#ALSO I JUST FINISHED YOUR REQUEST !

[rawbin-hsr]

Aventurine x Reader

You treat Aventurine with more respect than he deserves.

Read part 2 here !

Only barely proof-read, guaranteed to have lots of grammatical errors, English is not my first language and I am experimenting with my writing style <3

CW: smut, handjob (Aventurine receiving), dehumanisation (internal, thoughts Aventurine has of himself, referring to himself as a “monster”), feelings of inadequacy, hurt/very little comfort, crying, mentions of death, at some points this seems like dubcon because Aventurine speaks of feeling “dread”, but it’s NEVER intended to be read as him not wanting to receive touch from reader, it is meant to convey how little he thinks he deserves this. The smut is soft and gentle, but Aventurine’s internal thoughts definitely are not <3

Lmk if there’s anything else I should warn about !!

18+, minors will be blocked <3

Your touch is so kind. Soft and gentle, as if he is made of the finest porcelain, as if he is a fragile flower, as if he is delicate. It is cruel, he thinks, that he has made you think he is any less than a monster. It is cruel that he hasn’t pushed you away, when he knows he will devour you. It has become part of his nature.

But how can he push you away when you are so persistent? How can he push you away when you roll with his punches, when you go along with each and every one of his pushes and pulls? It is hard to keep you out when you insistently pry your way into what’s left of his soul, when you gaze upon the rotten corpse that he is and still claim him to be beautiful. He thinks you must be blind at best and naive at worst.

“You’re so pretty,” you whisper reverently, and though Aventurine knows his body is, he also knows that is not the part of him you’re referring to. Not when your hand rests on his chest, above the empty cavern where his heart is meant to be.

You kiss his neck and he shivers. There’s a pit in his stomach, knotting his insides with dread.

He should tell you to stop, should warn you that he’s deceiving you, that he’s not the person you think he is. Should show you that he is a wolf in sheep’s clothing, that he is a bad omen. But he can’t bring himself to. Not when being with you feels so good, not when he’s self-indulgent to a fault, and he can’t help himself with you. He is the worst mistake you could ever make, in part because he can’t even stop from letting you continue to make it.

His hands rest on the back of your neck, fingers tangled in your hair. It is unfair how good your touch feels, his back arching just from mere caresses upon his skin. You play him like he’s an instrument you’ve practiced for years, despite never having fucked him before. He digs his heels into your back as your hand wraps around his dick, and he whines into your shoulder when you lovingly stroke it.

“I love you,” you murmur as he pulls on your hair, as his nails dig into your skin, and he wants to cry. He will destroy you from the inside out, he knows, or maybe he will kill you before he gets the chance to. He can never keep the things he loves alive.

Your lips kiss his skin, and he moans brokenly as your thumb glides over the head of his cock, pushing down on the tip. His hips rock up to meet your hand, and he feels ashamed of how blatantly he allows himself to enjoy you, how blatantly he allows himself to use you. You deserve so much better, but you are the best thing that he has ever managed to get his bloodstained hands on, and so he can’t help himself. He wants you to remain unaware of how much better you could do. He wants you to stubbornly remain by his side even when he makes it hard for you to do so. He wants to bare every part of his being to you so you can see how little worth he is to you. He wants you to run from him before it’s too late.

But part of him knows he already has shown you himself, that you’ve seen who he is and you still love him. You must be stupid.

“Use me,” he begs you, wishing you’d do something with him to alleviate the guilt he feels, so it would at least be mutual. His hands cling to you, and he whimpers pathetically when you lean back to look down at him. “Use me, please. Please…”

And your eyes are so kind. Your eyes are so sweet and soft and human, and everything he is not.

“Shh,” you hush him, tenderly pressing a kiss to his lips. He sobs, feeling embarrassing tears fill his eyes as you press closer to him, the touch so caring and innocent yet so lewd as your hand tugs at him. “Just let me make you feel good, okay?”

And you do. You always keep true to your words, unlike him. It’s barely a minute later that his breath hitches and he keens, nearly wailing into your neck as he comes undone under your too loving hands. It’s obscene, and he feels filthy as his semen paints your hand and splatters on his lower stomach. He has soiled your perfect skin, has dirtied your perfect body. He hopes you will let go of him and wash yourself up, then leave him here, broken on the bed in the mess he’s created. That you will leave him to pick up the pieces of himself he has left. He is undeserving of you.

