#and i realized i could just instead block them

[readwritealldayallnight]

I would love a take on boyfriend Ghost coming home to surprise you, but he finds your bed empty and doesn't realize that you are in his room in his bed. Thanks.

The placebo effect, was what he kept trying to convince you it had to be, no matter how many times you rolled your eyes and told him he was wrong

How else could one explain your insistence that Simon’s bed smelled so much like him, becoming your safe space when he was away on long deployments, when he only ever slept with you in your bed most nights to begin with

Hard to believe it was nearly three years ago now that you’d told your friend since childhood, Johnny, about how your search for a new flat was going miserably. You remember how he’d perked up and recounted with a mischievous glint in his eye about how his Lieutenant was apparently searching for a flat mate at the moment, someone who’d be looking after the place while he was away for work

Unsure about living with a strange man you’d never met before, but trusting Johnny’s judgement (though the way he seemed just a bit too eager about this meeting did kind of throw you off-) you had reluctantly agreed to meet with him and at least give the flat a glance before you simply turned him down

It wasn’t until you were knocking at the door of the address Johnny had written down for you, that you’d realized he’d never even given you the man’s goddamn name, only ever referring to him at Lieutenant or LT

Johnny apparently also failed to mention the absolute SIZE of the guy, his huge frame blocking nearly all of the light from behind him as he had swung the door open and stood in the doorway before you

In a slight panic, thrown off by the massive man before you and the way the butterflies in your stomach suddenly began to flutter at the sight of him, you had greeted him for the first time with a squeaky, unsure voice saying ‘Um, hi, are you the Mr Lieutenant?’ (something he has never let you live down since)

He knew then and there that you would be the one

Not just his flatmate (though what a generous flatmate he was when he offered insisted on moving all your boxes out of your old place and into his that very same day), but the one, something he reluctantly had to give Soap credit for, seeing as he was the one who wouldn’t stop talking his ear off about you

You would be his other half, his better half

And all these years later, the two bedroom flat truly only acted as a one bedroom, considering that from the start Simon was always falling into your bed with you at the end of each night, limbs tangled together under the warmth of a lovers embrace a thousand times more comforting than an actual comforter

Still though, that first time Simon had to be gone for work longer than a few weeks, you found the lingering odor of him clinging to his bedsheets to be one of the few things keeping you sane in his absence, taking to sleeping in his room for the time being, imagining that the pillow you cling to your front was a strong muscular arm instead, littered in scars and tattoos you feel confident you could recognize from touch alone

And when his long awaited flight back home to you landed a few hours earlier than expected, tires touching down in the dark, stillness of late night hour, he decided he’d surprise you and come straight home, rather than calling you to meet him at the base like you’d insisted, not wanting to wake you

Barely able to contain himself, he decided the elevator ride up to the seventh floor would take too long, take away precious seconds that brought him closer to you, and so up the flight of stairs he went, taking them two or three at a time, rushing to see the face etched behind his eyelids every time he closed his eyes, to hear the voice that haunted his dreams each night

Quietly as a man his size could, he crept into the flat, snuck his way into your room, expecting to see your sweet, sleeping form cuddled up amongst the blankets and pillows. But his heart dropped when he noticed the bed was still perfectly made, not a thread out of place.

Trying to remain calm, though his mind was instantly swarming with every possible scenario that could have taken place, he knew he saw your shoes and jacket by the door, you couldn’t have gone far… but where were you?

He glanced into the living room, wondering if he missed you sleeping on the couch after a long day, he poked his head into the bathroom, even went so far as to check the small balcony, but finally there was only one door left to open.

And there you were, safe and sound, a tiny ball curled up into the center of his huge bed, clinging to one of his old masks and holding it close to your chest as though it were a security blanket (you’d been sleeping in his bed so much you needed something that still smelled strongly of him, you were getting desperate)

Stripping himself down to only his boxers, he tiptoed towards the side of the bed, his mind finally feeling more at peace than he ever had, gently pulling the sheets back just enough for him to slip in behind you, his strong arms wrapping around your middle and pulling you into his muscular chest

Though it should be alarming to suddenly feel a pair of hands roaming over your skin, a body holding you firmly against their own, it’s as though your body knows who it is before your mind does

Any tension you were still holding onto during his absence instantly melts away, your own hands coming to land over top of his, giving a slight squeeze of acknowledgment, not yet willing to fully leave your half asleep state, but needing to touch him, to confirm he really is here

“Hmm,” You hum, voice groggy with sleep and a smile slowly stretching across your lips, snuggling further into his embrace. “You’re home.”

