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leviackermanscleaningbuddy · 1 year ago

Note

Hi Hi this is my first time participating in one of these so please tell me if I did it wrong. But for the Prompt game number 2 could you do minsung and reader 24 and 48?? Or honestly anyone lol

Also I love your writing and I hope you’re doing well 🥰

SKZ Prompt Game

Prompts: "You're trembling."

"You make me want things I can't have."

Genre: Light Angst, Fluff, Light Smut

Members: Han Jisung, Lee Minho

Relationship: Established Minho x Fem!Reader x Roommate Jisung

Warning: Mentions of Nightmares, Cheating (but not really, you'll see)

"Lee Minho, are you asking me to babysit your roommate?"

Minho makes a little sort of disgruntled sound in the back of his throat, huffing a humorless laugh into the other end of the phone.

"He doesn't like to be alone."

You roll your eyes, toeing off your shoes and pinching the phone between your shoulder and ear as you head into the kitchen, depositing your work bag onto the counter.

"Jisung really can't handle staying by himself for two nights while you're gone? I do it all the time, you know. Every time you guys plan one of your little weekend guy trips." You huff out, though you're not quite as put out as your words would entail.

"Please, baby?" Minho pleads teasingly, his voice dropping in tone, into a whisper, in a way that he knows you can't resist. "For me?"

You sigh, long and hard, and you can almost feel your boyfriend smiling through the phone.

He knows he's got you.

And honestly, spending the weekend with Jisung won't be too much of a chore. You like him. And you both like to play video games, and eat pizza, and talk shit on Minho.

How bad could it really be?

"Fine." You grumble out, hoping Minho can sense your glare on the other end of the phone, just like you can sense his absolute glee. "But he's buying the pizza."

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

"Holy fuck, this is gonna be so fun!" Jisung announces, taking your small overnight bag from you almost immediately and chucking it onto the couch Minho had made you help him pick out months before.

You open your mouth to scold him, to say that hey, maybe some of your shit is kind of fragile? but before you can even get so much as one word out, Jisung has swooped you into a bear hug, squeezing all the air, and protests, right from your lungs.

"Thanks for agreeing to stay." He murmurs against the crown of your head, and you can't help it, you nod back without really thinking.

"Yeah, of course."

Jisung releases you with a huge, heart shaped grin, and you try not to notice how the cologne he wears-something a little bit spicy and lined with floral-contrasts so sharply, and altogether pleasantly, with the scent Minho always dons-dark and woodsy.

Minho appears, his work bag slung over his shoulder, his brow raised.

"Can you please refrain from greeting my girlfriend before me?" He queries dryly, glancing over to Jisung, before he leans over to press a kiss to your lips. "Hi, baby."

"No can do, hyung." Jisung grins, flopping down onto the couch next to your discarded bag, his long fingers pushing some of his dark hair out of his eyes. "Early bird gets the worm."

You laugh. "That doesn't even make sense."

Jisung's eyes glitter with amusement and he gives a little shrug.

"Sure it does. I'm the bird, you're the worm, and Minho-hyung is the cat who missed out."

"Cats don't eat worms." Minho mutters back, though there's amusement in his tone, as he leans in to give you another quick kiss.

He pats the pocket of his jacket, making sure he has his wallet and passport, and you straighten his button down shirt beneath as you give him a slight smile.

"Ready?"

He nods. "Yeah, I better get going." He glances to Jisung sternly. "Behave while I'm gone."

Jisung winks. "I always do."

Minho sighs with resignation and turns back to you, tilting his head toward the door and his waiting suitcase. "Walk me out?"

You nod, and he takes your hand, using his free one to grab the suitcase and open the door for the two of you.

"Bye, hyungie!" Jisung calls in a teasing sing song sort of voice as the door closes behind you.

Minho slows his step to match your own, glancing at his watch, and then squinting into the sun let in through the slats of the apartment walkway.

"Are you going to be late?" You ask, tightening your fingers around his own.

Minho shakes his head a little distractedly. "No, I'll be fine." He glances sidelong at you, and his expression grows serious. "Baby, about Jisung-"

You give a little laugh at the concern in his tone. "What? Think he'll eat me or something while you're gone?'' You arch a brow at him with a little smirk. "C'mon, baby, don't worry so much. Jisung and I are friends too, you know."

Minho sighs and rakes a hand through his hair, glancing past you. "I know. That's not what I'm worried about."

He pulls you to a stop, and the smile drops from your face at his worried expression.

"Min?" You ask, suddenly nervous for some reason.

Minho glances down at you, and reaches up to swipe a stray strand of hair from your forehead with a little smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"He has nightmares."

You stare at him, uncomprehending, and he squeezes your hands in his own, standing there in the middle of the hallway.

"Jisung. He doesn't like to talk about it, but he's been through some pretty messed up shit, and it messes with his head sometimes." Minho sighs, long and resigned, and a muscle ticks slightly in his jaw. You resist the urge to reach up and smooth it away.

"And when I say nightmares, I'm talking full fledged night terrors. Between the two of us, we've figured out some ways to deal with them, help them end more quickly, but he can't stand to be alone after they're over. Which is why I asked-"

"Me to stay with him while you're gone." You breathe out, finally putting the pieces together.

Minho nods. "Yeah. And I'm sorry to put you in this position, but he's my oldest friend, and I lo-" He stops for a minute, considering his words, and then continues. "-care about him."

You squeeze his hand. "I get it. I do. I'd do anything for you, so I understand how you feel the same way about Jisung."

Minho's expression lightens a little bit. "You do?"

"Of course." You smile up at him softly and lean up to press a lingering kiss to his lips. "And I promise, I will take good care of him, okay? Because no matter what you think, I care about Jisung too."

Minho smiles gently, and gives you another kiss. "I know you do, baby. Thank you."

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

"Fuck, I'm tired." You stretch, pushing the blanket off of your lap and standing, grabbing the pizza box to throw it away.

Jisung looks up from where he's sitting on the opposite end of the couch, controller still held in his hand, eyes wide.

"Really? You sure you don't want to go another round?" Something mischievous glints in his eyes and he smirks at you. "Or are you scared I'll kick your ass again?"

"You couldn't kick my ass if you tried., Han Jisung." You retort back, sticking your tongue out at him. "But it's also one AM, and I haven't stayed up this late since I was in college."

Jisung grins back, bounding up to help you throw away the take out containers and soda cans.

"Well then, time for you to live a little."

"Jisung-" You start to sigh, throwing away the empty pizza box and turning to face him.

Your words die on your tongue at how close he is, you hadn't realized he'd come up right behind you while you were talking.

Your nose is almost brushing the tip of his.

Something weird swarms in the pit of your stomach as you stare into his large, dark eyes.

"Yes?" He questions back with the hint of amused innocent, his eyebrow ticking upward as he stares at you, staring at him.

You open your mouth to say something, anything-you should back up a few feet, or a hundred, I should go to bed right this goddamn instant-but nothing comes out.

Jisung cocks his head, and then he takes a step back, something unreadable going across his face as he laughs a little and finally drops your gaze.

"Yeah, you're probably right." He acquiesces, still not looking at you, the air between you awkward now. "It's late. We should hit the hay."

The forced casualness in his voice has something heavy settling into the pit of your stomach.

"Yeah, yeah-" You stumble over the words, desperate to get out of the kitchen and away from him suddenly. You skirt along the wall, trying to increase the space between you as you give him a forced smile. "-see you in the morning, Jisung."

Jisung opens his mouth, as if he's about to say something more, but you hightail it out of the kitchen and down the hallway to your room, locking the door before you can give yourself the chance to find out what it was.

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

You don't know how long you've been asleep when you're woken by a thud against the wall Minho's room shares with Jisung's, and the sound of something, or multiple somethings, crashing to the floor.

You give your heart a moment to stop pounding in your chest, listening for any more sounds, and when you don't hear anything, you creep from Minho's bed and down the hall.

Standing outside Jisung's still closed door, you hesitate only briefly, before you raise your fist and knock softly.

"Jisung?" You call out quietly, waiting for a response. When there is none, you try again. "Jisung?"

There is the sound of shuffling from inside, and then it falls silent again.

Gathering your courage, you push open the door silently, and stare into the darkened room, letting your eyes adjust for a moment.

There's Jisung's bed-empty-his bedside table-clear of all items, including his lamp and alarm clock, now in a pile on the floor-and then-

"Jisung." You whisper, and without thinking, you hurry across the small room, crouching down in front of him.

He's huddled in the corner farthest from the bed, his comforter pulled up like a hood around his head, curled in on himself for safety.

You can tell, even in the lack of light, that his knuckles are white where they hold the blanket too tightly against his body.

"Jisung." You repeat, because it's the only thing you can think to say in this moment. You cautiously reach forward to touch his hand. "Are you okay?"

He stares at you for a moment, as if confused that you're here, in his room, in front of him, and then he shakes his head, as if to clear his brain of unwanted thoughts, and gives you the fakest half smile you've ever seen.

"Y-yeah-" He stutters out, eyes large and dark and a little too shiny in the dark.

You close your fingers around his own, and his entire body shakes beneath your touch.

"You're trembling." You murmur worriedly, watching the way his muscles shudder beneath the safety of the blanket, as if his body is in fight or flight.

It probably is from what Minho had said.

"It's an after effect." Jisung mumbles back, dropping his gaze from your own now, as he stares at your hand still covering his own. "Of the nightmares."

You feel helpless, crouched before him, unsure of what to do, watching him shatter before your eyes.

You swallow, and reach up your fingers to shove aside some of his thick dark hair, damp with sweat, from his eyes, and he stares at you for a moment, expression doubtful.

"What can I do?" You ask in a whisper, scooting a little closer to him, pressing your thigh up against his, hoping the bodily contact will comfort him a little. "Minho didn't tell me how he usually helps, but-"

Jisung's eyes widen a little, his lips pulling down into a grim line. "Minho told you he helps me with the nightmares?"

You give a little shrug of your shoulder, confused. "Well, yeah, he wanted to make sure I knew what to do while he was gone. And he cares about you."

Jisung stares a little longer, and then he looks away, clearing his throat.

Slowly, one by one, his fingers uncurl from around the blanket.

"I think I'm okay now." He admits softly, a slight wobble in his voice that belies his lie. "But, if you could just sit with me for a little bit? So I'm not alone?"

He glances back to you hopefully and you instantly nod, sliding so your back is against the wall beside his, body pressed close.

"Of course I can, Jisung. Always."

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

The next night, the nightmares are worse.

You're woken up by the sound of terror, and without having to think, your feet fly down the hallway and into Jisung's room, finding him writhing on the bed, tangled in his blankets.

"Jisung, Jisung!" You shake him a little, trying to pull him back from the brink of his own mind.

He stops writhing, staring at you blankly-or through you more accurately-and the dead expression on his face and in his dark, usually expressive eyes scares you.

Without thinking, you climb into the bed and lie on top of him, pressing your body heavily down onto his own.

You'd read somewhere that having another person's body weight on top of you helps with panic attacks, so why not nightmares?

You're out of your depth, you don't know what the hell you're doing, but you have to do something, have to bring Jisung back.

"It's okay." You whisper, reaching up to cautiously start stroking his hair. "It's okay. I'm here. You're here."

