#i realized i messed up something really stupid after posting it and i am NOT going back to fix it

[satanslittlepup]

Birthday boy! Ashe

[emssturniolo]

talk to me

pairing: matthew sturniolo x reader

summary: matt knows you too well, especially when you aren’t being yourself

a/n: this was a request but i kinda gave it a little more plot :)

you did’t know what happened, really. one moment you were sitting on the couch at the triplets’ watching tiktoks aimlessly on your phone, and the next you were uncontrollably crying and shaking - to a person from an outside perspective, it might have seemed as if you had just fallen into frozen cold water, but you hadn’t. it was just your mind playing foolish tricks on you.

see, you and matt have been dating for a while - and you trusted him, so much - but this was a rare occurrence where your mind was doubting what it believed so thoroughly.

amongst the many tiktoks you had scrolled passed that night, one of them seemed to blur the vision of whatever in your head kept you thinking straight - it was a tiktok of matt… obviously, with a girl who seemed so so much younger than you suggesting that matt and some random influencer had been secretly dating.

the video had intense details, and things not even a mastermind would have thought to put together - which is probably what made you believe it - it suggested that matt and this influencer had met at tara’s party a while back, and displayed evidence of matt and her started liking each other’s posts not too long after the date of party.

now you weren’t one to usually believe these things, but it was so unrealistically possible, that your mind decided to play tricks on you, and there’a a high probability that your lack of sleep the previous night did not help.

matt was currently out with his brothers, filming a late night car video, and the shitty thing was that even if he wasn’t out - you couldn’t never get yourself to talk to him about something like this. you loved him so much that the possibility of him taking it the wrong way was too much to risk.

so when matt came back home later that night, and your mind was still racing, you had ultimately decided to suck everything up - but he knew you, maybe even a little too well, and when he noticed you weren’t laughing to his jokes as hard as you usually do, and that you weren’t as excited for the mcdonald’s he brought you home that night, he just knew something was up.

so he laid beside you on the couch when both nick and chris had gone down to their rooms for the night and asked you a simple question… which may have just sent you downhill.

“hey, what’s up? something’s wrong, i can tell.”

and with that, you broke down. anxiety flooding through your body, causing you to shake and stutter trying to respond to his question. in attempt to act like you were just fine, you failed. miserably.

“no-nothing. i’m- why?”

and with that he let out a harmless chuckle, purely to the fact you thought that he would believe your stuttering mess of a sentence.

“c’mon, angel. something's wrong.”

“you can take your time, just talk to me. please, i don’t want to go to bed worrying about you.”

your mind was moving fast. very fast. but you knew he wouldn’t drop it unless you told him exactly what was bothering you and what he could do to help.

“i just- i may or may not have seen a tiktok- god this sound so stupid-“ he cut you off the second those words left your mouth.

“hey no, nothing you say is stupid, just tell me”

“to be clear, i am fully aware you aren’t cheating on me- but there was a tiktok and it suggested you and some influencer were dating and i’ve just been dying all night thinking how i would actually survive without you if that ever happened and- i don’t actually know, i just panicked.”

his eyes widened at the word ‘cheating’, and then softened when he realized you were just overthinking, and then turned into this type of frowny shape when he thought of you having to doubt his never-ending love for you.

he didn’t know where to start from, so he just didn’t think about anything and let his heart speak.

“oh angel, you don’t ever ever ever have to worry about anything like that. i am so so so lucky to have you in my life, let alone call you mine, why would i ever trade that for anything else?and you know i understand more than anything that your anxiety is speaking right now, but please don’t worry so much over a tiktok made by some girl who’s probably twelve years old. if you don’t mind, can i see the video please?”

and with that you showed him the tiktok, the look on his face as confused as yours the first time that you had seen the video.

“i have never seen that girl in my life, angel, you can go through my phone if you want to feel better, but i promise you i haven’t.”

but there was no need to go through anyone’s phone - you trusted matt with your whole being, and now you yourself are doubting why you didn’t just a few minutes ago.

“no, matt,” you let out a slight breathy laugh “i trust you. i’m sorry, i think I just panicked, i don’t even know what was going through my head.”

matt made a gesture with his head, silently asking if he could hug you. you just put your weight onto him and he caught you with his warm handstand reciprocated the hug.

“you’re good, sweetheart.” he kissed the top of your head, and picked you up swiftly in one motion moments after, carrying you to his room.

[willowsnook]

rum with lime in a tall glass

lando norris x bsf!reader

"me and him? that's funny"

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

Sitting in a circle with your friends you laughed loudly as you watched Max be dared to post a video of him lipsyncing along to a Taylor Swift song. You felt like you were in high school again but enjoyed the nostalgia.

"Okay y/n, you're up," Max said after bowing to everyone following his performance. "Truth or dare?"

"Dare," you said confidently, not scared of whatever Max would make you do.

"I dare you to spend 7 minutes in heaven with Lando," he said and you laughed.

"Me and him? That's funny," you said waiting for the real dare. Lando shifted uncomfortably next to you and Max raised his eyebrows. "You're serious?"

You and Lando had been friends for almost five years but had grown really close the past two. You lived in the same building in Monaco and had started as friends of convenience but it grew into more as time went on. He was funny, easy to talk to, and someone you could always count on. Yeah, you admitted he was attractive but you never thought about him in a more than friends way. Why mess with what you had?

"I'm being serious," Max said. "Now go."

You let Lando pull you up and followed him to the coat closet in the front hallway of his apartment.

"After you," you mocked, opening the door. The closet was naturally dark and you could make out the outline of Lando as he shut the door behind you. "You know we can just stand here for 7 minutes, it's not that long."

"Why wouldn't I kiss you?" He asked and your head shot up.

"I mean do you want to?" You asked unsure. "It's just a little awkward."

You watched him tilt his head, eyeing you curiously.

"You think it's awkward?"

"Well yeah, you're my best friend," you said seriously. "I wouldn't want anything to change."

He didn't say anything for a minute and you grew nervous waiting for him to reply.

"You are so stupid," he said amused, like there was some big secret that you weren't in on. "Everything has already changed."

"What do you mea-," his lips cut you off as he wrapped an arm around your waist pulling you in. You were stunned but slowly moved yours back against his, resting your hands on his shoulders. He deepened the kiss and you stepped back until your back was against the wall. Moving from your mouth, he sucked on your neck causing you to gasp out.

A knock on the door slapped you back into reality, pushing him off of you. He grabbed the back of your head giving you one last short kiss before turning to open the door. Max gave him a knowing grin as you two came out and you were too flustered to even notice.

The game was over as everyone else had broken off to watch a movie or get another drink. Dazed, you walked out onto the balcony sinking down on the outdoor couch.

Everything has already changed.

What did that mean? You racked your brain, trying to think of times that Lando did something that might have meant he liked you more than a friend. He did sleep over after every movie night and you'd wake up the next morning with his arms wrapped tightly around you. He did make sure to introduce you to everyone in the McLaren garage the first time you came, telling them that you were very important to him. He did pay for you both to fly back to the US to go to a Packers game, just the two of you. But he was your best friend so that all made sense, right?

You were so fucking stupid. He was in love with you. But were you in love with him?

You did cook his favorite dinner for him to come home to after every race. And you did watch his old twitch streams every time he was gone for a race weekend because you missed him. And you did feel a wave of rage everytime you saw an influencer flirt with him at the club or the paddock.

Realization set in just as you heard the sliding door open and turned to see Lando sit down next to you. You both stared at each other not saying anything.

"I am in love with you," you said formally and he smiled, amused. "And you are in love with me."

"Just now figure that out?" He joked.

"You are such an asshole," you said pouting, crossing your arms over your chest. "You never said anything."

Lando shrugged, looking out at the sky.

"I kind of thought it was just like an unspoken thing," he admitted. "I thought you didn't want to put a label on it so I just never said anything. I do tell people you're my girlfriend though."

Your jaw dropped.

"You what?"

"Well yeah," he said blushing. "Guess I probably should have said something."

Rolling your eyes you moved closer to him, draping your legs over his lap and resting your head on his shoulder.

"So how long have we been dating then?" You asked.

"A few years," he said and you snorted. He leaned down to kiss your forehead and you sighed, finally content.

[nadvs]

can i request for the swte universe in their college days, reader seems like a perfectionist to me so what if she failed on an exam or she didn't get there in time and she failed her class and she got really upset, feeling terrible about herself, very disappointed and rafe tries to uplift her mood, trying to get her out of her dorm room?🤍🤍🤍

omg yessss i always love your prompts 🥹

based on this fic

» au masterlist

she had a bad feeling about the midterm. sometimes she could tell when she was being too hard on herself, when she was catastrophizing, but she knew she wasn’t exaggerating when she told rafe that her mind went blank during the test and that she’s sure she failed.

now, as she sits in her dorm checking her grade on her laptop the night after, she gets the confirmation.

she texts her boyfriend, just like she did when they were best friends and told each other everything. i was right.

her phone starts buzzing with a phone call.

“you okay?” he says when she picks up. he remembers that her grade was supposed to be posted tonight.

“no,” she says with a defeated laugh.

rafe is with the guys, watching a game at the house. he stands up off the couch, holding his phone to his ear. one of his housemates points to the screen, eyebrow raised, clearly confused why rafe would leave when there’s a minute left in an intense game.

but he ignores him, rounding the corner to pace into the hallway. he leans back against a wall, arm crossed over his chest.

“how bad is it?” he asks.

“so bad that i’m working on an email to my prof to ask if i can retake it or do anything for extra credit,” she says. “i didn’t even pass.”

he can hear the panic in her voice. rafe chews on his thumbnail as he stares down at the floor.

“it’s not over,” he says. he realizes he sounds just like he does when he’s trying to motivate his teammates between periods during a rough game. he rethinks his approach. this isn’t a game. this is his girl. and she’s freaked out about her future.

“baby, it happens,” he says. “everyone fails at some point.”

“this is so bad,” she mumbles. “i’m so stupid.”

he grimaces. they’re basically the same person. he knows how much pressure she puts on herself. sometimes, he’s almost certain that she thinks she has to be perfect to be worth something, just like he does.

“where are you?” he asks.

“home.” her inhale is shaky. “i shouldn’t have stayed up late studying so much. i thought it’d be better to learn what i could, but running on barely any sleep must’ve messed me up.”

“send the email,” he says. “and be ready in half an hour, okay?”

she’s quiet for a moment.

“why?”

“because i know you’re gonna sit in your room all night, beating yourself up, thinking about what you should’ve done and there’s no point to any of it,” he says. “just be ready, alright?”

moments like these, she’s glad her boyfriend is so bossy and decisive. her head is such a mess right now, somehow feeling both chaotic and blank at the same time.

rafe texts when he arrives. when she settles in his passenger seat, he can see that she’s been crying. he shuts off his music and gently pulls her in, his palm at the back of her neck, so that she’ll nuzzle into his chest.

it’s his go-to move when she’s upset. it always works. after crying against him for a moment, her breaths start to even out.

he kisses her forehead, his hand running up and down her back. he hates this feeling, when she’s so stressed out and he’s utterly powerless.

“you’re not stupid,” he mumbles against her hair.

“i am. i’m so disappointed in myself,” she says, her voice brittle. “how could i fuck up this bad?”

he frowns. he knows her well enough by now. sometimes she needs tough love. sometimes it’s the only thing that’ll pull her out of her haze.

“it happened,” he says. he pulls back just enough so she can look up at him. “can you change that it happened?”

“no.”

“is calling yourself stupid going to fix it?”

“no.”

“that’s my girl you’re talking to,” he says, his blue eyes sweeping over her face in worry. “my girl isn’t stupid.”

her lips twist in sorrow, but she nods, eyelids fluttering. she spirals sometimes. she can tell she’s doing it right now.

rafe’s hand rests on her damp cheek, rubbing his thumb over her skin.

“you anxious?” he asks.

“very,” she replies.

so, he decides to see if his most effective way of cooling down when he’s wired will help her.

he pulls into a lot by an outdoor court he always sees on his drive to her campus and takes the basketball out of his trunk when he parks.

“this is kind of unfair,” she says lightheartedly when she gets out of his car into the cool night air. “no chance i’m winning a one-on-one against you.”

“we’re just shooting hoops,” he says, putting an arm around her as he holds the ball to his chest.

the court is empty and quiet and dimly lit. they stand below one of the nets, bouncing the ball back and forth between each other.

“what if i fail the course?” she says.

“you won’t.”

“but if i do?”

“if you do, you’ll survive,” rafe replies. “you think some class can take you down?”

she breathes a chuckle. when she gets the ball back, she holds it, standing across from him, staring. all they ever are with each other is honest. it’s how it’s always been.

“i’m scared,” she admits. “i’m scared this will throw off my timing and i won’t graduate when i want to.”

“baby, there’s no way that’s happening,” he says confidently. “one bad grade won’t do that.”

“you seem so sure,” she states. she bounces the ball back to him.

“here. if i make this, it means you’ll fail the course.”

he takes the ball in both hands, holds it over his head, and throws it so it hits the rim hard, making the whole backboard shake as the ball goes flying down the court.