And yet he only feels your love swaddle him when his body relaxes, adoring praises and sweet words tumbling from your perfect lips as your perfect hands gently stroke his body, soothing him as if he is deserving. Your perfect body presses closer to him, no doubt getting his mess on your perfect abdomen as you almost lay yourself flat on him. You pepper perfect kisses all over his face, and he realises belatedly he’s crying. For the first time in ten years. Fat tears rolling down his cheeks, and he doesn’t know for what reason.

But you seem like you do know. You look so understanding, wiping his tears with an achingly kind, perhaps slightly sad smile, and you don’t ask him why.

“I’ve got you now, it’s okay,” you say instead. And you do, because you always keep true to your word.

And he is selfish, because he doesn’t stop you. He lets you clean him up, lets you kiss his tears away, lets you take care of him. Lets you climb into bed with him afterwards, unaware that you have brought the monster under your bed up into your loving arms. He hasn’t felt so much love since he was nine.

And he is selfish, because even though he can already feel his claws dig into your flesh as he holds you in return, he cannot bring himself to pull away. He can only hope he won’t dig in his heels when you eventually see reason and try to leave. He can only hope you will have the time to get away before he kills you.

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My inbox is open, feel free to send in asks or requests, I'd love to ramble about things <3

[soundleer]

Can you draw Tunner as a baby and Jevin just staring at him confused

wow, i didn't expect to receive a lot of requests from you-

but luckily i have just enough dedication to draw almost all of them so here hyee!!

bundled up ask doodles yee

[thilsiktonix]

your art is lowkey so cute and id love to see edgar and p03 together in your artstyle (if you want to of course ^_^)

ok so by. the time I realized I was going a bit too crazy on what I said would be an "ms paint doodle", I was already in too deep... ;;;;

when I first saw the ask it was 3 hours old, now it's 6 hours, I can't believe I spent 3 hours on MS paint xDD

anyways I still hope you enjoy :3c !!!! I had a bit too much fun on this one

p.s., I'm probably going to only draw solo - Edgar requests from here on. you're still totally free to send in whatever Edgar-related requests you have but I'll probably just do smaller stuff for the rest of these :)

[chimchiri]

I'm really loving all of your art!! I love how you draw bodies, and I love the shapes you use for hands!

I have two Harrianthe prompts for you:

For a tender prompt, perhaps Harrow examining Ianthe's dead hand, maybe awkwardly grasping or interning her fingers in a way where Ianthe is complicatedly bitter because it's her dead arm but also kind of into it because Harrow is touching her.

Or for a NSFW prompt, Harrow being topped by Ianthe (perhaps as a fantasy in Tower Prince Ianthe's mind?) in utter and ecstatic rapture while Ianthe has the fingers of her bone hand in Harrow's mouth.

You know. The duality of the ship etc etc 🩷

I could not - for the love of Jod - find a good pose I liked that matched all your criteria simultaneously so it's kinda split! Had a looot of fun figuring out some bone accessories for Harrow.

So, here you go: Ianthe daydreaming about how she would be the absolute best in bed™. Kiriona is having none of it.

[creativitwincest]

You take requests O: what about them dying each others hair?

I can see Remus just being messy as all get out with it but he does His Best so Roman's hair is nice.

Remus 100% goes at it with his bare hands

[the-smiling-doodler]

drops this and leaves

[l-e-i-k-o]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

[thelastspeecher]

This is different from the original idea I had for Angie turning into a mermaid in the Surf and Tail AU. I can't remember if conversation on that was had here or just on the Discord, but either way, here is the Official Angie's first mermaid moment in Surf and Tail AU!

(Yes it's a bit of a rougher moment for her in the AU, and so was the previous thing I posted, but I promise, some more lighthearted things for her are in the works as well.)

———————————————————————————————————–

                 The scales along Angie’s body flashed bright orange in intermittent patterns.  Leaning against the door of the apartment bathroom to keep the door closed (the lock was broken), Ford sighed.

                 “I’m sorry, Angie, but I don’t understand what you’re trying to tell me,” he said.  Angie let out a faint snarl.  “For future instances like this, we’ll teach you scale code.  As well as our sign language.”  Angie splashed the water in the bathtub with her tail.  “Honestly, the best thing you can do is calm down.  Then you should be able to revert to at least the midpoint form.”

                 The oversized fish in the bathtub glared at him.  That morning, Ford got a call from the aquarium, saying that they had captured a new species of fish at Angie’s favorite beach.  They wanted their finest employees to examine the fish before it was sent to a different facility.  Apparently, they attempted to contact Angie as well but were unable to get hold of her.  The moment Ford laid eyes on the “new species of fish”, he knew why.  It was Angie.

