#i was stumped how to make this look decent but then i figured something out ish \o\

[sirfrogsworth]

When I got to this photo in Katrina's collection of vintage family imagery, I was pretty stumped as to how to approach it.

There is a major problem when you zoom in to 100%.

The paper it was developed on has little micro bumps. When it was scanned, the light from the scanner caused a highlight on one side of the bump and a shadow on the other. This causes a pattern which is nearly impossible to eliminate using traditional techniques.

The easiest way to fix this is actually quite clever. You scan it once, then turn it upside down and scan it again. The second pass reverses the side the highlight and shadow appear on, so you can combine the images in Photoshop and blend them together, essentially canceling out the bumps. It's weirdly analogous to noise canceling headphones.

But I don't have access to the physical copy of this image.

So... now what?

Enter Fast Fourier Transform or FFT.

This is a filter that uses extra fancy math to recognize patterns in the image and eliminate them. There is a pretty good filter for Photoshop, but it does not work easily with newer Macs with Apple Silicon. I really did not want to figure that out, and I also was too tired to go downstairs to my PC. However, I learned that a Photoshop competitor, Affinity Photo, has this filter built in. So, I downloaded a trial copy and started the process of trying to figure out how to fix this image.

It was amazingly simple. It brings up these star patterns and you just paint black circles over every one but the center. It literally felt like magic. (Full screen with sound recommended)

So once I did this process I ended up with this...

The paper still had a rough texture but it was much easier to work with using traditional techniques. I started with a black and white conversion and meticulously went through the photo zapping scratches and flaws and balancing tones and sharpening facial features. All of my photo restoration tricks were needed.

I eventually landed here...

I then thought maybe I should match the sepia tone of the original print, so I got to here...

I think the black and white looks nicer in this instance, but I always like having options and this is the most faithful representation of how the photo originally looked.

But there is something else I have been playing around with lately. Photoshop has these experimental neural filters that use cloud processing to do various tricky enhancements. Most of them are in beta and they can be very quirky. But they have a colorizer that tries to detect people and things and adds color to them. Not every black and white photo is a good candidate. I have found these professional portrait photos work decently, but the filter is very hit-and-miss. And there are tools within the filter to help you make a miss more of a hit, but often I have to accept the photo isn't going to work.

But I decided to give it a shot with this one and surprisingly, the colorizer got me most of the way there.

I can work with that.

The one thing it does well is skin. Manually painting color onto skin is tricky and requires more skill and knowledge of traditional painting techniques than I have. But if a filter can do that part for me, I can do the rest.

So after my touchups, I got the image to here.

All I have left to do is my standard color enhancements to make them a little less ghostly and a little more human.

And I present to you where I started and the finished product. I encourage you to flip back and forth.

I'm not sure how, but I was able to go from an image I thought was impossible to edit to a beautiful colorized memory for my best friend's mom. I cannot wait to show her.

[dimensionhoppinghybrids]

Joseph paused, looking at the kids around him at the decently sized impromptu class he was having. He preferred to have class outside, in the shelter in a canopy of trees and nature with a fire crackling between them.

His seat was a log, just a single stump that he sat on, and the kids around him of different Pokemon sat around him, all around their early to late teen ages, some of them stepping into adulthood.

"Alright, I know you were told I'd have a lesson or two for you kids, and this lesson is more or less about something I know you kids will find out sooner or later if you haven't already.

Its about cons." He paused, looking at some of the kids. Most gave blank but curious looks, having probably heard about it but never given much thought on it. Some of the older kids, gave winces. Probably having run into a scenario like that, and Joseph nodded, as if expecting this.

"Or rather, its about my advice about dealing with getting conned." He said softly. He got comfortable on his log seat, and looked over the kids that surrounded his fire pit.

"Now, let me tell you a story." Joseph said, getting into the feel of being a story teller again.

"It starts with an Espeon. A female espeon that for all intents and purposes, gave the impression of having a normal bakers job with a bakery of her own, and having been well successful, she started to make a name for herself in the community she lived in." Joseph said, trying to pain the picture for the kids on the figure.

"She was kind, and helpful. What you'd want in a community member. She hit on some hard times with an ex of hers, a sceptile that came in and tried to stir up trouble, but she was often rebuffed." Joseph said with a shrug.

"This Espeon made many friends. Me and my sister Ivy among them." He said with a sad smile. "She had even roped in a poor Lucario. A guild leader at the time, and he was a good sort. He protected her, and they even became an item. Things looked good." Joseph paused, thinking a bit. "I want you all to understand this. She made a name for herself. She made a reputation. She was seen as one of the reputable pillars of the community." Joseph explained a bit.

He took a deep breath as memories passed him by, and he frowned, then shook his head. Dismissing them.

"Anyway. One day, she was offered to participate in a big event with the town. It was whole festival with the whole town in participation. They were gathering funds for a new building and it was supposed to be a community project between towns there. It was supposed to not only bring in revenue, but also advertisement to the whole thing. The town was expanding, so it was a big thing." Joseph explained a bit further.

"And, she accepted. She did quite well due to her reputation. She raked in money, and oh man, I remember how excited the town was, because everyone was doing well. There were games, puppet shows, you name it. The whole town pulled as much of the stops as they could to just have fun." Joseph said with a wistful smile. Then he frowned. "But, we didn't know what we were getting into." He said, and he drew in a deep breath, as if to keep himself calm as he looked at the fire, then at the audience he had.

"Because, we didn't find out until a lot later what had happened." He said as he exhaled.

"That ex of hers? They were partners. And they had waited and carefully played the long con for this. They had waited for an opportunity like that to strike, and they did strike. When everything calmed down, and the money was tallied and counted, and everyone thought that things would be okay, they struck. Because it was such a small town, and they hadn't dealt with criminals much due to a guild being nearby, they were lax with their security. And that cost everyone." Joseph said as he sighed.

"We figured out how they did it the day after. The sceptile used her leaf blade skills to cut in where the money was kept, and with a carriage and some pure muscle help that they hired, they managed to get away with bags, and I mean bags of money. They made out like bandits in the night, and we didn't figure out what was going on until the bakery that the Espeon owned was on fire to clean up any loose ends. The fire had been spread about with a move, and it wouldn't go out so easily. It had spread everywhere. All they could do at the time, was make sure it didn't engulf the whole forest." Joseph said as he shrugged and sighed.

"The con here, is they used us all. The espeon used my sister for her good will you see. They both used her trust, because my sister is a kind person. She gave the Espeon her time, her resources, and that trust she had helped the town feel like they could trust the Espeon too. My sister is a kind soul and couldn't do a fly wrong, and that was what they used. And me? I was a known wanderer at least in some reputation back then. My insight was used too, and that was to all of our detriment." Joseph said with a shake of his head.

"At the end of that day, we were conned, and we trusted her. That was our fault. All of us were at fault. And that is the sour pill to swallow. It made everyone angry and sad. They found the money, eventually. But not before the duo had spent a good chunk of it on gambling and other facilities." He said as he sighed.

"Now they pay that debt off until the day they die of old age. And trust me. That's a good long while." He said with another shake of his head.

"Anyway. The lesson here is, you will all be conned at some point. You will be tricked and stabbed in the back. You can't avoid it, and you can't get around it. When it happens, it'll happen. And its useless to be angry, blustering or demanding recompense. You want retribution, you make sure to bleed it out from the one that conned you in a way that matters to them and you. I am not telling you not to smack them about if you can. But to pick your punishment and be smart about it." Joseph told them all as he looked at them.

"And that life is harsh in so many ways. We all live in this world, and it means we're all subject to its cruelties as well as its wonders. Remember that." He said, shooing the kids away.

"Now git, and think on what I told you. Class dismissed." He told them all, the kids slowly meandering away, thinking hard on what he had told them.

[marvelmaniac715]

It’s another Chucky and Glen au! This time, Chucky didn’t die at the end of Bride, but Tiffany did. Baby Glen/da is born, and Chucky finds them when he goes looking for Tiffany. You know what that makes him? A single dad. He decides to do the decent thing and raise the kid on his own, how does this impact the rest of the Chucky series? Quick disclaimer, I am a cisgender female, but I wanted to include the twins’ coming out. If I have written anything wrong or remotely offensive, my sincerest apologies, I didn’t intend to cause any harm and I will endeavour to fix my mistakes :). Also, I changed the twins’ names (don’t hate me). The reason for this is that in Seed, it’s obvious that Chucky came up with Glen on the spot, and for this fic I tried to think about what names he would choose if he actually put thought into them. What do you think of my choices?

————————————————————-

Chucky could hear screaming in the distance. It sounded like Tiffany. He had only barely survived, but he had enough strength to head towards her direction. Did he care about Tiffany anymore? Not really, he mostly wanted to see what was going on out of curiosity, and to get her to shut her trap. That screeching was hurting his head.

By the time he’d found her, Tiffany had stopped screaming. But something else was screaming instead. It was confusing for a moment, he didn’t know what was making that sound. But the moment he laid eyes on the source of the noise, Chucky knew that it was the most adorable, perfect ‘something’ he had ever seen.

A baby doll, about the size of his arm. With bright blue eyes and the most adorable little set of razor sharp teeth that they were using to bite down on a grown man’s neck. They weren’t even an hour old and they’d already killed a man. Chucky was so proud.

Then it hit him. He didn’t know how this very obvious fact hadn’t occurred at first, but it was all at once astounding and life changing. This was his child. His. He was a father. He had created life for a change instead of taking it. According to all laws of science and even religion, this baby shouldn’t exist. But it did, and Chucky had a huge responsibility ahead of him. 

Chucky bent down to scoop up the baby, trying his best to rock and soothe it. His only experience had been with a neighbour’s newborn daughter at the age of five, they had been invited to a celebration at their house and he’d been allowed to hold her with support from his parents. He’d known at that moment, that he’d wanted to be a father one day, but he’d never thought it would actually happen. 

It dawned on Chucky that the baby didn’t have a name. Or a gender. It seemed incredibly demeaning and dehumanising to refer to his child as an ‘it’, so he resolved to correct that issue. He soon figured out that the child was a boy, but he still needed to come up with a name for his son.

His son. Wow, those were amazing words to say. But he couldn’t dwell on that, the kid needed a good name. Obviously the last name would be Ray, and a middle name was easy. He’d always loved the Peter Pan story, so his son’s middle name would be Peter. But the first name stumped him. He couldn’t think of anything good. He nearly chose Glen, but a look down at the baby made him change his mind. No, this kid didn’t look like a Glen. But what was he-

His thoughts were cut off abruptly when the baby bit him on the hand, drawing blood. Chucky didn’t scream or yell, he laughed.

“That’s my boy! Wow, you’re just like me when I was-‘

Charles. That was it, that was the perfect name. Of course, this was the ideal opportunity to carry on his name. Chucky looked down at his son. Charles Peter Ray. Or for short…

“Hi Charlie, I’m your dad. I’m so happy to meet you.”

That felt right in a way that Chucky couldn’t explain.

————————————————————-

The woman screamed as she ran for her life. She’d been restocking shelves when she’d heard ominous footsteps. She’d thought nothing of it, but then that evil doll had appeared. All she’d seen was a grotesque grin and a flash of red hair, perhaps a glint of silver from his cleaver, but that was enough to terrify her. That was, until, she heard crying. The doll stopped in front of her, but he was acting quite strangely.

He began swaying awkwardly, patting something attached to his chest, shushing it gently.

“Shush, Charlie. It’s okay, I know you’re tired, but Daddy needs to do this first- what, are you thirsty? Do you need some milk, is that it? Is it your diaper? I checked it a few minutes ago so it should be fine. Please just go back to sleep, you’ll be in bed in just a few minutes, half an hour at most.”

The doll made eye contact with her, an exhausted and mildly apologetic look on his face.

“Sorry, the little one’s on a sleep strike right now, I’ve tried everything but I just can’t get him to sleep. Any suggestions?”

The woman sobbed, unable to comprehend what she was seeing.

“No? Thanks anyway I guess. Now, where were we? Oh yes, I was killing you.”

The woman choked on her own blood as she gurgled out one last scream, falling to the ground, dead.

————————————————————-

It had taken approximately three years for Chucky to realise that he didn’t have one child, he had two. Charlie was a sweet little boy who was terrified of violence, but his daughter craved it, just like her father did.

Chucky didn’t mind that he had two children, he loved and supported both of his children equally. He built a terrarium with Charlie so he could look after little frogs he’d found living on nearby logs. He taught his daughter (Charlotte, because he’d be damned if the twins didn’t have matching names, Lottie for short) how to swing a knife. He snuck Charlie a toy elephant from a nearby zoo and sneaked him into it to see his favourite animals up close. He patiently stayed up late to learn how to sew with Lottie. 

When Charlie was awake, he got to relax and indulge in some of his less active hobbies, such as painting and reading. When Lottie was around, he got to murder. Both of his children were unique and special in their own ways, but they were both the greatest kids in the world, in Chucky’s opinion at least.

————————————————————-

Chucky considered himself to be a pretty laid back parent as far as rules went. He let the kids swear if they wanted to, they were actively encouraged to lie and fight, although Lottie took to those teachings stronger than Charlie did. But the one thing that he wouldn’t let his kids do was wander off without him.

They were sentient dolls, anything could happen to them, they were small and knew nothing about the world. Alright, Chucky sheltered his children more than he probably should have, but can you really blame him? His twins were the most important things in his life, he had nothing else, and he needed to pass down his wisdom to somebody.

By the age of eight, phrases like “Charlie, go hide over there” “Lottie, you’re too little to actually murder someone yourself yet, go hide” and “don’t make a sound, go into Barbie mode” were common to the twins. Chucky had even turned it into a game when they were at home. He’d suddenly call out “Barbie mode!” And if they went still immediately, they’d get a treat of some kind, usually a small toy he’d stolen from a nearby store or a piece of candy.

It was his way of keeping them safe, because God knows those kids had no real survival instincts of their own.

————————————————————-

Charlie and Lottie were teenagers. Chucky was in a constant state of panic. Hormones had transformed his children into creatures of rage, rebelliousness and a weirdly high amount of teenage lust.

A week ago, he’d seriously had to tell Lottie “no, we can’t spare this guy his life just because you think he’s cute and want to date him.”

Even Charlie was acting out. Chucky had asked his son to help him tidy up around the room and his response had been “fuck you.” Charlie had said it before, but the way he’d said it had hurt.

But now Charlie wanted to talk to him about something important. Lottie did too, apparently. So Chucky arranged a bonding activity (pottery painting of all things) and prepared for whatever this conversation would lead to. 

Charlie looked nervous, hardly able to concentrate on the painting. With a tentative look at Chucky, they began to speak.

“Dad, my twin and I need to tell you about something. It’s kind of important, but we’ve been feeling like this for a while now, and we both think that we’ve found the right words to tell you.”

What was Charlie about to confess? Murder? Pregnancy? The possibilities were endless, and Chucky feared almost every one. But he needed to be a supportive parent, to show his kids that he loved and supported them no matter what.

“Go on, you can tell me anything.”

Charlie smiled, and with a deep inhale, began to speak again.

“Lottie and I are non-binary. We both would like to go by they/them pronouns please.”

Chucky let out a relieved exhale. Out of everything that could have been confessed, this wasn’t the least bit worrying or concerning. So, Chucky didn’t have a son and a daughter, he had two non-binary children. That was perfectly fine. So why was Charlie crying?

“Charlie, could you look at me please? It’s okay, you don’t need to cry. What you just did was so, so brave. I’m so proud of you, both of you. It doesn’t matter to me what your genders are, you’re still my incredible kids who I have loved from the very first second I saw you, when you were tiny little babies. The first time I held you I promised If love you forever, and that promise still stands today, make no doubt about it.”

Charle beamed and wrapped their arms around Chucky for a hug, sniffling slightly.

“We were both scared of how you’d react. You grew up in the fifties and sixties, they weren’t known for being… well, tolerant. We both know that you love us, we just weren’t sure how you’d feel, knowing that we’re both non-binary.”

Chucky had to laugh. But the second he did he realised how bad that could come across to Charlie, so he stopped and pulled back to look his child in the eyes.

“Sorry for laughing, kid. It’s just that that’s a silly thing to worry about. Look, people knew jack-shit in the fifties, they were wackos. I know I’m old, but I’ve been given the opportunity to learn and understand more about the world in each different generation. I may not fully understand everything, but I know that I love you both very much, and if you both feel in your hearts that the gender identity that best fits for you is non-binary, I’m gonna support you every step of the way.”

Charlie let out a sigh of relief, snuggling into Chucky’s shoulder.

“I love you, Dad. You’re the best.”

————————————————————-

Chucky couldn’t believe that it was this time already. The twins were all grown up and ready to see the world. It was hard to let go, but they wanted to do some travelling, and who was he to refuse? He taught them both self-defence and had made them promise to call at least once a week. They should be fine, but he still worried.

Today Lottie was in control of the body. They were so excited for their journey, they’d talked about it non-stop for ages. Lottie and Charlie were going on a truck that delivered all over the world, stopping off for a week in each country, giving them a chance to see more of the world.

Chucky wouldn’t admit that he was close to tears. He’d looked after his kids from the day they were born, he’d never been apart from them for any longer than an hour. This would be hard, but the twins were tough, they were ready for this.

As he helped Lottie up onto the truck with their luggage which they shared with Charlie, the younger doll squeezed his hand tightly, smiling.

“I love you Daddy. Don’t worry, we’ll be fine. We’re going to miss you though.”

All Chucky could do was smile fondly through the tears and squeeze Lottie’s hand just as tightly.

“I’ll miss you too. I know you’ll be fine, you’re both too tough to take any crap. Stay safe, I love you.”

————————————————————-

Nica stared up at the doll, reeling from what she’d just learnt. Charles Lee Ray had killed her father, abducted her mother and sister and paralysed her. Now he was in a doll, standing over her with a knife. Prepared to stab. Just as he raised the knife with a grin, a phone rang.

What? Where was the phone coming from- the doll pulled out a phone.

“Charlie, it’s so great to hear from you What? No, I’m not busy, I can talk. What? Why can’t I video chat? Well, I’ve got really bad reception y’see, the footage would cut out- I’m not killing anyone, what would give you that impression? Charlie, there’s been plenty of times I haven’t called with video, it doesn’t mean that I’m- look, this call’s meant to be about you, what have you and Lottie been up to? How’s Europe? Oh, I hear that that place is beautiful this time of year! Have you been having a good time? Really? That’s great, and how about Lottie? They’ve caused an international incident? Why am I not surprised. Listen, I’m trusting you to keep them out of trouble whilst I’m not with you-‘

Nica screamed, trying to draw attention whilst the doll was distracted. Maybe the person on the other end of the line could help her? They seemed to be against the murder, and Chucky seemed to think highly of them. Sure enough, the screaming made Chucky pause and glare at her.

‘Charlie, no, there’s nobody here. I’m watching a horror movie. A girl just got killed. You’re right, as a past serial killer I shouldn’t be watching this stuff because it could give me ideas. I’ll turn it off.”

His last words were directed at Nica as he offered her a withering stare. Nica glared back, refusing to back down.

“I should probably let you go now, I’m sure you have lots to see and do. Have a good time, I love you. Oh, and give my love to Lottie too!”

When he’d hung up, Chucky slashed Nica’s cheek with his knife.

“Well, that was a close one, wasn’t it?”

[firespirited]

So having identified that I need to change a bunch of habits, here’s what I’ve done. personal accountability check in yay.

Exercise: no abdominal work just dorsal stretches, added a steep-ish small hill to my walk instead of two walks to work my hips more. Made peace with the grumpy man on the hill who hates dogs by telling him he’s totally right, it is disgusting (he is fr totally in his right to be upset, people are terrible at cleaning up after their dogs and several just roam free) and showing him that I don’t just pick up my dog’s but other people’s dog turds.

Will test 1 leg at a time abdominal work early May and if the pain causes the whole back seizing, we move it to June, etc...

Ergonomic computer use: I got out of the habit of typing due to a need for speed, especially in french with all the accents on the top and side and I’d like to stop pecking at the keyboard until it becomes the default. Can’t hide the keys as i peck from memory. just gotta keep catching myself and switching back into f j position.

Treats: new dolls that need TLC are out of the question and I’ve done a decent job at saying No to cool dolls that would “just need...” but that’s not enough. I’ve saved my ebay and aliexpress bookmarks to separate google notes and archived them and removed most from my browser. Same with amazon warehouse and leboncoin. There are a couple of Monster High I’d like to find and de-glue (& possibly de-stain this summer) but only if they appear at reasonable prices. I’m going to switch focus to making sure everyone is dressed and nicely displayed.

This does leave a void where the dopamine of new arrivals and projects was and that’s something to further ponder. Having things to look forward to is good for my mental health. The surprise element and “oh remember that doll” element of ebay thrifting was good too. Can’t be craft materials, I have what I need in makeup, don’t wear jewellery as I tend to swell and de-swell during the day and get irritated around the neck. sugar is not an option. local supermarket is very limited with new tastes to try. I’ll figure something out - It’ll probably be in the middle of the night after a day of brainstorming and being stumped!