He presses a kiss to the top of your head, breathing you in, wishing he could bottle up the scent of your shampoo and lotions and perfumes, if only to have something to hold onto while he’s away, understanding now why he found you in this bed rather than your own

“I am.” He whispers into your hair, sensing that you’re already drifting back into dream land, safe in his arms and his bed, knowing he’ll be there when you wake. He feels his chest tighten when he knows that you weren’t talking about the fact that he’s physically home, in the flat, but something more, something much more, because he means the same thing when he tells you, “You’re my home too, love.”

[existential-crisis-of-the-mind]

Love Language (Jason Todd x Reader)

Prompt: Jason Todd with a gift giving love language

Jason Todd wasn’t the best good at- capable of expressing feelings of affection. Maybe it was just a byproduct of having skipped most of his adolescence, what with the interruption of being buried alive then resurrected in green goop. But whatever, maybe that was just speed running his character development.

What’s not so nice however, is that he’s missed out on those teen years of fumbling through relationship firsts. Sure, maybe they’d be awkward, and he’d look back and laugh at those memories today. But part of him feels like those adolescent years would be far more forgiving towards hesitant confessions and embarrassing slip ups.

Now he’s having to navigate it all as an adult. Unfortunately, it’s not all smooth sailing for Jason, what with his twin quest for revenge and justice blocking out most of his schedule.

The thing is, he has no issues knowing what affection should feel like. He’s experienced the butterflies in his stomach, his throat lodging up because he’s afraid he’ll say the wrong thing, sneaking glances and immediately averting his eyes when he gets caught admiring you.

He’s experienced the pre-date nerves, having to stare down the mirror to convince himself he’s got this (why is it so much easier to punch a bad guy then tell you that your hair looks nice??)

And he’s also experienced the post-date embarrassments, replaying moments where he felt like a total dunce cause of something he said without thinking (he swears up and down he was not being raunchy when he said he likes sleeping with you. He meant it in the literal sense! Your presence helps lull him to sleep)

No, he definitely has no issues in experiencing sentiments of love and affection. But man does he struggle expressing said feelings.

He’s not sure he’s the best at communicating his fondness towards you. At least not with words, given his tendency to put his foot in his mouth when it comes to matters of the heart.

He’s come to realize while he may not be the best with words, he’s a good listener with a keen eye for detail.

Er- okay, perhaps he could have a keener eye for detail, but hey a man’s gotta have his Achilles heel right?

And that is exactly why he’s stood in the living room right now, with three different pairs of vintage sunglasses neatly laid out on the coffee table in front of you.

His stiffens a bit at your questioning gaze before clearing his throat.

“So, do you remember last week, when you were helping me out with groceries and we passed that vintage charity shop on the way back to my place?”

You do have a vague recollection of passing by a well decorated store selling accessories and other Knick-knacks. You nod as you briefly recall pointing it out to him.

He takes your nod as a sign to continue, “Right so, you had pointed out the store, and I recall you admiring a pair of sunglasses at the window display… you said you’d buy it when you get your next pay cheque. But I thought I’d surprise you with it instead”.

Right, well you are surprised, so that bit was accomplished. Though you can’t help but note how he talks in terms of a singular pair, yet there are three (very stylish) pairs of sunglasses in front of you. So you were surprised and confused.

You look back at him, the question on your lips. But the slump of his shoulders and grumbled huff escaping him tells you he’s already figured out what you’re gonna ask.

“Now look, I remembered the shop… I just couldn’t recall which pair you were talking about. So I- uh, I bought all three of them”.

‘Great. Now she’s gonna think I’ve got the memory of a goldfish and make poor financial decisions’

Jason barely suppresses a groan at the thought, averting his gaze in embarrassment.

“Look I think you’d look good in all of them, so yeah… I mean at the very least you like one of them right?” He asks, his voice faltering towards the end as he begins to doubt whether this was a good idea to begin with.

You barely suppress a laugh at his predicament. Of course he’d do this. Instead of just asking you, he’d rather just buy all three pairs to surprise you.

Your mind flashes back to all the times he’s voiced concern that he’s not expressive enough of his feelings towards you, worried that it would drive a rift between the two of you.