Angie’s blue eyes were unchanged in her sea beast form, which was one of the reasons Ford had been able to recognize her.  The primary reason, however, was that this outcome was to be expected from Stan and Ford’s efforts the last few months.  Ford pinched the bridge of his nose.

                 Though her turning into a full sea beast was not part of the plan!       

                 All merfolk had three forms: a human form, a midpoint or merperson form, and a sea beast form.  The sea beast form was reverted to during times of high stress, excitement, or injury.  Merfolk in their sea beast form looked somewhere between a shark and a traditional merperson, with scales over their entire body, a sharklike tail, arms that ended in webbed hands, and a wide, flat head.  It could easily be mistaken for a strange species of fish by those unaware merfolk existed.

                 Thank Poseidon for that.  And thank Poseidon that my coworkers at the aquarium are so vulnerable to siren song.  Otherwise, I would have had immense difficulty getting Angie out of there.

                 “Stanford.”  Ford’s head whipped up.  His jaw dropped.  In the tub where a sea beast had been moments ago, there was now a mermaid.  Angie scowled at him, her silver tail catching the light as she shifted, trying to get comfortable.  “Talk,” Angie growled.  Despite her anger, her voice, the trait merfolk valued most, was lovely.

                 She sounds even better than before.  The old stories do say that mirror tails were unparalleled in the beauty of their voices.

                 “I, ah-” Ford stammered.  Angie rolled her eyes.  Her hair, which only yesterday had been caramel-colored and short, reaching to an inch or so above her shoulders, was now bright red and stretching halfway down her back.  It conveniently covered her breasts, making her decent by human standards.

                 “What happened?” Angie demanded.  Ford immediately heard Stan’s voice in his head.

                 Lie, Stanford!  They hadn’t warned Angie of their plan to turn her into a mermaid, fearing that she would reject it, endangering herself and them.

                 “I…I don’t know,” Ford said carefully.  Angie splashed her two long, iridescent tail fins.  “I am unsure why you think I have any more information on what is occurring.  This is as much of a surprise to me as it is to you.”  Ford let a sliver of siren song enter his voice. Not enough for him to be singing, but enough that Angie should be convinced. Angie tilted her head, looking perplexed.  Ford broke into a cold sweat.

                 Shit. She’s a mermaid now. Siren song won’t influence her.

                 “What was that?” she asked.

                 “What are you referring to?”

                 “You just did somethin’ to yer voice,” Angie insisted.

                 “Ah. Um.” Ford’s mind raced. Unlike Stan, he’d never been good at lying without the use of siren song. With Angie now immune to it, she would see through him in seconds, if she hadn’t already.

                 Ford was thankfully rescued from another attempt at a lie by a loud knock on the bathroom door.

                 “I heard we’ve got a mermaid in our tub,” Stan’s voice said. Angie’s eyes widened. She sat up straight, some of the scales on her tail lighting up orange in interest. Ford stepped away from the door and opened it. Stan stepped inside. The moment he laid eyes on Angie, he gasped.

                 “What?” Angie asked, sounding nervous. A broad smile spread across Stan’s face.

                 “You’re a mirror tail.”

                 “Is- what does that mean?” Angie asked. Stan walked over and sat on the floor next to the tub. He rested his arm on the edge of the tub and leaned in.

                 “Merfolk tails only come in a few colors. Mostly blue and green, some purple. It’s for camouflage in the ocean. But there’s old stories about mirror tails. Merfolk with silver scales so brilliant, they reflected their surroundings like mirrors,” Stan enthused, his natural storytelling abilities coming out. “No one’s seen a mirror tail in generations.”

                 “Ah.” Angie looked down at her tail. Her scales were all back to silver, no longer lighting orange here and there. Ford felt a twinge of jealousy over how easily and quickly Stan smoothed things over, despite his inability to sing. “So, that’s good?” Angie said hesitantly.

                 “That’s crazy good!” Stan gushed. He reached out and picked up a strand of Angie’s hair. “When did you do this?”

                 “What?” Angie gaped at her hair. “I- when did that happen?”

                 “I noticed your hair changed when you got out of sea beast form,” Ford said. Angie ran her fingers through her hair, staring at it in horror. “You seem upset.”

                 “I look like my big sister now,” Angie moaned. She put her head in her hands. “Turnin’ into a mermaid is bad enough. Why’d my hair have to change color, too?”

                 “No idea,” Stan said. He looked at Ford. “Do you know?”