Projects: I’ve decided to part with 4 more: Myscene Westley Tshirt, Barbie fashionistas greek, Barbie Grace fashionistas, Barbie Mbili blue brocade fashionistas

Getting stuff out of the house has proven more difficult, very low traffic on ebay france so it’ll probably be heads only, tracked bubble envelopes worldwide via instagram then ebay dot com when I can get that organized.

Part of that is reluctance (and reluctance to deal with the nail-biting drama of postage) but I’ve been really quite wiped by pain and the extra exertion.

Entertainment: dolltube didn’t yield much so far, I like retrospectives but that doesn’t happen often. I need to venture more into the doll crafting that’s entertaining vs crafting that makes me sad I can’t do it if that makes sense? Think Bobby Finger’s incredible diorama story videos. Also looking into documentaries that aren’t downers like How Things Are Made and upcycling stuff.

Find EU rerooters: not done but I have closed my commissions page and wiped all the numbers.

Make friends: well I got myself in some drama but I am trying to resist the strong urges to go hermit-mode, still deleting posts before I press send but eventually we’ll get there. Trying to connect with more french doll collectors. Shoot I have two messages to french ladies about rerooting I need to reply to and chickened out.

Sort damaged or too baggy clothes: still too soon. I managed 1 pair of super pilled and worn trousers. I think i’ll have perspective on the jumpers as soon as it’s hot and they don’t look so cosy with memories of being soft and warm.

[skewbforty]

My fear of asking for help

Have you learned guitar? If not, what do you picture should you ever learn it? Is there a teacher involved? Well, most likely, the answer is yes. While some people do indeed self learn guitar, who in their right mind has the time for that? Learning every technique and chord through painful trial and error? No thanks.

It's almost a no brainer that you'll have a tutor to guide you through the world of guitar playing. But what if it's not something as ambitious as guitar playing? What if it's just something you like to do in your free time? Something that's meant to be fun first and foremost?

I'm talking about video games, and why I have a fear of looking up its solutions.

While there is a bit more debate on whether games fall under the same category as guitar playing, the general popular opinion is the same. I read this reddit post on how long you ought to wait until looking up something you're stuck on.

I should point out this was the top voted comment on that post with over 200 upvotes. It's quite clear there's no shame in being stumped in games.

So why DO I feel shame? Tbh I have no fucking clue. Only that it's destroying my relationship with videogames.

Let's face it. I suck ass at video games. I couldn't even pass the tutorial level in Yoshi Touch & Go. So why the hell should I hide it? What's so inherently immoral about being worse than about 100% of everyone else about something so niche? Am I really that dumb to automatically assume being decent at games makes me more likely to guarantee me a good life?

But at the same time. Never getting anywhere with anything I ever buy with my own money is kinda... Excruciating.

I guess the point I'm trying to make here is... Is there any way I can convince myself to not get agony at losing at everything, or are videogames just not for me? That's what I have to figure out now. Because as is, I am not having fun with anything I play. And I'm only strengthening my hatred of myself by playing whatever I play.

If it's not obvious, I need therapy.

[highlinetreecare]

Do-It-Yourself vs Professional Tree Removal: Which is Ideal for You?

With regards to tree removal in Warrnambool, numerous homeowners confront a difficult choice: Would it be a good idea for you to go all in and do it without anyone’s help or recruit an expert? The two options have their benefits and difficulties, and understanding them can assist you with pursuing an educated decision. Let’s plunge into the upsides and downsides of each methodology so you can figure out what’s best for your circumstances.

The Appeal of Do-It-Yourself Tree Removal

Handling tree removal all alone can tempt. Who doesn’t cherish a decent Do-It-Yourself project? Besides the fact that it offers a feeling of achievement, it can also set aside your cash. With the right instruments, a touch of exploration, and an eagerness to take care of business, you can deal with the undertaking.

It’s fundamental to consider the intricacies in question. Trees are not just weighty and cumbersome; they can likewise present critical dangers in the event that you don’t encounter them; the potential for mishaps increases emphatically. From falling branches to misinterpreting the tree’s course as it falls, the stakes can be high. Furthermore, assuming that the tree is near electrical cables or designs, the dangers duplicate.

Prior to leaving on a Do-It-Yourself project, ask yourself: Do I have the vital devices and information? Am I arranged for the gig’s actual requests? On the off chance that you regard yourself as delaying, it may be worth reevaluating. Moreover, consider nearby guidelines in regard to tree removal in Warrnambool; a few regions have explicit rules that could entangle your Do-It-Yourself plans.

The Advantages of Expert Tree Removal

Employing an expert tree removal administration in Gisborne can lighten a large number of the dangers related to Do-It-Yourself projects. Experts come furnished with the right apparatuses and aptitude, guaranteeing that you finish the task securely and productively. They know how to survey the tree’s condition and decide the best methodology for evacuation, limiting harm to encompassing property.

Besides, experts are prepared to deal with unanticipated difficulties. On the off chance that a tree is inclining dubiously or caught in electrical cables, they have the experience to explore these precarious circumstances. Likewise, many tree removal administrations offer stump crushing, which can save you the problem of managing an unattractive stump later on.

One more benefit of recruiting specialists is the potential for extra administrations. Many organizations offer tree well-being appraisals, pruning, and support, which can assist you with keeping up with the general soundness of your scene. This step means that by putting resources into proficient administrations, you could forestall future tree issues, making a more secure and all the more tastefully satisfying yard.

While recruiting experts accompanies an expense, think of it as an interest in wellbeing and genuine serenity. You’ll save time and stress, permitting you to zero in on other home improvement projects — or basically partaking in your end-of-the-week!

The Expense Component: Gauging Your Choices

While looking at Do-It-Yourself versus proficient removal, the cost is many times an unequivocal component. Do-It-Yourself removal can appear to be more financial plan cordial; however, the costs can add up rapidly. You’ll have to consider the expense of devices, well-being hardware, and possible doctor’s visit expenses, assuming something turns out badly. Also, assuming you harm the property or adjoining trees, fixes could blow up your costs.

On the other side, proficient administrations regularly give an unmistakable gauge prior to beginning work. While this could appear as a bigger, forthright venture, it can set aside your cash over the long haul by forestalling mishaps and guaranteeing the task is finished right at the initial time. Moreover, you may safeguard many tree evacuation organizations, intending that assuming something turns out badly during the removal, you save weighty expenses.

The Time Responsibility: Do-It-Yourself versus Recruiting Help

Consider how long you can practically commit to tree removal in Warrnambool. A Do-It-Yourself venture can take more time than you expect, particularly on the off chance that you’re shuffling different obligations. The cycle can include exploring best works, getting instruments, and genuinely eliminating the tree, all of which can turn into a tedious endeavour.

Conversely, proficient administrations can frequently get done with the task in a negligible portion of the time. They have groups that cooperate effectively, transforming an overwhelming errand into a fast, smoothed-out process. On the off chance that you have a packed timetable or you really like to keep away from the problem, re-appropriating the occupation might be the best course.

Settling on the Best Decision for Your Circumstance

Eventually, the choice between Do-It-Yourself and expert tree removal in Gisborne descends to your singular conditions. In the event that you have insight, the right devices, and a moderately direct tree to eliminate, going the Do-It-Yourself course may be a tomfoolery and compensating project. In the event that you’re managing a huge tree, have security concerns, or basically need to guarantee that you finish the task right, your smartest option is to employ an expert.

Remember to think about the possible effect on your yard’s environment. On the off chance that the tree removal could upset the neighbourhood’s untamed life or the general climate, experts might be better prepared to deal mindfully with these natural worries.

Anything you pick, consistently focus on well-being. Assuming that there’s any uncertainty about your capacity to deal with the evacuation, decide in favour of an alert. Tree removal in Warrnambool can be intricate; however, with conscious thought, you can pursue the ideal choice for your home and your inner serenity.

[the-firebird69]

There are a few things going on. around here, not very easy. to live here. There are a few people who are out of line all the time. They just seem to never go away. And we've had it with this. We are going on the offensive and the people doing it are going to pay. And these idiots are going to pay. And it's naturally annoying. That's right. 400 is in charge It's going to pay. You can't really do this to someone and expect to get your. check or something. It's ridiculous **** And there are people who are up front working. and everyone knows that people are bothering their **** out of them. And they're not going to be nice to them. But it's so hard and terrible to fight the max. They're gonna be looked at as heroes. And it's true.

- This place is a little weird. and there's a strange noise he says with a big wind. and I kind of thought we knew what that was. Now we do. And it's. about what? It's some wind but it looks like it's associated with a weird noise. and we have to take a look at that again. It's not true. We know what it is. It's a little weird. It thinks maybe something real. big on the highway or the 41. And they're moving a stump thing. But it's a breeze. It goes with it. They made some noise. He doesn't think it's the concrete plant that makes the noise. It makes a noise. and they blow it out. That might make some wins. That would make sense. That's what it is. And it goes air. and it just places it and it gets all the way over here. I heard the one night crushes. cursing people out because it didn't make any impact. And they kept saying we're watching and testing. and the check. They didn't look at it. It did not look like they were testing. So they did it. And I'm not doing anything. And people say this very rude. and this morning it floated out. It blown out several times. and a son is asking what the hell that is. as it's moving the air. It takes a lot to move that much air. and the defendant is aimed this way. It was built that way. It's just kind of rude. So they've blown it out. Is that concrete dust? And it doesn't really make it here. But then try and get it here. And people are saying it too. Well, that's a losers. So what people are doing? And last night or early this morning? they did send people down there. and they're checking. And so far they haven't found anything. but channels. tunnels. and they go down. very deep. and they're going down there. and they figured out they need to go further. and don't have the equipment. No, they went down there with Decent equipment period now. they are trying to get information. and it's not working. So they are sending more and they are doing it now. and apparently they're down there. and their access chasm. and usually they fight each other. But they are entering it at different locations. Periods.

This is a very big day. People are trying it in Brazil. and the Congo. and Russia. And then a few more places. in Russia. They think they can go down. in the lake. and 5 old tunnel opening. And a sun says you'll probably find an old tunnel. that has been sealed off. by nature. And they're amazed. because they didn't think it would be that way. But he says it's probably like. the Grand Canyon. of the water number stopped. and the salt. It's just that because the salt was dissolved. almost all the way. It's. then collapsed. The tunnels that were dissolving They were shedding water. Water to the cavern. So they did figure that out. And they're going to try and go down there. No, there's huge forces gathering. It's going to be an awesome day. And we know you didn't know that they were just sitting there. But we feel they had a pretty good idea.

There's another thought going around the. these Macs are pushing all these people onto like one person is not. true. They're pushing everybody against us And they said they're probably down there. laughing and chortling. And our son says the foreigners are argued there and they know how to get there where they are. And no, there's duck topside. If if she O'Neil Neil went down there. this people will be wiped out. and they know it. They need to get your **** in gear. So there theyre look at that and find out that it's probably true.. There's a couple other things

- There are big huge fights in the rings last night. It was about. 12 million. and in the Glades it was 5 million. Now the date is coming in still. but they're clearing out. And it was heavy losses. All of them actually died. And out of them. Leadership. of the Morlock. They were. at about 3.5. percent. and dropped. about 0.5% to 3%.. And it's a nightmare for them.. The Pseudo Empire. drops to about 4%. and the clones to 16%.. These are significant numbers. because leadership at this level. can only do so many things, but they still can. and they'll be listened to. and they are formulating orders. And they do it now.. Some of them are not so nice and we are following it.

.- The day is starting here. on the right foot. But these people here in the apartment on other side are on the wrong foot. We need them out. and Fronto. Like right now. So we're going to publish.

Thor Freya.

Olympus.

They've heated these ships up. and they're around me, sort of. Now they're far away, but this is their intentions to come here where I am. 80%.They are at. Heated up.. and. the pseudo empire brought their fleets to 30%. and they are instructing them to fire on them if they Twitch and they're also saying to move in their heavy and this guy's know about it. and they said if it's moving in, you have to move No, they didn't say anything. but they figured that they would try and have them hit the heavy and it didn't work in the Philips. We didn't get wiped out. Then they try and hit the death stars. of their overlord.

Hera

[freetwitchfollowers]

The Twitter Tweeting Twitching Thumb

The justification behind this crazy sarcastic sonnet I knew about Mr. Trump tweeting prior to during and after his Official mission.

I heard Mr. Trump on the stump say he wouldn't mislead the American people…. And afterward he lied. He lied about lying.

Mr. Trump said he would quit tweeting when he became President ….. And afterward he lied

ALSO VISIT:-The long walks

I contemplated this numerous months…. then when he tweeted that his pinnacle was wire tapped by his ancestor.

A man who can't get a sense of ownership with his words

Ought to leave tweeting to the birds

— Shyron Shenko

The Twitter Tweeting Jerking Thumb © by Shyron Shenko

The twitter tweeting jerking thumb

It is better on the twitter gadget

Than on the button of the atomic bomb

Be that as it may, it is a peril one way or the other

The Monster who lives in a pinnacle

Thinks everything is a round of force

As over the entire country he rules

Boasting about things he will change

Anything turns out badly he searches for others to fault

Look to Proceed the-most generously compensated hubbers-make-650-to-3-800-every month-gaining from-their-details section 2-ends The Most generously compensated Hubbers Make $650 to $3,800 each Month: Gaining from their Details - Section 2, Ends celebrating-1-every day-profit and-100-000-sees achievements The amount Cash Might I at any point Acquire From Composing on HubPages? the-study of-center preparation The study of center preparation, Section 1

At the point when he was recounted the bigger group

At his ancestor's debut ball

To the beast it was harsh as nerve

He started searching for ways of making his ancestor fall

His desirous streak won't leave him alone

He abhors anybody who's regarded more than he

Then, at that point, on one occasion the monstrosity heard

What a contemptuous old Appointed authority on False News needed to say

Figuring the monster didn't hear what he needed to convey

From his chambers the disdainful old Adjudicator twittered away

"Was Applicant Trump Kept an eye on?"

This left the Donald half frenzied

The Beast blamed his ancestor

Of Pernicious and horrendous goal

Of having him wire tapped

With the FBI's assent

The scornful old Appointed authority

Set off a fire tempest of tweets

By throwing the beast a couple of treats

Realizing he would succumb to anything tweeted

As the contemptuous old Adjudicator suggests While possibly not by and large states

That President Obama had Trump wire Tapped

As anything majority rule he despises

Also, particularly how President Obama Rates

As his Twitter Tweeting Jerking Thumb

Is starting to become numb

Allow us to trust he doesn't botch

The buttons on his twitter gadget for the button on the bomb

A man who can't get a sense of ownership with his words

Ought to leave tweeting to the birds

Be that as it may, perhaps assuming he tweets it's comparably well

He actually may wind up in a cushioned cell

President Trump's Tweet

Awful! Just figured out that Obama had me "wires tapped" in Trump Pinnacle not long before the triumph. Nothing found. This is McCarthyism!

— Donald J. Trump

© 2017 Shyron E Shenko

Remarks C E Clark from North Texas on September 23, 2020:

Surmise The Donald can't abandon his tweeting. I assume I heard that Biden guaranteed that on the off chance that chosen he wouldn't tweet. That may be a decent change.

Presenting this on FB and AH.

Sent you a birthday card . . . trust you had a great birthday and accomplished something uniquely amazing. Endowments, dear companion. Remain safe.

Shyron E Shenko (creator) from Texas on June 27, 2020:

Much thanks to you Abreast, you are spot on. Much thanks to you for the remarks and for being an old buddy.

Endowments generally.

C E Clark from North Texas on May 26, 2020:

Evidently one of the fundamental positions of the president (when he's not playing golf) is rage-tweeting.That's pretty much all he does. I comprehend they will begin truth actually taking a look at his tweets. Finally.

Trust you are well and remaining protected disregarding everything opening up and empowering a second flood of the infection. Endowments dear companion . . .

C E Clark from North Texas on May 14, 2020:

I've perused that Trump is one, if not You, most productive tweeters on the planet. He tweets many tweets day to day, and more on ends of the week. Most likely has calluses on his thumbs as well as fingers. Really awful he doesn't use his cerebrum as proficiently. Of course, perhaps we're fortunate he's fulfilled to sit tweeting and staring at the television most days . . .

Presenting this on AH and FB.

Trust you taking consideration and remaining protected, dear companion . . .

Advanced on YouTube from one of our news organizations (don't recall which one now), that Trump's tweet record is 181 of every one day. Would think he'd have calluses on his thumbs!

[firstumcschenectady]

“What is Good?" based on Psalm 92:1-5, 12-15 and Matthew 7:15-20

Two weeks ago I preached a sermon entitled “There is No Single Way to Follow Jesus” where I talked about diverse understandings of God and Jesus, multitudes of prayer practices, and not writing people out of the Body of Christ because we disagree with them. It seemed pretty important to me, especially as we baptized a teenager who might have been told along the way that there is one right way to follow Jesus. Others told me that, and I was grateful my church gave me space to disagree.

Afterwards, one of the wise ones around here recommended that I preach a follow up sermon that continued to make space for the multitude of ways to follow Jesus, but helped us all see that is different from saying “everything goes.” I have taken that to be an invitation to talk about “discernment” which is the fancy word for “figuring out what God would have us do.” Or, as apple dictionary puts it (exceptionally well, wow!) “perception in the absence of judgment with a view to obtaining spiritual guidance and understanding.”1

So today we're talking about discernment, following the warnings of Matthew 7 to beware of false prophets and pay attention to whether or not love is the outcome of teachings, decisions, and leadership. That means we are also talking about how we live our faith values, and how we making decisions while listening to God. But, as an entrance into this conversation I need to tell you about what I am now thinking about as “The Great Toilet Brush Dilemma of 2023.”

Several articles I've come across recently have stated that toilet brushes should be replaced every few months, which is faster than I had thought, and I decided perhaps it should be taken seriously (as it didn't appear to be put out by the toilet brush industry.) However, the toilet brushes I have are made of plastic, and I try to minimize my use of plastic (with limited success), so I searched the internet for “eco toilet brush” and found there were a number of options. However, most of them seemed excessively expensive, which violated that old Wesleyan principle of “earn all you can, save all you can, give all you can” so I ignored those. One seemed reasonably priced and came with decent reviews, but a further look found that the brush didn't work with chemicals (maybe OK), was hard to get dry (hmmm), and tended to mold (no!). So then I went back and looked at the suggested brushes from my preferred guide to such things and they offered two ideas, both made of plastic, but with REUSABLE brush heads. Which is better than non-reusable brush heads, right? But THEN I looked to make sure I could get the brush heads and I discovered one could, but then one had to decide between getting one brush at a time at nearly the price of the whole thing or getting 4 at a time for a much better rate, that even claimed to be “eco” and CLAIMED to be biodegradable but the number of asterisks around that led to that claim being less than believable, at which point I was needed to do something else and I made absolutely no decision. It is now nearly a week later and every time I think about finishing this decision I throw my hands up in the air and move on to something else while muttering to myself that this is a really trivial thing not worthy of so much of my attention.

Which is to say that in an attempt to balance some values I hold: care for creation (limit plastics!), financial responsibility (spend wisely!), and basic cleanliness (limit bathroom bacteria growth) – I got stumped. And I needed to tell you that so I could enter into this conversation about discernment with the appropriate levels of humility and no one would think I was offering expert opinions.

It really is true that not everything goes. There are better and worse decisions that can be made, sometimes even good versus evil. But those are the EASY choices. Choose good! The harder ones are where it is more difficult to see which is which, and while we are always going to struggle with those, God is here to help us, and to forgive us when we get it wrong. We're talking about how to make those harder decisions today.

In this church we were given the gift of the phrase “optimize prime values” by a now departed member, Lee Tupper. Lee wrote, “there is a set of higher values (henceforth referred to as prime values in this discussion) that serve as the ultimate standard by which the relative 'goodness' of the consequences of human activities is to be judged. This relative 'goodness' is a measure of the degree to which the evolving human system tends towards a consistency with the relational type of God assumed. It is reasonably obvious that none of these concepts can be expected to be known or understood with real precision. It is also likely that we will not ever know whether the prime values are absolute and our knowledge of them is evolving, or the values themselves are evolving.”

However, other than suggesting “love” and “justice” as likely candidates, Lee didn't tell us what the prime values ARE. As a church we've spent some time discussing it, and at the moment we lean towards naming that we think love, justice, compassion, inclusion and humility are prime values (although we have made no claim that this is a complete list).

So, if you are looking to figure out where God may be leading you in a decision, and you are needing some structure to use in thinking about things, considering love, justice, compassion, inclusion and humility might be of use. They at least put boundaries around what is important. That said, it doesn't answer the Great Toilet Brush Dilemma of 2023, other than maybe affirming that the concerns I have are valid, which actually is a great help.