Jisung's muscles are tense beneath your own, his whole body still shuddering from the after effects of the horrible nightmare, but slowly, beneath the weight of your own, the violent shudders die down to silent trembling.

"It's okay." You just keep murmuring over and over and over, like a mantra, filling the space between the two of you. "It's okay."

Jisung takes in a deep breath, his chest rising and falling rapidly beneath your own, and carefully, you raise your head, meeting his gaze, your fingers stilling their movements on his hair.

"I'm sorry." He murmurs out, voice hoarse and shaky, a single tear creeping from the corner of his eye and down his cheek.

"Don't be sorry." You reply back softly, resuming your combing of his hair and he leans into the touch, like a cat seeking the security of affection. "It's not your fault."

"Yeah, but Minho, and you-" Jisung starts, taking in a shuddering breath, his body convulsing beneath your own.

"Care about you a whole fucking lot." You finish for him resolutely, daring to come up on your elbows now that the majority of his shuddering has worn off, meeting his gaze firmly. "You have nothing to apologize for. We wouldn't be here if we didn't want to be."

Jisung holds your gaze for another moment and then nods, looking away. "Okay."

"Okay." You repeat, before you suddenly realize that your body is still flush with Jisung's. You shove yourself up on your hands, face going hot. "If you're okay then-"

Panic comes across Jisung's face and you freeze, his body once again going instantly tense beneath your own as he grabs your upper arms in a vice like grip.

"Please don't leave."

You stare down at him, pleading silently with you with large, dark, scared eyes, and you finally nod, settling back down on top of him again, elbows propping you up so you can see his face.

"Okay, I won't."

You study him for a moment in the dark, the slope of his nose, the full swell of his bottom lip, the doe eyes hidden beneath long, dark hair.

Without really considering, you reach out and trace his lips softly with the pad of your thumb.

Jisung freezes beneath the touch, and you feel your cheeks heat once more as you move to pull away.

"I'm sorry-"

Jisung's fingers loop around your wrist, keeping you in place, your fingers hovering just over his mouth. His lips part, and you can feel the warmth of his breath wash over your fingertips.

The sensation sends a tingle down your spine.

"You make me want things I can't have."

His voice is so soft that you think you've misheard him, and confusion washes across your face, the words jostling together in your brain in a way that doesn't make sense.

Maybe he's talking about you and Minho? About a relationship?

"What? Me and Minho?" You question back dumbly, still trying to piece together what he's just admitted to you.

"Yeah." Jisung says softly, gaze still never leaving your own, breath still washing over your fingers. "You. And Minho."

There's something behind the words, the way he repeats it after you, and suddenly, it clicks into place.

You laugh a little, you can't help it, and Jisung looks caught off guard.

"Jisung." You say his name like a sigh, like you're releasing a secret you've kept for ages. "All you have to do is ask him. Minho fucking loves you. I've known forever, but I've been waiting for him to bring it up."

Jisung's eyes grow wider. "Minho loves me?"

You nod. "Yeah." Something quiet and sad colors your tone as you stare at him, the boy you both secretly want, the boy Minho could have if he just said the word. It's not so simple for you. "I see it in the way he looks at you, the way he talks about you."

"And you're okay with that?" Jisung asks, slight doubt filtering into his tone.

You huff a laugh. "Yeah. I love Minho, and he loves me, but he also loves you, and I'm not opposed" You give him a slight smile. "I can share."

Jisung takes in your words for a moment, and then he releases his hold on your wrist, letting you sit up fully this time, scooting away from him on the bed.

He heaves himself up, untangling himself from the blanket. "What about you?"

His question catches you off guard, and you shrug slightly. "What about me?"

Jisung's face pinches slightly. "Well, I-"

You give a humorless little chuckle, glancing to him now. "You don't have to say it, Jisung. I don't have to be part of this equation. It's okay."

The words hurt your heart, but you remain stoic.

Jisung stares at you for a long, everlasting moment, and then he inches closer to you, taking your face in his hands in a bold move.

You suck in a surprised breath, but hold still as he studies you.

"I bet Minho likes kissing you."

You stare back at him, trying to puzzle out where this is going, but you're tired of thinking, so you just say back, "Yeah."

Jisung lets his thumb drop to trace your mouth, like you had done moments before to him, and his gaze falls to the part of your lips underneath his touch.

"And you like it when Minho kisses you."

You stare back at him, heat pooling in your stomach the longer the staring contest, the gentle touches, go on.

"Yes."

Jisung cocks his head, giving you a little knowing look, and then he leans forward, and it takes everything in you to freeze, as his lips brush across the column of your throat.

It's like electricity has shot through your entire body, igniting the warm pool in the pit of your stomach into something ravenous.

"Do you like it when he kisses you here?"

"Yes." You whisper back, and Jisung hums in acknowledgement, moving his lips lower against your skin, pulling your t-shirt to the side so he can press open mouth kisses to your shoulder.

"And here?"

"Mmhm." You murmur back,breathless.

Jisung glances up at you, a slight smirk pulling at his full mouth.

"And what does Minho like?"

"He likes-" You think for a moment, it's a hard feat with Jisung's lips on you. "-when I tangle my hands in his hair."

You let your hands slide into Jisung's thick, dark hair, tugging him closer to you, back up to your mouth, his lips hovering over your own.

"What else?" Jisung breathes out, his gaze flicking down to your tongue, darting out to wet your lips.

"He likes me in his lap." You murmur back, and before you can overthink it, you straddle Jisung on the bed, knees going down on either side of his hips, hands going to his shoulders.

Jisung leans back on his hands and he's staring up at you now with open hunger, pupils large and dark.

"And I bet you like it when he puts his hands here."

He lets his hands slip beneath your t-shirt, taking purchase on your hips, fingers digging into your skin.

You nod, it's becoming harder to think the longer this little game goes on.

"I do."

Jisung hums, smirking up at you once more, tilting his head as he watches you.

"Although-" You tease, reaching out to play with them of his own t-shirt. "-he's usually not wearing so many clothes when we do this."

Jisung grins, and with one smooth movement, easily pulls his shirt off and over his head, tossing it to the floor.

"Better?"

"Much."

"What else?" Jisung prods, and you're more than happy to accept his challenge.

"He likes when I kiss him-" You lean in, and after a breath's hesitation, press your mouth over Jisung's.

Fuck, he tastes amazing, and he's so pliable, so responsive, sliding his tongue in between your lips almost instantly, making you gasp into his open mouth.

You pull back, just a sliver, just enough to say, "-and when I use teeth."

You lean back into him, and suck his full bottom lip between your teeth, letting them graze the plush skin slowly as you release your hold.

Beneath you, Jisung shudders in response, and you can feel him hardening beneath you.

"I bet he likes when you're a tease." Jisung replies breathlessly when you pull back, pupils large and dark, lips red and slick. "So fucking hot."

"He does." You smirk, arching a brow. "And he also likes when I grind down on him."

You give him your weight then, lowering yourself fully into his lap, grinding your hips on him, and Jisung groans, throwing his head back, as his eyes roll back into his head.

"Fuck-" His hands on your hips pin you down, stopping your movements, and he pants for breath for a moment before opening his eyes, his expression hot.

"You like feeling him, like feeling what you're doing to him."

His words send molten heat straight between your thighs, and you whine a little at his hold, pinning you in place.

Jisung smirks, releasing you, before he reaches to slip off his sweats.

Your mouth waters as he's bared completely before you.

You've never stripped out of your own clothes so fast.

Moving back to straddle him, Jisung groans at the feel of how wet you are against his skin.

His fingers go back to bruising your hips, and his own buck up beneath you.

"God, I bet he loves feeling you, seeing you take him."

You nod, manuevering yourself, and stare down at him for a moment, the large dark doe eyes, the slight pant of his open lips.

Jisung is fucking pretty.

But you knew that already.

"He does." You confirm, voice breathy, as you feel him against you. "But he likes it most when I take him all at once."

Without warning, you sink down, and Jisung's eyes once again disappear into the back of his skull.

His fingers grip you painfully, and you whimper, but it's a sound of pleasure, as he groans and focuses back on you, leaning up to capture your lips in a bruising kiss as he starts to move.

"Fuck, Jisung-" You gasp out, stars bursting before your vision.

The second his name leaves your lips, you freeze.

"I'm sorry, I didn't-"

"Don't." Jisung growls, tugging you in for another rough kiss, his words and breath searing your skin. "Don't ever apologize for saying my name. I want to fucking hear it on your lips for the rest of my life."

He lifts his hips against your own, kissing you hard, and you gasp, and you know, there's no going back now, not ever.

"Jisung."

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

You're lying next to Jisung in the small space of his twin bed, staring at the ceiling, completely and utterly spent.

Your body is deliciously sore, and his hand in your own is a comforting weight.

You can't help the small smile that crosses your lips as you hear him shift beside you.

There's a flare of guilt deep in your gut, but you shove it down to deal with later.

"Hey." Jisung whispers, rolling over to flop his arm across your bare waist and brush his lips across your neck.

You meet his gaze. "Hey."

He smiles shyly at you, fingers playing with your own.

"I think Minho really likes you."

You stare at him, a small smile crossing your own lips. You lean forward to press a kiss to the corner of his heart shaped mouth.

"I think I really like him too."

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

You're drinking coffee at Jisung and Minho's small kitchen table when Minho gets home, tossing his work bag onto the couch and coming directly for you.

"Hey, baby." He leans down behind your chair, encircling you with his arms, and you smile, tilting your head back so he can reach your lips.

"Hey."

"I missed you." He nuzzles his nose into your cheek, and you give a little laugh.

"I'd forgotten how clingy you get after a work trip, Lee Minho." You tease, reaching up to brush hair back from his forehead as you give him another quick kiss. "I missed you too."

"Watch it." Minho growls teasingly, tickling you before he gives you another kiss and straightens up.

Jisung appears then, headed directly for the cabinet for his own mug to fill with coffee.

"Hey, where's my hello kiss?" He pouts, staring at Minho, as he fills up his coffee and comes to sit beside you at the table.

Minho arches a brow and stares him down. "Do you deserve one?"

Jisung gives him a sweetly innocent smile. "Always."

You swallow a too large gulp of your hot coffee, and suddenly wonder when you should break the news to the man now getting his own glass of the morning beverage.

Luckily, Minho beats you to the punch.

"So." He says casually, leaning against the counter and glancing between the two of you, sipping from his mug. "Did you two finally fuck then?"

You choke on the liquid in your mouth, and Jisung promptly spits his own mouthful of coffee across the table in a fine spray.

"What?" You both shriek at the same time, staring at Minho.

He appears completely nonplussed, holding both of your astounded gazes with nothing more than a shrug.

"The two of you. Did you finally get over your weird stubborn guilt complexes and fuck?"

You stare at him like he's grown a second head.

Jisung narrows his eyes from across the table, staring down your boyfriend.

"Wait-" His voice grows with disbelief. "-did you plan this?"

Minho gives another little shrug, but there's a smirk on his lips that he hides behind his coffee mug as he takes another sip.

"I did have a work trip. Just turned out the timing was impeccable."

"I cannot believe you." You gasp out, feeling a mixture of outrage and relief all at once.

