, he obviously knew he couldn’t ever say a damn thing about himself or any interaction he’d had with Eddie.

Which was really just the one time he’d accidentally insulted him.

His hair was longer now, just past his chin. The curls looked a bit better, though Steve could tell he didn’t use any type of conditioner, and he tried not to let that bother him.

He watched him though, secretly, when he could get away with it. In the halls or the cafeteria was easiest since he could always say he was staring at a girl if someone asked.

The way he just always walked with his head high, his confidence unlike anything Steve had seen from anyone that wasn’t a jock, made Steve’s stomach flutter.

He heard Carol say “confidence is sexy” enough times to start believing it was true, and that was before he watched Eddie strut around the school like he wasn’t constantly being thrown insults.

He watched as Eddie formed his own little ragtag group of friends, all outcasts because of one thing or another, only building his confidence more.

He watched as Eddie started driving a beat up van to school, making a name for himself as the guy who would sell liquor out of the back on Fridays.

People still teased him, still beat him up, but they were giving him money for liquor for their house parties left and right.

Steve watched.

------------

Nancy was amazing, everything Steve wanted and everything his parents wanted.

She was going to have an incredible future, and encouraged Steve to work hard to have one too.

He loved her. He did.

But he still watched Eddie.

Eddie who was standing on tables in the cafeteria, giving speeches that honestly, weren’t that dramatic. Maybe if he was anyone else, people would actually listen.

Eddie who started dealing weed in the woods behind school a few days a week, admitting the liquor thing wasn’t for him when he saw how many idiot kids still got behind the wheel to drive home after the parties he supplied.

Eddie who was unapologetically himself in all the ways Steve wished he could be.

Nancy was beautiful, she was smart, she was determined.

But Eddie was like a forest fire, a small spark that ignited with just a small fan of the flame, his best qualities hidden behind the smoke.

And Steve wanted to burn.

------------

Steve graduated. Eddie didn’t.

He didn’t get into college, so his dad made him get a summer job.

Eddie didn’t really hang out at the mall, wasn’t really his scene, but he did come into Scoops occasionally, and apparently only when Steve worked.

His coworker, Robin, rolled her eyes when Steve insisted on scooping his ice cream into the cone, ringing him out at the register, and watching him walk out.

“Are you poisoning him slowly or something? Are you planning on doing something stupid? What’s happening?”

He never told her anything, just shrugged in response.

Until the Russians. Until their stupid truth serum made him spill his guts literally and figuratively in the mall bathroom.

Robin listened as he talked about every moment, every look, every doubt he ever had about his feelings. About how he loved Nancy, he did, but she would never be the one he thought of first when someone talked about a future, about love, about a life.

Robin listened as he cried, sobbed really, explained how he knew it would never happen, but it didn’t stop him from wanting.

She listened until she couldn’t anymore.

“Steve, you’re not alone in this okay? I’m…You know Tammy?”

“Thompson?” He sniffled, finally looking up at Robin.

“Yeah. I’ve had a crush on her for like, two years.”

“What? Really?”

“Yeah.”

“But why her? She’s kind of awful.”

Robin laughed, a real laugh, not a drug-induced one.

“Yeah, but she’s also kind of not.”

Steve nodded.

“I know what you mean.”

They were trauma bonded, sure, but they were also just bonded through life’s fucked up ways of bringing people with similar qualities and interests together.

------------

If Steve knew the next time he saw Eddie Munson would be when he was wanted for murder, a small part of him actually may have believed you.

Not because he thought Eddie was actually a murderer, but more because he knew what the town thought of him, and would have expected nothing less in the face of the unexplainable.

The three-time senior was kind of fucked if they didn’t figure this out, looking at a lifetime in prison for a murder he didn’t commit.

Steve focused on thinking about that anytime his mind wandered to how Eddie held a broken bottle to his neck, his other hand pushing him back, his leg between Steve’s to keep him there.

Robin pinched him when she could see his mind starting to drift. She was the best.

And as they worked to figure things out, and fight their way through Vecna’s curse, Steve managed to have actual conversations with Eddie.

They weren’t really ever completely alone, no one was while they were figuring things out and making a plan, but they still managed to talk.

It was enough for Steve. Enough to know he could maybe be friends with him when this was over and done. Maybe go to his graduation, maybe help him leave the town that was ready to burn him at the stake.

He didn’t expect it to be it. To be all he got.

So when he saw Dustin sobbing over a bloody body, he didn’t waste time. He had Nancy put pressure on the worst of the wounds, made Robin get Dustin out, he needs to go, started begging, pleading quietly with Eddie to just survive.

“You can’t let the fire burn out yet, idiot. Not now, not like this.”

Nancy didn’t acknowledge what he was saying, but he knew she knew.

He was tearing his shirt into pieces, makeshift bandages the only option for holding him together as Steve found a way to carry him to the trailer and through the gate.

It wasn’t easy, but nothing about any of their Upside Down trauma had been, and Eddie was worth it.

------------

Steve waited hours.

Then he waited days.

When a week had gone by, Wayne pulled him into a hug and practically begged him to go home and get some rest.

“Our boy will wake up and we wanna look our best when he does, right?”

He couldn’t really argue with Wayne, not when he’d let him sit by Eddie’s bed with him for days.

He didn’t tell Wayne about his feelings, didn’t really know if Wayne was a safe person to tell, but he figured Wayne knew anyway.

When he managed to sleep for a few hours in his own bed, shower in his own bathroom, and eat an actual cooked meal, he found his way back to Eddie’s room. The nurses no longer paid any attention once Owens and his government buddies cleared Eddie’s name.

He walked into the same scene he’d watched for a week now; Eddie asleep, hooked up to more machines that any human should have to, chest rising and falling slowly.

But Wayne hadn’t made it back yet, hopefully getting more sleep than Steve had been able to.

So he took the chair closest to Eddie’s head, gently brushing some of his hair from his face and reaching down to hold his hand.

Even like this, bruises and scars littering his body and face, he was beautiful.

His fire was still burning, Steve could see it.

He managed to fall asleep like that, holding Eddie’s less injured hand in his, head on the bed against his leg.

------------

A hand in his hair woke him up.

Expecting it to be Wayne or Robin, he blinked his eyes open and slowly sat up, ready for another long day of waiting.

But it wasn’t Wayne or Robin.

“Eddie!”

Steve resisted throwing himself at him, knowing he would be in pain, but he let his hands hover over him to show he wanted to.

“Hey Stevie.”

God, his voice was so nice. It was like actual music to his ears. He never wanted to go so long without hearing it again.

“How long have you been awake? Do you need the nurse? Pain meds? Where is the pain?”

Eddie chuckled quietly, small smile visible under his oxygen mask.

“I don’t really know but the pain is everywhere.”

“Shit, okay. Let me go get someone. I don’t even know who’s on shift right now. I don’t know how long I slept.”

“Stevie.”

“Yeah?”

“Calm down.”

Steve let out a disbelieving laugh, barely more than a huff of air.

“You almost died, Eddie! And you’re hurting. I almost-” Steve choked on a wet sob, his throat closing up as tears flooded his eyes.

“You didn’t though. You saved me. I’m here right?”

Eddie’s voice was barely above a whisper, and it clearly pained him to even talk, but he was doing it for Steve.

Steve suddenly realized there was far too much space between them, that if he wasn’t feeling the heat of Eddie’s flames against his skin, he couldn’t convince himself he was still alight.

He gently sat on the edge of the bed, taking Eddie’s hand back in his own.

“I almost didn’t make it in time. You were so pale, Eds. So bloody.”

“But you did. You made it.”

Steve took a shaky breath.

He knew he needed to say it. He needed to tell Eddie why he did everything he could to save him, why he hasn’t left his side except at Wayne’s insistence, why he was panicking so much now.

Eddie squeezed his hand.

“Stevie, you think I didn’t see you watching me? I started to think you were gonna kill me sometimes with how often you just stared at me.” Eddie took a few breaths, closing his eyes as he focused on what he wanted to say and not the pain. “I figured it out there. After Nancy. That’s why I came to Scoops so much. Loved that little outfit.”

Eddie was smirking at him and Steve let out a snort.

“I hated that thing. Robin did too.”

“Don’t think I didn’t notice that Robin never helped me when I came in either. It was always you.”

Steve couldn’t look at him, not while he was being seen so clearly.

“And all this? With the monsters and crazy people in this town trying to kill me? But you were the quickest to believe me. The one making sure I wasn’t going crazy. And then the one who got me out of there alive, even though I didn’t think there was any way I would.”

“Why didn’t you stick to the plan? You could’ve escaped with Dustin, been safe.”

“Because the world couldn’t lose Steve Harrington.”

“It couldn’t lose Eddie Munson, either.”

Eddie shook his head.

“I think you’re the only one who feels that way.”

“Really? You think Dustin could have handled losing you? Or Mike? He’s a shit, but he cares. And me? How was I supposed to?”

“Steve…”

“No! You don’t get to decide that you don’t matter to people. Everyone loves you and everyone would have been devastated to lose you. Wayne’s been sitting in this stupid plastic chair for a week waiting for you to wake up. You think he would have been okay with losing you?”

“Eventually, yeah.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“I’ve heard.”

Steve shook his head.

“How do you not see how much people love you?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

Steve didn’t quite know what to say to that. It’s not that he believed he was expendable, it’s just that if it came down to someone having to die, he’d rather it be him. Not to play hero, but because picturing anyone else dying was too much to bear.

“You’re loved, too. Every single one of those kids love you like a brother. Robin would probably marry you if you had boobs. I was willing to die to keep you safe, Steve. How can you not see it?”

“It wasn’t just me.”

“No. I wanted all of you to be safe. But I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t the thought of you dying that made me cut the rope.”

“Why?”

“Because I watched you, too. All the time. I did things for your attention. I thought that was obvious.”

Steve shook his head. No way he was telling the truth. He constantly ranted about the popular kids, about how much he hated them and everything they represented. The hierarchy of high school continued into life and he wanted no part of it.

Eddie groaned as he adjusted a bit in the bed.

“I may need to continue this later, Stevie.”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course. Let me get the nurse,” Steve muttered as he got up.

The nurse bustled in only a minute later, followed by Steve, who thought through the entire conversation he just had with Eddie.

Did Eddie…like him?

No way. He couldn’t possibly like Steve. He hated the whole King Steve thing. He’d said so multiple times over the years.

But so did Steve.

He zoned out while the nurse asked Eddie questions and checked his vitals, thinking back to all the times he’d been watching Eddie in school.

How almost every time, Eddie had already been watching him.

How Eddie’s theatrics always waited until Steve was in the same room.

How Eddie glared at Nancy, even when she was helping him.

Steve watched as the nurse put a new bag on his IV pole, explaining to him that this would be a morphine drip that would probably knock him out for another 12-24 hours.

He watched Eddie nod along, past the point of caring what was happening and just wanting the pain to stop.

The nurse finally left, and Steve didn’t wait.

He walked over to the bed, leaning over Eddie.

“You are an idiot,” Steve said, leaning in closer to his lips, grateful that the nurse had removed the oxygen mask and replaced it with a small nasal cannula.

“Am I?’ Eddie asked with a smirk, the lids of his eyes slowly getting heavier.

“Yeah. And I can’t believe I love an idiot so much.”

Eddie’s eyes widened for a second before they started to close again.

“You gonna kiss the idiot or make him fall asleep without one?”

Steve rolled his eyes, but leaned in to place a soft kiss on Eddie’s dry and cracked lips.

Eddie smiled into it, but didn’t seem to have the energy to kiss back right now.

Steve pulled away and rested his forehead against Eddie’s, gently, like he would break if he put too much of himself against him.

“You owe me a good one when you’re not high on morphine, deal?”

“Mhm. Deal, sweetheart.”

Steve blushed at the name, but Eddie’s eyes were closed.

Wayne walked in only a few minutes later, eyes wide.

“The nurse said he was awake?”

Steve nodded from his spot in the chair, Eddie’s hand in his, fond smile on his face.

“Yeah, she gave him morphine so he can rest some more.”

“Good,” Wayne visibly relaxed. “He tell you he’s in love with you yet or do I have to keep waitin’?”

“Well, not in so many words, but, kinda.”

“And you? You told him?”

“I called him an idiot.”

“Close enough.”

Steve laughed. It felt so good to laugh.

Eddie’s fire had spread quickly, the smoke clearing away just enough to let Steve be engulfed in his flames.

Steve was burning, and it was everything he hoped it would be.

[navibluebees]

spider x wainfleet's daughter!reader where they are just chilling on the ship and pissing of their dads? <3

i know i've been MIA lately please forgive me

Please read before interacting.

akhsfdkfh there is nothing to forgive; I saw your posts that mentioned you might be away a bit. No worries & I hope things are okay now/ will be soon! 💜

I love this so much. They're the most stressed-out dads there's ever been. Also, this turned out a bit sappier than I expected. I figure you guys will pick up on it soon enough; if you request from me, you are extremely likely to get some kind of squishy moment in there. I am a softie and I need everyone to get the love they deserve. That is all. <3

You stumbled over the raised portion of the door between sections of the ship. Spider grabbed your arm and tugged you along, cackling as you got deeper in the ship. You dodged crewmen and wove through the rooms, leaving a trail of chaos behind. You shared a smile as you yanked him hard to the side, diving into a spot so small it only fit smaller humans. You crouched together, clinging tightly and trying not to burst into giggles.

Heavy footsteps stomped past your hiding place. They paused and with an exasperated sigh, went back the way they came. "Fucking kids," one of the recoms grumbled. Another one grunted in assent and you waited quietly until you couldn't hear anything more.

Spider was the first to crack, a laugh bubbling out of his lips as he met your eyes with a glimmer of mischief in his own. You squeezed his arm and relaxed a moment, breathing heavily.

You'd been so relieved to see a familiar face, having grown up around each other. Spider had spent most of his time with the Na'vi in the forest, but you'd shared classes together as the community rebuilt after the RDA was sent home. When the humans split at the return of the RDA, Spider had stayed with the forest and you were pulled in the other direction to what would become Bridgehead.

He leaned against you for a moment before he pulled away and smiled kindly. "My friend Kiri would like you a lot, I think."

You beamed, remembering the pictures Spider would draw of his friends in class, the blue stick figures always towering over him. "I hope I get the chance to meet her."

He nodded, quiet for a moment. "So.. how are you doing with all this?"

"Being on a ship or finding out my father is a giant blue cat-man?"

Spider snorted. "Both? I guess. I can say for sure I could have never anticipated this happening."

You bit your lip and nodded. "For sure. Yeah, I mean, at least we have our dads?" you said with a shrug.

You and Spider were in incredibly similar situations. His mother had passed when he was just a baby and yours had decided she didn't want to be a mom in the first place. One of your father's flings and she had convinced herself she was excited about having a baby. She just liked the idea until you were there and actually needed things from her. Supposedly she had gone back to Earth with the first crew and stayed there, refusing to come back for her daughter.