                 “Actually...” Ford said slowly, something coming to him. “I might. One of the old folk tales we compiled mentioned salmon locks, remember? It was an oral history, so we didn’t know the spelling and assumed it referred to the bagel topping. But it must have meant salmon-colored hair.”

                 Angie’s tail began to light up again. Her hands fell to her lap.

                 “Old folk tales about what?” she asked. Ford’s eyes widened. Stan shot him a similarly alarmed look.

                 I said too much.

                 “Stanford,” Angie said firmly. “What was the subject of the folk tales you were compilin’ fer some reason?”

                 “There wasn’t really one subject,” Stan jumped in. “We wanted to get this stuff down so we didn’t forget it. Don’t wanna lose our heritage just ‘cause we’re on land, y’know?”

                 “No, I wasn’t askin’ you,” Angie snapped. She met Ford’s eyes. “I was askin’ yer brother. He’s the worse liar.”

                 “I think I’m perfectly capable of lying,” Ford protested. Angie’s eyes narrowed.

                 “Answer the question.”

                 “We, ah, we were-” Ford stammered.

                 “‘Cause it’s mighty odd how calm the two of ya have been about all this, given how much ya freak out over me and mer things,” Angie continued. “And it’s awful convenient that ya had an old story locked and loaded what’s relevant to my sit’ation.” Angie’s eyes bored into Ford, making him squirm. “Let me guess. It was a story ‘bout a human becomin’ a mer.” She cocked her head. “Was the turned human in that story a mirror tail, too?”

                 “...Yes,” Ford mumbled. Stan groaned loudly. Angie’s tail lit up, glowing orange like a lava flow. Her eyes flashed in anger. Ford was reminded of the vicious glare she’d had in her sea beast form.

                 “This weren’t no accident,” she growled.

                 “Look, we didn’t have a choice-” Stan started. Angie gripped the side of the tub.  Her fingers turned white from the force she was using.

                 “You made me a different species!” she screamed. Stan and Ford winced. “Explain yourselves, then I’ll decide whether I rip ya limb from limb or not.”

                 “We didn’t tell you our plans because we were worried you would want to stay human,” Ford said. Angie’s lip curled in a snarl.

                 “Wow. That makes me feel so much better,” she spat sarcastically.

                 “If any merfolk found out you knew about us, you would have been fucked, Angie,” Stan said firmly. “You would have been captured and-”

                 “Killed?” Angie asked. Her tail thrashed, spilling water over the sides of the tub.

                 “No. That would draw too much attention. Honestly, they might have turned you into a mermaid anyways,” Stan said. “But...the more likely thing would be that they take your voice away.” Ford winced at the mere thought of a voice as lovely as Angie’s being lost.

                 “It’s the worst punishment one can give a mer,” he said.

                 “But not the worst punishment one can give a human,” Angie said firmly.

                 “If you lost your voice, it would be a tragedy,” Stan said softly. Angie’s grip on the tub lessened just a bit. “We couldn’t let that happen.”

                 “We also didn’t want to be punished,” Ford added. “Being banished isn’t ideal, but we prefer it over not being alive.”

                 “You’d be killed?” Angie whispered. Stan and Ford nodded.

                 “Telling a human or allowing a human to find out about merfolk is the highest crime imaginable. Punishable only by death.”

                 “...Oh.” Angie let go of the tub. Her tail was back to mostly silver, though a few scales still glowed orange. “You should’ve just told me that.”

                 “Would you have agreed?” Ford asked. Angie took a while to respond.

                 “It’s impossible to say now,” she said finally. “But if yer lives were truly in danger, I prob’ly would’ve.”

                 “Then what difference does it make?” Stan asked. Angie’s mood switched again. She shoved him away from the tub with the strength of a mermaid guarding newly laid eggs.

                 “Get out!” she screamed. Stan got to his feet, hurt in his eyes. “That’s somethin’ you should be able to figure out on yer own!”

                 “This is our bathroom,” Ford argued. Angie glared at him.

                 “I wanted to go to my apartment. You took me here.” She crossed her arms. “Until I figure out how to get my legs back or ya come up with a way to smuggle me out with a tail, get used to this.” She turned away to face the wall. “Lord knows I have to.”

[imeriayapping]

1 ; 2 ; 3 ; 4

Pedro is cautious, he's always cautious when it comes to his rivals. No matter where they started that's all they are in the end. Rivals, a target to beat, someone to overtake on every chance presented to him. Pedro always tries not to get anywhere close to becoming friends just so it won't be a problem afterwards when he crushes them on his way up. Because he knows how often it doesn't work out, how it will hurt when they get angry at him for pushing till the limit.

