#Do I put tw/cw? Pls tell me if I do

[and-the-flame-burns]

afternoon, I’m back

New York has the vibes of really mentally ill but that might just be me self reflecting onto this poor bastard.

rant under the cut about New York. Please do not take this in a “omg so quirky” way because these are real issues that people (and me) struggle with on a near daily basis. If some bits I say sound joke-y then that’s because I’m poking fun at my own issues.

It’s the non verbal autism for me. He hates interacting with people because of that and other autistic issues

it’s the “being around people makes me want to cry and scream.” For me because I’ve been feeling this way about social interaction for the past 2 weeks or maybe I just started noticing it now. To me, him and Jersey feel like being weirdly good friends. New Jersey is his emotional support friend (/hj)

THAT COAT IS HIS COMFORT ITEM. He will cry if he has to wash it and uses a blanket as a substitute while it’s being washed. Same thing with his hat, he’ll lop a blanket over his head and shoulders as his items are being washed.

guh, the OCD or OCD like symptoms that I’m not sure come as a 2 for 1 deal with the autism. People I’ve met like this commonly have a specific number that they do things by (it’s a pain in the ass and this absolute bullshit gets worse as I get more anxious or tired). Like he’ll tap something four times with both nails in a very specific way because if he doesn’t then it’s Wrong and he has to do it that way four times or else it’ll feel Incomplete.

on average, he has very little spoons (way to measure autistic people’s energy) for outside time. For me, there’s different sets of spoons for outside and inside things, like I can draw and do laundry and shower but if I go outside and do things it’ll waste my outside spoons and if I do too much outside then it’ll take from my inside spoons. New York has the vibes of being the same way.

he can pull off the Tough Mean Guy Act while at table meetings, but outside that? He’ll bite and scratch you if you get too close, do not touch him or even speak to him

i think that’s it for Yorkie, I adore him, hope his symptoms n stuff become more manageable with time

[quantum1mmortality]

no bc i’ve been daydreaming about raiden and kung lao for weeks now pls feed me or i will go insane i am in love with them (btw if u do poly kung lao and raiden will reader get a cool hat too?)

You bet your sweet ass y/n is getting a cool hat.

This is y/ns cool hat. If you don't like it go fuck yourself

Tw/cw: sorry babe the hats stay on during sex. Poly kung lao and Raiden x reader relationship, AFAB reader, praise, piv, threesome, hcs of how they'd fuck it's cute, sfw hcs mixed in there too, I ain't writing allat ‼️‼️‼️

Not proofread fuck you

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sfw

They'd both be such caring lovers but in their own way. Like, if they both had a free night they'd take you out to dinner. They see your relationship as much more than sexual and they have frequent conversations about it too.

What I mean by that is when they're on missions together, they'll just talk about you. Make conversation about how amazing you are to them. Truth be told, you brought their friendship much closer

A few months after you guys decided to be in a poly relationship, you all decided to move in together

Kung Lao and Raiden would often try and sleep in as much as possible, hoping you'd wake up on your own before they'd have to leave for training

The way you guys would usually sleep together is Kung Lao would sleep behind you, arms around your waist, while Raiden would sleep in front of you, hugging into your chest

You'd often cook for them because they'd get home late. Everytime you did, they'd be so grateful, saying praise after praise about how amazing you are and how much they love your cooking

If you ended up passing out before they got home, they'd both dress you in pajamas and just go to bed like normal

Sometimes though, Liu Kang would give them days off from training, and when he does, they both spend all their time with you

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nsfw

Because of Raiden being the chosen protector of earthrealm, Kung Lao would often times come back earlier than he did

Because of this, Kung Lao would have to satisfy your needs by himself

Him and Raiden have pretty high libidos, however, Raiden is much more shy about it. While Kung Lao is upfront and initiates most of the time, Raiden is scared mainly just to touch you

He doesn't have much control over his electro abilities and so he's scared he may use them on you. After some time though, mainly after you're all in the same house, he starts to trust himself more

He's still shy about initiating sex, though. Most of the time he feels like he's bugging you

Kung Lao is horny all the time. He'll take you anywhere, anytime. His pace is usually medium to fast with a lot of passion. He loves hugging and kissing you during sex and he loves hearing you

Raiden is the same way, though he likes to go at a medium pace. He likes to draw out both of your orgasms so it feels more rewarding in the end. His hands usually stroke the inside of your thighs as he lets light sparks of electricity come out

On the rare occasion Raiden gets home early, he immediately wants to make love to you. He'll find you in the house somewhere, usually in your shared room reading, and he'll sit at the end of the bed begging you to let him pleasure you

This is usually what happens with Kung Lao too, except he just puts your book down and starts kissing you while placing himself between your thighs

Because both of them have very similar styles on how they make love, they often try their hardest to tag team

When they do, your pleasure is more important than anything else. They'd do anything for you in these moments. They like trying out different positions but they usually just do double penetration in the same hole

They spend a lot of time preparing you for this as to not hurt you. Raiden usually eats you out while Kung Lao plays with your nipples and sings praises

When they do finally penetrate, it's a very slow pace. They're both talking you though it and telling you how good you're doing, Raiden massaging your thighs while Kung Lao kisses your neck and shoulders, resting his hand on your tummy

These moments are extremely important to Kung Lao and Raiden. They find everything about you so amazing and being able to share that with each other enhances the experience. Even after sex with just one of them they talk about it to each other. They just want to make you feel good and hope you're okay

Their aftercare is also extremely gentle. Raiden will usually do the cleaning as Kung Lao gets food and water for all of you

Most of the time you guys usually take showers or baths together. One of them holds you still while the other one cleans you. Most of the time after these threesomes, you're extremely tired and can barely hold yourself up. They think it's cute and they sometimes cuddle you in the bath as well.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/n: I need them biblically

[tartigglez]

Hello tunblr user that I have NEVER spoken to before

Can I pretty please request dragon!zhongli doing dragon!Zhongli things

Like hoarding shiny things, and having a tail and hating random plants and squid 😭😭😭😭 idk I’m just hoping that something in this magically inspires your brain BUT feel free to ignore me

(I also really wanted to initiate ur ask box lol)

~ 🌷 anon <3

Why hello there tumblr user who i have also never spoken to! i hope this is uh,,, acceptable.

it was so hard to find a title for this oml

"my natural form...?"

zhongli x gn!reader

genre: fluff, pure unfiltered fluffiness, such fluff, many fluffitude

word count: 500-ish

tags: retail addict zhong bc we love to see it, possessive zhong, zhong hates fish zhong, protective zhong (hes a cutie patootie guys omgomomgomgomgogmogmHDKAJH), venti makes a cameo/reader is a traveller but not tHE traveller bc THEYRE MINORS I REFUSE TO WRITE THAT. thats kinda it

tw/cw: possessive dragon boi, it lowkey seems like lightly toxic behaviour but i think thats it

a/n: i wrote a little smol bit of this every night this week so its maybe a bit disjointed but whatever. this was fun to write ty tulip bb. zhongli is the cutest im so sOFT FOR THIS MAN AAAA. also send me asks, ples, pls, plsssssssss, pls.

dragon!zhongli who will buy pretty things without even realising that he quite literally has a retail addiction. will put things in random places in your house then get really confused when you move them. he keeps closely monitored stock of everything.

“darling, have you seen my golden vase anywhere”

“which golden vase?” 

“the one i purchased last week, at the market”

“i put flowers in it, it’s in the kitchen”

“okay, okay, good”

“you seem awfully worried about it”

“i am not, i simply… wished to know where it was… is all.”

“i see.”

dragon!zhongli who is lowkey possessive over you but refuses to admit it, also he feels that jealousy is not a good shade on him. But he’s a dragon, and you’re his most prized treasure, so it is only natural to him to protect you, right? it can’t be helped. he's got a really good sense of smell, so he can always tell who you’ve been around in the past few hours, but won’t tell you because he's afraid it’ll freak you out. 

(side note: he totally loves your scent and will compliment you on it all the time, like he’ll bury his head in your neck to calm himself down omg)

“my dear, who was with you earlier?”

“the guild had me teleport to mondstadt for a commission, why?”

“nothing my love, i simply- nevermind”

you look him in the eyes doubtfully

“tell.” 

“alright. you were with the anemo archon, yes?”

“i was. i was sent out to windrise to fight some hilichurls, i ran into him and he helped me defeat them, why?” 

“nothing, darling. the hilichurls didn’t hurt you, did they?”

“when has a hilichurl ever hurt me?”

“it is difficult to argue with that logic.”

dragon!zhongli who despite literally creating the harbour, refuses to go near the markets. he cannot stand the smell of the seafood that the merchants sell, so despite trying to “blend in” whilst in his mortal form, he will rarely be sighted outside the innermost parts of the city. 

“li’”

“yes, dear?”

“shall we take a stroll by the harbour? i have a free hour this afternoon and we should spend some time together. i haven’t spent much time with you this week, and i've missed you.”

“i have missed you too, love, however i think that-”

“you think?”

“i think that it is rather cold, down by the harbour. Shall we go to the teahouse instead?”

dragon!zhongli who is unconsciously protective of you in his sleep. he will wrap his tail around your form when cuddling, as a literal natural response. puts it around your waist and between your arms whilst spooning you so you can hug it like a teddy bear whilst he puts little kisses on your shoulders as you doze off. tells you the stories of years gone by as you sleep to vent his worries.

“li’”

“darling?”

“tell a story”

“must i?”

“yes, you must!”

“very well my dear, close your eyes.”

[pretty-oooodd]

BSD men with a punk s/o!!

Featuring: Dazai, Chūya, Atsushi, Ranpo, Kunikida, Akutagawa, Sigma, Fyodor, Nikolai.

TW/CW: no tw, this is a fluff "domestic" one. Mention of tattoos, piercings. Let me know if you want me to add more (bc I'm not really practical with tws).

Enjoy <3!!

DAZAI is the kind of guy that's always been interested in these kinds of subcultures, especially punk, but he didn't really had the reasons or will to get into it.

He likes the trash pants, the one full of patches, chains and tears.

But his absolute favorites are the skinny ones full of tears, with fishnets underneath them.

He's a big tease, so he would really have fun poking the holes in his s/o's clothes. Especially the ones on their tights.

You have tattoos? Cool, give him sharpies (Crayola ones) and he'll color your tats.

Piercing on your lips? He'll make sure to lick it when he kisses you.

Ow come on, our buddy CHŪYA is a punk soul.

Argue with the wall.

He listens to punk music with his HEART.

And kinda likes the clothing, he just prefers his elegant attire.

So, if his s/o is punk he will love it. Absolutely admire you for your style and strong ideals, bc let's not forget what punk is abt!!

If you have tattoo sleeves, especially flowers, he STANS.

Nose piercings and studs lover here. He himself wants a nose piercing.

If you wear the same size clothes, he maybe steal something from your closet.

Would probably bring you to a concert.

ATSUSHI is so soft and probably doesn't like studs but he would never offend you ^^

He wasn't really interested or educated on this community before meeting you.

He learned the lace code just for you!!

Doesn't really understand and like the music, but supports you and everything you like!

He LOVES your tattoos! He thinks they are so cool.

If you have piercings he will make sure to learn how to clean them and help you with it.

RANPO thinks that your style is interesting but doesn't really mind it.

If you're a messy, chaotic person, you will get along.

If you have one of those wonderful haircuts like Mohawks or just bright hair color he will absolutely love it.

Likes playing with your hair and coloring your tattoos.

The patches in your pants and vests are his favorite parts.

Doesn't listen much music in general, so punk isn't really his problem anyway.

LMAOOO, HOW???

I still haven't understood what's KUNIKIDA's "ideal woman".

Btw, he isn't a fan of punk or these cultures in general but likes you anyway.

Considers tattoos and piercings (everything abt this style) "unprofessional".

And he will tell you but there's nothing he can do abt it.

We stan a punk monarch.

Will always be the one to remember you to clean and treat your tats and piercings.

Kinda likes the dedication you put into styling your own clothes and hair.

And he likes the fact that the community expresses its ideals too.

Bro doesn't care.

Lord give him two shits to give pls.

Jkjk, AKUTAGAWA kinda likes the "aggressive" style.

He's into the metal music probably idk.

Likes the studs and boots with platforms.

Likes to sew the patches on your vests and pants.

Piercings like nose bridge are his absolute favorites!!

You shaved your eyebrows for him, how sweet.

He's an introvert but the moshpit would be his natural habitat, just to let the rage out.

Poor man, SIGMA got scared the first time he saw you.

He doesn't fully understand the "use" or "meaning" of this style but he's learning.

Not a fan of the music but loves you, so he will listen something if you ask him.

He likes your tattoos, as he thinks of them as a form of art that makes you unique.

Piercings aren't his thing tho. Really doesn't understand them but loves earrings.

You two probably have some matching sets of earrings.

He finds punks intimidating but in a good way.

HOW PT. 2?????? WHAT?

I mean, I think FYODOR's kinda into metal and goth things but punk???

Punk really isn't his thing.

Doesn't like piercings, idk.

But tats are a form of art for him, just like painting.

He appreciates your dedication to the ideals even if he doesn't fully agree sometimes.

His favorite parts of your outfits are the boots!

He probably likes your hair too, bc they're particular.

Doesn't like the concerts so he won't come with you.

He probably looks cool af in a leather jacket with studs.

NIKOLAI is a biiig tease.

He likes to play with your hair and piercings.

He's the prime example of man child: give him sharpies and he will color your tats gladly.

Probably wants to get a piercing just like his s/o!!

He dies your hair. You have no escape from this.

Skinny jeans fan!!

Nikolai isn't really into punk music but likes early 2000s emo culture (early Panic! At The Disco and Fall Out Boy).

My boy will torment you if you don't let him try your clothes on.

[where-are-the-spooky-gays-2]

*materializes into existence*

Hey there :D

I haven't sent an ask in... I don't remember. This is very long.

Calling this the QPP Fae AU.

(cw/tw: mention of death & dead parent, implied/referenced mistreatment & alienation, possible grief and denial, disappearance/missing person, not being believed, abandonment issues, fear of being alone, fear of vulnerability & trusting others, massive anxiety mention, hunters, mention of questioning ones humanity)

Spooky Gays in a qpp. One is a human, the other is some fae creature in disguise. Not the ones ya think.

Fae Virgil not wanting to deal with most humans can they're really mean and weird and why did one of them just down chemicals for a media challenge, huh??

Human Remus being his feral, chaotic self & Virgil genuinely believing he's a fellow fae. No human does that shit, you have no shame, sir, and don't give a shit about human rules, ain't no way you're a human. Remus is very much not like his peers at all, but he loves himself for it. The weirder he is, the better. He rather be alienated from those strict jerks.

It's not like he wants genuine connection, haha, shut up

Remus tells Virgil that actually he's human, but he thinks being mistaken for fae is the best thing ever. Virgil does not believe him for a while before just accepting his human is just a massive feral weirdo.

Virgil and Remus end up in a qpp/partnership. They slowly show trust and vulnerability to each other & find out things about one another. Like Remus' fear of being alone or his abandonment issues that may or may not being related to his missing twin brother who's being missing for almost six months by now. Or like Virgil's massive anxiety bc of unfair shit from other fae & meanie humans/human hunters. Also his fear of trusting others bc he's so used to be betrayed and hurt. They help each other out w/ their things.

And maybe h/c qpp turns into a mystery and thriller as they search for Remus' missing brother, Roman, who disappeared right after a trip into the woods and hasn't been seen since. Remus believes he's still alive somewhere but no one believes him. The townsfolk held a memorial/funeral that Remus refused to attend bc "he's still alive, what are you doing, we have to find him, idiots". Virgil is the only one who kinda believes him bc lots of ppl disappear into the woods and end up in the fae world, it happens a lot, so maybe he's there? So, Virgil uses his fae connections to help look for him & he and Remus look in Roman's fave spots in the woods. As this happens, Remus tells stories of when the twins were younger and they'd go camping w/ each other & how they'd play pretend a lot & when they played make believe Re chose to be a Duke & Ro chose to be a Prince & their mom Rhea would pretend with them sometimes and pretend to be this epic Dragon-Witch or some badass queen. And yus, Rhea is named after the actual mother of Romulus and Remus from the myth.

On this goes, and they find Roman. Not how you'd think. Maybe he'd be dead, maybe he'd be in the fae world. It's neither, kinda. They discover that Roman is, in fact, fae himself and is a changeling with a human form. Which raises so many questions of how the fuck that happened, does that mean Re and Roman aren't actually biological twins, but he's still his brother right, you're still my twin brother, how did he figure that out, he's more human than Remus is, how in the hell? Ya see, all those questions are put off bc Remus found his lost brother and hugs him so tight that he could break him if he wanted. The twins hug each other tightly and Virgil watches fondly in support from the background.

Turns out, Roman started questioning his humanity and discovered he may be fae, so he staged a 'mysterious disappearance' and ran off to figure himself out. He discovered himself, who he really is, what he really is, and he has missed Remus so so much. Remus is like "you asshole why did you tell me they said you were dead pls never leave again I missed you you bastard" and yep, more brother hugs for these two. Virgil and Roman meet, and Ro of course teases Re over having a partner in the most sibling way possible and everything turns out okay! The most likely to be fae isn't fae, and the other "normal" ppl are actually fae and Remus has everyone he cares about again (excluding his Mom cause she's dead but eh).

Anyway, Roman made friends with a fae Logan and Patton & made rivals with a witch/sorceress transfemme Janus. Remus is the only full-on, not magical, human in this entire group. Which is the funniest shit ever.

Oh yeah, and Rhea was a single Mom when she was alive. Best Mom Award, fr. Took the twins camping & indulged them in their interests (to a healthy degree). One of the few who ever supported Remus for being himself.

So, a qpp Dukexiety idea that leads into a mystery about fae, brothers, and transfemme witches. About family and most Dukexiety being dorks together as they go on this journey.

Hope ya enjoy!

Heyo! :}D That literally sounds S O fucking cool I L O V E L O V E L O V E E V E R Y T H I N G about this oml!!! There's S O much I already adore it's got Mystery, Fantasy aspects, The Spooky Gays adventuring and being absolute dorks and trusting to each other, Hilarious concepts (Forever cackling at both the fact that Ree is chaotic and unhinged as shit to the point where Vee doesn't even believe him when he says he's human at first and that the poor Emo Fae's QPP is literally the only non magical person in the group don't worry the C H A O S makes up for it Bud XD) The perfect amount of A N G S T and F L U F F ratio, Wholesome Creativitwins moments (Rhea is forever a Queen for raising such wonderful sons <3) Twists, and just ahhhh I desperately N E E D this <3!!!

[biribaa]

Sebastian J. Cricket x reader headcanons!

Pls his voice in the brazilian dub is so good?? He such special man i love him yes i ignored every single Thing Request JUST to make this thing

TW/CW: """Stalking"""???

He's a goofy, silly but polite man, OF COURSE he will be the first to fall in love. And with that, Sebastian is slowly and slowly giving you more hints about his feelings, with flowers, compliments on your face and poetry! He literally daydreams with you 24/7, sometimes he just tries to stay in a place where you can't see him so he can admire you, your face, your hair, your eyes and your moves, trying to capture your exact appearance in words. Don't misunderstand him! He's not being a stalker, I mean, that could be considered stalking, but not in a selfish, non-toxic way, does that exist?