You paused a moment longer before saying, "It really sucks not knowing more about our parents. Like.. these guys have their memories. They remember our moms better than we do, for sure. But they're not really our dads? I dunno. It's just a lot to process."

~~~

Spider still felt uncomfortable eating around the mass of humans at meal times, so you two had hunted for a better spot to eat. You had lucked out on the top level with a massive window seat to sit at and ate quietly, shoulders bumping together. When you'd finished, Spider set your trays on a shelf nearby and you curled up against him. It was reminiscent of the nap times you'd had when you were young. The two of you would always sprawl across each other's mats and at some point ended up flopped across the other one.

You watched the waves, brow furrowing with worry. Spider reached over and smoothed it out with his thumb as he gave you a knowing smile.

"KIDS!"

Your bodies flinched in unison, cringing as you turned to meet the extremely annoyed faces of your fathers. Quaritch's hands were on his hips, nostrils flaring wide and eyes slitted as he glared at you both. Your own dad's arms were crossed and you lifted your gaze to his and saw his frustration in his pursed lips.

Quaritch's finger pointed accusingly between the two of you. "You absolutely CAN NOT be running around here causing trouble for everyone! You need to stay where we say, when we say. This is not a place to be reckless!"

Your arms folded over your torso, protectively, as you tried to keep yourself put together. Navigating this new dynamic had been nothing short of awkward and even downright painful at times. Frustrated tears betrayed you as they slipped down your cheeks.

Your dad's arms relaxed slightly, glancing between the frustrated faces of the rest of your small group. He slapped his leader on the back, startling him. "Alright, alright. I think you made your point. The kids are going to listen from now on, right? Right?"

With a quick nod from you both, Quaritch snorted and spun on his heel to leave the room. Spider glanced between you and your dad before patting your arm reassuringly and taking off after his own recom father.

You turned your face away from your dad's, angrily swiping the tears away. The seat cushion dipped beside you and you tried to move farther away before an arm came around your shoulders. His hand came up to your chin so he could turn your face to his. He offered an awkward smile.

"I know this isn't easy. Not by any stretch of the imagination. But you and I.. I want to be able to know you. I know Colonel's got his tough love method and it works sometimes, but I don't think that's the way for you, is it?"

You fought more tears and shook your head, hanging it low to hide your face. He smiled at the top of your head and gently smoothed your stray hairs.

"It's not for me, either, I think. So, please. Stay where we know you guys will be safe. I don't want to lose you again. I can't. Especially not now that I know you. I'd like to be part of your life if you can accept that."

The moment stretched awkwardly between you before your hand shot out to grab his fingers. You gripped them tightly and he pulled loose from your hold for only a moment before sweeping you up in his arms and holding you tightly against his chest.

"Alright then, my girl. I've got you."

[imagine-knb]

may I request GOM + kuroko and kagami's reaction on realising that the best/close friend! reader is slowly falling for them and vice versa! thanks!

I'm going into this under the assumption that it's obvious to the guys that reader is falling for them, so there's no doubt on their part. If you meant it like they didn't know reader was falling for them, feel free to send in another request! Admin Neon

Kuroko: Despite already knowing that you liked him back as much as he liked you, it was still nerve wracking for Kuroko to even consider confessing his feelings — verbally, at least. He ends up writing notes to you and sticking them in places he knows you will find. Instead of responding verbally back, you wind up doing the same. For months, the two of you play this little back and forth penpal game, each note getting sappier than the last. Until one day...

"____-san," Kuroko calls out to you. He has a letter in hand, holding it out for you to take. It was the first time he was handing one to you directly. When you open it up, there's a single sentence written in his messy penmanship. "Will you go out with me?"

Kagami: He would have thought knowing that you reciprocated his feelings would make things better, but it actually has quite the opposite affect on Kagami. Suddenly, he's over-analyzing every little thing he does around you. Did you like the way he laughed? The way he spoke? The way he ate? What was it about himself you found so charming? He wondered if you thought the same things about yourself and all the things about you that he also found so alluring.

His overthinking actually ends up ruining the mood for a while, because he tends to avoid things that cause him to overthink — unless it's basketball. It isn't until you confront him one day about his wishy-washiness that he blurts out, "It's because I like you, okay?!"

Kise: The very same day Kise realizes that you like him back is the day that he decides he wants to ask you out officially. There's only one problem with his plan: he's been asking you out all this time, but you always mistook it for jokes on his end. He supposed all the experience he had with dating and all the relationships he went through while being friends with you was his downfall, because it must've made you compare yourself to everyone else.

"____cchi, please, just one actual date," he begs after yet another playful rejection from you. He was determined. "I promise, it's not a joke or anything and it's not just a hang out between friends. I'm being serious with you, believe me!"

Aomine: There are suddenly a lot more teasing smiles thrown your way once he realizes your feelings for him are the same as his own for you. Aomine never tells you he likes you back in the beginning, instead deciding to tease you for just a bit longer for your crush on him. Every opportunity he gets to fit it into a conversation, he will. It always brings him a sense of pride to see how easily he can get you to fluster just from calling you out over it.

"Aww, no need to get so shy when I'm around," he'd drawl, leaning down to get closer to your face. "Unless... what? You like me? Well, of course you do. It's me, after all." Even you weren't safe from his cockiness.

Midorima: He's not the type to beat around the bush once he figures out what he wants and he ends up devising a plan to confess to you the next time he sees you. However, putting plans into action are often a lot harder than devising them and Midorima finds himself more nervous than he'd expected standing in front of you. He almost wants to abort — why was it so hard? He already knew you liked him back, so it shouldn't be that difficult.

But, of course, one of the reasons he fell for you was your perceptiveness to his feelings and when you tell him you think you know the reason for him calling you to meet with him, he's relieved. "I'm grateful you understand and... I hope you accept my feelings."

Murasakibara: Things seem to happen between the two of you despite never being talked about. You never formally confess your feelings to Murasakibara and he never really does the same, but even still the two of you grow closer and end up doing a lot of things together that people would associate as normal couple behavior: sharing food, walking places together, meeting every weekend. It's comfortable and easy.

Which is why he almost feels bad when he asks you one day, "____-chin, what are we?" It wasn't a question he expected himself to ask and one you definitely didn't expect to hear, but he's relieved when your answer aligns similarly with his own.

Akashi: Perhaps he knew from the beginning that the two of you would end up falling for each other, because Akashi had always had a soft spot for you. His actions before realizing your feelings for him don't differ from his actions prior; he still treats and respects you as an equal he wants to spend most of his time with. Of course, he doesn't jump straight into a relationship with you. He wants to be 100% sure his feelings are reciprocated.

"I hope I'm not being presumptuous when I say I think we feel similarly for each other," he tells you one day, the hand holding onto yours stroking a gentle thumb across your skin. "I hope you would allow me to opportunity to be more to you."

[edsbev]

Ever since Derry, waking has felt like falling.

Richie sees Eddie in front of him. Almost breathless in his excitement – the cavern is filtered a sickly shade of dark green, but Richie, even in his dazed state, can still see something golden in Eddie’s eyes.

“Rich,” Eddie says. “I did it. I killed it. I – ”

And then Richie sees it. An unfurling shadow at Eddie’s back. And he knows what’s going to happen before it happens. But he can’t move. His body is frozen. He can’t even call out to warn him. And then Eddie is being pierced through the middle, and Richie’s brain is falling until it lands back in his body, and he jolts awake in his bed.

His heart pounds but it feels like he’s dead. Weighed down by some sort of cold, sickly fear, his body numb, his soul somewhere outside his body. Hasn’t returned yet, from the fall.

Until his eyes find the back of Eddie’s head, asleep on the pillow next to him. Until he reaches out and ghosts his finger over Eddie’s arm, his shoulder, just to feel his body heat. And everything begins to click into place. His soul returns. His heart tempers.

Eddie is here. Eddie is here, he’s alive, Richie thinks. In Richie’s dream, he is impaled.

In reality, Richie grabbed Eddie and rolled them over before IT could strike, and the stones of the cavern were impaled instead.

It’s such a fucking nightmare, waking up like this. But it’s only been a week, and they’re not even that far out from Derry. So it’ll get better. That’s what Eddie had said yesterday, when Richie had woken so fiercely that Eddie had jolted awake too.

Hey, Eddie had said softly, a hand to Richie’s jaw. I’m here. I’m always going to be here. Morning light had filtered in through the motel room’s shutters, cast golden stripes over the bad 70’s inspired décor, just as it does now. Eddie looked a bit like an angel, sitting up in bed in one of Richie’s shirts, blankets pooled at his waist, hair a mess atop his head. Then he’d smiled, more like a devil, like himself, and said, you’re not getting rid of me any time soon. 

Richie had kissed him, then. And it had been desperate and needy – which should’ve been embarrassing – but Eddie had kissed him back just as desperately, as needily. Now, Richie shuffles over in bed, loops an arm over Eddie’s waist, and kisses his shoulder. Careful to be gentle, not to wake him, as he slots up against Eddie’s back, as he buries his face in Eddie’s neck.

They’ve done this before. When they were young.

It’s weird, how the memories will either hit Richie all at once, or trickle in one by one. He had remembered those memories the first night he had slept next to Eddie, curled up around him.

One moment, he was in this hotel room, the next, he was in his childhood bedroom, and he was fourteen years old.

“…I swear that shadow looked like a person,” Eddie was saying – who was also in Richie’s childhood bedroom, and also fourteen years old. He was sitting up in bed, not in Richie’s shirt but in his own shirt, blankets pooling around his waist, hair a mess atop his head. And Richie had thought he looked like an angel then too, even though there were dark night shadows cast over his face, and a wild frightened look in his eyes.

Richie was lying next to him, face half smushed into his pillow. “It’s just the tree outside, dude.”

“If it’s a tree then why did it look like a person?” Eddie demanded. His hands were fisted anxiously in the quilt, his gaze pointed sharply at Richie.

“Because sometimes shit looks like other shit. I don’t know. It’s just your eyes playing tricks on you.” Richie yawned. He was exhausted, already half-asleep, and maybe that’s why he reached out and carefully pried Eddie’s hands from where they clutched at the blankets. He didn’t do anything else. Didn’t hold Eddie’s hands, or let his own hands linger. He just unclenched Eddie’s hands, let them rest on Eddie’s lap, and then pulled his hand away. “Go to sleep.”

And then, a few seconds too late, it hit him. What he had just done. And his eyes had shot open, and his stomach had lurched to his throat. Wide awake. And he looked at Eddie, who was looking quietly down at his own hands, and then Eddie looked at him.

“Fine,” Eddie had said, and he sounded irritable but his throat did something strange at the end of the word. Like he was having a hard time swallowing.

He shuffled down, lay back against the bed, then rolled onto his side, facing away from Richie.

It was their usual kind of sleep over, only it wasn’t. It was usual because it was just the two of them, and they were up at a painful hour in the morning because they’d stayed up talking and eating copious amounts of sugar and reading comics. But it wasn’t usual because Eddie had spooked himself before they’d decided to go to sleep, and had ended up in Richie’s bed as a result, rather than where he usually slept on the floor.

It wasn’t usual because they had fought a killer clown only a few months ago, and were still burdened by a lingering sense of fear.

It wasn’t usual because at this point Richie liked Eddie so much that he could hardly stand it.

Richie stared at the back of Eddie’s head for what felt like the whole night. Hand still tingling from touching Eddie’s. But it had only been a handful of minutes, when Eddie said, kind of quiet, “I still can’t sleep.”

Richie watched the back of Eddie’s move as Eddie frustratedly nuzzled his head into his pillow, groaned. Something ticked in his chest. Then he scooted a little closer to Eddie and said, “here.” And he’d looped an arm over Eddie’s waist, and lay his head so close to Eddie’s that Eddie’s hair brushed his nose. And his mouth went dry and his heart screamed at him and he figured that at some point he should learn to use his brain before he used his mouth, before he moved his body, but it was too late now. He asked, “this okay?”

Eddie had gone very still. It felt like the kind of still that Eddie went before he exploded; a deep breath in before he yelled.

But Eddie had said, voice barely there, “okay.”

And, god, that had been a terrible idea. Because Richie couldn’t sleep. Was too keyed up, distracted by the slight rise of fall of Eddie’s torso beneath his arm, by the smell of Eddie’s hair. It was pure, agonizing torture, being so close to Eddie. But then, once Richie had finally fallen asleep, it had been the best sleep Richie ever had.

They’d slept like that a couple times after that, Richie remembers. Maybe only a handful of times. Eddie silently climbing into Richie’s bed during their sleepovers, Richie silently wrapping an arm around him. Sometimes, Eddie would wrap an arm around Richie. Once, they wrapped their arms around each other. But it was always silent.

It was, also, always part torture.

Richie remembers waking up once, when he was maybe fifteen, and finding Eddie lying so close that they were sharing a pillow. They weren’t touching at all, but Richie, even without his glasses, could see every feature of Eddie’s face. Could see, perfectly, the curve of Eddie’s lips, slightly parted in his sleep.

And Richie had wanted to kiss him, of course. To close the gap, press his lips to Eddie’s. To touch Eddie’s face gently with his fingers, to have Eddie touch his face with his own fingers. Had burned so fiercely with that desire it was a wonder the whole bed didn’t go up in flames.

It was torture not being able to kiss him.

Now, Richie opens his eyes – hadn’t even realised they were closed – and he finds Eddie’s face close to his own, like all those years ago. Only Richie has his arm still wrapped around him, and Eddie is awake.

“Hey,” Eddie says, with a soft smile. He says it like he’s been trying to talk to Richie for a while. Probably since Richie had jolted awake and slotted up against Eddie’s back. Richie wonders where his mind had gone. But he knows. It was with Eddie. It had left Eddie to think about Eddie. God.

“Hey,” Richie says.

“You okay?” Eddie asks. Richie reaches up and presses his thumb to Eddie’s jaw, just because he can.

“Yeah. Just…fucked up dreams, y’know,” Richie says. A line appears between Eddie’s brows, concern filtering into his perpetual wide-eyed look. “Sometimes I wish you could crawl inside my head and yell at my brain. Tell it to stop fucking with me.”

Eddie quirks a lip. “I am good at yelling at things.”

“You are,” Richie says. And then he leans in and kisses him, because he hasn’t kissed Eddie since last night, and that’s far too long. Because he had wanted so badly to kiss Eddie when he was young, and he’s trying to make up for every time he wanted to and couldn’t.

Eddie pulls away, a hand at Richie’s chest when Richie tries to follow him with his lips. “You know how I feel about morning breath, asshole.”

“I just want you to know that you could be drenched head to toe in sewer water, with half your teeth fallen out, and I’d still want to kiss you,” Richie says.

“Okay?” Eddie says. “That still doesn’t change the fact that I don’t want your stinky breath in my face.”

Richie laughs. Then he pries Eddie’s hand, where it’s fisted in Richie’s shirt, and he kisses Eddie’s knuckles. Eddie watches him with a kind of reverence, the way he has been watching him whenever Richie does something particularly gentle, particularly loving. It’s like Eddie still can’t quite believe that Richie Tozier has the ability to be tender.

Only with Eddie, Richie thinks. He can’t imagine himself being like this with anyone else.

Not that there would ever be anyone else.

Richie is going to marry him.

Not now, of course. Or any time soon. Eddie is already married. That’s the whole reason they’ve been staying at this motel for the past week. Eddie hadn’t wanted to deal with it, with real life, with their old lives. Not yet. So he’d called Myra to let her know he was okay, that it was over, and that he wouldn’t be back for a week or two. And then he’d booked this room.

And they haven’t really left it.

It’s been seven days of ordering room service for breakfast, and Eddie scolding Richie for trying to eat the food in bed. Of the two of them pulling the little wooden chairs from around the little dining table up to the window to catch some sun as they sit, feet in each other’s laps, and talk about their lives. Of them curled up together, flicking through channels on the tiny, square television up on the wall. Of them kissing and kissing and kissing. Like they’re teenagers who have fallen in love for the first time.

They got out too, of course. They’d both go a little stir crazy if they didn’t. They’ll go for walks in the afternoons, and out for dinner out in the evenings. They’d tried to go see a movie, but Eddie had had an anxiety attack half way through it, and Richie had spent ten minutes calming him down outside the theatre. He couldn’t blame Eddie – the loud noises, bright flashes in the dark, had made Richie’s chest feel tight, too. Like they were back down there, in the sewers.

So mostly they stay in their motel room. And, honestly, Richie thinks he could spend the rest of his life in bed, with his mouth to Eddie’s skin, and be satisfied.

Which is another thing they do a lot of, in this room. Only in the last few days, though, because it had taken Eddie a little while to get used to the idea. It was new to him, Richie got that. Eddie had only ever had sex with his wife, and even then Eddie had said that he and Myra did not have sex often.

So on the first two nights, Eddie had been into it to a point. On his back, hands gripping Richie’s shoulders as Richie kissed his neck, hands in Richie’s hair as he kissed Richie. But then Richie had grinded down against him and Eddie’s breath had hitched and he pulled away, looked at Richie with those wide brown eyes, and said, nervously “I don’t know, Rich.”

“It’s okay,” Richie had said, trying to squash down the fact that he was wildly turned on. Eddie just had an effect on him.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie said, and he looked very sincerely sorry. “I’m sorry, I…”

“It’s okay, Eds,” Richie had assured him. Smiled at him gently, pressed a kiss to Eddie’s hair. “There’s other things we can do. Like sleep. I’m old, I need to sleep forty hours a day now.”

And Eddie had smiled back and they’d held each other and slept.

Richie hadn’t tried anything on the third night. They had time, they had the rest of their lives. Eddie had pounced on him on the fourth.

Which was funny, because that fourth night was also the night they had gone to the cinema, and Richie had spent ten minutes helping Eddie come down from a panic attack. He’d just talked Eddie through the attack, at first, and then he’d started to very carefully touch him. His hand on Eddie’s arm, on his shoulder, rubbing circles into his back, trying to ease the pinched, frustrated look on Eddie’s face. Eddie had still been a little agitated during the drive back to the motel. Richie had held his hand over the centre console. But as soon as they walked through their door, Richie with a sigh, “home sweet home,” he’d said. “Home ugly home, more like, am I right. Who designed this place? Someone’s dead grandma? – ” Eddie had pushed Richie against the door and kissed him.

It had been a surprise, albeit a pleasant one, but the biggest shock was just how hungrily Eddie kissed him. After days of Eddie being careful, almost embarrassed, suddenly his hands were everywhere, and his tongue was in Richie’s mouth, and Richie was breathless and exhilarated and his whole body was thrumming.

“Richie,” Eddie breathed, and his voice was all airy and shaky. He looked up at Richie and there was something there, in his brown eyes, that made Richie’s stomach drop to his knees. “I want you.”

“I want you too,” Richie said a little stupidly. Before realising that Eddie didn’t want him to say something he wanted him to do something. And so he kissed Eddie and they stumbled together toward the bed.

They’d gone slow. Richie didn’t think he’d have the self-control, but once he was presented with a flushed, heavy-eyed, half-naked Eddie Kaspbrak beneath him, all he wanted to do was go slow. To take his time, learning every inch of him. With his hands. With his mouth. Memorise every breath Eddie took, every sharp inhale, the way he swore under his breath when Richie found a particularly sensitive spot. (And, God, Eddie was so sensitive). 

Richie had had sex before. With women. With men, when he was really drunk. But this almost felt like his first time. Maybe it was because he had never wanted to watch someone’s face so closely before – eyes drawn to the slackening of Eddie’s red mouth, fluttering of his eyelids, as Richie rocked into him. He’d never wanted to kiss someone the whole way through it. Sex had always felt so impersonal. A little underwhelming. Eddie breathed out Richie’s name, hand clutching Richie’s shoulder, before trailing his up the back of his neck to curl his fingers in Richie’s hair, and Richie had felt something he’d never felt during sex before. It felt personal, intimate, it felt overwhelming. And he felt a lump in his throat, a compressing of his ribcage, and an all-encompassing urge to say I love you. 

So he leant his forehead to Eddie’s and he said it. And Eddie said it back.

“What are you thinking about?” Eddie asks now, in the stripy morning light, hair all fluffy, falling over his forehead. Richie still has Eddie’s hand pressed to his mouth.

“Fucking you,” Richie replies honestly.

Richie swears he sees Eddie go red. “Jesus, I thought you were gonna say breakfast or something. You had that look on your face you get when you think about food.”

“I was. I was thinking about a snack,” says Richie. His eyebrows jump once, twice. “I’m hungry.” 

Eddie snorts. “Oh my god.” And then he’s sitting up with a roll of his eyes, a smile. “I’m gonna go take a shower.”

Richie stays in bed. Listens to the sound of the Eddie’s feet pad across the motel’s ugly green printed carpet, the bathroom door shut, the shower turn on with a hiss and water hit the tiles. Then he gets up and follows Eddie into the bathroom. Because those thirty seconds without Eddie had felt long enough.

Richie would say that he decided that he could no longer live without Eddie after Eddie was almost impaled. And they’d scrambled to their feet and slid behind some large rocks and Eddie had looked at Richie wide eyed and breathed, “I almost died,” while Richie’s whole body shook. “Holy shit I almost fucking died, Richie…” Richie could see, in his mind’s eye, the image of Eddie in front of him, pierced right through the middle, so clear it was like it had actually happened. “…Jesus, you saved me, Rich…Richie…” Eddie’s voice softened over the second saying of Richie’s name. Richie looked at him. Eddie’s whole expression had widened, as though he had had a revelation. He cupped Richie’s face in his hands and pressed their mouths together.

(“Holy shit,” Richie had blurted, once Eddie pulled away. And then, because he’s an idiot, joked, almost suggestively, “wanna get out of here?

Eddie had actually laughed. “Let’s kill this fucking clown first.”

“Good call.”)

That should have been the moment that Richie decided he couldn’t be separated from Eddie again. Reasonably. But Richie had decided that the moment he walked into that restaurant, and had felt Eddie’s eyes on him for the first time in twenty seven years.

Eddie isn’t in the shower, when Richie opens the bathroom door. He’s brushing his teeth by the sink, the whole room cloudy from the hot water’s steam.

Immediately, Richie crosses the room to wrap his arms around Eddie’s waist, press kisses the back of his neck.

Eddie makes a hrmph sound around his toothbrush and elbows Richie in the chest. “Not while I’m brushing my teeth,” he says, words all muffled, trying to keep toothpaste from dripping from his mouth. “Feels weird. Distracting.”

“You’re so fussy,” Richie says, but he says it with the kind of affection that would be embarrassing if anyone else had heard him say it. He steps back and waits. But Eddie takes a very long time brushing his teeth. Like, a long time. Richie wonders how Eddie manages to get to work on time every day. Then he imagines what mornings will be like once he and Eddie live together, once they’re married. How Richie will have to bump Eddie out of the way with his hip, just to use the bathroom sink, while Eddie goes through his five-step brushing teeth routine. He thinks he’ll probably be late to work every day, because if he’ll have Eddie Kaspbrak showering in his shower each morning, then Richie is definitely also getting in that shower, and if he and Eddie are in the shower together, they’re definitely going to be doing more than just showering.

Richie can’t fucking wait for that.

His hand instinctively reaches for Eddie again, but Eddie is now flossing his teeth, so Richie lifts his hand over Eddie’s shoulder, and, without really thinking, but also while thinking of their close-enough-to-touch, domestic, married future, writes their initials onto the steamed glass of the mirror with his fingertip. R + E. 

It seems silly, but a sort of warmth blooms through him as he lowers his hand and those letters stare back at him. As Eddie looks at the initials curiously, still flossing his teeth. Because the last time Richie wrote that, he’d been alone, anxious, throwing wary glances over his shoulder, all pent up with feeling, thinking Eddie would never like him back. Now he’s with Eddie, who’s wearing Richie’s shirt, who’s slept in Richie’s arms for the past week, and will sleep in Richie’s arms for a thousand other weeks, who wants him back.

“I’ve seen that before,” Eddie says, lowering his hands from his mouth. Richie goes still. Eddie furrows his brow at the steamed mirror, then at Richie, before his eyes widen. “The kissing bridge, back in Derry. R + E. That was carved there.”

“You saw that?” Richie asks. Eddie had never mentioned it when they were kids.

“Yeah,” Eddie says. Richie doesn’t know why he suddenly feels embarrassed. Eddie seems to notice, because now his mouth is widening. “Wait, that was you?” 

Richie shrugs.

“Holy shit,” Eddie says. “I used to wonder…but it seemed so stupid. Because why would you carve that? It wasn’t like we were dating. And it wasn’t like you liked me. And it wasn’t like I wanted those to be our initials… These are all my stupid kid thoughts.” Eddie pauses, blinks owlishly at the letters. “Why did you carve that?”

“Uh, because I was an idiot who had a huge fucking crush on you,” Richie says. He reaches out and grabs Eddie waist, would rather pull him close and kiss him than talk about the weird pining shit he did as a kid. But Eddie doesn’t budge. Richie sighs. “I don’t know. I thought it was a way to get my feelings off my chest without telling anyone.”

“That’s…” Eddie considers it. “Really sweet.”

“Don’t call me sweet,” Richie scoffs.

“Richie Tozier is a sweetie,” Eddie says, grinning. “A sweetheart.” Then he turns and draws over the R + E. on the mirror with his finger, because it had started to fade, and adds a heart around the whole thing.

“Now who’s the sweetheart,” Richie says, but he feels so fucking warm that he swears he’s going to burn from the inside out.

“Still you,” says Eddie. He doesn’t resist, this time, when Richie draws him in by his hip, pulls him close. Tilts his head up to meet Richie. “I can’t believe Richie Tozier had such a big crush on me.”

“Me neither,” Richie says. “I mean you were such a fucking weird kid - ” Eddie laughs, ‘shut up’, “but I thought you were the best thing ever. I mean, you’re still fucking weird and I still think you’re the best thing ever.”

“So we’re just gonna pretend like you aren’t also fucking weird and annoying?” Eddie asks.

“I never said annoying,” Richie points out.

“Yeah but I did.”

Richie laughs, and the kind of laugh that only comes out around Eddie. A kind of I love you without words. Eddie grins, plants a hand on Richie’s shoulder, and reaches up to close the gap between their mouths.

The R + E on the mirror fades, until it’s gone.

The R + E on the bridge is still there, when Richie takes Eddie, later that week, to see it.