“i think that was rigged,” she says, the ache in her chest loosening as she laughs.

“we’ll never know,” rafe half-shouts as he runs to pick up the ball. he bounces it back to her.

she dribbles it a few times, squaring up with the net, and launches the ball in the air. it falls in the net.

“nice,” he breathes. “don’t let my coach see you. he’ll replace me.”

she turns to look at him, mirroring his smile.

“you’re laying it on a little thick, cameron,” she teases. she’s touched that he’s being so sweet just to cheer her up.

“just telling it like it is,” he says. he passes the ball to her again. “let’s see how you do with some defense.”

he steps between her and the net, a hard wall against her. his hands find her hips as she tries to line up with the net, his big frame moving with her.

“i’m pretty sure that’s a technical foul,” she says. “you can’t touch me like that.”

“nah, that’s not a rule.”

“you can’t just decide that,” she laughs.

“such a tight-ass,” he scoffs with a smirk, taking his hands off her hips and cradling her face. “how about this? this allowed?”

she giggles, holding the ball in one hand and hooking the other around his neck to pull him closer. their lips touch tenderly, both of them expelling a quiet sigh of contentment under the kiss.

she pulls back. he’s too busy staring at her in awe to block her from making another shot.

“your defense sucks,” she teases. rafe puts his hand to his chest in mock outrage.

“now you’re trash-talking?” he says. she watches him pick up the ball. he makes it look so effortless, the net swishing as the ball whizzes through it.

she’s seen him on the court so many times before, but she never tires of the sight, always so struck by how skilled he is.

they play for another twenty minutes, talking and taking turns shooting hoops, until she finally feels too tired to keep going. and she realizes she hasn’t thought about her failed midterm the entire time.

“thank you,” she says as they settle in his car. “i feel better. sweaty, but better.”

“it always works. just gotta burn your energy on something else so you can’t use it stressing out.”

“smart,” she says. “i’ll keep that in mind when i take your spot on the team.”

“i’m not so sure about that anymore,” he says. “you take fucking forever to throw. you’d run out the shot clock every time.”

she laughs, thinking about how many times in the last twenty minutes she kept the ball in her hands while she got lost in conversation with him.

she playfully shoves him, but he takes her hand and pulls her in, meeting her in a slow kiss.

“listen, i don’t want to hear the word stupid come out of your mouth again,” he mumbles. “not when you’re talking about yourself. i’m serious.”

she looks down at her lap, exhaling slowly. she knows he’s right. there’s no reason for her to bully herself so mercilessly.

“okay.”

“and please, baby,” he says solemnly, his tone deep as if he’s about to say something serious, “throw the ball faster next time.”

“i hate you,” she laughs, shoving him again. he smirks at her, putting the car in drive.

rafe has felt proud of himself a few times in his life, mostly with his athletic achievements, but he thinks that hearing her laugh, knowing he’s the one who made her feel better, is the proudest he’s ever felt.

[sidekick-hero]

(steddie | mature | 2k | tags: established relationship, post-s4, Valentine's Day, Robin is the best, fluff | summary: Steve loves Eddie, he really, really does. He just can't say it. | @steddielovemonth prompt Love is just a four-letter word by @sal-si-puedes | AO3)

"He probably thinks I don't love him, Robin. Which is... ridiculous. I do! I really, really do. I just can't say it." Steve is pacing around the blissfully empty Family Video Store, his hands making a mess of his hair as they run through it in frustration.

"This is so stupid. I* am* so stupid, it's just four stupid letters, even a preschooler can say it," he rambles, his eyes wild as they look at Robin. "Why am I like this, Robbie?" His voice breaks, along with his heart, at the thought of Eddie doubting Steve's feelings for him for even a second.

Robin walks over to him and grips his shoulders tightly, her blue eyes boring into his as she says in her firmest you-listen-to-me-now voice. "You're not stupid. This is my best friend you're talking about, so watch it." That earns her at least a half-smile, which counts as a victory considering Steve was already pinching his nose to hold back tears.

"I know you love him, Steve. Everyone knows it. One look at you when he's in the room, or even when you're just talking about him, is enough to know you love him. And I'm sure Eddie knows it too. He has to."

Robin's words soothe some of the fear in Steve's heart, knowing that she would tell him if she really thought he had messed up. But even though it's okay now, Eddie won't wait forever for Steve to say those three little words. No one would. Steve knows that his heart couldn't take being with Eddie, loving Eddie and telling him that, only to never hear it back from him.

"I don't know. Even if you're right, I feel like I'm losing him. That something in me is broken, and one day he'll realize that too, and then he'll leave." With an even smaller voice Steve adds: "I can't lose him, Robbie".

They don't hug very often. Robin shows her affection in many ways, but most of them aren't overly physical. That's Eddie's job, clinging to Steve like a koala most days, always touching Steve in some way, even if it's just his shoulder nudging Steve's. Robin pulling him into a tight hug now means a lot to him, but it's also a testament to the gravity of the situation.

With their arms around each other between the horror and action movie sections, Steve takes a moment to just soak in the comfort she offers. What happened at Starcourt messed them both up, caused them both more trauma than any teenager should have to deal with, but on a very selfish level, Steve can't help but be grateful that it happened. A life without Robin Buckley sounds like the greater horror to him.

After a few minutes, Robin gently pulls away from Steve to look at him. He's reluctant to let her go, even though he knows this is an even longer hug than the one she gave him when Nancy told him they weren't getting back together after defeating Vecna. She wanted to go to Boston, make a career, see the world. And Steve? Steve wanted a home, a place to belong, and someone to share that home with. They wanted different things, he realizes now.

That doesn't mean it didn't open old wounds, memories of how it felt to be rejected by her, his love for her thrown in his face like it was worthless. Bullshit.

As attuned to him and his thoughts as ever, a true testament to the fact that they share a brain cell, Robin says, "I think it's understandable that you can't say it. The last time you told someone you loved them, you were hurt, badly. Your heart is probably just trying to protect itself. Like a kid who touched a hot stove and got burned wouldn't touch another stove, you know?"

Steve nods, because in a way it makes sense. It just doesn't help him to know.

"But what am I supposed to do, Robin? It's not Eddie's fault that I'm broken."

"You, Steve Harrington, are not broken. Just a little bruised. There is nothing wrong with you just because you got hurt and have the scars to show for it. Like Max, because of the injuries to her leg, she cannot walk like she used to before Vecna, so she uses her crutch. She's not broken. Is she?"

"No, of course not. If anything, she's even stronger now, I saw her hit Lucas with the crutch and tell him to hurry up on the way to the movies," Steve says, smiling at the memory.

"See!" Robin waves her hand at him in excitement, almost bouncing with it. "All you need is a crutch!"

They look at each other wide-eyed before matching smiles break out on their faces, Robin's giddy at having found a solution, Steve's reflecting the tentative hope blossoming in his chest.

His talk with Robin certainly helped, but as Valentine's Day approaches, the fears and insecurities start to creep back in. It's not even like Eddie is giving him any indication that he's not happy with Steve or their relationship. Quite the opposite, in fact.

Eddie tells him he loves him almost every time they see each other, at the most random moments. Some days he whispers it in Steve's ear to wake him up, other days it's his way of saying good night to him with his arm around Steve's waist and his hand over Steve's heart in a protective grip. He says it casually when Steve brings him breakfast in bed or lunch to the record store where he now works. Just yesterday he said it while Steve was buried deep inside him, their hands intertwined beside Eddie's head and brown eyes looking softly up at Steve.

It's not meant to make him feel bad about himself, he knows that.

He still does.

So when he opens his front door to the sight of Eddie standing on his doorstep in his nicest jeans and a forest green button-down Steve has never seen before, clearly having put some real effort into his appearance, Steve almost crumbles.

He's a shitty boyfriend, isn't he? There's this amazing guy who goes out of his way to look nice for Steve, even though he doesn't even like Valentine's Day, just because he knows it's important to Steve. And he can't even tell him he loves him.

Some of what he's feeling must be showing on his face, because Eddie's cheerful smile falls and he hurries into the house to pull Steve into his arms, slamming the door shut with his foot.

"Sweetheart, I'm sorry, I told Dustin green wasn't my color, but he insisted. I look hideous, don't I?"

That makes Steve snort wetly into Eddie's neck before muttering a fond "Idiot" into it.

Eddie just hums, obviously pleased with himself for making Steve laugh. "You can tell me. You know I don't mind getting naked for you."

"You're getting a little ahead of yourself, aren't you?"

Eddie grinned wolfishly at him. "I don't know, the tear in my Hellfire shirt from when you ripped it off me begs to differ."

Steve blushes at the memory, even as he laughs at Eddie's words. Instead of saying anything else, Steve pulls him back into his arms and Eddie goes willingly.

"Hi, baby," he says, his nose brushing behind Steve's ear.

"Hi." Steve breathes him in, the smell of cigarette smoke and his shampoo strong where his nose is buried in Eddie's hair.

They don't let go for a long time.

It's Eddie who pulls back first, and Steve does his best not to read into it. "You want to tell me what's going on?"

The Steve from before the Upside Down would have just shaken his head and told Eddie that everything was fine before pulling him into the bedroom to reassure them both that it was. Not talking about his feelings, fears, and needs might have worked for hookups, but he learned the hard way that it doesn't work when you want to be in a relationship.

So Steve takes Eddie's hand and leads him over to the couch where they both sit facing each other. They don't let go of each other's hands.

"I know you're probably wondering why I haven't told you... why I haven't said it yet."

Eddie's eyebrows disappear behind his fringe. "It?"

Sighing, Steve watches his fingers run over Eddie's knuckles. "You know. That I love you."

"Oh."

It's hard to place Eddie's tone, and even harder to place the silence that follows, but it makes his knee jiggle with nerves and his stomach churn. Usually it's Eddie who tends to fill the silence between them when it feels too big, too heavy, but today it's Steve.

"It's not because I don't want to, I swear. It's just," another frustrated sigh, the hand currently not held by Eddie's rubbing over his face, "I just can't say it. And I am so, so sorry, because you deserve to hear it. Every day. But I can't... I can't. So I understand if you don't want to do this anymore. You deserve better, Eddie. You really, really do."

Eddie lets Steve's words settle between them, aching and raw, but he never lets go of Steve's hand.

"You're right," he finally says, and the sound of Steve's heart breaking is deafening to his own ears. Pinching his nose, he tries to take his hand back from Eddie, but his boyfriend (if he can still call him that) won't budge. "You're right about me wondering, Steve. But that was before."

Looking up, a frown forming between his eyebrows, Steve asks, "Before?"

"Before I realized that you do tell me that you love me, every day. You say it when you tiptoe around the trailer in the morning to make breakfast without waking me. You tell me every time you pack an extra blanket or sweater when we go to the quarry because you know I always get cold. I hear it loud and clear every time you bring me lunch, even though it means you waste most of your own lunch break driving around town. It's in the way you try so hard to make Wayne like you because you know how much that means to me, and in the way you hold me after another nightmare, and in the way you kiss me sometimes like there's nothing in the world you'd rather be doing, without it having to lead anywhere, just because you like kissing me."

Eddie scooted forward and bridged the gap between them by taking Steve's face in his hands.

"Steve, you've been telling me you love me for months with everything except words. I don't really need them. It's just a four-letter word."

And, fuck, now Steve is crying. Eddie wipes away his tears with his thumbs, and when that's not enough, he kisses them away with his lips.

Steve is so in love with him that he has no idea how the feeling even fits in his body.

"Damn," he chuckles wetly, "that means I didn't even have to find a crutch?"

Now it's Eddie's turn to look at Steve in confusion, clearly worried that his boyfriend might have lost his mind. "What crutch? Is this a sex thing?"

Laughing and shaking his head fondly, Steve raises his free hand to his head, palm facing Eddie. Then he brings his thumb, index finger, and little finger up, keeping his ring and middle fingers down, before moving his hand back and forth slightly.

"Robin came up with this. She said if I couldn't say the words with my mouth, maybe I could say them in a different way. I thought of trying sign language," Steve adds sheepishly.

Before he knows what's happening, Eddie is on top of him, pressing him into the couch with his body weight and showering his face with kisses.

"You're so smart," kiss, "and beautiful," kiss, "and wonderful," kiss, "and I love you so much." The last part is accompanied by a lingering kiss on his lips and Steve melts under it.

Even though he obviously didn't have to tell Eddie this way, Steve is glad that he did.

He also thinks it won't be long before he can say those words, too. If anyone can help him walk without a crutch, it's Eddie.

[fortunekookie07]

I know I already posted this with a reblog, buuuuut it's gotten zero attention. I am aware that I am by far not the most popular writer, but I didn't think this story was awful either. I think maybe it's being blocked or something. Not sure. So take two! Please tell me your thoughts. They help me keep writing and improving.

Cereal IS a Soup

Zayne was still fast asleep by the time your eyes opened. His arm draped over your waist the comfort and safety you fell asleep to nearly every night. Carefully, you slowly roll over and watch his sleeping face. Ah, there it is, that little frown again. You reach up and smooth the wrinkle between his brows.