He loves playing the violin for you, in general Sebastian loves playing the violin, but for you? It's special, it's different from every time he's performed, a special feeling flowing inside of him. So you can ask Sebastian to play his violin as much as you want, it's always all his pleasure to play it for you.

He's not extremely jealous, but it's clear he has his moments of jealous feelings at one time or another. Sebastian understands that you have friends and family, he knows who are best friends when he sees best friends, but when it comes to someone who is in fact romantically interested in you, Sebastian will take action about it. It is clear that Sebastian does not do any actions that harm neither you nor the person who is interested in you! It would be more... "A battle of gifts" (Which will obviously end up with Sebastian getting all stressed).

Of course, Sebastian understands that a colorful friendship needs to be formed to start a romantic relationship, Sebastian can be selfish sometimes, but he can't be that selfish, to see you only as a muse and not a poet would be a sin for Sebastian himself.

Sebastian tries his hardest not to be selfish with you, preventing bragging so as not to make you uncomfortable, but of course, if you insist he tell you about his adventures, he'll gladly tell you. For Sebastian, telling his adventures from his point of view is almost a declaration of love.

Speaking of the devil, declaration time. Sebastian is someone artistic, he is an artist and he makes his whole life his own art, and the declaration of love for his soul mate, his true love, is part of that, and he wants it to stand out, not for him but for you. So Sebastian put the dots together, and just assumed the best way would be to sing you a love song on his violin, and then finally make the declaration, after all, every time he plays the violin for you is special, always.

”Oh my– Yes, of course! I love you too Sebastian!“

”Oh, it's fine Y/N, you are not being forced to love me anyway.“

”What? No no,“ You giggle ”Did you heard what I said? I love you, Sebastian.“

”After all, who am I to control your feelings? Be free Y/N– WAIT WHAT?!”

Sebastian is 100% sure he is the happiest cricket in the world after the two began a romantic relationship. And guess what he have the double of the gifts for you! Every week he comes walking up to you with the greatest difficulty with a bunch of flowers bigger than himself that he made by hand.

Of course, as her romantic partner, Sebastian wants to prove to the fullest that he can be your best boyfriend, so he will always take care and remind you to take care of your own health, he understands that you have two difficulties, but even so, Sebastian will do his best to take care of you.

Oh of course he uses romantic nicknames with you! ”Honey“, ”Love“ and ”Dear“ are his most used even in public, while ”My love“, ”Sweetheart“ and ”Dearest“ Are mostly used in more private moments between you and him.

Of course, Sebastian manages to balance the romantic relationship and friendship between the two of you, if you know what I mean. Sometimes playing chess, or maybe some card games, maybe singing and dancing together(If you play an instrument it makes everything better), maybe a hike on a trail or read a book together!

Sebastian is much less jealous than before, he trusts you deeply, it's almost impossible to explain in words the trust, loyalty and love that Sebastian feels for you, he knows and feels in his heart that you would never cheat on him.

Definitely not a flirty, it's not that he dislikes it, but Sebastian just thinks it's unnecessary, and he doesn't mind if you're not too! But at the same time he never said he wouldn't mind if you were one. Sebastian will stutter so much if you go at him with flirts without any context, hiding his face under a book, mumbling and mumbling, but deep down, down and down, he's enjoying this.

Sebastian's kisses are adorable, in his size, his kisses are almost ticklish for you. It's usually easier for Sebastian to kiss your cheek, it has more space, it's softer, it's perfect for him to kiss, but of course there are times when he actually tries to kiss you on the lips, with some difficulties, such as his size.

Conclusion, Sebastian is a very loyal cricket, he may fail many times, but he is trying, trying to make you and him happy in a healthy relationship that he hopes more than anything lasts until his death

[broshot]

pairing: Gojo Satoru x gn!reader

genre: Fluff

cw/tw: pet names :P (ex. babe, my love), tired gojo, food (does this need a warning?), slightly suggestive?, kissing

summary: your boyfriend came home late, really tired, but you made food and he has to eat. he also wants cuddles.

not proof read, pls tell me if there's any grammar mistakes or anything (english isn't my first language btw)💗

♡♡♡

You looked at the digital clock next to the fridge in your kitchen. The time showed 11:23PM. You were waiting for your boyfriend, Gojo Satoru, to come home from work. You had decided to cook for him to make time pass faster.

He worked long days, waking up early and going to sleep late. You had no idea how his body could keep up with it, and you wanted to at least make sure he ate enough if sleep wasn't strong on his part.

As you finished cooking, you heard the door shut, followed with your boyfriend calling you.

You quickly took off your apron and placed it down before rushing to Gojo.

He had his eyes closed and was leaning to the wall, almost asleep. You walked closer to him and gently shook him. He opened his eyes and looked down at you before smiling.

"Hi, love." He said and you smiled at him. "Hi. Where's your blindfold?" You answered and he spoke: "I dropped it. It's okay, though, it wasn't my favourite one anyway."

You smiled before asking him if he's hungry, which he responded with: "Yeah, but I'm also tired, I think I'll skip the meal and just go to sleep."

You shook your head. "Babe, I prepared your favourite. We'll sleep after eating, it's okay, tomorrow's saturday and we can sleep in."

He agreed to eating with you after a while and followed you to the kitchen.

♡♡♡

After you both finished eating, you started doing the dishes. But Gojo was impatient.

"Babeeeee," he whined, resting his head on the table. You hummed in response.

"I want to sleep." He said and you replied with: "Then go to sleep."

"Not without you," he said and you shook your head, smiling. "Wait until I've finished the dishes."

"'s fine, babe, I'll do the dishes tomorrow." He muttered tiringly, clearly getting more frustrated.

"Really?" "Mhm. Please, I want to cuddle you." He whined and you gave in, how could you not?

"Fine, get up and lets get to bed. Take a shower first, though, you're sweaty."

He took a quick shower before walking to your shared bedroom. You were laying on the bed, waiting for him.

He didn't put on a shirt and his grey sweatpants were hanging dangerously low on his waist - which he obviously noticed - but he was too tired to tease you. He just wanted to feel you in his arms, pepper you with soft kisses and fall asleep cuddling.

You noticed his look aswell but knowing him, you knew he would have teased the hell out of you if he was in the mood for something.

He flashed a tired smile at you before sliding under the blankets, pulling you to his chest. He placed a soft kiss on your forehead and lowered his head to give you a quick peck on the lips and pulling away.

You pulled him back, placing your lips on his. You could feel his smile against your lips. You broke the kiss and looked at Gojo.

He leaned back in just to touch the tips of your noses together before closing his eyes.

"I love you so much." He whispered, wrapping his arms around you.

"I love you too, 'Toru. So much." You whispered back.

♡♡♡

masterlist

wow hi haha

this is so bad too but I just wanted to write something for him because he's love

[munsonslilbunnie]

Hi, I saw that you were taking requests for Eddie Munson and I am in desperate need for fluff. How about Eddie and a shy, nerdy (book smart), and quiet s/o? Like they haven't gotten together yet and it's literally them realizing that "oh hey those are feelings. wait-" when they start talking and realize they have things in common. Bonus points if s/o is Dustin's older sibling and if it'd be alright, could it be gender neutral?

pairing: eddie munson x henderson!gn!reader 

word count: 3.3k

warnings/cw/tw: somewhat cutesy stuff. reader being a lil dense to eddie’s advances tbh. pretty eddie bc we all need it rn <3 no pronouns were used with minimal petnames. if i slipped up somewhere, pls tell me and i'll correct it asap!

a/n: aaaa i’m not really sure if this is exactly what you were asking for but i tried hhh 🥺 god i was in desperate need of something cutesy rn so this was my best shot at the moment kjsdjkjf it’s not as long as my other stuff, but it did bring me some joy writing this out for you c’: i hope it’s kinda to your liking!

: ¨ ·.· ¨ : · .. ·

how you and eddie “the freak” munson became... somewhat friends was beyond you. well, actually, scratch that. you could probably pinpoint the direct cause as to why you’re friends now, after years of being in the same school, passing each other in the hallways, in the same proximity but never in the same inner circle. 

dustin. 

being the eldest henderson didn’t have the best perks, you see. for example, now that you were able to drive and have your own car, your mom expected you to drive him everywhere. to and from school, that, you could understand. sure, you could drive him to mike or lucas’s house when they wanted to hang out. that didn’t bother you much, you supposed. that was usually during the weekend anyway, so it’s not like it took up too much of your time (not that you were busy during the weekdays anyway, you didn’t have many friends and you weren’t really the type to hang out on the weekdays – those days were dedicated to studying and studying only). 

but one thing that was, honestly, starting to annoy you a bit was having to pick him after his little “hellfire club”. you knew it was something important for dustin – you have never seen him so excited about something before. never like this. so you cut him some slack, putting your studying aside sometimes so you could pick him up. 

coincidentally, the first time you picked him up from “hellfire” was the first time you encountered eddie directly.

you wrapped your arms around yourself as you leaned against your car, your sneakers scruffing up against the pavement as you waited for your kid brother to come running out those double doors. you glanced around the (almost) empty parking lot, eyes lingering on the dingy van a few spots away from yours before a sigh ripped from your lips.

“what’s taking you so long, dustin?” you mumbled, an annoyed tone in your words. you had actually gotten there a little late, mind occupied with studying, wanting to do your best on that history exam you have the next day. when you realized you were already ten minutes past the original time dustin asked you to pick him up, you were scrambling off your bed, not bothering to change from your pajamas (just an old, oversized sweater and some sweatpants). you were worried that stubborn boy would have started walking home – but imagine your surprise when you got to the school and there was nothing. no soul around. you were a little thrown off at how… barren the school looked at night. you weren’t a scaredy-cat, but you really didn’t want to stay out here any longer than you had to. 

just as you were about to push yourself off your car and make your way into the building (because who knows? maybe dustin’s club meeting or whatever really did end already and someone was able to give him a ride back home, is what you were hoping for), the double doors burst open, your kid brother in tow as he laughed along with the other guys that trailed out the school. 

you watched dustin for a second, before glancing over to the tall figure whose eyes were already set on your face, a small smirk gracing his (surprisingly) handsome face. 

“well, well, well. and just who do we have here, huh, henderson?” eddie munson came to a stop in front of you, his hands tucked safely inside his back pockets as he rocked on the heels of his boots, large, doe-like eyes staring into yours, before they briefly glanced down at your figure, amused at what you’re wearing. 

your cheeks flushed slightly, not only at the way he looked at you but also because you weren’t good when it comes to talking to people. you always stuck to yourself, hence why you barely have one, maybe two true friends, all throughout high school. you weren’t like eddie and his extroverted self, who called for your attention almost every single time during lunch, who demanded your eyes to never once stray away from him when he gave one of his usual performances of calling out the social groups in high school (aiming to piss off the jocks, more than anything else). your lips parted, a small “uh…” coming from you before dustin came to your “rescue”.

“eddie, this is (y/n), my older sibling. (y/n), this is eddie, remember?” dustin gave you a wide, lopsided grin, revealing his braces as they glinted slightly from the moonlight. 

you weren’t sure what to say so all you did was nod your head towards eddie, before awkwardly raising your hand and giving him a slight wave. yeah, dustin definitely got the better social skills in the family, something that you weren’t sure if you were grateful for, just yet. 

“huh!” eddie jumped back slightly, albeit a little dramatically, as he pointed between you and dustin, “you two? siblings? henderson! how dare you keep this beautiful creature away from me for so long? you wound me!” 

dustin looked at eddie like a fish out of water, waving his hands as he tried to explain himself. you knew eddie was just messing with him, but you had to admit – it made you giggle softly at how the man strung dustin along, feigning hurt and sadness as he gave him shit for “hiding you away from him”. 

it finally took dustin about five minutes for him to throw his hands up in frustration and stomp his way to your car, getting into the passenger side as he grumbled on and on  about eddie and the shit he puts him through – (“how was i suppose to know you didn’t know i had a sibling?! uh, we share the same last name, last i remember!” “uh uh, not the point, henderson!”). boys, really. 

with a shake of your head, you turned your back on eddie, hand grasping the handle already when he popped his head next to yours, a surprised squeak leaving your lips at the sudden intrusion of personal space, your faces inches away from each other. “see ya around, pretty.” he gave you a little wink before he was practically prancing – bouncing? – his way to his van. 

you weren’t even going to get into the way your heart fluttered when he called you “pretty”. he thought you were “pretty”?

“(y/n)! uh, hellooooo?! we gotta get home now! are you even listening to me!” dustin’s shriek made you roll your eyes at the boy, quickly getting into your car and driving away, ignoring his insistent questions of “what did he say to you?!”. god, were you the older sibling, or was he?

since that day, eddie munson has become a constant in your life. he was never around and all of the sudden, he was simply everywhere. poking you in the ribs in the hallways. scaring you by suddenly appearing right in your face when you close your locker. he even started getting into the habit of following you into the library, disrupting your studying time during lunch – dustin has complained to you on more than one occasion about how eddie is following after you like a lost puppy. you knew that wasn’t true, but as the weeks started to roll by, you started thinking more about it. why is eddie munson all of the sudden taking an interest in you? with all of his teasings, and simply hanging out around you, you have hardly spoken to him. a couple of words here and there – talking to others, especially men, wasn’t something that you were good at. 

when dustin became attached to steve harrington, it took you months to have a full-on conversation with him, and even then, it was something simple as asking if he could put a movie you wanted to see to the side, nothing really personal. so why was eddie still sticking by your side even though he was the one mainly talking? that had to be annoying or boring to him, right? once or twice, there was a guy who would try to pursue you, trying to talk you up, but soon enough, they would get aggravated at how much you didn’t… talk or contribute to the conversations that they just gave up. so really, eddie is probably going to get bored one way or the other, you were sure of it. except this time, you weren’t sure if you wanted that to happen. you… liked his presence. you weren’t sure if you were ready for him to leave your side.

except, it didn’t end up like that.

it was just a normal day for you. tuesday. tuesdays were always boring, in a sense, but it was also the day that you had the pick dustin up from his “hellfire” club. normally, you would have gone home and used a couple of hours to study before ultimately making your way back to the school to pick him up. 

however, you wanted to do things a little differently this time. you received special permission from the school’s librarian to stay after school hours in the library. she knew you weren’t the type to do anything stupid and she trusted you enough to leave you alone in the large, book-filled room for a couple of extra hours. for once, your quiet nature came in handy. 

so that’s how you found yourself, at almost six thirty in the afternoon, sitting near the front of the library with your back to the door, at one of the many empty tables there. you had binders spread all over, notes upon notes in front of you in neat stacks. dustin always said you went overboard, but you couldn’t help it. being smart was your thing. at least, you tried to make it your thing. you weren’t charismatic or witty or funny or charming. if you wanted to get into a good enough college after graduation, you needed to have the grades for it. 

you placed your head in your hands, eyes lazily glancing around the papers that seemed to have swarming words. you shut your eyes tightly, letting out a soft sigh. you were overdoing it. maybe a break wouldn’t be so bad…

you reached inside your bookbag, pulling out your walkman. you slipped the headphones over your ears and pressed play, not really caring what you had on at the moment. few seconds in and the familiar guitar riff that came from the band iron maiden filled your ears. you felt your shoulders relax a bit, a lazy smile on your face. of course, you had forgotten all about this. you had just recently discovered iron maiden and they were, by far, your favorite artist to listen to at the moment. not exactly studying or relaxing music, but it calmed your nerves in a strange way. 

you pushed yourself away from the table and took your time just exploring the library, the stillness surrounding you pushing you further and further into your mind, aimlessly walking around the room, before somehow making your way out of the library. your fingers gently ran against the walls and lockers, a faint hum coming from your lips as you got into the music. 

a long while passed by, and before you knew it, the cassette arrived at the end and it was time for you to replay it again. however, you weren’t given the chance to. 

“iron maiden? i’ll be damned, i didn’t take you as the type of person to listen to them, henderson.”

“shit!” you let out a loud curse, yanking the headphones away from your ears as you twirled around, finding a grinning eddie in front of you, leaning against the lockers with his arms crossed against his chest. 

“sorry, sweetheart. did i scare ya?” he held his hands up in mock surrender, meaning no harm to you. imagine his surprise, after taking a quick bathroom break from his campaign (much to the member's annoyance), that he would end up bumping into the eldest henderson, oblivious to the entire world as they hummed along to iron maiden. oh, the things that did to his poor little heart. 

especially now, looking at the way your cheeks flush red. it was cute, really. he always thought you were cute, in an innocent way. but he won’t lie – your taste in music intrigued him. he wasn’t expecting that out of sweet, little ole nerdy henderson. 

“so? iron maiden?” he pressed again after a few moments of silence, wondering if you would talk to him this time. it did frustrate him in the beginning when you wouldn’t talk back, would just smile or give him nonverbal responses to any of his questions – kid henderson had to almost beat it into eddie’s head that you weren’t good with talking, conversations, or anything like that – so he calmed down a little, wanting to go at your pace, and just take what you were willing to give. 

you stared at the man in front of you for a few more seconds, pursing your lips slightly as you tried to prepare yourself, build yourself up for your next words. 

“yeah… iron maiden. they are… my favorite at the moment.” your words were soft, weak – as if it took a lot of you to say them. 

but it made eddie smile proudly at you. that was the first, complete sentence you had ever spoken to him. hearing your voice more clearly now made him… excited? flustered? he wasn’t too sure. 

“sweet, henderson! ya know, i expected something like blondie or madonna from you, but iron maiden? now, that’s fucking hot,” eddie cackled softly, pushing himself off the lockers and walking towards you, falling into step with you as you started to make your way back to the library, an embarrassed look on your face. 

“i… like them too, but i guess… iron maiden really caught my eye. they sound really good…” you twiddled with your headphones, trying to keep yourself busy to focus on anything else except the fact that you were actually talking to eddie munson right now – without stumbling over your words! 

eddie nodded his head to your words, stuffing his hands in his pockets, “‘m more of a black sabbath guy, myself, but iron maiden has some good shit too. so, can’t blame ya, henderson. you got some good taste in you, huh?” he teased you, gently nudging your ribs with his elbow, which made you giggle softly – not your fault you were a ticklish person. 

“i suppose you’re right… do you suggest i listen to… uh, black sabbath, too?” you tried your best to keep the conversation going, eyes glancing over at his face briefly before looking away when you made eye contact. the way your chest squeezed is something that has been happening more and more the longer eddie kept on hanging out around you. 

“hm,” eddie hummed softly, glancing up at the ceiling as he mulled over your question. “i say – fuck yeah!” he clapped his hands loudly at a sudden thought, jumping in front of you to stop you from walking, wagging a finger in your face, “how about this, sweetheart. how about i make ya a mixtape of all the songs i recommend listening to? think about it, your very own eddie mixtape!” he looked so excited – almost like a puppy waiting for a treat, for something, anything. he searched your face, waiting for your response.

the more you stared at him, the more you realized you didn’t want that look to go away. he looked so… happy, so excited. his smile was so pretty, you wanted him to smile at you all the time now. before you knew it, you were nodding your head in agreement with his words, the man clapping his hands in excitement before he bounced over to you, swinging an arm around your shoulders. 