Eddie takes Richie’s pocket knife, after Richie re-carves the fading letters. And he draws a heart around that, too.

[touyasdoll]

You got me hooked on 🔥virgin!Dabi🔥 and unlocked something I never even knew I needed in this life.

oh this got way longer and way sappier than I intended bc I have some thoughts.

he's touch-starved. that's canon. so when he meets you and you're nice to him? and you're so pretty? and you're flirting with him? like what? you're not recoiling from him?

bc he only struck up a conversation with you at the bar bc it'd been weeks since he talked to anyone but the league and he can only take so much of them before he needs some other form of interaction.

he's trying to act cool and keep up his devil-may-care attitude, but he is secretly screaming on the inside. in utter disbelief that anyone is holding a conversation with him, let alone touching his arm? his knee?

you're leaning in so close that he can smell your perfume and he's far more intoxicated by that than the alcohol he's been sipping on. he's terrified. no one else has even touched his dick before and your hand is right. there. he's the one who suggests going back to your place bc he's afraid of creaming his pants in the bar.

but then he's out of the frying pan and into the fire, a nervous wreck when you start kissing and touching him, bc you know what you want. you assume he's only after one thing. but also you're so cute, kissing along his collarbone and whispering about how attractive he is. how bad you want him.

and then hearing those words just eases his nerves. someone wants him. and suddenly he needs you.

he doesn't want to divulge that this is his first time. he's afraid that maybe you'll be able to tell, but you seem nice enough not to point it out even if you do, so he's not too concerned. he's just focused on this. this moment that he'd never even bothered to think about bc he didn't that anyone would ever agree to something like this with him, let alone initiate it.

he's a little clumsy, but he tries. oh, he tries. tries to let you know how grateful he is for you wanting to share something like this with him, bc he knows he doesn't deserve it, but he's selfish enough to take it anyway.

he kisses you deep and soft and slow. maybe he's stalling, but he enjoys it. communicating something that can't be said with words. dictating desire with tender touches and kind kisses. he doesn't just enjoy this, he's enraptured by it.

it's his first time connecting with someone on this level and it gives him a high. he feels like he's soaring and he's so afraid of crashing, but he doesn't want to think about that now. he just wants to be here, to be present. to soak up a reality that he doesn't despise. one where he isn't just thinking about getting even or causing mayhem. one where he can just have a moment of peace.

he shuts it all out. closes off all the bad and focuses on the good. how good you feel between his fingers. soft, supple skin everywhere he touches. how good you sound, moaning such pretty little noises in his ear. each little whine he pulls from you gets him higher and higher and he wants to see how far he can fly.

he's careful. he doesn't want to hurt you. he only wants to make you feel good. to try and give to you what you've unknowingly given to him. he wants you to be where he is, so he tries to pull you there with him.

he's cautious when he's finally above you, both of you stripped down, laid bare before one another. nothing to hide anymore. there's nowhere to go but forward now, so he takes a deep breath and slips inside you and he swears his heart might burst.

it feels so good. too good. he's hesitant to move bc he doesn't know how long he'll last. not with how you're moaning, how you're clinging to him. your hands exploring every part of his body that you can reach until they settle in his hair.

and he can't look anywhere but straight into your eyes. he loves the feeling of you wrapped around him, but the only thing that he loves more is watching your mouth drop open, watching your eyes blow wide. watching you gasping for breath the faster he moves.

there's a lot that he's never been able to do. a lot that he's always been told he never would be able to do. but this? he can do this.

he can make you feel so good that you shake and tremble beneath him. that you curse and cry out his name. his. that your eyes glisten with tears when you finally come undone.

and if he thought he was high before, he's gone now. lost in how pretty you look when you fall apart. how vulnerable. he takes a sense of pride in working you through it. keeping himself together while you ride out your high before he follows you into oblivion.

and afterwards he doesn't want to run. doesn't plan an escape route. doesn't contemplate an excuse to leave before the sun comes up. he's actually desperate to find any reason to stay.

something in his chest stirs when you curl up beside him, taking the liberty of tucking yourself under his arm. he's shocked for a moment. blinking down at you in the dim light before he pulls you in closer.

he inhales as he presses a kiss to the crown of your head and when he breathes out, he lets go of a little piece of him that will always stay with you.

[dreamkidddream]

MC Doing the Peeling Glue Skin Prank on the Bros (Lucifer, Mammon, and Leviathan)

Hoorayyy my first post! I don’t know if any of you have seen the tiktok where they rub glue to look like their skin is peeling off but it’s both funny and horrifying. Also, this got a lot longer and fluffier/sappier than what I thought, but I’m not complaining. This will be done in headcannon format, and I think I’m going to split it up into 2 parts (Lucifer, Mammon, and Levi in the first part and the rest in the second) and I hope you enjoy! Also slight spoiler for lesson 16 (but it’s a blink and you miss it kind of thing in Mammon’s). Reader is gender neutral.

The Build Up:

Ever since you came back to the Devildom after the exchange program, things have been great! It was obvious that you were missing the demon lords, and even more obvious that they were missing you too. Things weren’t different, not at all. But the one day that you were bored out of your mind and they all had different things to handle, you turned to the one thing that could cure your boredom: the Devildom’s version of TikTok. Oh how the boys will forever regret showing you that app, as it had let to their current downfall... 

Lucifer

So unfortunately this man is ALWAYS busy

It doesn’t matter what time of day or night it is, he’s always filling out paperwork. Whether it’s for Diavolo, credit card bills that Mammon racked up, Asmo’s impromptu fashion trips, Beel’s black hole of a stomach, etc.

And he doesn’t like to be disturbed at all unless it’s an emergency

So when you burst into his office out of nowhere, he was slightly irritated (but not that angry, since it was you and your presence was hardly a nuisance)

But that quickly changed whenever he heard you moaning his name in pain and looked up to see what looked like your flesh flaking off by the second

His eyes widen and he is instantly panicking. He’s trying to keep it on the inside but you start to “panic” which makes him shoot out of his seat

Instantly is by your side, trying to delicately hold you and also trying to figure out what the hell is going on

“MC! Are you in pain? What happened? Did someone put a curse on you?!”

Now, you weren’t putting on a Oscar worthy performance but you think you were selling it pretty good. And everything was working out until he grabbed your arm and inspected it closer that he realized he got played

First, he realized that your flesh wasn’t falling in chunks on the ground. Then, he realized that these flakes were awfully thin, and that parts of your arm felt sticky

He fully realized that he got pranked when he peeled off your “skin” off your neck and you giggled, then covered your mouth to realized that your cover was blown

Needless to say, he was not a happy demon

And you basically just signed your death warrant

Before you could even think about running, he grabbed you again and “asked” that you have a seat

Cue another long Lucifer lecture, with him explaining how this wasn’t a funny prank (even for human standards) and that you need to understand how serious this is

Which is his way of saying that he cares about you and was actually panicked and scared. You knew his pride made it hard for him to openly express himself. And while he is getting better slowly but surely, it’s still hard for him to do so. Which made you feel guilty, so you did genuinely apologized

“You’re right, Lucifer, I’m sorry. This wasn’t my greatest idea, as you can see. I didn’t realize how severely this affected you, and it wasn’t right for me to take advantage of that. I know how hard it is to express how you feel because of your pride, but I know how much you care for me even without saying it. It shows in how hard you work, and how you still manage to be there for everyone despite how stress you are. I shouldn’t be adding on to that stress, and I really am sorry for that. You really are a good person, Lucifer, and even though you can be very strict- wait! Let me finish,- you mean well because you care for us. And you don’t get enough credit for that. So, thank you for all that you do. I love you, truly and deeply.”

Despite being a little skeptical in the beginning (he thought you were trying to get out of a punishment, ha! Good luck with that) and ending with a flustered look that he tried to cover with his hand (which was obviously too late to do, you already saw), he did appreciate and accepted the apology.

“I love you too, MC. Truly and deeply.”

So that was your cue to get your hug (and maybe a little kiss) and he pushed you away! You were offended for a second, but you saw the disgusted look on your face and forgot that you were covered in dried glue. Oh yeahhhh...ew

So while you were back in his good graces, you still got punished. A 15 page essay on why doing horrific pranks like that on your loved ones is harmful and no HellTok for your remaining stay?! You know you deserve some type of consequence but geez, overkill much?!

But, he did hint to you that you could make him feel better by spending the night with him in bed

After you take a much needed shower of course

Mammon

As much as this tsundere tried to say he was “too busy” for you, we all know that’s a lie

Granted when you went to go bother him, he was busy

Busy with planning out new scams counting out whatever Grimm he had left, what items to sell and for what price: “maybe I could sell Levi’s golden Ruri-Chan vendor ring thing for some Grimm? He’ll flip but if I just “borrow” it for a little bit, he won’t know what hit ‘im!”

Seeing how focused he was, it was your time to shine

“M-Mamooon! Help me! Something’s w-wrong!”

That immediately got his attention

His head shot up and he rushed to you, panic clearing showing on his face and in his movements

“MC! What’s going on?! WHAT IS THIS!”

When you could physically see him shaking, sweating and on the brink of tears, you knew that it was time to stop while you were ahead

“Mammon wait-“

“We need to go to Lucifer NOW.”

And when he went to pick you up gently, and saw with his own two eyes the flakes slowly fall to the ground, was when hell broke loose

You have never heard him scream so loud before, and you were pretty sure everyone both in and out the house heard him

He lifted you up and you were pretty sure he was in his demon form when you both ran and/or flew (you couldn’t tell, that’s how fast you were moving) to Lucifer’s

Sometimes it was so easy to forget that you lived with actual demons, 7 of the strongest to be exact

When you both reached your destination (ie. barged into Lucifer’s room unprovoked) he was not pleased, but Mammon did not care.

You were one of (if not) the most important person in his life and he would be damned if anything happened to you again. He was your first man, your protector! And he was not going to fail. Not again. He would and will protect you with his life. At any costs

When you saw how serious he was , you tried to wiggle out of his arms, but all he did was just tighten up and say, “MC, quit squirmin’! I don’t want you to make this worse.”

“No, Mammon wait-“

“We’re going to fix this. I’m going to fix this and I’m not lettin’ anything happen to you again. Now stop moving! Lucifer, somethin’s wrong with MC! Look at how their skin is-“

“ITS A PRANK!”

It’s just a prank bro

“Wh-what?”

“I’ve been trying to tell you, I’m sorry!”

While you were explaining the whole process (with Lucifer staring on in building irritation), you were still in his arms

You already felt like a terrible being, but the guilt was steady skyrocketing when you were looking at his face

He looked like a kicked puppy left in the rain with a broken paw

You just kept apologizing over and over, until you heard a certain someone clear their throat.

“If you two are done interrupting me, I would like to get back to work. MC, stay behind, it seems like we need to have a little chat about your so called prank.”

Mammon put you down and walked out the room, head hanging and eyes covered.

You knew you screwed up big time. Forget about the incoming lecture, you felt absolutely terrible about pranking Mammon. Especially after hearing the “again” comment.

Once you finally got released (ie. punished), you all had dinner, which Mammon skipped out on

Geez, this was not suppose to happen and you needed to make it up to him ASAP

So here you were, standing outside his door (after you cleaned up) with two Hell Fire noodle cups, knocking timidly

“Hey, Mammon? Is it okay if I come in?”

Silence

“You weren’t down for dinner and I know that you’re hungry, so I brought us-you some noodles.”

Again, silence

You sighed, you knew you messed up big time and you were going to fix it, no matter what. 

“I’m sorry, Mammon. I’m so sorry. What started out as a joke turned into something serious, and it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have did that. Hurting you was never my intention, I care about you too much to do that. When I heard you say that you weren’t going to let anything happen to me again, I knew that I messed up. I know that you will always protect me, and I don’t have any doubt that you won’t. You’re my first man, remember? I know that you’ll always have my back, and I hope you know that I’ll always have yours too. You’re not just the Avatar of Greed to me Mammon, you’re my first guy that I’ll love forever. I won’t ever mess with you like this again, and if you don’t want to talk now that’s fine too, just know that I’ll always love and care for you, okay?”

Ughh and now you were crying!

You sighed. You understood if he didn’t want to talk to you. I mean, he thought you were dying again. It’s easy to forget the events that happened with Belphie, since everyone is communicating and acting like a real family, but you can see now that it left a deep emotional wound in Mammon. He believed that it was his fault that you weren’t saved, and he still carried the burden all this time.

You put the cup down outside the door and started to head back to your room. You would give him as much time as he needed. You just hate that you made him feel this way, that you rose those feelings out of him. And you hated yourself for it.

You barely stepped a foot away from the door when he saw it swing out and a big blob tackle-hugged you

Here was Mammon, sniffling and tearing up, hugging you

“*sniff* You stupid human.”

When he pulled away, you saw the tears in his eyes, which he tried to rub away before you could notice (sidenote: you already noticed)

“Ya-Ya really love me?”

“Of course, Mammon! How could I not? You stayed by my side through thick and thin, through everything. You protected me, and I will forever be grateful for that. I wouldn’t be here without you. You’re not a selfish scum bag like everyone tries to make you out to be, Mammon, and I won’t let you believe that you are. You are my first man, the man that has constantly looked out for me, that has supported and cared for me, and most of all that has never failed to show how much love you have to give. I love you Mammon, always.”

Cue the blushing and cheeky grin

“Now come on the Great Mammon, our noodles are getting cold.”

It felt great to see that smile back on his face

And it felt even better to hear him say, “I love ya too, MC”

Leviathan

Levi was in his room, nothing new

He told you he had some sort of campaign that he absolutely could not afford to miss. Which he said about the other campaigns too but whatever

So when you knocked into his room, and he didn’t ask for the secret phrase, you knew he was in too deep to even pay attention to his surroundings

And the door was UNLOCKED

So you went in, ready to give him the scare of the decade, and-

He turned around in his gaming chair, raging and in his demon form

“UGH! How was that normie of a demon able to kill me with that move?! He has to be cheating! How is it that I’m one of the best players in the entire Devildom and I’m one of the first dead?! It’s not fair! It’s not fair, it’s not fair IT’S NOT FAI- huh? MC, why are you covered in *squints* dried up glue?”

You were honestly shook

Because 1: the third strongest brother was obviously furious and in his demon form which is not a good combination (your mind flashing back to the TSL quiz and whew was that not the best memory) and 2: how the hell was he able to know that this was glue?!

Okay, you weren’t scared of Levi, not at all! But you, just like everyone else, knew how serious he took his gaming

And you all knew how he could be when he was raging about it too

Not saying that he would ever harm or attack you, oh no. What happened at the beginning was just a...fluke! Yeah, just a little hiccup in your now longstanding relationship

But you were still just a tad bit hesitant to be caught in the crossfire of his rage

Really everyone was (except maybe Beel, but even he had his moments)

“LOL you look like one of the rotten magical zombie students from the anime “OMG I’m Just A Magical Girl in Training and Somehow I Turned the Whole School Into Zombies and Have to Fall in Love with a Demon to Reverse It!””

Okay, this was not the reaction you were looking for

“What the- but how-?

Then you remembered

Levi is a renowned cosplayer, the best in the game. It was obvious he knew what the dried up glue looked like considering how much he’s worked with it

You were of course disappointed, but oh well, you could always scheme to get him another way

And then it happened. Another devious idea popped into your head

“So you said I looked like a rotten zombie student huh?”

“Rotten magical zombie student . LOL don’t tell me that you don’t think you do- W-what are you doing MC?”

“Ughhh I’m a rotten magical school girl, and I’m not just hungry for brains, I’m hungry for love.”

“L-love?”

“Gughhh that’s right and only kisses can satiate my hunger. Demon kisses.”

Oh boy 

The way that you turned red so quick was always a surprising sight for you to see

“M-MC WAIT-”

“I want my kisses, Levi!”, you said it in your best zombie/monster voice

Cue his famous “WOOAHHHH”

“MC WAIT- YOU’RE COVERED IN GROSS DRIED GLUE OMG” 

The campaign was quickly forgotten when you tackled him to the ground, glue and all

Then you remembered how sensitive he was with physical contact, and tried to get up

“Oh Levi, I’m sorry! I forgot you don’t li-”

Something was still holding you against him

Specifically, that something was his tail

His tail was currently wrapped around your waist, holding you tightly against the red-faced otaku

“Levi, you okay?”

“Y-y-yeah, I’m okay.” he said it in the tiniest voice you have ever heard.

“Do you want me to get-”

“NO! I-I mean yes! I mean no! N-no I don’t want you to get up. I’m okay.”

Today was just surprising you left and right huh?

But you weren’t complaining now

“But now we’re covered in nasty, peely glue. And what about your campaign?”

He looked at the screen, and then back at you

“It’s okay. It’s not worth it like I thought it was. It’s just a bunch of normies who either button mash or spam the same attack over and over. And I already got majority of the rewards anyway. Besides, now that another normie has me covered in icky cheap glue, I need to get it off.”

Whoops

“Sorry about that, Levi. I was just trying to prank you but looks like that failed. I could do your laundry for you since it was my bad. Is that okay?”

“O-or you could m-make it up to me by having by binge watching some anime? If you want, even though I’m a nasty, icky, worthless ot-”

“Levi. Look at me.”

You gently grabbed and held his face in your hands

“You’re not worthless or nasty okay? And I love to spend time with you. We can definitely have an anime marathon. I’ll always be by your side, I wouldn’t be your Henry if I wasn’t.”

“R-really?”, the way his eyes light up every time you praise or show him love will never get old

“Of course. But I do have to say that you are icky.”

“WHAT”

“But we both are. I mean I did kinda cover you in the flaky glue, and it’s starting to feel a little gross to be honest.”

“O-oh yeah. I-it’s your fault normie!”

“Yeah, yeah I know.”, you laughed. 

Atleast you somewhat pranked him

“So let’s get cleaned up, and I can bring some more snacks when I’m done. You wanna do the pillow fort like usual?”

“O-of course, normie!”

“Alright. I’ll see you in a few then!”, and you began walking out the room

He watched your trailing form, and honestly he didn’t want you to leave yet. That was apparent when his tail wrapped itself around you. I mean, how embarrassing was that?! But he couldn’t help it.

Levi cares about you immensely. You’re his best friend, his Henry! He didn’t know what you saw in someone like him, I mean damn, he was the Avatar of Envy! What’s attractive about someone being jealous 24/7?

He wasn’t outgoing like Asmo or Mammon, didn’t have the confidence like Lucifer or Satan, and he wasn’t good at building bonds like the twins (or at least like Beel)

What a human like you saw in him was still mind boggling, and he thought you were just tolerating him, just being nice. But, he saw how genuine you were as time went on. He saw you as someone special to him, you were his favorite real living person, his best friend, and honestly he wanted you to become more-

“Oh, Levi, one more thing.”

You quickly ran up to him and kissed him on the cheek

“I finally got my demon kiss, ughhh. My hunger has been satisfied!”

And ran right back out 

He blushed 100x more now, and he realized that maybe he wasn’t ready to take it to the next step just yet, but he was willing to be patient and work towards it

He was willing to make the effort because you’re worth it

[queen-scribbles]

6 favorite OC asks for Vikkari

BLESS YOU CLAIRE 😘

16. What does your OC smell like?

Spring air and wood shavings

23. What is a random fact about your OC?

He let his younger sister play with his hair when she was bored as kids. Would probably still do it as adults.

27. What kind of childhood did your character have?

In a word? Charmed. He was treated special by his parents and everyone else in their town bc not only is he aasimar, he was the only aasimar. He's always been a genuinely nice person, even as a kid, which only added to it. His siblings(Titus and Priya) did resent it some; even if it wasn't like he could get away with anything, he definitely got away with more than they did. Their parents tried to be mostly fair, but there was still some preferential treatment for Vikkari. Honestly, the fact his siblings were open about their issues is a large factor in why he doesn't have a bigger pride problem as an adult. He still had chores(fewer than Titus or Priya >.>) and responsibilities, still got in trouble when he was bad, but A) he wasn't bad often so B) those occasions he was the punishment was usually lenient. Which made it hard to tell if he was "never in trouble" because he's Special or because bad behavior wasn't a pattern for him.

29. If they could choose their epitaph for their grave, what would they choose?

Wanderer, Always Learning, Never Too Busy to Help

30. Do they want to get married? Why or why not? Would they ever want kids? Do they have kids? Why?

He would absolutely love to get married, but only if it's something Arue wants, too. He's probably written three different version of a proposal--progressively sappier and more adoring--that are locked away in his brain for if that's something he needs. But yeah, he would want to be sure Arueshalae's on board before he even thought about popping the question. He's also perfectly fine with the way things are, though I still maintain the frequent visits from their epilogue get longer and closer together until he just stays. Far as kids go.... he hadn't given that serious thought by the end of the crusade, and tbh the only reason he thought about it at all is bc Nenio brings it up with Arue. xD I feel like he'd be alright either way. He'd definitely like kids(and he would be a fantastic father, holy shit), but the responsibility of it is daunting. Scarier than the Worldwound. :P Aditionally, if that's not something Arue's comfortable with, he would completely understand. He'd be happy as the Best Damn Uncle to Titus or Priya's kids, if they have any.

45. If your character was given a slice of pineapple pizza and they HAD to eat it (or something bad would happen), how would they react? Do they even LIKE pineapple pizza?

Bold of you to assume he wouldn't cram the whole thing in his mouth and ask if there's more somewhere. :D (aka he would love pineapple pizza bc he's my child and I love pineapple pizza so most of my muses do, too)

[one-more-offbeat-anthem]

this year i participated in the @snowbaz-sweethearts-exchange and got paired with the lovely @the-lincyclopedia​! <3 this is the second snowbaz-themed exchange I've done, and it was good fun ^_^ be sure to check out the other fics from the exchange, and to lin, I hope you enjoy this fic!

--------------------------------- Simon

Valentine’s with Baz number one: we had just defeated the Humdrum, but were still in the weird quasi-relationship stage, and he was at Watford, so Penny snuck me in and the three of us took turns jokingly reading from some terrible romance novel. Baz kissed me when Penny went to the bathroom. I think she did it on purpose so we would have the chance.

Valentine’s with Baz number two: I was deep in the throes of my depression, brought on by 1) no longer having magic, 2) feeling like the people closest to me (Penny and Baz) were far better than me, and 3) ditching therapy when it got hard because I was scared. I think Baz was almost surprised that I said “sure” to his suggestion of watching a rom-com. But I curled up on the couch with him, and later Penny joined us and we all decided the movie was terrible.

Valentine’s with Baz number three: today.

It had been less than a year since we had finally gotten rid of whatever the bloody hell else needed it (there was always something, wasn’t there?) and I had decided that this Valentine’s day things were going to be different. I had promised myself that.

More like I had promised Penny, who told me that I couldn’t just quit therapy, and then I had promised Baz, with lots of crying, that I was going to stop sucking (he cried too, and then asked me if was making a vampire joke, and I wasn’t but that set us both off into gales of laughter that ended in properly hugging for the first time in ages, i.e. not in a life-or-death situation.)

I had missed him.

I had also missed myself.

Which was why I was spending my morning, while Penny and Baz were both off at their respective colleges, being fancy and academic, making cherry scones. To be more specific: I was making heart-shaped cherry scones.

Cherry scones made me think of Watford, something that was getting easier to think about as time went on. For so long, Watford had been my favorite place, a happy place, and then all of that had been shattered. At least we were out of the woods now.

I knew I wouldn’t be able to make them as well as the kitchens at school, but I’d found a recipe online and gone to the store and everything. And I’d picked out a movie to watch that didn’t look terrible, and planned to get takeout from Baz’s favorite Thai place, and I’d convinced Penny and Shepard to find somewhere, anywhere else to be.

(I think they were going to one of those kitschy old-timey diners and then to a double feature at the movie theater. I hadn’t really paid attention.)

Everything was going to be perfect.  

There was no way it wouldn’t be.

***** Baz

The flat was far too quiet when I got back from classes.

If Simon was here (which I knew he was, he didn’t have work today), the television was usually blaring with whatever he was binge watching at the moment, and really there should have been a lot of noise, because Shepard and Penny were always here before me.

But no, there was just silence, and all of the lights were off except for one I could see coming from the kitchen.

I rounded the corner and took in the scene that lay before me. It looked sort of like a bomb had gone off in the room--flour everywhere, a mess of sugar on the stove, the oven half-open, and a tray of very burned scones on the counter.

The scones were also heart-shaped. Kind of.

“Simon?” I called out.

No answer.

“Snow,” I tried, hoping to get a rise out of him.

I walked around the kitchen island and there was Simon, sitting on the floor in front of the sink, his head buried in his hands. He was absolutely covered with flour.

“Simon? Love?” I crouched down next to him. “What’s wrong?”

He looked up at me, his gorgeous face tracked with tears. “I’ve ruined Valentine’s Day.”

“You--” I glanced around the kitchen. “This was for me?”

Simon nodded, scrubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. “I’m--” a hiccup, “--Not that good at baking, as it turns out.”

“I can tell.”

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say, because it sent another round of tears streaming down his face. I pulled him into my arms (my clothes were going to get covered in flour, too, but I couldn’t find it in me to care) and he pressed his face into my chest.

“I just wanted to make today perfect,” Simon said. “Since all of our other Valentine’s Days sucked, and things had been bad until recently--”

“Hey.” I cut him off, pulled back so that I could hold his face between my hands. “Don’t beat yourself up about that. There was a lot going on. You know what would make my Valentine’s Day perfect?”

“What?” Simon blinked at me, his eyelashes sparkling with tears.