Within Methodist circles, one of the better known means of making decisions is to look at John Wesley's three simple rules: 1. Do no harm, 2. Do all the good you can, 3. Stay in love with God.2 I have taught courses on Bishop Reuben Job's short book on these rules, they're quite lovely. However, my strongest memory of teaching it was the wise lay person who said, “These rules are great, but when I attempt to apply them to anything, I get no more clarity than when I started.” I had no counter. The rules are good, and sometimes they help, but sometimes they don't.

The truth is that discernment is HARD WORK, and more of an art than a science. Most decisions are really complicated, and if they were simple they wouldn't be the ones we were struggling with. There is very, very little in the world that is pure good or pure evil, and all decisions involve balancing various values while working with limited data. (Perhaps why the Tupper family motto is “We need more data!”)

I have two means of discernment that tend to work well for me, ones that help me get past the clutter of data and competing values. One I've mentioned a few times: the spiritual practice of daily examen. Truthfully, this is the BEST method I know for making big life decisions, and often small ones too. It combines spiritually and data in a way that brings me deep joy. The process is this: every day, take some time to ask for God's help in reviewing the day and then ask two questions. One question should be along the lines of “what was the best part of my day?” or “where was I most connected to love today?” (I think those are two versions of the same question, you may not.) The second question should be along the lines of “what was the worst part of my day?” or “where was I most disconnected from love today?” After reviewing it all, thank God for the day as a whole – the good the bad and the stuff in the middle. Then, write down the answers. If you have a spiritual partner, it can be great to also share these answers every day. Over time, patterns will emerge in your answers. You will be able to see what is bringing life and what is draining life from you, and hopefully to adapt your life towards what brings life, and away from what drains life. When it comes to decisions about jobs, relationships, housing, or even faith communities, this sort of careful attention to where God's life-giving energy emerges in you is amazing for guiding decision making.

The second method is one I learned from another church member. I would NOT recommend it for major life decisions, but it may in fact work for me when it comes to the Great Toilet Brush Dilemma of 2023. This one, like the last, involves trusting that God is with me, and that I thus have the wisdom I need to make the best possible decisions. In this case it involves trusting bodily wisdom. It goes like this: Sit on the edge of a stool or a hard chair. Set up two options in different places in front of you (say, to the right and to the left), close your eyes, and then notice if your body sways towards one or the other. That is, your subconscious will guide you to the decision you likely already made but hadn't noticed yet, and the decision you already made is one that God helped you with.

Ok, there you have it: four methods to help with discernment, which is far fewer than I know, but maybe more than you needed. There is one last thing to say about this: we're going to get things wrong, a lot. And that's OK. God works with us where we are, and I think God works to multiply the good in the world, so whatever goodness we end up helping with ends up being far bigger than we might imagine. However, despite it all, I still have no clarity on toilet brushes. Alas. Amen

1Definition 2, accessed March 2, 2023.

2Particular phrasing adapted from Reuben Job. (He says 1 and 3 that way, but makes 2. “do good”).

Rev. Sara E. Baron  First United Methodist Church of Schenectady  603 State St. Schenectady, NY 12305  Pronouns: she/her/hers  http://fumcschenectady.org/  https://www.facebook.com/FUMCSchenectady

March 5, 2023

[aurriearts]

2a brenki!!! and/or 2c ry!!!!

DIDN’T CRASH THE SHIP :D

[kkyaka]

Through Thick And Thin

Summary: Being stuck in your apartment together reveals some painful truths for Connie

Pairing: Connie Springer x black!fem!reader

Warnings: mentions of quarantine and lockdown but no mention of a sickness or anything like that, lots of angst in the beginning, a bit of miscommunication, decent amount of panicking on Connie’s side, mentions of food, working through relationship problems, reader is insecure at one point, some body worship, lots of communication, a lot of fluff, swearing, work-related stress for both parties, smut: unprotected sex, fingering (f), oral (f+m), mirror sex (sort of), groping, lots of making out and kissing, hair pulling on Connie’s part, tittyfucking (so reader has tits big enough for that), reader is picked up twice, little bit of suggestiveness, I think I covered it, if I missed anything let me know

Word Count: 17,461 (*sighs*)

A/N: *eye twitches* I’ve been working on this for like a month? I think 💀. I’m glad that I’m done with it, and I didn’t think it was gonna be this long, but I’ve been having really bad Connie brainrot for some reason lmao. Anyways, hope you enjoy and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

Having to be on lockdown is what it takes for Connie to realize the state of his relationship with you. No one’s really sure how long the quarantine is supposed to be, but Connie’s not incredibly bummed by it. He’s already been to the store to stock up on a few things that the apartment needed, and when he gets home, he notices that you aren’t there. He doesn’t think much of it, figuring that you’re still at work, so he busies himself with putting away the stuff that he got.

It’s a couple of hours later when he hears the door open, and he walks into the living room to greet you. You close the door with a heavy sigh, bags in your hand, and you jump when your eyes land on Connie, sending yourself back into the door. “Oh, my God. You scared me,” you breathe. “I thought you would be at work,” you say, making no move to hug him or anything as you walk towards the kitchen.

Connie finds it a bit odd, but he brushes it off, thinking that you’d want to set the bags down first. “Well, they sent us home early, y’know? Cause of the lockdown,” he answers, and he notices that you seem a lot more stressed? Or maybe upset? He can’t really tell, but seeing how you let your head fall forward lets him know that there’s something wrong.

“Right.” Your voice is tight, and he assumes that you’re upset about it, so he tries to lighten the mood. Especially because ever since you walked in, he noticed that it’s taken almost a suffocating turn.

“Hey, I mean, that just means we get to spend more time together,” he tries, and you finally turn around to look at him in the eyes, but you’re not smiling. In fact, you don’t even look happy about it. You don’t respond, only shaking your head as you scoff, and when you try to walk away, Connie’s quick to stop you. “Hey, hey, hold on. Is something wrong?”

“I don’t wanna talk about this right now, Connie. I’m tired.” That’s all you give him, and he lets you walk away. He watches you disappear down the hall, hearing the bathroom door close soon after, and he leans against the island in the kitchen truly stumped. He doesn’t know what else could be wrong, standing there for a while as he racks his brain trying to figure it out. The best thing he could come up with is that maybe you had a bad day at work or something.

But then he realizes that it’s Saturday, and you don’t work on Saturdays. He thinks that it’s possible you could’ve had a bad encounter with someone while you were out, but the first thing you always do is tell him about it when he gets home. And then he realizes again that he can’t even remember the last time he’s sat down and talked with you. A whole bunch of nerves and feelings bubble up in his chest, but he tries to remain optimistic. He’ll just give you your space, and then reach out to you a bit later.

~

Connie checks the clock on the wall to see that it’s been roughly three hours since you’ve gotten home, and he hasn’t seen you since you walked away from him. He got distracted while waiting, deciding to watch TV to try and pass the time, but now the sun is going down, and he still doesn’t know what’s going on with you. He’s starting to get hungry, so he figures he could try and break the ice by asking you if you’re hungry too. He sighs heavily when he stands, wondering if he should brace himself for what this conversation could turn into.

It doesn’t help that he’s never seen you act this way, and to say the least, it’s definitely alarming. When he walks toward your shared room, he sees that the door is closed, but the bathroom door is open, and he wonders how he missed you going into your room. He softly knocks on the door before pushing it open, and his eyes land on you laying down on the bed, your back facing the door.

He can’t tell if you’re asleep, so he keeps his steps light, walking over to your side of the bed. Your eyes are open, but you don’t look at Connie, and now he’s definitely worried. He crouches down so that his face is level with yours, and he can’t help but feel a pang at his heart when he sees the look in your eyes. It’s like there’s nothing there; your eyes are usually full of emotion, but right now, they’re devoid of it.

“Hey,” he says quietly. “I was starting to get hungry, so I wanted to ask if you were too.”

“I can eat.” There isn’t even emotion in your voice, no tremor, no nothing. You almost sound like a robot, and it makes Connie frown.

“Are you okay?” he asks, and you look away from him, taking a while to figure out how you want to answer that question. “I wanted to give you space, but I wasn’t sure—”

“Space is your favorite thing in the world, huh?” you accuse suddenly, and you sit up quickly which makes Connie move back a little. “You still haven't figured it out yet?”

Connie keeps his eyes on you as confusion consumes his thoughts. “Did you have a bad day? Or—”

You scoff distastefully before standing. “Forget it, Connie.” When you walk out of the room, he follows, keeping up with you before grabbing your arm softly. You let him turn you around, and he rests his hands on your arms, but you don’t look at him.

“I honestly thought space would help,” he tries. “I just didn’t want to make you feel pressured to tell me what was wrong.” When you do finally look at him, he can see tears brimming in your eyes, and his face changes as he looks at you. “I’m sorry, okay? Can you talk to me?” He leans down to kiss your forehead, but his eyes widen when you back away out of his reach.

You shake his hands off of you, and your reaction gives you enough time to get away from him because Connie stands in the hallway frozen. He’s at a total loss, and he has no idea how to approach the situation. He can hear you in the kitchen, moving things around, but he can slowly feel things falling apart as the image of you backing away from him replays in his head.

He’s about to turn around when he spots the guest bedroom door wide open. His frown deepens as he walks to the door, and when he walks into the room, he’s stopped by a box. He looks around the room, seeing that these are the boxes you both used when you first moved in with each other. But the difference is that they’re filled and labeled. Connie sighs as he runs his hands over his head, getting a horrible feeling in his chest. In the moment of shock, the only emotion he’s able to register is anger. He storms down the hall, and into the kitchen where you’re looking around in the fridge.

“You’re really gonna leave without an explanation?” He watches you freeze before you stand fully, closing the door to the fridge, but as you turn around, he doesn’t give you a chance to answer. “How long were you planning on leaving, huh? Is there someone else? Because that’s—”

“I thought that’s what you wanted!” you scream, and all of Connie’s bravado goes out the window. You hold back your tears as you look away, taking a deep breath. “Please don’t tell me that you haven’t seen what’s happened to us.” Your voice lowers as you speak, and you can’t even bring yourself to look at him.

“W–What are you talking about?” he asks, taking a hesitant step forward, and you’re glad that the island is between the two of you; although, you don’t really like how it reflects what you’ve become.

“Connie, this is the first conversation we’ve had in weeks,” you say. “I can’t even remember the last time we slept in the same bed or the last time we had dinner together. I can’t remember the last time we talked on the phone when one of us was away.” You’ve started talking, and you don’t think that you can stop until it’s all out. “You’ve been working late, crashing on the couch, and repeating that process for so long, I just—” Your breath catches in your throat, and you can’t stop the tears from falling. “I assumed that you didn’t want me anymore, and that was your way of telling me that you were bored of me.”

“Baby, you know that’s not true,” Connie whispers, holding out one of his hands.

“How in the fuck was I supposed to know that?!” Connie jumps at your exclamation, feeling so much guilt swallowing him whole. “You’ve been finding every excuse to blow me off, whether that’s work, hanging out with your friends, or you’re tired.” You wipe your face quickly when more tears fall. “Do you know how shitty I’ve been feeling?”

You let out a broken sob, throwing the bag of chips you had in your hand on the counter before walking away. “I can’t do this right now,” you say, and it’s like deja vu as Connie once again watches you disappear down the hallway, but this time he hears the bedroom door close. Connie stands there looking at the chips for who knows how long before it sinks in. He staggers to the couch, and he slowly sits down, putting his thumbs under his chin as his fingers rest against his nose.

Connie didn’t know what he was expecting, but that interaction was not it at all. The whole thing replays in his head, and he wonders how so much happened in so little time, and how in the world he let it happen. He was frozen the entire time you were talking. He’s never seen you that hurt before, and it was his fault that you were feeling that way.

Why wasn’t he aware of any of this? Why didn’t he ever stop and think about what he was doing? He started picking up more shifts at work to ease your burden since you were complaining about how stressful work was. You reassured him that he didn’t have to, but he loved his job, so he didn’t have a problem with it; he just didn’t know that he had gotten carried away. The extra shifts were killing him more than he let on, which is why he was almost always getting something to eat on the way home and crashing on the couch so that he doesn’t wake you.

This whole time, he thought he was being good for you.

Tears prick at his eyes as he lays down, letting the silence heighten his hurricane of thoughts. He doesn’t even know if there’s anything he can say to you because it looks like your mind is already made up. And it’s not like he would blame you, wondering if he even deserves a chance to try to fix this. He’ll obviously let you decide, but that doesn’t mean that waiting to hear what you say about that is going to be a smooth ride.

He sees his phone on the coffee table, and he grabs it, squinting when the light hits his eyes. It’s well past dark now, and he doesn’t have it in him to turn on any lights. The first thing he does is look through his messages, seeing that it’s been about a month since he’s texted you, and it’s been even longer since he’s called you. He curses loudly as he locks his phone, fighting the urge to throw it across the room. Instead, he sets it back down before rolling over on his side.

Connie’s eyes burn when he blinks, sitting up to see that the sun is coming up. Of course, he didn’t get any sleep; the anxiety that you could be gone when he woke up kept him up all night. This might seem a little selfish, but he wants to at least get a word in before you leave him for good. He’s uneasy as he walks through the apartment to go to the bathroom, not even sparing the bedroom door a glance. He can see that his eyes are bloodshot in the mirror, and he quickly looks away from his reflection.

He doesn’t know if that was a good idea because his eyes land on a sticky note on the mirror. He feels his heart break, even more, when he realizes that it’s something he put on there when you were going through a hard time at work. It was that period of time that he decided to pick up more shifts, and for some reason, the fact that it’s still there gives him hope, in a way. After he’s done in the bathroom, he moves back into the living room and finds home on the couch again.

To be honest, he doesn’t know how to approach this. The last time he came to you, it resulted in a fight, but he’s worried that if he doesn’t go to you first, he’ll miss his opportunity. The fatigue hits him when he sits down, so he relaxes against the couch, letting his head fall back. His eyelids are so heavy, and he fights sleep for a while before he finally gives in, but just as his eyes close, he hears a door open. He lifts his head up quickly, looking over his shoulder to see you coming into the room.

He doesn’t know what to say, opting to just watch you, the air in the room feeling awkward. “I didn’t wake you, did I?” you ask, your voice sounds rough like you’ve been crying, and all Connie wants to do is pull you into his arms. Your eyes are just as red as his but puffy, and he exhales as he shakes his head.

“No, of course not. I couldn’t really sleep that much anyway.” You play with your fingers, looking down at them before you look at him again, this time gesturing towards the couch.

“You mind?” He instantly shakes his head, moving over to the other side of the couch to give you space as you sit. “Connie, I know I didn’t let you get a word in last night, but before you do, I just wanna say that I’m sorry.”

Connie looks at you like you’ve grown two heads. “Why are you apologizing? This is all my fault.” You shake your head gently, getting ready to argue, but he stops you softly. “I’m sorry, okay? I thought that I was being a good boyfriend when it turns out that I was being the worst person on Earth.” That seems to be enough to placate you for now because you don’t say anything, and Connie takes that as a sign to keep going.

“I was just trying to help you out since you were stressed at work,” he starts, “but in the process, I ended up biting off more than I could chew, and you were affected by that.” He wants to reach for you and touch you, but the image of you pulling away from him stops him. “I’m sorry that I didn’t see how you were feeling, and I’m sorry that I made you feel like you weren’t wanted. I can assure you right now that that is not in no way true. Like at all.”

He feels a weight fall off his shoulders when you give him a small smile, and silence falls on the two of you again, but he doesn’t really know what to say. He doesn’t think he’s really done some “convincing” but he’s also having a hard time trying to put into words what he wants to say.

“So, you want to try and fix this?” you ask, looking down at where your hand and his hand are next to each other, but separated by the small gap in the cushions.

“More than anything in the world,” he answers immediately, and he meets your gaze when you look up at him. “If you decide that it’s not worth it, then I totally respect your decision.”

You chew on your lip as you divert your gaze once again. You’re scared. Mostly because you’re thinking ahead, wondering if this would be worth it once the lockdown is lifted, but you shake it off, focusing on what you do know, which is the present. You solidify your answer by slowly moving your hand forward so that your fingers touch. Connie looks down, a smile forming on his face before he looks at you again.

“So, what do you wanna do first?” he asks.

“Eat or sleep, whichever one comes first,” you answer, making the both of you laugh quietly.

“Well, whatever you want to eat, I’ll make it,” he declares, standing up, and you huff softly before you tell him what you want. You decide that it’ll be better to eat before you fall asleep because you do not want to wake up hungry. You relax onto the couch, turning on the TV to try and pass the time as the noises Connie’s making in the kitchen fill your ears.

You know that this can’t be fixed overnight, and you know that there’s still a lot for the both of you to talk about, but it does feel amazing that you’ve both gotten this far at least. You eventually change the track of your thoughts because you’re starting to slightly spiral the more you think about the situation, and luckily Connie walks in with a plate.

You thank him as you take it, and he sits next to you, keeping that distance between you, but it doesn’t feel as forced. You both eat in silence, finding a random TV show to watch, and you can feel how the tension in the room is starting to ease up. It’s not necessarily gone on your part, but it doesn’t feel like it’s suffocating you.

Connie takes your plates after you finish eating, and you pull your legs up onto the couch, resting your head on the armrest. You don’t remember when you dozed off, but the feeling of something landing on you has your eyes opening. You open them in time to see Connie draping a blanket over you, but he doesn’t realize that you’re awake, focused on making sure that every part of you is covered.

You try to tell him that he can take the bed since you were in it last night, but your eyes fall closed, and the fatigue only allows you to emit a low hum instead of words. You hear him chuckle, feeling the couch on the other side dip when Connie sits down. “Sleep tight, baby,” is the last thing you hear as you let the sleep take over.

It’s been about a week, and you and Connie are still sort of tiptoeing around each other. Connie doesn’t want to push anything, and he knows that this will take longer than a couple of weeks, but he misses holding you. Every time he thinks about it for too long, his hands get all twitchy, and if he’s being honest, he’s scared to try and initiate anything like that. He still thinks about that moment when you pulled away from him, when he didn’t understand how bad things were, and it eats at him.

Now that he’s stuck at home, he thinks of ways that he could try and make it up to you. You’ve given him a second chance, and there’s no way in hell he’s going to mess it up. Although, sleeping on the couch really isn’t doing well for his back. You offered that you could sleep on the couch, but Connie was pretty vehement about letting you keep the bed. At least it’s better than sleeping on the floor.

You won’t lie and say that this week has been a substantial improvement, but it doesn’t feel like anything’s really changing. You’re sitting in the guest bedroom, looking around at the boxes you packed up. It took you a while to even bring yourself to do this. Obviously, it’s not everything you own, but it’s most of it. You were going to take them out when you got a day off work, but then your plans were changed. It’s not like you wanted to leave, but you felt like that’s what Connie wanted.

You sigh heavily as you mentally struggle to open the box, having your hand on one of the flaps, but not pulling it open. You’re scared of what it could mean if you do open it, anxious that doing so would cause another rift between you two. You’re not sure Connie would let that happen, and you don’t want that to happen, but with the way things are going, it might be the outcome.

You can hear Connie coming down the hall, but you don’t look up from where you’re staring at the box. You can hear his footsteps slow as he gets closer to the doorway. “I’m not leaving, don’t worry,” you say as soon as he gets there, pushing down any doubts he might’ve had.

He doesn’t say anything, taking a few steps forward. “Are you…gonna unpack these?” he asks carefully, and you shrug, looking at him.

“I’m kinda scared to, honestly,” you admit. “I’m just worried that I’ll jinx us or something,” you say with a pitiful laugh. “I’m not saying I want that to happen, it’s just—” You stop, shrugging again at the loss of words. “Something I was thinking about.”

“I’m not gonna let that happen,” he says. “I mean, I know there’s not a lot that I can do since we’re stuck here, but I’m going to do everything I can—”

“That’s just it, Connie,” you interrupt, and he frowns. “Don’t get me wrong, this past week has been amazing considering what we used to be, but I don’t think we can go back to being healthy if you spend every waking moment trying to make it up to me.” You sigh, resting your elbow on the box, and pressing your forehead into your hand.

You can see him sit down in front of you, still keeping that short distance. “Okay, but isn’t this whole situation my fault? Or I was at least the cause of all of this—”

“Connie, this relationship is a two-way street,” you say, meeting his eyes again. “I could’ve said something to you a long time ago when I felt we were drifting apart, but I didn’t. Maybe if I had, it wouldn’t have gotten this bad.” You know he’s going to try to argue the same thing, so you stop him before he can. “I shouldn’t have let you take those extra shifts because of me. I think that’s what really started all of this.”

“But we love each other, right? So, we make sacrifices for each other.”

“It’s not a sacrifice when it’s killing us both,” you counter, giving Connie a small smile, and his shoulders drop. You reach for his hand, and he lightly holds your fingers. “I’m sorry I made you feel like you had to sacrifice so much just to make me happy. I can see now that you didn’t have to do that, but I wasn’t in the right headspace to say no.”

He slides his hand into yours, and you give it a small squeeze. “Do you think you can forgive me?” you ask, and he tilts his head to the side.