“you won’t regret it, sweetheart! i’ll recommend ya all the good shit!” eddie laughed softly as he tugged you down the hallway, his hand casually rubbing against your bicep. the butterflies hadn’t stopped fluttering in your tummy yet. the casual skinship between you two was making your mind go into a frenzy. obviously, it meant nothing to him – but it meant something to you. what that something was, you weren’t sure. you hardly even give dustin hugs at this point. what was so different about eddie that you’d just let him hold you like this without so much as a protest? get your mind together, (y/n). 

before long, eddie had brought you back to the library, his hand still lingering on your bicep for a moment before he pulled away, looking over at you with a lazy grin. “home sweet home, sweetheart,” he waved his hand towards the library’s door. 

he gave you a theatric bow but before he could leave, you blurted out, “wait, did you know i was here the whole time?”

he blinked at you in surprise, a blotch of red forming on his cheeks as he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, “uh, well, yeah… kinda had to beat it out of your kid brother – mentioned your name and something about you being in the school, but didn’t want to tell me. a little threat of canceling the campaign had him spilling his guts to me, though!” he cackled at the end of his little rambling before he stopped abruptly, his cheeks flushing even redder as he stared into your equally wide eyes with his own, “shit, that was creepy, wasn’t it?”

you weren’t sure what got into you when you shook your head, words tumbling out of your mouth in a hurry, “no… no, i mean – that wasn’t creepy, it’s okay, eddie!” you all but squeaked out, still shaking your head. 

eddie continued to rub at the back of his neck before his fingers came forward to play with the end of his long hair, pressing it against his cheek and lips as he stared at you with almost a shy expression. 

“hey, listen…” eddie began slowly, inching forward towards you, “do you wanna, like, actually hang out one day? you’re a cool person, obviously have at least a decent taste in music,” he shot you a teasing wink, “you just… seem like someone i wanna get to know better, in a place that’s not school,” he emphasized towards the end, knowing how much school took over your social life – if you could even call it that. 

you gulped slightly as you stared at eddie, your fingers gripping your headphones tightly as you tried to think over his proposition. it was nearing the end of the year, you were so close to graduating, you had the grades. hanging out with eddie munson is harmless. besides, deep down, you knew you really, really wanted to hang out with him. for longer. get to know this interesting person. 

it took you a bit, but you slowly nodded your head, giving eddie a soft smile as you mumbled out quietly, “yeah… yeah, i’d really like that, eddie. i… wanna get to know you better, too.” it took everything in you to not run away with the way the long-haired man was looking at you, his eyes so hopeful, so open. 

at your agreement, eddie whispered out a soft ‘fuck yeah!’, pumping his fist up in the air before wrapping you in a tight hug. he pulled away quickly, though, before you could even respond, “shit, sorry! got a little too excited there!” eddie laughed sheepishly, shaking his head at himself before starting to walk backwards down the hall, staring at you with a wide grin, “maybe we can do something tomorrow? what do you say?”

tomorrow? oh, god. this was actually happening. you steeled your nerves and nodded your head, cheeks still red and heart hammering against your chest as you spoke louder than you had before, “yeah! just… just pick me up tomorrow. whatever you want to do tomorrow, i’m okay with!” 

eddie’s eyes widened at the volume of your voice before he chuckled and gave you a two-finger salute, finally turning around as he said, “got it, sweetheart. it’s a date then!” 

a date.

a date?

holy shit, you have a date with eddie munson.

dustin is so not going to be happy about this one.

: ¨ ·.· ¨ : · .. ·

[salazarslytherin]

full (r.l x y/n)

requested: yes! [hi i got a request! can u write a smut where remus has a breeding kink and he’s scared that it’ll freak the reader out but she’s actually rlly into it n he just cums a lot into her (this is probably the spiciest thing i’ve ever typed in my life 💀💀)] send in your own request here!

🃛 masterlist!

cw/tw: tiny bit of angst at the beginning, insecurities?, breeding!kink, slight degradation, fem!reader, handjob, fingering etc. just SMUT.

word count: 2.3k

a/n: i hope you like it y'all! if you do, pls do reblog/follow!! x

☯︎ join tag list here tag list: @marvelslut16, @siriusbarnesslut, @marimorena06, @weasleysbitch2, @reg-arcturus-black

Remus had been avoiding you for the past three days. Three days since you’d spoken to your boyfriend, two and half since you’d even seen him. It sucked.

The reasoning behind it was somehow worse - you’d tried to tell him you wanted to sleep with him, and he had literally run away.

So you were set on finding the boy and talking it out , and if it came to it, breaking up with him.

You didn’t want to be with someone who didn’t want you, especially to the extent of intentional avoidance.

You were in a relationship, not an extended game of hide and seek.

So you’d concocted a plan - Tuesdays were when the other boys had quidditch practice, and Remus would be in his dorm on his own for at least three hours, studying, doing homework, or whatever it was that he would do on his own.

Now, today was Tuesday, which meant that tomorrow morning you’d either be very satisfied, or very single.

You weren't even quite certain what you'd expected to come out of the confrontation – a screaming match where you found out all the reasons why he didn't want you? A startling confession where you found out that your boyfriend was a virgin?

Nevertheless, you stalked towards the Marauders' dorm room, intent on confronting him, only to falter as you reached the heavy doors, hearing sounds coming from the other side.

Registering what the noises were, you ground your teeth loudly, clenching your jaw as you gripped the doorknob.

"Oh fuck off."

⚔︎

You slammed the door open, Remus rolling off his bed in shock at the sound.

"Are you joking?!"

Remus looked at you in confusion and fear, kneeling beside the bed with his head peeking over the side, a sheepish blush coating his cheeks.

"Um, Y/N, do you mind? I was kind of in the middle of something..."

You let out a laugh of exasperation, throwing your schoolbag on the ground in frustration.

"Yeah, I know. I could hear you outside. Am I just so unattractive to you, that I basically tell you to fuck me and you had to run away from me? You'd rather fuck your own hand than me?!"

Bending over to pick up your bag, you could practically your heart breaking as Remus scrambled to put on his pants.

Your fears had been confirmed – he didn't find you as attractive as you found him, and it hurt. You just wanted to run far, far away from him, to hide yourself away and be able to release the tears that were threatening to escape.

But as you turned to run from the room, that familiar grasp landed on your wrist, stopping you from leaving the dreaded place.

"Y/N, wait–"

"No, I get it, okay? I don't need to hear you say it out loud."

Your voice cracked as you tried to wrench your hand out of the werewolf's grip, unable to hide your sadness and hurt as you were turned to face the boy.

"Y/N! Please, let me explain myself, please. If you want to leave afterwards, you can. I just, please?"

You didn't really want to hear his explanations, but some masochistic, yet hopeful, part of you wanted to know just why he didn't want you.

Maybe you could change for him?

You relaxed in his arms, still not quite looking into Remus' arms as you no longer made any attempts to run away.

"You're right, I did run away from you when you said you were ready to sleep with me."

Your eyes squeezed shut, not wanting to hear the rest of his words.

"But that's just because I was afraid you wouldn't want to be with me anymore if I told you what I wanted."

Your eyes opened slowly as you lifted your head to look at the boy, your brows furrowed in confusion as you peered at him.

"What d'you mean?"

It was Remus' turn to become flustered now, his hands moving from your side to cover his face in embarrassment.

"I–okay. You know how you thought I ran away from you because I didn't find you attractive?"

You nodded, still half-convinced that was the truth, the reason why he'd avoided you for so long.

"It, it was the opposite."

You raised a brow in disbelief, unable to stop a skeptical laugh from escaping your mouth, Remus' hands falling away from his face so he could look into your eyes.

"It's true! I, fuck this is embarrassing, and you're probably going to run away from me if I tell you the truth."

You crossed your arms with a huff.

"Well right now I'm not quite certain there is a 'truth' that you speak of! I'm quite certain you're just making it all up, trying to hide the fact that you think I'm unattractive."

Remus grit his teeth, his hands gripping your shoulders firmly as if to shake you awake.

"No! That's absurd. I, I find you so bloody attractive, and, fuck it I'm just going to say it and if you break up with me I won't even blame you. I've been having dreams of you and I, but in those dreams," Remus' hands relaxed from your shoulders, falling to his side in embarrassment, "I would, um, cum inside of you, and uh, fill you with my pups."

Your jaw fell open at the boy's admission, his right hand rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably before continuing to speak.

"And I've never even thought of that before! I think you're just so bloody hot that you've awoken some sort of primal instinct inside me, I just want to ruin you, and–and breed you. Fuck this sounds so creepy doesn't it."

You were incapable of shutting your jaw at this point. This was far from what you thought you'd hear from your boyfriend's mouth today.

"Y/N... I've scared you away, haven't I? I mean, of course you'd be freaked out..."

The boy continued to mumble to himself, terrified that he'd ruined your relationship, certain that you'd break up with him.

Contrary to what he thought though, you found his words incredibly hot.

And you'd be damned if you didn't make that a reality.

⚔︎

In the middle of Remus' ramblings, he was barely able to register that you'd moved towards him, placing your hands onto his cheeks until your soft voice rang in his ears.

"Remus?"

The brunette's eyes snapped to meet yours, gaze darting between each of your eyes as he awaited your words.

"Fucking ruin me, please."

Before the last word even left your mouth fully, Remus was already on top of you, his lips capturing yours hungrily, like you were his first meal in weeks and he was dying to have you.

As Remus devoured you, he backed the two of you onto his bed, his legs lodged between yours as you gripped onto his neck, eager to have him.

You arched your back as you were overcome with need, trying desperately to grind your clothed cunt onto his hard-on, but the boy only tutted at you, moving away from your lips to push your hips down on the bed.

"Such a desperate little slut, hmm?"

You only whined in return, trying to grind into his legs that were between you, Remus smirking down at you.

"Take your clothes off love."

Your hands moved to unbutton your school shirt without a second word, fingers moving in a flurry to throw it off before tossing your bra across the room, Remus moving at very much the same speed as he removed his clothes.

You both quickly found yourselves naked, admiring each other through lust-filled eyes as the boy lowered himself slowly towards you, his lips ghosting over yours as you laid yourself back down.

"So beautiful."

His lips quickly captured yours, both your hands exploring each other's bodies for the first time – tingles of excitement running through your bodies.

Your hands traced his scars as his ran down your curves, him stopping to suck in a breath as you cupped his cock, fully hardened under your fingers.

"Fuck, don't tease me Y/N."

You only licked the boy's lips in return, but was treated with a taste of your own medicine as his hand brushed your lower lips softly, tracing your slit teasingly slowly.

"Remus... Please."

Your cupped hand became a grip – encircling the werewolf's member as you began to pump up and down his shaft slowly, eliciting a low moan from Remus.

He responded by slipping a finger into you, the kiss broken as both your lips were preoccupied with a mixture of swears and moans, asking the other to hasten their pace as you two built up your orgasms.

"Wait, fuck stop. Stop Y/N."

Remus' other hand came to stop your hand as he kept himself up on his knees, pulling away from your close contact to look into your eyes.

"'m too fucking close, wanna cum inside you."

You swore you could feel your eyes darken at the boy's words, and so did his.

"Then fuck me."

⚔︎

Remus gripped your thighs tightly as he kissed down your body, spreading your legs and leaving a kiss on your soaking centre. You let out a shaky moan as he planted his tongue against it, licking a stripe up your lips.

"For next time."

The boy moved back up your body, his head hovering over yours as he looked down at his cock, pumping the already erect shaft before tracing his head along your lips.

"R-Remus, please. Want to feel you inside me."

The boy tutted at you mockingly, before sinking himself inside you slowly, moaning at the feeling of your walls stretching around him.

"Fuck, you're so tight baby."

You moaned around him in a mix of pain and pleasure – his fingers not at all preparing you for his cock, stretching you in a way that none of your exes could ever compete with.

"You're so big Re, please, fuck."

Remus pressed a wet kiss to your forehead, his face contorted in pleasure as he awaited your green light to start moving.

After a moment, you nodded as the feeling of being full sent tingles down your spine, letting out a loud moan as the boy began moving out of you slowly, shifting himself so he could grip your hips more firmly for support.

"F-faster."

You muttered out as you clenched your walls around Remus, your orgasm already building from when he prepared you.

"Yeah, my desperate little slut wants me to go faster?"

His hips hastened the speed as his words made you whine loudly, his head lowering to leave kisses on your neck, marking you for the world to see.

“I’m close Re, fuck.”

“Me too princess.”

The boy buried his face into your neck as he began twitching inside of you, his speed faltering for a second as he let out a moan that could border on animalistic, cumming inside you.

The feeling of being filled more than you knew possible pushed you over the edge as Remus continued thrusting his seed deeper into you, moaning as your walls fluttered around him, cumming at the feeling of your boyfriend inside you.

"You look so fucking gorgeous right now love, such a good little cumslut for me, hmm?"

You could only whine in response as Remus continued fucking into you, his cock hardening yet again at the thought of you full of him.

"Gonna look so pretty filled with m'pups, love. Going to fill you up over and over and over again, watch my cum leak out of you because of how full you are."

You moaned at Remus' filthy words, turning to kiss his neck, softly nibbling on his earlobe as you gripped onto his shoulders.

"Yes Re, fuck. Fill me up, feel so good with you inside me. Making me feel so full. Wanna have your pups, want you to cum inside me. Make me yours Re."

It didn't take long for a second orgasm to start building, and it definitely didn't help that Remus had moved one hand to start rubbing at your clit, making you moan at the overstimulation.

"Feel good, hmm, love?"

You nodded into the boy's neck, your eyes squeezed shut as pleasure coursed throughout your body, unable to process proper words. The only sounds that filled the room were the sinful slaps of skin against skin, and a faint noise that made you blush.

It was the sound of Remus' cock slipping in and out of you, slick with the combination of both of your cum.

"Re, I-, fuck, close, again."

Unable to string together a proper sentence, your walls began fluttering around Remus yet again.

"So am I love. You feel so good, making me lose control. Wait for me, we'll cum together."

Your eyes rolled backwards, waiting for Remus. The task seemed impossible as pleasure pulsed throughout your body, your toes curling and legs shaking at the feelings.

"Re, please, I need to cum so badly. You feel so good."

Your nails dug into Remus' back, the feeling burning into him and making him groan into your neck.

"Yes, fuck Y/N. Cum with me love."

Finally able to release, you let out a moan that bordered on pornographic, seeing stars as your eyes squeezed shut much harder than before. You felt ropes of Remus' cum hit your walls, another animalistic groan reaching your ears as he bit into your neck, making you moan softly in the midst of a post-orgasmic bliss.

Panting, your chests rose and fall in tandem as Remus fell on top of you, his cock limp inside you. After a moment, he spoke up.

"Y'know you squirted?"

Your eyes shot open, staring at the boy who craned his neck to look down at you.

"I-, what?"

The werewolf let out a boyish smile, tongue running over his teeth as he stared down at you.

"It was hot."

[shinehyuk]

hellooo since requests are open can I request a yandere victon where s/o roll their eyes pls?

VICTON reaction to S/O rolling their eyes at them

‣ Genre : yandere

tw/cw : heavy themes, strong language, obsession, abuse, toxic relationships, violence, murder, please do not read if sensitive/uncomfortable!

Seungwoo :

· He was going on and on with the same bullshit that you heard tens of times already, how you need to be a good kitten and obey him, blah, blah, blah. You just couldn't help but roll your eyes on impulse

· You'll regret that faster than you can manage to blink – Seungwoo throwing you against the wall, his hand finding a tight grip on your throat

· "What was that, love? I swear to God, you better fucking tell me my eyes were wrong."

· He doesn't accept any of your worthless apologies or the assuring that it won't ever happen again. If you do something wrong, you pay for it

Seungsik :

· He will cock a brow at you, scoffing at your behavior in frustration. You dare roll your eyes at him? Ha. Funny.

· The thing Seungsik hates the most is such attidute; it's one of the many things that make his blood boil.

· "Behavioral lesson one – any attidute you give me will result in one person getting hurt.. badly. Do you still want to roll your pretty eyes at me, my love?"

· Not shockingly, his method seems to have worked quite well, putting you in place so you never showed even a single sign of your deep hate for him

Chan :

· Chan will simply grin at you – you could not make out what emotion was written on his face. Was it anger? Happiness? Hurt?

· He'll take out his phone, confusing you with his odd actions. Should he not make a remark about your attidute? Didn't it irritate him at least a little bit?

· "You haven't seen your friends in a while, have you, darling? Why don't we go pay them a visit? I already texted them."

· You'll quickly agree to his offer, happy about the thought of reuniting with your friends. Unfortunately for you, the nice meeting will end a little bloody; Chan murdering every single one of your friends before your eyes as a punishment for a small, silly little eye roll

Sejun :

· The male will cock a brow and smirk darkly at you, watching how quickly your annoyed and bored expression changes to pure fear

· Oh darling, you've honestly got to be quite daring to do such a brave thing right in front of his eyes

· Best believe that the male will be more than happy to remind you both about the fact that he doesn't tolerate such attitude and how he punishes brats like you

· "My, my, will you ever learn, darling? If you weren't such a little naughty brat I wouldn't have to hurt you – isn't it so easy, hm?"

Hanse :

· You've really got to be bold to straight up show your annoyance to him without even trying to hide it from the male's gaze

· Once you hear his delusional, sickening laugh you'll instantly know that you're done for – oh, you're certainly in for a ride

· Rest assured that once Hanse takes care of your little brattiness, you'll quickly forget all about ever being annoyed

· "Oh, you're not so brave anymore, are you, love? How cute~"

Byungchan :

· The male's eyes would go wide as he pouts at you sadly, anxiety filling him

· Did he do anything to annoy you? Is he too clingy? But he thought that you liked his affection and him showing his love for you, so why are you annoyed?

· "Did I do something to annoy you..? I'm sorry.. I didn't mean to."

· He wouldn't stop sulking and clinging to you until you explained yourself to him

Subin :

· Wanting to mess with the male a bit, you sighed out loud and rolled your eyes as he was explaining to you why you should obey and stay with him

· He'll scoff right back at you, his cold glare instantly making you look down at your feet in shame

· You should know better than try to annoy him with your stupid, useless actions, shouldn't you?

· "Do that shit one more time and I won't bother calmly explaining to you next time. Understand?"

✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩ a/n ✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩

thank you for requesting! i hope you liked it <3

✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩

None of the gifs are mine!

‣ Taglist :

@atiny-chocolate-chip @lmaoskz @sunoo-bby @https-loverboy-com @heemingyu

[eyeless-cunt]

Okay so I kinda love this blog and it looks like your requests are open so can we maybe get some yandere creepypasta headcannons - kinda vibing with something edgy 'n gory but whatever you're in the mood to write pls bby xx

....gorey .....?🥴🥴🥴🥴 baby—you just made my entire fuckin DAY

TW/CW: BLOOD/GORE, Sexual themes such as: oral (reader receiving). Unhealthy relationships, yandere ej, possession, manipulation, dumbification. Second hand cannibalism....?