“If I spent it with you. Which I’m going to do. We’re going to clean this up, okay? And then we’re going to find a terrible rom-com to pretend to watch and actually make out during.”

“And that would be okay with you?” Simon furrowed his brow. “That’s just a normal date night. I mess up the kitchen, we clean it up, we ‘watch’ a movie. It’s not special.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that anything’s special with you?” I rolled my eyes and stood up, offering my hands to Simon. “Now get up, before you make me any sappier.”

“Hmph.” Simon took my outstretched hands and let me pull him up. When we were both standing, I took him into my arms again, chest-to-chest. I couldn’t help it. Simon had always been so warm and good, and I had to admit to myself that him trying to do something special felt nice.

I kissed him, because I could, soft and slow, and then pulled away to see a small smile forming on his face. “What are you thinking about, Snow?” I asked, cocking one of my eyebrows up.

“Just how nice this is.”

“Gross.” But I kissed him again, brought one hand up to his cheek, because I wasn’t going to take this for granted, not after all we’d had to fight through to get here. I pressed my forehead against his. “I love you, Simon.”

“Love you too.”

I’m still going to die kissing Simon Snow. Just not today.

[amberskywrites]

Soulmarks and Surprises

First fic for this fandom! A bit iffy on how well it turned out- but! Hopefully as I write more for this fandom the more comfortable I can become with the characters and writing fics with them! Anywho- enjoy!

Masterpost

Pairing: Zukka

Fandom / Genre: Avatar the Last Airbender /  Fluff

Summary: Soulmarks and soulmates were something that was pushed to the back of people's minds once the fire nation attacked... Suddenly, it was no longer a priority to find the one you were supposedly destined to be with, all according to black images somewhere on your body. 

Well, Sokka at least doesn't have to look too far to find his soulmate.

-------------------

Sokka had noticed the mark a long time ago, when they were staying in Ozai's old house. He was watching Zuko teach Aang firebending one day, and couldn't help searching the prince's torso for that telling mark. He was curious if Zuko even had a soulmark.

He never usually thought much of soulmarks. They were common, but often overlooked at this point. It was difficult for most to find their soulmate after the fire nation started trying to take over the world, and suddenly soulmates weren't the most important thing in cultures anymore. But with the war hopefully ending soon… Sokka wondered if people would become more determined to find their soulmate.

Suki wasn't his, he knew that. The two had compared their marks late one night when they had become curious, and although they looked kind of similar, it was clear they weren't the same. Sokka's was a wave that crashed and turned into flames, and Suki's were flames being blown into a night sky by a fan.

Sokka had never seen Katara's soulmark, and Aang… Aang didn't seem to have one. Sokka assumed it was because he was the Avatar, so maybe he just wouldn't ever have a soulmate. And Sokka hadn't tried seeing Toph's.

But he was curious about Zuko's soulmark. And so, watching him train Sokka observed and searched until he spotted it. It was on the same side his scar was on, on his lower back, easy to hide if he wanted. And Sokka's heart stopped beating for a few moments as he stared at the mirror image of his own mark.

Sokka had trouble sleeping that night, but with the comet arriving soon, Sokka decided that he could bring up the soulmark another time.

-

The day before Sozin's comet, Sokka finally pulled Zuko aside. He couldn't stop thinking about the possibility of one of them dying and Zuko not at least knowing that they were soulmates. Sokka thought he had a right to know, so that if Sokka did die and Zuko lived Zuko could at least not spend years hoping to find his soulmate. 

Zuko tilted his head at Sokka, frowning slightly. "What's going on with you?" he asked. "You're more jittery than usual."

Sokka let go of Zuko's arm, instead folding his own arms over his chest. "I… I really need to talk with you about something, something that I've known for a bit now." Sokka didn't meet Zuko's eyes as he spoke, trying to gather his thoughts.

Zuko waited patiently, watching as his friend worried at his bottom lip. He'd never seen Sokka appear this nervous before, really. "It's about soulmarks, specifically yours."

Zuko stiffened slightly at that, frown deepening. He thought no one cared about those anymore… he certainly didn't like them, especially knowing he had one and that some poor soul was quite possibly destined to be with him. As a child, because of the water mixing with flames in his soulmark, Azula would tease him because his soulmate would probably be a waterbender, or from one of the water tribes at least, something not really sought after in his family.

"Yeah?"

Sokka nodded.

Zuko also really didn't like the idea that a stupid mark told him who he would end up loving, if they ever met at all-

"I um, I have the same one."

Zuko blinked at Sokka in confusion, his thoughts having come to a sudden halt. It took a moment for Zuko to process what Sokka had said, and he was shaking his head at the water tribe boy.

"No, you don't."

Spirits, Sokka had to be lying. Zuko couldn't think of why Sokka would lie about being his soulmate, but there was no way Sokka was Zuko's. Zuko knew Sokka was destined to be with someone much greater.

"I can show you if you don't believe me." Before Zuko could say anything, Sokka was moving his tunic aside and turned slightly, showing the back of his shoulder. Black swirled together in a pattern Zuko very easily recognized, and he felt his throat closed as he stared at the mark. Sokka took a deep breath as he shifted his clothes back in place. Zuko shook his head again, trying to catch up with his thoughts. "This was probably the worst time to tell you- I should have when I first found out but I couldn't cause I wasn't sure how to bring it up or how you would react or even feel about that, but you deserved to know, especially if things go south and something happens."

The silence was worse than any rejection Sokka could have imagined, it just felt so tense and Zuko looked blank, and Sokka needed just some sort of reaction.

"Zuko, say something, please," Sokka didn't speak loudly, taking a hesitant step towards Zuko. Zuko didn't move away from him, instead, he glanced towards where the others had all made camp. When he returned his gaze back to Sokka, something seemed to switch and he reached out for the young warrior and embraced him tightly.

Sokka was frozen for a moment before he returned the hug, feeling Zuko bury his face in the crook of Sokka's neck. "Don't you dare let things go south," Zuko mumbled, pressing closer. "I want to be able to properly talk about this when we aren't gonna go end this war in about a day."

Relief washed over Sokka for a moment, and his arms tightened around Zuko. "Will definitely try."

-

Things luckily worked out in the end. They talked in the infirmary of the palace and had agreed to try dating, see if they were actually a good match, but they also wanted to take it slow. Things were already moving so quickly in their lives, they didn't need another thing to pile on.

That was roughly three years ago, though. Zuko had been crowned Firelord, and after Sokka healed he returned to the southern water tribe to help rebuild and to also help improve his tribe's home. They exchanged letters for those two years, each letter growing sappier the longer they were apart.

Zuko was reading over a document, one he was planning on proposing to the school administrators soon to change curriculums. He was so focused he barely registered the loud knocking on his door. It was fairly late, he realized as he rose from his desk, back stiff and aching, and he wondered who would even be up at this hour besides some guards.

The knocking continued until he finally opened his door, sighing, about to scold whoever for possibly disrupting some visiting ambassador's sleep. Zuko snapped his mouth shut though at the grinning face in front of him, and the smile was infectious.

"I thought you weren't going to be able to make it for another week?"

Sokka shrugged. "I couldn't help myself from making a surprise visit," and he nodded towards Zuko's room, a silent question. Zuko moved out of the way, letting Sokka inside and Zuko thanked the guard who had escorted him before closing the door.

Sokka was already settled on Zuko's bed and he reached out, beckoning his boyfriend over. Zuko rolled his eyes as Sokka started making grabby hands instead, and he shrugged off his formal robes. He had started wearing more comfortable clothes underneath them so he could feel a bit more relaxed in meetings. Zuko put the robes in a hamper, knowing the servants would come and retrieve them by morning, and he accepted Sokka's embrace, practically melting into the water tribe boy's arms.

"You've been working too hard," Sokka muses as he kicks off his shoes before shifting them both under Zuko's blankets. He did it with ease, Zuko curled up on his lap basically made it easier for him to move and lie down. Zuko nestled into his chest, and felt Sokka remove his hair from the bun he always kept it in. The crown was also taken out, set on the nightstand near Zuko's bed.

"I've gotta if I want to keep improving the fire nation," Zuko says, listening to Sokka's steady heartbeat. Sokka hummed knowingly, fingers combing through Zuko's hair. Zuko sighed at the touch and relaxed further.

"Missed you," Sokka mumbled, and Zuko nodded slightly in agreement. "I can stay longer than I did last time, too."

Zuko glanced up at him, curious. "How long, exactly?" Last time, Sokka was able to stay for about a month. But that was last year. Sokka grins down at him, hand not in Zuko's hair moving down Zuko's back and slipping under Zuko's shirt, tracing the soulmark there.

"As long as I want, if you'll let me."

Zuko returned to his previous position, and he nodded slightly. "Of course, you could stay forever if you truly wanted."

Sokka laughs at that, and he presses a kiss to the top of Zuko's head. "I'll keep that in mind. You look tired though, so how about we sleep, and tomorrow over breakfast you can complain about the boring meetings like you do in your letters."

Zuko huffs, but doesn't object to sleeping and he falls asleep faster than Sokka thought he would. Sokka doesn't mention the pendant he made, that's something he could bring up after he caught up with his soulmate.

[depreshroom]

I just wanted to rant about Kreamus head-cannons and scenarios and just the ship. I had nowhere to put my thoughts and I wrote them down and now I'm here. I may have gone overboard... Have a good day people of the fandom! Also have a good day if you aren't in the fandom and somehow just found this!

They have a really good understanding of each other and are excellent at comforting one another due to being put in parallel circumstances. (Ex. overly expectant fathers, perfectionists)

But just, going into some detail on understanding each other because I feel that’s important to prove my loyalty to the ship: Krel is who Seamus goes to for comfort, to vent, to yell, to cry, for a hug, whatever he needs. Usually he was upset about pressure from his father and/or fights with his father. Somtimes he told Krel everything and sometimes he told Krel nothing. Krel, knowing what that feels like, usually just listens and waits until he finishes because after all, when he felt that way in the past all he really wanted was for how he felt to be noticed. Seamus---already knowing Krel wasn't particularly good at emotions in the first place---thought Krel trying at all to help was really sweet of him. But Krel kindly talking it through? And understanding? It was a miracle Krel even accepted his apology for being such a jerk. It was a miracle Krel actually liked him back enough to date. But this? That was a level of comfort, happiness, and inevitable blushing Seamus never thought possible.

Krel often doesn't talk to anybody when he's upset because although he was able to break the facade that he originally had built on Earth, he still keeps his guard up when it comes to his emotions. So when the extremely rare moment comes where Krel every-so-often finds himself terribly on-edge, (possibly with tears streaming down his face), sitting on the couch, embraced within someones arms, listening to soft whispers telling him that ‘it will take time, but he will be okay’, with his back gently being rubbed, he's extremely grateful that his boyfriend doesn't mind the lack of explanation for his behavior. In fact, Krel calls him because he’s the only one who will always be there AND not mind the fact that talking about it just seems to make everything worse. Seamus gets that with everything that's happened emotions can be overwhelming. Especially when Krel is the type to bottle up his emotions. He gets that there are times when everything can just get to a person and suddenly the world is overwhelming. He didn’t need to push Krel to talk about personal problems he obviously wasn’t ready to talk about. Seamus just needed to be there, as any good boyfriend is.

Anyways, the rest of these are more fun.

Sappier than Darby but nowhere near Staja and about the same as Jlaire.

Seamus likes Krel's kitten. What Seamus does not like, is the fact that he and the kitten are competing for Krel's attention...Krel's amused.

One day, Krel got cold and Seamus had a jacket...that's still Krel's favorite jacket.

Hugs. Just..hugs and cuddling each other and forehead kisses and more hugs. Popcorn, Icecream, and movies too. Arms around the shoulder too.

Seamus is Krel's self-proclaimed #1 fan for his "nerdy" inventions. He also gets to help which makes him absolutely overjoyed and Krel thinks his excitement is absolutely adorable.

One of their dates were a spaceship ride which is quite normal on Akiridion-5. Still, as a human, Seamus has never been so happy and excited. Krel's never been so proud that he was able to plan such a date on his own.

Ponytail Krel, Seamus and I will thank you very much.

Seamus gets flustered very easily and more often but when Krel gets flustered it lasts longer and it's a lot worse. This leads to the conclusion that blue blush is the worse.

They both secretly think the other getting all worked up over them is adorable.

The amount of times they've both been embarrassed by Aja and Steve is more than the amount of fingers they have on all six of their hands. Aja and Steve have made sure not to pick favorites and embarrass them both equally.

Aja has definitely gone on overprotective mode Seamus. Krel’s the baby of the family and she swears to Seklos if Krel gets hurt by this human, it will not end up well. Oh, and if she felt that wasn’t good enough then he’ll definitely hear from Zadra. And when all else fails, Varvatos will finally get those glorious thumbs he was looking for....Krel doesn’t know what happened but he’s pretty suspicious of the pure terror that enters Seamus’ eyes when someone from his family walks into the room.

 As a gift, Krel once got Seamus some moon rocks and stardust from Akiridion-5. That was another proud moment for him.

Steve, Logan, Darci, Mary, and everyone else are proud of their accomplishments as a couple or ‘Kreamus’ as Mary calls it.

A telltale sign that Krel’s mad: Seamus has to call him Krel instead of Tarron. That’s a scary moment for everyone involved.

Usually, Krel leans his head on Seamus’ shoulder leaving Steve smirking as his friend goes into a gay panic. It only gets worse as Seamus finds his arm over Krel’s shoulder. Steve is practically crying laughing when Krel falls asleep..

He had to admit it was pretty cute when Seamus fell asleep too though.

Krel was the most precious child when he was trying his hardest to help Seamus with his human cold. He got the blankets, left tissue boxes, took Seamus’ temperature, and even got Stuart to bring some soup. They watched movies on the couch until Mr.Johnson got home and Krel had to run like a madman not to get caught.

This time it’s vice versa: Krel got sick. It was his first time having a human disease and the poor kid thought he was dying. After a few minutes of helping Krel calm his panic he got the thermometer, blankets, pillows, and a cold cloth. Settling down and soothing Krel, they turned on some movies and talked. Eventually Krel fell asleep on his lap after a miserable few hours.

[jincherie]

mystery gang; unsolved | PT. 1

☾ — pairing: taehyung x reader ☾ — genre: demon au, supernatural/paranormal au, buzzfeed unsolved au/inspired, smut (oncoming), f2l ☾ — words: 8.1k ☾ — rating: adult! this one is sfw, but future part/s will be nsfw ☾ — warnings: demons and haunted houses, supernatural & paranormal themes! some slight dark themes too. ☾ — notes: part one of 2! or maybe three. depends how the next parts go. I’m finishing this over the next few days-- it was meant to be done completely by now, but a combination of life and my usual “accidentally giving the story too much meat” antics have resulted in this! I wanted to stay at least a little true to my word, so here’s the first part! 

ever since you met taehyung in one of your first year classes at university, you seemed to click and you hadn’t parted from each other’s side since. you’ve been his friend for a few years now, and your mutual interest in the supernatural and taehyung’s propensity for finding the spotlight wherever he goes led to the two of you starting up your very own supernatural investigation vlog series. friends isnt the only thing you want to be, and one night close to hallow’s eve when the two of you get a little in over your heads in a way you never have been before, you find out that maybe it’s not only you that feels that way.

— posted; 01.11.2019 // masterlist | next⇥

MYSTERY GANG; UNSOLVED — PART ONE

Every creature, past or present, had one true weakness. This weakness was cut from the same cloth of creation as them, complimentary in every sense of the word and a match so perfect and natural it shook even the most corrupt of creatures to their very core. The universe moved to reunite a creature with their weakness only every so often, and when it did there was no question, no refusing it.

Centuries he’d lived, walking the planes of the mortal realm, the underworld, and the space between. He was young, for a demon, and had spent most of his youth chasing pleasures of the flesh and wreaking havoc in the mortal world. He’d had a riot doing so, too, until the fateful day the universe shifted and he met you. A weakness, his weakness. He was thousands of years too young to ever have considered the possibility of such a rare occurrence happening for him, and as such wholly unprepared for what the future held for him. Try as he might he was unable to resist the strings puppeteering him so, and it was with great reluctance that he resigned himself to the remainder of his time spent guarding, protecting, shielding this weakness.

He never imagined he’d end up enjoying it so much.

– x – x – x – 

“Can you pass me the lens, Tae? I need to clean it before we pack it all up ready to go.”

Instead of the heavy weight of the camera lens you were expecting, it is a ticklish sensation against the palm of your outstretched hand that greets you. Unimpressed, you look over to see Taehyung tickling your palm with his fingertips, a large grin tugging his lips. When you shift, preparing to smack him, he ceases his movements with a loud laugh. The requested camera lens is quickly placed into your palm to appease you before you get too violent.

“Thank you,” you emphasise, shooting him a sarcastic grin despite the fact you admittedly found his antics a little funny.

“You love it when I tease you,” he scoots closer, huffing and blowing silvery strands out of his eyes so he can nail you with a smouldering look without hindrance. His next words escape on a low breath that has shivers running down your spine that you do your best to hide and ignore. “Admit it.”

“Hmm, don’t think so,” you offer a rebuttal, shooting him a sly look before returning your attention to the lens and cloth in your hold. “But keep trying, maybe one day it will work.”

Taehyung snorts, leaning back on his hands with his legs crossed before him as he lets out another loud laugh at your response. You can feel his eyes on you still, and do your best to ignore it despite how it makes heat crawl and trickle like lava down the column of your spine, dripping slowly into your gut. Year three, month two of pretending the male you befriended so quickly and easily in your first year of university doesn’t have such a powerful, swaying effect on you, and it isn’t getting any easier. His stare alone has the little hairs along your skin raising to attention, body constantly on high alert. If only, if only you had the same effect on him—then perhaps there wouldn’t be such power imbalance in that regard. 

As mentioned, you’d met Taehyung around halfway through your first year of university, when the first semester ticked over into the second and you were dealt a whole bunch of new classes, new people, and new seatmates. The second you saw him enter the large lecture theatre your next class was to be held in, you registered that he was far too attractive and therefore painfully out of your league, and made a note to avoid him at all costs to save yourself any future embarrassment. Like any respectable individual who was actively attempting to avoid someone, you shrunk into your seat and focused on scribbling nonsense onto the back cover of your notebook, allowing your hair to fall from its style and shield your face somewhat for maximum sleuth as the walking Adonis began to climb the steps of the aisle. 

Your efforts were for null, however, as you’d caught his attention the second he stepped foot into the room. A scent so divine it bordered on sinful brushed his senses upon entry, and he was suddenly aware of one distinct heartbeat amongst the eighty-odd others in the room. His gaze was drawn to a seat in the far middle of the theatre, besides the windows and pushing the title of a back row. There, it was you. The source of the intoxicating scent, the owner of the heart beginning to race in what he pinned to be a mixture of excitement and anxiety, and the most captivating human he’d ever laid eyes on. He made a beeline straight for you.

Of course, you would never be privy to any of that. You just knew that one second you were scribbling aimlessly, waiting for him to pass, and the next you were jerking your head up at the sound of chairs nearby squeaking as people pulled out of the way and—oh god he didn’t go past he was walking straight for you. While you aren’t proud of the flustered, discombobulated manner in which you’d handled the situation and introduced yourself, you are proud to say that after that initial interaction you were quick to develop a resistance, a filter of sorts. You aren’t immune to his wiles and charms, his odd flirtatious remark and heavy-lidded gaze, oh no, no, no. You aren’t immune, but you’ve gotten better at handling it, hiding it. And for that, you’re pretty proud of yourself. Kim Taehyung is a hard man to resist.

You were pleased to find, upon engaging in that initial conversation, that Taehyung wasn’t just a pretty face—he had many interests and hobbies, most if not all of which aligned with your own. The most notable of these, was an interest in the paranormal. When you’d first mentioned it casually, feeling gingerly for how your keen interest would be received before opening yourself up about it, you’d been surprised at the more than eager response you’d received. His eyes had lit up, and something curled and gleamed behind them but you couldn’t pinpoint exactly what—a sense like he was smiling to himself registered in your mind but you dismissed it quickly. The more extroverted of the two of you, he’d had no problem diving deep into the topic and dragging you with him. 

You can’t really remember any of the finer details of how exactly you’d gotten from point A to point B, but by the end of the semester you were closer friends than you’d ever anticipated and recording the first episode of many to come of your very own paranormal investigation vlog series. 

Admittedly, investigating paranormal hot spots and haunted places is something you’ve always thought about and an idea you’ve always toyed with, ever since you were younger, but you’ve always been too much of a… well, too much of a pussy. Something about Taehyung, though, had you changing your mind and agreeing to go through with it. You don’t want to be sappy and say that you feel safer around him, or any of that garbage… except you kind of do. Perhaps it’s less that you feel safer, because some of the locations you’ve been have definitely made you feel anything but—perhaps it’s more so that you feel even if things go haywire, Taehyung is capable of protecting you.

That sounds even sappier than what you were trying to avoid, damn it.

All of that aside, the two of you managed to establish yourselves pretty early on as a strong paranormal investigation team on a few different streaming sites—aptly and humourously called Mystery Gang; Unsolved, after a night spent drinking where you lost a bet to Taehyung and he got naming rights. Despite the odd name, over the years you’ve been doing this, you’ve managed to build up quite an impressive fanbase. A part of you likes to think it’s because you’re so damn funny, but really you know that it’s because Taehyung is drop-dead gorgeous and there’s a solid ratio of about eighty-twenty of females to males that watch your vlogs—and you know Taehyung has all the females and about half the males in the bag as well. Not good odds for you for finding a partner in either gender, really. It’s fine. You’re content with the odd comment directed to you among thousands. You’re fine. Really.

It’d be a bit hypocritical of you to be upset about the sheer amount of individuals attracted to Taehyung since you, too, happen to be sitting quite decisively in his bag as well. Sue you. 

“Are you gonna clean the camera or sit there staring into space for a while longer? I know we’re kind of freelance, but we still have a window we gotta grab, you know. The witching hour isn’t at ten in the morning.”

Jerked from your reminiscing, you immediately slide Taehyung the stink-eye. He’s awfully rude for someone so attractive, you can’t help but note and grumble internally.

“How about you clean the cameras? Ever since we’ve arrived you’ve been sitting around doing nothing!”

There’s not an ounce of bite in your tone, and you feel like even if there was it would have rolled right off Taehyung’s shoulders as he shrugs, grinning lazily. His pose on the hotel bed has shifted, now his long form is draped indolently across the surface, elbow propped on the mattress and hand cupping his cheek. His long lashes brush his cheeks as he blinks slowly at you. 

“I don’t need to stress-clean, I know we have this in the bag,” he says, lips curling as he speaks in his usual low drawl. “You were so nervous the second we got here that I thought if I tried touching anything you’d simply burst into smoke or something.”

The male’s reference to your odd cleaning habits irks you, but only slightly and only because it’s true. The rest of what he said is true, too. As much as you’d like to complain, cleaning your equipment meticulously and probably more than needed has been doing wonders for your nerves. You always tend to have a healthy, respectful dose of fear with every location you visit, but for some reason your nerves seem to be off the charts, tonight. 

Perhaps it’s because you’re visiting a church. You always hate it when the haunted location is a church. Something about somewhere meant to be so holy becoming so desecrated that evil spirits haunt it… you don’t like it. 

You sit for a moment, feeling your face contort as you assess the nauseous feeling beginning to churn in your stomach. Instead of answering his previous comment, you allow your thoughts to spill from your lips, somewhat distractedly. “I don’t… have a good feeling about tonight.”

Your words must be somewhat unexpected, as silence follows for a few moments after they enter the air. You regain control of your gaze where it had been centred on nothing, directing it towards the male on the bed. Taehyung’s eyes are on you, and you swear you catch something akin to a flicker of concern flitting across his features, before the tension leaves his face and he slaps on a silly grin. 

"If ghosts and ghouls were real, y/n, you'd almost be begging them to haunt you," he quips, brows quirking in a sly manner. "Them's invitin' words, darlin'."

You're not sure what weird-ass accent he just pulled out of his rectum, but you're definitely sure your body shouldn't have reacted as shamefully into it as it just did. You throw a glare his way to mask the way you just shivered, at a damn pet name of all things, and turn back to cleaning your lens. He laughs, and you resign yourself for the millionth time to the fact that you'll probably never stop being so affected by him. 

"Oh yeah? Well it really sounds like you're inviting a smack right now, mister. Don't make me break out the sandal."

At that, Taehyung bursts into loud laughter, flopping back onto the bed to let out his howling cackles unhindered. You can only sit and shake your head as you continue to rub your equipment clean, fighting a smile but allowing the fondness of the moment to sink in and cover the weight in your stomach. 

Taehyung isn't worried, so you probably shouldn't be either. 

X    x    x    x 

"You're a monster."

Your gaze is petulantly pointed out the window, but you can feel Taehyung fighting a smile from the driver's seat. It's almost silent in the cabin, aside from the low hum of the car beneath you and the smooth sound of slow r'n'b thrumming from the speakers. You do like that about Taehyung's choice in cars; he always managed to find some with excellent speakers for the bass-y songs the two of you enjoy listening to.

"You said you didn't want them!" Taehyung protests, a slight whine to his voice. Oh, he thinks he can get out of trouble by acting cutesy? The absolute nerve.

“No! I didn’t!” You’re affronted, unable to help the way you turn in your seat to pin him with an incredulous glare. “I said I was going to give them a break while I had some of my thickshake! I didn’t say you could have them!”