Moving closer, you kiss his nose before trying to leave his embrace. Now that you're awake, your bladder demands relief. As you try to move past his arm, it suddenly tightens, and he draws you closer into his chest. Then his morning groggy voice is in your ear. "Where do you think you're going?" He asks, voice deeper than usual, still rough from sleep.

"Bathroom", you say still trying to wiggle out of his arms. He holds you a moment longer and then finally releases you. You scramble out of bed, quickly untangling your legs from his and the mess you've made of the blankets.

After washing your hands you head to the kitchen to start some coffee. Glancing at the clock, you realize that it's late. Almost 10:30, Zayne hardly ever sleeps late. Usually he's up with the sun, not today. On his rare days off he does tend to sleep in. Just not this much. A few minutes later he's shuffling into the kitchen, looking more rested then usual.

He comes to stand beside you saying nothing as he waits for the coffee. Wordlessly you take his usual cup and pour the steaming liquid in and stir in cream and his four spoons of sugar. He likes his coffe sweet. As your handing him the cup he kisses your temple and then moves to the fridge. Having not been grocery shopping this week yet, choices are limited. It's definitely a cereal day.

You grab two bowls and spoons, and he grabs both kinds of cereal and milk. You grab the cheerios and pour some into your bowl, and wait for the milk. Zayne is just pouring the milk when he catches you staring at his bowl with that look on your face. He stops.

"Stop thinking whatever you're thinking." He says eyeing you like you're about to grow two heads. "Huh?" You say brilliantly not aware that, that tell tale silly look is on your face once again. Zayne has had many years to learn your expressions.

"You always have that look on your face when you're about to say something stupid just to annoy me. So cut it out..." You cut him off. "I love you." You say smiling innocently. He stares at you eyes narrowed as he pushes the milk towards you.

You grab it and start pouring before saying "Also, cereal qualifies as a soup." His spoon clatters on the table as he drops it and pinches the bridge of his nose. "I knew it." You giggle at him and start eating. "I mean think about it!" You start to elaborate on the qualifications of soup and the similarities of cereal. Zayne now has a full on face palm, his elbow on the table. "I married a five year old". He mutters earning more giggles from you as you finish off the rest of your bowl.

After setting your bowl in the sink you go over and poke his face, he looks up at you almost as if he expects something equally ridiculous to pop out of your mouth. Clearly he is regretting letting you get into that drunken, heated debate with a coworker the night before. How you got on the topic of soup is still a mystery to him.

You peck his cheek and say "cereal really should be considered soup. And I love you too." Zayne decides right then and there to never allow you to drink around anyone but him again. That should keep the shenanigans to a minimum. He pulls you down into his lap and says seriously, "cereal is not a soup and you're not allowed to drink with my coworkers anymore." He lightly pinches your lips together to keep you from protesting as he takes another sip of his coffee.

"No more silliness." He gives you that look before he releases your lips. You make a big show of rubbing your lips and pouting. "What do you want to do today?" He asks after a moment of silence. You think as you mind stars running with ideas, each one rejected the moment you realize you don't really want to leave the house today. "I just want to spend all day right by your side. I don't feel like going anywhere." He nods thoughtful as he considers the choices.

He wouldn't be opposed to just going right back to bed as long as you're right beside him. He always does sleep better with you tucked into his arms. He hooks his arm under your knees before standing. You look at him curiously as he makes his way back to the bedroom. "I wouldn't mind spending the day in bed. I just want to do nothing today." You smile perfectly content as he lays you down on the bed and then immediately follows.

After he's laying down and flipping the blankets back over you, he holds his arm out, and you immediately snuggle into his side, laying your head on his shoulder. After a few minutes of silence, you speak. "Zayne?" He hums in response. "I love you." His eyes open, and he looks down at you. "I love you too." He kisses your temple again and then squeezes you closer as you drift off to sleep. Content with your little slice of happiness.

****************************************************

This is what I came up with after reading a bit of dialog that love-and-deepspace-incorrect-quotes had thought up. As promised, it's packed with cheesyness. I hope you liked it!

[penguinsravioli]

Crush Confessions

❝⁺ ₊ ✦⋆ ｡ ˚chapter 3❝⁺ ₊ ✦⋆ ｡ ˚ Anthony Vaughn x Reader

I turn my music up a bit louder when I enter school to avoid all the nonsense around me. It's such a great distracter, and I only have to speak when i’m spoken too. While I'm zoned out and mulling in my thoughts, I slip on something on the ground and bust my ass. “FUCK!” 

I groan while people giggle. “I’m so fucking sorry— some asshole just threw my shit on the ground” Amerie, begins to help me up, then immediately rushes to pick all of her things from the ground. “Nah it's- you're good don't worry. It’s not your fault.” I rub the cheek I fell on while helping her pick up some of the items on the ground. Dusty comes by next to us and crouches, helping her out with the mess.

“Cool shirt” He comments toward Amerie when we all begin to stand up. “Thanks!” She smiles. 

“Name one DZ Death Rays song,”

Spider says from behind me. I roll my eyes “Shut up, Spider” Amerie and Dusty say in sync. I chuckle dusting off my hands and watching him walk off offended. I pick my backpack from the ground, searching through it to make sure my water bottle didn't accidentally snap open from my fall. “How’d you pull off after the cemetery?” I overhear Amerie say to Dusty as I check my belongings. I bat my eyes toward him, he avoids eye contact with Amerie and accidentally looks towards me. I caught him taking Harper back to his place. So I reckon things were a bit nuts after Cemetery huh?

 “Oh yeah, Hangover anxiety and stuff. But all good, yeah…you?” I look away, zipping my backpack up,—taking my phone out from my backpack to make sure my hair is still intact. “Yeah had a really great night” 

“I’m uh, I'm gonna dip, sorry I tripped on your shit Ams” She turns toward me. “Oh, no bigs” I smile at her and walk off, allowing the two to finish their conversation.  I sit at one of the open outdoor tables, turning up my music as loud as possible, I have a freebie, so I want to try and finish a bunch of missing work because I’ve literally been such a Gronk recently. I pull out my notebook and mechanical pencil, deciding to work on maths first to get it over with. “I just realized, how much I hate maths again” I groan at my stupidity and lack of knowledge around the subject. “What’s all this?” I look up and see Darren staring at me, accompanied by Quinni. “Oh, I have a free period so i'm trying to get all my missing maths work done so I don't have to look at it again” They both begin to sit down with me at the table. “Good on you,” Darren says, looking at the papers on the table, grabbing a few to inspect. “Thanks Darren.” They shrug. “Are you going to Dusty's party Friday?” Quinni begins while I write down some formulas. “Uhh, what party?”

“He’s having a gatho to promote his band or something” Darren explains, pulling out their phone to show me the recent posts. “I didn't even see that, I haven't been on socials inna minute” They nod. “Hope we get to see you there. You always look so hot at parties.” “Says you!” I giggle. “We haven’t had a chat inna bit, how have you two been? I see you’re hanging with Amerie”

“Recovering from unfortunate events” Darren sighs. “Amerie is really sweet though when you get to know her!” Quinni pipes in. I nod, I don't think she means to have odd intentions sometimes. I just think she has a really big ego. 

“I mean yeah, but I got in some trouble off of that map.” I scratch my neck at the awkward talks I've had ever since news got out to my parents that I not only hooked up with a boy they’ve never met, but a girl I’ve brought over numerous amount of times during childhood. “Hey, maybe we can talk about it some more about it over the weekend, we all haven't hung out since like middle” Quinni comments. “I know that’s totally my fault. I think the only person I’ve really stayed in touch with is Ca$h..” Darren's eyes widen a little bit. “Ca$h? I had no idea you two were even friends”  I chuckle. “We just don’t hang out a lot during school. He’s always out doing something” I threw my hands in the air dismissively. “We have so much to catch up on obviously” I breathlessly laugh. Darren and Quinni smile knowingly, beginning to rise from their seats.

“Well, talk later (nickname)” 

“Later!” I lightly wave at the two before placing my headphones back over my ears. I don't hang out with people, inside or out. Not because I don’t want to, but because I feel like a liability. I have so many friends that I know care about me but for some reason, I just feel like because of how distant I can be as a person they would soon get sick of my behavior and just dip. 

So I kind of just dip first

“In this demonstration, we learn how to respect people’s boundaries” I watch in disbelief at the video being displayed. It's incredible how outdated a sexual education video can be. “This is implausible” I mumble, rubbing my eyes and blinking heavily.

“Okay, miss, I have no idea what that was trying to teach us” Darren throws his hand upwards when the video ends. Quinni turns with her question “Why was the girl forcing everyone to eat her noodles?”.

“It's because it's misogynistic propaganda! Women aren't such dick-obsessed idiots” Sasha chips in. I lay my head on the table playing with my earplug wires looking toward the next speaker. “Uuuh, all the ones I’ve met are” Spider claims. “Your Sims girlfriend doesn't count Spider.” Harper pokes. “Was it supposed to be a joke?” I look up at Malakai. “Uh, no, it’s about the dangers of sharing intimate—”  “Noodles” Dusty interupptes Jojo. I giggle a little bit. “Forget about the noodles.” She sighs. “I'm trying but it's hard to unsee” Ant snickers. “It's basically telling us to be ashamed of our bodies” Darren voices his opinion. The constant debate between what the video was supposed to be about and why it's wrong to share nudes gets wicked tiring real quickly. “Look I get that this video isn’t going to stop you. But! There are ways to be smarter about it. Like, what if you don’t put your face in it”  “Truth” I spill replying to JoJo in my half-listening half-not-state. “But I have a very recognizable dick miss” Ant jokes, my face heats up a bit. “I'm gonna ignore that” Yeah, me to Jojo. “Like take the photo, fine. But keep yourself incognito.” She lists a few ways to have fun with it but without getting yourself into trouble. And then Woodsy interrupts it with a scowl. “Um! Moving on to the next lesson”

When the class finally ends I’m already done I feel like I’ve lost a few brain cells and my hands are practically going numb from laying on them. As I stretch while I’m walking, I bump into someone behind me. “Oh shit my fault” I look at the victim of my actions and it happens to be Ant. Of course. “No need to be sorry gorgeous” he wraps his arms around my waist pulling me in closer. “Don’t you have better things to do rather than constrict me from my travels?” 

“No, I think this is the best thing on my list so far.” I scoff lightly, softly unraveling his hands from my waist. “How have things been at home since the map?” I ask as we walk toward the front entrance. “They suck, my moms, making me go to church like 3 times more. All because I got a wristy”

“Real, my parents are appalled a girl went down on me” I chuckle. He snorts a bit, looking at his shoes as he walks. “But I think I'm cooked for life to be honest. They definitely won't forgive me because they feel that I've lied to them. They’ve also been keeping me inside like a prisoner” I whine. His smile fades a little bit. “Oh, so does that mean you won't be coming to Dusty's party?” I scoff, “Of course I’m going” His smile returns almost instantly. “Really? Cause I snagged you a wrist band” He holds up the red band, slapping it onto my wrist. I smile holding my arm up to look at it. “How much?” He waves his hands back n’ forth. “No need babes.” He sucks in a breath to puff out his chest, “It’s on me” I laugh at his shenanigans. We ended up walking to his house just talking about random subjects the whole way there. “I don’t really wanna go in, wanna just chill out here?” He asks, looking at me a bit shyly.

“Sure” I reluctantly go to sit on the concrete ledge in front of his home. He sits next to me, playing with his gummy tray. I sigh looking at the water that's gracefully placed in front of his home. “You have the prettiest view ever,” I say as the breeze blows against my face. I can feel his eyes staring at me, in fatal attempt, I try to keep my eyes set on the scenery in front of me. I navigate my eyes as the waves move, then travel them towards Anthony. I glance at his face before shooting my head down toward our legs, which were nearby. “It’s about to be dark. I think I should start heading home now.” Ant pouts a bit, but agrees. I get up from my spot and dust off my jeans, hauling my backpack onto my shoulders. I examine Anthony one more time before waving and walking uphill. I cannot believe I feel this disappointed I couldn’t have spent more time with him.

It's finally Friday night, time to get all pretty. I put on makeup that compliments my features and skin tone but still looks flashy enough for a party. I gaze at the outfit picked out for the night, it's a blood-red shirt with lace lining at the top rim of the shirt and bottom. Tightened so it hugs my bust and waist perfectly. It was cut down the middle to reveal my stomach, I paired it with a low-waisted long black skirt. I threw on some small hoop earrings, a necklace, and some open-toed sandals because they were gonna be covered up by my skirt anyway.

I grab my bag and phone, ready to head out. I walk toward my window, jumping out soundly and quietly. I keep aware of my surroundings and quietly rush towards Ca$h, who thankfully, didn't mind me catching a ride with him.

 “Thank you Dougieeee” he scoffs with a soft grin. “Shut up cunt” he ushers, driving away from my house.