But you know that’s not true at all. He does care, he cares a lot. He’s just got a different love language, one that fits him all too well.

You shake your head with a smile as you rise up from the sofa, walking over to engulf him in a tight hug.

“You’re such a goof you know that?” You mumble against his shirt. Jason mutters in protest though he wraps his arms around you without missing a beat.

You lean back to see his face, a bright smile adorning your features, “Thank you I love them, all of them. And I love you” you declare before pecking his cheek.

A short laugh escapes him at your actions. He takes a moment to drink in your happy smile before proceeding to flick your forehead.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“I’m no goof”

“Oh you’re not? Is that why you technically bought one pair of sunnies for the price of three?”

He rolls his eyes at your teasing, deciding not to respond lest he implicates himself further.

So maybe words of affirmation aren’t his thing, and maybe it will take him a bit longer to respond back with ‘I love you too’.

But that’s not to say that Jason Todd isn’t completely and hopelessly smitten with you.

—————————————————————————

God he’s so fun to write, a total deer in the headlights when he’s in love.

Should I try this with other love language prompts? Lmk if you have any suggestions!

[marshmallowprotection]

Nightmare prompts, 12 for Suit? :)

That strangled crease in his brow told you all you needed to know, and as Saeran attempted to catch his breath, you scanned his body for signs of an injury. It wasn't like him to visit you in the middle of the day... and for him to look like a wild animal who just learned how to open the cage door, you knew something had to be wrong.

Fortunately, he wasn’t physically injured but the dodgy look in his eyes said that he’d been hurt somewhere deep within his mind. The most curious part of it all? Instead of stumbling to his feet to find his so-called Savior, he ran to you instead. He told you time again that he couldn't care less for you, and what would inevitably happen to you if he grew bored with his "game".

Yet, he came here.

“Saeran, are you… okay?” As if realizing his mistake only once he heard your voice, he scoffed. “A-As if I need you. I just had to make sure you weren’t going to do something stupid.” 

“You haven’t caught your breath,” you told him in a quiet voice. It wasn’t like him to slow down, but if he kept going at that rate, he’d knock himself out. “I’m not in a hurry. Take a second to clear your thoughts and breathe.” 

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Despite his protests, you could see him fumble from left to right, moving to hook an end chair underneath the knob to block anyone from going in or coming out. There was no lock on the inside, something that had been chosen by design, Ray’s design, but it seemed to be to Saeran’s detriment now. He wasn't... he wasn't okay... not by any means.

His expression screamed desperation.

He came to you when he needed someone, even if he couldn't bring himself to say it.

You didn't dare get closer to him in the fear that he might run away again. But, all the same, you wanted to hold onto the hope that he would let you help him. You asked, "...What happened?"

He scoffed. You didn't expect any less, though. He wasn't the type to talk about his feelings. The breathless, condescending laugh burned through his lungs as he didn't dare look back at you. "You're just so useless at your job, toy! I can't close my eyes for one minute without imagining all the ways you're screwing me over! One more bad day in that chatroom and boom! You're dead!"

That explanation didn't make it sound like he was upset at you.

Still, you decided to press a little harder, "You're... having nightmares about my well-being?"

You could see him tremble as he continued to stare at the door to hide his eyes from you. If you didn't know any better, he was trying his damnedest to hide his eyes. You always knew the truth when you looked into his eyes.

"As if I would have nightmares! Nightmares are for the weakest of us all! You and Ray, you're one in the same. You've got both got them in your head because you don't know what it feels like to be strong! To... to be strong is to be unyielding in the face of terror! Do I look weak to you?! Are you mocking me?!"

"Why would I think you're weak? Everyone gets nightmares, Saeran. It doesn't mean you're weak... it just means you're human."

As he spun around to face you, his blue eyes fraught with tears, he shouted, "I'm not allowed to be human! I'm only allowed to be strong!"

You dropped everything in an instant, not caring what might happen to you in the process as you dashed across the room and threw your arms around his shoulders. Much to your surprise, he didn't shove at your body to remove your presence, but he couldn't bring himself to hold you, either. He just stood there, tears flowing down his cheeks, a silent, agonizing plea for something more than what he was allowed dancing across his ever-beating heart.

"Not with me, not in here," you whispered. "You can be human as long as you're with me."