Do you want the perfect boyfriend? One that seems to be all you’ll ever need? One that’s always there for you, is a great listener, gives you just the right amount of affection? Well Ej might just be the one for you! He’s intelligent, built like a 10 inch thick steel door, unconventionally(?) attractive, has really nice hair, and is somehow great at sex despite him telling you he’s inexperienced. Weird how that works.

Of course, he doesn’t have eyes and his skin is a little...off color...—but he’s got cute (off color) freckles! Sure, there’s this disgusting goop that always seems to constantly leek from his empty black sockets, staining any fabric it touches and effectively stinking up your carpet.....—but he’s always apologetic about it and never fails to clean up his own messes! I mean, yeah, he’s got three...black tongues(?) in his mouth, and his jaw unhinges like nothing you’ve ever seen before, always revealing canines that are like nothing you ever even dreamt of before....—but he really knows how to put them to good use, always taking his sweet time, parting your thighs and dragging you closer to his unhinged open mouth by your hips. Listening to the sounds you make with no shame as you twist your tar stained sheets in both curled and red knuckled fists... Well, yeah. He certainly can use them.

Ej knows how absolutely naive his s/o is—but he doesn’t blame them. Aren’t all humans bound to be a little stupid? All he has to do is give his darling s/o a kiss on the forehead and a smile and they’ll melt like puddy in his hands(?)(claws?). He knows how to make them soft and maleable and he understands all their little buttons and quirks. Which is useful for those nights when he comes home covered in a lot more gore than he should be. It’s so useful to know how every gear in your body turns, especially when he gets caught. Why were you out so late? A walk, sweetheart. Do you want to come with me next time? What’s that stuff all over you—here, come here so I can see. It’s too dark, turn on the lights Jack. Don’t worry, I tripped and got covered in mud. You wouldn’t want to get it all over you, would you? Go to sleep for me? I’ll be in soon.

He wonders how you would react if you found out. If you knew that every time you kissed him you were tasting hell and human remains. He wonders if maybe one day you’ll open his freezer in the basement and find all those emergency snacks. The fingers he keeps in ziplock bags and the lower intestines he lays in there haphazardly. Would you scream? Be afraid? Try to leave him? Or are you already too far gone—just as he wants you to be? Wrapped around his grey finger like a brittle little line of twine, ready to snap if he so chooses to pull on your ends.

And maybe you’re a little worried about where he runs off to in the middle of the night, but he always assures you that you don’t have to worry. There’s no need for you to do the laundry, he’ll make sure to take care of his clothes. You don’t need to question why his mouth tastes like copper and a sick sort of flavor that you’ve never tasted on anyone else’s tongue. Why he comes home smelling like a butcher. You don’t need to know. You don’t care enough to know. Because he’s your perfect boyfriend that loves you oh-so much. And you love him just as much. Right?

[scoopsahoy]

steve fic based on strange by celeste pls im begging that song has destroyed me

ぺ word count ⋰ 1.1k

✰ tw ⋰ none :)

❍ cw ⋰ breakup :/

៚  a/n ⋰ thank you all so much for being patient with me. i've gotten many requests for fanfictions, and they will get done. i've been going through a rough patch in my personal life, so please forgive me for not writing.

✐ masterlist

⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★

The cold September air blew your hair out of your face. The park bench was like ice against your skin, despite the barrier of thick Levi's jeans. Your knit sweater clung tightly to your skin, the top of it soaked with a few teardrops.

You knew this was coming. It was sudden, but as soon as you realized it, you knew there was no coming back from it.

It wasn't like Steve didn't love you anymore. But over the last few months, neither of you had been fully invested in your relationship.

You'd simply grown apart.

Comfortable silence turned to awkward tension, neither of you knowing which words to fill the air with. Anything you said seemed to just disappear into a void, and the same thing with him.

It all started ten months ago in December of 1985. You were complete strangers who met by when you kept bumping into each other.

First, it was while you were both at JCPenney. You had to drive almost 40 minutes outside of Hawkins for it, but there was a dress you really wanted for your cousin's wedding.

You quite literally bumped into each other, your backs touching for a brief second before you both turned around and apologized. It was like love at first sight — at least, how you pictured it to feel.

The second time was at Scoops Ahoy, an ice cream parlor in Starcourt Mall, Hawkins' first major shopping center. He was behind the counter with a sailor uniform on, quickly tearing the hat off when he saw you.

He fixed his hair and served you with a friendly smile. Before you could leave, he told you that he was having a small get-together with some of his friends and that he'd love it if you could come.

You two were the only ones there that were the same age. By 'friends' you assumed he meant people he graduated with or some coworkers. But they were all about 14. They got along well, and his banter with his best friend Dustin made you chuckle.

Hanging out with him soon turned into him asking if he could kiss you in the front seat of his car during a drive-in movie. It was your very first kiss, and he made butterflies flutter in your stomach.

Then came the first night you slept over at his house, meeting each other's parents, and becoming intimate.

The night you had sex for the first time, you both laid in his bed afterward and just looked at each other. He'd rested his head on your stomach and you twisted your fingers through his hair, trying to pull his thoughts into your fingers.

“What are you thinking about?” you asked after a moment of him just staring at you.

“Not much. Just about how beautiful you are.”

Which prompted him to crawl up to eye level with you and press a kiss to your temple, then to your lips.

It wasn't even a month later when the first “I love you” was said. And it was completely by accident. And it was said by him.

You were on the phone with him after you got home from work, and decided to go to bed.

“You know I'd talk to you the rest of the night, but I'm exhausted. I think I'm gonna head to bed.”

“You mean you don't want to hear my gorgeous voice all night long?” he joked, making you giggle.

“Oh, I definitely do. But I think it's gonna have to wait.”

You could tell he was smiling over the phone — you could hear it in his voice.

“Okay. I guess we can wait.”

“Unfortunate, isn't it? Adult life calls.”

“I'll talk to you tomorrow, okay?”

“Sounds good.”

“Alright. I love you.”

Click.

You sat there for a good minute before you fully processed what he said. But a huge smile spread across your face, deciding to just put the phone down and let him realize.

The honeymoon phase was the way your mom described your love for each other. You were two dorks in love and showed it off every opportunity you got. Despite the forever-lingering awkwardness, you were completely, utterly comfortable with each other.

But then, it was like you ran out of things to talk about. That part was gradual. But when you noticed it, you realized how long it'd been happening.

You'd be sitting on his couch or in your bed and you'd look at him and just have no idea what to talk about. It was like you were afraid anything you said he'd just be uninterested. And he felt the same.

And it got to the point that you'd lay in bed trying to sleep, and the thought of a mutual falling out made your stomach churn. It was all you could think about, even at work, even when you were with him.

When you got home one day, he was parked outside your house. You walked over and got in, and he drove both of you to the park.

Sitting on that bench felt like how the air feels right before a storm is about to happen. It was a hard feeling to describe. But you knew something was coming.

And there was that awkward tension.

Neither of you spoke for what felt like hours. He was the first to say something.

“I love you,” he said simply. “I'm so... deeply in love with you.”

“But?”

“But... I don't want to drag you along.” You didn't say anything. You just nodded. “We both know that whatever we had... It's just not there anymore.”

“I know.”

“I don't know what happened.”

“I don't either. Sometimes... these things just happen.” You felt a tear slide down your cheek. “We just... weren't meant to be.”

That was when he sniffled. He took his keys out of his pocket and, with slightly trembly hands, took your house key off. He stared at it for a moment, a tear dripping onto his thigh. He slowly handed it to you, taking a deep breath.

“So... this is it,” you whispered.

“I... think so.” He looked at you as you wiped your cheeks, just staring at him. You gave him a soft smile through your cries, and he reached over and gripped your hand.

“Can we just sit here for a few more minutes?” you asked, your voice shaking.

He nodded, and you both looked out at the lake.

That night was the hardest night you'd had in a long time. You felt empty and wholly alone.

You'd truly gone from strangers to friends, from friends into lovers, and now you were strangers again.

[starconsumer444]

hii i have a request if u would like to do it. it's basically a kind of yandere noncon tendou x reader where he stalks her so one day he follows her and ends up fucking her in the woods. with lots of degradation and face slapping maybe. sorry if this is too specific I just had a dream just like this and can't stop thinking abt it. if it makes u uncomfortable pls ignore. your writings are very enjoyable and good :) have a pretty day

The Monster in the Forest

Stalker!Tendou 18+

A/N: I had so much fun writing this so thanks for asking me to write this lololol!! Also, thank you for the compliments on my writing!!! I hope all is well with you anon!!

(CW/TW: Fem!Reader, Noncon/Rape, Stalking, Slapping, Trauma, This is pretty short and sweet so enjoy!!)

Tendou has been “watching” you for a while. You’re a lonely girl— that much he knows. For most people, such a discovery would be disheartening, but for Tendou it’s been exhilarating.

It started off innocent; as innocent as something like this could be, at least. You’re his coworker— quiet, direct, and pretty solitary. For those reasons, his interests in you was piqued. He couldn’t help but wonder what was going on with his pretty little coworker down at the chocolate shop. Needless to say, he followed you home one day and he finds out you live in a house that is basically nowhere. It’s right next to a forest; one of the creepy ones that kids would say they’ve seen monsters in. It’s innocent.

It’s nothing but innocent until he can’t stop himself from doing it. He has short conversations with you at work, but that’s just not enough, he wants more of you. He learns your routines by heart, and he participates in your life from a comfortable distance. On Monday you do this and on Tuesday you do that. It’s the same every week, your schedules are rigid and never change; you even take the same route home everyday. Some days he even leaves you anonymous letters on your door telling you everything he knows about you, how interesting it is inside your little bubble, and just how lovely you are to him. It’s playful, but he never stays to see you receive them.

His favorite days of yours are Saturdays. On Saturday you go out into the forest behind your house with your little basket and gather flowers to press. He thinks it's exhilarating; especially when he follows your lonely figure into that quiet little forest and watches you knowing you could catch him. Saturdays are the days he feels the most alive and aware of his own heartbeat.

Saturdays, for you, were ruined because of him. Most things were actually, after that fateful day— you no longer press flowers.

Seeing his face that day in the forest struck fear into your heart like you had seen a wild beast. His slow stalking toward you, his low tone, his perverted smile— all of it said he wanted to hurt you, no matter how familiar his face was. You vividly remember the feeling of the forest floor as he pinned your body to it and the fight you put up. You can remember his weight on top of you and the warmth of his body. You can recall his rough hands pulling down your shorts without a second thought as you gave up physically fighting him and his hands were all over you in ways you’d never even consider letting Tendou touch you.

Your shattered voice when he had let himself between your legs, “Tendou, stop!” and your hands pushing at his chest trying to tell him how much he was hurting you. Tears falling on either side of your face, and his hands coming down to strike your cheeks—to hurt you more than he already has— time and time again. Him telling you how dirty you were and how it’s your fault for being so easy to keep up with. All of it… the leaves, the dirt, the rocks dragging and leaving scratches against your back as you tried to brace against the harsh impact of his thrusts once you realized he wasn’t going to stop... it lives with you. You can still hear him calling you dumb for being so predictable, and all the stupid bitches that he called you as he pushed your face into the dirt below you. You can still feel his hands against your cheeks.

You remember the pain between your legs as you stumbled away from him and the site where he just violated you. You remember the fear that struck you a second time when you could hear him following behind you, but only to hand you your forgotten basket and kiss your temple as he wished to see you again at work come Monday.

The blood you saw when you got into the shower the first time as you sat down and cried was little, but still unbearable as you knew how it got there. The first shower that day you simply sat under the stream and cried. The second shower happened because you were sure you could still smell his rancid cologne on you. You did all you could to rid yourself of him, even reaching inside yourself to scoop out whatever parts of himself he had left in you. You remember scrubbing yourself under burning water like he would somehow know and it would spite him, like he would feel your skin burning and tearing under the pressure.

You stayed in bed for that entire month after deciding that the smell and memory of him would never go away. The only time you had even bothered to get up was when there was a pounding on your door for the sixth time that month, one that would not go away this time and wouldn't let you ignore it.

[notepadsandtealeaves]

Javier Escuella x GN!Reader in: (Home is) Wherever I’m With You

Reader Requests || Immy’s 200 Follower Event 🎊 🎉 🎊

MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT || 18+ ONLY ||

|| ao3 version | event tag | rdr tag | m.lists | main blog ||

↠ Requested By: @team-baku-is-blasting-off-again ((for my 200 Follower Event)) ↠ Reader Gender: Neutral ↠ Content Type: Angst-y H/C vibes that get NSFW at the end ((minors kindly fuck off, pls and thank)) ↠ CWs/TWs: Javier’s being over-protective like to a very uncool degree, as well as insecure in himself/his relationship with Reader. Likewise Reader has their own baggage/insecurities that don’t help matters at all. It all gets worked on and rectified by the story’s end, but feelings are indeed Hurt. ↠ Check below the cut for a more comprehensive list of tags. ↠ No betas—we die like damn near everyone you’ve ever dared to love in this damned series lol. ↠ Total WC: 14k~ ((my b, my uhh, my hand slipped??))

↠ Prompts:

“I’ll never be good enough.”

“Tell me to stop, tell me or I won’t be able to.” / “Then don’t.”

“No.”

“‘No’, what?”

“No, you’re not goin’.”

“I’m sorry,” you start, your own awakening anger transforming the words into sharp and dangerous things, “somethin’ must be gettin’ lost here because that didn’t sound like a question.”

The smoldering embers that had been in his gaze before are fully alight now with a flame that’s just barely checked as he regards you. “That’s because it wasn’t, mi amor…”

↠ In which what should be little more than a simple misunderstanding turns into something quite other. But no matter the storm, the pair of you are always willing to weather it so long as you can come home.

In which OP not-so-subtly simps for Arthur in the background lol. Let me love you, Mister Morgan, pls 😭

Sorry for the wait, dear requester. Between non-fun adult type stuff and my need to reboot in between fills this took far longer to write than what either of us wanted lol. Doesn’t help that there’s angst involved (which always induces a certain amount of metal strain); add to that the fact that three out of the four fills I got for this event were angst-y H/C type deals and you get an even slower turn around.

But anyways!

This is long—way longer than anything I intended on writing for this event, but tbh this is a work I already had partially done. It’s a short story that’s been hanging around in my drafts since January of 2019 (yeah, I know -_-), but despite how long it’s been since last I touched it, reading the prompts put me in mind of it right away. Here’s to hoping it was worth the wait!

Translations ((As always, if any of the Spanish in this is wrong feel free to take it up with Google Translate lol)):

No gracias, Tilly, estoy bien—No thank you, Tilly, I’m fine

Mi amor—My love

Joder—Fuck

Dios, soy un jodido idiota—God, I’m a fucking idiot

Nunca seré lo suficientemente bueno—I’ll never be good enough

Mi corazon—My Sweetheart

Cariño—Sweetie

Siempre me tomas tan bien—You always take me so good

General Tags: Arthur Morgan + Reader (platonic, affectionate) | Arthur and Reader have a close, sibling-type relationship | Arthur Morgan being a Good Man™ as well as a good brother | Relationship strife | Public arguments (and the embarrassment that comes with that lol) | Various insecurities on both Reader and Javier’s part | Javier gets over-protective/insecure, arguments ensue | Mildly toxic behavior (unintentional, but still; see aforementioned tag) that is worked on/rectified | Also Reader’s own insecurities/baggage leads to an overreaction on their part as well | ((I hate writing all this angst, but it needed to happen for ✨~plot~✨ lol)) | Light Micah bashing lol (tho no shade intended towards his fans) | Hosea and Charles giving good advice

General Tags: Arthur Morgan + Reader (platonic, affectionate) | Arthur and Reader have a close, sibling-type relationship | Arthur Morgan being a Good Man™ as well as a good brother | Relationship strife | Public arguments (and the embarrassment that comes with that lol) | Various insecurities on both Reader and Javier’s part | Javier gets over-protective/insecure, arguments ensue | Mildly toxic behavior (unintentional, but still; see aforementioned tag) that is worked on/rectified | Also Reader’s own insecurities/baggage leads to an overreaction on their part as well | ((I hate writing all this angst, but it needed to happen for ✨~plot~✨ lol)) | Light Micah bashing lol (tho no shade intended towards his fans) | Hosea and Charles giving good advice

“So are you in or out?” Arthur asks as he reaches the end of his spiel.

The stagecoach robbery seems straight forward enough, but given the fact that everything the gang has put its collective hand to since the infamous Riverboat Incident back in Blackwater has gone tits up he knows you have a right to be wary. And you are, just a touch, though you hate to admit it. This string of bad luck has been hard on everyone and many bear the scars—both inside and out—to prove it, yourself included.

But you trust Arthur and you know that if this is a job he’s sniffed out himself that it’s probably solid; the fact that Charles and Lenny will also be tagging along means that the chances of success are just that much higher. The three of them usually make wise enough choices, last month’s misadventures in Valentine’s bar notwithstanding. You quickly agree before you can think better of it, and the smile that it pulls from the bearded man makes the potential risks more than worth it.

It had taken Arthur a bit to warm up to you when you’d first joined the gang, but once he did the pair of you fell into a close-knit, sibling-type relationship. A few people around camp—namely Sean, Bill, and damn near all the girls—had insisted that there had to be something more there in the time since, and it was only once you and Javier became an item that the rumors were (mostly) put to rest. The close nature of your relationship was actually the reason that it took Javi so long to ask you out. He’d been thoroughly convinced by the others that you and Arthur were sneaking around behind the gang’s collective back, and it wasn’t until you explained to him that firstly, you were adults who wouldn’t have to stoop to such a juvenile level, and secondly that you’d adored him from nearly the moment you’d met that he finally got past that foolishness.

Though it was annoying at the time you can’t say that you blame anyone for thinking you and your best friend had something going. Despite all his posturing to the contrary, Arthur Morgan is and always will be a far better man than what your lifestyle allows for, and a damned handsome one to boot, and well, you ain’t too bad yourself. You complement each other in a way that just seems ‘right’, apparently, but even if Javi hadn’t come into the picture your relationship’s always been destined to be a platonic one.

Arthur’s hurts are old things that run deep and jagged, tainting his perception of everything—himself especially. Both life and love have never looked on him kindly, and so he’s stopped expecting to receive the latter. Of course this has never stopped you from extending the sentiment to him after a fashion, but years passed and experiences gained have taught you that trying to force feelings when they just aren’t there will only ever end in heartbreak. Because of this you’ve never pushed for anything more and the pair of you are all the closer for it. Having him in your life has definitely made it fuller in so many ways, and it’s a blessing that you’re always striving to return, so whenever you get him to smiling like this you always feel as if you’re one step closer to your goal.

“Great,” he drawls, pushing off of his knees as he rises from the milk crate-turned-chair. “We ride out at the end of the hour so be ready. And make sure your gun’s actually loaded this time.”

His comment earns a few snickers from the others that share the space with you, though most of them quiet down when they feel the weight of your stare. The only one who doesn’t is Tilly, but then again the woman knows that you’d sooner kick a dog before ever doing anything more scathing to her than glaring.

“Wasn’t. My. Fault,” you grit out as you chuck an abandoned tobacco tin at his back.