We’re reluctantly let inside upon arrival. “Dusty's house is gorgeous,” I comment, Ca$h nods. He was getting ready to sell, we were in a far-back sort of area, So we could be seen but still a bit hidden you know(we’re in the kitchen). Solid dealer stuff. I’ve been here for around 10 minutes now and even before then it was already pretty packed. I decide to have a look around the place. Traveling through the stairwells, the crowded hallways, and then I finally see Ant, he’s in his pretty basic attire. I wouldn’t have expected less from him anyway. He has a lime in his grip that he squeezes for the sour taste, he trades for the alcohol with Spider. I walk over with a smirk lining my features. “What are you two doing?” “Well, what does it look like?” Spider asks, removing the bottle from his lips. 

“The start of a poorly written porno” Spider shoves my shoulder while I giggle. Ant puts down the bottle. He scans me from top to bottom. “You look good” Anthony takes my hand to pull me toward him, and I push myself back a bit. “Thanks, you…well you tried” He rolls his eyes, a grin lacing his lips. Spider has since left the two of us to replace the lime since he dropped the other on the ground. Anthony sits up straight, leaning himself on the wall beside him slightly. “I like your makeup, and your skirt, you just look nice” I giggle at his now contentious rambling. Spider comes back but with a guitar strapped around him. 

“Woah, didn't know you played” He nods enthusiastically. “Yep, and I'm GREAT at it” He walks past me to the stage where Dusty and the rest of his band start setting up. “We should go check it out yeah?” I veer my view to Ant, who was already staring at me. “Yeah, Yeah—Totally” He clears his throat and lets me string him to a viewable area to see the stage. “Oi, (nickname) you made it” Malakai comes into my line of vision. “Yeah! You look sick” I nudge him a bit. His smile gets ever so more bright. “Says you! Literally ate up your outfit” I laugh at his comment. “Thank you! I was trying to impress Anthony but I guess it worked with you to” Anthony’s eyes open a little wide.

“Me?” 

“What?” I act clueless. “You were trying to impress me?” His eyes, now gaping into my soul stare back at me. “No…Yeah….No” I shyly look down at the floor before returning my vision toward the band on stage. Malakai smiles at me and Ant’s little interaction, now starting to focus on the band as well. 

“I'M A FAAAAAARRRRK” Spider yells into the microphone. Causing the crowd to yell back with laughs and eye-rolls. Dusty retrieves the mic “Thank you for coming out tonight. We are here in support of the Global Women’s Project” Cheers come from around. “Way to go, yeah! This shit is awesome..uh thanks Dad” Anthony and Malakai are giggling their asses off beside me, I pave my attention back toward the stage. “Yeah were Renaissance Titties and um, I just want to give a shout out to someone special in the audience. Um…There she is” 

Everyone turns, and he's pointing at Harper, Harper McLean.  “Hey…Harper...This song is for Harper McLean” There is so much happening at once. “It’s called ‘My Life is Nothing Without the Warm Embrace of your Sweet Left Cheek’”.

That's such a terrible song name.

Harper walks out, and then Amerie follows. “Oh shit” Anthony mutters underneath his breath.

“I hope they don’t fight over Dusty, he is so not worth it” 

[gremlinmodetweeker]

König aka The Human Weighted Blanket pt 1

Let it be known by anyone and everyone that, based on my stupid quick google searches, only less 4% of US men are taller than König. Less than 1% of women in the US are taller than König. So, if I'm guessing that the majority of english speaking fans are in North America or Europe (and this is a very uneducated rough guess), which are two places with very tall people, then I am going to make the uneducated guess that König has probably met only at most 5 people in his entire life that are taller than him. The likelihoods of you being in that 5 are slim, so bear with me when I choose to write a YN shorter than König. Again, forgive me for being a bit discriminatory when writing here, but if you'd like a post for taller YNs, please tell me.

Okay, so, König is big, we just covered this in the above paragraph. But the thing is, height is one thing. Weight is another. To keep a man like König fit, he eats a lot of food, and I think he builds to be a broad man as well as a tall man. This is someone who makes a door frame look small when he ducks through it (which btw, average standard door height is 6'8). So with such a big body, such immense strength, he has learned to be a very gentle man.

König is the type of person who really makes an effort to control himself. He has extraordinary self discipline that he makes an effort to exert every day. He's not the kind of guy to be caught slacking in this department. He's not gentle to an effeminate state, he's still a big gruff man, but if he wanted to he could crush a watermelon with his hands. He is quite careful when opening bags of chips. As a teenager, his mother would have him vacuum up his messes, which is probably what drilled this principle into his head.

So this is where you come in.

König is always gentle and careful with the amount of force he puts on other people. When you tell him to lay on you, he's a bit confused.

It doesn't matter if you're 4'8 or 6'9, he's going to be worried about you. Obviously more if you're a pipsqueak (like me, hehe), but even if you're tall and strong like him he'll still be nervous. He really isn't used to this sort of request. Who the heck asks for this? Who tells him to do this?

If you're asking just because you want him to, he's much more hesitant. Why would you want to be crushed? He's never really heard of such a thing. He can't understand why. Sure, he'll do it, but you probably won't get his full weight (not until he realizes that you're serious about this, at least). He doesn't lay on you for long, and he doesn't push you in any way, and instead is constantly asking if you're alright because he's worried he'll break you. He is so confused.

If you're neurodivergent or something, then he'll understand a bit more, but he'll still be nervous. It'll take less convincing to get him to relax, but still he'll worry. After all, you're a human being and he doesn't want to hurt you. He especially doesn't want to hurt you because you asked for him to do something nice for you. That would devastate him.

Now, the thing that will crush him. If you're having an anxiety attack, you needn't tell him twice. He'll do anything to help. Genuinely. He knows what anxiety attacks are like himself. He'd never wish that pain on anyone else. So if you manage to string the words together to ask for help (and I am so proud of you for being so strong), he'll do it for you without a second of hesitation. Well, somewhat. He'll lay on you, yes, but he'll hold back a bit. It might take you telling him you'll be alright for him to fully relax himself. So yes, you will need to remind him you're okay, but only once. Then he'll do it for you. And the next time you have a panic attack, he'll do it again without you having to ask again. He'll do it for you whenever he can.

[silly-circus]

★SillyString’s story/background★

(Way long overdue lmao and long I’m so sorry guys, also made some edits because I wanted to word some things better)

I want to start off by saying she is me, me is she(Im not sure if I made it clear or not so apologies I’m kinda dumb🫰). I say “her” in my posts instead of “me” because idk it feels right since I make her look differently than I actually do. Even so, we share the same name and I do the clown look all the time when I go out to places that I get an excuse to🧍‍♂️so really it is just me but anyway,,, time to begin! This is my first time actually writing this out so I’m sorry if it’s formatted and explained terribly

First off, Silly String is my persona’s clown name. She came up with it herself, everything else was Pennywise’s idea. She was originally a human, and still looks like one and has the appetite of one(when she changed Pennywise assumed she would want to eat people. He was wrong.) She lived in texas(yee-honk) before moving to Maine literally because she thought “why not?” and ended up in good old Derry. Her life growing up wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t the best. She was always into odd and strange things, or things that most would find creepy(clowns. Love clowns. They’re so cool) so she was kinda outcasted from others at a young age but soon people learned to just let her live in peace which of course she was happy about. She did manage to make some friends, solidarity. After moving, she continued pursuing freelance photography and painting, but her full time job is as a barista in a local coffee shop(wow, how interesting💀).

The way that she met Pennywise was kinda stupid. All she was doing was taking photos of the local wildlife and next thing you know a kid is running by before she notices a fucking weird ass clown creature from hell charging straight towards her(she still snapped a photo before running). He does catch up to her and jumps her. How she managed to not get away, but the kid did, don’t ask me. She survived, her camera unfortunately did not(he gets her a new one eventually guys trust).

since then, they kept bumping into each other. He does try to kill her again but she kept managing to escape him(pissed him off more and more each time) but soon enough he starts to chill out and basically decides to learn more about her. The more she realized he was going to not continuously try eat her every time he visited she would start asking him questions about who he was as an entity and where he came from. It does start out as a weird friendship where he would mess with her at work or appear out of literally no where to hang around. He does start to enjoy her company and watching her do normal, human things since her doing it made it seem entertaining. After a while of slowly getting closer and closer they become loving parters yay(she was still human at this time).

Fast forward and they get “married” which they really call their “eternal binding.” Basically what it means is that she became a part of him. As in if he dies, she dies. She unfortunately didn’t gain any cool shape shifting and such, she just gets to live and thrive as long as he does. When it first happened she was having a hard time with it simply because she’s going to outlive everyone she knows and will continue to, but over time she made her peace with it and saw it as a privilege to watch the world change around her and of course stay with her beloved.

Also the year they met was set in the 1980s, or honestly it could be any time after that or something I don’t know yall get creative I’m just going with the flow.

That is it :) sorry again this is long, and I hope every one has a good day/night(it’s 3 am why do I do this to myself). I also hope you guys continue to follow along with me on their lover clown journey :D

AND- little sneak peek of an upcoming piece I’m working on for Mermay 😙

[raccoonface]

Drabble #1

Jenna Ortega/Fem. Reader

—————————————

Y/ns Pov

I'm getting ready for a photoshoot for Vogue. Ever since I was little I always dreamt about how it looks like behind the camera at a photoshoot and now I can finally see it.

I'm deciding on wearing something casual or something fancy, I chose casual of course because I would look stupid as a photographer looking fancy.

I head to my car to drive to the photoshoot place which isn't too far from the apartment I'm staying at it's only about a half an hour drive there.

The place has a grey tone for the outside I can see while I park my vehicle heading to the front door, and knocking a couple of times, nobody answered so I turned around to go on my phone to check if I'm in the wrong place.

When I do I hear the door open so I spin my heel and- CLASH-

... I now have a milkshake all over me

"Oh my god.. I am so sorry!"

I looked down at me worried about the stain the. I looked up and I saw the prettiest girl I've ever seen in my entire life and she was trying to clean up the mess on my shirt then she looked up at me with a confused face

"Oh- sorry uhm it's really no big deal I can go find another shirt"

Find another shirt wow dumbass nice talking

"I'm so sorry I wasn't looking where I was going then I dropped a milkshake on you let me pay you back for the shirt."

I was in awe staring at her but I realized she was handing me money and I couldn't let a pretty girl pay for my shirt

"Oh no please take your money back I don't need it this was only like 15 bucks I'll be fine"

"Are you sure..? It looks really messed up plus you just got here and you're gonna have to spend the rest of the day in a drenched shirt"

"Oh yeah I'll be fine I'll just go use the washing machine"

Now she probably thinks you're a weirdo because there aren't any washing machines in the building

"Okay... well I'm gonna go now"

She points to the garage

"Ok..."

She started to walk away but then I realized that she never told me her name

"Wait!"

"Yeah?!"

"I never got your name!"

"It's Jenna! What's yours?!"

"Y/n!"

"Nice to meet you Y/n!"

She laughed after she said that and I'm pretty sure I had just heard an angel and I realized how stupid I was for not replying to her

"Oh..um Nice to meet you too Jenna!"

I heard her laugh again and it was the most angelic sound I had ever heard. I couldn't get enough of it. I had no doubt it would be replaying in my mind.

———————————————————————

Idk if I’m ever gonna finish this but if you guys want me to I will. I also am starting to work some more on these but you’ll have to give me a little time. I don’t know when but I have a Cairo one in the works that I might post soon.

[spacebarbarianweird]

Into the Wild

Summary: Astarion and Tiriel travels through the mountains.

Just a plotless conversation about sex, memories, traumas and future. It's set seven years after the game and thirteen years before Alethaine's birth

Pairing: Astarion x OC (Tiriel)

Tags: fluff, post-game, named Tav, established relationship.

Thanks @themadlu for beta-reading!

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

Tiriel wakes up in the darkness of the tent. It’s so comfortable under the thick blanket. The air is fresh but not cold, and she sees the sun rays through a small hole near the entrance.

But it’s mostly comfortable because she isn’t alone.

Astarion trances on his back. His face is almost peaceful and Tiriel wonders if he knows she is awake.

He is like a marble statue, if marble statues were soft.

She smiles realizing he wears only his shirt and his naked legs are intertwined with hers.

Seven years. 

Tiriel has had this for seven years. Astarion being a complete mess some days provides Tiriel with love and safety and she is grateful for every moment they spend together. Yes, sometimes it isn’t easy. Sometimes he yells in pain or runs away disappearing for a few days. Sometimes he lashes at her and begs for forgiveness as if she were going to beat him. 

But it is worth it.

Tiriel would be ready to give all her blood for him to stop feeling so cold.

Well, not really, if she thinks about it. It’s stupid to die for someone. She wants to live for Astarion.

And maybe, she will live long enough to hear his heartbeat and see his real eye color.

“Love, I am bored,” Tiriel whispers in his pointy ear. He doesn’t react, deep in his reverie.

She sighs and releases herself from his grip. He lets her go easily. Before, it would be almost impossible. He would grab her for dear life and she knew he was just afraid she would disappear. That if he let her go she would never return.