“You left your fries alone for more than a minute, what was I supposed to do? Let them go cold?”

“It wasn’t an invitation! Honestly, how could you… after all we’ve been through?”

Taehyung makes a choking noise, and you presume it’s because he’s trying not to laugh. You haven’t broken character yet—despite the fact you’re genuinely a little miffed that he finished off your fries while your back was turned earlier—so if he does before you, then he loses. The two of you are far too competitive for this to be anything but normal in your friendship. 

"I can't help it," Taehyung says at last, apparently having managed to squash his laughter for a while longer. "They looked so good sitting there, so tempting... I was only going to take one, but you know I can't help myself when I see something I want."

As your eyes train on the scenery beyond the window as it blurs past, you snort, unable to help but quip playfully, "Glutton."

Taehyung finally lets a laugh loose, the sound rich and low, an almost indecipherable smile curling his lips at the corners. "Not the only sin I'm guilty of, but definitely the big hitter."

You roll your eyes, deciding you don't need to add anything more to that since it's definitely true. Sometimes you find it a little odd, how the two of you managed to become friends when you're both so different in subtle but significant ways. It isn't unusual to be unable to reach Taehyung some weekends, which you'd found out through a mutual friend (Yoongi, his roommate and an absolute tattletale whose loyalty is easily bought with wine and lamb skewers) was due to the fact he either didn't come home or brought someone else home. That knife had hurt when it entered your back, but you weren't, and still aren't, in any position to actually be upset about it. Taehyung's often extracurricular activities are probably one of the biggest differences between the two of you; not because you've never gone out or done things, no, but you've never been one to be comfortable with a stranger in your bed every other night. You're not so much into flings and one night stands, as Taehyung seems to be. 

Another difference is probably the fact that despite the fact you're a definite ambivert and not one to shy from social situations, you've never actually met anyone as blatantly extroverted as Taehyung. His aura and presence are truly something else; all he has to do is step into a room for all attention to be drawn immediately to him, and for it to stick for the entirety of the time he's there. His confidence is unshakeable, and you think that probably has a lot to do with it. It's as though he has this sense of assurance in himself that no matter what a situation could throw at him, no matter which way it could turn and end up, he can get through it and come out right on top. It's impressive, you admire him for it, but also in a way... it's a little bit unnerving. Slightly intimidating. You can't put your finger on it, but sometimes it feels like there's something more to that confidence, something you're not quite aware of but lingers just under the surface of what he shows you. 

He's a bit of an enigma, your Taehyung. You've known him for what feels like so long, and you know enough about him to fill about three encyclopedias, but at the same time... it feels like there's so much you don't know, an ocean behind each page you file away in your mind. It's like the difference between possessing a painting or a photograph of the sea, and actually standing on the shore with your feet in the sand, basking in the beauty of it in person. 

Now that you think about it, the ocean is probably the best metaphor you could've chosen for describing Taehyung. 

"You still nervous?"

Taehyung's inquiry, somewhat softly spoken but unmissable with how primed you are to hear him, is what pulls you from your light reverie. Blinking and interrupting your gaze where it was staring into the darkness beyond the window, you turn to the male and allow yourself a moment to analyse his features. 

Taehyung is one tough cookie to read, you have to admit. He's expressive, sure, but sometimes you feel he has a bit more to offer in terms of what he's thinking and feeling at the moment. You've yet to crack that code but you'll get it one day, you know it. 

Currently, his eyes are directed forward (as they should be-- he's been threatened many times with a smack whenever he lets his eyes stray even an millimetre while driving), but what you can observe of his side profile is a somewhat neutral expression. You're used to looking a little closer though, and when you do you find the barest creases of concern at the corner of his eye, brows drawn together just slightly. Aw, he's actually a little concerned for you. How sweet. 

"Well, yeah," you answer after a moment, forcing your eyes away from his face and averting them back out the window as you lift a hand to rub the back of your neck. "But I mean, when aren't I? I don't think we'd have a show if both of us were skeptics."

The male hums, shaking his head to dislodge a silvery lock of hair that has fallen across his forehead. "That's true. I guess then we'd really be relying on my face for viewers, huh?"

Somewhat outraged, you let out an angry noise and hit his arm— just the reaction he was looking for. He snickers, still distracted as he watches the road and takes in the signs as he passes them. Sooner than you expect, he's flicking on the indicator and taking a left, down a road that is more dirt than tarmac and feels like it's leading nowhere good. The nerves that had left you momentarily, courtesy of the good mood eating put you in, return now in full force— twisting and writhing and tightening in the pit of your stomach. You take in a deep breath, the exhale a little shaky. Taehyung's eyes flick to you for the barest moment before they return to the front. 

Trees line each side of the road, the twenty-plus minute drive having taken you a slight ways out of town. Beyond the trees at the edge of the road, you know there are miles and miles of fields; the odd house is scattered around, of course, but you know that the locals are far too wary of this little area to want anything to do with it, despite the acreage on offer. 

The road twists and winds just barely, before Taehyung pulls the car into a partially obscured driveway on the right and you gulp, feeling more nervous than ever. The headlights drill holes of illumination into the pitch black, casting across blurred greenery and bushes for a moment before finally falling upon something lighter and firmer. Stone basks in the ray of the headlights, and gleaming glass windows just barely beyond the light's edge. 

"We're here," Taehyung announces in a singsong manner, seeming entirely too happy about your arrival at what you consider to be one of the most cursed destinations you've included in your travels. The car rolls to a stop, Taehyung's large hand pulling the handbrake up and deciding your fate. You feel the weight in your stomach sink further. 

Well, no time like the present. If you're gonna die in here, you may as well go on and get it over with. 

x x x

The first ever haunted house that you explored with Taehyung, was probably the scariest.

Before becoming friends with him, and subsequently being roped into forming a paranormal investigation duo, you’d never stepped foot in a haunted or otherwise allegedly supernaturally afflicted building. Of course, you’d read your fair share of online accounts and retellings, and watched more investigative programs than is probably healthy, but even you are capable of telling what has been dramatically exaggerated and digitally edited. Before that first house, you’d sort of teetered on the edge of scepticism and being a believer. You were open to the idea, but weren’t cemented in your beliefs. That first house pushed you decisively from the middle and into one of those sides.

Your biggest regret is that you didn’t have the proper equipment to record what you witnessed that night. Since you were just starting out, all you really had was a crummy recording device and a handheld camera, in addition to your phones. Kind of humiliating, in hindsight. How on Earth had people taken you seriously back then?

Everything had gone fine, up until the point where the two of you decided it would be a neat idea to spend a few minutes alone in the most ‘haunted’ room of the house. Before then you were having fun, but you weren’t exactly convinced anything paranormal inhabited the place. In the middle, you remained. Taehyung had been somewhat distracted as you went, but not so much that he didn’t manage to slip in the odd witty quip. Sometimes, you’d turned and caught him staring into space for a few moments longer than expected, before he was once more moving on. You’d figured he was just deep in his thoughts. 

As you’d ventured through the house, there were a few little things you both observed, but they were also easily dismissible things; items falling as you moved past them, creaking sounds, windows and curtains moving, shadows out of the corner of your eye. Nothing solid and material, and some to be expected when you were moving about an old, creaky abandoned building with no light save for some battery-powered torches and the flashlights on your phones. 

Nothing that would hold up as evidence—at least, nothing until you entered that room alone. 

The basement, said to have been where the most activity was and where some not-so-nice things went down while the house was still occupied, was the final stop of your little investigative tour. You’d originally planned to go in there together, but a small argument about jelly beans led to the proposal of going in there one at a time, and spending a few minutes in there alone in an attempt to get some interaction from any spirits that might be there. 

From the very second you set foot on the first step, you’d known intrinsically that the experience you were about to have wasn’t going to be a good one. Your skin had crawled even then; it was as though you’d stepped into a freezer instead of a basement, immediately chilled to the bone with the air weighing so heavy against your body that each step was an effortful struggle. You’d been nervous before going down, yes, but this… it was different. Before you could have even turned to act on your second thoughts, the basement door had closed behind you with a final, resounding thud.

“Go down to the bottom! Your five minutes starts now.”

You’d felt disproportionately scared as you reluctantly continued your trek to the bottom, as you’d originally intended. It was colder at the foot of the stairs, if possible, and the small torch in your hand had started to flicker. It smelt rotten, too, and the further into the room you went the stronger the smell. For the first time since entering the house, you felt unsettled, for reasons almost indiscernible.  

Some of them became clear to you as soon as the beam of your torch illuminated over the walls. 

Deep scratches in the cement and brick, sigils and symbols drawn across the expanse of the wall. Something akin to black sludge was smudged intermittently across places, dripping from cracks and oozing from gaps in the ceiling. There was a disrupted circle on the floor, dark maroon flakes and drops of wax scattered and highlighting more smudged symbols and lines. A copper bowl lay turned over and discarded, its apparent contents scattered across the floor; bones, dried leaves and flowers, rocks, a tooth. You hadn’t even realised how your breath had begun to speed up, chest tightening. Of course, you’d tried to calm yourself and rationalise— someone just did this for a prank, they planted these things to feed the stories. 

But then you’d felt a gust of hot air against the back of your neck, so stark in contrast to the chill of the room. Alarmed, you’d jerked, and your torchlight had moved with the flinch of your arm. It whipped over shapes veiled objects in the room, angles creating deep shadows that seemed to have no end, and you’d managed to look up just in time to catch sight of something as it was illuminated in the corner; a long shape, a silhouette, present in the light just long enough for you to see the gleam of two eyes staring right at you—

The torchlight flickered off in tandem with the sensation of your heart dropping through your stomach; something hot and sharp dragged across your sternum, and driven by nothing but fear and instinct you threw yourself back—or had you been thrown? A voice, disembodied in the pitch black, had grated the outskirts of your ears, warped and distorted and registering in your senses in such a way that even now, you can’t be sure whether you’d really heard it or not. 

“A human girl walking right into my den… And you smell so good too. Won’t you stay, girl? I hunger.”

You don’t recall screaming, but as you would be informed later, apparently you did. You’d stumbled backwards, crashing into a number of items and feeling something grip your arm. It burned, and of course you’d jerked away once more. 

Whether it was the ruckus or your own sounds that concerned your companion, the basement door had quickly been thrown open and Taehyung had bolted down the stairs. Disoriented, you weren’t even aware of where you’d stumbled in the room once your torch had gone out, but when you’d looked up to see Taehyung darting over to you, the room now illuminated, you’d been several metres from where you’d first stopped. 

As Taehyung would tell you later, you were shaking as you sat there, partially curled into a ball on the floor. Your torchlight had been all the way on the other side of the room, and your phone a few feet away. He says that when he asked you what had happened, you’d only babbled incoherently, somehow simultaneously telling him off and yet clinging to him in distress. 

Your memory of events after that scare is a little hazy, but you do recall that he’d surveyed your form, freezing as his eyes fell upon your arm. When you’d looked down, you’d caught blood trickling down from three irregular lesions across your bicep, the entire flesh of your upper arm red and inflamed and sore, yet in the cold of the room somehow still numb. Despite the horrified look on Taehyung’s face, and the way he’d fussed over your wound from that point onward, he was quick to dismiss it. 

“You must have cut it on something when you were tripping about,” he’d said later, once you were out of the house with all your things packed away, back in the safety of the hotel room. His touch had been nothing short of tender as he cleaned and dressed the cuts that just would not stop oozing blood. Perhaps that night, is when you’d really first begun developing feelings for Taehyung. That hadn’t stopped you being secretly frustrated at his words, though. “There were a lot of sharp things down there, I’m not surprised you managed to cut yourself on one of them.”

Even as, days later, the red welts on your arm developed into bruises—long and thin, like imprints of spindly fingers that had wrapped around your arm— and the cuts didn’t heal quite as they should, Taehyung stuck with that story. He insisted on being the one to take care of the wound and still insisted you’d just bumped into something lying about down there in the basement. Once, you’d gone to tell him exactly what you’d seen and heard, but thought better of it. You’d just be annoyed when his sceptical ass tried to dismiss and rationalise it. It didn’t help that the recording you had of the experience had somehow corrupted on your phone. 

Oddly enough, ever since that first house you’ve never gotten as scared, or witnessed anything quite like it. It kind of makes you wonder—did you hallucinate it? Was your brain just overactive and scared, and making you see and hear things that weren’t there? You think about it a lot, an especially every time you venture into a new location. Like now, as you’re in the entry of the church and preparing to film the introduction segment of your little vlog. 

“Lot on your mind, babygirl?”

Flinching and feeling your cheeks heat as they usually do whenever Taehyung hits you playfully with that particular pet name, you break from your thoughts to send him a glare. 

“Only the usual amount,” you answer, a hand coming to unconsciously rub your arm where those cuts had first appeared. They’d never quite healed as expected, didn’t scar as things usually do on your skin. Normally you heal pretty seamlessly, but those scratches had healed in three pink lines, not raised but stark on your skin. Sometimes you think you feel them ache and sting, but it’s just a phantom pain. More often than not, they’re just a bit itchy. 

“Camera is ready to go, are you?” Taehyung inquires, holding up the hand-held and leaning around it to flash you a cheeky smile. He has a torch attached to his headband, and combined with the light of the torch attached to the strap over your chest and the torches attached to each camera, the entrance of the building where you stand is somewhat illuminated. It is, admittedly, in a poor state. Cement and brick are in various states of disrepair, the odd piece crumbling whenever you move past. You’re actually more worried about a part of the ceiling falling on you tonight than anything paranormal. Although, you suppose you’d developed a bit of a stronger resistance over the years. These days, as Taehyung says, your bravado is through the roof.

You hold your thumb up for him, waiting for his subsequent nod and the blinking of the light above the camera lens that tells you it’s on and running. As soon as you get the signal, you slip a smile onto your face.

“Hello and welcome to another episode of Mystery Gang; Unsolved,” you launch right into the introduction, the name of your little duo coming easier every time you say it. At this point, there’s almost no resistance at all; you’re barely embarrassed by it these days. “Today we’re here in a small town on the East Coast, and we’re investigating the abandoned and allegedly ‘haunted’ grounds of FigTree Church.”

Taehyung has a small smile on his lips as he watches you talk, something you catch as you glance down at your phone for the notes you have prepared. Awfully cheeky he is, as always. 

“Now, you might be thinking—that’s quite an odd name for a church, right? Doesn’t it have an official name, something a little bit more proper? Well, no, actually.” You shift, taking a few steps to your left and bringing your arm up to gesture to the rest of the church. It’s pitch black, and you ignore the way the hairs on your arm begin to stand. “This church, nestled in the corner of FigTree Pocket and hidden away from the rest of the world, was never given a name. And when we investigated further, we found that there was never actually any record of this church in any registry or archive for this region.”

“For our research, we had to turn to the townsfolk and some ledgers hidden deep in the town library to unearth just what this church is and what happened that earned it the reputation as one of the most haunted locations on the East Coast.” You pause briefly, glancing to your notes. “As it turns out, the reason there are no records of this church and no name ever given to it, is because this church… was technically never meant to exist.”

Taehyung makes a surprised face, and you sense a question oncoming. “Allegedly, this church, built in the late 1800s, was formed in secret by a small faction that split from the branch residing in the nearby capitol. There is no consensus as to whether the original branch is Catholic or Christian, or something else, and a lot of the lore surrounding it is more hearsay than actual recorded facts. What is known for sure, though, is that this church was formed and built in secret, operating under forged papers and fostering a religion that didn’t quite fit any preconceived ideologies that were around at the time.”

“So this was, like, an extremist sort of situation? They didn’t quite agree with the workings of their original church so they went and made their own?” Taehyung speaks as soon as you leave him a gap, looking at you with intrigued eyes and a shit-eating grin from behind the camera. “Exactly what kind of things did they get up to in here that they needed the place to stay a secret?”

“I’m glad you asked,” you say, referring to your notes for a brief moment before continuing. “Apparently, according to stories passed down through generations in this town and some accounts in the town history books, some pretty dark shit went down in here.”

Taehyung tilted his head, sweeping the camera over the rest of the room before centring it back on you with a shrug. “I could see it. What kind of sins are we speaking here?”

“Well, some stories are more believable than others,” you offer. “The less popular ones say that this was less of a church and more of a cannibalistic cult. Others—”

“Cannibalistic cult?!” Taehyung sputters, lowering the camera slightly so he can meet your eyes over the top of it. “Are you for real—?!”

“Yup,” you affirm, fighting a smile. “The next best one after that says that this wasn’t a real church, but a cover for a satanic cult that operated in the night time hours. Apparently they performed their rituals either in the basement, the attic, or a secret room behind the altar.”

Taehyung chortles at that, the denim jacket he has on over a dark hoodie making a loud scuffle as he slaps a hand to his stomach in his laughter. You’re glad he’s amused by what you’re saying, as usual. “This is great. I wonder whether we’ll find skulls or pentagrams.”

“I don’t know which is worse,” you admit, rolling your eyes when he laughs again. “Anyway, those are just outliers. The consensus on the history of this place is a bit of a different tale, actually. Still kind of dramatic, though.”

Taehyung hums to urge you on, gaze flicking to the side for a moment at a particularly loud chirp of a cricket. You shift where you stand, retreating closer to the wall—you don’t like the feeling of having your back to the expanse of darkness. 

“From what I was able to gather, most people say this operated as a normal church for a few years. They held mass, you know, did the usual church things. The common thread that everyone mentioned, though, is kind of in line with what you said earlier. In a sense, the principles of this church were kind of extremist, and very misogynistic, moreso than you usually see from the old days. The women that were part of this church were apparently treated no better than property, in-home slaves expected to sit and be pretty, cook, clean and bear children.”

Taehyung winces, apparently noticing the unimpressed tone to your voice. “So if the ghost of one of the pastors is here, you’re gonna beat him up?”

“Maybe so,” you utter, shooting him a sly smile. “But don’t you wanna know what the big happening was? What really gave this place a name—well, I guess it didn’t give it a name, but it did give it a reputation.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes, silvery strands of hair flicking from the motion of his head. “Of course, why else do you think I do these little investigations.”

“For the ghouls?” you suggest, grinning in anticipation for the face you know he’s going to make in response. He doesn’t fail to deliver, and you let out a laugh before continuing your initial spiel. 

“Like I was saying, for a while this operated like a normal church. There were pastors and priests, and proceedings as normal. But before long, their operations were brought to a screeching halt.” A glance to your notes, then a somewhat nervous glance over your shoulder. “In what would unknowingly be its final year, the church was to hold a wedding. Meena Law, the daughter of two dedicated churchgoers, was to be wed on November 1st, 1899— to a man her parents chose, who was twice her age and, according to accounts of the time, quite an unsavoury character, but someone of a high standing within the church.”

“Oh yuck,” Taehyung utters, almost making you break character and smile.

“Unlike her parents, Meena wasn’t content and complicit with the rules and principles of the church. She was against the wedding from the beginning and fought it with everything she could. It was no use, however, and by the time the eve of her wedding arrived, she was desperate.”

Your thumb scrolls across your notes, and you take a breath. You’re not sure if you’re imagining it, but you think the air feels a little colder suddenly; you have to fight a shiver from rolling down your spine. “Here is where the stories diverge a little. One account says that what happened in this chapel was nothing but a tragic accident. As she walked up the aisle in her wedding dress and arrived at the altar to stand beside her would-be husband, the heavily embellished wrought-iron chandelier came loose above them and fell, crushing the two of them and the minister officiating the marriage—who happened to be head of the church at the time, Lui Fonset.”

“The chandelier is actually still over there on the floor, glass shards and rusty metal and all,” you supply, pointing your flashlight in the direction of the altar. You don’t like the way it gleams beneath the torchlight. 

“Wait, they never cleaned it up?” Taehyung joined you in shining his torch in that direction. He let out a soft noise of interest. “They just decided that’s it? They’re gonna leave it there?”

You snort. “Actually, this incident seemed to be the beginning of the end for them. Understandably, the tragedy of three deaths within their church, their head included, was quite a blow. It took a while before they gathered themselves and attempted to fix the place up.”

Taehyung shoots you a curious if somewhat confused look. “But they didn’t…?”

You shine your torch in his face to be annoying, and he levels you with a glare. The harshness of the light makes the dark brown of his irises gleam reddish-brown. You ignore the way your neck tenses as a result. 

“They didn’t,” you confirmed, “But it wasn’t for lack of trying. This church sat in disrepair for a short while, vacated and momentarily abandoned, but the remaining churchgoers returned to fix it up. No one ever managed to, though, because ever since that fatal incident, it would seem that any activities within the church walls would be met with the most unfortunate, awful luck.”

“To paraphrase an account from one of the townspeople, it was like the building had obtained a life of its own and was hellbent on fighting back against anyone that stepped on the grounds. Windows shattered right as people walked beneath them, pews fell and chunks of statues weakened at just the right times. Some people also reported hearing things, seeing things, feeling things that made them feel so uncomfortable they left and refused to return to the site.”

“Is it the ghosts of Meena and the two that died with her?” Taehyung queries, going for a quick pan of the room beyond the little entrance nook. Rotting pews lined the large space, some reduced to splinters and others weak and sagging. None were in neat order and a few of them were sprinkled with glass and stone and dust—oh, the dust.

“That’s what some say.” You shrug. “But there is another version of the events that happened here. It’s a little more interesting but since we are here tonight, I think I like it a little less.”

Your companion was curious now. “What is it?”

“The night before her wedding, Meena was desperate. So desperate, in fact, that she would have done absolutely anything to stop the marriage—and some say that, in her darkest hours that night, she was driven to do the unspeakable.” You pause, because you know that Taehyung is about to take the piss out of what you’re about to say. “Some say, that on Hallows Eve, the night before she was to be wed, Meena performed a ritual to summon a demon, and then made a deal with him to ensure that the wedding wouldn’t go through.”

Your eyes flick to Taehyung’s face but surprisingly, he doesn’t seem like he’s about to make fun of you. Instead, he seems deep in thought, staring blankly for a moment as he’s consumed by whatever is on his mind. Odd. Usually he’s well on his way to making fun of you by now. He knows you’re especially scared of demons. 

“Of course, as is usually the case in stories like these, it seems that Meena wasn’t aware of the little loophole she provided,” you say, preparing to continue before Taehyung speaks suddenly and cuts you off.

“She left it too open,” Taehyung says, shaking his head and clicking his tongue. “I mean, the wedding was stopped, but at what price? Amateur.”

“Don’t insult the ghosts,” you say, more of an automated, habitual utterance than anything at this point. “And yeah, that’s how the story goes. The unfortunate nature of her death and the despair of her last moments allegedly caused her to linger, whatever soul she had left attached to this place. It’s said that the spirits of the priest and the groom are here too—different sort of entities, apparently. People report a range of weird occurrences in this building, some antagonistic and some merely… supernatural. But they’re not the only presence rumoured to be here that gives this place such a foreboding reputation.”

Taehyung’s head tilts, before his eyes light up in realisation. “Oh, the demon? But how would he be here? Aren’t they meant to be unable to enter holy places such as this?”

For some reason, you swear you detect the slightest bit of humour in Taehyung’s tone. You raise your brows at him, but answer his question anyway. “Yeah, that’s usually the case, I guess. There are a few theories as to why a demon could enter here. First, some people propose that it’s because this was never a legitimate church. Which… I think makes a bit of sense. The second theory that floats around is that when she summoned the demon, she actually did it within the church walls. I mean, I’d think that wouldn’t work, but hey, maybe it did.”

Taehyung purses his lips in thought. “Hmm, I think it could work. Maybe it’s a big boss demon.”

You roll your eyes, locking your phone and sliding it into your pocket. “If that’s the case, I don’t wanna hear about it. I don’t need to be thinking about high level demons lingering in the halls as I walk through a haunted church, thank you very much.”

Taehyung lets out a laugh, passing you your own camera. You turn to the one currently in his hold, offering a smile that you can feel has somewhat of a nervous tinge this time around.

“Alright, lets go catch some ghosts!” you cheer, feeling like you’re painting a target on your own back, as you usually do. Taehyung nods, smiling to himself as he cuts the camera for a break before you both begin recording and venturing through the church.