A drunken prank compliments of Sean had led to a mildly embarrassing incident involving a bet and some bottle shooting, and nearly a year later you’ve still yet to live it down. Though he teases you about it now, Arthur had nearly taken the Irishman’s head off at the time; had the blond not challenged you, you could’ve easily found yourself unknowingly unarmed in a situation far more dire than a simple test of skill.

For his part the man just chuckles as he tosses a sarcastic “Sure” over his shoulder.

“Jerk,” you mutter, though there’s no real heat behind it.

“Want me to kick his ass?”

Had the voice not been so familiar you might’ve been startled by its sudden nearness, but the dulcet cadence is one that you know better than even your own. Unfortunately you’ve not been hearing it nearly as often as you’d like these past few days. Between duties to the camp and following leads in town, you and your man haven’t occupied the same space for any extended amount of time outside of sleeping together—done in the most literal sense, sadly—and even that’s been choppy as a you’d both been assigned guard shifts that made your overlap damn near nonexistent.

Javi’s just finished one such shift and it shows. His usually warm eyes are dull with fatigue and his posture’s a bit stiff from the strain that comes with making rounds of the area for the better part of the last several hours, but despite it all he’s just as handsome as ever and your pulse quickens as it always does whenever he’s near.

“Mmm, maybe later,” you say with half a laugh as he plops down on the log next to you. Depending on how this job goes down you just might take him up on that offer—if the law doesn’t beat you to it, that is.

For his part the man just snorts before pressing a sweet, lingering kiss to your temple. He wraps his arms around you then and hoists you over into his lap, heedless of the scalding contents of your tin mug. A few moments of careful shuffling—and an unnecessary amount of cooing from Tilly and Sean—later sees you comfortable in your new seat. Javier had told you once that holding you like this feels like home, and sitting here with his head resting heavily against your shoulder and his hum of contentment warm against your ear, the statement rings especially true. Your free hand smooths over the pair of his where they rest against your thighs in a loose clasp, your fingers mapping out the ever increasing expanse of nicks and scars that mar the skin there; one scab feels especially fresh under your touch and you know that it’s compliments of yet another five-finger match, though who his opponent was you couldn’t say.

“You want something to eat, Javier?” Tilly asks from where she sits next to you—or rather next to your previous spot. Her thin, nimble fingers are making quick work of the trousers she’s mending with a level of skill that could put many-a seamstresses to shame.

“No gracias, Tilly, estoy bien.” (No thank you, Tilly, I’m fine.)

The young woman giggles at that. “Poor thing. You must really be tired because I didn’t understand half of what you just said. Sure sounded pretty though.”

“It always does,” you agree. Hearing Javi speak in his native language is truly a thing of beauty and, in your opinion, there isn’t much out there that can rival it.

He chuckles a bit at that, but makes no further comment. When you ask if he’d like a cup of coffee or even a sip of your own he turns this down too. “I’ll eat before I go to sleep,” he promises before you can get on him about looking after himself. “I just want to stay like this for a bit, mi amor. I’ve been missin’ you.”

His words leave your heart aching in the best of ways, but before you can reply a commanding bellow of “Miss Jones!” rings out across the camp. To Javier’s credit he doesn’t jump like the rest of you, but this is probably due him being far too tired to react in time. Everyone, from Dutch on down to Kieran, respects—and in some cases, fears—Ms. Grimshaw, and with good reason. The woman’s mouth can put any military official to shame, and her right hook is the stuff of legends. Anything with even the smallest amount of self-preservation knows not to get in her way when she’s scented her prey; the way the material of her skirt flutters out and away from her as if attempting to not further impeded her stride only serves to punctuate this point.

“Why ain’t you helpin’ out Mister Pearson?” she continues on as she comes to stand directly in front of the woman in question. “You’re not a goddamn workin’ girl, we don’t pay you to sit around on that ass of yours an’ look pretty.”

The blonde snorts loudly into her mug. “You don’t pay me at all.”

“Oh, love—no.” Sean’s plea is little more than a breath from where he sits beside her. Reckless though the young man may be, even he knows that there are some fights you just don’t pick.

“That girl’s really gotta learn when to keep her fool mouth shut,” Tilly comments under her breath.

“Is she drunk?” Javi asks. “‘Cause she sounds drunk. And it’s not even eight yet.”

You shrug as much as your position will allow. “I haven’t seen her drinkin’ anything other than coffee, but that don’t mean nothin’. She was goin’ at it pretty hard last night, though—she could still be drunk from yesterday.”

As the three of you converse the other two women continue to go back and forth, with volume and tempers both steadily rising all the while. Ms. Grimshaw might be a pill, but she’s a fair and caring woman in her own way. She never assigns anyone more than their due, and is always willing to work with anybody that’s suffering from an illness or injury severe enough to keep them from performing their duties properly. So long as a person’s able to provide for the camp in some major way—be that via money, labor, or acquiring much needed provisions—she generally leaves them alone.

Unfortunately for Karen she’s been bringing very little to the table as of late, well besides that lead on Valentine’s bank. Despite the fact that she’d pitched it well over a week ago she’s quick to bring it back up yet again for what little good it’ll do her. Even if Dutch does okay the job it’ll still take at least another couple of weeks of reconnaissance and planning before he’ll even think of making a move on the place which means that the blonde’s “–got one iron in the fire, but no damn legs to stand on”, as the older woman puts it.

“Well they’re not workin’!” Karen yells lamely, gesturing towards where you’re currently all hugged up with your boyfriend.

“That’s because I’m getting ready for a job!” you quickly call out. The last thing you want or need is one of Susan’s lectures on ‘pulling your own damn weight.’

“Sure don’t look it,” she shoots back in yet another blatant attempt to get the attention off of her. “Not unless you’re chargin’ your man by the hour these days.”

Her words leave Javier quaking with near silent laughter and he earns a sharp elbow to the ribs for his troubles. His apology comes in the form of a kiss placed just behind your ear, and though it’s a chaste thing you still feel a shudder run up the length of your spine. It’s been damn near a week since the two of you have had the combination of time, energy, and the minimum amount of needed privacy to do much more than some heavy petting, and given the state of your libidos, a week’s more akin to a month.

Of course he notices the way his kiss affects you, and of fucking course the jerk decides that now would be a good time to pepper more of them along the column of your neck. Knowing that telling him to stop will only lead to him doing something far less innocuous you decide that ignoring him to the best of your ability is the better course of action. If anyone else takes issue with his amorous display they keep it behind their teeth; whether this is because they’re too used to seeing shit like this by now, or out of fear of what the man’ll do to them if he thinks they’ve offended and-or embarrassed you, you cannot say—though if you’re being honest you know it’s probably mostly due to the latter.

“Fuck you Karen, I’m helping Arthur ‘n’ ‘nem rob that stagecoach outside of Valentine.” Your voice only catches once as you speak and you count that as a victory.

“You hear that, Miss Jones? They have an actual task to tend to, but you? You’re just sittin’ around–”

The rest of Ms. Grimshaw’s tirade is lost to you when Javi breathes a quiet “Qué?” into your ear.

“Oh, right, guess you wouldn’t ‘ve heard yet. Arthur’s got a lead on some rich fucks that’re passin’ through the area on their way to Golden Planes so me, him, Lenny, and Charles are gonna hit ‘em up. Should be a pretty decent sized haul from what I gathered. Apparently the feller’s some actor preparing for a role by ‘roughing it’ like us common folk, ‘cept not really since he’s got himself a nice little caravan-type-deal goin’ on complete with all the comforts that he’s so accustomed to.”

You roll your eyes hard at the absurdity of it all. You remember hearing a traveling preacher once say something about a fool and his money being easily parted, and while you’re pretty sure that armed robbery’s normally considered to be a sin in this case you just might be doing the Lord’s work. The thought leaves you snorting out half a laugh as you continue on.

“The man sounds like a asshole, and a dumb one at that. Hell, given why he’s on this fool’s quest we just might be helpin’ him out—ya know, lettin’ him experience the true grit of America’s untamed land and the hounding terror of the roguish gangs that rove its planes, or, yanno, some equally flowery bullshit. Anyway, it’s pretty poorly guarded, relatively speaking, and sure to be full of loot if Arthur’s contact is to be believed—and I’m sure she is. Barmaids hear everything and she’s sweet on Arthur besides. She’s been doin’ everything she can to help ‘em in hopes that he’ll take more of an interest in her, the poor girl. She’s so hung up on him she can hardly see straight. Kinda wish I could tell her better, but she probably wouldn’t believe me anyways.”

You aren’t expecting too much in the way of reply aside from a snort of amusement, or maybe even an offer to come along, really anything but the growled “No” that you get.

“Excuse me?”

You couldn’t have heard him right, you think, but then he says it again.

You lean off to the side so that you can get a better look at him. His expression is just as straight forward as the uttered word and twice as hard. You arch a brow as you look from the pursed set of his lips to the banked fire in his eyes. He’s clearly upset, though for the life of you, you cannot understand why.

“‘No’, what?”

“No, you’re not goin’.”

“I’m sorry,” you start, your own awakening anger transforming the words into sharp and dangerous things, “somethin’ must be gettin’ lost here because that didn’t sound like a question.”

The smoldering embers that had been in his gaze before are fully alight now with a flame that’s just barely checked as he regards you. “That’s because it wasn’t, mi amor. I don’t want you anywhere near something that risky.”

You scoff loudly at that. Who does he think he is? That you are? There have only ever been a few people in your life that could ever even begin to think of forbidding you to do anything, and they’ve all long since died, so needless to say Javier Escuella is not among their number. And that’s not even touching on his blatant disregard of the skills that you’ve earned through the literal shedding of your blood, sweat, and tears. You can handle yourself just fine, and had been doing so for literal years before you even knew he existed. You’re not some goddamn damsel from out of one of Mary-Beth’s books, and you’re definitely not looking for someone to save you. When you tell him as much he just sighs.

“I never said you were. I know you can take care of yourself.”

“Well you’re sure as shit not actin’ like it,” you give back. He sighs again before muttering something under his breath in Spanish and for some reason that makes you even angrier. “If you’ve got somethin’ to say, Javier, then say it. And at a volume that I can actually hear, if you goddamn please.”

“I said, you’re acting like a child,” he bites off.

“I’m acting like a child? Me? Are you fuckin’ serious right now? You’re the one that started all of this!”

“I didn’t start anythi–”

“Oh so the whole ‘you’re not going’ bit—that wasn’t you startin’ it?” The sound you let out is a bitter shadow of a laugh. “I lost my father a long time ago, Escuella, and I’m not lookin’ to replace him, least of all with my goddamn boyfriend.”

He pinches his eyes shut in frustration. “I’m not trying to replace anybody! Fuckin’– I just want you to be safe.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“I never said that you couldn’t.”

“Then what are you sayin’?” you demand with a toss of your hand. “‘Cause from where I’m sittin’ it sounds a whole damn lot like you think I’m too fuckin’ incompetent to get the job done.”

When the only reply you get is a hard, agitated breath you just nod your head. “And there it is. Hm. Well, regardless of your estimation of my skills, Mister Escuella, I’m more than capable of handlin’ a simple robbery. Now if you’ll kindly excuse me, I’ve a few things that need doin’ before I go and I don’t want Arthur and the rest waitin’ on my account.”

You give him a look when the arm that bars you in doesn’t immediately fall away. Javier meets your stare then and the tumultuous mix of emotions that you find in those warm brown irises leaves your indignation faltering, but before you can even begin to make an attempt at deciphering any of it he’s dropping both his eyes and his arms.

No further words are exchanged, though the small part of you that’s not currently pissed the fuck off feels as if you should say something. Leaving things like this is hardly wise, especially since there is a possibility—relatively slim though it is—that you may not come back, but you just can’t bring yourself to open your mouth. Javier has stepped squarely on a rather sensitive nerve, and that he can’t see that, that he won’t make the first move to apologize…

It hurts more than you care to admit, even to yourself.

You’re both adults and should be able to talk about this like the reasonable people you usually are, but you can’t be the bigger person right now. For a long time people had put you down and made you feel as if you and your abilities had no real worth and you believed them. It had taken years for you to realize that they were wrong, that you’ve always had value beyond anything they—and even you yourself—could ever know. Your self-confidence is a thing hard earned and you’ll die before you ever allow anyone to strip you of it again. Having one of the people closest to you threatening it, unintentional though it may have been, hits you hard and you just can’t.

Don’t. Won’t.

As you go you feel more than just Javier’s eyes on you. It seems as if you gave the gang a show to go with their morning meal and the thought leaves your face uncomfortably warm. Where’s Abbi and John when you need ‘em? you think as you make your way back to your tent. When compared to the screaming matches that the pair of them frequently engage in what you and your man had done can hardly even be called a proper fight.

Abandoning the mug that you hadn’t even realized you were still carrying, you grab everything you’ll need from the little box that sits tucked away in the shared space of your makeshift shelter; afterwards you head over to the medicine wagon and collect a few items, just in case worst comes to worst. Now fully kitted out, the only thing left to do is join Arthur and the rest over by the horses—which means cutting through the middle of the camp. Eyes forward, shoulders squared, and face set in a way that says ‘stay the fuck away’ you head towards your destination. Thankfully the pointedly unwelcoming combination works as intended and the short trip is blessedly uneventful.

Arthur and Charles are both in the process of loading up their horses, but Lenny is nowhere to be found. You breathe out a sigh of relief at that as it would’ve been beyond mortifying if your argument had caused you to be the last one to arrive.

“Gents,” you greet as you approach your horse. The cheer that you infuse the word with sounds fake, even to your own ears, but if the men pick up on this they don’t mention it.

You’re sure that your spat with Javier hadn’t been loud enough to reach them all the way over here, but gossip in the camp spreads faster and easier than legs in a cathouse so they’ve probably gotten an embellished account by now. Thankfully the pair of them are some of the most kindhearted men you’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing, and they won’t pry or shame you for your actions regardless of what they’ve been told.

True to form, they greet you in kind before asking if you’ve seen the youngest of your little party, and you shake your head. “Thought he’d be over here by now,” you say with a shrug.

“I swear to god if that boah’s still sleepin’,” Arthur mutters as he turns his eyes back towards the camp proper. Charles is already one step ahead of him, however. Sitting atop Taima gives him a better vantage and he easily spots the teen over by Strauss’s wagon. The older man doesn’t even bother with looking himself, instead choosing to scream, “Lenny! Get the molasses outta yer ass, boah!” across the expanse.

Lenny picks up the pace at the beckoning. Long legs carry him across the distance at a decent clip and within a minute he’s sliding up next to you. He gives Arthur a sheepish grin as he shrugs helplessly. “I uhh, I had a hole in my pants, man; had to get that seen to first.”

Remembering the trousers that you’d seen Tilly with before you look him over and—yup. Same ones. The sight leaves you huffing in amusement, but the feeling is quickly shadowed by everything that came afterwards.

We were okay, fine ‘n’ fuckin’ dandy—how the hell did that change so fast? You quickly shake the melancholy away. Now’s not the time or place to deal with your personal shit; distracted minds only ever lead to people getting hurt or worse.

Unaware of you inner turmoil, the men share a laugh before moving on to talking about the plan.

“Alright,” Arthur starts, “Charles is gonna ride on ahead and look for a good ambush spot outside of town, and I want one of you to go with ‘em.”

“I’ll go,” Lenny offers, as eager to help as ever.

His older flashes him a smile as he claps him on the shoulder. “Good man. That means me and you,” he nods his head in your direction, “are heading into town. Ruth says that they’re not supposed to be leaving out until sometime after ten, but I’d rather keep eyes on them all the same.”

“Fair enough,” you concede with a shrug.

“I already have a couple of places in mind,” Charles says as he gives his horse a few loving pats to the neck, “so it shouldn’t take too long. Want us to meet you back in Valentine after?”

Arthur nods. “It’s better if we’re not all seen in one place, so you two should head on over to Keane’s. I’ll linger around Smithfield’s, and ____ can take the hotel. Sound good?” When he gets answers in the affirmative he gives a gruff hum of approval. “Good. Alright folks, this should be an easy one, and if everything goes accordin’ to plan we’ll be done well before noon.”

“Aw come on Arthur, don’t say that,” Lenny moans as he swings himself up into Maggie’s saddle. “You’ll jinx us for sure.”

“Never took you for the superstitious type,” Charles comments.

“Never was, not before all this. I’m not usually one for all that ‘curses and bad juju’ stuff, but with everything that’s been goin’ on lately–”

The rest of their conversation is lost to you under the sound of their steeds’ combined hoof-falls. You and Arthur both mount up yourselves then before following after them at a more leisurely pace. A comfortable silence lingers as you steadily make your way towards Valentine and not for the first time you find yourself being distinctly grateful that Arthur is who he is. He’s not one to meddle, but he’s always there to offer an ear or a shoulder to cry on when you need it.

And he thinks he isn’t a good man. The musing leaves your lips twisting wryly.

“It’s nice to see Charles opening up more,” you comment after several long moments have passed. And it really is. You liked the man from the moment you met him, and more often than not you found yourself seeking out his quiet presence when things around camp got too rowdy. Charles has mastered the fine art of being and you can only hope that one day you’re as at peace with yourself as he so often appears to be.

Arthur hums his agreement. “Yeah. He’s a good one, that Charles—one of the best Dutch has brought into the fold in a long while.”

Unlike Micah, the unspoken subtext reads. You, like most people in the camp (and probably the world at large) can’t stand the rat bastard, but you also don’t feel like talking about him either. That man exhausts you to no end, and you’re fairly certain that just saying his name aloud has the potential to shave several hours off of your lifespan. Thankfully Arthur doesn’t seem too keen on bitching about him at the moment—odd given that it’s one of his favorite pastimes, but ‘gift horses’ and all that.

“You should’ve seen what he did to Uncle last night, nearly drove the old lush crazy,” he tells you around a laugh before laying out the scene.

Apparently the man had tried to strike up a conversation with his younger over supper only to have every starter shot down with one word answers. By the end of it all Uncle had walked away red faced, frustrated, and in dire need of something stronger than the beer he’d been drinking.

“And-and Charles, he just–” a hard spurt of laughter, “he just looks over at me and the rest of the boahs and he’s got the sliest little smirk on his face and we just lost it. He knew what he was doin’.” Though the retelling leaves much to be desired, the mirth in your brother’s voice is contagious and you find yourself laughing as well.

“That is funny. Wish I could’ve seen it for myself.”

“Mmm. Guard duty’s a bitch, huh?”

“Who you tellin’? I know why we have to do it, but dammit if it doesn’t get up my ass. At least I got one of the better shifts this time around. I was barely able to stay awake long enough to finish my stew, but at least I got a full night’s rest. Plus I didn’t have to worry about waking up Javi, so…” His name is out of your mouth before you realize it and just like that your mood loses what little levity it had managed to gain.

The man at your side sighs, though the sound isn’t one born of impatience or long-suffering; he’s always hated to see anyone within the gang at odds with one another, but especially people that are as close to him as you and Javier.

He flicks up the brim of his hat so that his eyes are fully visible when he looks over at you. “If you wanna talk about it…”

“I… I do,” you admit with a sigh of your own, “but I also don’t, not right now at least. Work first, emotional bullshit second—yeah?”