Tiriel sits up. Her body itches with sweat (and something else between her legs) and she decides to wash herself in the river they have been following for the last month.

“Hm, it seems like I know what you are reliving right now,” she smiles looking below his waist.

She has no idea why he is without trousers (he was dressed when she went to sleep) but Astarion’s member is hard and sticks prominently under his shirt. 

Tiriel has to make an effort not to touch him.

That would be a violation of his trust. The most horrible thing she could do to him – to touch him in a sexual way while he is vulnerable. Even if he forgave her, their relationship would never be the same. 

“Well, if you want me, I will be close,” Tiriel touches his fingers and leaves the tent.

It’s almost sunset over the Storm Horns, the mighty eastern peaks. 

Too close…

Tiriel isn’t sure she can find her birth home in the Sunset Mountains that lie further to the West, but she has never been there after running away at the age of 15.

Her older brother tried to kill her. Pushed her from a cliff and if it weren’t for the barbarian rage she would have died. Others – siblings and cousins including Viren, Tiriel’s younger sister, were laughing and cheering – they finally managed to kill the elf, the evidence of their mother’s infidelity.

Viren was a nice child, two years younger than Tiriel, always weak and sick. But mother loved her – and even though Tiriel was jealous, she suppressed those feelings to take care of the little girl. Maybe Tiriel thinks she just believed Viren could share their mother’s love if her half-blood sister behaved like a good girl.

Viren laughed the loudest when Tiriel fell on the stones, breaking her hand and getting a concussion.

The Sunset Mountains are huge, she reminds herself. And she doesn’t know the way.

The last rays of light hit the earth and the world falls into darkness.

“So, what next?” Astarion asks as he leaves their tent.

“Good morning. Where the hell are your trousers?”

“Oh, Tiriel, you love seeing and touching what’s below my waist,” Astarion approaches her and pecks her cheek.

“I do love touching you there. But it doesn’t explain why you are suddenly without pants!”

“You also love using your tongue on me,” he pinches her nose. “Who knew your mouth was so skillful?”

Tiriel looks right and finally realizes that Astarion has just put his trousers to dry on a branch of the tree. 

“Oh, so you are a pervert?” He chuckles when he notices Tiriel watching him dress.

“Pervert? Said the person who loves eating me out on my period!”

“And you’ve eaten my ass at least … Let me think… Five times? I told you, I never thought you could do such things with your tongue!”

Tiriel giggles. 

“Said the person who got tired of my pussy and decided to stick his cock inside the other hole.”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t like it.”

“I just didn’t think you would want to do that on the ceiling.”

“No one saw us. Besides, it was up to you to be quiet.”

“Quiet?” Tiriel jumps on her feet and wraps her arms around his neck. “Were you able to stay quiet when I pegged you?”

“It wasn't the point back then, we were in the middle of nowhere. And you bit my shoulder on that ceiling.”

“Because I didn’t know it would hurt so much! I couldn’t walk the next day!”

Astarion puts his hands below her butt and in a moment she is already in the air, completely in her vampire’s power.

“Why walk if I can carry you around?” he grins. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For not touching me in the tent.”

Tiriel swifts a stranded curl from his forehead.

“You aren’t my vampire fantasy to start with. And I wouldn’t want to wake up by you feeding on me or fucking me or… well, doing anything sexual to me.”

Astarion looks at the mountains.

“I’ve never seen mountains like that,” he whispers.

Tiriel turns away.

“Hey, chin up!” Astarion kisses her. “It's not like we will bump into your clan anytime soon. Even if we do, they won't hurt you.”

Tiriel nods and then points at a cliff.

“I wanna go there.”

In a moment, she is already piggy riding Astarion as he walks up the cliff. She feels like the abyss is tugging her down, but she knows Astarion won't let her fall. 

Tiriel decides to tease him.

“Stop biting my ear!” He says. 

“Or what?”

Suddenly she feels like she’s falling, but the moment her body realizes she is indeed falling into the abyss Astarion is already grabbing her hands as if she were a little child weighing barely anything.

“I am not getting tired, you know that.”

“But you are getting bored!”

Tiriel grabs his neck and climbs over Astarion as if he were a branch of a tree. His back is the only thing that prevents her from falling.

Then she wraps around him again and he keeps walking further up. 

When they reach the peak Tiriel feels dizzy. She collapses on the stones.

“Astarion.”

“Hm?”

“Listen, if you want another round in my butt I agree, but I don’t want to be upside down hoping those four people below us won’t notice anything!”

Suddenly Astarion gets dark.

“Not in the mood?”

“No. Maybe later, all right?”

“Sure. Something you dreamt about?” She remembers his erection. Damn. She was sure he saw something pleasant.

“Yes. Hells. Am I such a pathetic person that I get hard when remembering being beaten and raped?” He sits down beside her. 

Tiriel hugs him. “You can't control your body's reflexes. Do you want to talk?”

Astarion turns away.

“I- I… You just say such things to me and then I trance and remember someone forcing their dirty cock into my mouth. And then I think, how dare I kiss you. How dare I have sex with you after all the things I did and were done to me.”

“I think the concept of ‘purity’ was invented by slaveholders. The only dirt I see on you is dried blood and when you hunt some animals in the rain.”

“But still. I remember. My body remembers. You suck me and I see the same cock being forced into people who reeked of piss and sweat. You give me your blood and I drank fleas and rats with the same teeth. I touch you and…” He shudders but doesn't cry.

Tiriel puts her head on his shoulder. 

“Love, I can't erase your past. But I will tell you again. I don't care. I knew all those things from the start. I never saw you as something dirty.”

“Tiriel… Would you love me if I weren't a vampire?”

“I think this is a pointless question. Would you love me if I were a rich wizard who was afraid of the dark? WE ARE WHO WE ARE. I don't know what kind of person you were before. But I think I would love you anyway.”

“And if I stop being a vampire?”

“Then, I will be the happiest woman in the world. We will drink ale together and travel under the sun. And you will see your face in a mirror.”

Astarion kisses her cheek.

“Let’s keep going shall we?”

It takes them very little time to get back to the camp (Tiriel spends the whole time in Astarion’s arms) and prepare for the night road.

The winds howl and Tiriel’s mind decides to torture her.

The same winds howled when she was wandering the woods, with no armor, no weapon, and no one to hear her cries.

How far is she now from the place she was born?

She takes Astarion’s hand and he squeezes it. Tiriel doesn’t need to tell him what’s on her mind. 

He knows.

“Do you think any of them are alive?” he asks.

“Mother was rather old when she gave birth to me so I doubt it. My brothers and sisters? I guess. But I don’t think they remember me. And what about yours? Do you remember anything? It’s not like there are many elves in Baldur’s Gate.”

Astarion bites his lower lip. As they keep going it gets colder, the thick mist swirling around them.

Anyone sane would stay inside on such nights.

“I wasn’t from Baldur’s Gate. I came there from… somewhere,” he finally says.

“And your parents? Your family? Do you remember them?”

“Funny you only start asking me after seven years,” he chuckles.

“Never too late I guess.”

Astarion lets her hand go and clenches his fists. He concentrates on something vague, something that keeps escaping his tortured mind. 

“Sometimes I think I see someone, a woman. She tells me something I don’t remember. I think if I could see her again I would know who she is. I see an elderly man, his voice is stern and I am not comfortable being around him. Is he my father? Or a teacher? Or just a relative?” Astarion shakes his head. “I think I remember someone crying at my grave but she wasn't an elf. Maybe she was my friend? Her name started with ‘A’, and I remember trying to reach out for her but she just left, leaving me alone, dead in the grave, while my body was being transformed. It’s all shadows, Tiriel, all fucking shadows. Even what happened next.”

Tiriel curses herself silently for asking.

“And then you know, Tiriel,” he adds. “I thought I remembered every day of my slavery, but whole decades are missing. The whole 14th century was a mad show on Toril! The world simply doesn’t look the same as it did when I was alive! Whole regions disappeared, Dragonborns appeared on the Sword Coast, the whole Spellplague thing…”

“The Second Sundering.”

“Yes! And I…Just didn’t know it happened. My mind went blank for a few decades. And I know nothing good happened then, but it bothers me; I feel something else was taken from me. I try to collect myself but I just shutter to pieces.”

Tiriel sighs. Well, what can she say to him? Seven years is such a tiny amount of time in comparison with two centuries. Will he ever be able to feel whole again? Will the nightmares ever fully go away? Maybe if he could remember his past, if he could meet the people who raised him – would he heal?

They spend the rest of the night in silence, and as the sky starts changing its color, they set up the camp and hide inside the black tent.

Astarion takes his shirt off and sits still. With no breath and no heartbeat, he resembles a statue.

“Are you going to hunt?” Tiriel asks, kissing his shoulder. “You need to eat.” 

Silence. 

Another quirk she has had seven years to get used to. Sometimes he just doesn't speak at all. Doesn’t react to her words, deep in his abyss. 

“Then feed on me,” Tiriel says, caressing his cheek. 

The fangs pierce the skin of her neck. His lips get warmer with every ounce of blood gushing down his throat and then when Tiriel almost faints from blood loss, he lets her go and gently places her on the bedroll.

And then, he kisses her with his bloodstained lips.

“Thank you,” he murmurs lying beside her. He puts his head on her chest and Tiriel knows he does it to hear her heartbeat better. “Tiriel, let’s keep going West.”

“To the Swords Coast?”

“I guess.”

“Well, whatever. Tell me something I don’t know.”

“You usually don’t pay attention to what I say,” he complains.

“I just like hearing your voice.”

“Well, what would you like to know about?” Astarion asks, elbowing up.

“Hm… Tell me about Star Elves.”

“But keep listening, I will ask you questions, darling.”

‘Are you sure you were a magistrate, not a teacher?”

“Maybe I was both? Well, Star Elves or Ruar’Tel’Quessira spent two thousand years in Sildëyuir before they managed to get to Faerun almost seventy centuries ago…”

**

Tiriel falls asleep. She hugs her pillow and curls under a blanket. Astarion watches her in awe. 

She is so delicate and fragile he wants to hide her somewhere safe.

Well, she would never want this. Tiriel is a warrior, almost as strong as him, how can he even think about stripping her of her freedom?

The same freedom he fought for himself?

He nestles beside her. 

If he had family somewhere, would they accept him? Undead and married to a half-elf? Does he need their acceptance after all these years?

Maybe he really should forget it all. His life started back there, on the spelljammer when he realized he didn't hear his master’s voice.

Or when he basked in the warmth of the sun.

Or when Tiriel started smiling adoringly at him almost every evening at camp.

Or when she stood between him and that drow, claiming that Astaron could decide for himself.

Forgiving. Kind. Patient. Caring. 

She dressed him up after the murder of Cazador, when Astarion was numb. Burnt the palace up to the ground. She is so straightforward about everything she does.

And sometimes she drives him mad with her recklessness. 

He takes a book out of the sack he’d stolen a while ago.

On The Spellplague

Astarion needs to catch up with certain things. 

---

Tag List

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[jolenes-doppelganger]

Windows To the Soul- Kinktober Week Two

Juliette Nichols x Fem!Reader

MINORS DNI 18+

[Originally labelled 'Mirror, Mirror On the Wall, Who's the Biggest Slut of Them All?]

Summary: An unplanned visit after your abrupt breakup with the Sheriff of the Silo brings unexpected revelations.

Kinks: Mirror sex, post-break-up sex.

A/N: This fic is less explicit smut and more graphic emotion-wise. What is the dirtiest, most sinful thing one can do if not admit they need another? (I am struggling to write the smut and it shows bc everything I write is just SAD).

Word Count: 2.1k

Every breath of air you took in this moment felt woefully inadequate. You couldn’t get a breath in, not a true, full-bellied breath that would soothe the ache in your lungs, relax the tension in your stomach, release the blockage in your throat. Three weeks of no contact, not a single glance in the hallways, and she was back, sitting on your couch like she’d never left. Taking you off guard in your own home. It’s something Juliette would do. The same blonde hair falling out of a too-loose ponytail, unbuttoned uniform and belt loosened to accommodate the natural press of her slouched abdomen against her pants.

“Jules.”

“Shut up.”

You don’t know who moved first, her barreling towards you off of her perch on the couch, you careening forwards and meeting her halfway. Her hands on your back, hips, shoulders, grasping-grabbing-pulling-yanking-cradling-holding all of you. Her mouth smashing against yours, the goddamned whimper she let out. All of the anger and hurt of the break up forgotten in the paroxysm of her body on yours, her mouth tracing hungry patterns wherever it found purchase.

“Jules, wait, please-”

A swipe of her hand over the table, glassware smashing on the floor; the destructive nature of her desires on full display.

“I can’t get you out of my head.” she whispered, nose pressed against your temple and shaky breaths puffing out over the small hairs that clung next to your ear.

That stupid face. Those stupid blue eyes and cocky smirk, the class of glassware.

“Get the fuck off.” you shoved her back, getting off the table.

A perplexed look came over Juliette’s face, her hands raised in mock surrender.

“Sorry.”

“You would be.” you snapped. 