“I hate this,” you murmur into the sudden silence, rubbing your arms as a wash of cold air touches your skin. “Why do we always have to film at night? Late at night? In the dark and cold?”

Taehyung snorts, stepping over and slinging an arm over your shoulder somewhat distractedly as he fiddles with settings on his camera, hand rubbing your arm. The action brings out a wave of butterflies in your stomach that you don’t even bother to quell.

“Everyone knows ghouls only come out at night,” he chuckles, flicking wavy strands out of his face. “Demons too.”

You groaned, already feeling much worse than earlier about the night ahead of you. This wasn’t going to be fun in the least for you. Before you’d entered the church, the crickets in the forestry outside had been loud, almost as though they were screaming at you to leave, attempting to ward you away (maybe you’re reading a little too much into it). In here, though, you can barely hear them. Only softly, subtly; whispers of the living world outside slipping in through the broken glass and crumbling stone. In contrast, it’s very still in here—and very cold. Probably from the stone and brick. You slip your arm around Taehyung’s waist for warmth, grinning at the way he jumps and looks to you in surprise.

“Bold of you,” Taehyung wags his eyebrows. “How am I supposed to seduce the ghosts if they think I’m taken?”

“Dirty ghostfucker,” you utter, instantly annoyed enough that you don’t feel like using him for body heat anymore. You pinch his side and withdraw, turning your camera on and moving towards the large room beyond the entrance. Taehyung laughs when you stumble over a piece of rotten wood. Great.

If you don’t end up dying in here tonight, then you just might end up killing Taehyung instead.

Taehyung fires up his cameras once more, his torchlights aiding in illuminating your path as he follows behind you. Right, on with the tour you go.

a/n: pls let me know what u think and pls heart or rb if u read and liked it!!! it helps me know how many people have interacted and enjoyed it!! 

masterlist | next⇥

[harley-style]

my eleven am brain and my friend present to you:

Cross x Geno

Me: have you considered: Geno x Cross dynamic

Friend: Oh boi Friend: I didn’t but I do now

Me: :3

Friend: I’m laughing because I’m thinking of Cross being a total bottom no matter the situation

it basically happens like this: (click Keep Reading to continue!)

during the DT experiments, Geno does something with the DT test tubes, and instead of transporting to the Anti-Void, he’s transported to the blank state of X-tale.

there, he meets cross, who is immediately wary of this new person.

geno, on the other hand, is curious of this other sans so drastically different than he is. he thought it was like, some unwritten rule that all sans must be lazy. clearly he hasn’t gotten the memo.

cross hasn’t met ink yet.

geno gets cross to explain his situation. geno is understandably upset at the humans, and is very sympathetic to geno.

geno and cross spend a lot of time together. like, theres nothing else to do. geno doesn’t know how to get back to his own timeline -- his shortcuts only work in world-space, if that makes sense.

cross gets to know geno more than anyone ever has. geno sees a new side to cross that no one has ever seen.

yes, they eventually fall for each other. geno is not that surprised, he’s not THAT much of a virgin guys, come on. he’s not new to relationships. he’s had ‘em.

cross, on the other hand, very much IS. oh boy.

as for xchara....idk, we’re still debating.

but anyway geno is the one who confesses that he would like to date cross. cross, poor bab desperate for any consistency/commitment/permanency, agrees immediately.

sets off bells in geno’s head, but he can deal, he just needs to ease cross into it

immediately geno’s made aware of how painfully naive cross is when it comes to interpersonal relationships. so geno tries to teach cross about it as best as he can -- he doesn’t force his own opinions onto cross no matter how much he wants to. just lets cross decide who he considers friend or foe.

whos more emotionally stable? technically, it’s geno. but cross is better at controlling what emotions rule him in times of crisis.

who’s physically stronger? cross, duh. geno is a lazy bum. cross is a royal guard.

who’s smarter? geno. the guy’s a genius. cross is a himbo, most definitely.

who delivers smoother pick up lines? geno again. he loves showering cross with tons of affection and making his himbo boyfriend blush is one of his favorite pastimes.

who’s sappier? cross. he’s an emotional wreck and just...he’s a crying puppy himbo, okay, please love and protect him.

who’s better at fighting? equal, but differing strengths. geno, despite his godawful stamina, enjoys playing the long game. he toys with his opponents and has a masterful control over his abilities. time in the savescreen will do that to you. cross is more driven by instinct and combative abilities. he’s extremely intuitive and his reaction time is flawless. put them in a team together? oh boy.

ink never shows up for some reason. he was supposed to.

xchara is slowly going insane because theres nothing he can do or think of that could restore xtale. the protector who possessed xgaster’s soul isn’t showing up, and the longer xchara remains in cross’ consciousness, the more xchara fades away.

but yeah, eventually xchara fades away. sorry xchara.

somehow, some way, the emptiness of x-tale starts to get to both geno and cross the same way geno does when he ends up in the anti-void that starts up the process to become error

but...it isn’t the anti-void, and geno isnt alone. cross is with him, and is just as scared.

something within the code of x-tale shifts, almost corrupting both cross and geno in the process. as a result, geno has his body physically altered. for cross, because he is one of the original inhabitants of xtale, gets a power upgrade.

cross gets the power of the overwrite. completely.

geno asks cross what he wants to do now. cross decides he wants to stop as many of the threats to the multiverse that he can, or timelines that have the potential of breaking apart like xtale did. with the power of the overwrite button, its possible. geno fully supports cross.

because of...shenanigans, geno and cross accidentally gain the titles of ‘the destroyers’ , bc in this series of events, error never came to be. the geno that was supposed to become error was subverted into an xtale timeline and snowballed from there. i know, i know, many holes, but just...let it happen. pretend ink was getting so bored of the normal aus that he decided to do the x-event with xgaster, regardless of the presence of the truce. okay? okay.

anyway, more cute stuff: geno and cross go on dates whenever they step into a new timeline. they’re just enjoying life whenever possible, you know?

[annhellsing]

Beloved

notes: more fluffy sakyo content bc that comes so easily to me, wow. rating: still teen, it’s not super suggestive. pairing: sakyo furuichi / reader word count: 1,401

“It hurt,” you say.

“You have no idea,” he replies, though you didn’t insult him by phrasing it like a question.

His back is an intricate web of faded ink in beautiful colours. A pool swirls around the feet of a geisha with eyes downcast, looking at the koi fish nipping her ankles. In her open palm is a lotus flower. 

For the moment, you only look. Touching seems more invasive than intimate, and this is the first time you’ve seen his tattoo.

It’s bigger than you thought it would be, following the entire length of his spine and stopping just below his neck. It’s hidden almost all the time, either by high-collared shirts or jackets. Sakyo hides it well, so well that you can’t help but wonder if he’s ashamed of it. It certainly wasn’t done recently.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know very much about the technique but it’s—” you cut yourself off, faltering while trying to imagine just how much pain it put him in.

“It takes forever and burns worse than anything, yeah,” he finishes for you, sounding nearer to amused than upset. He always seems to know when you’re walking on eggshells, and does his best to remind you that you’re safe around him.

“Yeah,” you parrot. “When did you get it?”

“I had to save up a little,” he hesitates, “but it was finished by the time I turned twenty-two.”

“Wow,” you reply. You don’t see him smirk. Sakyo’s got his face turned away from you, sitting comfortably on your unmade bed.

“It’s ancient is what you mean to say,” he teases. You shake your head. 

“Shut up,” you mumble, lifting your hand just a fraction. You’ve traced the lines with your eyes, now you want a little more. “Can I touch it? Can I tough you?”

“Why not?” Sakyo replies. You smile a little, and reach out.

You’re careful. And even though the ink is nearly a decade old, he still flinches when your fingers brush his back. You start at his shoulder blade, over the swirling clouds near the corner of the design. When you feel him stiffen up, you pause.

“Sorry,” he says, “it’s just been awhile.”

“Mhm,” you say, “it’s okay, baby.”

“God,” he sighs, with as much fondness as annoyance. You shift a little closer, pressing your palm to his bare back.

He’s not as inclined to flinch this time, at least. And you carefully follow the lines of his tattoo until he’s as relaxed as before you touched him. You get a little bolder when you know that he’s ready.

“Hm,” you smile, leaning forward and putting your chest to his bare back. You’re so warm. You kiss his neck and he flinches for a different reason. “My baby, isn’t that right?”

“Uh-huh,” he says, sounding dazed. “M’yours, always.”

“I love you,” you say, your lips agonizingly close to his ear. Goosebumps bloom on the back of his neck.

“Shit, I love you so much,” he exhales. Sakyo earns your soft, beautiful laugh.

“I shouldn’t overwhelm you, I’m sorry,” you say, “I’ll be careful, I know this is new for you.”

“No, it’s okay,” he’s quick to tell you, “you don’t have to be sorry, you don’t mean any harm.”

“I don’t want to hurt you, that’s all,” you say, “whether or not I mean to.”

“You couldn’t,” he replies, “just-- do what you want, whatever you want. If you’re the one doing it, then I like it.”

“You’re sweet,” you say. You kiss where his neck meets his jaw, feeling him shiver under your lips.

You move your hands slowly over his shoulders, still keeping your mouth close enough to his neck to kiss. Gently, you let your fingers wander over his muscles.

“Stop me if it hurts,” you say, “or for any other reason.”

“Okay,” he replies. He sounds sure of himself, it gives you the confidence you need to continue your downward exploration. 

Your hands wander over his shoulder blades and down his back. He’s distracted from it every so often by a soft, warm kiss pressed to the back of his neck. Sakyo waits for you to bite, or to sink your nails into his skin. It’s a reflex, but it never happens. Slowly, his shoulders relax again. He takes deeper breaths.

Far too soon, you pull away. But you’re just looking at the design again, tracing your finger over the ridge of his spine.

“You know, Sakyo—” you start.

“Huh? What?” he cuts you off, he’s not quite sure why. He misses your weight at his back, perhaps.

“She really is beautiful,” you say, your finger tracing the geisha’s left eye.

“I—” he can’t finish his sentence. He doesn’t know how. His tattoo cost more than it was worth, it serves as a permanent reminder that it’s too late to walk away from his past. Sakyo thought it was beautiful, once, but that was before he knew what it meant to have it be part of him.

“I mean it, she is,” you say. And he believes you. For whatever reason, you do think it’s pretty.

“I picked it ‘cause of my mother,” he admits with a heavy sigh. He glances over his shoulder. “It just— a samurai or an oni felt weird. I was working for her. It’s always been for her.”

“Does she know about this?” you ask.

“No, I haven’t shown it to anyone,” he replies.

“Nobody?” you continue, sidestepping his air of finality. You’ve found his stories very rarely end just because he wants them to.

“Not on purpose,” he says. You nod.

You slip your arms around him again, folding your hands over his chest and hugging him from behind. You know what you’ll find there, you’re more used to the thin-raised lines on his chest. Old wounds that have long-since healed, leaving old marks.

“And the scars?” you try. You press your cheek to his shoulder.

“She doesn’t nag me too much about them. Probably because they’re hard for her to look at,” he says. You click your tongue like you disapprove. 

“I think you’re too hard on yourself,” you say. Sakyo shrugs, though he’s careful not to disturb your hold on him.

“Keeps me humble,” he replies, so nonchalant as to be worrying. 

“They’re not hard for me to look at,” you say, but there’s no edge in your voice. Just sincerity, just the truth.

“Really, now?” he asks, caught off-guard by how easily you disagreed.

“Yes, really,” you sigh. “It’s your skin, baby. It’s skin that’s done it’s job and healed. That couldn’t be ugly.”

“You’re sappier than Arisugawa,” he teases, sounding long-suffering but still touched.

“That’s love,” you shrug this time.

“I guess so,” he says. 

“Turn a little, let me kiss you,” you continue, your hand on his shoulder urging him to listen.

He shifts, with no urge to resist when you want to lead him. It feels right, moving to face you so that you can pull him against your chest. With his tattoo no longer the focus, Sakyo feels less exposed.

You kiss him as you promised, holding the back of his head and keeping him close. It’s deeper than before, your teeth touch his lower lip and Sakyo still gets goosebumps when you carefully bite down. It doesn’t hurt, not even a bit. You do it because you know he likes that.

When you break from him to breathe, you’re smiling. Your hand comes to rest on his cheek, rubbing your thumb over his mouth to wipe away your lipstick. He’s lost in the way you look at him, with so much love it could stop his heart. What else can he do but smile too?

You hug him when his lips are mostly clean. Your palm presses to his mid-back, rubbing slow circles. He feels a little less strange about baring this part of himself to you, at the very least.

“Mm, that feels nice,” he speaks up. You’re surprised he’d admit something like that.

“Yeah? Come here,” you tell him, deciding to push your luck and move him where you want him again. You lie back on your bed, pulling him with you until he’s cuddled on your chest. Your heartbeat is loud and comforting.  “There we go.”

“Next time, I’ll be the one holding you,” he mumbles into your shoulder.

“Sure, if I let you,” you smile at him.

[connordavidscamera]

Moving In | Connor Brashier

A/n: this is the first CONcept I've made into a full fic and I'm excited to do many more. This is also the longest thing I’ve ever posted on here.

Summary: just a series of events that y/n and Connor experience whiling moving into their new home.

Warnings: fluff, and the tiniest bit of smut

Word count: 7k

***

I sigh when we get back into the car. “That’s the third house we’ve seen today, babe.”

“I know.”

“It doesn’t feel like home.”

“I know,” Connor takes my hand and places it in my lap while he rubs my knuckles with his thumb. “Just one more, okay?”

I stare down at our joined hands. “What if this one doesn’t work either?”

“Then maybe we need to stop looking for a little bit.”

I can’t help but let out a bitter laugh, “No offense, hon, but we’ve outgrown your apartment.”

“Our apartment,” he corrects. 

I roll my eyes. I know it’s technically ours, because over the past two years I have very slowly started bringing in my stuff. But until we got married just a month ago, I hadn’t moved in, not officially. And that probably sounds really weird, but I just wasn’t ready to get rid of something that was just mine - something I worked so hard to get. Connor understood that, but we did agree that once we were married, I’d move in with him officially. However, we didn’t realize just how much stuff we actually had when we put it all together and tried to fit it in his two bedroom apartment. Which is why we’re here now, house hunting because we can’t live there for much longer before we go completely crazy. 

“If it’s any consolation, I think this will be the one.”

I nod, “I hope so.”

“Hey,” he says when we roll to a halt at a stoplight.

“Hmm?” I glance over at him and he’s staring at me with those beautiful blue eyes that I don’t think have ever held anything but love. 

“You know I love you, right?”

I smile contently and lean forward to kiss his cheek. “Love you, too.”

He was right. The house is perfect. Four bedrooms, three and a half bath. Sure we don’t need all the bedrooms, but we can make a couple of them into other things. Con has always said he wanted a room to develop his photos and work on his videos. And I wouldn’t mind having an actual home office.  

“Y/n? What are you thinking, baby?” his arms encircle my waist and I fall into him. 

I nod, “It’s it, Con. This is our home.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” I say, turning in his arms, rubbing my hands up and down the backs of his arms. 

“Well I’m glad to hear you say that because I just told relator to draw up the contracts. It’s ours, baby girl.”

“It’s ours?” 

He presses a gentle kiss to my temple and holds his hand out for me, the keys in his palm. “All ours.”

---

It only took a week for us to sign the contracts and be out of the apartment. The boxes are piled high in our new living room and we’re still bringing some in. “We really should have asked the boys to help us move the stuff.”

Connor just shakes his head, bringing in what I think are the last two boxes. “They’re helping set everything up. I think we did good here by ourselves.”

I nod, looking back at him with a soft smile. “That the last of them?” I ask, gesturing to the boxes he just set by the fireplace.

“Yes ma’am.” He takes my hands and pulls me to his chest. “Now, come with me.”

“What? Where? We have to start unpacking.”

“It’ll only take a second, I promise.” He says, already pulling me to the front door. He closes it behind us and we’re both just here, standing on the porch. 

“Whatcha doing there, bub?”

He just smiles like he’s won the lottery. “I want to do something. Do you trust me?”

I narrow my eyes at him, “Not when you ask me that.”

He laughs and opens the door, but before I get to step in, he takes me in his arms, lifting me from my legs, in true bridal style. “Connor, put me down!” I beg, laughing too and wrapping my arms around his neck. He kicks the door open so we can walk in, and he sets me down in the middle of the living room. 

“Sweetheart,” he whispers into my ear, arms around my waist, chin resting on my shoulder. 

“Yes?” I look back at him, a smile on my lips, hands covering his.

“Welcome home, Mrs. Brashier.”

I tilt my head up and press a kiss to his jaw. “Welcome home, Mr. Brashier. Now,” I pull away from him and walk over the one of the large piles of boxes. “Which one of these have the kitchen stuff?”

He just laughs, shaking his head at me. “The ones closest to the window.”

---

This is something that I’ve only ever heard people talk about, but I never thought it would be something that I got to experience. Connor and I are sitting on the floor in our living room, eating Chinese take-out, with paint samples between us.

“Ew, no. Why would we paint our bedroom yellow?” Connor says around a mouth full of egg roll.

“Chew with your mouth closed!” I scold, taking a piece of chicken from his container. “Okay, no yellow. What about red?”

“No way.”

“Why not? You like red.”

“Yes, but not for a bedroom. Red’s an angry color. Do you really want to go into a red room when we’re mad? It’ll make it worse.”

“Oh, so you believe in the subconscious effect that colors have on a person? That’s new.”

He rolled his eyes, popping a piece of broccoli in his mouth. “I’m just saying.”

“Fine. But since we’re talking about the feelings that colors give us, yellow is a happy color.”

“Yellow is also really bright. You won’t get to sleep in on the weekends like you love to do.”

I groan, “Okay, smarty pants. Then what do you think?”

“How about grey?” He sets his container down, “Can you had me a napkin?” 

“What kind of grey?” I put the stack of napkins between us and sift through the samples at our feet. “Like a light one? Or darker?”

“Lighter. Kinda like that one shirt you wear that I really like.”

I can’t help but laugh. “You like a lot of shirts, honey. Be more specific.”

“You know the one! You wore it on our first date. It’s not quite medium grey, but it’s not super light either. Kinda grainy. You wore it like two weeks ago. It has that small tear at the hem.”

“How do you remember what I was wearing on our first date?” I ask, amazed by his memory.

“That’s what you got from this? I was explaining the color I liked! Pay attention, dodo bird!” he shoves my shoulder lightly. 

“Okay, but you weren’t explaining the color, you were explaining the shirt. Which, by the way, gives you extra good husband points.”

“There’s points? What’s the prize?”

“Anything you want,” I say, looking him in the eyes, making sure he knew I meant it.

“Anything?” he smirks.

“Within reason,” I answer, looking back down at the colors. “Like this one?” I point to a color that’s not quite medium, but not quite white, either. 

“Yeah, like that. I like that a lot actually.”

“Then it’s decided. This will be the bedroom. Now everything else.” I let out an exasperated sigh. 

“Well, we don’t have to do everything now. We can leave some things the way they are and come back to them later. Like this room. Do we really have to paint it?”

I look around and scrunch up my nose. “No, I guess not.”

“I do, however,” he picks up his glass of water and takes a sip before continuing to speak, “have an idea for that wall.” He points to one that holds the large window in the middle of it. 

“Oh?”

“Yeah, but I want to keep it a surprise for a little bit.”

“What? No! You can’t do that. What if I don’t like it?”

“You’ll like it,” he nods. “Now, I think it’s time we celebrated.”

“Celebrate what?” I look up at him from where he’s now standing. 

“Um… hello? Are you new here? We just moved into our house.”

“Well, I mean, we’re not technically moved in. Our stuff is just here.”

He groans and squats down, taking my face in his hands. His wedding ring, cool to the touch, rests on the side of my jaw. Connor presses a gentle chaste kiss to my lips, but doesn’t release me just yet. “You’re a handful, Brashier. You know that?”

“That’s why you have two hands, love.” I press a kiss to the tip of his nose and neither of us can pull back without a smile. 

---

I don’t think the intention was to go through an entire bottle and a half of wine in just once sitting, but I mean, that’s what we did. And that’s how we ended up making horrible dance routines to Nice to Meet Ya, and sending awful videos of us singing If I Can’t Have You to Shawn. And how we’re here, right now, in the middle of the room, heads resting on one another’s as we sway to Perfect. (Is that the most cheesy thing you’ve ever heard? Yeah, well it’s cheesy for us too. But the song holds a special place in both of our hearts. We consider it one of our songs - we have too many to count, really - because when we went on our first road trip together, this song was playing on practically every radio station every five minutes. We couldn’t escape it. It was almost comical, but it’s, ironically, one of our favorites now.)

“Listening to our favorite song, I have faith in what I see,” he mumbled into my hair. “Now I know I have met an angel in person and she looks perfect.”

“I don’t deserve this. You look perfect tonight.”

“Can we get really sappy for a minute?” He asks when the song comes to an end. 

“Sappier than Ed?”

“Just a little,” he holds his thumb and forefinger close together. 

I smile at the goofy man in front of me, “Sure, blue eyes. Go ahead.”

He picks my phone  up from one of the boxes and types in my password. I yawn as I watch him type something out and then set my phone back down when he’s found the song he wants. 

Elvis fills the room and I immediately feel my face turn red. “May I have this dance, my lady?”

“You may,” I give him my hand and we’re once again swaying to the music. 

“But I can’t help falling in love with you,” we sing in unison.

“Shall I stay?” he starts.

“Would it be a sin?” I respond, pressing a kiss to his chest.

“If I can’t help falling in love with you?” Connor picks my chin up and presses a feather-like kiss to my lips and I feel like I’m floating. Even after all this time, he still knows just how to sweep me off my feet. He knows how to make each kiss feel like the first, make each stare feel just as intense as when he’s trying to get me in bed with him. And the stare that he’s giving me now? Yeah, it’s doing exactly what he’s wanting it to. 

---

“Con, do we have a ladder?” I ask, standing on my tip toes, trying to get the paint as high as I could, which wasn’t high enough. 

“No, but I can have Brian bring one over later. Why?”

“Well, I mean,” I look up at the wall, “Unless you like the wall being only three fourths painted, I think we might need one.” I laugh, but he doesn’t look as amused. 

“Okay, smart ass. I’ll tell him to bring one.”

So, starting on opposite ends of the same wall was not our brightest idea, because when we meet in the middle, we’re nudging each other, trying to get our sides. The logical thing to do would be to have one of us just finish off the wall ad have the other start another wall, but clearly we’re not logical.  

“Y/n, move.”

“No, you. I’m trying to get my side.”

“And what do you think I’m doing? Standing here just to look pretty?”

I roll my eyes, “Fuck off, Brashier. You give me a headache.”

“I give you a headache? Since when?” 

“Since forever. This isn’t news. Now, scoot over.”

“Hmm,” he pouts and turns around, giving me the space I need to finish my part of the wall - well, what I could without the ladder. 

“Y/n.”

“What?” I ask, turning to face him and I’m struck with something wet on my cheek and nose.  I gasp. “Connor!” 

“There, now the paint fumes can be the reason for your headache instead of me.”

“Oh, you’re gonna get it.”

“Yeah -” he’s cut off when I take my rolling brush over his full face. “Right,” he finishes, wiping some of the paint out of his eyes. “Okay, I see how it is. I hope you know what you’ve started, love.”

“I didn’t start anything, you did. I just finished it.”

“Is that right? Well it’s funny that you think that because,” he swipes his brush over my shirt, but I just laugh. “Ha, this is your shirt, loser!”

“Damn it!” he curses and I smile triumphantly, and turn back to the task at hand and start painting again. I’m on my tip toes, stretching as far as I can to get as close to the trim as possible when I feel a sharp tap on my ass. 

“Ow, what the fuck?!” I laugh a little, bending over slightly in pain. “That stings, dickhead!”

“Sorry honey, but,” he holds his hand up, revealing a grey palm, “had to get you back somehow. And those shorts aren’t mine.” he smirks. 

I groan, “I’m going to kill you.”

“I’d love to see you try, sweetheart.” And that’s how the paint war starts. We’re throwing it at each other by the handful. And now there is definitely more paint on us and on the tarp we threw over the floor than there is on the walls. We’re both laying on our backs, giggling messes. 

“Hey, look at me,” Connor said softly.

I do and his eyes look even bluer with the grey covering his beautiful face. “Yes?”

“Let me take some of this off you.” he mumbles and reaches out for my face, wiping gently at my skin with his thumbs, but it does nothing other than smear what’s already there. He laughs, “I don’t think this is working.”

I can’t help but laugh too, “You think? Your hands are covered in paint.” We’re practically hysterical, laughing so hard our stomachs hurt and our jaws ache, and we’re coughing. We look like two absolute messes and I wouldn’t want it to be any other way. And when we’re finally able to control ourselves, I roll closer to my boy and his arms instinctively open, ready for me to curl into his side. 

“What the hell happened here?” Brian’s voice startles us minutes later and we pull away from our cuddled position, looking up at our friend.

“Oh, hey.” I say, stifling a laugh. 

“‘Oh, hey?’ That’s it? That’s all you have to say? Why are you two covered in paint? What, did you bathe in it? It’s in your hair!”

“We may have gotten a little carried away,” Connor admitted. “Hey, did you bring that ladder?”

“Yeah, it’s downstairs. But we’ll get to that in a minute. Let’s focus here. Why are you covered in paint?”

“He started it-”

“She started it-” 

We say together, pointing accusingly at each other. 

“I don’t care who started it. Do you realize the mess you’ve made? Look at yourselves. You’re covered head to toe. And the floor! Thank god you put something down. There’s more paint on you and the floor than there is on the walls. And you,” he stepped farther into the room and scoffed, “And you still have two other walls to do? What on earth were you thinking? Do you know that paint is expensive?”

“Are you paying?” Connor challenged. 

“No, but you literally just moved in. You have bigger things to worry about than adding paint to your next shopping list.”

“Oh quit being a fun sucker. You’re just mad that you weren’t in on it.”

“Damn right I am! How dare you do this without me?!”

Connor and I exchange a look. “You’re right, Bri,” I stand up, suddenly very aware of just how covered I was. Con really got me good. “And we are so sorry that we didn’t invite you. Can we make it up to you?”

“Well…” he taps his chin and looks up which gives us the chance we need. Connor and I lunge for him, wrapping ourselves around him, covering him in paint too. “Hey, no. Fuck you guys! This is my favorite shirt!” he exclaims.

“It’s plain white, dubass!” Connor shoves his shoulder. “Buy another one.”

---

“I think that’s the last of it, sweetheart.” Connor says, placing his freshly fluffed pillow on his side. 

I flatten out the rug at the foot of the bed and smile fondly at the room. “It looks good, don’t you think?” I ask, glancing around the room. 

“Mhmm…” he hums, his arms wrapping around my waist. “But you look better.”

“Oh yes,” I mutter. “I’m sure my matted hair and sweat are a huge turn on for you, huh?”

“Well that’s how I leave every night, isn’t it?” He muses, running soft kisses down the side of my neck, to my shoulder, where his teeth sink into my skin. 