“If you’d like,” he drawls back.

You smile at him then, small and grateful, before reaching over the gap and giving his arm a squeeze. “Thanks.”

No more words are exchanged after that, none are needed. He gets it, gets you—so how is it that the man whose affections are supposed stretch far beyond that of a brother’s doesn’t?

They aren’t coming back.

Clink. Thud.

Not that they should.

Clink. Thud.

They can do better than you. Already have, really.

Clink. Thud.

He is perfect for them, has known ‘em longer, understands them in a way that you probably never will. They have history; no matter how hard you try, there’s no competing with that.

Clink. Thud.

They’re perfect together—they should be together.

Clink. Thud.

And what else did you expect? You already had your shot at love, how could you possibly think that you’d get another?

Clink. Thud.

And on the off chance that you did—have—how do you know it won’t all be snatched away from you again?

Clink. Thud. THWACK!

Javier embeds the axe into the stump with enough force to send large splinters of wood flying out from around the heavy metal head. An especially wayward piece nicks him just under his left eye, but he’s too numb—both inside and out—to notice the sting of it. His thoughts have been relentlessly following the same misery-fueled loop of self-degradation since he’d watched his amor ride out of the camp this morning.

Things had gotten awkward fast around the firepit, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. It was as if his body and mind both ceased all higher functions once he let you out of his arms, leaving him with only the capacity to hollowly stare after you as you went about readying yourself to go. Your movements were hard and jerky as you checked over your weapons and filled your pouches with tonics and salves, as clear a sign of your anger—your rage—as you were willing to show. And when you had walked past him to get to the horses… It was like he was air to you, no less than that. Some useless thing that was undeserving of even a scrap of your time or attention. Your expression was hard and your eyes blank as you passed him by without so much as even a parting glare and that’s when he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he had fucked up bad.

His amor is done. Their relationship is done. And it’s all his fault.

“Joder!” He hisses out the curse as he sends one of the newly quartered logs flying with a hard kick. It’s mildly satisfying, seeing the chunk of wood sail through the air, so he kicks another one. And another, and another. It’s only when the last one lands some several feet away that he pulls the axe from its resting place to start in on the pile of lumber once more.

“Dios, soy un jodido idiota,” he all but growls as the tool’s metal head embeds itself in the wood’s pale center. “Nunca seré lo suficientemente bueno–” (God, I’m a fucking idiot. / I’ll never be good enough.)

“I’ll admit my Spanish isn’t the best, but I know the sound of a man beratin’ himself when I hear it.”

Of course Hosea would be the one to come find him. He’s the only one with enough balls to approach him when he’s this pissed and welding an axe, but also enough heart to actually care—the bowl of stew and bottle of beer he holds are both further testament to the latter.

“If I said that I was fine, would you believe me and go away?” the younger man asks between chops.

Hosea chuckles a bit. “Given that you were mumblin’ to yourself somethin’ fierce just a few seconds ago—no. Look, if you don’t want to talk about it I’m not gonna make you,” he assures him. “But what I am gonna ask you to do is to sit down for a bit.”

“Why?”

“Because workin’ yourself half to death won’t help anything.”

“What if I don’t care?”

“You do.”

“I don’t.”

“Well then I do, and I can guarantee you it’s more than enough to carry the both of us ‘til you come back to your senses.”

He cuts his eyes over to the conman. “My ‘senses’ rode out of here this morning  without so much as a backwards glance.”

“So I saw,” Hosea starts as he moves to sit on the repurposed barrel. “Does this mean that you want to talk about it then?”

Javier groans loudly as he embeds the axe into the stump once again. “No. Dios mío, Hosea, please—just drop it.”

“Fine,” the man concedes with a shrug. “I’ll drop the subject, you’ll drop that axe, and we’ll both go about the rest of our day.”

“Is that an order?”

“Don’t get your hackles up, Mister Escuella—givin’ orders is more of Dutch’s thing than mine. I’d much rather lay out your options and hope that you’ll make the best choice.”

“Yes, because clearly I’ve been makin’ quality decisions all day.”

Eyes nearly as dark as his own pin him with a pointed look. “While your sarcasm isn’t appreciated, it is telling. There’s no point in cryin’ over spilled milk, my boy—all you can do is clean up the mess and try to move on. Stewin’ over what you should’ve done or said isn’t helpin’ anything. Calm yourself, get some food in your belly, sleep if you can; you’ll need a clear head if you want to fix things between the two of you.”

“How can you sound so sure?”

“Well I was married for nearly fifteen years,” Hosea reminds him. The smile that accompanies his words is as bittersweet as it always is whenever the topic is broached, though as he looks the younger man over it softens. He nods for Javier to take the seat next to him and after a few seconds of hesitation he does; when offered the bowl and bottle he accepts them without further prodding. The patriarch waits until he’s got a few good spoonfuls in him before speaking again.

“You know, the pair of your remind me a lot of me and my Bessie. We had our fair share of rough patches, especially when I couldn’t settle into the humdrum of domestic bliss she seemed so intent on—but that’s a story for another time,” he says with a wave of his hand. “The point I’m tryin’ to make is this: if you both want to make this work, you will.

“Some people think that being in love means never havin’ to say you’re sorry, but that’s the biggest crock of shit I’ve ever heard. Love is all about sayin’ you’re sorry and forgivin’ in turn. It’s reachin’ consensuses and occasionally conceding, but never compromisin’. And above all else it’s all about how much work you’re willin’ to put in. The sentiment alone won’t keep you afloat—you have to choose to stay together.”

Javier has to admit that that all makes sense—even if it takes him several long, thoughtful moments to do so—but–

“What if they don’t want to? What if they don’t come back?”

“Oh they’ll definitely come back.”

“How do you know that?”

“Well it’s actually quite simple, Mister Escuella,” Hosea starts with a chuckle, “it’s because their home is here.”

The sound he makes in reply is equal parts rude and dismissive. “This place isn’t home to any of us, Hosea.”

“Not here, as in the ground we’re standing on, dear boy—their home is you.”

His first instinct is to argue, but there’s so much confidence in the old man’s voice that he finds himself faltering. If someone who’s on the outside looking in can believe it so emphatically, why can’t he? His amor completes him in so many ways, and they’ve told him countless times now that he does the same for them… Surely they wouldn’t throw all of that away—their love away—over one stupid little fight?

They wouldn’t. Couldn’t.

Not so long as he has some say in it.

If, once all is said and done, they still wants to part ways he’ll let them go, but he’ll be damned if he’ll let what they have die without a fight.

“Ahh, now there’s the right kind of fire!” Hosea stops just short of clapping him on the shoulder, having long since learned that his younger isn’t overly fond of undue contact. Instead he gives him a broad smile before using his knees as a push off point to rise to his feet. “I know it all feels like a bit much, bein’ your first major spat and all, but when you sit down and think on it rationally, nine times outta ten you’ll find that it’s not such a big thing.”

Javier’s reply comes in the form of a noncommittal huff followed by a long pull from the dark tinted bottle. His continued sullenness only serves to make the old man smile.

“You’re a tough nut to crack, Mister Escuella, but I’ll get there yet. In the meantime please try and get some sleep. None of us want to see you passin’ out from exhaustion, and that’s to say nothin’ of the tongue lashin’ you’ll get from Susan if she thinks you’re making a burden of yourself.”

“With all the wood I just chopped, both she and Pearson should stay off my case for a while yet.”

“True. Which is why you shouldn’t bother with any further tasks. Take a rest–”

“I’d rather take a bath,” he admits. Thanks to the tight schedule he’s been forced to keep it’s been damn near a day and a half since he’s had an opportunity to do more than a cursory rubdown and he’s long since started to feel grimy.

Hosea hunches up a shoulder. “Fine then. Bath first, sleep after, yeah?”

“…Yeah.”

The older man gives him a smile and a nod before leaving him to finish the rest of his meal in peace. Now that his mind isn’t so weighed down with sorrow he’s able to enjoy the freshness of the rabbit meat and the fine blend of herbs that accompany it—compliments of Charles’ snares and one of Mary-Beth’s ‘acquisition jobs’ in town respectively. Within a few minutes the bowl is empty and the bottle soon follows suit. Not looking to make more work for the ladies than necessary, he takes both over to the washing station and cleans up his mess before gathering up what he needs and heading down to the river.

The bath does wonders for his mood, with every swipe of the rough cloth over his skin rubbing away a portion of his self-loathing and doubts, and by the time he’s dressed in a fresh set of clothes he has mostly come back to himself. Taking advantage of the noonday sun he doesn’t gather his hair up as he usually does but instead leaves it to hang loose. Though the feeling of the heavy, damp locks against his neck is unpleasant he knows it’ll be dry soon enough. As he plops down onto his makeshift bed, his lover’s scent wafts up to greet him; it leaves his heart twisting with longing and just a little bit of dread, though he’s quick to push the latter away.

Soon, he promises himself. Soon they’ll come back to this place—back to his arms, back to their home—and when they do the pair of them will talk this thing out and reach an understanding, he’s sure of it.

“Now I do want to thank you all so very kindly for your cooperation,” Arthur starts as he swings himself up into his saddle and you have to resist the urge to roll your eyes.

It seems as if spending the better part of his life under Dutch’s tutelage has endowed him with the same grandiose flair that plagues your illustrious leader, and you can only thank the Almighty that he doesn’t indulge in it overmuch.

“Now remember: going back towards Valentine will get you nowhere—well, nowhere you’ll want to be, anyway. The only place there’s a future for you is out there, across the Dakota at Wallace Station on the train that waits for you. Right?”

A dozen-plus voices, shrill with fear and just a touch frantic, rise up in agreement; the owners of said voices are tied to the wheels of the ransacked wagons that sit before your little group of outlaws. Though they’re all more or less in the state in which you’d found them, they’re a bunch of gentle folk; all it took to cow them were a few well-placed shots and some rather colorful language.

Arthur and Lenny had walked them through tying themselves up while you and Charles had made sure that there weren’t any enterprising guards among them lying in wait. In the end it hadn’t taken you more than a solid twenty minutes to get them squared away and their valuables stashed on your respective horses. All the while the captives behaved as they were expected to. Crying, cursing, praying—all typical responses to being held at gunpoint and relieved of all your worldly possessions–

“Thank you for this, sir! I won’t soon forget the lesson you and your compatriots taught me here today!”

–and then there’s Slias Spatchcock.

Apparently the man’s some type of up-and-coming actor known for his portrayal of outlaws like yourselves. You can only shudder to think what that says about the state of the industry as a whole because this jackass can barely tell the business end of a pistol from his goddamn elbow.

Arthur had entertained a few of his questions—mostly just as a way to get the idiot to shut up—and in exchange the man had promised to model his next performance after the “–rough ‘n’ tumble gunslinger, whose eyes are as green as jade, but as hard as flint.” You’re pretty sure that nobody besides you had noticed the slight flush that had crept up the older man’s neck at the words, but you’re enough, really. You’d never tease him about it, he gets enough shit from everyone about everything as is, but you like to think of it as further proof of his allure.

Everywhere he goes just about every one of every gender finds their eyes trailing after Mister Morgan for one reason or another, though he’s loathed to notice this, let alone admit it. Hell, even now, with several of the women (as well as Silas) looking up at him with a curious combination of lust, fear, and anger he still doesn’t see it.

“See that you don’t, Mister Spatchcock,” the man of the hour replies with a tip of his hat.

“Here.” Charles’ voice is much louder than usual in deference to the distance between him and the captives; the dull thud of a knife embedding itself into the ground just a few scant feet away from one of the men’s boots punctuates the extremely short sentence. “Remember—if you try to give chase we will shoot to kill.”

It’s with this last grim reminder that the four of you set off back towards Valentine. Once you’re a good ways away you find a nice secluded spot to divvy up the loot. Surprisingly there isn’t too much of note in the haul; a decent amount of jewelry, some actual cash, and a few books whose value is found in their ability to entertain. Of course the camp gets its due right off the top, but you’re all still left with nearly sixty dollars and a few trinkets apiece. With that last bit of business taken care of you all go your separate ways.

Charles turns back the way you came, citing a need to make sure your victims don’t get any cute ideas. Lenny’s heading back to the camp to drop off the offering as well as to catch some sleep before his shift on guard duty, and you can only assume that Arthur will be joining him; this leaves the three of you to fall into step as you headed back towards civilization.

The men chat as you go—mostly about the heist itself, with Arthur giving his younger a few pointers—and you’re content enough to let them talk around you. Though the mildly euphoric feeling of a job well done rests warm in your chest, you can’t quite shake the melancholy that still shrouds you. You rather enjoy this particular aspect of your life, being a Robin Hood for a new generation, and the only thing that makes it better is having the people you love best at your side as you partake in it. You’ve always loved pulling off jobs with Javi, and you had thought he felt the same, but the way he acted this morning…

You sigh heavily as you mentally push the thought, and the anger that follows it, away; you’re not going to let him ruin the rest of this day for you. In fact, you’re going to treat yourself. You’ve already rented a room at Saints as part of your cover, and you don’t see any reason why you should let it go to waste. Yes, a nice hot bath will do you a world of good, as will a decent meal–

And the camp’s doing pretty well for itself. Between all of us workin’ and Charles and Arthur’s huntin’ skills we aren’t exactly wantin’ for too much. I could get myself something nice, maybe look into getting a new part for my pistol…

Lenny’s farewell snaps you back into the present and you return it with a nod of your head, as well as a warning for him to look after himself. The young man huffs a bit at your words, but doesn’t brush them off completely—can’t, not with the manner of luck you’ve all had lately. After one last tip of his hat he’s spurring Maggie on as they speed back towards the Overlook.

“You’re not going with him?” you ask your brother. He’s been running himself especially ragged these past couple of weeks and you’d thought that he would jump at the chance to sleep in his own bed.

“Much rather sleep in an actual bed,” he replies when you say as much. “Besides there’re a few things I want to do in town before we inevitably get run out of it.”

You laugh a bit. “Fair enough. Would you… care for some company?”

Despite your bond the question is posed tentatively. Arthur doesn’t take nearly enough time for himself and you feel no small amount of self-loathing for impeding on his rare allowance, but you’re not exactly thrilled with the idea of being left alone with your thoughts right now. Thankfully the “Sure” you get is quick and genuine.

“Feels like forever since we’ve done anything, just you ‘n’ me. But first I’d like to take a bath, if you don’t mind. I’ve got to smell like a goat’s ass by now and can’t look much better.”

“You’re not alone there. Meet you at Smithfield’s in a couple of hours then?”

He tosses you a wink that leaves you scoffing. “It’s a date.”

Freshly scrubbed and donned in the clean clothes you always leave stored on your horse’s pack, you meet a rather dapper Arthur in Smithfield’s Saloon at a quarter past three. Apparently he hadn’t spent quite as long soaking his cares away as you did; his hair and beard both have been seen to, with the former being a good several inches shorter and well tapered on the sides, and the latter not nearly so shaggy as last you seen him. You let out an appreciative whistle when you slide into the chair across from him at the table for two.

“Lookin’ sharp, Mister Morgan.”

“I–” He stops short when he sees the look on your face. You’d already told him to lay off that self-depreciating bull, and while you’re sure he still gets up to it when you’re not around, when you are he knows it’s a no-go. “Thanks,” he starts again. “You’re lookin’ mighty nice yourself.”

There’s nothing special about the plain ensemble you’ve thrown on, but you don’t feel the need to contradict the statement. “Well thank ya kindly, sir. Now what’s a fine specimen such as myself gotta do to get a drink ‘round these parts?”

Arthur rolls his eyes even as he chuckles before heading over to the bar. A few minutes later he returns with two glasses and a bottle of mid-shelf whiskey. “I took the liberty of putting in our lunch order,” he tells you as he pours you both a measure. “They said it should be out shortly.”

You hum your thanks as you accept your glass. You have no idea what’s on the menu today, nor does it rightly matter; the place serves what it serves and either you eat it or you don’t. Luckily their house chef is a good cook, much better than Pearson these days—though to be fair to the man, up until very recently he didn’t exactly have the best environment or ingredients to work with.

The pair of you chat about everything and nothing, mostly just catching one another up on what you’ve been getting into since settling in at the Overlook. By the time the barmaid is bringing out your meal you’ve fallen into reminiscing about the members of your cobbled family that you’ve lost. You share a toast in their honor before digging in.

“So, what do you want to do with the rest of the day?” Arthur asks once your plates have been taken away.

You shrug. “I was thinking about investing in a new pair of boots since these have certainly seen better days, maybe a part or two for my pistol too. If there’s anything left after that I’ll pick up a few things for the ladies just ‘cause.”

He hums in that way he does as he leans more fully back in his chair, a truly contented smile playing at his lips. “Lookin’ to treat yourself then?”

“You sayin’ I don’t deserve it?”

“Not at all. Well if that’s what you wanna get into, then that’s what we’ll do.”

“I never intended to monopolize your time, Arthur. I’m sure the absolute last thing you wanna do is putter around from shop to shop with me.”

“Nah, it’s fine,” he assures you as he rises from his seat. You give him a skeptical look as he nods expectantly towards the door, looking for any sign that he’s being overly selfless again, but for a wonder he doesn’t seem to be putting on airs.

“Well far be it from me to turn down such a strapping escort.” Ignoring his scoffing laugh you finally rise as well and head out into the town proper.

Javier awakes to the smell of coffee, much to his confusion.

It’s far too late in the day for anyone to be brewing the stuff, and the sleeping area is purposefully situated far away from the ‘kitchen’ besides. It isn’t until sleep-bleary eyes land on the little crate-slash-bedside table that he finds the culprit: the mug that you had been nursing this morning.

His brain stalls hard as memories of the harsh words and heated glares you’d exchanged come flooding back.

“God, I’m such a jackass,” he mutters under his breath as he pinches at the space between his brows.

Had he been less sleep deprived then maybe things wouldn’t have veered off so badly. He hadn’t meant to insult you or try to assert some control over you that he most certainly knew he didn’t have—he just wanted to keep you safe. That’s not so unreasonable, is it? He doesn’t think so, not with the way things have been going since the Massacre. In the time since the pair of you haven’t been apart too often, his brief trip into Valentine aside. And even then he hadn’t been too keen on the idea of leaving you alone, even if you were within the relative safety of the camp.

Logically he knows that you cannot be tucked under each other’s arms twenty-four seven—your responsibilities, as well as your sanity, won’t allow for that, but… Javier Escuella has always been a man who often times puts heart before head. It’s a habit that has gotten him into more than a few scrapes, but what went down between the pair of you may be his biggest blunder to date. Still, he has to believe that he can fix things. Even the darkest of nights have a dawn, he knows—I just need to find my sunlight.

To that end he quickly scrambles to get dressed before checking the time. It’s just a little past three in the afternoon. He has no idea when you all were set to hit up that caravan, but with any luck you’re already back and cooled down enough to tolerate his presence again.

People extend him more grace than what he probably deserves when he exits his tent, treating him as they normally would despite him showing his ass earlier. Unfortunately nobody has seen hide or hair of you, which is strange given the fact that half of the crew you set out with returned over an hour ago.