The broken glass littered the already well worn linoleum. Another mess, another headache Juliette brought upon you. Neither of you spoke a word as you swept the broken glass into a pan, putting it in a bag for now.

“I should’ve slapped you.” you mumbled, not quite meaning it.

Juliette raised her brows, shaking her head dismissively. Her thumbs worked circles over the fabric where they perched out of her pockets, adding to the sheepish posture.

“Yeah, well sex with your ex is supposed to be cathartic.” she sighed.

“Not if you ended on bad terms.” you snapped.

Juliette shrugged, using your less than furious response as a cue to push forwards a little more. One step closer towards you at a time, slowly invading your personal space.

“It was a short fling, I didn't think I needed an explanation for leaving.”

Her reasoning was nothing short of inadequate. A fling, a minor dance of passion between two people who were just in the same place at the right time. Until it was the wrong time. But it hadn’t been, not in your eyes. Realizing she had never really gotten over George well enough to love another had been a hard pill to swallow, one you’d only managed recently.

“You know, you really should’ve made it clear that you weren’t planning on staying.” 

Looking at her was an awful mixture between painful and infuriating. You busied yourself with the dishes instead. They’d been soaking long enough, it was a matter of draining the water and actually washing them. Such an act conveniently coincided with having the excuse to avoid looking at her.

“Listen, I get that you’re upset that I wasn’t upfront about what I wanted, but no one ever is, so…” Jules shrugged, watching as you dove headfirst into the nearest task.

“Doesn’t excuse the fact that you just up and left. Lead me on… Flirted, teased, even hinted at something more in the future. Kind of like how George did to you.”

Juliette let out a groan of anger, turning on her heel and running a hand over her scalp in the anxious-avoidant motion she was so fond of.

“Founders be damned, are we just going to sit here and trade barbs all day?” she huffed. “I have enough shit going wrong for me, I don’t need you-”

“Oh you're still entitled to me?” you snapped. “Pretty mature of you, slinking back for a less than underhanded attempt at trying to fuck me.”

Juliette spun on her heel, now facing you. Her jaw quirked to the left, mouth working its way into a grimace. Again she smoothed her hair, hands stilling on her hips.

“I came because I wanted to apologize, and then you came in with your business casual shirt all rumpled, and in that damn skirt that just hugs your body, so yeah, maybe I got a little side tracked.”

There was nothing you could say to that. It wasn’t an insult, but it wasn’t exactly a compliment. She’d left emotional baggage and pain the same way George had left it with her. A cute little cycle, but not one you excused her from. Soap was up to your upper arms, each dish scrubbed beyond what was really necessary to get it clean, but it was better than outright hurling something at her.

“Listen, I do miss some things, it just… For so long I didn’t know what I wanted, and now I do. And it’s not here, not with you, as wonderful as you are…” she choppily advocated, taking slow steps forwards until she was just short of touching you.

“As wonderful as I am you’re an asshole who wanted someone to fuck and hold you close while you were going through your shit. There’s a word for it, and it’s called a rebound. Shittiest thing you could ever do to a person, honestly.”

A long sigh crested over your shoulder, close enough to tickle the back hairs of your neck. Her arms snaked forwards, resting lightly on the swell of your hips. 

“Crawling back to you isn’t what I was planning, but I can’t resist another go…”

An arm snaked around your front ready to pull you back towards her, to snag you and pull you towards another hook up you knew you’d regret.

“Just one more time, for the fun of it…” Juliette whispered, breath climbing over your ear, attempting to lure you into a yes.

Anger welled up again, and this time you had a sink full of soapy water and a small pot to work with. Turning on your heel, you doused her front with several cups of warm dishwater. Juliette looked down at her clothes, and then you. 

“I have the maturity problem? Yeah right.” 

She reached in the sink, using a bowl to douse your work clothes in that same water. You smacked her with the damp dish towel, she snapped your ass. The two of you fought like children, splashing each other with water until both of you were wetter than not. A particularly violent toss of water caused your frictionless shoes to slip on the linoleum, causing you to careen back. The plastic cup fell against the floor, your body careening down towards the ground. Two hands reached outward, gripping your shoulders. Juliette let out a yelp, losing traction as well. You both crashed against the floor in a mess of limbs. Her elbow against your ribs, her chin clacking shut as her jaw cracked against your shoulder.

Both of you groaned, each more than a little sore. Juliette adjusted her body over yours, staring down at you, laid upon the linoleum with water lining the floor around you. Her head blocked the main light of the kitchen, creating a small halo around her head as she looked down upon you with more than a fair degree of concern. Neither of you broke the silence. Doing such a thing would be precarious, shattering the subtle tranquility of the moment. She settled above you, elbows on either side of your face. 

When she leaned down you didn’t push her away. Her body was warm, seeping through the damp cloth of her soaked uniform. You swore you could still feel the familiar dip and swell of her muscular back, and as your hands traced the line of her spine, you found the familiar divot at the base, hiding just under where her belt sat. Juliette, to her credit, was far more cautious in her next attempt. Soft kisses graced your cheeks, her fingers just lightly tracing the hair above your ears.

“Yes?” she whispered.

“Since we’re both here…” you softly replied, a squeeze to her back to affirm that subtle consent.

Juliette hummed once, hands sliding under your torso, pulling you up and off of the wet floor. Her hand cradled the back of your head, soothing pressure overwhelming the dull ache from where your skull had made contact with the ground. To have Juliette be this soft with you spoke to her inner guilt, a phenomena you’d witnessed many times after she vented to you about George. But you wouldn’t complain. Not when she was pulling you up, cradling you to her like a small child, carrying you away, out of the kitchen, towards the bathroom. 

As your feet touched the ground, she caught your chin, pressing a soft kiss there. A reassuring kiss, probably the only real intimacy you’d get out of this experience. Her mouth found your neck, wetter, meaner, hungrier kisses working slow patterns down, her calloused hands undoing the zipper of your skirt, the buttons of your blouse. Your own hands shook as you undid her uniform. Belt clanging to the floor with her slacks, uniformed button up shrugged off in the same manner you’d watched countless times. Neither of you could speak at this moment, neither of you dared. Words could ruin this moment, would ruin it. 

By the third time her lips crashed against yours you were finally bold enough to reciprocate, mouth slackening as her tongue slipped past your lips. She had the smallest hint of coffee breath, the one beverage you were sure she consumed regularly. Juliette lived on coffee, she depended on it in ways you knew to be worrisome. But when that coffee-breath stained tongue touched yours, it was a comfort. A spark of assurance in an otherwise vague moment. Her hands slipped to your back, yanking off your bra, blunt nails digging in with the desperation of her jerky moments. You both kicked off your shoes as you finished pulling off your panties. A push into the shower, that was all the direction she gave.

Cold water shocked your flushed skin as she turned the water on, body pressing against yours as she desperately kissed you against the shower wall. A quick glance to the long mirror in the bathroom confirmed the sight. Juliette’s hands tracing your hips, her mouth tracing desperate patterns on your neck. You didn’t have the heart to tell her to stop. You’d wear turtlenecks for a month if that’s what you needed.

“Jules, look at me, please.” you broke the rhythm of the moment, trying to catch her gaze.

“I am.” she whispered.

Her gaze slipped to your right, and you turned, following it. Blue-steel eyes meeting yours in the slightly foggy mirror. You turned, still making that eye-contact as her hands slipped around you from behind. One hand down, parting your labia. The other cupped your left breast, thumb drawing circles over the pebbled flesh. 

You didn’t watch her hands as they stimulated you, fingers dipping inside, thumb tweaking your clit. You felt that. But all you saw were those blue eyes overrun with emotion. A white-hot throbbing erupted in your chest, complimenting and growing alongside the burning ache in your core. The sounds you both made, the way you moaned, the desperate whines she let out as she watched you climb higher, it was all background. Center stage were those blue eyes, heavy and burdened. 

One climax, then two. Your legs gave out, the two of you collapsing in the bathtub. You kissed hungrily, devouring her tongue, her lips, her breath. As her thigh made contact with your cunt, hers pressed against the complimentary thigh. And as you rocked together, you felt that grief.

The small little stuffed animal she kept in her bedroom, the books she had on her shelf. The way she left all of her socks inside out to ensure she didn’t put them on with a hair inside. The nose scrunch, the awkward bug-eyed look she sported most of the time.

“Please stay.” you whispered, your hands splaying over her back.

Juliette leaned down, her forehead pressed against yours. One loud whine and she came undone. Her body slouched over yours in the bathtub, the shower going cold as the water pounded down around you. Juliette’s breathing evened, nose finding that familiar crook in your neck and just nuzzling.

Tags: @ilovehotactresses @marvelwomenrule @midnight-lestrange

[i-politely-disagree]

Sprace- Call

MODERN AU TW: Swearing??

(I've never posted on here lol)

Spot cringed as his phone call was answered. Usually, it just went straight to the far too familiar  “Hi it’s Racetrack! Don’t leave a message!” voicemail to hurt him even more with the fact that he was either blocked, or Race was declining all his calls. A harsh ‘What do you want?’ may not have been ideal, but Spot still smiled softly at the sound of his ex’s voice.

"Hey…Race," He started. The same words he had said almost every day a month ago. Throwing his bag down as he got back from work, striking up conversations at 2 a.m even though they both needed to be up early, Starting a call much like this one if anything happened. "Do you still have my white shirt with the sleeves?" 

When Race’s phone displayed Spot’s caller ID, he didn’t know what to expect. Maybe yelling, maybe an explanation that it was a dare, or maybe some tearful confession about how his love never died. Anything with more emotion than requesting an old shirt.

“Um… I’ll look around.” The conversation was too stiff, too formal. Race fiddled with the cuffs of the white shirt that definitely wasn’t Spot’s (it was) that he was wearing and paced around the couch he slept on. 

“What do you need it for?”

He’d never admit it, but Race missed Spot more than he could tell. Hearing his voice again was painful, but something to feel. He had been a mess the last month, living with his best friend, missing sleep and working his ass off to help pay the rent when it was paying the rent that got him into this mess. Spot had walked out after the topic of money had come up, only after many anger-clouded words had been thrown between him and Race. Just thinking about it, Race could taste the regret and adrenaline and feel the knot of codependency tighten as it had done that night when he realized how alone and helpless he was. Even though he hadn’t anticipated a break-up, it wasn’t like Race was expecting-

“A wedding,” Spot answered coldly and quickly. Dwelling on love around him wasn’t going to help him swallow the lump in his throat.

He regretted walking out every day. He knew deep down, that he could’ve walked back in at any moment with nothing fixed, another argument ignored, but weeks passed and Race lost the apartment he could only afford with Spot’s help. Spot lost the one stable thing in his life, the one person he felt like he could talk to, the stupidity, wittiness, energy and affection that came with Race and he missed it more than he was willing to admit. He knew it was his chance to salvage any scraps of a relationship but didn’t know how to begin. 

“I’m sorry.” It was a struggle to force the words out of his mouth, but Spot managed to sound a lot more stable than he felt. 

Race’s reply was so emotionless it hurt. No sadness, not even a quiver in his voice, no hope. Just a bland question reminding Spot he’d made more than enough mistakes;

“About what?” 

“Um, This. Calling you, acting like nothing’s happened, acting like I don’t care.”

There was silence on the other end of the phone and Spot knew he would have to address the elephant in the room.

“...And leaving. I was- I am so stupid for walking out. It sounds pathetic but I didn’t mean any of the things I said. I really lo- I really loved you.” 

Race’s soft smile threatened to fall at the use of past tense.  His mind tried to object, but a smirk tugged at his lips and words crawled out.

“You miss me.”  He observed, a mix of teasing and astonishment now unmistakable in his voice

“No, I just really want my shirt,” Spot said sarcastically, rolling his eyes as if Race could see him over the phone.  “Yes, I fucking miss you.”

Spot hated himself for giving in that easily. But at the same time, he knew lying wasn’t going to get him anywhere or anyone for that matter.

Warm hope bloomed through Race at the less-than-heartfelt confession, sudden longing for the one person he thought he’d never be allowed to long for again. A million hazy emotions flew through his mind but he couldn’t articulate everything he was feeling and couldn’t force every heavy sentiment through the phone. He needed to know this was genuine before pouring his heart out. 

Spot’s finger was over the ‘End Call’ button when Race interrupted their silence, “But you said-”

“I said a lot of things,” Spot cut him off, “We both did. But I’d bet this month's rent you didn’t mean half of it.” 

Race wanted to object, but it was true. He hadn’t meant anything close. And while he prayed to every god that he wouldn’t regret it again, heavy words slid off his tongue;

“I miss you too. But look, we can’t just…go back to whatever we had a month ago.”

“Bad communication and not-yet-healed commitment issues?”

Race exhaled deeply, “Yeah, that. But I can’t- I mean- I’ve got your shirt. Please just come and get it so we can at least talk in person.” 