I can’t stop the moan that escapes my throat and he takes that as encouragement, moving the straps of my tank top to give himself even more access. “Con,” I say, turning in his arms, my hands flying to his hair. “We have to… work on… the bathroom,” I mumble against his lips.

“Later,” he growls. “Wanna love on you for a little bit.”

“But-”

“Baby, I’m doing some of my best work here, you can't just talk through it.”

“Best work, huh? I think you’ve done better.”

“Oh, I have? Well I guess we’re just gonna have to make this my best work then.”

“I’d love to see you try, bub.”

“Don’t challenge me, baby girl.” his hands sneak up my shirt, and back down, sending shivers down my spine as they come back down and he pops the button of my jeans. 

“Oh, an eager boy, are we?” I tease. 

His hand easily slips down my pants and I gasp. He smirks, “And I’m eager?” his lips graze my ear as he rubs me through my panties, causing my eyes to flutter shut.

“Yeah yeah,” I roll my eyes and pull him back to my lips. “Just keep your promise, okay?”

“I am a man of my word.” Before I know it, he has me on my back on our freshly made bed. But I’m enjoying his lips on my skin too much to worry about that right now. “Okay,” he says, pulling back from my heat where I so desperately need him. “I know I’m kind of busy here, but this rug is really comfortable.”

I laugh, covering my face, “Glad to hear it, now could you?”

“Right, sorry,” he wraps his arms around my thighs and buries his head between them once again. He’s sucking and slurping, while I fill the room with lengthy moans and heavy breaths. “Hmm… so wet for me,” he utters, kissing down my folds. 

“Jesus, Connor. More.”

“What do you want, sweetheart?” His lips leave a wet trail down the inside of my thigh and I can't help but whimper when his teeth sink into the sensitive skin. He kisses his way back up and I squirm at the feeling of his lips circling my clit. “Fuck.”

“Use your words, y/n. What do you want?"

“Fingers, Connor. Please. I need you.”

“That’s my girl,” he smirks against me as one finger slips inside, soon followed by another. Let’s just say I don’t last too long after that.

---

“Are we sure this is a good idea?” I ask my husband, fixing the covers on the bed. 

“I mean, what’s the worst that could happen?”

“They could never leave.”

He hums, “Good point. But like, they’d have to eventually. I mean, hello! Shaw’s literally always touring. He’ll be here two days and be back on the road. 

“And Brian?” I cross my arms over my chest. 

He sighs and nods, “Yeah, we might have to kick him out.”

“We’re not giving them a key, right?”

“No, of course not,” he says all too quickly. 

“You already gave them one, didn’t you.”

“No…”

“Connor David!”

“I’m sorry! But I told them that it was just for emergencies.”

“A broken nail is an emergency in their eyes.”

“Oh, don’t be dramatic. It is no-”

“Y/n? Connor? Are you here? I stubbed my toe on the way up the steps. I think it’s broken!” Shawn’s voice rings from downstairs. 

“It’s not broken, he’s a big baby!” Brian comes trailing behind him and I give Connor a pointed look.

“Oops?” he chuckles and we make our way out of the room, closing the door behind us.

“Brashier!” Brian yells.

“What?” we answer in unison and then stop for a second, staring at each other with big dopey grins. 

“We’ve never done that before. Answered to the same name.”

I push his hair out of his eyes, “I know.”

“I like that.”

“Me too.”

“What so you can answer us, but not help with my broken toe?” Shawn says, dramatically limping up the stairs. 

“It’s not broken,” we all respond. 

“It could be!” 

“And if it is, that’s your fault for being so goddamn clumsy.”

“But-”

“What are you doing here anyway?”

“Were you not listening? I broke my toe!”

“Yes, we heard. On our porch steps. So what are you doing here?”

He pouts and looks down at his feet. “We missed you guys.”

Connor laughs, and I try my best to stifle mine, but fail miserably.

“Hey! I’m serious. The hotel room is boring!”

“Oh, Shawn,” I step forward and wrap my arms around his torso. “I’m sorry. You’re welcome here anytime. You know that.” I look up at him and he presses a kiss to my nose. 

“Glad you mention that. Can I stay the night?”

“What?” Connor says, pulling me back to his chest, keeping his fingers tangled in my belt loops. 

“Come on, the hotel sucks! There’s nothing to do!”

“Get a stripper,” he suggests.

“Now why would I hire a stripper when y/n would do it for free?"

“Hey, watch your step, Mendes. That's my wife. I will kill you if I have to.”

I slap Con’s arm, “Bub, stop.” I turn my attention back to our friends. “Yes, Shawn. You can stay the night. But I’m not stripping. I’m off duty today.”

“Oh, but if Connor asked you’d be all for it, right?” Brian teased.

“Well obviously, he’s my husband.”

Connor pinched my side, pressing a kiss to my temple. “I want a stripper tonight,” he mutters teasingly into my ear.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“Okay, we’ll get back to that grossness later, but if Shawn’s staying, I want to stay too.”

I know Connor’s rolling his eyes behind me. “Of course you do.”

“Guess we better show them, bub.”

“But it’s still not done.”

“I know, but if they’re staying the night, we might as well.”

“Show us what?”

“The guest room. We designed it specifically for moments like this.” I slide out of Connor’s arms and take a hand of both boys in front of us. “Follow me.” I take them to the end of the hall and face them when we reach the door. “Now, there’s still quite a bit that needs to be done with it, but I think it’ll work for now. Bub, can you open the door?”

“Yeah,” He nods and steps around us, turning the knob, revealing the only half done room to the boys.

“Are those?” Shawn started.

“Bunk beds?” Brian finished with a goofy grin.

Connor chuckles. “We figured if you’re staying here at the same time, you wouldn’t want to sleep in the same bed.”

We watch them exchange a glance and then they’re hurtling themselves toward the beds. “I call top bunk!” Shawn exclaims.

“Why so you can hit your head every time you sit up, you fucking giant. No way! I get top bunk.”

“With the way you toss and turn? No way. You’ll wiggle the bed from its screws and it’ll fall on top of me!”

“Fuck off, Shawn! I don’t even move that much.”

“Yes you do!”

“Should we leave them to fight over this?” Connor whispers into my ear, taking my left hand in his. I nod against his chest. 

“Do we trust them not to break anything?”

“I think it’ll be fine. Besides, I have a surprise for you.”

“For me?” I ask, intrigued. “What could you possibly have to give me.”

“It’s not necessarily something I’m giving you. It’s something I’m showing you.”

“Okay?” I follow him down the hall, the boys bickering still audible from the steps - and from the living room, where Connor has a large sheet covering the wall with the window. “So, I know you’ve been curious about this for a few weeks now.”

“Well obviously, you’ve been covering a big part of our living room, making it impossible for me to hang the curtains-” I go to point to the box that had been sitting by the fireplace, but is no longer there. I furrow my brows, “Did you move them?”

“No, just hung them up.”

“Is that my surprise?” I raise an eyebrow.

“Nope. Close your eyes.”

“But-”

“Close. Them.”

I sigh and do as instructed. “They’re closed.”

“Good. Now keep them that way until I say so.”

“Fine,” I cross my arms over my chest. I hear the rustling of the sheet and a soft thud as it hits the ground. The light from outside shines even through my closed lids. 

“Okay,” he says, his voice coming from behind me now. “Open them.”

I open only one eye, but they quickly both go wide when I see the wall in front of me, covered in black and white photos, the perfect contract to the red walls that Connor finally agreed on - after much coercion. (Well, really all it took was one blowjob and he was putty in my hands, but, hey, whose business is that… but if it’s that easy to get him to agree to a paint color, I wonder what else that can get me.) If my eyes aren’t deceiving me, they’re all of us. Past to present - the most recent being one of our wedding photos. I walk closer to the photos, noticing that not a single one of them repeats. I cover my face, feeling the tears start to well in my eyes. 

“Well? Do you like it?” He asks, hopefully, when I turn back to face him.

I sniffle, wiping at my tears and then I’m in his arms, holding onto him for dear life. “You are…” another sniffle. “You are incredible. I love it,” I pull away just enough to see his face and he removes his arms from my waist, his hands coming to my face, the pads of his thumbs swiping at my still falling tears. “And I love you. So much.”

He smiles, kissing my, no doubt, red nose. “I love you too, y/n/n.”

---

“Tell me again why we’re making a blanket fort,” I said, standing at the end of the stairs, holding a few more pillows.

“Because it’s fun. And also the only way to watch a movie decently,” Brian crawls out from under the blanket he and Shawn just threw over the couch and lamp. “Oh good, you got the pillows.”

“Where’s Connor?” I ask, looking around, not seeing or hearing my husband in the room. 

“Under here, love. Hey, do we have an extension cord somewhere?”

“Maybe in the garage. Why?”

“The lights don’t reach from here.”

“What lights?”

“I took the Christmas lights from the box in the closet. It was too dark under here.”

“Babe, just use the lamps.”

“One of the bulbs is out.”

“We have more.”

“Yeah, but they’re in a box somewhere and I didn’t feel like looking for them.”

“Connor, if those lights catch the blankets on fire, you’re sleeping on the couch for the rest of your life.”

He sighs, coming out from under the too big fort that’s taken over our living room. “Fine, I’ll find the bulbs.” He grumbles, the lights trailing behind him as he walks down the hall to the garage. 

I shake my head, “I love you,” I call out when the door opens. 

“I love you more!” he yells back. 

“Okay, so I ordered the pizza and wings. They should be here in thirty minutes.”

“I found the bulbs!” Connor says, rushing in and placing a kiss to my cheek before disappearing under the blankets again. 

“Why are you running?”

“I think I heard something move in the garage.” “Connor!” I exclaim.

“Dang, how often do you do that?” Brian teases, nudging my side. 

“Craigen, I swear to god, I will fight you.”

“Oh, hush. I’m just teasing.” He kisses my other cheek and follows behind Connor with the pillows I was holding. 

“So, what are y/n and I supposed to do?”

“Just stand there and look pretty, I guess. You’re good at that,” Brian grumbles. 

“Well,” I sit on one of the steps, patting the spot next to me, “I’m not one for standing.”

Shawn smiles and sits next to me. “Well, since they’re setting up, we should pick a movie.” 

"I think it should be an Alessia night."

Shawn tilts his head to the side, giving me a funny look. "You know she doesn't act, right?"

"Obviously! I mean, we should watch movies with her songs in them. Everything Everything, Moana, After."

"Fuck, yes! Let's watch Moana!" Brian stumbles out from his spot in the fort.

"As long as it's not Everything Everything, I'm down for whatever." Connor says, coming over to us and resting his chin on the banister. 

"Why doesn't he want to watch it?"

"You want me to watch my girl drool over some guy that isn't me for an hour and a half? No thank you."

"What?" Shawn chuckles and I roll my eyes.

"Hubby, here, thinks I have a thing for Nick Robinson."

"And why would he think that?" Brian asks.

"Because I have a thing for Nick Robinson," I answer like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"See! So, no. We won't watch it."

The movie is just about to start when the doorbell rings. "Must be the pizza. I got it." Shawn crawls to the opening of the fort and Brian follows after him.

"I'll get the plates and napkins." 

"Ah," Connor wraps his arm around my shoulder and pulls me closer to him. "Finally, some alone time." His lips dance over my jaw and I giggle, trying to push him away. 

"Come on, love. The boys will be back any second."

"I don't care." He shakes his head, capturing my lips in a heated kiss. I hum against him, gripping the side of his shirt to keep me close. His tongue quickly finds mine and I don't know what is, but this feels like our first kiss all over again. Of course then we were sitting on the hood of his car, at the beach, watching the sun go down. "I love you," he says, out of breath as he nibbles on my bottom lip.

I stifle a moan, but I'm not sure if it's from the words or the slight pull on my lip.

"Gross, you guys can't wait until we're asleep go have at each other?" Brian groans, coming back into the fort. "Move over," he says to Connor.

"Why?"

"Because I'm not watching a movie with you two sucking face right next to me." He plops himself down, partially in both of our laps seeing as we don't move fast enough. 

“Hey, you’re boney. Get off!” I push him to the side so I can move over a little.

We make it through the movie without too many interruptions, until Shawn scoots closer to me and rests his head in my lap. He takes my hand and sets it on his head. 

“Whatcha doing there, cutie?” I ask, threading my fingers through his hair.

He hums, “Want you to play with my hair. Your nails feel nice.”

“Okay,” I shake my head, turning my attention back to the screen.

“It doesn’t feel this nice when Connor does it.”

“Um, excuse you. What do you mean it doesn’t feel nice?! I’m great at playing with your hair!” He exclaims, throwing a handful of popcorn at Shawn, who sits up, throwing some back and I immediately regret us having two separate bowls. 

“She’s gentler than you are.”

“She loves it when I play with her hair! You’re just a baby!”

“Maybe she’s just too nice to tell you that you’re too rough with it. You don’t have the nails for it. She does.”

“Baby?” He looks at me with pouty eyes. “You like when I play with your hair, right?”

I frown, “Shawn, you hurt his feelings!” I slap his arm and he winces. “Yes, love. I do.”

“Yeah, that’s great. You all have hands and shit, now can you shut up? I’m trying to watch a movie here!” Brian grumbles, curling into the blanket in his lap. 

“Wait, is it almost over?” Shawn asks after a while. “Let’s call Les.”

“What? Why?”

“Let’s sing to her! She’ll love it!” He says, already trying to connect to FaceTime. 

“Hey, Shawn. What’s up?” 

“Hi, my love!” I come into frame, smiling widely at my friend.

“Y/n! What are you guys doing?”

“Well,” I take the phone from Shawn and turn it to the side so we can get Connor and Brian in the frame too. “The boys and I are having a movie night in this very impromptu blanket fort that took them over an hour to set up. And we’re just thinking about you.”

“Missing you,” Brian corrects. “When are you coming down? Their guest room has bunk beds!”

“Bunk beds?” she laughs. “Liv! Y/n and Connor have bunk beds!”

“For us?” We hear her ask and Connor and I shake our heads. 

“Well, they’re currently occupied by these two Canadians, but once they leave, we can make room for two more.”

“Oh thank god.”

“Connor!” Liv yells, shoving her face next to Alessia’s.

“Liv!” he yells back. 

“You treating our girl well?”

“In more ways than one,” he smirks. 

“Connor!” I gasp, lunging for him. Shawn takes the opportunity to steal the phone back. 

“Oh god! Cover the camera, Shawn. They’re going at it!” Brian jokes when I straddle myself over Con’s lap. His hands firmly on my waist.

“Well am I wrong?” he raises an eyebrow, challenging me. 

I run my fingers over his perfect, pouty lips. “No, but they don’t need to know that.” He playfully bites at the tips of my fingers and I throw my head back with a soft giggle.

“Get a room!” Shawn scolds, throwing a pillow at us. 

“The whole house is our room, dick!” Connor fires back, squeezing my hips a little tighter.

“So, what are you guys watching?” Alessia asks. And before any of us can answer the ending credits roll through and her voice fills the speakers. Brian starts and we can’t stop him, so we join in. 

“I wish I could be the perfect daughter, but I come back to the water. No matter how hard I try.” He sings totally off key, and so loud, but it’s Brian, what are you gonna do?

“Every turn I take,” Shawn continues. 

“Every trail I track.” Me.

“Every path I make.” Connor.

“Every road leads back to the place I know where I cannot go.” Shawn again.

“Where I long to be,” We all sing together.

“See the light where the sky meets the sea, it calls me!” she finishes, laughing hysterically with Liv beside her, continuing the song for us.

“Why are you watching Moana?” she asks when she’s finally calmed herself down.

“We told you. We missed you.”

“We were gonna watch Everything Everything, but we’re trying to keep Connor from divorcing y/n.”

“What? Why would he-?”

“She has a thing for Nick Robinson!”

“Who doesn’t? Connor get a grip!”

“I have one,” he says, showing the camera our joined hands. “And I’d like to keep it.”

“Awe,” I rest my head on his chest. “Don’t worry,” I mumble into the smooth skin of his neck. “Nick Robinson has nothing on you.” I press a gentle kiss to the base of his throat, “I’ll prove it to you later.”

“Hmm… don't tease me.”

---

"Y/n, can you come here for a second?"

"What's wrong, love?" I finish laying out the beach chair make my way over to him, where he's cleaning out the pool.

"What is that on the floor? It's kind of grey," he points in a general direction and I squint, trying to find what he's talk about. 

"I don't see anything."

"Well look closer. Look, it's right there." He points again, his other hand on the small of my back. I sense the push before I feel it, which is how I'm able to bring him in with me.

"You're an asshole, Brashier," I splash him when we come up for air.

He pushes his hair out of his face before holding his hands out for me. "Okay. I'm sorry. But you have to admit, it was kinda funny."

"You know, this is the third outfit you've ruined this week." I wrap my legs around his waist and his hands slip under my butt.

"It’s just wet. We'll dry it."

"Mhm… and the flannel I wore yesterday? I'm pretty sure one of the buttons is under your desk, Mr. Impatient." I kiss the underside of his jaw, playing with the tufts of hair on the nape of his neck.

"That's only two, if you're counting this one. Which I don't."

"My leggings," I answer, sucking a perfectly purple mark behind his ear. "Monday night on the kitchen counter."

"Well how was I supposed to know the seam would tear that easy?" he grumbles, pushing up my shirt, his hands running over my wet skin. "But let's get out of here before I do ruin this outfit too."

After a very steamy - and that's not entirely because of the water - shower together, Connor's sitting on the bed in just his boxers and I'm slipping into one of his flannels, just in case he gets any bright ideas. And I know I've made the right decision when I turn back and see his usually bright blue eyes dark with lust.

"What's up, baby blue?"

"C'mere, baby doll."

Oh yeah, he's in a mood. But it's going to end very well for both of us. "Don't you ever get tired?" I ask, straddling his lap. 

"Of you? God, are you crazy?" His hand tails slowly from my cheek to my throat, bringing me in for a heated kiss. I moan into the kiss and his tongue slips easily into my mouth while his grip on my throat tightens a little.

"What am I calling you tonight?" I question,  when he pulls away, forehead resting on mine.

"You should know by now." 

I smirk, "Yes sir."

And that's all it takes for him to flip us over, his body hovering over me. He unbuttons the shirt, moving it to the side, exposing my torso for him. He quickly pulls my panties down and I'm surprised he doesn't tear them. 

"Fuck," he mutters against my chest when he pushes himself inside me. "Feel so good around me, doll." I reach around him, scratching at his back, but he takes my hands, and pins them above my head. "No touching."

"But-"

He pulls on my bottom lip, "are you talking back?" 

"No, sir."

"Good girl." He's working on my clit, kissing me everywhere, leaving love bites all down my torso. "You're so good for me."

"Baby, I'm close," I moan into his neck. "Cum for me, doll. Scream for me. Let the neighbors know just how good I make you feel." He says with a grunt. "Fuck, I'm close too."

"Hey, Connor, where's your - Holy shit!" The door swings open revealing our red headed friend with his hands covering his eyes. 

"Brian!" We both yell, Connor still very much on top of and inside me. "Get out!"

"I'm sorry! Fuck! I'll just," he closes the door behind him. "I'll be downstairs when you uh. Finish."

Connor laughs into my chest, but I'm mortified. "Con?"

"Yeah, love?" He says and he's no longer the dominant man he was only seconds ago. He's just Connor, my Connor. Which is why it's easy for me to say, "We're taking his key back."

He nods, "First thing I'll do when we go down there."

I whimper when I feel him pull out of me. "Guess the moment's gone, huh?" 

I shake my head, pulling him back, my back arching when he enters me again. "Finish, blue eyes. Please."

"But, Brian."

"Already knows what we're doing. He can wait."

He chuckles, "Yeah, love. He can wait." He says, slipping back into me.

Brian can't look us in the eyes when we come back down.

"So why'd you come?" I ask.

Brian shakes his head, "I can't remember. But I know why you did."

"Brian!" I cry out.

He laughs, patting Connor's shoulder. "Thought she only screamed your name, didn't you bud?"

"Haha, very funny. Yeah, we need your key."

***

I really hope you enjoyed! Like, reblog, and leave feedback!!

Tag: @sunrise-shawn @anamariel2301 @shawns-badreputation @bbellbagel @turtoix @ivegotparticulartaste @tomshufflepuff @dino-16-avocado @sleepybesson @lifeoftheparty74 @shawnssongs @luvluvxx @foreveralone19588 @shawnandconnor @5-seconds-of-mendes @emma-manuhpe @nedthegay @shawnsblue

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[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me - Chapter 49

Warning: none

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @alievans007​, @ocfairygodmother​

She sits on the edge of the front porch as she watches him work. The sun harsh and punishing as it  beats down on broad shoulders and back, wide chest and powerful arms; rivers of sweat glistening under the brilliant light. The perspiration that dampens his hair makes it look several shades darker; sides and back freshly shaved, the top growing in quickly and beginning to fall across his forehead.  Sunglasses on and barefoot, clad in only a pair of cargo shorts that sit dangerously low on his hips. Every muscle in his upper body bulging and twisting with each swing of the axe; movement easy and effortless as he chops and splinters logs from a  haphazardly stacked pile Koen had left near the fire pit. It’s a thing of beauty to observe. How that body moves and the power that inhabits it. The veins that protrude in those thick, strong forearms, the multitude of scars and tattoos that use his skin as a canvas.

Even after nearly seven years together and five children,  it’s hard NOT to lust after someone that looks like THAT.  He’s the embodiment of masculinity; brawn and immense strength, bravado and confidence without the air of cockiness. Rough skin and large callused hands and an intensity and edge that are always lingering just under the surface.  But there’s other things that make him the man he is. The compassion and the gentleness that he possesses; extraordinary patience and an ability to keep calm, cool, and collected even when the rage is beginning to build. It’s the way he’s so secure in that masculinity; never shying away from things like  braiding his little girl’s hair and daring anyone to tell him it’s not the most manly EVER. It's the ferocity behind his desire to protect what -and who he considers ‘his’; a steadfast loyalty and faithfulness that never breaks. When he loves, he loves big. He’s ‘all in; dedicating his entire heart and soul and giving nothing but fierce and unwavering devotion.

She’s the lucky one. The beneficiary of it all. Never remembering a time that someone had given that much of themselves to her; never questioning their feelings or second guessing her own. No one else had ever made her feel the things he does. Not just a mix of overwhelming and all consuming love and unbridled carnal want and need, but the feeling of being safe and secure. That knowledge that someone will do anything...stop at nothing...to protect her. Mark had only ever been interested in hurting others; dedicating himself to inflicting as much emotional and physical pain and turmoil as he could. Tyler commits himself to fixing those things; quietly -and without needing acknowledgement or praise- attempting to right another man’s wrongs.

He’s grinning as he approaches. Wiping dirty palms against the thighs of his shorts, swiping a forearm across his sweaty brow. “What are you smiling about?”

“Just admiring the scenery,” Esme says, and takes a sip from the bottle of beer in her hand. “And it’s very nice scenery.”

That grin widens, and he places a hand on either side of her, palms flat against the wood of the porch; bending down and  pressing a kiss to her forehead. “And you call me biased.”

“All the women thirsting after you are proof I’m NOT biased. Cashiers at the grocery store, moms on the playground, at the school. Millie’s teacher. I hear she’s very determined when it comes to you. That she tried picking you up at the bar the other night.”

“Who told you that?”

“Ovi. Don’t underestimate his loyalty to me. He told me she was trying to jump on your dick. And that she didn’t seem to be taking no for an answer.”

“I might have been a little harsh.”

“You? Harsh? Never.”

He smirks.

“He also told me that you were a good boy. That you behaved yourself.”

“You were worried I wouldn’t?”

“I wasn’t worried about what you’d do. Some of those women are very persuasive.”

“They can try all they want. My dick’s taken. That’s what I told her. It belongs to someone else. Yours is the only pussy it wants to be in.”

Esme’s eyes widen. “You said that? Those exact words?”

“That was loosely translated. But I did say my dick was taken and that no one other pussy can hold a candle to yours.”

“Oh God…” she lays a hand against her forehead. “...Tyler…”

“In my defence, I was pretty drunk.”

“I have no doubt in my mind that you would have still said it if you’d been sober. That’s such a Tyler thing to say.”

He shrugs. “I have absolutely zero filter left.”

“I know. Believe me, I know. You’re usually a man of few words, but when you DO talk…”

“I say what I mean, and I meant what I say.”

“Exactly. This should make trips to school very interesting, to say the least.”

“Is it wrong I’m looking forward to parent/teacher interview night? Seeing her squirm?  Wanna make out in front of her?”

“She’d probably enjoy that.”

“You like girls too. Is she your type?”

“I am going to pretend you didn’t say that. Because even if she was, I don’t cheat and I don’t share my toys. Especially my favorite one. My ALL TIME favorite. So if you’re into that kind of thing, you need a different wife.”

“Only thing...person...I’m into, is you.” He leans in and kisses her; soft and languid.

She isn’t bothered when  sweat  drips onto her from his forehead and hair, nor does she mind  the salty taste of it on his lips. And the tip of his tongue briefly brushes against her before he pulls away, chuckling when she digs her nails into the back of his neck; pressing her lips to the underside of his chin and nuzzling her nose against his throat.

“I probably stink,” he warns.

“You smell good. You smell like Tyler. And that’s the best smell in the world.”

He smiles at that, then runs a hand over her hair before pecking her cheek. “Longer we’re married, the sappier you get,” he teases, and then takes a seat beside her, grimacing at the discomfort in his back.

“I thought you said earlier I was getting cuddlier?”  She reaches behind her for a second bottle of beer, twisting off the cap before offering it to him.

“You’re getting both,” he says, accepting the beer and pressing a kiss of appreciation to her temple. It’s his first drink since they’d arrived. After getting his first taste of it after six months of sobriety, he’d thought he’d want more. That he’d NEED it. But the longing and feelings of desperation and the ghosts of dependency have settled down. It would have been easy to fall back into his old ways; faced with the multitude of booze Koen keeps scattered around the kitchen. But it hasn’t ‘called’ to him; the burdens and baggage of addiction surprisingly silent.

“Do you not know what sunscreen is?” Esme inquires, and he hisses when she presses her ice cold bottle against the back of his neck. “You’re going to be hurting tomorrow.”

“Can’t get much worse than I’m already hurting.”

She frowns. “That bad?”

He nods and takes a large swallow of beer.

“Knee? Shoulder? Back?”

“Back mostly. The other two feel pretty good for a change.”

“You need to be more careful. Once your back goes, you’re fucked. Maybe that’s what did it,” she presses the fingertips of one hand into the most troublesome spot; left side, middle of the spine, but close to the shoulder blade. Where the sniper’s bullet in Dhaka had torn into him.   “The fucking. Maybe you can’t partake in such strenuous activity anymore.”

He scowls. "You be quiet.”

“I’m just saying. You’re getting older and it would make sense if you start to slow down and your stamina starts to falter.”

“Just put a bullet in my brain. Do it. End it. Because the day I can’t do THAT…”

“What are you going to do if you ever need Viagra?” she teases, and digs her knuckles into his back.

“You know what…?”

She grins and presses a kiss to his shoulder. “What?”

“You’re not making me feel any better. I WILL shoot myself if that ever happens. The day I can’t get it up is the day I lose all will to live.”

“Don’t be such a baby. It's not the end of the world if that happens.”

“Fuck yeah it is. “

“And you question where Millie gets her dramatics from?”

“I am serious. That ever happens, I give you permission to put a gun to my head and pull the trigger. Put me out of my misery.”

“Not going to happen. You’re stuck with me. Even if you do get limp dick. I’m not letting you leave me with God knows how many grandchildren. We’re supposed to spoil them together, remember? You’re not allowed to die. I won’t let you.”

“I’m too fucking stubborn to die anyway.”

“I’m starting to think that’s true.”