Charles and Lenny had rode in separately, with the former having broken away from the group early on. He had assumed that the others were heading back to camp, but clearly that wasn’t the case. What’s more the only one that would more than likely know where you are is fast asleep and Javier doesn’t want to wake him. That would be a dick move and a display of desperation that—well, he’s not exactly above, but not quite at the point of just yet.

“If they aren’t here they’re more than likely still in Valentine,” Charles tells him. “That would make the most sense as ____ rented a room there.”

The outlaw can feel his face harden with this new bit of information. While he knows there’s nothing more to it—to you and the man that is your brother in everything but blood—that treacherous little part of his brain that never fails to remind him just how inadequate he is when compared to the likes of Arthur Morgan rears its cruel head. Though he stays quiet it’s very obvious to the other man exactly what roads his mind have traveled down.

Charles gives him a disapproving look as he shakes his head. “Don’t do that, Javier. It’s a disservice to yourself as well as the both of them. Neither of them would ever betray your trust like that, and ____ would certainly never disrespect themselves or your relationship in such a way. I don’t know what you’ve gone through to make you think otherwise, but you’d be better off putting those issues to rest sooner rather than later.”

Though the unsolicited advice grates, Javier hears the wisdom in it. Old betrayals and past hurts have left their mark in mind and heart both, but if wants to have any hope of recovering and moving on—if he’s ever to have a real and solid future with you—then he has to move past it all.

From character to aptitude, never once in all the time that he’s known you have you ever given him any reason to doubt you in any capacity. You’ve only ever been good to him; radiating a kindness that warmed him from the inside out to melt away the ice around his heart so that love could blossom once more. How could something as inane as insecurities, ones that he’d convinced himself that he’d come to terms with long ago, come between that? Why was there ever even any room within him for that to take root and fester in the first place?

He knows the answer to this of course, and it’s a simple thing: because he let it. Had he at least tried to deal with his inner demons sooner instead of just sweeping them under the rug then maybe the pair of you wouldn’t be in this mess.

You really are a jackass, his brain silently reminds him yet again, as if it had no parts in this disaster once so ever.

Aloud, he breathes deeply before saying—admitting—“You’re right. I, uh… Thanks, Charles.”

The man nods before turning his attention back to the knife he’d been sharpening. Taking the sign of dismissal for what it is Javier heads over to the stables. He knows that fixing things won’t be so easy as uttering a simple two word apology, but as he preps Boaz for travel he’s positive that it’s definitely the perfect place to start.

“So, about that ‘emotional bullshit’…?”

You can’t help but to snort a laugh at that. “As tactful as ever.”

Arthur shrugs, chuckling a bit himself. “Never claimed to be anything other than what I am, you know that.”

“Fair enough,” you concede with a shrug. “As for the ‘bullshit’, I… I don’t even know what went wrong, honestly.”

As you proceed to lay out the whole of the situation to him, Arthur mostly keeps quiet aside from the occasional hum of acknowledgement. Once you’ve gotten it all out he goes quiet for a long moment as he considers all that has been said. When he finally does speak again he isn’t saying anything that you don’t already know, but hearing it from an outside source gives it more weight than what your thoughts alone could provide. He speaks of context and meaning, inferences and biases, and how at the end of the day you shouldn’t allow what’s little more than a simple misunderstanding to impede on what it is that you and Javier share–

“–but that’s just my thoughts on the matter. I’m nobody’s Romeo, as you well know–”

“That’s probably for the best, given the way that particular story ended.”

“Smartass. You know what I mean. But in all seriousness, I think things’ll work out in the end so long as you’re willin’ to let ‘em…” He lets the sentence trail off with a resolute nod as he takes a cigarette from an intricately engraved tin—an actual present from an admiring actor, overly-eager to please. He offers you one, shrugging again when you decline, before lighting up.

“You make it all sound so easy,” you reply as you fiddle with your bracelet. The simple gold number’s a gift from Javier for your birthday just passed, one made all the more special by the fact that he had gotten himself one to match.

“I know it’s probably not the best time to be thinking about rings and the like, but…” His words had left you both blushing at the implications as he secured the thing around your wrist with uncharacteristically shaky hands. “I still like the idea of letting the world know you’re mine, just as much as I’m yours, even in this small way…”

“That’s because it is easy,” Arthur assures you, snapping you out of the brief reverie. “Just because I’ve got shit luck with love don’t mean I don’t know it when it’s sittin’ squarely in front of me. The two of you are made for each other, and no doubt about it, but your being perfect for each other doesn’t mean that you’re actually perfect. You’re bound to make just as many mistakes as the rest of us, especially with you being so close to one another.

“Toes get stepped on, feelings get hurt—it’s only natural. The only time you need to worry is when you feel like there’s no coming back from it. You don’t feel like that, do ya? And before you answer, I’m gonna need you to push all of the dramatics aside and think on it logically.”

The look that you give him says that you can do without the sass, but you do as you’re told all the same, not that it takes much prompting. You’re hurt, sure, but even that isn’t as prominent as it had been this morning. Now you mostly just feel sad over the fact that you’re at odds with the man you love; sad and a touch embarrassed at your very public altercation. This isn’t going to be the end for the pair of you, of this you are sure, but it does shed some light on areas that you both need to work on if your relationship is to be a long and healthy one.

After letting out a drawn out breath you say, “I– No, I don’t think that at all. Clearly there are some issues that need to be addressed, but it’s nothin’ so dire as all that. I know that Javier would never purposefully hurt me in any manner any more than I’d do so to him. We both just let our emotions get the better of us this mornin’, but that ain’t exactly surprisin’, all things considered.”

Your brother hums his agreement. Though things have been markedly better this past month that isn’t saying much. The gang has only just begun to fish itself out of the mire, but there’s no saying when fate’ll decide to throw you right back into the shit. You’ve collectively got the temperament of a beaten cat, and honestly thinking on it now it’s a miracle that you and Javier managed to go this long without really snapping at each other. When you say as much Arthur laughs hardily as he gives your shoulder a fond pat.

“And just like that you’re finally able to see the forest for the trees. You’ve pretty much solved your own problem there, not that I’m surprised. You’ve always been a smart one, ____; I knew you didn’t need me telling you what you already know. All there is left to do now is kiss and make up.”

There’s an amused tilt to his lips as he jerks his chin at some unseen point behind you. You arch your brow at him, but when all he does is grin wider you turn around to find–

“Javier.” He’s here. He’s come to you.

Seeing him standing outside of Saints loosens the last bit of tension in your chest. Your feet carry you forwards without any conscious thought on your part just as Javier’s seemingly do the same. Ignoring your brother’s quip about him “–actually wanting to get some sleep tonight, so try to keep it down, alright?”, you pick up your pace until you’re standing face to face with your man.

Javier breathes out your name like a prayer to some higher power, eyes traveling over the whole of you almost as if he cannot believe that you’re actually right here in front of him. Tentative hands reach out for you, stopping just an inch short of touching, though you’re quick to bridge the gap. Despite the fact that it hasn’t even been a full half a day since last you saw one another, those interim hours felt like they ran longer, colder—and how could they not, with the way you’d left things?

An apology is slipping from between both of your lips at nearly the same time, a thing that leaves Javi taken aback.

“No-no-no,” he starts, head shaking hard, “you’ve got no reason to be sorry, amor. It doesn’t matter how worried I was, I never should’ve said what I did—or, at least, not the way that I said it.”

“But I do need to apologize,” you insist. “I know you would never belittle me like that. The way you said it definitely could’ve been better, but… I shouldn’t ‘ve, I dunno, come out swingin’ like that. I’m better than that, we both are, even if we didn’t exactly show it.”

“I… Alright then. This, uhh… This went down a lot smoother than I was expecting it to, honestly.”

You laugh a bit a that. “Yeah, well, I guess us both being at fault make it easier to forgive and be forgiven.”

“Yeah,” he replies, voice a touch sheepish, “guess so.”

You smile then, soft and sweet, as you cup his cheek with your palm. Javier is quick to lean into your touch, his own lips curling up as well before he turns to cuddle them against your hand. The tickle of his mustache against the sensitive skin causes your fingers to twitch against him, but his own hand comes up to cover yours and hold it in place; he trails his ministrations down the length of your arm, heedless of your shirt, until he’s able to kiss you properly.

Javier licks hotly into your mouth, greedily swallowing up the least little sound you make even as he strives to draw more from your throat. His hands drift down to your hips to pull you in closer as he continues to stake his claim on your lips with teasing nips and soothing swipes of his tongue that you succumb to with a sigh that is content, if laced through with longing. Your hands curl feebly against the silky brocade of his vest, needing something—anything, really—to help keep you grounded. But for all your efforts, you’re sure that the only thing keeping you upright is the arms that have since coiled around your middle.

You know that your not-so-little display of affection has to be scandalizing the good people of this small town, but neither of you have a mind to care overmuch. It isn’t until a familiar voice tells you that “You’ve already got a room, goddammit, so kindly go and use it” that you finally decide to make the short trek into the hotel’s interior. Either the receptionist recognizes you, despite the man that’s all but affixed to your face, or he wisely chooses not to confront you—again, due to the man that’s all but affixed to your face. In any event you make it to your room without incident, with Javier only pulling away long enough for you to open and then quickly close the door behind you.

When he kisses you this time it isn’t nearly as frantic as before. He’s thorough, taking his time as he remaps the whole of your form with eyes and lips and hands, as if he were actually able to forget the look and feel of you in such a short span of time. Or maybe his touch is more reverent than that, an act of worship for the body that he thought he might never be able to touch again—it would certainly explain the promises to do better for you and by you that he’s been steadily murmuring in between kisses.

There’s a ceremony to the way he removes your clothes, and it turns the simple act into a supplicant’s display of devotion. The hesitancy that he’d shown earlier is nowhere to be found as he traces over the lines of you now with calloused fingers and heated breath. There is no part of you that goes untouched, no bit left unseen, and by the time the last article is removed you’re left naked in more ways than the obvious.

Still on his knees from where he helped you out of your pants, Javier looks up at you with an expression that can only be described as awestruck, though as he kisses his way back up your body it changes into something a bit more love drunk.

“Mi corazon,” he sighs as he cradles your face between his work-rough palms, “so beautiful. How did I ever get so lucky, huh?”

You’re sure that he can feel the heat that creeps into your cheeks at that, and you’re quick to cover up your flustered state with another kiss. What starts off as an innocuous little peck soon turns into something that has you writhing against one another. Javier captures your bottom lip between his teeth, giving the plush flesh a little suckle before slipping his tongue into your mouth. He owns the kiss, owns you—body, heart, mind, soul—and all you can really do is receive this outpouring of affection and lust.

When he finally pulls away some long moments later he doesn’t go far. His forehead leans heavily against your own as his hands pull you tighter against the bulge that has been growing impossibly harder this whole time.

“Tell me to stop, amor,” he says, the words breathed directly against your parted lips, “tell me right now, or I won’t be able to.”

You regard him through half lidded eyes that flutter close as you sigh out your simple reply of, “Mm, then don’t.”

And he doesn’t.

Slow ministrations are replaced by harried breaths and eager fingers and the all-consuming need to touch, claim—to feel and be felt in turn. It transforms the removal of his clothes into a nearly feral affair, one that sees seams ripping and buttons popping. Later you’ll both come to regret the fruits of your impatience, but in the now your only real concern is the more-more-more your bodies are crying out for.

Javier backs you up until you’re tumbling backwards onto the bed with a startled squawk. He follows you down with a chuckle, a dark and deep roll of a sound that would’ve surely turned your knees to smoke had you not already been lying down. Of course your man knows the effect he has on you, and ever as always he’s quick to take advantage of it, telling you to lie back so that he can “–love on you a bit, yeah?”

He leans back just enough for you to make yourself comfortable and then he’s on you again. Hot, opened mouth kisses are slurred from jaw to neck—where he stops to leave a few bites and sucks that are sure to blossom into bruises come nightfall—and beyond. His trek stops just past your bellybutton, with him nosing at the skin there. He looks up at you then, eyes impish as he takes in your mussed state and annoyed pout.

When you whine out his name he responds with a cheeky “Yes, amor?” that leaves you gritting out a sound that’s caught somewhere between a groan and a laugh.

“Your eagerness is cute, baby, but you’re gonna have to use your words.”

“Ugh, fine! Fuckin’– Touch me, please.”

You realize your mistake a moment too late. And when he’s laving over your nipple, its twin caught between teasing calloused pads, you know that you have no one but yourself to blame.

“Patience is a virtue, cariño,” he reminds you when you start to whine, his thumbnail giving your nipple a pointed flick. “Now be good, and let me have my fun. It’s been too long since last I had you writhing all pretty-like underneath me, and I’m gonna take my time with you…”

When he puts it like that how can you do anything but lay back and receive his care?

Suckles that leave you sighing out his name are punctuated by nips that see the appellation scaling up into a whine. Tugs and pinches and the scrape of blunted nails—the roughness is always followed by something to soothe, and the dichotomy leaves you writhing with anticipation.

“Ja-vi~” the second syllable sticks in your throat as the pleasure-pain of an especially vicious pinch shoots through you, “ahhh, fuck! Please. I-I need…”

The desperation in your plea sees him finally pulling his attention away from your chest. You have no idea what it is he sees when he finally looks at you properly, but it softens his gaze. His expression goes gooey as he comes to hover over you; the position that he takes up is familiar, but one that long hours and disparate schedules have lent a level of elusiveness. Having it—him—back leaves you almost delirious with several types of longing. You want everything, from him and with him, and you want it all at once. The whole of your desire is laid out on display, you’re sure, but there’s no shame in it—and how could there be, in a love so pure?

Needy hands reach out and are instantly quelled by a warm body that is more than willing to oblige. The heated press of lips is accompanied by wandering hands that drag themselves along your torso. With experience guiding him, he alternates between feather-light caresses and purposeful strokes, always choosing the one that will leave you gasping out your pleasure into your shared kiss.

By the time he finally reaches your center you’re soaked, a thing that comes as no great surprise to either of you. Javier runs playful fingers through the proof of your arousal, gathering up a portion and smearing it across their pads before popping them into his mouth. You swallow thickly as you watch the near hypnotic way his tongue laves over the digits’ length, damn near cum on the spot when he slides the whole of them past his lips with a satisfied groan. You both know exactly what it is he’s doing to you, but that knowledge does little to detract from the provocative display.

When he releases his fingers some long seconds later they’re still glistening, albeit for another reason entirely, and you find yourself biting your lip at the sight. For his part Javier just smirks at you as he comes to lean into your space once more.

“Fuck, you always taste so damn good, baby.” As if to prove his point further he kisses you hard and deep, his tongue dragging heavily along yours to make sure you’re able to savor the fullness of your tangy musk.

His laugh is breathy when he finally pulls away with a little smack of lips—lips that he licks soon after, almost as if he cannot bear to waste even a smidge of your flavor.

“I gotta get a little bit more of that– You don’t mind, do you?”

“Fuck no.”

“Heh. Didn’t think so…”

His tongue is molten when it finally drags along the length of you. He groans deeply as he laps up the fluids that all but coat your twitching sex, and the vibrations leave your hips bucking wildly against his hold. It’s a practice in futility as every pass of the slick muscle against your heated flesh creates a bigger mess for him to clean—not that either of you are complaining.

Pursed lips suckle at your weak spot in a move that leaves you keening while long, calloused fingers prod at your entrance. The sheer amount of pre alone would probably be more than enough for him to slip comfortably inside, but he spits anyway—the hot, viscous glob allowing him to slip two fingers inside in one go. Pain and pleasure briefly mingle at the stretch, though the discomfort soon fades out leaving only a burning want that has you bearing down. Javier curses hotly at the added pressure against his digits, his movements’ efforts redoubling as he strokes and prods at your fluttering walls, focusing in on that spot that always leaves you seeing stars.

“‘M close,” you tell him, the words so slurred that you barely recognize them, “‘M close, so damn close, baby—fuck!”

“Mmm, then do it, amor, cum. I wanna feel it, taste it– Give it to me.”

With how wound up you are it doesn’t take much more than a few rolls of your hips to send you careening over the edge. A week’s worth of denial sees your orgasm washing over you with all the force of a tidal wave, overwhelming you completely as it drags you into an abyss of pleasure. The gasping of your man’s name is prayer and plea both—for just as he is the only one that could ever lead you to this beautiful ruin, he’s likewise the only one who can see you through to calmer shores.

“So good for me, pretty baby, cumming like that. God, you’re beautiful.”

Though he has been steadily murmuring such words of praise since you first fell apart, you’re just now lucid enough to fully comprehend them. You feel your face flush even as your core gives a nearly painful throb. You know it’s greedy of you, wanting more when you’ve only just come down from your high, but that’s what this man does to you—and thankfully for you as well.

If your eyes are alight with flames then Javier’s are a roaring inferno from where he hovers over you. He kisses you deeply, easily stealing what little air you’ve managed to take in before asking, “Think you can give me one more?”

The question is rhetorical, of course, but you give him a shaky nod anyway. He slots his hips in against your then, and the fit is as perfect as ever. Having him so close to where you need him most is too enticing a thing, and you find yourself rutting against him without thought. The drag of his heavy cock over your heat is exquisite, pulling whimpers and whines from you as you continue to grind yourself against him. You man humors you for a few moments, allowing you to wet his cock with your arousal—all the while a decadent little smirk pulls at his lips despite the light pant he keeps up—though once he thinks your efforts are sufficient he’s lining himself up and sinking slowly in.

“Fucking tight” he growls at the same moment you groan out something about the stretch. Were you any less wrapped up in your pleasure you might’ve laughed a bit, but as it stands you only cling to the body above you as he sets up a steady pace.

Javier takes you deep and slow, with the sinuous roll of his hips only interrupted by the little snap that punctuates them. You can’t help the breathy whimpers and choked moans that push their way out of your throat any more than you can keep your fingers from digging into his shoulders, scalp, arms, and any other bits of him that your restless hands can get ahold of. Javi is just as bad off as you, having dropped his head back into the cubby between your cheek and shoulder long ago to nose at your sweat-slicked neck, the hot, wet drag of his tongue against the overly-sensitive skin there oftentimes turning into a nip or suck. His moans are almost deafening from this close, the feeling of them breaking hot and moist against you making you shiver.

“Dios, ____, baby, amor—fuck, I’m–” The rest of his sentence devolves into a growl that originates somewhere deep in his gut. “Ooooh just like that, baby, siempre me tomas tan bien. (You always take me so good.)

“I’m close,” he starts again, “so fuckin’ close, I can—hah! I can tell you are too. You wanna cum with me, yeah? You gonna do that for me, amor?”

Your replying nod is frantic as you pull him impossibly closer. “Yes, yes—please, I wanna…”

Javier promises to give you what you want—what you both need—and he delivers with hips angled just so and calloused fingers furiously rubbing against your most sensitive area.

Thoughts turned hazy from your mounting bliss whiteout completely before fireworks erupt throughout the whole of your being. You arch hard against Javi’s hold on you, hips bucking in spastic little thrusts that you could never hope to contain. Your shuddering sob of a moan holds for an impressively long time before petering out into something weaker as you finally collapse back onto the bed.