So what to do when you start as friends? Pedro never managed to find a good answer, at first he tried his best to maintain neutrality and not let racing get between them even if it was the thing that brought them together. But at one point it gets tiresome, the effort feels too big for a relationship that is dying it's slow death.

At least that's how it looks to him.

So it's easier to convince your brain that it was never there, that he was always just a rival, that there was never anything but want to beat him. That just fully ignoring him is the most logical option until he stops being same person that you once knew.

And it works well, only takes a few averted gazes when he feels eyes on his skin and a bit of strategic stepping out of the way not to touch. Race after race his face gets blurred in Pedro's memories to the point of person next him on the podium doesn't look familiar and all goes well.

And then he gets to motogp and he doesn't even need to think about any of that. He has new goals to achieve, new heights to discover.

He's not there to make friends but somehow he finds himself a few and it feels different, not because those are "motogp stars" but because now everyone around isn't emotional teenager and personal relationships don't get shaken by on track actions as much. At very least they can just talk it out.

It all holds well and works just like he needs this system to work, season goes around without any turbulence.

And then winter break passes past him leaving Pedro absolutely unprepared for when he's sitting next to him in press conference and they are doing some stupid questions again. It takes a lot in pedro to continue his usual avoidance of others eyes with how long it was since the last time he needed to do it.

And then he gets pulled out of his thoughts when someone's phone rings loudly enough to distract everyone in the room. It gives him opportunity to catch rest of the question.

"-was gifted that wasn't racing related?"

He hears bezzecchi on other end of the platform starting to talk about some robotics dinosaurs that his friend gave to him and it's enough of a clue to understand that it's once again some unrelated question about birthday gifts. Pedro scrambles for any answer in his head, somehow pulling out dusty memory of some shark related book he was given once and takes initiative when other rider finishes talking just to fulfill his duty and move on with this conference. It continues to move along pretty ok until he hears voice on his left, somehow closer than physically possible with their sitting arrangements.

"To be honest it's a bit silly but once my friend saved up for it and gifted me Minecraft game because we both really wanted to play. Maybe it doesn't sound like much but when you are that young that effort and saving feels like a whole world"

It feels like pedro was dunked into bath gool of ice, change inside him so sudden that his head spinns. Soft tone and light laughter in words make him look up. Make him look for the first time in probably years and see.

See fermin sitting right next to him and smiling with creases around his eyes, not that visible but same as always so he remembers them. See fingers that are beating out rhythm of a catchy song that they once were singing for a week straight because it would not get out of their heads.

See fermin who is same person who he called friend, not a stranger, not just a rival, he's Fermin.

It takes just a second, small reminder of memory that happened a lifetime ago to crack everything Pedro managed to convince himself of. To start wondering if race track they build in there right after he gifted the game is still there, if fermin still uses the app at all. To start seeing person in front of him again after months of training to stop noticing.

All this turmoil happens in mere seconds but leaves pedro unprepared for the next question. And just to secure whole revelation fermin is refocusing question on himself to give pedro a bit of space to breathe, saving him in a small way that also feels familiar.

But now while whole conference is ending pedro just sits in his chair thinking about what to do with these cracked bits of his worldview that he not sure if he wants to put back together.

[thebananaiscold]

the urge to make another “send me asks and drawing requests” post, but feeling bad because I have a couple drawing requests already in my inbox I never drew.

[sammyluvr]

sam dating dean’s best friend still lives rent free in my mind. he comes back from interviewing people to them eating fast food and watching cowboy movies and dean makes the excuse that they got hungry so they stopped researching, there’s always mini prank wars going on, you bullying dean over the amount of porn he watches. dean has to watch you be so sweet with sam, stealing some of his jackets and making sure he’s okay after every hunt and snuggling so close to him at night.

-🌬️

ahhhh i love this so very muchhh it's such a cute concept aghhh <33

i think the idea of dean having to watch you and sam being cute together is especially the funniest LOL he's always groaning dramatically and closing his eyes and begging you to get a room... and all you've done is hold hands like. please dean LMAO

ugh but it's just so nice because the three of you already have a dynamic that you can fall into and rely on. it's great to know that you all get along no matter what. and it's great to be able to bother dean in new and fun ways because duh!! as his best friend and little brother it's your job to do exactly that lol <3

[my-current-obsession]

I am taking note of every single villager who honestly suggests that Micah's half-monster status might have given his chosen bride cold feet and led to her running away and they are ALL dropping several positions in my internal character ranking.