Spot running down apartment stairs full speed to reunite with his ex-boyfriend was probably something countless medical professionals would advise against but, quite frankly, he was more than willing to break a wrist or two for another shot. He managed a couple of breathless words that were essentially just ‘See you soon’ before falling into his car in a haze of nerves and emotions pretty damn close to excitement. Serious conversations weren’t his forté but were better than a familiar voicemail.

[sukiipjs]

✮ BLONDIE : PT 2

°:. *₊ ° . ☆ °:. *₊ ° . ° .•

↳ nick sturniolo x masc reader

↳ words - 1961

↳ summary - you’ve been having a hard time realizing and accepting the fact that you’re gay, and in love with your best friend. you try to ignore the feelings but that only makes everything worse until you can’t hide it anymore.

↳ contains - swearing, use of y/n, angst, crying, verbal fighting, idrk 😭 [READ PT 1 - PT 3]

↳ song - blondie by current joys

°:. *₊ ° . ☆ °:. *₊ ° . ° .•

°:. *₊ ° . ☆

days after and nick hasn’t texted me since. no more random tiktok’s, no more check ins, just complete nothingness now. i don’t blame him of course, i’d do the same if he was being as shitty as me right now. but honestly i miss those texts so so much, even if i rarely responded to him, or more so i miss the texts we had before all this stupid shit started.

but again, i truly don’t even know when it all started, it was so easy to just brush this off these feelings and whatever as a friend thing before and not think of it too much. why can’t it just be a friend thing now?

actually i think ive just accepted it all at this point though. i love him and no it’s not just a friend thing, it’s way more and it always has been way more. sure i might wish it wasn’t, but it is and i know it is and i cant just ignore it.

i’m not even trying to get rid of it anymore, i don’t have the strength for hiding it. honestly i think if i kept trying to get rid of it, it wouldn’t even work. obviously i still won’t tell him, or anyone, unless he pries it out of me. i know he doesn’t feel the same and i doubt he even looks at me as a friend anymore.

☆ °:. *₊ ° . °

i continue repeating my own sad cycle of doing nothing but staying in bed, hiding myself from the world… without nick. i still check up on his socials, being the weird stalker that i am and looking at all the story’s and snapchats he posted of himself, he looks just fine without me, of course.

i lay in bed, staring at my phone to avoid looking at the mess around my room. i scroll and scroll, starting to see a weird amount of videos of people taking care of themselves or videos of people ‘spring cleaning��.

i scroll away, i really don’t need to see people functioning completely fine right now, it’s like their taunting me, laughing at me. but the videos just keep coming back, haunting me, laughing at me. all i see through my scrolling cycle is random ass dog videos, cleaning and organizing videos, or nick edits… and that’s exactly what i need.

i let out a loud sigh, slightly rolling my eyes then rolling over to my other side, having my blanket wrap around me. i choose to just swipe off the app and throw my phone to the side of me before closing my eyes and just trying to get some sleep. that way those videos, my stupid feelings, and not even nick can haunt my mind anymore.

°:. *₊ ° . ☆

my eyes flicker open, the sun shining directly in my face and i finally decide to actually do something good for myself and go out for a walk when the sun and clear weather is still out, it’s been raining almost the whole time i’ve seen dying in my room alone.

i slowly move myself up to sit, leaning my back on the wooden headboard behind me and sitting on some pillows below that cushion me. i stretch out my arms in front of me, yawning and running my fingers through my hair to fix the shaggy mess.

i move myself off my bed, stand up then fixing my off center shirt and trying to flatten out a few wrinkles. i throw the blanket that covered me to the side and decide to just throw the shirt and pants that i wear off me -actually putting them somewhere other than on the floor too- i pick out a clean outfit, already feeling way less gross, it’s the small things that count right.

i walk out my room, not forgetting to grab my phone to come with me before going into my bathroom, splashing my face with water to get me more awake. i run my hands in my hair again, fixing it up with my mirror in front of me so i can actually see what i’m doing before grabbing some actual water giving myself something to drink other than dr pepper.

finally i walk out to go by my door, grabbing a light jacket and pulling it over my arms then putting on my shoes and heading out the door. i start off to go a longer way, turning the corner of the sidewalk. i feel all the small breezes on my skin as i get actual sun and nature.

i continue walking random ways, i just want to be out of the mess that i’ve been living in for so long right now. it actually feels nice to be outside, not sitting in a gross hole of dirty clothes and dishes.

☆ °:. *₊ ° . °

i walk, making my way around the neighborhood, my eye catching all the small colorful flowers blooming up and all the small brown squirrels scurrying to run up trees as i pass them. i remember all the times me and nick went out, running around the streets when we were younger. not thinking of anything, just being kids living a simple life. i wish it was still that simple.

as i walk, still obviously thinking of nick, i notice the sky above graying and clouds starting to cover up the sun, shit. i start to walk a little faster, hopefully being able to get home before it pours but as soon as i speed up, small water drops start to fall on me.

i grab the end of my jacket to pull it over my head, holding it over me to shield out the rain. the sides of my jacket block my view as i focus on the path i walk to my place.

i look down at my feet walking, trying not to get too wet as the rain pours more and more, bouncing off the sidewalk. suddenly i feel two hands place on me, pushing me back, “the fuck.” i mutter as i look up, gaining my balance on my feet again. “oh” my face softens as i see nick standing in front of me, his blonde hair damp and drops of water falling from his cheek. he stares at me, i can tell he’s mad and obviously i can tell it’s my doing.

“nick-“ he cuts me off quickly, slightly pushing against my shoulders again as i put my jacket down, wearing it normally, my head now getting pelted with rain. “no, i talk. what the fuck y/n. honestly what has been going gone, you’ve completely ignored me for weeks, you keep blowing me off and i don’t fucking know what i did and the only way i can talk to you about this is randomly bumping into you since you won’t even answer my texts?”

“nick-“ i sigh as i try speaking again but he pushes me back once more. his glassy eyes narrow and i see water pooling in them, i can’t tell if it’s rain or tears. “no! you’re my- you’re supposed to be my best friend and this shit isn’t cutting it y/n! just what is it! what is it. what did i do please just talk to me. if you hate me or something just tell me!” he shouts, his fists starting to clench as i wipe the wet hair in my face away.

“nick stop. you- you didn’t do anything i promise, i’m sorry okay” my voice croaks, i can feel the water pooling in my own eyes now. “then what is it! you can’t just block me out, out of no where.” i shake my head, trying to figure out how to say an actual explanation without saying too much. “nick i’m sorry!”

“stop apologizing! i’m not asking for that, i’m asking for an answer, please. i feel like shit and you haven’t even been there, i kept trying to talk and hang out with you but apparently you hate me now and never want to see me again, i get it!” he scoffs, staring me down as his eyes shut, tears dropping as he takes a breath before opening his eyes back up, wiping off the mixture of tears and rain.

“like i said, if you hate me or suddenly don’t want to be my friend, tell me. i truly, truly, don’t understand this shit your pulling and if you won’t talk now then when will we? you’ll just ignore me again so just spit it out now!” nick keeps rambling on and i just stare at him, seeing how hurt i’ve actually made him. i don’t know what to say, i really don’t.

i just want to shut him up, have him realize that it’s my fault and i don’t hate him. i cut him off as he continues to yell at me, “nick!” my voice feels weak as he shouts back, “what!” i stare at him for a moment, seeing those blue eyes i miss, those star earrings, his grown out roots and before i know it my hands go up to his face, pulling him in as our lips press together.

my hands hold him as strands of his hair poke my fingers, our noses slightly brushing against each others. i quickly step back, eyes wide as i realize what i just did, taking my hands back. “i-im sorry“ my breath is short before i turn around, running away from him to get back to the shit hole of comfort i’m living in to avoid what i just confessed.

i swear i hear him try to call my name but i ignore it, i can’t see him. what did i just do. i can’t even process any of this.

°:. *₊ ° . ☆

i finally reach my place again and i swiftly open my door and walk inside, standing as raindrops slide off of me, creating a small puddle on the floor below. i shake off my hair a little, flicking the water droplets off of me. i take off my jacket, putting it on a hook to let it dry as i take off my shoes too, leaving them by the door.

i wipe my face off with the palms of my hands, wiping off many of my tears that still fall. i walk over to my fridge, getting out another dr pepper then walking over to my couch, slumping down into it as i set my can down and wrap a blanket around myself to warm me up again.

i slowly slide to the side, laying myself down on the cushions. why the actual fuck would i kiss him? what that really the best thing i could do? he already hated me, i did not have to make it worse. i ponder in my head, genuinely trying to find a valid reason of why i just kissed my best friend that hates me. oh. my. god. i’ve ruined my life -not like it was already ruined- i’m never coming back from this.

i stare at the unopened dr pepper sitting on my coffee table, i try making myself reach for it but my arms don’t want to leave the warmth of the blanket i’m huddled in. i hear my phone buzz next to the dr pepper on, i also cannot seem to have my arm reach out to see who’s calling, i hope it’s not who i think but why would he even call me?

rain pelts out on my window, water sliding down the cold glass of it as i lay holding my blanket close to me, pulling the blanket over my eyes as they close, resting as i try forget about my phone continuously buzzing and the drink still on my table.

☆ °:. *₊ ° . °

taglist : @slutforchriss @mattsleftnipple03 @mattsdinosweater @ccolleenn @mixvchelle @leah-loves-lilies @sturn-wrld @redz0nez9 @cheriematt @freshloveforthefit @nickuniversity @whore4matt @txssvx @will-yummy @matty-bear @venusbabysblog @m0r94n

[vitanithepure]

Gale's romance

To absolutely nobody's surprise I am back with my thoughts about Gale and I am honestly surprised how many of you still follow me and interact with what I have to say, love you all so much 😭

Again, a freaking long one (over 1200 words, I wrote fanfics shorter than this...), but I need to get it all out of my system to properly function. Of course spoilers for Gale's story and a bit of the main storyline.

First of all - his introduction. Not less of a jump-scare, but somehow this one seemed to fit him better? He doesn't come out of the portal and begin judging our capabilities, instead we help him out, and if anything - I felt an instant level of sympathy for the wizard falling face first on the ground straight out of an unstable portal.

His bashful "I'm usually better at this."? It just served to even out the field and I love it. I was literally sitting there grinning at the screen and thinking "oh, how the mighty have fallen" :D

We still get all the talks known from EA (apart from the failed spell one? Did anyone manage to trigger it? Did they remove it?), so I won't be going over them again, because there is still a lot of new stuff to go through. Although they seem to fire up differently and it makes Gale seem a lot more considerate. Sure, at first he still hides the exact reasons and I still think it's understandable. In my playthrough he brought up his orb problem on the road, in front of the others with us claiming we need to know about it. 

He even leaves us the decision if we want him to stay or not, but we cherish this man in this house, so I have no idea what goes down if and how he leaves. Not really interested in learning that, too.

Him showing us the Weave was as wonderful as it used to, didn't notice any changes here, then again - why change something that just…works? And now, in hindsight, I cannot help but see how it sets the tone for the whole relationship with him, be it romantic or otherwise. He shows you this part of him he loves, tries to show because even he, with all his eloquence, cannot find the right words to express what magic means to him.

I feel as if he was not expecting much from it, judging by the mumbling, adorable mess we made of him just imagining a walk, hand in hand. As we learn later (much later, but I think it's important to mention it here) he never considered being this close to anyone after the orb fiasco. Not because he still loves Mystra but rather he realizes how much of a risk it brings. He himself calls himself a "menace" and that, for me, speaks volumes about his character. 

Ok, now onto the new parts, previously unavailable in the EA. 

I mentioned my reaction after the first talk with Elminster in another post, but I'll say it again: fuck Mystra. 

I was worried that there might not be a way to rid Gale of this cursed orb, I was bracing for the possibility that there might not be a happily-ever-after here. Because he seemed set on going along with Mystra's wishes, and I felt bad for standing between the man and his honest faith. Misguided, not fanatical, just honest faith.

I was thinking "yeah, this will probably happen at the end of the game, we'll cross that bridge when we get there". BUT… one moment we are fighting Kethric Thorm and the next Gale is ready to sacrifice himself. "Wait, it's too soon, it can't end like this, WHAT THE HELL is going on?" 

"Fun" fact? Gale can really do it from what I saw and it just… ends the game right there and then. I am not ever going to even consider that a viable option, for anyone. It just makes me sick thinking about it in hindsight.

So yeah, no, sorry Mystra, we are not going along with your stupid plan. It really feels like he went along with it in a shell shock state through the whole act II of the story and it made me feel so bad for him. Gale felt like a complete shadow of himself since his first talk with Elminster.

Can you look me in the eye and with a straight face tell me a man ready to die makes a whole fucking illusionary world for just the two of you, shows you his home, his safe place, tells you he loves you and gives you his all? Yeah, yeah, you can tell me "he doesn't want to regret anything", but that's the point! He already regrets so much, and that means he is not ready to become vapor!

So, in the style of Meredith Grey, we go all in with "choose me" and…wow, does he ever. It was like a switch went off, Gale instantly is back to his old self, already having a plan to make it all work. A terrible idea, worthy of the 10 wisdom stat, mind you, but an idea still.