For his part you man rides the wave of your body, somehow managing to match your jerky movements enough to see himself through to his own end, shuddering his way through his release. With his eyes pinched shut and your name falling from his lips like a litany you’d almost swear that he was petitioning some exalted being. You cannot help but to admire his beauty in this moment, pushing his hair away from his sweat-slicked face before running your thumbs over the apples of his cheeks as you wait for him to come back to himself.

Once he finally settles, Javier presses a sloppy kiss to the corner of your mouth before maneuvering you both so that you’re tucked in against his side. His fingers skitter back and forth over your ribs as he presses a few more kisses against your dewy skin in between declarations of love and praise. The moment is tender and perfect, everything you want and need, so why do you feel like you’re on the verge of tears?

You push back against the prickling heat that stings your eyes and tightens your throat, burrowing in deeper against Javier’s side in hopes of comforting yourself as well as to keep the sudden burst of melancholy hidden away. It’s not something you want to deal with right now, not when your emotions have been all over the place for the better part of a day, but Javier has always been able to read you like an especially well-loved book. He urges you from your hiding spot with gentle hands and soft pleas for you to “–look at me, please, baby?”

When you finally gather up enough courage to meet his gaze your heart stalls for a beat or two. There’s just so much love there—raw and unfiltered—that you almost cannot bear to hold his stare, but something within you, perhaps that selfsame unadulterated love, won’t allow you to turn away.

“No tears, sweetheart,” he murmurs despite the fact that any have yet to fall. “I’m here, and I’ll always be here. Always. For as long as you’ll have me.”

Your voice is small, and your smile laced through with something vulnerable when you ask, “You promise?”

“I promise. There’s nowhere else for me. My heart, my home, my whole entire life—it’s all in you, amor. Wherever you go, I swear I’ll always be right there, by your side.”

His words are simple, deceptively so, but they’re your shared truth and they’re more than enough.

© notepadsandtealeaves, 2021 || Please do not repost, translate, or otherwise alter or distribute my works without my express permission. And for the love of god keep it away from Youtube and TikTok lol…

[sunnywritesstuff34]

Illusions

(Yayyyy. Another one. It’s been a while, sorry. just wanna preface this by saying that like... I usually don’t really give a shit about Obito, but I figured this was a natural progression of the story and I kinda wanted to try and dive into Obito’s psyche a little so. here we go. tell me what you think. @ghostjellyfishheart here’s the next chapter lol. pls mind the tw’s)

TW and CW for: MAJOR UNREALITY, seriously stay safe, Obito is kinda spiraling a lot, grieving, struggling with morality, drinking, alcohol, less then stellar coping mechanisms of all kinds, don’t do this kids, child death, ghost child, dead kid, you don’t like... see her die but Rin is very much not alive, references to suicide, implied suicide, the uchiha massacre is its own warning, murder, its bad. its just. its just bad. did I mention unreality? a lot of that, death of a family member, obito is having a hard time with feelings, probably dis@ssociation, pretentious symbolism, scratch that, definitely dis@ssociation

Obito Uchiha is upset. 

And that is, frankly, ridiculous. Obito does not get upset. What does upset even mean? Is he sad? Mourning, perhaps? Or is he just worried? Either way, its borderline impossible. He shouldn’t be feeling anything. Obito doesn’t feel anything. Sure, he plays at it, when he’s Tobi. He feigns and pretends, he’s good at that. That is what he is, that is all he is. To Itachi, he is Madara. To Konan and Nagito, he is Obito. To everyone else, he is Tobi. Obito has taken on mask after mask after mask on in his life, both figuratively and literally. Sometimes he doesn't know where Obito ends and another begins. Obito does not feel anything, not for anyone that isn't Rin. Never for anyone that isn't Rin, and he left her behind a long time ago. And yet this boy, this child, has him reeling somehow. Has him… well, like before, the only word he can use is upset. He is rattled. And it has been so long, so long since he’s felt anything at all, that he doesn't know what to do. He doesn't know how to fix it. He kept seeing Sasuke in his head, kept remembering memories from years ago when he thought about the kid being gone forever. He remembered the first few years Itachi brought Sasuke to the compound, he remembered spontaneously discovering his obsession with tomatoes by accident with Kisame (who would not stop laughing. He had just never seen anybody. Put an entire tomato in their mouth. And Sasuke did it like it was the most natural thing in the world! Kisame wouldn't shut up about it for at least a week). He remembered helping the boy train with his newly forged chokuto, he remembered the grim determination towards his family and how much it reminded Obito of himself, he remembered all of it. And none of that should have mattered, because it wasn't real. None of it was real, the next world would be. The next world with Rin and Kakashi and Minato-sensei still alive, a world without… without Sasuke. Or any of the other Akatsuki. And that was what he wanted. He was sure that was what he wanted. Only in his room could he show the weakness tightly coiled in his stomach. But there was a knock on his door and it made him straighten up, instantly putting the mask that he just took off back on his face. He walked to the door and opened it, only to find the older Uchiha brother staring back at him. Obito blinked. 

“Itachi-san. What are you… what are you doing here? I- uh… come in.” Obito and Itachi sat down at the small table in Obito’s room and stared at each other awkwardly. “So… how can I help you?” Obito tried to ask, unsure of whether to say it like Tobi or just let his guard down and talk like himself (whoever that was). Itachi cleared his throat. 

“You are the only person in this godforsaken place that has sake that's worth a damn,” Itachi explained calmly. He looked away. “It has… been a long week.” Obito could tell the truth in that statement just from his cousin’s voice. Itachi sounded exhausted, and the perpetual mask of indifference had begun to slip when his little brother went missing. The two of them looked at each other and came to an understanding. For the next few minutes, there was no talking. Obito grabbed some glasses and poured his strongest sake out for the both of them, and they drank in silence. They only actually picked up a conversation once they were both drunk enough for the awkwardness to melt away. 

“He’s likely not dead,” Obito commented bluntly. Itachi only sighed. 

“If he is, I have no idea what I'd do,” Itachi grumbled casually, like it was an ordinary thing to say. “Certainly wouldn't stick around here. Probably follow in Shisui’s footsteps.” Obito only nodded, knowing better than to pry on that particular bit of insight into Itachi’s life. They were silent for a few more minutes before Obito spoke again. 

“The massacre,” Obito started. “I was long gone by the time it happened. What… are you and Sasuke really the only survivors as the rumors say?” Itachi nodded, throwing back another glass. Obito thought about that bitterly, about his grandmother who wouldn't have been spared. Itachi sighed. 

“Right. I've never really talked about this with anyone, and Sasuke and I don't speak about it much. You know how sharingan awakening works, yes?” Obito nodded, mind involuntarily flashing to his own experience. 

“Well I made some genuine friends on my genin team. It was the first time I ever had any friends.” Obito closed his eyes and took another sip. Friends, sharingan awakening. Being crushed under a boulder with your crying teammates looming over you. Thinking, no, don't cry, it doesn't hurt. It really doesn't hurt. I can't feel anything, please don't cry. Watching a particular white haired individual (a traitor, that traitor) desperately try to save you. Losing a part of yourself, a part of yourself you didn't even know you had, and giving it to someone else. Forever living with that, knowing that your other eye is somewhere, because you can still feel it, but not knowing much else. The aching absence that grows from that. He opened his eyes again. “I watched them die, right in front of my eyes. That awakened my Sharingan, and when I went home, my father congratulated me. He congratulated me. It was a nightmare and he was proud. I don't know, that always stuck with me. But anyway,” Itachi paused to drink more sake as the room spun. “Sasuke’s eyes woke during the massacre. I didn't get there in time. He watched our parents die, managed to hide in the closet and keep quiet the whole time so they didn't find him. I got there in time to stop them from killing him, and realized his sharingan had awakened because of everything. I wasn't able to save anyone, but I was able to save him, and that's all that matters.”

“I understand,” Obito replied evenly. “I know what it's like to be too late.”

Itachi’s eyes slid over to him. “Yeah well… whatever. The Uchiha had been planning a coup for a while. Danzo, he gave me a choice. Either kill everyone myself and have Sasuke be spared to live happily in the village. Or, to let them kill everyone, Sasuke included. I didn't… I refused either option and tried to get there but I was too late. They killed everyone in one night, a bunch of Anbu who were deployed for the massacre. Like I said, Sasuke managed to hide. I knew that Danzo would be after us, so I grabbed Sasuke and we got the hell out of dodge. He didn't speak for months afterwards. Not a single word, other than screaming during his nightmares. It was probably a little selfish, but I… I missed him. There was no more ‘Itachi, look at the score I got at the academy!’ or ‘Itachi look, look I learned a new move!’ There was just… nothing. He was so vacant. If he's dead- if he’s dead after everything we’ve been through, I don't- I have no idea what I'll do. We have to find him, and we have to kill the people who took him away from us. We have to.” I know, he wanted to shout. I know, I feel the same way, but I don't know why! Itachi left not long after that, stumbled back to his room, and Obito fell asleep in his armchair. That night he had a dream, a dream of Rin. it had been years since he dreamed of her, usually they were memories and bits and pieces, but this was different. He opened his eyes in his dream to a dark plane filled with ink, darkness stretching in every direction. It was a frequent setting he found himself in, usually the dream would be about him sinking into the oily substance until he couldn't breath. But this time it was low enough to wade in, his feet touching the ground, whatever that was. In the middle of the expanse, there was a bone white skeleton of some creature he didn't recognize, and Rin. He staggered towards her, and she hugged him without a word. In dreams like this he was always covered in blood, the Obito from years past. But now he was just him, and he was maskless.

“Just what have you gotten yourself into now, Obito?” she asked, and it sounded just like her. It wasn't her, he was fairly sure of that, he was dreaming for god’s sake, but it sounded like her. It seemed like her, and that was enough. “It's okay to be worried about the kid,” she said, running fingers through his hair while he tried to calm his breathing. 

“It's not real,” he managed hoarsely. “None of it. Nothing in this world is real, I shouldn't feel anything. So why… Why do I…”

“Does it matter if it's real?” she asked. “It feels real. Maybe it is, Obito.”

“Obito is dead,” he whispered. “At least the one you knew- Obito doesn't exist anymore.” Rin only shook her head, looking past him at nothing at all and smiling sadly.

“I don't believe you,” she said evenly. “You're still Obito. No matter how many names you take or how many masks you wear, I know who you are. And I think you do too.”

“It's not real,” he tried again, weakly. 

“If it's not real, then why do you help Konan with the dishes? If it's not real, then why do you want to save Itachi’s brother so badly? Why do you make plans for Nagato’s dream in the supposed next world when you don't have to? Why do you stick around Deidara to make sure he doesn't get killed? Why do you help Sasori with his puppets? Why, Obito?”

“I can't be Obito,” he muttered quietly. “He’s dead. He died with you.”

“He is right here. He is sitting here with me. You're still you. You'll always be you.”

“B-But…. But Madara-”

“Madara is dead,” she said with finality, shaking her head. “Madara is a dead man now. You are the only thing that can bring him back, and you have a choice.”

“I've never had a choice.”

“You do now. Madara isn't here.”

“This is all just an illusion.” She smiled sadly. 

“I'm an illusion, Obito. Your world is not.”

His dream didn't fade out from there. One second he was sitting in a dark dreamscape with his dead friend, and the next he was in the Akatsuki lair, laying in an armchair, sitting up and gasping for breath. His back hurt and his neck was aching from the weird position he dozed off in, and Obito could already feel the nausea of an inevitable hangover coming on. Still, he sat up properly, stretching his neck and running a hand through his short hair. Itachi was probably passed out in his room or throwing up already, and Obito had a hunch that he’d be feeling the same way pretty soon. He looked down at the floor and forced his eyes to focus. He didn't have time for a drunken hallucination within a drunken hallucination. But when he turned his head, he felt himself recoil and raise his hands to his face. The orange plastic from the ground winked back at him. Obito had taken his mask off. And now it was cracked. 

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

AHHHHH YOU ALWAYS KILL IT W SONG REQUESTS (as you do w everything else you write bc it’s all gold). may i pls ask for only memories remain by my morning jacket w cal if you could 🥺

Hi, love! Thanks for your patience while I finished up some schoolwork before I got this request!

CW/TW: Mentions of Death. 

_______________

Calum grunts as he pushes up off the floor, hands pressed into the mattress to help assist him. It’s less his back and more of his knees that are not pleased with him. But he does this every so often, kneels on the floor on your side of the bed and digs out that shoebox full of pictures, your engagement band. He made sure that you kept the wedding ring itself. He wanted you to take that with you. 

He should probably stop calling it your side of the bed--your scent hasn’t grazed that pillow in nearly three years. The nightstand is missing your mug in the mornings and your glasses that you always forgot where you put them down. Even if you did remember to hook them around your neck, the second you pulled the glasses down you’d forget instantly where you put them. And Calum wouldn’t be laughing at that, but sometimes he’s not sure how you got around in the world. You always told him glasses weren’t important; they were replaceable if you somehow managed to lose them for good. The only things you didn’t forget were the important things. 

And it’s true. You remembered birthdays, anniversaries, just how the kids liked their plates arranged when they were younger and how a kiss to the back of Calum’s neck would always make his shiver spine. You remembered all the quirks to the dogs and you’d remembered songs from decades ago like they were still new to the radio. 

Settling onto the edge of the bed, Calum pulls up the top to box and right on top is the letter you wrote to him while he was on tour, all those years ago. He had saved it, doing his best to preserve it in your handwriting but he had typed up and saved another draft of it, so he’d never forget it. 

 Dear Calum, 

You might think I’m crazy. But I can hear the laughter in the walls--the sound of you laughing at all my purposefully bad dance moves and I can hear the kisses you give to top of Duke’s head. And I know the house is empty except for me and Duke. I know you are miles away. I know you are dazzling thousands every night. But if only they could hear what I hear in the walls. Your bass occasionally thumping the pictures frames and the shrieks when we fail at some new recipe and resign to take out. If only they could hear, the sound of you when you’re murmuring gently in your sleep or the snores that keep me up some nights. If only they could hear the whispers we don’t want to give power too, the anxiety that sometimes build, but knowing that the two of us can confide in each other. 

If only I could capture what I hear just below that too, and send that to you as well. If only I had a way to let you hear what I hear. If I could tell you sometimes I hear a baby’s laughter, or the bickering of sibling. If only I could tell you about the years I hear waiting for us in this house, maybe other one--a place bigger for the dogs and kids. I can hear the splash of our pool with kids from the neighborhood. 

I don’t know if you hear that too in the house when I’ve gone for a conference or even if you imagine it when I’m just in the next room. I know I do with you. Even if you’re just outside with your trainer, I can hear the house whispering for more. And I could totally be projecting on some poor house, that doesn’t ever have wants or desires, just an existence that which is it content with, but there is something happening, something that I want to let you know about. It hasn’t been easy for ys, but it’s always been worth it. I know our options around children may be a little tough, but I think it’ll be worth it. 

I could easily call you, I could easily text you all things. But, no, I must write it down, as some way of working through my own thoughts. I hope I don’t sound crazy. 

Though I can hear it now, you tsking at me with a shake of your head and a single raised digit--I am never crazy, just always thinking. Just always working through the thoughts that run faster than me. 

I hope you’re well. I hope the tour’s going well and you’re sleeping good at night. Have you tried that lavender like I told you about? Duke’s well, in case you’re wondering. He did well at his checkup today, just sleeping a lot still. Vet says it’s normal for a dog his age. But when he does get a good burst of energy he’s happy to trot around the backyard or around the block. He’s still eating well, so don’t fret about that. Your old man’s still kicking it. He told me to tell you, he’s not going down anytime soon. He’s just taking it easy. 

The weather is LA is turning for a bit. We’ve had some clouds for the last few days. But it’s been nice. You’d be displeased, needing that sun. But soon, you’ll be back home--see your mom and dad and be able to get that Australian sun. 

Love you, Calum. To the ends of the earth, back again, and beyond. 

Yours truly, 

Dearly Beloved. 

He’s not sure when calling you his dearly beloved became a thing. You’d remember. You’d remember to the exact date, time, and happenings. But Calum can’t seem to remember that kind of stuff. He just remembers watching you run after the kids as they shrieked about bath time and how you like kisses right on the back of your ears. 

It’s a strange thing, to remember that, remember all the times he could sneak up behind you to kiss the back of your ear and watch you jump in the shock contrasted to the way you felt cool in his hands as he turned your head one last time to kiss the beloved spot and the way dead weight is actually much heavier, the way it took so much more effort to place your head back upright than it ever took to gently cup your chin and instantly you’d turn to him, with a smile on your face. 

Calum places the letter to the side and finds your favorite old t-shirt--it was hardly a t-shirt anymore. The hole in the armpit was spreading just a little but it held the name of your old university and you wore it for everything from weeding the garden to painting the bedrooms, to gutting the kitchen during the remodel. 

Calum bought exact matching t-shirts and made small decor pillows for the kids, sprayed your signature scent onto them so they could sleep easier at night. But they still curled up in bed with him, hugging their pillows, faces buried into the pillows on your side of the bed. He’d rather them take the last of your scent--he’s happier that they got those moments. 

“Pops, I don’t understand this math question,” Trey states poking his head into the bedroom. 

Calum snaps his attention up from the box and nods. “Coming. Algebra, right?”

“Yeah,” he nods, leaning into the molding. It’s crazy to look at him now, how he’s almost surpassed Calum in height. At fifteen, Calum thought he’d surely still have a few inches maybe a foot over him. Calum remembers when Trey found out he had officially been adopted but the two of you. He was six and cried more than Calum or you did--though the margin was probably still pretty close. It couldn’t have been nine years already. 

“Do-do you have their glasses?” Trey asks quietly. “Today’s been hard. And I feel silly with a pillow in my lap as I do homework.”

Calum walks over, box in hand. “I kept a lot of their smaller things. Whatever you need--it’s always in this box.”

Trey pulls your glasses from the pile, noticing other letters and pictures scattered about in the box. He spies the college t-shirt but just next to it is a picture of you and Trey. He’s in your lap, giant headphones over his ears. “Is that from the first show I went too of yours?”

Calum only briefly catches a glance at the photo before Trey’s fully plucked it from the box. “I think so.”

Trey immediately places the glasses back into the box but holds onto the picture. “Thanks.”

“Of course.”

“So, do you happen to remember anything from Algebra?”

Calum laughs at the tease and put the box down on the dresser before following behind Trey to the living room. Brandy sits at the coffee table, her stack of color pages and pencils spread out. Calum did his best to keep her doing art. It was hard after you first died.  But slowly over the years, she’s gotten back into it. “You all good?” 

She nods. “All good in the Hood.” She got the phrase from you and here Calum was, with Brandy at ten, and he was sure she would never let the phrase die. 

Calum stops just for a moment to kiss the top of her head and then carries on to the dinning room table. “Okay, so I know I’m not a math whizz like them. But your old man still knows a thing or two about a thing or two,” he returns to Trey’e earlier quip. “Now let’s see what new math magic they have you all working in.”

Trey laughs, slipping the tiny photo of him into the back of his phone case so it shows out to the world. “You calling it magic does not make me feel better.”