[rosewheresheshouldntbe]

Rose in the Lucky Luciano "you know I had to do it to em" sidewalk

> Rose: Do it to em.

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

If the landlord doesn’t want me fishing around in their shower vent and cold air returns, then they shouldn’t make them stink like rotting garbage. You painted over the screws so they’re hard to open? Cool. I’ll drill holes into them and get them out with a power tool because the town next to me is having a citywide garage sale and I’m sure there’s some Ryobi in there at a decent price. Your vents are coming off motherfucker, and if I find anything I swear to fucking god I am going to have both your vents and your bank account cleaned out.

[theflyingfeeling]

💖 it's here, it's pink, it's sparkly, and full of fluff 💖

Hiiiiii and welcome to witness my attempt at an Olli/Allu Advent Calendar, in which I'll give you ~a cute little something~ about these two idiots in love almost every day until December 24! My plan is to use prompts from this list to either write a fic based on the prompt or just some good ol' delulu thoughts if all else fails. I cannot guarantee there'll be a post literally every day, but I'm really excited to try this out and I thank you for your support along the way in advance 💝

The biggest thanks and a million hugs go to one of my favourite human beings @kraeuterhexchen for making the adorable banner!! I mean helloooooo?? 😭 Go show them some love ❣️

For December 1, the prompt list is titled One True Pairing Moments, and the prompt I chose was 'calling just to hear their voice' 🥺 You can read the fic below, I hope you like it <3

.

PS. Even though this is an advent calendar of sorts, I'm not planning on making this particularly Christmassy. I hope no one minds terribly!

~

Falling for Aleksi had, in a way, sneaked up on Olli, at least if he fooled himself a little. He could pretend he didn’t feel any different about the man than he did about, say, Joonas or Tommi, but that strategy only worked for so long – that is to say, approximately until Aleksi as much as smiled softly at him from across a room or bumped his shoulder into his jovially when walking down the street and Olli would feel his breath getting caught in his throat or stumble in his words, his tongue tangled like shoelaces, which was so unlike him as well and frustrated him to no end. It really took a special kind of fool to not only develop some level of feelings for a friend, a colleague, a bandmate for Christ’s sake, but also become so hopelessly enamored with him that you rolled awake in bed in the dead of night, grabbing your phone and tossing it back on the nightstand again and again because you couldn’t decide whether or not you should, on some erratic 2 o’clock impulse, call him to let him know he was the very reason for your insomnia. 

Turning on his back, Olli groaned (only a little desperately) as he remembered losing himself in the lingering hug they had shared just before the arrivals lobby at the airport, inhaling Aleksi’s scent and wishing they wouldn’t have to go home just yet, even if Olli was more than ready to finally sleep in his own bed again. Ironically, ever since they had returned home from tour, Olli had spent night after sleepless night missing Aleksi terribly: his stupid jokes and playful banter that bordered on being flirtatious if Olli allowed himself the benefit of delusion; his quick, subtle smiles that probably meant nothing; his little touches Olli hoped meant something; his smell and his touch and the softness of his hair at the back of his neck, compared to which the blanket Olli was grasping in his fist was like sandpaper. (How he had come to know of the qualities of Aleksi’s hair in such detail, he preferred not to dwell on too much to save himself from the heartache, so let’s just leave it at ‘stressful, emotional week far away from home’ and ‘a little too much to drink’).

Above all, Olli missed Aleksi’s voice. He hadn’t even thought that was possible, until the other morning when Olli had woken up to a voice message Aleksi had left just hours earlier, rambling about a song idea he had gotten in the middle of the night – something he did from time to time – and Olli had spent the next several minutes replaying it over and over again as he had lied in bed procrastinating getting up and and instead closing his eyes to better imagine Aleksi lying there beside him, turned on his side to face Olli, talking to him sleepily like they often did when they shared a room on tour and were just too lazy to join others at breakfast. Much like the hug at the airport, Olli wished those moments would have lasted way longer than they did, often ending abruptly when either of their phones would go off with Santeri’s name on the screen, a passive-aggressive interruption to the soft, low tone of Aleksi’s early-morning thoughts. (Sometimes, when Olli was lucky enough, he had been blessed with the bliss of feeling the light touch of a fingertip tracing along his collarbone, cut short just as frustratingly by their well-meaning tour manager politely enquiring whether the two of them had plans of dragging themselves downstairs for some toast and coffee, or if they’d rather starve until lunchtime, for which he wasn’t at all sure they’d even have time that day.)