“Of course, I can. Do you think you can forgive me?” He glances to the side before you answer. “I know you probably won’t overnight. I did a lot more damage to you than you did to me.” You squeeze his hand this time.

“Of course, I can.” You give him a reassuring smile. “If you promise to lay off of the gestures for now,” you add, the fact that they were all adding up over the week was making you feel overwhelmed.

Connie chuckles but nods anyway. “Yeah, I can do that.”

After a month of being stuck in your apartment, you’re sure that you’re going to die of boredom. The news said that it was only going to be a couple of weeks, but every time you watch it, there’s another week being added on. But it’s not like you hate that you’re stuck at home; you and Connie have come really far over time, and it almost feels like when you both first started dating.

You’ve been trying to find things to do while you have nowhere to go, and Connie’s been trying his hardest to keep you both entertained. You both are sitting in the living room, Connie finding a deck of playing cards in his car. Maybe it’s because you’re just that bored, but it’s been keeping the both of you entertained for a couple of hours now.

“You remember when we first met?” Connie asks out of the blue, shuffling the cards.

“Of course, I do,” you laugh. “I was playing cards, and you said that if you lose, I give you my number, and if you win, I give you my number.” You can’t help but laugh again as you think back to that moment, being in a college and being dragged to a party by your friends. You weren’t really feeling it, finding an empty room with some cards, and that’s when you met Connie.

“It was such a lame thing to say,” he says, cringing a little.

“But it worked,” you respond fondly, and he sets the cards down, an equally fond look in his eyes.

“Yeah, it did,” he whispers, and he seems to zone out, but he quickly refocuses, clearing his throat. “Do you mind?” he asks, pointing next to you, and you shake your head, scooting over a bit. You’re confused at his actions, watching him as he moves to sit next to you.

“Are you okay?”

“Can I hold you?” The question comes nearly right after you ask the question, and it takes you back a bit. He’s not looking at you, and you can’t remember the last time he was nervous to ask you something like this. Matter of fact, he usually doesn’t ask; he usually just does it.

Your voice is soft when you give him the okay, inching a little bit closer to him, and you let him move you into his lap. His arms make their way around you as his face falls into your neck. His grip is tighter than you expected but not uncomfortable, and he takes a deep breath. One of your hands rests on the back of his head while the other rubs at his back.

“Is everything okay?” you whisper, and you can feel him nod against you.

“Yeah,” he answers. “I just missed this.” You relax against him, resting your cheek on his head, and you hear him sigh heavily again. You missed this too, of course, you did. You learned pretty early on that physical touch was Connie’s love language, and you hadn’t realized how much you’d been craving it until now.

“Me too,” you murmur after a while, and you both sit there in silence holding each other. You don’t know how much time has passed, but you frown when you hear Connie sniffle. You try to move so that you can look at him, but he holds onto you tighter keeping you still. You continue to move your hands over him softly, but he keeps sniffling, so your concern is only fueled.

You finally manage to pull away, and you can see the tears that are in his eyes. You grab his face gently, angling his head up so that he can look at you. “What’s wrong?” You run your thumbs over his face, and his hands come up to rest on your wrists.

He hesitates for a second, huffing softly before he shakes his head. “Sorry,” he says. “I think I’m just overwhelmed.”

“Because of this?” you ask honestly, a small chuckle coming from you.

“Yeah.” You raise your eyebrows at his answer. “I was so fucking scared when you told me how you were feeling. It was like I was watching things fall apart around me, and I thought I couldn’t do anything about it.” He sighs as he lets his head fall down for a split second before lifting it back up. “I just realized how long it’s been since I’ve gotten to do this, and I almost lost the chance to do this for the rest of my life.”

He sniffles again, shaking his head. “I’m just glad that we’re fixing things because I don’t know what I’d do without you.” You smile widely, biting your lip gently to try and stop the tears from falling.

You don’t say anything, pulling him back into you, and you feel him softly kiss the junction between your shoulder and neck. “Me too, Connie. Me too.” You run your hand over his head, and you notice that some of his hair is in between your fingers. “You’re growing your hair out,” you comment, moving back to look at him.

“I just haven’t felt like cutting it,” he responds, and you roll your eyes. When you meet his eyes again, he’s looking at you like he wants to ask you something, so you look at him expectantly. “I wanna kiss you.” You suddenly find yourself nervous at his declaration, shying away from him slightly.

“You can do that if you want to.” He looks at you like he’s surprised to hear that, and you can see a little bit of uncertainty in his eyes, but before you can question it, he’s cupping your face in his hands. You can feel your heart racing a little, feeling like you’re at the beginning of your relationship again. Your mouth parts just slightly as he starts to lean in, but to your surprise, he tilts your head forward, feeling his lips on your forehead.

He rests his forehead against yours with his eyes closed. “The last time I tried to do that, you pulled away,” he says. “I’m glad you didn’t this time.” He sounds almost relieved, his body slumping a little once he finishes saying that, and you remember what he’s talking about. You know he doesn’t blame you considering the circumstances, but it was mostly a reflex at the time because the gesture didn’t feel right coming from him at the time.

You move to kiss him on the forehead, watching his eyes open and widen. “I love you, Connie.” A loving smile appears on his face, and he goes back to holding you tight like he was before.

“I love you, too,” he echoes, resting his face in your neck again. “I love you so much. Thank you for giving me a chance,” he whispers. “I know I keep saying it, but I’m just so grateful.”

“Thank you for giving me a chance too,” you say softly. “Even though I was horrible to you, you never stopped trying to figure out what was wrong.”

He hums, pulling away again so he can look at you again. “Well, you had your reasons,” he says lightly, and you huff a little before you look behind him, giving yourself some time before you say what you want to ask him.

“Do you wanna turn in early for the night?” you ask nervously, knowing your question is pretty loaded, and you meet his eyes, which have a wavering but hopeful look.

“Are you sure?”

You nod quickly. “I’m sure. And the couch is really uncomfortable,” you add, making the both of you laugh as Connie agrees. You stand first so that he can, and he holds your hand as you both walk to your room. It still feels a little bit awkward, at least for you, because it’s been so long since you’ve shared a bed. Sometimes you would let Connie take the bed while you slept on the couch, but neither of you has slept together.

You crawl in first, moving over to your side of the bed as Connie slides into his. You get comfortable, wondering if Connie feels just as awkward as you do. You lay down on your back, staring at the ceiling, and you hear Connie sigh, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. He doesn’t make a move to touch you or anything, and the longer you lay there, the more you realize that you miss him holding you.

You know he’s not doing so right now for your sake, so you roll over onto your side, facing him before you start to shift over. He looks at you, but instead of saying anything, you just lay your head down on his chest. “Is this okay?” you whisper, and you feel him move his arm so that he can rest it around you.

“Yeah,” he answers. “Is this okay?” It’s his turn to ask, and you nod as Connie pulls the blanket higher up your body.

“Yeah. It is.” His other hand is resting by your head, so you grab it, interlacing your fingers with his before you kiss his palm softly. “Goodnight, Connie.”

He pulls your hand up out of view, and a short second later, you feel his lips on your hand. “Goodnight, baby.”

It seems like after sleeping in the bed together, you’ve had more energy. You were feeling pretty lethargic as the days went on especially since you couldn’t find anything to do around the house. You don’t know if it’s because you’re piecing your relationship back together or just because of Connie, but there are no complaints from you. Your boss has been trying to move your work online, and the last thing you need is for you to be tired all day.

You still have about two weeks before you’re going to be staring at a computer screen for a while, but you are in no rush to start that. You’re walking into your room after coming from the bathroom, and you see Connie sitting on the bed.

“Why was the mirror covered?” he asks, pointing over his shoulder, and you stop walking, looking past him to see the full-length mirror uncovered. You panic slightly, curling into yourself a little bit as you rub your arm.

Connie frowns when he sees your demeanor change, and he stands, making his way over to you. You look away from him as he comes closer, flinching a little when he touches your arms. He’s quick to pull away, but you grab his hands.

“Sorry,” you say. “I’m okay with you touching me, it’s just…um…” You trail off, feeling embarrassed that you have to explain yourself, and you could’ve avoided this if you had just taken the sheet off, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. “It’s just been hard to look at myself lately, I guess,” you admit quietly, and Connie’s hands were rubbing over your skin, but they stop at your words. “Like I said before, I thought you were bored of me, so…”

You bite the inside of your lip, feeling like you might start crying, and Connie pulls you into a hug. You release a shaky breath as you relax into his arms, and you feel him rest his chin on your head. “Shit, sweetheart, I’m sorry,” he says. “Fuck, I’m so sorry,” he adds, his voice a little bit lower, and it sounds like he’s almost mad at himself.

“It’s okay, Connie,” you try, but he’s quick to cut you off.

“No, it’s not,” he says, his voice hard, and you feel like you’re about to erase all of the work that you both have put in. Your lip quivers as a few tears fall, and Connie pulls away from you just in time to see them fall. He wipes your tears, effectively preventing you from looking away from him. “Would you feel better if you punched me?” he whispers, and the question takes you by surprise so a laugh bursts out of your chest.

You wipe your face as you shake your head. “I don’t need to punch you, Connie,” you say, sniffling heavily. “I’m just in my head.”

But it’s his fault you’re in your head. He doesn’t say it out loud, but he knows the look he gives you tells you exactly what he’s thinking. “I would feel better if you punched me,” he presses softly, and you laugh again as you rub your thumb over his cheek. He smiles as you laugh, but he drops it shortly after, turning a bit serious as he grabs your hands. “But, on a serious note? Have you been okay with me touching you?”

You’re a bit surprised at the question, but you nod quickly. “Yeah, of course,” you answer instantly, hoping that you’ve stopped some of his worries. “It hasn’t really crossed my mind lately, but I guess I just get uncomfortable if you look at me too long,” you admit. He just stares at you, and you feel a pang in your chest when you see the pain in his eyes. “Connie, don’t beat yourself up, please,” you try, but you’ve known him long enough that it’ll be a while before he stops kicking himself.

He glances behind you before giving your hands a squeeze when he meets your eyes again. “Can I try something?” he asks, and he starts walking backward towards the bed before you can answer, taking you with him.

“Uh, sure,” you answer, a frown on your face. He steps to the side when you get to the bed, and he gently pushes you to sit down. You’re stunned to silence by your confusion as you watch him walk out of your room. You move further up the bed, setting your pillows against the headboard and leaning back on them. You can hear him shutting drawers in the kitchen, and he comes back into the room with a lighter and two candles in his hands.

He sets one on your nightstand and his before lighting them both. He sets the lighter down, and you watch him close the door, and then turn the lights off. You can only see his dark silhouette as he walks back to you. “What are you doing?” you finally ask, letting him pull you down so that you’re laying down on your back. He sets one leg over you, and when he leans down over you, the only thing you can make out is the small light reflecting in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, and you lift your arms up so that you can rest your hands on his face. “I don’t know how you could think that I could ever be bored of you,” he says before you can speak, and you relax a little at his words. “You’re the prettiest girl I’ve met in my life.” You feel your face growing warm, and you can see him turn his head to the side to kiss your palm. He kisses the other one before he grabs your hand. “Is this okay?”

You nod because you’re at a loss for words right now. “I probably spent about two hours trying to find the courage to talk to you at that party back then,” he chuckles. “You basically intimidated me.”

You find yourself giggling, and he smiles when you do, continuing his kisses down your arm. “Intimidated? Because…?”

“Because you’re fucking beautiful,” he declares, his voice strong even though he’s keeping it low. He rests his weight on his elbows so that his face is directly in front of yours. “And I’ll tell you that for the rest of my life.” You bite down on your lip softly as your hands wrap around his neck. “Can I kiss you?” You find yourself smiling at the familiar question.

“On the forehead?” you jest, and you can see him shake his head. You glance at his lips before you look at his eyes, and it’s only seconds before you’re nodding. His kiss is soft and much quicker than you expect, but it still takes your breath away nonetheless. It’s been months since you’ve felt his lips on yours, and it’s almost enough to make you cry.

He kisses you again, this one being longer than the first, and you find yourself chasing after him when he pulls away. “I love you, and I know this won’t magically make you feel better, but I have and will never get bored of you, and you will always be the best thing my eyes have landed on.”

You feel tears pooling in your eyes, and you can’t fight it when your breath catches. You can see him frown, but you kiss him before he can get even more worried. “I love you, too,” you whisper, sniffling as the tears fall down your face. “Thank you, Connie.” He kisses over your tears, and he holds you in his arms when they keep going. You can’t stop crying, and all you can do is wonder why.

“Sorry,” you breathe, your face in Connie’s neck, which is getting soaked with your tears. “I dunno why I can’t stop crying.” He falls over to the side gently, and you instantly curl into him.

“It’s okay, baby. Just let it out.” He rubs over your back, and you calm down a few minutes later, but neither of you moves. You wipe your face after a while, and Connie pulls the blanket up and over the both of you. You feel him kiss your forehead, and you take a deep breath, feeling the fatigue catching up to you from the crying.

“I’m gonna fall asleep,” you warn, feeling like Connie must’ve had more to say or do, but he only tightens his hold around you.

“That’s okay. I’ll be doing this for the rest of my life,” he repeats again, and it makes you smile, a couple more tears slipping from your eyes when you close them. You lift your head up lazily to kiss whatever part of his skin you can reach.

“Love you,” you murmur, and if it weren’t so quiet, he probably wouldn’t be able to pick it up.

“I love you, too.”

You’re standing in the doorway of the guest room, staring at the boxes you packed up. It seemed like it was so long ago, but you feel like you’re finally at a good place to unpack them. Although, you’re not sure if you can do it by yourself. You know Connie was playing with his friends today, so you didn’t want to interrupt. You decided that you would just wait until he’s free, but you hear his footsteps when you’re about to walk away.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, wrapping his arms around you as he pecks a kiss on your temple. You keep your eyes on the boxes as you relax into his hold.

“I think I’m ready to unpack these,” you answer. “Just not by myself,” you add, your voice a little bit lower.

“I’ll help you then,” Connie chirps, and you turn around when his arms slip from around you.

“You don’t have to do that. I know that you were playing with your friends,” you say, but he waves you off.

“They’ll be fine without me. Seriously.” He doesn’t really give you much time to argue because he’s walking back into the living room to shut down the game. You still can’t bring yourself to walk into the room, waiting until Connie gets back. You hear him bantering with his friends before you hear his familiar gait coming down the hallway. He grabs your hand, and you look at him. He gives you a reassuring smile and squeeze of your hand, and that helps you step through the door.

Once you get into the room, you slide the boxes that you first packed up over to Connie, knowing that it might be too hard for you to touch. Connie spends the entire time talking to you, which happens to be the best distraction for the most part. He jumps from one subject to another so quickly that you almost can’t keep up, and it keeps you occupied and it keeps the air in the room from turning sour.

Some of the boxes you had opened back up because there was stuff in them that you needed once you and Connie were starting to sort things out. Other boxes were filled with clothes you weren’t wearing at the time or some that you figured you were never going to wear. Connie just happened to be opening the box with the clothes you didn’t think you were going to wear.

“When did you get this?” he asks, and you look up, his body obscured by the dress he’s holding up. “This doesn’t look familiar.”

“Oh, I bought that on a whim,” you say. “Thought it would be nice for our anniversary or something,” you continue quickly, suddenly feeling embarrassed to admit that, and you focus your attention on the stuff in front of you.

“Are you still gonna wear it?” When you look back up, Connie’s put the dress down, so you can see him. “You know we can still celebrate it without going out,” he offers. “If you’re ready for that, of course.”

Your lip turns up in a half smile before you get up. You walk over to him and sit down next to him, taking the dress from him and looking over it. “Yeah, I’m ready,” you say when you look at him again. “It might just take me a while to feel good about myself when I wear it,” you say truthfully, and Connie rests his hand on yours.

“You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to,” he starts, “but I would love to see you in it.” He kisses you soundly on the lips before he goes back to unpacking, and you look over the dress one last time. You’ve been sorting your clothes into what you’re going to keep out and what you’re keeping in the boxes, and you think about it for a minute before you set the dress in the keep pile.

~

Now that you’ve gotten even further in your relationship and established that you’re okay with Connie touching you, his physical touch goes up by a milestone. It doesn’t matter where you are, Connie is almost always there with either a hand on your or an arm around you. Since you cleared out most of the guest bedroom, you decided that you would set up a small, temporary office since your boss finally figured out everything.

The both of you are upset that you have to start working again mostly because that means there’ll be less time that you spend with each other, but you both know that it’s not the worst thing in the world. You’re also glad that you don’t have to meet with everyone every day; only having to if everyone isn’t on the same page.

Connie checks in on you every now and then, bringing you snacks and sometimes making dinner if you’re not feeling up to it. He makes sure that you’re not overworking yourself, and it feels nice to have him there with you because some days are definitely harder than others. Some days, Connie will have you move your work somewhere else in the apartment just to get you a change of scenery so that you don’t get burnt out so fast.

It’s been about three weeks since you started working from home; the lockdown’s been lifted, but most of your co-workers don’t want to leave the house, which is totally fine with you. And even though Connie’s been the biggest help since you’ve started working again, he sometimes tries to keep you hostage.

“Connie, I have to work,” you laugh. You tried to slide out of the bed without him knowing; your alarm usually doesn’t wake him up because he sleeps a little bit heavier than you, and he grabbed your wrist before you could get out of the bed.

“Don’t leave me,” he mumbles, and you shake your head. You try to get up again, but he tightens his grip on you before moving to wrap his arms around you.

“Connie, if I bring my laptop in here, will you let me up?” He doesn’t respond, his face still flat against the bed, but he lets you go which is enough of an answer. You roll your eyes as you stand, raising your arms towards the ceiling to stretch, moving to the bathroom after. You grab your laptop and a couple of other things you need, and then you make your way back into your room.

Connie’s somewhat awake, his back against the headboard, and he blinks slowly as he watches you walk back into the room. You set your stuff down first and then climb onto the bed, which leads to Connie immediately pulling you in between his legs. You chuckle, pulling the blanket over your legs before grabbing your laptop and getting to work. He wraps his arms around you, and his breathing is soft and even, but you can’t tell if he’s dozed off again. He feels warm against your back, and you almost decide not to work, but you focus just a bit harder.

About fifteen minutes later, you feel Connie’s head land on your shoulder right as you found out that you don’t have that much work to do. You rest your hand on his head, turning yours slightly to press a kiss to his hair. “Baby, you’re gonna hurt your neck if you keep doing that,” you scold, but all he does is groan, staying still. You run your fingers through his hair for a while before you return it back to your keyboard.

You feel him nudge your head with his soon after, but you ignore it at first until he does it again. You scoff, getting ready to ask him what’s wrong when he grabs your hand, putting it back on his head. “I need this hand, Connie,” you laugh, but he just responds with a short hum of protest. “I don’t have a lot of work today, so if you let me work, then I can get done faster.” You can feel him sigh heavily, his body knocking into yours gently, and you smile, kissing his forehead before you get back to work.

You’re quick to finish up your work especially since you’re in bed, making you more motivated since you can just lay back down once you’re done. Of course, your co-workers prolong your work time mostly because they don’t know how to do their job. You sigh heavily as you run your hand over your forehead; it was all going so well, and now your stress levels are about to hit an all-time high.

You jump a little when you feel Connie’s arms tighten around you. “You okay?” he asks, his voice raspy, and you scoff as you shake your head.

“It’s my fucking co-workers again. I swear,” you groan, and Connie kisses your forehead. “I was just about to finish.” He hooks his chin over your shoulder, and you can feel his hands rubbing softly over your body. “I’m sorry, it’s gonna be a few more minutes.”

“It’s okay, baby. Don’t worry about it,” he reassures you as he starts to massage your shoulders. “I’ll make breakfast while you finish this up, okay?” You nod, smiling when he kisses you on the cheek. And then he has to maneuver from around you, which takes a minute and ends with the both of you laughing loudly. He finally manages to get out of bed, and then you have to get back to work.

It’s about another fifteen minutes of frustrating work until you’ve finally had it. Instead of doing more work, you just decided to type up tutorials for your co-workers on how to do their job and send them before promptly logging off. You don’t know why you didn’t do that a long time ago, maybe you were afraid of losing your job or something, but at this point, you couldn’t care less.

You’ve been dealing with this shit for so long, and you don’t know why you put up with it for so long. You close your laptop, moving it to the side so that you can get out of bed. You stretch when you stand as your phone pings with a text. You chuckle when you see that it’s Pieck; the only person that you work with that doesn’t want to make you pull your hair out.

You can still hear Connie cooking as you walk into the kitchen, texting Pieck and asking her to let you know if you’re going to be fired any time soon. You set your phone on the counter, and Connie turns his head just as you get to him. “Hey,” he says, getting the last of the food off of the stove. “You finished already? I thought you had a good amount of work to do.”

“I sent them an email with a basic “fuck you” but in professional terms,” you say, and he laughs heartily, his head falling back.