Minho knows. He knows, and he's okay with it. Actually, more than okay, he'd been gunning for this to happen by the looks of it.

Minho grins, flashing sharp teeth.

"C'mon, baby. You and Jisung are too stupid and loyal to figure it out on your own. I needed to give you a little push."

"But-" You splutter out, trying to decide if you should take offense at his words and punch him or promptly cross the kitchen and kiss him. "-you're one to talk! You've been in love with Jisung for forever!"

"Yeah!" Jisung points at you, as if you've made a hell of a point, and then to Minho. "When were you gonna make a move, hyung?"

"Han Jisung." Minho says sternly, pinning the other man beneath his gaze. "I don't give up sleep for just anyone."

Minho puts his empty coffee cup in the sink and crosses to you, placing his hands on your shoulders, still staring at Jisung.

"Look, I needed the two of you to figure it out on your own, but I also needed to orchestrate it so you both knew I wasn't upset. Quite the contrary actually." He smirks and puts a hand under your chin, raising your gaze to his. "You have my blessing."

"I'm literally so pissed right now. You're an asshole, hyung." Jisung mutters, glaring at your boyfriend, tapping his finger on the table. "But that's also so fucking hot."

You swallow beneath Minho's hand, and he notices, smirk growing wider.

"I hate you."

His brow ticks upward. "No, you don't."

You sigh. "No, I don't."

"So." Minho releases you and tilts his head toward his discarded luggage on the couch. "Unpacking can wait. Care to show me what the two of you figured out while I was gone?"

363 notes · View notes

roamingtigress · 9 months ago

Text

Desire

Hosea and Dutch, who have been inseparable for over thirty years, are now old men. Though their love has remained the same, their bodies have changed over the years, changes that have left them feeling a bit self-conscious and vulnerable.

One Valentine's Day though changes their perspective, and they both learn to embrace the beauty of aging. (It's safe for work just a bit lengthy! Any feedback would be greatly appreciated! Even if you just want to call me a nerd.)

It's Valentine's Day, a day we forego going on trade runs and bounty hunts, to make it a day just for ourselves and, well, what one often does on Valentine's Day.

Our Valentine's Days are also never without the theme of trying to outdo each other. If Dutch gets me orchids and chocolates that are just the right size to hand-feed to me, I'll set up a bathtub littered with rose petals with classic music being played in the background. You can call us sappy if you'd like; we've been called worse.

"This will be the year I will outdo you, Hosea!"

I roll my eyes inwardly, scoffing. Truth be told, there is, of course, no real winner in this competition; we both benefit when we try to out-spoil each other. Eventually, we both end up being naked at some point in the day, sometimes throughout the whole day. If you can guess it was Dutch who started it all, you'd be right. He wanted to make our Valentine's Day more romantic than anyone else's and wanted to see how far we'd take it. It's one of the plans he has put together that hasn't turned into a disaster, for the most part. There was that one disastrous breakfast in bed which he burned, but he meant well.

I roll aside and sit up in bed, playfully tapping him on his nose. "Game on, Dutch, game on."

Dutch just giggles, the winter sun reflecting beautifully on his features. They also expose the scars he's gained over the years from misadventures, some of which he exaggerates; the one on his chin was from when he dared to shave himself in the dark. Mistake. I've seen his hair in better shape; the messiness of it adds to his decidedly playful demeanor this morning. He pokes my nose back.

"It'll be hard to beat last year."

Yes, last year. We stowed away on a classy passenger ship, that lovely Grand Korrigan. I had intentions to buy tickets but they were sold out, so we did what we did, with the added thrill of the idea of being caught being a stowaway. We managed to stay off the radar, up until . . .

"We emptied everyone's wallets in poker, and we ran out on the deck . . ."

As Dutch chuckles, there is as much laughter in his eyes as there is in his voice. "We had that mob of stuffed shirts chase us back inside, down the hall towards our room --"

"And I was so turned on by the way you handled the table, that you had to relieve me. I couldn't make it to the room and well, it was getting awkward trying to run with an erection." I let my finger drag along the side of his cheek as I lay back down beside him.

"Stroking me off in the hallway, while we kissed . . ."

Dutch's eyes take on a mischievous glint. "And we got caught."

"We did!"

The fellows we played with weren't so disgusted at us for doing what we were doing (I suspected a few were queer; one just gets a vibe from another) but rather that we parted with their money and they finally caught the miscreants who robbed them. There was that one comment about 'I knew you two were's queer before you two even sat at the table together.' I threw them an empty wallet that I had often carried around with me to throw off someone's game (fancy wording for scamming) and dragged Dutch down the hallway and into our room.

I lean over, kiss him softly on his lips, and slowly pull away just to make soft eye contact. Perhaps it wasn't a traditionally, conventionally romantic moment; there was the thrill of being caught and sure enough, it happened. For us, it was thrillingly romantic; our hearts pounded when we heard those footsteps rushing towards us and before we could pull away (not that we wanted to), they caught it.

"Oh, it was so much fun."

Dutch's hand softly cups the side of my face, as he looks into my eyes. "Unbelievably so."

Dutch later got a fancy bath prepared for us, complete with champagne and rose petals. Securing that arrangement was interesting. I stole a man's identity when we were playing poker, and the fellow who was smooth-talked into arranging the bath assumed the fancy lady who accompanied the stolen man's identity was going to join Dutch; ironically some raven-haired dutchess from Europe. It would come as no surprise if I told you we made love in that tub; not merely sex, but making love. When Dutch puts his weird little mind to it, he is something. We both deserved a little reward for that collaboration.

"Got any plans, Dutch?" I had to ask.

Dutch looks like he's in thought as if he hadn't planned for weeks. I know better and he knows that I know better. "I might have a few . . ." He muses. "But they're for me to know and for you to find out!"

"You little shit!"

My husband, finding amusement at my expense once more, I have a way of bringing it out in him. He pulls me up on top of him as if I were a blanket, in such a position that I would be facing him; I can't complain. His body is so warm that it felt like I was pulled up over a hot water bottle.

"I thought I'd surprise you, 'sea."

I couldn't help but notice that when he pulled me up on top of him, his pyjamas (surprisingly with mangos and books and cigars printed on them) had shifted in such a way that revealed a nipple; it stared up at me. What a tease.

"With a nipple reveal, Dutch? What a slut."

I lean in and kiss it, I just had to. He squeaks.

"T-they might make an appearance."

I smile a mischievous smile. "Well, I would hope so. It's Valentine's Day! So what if Hosea Fucks Friday was the other day. If we don't take our clothes off at some point of the day, then it's just another day."

I close my eyes as I feel a big hand slip underneath my pyjama shirt, finding its way to my back. He rubs in a smooth massage, his fingers gracefully working their magic. "Patience, Mr. Matthews. I have a plan!"

Of course he does.

If that plan involves him massaging me all day, I'll take it. I arch my back, encouraging him. Sure enough, he gets the hint and works in a firmer caress and I let out a long sigh; the combination of the warm body against mine, his touch, his heart and my heart beating against each other.

"You're off to a good start . . . " I murmur, my eyes closing.

Dutch of course, almost; in that childish sort of way he does over every little thing he does that goes without a hitch. "Had to start somewhere." There's a spark to his eyes. "You know how it goes with us, once one touches another . . ."

"Of course . . . " I murmur, framing his jaw in my hands. "Both of us are just so . . . Easy."

I study his face for a long time, taking in the contours of his cheekbones and how the light played on them. There are scars scattered across his cheek and chin; the one you might see most noticeably is from a shaving challenge if you will. He thought he could shave just as well in the dark as in the daytime, I dared him to do it, and well, he did, and removed a little piece of chin. He tells everyone it was from a grazed bullet. I then feel his face studying mine. He had a sort of dreamy look to his face, almost . . . Almost like when we first met. We 'looked into each other's eyes and saw something', and it would seem he's seeing something. He's eyeing me like a beautiful painting, a statue, a prize-winning stallion.

We've been together for over thirty years. Things have changed over those decades. We both have wrinkles and curves in places that didn't have them before. Certain things are sagging a bit. We both have a bit of a paunch, one of us more than the other and by 'other' I'm not referring to myself.

"My days of looking good are long over, Dutch."

"Nonsense!" Dutch scoffed, giving my nose a gentle tweak. "And as part of my plan, I'll show you!"

Now I've heard him say 'I have a plan many a time and for the most part, nothing of note comes of it (minus those plans that go awry and end up in absolute chaos) . . . But, I was curious, given what day it is.

Dutch carefully rolls me off of him and heads to our bookcase which is a glorified small library. I watch curiously as he meanders over to the bookcase. His once rolling strut now takes on a bit of a shuffle, the limp that he's had since his forties has gotten more obvious. The life that we led had caught up to us both. I shake my head as I note his pyjama pants have hiked down a bit, I see the crack of his ass; that ass isn't as supple as you can say these days but still something to grab. I have to reassure him that he looks as handsome as ever, as he doesn't think so. Words aren't always enough; I have to show him, touch him in those special spots he feels vulnerable about, and make him feel beautiful. Likewise, Dutch still thinks I'm as handsome as ever. I'm a weathered old man of seventy-five, but . .. He has his way of bringing me around. He's a man who can master words, and know how to say the right things even if if I'm not feeling the words he's describing. Some say that's mere manipulation, but speaking of someone who has such an intimately deep connection, I can tell you it's the intimacy of the soulmate.

I watch curiously as he picks up a long green-covered book, of medium thickness and then a stick of graphite from a box on the bookshelf and slides on his thick black-framed glasses; I raise an eyebrow. It then occurs to me . . .

Did this man creep into my head, and rob me of my plan? Now I taught him a few things but I don't think I've taught him *that* well. I want to tell him that I have the same idea where I'd be drawing, but . . . No. I'll surprise him.

"Oh, I'm sure there are prettier things that you can draw. Like what's outside the window, that Heartlands landscape—"

Dutch lets out a deep belly laugh as he sits down, clapping my knee as he perches on the edge of the bed, facing me. "Am I married to the landscape?"

I retort; he opened the door for it. "Sometimes I think life would be easier If I was married to the Heartland Overflow! With all the frogs and the muskrats . . . "

"Destined to live with pests then, huh?"

That idiot just laughs again knowing it was my turn to walk into it, hugging that book to him as I give him a halfhearted kick. He then studies me for a long moment, his eyes twinkling as he just looks over at me. I can't deny he's being adorable; I can't get seriously annoyed. Yes, he's still frustratingly charming and uses it at every opportunity to get his way. Very frustrating.

"How do you want me posed?" I ask, remembering the last time we've drawn each other . . . Oh, it's been years.

We were both young and took up (illegal) residence in a shoreside house on Iron Lake. It belonged to an artist who was at the time, away in Paris and as something to do to pass the time when it was raining, we took time drawing one another. We were fitter then, with fewer wrinkles in some places, fresher faced. The drawings are still framed over our bed. That house went from being owned by an artist to a fisherman and now it's abandoned when he packed up his fishing gear and took up residence that was owned by some fellow named Hamish. Maybe one day, we'll get our boys to fix it up for a little family retreat.