Of course in the meantime we get another visit from Elminster, who drops a few - actually good! - words of wisdom Gale's way and says Mystra wants to talk. Of-fucking-course she wants to, her pet refused to die and she can't fathom why.

I know the talk can go differently depending on what you suggest him to say, I don't know if we can skip the talk altogether and what are the consequences of that, but on my first playthrough I actually encouraged him to seek forgiveness and the talk went… fucking awful if you ask me. Is there a honest to god good way to do this talk? 

Hated it when Mystra went all "oh yes, now that you are alive I'm not taking care of your orb until I send you on yet another suicide run, but don't worry - I believe in you, 'kay-thanks-bye!"

I guess this is faith for you - everything becomes a trial for it.

Moving on! The first big romance scene for act III of the story left me in emotional shambles.

In this moment Gale knows he wants to do *everything* and *anything* for us. He wants to gain power for us, to give us everything we deserve because if he gave Mystra his all he won't be holding back for us. And when we say we don't want it… you can see how absolutely devastated he is - up until he hears what we are really telling him.

"You are already everything I need you to be."

God, the animation here was so amazing, you can practically see the moment realization strikes him. He can live without Mystra, he can live without power, but he can't live without you. That he matters to someone, not for what he can do, but just… for him. And he was never loved that way, he himself says that, much to the dismay of my bleeding heart.

And that is that! Our story with Gale ends here, without a bang, but that is good. Gale is no longer the man he used to be, his ambitions now centered around a happy life with us. And I'm all giddy and teary-eyed for him. 

Mind you, the ending felt…rushed? But perhaps that's just me not ready to say goodbye after all this? The game ending is a dash of adrenaline and I felt like there was just not enough time to unwind after. Guess I need to headcanon the rest ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Either way, if you managed to stay to this point - a big thank you for reading!

[elizabeethan]

Not With Haste

An Overboard Conclusion

Oh hi, where the hell did this come from? I'm wondering the same thing. in reality, @donteattheappleshook talked to me about oarfish maybe 2 years ago and I started writing something stupid. I always intended to finish it and post it for @the-darkdragonfly's birthday, but I never found it in me to complete it. Then tonight I found that stupid thing and I finished it. You never know when that funny little creativity bug might bite, I guess.

I've always wanted to write some form of conclusion for Overboard because it's one of my favorite things that I've written. I first published Overboard way back in May of 2021, and looking back, I've grown and learned a lot and there are things I would probably do differently if I started the story over again, but I can't see myself ever editing it because I love what I wrote. Would I rewrite it into a novel and really flesh out the story and the characters? A girlie can dream, never say never, you never know when the creativity bug might bite, etc.

I hope everyone here is well, I know I am for the most part, and I'll never stop being grateful for this little community that I found all those years ago. More than that, I'll never stop being grateful for the feeling of being able to come back after a time away. It's been fun to log back in to everything and pick up where I left off as if no time has passed. (It's been so long since I've done this so if the formatting is all messed up, I'm really sorry, but I barely knew what I was doing.)

Long story short, this story is finally complete. It's barely edited and it's not beta'd, so thank you for giving it a chance.

Rated T I think

~2300 words

Read on Ao3

Read my Other Stuff

~~~~

Even after sixteen years of marriage, Killian often finds himself wondering what on earth could possibly be going through his wife’s head. 

  The thoughts of wonderment and confusion strike him at the oddest of times, always in response to something she’s said or done and never with any sort of answer. The first time he knew he was in trouble was fifteen years ago, when he returned home from a trip to find she had adopted a rottweiler. Still, Ripple refuses to retire from her post as the Jones’ Harbor Tours’ mascot, and Emma often tries to convince him that it’s because she’s as stubborn as her father. 

  In truth, Emma Jones is the most stubborn person he has ever met in his life, a fact which will likely never be contested. 

  He finds himself confused so often that he can barely recount any examples of her free spirited nature. (She calls herself a wild child, although she often shouts at him whenever he uses the term in bed.) There was the time she impulsively began tearing up the tile flooring in the bathroom after watching three whole YouTube tutorials (her words), only to sob into his already sea-soaked sweater when she realized how physically taxing reflooring an entire room is without any experience, general tiling knowledge, materials, or help. Then there was the time she randomly asked him if he would still love her if she was a worm, and then became irrationally angry when he found himself unable to answer without first asking clarifying questions. And the incident when she questioned his loyalty to her when he refused to hunt down and kill the person who bumped into her parked car and drove off. He later discovered that the question came after she had finished some romance novel about the mafia. He chose not to dig any deeper into that one.

  All this to say: Killian’s wife is a free spirit, a wild child, a confusing, strange, barely-readable woman who stole his heart in one breath and has yet to give it back almost two decades later. 

  And, he has no idea what the bloody hell she’s talking about more than half the time. 

  He wouldn’t have it any other way.

  Emma (Trophy Wife): have you ever see this??? In the wild??????

  Emma (Trophy Wife): Attached: 1 Image

  Killian: What are you doing?

  He shakes his head, as exasperated as he is filled with a warm sense of comfort, just like he always is whenever he sees the name she gave herself the moment their vows were exchanged pop onto his phone screen.

  Emma (Trophy Wife): they inhabit the atlantic ocean. *vomiting emoji*

  Killian: Stop watching National Geographic if it’s going to make you nauseous. 

  Emma (Trophy Wife): that’s where you worked!!

  Killian: That’s also where we live.

  Emma (Trophy Wife): you never saw one in your sexy fisherman days? LOOK at that thing. 

  Killian quickly discovers that she’s referring to an Oarfish. They’re the longest known bonefish and inhabit very deep water, are rarely seen or caught alive, and are thought to be generally harmless. Still, he knows that these facts will not prevent his wife from overreacting, so he chooses not to bother. 

  Though she’s always hidden it well, Emma has a strange fear of creatures of the deep, as she often calls them. She’s told him that the tuna he used to pull onto the deck of his boat didn’t bother her– even though they were often almost twice her height in length and weighed upwards of 1,000 pounds– because they were no longer in the water. But the thought of running into one of those slimy bastards while swimming gives her panicky symptoms— her words. He hasn’t bothered to point out the absolute impossibility of her ever running into a giant bluefin tuna while swimming, either. After sixteen years of marriage, he’s learned which battles are better left unfought. 

  Of course, there are times when his correcting her drives her absolutely mad, often to the point of her feeling compelled to kiss him in order to shut him up, and he navigates those moments very carefully and with a smirk on his lips. 

  Killian: They aren’t known to be predatory.

  Emma (Trophy Wife) disliked “They aren’t known to be predatory.”

  Killian: Attached: 1 Image

  Killian: You see? They have small mouths and no teeth. Harmless.

  It’s unlike her to wait so long to reply, as she’s often glued to her phone at least when she’s mid conversation. But it’s almost a full two minutes that he finds himself standing in front of the display of pasta sauce, looking like a complete fool and blocking the path of an elderly woman, breath bated as he waits for a response from her. Bloody hell, he thinks to himself as he shakes his head. He’s known the woman for eighteen years and he still can hardly breathe in anticipation of whatever adorably inane thought leaves her mouth without any sort of filter. 

  Emma (Trophy Wife): Attached: 1 Video

  Lovely. Even as he watches the attached video of her silently dry heaving, he’s desperately in love with her. He watches it again. 

  Her blonde hair has gone lighter over the years, streaks of white coloring through the gold in a way that makes her look somehow even more sexy and playful than when he first laid eyes on her. There are soft creases beside her eyes as she squeezes them shut, her mouth open and her tongue out as she pretends to be so violently offended by the image he sent her that it’s made her ill. 

  Emma (Trophy Wife): expect consequences when you get home. even if you get the good mac and cheese. 

  Emma (Trophy Wife): you KNOW how i feel about serpents and sea monsters. 

  Killian: I do. 

  Emma (Trophy Wife): … and????

  Killian: I’m sorry for traumatizing you with my serpent. 

  Killian: And for how that just sounded. 

  Emma (Trophy Wife): if you’re not home in 34 minutes i’m not touching your serpent for two whole days. 

  Killian: Well, now that I'm familiar with your gag reflex… 

  Emma (Trophy Wife): 33 minutes. 

  ~~~~

  Ripple is the oldest dog Killian has ever known. Her silver snout and eyebrows catch in the setting sun, and it’s painfully obvious from her gait how sore her joints are, but still, at his arrival home, she hurries her way towards him with as much enthusiasm as she can muster. 

  Their vet has told them that she’s the healthiest dog he’s treated in a while, considering her age, and Emma uses that as a point of pride for their perfect child. 

  “Hi, darling,” he says when she finally reaches him, her soft smile lighting up her face once he drops the reusable grocery bags in order to give her a scratch behind the ears. Killian’s getting up there in age, too, but he still manages to squat down to her level and kiss her nose. 

  The two of them make quite the pair while Killian struggles back into a standing position and then they both hobble towards the front door. His fishing career was lucrative and rewarding, but dammit if it didn’t lead to stiff joints that his wife pokes fun at. She’s never met a “my husband is older than me” joke she hasn’t loved. 

  “I’m glad you both made it,” she happily chortles from the kitchen, making him smile. He’s never smiled more widely than he does with Emma. 

  “The abuse I’m subjected to,” he mutters as he drops the bags on the floor for her to peruse. It’s a deal they made years ago; Killian does the shopping because the grocery store makes Emma too itchy, and she puts the groceries away in exchange. 

  She snorts when she pulls out the bag of goldfish, sending Killian a playful smirk. “Looks like a good haul.”

  “Aye, love. I thought you might enjoy a fishy treat after our conversation.”

  “Always so thoughtful,” she murmurs as she makes her way to him. The kitchen is small, but they’ve always had just enough space for the three of them. 

  “It’s a difficult cross to bear,” he nods, catching her wrist as soon as she’s close enough to pull towards him. “But anticipating your needs is one of the many responsibilities I take very seriously.”

  Emma’s hands land on his neck, fingers tangling with the silver hair at the back of his head while her thumbs trace along his jaw. She likes to call him a silver fox when she’s feeling playful. “My perfect husband,” she says softly, voice syrupy sweet in that way that still manages to get him excited. 

  “I couldn’t be a perfect husband without my perfect wife,” he answers, earning a beaming grin that he barely catches before her lips press to his. 

  It never ends. The way he wants her has been an inferno so intense since the day they met, and it hasn’t been snuffed out in all these years. The moment she’s near him, his blood starts to simmer, and once she touches him, kisses him like she is now, he’s a goner. 

  Her tongue is soft as it sweeps over the seam of his lips, lazily working to deepen the kiss they share. She kissed him with urgency, but not with haste, never rushing but always desperate. It’s enough to have him pushing her backwards, her lower back softly pressing against the counter before he lifts her onto it. Emma’s legs part seemingly without her even thinking about it, and before either of them have a chance to put the rotisserie chicken in the refrigerator, he wonders if he should just carry her to their room. Part of him has this never ending need to show her just how desperate he still is for her. 

  But then, she speaks. 

  “Wait,” she breathes, chest rising and falling rapidly as her warm breath fans over his mouth, her forehead still pressed to his and her fingers clinging to the collar of the light sweater he wears. 

  “Yes, love?” he asks, perfectly prepared to answer whatever silly question she likely has as long as he can have her after. 

  “About the oarfish…”

  He fights a groan. “I promise you, there is absolutely no chance of you ever seeing an oarfish for as long as you live.”

  “I know, I did plenty of research while you were gone.”

  He breathes out a soft laugh, his smile growing when she kisses it. “What’s wrong, then?”

  “Would you still love me if I was an oarfish?”

  His world stops for just a moment. Just a second, really, as he tries to right his mind and will a tiny bit of blood back to his brain so that he can answer this very unimportant and yet somehow very vital question correctly. 

  “If you were an oarfish,” he starts, hand sliding up from her hip to her ribs before finding her cheek, “then I would be an oarfish. And we would be married and have a pet… eel, perhaps. Named Ripple. And we would live in a tiny oarfish cottage and be happy and in love for as long as oarfish live.”

  Emma sighs, the softest smile on her perfect lips making him crazy as her arms wrap around his neck in one of his favorite hugs. 

  “I love you,” she whispers into his ear. He’ll never tire of this. Of the soft, almost unfathomable way that the love they have for one another strikes at the most random times. 

  “I love you, too, Swan. Always. No matter what species we are.”  

  “And I love you, no matter how much older you are than me.”

  He grabs her then, hoisting her against him to the best of his ability as her ankles cross at his back. “Disrespectful,” he murmurs, carrying her from the kitchen and happily forgetting about the frozen broccoli florets, not cuts she made him buy. 

  “You better teach me a lesson, then,” she taunts with a smirk, as if that isn’t exactly what she was after. 

  “Don’t act like that isn’t exactly what you want, love.”

  “Don’t act like you don’t get off on giving me exactly what I want.”

  To that, he just returns her smirk and offers a quick smack to her ass before dropping her onto the bed they share, because he knows she’s right. For the rest of his days, he’ll be happy, as long as he has his family. 

~~~~

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