She traces a fingertip over the scar left behind from the sniper’s bullet; the size of a dime and no longer raised or puckered. It’s the accompanying scar that’s worse; long and thin and jagged in some areas. Where the surgeon had to open him up and go in to locate the source of internal bleeding and repair a section of his  left lung. It would be easy to hate all those marks; all those parts of his body that have been damaged and torn apart. But they’re part of who he is. Testaments to just how strong and tenacious he is. Proof of his survival and how far he’s come.

“That one’s getting a lot better,” she remarks, as her fingers find the scar left behind from when Farhad had shot him, along with the one beside it; another surgical incision that had been needed to keep him alive. “It’s taken a long time.”

“Doesn’t bother you as much anymore.” It’s an observation. Not a question.

“Not really. I try not to think about the back story. And speaking of back…” her fingers glide over the multitude of deep, red gouges that travel both horizontally and vertically, some even overlapping. “...I wonder what happened here?”

Tyler smirks. “Gee. I wonder.”

“Sorry. I got a little carried away.”

“Just a little,” he grins, as he leans in to kiss her.  Laying  a hand on her thigh,  he gently spreads her legs and nods down at his own handiwork. “Sorry I bit you so hard.”

Esme grins. “You’re not sorry at all.”

“Actually, I’m not.”

She gives a derisive snort, then kisses his shoulder and leans into him; beer in one hand, the other resting on his lower back. “For the record, you need to unleash your inner lumberjack more. That was sexy to watch.”

“And you say I never do anything nice for you,” he chides.

“You’ve got the whole vibe going on. You’ve got the body, you’ve got the beard. Just need to get you a plaid shirt.”

“Fuck that. Look, I don’t mind fulfilling your little fantasies, but I have to draw the line somewhere. No plaid.”

“Fine,”  she huffs dramatically. “At the very least a tight white t-shirt.”

“Anyone ever tell  you you’re weird?”

“Only you. Every day. For almost seven years. You  put up with it though. I notice you stick around despite it.”

“I’d miss it too much. Your weirdness. You in general.”

She grins. “And you call me sappy?”

They lapse into a companionable silence. Nursing their beers as they enjoy the peace and quiet; no sound save for the faint rustling of the trees and bushes as the breeze passes through them. It’s unusual; not being surrounded by noise and activity. Their lives normally filled with chaos, even on the best days. And while they miss the normality of it -the kids voices, their bickering,  the baby crying- it’s a relief to get away from it for a little while. A chance to be alone together instead of having to battle for even a sliver of attention. Days often going by before they even have a normal conversation. So caught up in being parents that they’d forgotten what it was like to need each other. And Tyler drapes an arm across her shoulders and pulls her tightly against him; lips finding her temple, her hand moving to his side.

“Allison called,” Esme says, and places her now empty beer bottle beside her. “She said she couldn’t get through to your cell.”

“Battery’s dead. I haven’t bothered to charge it.”

“Disconnecting from the world. Your dream come true,” she teases.

“What did she want?”

“I had no clue what she was talking about. She said to tell you that she’ll send someone to do a thorough search and get back to you with any news.”

He nods.

“Tyler…”

“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to stress more.”

“Oh fuck me. What now?”

“It’s probably nothing. Which is another reason why I didn’t say anything. Why freak you out and then it turns out to be nothing?”

“Whatever it is, are the kids going to be okay? Should we have stayed home?”

“We made the right decision coming here,” he assures her. “We NEEDED to come here. And if it were something to worry about..if my instincts told me something was wrong...I would have been the first to cancel everything and insist we stay home.”

“So what is it? What do you have Allison looking into?”

“Millie saw something. SOMEONE. Or she thinks she did.”

“She told you that? That she saw someone? Where? Doing what?”

“She said she saw some lady going into the woods. That she yelled at this person to stop and she didn’t listen to her and kept going. I guess she told Ovi and he went and checked and didn’t find anything. Thinks it was probably just someone trying to get to the beach without going right on our property.”

“What do YOU think?”

Tyler shrugs. “I don’t know what to think. It’s easy to think the worst. Especially right now. But Ovi’s probably right. Probably nothing.”

“But you believe her? Millie? You believe she saw someone?”

“She wouldn’t lie about something like that. She even gave me a good description; pretty detailed. She’s crazy smart. Too smart for her own good. And insanely observant. It’s almost scary HOW observant she is. How keen her senses are.”

“Does that sound familiar? I told you; she’s just like you. She even has your instincts. She saw the Jeep driver; same time you did. And she’s not even six yet and she’s like that?”

“I’d be impressed...and proud...if it didn’t freak me out so much.”

“She’s YOUR daughter.  She has so much of you in her. I see more and more every day; you coming out in her. And that’s not a bad thing, Tyler. Think of all the amazing things she’ll be able to do when she’s older with skills like that.”

“That’s what scares me. What if she’s the one that follows in my footsteps?”

“I highly doubt Millie will grow up and want to be a mercenary. That girl loves her glitter way too much.”

He gives a small laugh.

“Can you imagine her with a pink Glock with a bejewelled grip? That would be Millie as a merc. Or she’d have a pink holster with Hello Kitty embroidered on it. THAT'S your daughter. She is not the one you have to worry about. My money is on Tanner. He’s flying under the radar; no one suspects him. I think he’s conning us all.”

“I never did get my fifteen bucks that he scammed me out of. Or should I say my seven fifty. Because I know full well you took the other half. You’re the one who put him up to it; don’t even try denying it. That had you written all over it. I’ve seen how you work. I saw you scam people in Dhaka. I heard you scam them in Ireland. You’re good.”

“It’s always the ones you least expect,” Esme reasons. “Us little ones are always the last ones anyone is ever suspicious about. But I’m not admitting to anything when it comes to Tanner.”

“He’s a momma’s boy. You could talk him into anything.”

“I plead the fifth.”

“That doesn’t work here. This is Australia. Not the States.”

“I’m not copping to anything. No matter how much you badger me about it.”

He grins. “I have ways you know. Ways of getting it out of you.”

“What are you going to do? Waterboard me? Go all Guantanamo Bay on my ass?”

“A lie detector test. A very accurate one.”

“Oh really…” her eyes playfully sparkle. “...what lie detector test?”

“It’s my own. I made it up. I developed it.”

“Sure you did…”

“All I have to do…” he leans into her, pressing a series of kisses along the left side of her neck  and across her shoulder. “...is this…” he slides a hand up the leg of her shorts, then splays his finger; one coming in contact with the crotch of her panties, the other with the back.   “...one finger here...one finger there…and…” he bites down on the sensitive spot between her neck and her shoulder.

She’s laughing  as she pushes him away. “You dick! That hurt!”

“I WAS going to do this…” he removes his hand from her shorts and grabs at her inner thing.

“Ow!” She yells, then dissolves into giggles and collapses onto her back as his fingers dig and pinch and aggressively tickle. “Tyler! You shit head! Stop! You’re going to make me pee my pants! Don’t be such an asshole!”

“You gonna admit to it?” His hand hand slides down to her knee, then back up again; passing over the crotch of her pants before settling on her stomach. “That you had something to do with it?”

“Never,” she declares. “You can’t get it out of me. You’ll never make me crack.”

“Oh, I can. And I will. You’re not the only one with special skills.”  He pulls up the bottom of her tank top, mouth warm and moist against as he licks a path just above the waistband of her shorts.

“Fuck you and your special skills,” she playfully retorts, and then squeals when he sinks his teeth into the flesh at the bottom of her right ribs. “What is wrong with you?! I’m going to have marks everywhere!”

“You mean like my back?”

“I have to mark what’s mine. My territory. And your ribs are pretty torn up, too. Sorry.”

“It’s a small price to pay,” he says, and then leans to kiss her. “Hungry?”

“Mmm...hmmm…” she arches her back and presses her hips against him.

“I meant for food. And you have the nerve to call me ‘extra’ when it comes to sex lately.”

“I can’t help it. I can’t help that my husband is insanely sexy and turns me on when he so as much looks at me.  I should have married someone uglier.”

“Maybe you should have worked with Gaspar,” he teases. “Doesn’t get much uglier than that.”

“I would have throat punched him for sure. Or killed him. He was too fucking creepy and way too fucking psychotic. That story you told me? About shooting the doves? That was fucked. Doves. Of all birds. Like the hell? I can’t believe you were ever friends with that guy. You’re nothing alike. What did you ever bond over?”

“Killing people.”

“Well THAT’S healthy.”

“Drinking. I was drunk most of the time I was around him. So I wasn’t the best judge of character. Are you hungry or not?”

She nods. “I could eat.”

“We’ll cook something out here. On the fire. Sound good?”

She nods. “I’ll whip up some sides. I have to make sure you keep the tank full. I don’t want to wear you out.”

“You can try, but you never will.”

“You’ve got five years on me,” she reminds him. “I’m still a youngin' compared to you. Pretty soon people are going to start thinking you’re my father.”

“Fuck you. I don’t look THAT old.”

“Older brother, then.”

He frowns. “That’s some Jerry Springer shit.”

“An American reference! After six and a half years of being married to me, you finally used an American reference. ‘I’m so proud of you, Tyler James.”

“You know…” his fingers pull down the bottom of her tank. “You’re lucky I love you.”

She smiles and lifts her head to kiss him. “Yes, I am.”

“I’m going to go and take a shower. Wanna come with?”

“What? You need me to scrub your back?”

A sly grin spreads across his face. “Among other things.”

****

With the sun down, the temperature has dropped considerably; breeze stronger, the cooler air trapped by the mountains surrounding them. After a dinner prepared over open flame, they lounge by the fire; nothing more than a blanket spread on the ground, his legs outstretched as she sits between them with her back pressed against his chest. One of her hands in possession of a glass of wine -the now half empty bottle sitting beside her- and the other resting on the forearm he has laying across her collarbone.  He’s only on his second beer of the day; still three quarters full and in no rush to finish it. It’s a good sign. He won’t be tempted to get heavily back into it in Mumbai; able to be fully engrossed and focused on the job at hand. There’s too much to lose; his entire existence, his whole world. There will be no second chances if he fucks up; he can’t afford to make any mistakes when it's his own family involved.

He’d promised himself he wouldn’t think about it. Mumbai. Mahajan and all his threats. He’d told himself he’d push them all onto the back burner; he’d think of nothing but their time away together. That he’d concentrate on nothing...no one...other than her and the reconnecting that they’re so badly in need of. But when nighttime settles, the dark thoughts always return. It’s when he’s most anxious. When things are quiet and still and he suddenly has time to think; both mind and hands idle. And now he can’t stop dwelling on it. On how he leaves for India in nine days time and whether or not he’s making the right decision when it comes to the people he’s taking along. Questioning whether it’s better to have a solid and structured game plan ahead of time, or if he should just let things fall into place once he gets there; go in with nothing but that list of names and decide there and then how to dispose of them.  Does he have all his ‘ducks in row’ at home; up to date life insurance policy, recent version of a will, an intricately carved out -and written out- plan on what Esme’s to do if he DOESN’T make it back? So engrossed with all the thoughts of doom and gloom, that he hadn’t even realized she was speaking to him until he feels her hand on the side of his face; that simple contact snapping him out of it, eyes not focusing on that concerned face looking at him.

“Are you alright?” she asks, and even in the glow of the campfire he can see the glassiness of her eyes and the flush to her cheeks; side effects of all the wine she’s consumed. It’s been months since she’d indulged in even a drop; cutting it out entirely once she found out she was pregnant with Addie.  And the return to it is hitting her hard and fast.

“Yeah,” Tyler gives a reassuring smile. “I’m fine.”

“Did you even hear what I said?”

He shakes his head.

“What were you thinking about? You looked really intense there for a minute. Like you were going to rip someone’s head off.”

“I must have zoned out. Wasn’t really thinking about anything. What did you say?”

“I asked if you heard back from Allison. About that woman Millie saw.”

“My phone’s inside. Charging. She’ll leave a message. Or call yours.”

“I haven't had a signal for hours.”

“That’s not a bad thing,” he says, pressing a kiss to her cheek before she turns back around. “No one can bother us. Isn’t that what we want? Just get away from everything? Everyone?”

“We do have five kids at home,” she reminds him. “Someone should be able to get a hold of us if there’s an emergency.”

“Everything will be fine. No emergencies.”

“And this thing with the woman? The one Millie thinks she saw?”

“She definitely saw her. Just like she saw that guy in the Jeep. She didn’t imagine it and she’s definitely not making it up. Her description was too good and she’s adamant that she saw this person. Even got pissed when the boys suggested she was imagining things. There’s no doubt in my mind that she saw someone.”

“Do you think it’s something to worry about?”

“If I did, we wouldn’t be here right now and you know that.”

“I DO know that. I know you’d stop at nothing to keep them safe...to keep us ALL safe...if you thought there was a legitimate threat. It just sucks that we even think about things like this.”

“Yeah, it does. But that’s what you get for getting mixed up with me.”

“Don’t start. I knew what I was getting into it. I knew what kind of life you were living and all the toes you’d stepped on along the way. It didn’t matter to me. I just wanted to be with you.  I can handle whatever comes with it. With you.”

“YOU can. But what about our kids? We probably should have thought about that beforehand.”

“It was too late to think about anything. Millie was on her way; whether we were prepared or not. And regardless of what you did...what you DO...for a living, you deserve to have a life. You deserve to be happy and be surrounded by people who love you and need you and want you around. I know you don’t think you deserve all of that, but you do. More than anyone else deserves it.”

Smiling, he presses a kiss to her temples and then takes a swallow of beer.

“And I know you sometimes think it's selfish; for getting married and having kids and bringing all of us into a life like this. But it’s not. You’re not a selfish person, Tyler. You’re selfless, if anything. You always have been.”

“You think pretty highly of me,” he teases.

“I do. I’m pretty fond of you, actually. I’m going to keep you. My life would suck if you weren’t  in it.  Do you remember our old apartment?”

“Just outside of Sydney. Yep. How could I forget that place? First time I’d lived with someone in five years. If you can call it living with someone; I was only there on weekends when I was allowed home from the rehab place.”

“I kind of miss that apartment,” she muses. “It wasn’t much, but it was ours. Even if we had to sleep on a mattress on the floor for six months. We didn’t have a lot, but we were happy there. YOU were happy. Even when you were in all that pain and you were exhausted and frustrated with all the therapies and the progress you didn’t think you were making. You never once bitched or moaned or felt sorry for yourself. You were never miserable. You were just happy.”

“You’re saying I’m not happy now?”

“No. I know you are. I see it every time you’re with your kids. It’s just that you were going through so much...you’d just BEEN through so much...and you never let it break you.”

“I couldn’t let it break me. I had you. We had a baby on the way. You both needed me. I HAD to keep going. For the two of you.”

“Remember the first night we brought Millie home? And she cried. A lot.”

“She cried all night,” Tyler recalls. “So did you. I think you cried more than she did. I had two crying women to deal with.”

“I was so frustrated and exhausted and depressed and scared. I was terrified of being a shitty mom. And you were so good with her. With both of us. I remember how you walked the apartment with her for hours. Just holding er and rubbing her back and talking to her; your voice was so soft and so calm and you were so patient. I watched you with her and I swear I’d never seen anything more beautiful. You with a baby. OUR baby. I didn’t think I could love any more than I already did, and then I watched you being a dad.”

He brushes the tip of his nose against her ear, then kisses it. “How drunk are you?”

“I’m not drunk. I’m sentimental. I can’t help it. Being here with you...ALONE with you...it has me all up in my feels. We’ve never gotten this; this time together. Even when we were in Ireland, it was never about us. It was about the job. This is the first time in nearly seven years where it’s just me and you. And I like it. Being this way with you.”

“So do I. We needed this.”

“We did,” she agrees. “Sometimes it feels as if we don’t exist outside of being parents and raising kids together. Like we’ve completely forgotten about each other and what’s like to be an actual couple. Not just a mom and dad. And I’ve missed seeing you like that. As more than that.”

“I missed that too. I’ve missed you.” He presses a kiss to her temple and tightens his hold on her, forearm sliding further up onto her neck. “I’ve missed US.”

“Things are so much better now. Since we moved here. Being in Colorado was nice, but being here is better. You’re different when you’re here. You’re not as stressed; not on edge so much. You’re more relaxed. Grounded, I guess. You’re in your happy place.”

“Well it’s home,” Tyler reasons. “I just needed someone to MAKE it a home with.”

She smiles and turns her face into his, placing a kiss against the corner of his mouth. “You can be really sweet and cute, you know that?”

“Don’t you start.”

“It’s true,” she laughs, and then pecks his cheek before turning to face the fire once more. “I don’t care how much you hate hearing it. It doesn’t make you soft or weak or less of a man for being like that. Far from it. It actually makes you even more attractive.  And sexy. That you can be like this with me. That you’re not afraid to be emotional or sentimental. Or vulnerable.”

“You’re the only person I CAN be that way with.”

“I’m lucky. I get all these different sides of you that no one else gets to see. It’s like hiding this huge secret from the rest of the world. One that they’ll never, ever, figure out. You’re a mystery to everyone else. I’m the only one who really knows you.”

“Yeah,” Tyler agrees. “You are.”

“Your secret is safe with me. I promise I won’t tell anyone that you cry during Fox and the Hound and Inside Out. I know you have a reputation to uphold.”

He grins. “What reputation is that?”

“The guy that took out a whole apartment of hostiles in Dhaka. Who humiliated Amir Asif. Who took a bullet to the neck AND lived. You really ARE too stubborn to die.”

“Or I’m just lucky.”

“Maybe some of both?”

“Maybe. Or maybe it has something to do with someone putting their fingers in my neck to keep me alive AFTER I got shot.”

“I don’t want to talk about that,” Esme says. “I did what I had to do. You would have done the same thing. You wouldn't have left me on that bridge.”

“Not in a million years.”

“I almost thought you were going to leave me the first day, though. When I pissed you off in the market. You were so mad. I thought for sure you were going to dump my ass in the street somewhere. I don’t think I’ve seen you that angry since. Except for that time that weird guy followed me home from the post office because he wanted to ask me out and didn’t believe me when I told him I was married.”

“I could have killed that fucking guy.”

“You were so pissed! ” she recalls. “I thought he was going to shit his pants when you walked out of the house. He wasn’t expecting there to even be a husband, never mind one that looks like you. And then he tried to get all macho and mouthy and actually thought he could take you. You only had like six inches and fifty pounds on him.”

Tyler smirks. “Wasn’t much of a fight.”

“It was two hits. You hitting him, and him hitting the ground. My hero,” she presses a kiss to his forearm. “My knight in slightly tarnished armour.”

“Nothing I wouldn’t do for you. You know that.”

“Yeah, I do,” she smiles. “And just so you know, I’d fight a bear for you.”

“You would, would you?”

“Maybe not a black bear or a polar bear or a grizzly. And maybe not a koala because they’re sketchy as fuck. But a Care Bear. I’d fight a Care Bear for you.”

He laughs at that, and she’s giggling when she turns her face into his and kisses him. Nails digging into his forearm through the fabric of his hoodie, her tongue gentle yet insistent as it pushes its way past his lips and teeth; his hand moving up to cup her cheek. “I’ve got something for you.” he says.

“My other surprise?”

He nods.

“And this one is definitely from you? Not the kids?”

“Just from me.”

“It’s not even my birthday. Or our anniversary. And Christmas was only two months ago and we’re past Valentine’s Day. So what’s it for?”

“It’s not for anything. It's a ‘just because’ kind of surprise.”

“Just because what?”

“Just because I felt like it. And because I love you.”

She grins. “And you say you’re not sappy.”

“Here,” he digs into one of the pockets on his hoodie and pulls out a small black velvet box, offering it to her.

Her eyes narrow. “What did you do?”

“What do you mean what did I do? I didn’t do anything. I wanted to buy you something so I bought you something.”

“Just because?”

“Yep. Just because.”

“Tyler…”

“Esme…”

“What is this?”

“Just take it. It’s yours. Just open it.”

“I’m kind of scared to.”

“Why?”

“Because you’ve done something you didn’t have to do and I’m going to get all emotional and up in my feels and you hate when I get all up in my feels and ugly cry.”

He smirks. “If it happens, I’ll deal with it. Just open it.”

“Okay…” she  takes the box from him, turning her body sideways and draping both legs over his thigh. “AM I going to cry?”

“Knowing you? Probably.”

“You’re trouble. Making me cry.”

“It’ll be a good cry. I promise.”

“Alright…” she says, and then pops open the lid of the box, tears immediately glistening in her eyes; lower lip trembling as she looks from the ring nestled inside, to him, then back down again.

It isn’t over the top of outlandish; something simple and classic for a woman that’s never cared about the materialistic things in life. Who was happy in that small apartment outside of Sydney and who would have been just as happy in a shack in the outback. But the solitaire diamond sparkles brilliantly in the glow cast by the fire, as does the rose gold band it’s set in.

“You like it?” he asks.

She nods, and he presses a kiss to her forehead and uses a thumb to clear the tears off her cheeks. “It’s beautiful,” she breathes. “YOU’RE beautiful. Why…?”

“Millie asked why you didn’t have one. She said you guys watched some wedding show on tv and that all the ladies have engagement rings and why didn’t you have one?”

“She’s pretty observant that daughter of yours. Did you tell her that I never expected one or asked for one or really wanted one?”

“I told her that when we got married, we didn’t have a lot of money and you said you didn’t care about things like diamonds and fancy shit. That you were happy with just a wedding band.”

“Which is true. I’ve always been happy with just that.”

“I know. But she asked why we’d been married forever and you still didn’t have one. So I figured I better get my shit together and show my daughter that I’m not some douche that doesn’t love her mother.”

“I don’t need a ring to know you love me. You find ways to let me know you do. You didn’t have to do this.”

“I wanted to. It shouldn’t have taken me six and a half years.”

“I wouldn’t have cared if it took you sixty,” Esme says. “And it’s beautiful and it’s perfect and you’re beautiful and perfect and I don’t deserve it. Or you.”

“Now you’re just talking shit. You deserve more than that. More than me.”

“Now YOU’RE talking shit,” she counters.

“How about we don’t talk shit about ourselves,” Tyler suggests. “Here..”  he takes the box from her, setting it on his thigh and then plucking the ring from its confines. “...hand.”

She grins. “You’re so romantic. There’s the Tyler I know and love. Did you tell your daughter you asked me to marry you in the bathroom?”

“I did actually.”  He slips the ring onto her finger and then presses a kiss to the inside of her wrist. “I told her you were pregnant with her and that you were worried you were getting fat and ugly. That I thought you were the most beautiful woman in the world and I said ‘marry me’ and that was it. There was never really a question.”

“It was a very Tyler like way of asking though. And I said ‘okay’, so technically, it WAS a proposal. In our own weird way.”

“Weird seems to be our thing.”

“I prefer unconventional,” she says, then kneels between his legs. “We’re unconventional. Not weird. We’ve never been normal, per say. We started out in a very unconventional way and we’ve kept it going ever since. Maybe that’s what makes us so good together.  We don’t expect normal from each other.”

His hands settle on her hips. “Maybe.”

“I mean, I married a mercenary. That’s about as far from normal as you can get.”

“You had your chance, you know. To get away. You could have said no.”

“Your eyes and your ass were way too nice to say no to.”

He grins.

“And I don’t care what you did...or do...for a living,” she declares, his face cradled in her hands as she kisses him softly. “I would have said yes a million times over.”

[archivedsardoniicxsouks]

웃 ✍ ☂

Ask the MUN ! 

웃 :  An existing character you’ve played in the past that you miss?

Dolph Ziggler; I miss him mostly because of how developed I had him and because he was one of the first characters I played as. 

✍ :  Offer 3-5 tips on how to get other role players started on interacting with your muse(s).

Go with the flow. Plotting is wonderful and I do love it (especially for already developed ships) but sometimes that can get in the way if you’re trying to start a new ship or even begin interactions with us; it makes it so they feel more pressured to take things in a certain direction as opposed to just letting our muses figure out what the fuck they want to begin with. 

Flattery is always great; my muses love dishing out the compliments and receiving them in just about equal parts. Come in with a cheesy pick up line and they might fall in love then and there.

Send in a RANDOM as hell meme. I cannot tell you how many AMAZING friendships (with Muns) and strings/verses have come of this. 

☂ :  Spread some love: mention someone you’ve met that has influenced you or your writing in a positive way, and explain how.

This one hurt a little bit to think about. I’ve met a lot of wonderful people on here and the writing partners I’ve gotten to know more are people I’m truly grateful for. Unfortunately, as with all areas of life, I’ve lost contact (or the gods decided to put me on different paths) with some of them. My list will likely be incomplete but here goes: 

@queenofhartsxo Lovely soul, truly beautiful inside and out. I’m grateful I met you all these years ago and continued threads/verses with you. No matter how many times I deleted my account then came back around, we found our way to each other and I CANNOT STRESS how much I love that. You helped me grow my jerk of a boy, let us both cry when things got a little too real in our writing, and geeked out with me about our verse on multiple occasions. Thank you for being you. I love you. We love you guys

@space-delinquents A wonderful human being. Thank you for not only matching my crazy need for PAINFUL strings but also understanding and talking to me in a private level. I appreciate you; thank you for helping me grow and develop my broken boy

@officerxwilliams look, ngl, we’ve already spoken more than a lot of the people I’ve been RPing with for longer. Thank you for letting me develop and continue to work on my polyship verse. We’re having tons of fun exploring and hope you are too! 

@devilsfavoritediva​ A sweet soul I lost contact with a while back (probably after my second or third hiatus/reboot) but one that always made writing fun. Random strings that were truly fun to write and both of us were just along for the ride. xoxo thank you for letting us just have fun and learn to be more spontaneous!

special mention to @unfcrtunatescul @defenderofthegrove @drxtylxttlesecret @rationtheft for loving my harder to love characters and spending so many hours pouring over their lives; grouped together b/c I believe they’re inactive now (some of the ones I lost contact with)

and of course how the hell am I going to forget

@sheslegit (recycled back to this URL after how many reboots? ;) ) One of my ride or dies on here is seems like. We’ve both rebooted, dropped off the face of the earth, gone on hiatus, just straight up ghosted the entire site too many times to count. Thank you for being the wonderful, hurtful, loving, filthy human you are. I cannot even name how many ships we’ve had/tried in the past but I know I can always experiment with you and you will be willing to give it a shot. That means so much to me especially because I have terrible social anxiety so knowing that I can count on  you means everything. I love you, boo. xoxo NOw I’m going to stop because I’m about to get even sappier. 🙄🙄