I watch Dutch's face take on a pondering expression, his eyes softly scanning my form, mentally taking note of every detail. I find myself doing the same with him; there's love in those eyes, a certain twinkle to go with it that tells me this is a fun little activity borne out of love. I could tell him that there are more attractive, younger models out there he could use. I'm sure some art school out Saint Denis could provide them, but he'd argue that there'd be no one else that he'd want to draw.

"Natural, with that faraway look I often catch you in. Y'know, the look I catch you when you're reading and tryin' to ignore me."

I laugh but sit up in bed, keeping one knee up and bracing myself with my left arm, while the other casually drapes down.

"A little overdressed there, Mr. Matthews?" Dutch warmly teases; that twinkle in his eyes, that playful but loving tone in his voice... I suppose he loves me. "I... I want to show how handsome you are still."

I sigh. There's no fighting with him over this; he'll think I'm gorgeous if I'm wearing a paper bag. With some feigned reluctance, I shed off my pyjamas, putting on a little show for him because I do like that stupid smile and making him a little thirsty somehow, before placing them on the bedside dresser.

As Dutch makes himself comfortable on the edge of the bed, I reposition and take on that look he so desires. He's got that mustache twisted up into a smile as he starts. He's posing rather artistically himself; he's got his ass sinking into the corner of the mattress, one ankle and foot tucked up behind his knee which belongs to a leg he lets lazily dangle off the mattress. His head is tilted in that way when he's about to cause a stir with me, complete with that damn spark in his eye. He's got that damn pyjama top unbuttoned to his navel and has a nipple staring out at me. I'm not sure if this 'wardrobe malfunction' (as you kids call it) is intentional or accidental, but knowing him so intimately I'm going with the latter. It drives me nuts when he dresses like that, I can't keep my eyes off him, I can't keep my hands off of him, and he knows it; what an old tart.

As Dutch makes himself comfortable on the edge of the bed, I reposition and adopt the look he desires. He's got that mustache twisted up into a smile as he starts posing rather artistically; his ass sinking into the corner of the mattress, one ankle and foot tucked up behind his knee, lazily dangling off the mattress. His head is tilted in that way when he's about to cause a stir with me, complete with that damn spark in his eye. He's got that damn pyjama top unbuttoned to his navel, and a nipple is staring out at me. I'm not sure if this 'wardrobe malfunction' (as you kids call it) is intentional or accidental, but knowing him so intimately, I'm going with the latter. It drives me nuts when he dresses like that; I can't keep my eyes off him, I can't keep my hands off of him, and he knows it; what an old tart.

I decide to poke him in his belly with a toe, making him squeak; he's still stupidly ticklish. "Dutch, you're distracting me."

Dutch's silly smile turns into a grin. He felt my eyes on him; I was egging him on. "Pretend I'm being an annoying shit when you're reading, and you're trying to engross yourself in your fictional fantasy."

I scoff, somehow managing to retain my expression and pose. I scoldingly point and shake my finger at him, and that grin just widens, with a chuckle. "When aren't you being an annoying shit? And when I do engross myself in my fictional fantasies, you decide it's time to get needy and crawl into my lap for your hair to be played with and your belly to be rubbed." Admittedly, I inadvertently encourage that because I can't resist; once he brings out the puppy eyes act, I can't resist.

"Point taken!" Dutch's voice is boisterous at my rebuttal; he rolls with my punches and brings out another zinger at me as he points the graphite stick at me.

"Now who's distracting who? With you thinkin' about touching me and all."

I roll my eyes and shake my head at that sass, which he accentuates with a squirm of his ass. "Dutch . . ." I could go on with this back-and-forth banter all day; I enjoy it more than I let on. A big part of me wants to keep poking the bear, to see what he comes up with next, and to surprise him with what I'm capable of. But . . . I am curious to see this masterpiece he's working on, and I'd like to see it before I head off to the afterlife.

Dutch starts at his work slowly, his hand moving at a slow, fluid pace for the most part, intermittently peppered with rapid flicks of his wrist.

"This isn't one of those caricature pieces, is it?" I ask curiously, maybe with some caution; we have such a piece above our dresser; some silly Frenchman did it for us when we made a trip to, ugh, Saint Denis when I visited family and Dutch insisted on tagging along. It's a cute style, a cute piece, but I'd rather some of my features not be exaggerated if he's drawing me in the nude.

"Real-life study, Old Girl!" Dutch beamed, creases forming in the corners of his eyes; he's frustratingly adorable when he's enthusiastic about something to the point where the crow's feet arrive to roost.

I feel like disappearing into the bedsheets as I sense a wave of vulnerability washing over me. It's not often I feel vulnerable. He means well; the love is evident in his eyes, though; I can't bring myself to say no to this thing.

"You . . . You don't have to draw every detail."

Dutch frowns, tipping his head in that way when he's puzzled by something, not dissimilar to a dog puzzled by some strange sound that it doesn't know what it is. Occasionally, he'll do that in an argument, as if not understanding why I'm upset with him.

"I find every detail of you to be beautiful, 'sea."

"Every bit?" I ask, tilting my head as well.

As a spouse with over twenty years of experience, it's natural to find at least one part of your partner's body to be, well, not beautiful. For Dutch, it's that damn ugly right toe of his, crooked and bigger than the other, and yet it's the one that he likes to poke me with.

Dutch gently insisted, his face taking on a sort of dreamy expression. "Every bit. And I love to kiss every bit of your body --"

I gently but firmly interrupt; if I don't, there goes his plan, and it'd be another on the pile of failed plans. How do I know this? Because that silly man has a hard time keeping his hands off of me (and I admit the feeling is mutual for as much of a pain in the ass he is and how much it just encourages him), or his lips off my body, and this drawing will never get done! Maybe if he doesn't interrupt me again, he can get what he wants. It is lovely having him kiss over my body, and they can be the softest, sweetest little kisses. He's a bit slower at them these days, as if memorizing every inch of my body.

"Dutch, you're distracting me."

Dutch snickers, outright snickers, and returns to work once I roll my eyes and regain my composure, repositioning myself.

"Cheekbones . . . " Dutch whispers, half to himself; it was one of those cases where he thinks his thoughts are still inside his head but he lets them spill out. "Still beautiful, defined cheekbones . . . "

I have a tiny smile threatening to grow. My cheekbones are one feature of me that I'm still rather fond of. My face has sunken with age, as Dutch's has; his cheekbones are more prominent than when I first met him. I often catch him running a thumb over mine as he looks into my eyes. Sometimes before a kiss, sometimes as he's telling me how much he loves me or something equally sappy. He likes to kiss them in the morning, trying to butter me up after he stirs me awake because, with certainty, I can say that he's the thing that stirs me awake, and I'm not a morning person.

"Eyes that look into my soul . . . "

Now he's getting a bit sappy. I've heard him describe my eyes as having a lot of soul and, at times, a certain weariness to them (I can't imagine why). I manage that faraway look, though my focus isn't entirely so far away, but at the man drawing me and beyond.

"I'm so attractive you can't keep your eyes on me." Dutch teases, snickering again when I scoff. He is indeed a lovely specimen to look at but at this moment, he's more silly than sexy, but I'll let an old manchild dream that he's still a Roman sculpture of a man.

"I'm looking behind you." I'm trying to focus on the painting of our dearly departed Labrador, Matilda -- who was buried between Silver Charm and The Count -- emphasis on trying, as he's 'caught' me.

My dear husband is onto me, scoffing away. "Sure, sure . . . "

Dutch studies me for a long time, just smiling, looking at me the way a schoolboy looks at his crush, and I let out an exasperated sigh when he itches at his chest. It looked a little planned, to tease me, to show a little skin, which isn't as taut as it used to be; I might have caught a bit of a jiggle on that tit. But he's still gorgeous to me, jiggly bits and all. "Hey, when you got an itch, you scratch it!" Dutch tsk tsks as he catches me glancing at him for half a second.

"Slut!" I retort.

The idiot just grins like the Cheshire Cat; he knows that I know that was an attempt to flirt. Love. He's in love. I've had fleeting moments where I think life without him would be easier but they're fleeting when I think how much life would be. . . Well, duller, without him. He does provide unexpected moments of amusement like this, he's a warm body to snuggle up to at night and a damn good kisser. In my prime, I could have found someone better in bed (he's a bottom through and through and a bratty sub at that), but, well, I suppose I'm in love, too. I take on that faraway look, just 'thinking.'

"You know, I've always loved your nose. Perfectly kissable!" Dutch will be narrating this whole thing, just wait; he doesn't have to give progress reports but he feels it's his duty.

"You think every part of my body is kissable."

I'm convinced that the smile on Dutch's face will freeze on his face permanently. "Oh, I do . . . " He plans on kissing every inch of my body when we're done with this thing, I just know it. And I plan on doing the same for him.

All banter aside, as I put on my 'faraway stare', I feel exposed, but at the same time . . . Desired. Now and then we put each other in such a position where we will feel vulnerable; some may say it's 'toxic' but it's one of our ways of showing the trust we have in each other, a sort of gentle surrender in our dynamics; normally I'm the head of the household here but once in a while I'll let him take the reins and see what he does with them before taking hold of them, where I'll remind him. I would never shed my clothes in the name of art for anyone other than this man. In his younger years, Dutch would have jumped at the chance to be drawn in the nude, but with the contours he's gained over the years and knowing how self-conscious he can be of them, it's likely he too would only do this for me.

I can't help but be drawn by the elegance of his hand movements, even the movements he's making for what I'm assuming is shading; those are more deliberate. "Right after your hands, my favourite part of you is your chest. It's a safe for your heart and there's no force on earth or beyond that can bust it open."

The damn fool thinks I'm invincible. I know it's a lie he tells himself that he believes and tells me and tells others, as I know losing me is one of his greatest fears. It's a lie he uses to comfort himself and I won't take it away from him. Deep down, with my decade age gap, I fear I may go first, and one of my fears is leaving him behind. Dutch is much more fragile than he lets on. He won't do well without me. Not one bit.

But enough of the depressing talk.

Going from the circular motions of his hand, I can tell he's drawing my nipples, a part of my body that I don't think much of. That is until my mustached companion here decides to play with them and then I'm convinced they're hooked up with electricity with all its nerves. We both alike used to be firmer on that region on the map, like everything else but, we'll live with what we have.

"Do you know why men have nipples for, 'sea?"

Ahah! I knew it.

I think for a moment, though. I could think of some smartass response, but then I decided to show I know as much as he does. "They're leftover from when us fellows are developing in the womb if my memory serves me." I vaguely remember those details; it's been a bit since I've looked up the medical books. The last time I read one was when Dutch got a boil on the inside of one of his ass cheeks a few years ago and I wanted to get it properly drained; pardon me, that was too much information. I'm sure nobody wanted to know about an old man's bottom.

Dutch decides to be the smartass.

"Well, that's the boring answer."

"I was going for the scientific explanation."

"You can call it what you want," Dutch insisted with a smirk. "Medical professionals say they serve no purpose as we develop, but I disagree. These medical 'professionals' as they call themselves, must have less of a sex life than us old wrinklies."

I scoff. No doubt some of those experts are 'old wrinklies themselves, not much younger than us, but . . . "You can call yourself an old wrinkly. I prefer to use the term 'senior citizen.'"