“Nice.” You laugh along with him as you take the plate he hands you, taking your seat at the island at the same time he does. It’s been so long since you’ve felt like a weight has been lifted off of your shoulders. You didn’t realize how much your job was actually draining you, but it’s not like you could’ve just quit. Connie notices your silence when the conversation starts to die down, and he places a hand on your knee to get your attention. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” You sigh, looking down at your empty plate. “I’m just…thinking, I guess.” He scoots the stool closer to you, and he grabs your hands. “I’m just kinda having second thoughts, I dunno,” you say, sighing again at your loss for words. “I’ll tell you when I actually know how to say it. I promise,” you add, squeezing his hands to emphasize it. “Plus, my phone is staying on silent for the rest of the day just in case one of those bitches tries to snitch and tell my boss,” you continue, which makes Connie chuckle.

“Well, I’m glad you finally said something because they aren’t really the best people,” he says, leaning forward. “Who knows, though, maybe doing that means something good’ll happen.” You hum softly, standing up and resting your hands on his shoulders while his move to your waist.

“Yeah, I hope so, but anyways,” you start. “Thanks for making breakfast.” Your hands move to his neck as you lean down to kiss him.

“Of course,” he mumbles, barely giving himself time to answer before he kisses you again. You feel his hands tighten on your hips as you take a step to get closer to him. His arms wrap around you when he deepens the kiss, and you slide your hands into his hair. You feel your body starting to grow warm as the kiss gets more heated, and you moan softly as you melt even further into him.

He sighs quietly as you feel his hands run down your body and under your shorts. He pulls away from you to start planting kisses down your neck as his hands grope at your ass. It’s been a long time since you’ve felt this overwhelmed by Connie touching you, and you’re pretty sure it’s because he hasn’t touched you like this in so long.

Your body feels like it’s on fire, like your heart might beat out of your chest, and you feel your legs threatening to give out on you. You wrap one arm around his neck while your other hand tightens its grip on his hair as he marks your skin. You shakily say his name, and he groans against your skin, one of his hands grabbing your thigh.

“Mm, c’mere.” He adjusts himself in the seat before he grabs at your legs, lifting up one of them, and you follow, straddling him. His lips are back on yours once you get comfortable, and you run your hands down his chest as you start to roll your hips. His hands move to your hips to help you, and he moans, his head falling back as his eyes close.

It’s your turn to let your lips roam, his skin feeling hot against them, feeling his adam’s apple bob when he swallows. You gasp when he suddenly bucks his hips up into yours, which turns into a moan shortly after, and Connie stops you.

“Hold on,” he whispers, both of you breathing heavily. “How far do you wanna go?” he asks. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m totally fine with what we’re doing, but I just wanna ask you.” You take a second to consider his question, wondering what you’re ready for. If you’re being honest, this could be enough for you, but deep down, you know it’s not.

“Um,” you start, your fingers playing with the ends of his hair as he looks up at you, patiently waiting on your answer. “I’m okay with this too,” you say, and you look away from him as you try to say what you want to say next, suddenly feeling nervous. “But, I wouldn’t mind if we touched each other?” You pose it as a question so that he feels like he can choose whether that’s what he wants to do as well.

You feel his hands twitch at your sides as he swallows heavily. “Yeah, yeah. I’m okay with that,” he responds with a nod of his head. You nod after him, and both of you soon start laughing softly, effectively avoiding the air between the two of you taking an embarrassing turn.

He gives your hips a squeeze before he leans forward to kiss you again, taking some time to get you to melt into him again before he stands, holding you in his arms. You wrap your legs and arms around him as he keeps his lips on yours, blindly walking to your room, having the path memorized. He holds you as he moves further onto the bed on his knees before setting you down carefully on your back.

He keeps his face in your neck as he runs his hands under your shirt, and his touch causes goosebumps to rise over your skin. “Is it okay if I look at you?” he asks into your skin, and that’s when you realize why he hadn’t moved his head since he laid you down. You feel your heart swell at how considerate he’s being, and in any other scenario, his question might’ve brought tears to your eyes.

“Y-Yeah, you can,” you answer softly, and he kisses over your face, his eyes still closed.

“You sure?” Thanks to him, over the course of the quarantine, your confidence has increased for the most part. It’s still a bit hard to be completely naked around him, but you’ve gotten to a point where you don’t need the mirror covered anymore.

“Yes, I’m sure. Wanna look at you too, Connie.” You feel him smile against your skin, and he lifts his head, his eyes finally meeting yours.

He smiles widely, just looking over your face before he speaks. “Hi,” he whispers, and you can’t help but giggle, his forehead falling against yours.

“Hi,” you echo, sighing softly when you kiss him, and he grabs your hands, lacing his fingers with yours as he rests more of his weight on you. The weight of him and his body heat is making you warm all over again like you were in the kitchen, and you push your hips up into his. He moans, grinding down against you which causes you to make the same noise.

He kisses all over your neck as his hands trail down your body, finding their home on your shorts. You don’t even let him ask for permission, instantly lifting your hips to give him the okay. He sits himself up so that he can take them off, and he’s quick to catch your thighs when you make a move to close them. He uses one of his legs to hold yours open while his hand pulls the crotch of your panties to the side.

He releases a deep groan as he looks at your pussy which is shiny with your arousal. “God, you are so beautiful. I’m the luckiest fucking guy in the world,” he whispers in awe, and you feel your face grow even warmer, your hands shakily digging into the sheets. You feel like your body melts in relief when he runs his fingers through your folds to get them covered in your juices.

He hasn’t touched you in so long that it feels like you’re drowning in the feeling of his touches. He moans as you watch him slide his fingers into his mouth, watching his body shake as if he’s anticipating this even more than you are. He pushes softly at your clit before making small but firm circles as he pushes his fingers inside of you.

He starts slow as he moves in and out, gradually picking up the pace, and your eyes flutter closed. You start to squirm, especially when you open your eyes again to see that Connie’s looking right at you before his eyes trail down your body. One of your hands holds his wrist while you rest your other arm over your face.

You can hear Connie moving as he continues to make your legs shake, and you feel him grab your hand, pulling your arm away from your face and putting it above your head. You struggle to keep your eyes open, but you can see that Connie’s adjusted himself, and now his top half is parallel with yours again, his face near yours.

“Don’t hide from me, baby,” he says, giving you a kiss that makes your heart flutter. “I wanna see how good I’m making you feel.” You can’t find it in yourself to fight him, and you moan loudly when he curls his fingers, pressing right into that sensitive spot inside of you. Your eyes roll back, your body arching as a part of you tries to move away from the stimulation.

You shakily call out his name, feeling your orgasm coming faster than usual, and you try to reach for his shorts, but you can barely get a grip on them. “Want you to feel good too,” you breathe, and he smiles at you, keeping up his pace, feeling his palm meeting your pussy with every thrust of his fingers.

“I know you do, but I wanna make you cum first,” he tells you, and you’re not far from it, pulling Connie down so that you can kiss him as you feel that knot threatening to unravel. You can’t keep up with it for long, and you don’t need to tell Connie that you’re about to cum when he presses even harder on your swollen clit. You release a choked version of his name as your nails dig into his arms, finding yourself at a loss for words as you cum.

Connie smiles as he watches you come undone on his fingers, continuing his movements until you push at his wrists. Your chest is heaving, and you let your body relax as the last of your orgasm runs through you. You watch as he licks his fingers clean, and soon after, you’re pulling him down to meet your lips, tasting yourself on his tongue when he kisses you soundly. “How was that?” he teases when he pulls away, and you laugh softly, still feeling your heart beating rapidly in your chest.

“Amazing,” you say honestly, taking another deep breath as Connie’s smile widens. This time it’s your turn to reach in between his legs, and just as you expected, he’s hard, and you can even feel how warm he is through his shorts. “I wanna touch you,” you mumble, and he braces both his hands by your head when you pull down the fabric covering him.

You feel your mouth water just looking at him, squeezing your legs at the sight of his dick especially since it’s been forever since you’ve seen him. You push at his chest softly, and you sit up when he starts to move. You pull his clothes even further down his thighs, and he nearly jumps away from you when you take him into your mouth. He’s almost all the way in your throat, and it takes him by surprise so bad that he’s close to falling over.

“God, baby,” he moans, and you can feel him trembling when you run your hands under his shirt. He groans when you look up at him, biting his lip as he gently grabs your hair in his hand. Your mouth feels even more heavenly than he remembers, and that means that this is all going to be over before he wants it to be.

He wants to push you off, but he doesn’t have it in him, his hips occasionally bucking into your mouth. Goosebumps break out over his skin when he feels white, hot pleasure shoot up his spine, a sign that he’s close. He tightens his grip on your hair just a little to give him some room to pull out of your mouth, his eyes catching the string of saliva connecting his head to your lips.

His hips are still moving a little as he catches his breath. “I’m not gonna last long if you keep doing that,” he breathes, and you smile widely, falling back on the bed.

“Well, what do you wanna do?” you ask, and he watches your shirt rise up when you lay down, and when his eyes land on your nipples peeking through your shirt he gets an idea. He must make it obvious or either he was staring for too long because the next thing he knows, you’re sliding your shirt up and over your chest. You cup your tits in your hand, and all Connie can do is watch you as his mouth falls open. “What are you waiting for?”

Your words jump him out of it, and he takes a deep breath before moving further up your body. He pumps himself once he gets to your chest, only doing it a couple of times because the image under him is almost enough to send him over the edge. You push your tits together right as he slides between them, and he lets out a broken whine, Connie finding it almost comical at how good it feels. It’s like there’s a part of him that wants to laugh, but it’s stuck in his throat.

His hips start slow, but it doesn’t take long for him to pick up his speed, and you squeeze your tits around him a bit more when he does. He lets his head fall forward as he groans, and he’s so upset that he’s going to cum so fast. He moans even louder when he feels your tongue darting out to lick at his tip when he thrusts, and his hips stutter out of rhythm. “C-Cut it out,” he whines, his hands gripping the sheets so hard that his knuckles turn white. He knows you’re not going to listen, but it’s not like his words mean that much anyway.

In fact, you only make matters worse, or better, when you start to swirl your tongue around him when his hips start to slow as he feels that knot in his stomach building. It feels like his orgasm comes out of nowhere, and he quickly pulls out from between your tits in enough time to cum all over your chest.

He strokes himself through it, groaning with every exhale, and he finally slows down when he tingles with oversensitivity. He exhales heavily as he sits back on his haunches, letting his head fall back. He looks down at you when he catches his breath and both of you let out a soft laugh.

“That was amazing,” he sighs, and you silently agree with a nod, a lazy smile on your face. “Hold on, let me clean you up,” he says, pulling his clothes back up before getting off the bed. He walks out of your room, only taking a second to get a towel. He wipes you down carefully, getting in the bed after setting the towel on the floor, and he wraps his arms around you so that he can pull you into him.

You yawn as you snuggle further into him as he pulls the blanket over your legs, and even though it’s still pretty early in the day, the only thing you want to do is lay down. You’re technically done with your work today, so you really don’t have anything else to do today. Connie turns on the TV, so it looks like he has the same plans as well, and when he throws the remote to the side, he kisses your forehead.

You smile, lifting your head up so that you can kiss him, moving your arms so that they’re over his shoulders. He cups your face as he kisses you deeply, his hand moving down to press on your back, and he pulls away right before you both get heated. You can’t help but giggle when he rubs his nose against yours, and you run your fingers through his hair.

“I love you, baby,” he says sincerely, and it makes you feel warm all over.

“I love you, too, Connie.” You don’t really look at the TV when you put your head on Connie’s chest, mostly focusing on the sound of his heartbeat, which ultimately puts you to sleep.

~

When you wake up, it’s still pretty light outside, so you assumed it’s the late afternoon, but Connie’s gone. You stretch when you sit up, yawning as you get out of bed and head toward the living room. You find Connie sitting on the couch, but you’re confused about what he’s doing because the TV’s not on.

“Baby?” He jumps when you call him, barely looking over his shoulder before he looks ahead again. “What’s wrong?” You sit down next to him, and you see that he’s holding his phone in his hand. You don’t say anything as you wait for an answer, and you place your hand on his arm. He grabs your hand, giving it a good squeeze before he speaks.

“I go back to work tomorrow,” he says after a heavy sigh.

“Oh,” you say softly, visibly deflating as you look in front of you. Hearing that did make your heart drop for a split second, but then you remember to think positive. “Well, it’s not going to be so bad this time, right?” you offer, turning your head to see that he’s looking at you, and he looks even more scared than you feel. “You don’t have as many shifts as before, yeah? So, it’s not as bad as you think.”

He still looks upset, your words barely looking like they’re convincing him. “Connie, nothing is going to happen to us, I promise. I’m not going to let you work yourself to the bone again, and it’s not the end of the world that you’re going back.” You cup his face in your hands, and he gives you a small nod.

“I know,” he finally says. “Things are better now. It’s just a little nerve-wracking, I guess,” he admits. “And I’m gonna miss you.”

You snort, rolling your eyes. “Connie, you won’t be gone all day. And you’re not even working every day.” The pout he has on his face doesn’t let up, and you laugh at his expression before you try to kiss it away. “It’s not gonna be how it was before. Okay?” He nods, still looking pretty upset, but it’s not bothering you because you know he’s upset that he won’t be here with you anymore.

You kiss him again, and when you try to stand, he stops you. “Connie, I don’t know about you, but I’m starving, and you have to get up tomorrow.” He falls over so that he’s face down in your lap, and he doesn’t say anything for a while.

“Let’s just order something. I don’t want you to leave,” he mumbles, and you roll your eyes again as you rest your hand on his head. He uses his phone to order the food since yours is in your room and he’s holding you hostage. The only time he gets up is to get the food when it arrives, and you both eat on the couch before you turn in for the night.

He holds you the entire night, and it takes a huge amount of effort to even get him out of the door the next morning. “Connie, you will literally be back tonight,” you laugh, even though you’re not really trying to pull him off of you. You’re both standing by the front door, and Connie’s got you in a hug that you don’t think he’s going to end any time soon. “You’re going to be late.”

He sighs heavily but he finally pulls away, giving you a long kiss before letting you go. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Connie. Now go,” you emphasize, lightly pushing him out the door, and you laugh softly at the pitiful look on his face. “Have a good day, okay?” He gives you one last kiss that makes you laugh again, and then he’s disappearing down the hallway.

Connie’s never been more anxious to get home. Of course, before lockdown, he wanted to go home, but things are different this time. He won’t be tired when he gets home, which means that he’ll get to spend more time with you, which is what he’s really looking forward to. Although, he’s got a new manager that’s making him a little worried. He’s heard from some of his co-workers that he’s unnecessarily strict, and that makes him nervous.

It’s not because he’s always slacking off or goofing off, but his current manager knows everyone well, and it’s usually pretty nice to deal with. Connie just hopes that this new manager doesn’t cause any problems for him. He texts you on his lunch break, which gives him hope that everything will be fine when he gets home. He knows that the situation that you both were in before won’t happen, but that doesn’t mean he’s not nervous.

That night when you finally voiced what was wrong still haunts him every now and then. Even though you’ve reassured him multiple times, there’s still a small part of him that’s scared that he’ll wake up one day and everything will be back to the way it was.

His first day back at work seemed to go by faster than it usually does, and he’s obviously not going to complain about it. He texted you when he got off, but he didn’t get a response, so he just chalked it up to you being busy with something. He gets home, and he calls for you as soon as he opens the door, but there’s no answer.

He slows his movements as he closes the door, hearing absolute silence in the apartment, and his heart starts to race. He tries to keep himself calm as he walks towards the hallway, and he nearly slumps in relief when he sees you in your room. But then, his relief is replaced with worry when he sees that you’re sitting on the floor by the bed, your knees pushed up to your chest with your head down.

He’s moving towards you in an instant, bombarding you softly with a bunch of questions. He crouches down in front of you, his hands on your arms, and he feels those same emotions rising in his chest as back then when you lift your head up, and there’s tears staining your face. “I’m back, right? I didn’t work overtime this time,” he says quickly, thinking you’re upset because of work, but he made sure to be back on time.

You huff softly, shaking your head as you wipe your face. “Connie, relax. I’m not upset because of that,” you whisper, moving your arms, and Connie can see that your phone is in your hands. “I just got off the phone with my boss.”

He feels a spike of anxiety rush through him as he tries not to assume the worst. “Is everything okay?” he asks, cautiously, and you chuckle softly, nodding as you run a hand over your head.

“Apparently, someone did snitch on me, but Pieck vouched for me,” you start. “I told her my side of the story and the shit I’ve been dealing with, and she gave me the week off,” you say in disbelief. “And she’s giving me a promotion.” You hold back a sob as you let your head fall again. “I’m just so fucking relieved. I hated my job for so long that I didn’t even know what to do anymore.”

You let your legs down so that Connie can give you a hug. “That’s awesome! I’m so happy for you,” he says, kissing your forehead. “You deserve it more than anyone.” You pull away slightly so that you can look at him, a watery smile on your face, and he wipes the tears from your face.

“And that means that I won’t be working on our anniversary,” you add softly, and Connie feels a surge of happiness, but then his smile drops. He quickly pulls out his phone, and you frown as you watch him tap at the screen.

“Fuck!” he swears quietly, and he looks absolutely devastated when he looks at you again. “But I do.” He looks like he might cry, and you quickly try to comfort him.

“Baby, it’s okay. You don’t work the next day, right? So, we can just celebrate it then.”

“It’s not gonna be the same,” he counters, shaking his head. “That’s our anniversary.” He sighs heavily as he looks at his phone again. “I only work till five, so I can get some food on the way home, and we can still have dinner,” he offers.

“Aren’t you gonna be tired?” you ask, and he shakes his head instantly.

“I’ll never be tired when it comes to you.”

You give him a soft smile, and you eventually give in. “If it isn’t too much trouble, then that sounds like a plan,” you respond, and your smile widens when Connie pulls you in for another hug, his laugh echoing off the walls. He kisses over your face, which makes you laugh as well, pushing at his shoulders for a bit before he finally pulls away. “Okay, okay. I’ll make dinner while you get in the shower. Sounds good?” Connie nods, getting out of your space so that you can get up, but he stops you before you can move.

“I love you,” he declares, but he keeps talking before you can, wrapping his arms around you again. “I know I always say it, but I really do. You’ve been nothing but amazing this whole time, and I don’t know what I would’ve done if you had just left.” You give him a warm smile in return, letting your arms rest on his shoulders.

“I love you, too, Connie,” you say. “And I could say the same thing about you, you know? I’m glad that we worked things out, and now we know our limits. There’s nothing that can break us now,” you say positively, and Connie can really only respond by kissing you, feeling like there isn’t another way to tell you how much he truly loves you. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this happy, and he knows that it’ll take a lot for him to be upset now.

If Connie’s ever thought about committing murder, it would be in this very exact moment. Yes, he knew that he would be working on his anniversary. You’ve obviously made plans to accommodate that, so there’s no complaints. No, he did not know that his new asshole manager would be working today. He didn’t accommodate for that. He’s watching the clock, feeling like he could wring somebody’s neck right now.

He can’t even check his phone, and he didn’t even get a chance to do it because his lunch break was cut short. Sasha knows about everything, and she’s been spending the past couple of hours trying to make sure that Connie actually goes home to you instead of a jail cell. “I said I’d cover for you, just go,” Sasha says, but Connie shakes his head.

“And then you take the fall for me? No, that’s not fair,” he argues. As much as he wants to get home, he’s not going to let his friends take the flack. So far, everything’s fine; he’s still getting off at his scheduled time. He takes a deep breath, hoping that it’ll help him do his work faster because he hasn’t been able to pay attention since his lunch break.

Connie just hopes that you’re doing fine. You were asleep when he left, and he didn’t want to wake you up, but now, he wishes that he had. He at least wants to give you a confirmation that he’s going to be coming home with dinner when he said he would, and he feels himself getting worried. He once again has to calm down before he starts to think the worst.

You woke up in bed by yourself this morning, which was a little bit disappointing, but you know that Connie didn’t want to wake you. You slept in a little bit longer than you usually do, checking your phone to see that Connie hasn’t texted you on his lunch break like he usually does. You frown a little, but you just assume that he’s got a lot to do at work.

You get out of bed, walking to the bathroom, and your eyes widen when you see that the mirror is covered in red sticky notes, the pieces of paper making a heart. You scoff in surprise, looking over the whole thing, and you see a pink one in the middle with something written on it, so you pull it off.

Can’t wait for tonight! I love you!

You feel excited for what tonight holds as you read the sticky note, and you can’t remember the last time you’ve felt like this. You sort of wished that you were working so that you could have a way to quickly pass the time. Now, you’re just stuck finding something to do to try and tide you over until Connie comes home. You don’t have that much time left, but there’s no way that you can go back to sleep now. So, you just spend the rest of the time, cleaning up the place and getting it ready for tonight.

~

Connie nearly groans in relief when five o’clock hits, and he starts to pack his stuff up. But right as he starts to clock out, his manager stops him. “You still have another two hours.”

Connie freezes, laughing a little. “There’s no way you’re serious,” he says. “The schedule said that I was only supposed to be in ‘til five,” he argues.