[angrykidnomoney]

Snitch Backstory

The Thumbsucker needs more love. I feel like this guy is the least-loved of the 92sies, but I've always had a soft spot for him. So, here's an elaborate backstory with main character energy that no one asked for:

Snitch was born Nathaniel Kester, the eldest son of William Kester, a ruthless railroad magnate who built his fortune by exploiting laborers and crushing unions. Growing up in a sprawling mansion in upstate New York, Nathaniel was destined to inherit his father’s empire. However, from an early age, he witnessed the harsh realities behind his family’s wealth: workers facing unsafe conditions, children his age breaking their backs, and his father’s disregard for human life.

His father was equally cruel at home, enforcing strict discipline and punishing any sign of weakness or rebellion. Nathaniel's younger siblings looked to him for protection, but even he couldn’t shield them from their father’s wrath. As Nathaniel grew older, he began to challenge his father’s authority, which only escalated the abuse.

At age 15, after a particularly brutal confrontation where his father beat him for voicing sympathy for striking workers, Nathaniel fled. He hopped a freight train to Manhattan, taking only the clothes on his back and a stolen pocketful of cash. In the city, he quickly realized that survival required more than money; he needed allies.

When he stumbled upon a group of newsies in a heated argument with a policeman, Nathaniel immediately admired their courage and sense of camaraderie. They took him in, dubbing him "Snitch" as he was a bit of a tattle tale (hard to shed the lessons of a "proper" upbringing!)—though they soon realized he could use his knack for observation to gather valuable information.

Snitch thrived among the newsies, and he developed a fierce loyalty to Jack and the Manhattan crew. His privileged upbringing made him resourceful; he taught the others how to recognize counterfeit coins and find loopholes in rules.

Despite fitting in, Snitch kept his past a secret. He feared his father’s influence and worried the newsies would reject him if they knew the truth. The only person who knows part of his story is Itey. Feeling he could trust him, Snitch admitted that he came from a wealthy family, but didn’t reveal his father’s identity. A loyal friend, Itey never said a word to the others.

When Pulitzer raises the price of papes, Snitch is torn. He knows all too well how powerful men like Pulitzer operate—they won’t yield without a fight. The strike becomes personal when he learns that Pulitzer is working with his father to block union efforts across the city.

Snitch’s dual identity leaves him in a tense state. On one hand, he is fiercely loyal to the newsies and their cause. On the other, he fears that his past could ruin everything if he's exposed as being linked to the enemy. His father's shadow looms large; Snitch knows that if he’s discovered, his father will do whatever it takes to drag him back and crush the efforts of his friends.

As the strike escalates, Snitch discovers critical information: his father is planning to bring in scab workers by train to replace striking laborers across the city. This knowledge gives the newsies an advantage, but revealing it means confessing his true identity.

Eventually, Snitch admits his lineage to the group, expecting rejection. Instead, Jack and the others rally around him, recognizing the courage it took to stand up to his father and risk everything for his found family. Armed with Snitch’s insider knowledge, the newsies execute a daring plan to sabotage the scab train, forcing Kester into a corner. Pulitzer is made weaker by it, and the rest of the strike plays out in the favor of the newsies.

By the end of the strike, Snitch has fully embraced his new family and shed his past. Though he knows his father won’t stop searching for him, he is ready to face whatever comes next, as long as he has his fellow newsies. Family isn’t just about blood—it’s about the bonds you choose to fight for.

[dredshirtroberts]

To be so clear I am also regularly in denial about how much pain i'm just in

even with meds, even with rest, even if I haven't done anything in a week, even if i did only good things the day before, even if the exercise was necessary

buuuuut the meds do take the edge off (still in pain but less which is a net good) and i can always tell when they've worn out (naproxen SAYS it's good for 8-12 hours and I get Maybe 7.5 on a good day). I'm attempting to change to preemptive pain relief from chasing pain constantly and it's hard. But we're getting better.

speaking of which. Naproxen time.

i think i'm like. really in denial sometimes about how much pain i'm just Casually In...