Dutch can't help himself. "With citizenship, comes governance!"

Yes, he's still a rebel. He has trouble now and then getting up on his horse, an Irish Cob gelding named Blagdon, but he still thinks he's a revolutionary. I'll let him dream on.

Dutch is putting details into the collarbone; I can just tell from the expression alone; a soft, reflective expression as his eyes fall on my chest. Though the connection was there right at the beginning -- we looked into each other's eyes and saw something -- Dutch was, possibly to your surprise, socially charming at the start of our dating -- he could charm the socks off of you -- but awkward when it came to the art of seduction; maybe he was shy. I was his first experience with another man and I thought at the time he was a bit intimidated; my age gap didn't help, I thought. I was gentle, I was patient, and we took that part slowly. He loved to linger on my chest; he still does. He peppers a series of kisses along my collarbone before working his way downwards. It feels wonderful, and I can even remember the first time he did it; I ran my hands through his hair, giving the softest of kisses, and the lightest of nibbles as if he was eating corn on the cob.

"Such an underrated part of the body . . . " I think out loud, amazed at myself for remembering those little memories. "And yet you give it so much love . . ."

There's a warm twinkle in Dutch's eyes. "First place I kissed south of your lips. Every part of the body needs a bit of attention; everything is connected."

He works on my arms and shoulders next; those admittedly are still decently toned, as are his. We often don't think about how often we use them in our day-to-day lives. Even at my age of seventy-five and him at sixty-five, we still dance with our arms around each other, we enwrap each other around with them at nighttime. We often get nightmares; I suppose with the lifestyle we led before retiring, it comes naturally, so those embraces at night can get tight. Often, we wake up with crescent marks on our skin from our nails, and our ribs feeling bruised, and we don't even realize that we've been clinging to each other so hard. We use them to embrace each other during our lovemaking; we don't leave dents in the wall much anymore, but us 'old wrinklies' as Dutch refers to us as, do have sex. It's a little slower now, but still so good, even better as we've become so at one with each other's bodies.

Pardon me.

Attached to arms, of course, are hands, which his focus floats on next. I've mentioned before in another story that they're Dutch's favourite part of me, tied with my heart. Well, as an update, Dutch still loves the way I touch him. I love how they glide over the contours of his body, how they'll move about like a spider when I scritch and tickle, which he acts like he hates but I know he loves it, and eventually surrenders to. I love the way our fingers interlace; despite the difference in size and shape of our fingers. I love how they fit in with each other.

"I should do a study on your hands, Old Girl," Dutch purred, taking his time; I know he won't skimp on their details; every line on my knuckles will be drawn. "I still remember the first time you touched me, just a quick touch on the top of my hand when you brought that pan of bacon and eggs over to me, but I felt 'something' even there. And did I ever do things where you could 'accidentally' touch me."

I laugh, having a memory of him 'accidentally' brushing his hand against mine as we walked through some town. I don't know where it was, but I damn well knew he was flirting with me and I had to take him back behind somewhere to give him my first kiss. I wish I could remember where it was; I'd be happy to recreate it with him.

After a moment, he puts the graphite stick down for a moment and swallows hard. There's something he was trying to forget; I know the look he gets when he does that.

"Dutch . . . ?" I asked softly, concerned; I want to hold him and will.

"I'm just scared . . . " A word he doesn't use often; now it was his turn to feel vulnerable. "Of losing our memories."

I want to reach out and hold him, and I will. Sometimes I find myself forgetting about mundane things, locking the door and such, and it scares me. Dutch will forget things and will put on a stoic act; except today. Today was the first day where I caught him afraid of losing his most precious memories. The fear of getting dementia for people of our age is very real; we've built a life together, raised a family, lived out some dreams and let others slip through our fingers. To help us preserve those memories, we've created journals, and photographs taken of us, and now . . . Drawing each other again, this time as old men.

"I'll help you with that, my love," I speak softly. "It's why I agreed to do this."

I get a smile out of him again, and I'm glad of it. I don't like letting him stray into dark thoughts for long; it can be hard to bring him out of it. "I thought it was because you knew I was going to bring out the puppy eyes." Yes, ladies and gentlemen, he still uses them to try and get his way and yes, it's still very effective; damn manipulative old fart.

"That was part of it," I scoff. "I've never been good at resisting those."

Dutch gave me that look as he continued to draw, presumably my torso next. I know he won't spare any details. "There were maybe a handful of times when they didn't work. You put up one of those big personal space bubbles. I didn't care to cross those. You'd chase me off, and I knew how good you were with the gun." He laughed, still that husky laugh from all those years ago.

I smirk. I admit I got a bit of a power trip out of that. The others . . . Oh, they couldn't help but stop and watch. Maybe I earned more respect from them, and I might have carried a little swagger with them as well. Everyone needs a little ego boost.

"But . . . You'd always charmed and wormed your way back into my heart," I laugh, fondly remembering; putting up those invisible barriers was for the best when I felt my blood boiling after he said or did something particularly stupid, but it was so hard on both of us. "You did your damned 'I'll lie in your lap while you read so you pay complete attention to me' thing, to buying expensive things for me from chocolate to wine and silly imported cologne and gold watches and other expensive trinkets." Truthfully, one could think he was trying to buy off my anger, and maybe it was an attempt to do that, but . . . I found it amusing to see how far he'd go with it.

"You still have that gold watch from when that happened the first time," Dutch said, a certain twinkle in his eye; it still works after all these years. "Bought it with the money I got from that bank job."

There were so many opportunities that he had where he could just steal something for me but just didn't. "You never did like stealing my gifts directly."

"I find it more rewarding," Dutch murmured, a wide smile appearing across his face; from the motions of his hand, he's working on some shading. "Besides, we got the money, might as well put it to some use."

I find that charming. And one of his best assets is that he's charming, and he can be an absolute menace with it. It's why, of course, I've gone softer on him than I should have over the years. I could have rejected those little gifts when I dropped my invisible barrier, could have shoved him off my lap when he crawled into it, but . . . Sigh. He's impossible.

Then, Dutch charms me yet again.

He turns the sketchbook around to show me the progress of his work.

I'm speechless.

"You like it, Hosea?"

I swallow hard. I feel vulnerable once again, but . . . Something else.

Desired.

Laid out in front of me in that drawing is a portrait of an aged man. He has skin that has sagged in places, wrinkles, and contours that weren't there before. He has a slight paunch, very slight, that was once flat. Details of the legs haven't been completed, but there's already the start of some muscle definition there. And yet he carries himself with an air of dignity and wisdom. The shoulders and arms that he's bracing himself on are still nicely toned; maybe not as toned as they were in his youth, but no judgment. He's looking off to some faraway destination, that if I didn't know better, was miles away versus the other handsome elder man a few feet away.

"Yes . . . Yes, I do."

I seem transfixed for a long moment; we just give each other soft eye contact, saying so much with that alone. How we love each other, how we trust each other. He slowly moves back to drawing but peeks out at me from the top of the book as he does.

"What would you say about getting this framed?"

I break my expression to smile. "I'll steal the damn frame for you."

I get another hearty laugh out of him. He works on my legs next, and then my. . . assets. He's a study in concentration, not letting one bit of detail escape him. He knows his way around my body better than I do. Even at our age, we still explore each other as if it is the first time again; truthfully, with that familiarity he has of my body, he probably could have done this drawing blindfolded.

When he's completed, Dutch slips up next to me with the sketchbook clutched to his chest. He has a smile that wouldn't have just lit up our house with electricity, but also the next residence a few miles away that belongs to Lenny. He wraps an arm around my shoulder as he shows me the completed drawing, and I feel a hint of that strength that he still has as he gives me even a gentle squeeze.

I swallow hard, snuggling into his embrace. He senses that I'm getting emotional and kisses me on the top of my head, then my shoulder, and that spot between my head and shoulder. I feel myself nearly speechless, and the words that tumble out of my mouth don't seem enough to convey how I feel. Every detail was etched in; he even drew in scars I've collected over the years. I still feel an edge of vulnerability, but . . .

"It's wonderful, Dutch, thank you . . . " I turn in his hold and hug him tight, lightly rubbing his back as I do; although it still feels strong, the skin shifts there more easily these days and ripples underneath my fingers.

"You make me feel . . . Handsome."

Dutch gives my shoulder a squeeze. "Because you are, Old Girl."

"It's been a while since I've done some drawing, mostly landscapes and rabbits and things as you know, but I promise that I'll try to do you justice."

He nuzzles a kiss on my cheek. I still love the feeling of his bristly stubble on my cheek.

"Don't worry, Old Girl, I'll love it."

There is both unpredictability and predictability to Dutch, even now; he's frustrating in that regard. At the same time, he's a boy who's insecure and needy, craving every scrap of attention and affection that can come his way. He gets plenty of both, but Dutch is Dutch, and I don't see that changing anytime soon.

I take the graphite stick and sketchbook from him as he hands them over, kissing him on the cheek reluctantly as I break away from the hug and shift over to sit at the corner of the bed. "Now, pyjamas off. If I had to, you have to too." I sneak a playful wink.

Dutch chuckles and strips off the pyjamas, deciding to make a little show of it just as I did for him because Dutch is Dutch. He's already front and centre of attention as he's about to restart his modelling career, who thought he'd get back into it at sixty-five? I scoff and roll my eyes; this man amuses me as much as he can frustrate me.

I think for a moment about what pose he should get himself into. He does look rather sexy when he's brooding and smoking a cigar, is still rather delicious when he takes on a pinup girl pose, a silly thing he sometimes does to help get me in the mood. I could have him pose on his hands and knees, but I fear that would be too distracting for me. Then I had another idea, one pose of his that I find so underratedly sexy and beautiful.

"Now something... Vulnerable," I warmly suggest, my eyes gently meeting Dutch's eager gaze as he waits for further instruction. "Maybe that pose you often take after we've had sex, after the aftercare, where you look so... Delectably submissive." As much as the sex is still good and as much as we enjoy, I relish that period afterwards; I often lie in the crook of his arm as we lazily trace patterns on each other's skin, sometimes blowing raspberries on each other if we're feeling silly, and if this isn't unfolding at night, it causes us to happily put off whatever else needs to be done in the day.

Dutch smiles shyly at me and slowly lies on his back. He tucks one hand behind his head, as if playing with his hair (something he does when caught in a lie or playing coy with me for one reason or another), while the other is tucked up on his chest, not unlike a dog who wants his belly rubbed. His legs sprawl out, openly exposing his genitals. His expression is soft, trusting, and loving, his body language submissive and vulnerable, echoing the trust in his expression. At once, he looks incredibly sexy and slutty, yet adorable; a wonderful contradiction before my eyes that I could just about gobble up. Cute aggression, as they call it, is very real.

"You look comfortable," I murmur, letting my eyes roam over him before I start; my voice is soft and soothing, as if calming a restless horse instead of the man who looks anything but restless. "And absolutely... Precious."

Dutch almost whispers; many of you know him as someone who can be, well, loud. "The only way I could be more comfortable would be if you'd be snuggled up against me."

"That'll come when I'm done, Dutch," I smile, deciding to start with his face; I know how hard it is to maintain expression, so I thought it'd be humane to start with that first. "You still have such a gorgeous face."