The lovesick idiot that he was, his thumb hovered over the ‘play’ button of Aleksi’s voice message, probably for the millionth time that week. The chest-carving hesitation turned into a heart flip when he noticed Aleksi was online.

Then Aleksi began to type, and Olli held his breath the entire time until a new message appeared in the thread, anticipation holding him by his throat.

You awake?

Olli exhaled and typed his affirmative reply, leaving out the reason why.

He blinked at the screen, waiting for Aleksi to ask him a random question that clearly couldn’t wait until morning, or perhaps talk about something related to another late-night Twitch stream (from what Olli had gathered, Aleksi had been doing a lot of those recently, and with his last remaining braincell Olli had managed to resist the temptation to watch every single one of them, because he knew that if he did, it would only dig his grave of pining and longing deeper, seeing Aleksi smile and giggle about but not being able to do that with him or snuggle up next to him when he was wearing that flannel Olli often used as a blanket in the tour bus). But instead of another text appearing on the screen, Olli’s phone began to vibrate in his hand, and it took him an embarrassingly long while to understand it was because Aleksi was calling him. 

“Hi,” he sighed when he finally collected himself enough to speak. He prayed he’d be able to hear what Aleksi was going to say from the thumping heartbeat echoing in his ears.

“Hi,” a soft voice said. “Sorry, I know it’s late…”

“No, not at all,” Olli hurried to say, “I mean, I wasn’t sleeping. Not even close, actually.” Part of him hoped Aleksi wouldn’t ask about it, but in some foolhardy way the possibility intrigued him. 

Nothing much, he would have likely said anyway, but what would happen if he told Aleksi how it really was? That he squeezed his pillow imagining it was him instead, or wailed into it because something had reminded him of a moment-that-was-probably-not-a-Moment™ they had shared? What would Aleksi say if he knew Olli sometimes touched himself the way Aleksi had touched him That One Night they never talked about? The only obstacle between Olli and that knowledge was a bottomless ocean of cold sweat and cowardice, and Olli had never been a great swimmer.

“So, ummm…,” Olli said when Aleksi’s end stayed silent. “What’s up?”

A short breath of laughter sounded through the phone line.

“Honestly? I don’t know, I… It’s just been a… weird week, I guess.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, like… my head’s just been so full of… everything and… I’ve been so busy and kinda tense and… fuck, this is going to sound crazy,” Aleksi laughed that brief laugh again, although to Olli it didn’t sound particularly cheerful. Tired, more like. Strained, somehow. Not sad, but definitely a little troubled, and Olli intended to find out why.

“I’m all for crazy, you know.” Olli hoped his sorry attempt to lighten Aleksi’s mood would work, and so he smiled in relief when he heard Aleksi chuckle at his comment.

“I know,” Aleksi said softly, in that tone of voice that had Olli melt against his bedsheets. “So yeah, it’s been a rough week, but… in between all that stupid shit, I’ve been thinking a lot about… umm… well, the tour and– and… about you, for some reason,” (the troubled laugh made its return) “and… yeah. That’s sort of helped me a lot recently.”

Olli listened to the words carefully, not fully believing what he was hearing, yet clinging on to them until they were all but swirling around in his otherwise empty head like dry leaves in October wind.

“And tonight I just couldn’t fucking sleep for some reason and nothing I did seemed to help and so I thought I’d call you. And I’m–” If it hadn’t been dead silent otherwise, Olli wouldn’t have heard the shaky breath Aleksi paused to take, “I’m sorry I’m calling you at this hour and bothering you with this all but I guess I just… wanted to hear your voice. To see if that would help.”

“Does it?” Olli asked. Aleksi’s confession had made him clasp his blanket close to his chest, as if that would do anything about his rapidly beating heart.

“Yeah. It does. So maybe just… keep talking?”

Despite his mind living a life of its own, completely unfit to form a single coherent thought, for Aleksi’s sake Olli tried his best to think of something to say, but everything he came up with was something he was not ready to tell him quite yet. 

“Uuummmm…” he said to buy himself some time, but while he waited for his useless brain and mouth to form any actual words, Aleksi spoke again.

“Fuck, I’m– I’m sorry, this is too weird, I shouldn’t have– I’ll let you go back to–”

“I miss you,” Olli blurted before Aleksi would hang up on him. He squeezed his eyes shut when Aleksi went silent, too silent for too long for it to mean any good.