“I changed it this morning.” Connie's mouth falls open, and he feels himself getting angry all over again.

“That’s fucking bullshit. You’re not supposed to change the schedule the day of,” he spits, and Sasha quickly walks up, trying to efficiently diffuse the situation.

“You stay ‘til seven or you’re fired,” his manager concludes before he walks away, and Connie sits back down in his chair in disbelief.

“Seriously, Connie, just go. I said I’d cover for you,” Sasha pushes, but he shakes his head, and Sasha takes in the look on his face. Connie doesn’t know what to think, he doesn’t have anything running through his head. He can’t check his phone, he can’t tell you what’s going on. He can’t leave because that means he and Sasha could get fired, and he needs this job.

“Connie.” He comes to, realizing that he’s crying, and Sasha puts her hand on his shoulders. “It’s going to be okay. If it makes you feel better, just leave a little bit closer to seven.” He’s not really listening, wiping the tears on his face, and Sasha eventually has to get back to work before she’s reprimanded.

The next two hours go by so slow yet so fast. Connie didn’t even realize that the time has passed until Jean walks up to him. “Dude, get outta here. I called my friend, and he’s got some food to-go for you.” Connie slowly gets up, and then it seems like it kicks in. He quickly packs his stuff up, getting the address of the restaurant from Jean before he hightails it out of there.

He tries to call you, but you don’t answer, and he can feel himself starting to panic. He races to get the food, and he tries to call you the entire way home. When he gets there, he doesn’t even bother taking the elevator, racing to your apartment. He opens the door, but he doesn’t see you. The light in the kitchen is on, but he doesn’t hear any sign of you.

He sets the food down before he races to your room, and his heart drops when you’re not there. He checks the guest bedroom and the bathroom, and you’re nowhere to be seen. He feels the bile forming in his throat as he starts to fully panic, running his hands over his head as he starts to cry. This has to be a dream. He’s going to wake up any minute now. He keeps pinching himself, closing his eyes as he prays for it to be a dream.

In the midst of his panic, he doesn’t hear the door open and close. “Connie?” you call out, seeing that there’s food on the table. You don’t get an answer, and you walk into your room to see Connie in disarray. “Connie! Are you okay?” You set down what was in your hands as you pull his hands into yours. You keep calling his name, holding his face in your hands, and he finally opens his eyes.

You urge him to sit down, and he seems to calm down when he looks at you. “You’re here?”

“Yes?” you answer. “I went to go get the mail,” you say, gesturing towards the stack of envelopes on the bed.

“You weren’t answering your phone,” he whispers and you sigh.

“I’m sorry, Connie. I left it here, and then I started talking to our neighbor. She gave me some wine when I told her it was our anniversary.” You reach behind you, showing him the bottle, and he nearly collapses on top of you.

“I thought you left because I wasn’t here when I said I would be,” he sighs, and you pull him into a hug. “My manager changed the schedule this morning, and I didn’t know, and I couldn’t tell you. I thought I fucked everything up. I thought—” He cuts himself off, biting his lip as he starts to cry again.

“Connie, please look at me.” He listens instantly, and you feel your heart break when you look at his face. “I wouldn’t leave, okay?” you reassure, wiping his face. “And Eren called me and told me what happened. I’m sorry, I should’ve told you, but I kept getting distracted. I’m not mad or upset or anything.”

Connie could nearly cry in relief again, but he opts to laugh instead, a loud sniffle following. “I didn’t see Eren at all today, so I didn’t know,” Connie says. “I really thought that this was the end.”

“Connie, it’s not the end of the world that you didn’t come home when you said. I even offered to celebrate it tomorrow.” This whole situation just made you realize how much pressure Connie’s been putting on himself, and you internally shake your head. “Connie, I love you, and I’m telling you now that it’s going to take more than you being late for this to be over.”

“Really?” he whispers, his eyebrows raising slightly.

“Yes, Connie,” you chuckle. “Compared to how we used to be, this pales in comparison.” He grabs your hands, giving you a small chuckle. “Are you okay? You really scared me.”

“Yeah,” he answers with a nod. “I’m sorry, I feel better now.”

“Well, we can have dinner tomorrow if that’s okay with you,” you try, but Connie shakes his head quickly, holding your hands.

“No, I wanna do this tonight. I’ve been looking forward to this all week.”

“Are you sure?” He nods quickly, making you smile softly. “Why don’t you get in the shower while I fix up the food?” He kisses you instead of answering with words, the gesture taking you by surprise slightly.

“Thank you so much,” he breathes when he pulls away, resting his forehead against yours. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too, but promise me that you will stop putting so much pressure on yourself. This isn’t good for you.”

He nods. “I promise,” he says, and you kiss him softly on the lips then move to his forehead. You let him go so that he can go wash up, and you move into the kitchen to look at the food he brought. You set up the table which doesn’t take long since you’ve already cleaned up the place before you get dressed.

You’re wearing the dress that you specifically bought for this occasion, and you’ll admit that you look better in it than you thought you would, but you don’t spend too much time looking at yourself in the mirror. You wait in the kitchen, sitting down at the small dining table that the both of you had bought when you first moved in.

You start to feel nervous for some reason, but you don’t get a chance to question why because you can hear Connie’s footsteps coming down the hallway. You stand when he comes into view, and the both of you look at each other. “You clean up really nice,” you compliment, walking up to him and rubbing your hands over his arms.

“I knew you would look good, but you look even better than I can imagine,” he responds, which makes your face warm.

“You really like it?” you ask quietly, and he grabs your chin gently when you look away.

“Yes, I do. You look amazing,” he presses, and he leans down to kiss you, his arms wrapping around you when he meets your lips as yours wrap around his neck. He moans softly when he deepens the kiss, his hands running over your curves, which are accentuated by your dress.

You pull away, breathing heavily as you chuckle. “We should at least eat first,” you say lightly even though your body feels warm all over, and Connie’s really only focusing on your swollen lips as you talk. He lets you pull him towards the table, and his eyes run down your body as you walk. You have him sit down while you grab the wine, and you pour yourself a glass before you hand it to him.

The conversation flows nicely, Connie easily changes the subject, but then you notice that once you finish dinner, he’s not talking as much. “Connie? Are you okay?” you ask, finishing off your wine, and he gives you a shrug before he laughs.

“I’m gonna be honest with you,” he starts, and you eye him cautiously. “I’ve been hard as fuck for the past ten minutes.” Your brain stalls a little at his words, but then when you process it, you laugh a little.

“Are you serious? I’ve just been sitting here,” you say with no heat behind your words. He nods quickly, and you can finally see how much he’s fidgeting. You shake your head as you scoff in amusement, standing up so that you can clean up the table, but he’s quick to stop you. “What?” you question softly. “I was trying to clean the table.”

He pulls you into him, his hands resting on your ass. “You’re really going to do that after what I just told you?”

You smile as you innocently roll your eyes to the ceiling before you throw your arms over his shoulders. “Yes. What else was I supposed to do?” you question and Connie’s face falls a little before he squints at you. “You don’t want dessert?”

He leans down so that his lips brush over yours. “I want you. Pretty sure that’s the same thing,” he whispers, his voice making you hot all over as you shudder. Connie kisses over your face, his kisses following the path of your jaw to the column of your neck. He yanks the fabric of your dress up to your waist, and he grabs a handful of your ass, feeling his fingers brush your pussy.

“Is the dress r-really doing it for you?” you ask shakily, feeling like your legs might give out at any second as you feel your arousal pooling in your panties.

“Fuck, yeah,” he groans, grabbing your legs and picking you up. He puts his lips on yours, and you moan into his mouth when you feel his dick pressing into you. His tongue explores your mouth, and you feel your toes curl as he continues to rub over your core through your panties. He walks to your room, kissing you until you’re breathless, and he groans when you suck on his tongue.

He sets you down suddenly, but then you realize that you’re nowhere near your bed. When you look at him, he smiles at you before turning you around, and your eyes meet your reflection. Connie sets his chin on your shoulder as his hands run over your body, going in opposite directions. “This,” he starts, pinching at your nipple softly, which makes you jump, “is what I’ve had to look at for the past hour.” He plants his lips on your neck again as his other hand plays with the hem of your underwear. “I’d be crazy if I wasn’t affected by this dress.”

You can only respond with a gasp because he makes his way down, his finger rubbing at your clit. You quickly grab his wrist, and you watch his fingers move, and instead of making you insecure like you thought it would, it just turns you on even more. You meet his eyes in the mirror as he bites at your earlobe, the feeling of his fingers sliding in you making your eyes flutter.

He eventually slides your panties down your thighs to give him some more room, and your other hand finds home on his neck as your head falls back to rest on his shoulder. You moan loudly, having a hard time keeping your hips still, and he wraps an arm around your waist to hold you still, holding you hostage to the pleasure of his fingers.

“You’re fucking dripping, baby,” he whispers against your skin, and that’s more than obvious. You can see the way his fingers shin whenever they slide out of you, and the squelching would be more than enough to know that if your eyes were closed.

Your back arches when he presses at your g-spot, and you whimper as you try to move your face into his neck. “Connie, I’m—” You cut yourself off with another moan, and he pulls his fingers out making you relax a little as you sigh. You watch Connie in the mirror as he licks his fingers clean before he grabs your dress and pulls it over your head. You watch him play with your tits, the tips of his fingers circling around your nipples before he pinches them softly.

“Lemme eat you out first, ‘kay?” It’s not like he needs you to respond, and he walks in front of you, getting on his knees. He helps you step out of your panties, and he grabs your thighs, moving you closer to his face. He lets his nose fall into your bush, and you feel your face getting even warmer when you hear him inhale deeply. “Been wantin’ to taste you so bad,” he mumbles, and it’s not even a second after he speaks that you feel his mouth on you.

You jump at the sudden stimulation, putting your hands on his head. He digs his hands into your ass, keeping you flush against him, and your legs start to shake when he sucks at your clit. He fucks you with his tongue, and you can’t fight it when your eyes roll back as your mouth falls open. You pull on his hair hard when his tongue flicks at your clit, and he moans loudly against you, the vibrations only making it better.

The more you pull on his hair, the more enthusiastic he becomes, and it gets to a point where your legs are shaking uncontrollably. “Connie, ‘m gonna fall,” you moan, and he just digs his fingers further into your skin.

“I’m not gonna let you fall, baby. Jus’ hold on t’me,” he says against you, and you can barely hear him, but you have to hold onto the mirror for support, your top half almost parallel with the floor. As you feel your high approaching, you can only call Connie’s name, and you’re pretty sure that most of your weight is on his face. “Look at yourself when you cum,” he tells you, knowing your tells, and you try to listen, but it’s hard, your eyes continuously opening and closing.

He sucks at your clit one more time, and that sends you over the edge. You go silent, giving Connie’s hair a harsh tug before you have to let go and hold onto the mirror, watching yourself come undone. Your legs shake violently, your pussy gushing all over his face, and he licks it up like there’s no tomorrow. He braces a hand on your stomach while his other one rubs over your ass.

You can barely move away to give him a chance to breathe, but you manage to back away, both of you breathing heavily. You look down at him, seeing that his nose and down are covered in your cum, and he licks around his mouth to get as much as he can. “Holy shit, Connie,” you breathe, having to hold onto his hands as you wobble, and he finally stands.

“I’m not done with you yet,” he mumbles, pushing you towards the bed before he strips, and you can see a huge dark spot on his underwear even though he’s still hard.

“Did you…?” you question, pointing towards it, and for the first time in a while, you see him blush as he glances to the side.

“I won’t be cutting my hair any time soon,” is all he responds with, and you laugh softly. Once he’s naked, he sits down first, grabbing your hand to pull you in between his legs. “Want you to ride me. Is that okay?” he asks, and you nod silently, willing to do anything he wants at this point. You feel yourself getting even wetter just from the excitement of him finally being inside of you.

You can’t remember the last time you’ve felt the stretch, but you don’t think about that too much as you lean down, letting a glob of spit land on the head of his dick before you stroke him and smear it all down him. He groans softly, letting his head fall back before he lifts it back up to watch you. He pulls you down by your neck to kiss you, and when you feel him pulling at your hips, you let him go.

You straddle him, putting your knees on the bed so that you can hover over him, and it’s like time slows down. It’s just the two of you, being closer to each other than you’ve been in such a long time; it’s almost overwhelming. He places one hand on your hip, the other one lining himself up, and you start to sink down, biting your lip at the short resistance you feel.

You keep going, both of you moaning as you sink down and start to suck him in. Connie always stretches you out so well, and you feel so satisfied already just bottoming out. You rest your hands on his neck, running your fingers through his hair as his hands run over your back. He’s got his eyes closed with his head towards the ceiling, so you lift yourself up, slamming yourself back down just as fast, and you smile as his reaction.

His hands grab your ass as you bounce, his eyes rolling every time he makes an attempt to open them. “F-Fuck, you feel so good. Oh, my God,” he moans, and you gasp when he takes over, fucking up into you.

“C-Connie!” Your nails dig into his skin, feeling like he’s kissing your cervix with every thrust, and you let your head fall on top of his. Your back arches when he continues to stimulate that spongy spot inside of you and takes that opportunity to press his hand to your back, keeping you there so that he can close his mouth around your nipple.

He goes back and forth between the two; sucking, licking, biting, all of it getting you closer to your climax. He brings on hand to your clit, rubbing quick and firm circles over the swollen bud, and you rest more weight against him as your pleasure mounts, nearly panting like a dog.

“Jesus, I’ve missed this.” Connie wraps his arms around you, burying his face in your chest. “I love you so much,” he says a little bit louder, and you repeat it, your pussy so sensitive it makes tears prick at your eyes. There’s no way you have enough time to tell Connie that you’re cumming, only moaning his name as you do. You pull at his hair again, feeling like that’s the only thing that can keep you grounded because it feels like you’re floating.

Connie cums right after you, pulling away to kiss you as he paints your walls white while he rides out your highs. You keep moving until the sensitivity borders on painful, breathing heavily as you fall against Connie, who falls backward, making you let out a soft moan since he jolts inside of you. He rubs over your back and your butt as he lazily makes out with you, both of you being able to feel each other’s heartbeats due to how fast they’re beating.

You let your head fall into his neck when he pulls away, and you shiver a little as the sweat on your body cools down. There’s a throw blanket on the bed, and Connie reaches above his head to grab it, throwing it over you. “I love you, Connie,” you whisper into his neck as one of your fingers run over his collarbone. “I’ve never been happier.”

He wraps his arms around you under the blanket, tightening his hold before he speaks. “I love you, too. I’m glad you gave me a second chance,” he says. “Because you always make me the happiest man in the world.” You huff at the cheesy line, but you’re smiling widely.

You both don’t move for a while, just basking in each other’s warmth and each other’s touches. You don’t know what would’ve happened if you both weren’t stuck at home, but you’re both glad that you were given a chance to work things out. You snuggle into Connie a little bit more as fatigue overcomes the both of you slowly, and that last thing you both think is that from now on, you’ll always be together through thick and thin.

[starry-blue-echoes]

Headcanon? Or is it literal canon?

But definitely, after a battle with the pillarmen, literal gods who feed on human, Joseph has developed PTSD (because of the rings in his body and after fights). Not only is he twitchy and anxious at first, getting triggers and panic attacks, he checks in on his family periodically. Speedwagon and Susie know what he's been through. None of the three didn't get act together. to explain to Erina what has happened to her grandson this month. His body still hurts, he looks bitterly at the stump of his arm, moving a robotic version of it. Joseph looks at Susie, seeing the remaining scars from Esidisi's brain on her, and his brain servilely throws up nauseating memories of red living brain tendrils dripping blood, the pulsing brain itself, and followed by Kars' transformations, among which were huge purple tentacles trying to stop JoJo. Perhaps he was mentally and physically traumatized by them?

It only gets worse for JoJo as he discovers his stand.

Purple Vines.

Damn transparent tentacles with spikes cover his arm.

Joseph doesn't understand anything and can't believe what's happening. He feels nauseous and panic building up. He shakes his hand to get rid of the purple vines.

It doesn't get any better when Susie walks into his room and finds her husband in the corner. She tells him that she can't see the tentacles on his arm, but she also tries not to say that it's a hallucination, because she seems to feel the touch.

As Susie strokes Joseph's face against her chest and he tries to catch her breath, she tries to figure out what is going on and how to help with it.

yeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSSS

YESYESYESYESYES ANGST ANGST ANGST ANGST

I AM A SUCKER FOR TRAUMATIZED JOSEPH SO I AM ABSOLUTELY EATING THIS UP

Oh my god I didn’t even think of how much Hermit Purple would frighten Joseph at first. These thorny vines covering his arms, wrapping and coiling and no matter what he does they won’t come off

And I’m not sure if Suzie being with him would make him feel better or worse. On one hand he desperately wants comfort and someone grounding him, but on the other the realization that she can’t see them is terrifying. Has he finally lost it? After all these years of nightmares and fears has he finally snapped?

it would probably take a decent amount of time before Joseph would be okay with Hermit Purple. There would definitely need to be some kind of mental separation, maybe something like pointedly thinking of them like “vines” and not “tentacles”, and definitely a lot of working with them kinda like a sort of exposure therapy. And of course Suzie was with him every step of the way, ready to help him however he needed it

[mermaidsirennikita]

They really have noooo idea what to do with Benedict. I feel like they're still trying to figure out if he's going to be straight.

I think there are several issues occurring with them being stumped on him, which they absolutely are.

A) The creative team is not organically that interested. No matter how much the fans like Luke T. and Benedict, that doesn't make the creative team any more into him. There are showrunners and powers that be that prioritize what the fans like to a ridiculous degree; there are showrunners and powers that be which meet in the middle between what they want and what fans want (rare and probably ideal); and there are showrunners and powers that be that go "we do what we want". Historically.... People who work at Shondaland usually do what they want. Sometimes that's great; sometimes it's not. Look at Grey's Anatomy; does anyone want more of Owen Hunt? No, but Krista Vernoff does, and so y'all will choke on him. I think we all know the Powers That Be (Shonda especially) love Penelope.

B) To reinforce this, it's not like Penelope is this character that gets little engagement. I hate her. A lot of viewers hate her. A lot of viewers love her. She may not be as more universally well-received, the way Anthony/Kate and even Simon/Daphne are. But people do talk about her, and a character that gets lots of attention from the genpop is more valuable than a character that doesn't. I know a lot of fandom loves Benedict... I don't see as much of that from people who generally watch the show, most likely because he doesn't do much.

C) And those that do discuss him in the genpop (with me at least) usually assume he's bi because season 1 coded him hard and they don't know about or give a fuck about Sophie. There are people employed to gather info about how TV shows and characters are perceived. The creative team knows this. They also know that it doesn't look particularly great if a show that peddles love stories has zero meaningful queer rep. Decisions, decisions.

D) Sophie's plot is difficult to adapt, both because it is not very dramatically invigorating and because there are a host of bad implications if you cast a woman of color as what is essentially a slave to her family. I honestly don't know if they're clocking this, but I imagine the general strugglebus that is book 3. Contrary to what fandom would have you think today, book 3 was not one of the more popular books in the series before the show came out. It was kind of a nothing burger sandwiched between the two most popular books in the series. So it's not even going to be a priority from the "serving the book fans" perspective.

Honestly? There's a decent chance that Benedict gets shafted again in season 4, and like......... Who knows if they'll get more than four seasons. Eloise is more primed for a love story than he is, at this point. I wouldn't make any bets until you watch s3 or hear something concrete.

[crisis34]

So I’ve had this irondad idea that I would KILL for someone to write. I’ve wanted to write it too but I don’t think I’ll get to it.

I started kinda sorta actually writing this in a few scenes 😂 don’t mind my weird idea writing style. Feel free to change what you want or add your own twist on things!! And please tell me if you do write this idea. I’ve had it stuck in my mind and I wanted to make it at least 10k-30k words.

I sadly, don’t have time for that though haha! Soooo hopefully someone wants to write this so I can read it lol

———

The idea is that after Tony passes away the rest of the Avengers talk to Peter for about two years, since Peter spends time at the compound and all that.

But at a random point Peter notices he’s getting ignored by the Avengers for months, they won’t say anything on why they’re all stressed and won’t talk to Peter AT ALL.

One day one of them (most likely Sam/Rhodey) let’s it slip that they have an imposing threat on earth they’re trying to find and it’s so classified that Peter can’t get his hands on the information.

So Peters bummed they don’t trust him, probably gets a line said to him like “Look kid, we really don’t need your help on this. Trust me.” And it destroys Peters self esteem because he’s already 18 and they still see him as the kid.

He goes home one day after school/compound/work or something and when he walks in his spidey senses act up.

Looking into his apartment (moved away from aunt May assumingly) he sees nothing at first so he’s suspicious but not taking any drastic measures.

And then he walks into the living room, where he has a view of the kitchen. And who happens to be standing there eating the fucking blueberries?

Tony motherfucking Stark.