OH NO WAIT HANG ON WAIT ACTUALLY MY MEDICINE WORE OFF AND I DID LIKE A LOT OF UNANTICIPATED ACTIVITY NEVER MIND I'M DUMB I'M HURTING FOR ACTUAL REASONS THIS TIME

[skitskatdacat63]

Fernando instinctively trying to protect his boyfriend Seb from the champagne spray

+

[krotiation]

Kro I'm so gay for your art how do you keep making such clean and detailed lineart every single time /big pos

AJDJAHDJS THANK YOU SHINA!! Honestly I didn't even know my lineart COULD be considered clean 😭 it is probably my favorite part of drawing tho so I tend to take my time with it

Also I don't actually do lineart for all the details right away! Some details only gets added on a new layer after I've already colored/shaded the "base" so I don't muddy the drawing up trying to squeeze in every little aspect of the designs in the lineart

[jankwritten]

yall wanna know how fucked up my anxiety is about some shit

i scroll past a post that's about a topic i don't like. whatever, it's fine. i scroll past a video that's a topic i don't care about. that's normal.

i scroll past a video that's a topic i don't like or care about but the person presenting it is a person of color? i IMMEDIATELY feel immensely guilty and need to "compensate" by "proving" it wasn't because of race by also skipping other random posts, JUST IN CASE someone thinks I'm racist because I didn't want to watch a video on a topic I didn't like or care about, that happened to be presented by a person of color.

this just in on: the police in my brain are loud and i'm scared of them

[brittlebutch]

officially 10K into this fic and having a realization about where I'm at on characterization so far, so i'm wondering:

[anonyanonymouse]

🙈

[cherrymoonvol6]

.

[yoohyeon]

Guys If you ever see me accidently reblog A*I or anything bad can you all tell me kindly instead of making a whole post insulting me and being rude like a person made 😐

[twopercentboy]

,,,,

[floral-hex]

health whining

Dilemma: breathing trouble. Still. For weeks. Another bad night where I’m afraid to go to sleep.

Options, if I go somewhere:

ER. No copay. Can go right now. Will most definitely feel shitty for presumably wasting their time and will probably be told to see ENT (ENT appointment in almost 2 weeks but issue is affecting me NOW).

Urgent care. There is a copay. I’ll have to wait 2 more hours. If equipment is needed (I dunno, endoscopy scopes. Who knows), they most definitely won’t have it. Will also probably tell me to go see ENT.

[jazzware]

i should be allowed to explode people with my mind

[villainbait]

Exclusive Favors

Pairing: Sylus x MC / fem!reader Rating: PG-13 Tags: who did this to you, hurt, comfort, hurt/comfort, injury, implied violence, brief violence mentions, angst, canon sylus behavior, blood mentions, kissing if you squint Summary: You barely survived a night on your own in the N109 Zone without the watchful gaze of certain Onychinus leader, but at what cost? Word Count: 1.5k

The dull sound of your door closing was like the snap of a final curtain call falling into place and you slumped against it, relieved to be safely in your own apartment. You had survived a night in the N109 Zone on your own, but it had been a near miss. One you wouldn’t be repeating, especially since the intel you wanted had been a bust, anyway. 

You touched your side, your breathing uneven, and you wince. You definitely have a cracked rib. You try to take a deep breath and pain radiates from your chest into your stomach, making you a little nauseous. Okay, maybe two.

You were trying to psych yourself up to move and trudge into your apartment to give yourself much needed medical attention when the reverberating shock of someone's forceful knock bounced you against your door-frame. You consider not answering the insistent caller on the other side, but a muffled, familiar baritone floats through the door.

"Open the door, sweetie."

A sigh left your lips at the demand and you tried to stifle the pathetic, painful whimper that your exasperation cost you. Of all the people on the other side of that door, Sylus was the most unexpected. Or maybe not, considering he boasted that he knew everything that went on in his territory. Maybe that’s why he was here and if it was, he wouldn’t leave until his curiosity was satisfied.

The door cracks open and you stare up at him through the hole you made, reluctant to allow him entrance and to partially block his view of the damage those thugs had caused when they mugged you in the alleyway earlier tonight. However, Sylus’s easy smile is nowhere to be found and the frown lines on his forehead are the deepest you've ever seen them. His large hand wraps around the door-frame so you can’t close it again and he pushes gently against it, but you don’t budge. 

"Who did this to you?" His tone is dangerously low.

You ignore his question, instead poking your head out to look down the deserted hallway of your apartment building. "Why are you here? It's dangerous." It was risky for Sylus to wander around Linkon City normally, even if he claimed many people didn't know what he actually looked like. However, the Hunter’s Association did and your building was crawling with employees at all hours of the day and night.

"You didn't answer your phone, so I got worried."

Oh right, you had forgotten they had taken that too. You sighed again, the pain of having to replace everything beginning to give you a headache. That key charm Zayne had given you for your birthday was perhaps the worst thing to have lost, maybe more than the phone itself.