The line stayed open, however, which Olli took as a positive sign, even if the seconds during which all Olli could hear was Aleksi's quiet breathing seemed endless.

“And I you,” Aleksi finally replied. “A little too much, probably, or at least that’s what it feels like,” he chuckled. Olli almost missed the quiet sniff that followed.

He had to steel himself for his next question.

“What do you mean?”

“Just… forget it.” Aleksi said quietly. Contrary to Aleksi’s request, Olli knew he was going to all but ‘forget it’ for the next 3-5 business days; mentally he booked all his evenings as well as most of his mornings and noons for pondering what exactly had been in Aleksi’s mind in that moment or why he had sounded so sombre, almost disappointed. He’d probably never come to any satisfactory conclusion about it though, at least not without a little help from Aleksi himself. 

A ridiculous idea popped into his head, and before he could stop himself, the words flooded out of his mouth.

“Do you wanna come over some time? To hang out? When your schedule’s a little less tight, I mean.” He sucked on his lips and closed his eyes as he waited for Aleksi’s answer, ready to hang up the moment he’d decline the offer on some obvious and logical reason for why Aleksi couldn’t possibly make nor want to take a trip to the north to see him, such as ‘didn’t we just spend over two months on the road together?’ or ‘damn, buddy, I miss you alright but not quite that much, I’ve done enough sitting in public transportation for one year, thank you very much lol’ or ‘what about Rilla?’

“You could take Rilla with you, you know.” Olli hurried to say, just in case, the deranged part of his brain thinking there might be a chance Aleksi might be at least considering it.

“Oh! Well, umm… I actually might have time next week? If– if you’re actually being serious about this.”

Funny you should ask, Aleksi; I’ve actually never been more serious about anything in my entire life than I am about having you here with me so that I can hold you and be held by you and see your face when I wake up in the morning and say goodnight to your annoyingly cute face instead of via text message and maybe, if the stars are in position and the northern wind won’t discourage me too much, I might actually be brave enough to torment you with the knowledge of just how miserable I’ve been since we last saw each other.

“I think it would be cool,” he said, because he had a feeling what he wanted to say would’ve been a tad too much and sudden. “I mean, if you’re up for it, of course. I understand if you can’t make it though, I know you have all those side projects.”

“No, I think it might actually do me some good to get out of the capital area for change.” Then there was a muffled ‘ouch’, followed by a laugh that sounded much brighter than any of the other ones Olli had heard from Aleksi that night. “Sorry, correction, it might do us some good. Rilla just told me she’s most definitely coming too. Rilla, stop nibbling on my toes!”

Olli smiled tiredly at the mental image that was painted in his mind of Aleksi and Rilla cuddling in bed, both minding their own business from what it seemed while still minding each other as well, very much indeed.

“I’ll be sure to set up a bed for her in the guest room.”

“The guest room? Do you not know her at all? If she’s not getting the master bedroom, she’ll ruin all your rugs and most of your shoes. Probably also gossip about you to all the neighbourhood dogs. And she’s brutal.”

Olli held his stomach as he laughed, tears almost forming in the corners of his eyes. In his defence, it was late and he was finally becoming tired, thus too far gone to help himself, let alone feel embarrassed about being in stitches about something Aleksi had said that was only mildly amusing. (It wasn’t the first time that had happened either, and likely not the last time.)

“So yeah, ummm, I can take a look at some flight options for next week and let you know, alright? I’m gonna let you sleep now and… I should get some myself too.”

Olli wanted to tell Aleksi he’d love to stay up chatting until dawn, but the yawn he let out when he opened his mouth to speak implied Aleksi had a point.

“Yeah, let me know. And… thanks for calling, I… you have no idea how much I needed this tonight.”

That was as close to a confession as Olli was able to get as of now.

“Probably not half as much as I did.”

Olli chuckled at Aleksi’s response, mostly to hide his own agony.

If only you knew. If only I knew how to tell you.

It didn’t take long for Olli to doze off after they hung up, and when he woke up to the kids from next door having a snowball fight under his window in the morning, he noticed new messages from Aleksi, sent half an hour after their phone call had ended, complete with screen captions of airplane schedules.

Would these days work for you? I might be free all week actually 😇

Olli cuddled into his pillow while typing his reply, hoping it wouldn’t wake up Aleksi.

yeah I’m free as well. I’ll pick you two up from the airport 🖤

From then on, Olli started counting the days until he’d see Aleksi again.

[sherlock-is-ace]

.