Peter flips out, because he saw Tony die. He’s rambling about how he thought he was dead and all that but then he sees something that tells him -it’s not his Tony-.

The Tony Stark eyes he always remembered were whiskey brown. This guy had glowing blue eyes.

And now Peter’s heart drops. He’s trying to get information out of the imposter and that’s when the guy finally speaks.

He tells Peter about how he’s been on this earth for a few months, the Avengers spotted him through satellite, and how he’s from an alternate reality.

Peter refers to the guy as Anthony since he isn’t his Tony Stark. But he also realizes this is what the Avengers were keeping from him.

Anthony explains how he was drawn here as first (which we later get a point of view from Anthony when he first got on this earth and he wasn’t drawn there, he was told to go there. By Tony Stark whispering in his head).

Anthony also tells Peter that there’s a bigger threat than him on their way, and the Avengers are so caught up looking for him they’re ignoring the other threat.

Peters skeptical, he really is. (If you do end up writing this please don’t make this another Quentin Beck. I don’t want Peter being too gullible or getting used by Anthony because that kinda ruins the plot/already been done in far from home)

Peter has close to no trust for Anthony, especially since he has no information at all from the Avengers. But he still partially believes the guy that there’s another threat.

And he knows he’d have a lot of guilt if he turned him in and there was a threat he could’ve stopped.

So him and Anthony team up.

They look for the bad guy, maybe go through goons/hydra agents for information. But now Peters stumped.

Because Anthony isn’t afraid to use a gun or kill. Anthony’s moral meter isn’t like Tony’s was, especially in front of the kid.

Peter scolds him, tells him that he won’t be killing around him or else he’s shutting the whole operation down.

After that Anthony only kills a few more times, and Peter tries to yell at him for those but he sees rage behind Anthony’s eyes.

Especially since the guys Anthony had killed almost hurt/killed Peter. Peter kept quiet for those deaths and they end up back at his apartment to sleep maybe.

Peters silent after he realizes that it seems Anthony cares about him. This is the night before they confront the big bad guy.

For reference they’ve been together looking for information for weeks!! Keep that in mind cause then you can add your own cute scenes in those weeks of maybe Anthony being protective or helping Peter with homework.

In the middle of the night Peters spidey senses go off, he wakes up and immediately looks for Anthony. He walks into the living area to see the guy peacefully sleeping on the couch.

His eyebrows scrunch together and he decides to go back to bed but can’t fall back asleep.

And then the Avengers break down the door of Peters apartment.

Peter freaks out l, hearing it and Sams familiar footsteps along with whoever else you want to be there. Rhodey would make the most sense with the rest of the Avengers waiting at the compound.

Peter runs back to the living room to where they’re already handcuffing Anthony and Anthony isn’t saying a word, but Peter is trying to convince them to stop and there’s a bigger threat out there they need to be after.

Rhodey or Sam would tell him sternly to get to the compound.

Apparently they had found out the two of them were working together while trying to find out where Anthony was after figuring out he was on this earth.

When he’s at the compound he finds out Anthony has been out in an interrogating place at the compound and each of the Avengers try to crack him but he won’t say a word.

Now(preferably Sam but you can have Peters main Friendship be with someone else, lol but this part of the friendship will be a bit rocky) Sam confronts Peter.

Goes something like this:

“Peter you knew better, why didn’t you contact an Avenger? Huh?”

“Because I knew you guys would do this shit Sam!! There’s a threat! I’ve seen it, we need to stop the threat.”

“Peter, there have been no signs of a threat against earth. At least nothing like he seems to be telling you. Because he won’t tell us anything. I need information on him! Because that damn well isn’t Tony Stark.”

“I know that, of course I fucking know that. You just.. you don’t know him Sam. I swear he’s a decent guy. Anthony is telling the truth.”

“No. He’s manipulating you, he knew you were an easy target and that’s why he went to you!”

Peter pauses for a second, tears catching up with his emotions as he begins to cry. “That’s what you think? That’s what you all think.. of course.”

Sam seems to realize he messed up, but he keeps his mouth shut and let’s Peter talk.

“You guys don’t trust me. I don’t even know why I hang around here, I’m obviously not welcome.” Peter laughs, pained.

“What? Of course we trust you.”

“That’s a god damn lie!! Because if you did this wouldn’t have happened.” Peter yelled.

Sam stays quiet again, remembering how he told Peter that he couldn’t tell him about the threat they were all worried about. Each of them didn’t trust that Peters reaction wouldn’t cause a hurricane of events, it seems it did anyway.

“Do you know.. how scared I was?” Peter whispered this time, wiping his tears away.

“What?”

“Do you know how fucking scared I was when Tony Stark ended up in my apartment! He died two years ago right in front of me and then there he was!! Eating blueberries in my kitchen with glowing blue eyes as if it never happened.” Peter said, watching as Sams face dropped.

Peter shakes his head and continues. “I’m going home, maybe think before you decide I’m to be untrusted next time.”

Sam doesn’t stop Peter because he’s already pissed the kid off.

Either way it was 2am and he assumed Peter wanted some sleep. The whole night Anthony doesn’t say a word.

The next morning the Avengers decide they need Peter to clarify what happened.

When one of them goes to Peter’s apartment, they can’t find him. At first they assumed he went somewhere but the tracker on his suit the compound has access to has been clipped. (If you can figure out a better way that they figure out Peter went after the threat on his own go for it).

After Sam figures out Peters gone he hurries into the cell that Anthony is in, guilt putting in his stomach because what if Peter was right and he was against a threat much larger than himself.

“Where is he?” Sam immediately asks after slamming the door shut behind himself.

Anthony stares at him, obviously planning on not saying anything.

“Where the fuck is Peter? C’mon asshole, you told him there was a threat and now I can’t fucking find him. Where is he?”

Sam watches as Anthony’s face pales and he looks down at the ground with his eyes wide.

Sams stomach churns. “Please? Come on, I don’t know your intentions but please tell me. He’s only 18, I-“

Anthony gets the watch as Sam regrets every word he ever said to Peter and holds back tears because there was a chance they wouldn’t find Peter and it would be Sams fault.

“Get me out of here.” Anthony tells Sam.

Sam stares at him, there’s a darkness behind Anthony’s eyes at that moment he’s only seen on Bucky when he had to act like the winter soldier with Zemo.

Sam thinks back to Peter voguing for Anthony and makes a decision. This time, he would trust Peter.

“Alright.”

None of the other Avengers had been consulted during this decision, but Sam leaves the tracking of his wings on just in case.

He and Anthony would go together to help Peter.

“What are we doing?” Anthony asked while Sam walked into his room at the compound.

“I don’t know what we’re up against, I gotta suit up.” Sam said.

Anthony hummed and nodded, leaning against the doorway while Sam picked up something familiar.

“Is that Captain America’s shield?” Anthony asked, raising a brow.

“Yeah, Steve gave it to me before he retired.” Sam nodded, picking up a duffel bag.

“Which makes you Captain America.” Anthony smiled.

“Yup.” Sam chuckled.

“Alright, grab your suit. You can change on the plane.” Anthony decided, already walking off.

“What?” Sam quickly slung the duffel bag over his shoulder, carrying the shield and jogging to catch up with Anthony.

“What do you mean, plane?” Sam asked.

Anthony lifted his hand, holding a pair of keys in it. “Snatched it before you guys locked me up. You should really have an AI looking over this place to tell you things.” He suggested.

Sam felt some deja vu, remembering when Tony was alive and the voice of Friday could be heard everywhere. Rhodey shut her down, unable to listen to her voice and be reminded of his friend.

—

Anthony takes them to where Peter is currently trying to get a good vantage point on the threat, he’s only getting minor goons outside the building(maybe? The antagonist is up to you).

Sam stays back for a bit, getting a call on his phone from Rhodey who he knows is pissed.

He hesitantly answers and listens to the scolding but gives them their location anyway, having more Avengers on their way.

Anthony and Peter are talking and planning as well as joking. Peter seems pleased that Sam decided to trust him.

The three of them start to infiltrate the threat, Anthony has a wrist gauntlet that’s ice blue and silver he uses as well as a gun.

The Avengers arrive rather quickly to help the fight, all very wary about Anthony.

Here’s the thing, they all know Anthony’s moral is messed up and he isn’t afraid of killing or anything like that. They know he isn’t Tony.

So when Peter gets injured/almost dies they are all very surprised to see Anthony freeze as Sam tries to help the wound on his body.

The threat is gone at this point and the Avengers are trying to help Peter while he’s screaming out in pain, and Anthony is unfamiliar with the liquid rolling down his face.

(You can also make it where everyone thinks Peters dead and he kinda wakes up in the middle of their mourning lol)

And then Anthony snaps back into it, rushing forward and sliding through The small crowd and leaning down next to Peter with Sam on the other side.

“Hey hey hey, you’re alright kid. You’re alright.” Anthony said, forcing and smile and putting his hand on the side of Peter face.

Peters crying while Sams trying to get the bullet/clean the wound.

Anthony grabs onto Peters hand and squeezes it, Peter squeezes back.

“You’re gonna be okay Peter, I know it hurts, Underoos.” Anthony whispered in Peters ear.

Peter looked like he was gonna say something but then looked up and locked eyes with Anthony.

“What?” Peter whispered.

For Anthony, that moment too felt unreal. Memories began to blend with his own.

~~

‘There’s this crazy car parked outside!’

‘Mr. Parker.’

‘Umm. What, what are you doing? Hey.. I- I- I’m Peter.’

‘Tony.’

~

‘If you’re nothing without the suit, you shouldn’t have it!’

~

‘I don’t want to go, please, I don’t want to go Mr. Stark.’

‘I’m sorry.’

~

‘Hey! Holy cow! You will not believe what's been going on. Do you remember when we were in space? And I got all dusty? And I must've passed out because I woke up and you were gone. But Doctor Strange was there right. And he said 'It's been five years. Come on, they need us.' And he started doing the yellow sparkly thing that he does. Anyway...’

Tony hugged Peter, feeling as the teens excitement wore down.

‘This is nice.’

~

‘Mr. Stark, hey, Mr. Stark?’

‘Can you hear me? it’s Peter. Hey..we won. Mr.Stark. We won, Mr.Stark. We won, You did it sir, you did it.’

~~

“Anthony? What did- what did you just call me?” Peter asked, sliding up against the wall nearby after Sam finished making sure his wound was okay.

The Avengers looked confused, Rhodey glancing at the Tony lookalike uneasily.

Anthony and Peter looked at each other, both pale and scared.

“I- I don’t understand.” Anthony muttered.

Peter seemed to be staring at Anthony’s eyes the whole time, tears going down his face.

“Your eyes, Mr. Stark.” Peter held his hand to his mouth, staring in disbelief.

“What?” Anthony asked, new found emotion for the kid and everyone around him.

“Your eyes, Tony. They’re brown.”

[heart-of-gold-outlaw]

Welcome Home | Chapter Ten: Still Breathing

Finally—finally—, the day comes to rescue Sean. You honestly don’t know what to expect. Most of the others in camp aren’t much help, referring to Sean with a roll of their eyes and something along the lines of: “half a mind to let the bounty hunters keep him.”

They should be saying that about Micah, you think to yourself as you watch Charles and Arthur saddle their horses. Maybe then Dutch’ll kick him out.

Still, Sean is a bit of a wildcard to you. You won’t figure out what he’s really like until you meet him, and until then, you decide to keep an open mind. Worst case scenario? He’s Micah’s long-lost brother. Best case scenario? He’s… well. Maybe it’s best not to think about all the things he could be. Keep yourself on your toes.

You sit on a tree stump while the boys get ready. Taima is an absolute beauty of a horse, and you can tell by the way Charles dotes on her that she’s got a good life. Briefly, thoughts of having a horse of your own cross your mind. That appaloosa gelding is probably still for sale in Valentine. Maybe if you can get enough money, you can buy him.

Arthur and Charles take their sweet time packing more than enough ammo, which means you quickly get bored. Every scratchy detail on the tree stump bothers you, too. Hopping to your feet, you decide to get some chores done. Everyone’s been so preoccupied with the big upcoming rescue, they’ve neglected some of the finer details in camp.

The ax is in its usual spot, surrounded by whole logs that need to be chopped. You grab ahold of the handle. It feels lighter than it used to, and you realize you’re getting stronger.

Goodbye noodle arms, you think as you bring the ax down on to the first log. You don’t quite split it, but it’s getting closer than ever. And hello Jack Lumber.

A few chops in, you feel the muscles in the back of your neck tense. Someone’s behind you, and you’re not quite sure who. But soon enough, a low, sinister chuckle reaches your ears. Micah.

“Well,” he says. “Looks like the camp nuisance is finally doing some work.”

You slowly count to three before turning around. Micah stands by you, a little too close for your liking, and he’s got a smirk on his face that twists your gut something awful. You’ve started wearing a gun belt, and the hand that isn’t holding the ax inadvertently twitches toward your revolver.

“You know something, Y/N?” He takes a step toward you. “I think you’re starting to wear out your welcome.”

Fire ignites in your chest. No. No. Micah doesn’t get to do this, try and make you second-guess yourself and your place in the gang—especially not after you’ve just started feeling comfortable.

“Back off, you useless mineral,” you hiss.

Micah’s lips curl into a snarl as he takes another step toward you. This one feels infinitely more threatening, and you barely keep yourself from taking a step back. You’ll be damned if Micah wins this fight.

“Take another step,” you warn, “and I’ll jump rope with your intestines.”

Honestly, you don’t really expect him to feel threatened, but the odd choice in words is enough to throw him off. You can see him trying to process everything you said, which gives you enough time to throw the ax down and skedaddle.

Your heart thuds frantically in your chest as you hurry to Arthur and Charles. Micah won’t try anything if you’re with them; that much, you know for sure.

“We ready to go?” You ask as nonchalantly as you can. “If I chop one more piece of wood, I’ll have to start wearing flannel.”

Charles looks confused at “flannel,” but Arthur frowns as he glances over at the chopping block. His expression hardens when he sees Micah storming away.

“Micah giving you trouble?” He asks, a hint of something dangerous in his voice.

“Nothing I can’t handle.” You go to lean against the hitching post, miss, and almost topple over. Face burning, you settle for folding your arms over your chest.

Arthur and Charles exchange looks.

“If he tries anything,” Charles tells you, calm and steady, “let us know. We’ll take care of it.”

We’ll take care of it. How a statement so simple and so general can sound that dangerous, you’ll never know. You wordlessly nod, not knowing how to respond.

Charles leaves, then, to go saddle Taima. You look to Arthur, ready to follow him to Florence, who’s already tacked up and ready. But he doesn’t move.

“Micah been buggin’ you a lot?”

You shake your head. “Not really. I mean, he gave me a hard time when I was cleaning up Pearson’s wagon a while ago, but Hosea scared him off.”

Arthur turns to look at you. “And today?”

“Oh.” You think back to the confrontation. “Well, he called me the ‘camp nuisance’ and said I was starting to wear out my welcome.”

A glint of fury flashes through Arthur’s eyes as he throws a glare in Micah’s general direction. You shiver involuntarily. Thank goodness you’re not on a certain cowboy’s bad side.

“I’ve been called worse, to be honest,” you say with a shrug, and smile slightly when Arthur looks at you again. “I’m kinda used to it.”

He gives you a troubled frown instead of sharing your nonchalance. Confused, you feel your smile waver a little.

“What?” You ask.

“You…” Arthur begins, trails off, then continues: “You know it ain’t true, right?”

“What isn’t?”

“The part about being a nuisance. You ain’t wearing out your welcome, either.”

Something pulls at your heart, something strong, and you’re suddenly at a loss for words. You’ve had so many doors slammed in your face, so many people come and go, never staying, never even wanting to stay… And you couldn’t do anything but watch them leave.

“Oh,” is all you manage around a tight throat.

Arthur looks at you some more. His eyes are soft now, soft and full of what you think is understanding. He reaches out, maybe to put a hand on your shoulder, but apparently thinks better of it and instead motions for you to follow him. You trail a little behind as he walks toward Florence. You ain’t wearing out your welcome, either. Did… did Arthur really mean that? Does that mean the rest of the gang, minus Micah, feels the same way? You can’t help but shake your head in wonder. You don’t think you’ll ever understand these people.

Once you catch up, Arthur easily swings himself on top of Florence, then hauls you into the saddle behind him. You’re starting to get used to horseback. Florence may be absolutely massive, but you don’t feel so unsteady anymore. In fact, you might actually like riding.

“We’re meeting up with Javier just outside of Blackwater,” Charles says as he brings Taima over. “Trelawney thinks the bounty hunters will bring Sean upriver.”

Arthur nods and sets a steady trot out of camp. “Good. We can probably cut ‘em off when they reach the border. I think there’s a canyon that’ll give us some decent cover.”

“Any luck, we’ll take them by surprise.” Charles urges Taima into a canter, which Florence matches. “How many do you think there’ll be?”

“For Sean?” Arthur laughs, and you try not to look too enamored. “Any pair of fools could handle him. But there’ll be a lot of ‘em, no doubt.”

Charles hums in thought, but doesn’t say anything else. Much of the ride passes in comfortable silence. Although you want to focus on admiring the scenery and marvel at the lack of, well, everything, you find yourself thinking about the upcoming fight. You may not know a lot about the past, but you’ve seen enough Westerns to know bounty hunters always put up a hell of a fight. That, and they always keep coming right when you think you’ve killed them all.

Your revolver suddenly feels heavy in its holster. You bite your lip, a little unsure. Yes, you’ve used it once at Six Point Cabin, and yes, you’ve managed to hit a few bottles, but those were honestly lucky shots. And neither of them were shooting back.

Bounty hunters, though? Different story. For as much bravado as you showed Dutch during his little tirade, you have to admit that you’re a little nervous. It’ll be your first real gunfight. You’ll have Arthur and Charles looking out for you, but you can’t help the anxiety knotting deep in your gut.

If I die, I die, you think. No going back now.

///

Conversation lags for the remainder of the ride. Eventually, after crossing a small river, you’re in what Arthur tells you is West Elizabeth. It looks… well, it looks like a perfect snapshot of a history textbook. Rolling hills and open land, bison… it’s absolutely stunning.

Off in the distance, you see two people looking over the edge of a cliff. You recognize Javier, but you don’t recognize the other man, with his mustache and mischievous eyes. He smiles when he sees Arthur and Charles, then peers at you curiously.

“And who might this be?” He asks as Arthur dismounts, leaving you alone atop Florence.

Your brain goes into a blue screen of death, and before you know what you’re doing, you say: “My name is an enigma and holds all the secrets of the universe.”

“That would be Y/N,” Arthur says, exasperated. He helps you down and grabs his rifle from the saddle. “Y/N, this is Josiah Trelawney.”

Trelawney bows with a flourish. “At your service, my dear.”

You instantly decide you like him. Waving hello to Javier, you approach the edge of the cliff, crouching low like everyone else.

“Sean?” Arthur asks as he looks down the scope of his rifle.

“I think he’s in that boat over there.” Javier gestures to a small vessel upriver. “Think they’re docking to take him further inland.”

Arthur turns the scope, then gives a hum of confirmation. “That’s him alright. Giving those bounty hunters hell.”

Trelawney nods and rises before mounting his horse. Setting a slow walk, he motions for everyone to follow him. Arthur helps you on to Florence, and then you’re off once more.

“If we do this right,” Trelawney says, “we can cut them off. Remember: we’re just innocent folk out for a ride on the trail. Let’s not draw their attention just yet.”

The five of you ride toward a canyon. Ahead, you can see the boat docked at the shore, along with several well-armed, intimidating bounty hunters standing guard. They don’t look like they’re in much of a mood to negotiate. In fact, they look ready to shoot on sight.

Everyone takes cover around the bend. Trelawney, odd man that he is, seems more preoccupied with his coat than the problem at hand.

“Now ain’t the time for a fashion statement,” Arthur drawls.

“Au contraire, my dear fellow,” Trelawney says with a smile. “Bounty hunters are even more gullible than hillbillies. I have to look the part if I’m going to make the proper distraction.”

Then, before any of you can say a word otherwise, Trelawney strides confidently toward the bounty hunters. You can’t hear what he’s saying, but you just know he’s spinning a tale bigger than the Grizzlies. He waves his arms in a grandiose gesture. In another situation, you would have mistaken it for part of the act. But now, along with Arthur, Charles, and Javier, you recognize it for what it is: a signal.

Arthur fires a quick shot, striking one of the bounty hunters between the eyes. From there, it’s chaos. All you can hear is the sound of gunfire and shouting. You take cover behind a rock, firing your revolver without really trying to hit anything. You don’t know if any of your bullets find their marks. Honestly? Probably not.

“Let’s push up on ‘em,” Arthur commands.

You stick close by him as you make your way up the canyon. The bounty hunters have regrouped by now, which lets them put up more of a fight. A bullet whizzes by your ear—too close for you to ignore—and you yelp and duck further into cover.