"Let me in, kitten." Sylus’s voice is gently cajoling and you concede because you're too tired to argue with him tonight. So you open the door and  try to act normal, but your voice is far too lighthearted for how heavy your legs feel as you trudge into the apartment. 

“You know, if you keep frowning like that you’ll get wrinkles and people really will think you’re an old man.” 

He follows you in with a small chuckle, his eyes bouncing around the room as if the perpetrators could be hiding in the shadows. When you grabbed the first aid kit and sat down to tend to your injuries, Sylus was suddenly there, kneeling in front of you. His hands push yours out of the way and he silently takes over the job of nurse, and you think about fighting him as you watch him roll up his shirtsleeves but realize you were just too exhausted to care. 

“What happened?” He asks eventually and you realize you will have to tell him something. Lying won’t work, he’ll find out if he didn’t already know. 

“What often happens when you end up in the wrong place at the wrong time in the N109 Zone, Sylus.” You offer with a single shrug, doing your best to sit still while he cleans the wound on your arm. “You know that better than me.” 

“Were you wearing–” he was referring to the brooch that signified your status as protected. 

“They took that too.” His hands stilled on the bandage he was applying on your forearm. “Did they, now?” he murmured silkily and you saw a muscle in his jaw tick, though his expression was partially obscured by his unruly hair. “After all that trouble I went through, too.” You tried to make a joke to ease the tension which earned you a soft amused twitch of Sylus’s lips. He was too angry to truly smile and you could feel it radiating off of him in waves. Despite that, his hands were painstakingly gentle as he touched what was clearly a blossoming bruise around your wrist. Sylus’s tender touch lingers on your injuries and he checks each one with a thoroughness that feels as if he’s memorizing exactly where you were hurt. 

He orders some of your favorite food, helps you get cleaned up, and tucks you into your bed. He points to the notepad you kept by your bedside table that you sometimes scribble notes on when you took calls. “Make me a list of what they looked like, and then go to bed. I’ll take care of the rest.” Before you could protest, he left the room abruptly. You picked up the notepad and stared at the print of the cute little animals dancing around the top. You’d bought it on a whim after seeing how cute it looked in a stationary shop window near one of your mission sites. It seemed too obscene to write what would virtually be a hit list on such charming paper. 

Instead, you scribble all of the reasons you’re grateful for today. Right at the top was that you had survived all on your own in the N109 Zone and you were able to see the infamous Onychinus leader kneeling at your feet. The list grew as you included the tasty food you ate earlier, and the glimpse of a suspiciously familiar crow you saw on your way into work this morning. The page was halfway filled when the pain medication Sylus had convinced you to take started to kick in and you felt your eyelids drooping. 

Drowsily, you snuggle down underneath your covers and clutch the plushie Sylus and you had won at the arcade last weekend. When you hear the distant muffled click of your door opening, you try to rouse yourself but you felt so warm and your body felt so heavy that you couldn’t manage it. That doesn’t stop you from trying until a large hand gently smoothed back your mussed hair, and the sensation of soft knuckles trace the curve of your cheek. “It’s just me,” the familiar voice murmured and you tried to speak but he shushed you. “Sleep, kitten.” 

You swear you felt the ghost of his lips on yours before he was gone, but maybe it was just part of the hazy dream you had of crows, violence, and enchanting sanguine eyes. 

Sylus returns to the N109 Zone and finds himself staring at the “list,” a bemused smile on his face. He shakes his head and tucks the cutesy page into his pocket. You were far too adorable and it made what he was about to do that much more satisfying, sauntering into the abandoned warehouse where your phone had last pinged; deceptively calm. The screams and stench of death shuddered throughout the N109 Zone tonight, serving as a violent and bloody reminder to all that no one should dare to touch what was his lest they face the consequences. 

Sometime in the early hours of the morning, your fingers fumble for your buzzing phone and land on the familiar outline of the brooch, both in their normal places as if yesterday was just a bad dream. Through your sleepy daze, you realize your other hand is occupied–as is your bed. Turning, you’re surprised to find Sylus is fast asleep next to you, his hand intertwined tightly with yours. There’s deep circles under his eyes, but his normally furrowed brow is smoothed out in sleep. With a sleepy smile, you curl back up to let him rest a little while longer, tucking your joined hands against your chest, cuddling his arm.

You both doze off together, and you’ve never felt so safe.