Truthfully, I feel his face looks wiser than he is, but I love framing it in my hands as I look into those eyes. That big nose is a feature that some (wrongly, in my eyes) view as 'ugly,' but I find it to be wonderful, so unique, and I kiss it at every opportunity. Likewise, I find something special about that cleft chin, which he loves getting scratched. I love tracing a finger along his jawline, along those cheekbones, and of course, kissing those lips. I admit, I enjoy scratching that stupid soul patch, and I can't resist tracing a finger along that mustache as those early morning rays peek through the curtains. I draw each of these features in order of my narration in this paragraph and pour my heart into putting as much detail into them as possible.

Just as he had done with me, I want Dutch to feel as handsome as I see him.

"We should do this more often," Dutch spoke with a slight catch in his voice in his suggestion. "I think... I think it'd be a good way to remind us of the beauty of growing old."

I was touched by that and swallowed hard. He's right; there should be no shame in growing old. Old age shouldn't be something to be ashamed of; it's an accomplishment. I waste no time in making my decision.

"Absolutely," I answer softly, thinking of how beautiful the flowers are in spring in our surrounding area; we reside at what was once called Hanging Dog Ranch. Dutch decided to call it Casa Van der Linde. Are you surprised?

"During nice weather, we could even do it outside. I think that'd be lovely out by the flowers, by the creek."

There was no argument from Dutch. It's one of his favorite spots to read, go for a ride. I've once worried he had gone missing, but I've found him napping against a boulder among the lupins with that damn Evelyn Miller in his lap.

One of his novels, you perverts.

Once I was done with his other facial features, after I etched in my last detail for his ears, I shift my focus to his hair. It's still beautiful, and even more so now that it's silvered, and long! It hangs down his shoulders like a lion; magnificent. And it shines so nicely in those warm sunsets and sunrises and in the candlelight. His hairline has been receding, but he still has those lovely ringlets which I love to twirl between my fingers, and Dutch gets just as much enjoyment out of it. He still pushes his head back against my fingers, his eyes closed in contentment; it's not unheard of that my scalp massages, my playing with his hair goes on for hours. At times, I use his hair as something to grip onto for more risqué purposes. I know what you're thinking, but no, that's not the reason behind his receding hairline.

When I reluctantly pulled my attention away from his hair as I drew one more curl in, I worked on his neck next. The skin there had lost some elasticity, as mine had done as well, but still strong enough to carry that big head of his; it's weighed down with mangoes and plans. Then, his shoulders are my next target. They still have some nice muscle tone to them, and attached, long, lean strong arms (whose skin is thinner these days) that still hold me close and strong at night, as if protecting me from the boogeyman at night.

"I always liked your arms, you know," I muse, taking my time and shading them. "Lean and long and strong, and how I just... fit so well in them."

Dutch looks lost in thought for a moment, though I knew he was listening. There's a warm look in his eyes as if he was reliving a memory. "I remember holding you for the first time. It was that cold night . . . Someplace in West Elizabeth, before there was more development out in Strawberry. The fire wasn't doing a good enough job at keeping you warm and I thought, you'd be warmer up against me."

I chuckle, remembering. We tried to get back there for our latest anniversary; alas, the location was turned into a hunter's lodge for the rich, some big gaudy thing. It made our hearts sink. "It was when we were getting to know each other a little more. Truthfully, I thought you were coming onto me, holding me that close, and so tight. Not that I minded if you were, of course. I kept warm."

There's a spark in Dutch's eyes as he remembered. When you're married to someone as I have been, you notice little things that they tell you with their eyes. "I opened up my coat and pulled you into it, couldn't get all the way closed but I think the combination of our body temperatures compensated."

I can almost feel that warmth again. He had a massive Grizzly Bearskin coat that was an import from Canada, before getting that Black Bear one you might have seen him in; he unfortunately lost it during a train robbery.

Once I finished the shading on his shoulders and his arms, I start sketching out those big hands. I love them. His long, lean fingers are a bit stiffer these days, particularly in the colder months, but still do what they need to do; Special Tonic helps our old man hands tremendously. I massage his hands when they get particularly ouchy, as he does with me; Dutch always gets a bit grumpy when I start, but eventually, he gives in and enjoys it. If you guessed it, yes, he's still a bit of a baby at times over things. He still touches me in the right way, in the right places; they work well for that.

Just to tease me, Dutch plays with that hair a titch, giving me the puppy eyes look for no reason other than he can. I shake my head, scoffing. "You are really trying to prolong this, aren't you, Dutch?" I tease.

"Just got some locks caught up in my fingers, is all," Dutch teases, knowing that I know better. "I want my hair to look presentable for the drawing."

I scoff again, turning the book around to show the progress. "I've already drawn it."

"Oh, he's handsome!" Dutch grinned, giving his hips a bit of a squirm. "If you're not careful, I might flirt with him."

Flirting at an illustration of himself! It's just so... him. I just had to laugh, even if I encouraged him.

"You are impossible, Dutch."

Dutch just chuckles, giving that waist a bit of a squirm because he can. I pause the drawing for a moment because he is simply being too distracting.

"And now you're flirting with me!"

"When don't I?"

That old imp got me then. He always flirts with me; I could be reading the paper while sipping my coffee when he decides to pull my attention away by kissing me on the neck. It comes off as a bit silly these days rather than sexy. I haven't been able to fully read a newspaper in the morning in over thirty years, I'm secretly amused, and I think he knows it.

I eventually do get back to the drawing, moving my attention onto his chest. As mentioned earlier, the skin is, well, less taut there these days. He's never been the most barrel-chested fellow but looks even less so these days; all the same, I still love laying my head on it, feeling, and loving the warmth from it. I still love blowing kisses right over that heart, as he does with me. I etch in the details as I see them presented before me, details that took him a long time to come around to accepting, with some convincing from me. He's been gaining positive associations, learning to like parts of his body better through my kissing them more. Over time, Dutch has been feeling more handsome these days, something I regret from time to time!

"You ain't drawing me with saggy tits, are you?" Dutch teased; he's growing more comfortable with his aging body, so much so that he'll crack a joke about it.

"You drew me with a potbelly," I playfully retort, though I won't live in denial; I do have a tiny bit of one these days that has been resistant towards me working it off, but alas, it remains. "It's only fair."

The graphite stick does its job as I gradually work my way down towards his lower torso, along that ribcage that carries a bit more flesh on it these days. Like the rest of his torso, he's still very ticklish there; I just have to dig in a little deeper when I poke him there, still often in public when I need to keep him in line. Most recently, Dutch got a good jab when he flirted with the new bartender in Valentine; a rather handsome, big Irish fellow of around our age who took a liking to us. I got a little jealous!

It was during that flirty moment that I cut short that we get older it's not uncommon for us seniors to... Get a little daring, and explore different things with each other. Maybe next time we're in town, we'll ask that Irish gentleman if he has any plans for the afternoon outside of pouring beer and cleaning glasses.

But! There's a drawing that needs to be done.

I etch in some more details on that mid-torso; one being a bit of a roll of his waist; a lovely love handle. I love them. They're something extra for me to grab that wasn't there all those years ago, and it's a secret kissing spot. That spot on his right hip is as sensitive as it ever was, though like his ribs I have to dig in just a little more to get a reaction out of him. Just because those hips, that waist, are a little thicker these days, doesn't mean they're any less slutty. Oh, they are. I'd be lying if I said he didn't use them to get his way from time to time. Imagine being manipulated by a sixty-five-year-old man's waist, complete with love handles! It's not something I'll openly brag about.

Dutch's ass is largely absent in this drawing; it's buried itself comfortably into the bedspread but a teasing hint of it is seen.

The next stop on the drawing Dutch tour, his belly. It was once so flat you could drive a train on it, and well, now, that train would fall off the rails. To put it bluntly, Dutch has developed a paunch (which I love), that I could just bury my face in — and I do. It sits like a well-used cushion as he lays in the manner in which he is posing, the lower roll slightly curtaining his groin. The married life has been suiting him well; there are some consequences to hand-feeding each other expensive imported chocolate from Europe every evening, but we've earned it for living as long as we have with the lifestyle we've led. If I want to hear his laugh, I'll blow a kiss on that irresistible belly button that doesn't know it wants in or out.

It makes me sad to think that he had once been so self-conscious about the changes to his body. To me, with more flesh on him, more of him to love, he looks even more handsome as he's aged.

Dutch's genitals, which he openly has exposed in a show of voluntary vulnerability and submission, weren't spared of aging, but they still do their job. They're dipped down between his legs that lay sprawled before him, his pubic hair as grey as the hair on his head and chest. A lot of men of our age have trouble getting it up; we are not foolproof in this regard. As mentioned earlier, sex is still good, but when we can't get it up, we've found other ways to deliver pleasure to each other, and in many ways, sex is even more enjoyable as a result.

His legs are part of the final journey in this session. Dutch's are long and lean, and thanks to daily horseback riding, their musculature is still damn fine. Their appearance hides the stiffness that's in them these days; for us both, our walks take us a little more time. Now, before you take, would you be shocked to learn though that I suspect he milks it now and then through so that he gets leg massages?

Dutch's feet are my last target. Those too get massaged, sigh. I again leave no detail undrawn; yes, I even drew that gross big toe of his. He says it happened many years ago during a heist when he accidentally dropped a safe on his foot, but I know damn well it's because The Count stomped one night at camp. He had a few drinks and forgot his boots and well, bare feet around horse hooves aren't among the best combinations out there. Dutchi is a little dramatic; he likes to exaggerate from time to time.

I finish the drawing with some extra shading around those soft curves of his body and etch in a few details here and there that I have accidentally left out. I finish the drawing off with those rings of his, and I set the graphite stick on the bedside table. Just as he had done with me, I slip up into bed next to him, kiss him on the forehead, and open up the book to him with my arms around him as he cuddles up close into my lap.

Dutch gets emotional. We all know he's emotional, that's nothing to be alarmed at, but there are times when I think he's just going to crumble. I thought one of those moments was unfolding before my eyes as he rapidly blinks back tears. He's come so far in regaining self-esteem over the changes to his body; had I undone all of that?

Dutch shifts half of his torso into my lap to get a better look at my work, his eyes taking in the details. There's a noticeable waver to his voice as he speaks, but there's a smile on his face, and it can be heard in his voice.

"I don't think the finest artists out of Europe could draw a better likeness of me."

I was touched, honestly touched, but I laugh. Someone who hadn't drawn much lately aside from the odd rabbit and deer, and maybe the odd folks in town (clothed in case you get any ideas), better than those highly fluent artists who have their artwork displayed in major art galleries around the world? Dutch is still a charmer.

"Oh, you flatter me," I laugh, hugging as much of Dutch as I can. "But I think we both know you'd be thrown out of their studios. You talk and fidget too damn much for a model! You'd be a pain in the ass and go off on some philosophical rant about art and man."

Dutch belts out a laugh, turning over onto his back with a big, silly smile. We know each other a bit too well. "Oh, I thought I was being a bit on the quiet side."

I grab a lock of that hair, twirl a long silver strand between my fingers, and give it a playful tug. "Only because I didn't actively engage in conversation!"