Arthur quickly lays down some cover fire, then hauls you up and pulls you behind a larger rock. You don’t even have time to tell him thank you. The firefight picks up again, bullets flying, ricocheting, sometimes hitting their targets, sometimes hitting the canyon walls. It takes nearly all your self-control to keep a level head.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Javier reloading his guns, but also just barely peeking out of cover. You look up the canyon trail. There, off in the distance, half-hidden by gun smoke and dust, you can just barely make out the silhouette of a bounty hunter—and he’s aiming right at Javier.

You steel yourself. You’re not some useless coward who needs to be protected. You’re a member of the Van Der Linde Gang—an outlaw. And one of your own is in danger.

Your anxiety flees, replaced by determination. Edging ever-so-slightly out of cover, you fire off a shot toward the bounty hunter, then duck back behind the boulder. A pained yell tells you that you hit your mark, and it’s followed by silence.

Javier looks at the fallen bounty hunter, then at you. He nods his head in thanks. Smiling, you tip your fingers in a mock-salute, then follow Arthur as he pushes further up the canyon.

It doesn’t take long for your little group to reach a clearing. Right away, you see someone dangling upside down from a tree. He’s also surrounded by vicious-looking men who you would honestly rather avoid.

Well,you think to yourself. That must be Sean.

The bounty hunters have been expecting you, and they fire several warning shots into the tree line. You duck behind the trunk of a massive pine. To your right, you see Arthur considering the situation, trying to figure out the best approach. On your left, Javier and Charles wait on a signal. You don’t know what happened to Trelawney, but you think he’s alright.

“If we can get around them,” Arthur eventually says, “we can come at them from all sides.”

Javier grins. “Like shooting fish in a barrel.”

Charles gives him a look. “Only the fish can shoot back.”

Arthur nods, then looks back toward the clearing. “Someone’s gotta get to Sean quick as they can. I got a feeling he’s gonna be bait.”

“I’ll do it,” you tell him. “There’s enough cover behind that tree he’s tied up in. I’ll be fine.”

For a long, long moment, Arthur looks uncertain. But when you give him a pleading look, silently begging him to let you prove yourself, he sighs and folds the cards.

“Alright,” he agrees. “Wait until you got a clear opening, then go for it.”

Everyone heads off in opposite directions, leaving you to prepare yourself for the sprint of the century. One by one, the boys shoot the bounty hunters, hitting each with impeccable aim. Then, almost before you’re ready, you spy the perfect opportunity.

Making a beeline for Sean, you dive behind the tree just as the bullets start flying again. You sit there for a few seconds, catching your breath. You can’t believe you’re still alive. All that time in open space, and not a single scratch on you.

“It’s over!” You hear one of the bounty hunters shout.

He sounds dangerously close to you. Peeking around the tree, you see him standing not a foot away, pointing his rifle at Sean.

Shit.

You duck back into hiding before you’re spotted. This is exactly what you didn’twant to happen, and it happened anyway. Wracking your brain for ideas, you look around for anything that could be of use.

Think think think think think think—

There’s a corpse not too far from you, and you spy a knife on its belt. Moving purely on instinct and adrenaline, you snatch it from its sheath, turn back to the bounty hunter, and shove it through his throat right in the middle of his next sentence. He stays on his feet for maybe a second longer, then collapses.

You slowly back away from him. Dimly, you realize that the fire fight is over, that everyone else is okay, but you can’t bring yourself to focus on that. All you can do is stare at the body on the ground… the man you just killed.

“You alright there, friend?” Sean asks, still upside down.

“Uh,” your voice sounds far away to your own ears, “yeah. I’m fine.”

After that, you have maybe five seconds before your stomach lurches. Doubling over, you heave violently for a while before coughing, spitting out the taste in your mouth, and wiping your lips with the back of your hand.

“Hiya Sean. I’m Y/N.”

//

Accompanying Music: Still Breathing | Green Day

Ko-Fi

[juniorgman187]

2 Truths & a Lie (Spencer Reid Imagine)

Summary: A game of “Strip 2 Truths and a Lie” helps heats things up between SSA Reader and Spencer. 

Prompt: “Ladies first.” Couple: Spencer Reid x Female Reader Category: Fluff Content Warning: Alcohol consumption, stripping  Word count: 3.5k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

“Strip poker!” Garcia slurred. “Let’s play! Let’s play! Let’s play!” 

You had to interject. “No way! If Reid’s playing - I’m not. That’s so unfair.” 

Morgan agreed with you. “Yeah, I’m with Hot Stuff over here. He’s banned from three casinos for a reason.” 

All eyes turned to the aforementioned man, whose smug smile reached from ear to ear. “Fair enough. What can we play then?” He asked. 

It was your turn to scream like a giddy Garcia. “Two truths and a lie!” You jumped up from your seat on the floor. “It’s totally fair cause we’re all profilers here. So it’ll either show how good of a liar you are or show how good of a profiler you are.” 

“Excuse me, Girl Goddess. Need I remind you - I’m not a profiler.” Garcia butted in. 

JJ made a disapproving noise against the brim of her red solo cup. “Hey, hey, hey - you’re like the first to tell when someone’s hiding something.” 

Garcia simply smiled at this. “Ah, you’re right, Jayje.” 

So it was settled. You and the BAU were gonna play “Strip 2 Truths and a Lie.” 

But to make things a little more interesting, you changed up the rules.

The order the players would take turns went in a clockwise circle. Garcia, Morgan, Reid, you, Prentiss, and JJ. (Hotch and Rossi bailed last minute. Apparently, being invited to Garcia’s wasn’t an offer they couldn’t refuse.)

Instead of players guessing what the lie was and stopping once someone guessed correctly, you were all going to guess at the same time. Garcia took the liberty of handing each of your sticky notes and once the player said their two truths and one lie, you would write your guess on your post-it and put it in a pile for the “liar” to read. 

Then the “liar” would declare who was stripping based on who guessed incorrectly. And just for some more fun - the “liar” wouldn’t explicitly tell what the real lie was. You profilers would just have to use context clues to do that. 

Since each player was guessing on post-its, Garcia gave you each a different color to distinguish who guessed what. Granted, it was Garcia, so she had every shade of the rainbow. She gave herself the red, Reid got the orange, you got yellow, Prentiss - green, Morgan got blue. And JJ - purple. 

“I’m first!” Garcia sing-songily said. “Alright - I had a guinea pig named Cerulean when I was little . . . my mom knew how to juggle, andddd, OH! I lost my virginity to a guy I met online with the gamer tag ‘FastAndFurious79.” 

Morgan almost spat out the drink he was nursing from his shock at the last one. “Babygirl, you did what?!” The pitch of his voice sent the rest of you into a frenzy as you each wrote your guesses on your sticky note pads. 

You guessed the lie was the guinea pig. And using your peripherals, you saw that Prentiss thought the same. You folded your yellow sticky note and placed it in the center. Eventually, when the rainbow was complete, Garcia began reading them. “I hate you guys! It’s no fun being friends with profilers.” She pouted. 

“You lost your virginity to a guy with the gamertag ‘fast and furious?!” Morgan screeched. You and the team laughed so hard, your stomach started hurting.

The game continued for an entire round until it was Morgan’s second turn. 

“Alright, growing up my favorite movie was Kindergarten Cop . .  . um, I used to be a lifeguard, and my body count is higher than my age.” 

Reid was quick to jot down his answer, but you took a little time with yours.

“What’s the problem, Hot Stuff?” Morgan teased. 

“Mmm, I dunno. You’ve genuinely got me stumped on this one.” You admitted. Morgan just shot you that infomercial worthy grin as a response. 

Hesitantly, you finally wrote down that he was lying about his favorite moving being Kindergarten Cop. Your sticky note was the last to go in the pile, so you just handed yours to Morgan to speed up the process. He chuckled while going through most of them and looked back up at all of you with that same smug look Reid had earlier. 

“Looks like Pretty Boy and Hot Stuff are the first to strip tonight!” He declared, making you roll your eyes. 

“Your body count isn’t higher than your age?!” Reid squeaked. Morgan laughed and shook his head no. Now that - that was shocking. 

“Alright, what can I take off that counts?” You clarified. 

“Any piece of clothing that covers your legs, arms, and torso.” Morgan happily informed.

It wasn’t fair. On a normal workday, you would have a blazer, pants, or sometimes a skirt, and a blouse or shirt underneath, but today was collectively your guys’ day off - so you only had on a fitted tee and jeans. Whereas the genius to the right of you wore a sweater vest, button-up, tie, belt, and his pants. Before, you would make fun of him for wearing so much on a day off, but now you were envious. 

“Not fair! He’s got like 80 pieces of clothing on.” You whined. The rest of the group, including Reid, laughed at you. Not a single one of them offered mercy. Looks like you were just gonna have to strip off what little clothes you were wearing.

“Ladies first.” 

Reid teased as if he was being a gentleman by saying this. His voice made it sound so subtly seductive that your cheeks heat up. He even said it with the side of his mouth, making his plump lips form a smirk. 

You raised your brows at his cockiness. You wanted to make him eat his words, so you stood up - first, unbuttoning your jeans painfully slow. All eyes were on you as you stuck your thumbs inside the waistband and wiggled your hips, while simultaneously pulling your jeans down. You made a little show out of it, milking the situation. You dragged the denim down while arching your back to flaunt your butt as it was unhurriedly revealed. And just for fun, you angled yourself, where Reid could get the full view. When your jeans dropped to your ankles, you stepped out of them, bent over to retrieve them, and for a finishing touch - you dropped them right onto Reid’s lap. 

“They don’t call me Hot Stuff for nothing.” You flirtatiously remarked. 

“WOO-HOO-HOO! That was sexy, Mamas!” Morgan cheered. The girls all had faces of admiration or surprise on them - mainly admiration. Whereas Reid appeared like he’d just discovered porn or something - like a whole world of possibilities opened up. 

“Hello? Earth to Dr. Reid?” You joked, sitting back down beside him. 

When you felt the floor’s rug against your thong, it shocked you a little, so you moaned at the feeling. Not loud enough for everyone to hear over their laughs and cheers but just loud enough for Reid to. And he most certainly did. Because you caught his tongue sweeping over his lips while his eyes looked at yours. If you weren’t in a group setting, you would’ve straddled him right then and there and kissed him, but you weren’t gonna lose control like that. The question was - would he? And secretly - you were hoping he would. 

“Wow, Y/N. You’ve rendered him speechless. I don’t think that’s ever happened before,” Prentiss quipped. “You should do that more often.” Everyone erupted into another fit of laughter. 

Reid shook his head as if to re-enter reality. “I, uh, I - I’m just gonna take off my belt.” He concluded, fiddling nervously with the buckle. 

“Need some help there?” Before you even finished the question, you put your small fingers around the clasp, making him shiver.

“N-no!” He whimpered, grabbing your wrists in one hand and moving them away from his groin. He continued to unbuckle it and neatly place it behind him. 

The game continued on for many more minutes with Morgan losing his shirt and consequently, Garcia losing her shit (which was understandable because Morgan was RIPPED.) JJ removed her belt, while Garcia took off her cropped cardigan. Prentiss was the only one left who was fully clothed, while you and Reid still hadn’t lost any more articles of clothing since the initial time you did. 

“Alright, alright! Me again!” Garcia giggled, while she downed the rest of whatever was in that red solo cup. “Let’s see. Oh, I got it! Okay, my hair has been dyed every color except for green, I’m the president of a secret club for people that love sea otters, and I’ve had sex more times on the floor than in the bed.” She squealed. 

You weren’t buying that she’s never dyed her hair green, and after a quick side glance to the right, you saw that Reid didn’t buy it either. You folded the paper over your answer and placed it confidently in the center - waiting patiently for the verdict. Garcia zealously scooped up all the post its and scrutinized them. “Uh oh, I think Boy Wonder and Girl Goddess might be out of a job once Sir Hotch finds out how bad they are at detecting lies!” Garcia got so excited she started jumping up and down. You pouted and faked sobs once you heard this. 

“Take it off! Take it off! Take it off!” The group started cheering. 

Just to be the center of attention once more, you stood up and put your right hand under the hem of the left side of your shirt, and you put your left hand under the hem of the right side of your shirt, making your arms cross over your tummy. You pulled the shirt up (sucking in your gut once it was uncovered) all the way until it was finally over your head. You were left in your maroon push up bra and your black lacy thong - a set that didn’t match, but when you looked down at yourself, looked decently good together. 

The “crowd” gasped at your figure in its entirety. Encouraging words were spewed at you, making you smile. 

“Alright, your turn.” You nudged Reid. He simply slipped off his sweater vest, quite ungracefully might you add. But little did you know that he lost all coordination after seeing you so bare. 

“Here.” He whispered, removing his tie from his collar. He began unbuttoning his dress shirt, which you didn’t understand why, until he shrugged it off of himself and helped you into it. You weren’t surprised in the least when you saw that underneath his white button-up was a cotton tee. Of course, he had even more layers than you previously thought. 

“Aww, look at that.” Prentiss said with awe at Reid’s actions. 

While Reid rolled up the long sleeves until he saw your hands peek through, all you could manage to do was look at him. He bit his lip while he did this, showing how focused he was on the task. He was absolutely adorable. 

“Do you want me to button it for you?” He quietly asked. You shook your head no. “It’s okay. Thank you.” If you could’ve seen yourself, you would’ve seen that your eyes had hearts in them. You were the epitome of lovesick. 

“Yeah, of course.” 

When he stopped helping you dress, you couldn’t help but notice the outfit he was left to wear. It was a plain white tee with gray dress pants and his classic black converse. How he managed to look so good in such a simple outfit was beyond you. It was quite unfair actually. You thought his normal quirky attire suit him pretty well but this outfit made you feel something you’d never felt before. Your eyes drifted up to his hair, which since he cut it last year, was growing out again but was still short. It was the perfect length and had a little curl and unruliness to it - just the way you liked. It looked so soft that you were overcome with a sudden overwhelming urge to run your fingers through it, but you willed yourself not to.

“I think someone’s in love over there.” Morgan pointed to you, making you snap out of your trance. 

“What? NO!” You shrieked. 

“Oh my god, you totally are.” Prentiss giggled. 

“Somebody likes Reid.” JJ sing-songily teased before sipping at her drink and looking away. 

“OK, enough with the crazy talk. We’re all a little too drunk to be making such claims.” You concluded. “I think maybe it’s time to go home.” You hastily said, trying to change the topic. 

“Mmm-mmm,” Morgan disapprovingly shook his head. “None of us should be driving right now. Even Reid.” Reid looked slightly offended at the comment, but he couldn’t deny it. He’d only had one drink, but everyone knew Reid was a lightweight. 

“Why don’t you guys just crash here?” Garcia slurred. No one objected, so the sleeping arrangement was made. Morgan and Garcia would sleep in Garcia’s bed. JJ on the beanbag. Prentiss on the loveseat. And you and Reid on the couch. 

“Me and Reid?” You asked Garcia. 

“Uh-huh,” She nodded rapidly. “You’ll fit. Just spoon!” She said with joyful elation.

“Uh ohh, Reid and Y/N sittin’ in a tree. C-U-D-D-L-I-N-G.” Morgan jested. 

“Shut up!” Reid chucked a pillow at Morgan’s face - which he caught before it even touched his head. “Don’t worry, I’ll just sleep on the floor.” Reid told you.

“No, don’t be silly. We share the couch on the jet all the time.” You told him. Covertly, you were hoping he wouldn’t argue against it. There were certainly worse things you could do than cuddle with Reid. Just as you wanted, he didn’t contend. 

“Here.” He handed you your jeans and t-shirt, which you took but didn’t put back on. 

“Do you mind if I stay in this? There’s no way I can fall asleep in my jeans,” He blinked hard as if to process what you were saying but didn’t dispute. “I’ll be back.” You disclosed while walking to Garcia’s bathroom to put on your shirt and take off your bra. You came back out, feeling a cold breeze. Unbeknownst to you, the cold air hardened your nipples, but this was not lost on Reid. He let himself get a glimpse of the sight while he laid on the couch, waiting for you to join him. 

“You’re really gonna sleep in your pants?” You asked him, not even trying to imply anything sexual. 

“Would you mind if I took them off?” He shyly questioned. 

You shook your head as if to say, “No, not at all.” 

He slid them down before you took your spot on the couch. While Reid’s back was against the backrest, your back was right up against his chest. This was the position you’d normally be in if you were on the jet. Something that surprisingly - the team never teased you for. It was as if everyone just accepted it as something normal. Something totally natural. 

Except in this instance, Garcia’s couch was surprisingly not as wide as the jet’s, so you had to scoot back a little to fit. However, you didn’t anticipate how close Reid already was to you. So when you backed up, (for lack of a better term) you made ass-to-dick contact. 

“Oh my God! I’m so sorry!” You nervously blurted. Reid uncomfortably laughed it off. 

“No, no. You’re fine.” He reassured you. It was enough to convince you to settle back down and cuddle up to Reid again. 

Despite doing this countless amounts of times before, there was something about this time that made you feel differently. You thought that your heart might sooner beat out of your chest. The rhythm vibrated through your entire body, and you honestly worried that the beat was so loud that Reid could hear it. After 30 minutes of this, the whole house was knocked out - except for you. You harbored too much nervous energy to fall asleep.

“Are you feeling okay? You’re breathing really hard.” Reid murmured, his quiet voice shocking you. Damn it, he wasn’t asleep either? Leave it to him to pick up on your unnatural breathing patterns. You told Reid it was nothing, but he didn’t leave it alone. “How can I help you sleep?”Once more, you told him you were just fine. “Can I just try something? My mom used to do this for me when I couldn’t fall asleep,” You reluctantly agreed. “Turn around.” He softly commanded. 

You did as asked, turning towards him. Now that you were face-to-face, Reid took his arm that was by his side before and put it over your body, with his hand on your back. You felt his warm touch move from between your shoulder blades, down your spine, all the way to the small of your back. He moved up and down repeatedly, sometimes adding pressure along the way. Your eyes closed at the pleasure. 

“Does that feel good?” He asked sweetly, but even then, you couldn’t help but imagine him asking that same question in a very different scenario. 

You couldn’t be bothered to speak real words, so you hummed in tranquility. 

He kept doing this until he noticed your breathing started to slow down. It was working. 

The last thought you had before falling asleep completely was of how you never wanted this moment to end. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

“How long should we wait until we wake them?” You heard JJ ask. Her voice seemed so distant for some reason. “Mmm, I give it five more minutes.” Morgan’s voice chirped. Now his voice seemed to be closer. 

“Should I take another picture?” Garcia asked. Wait a minute - her voice was louder now too. 

You groggily opened your eyes, wincing at the brightness of your surroundings. 

“Oh, I think Hot Stuff’s awake.” Morgan’s words sobered you up enough to lift your head and examine your surroundings. 

Reid’s face was buried into your chest, while your hand was in his hair. Your leg wrapped around Reid’s lower body, with his hand hooked on the back of your knee, hiking it up even further and keeping your leg in its place. You began realizing just how provocative the scene was, so you startled yourself out of it. Like the clumsy goof you are, you rolled out of Reid’s embrace, but with no extra space to roll over onto, you tumbled to the floor gracelessly. This woke up Reid and made the four viewers hovering over the couch die laughing. 

“Not funny.” You groaned, clutching your side in pain after collapsing onto the floor. 

“What happened?” Reid yawned. 

“What happened was you and Hot Stuff got pretty comfortable on Garcia’s sofa.” Morgan sounded way too happy to tell Reid this. 

You looked back at Reid with a frown, noticing how he looked like he was a child that had just been caught doing something bad. 

“Maybe next time we play Strip 2 Truths and a Lie, they’ll finally admit they like each other.” Prentiss giggled, mentioning you and Reid as if you weren’t in their presence. 

“Be quiet!” You and Reid simultaneously yelped. 

You buried your face into a throw pillow that had been discarded on the floor, probably from where you and Reid took up all the space on the couch. As you hid your face in embarrassment, you heard the quartet move away from the scene and into the kitchen, leaving you and Reid to your devices. 

“Sorry about them.” He finally said. His voice was all raspy from where he’d just woken up and all you could think was - YOU’RE KILLING ME. How did he make everything he did so sexy?

“Me, too.” You uttered, removing the pillow from your face to hug it in your arms like a child hugging their toy. From behind you, Reid sat up and swung his legs to the front of the couch to stand up and help you up from your sitting position on the floor. 

“For what it’s worth, I don’t regret anything,” He told you when you’d risen to eye level with him. You smiled to suggest that you felt the same way. “You know, maybe we could do this again . . . without the audience.” He cocked his head backward to gesture to the rest of the group. 

“Only if you promise to give me back rubs again.” You beamed. 

The look on Reid’s face was priceless. It was as if he’d just been told he won the lottery. You walked away from him with the same stupid grin on your face that he had on his. 

“Hey, wait I’m gonna need that shirt back!” He called out from behind you as you moved swiftly into Garcia’s bathroom to change. 

“I guess you’ll have to come pick it up from my apartment tonight.” You yelled back to him, lingering in the doorway. His smile was your answer.

Well - looks like you have plans tonight.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*