"And you flirt! You'd be kicked out for that. Something about needing to maintain professional conduct between artist and model." As if to emphasize, I poke him on his chest and then his belly, because I had to make him squeak. He deserves it.

There's a playful twinkle in Dutch's eyes as he positions himself to be poked again; he secretly loves it. I can also almost see the wheels, rusted as they might be, turning in his head. He's planning something and plays it coy.

Oh, but I think we don't have to maintain any of that pompous professional conduct here. We're small gallery-type artists. Flirting just grows familiarity with the model and artist. We have the perfect formulation."

I sigh, shaking my head, but decide to play along and see how far he goes. I smirk a knowing smirk, knowing it'll just egg him on. "What if the artist and model have already grown very familiar with each other?"

"Then, flirting becomes flirting with creativity," Dutch speaks a bit lower, dragging a finger along my jawline, to my neck, to the base of my ear. My breath hitches sharply; he knows damn well how that touch affects me.

"It can change perspective, explore new art concepts."

The moment I saw that glint in his eyes, that smirk, I knew Dutch was going to make good on my promise to 'kiss every inch of my body.'

"It's important for artists to study their subject before they even pick up their medium of choice," Dutch perfects the voice of an artist giving a speech at one of those big art galleries as he sets the book on the bedside table.

"You want to take in what you see in front of you and decide, what style should I use? Should this be realism, or should it be abstract? What medium should I use? And what will the meaning be behind the result?"

Dutch gently, smoothly, lays me down and starts to kiss my neck. I close my eyes, taking in the warmth from his lips, his warm breath tickling the fine hairs on my neck. He slowly trails more kisses down towards my collarbone, spending some time there before making his way down further on my chest. My back involuntarily arches up off the mattress as I feel his tongue just lightly tease a nipple, urging more out of him.

In between those kisses though, and the further he shifts his way down my body, Dutch starts to offer a string of names and dates of some famous paintings throughout history. He's trying to impress me with his artisan knowledge. Sometimes, I think there's a library in that thick skull of his, but a library where the books have all fallen off the shelves following a tornado. It all becomes a mess of dates and names that I cannot possibly save for later reference.

I roll my eyes, trying to tune out Dutch's voice as I focus on the sensation of his lips and tongue exploring me as if it were the first time. I encourage him when he's quiet, my hands roaming through those long locks of hair, savoring how nice it feels after all these years and just how thick it still is. While my hair hasn't turned to shit, I might be envying his.

And then, Dutch brings up the subject of man and art and how it will change humanity.

Oh God. He's going philosophical.

I'll have to stop this or he'll be talking at all hours of the night.

I know that to interrupt his ramble, I'll have to put the kisses—wonderful as they are—on pause. I firmly guide him up so that we're facing each other and roll my eyes as he gives a look that resembles a love-struck teenager, wanting to kiss again after stopping to catch a breath after a lengthy makeout session. Only this is a sixty-five-year-old man who thinks he could kiss every inch of my body while rambling about the history of art and its philosophy without me falling asleep.

I smirk and, after wrapping my legs around him, I turn him over so that I'm on top of him; there's very little resistance from him. Before he can get another word in about 18th-century philosophy in paintings, I entangle my fingers through that gorgeous silver hair and ease him in for a long, lingering kiss on his lips, which he returns in earnest. It does a damn good job of shutting him up, and well, I rarely turn down an opportunity to kiss that man. His lips are still so soft, and that mustache creates a ticklish sort of feeling on my skin that might turn others off, but I rather enjoy it.

Despite our age, something primal sometimes stirs within us when our lips are locked and tongues slip into each other's mouths, and I love it. This was one of those times.

There's a subtle battle of dominance taking shape. Dutch rolls me back over as he pushes his tongue against mine, a low, animalistic growl erupting from his chest. Being that I'm still very much top dog in this relationship (something that certain someone needs to be reminded about), I simply can't allow that. I push him right back with all my might, which isn't much these days, but he doesn't fight back too strongly, knowing. As evident from how easily it was to turn him over, I would say some of that strength reserve of his isn't quite at full tilt either. He tries once more to gain control of the situation -- complete with a playful grab of my ass. Naughty boy! I give his hand a light smack as I turn him back over, and finally hold him down with my legs possessively wrapped around him.

When we break from the kiss, Dutch looks at me that way again, as if I were some magnificent sculpture in Italy instead of this old man lying on top of him. I smack him on his ass with a snort; there's a satisfying sound that sounds not unlike what you'd get from smacking the rear of a pig, if you're into that sort of thing. I'm not one of those people, so you'll have to use your imagination. He loves it, evident from his boyish giggle.

"Happy Valentine's Day, you old rogue."

Dutch just looks at me with that lovestruck puppy expression. I can't resist, and I kiss him again.

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lanaxoxoxoxoxox · 1 year ago

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why can't i get you out of my head ?

this is part 2 !! read part 1 here

original request by @heiijoy

warnings: cute fluff, slight panic ig???

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

2 weeks later

If you have told 17 year old me that Ranboo and I were dating, I would have probably passed out. I've had a crush on him since we first met on the Dream SMP, and the fact that we're actually dating blows my mind.

I was chilling at Ran's house on his bed, scrolling through my phone as Ran worked on some writing for his horror series, Generation Loss on his desk. I peaked up from the edge of the bed and saw his back of his head and a slight few of his fingers typing on a Word document.

"You know, you better add me in the "Thank you" in the credits. We can tease the viewers and make them wonder who the hell I am! They're gonna go crazy when we tell them." I joked, putting my phone away in my pocket.

Ran turned his gaming chair around to face me and fixed his hair. I could see his chest moving up and down slowly from his breathing. "Speaking of telling." he paused. "I want to tell our friends about us. We're going to meet them later today, and I don't want to hide it anymore. I don't want to have to hold your hand under the table or wait until we're in private to kiss you. If you don't want to just yet, that's totally fine. We can take it in small steps, whatever you wan-"

I cut off his words. "Darling, I would love that!" I said, getting up to hug him. He sighed in relief and hugged me back, squeezing me tighter. "I do have an idea how we can tell them." I said, smiling, sitting on the floor next to him.

Ran perked his head up. "What if we don't tell them anything directly, but rather show it using actions? We try to make it obvious at the same time as well."

"Oh! Like we could hold hands in front of everyone very clearly and just wait for someone to react!" Ran smiled.

I smiled back at them. "That actually could be perfect."

4 hours later

Ranboo and I walked to the Brighton pier sign, and saw no one was there. We decided to take a quick photo to post on our socials to provide some "clout" for us. Ran grabbed his mask out of his pocket and put it on, and posed for the picture. As I was editing, we saw Tommy, Jack, and Niki start walking over to us.

I looked over to Ran and mouthed, "You ready?". He nodded and smiled at me.

We both walked over to them, not holding hands just yet. I ran over to Niki and gave her a hug. We all greeted everyone and I went over to Ran and grabbed his shoulder. Before we started dating, Ran would have been an absolute stuttering and blushing mess. Now, he's 100% more calm since we're together.

I looked over to take a quick peek at Jack's and Niki's face, and they both shared looks with each other. Tommy didn't even notice from his amount of energy. I giggled quietly into Ran's shoulder.

We were walking towards the arcade and I stopped to look up and Ran. I winked and said, "Love, can I have my wallet please?" I smiled at him.

Ran nodded and grabbed my wallet out of his pocket and gave it to me, smirking as he could see Jack and Niki shocked, even Tommy just standing there awkwardly.

Jack leaned over to Niki and spoke quietly to her, even though we could still hear them talking. "What the fuck?" he laughed.

We walked around the pier some more, and then went to the sea side to hang out for a bit. We walked down to the rocky area, and placed down our things on the log before sitting down. Ran was about to sit down on the log. This was the final step of our "plan" we had created earlier that day.

I pulled out my wallet and phone from my front pocket. "I'm going to buy water for myself, does anyone else want anything?" Jack, Tommy and Niki all shook their heads no.

Ran spoke up. "Can I have a water bottle as well?"

I nodded and went over to him and kissed him quickly on the lips.

I quickly saw Tommy and Jack stop in their tracks and stare at us.

Jack sputtered. "W-wha-what?"

Tommy yelled. "Why didn't you tell us, you bitch?!"

Niki just smiled.

Ran and I looked at each other and started laughing.

"Oops! Guess it's out now!" I said, sarcastically.

Gosh, I loved this man.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

this is really short but its so cute 😭❤️

please support me by liking, replying, rebloggling or following my blog! asks are currently open!

thank u for reading <3

love u lots xoxoxoxoox

#mcyt fanfic writer #mcyt #fanfiction #dream smp #mcytblr #requests open #ranboo #ranboo x reader #ranboo fanfic

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archiveikemen · 1 year ago

Text

'Wicked Love Blooming In The Dark Night' Story Event: Chapter 2

Roger Route

I do not own any of the Ikemen Series content being uploaded on this blog, everything belongs to CYBIRD. Please support them by playing their games and buying stories. Not 100% accurate, expect mistakes.

read this before interacting with my posts

???: Thank you so much for waiting, Roger!

The person who approached Roger was a young man with brown hair.

Young Man: This is…?

Roger: Ah, she’s my lover. She insisted on sticking to me today, so… yeah.

Kate: Huh? I did n—

Young Man: Ah, I see! Nice to meet you. I’m Ben, and I’m a pharmacist!

Kate: I’m Kate. Did you and Roger arrange to meet here?

Young Pharmacist: Yes! Ever since I first met Roger at this tavern, we became great buddies.

Young Pharmacist: At first, I felt embarrassed because I was a mere pharmacist, compared to the Royal Physician.

Roger: Haha, you say that and yet you’re the one inviting me for daytime drinking these days.

Outsiders must never know about the existence of Crown.

Therefore, “royal physician” must’ve been the alias Roger used with outsiders.

Urged by Roger, the young pharmacist sat down and started talking happily.

(Fufu, they seem to be very close.)

Roger: This guy may be young, but he’s one talented chap. Rumour has it that the drug you buy from him is exceptionally effective.

Roger: Apparently, even long-term chronic illness can be cured instantly.

Kate: That’s like magic!

Young Pharmacist: Magic? Ahaha, right. If only I could really become a magician who magically heals the sick.

Roger: …

The three of us continued our lively conversation—.

…

(Leaving his wallet with someone to pay the bill for him. How convenient.)

I paid the bill and went outside to look for Roger.

(Ah, found him.)

Kate: Roge—

(Huh…?)

In the alleyway, Roger slipped “something” into Ben’s hand.

It was money.

Roger: Then, I’ll see you “again”.

When Ben left, Roger noticed my presence.

Kate: Roger, just now—

Roger: Ah, I purchased some of that miracle drug from him and gave him advanced payment.

Kate: Drug?

Roger: If the drug he made is truly that effective, we should have it in stock for the palace or Crown.

Kate: I understand that, but why did you have to do it in such a shady place?

Roger: Purchasing drug for the palace means that there will be less of it available for the people. Won’t that look bad if done openly?

(That's a reasonable explanation. There doesn't seem to be anything wrong with that.)

(But something feels off.)

Kate: … Roger, is that really all?

Roger’s eyes that rarely ever showed his emotions flickered.

Roger: You suspect that I betrayed someone. … Right?

(...)

Roger: It's up to you to decide whether I’ve betrayed anyone, and whether my actions were good or evil.

Roger: Haha, your thoughts are written all over your face.

Roger: Young lady. You want an answer from me, but it’s not going to be that easy.

Roger: Even if I do give you an answer, you can't be sure that it’s the truth, can you?

Roger’s eyes were fixed onto me — like a predator eyeing its prey.

(He’s warning me. I’ll get myself into trouble if I go any further.)

Crown’s purpose was to fight evil with evil, they existed in a dark world that no one should step into.

(I feel like I’m being skinned alive and having all my weaknesses exposed.)

Putting my safety at risk was not part of my job as a fairytale writer, I was sure that no one would hold me accountable for backing out.

(However, I agreed to become a fairytale writer to save my life.)

(... I want to be accountable for my own decision.)

If not, I might lose myself in this dark world.

(Therefore…)

Kate: … I’m not going to back out. I said it myself that I wanted to spend the entire day by your side.

Roger: … Huh?

Roger: I like it, this side of you. Courageous and earnest. … I’m almost moved to tears.

Roger ruffled my hair with his tough hand.

Kate: H-Hey

Roger: Haha, you’re so cute. Come on, let’s get going. You said you’re not chickening out, right?

Kate: Y-Yes!

…

(Where are we…)

We arrived at an abandoned warehouse after sunset.

And then—.

Young Pharmacist: Sorry to have kept you waiting, Roger. Here’s the drug I made.

The young pharmacist took the drugs out of his leather bag and held it out to Roger.

Roger: So this is the cure-all drug called— “blue pill”.

Young Pharmacist: Yes! Taking this drug can cure you of all your ailments instantly.

Young Pharmacist: That’s why the price is a little bit on the high end—

Roger: The price doesn't matter to me. But is this all the stock you’re selling?

Young Pharmacist: Huh?

Roger: I was thinking that it'd be good to stock up on this “superior quality” drug at the royal palace.

For a split second, I thought I saw the look in Roger’s eyes change.

His gaze was sharp, calm, and yet angry at the same time.

Young Pharmacist: Of course! I still have some of this drug in stock.

Roger: Where are you storing them?

Young Pharmacist: Where, huh. … Erm, it's a warehouse I rented nearby Euston Station.

Roger: Euston, A501XXX—

Young Pharmacist: Wha.

Jude: I already did my research on that place. The trading company has also been eyeing that area.

I turned in the direction that voice was coming from, and saw Jude and Ellis standing on the second floor.

(Why are the two of them here?)

(No way— that means this is…)

Roger: We’ve got the evidence. Go to that warehouse and seize all the “blue pill”.

Ellis: Understood.

Jude: Tch, that place is far from here. How troublesome.

Young Pharmacist: What’s all this about, Roger?

Ellis: … Roger.

Ellis tossed Roger’s hunting rifle down from the second floor.

Roger caught it and pointed it at the young pharmacist’s forehead.

Young Pharmacist: !?

Roger: Doctors and medicine exist precisely because illnesses aren't so easy to cure.

Roger: And yet, you had the cheek to take advantage of and trample on that.

Roger: — Save your apologies for the afterlife.

— BANG.

(Ah…)

(... Wh… wha…)

My field of vision was dyed bright red with blood.

My heart hammered hard against my chest, I stood there petrified as Roger put down his rifle and approached me.

Roger: I took the initiative to approach that pharmacist, built a trusted relationship with him, then I betrayed and killed him.

Kate: …

Roger: Here’s the question, young lady.

Roger: Was my betrayal evil or justified? What are your thoughts on it?

#ikemen villains #ikemen series #cybird ikemen #cybird otome #otome #ikevil story event #roger barel #niki translates

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niniane17 · 8 months ago

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So I finally watched Saltburn. Spoilers, I guess? Whatever.

Why didn't anyone tell me what it was about? I thought it was some smutty teen movie about a crush! And there I was, thinking that my decade-long hyperfixation with the zombification process would never come in handy!!!

The rest is under the cut because it's a long read.

(As if anyone will care LOL)

I'll be honest and say I watched it mostly because I read somewhere it was a movie set in 2007 about a bunch of teens, and guess who also was a teen back then? I even visited Oxford in summer 2006. Though people had long forgotten Murder on the dancefloor. I think the hit was I don't feel like Dancing. Rosamund Pike was still known as Jane Bennet to most people, and she was in London starring in a Tennessee William play -I know because I had a leaflet, and I think I have it somewhere still. Oh those were the days!

But in the end, I'm glad I didn't know a lot about it, so I could enjoy with fresh eyes and no preconcieved notions, which I did, up to a point. Then I stopped.

Please note that I will only describe the themes here, because if I were to nitpick the plot (especially its insane timeline) I may never finish. Though I do wish we'd seen the dialogue between Lady Catton and her lawyers at the end: I may buy her being stupid enough to give away her inheritance to some kid she knew years ago, but I absolutely don't buy her legal firm accepting it.

Ehm. Anyway.

It has been described as an "eat-the-rich" film, and in a way it is, in the same way The Witch is about female empowerment.

As I said before, much of the audience's confusion towards that movie comes from the fact that we see women's liberation and empowerment as a good thing, whereas the folktales clearly depicted it as a bad thing. The same thing happens here.

The protagonist does, in a way, eat the rich people around him, or rather he drinks them, since it mostly uses the vampire metaphor, but it's not supposed to be a good thing. I've read somewhere it's supposed to be "ambiguous" but no, sorry, there's nothing ambiguous about it. The upper class is depicted as stupid and kind of rude, but ultimately harmless. Most notably, we don't even know how they made so much money, though it's hard to believe they made it by being silly and harmless.

In contrast, Oliver lies all the time, and the big twists* about him are that he faked his poverty, revealing a wallet full of money (because if you have money in your wallet or even bank account that means you can spend it. Budget? What's that?) and that he faked his interest for Felix, at least initially. Perhaps he did come to love him eventually, but his desire is always tied to creepy or downright necrophilic acts, showing that for him, they're one and the same. The representation is crude, but the message is clear: the only way two members of different classes can be equal and in a loving relationship is if one of them is dead, and if you allow any mingling between the classes, lower one will absorb the upper one until there's nothing left of it.

Yeah, well, I don't care for that, to say the least.

I do understand the movie is symbolic, it's not like they're trying to hide it: there are vampires, doppelgangers, ghosts, fairies, minotaurs, pagan gods, and so on. I was sad for a moment there were no zombies, but then again, it's better this way: zombies represent undenturent servitude and slavery, and this is a movie where being faithful to your master is shown as a good thing. I really don't want to see a story where a Zombie Master is the good guy.

(You know you hit rock bottom when fucking Game of Thrones is better at themes than you)

So yeah, I do get it Oliver is a symbol. It's just that I think he's the symbol of something awful, right from the Victorian Era, with all its anxiety and fears about social mobility. It may be wrapped in a shiny package to appeal to young people but the content is reactionary and very dangerous.

Besides, even at a symbolic level, it's a failure: even the evilest vampire is made, not born. Who turned Oliver first? And where is it? Is it still out there, haunting Britain, Europe, and possibly the world, like a ghost? Nobody seems to care.

(Yeah, that's another thing: the upper class screaming for help because they're hunted by ghosts. Yeah, well, I sure hope you are. The question is by which)

(No, I'm afraid Dickens won't be of any help this time. Trust me, he really won't)

It isn't even that I don't understand the fear of being preyed upon and sucked dry by people close to you. I do, and it's even happened to me. But in my experience, the relationship with those people tend to complicated and very difficult to parse. In a way, it's almost a comforting fantasy thinking of them as machiavellian geniuses out to get you, rather than people who have their own shit going on and who just don't care about your feelings as you care for theirs. Or who just don't like you as you like them.

Speaking of which, I've seen people argue this is not a story about class but rather about shitty individuals, but it doesn't work. Just like Eggers' Witches are inextricably tied to their gender, and the horror comes from the difference between how women ought to behave and how the witches behave, Oliver's deeds are tied to his middle class extraction, and the horror comes from the difference between what he does and how he ought to behave instead.

And the members of the "lower class" do know how they should behave: indeed, towards the end we see Oliver being looked at with disgust by the manor's servants, and the butler is very antagonistic towards him. Tellingly, the movie's original ending showed Oliver being served the same breakfast he had refused at the beginning, symbolizing the fact that for the working class he will always be an usurper who may have inserted himself into the upper class but doesn't have the "right blood". I guess this was a little too much even for them.

Finally, it costs me to admit it, but even those filthy rich people have to work, or at least some of them do. The illusion of living a carefree life full of leasures is just that, an illusion. Once Oliver's dance is over, he's got a shitload of work ahead of him, possibly for the rest of his life. If he were a true-born (lol) parasite, that would scare him shitless.

I did like the deer costume though, it was neat. I also liked the dance, but I would have chosen Can't touch this instead.

TL; DR: Watch The Talented Mr Ripley instead. And then watch US by Jordan Peele. Ok it's set in a different country with different politics and blah blah blah, but at least it knows what story it's telling and also zombie metaphors are so much better for these things. Also I'd recommend The Shadow by Andersen too. It's a nice story that predates a lot of the modern doppelganger ones.

*Get it??? Oliver's Twists???? No but really, of all the literary references this is the one that makes the least sense. It just so happens that Dickens did, in fact, write about a villain focused on slowly evicting his master from his house in a parasitic way, and he was also compared to a vampire (and a zombie too, though Dickens doesn't use that word of course. And I think there's some ambiguous shit going on with him too, if you know what I mean). The difference is that Dickens, as a member of the middle class, wants to protect the middle class' interests so he depicts the working class member as the evil parasite. I guess what goes around comes around.

Couldn't anyone just...I don't know, google all this shit? It's not like Dickens is some unknown writer. I also don't think the Midsummer Night's Dream references were relevant, but I guess Othello would have been too obvious? IDK. Slutty fairies are cool, though.

#saltburn #saltburn meta #emerald fennel #saltburn critical #classism #this became way longer than I intended #also that summer in england was cold i know because my brother was there at the time so I asked him

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scarletpath · 2 years ago

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I just feel like I need to get this off of my chest. Now, I love LOVE Overwatch. I pretty much started to play it when it first came out. I was completely in love with the characters and I just had to play the game. This was my first FPS too. I loved how the people working on the game continued to carefully craft and update the game with the players in mind. It felt good. Not only could you play as you wanted, but you also got rewards for working hard. Especially during the events. The skins and other unlockables that you gained all had a story behind how you got them. That D.Va Police skin? Yeah, I had to win 10 games in HOTS. That legendary Halloween skin? I was lucky and got that with the free Lootcrate I was given. I was grinding and earning anything that I could unlock. Even if it was for a character I didn't play. It was fun and I felt a great sense of accomplishment.

So imagine how excited I was with the launch of OW2. The promises of new content, new characters and maps. Upgraded graphics and more. I couldn't wait. I happily hopped onto my computer the day it released. At first it felt refreshing. Almost nostalgic of when I first started playing the game. But the Store. It made my stomach a little uneasy. I thought to myself "Yes, they removed the Lootcrates because it could be seen as gambling. And that it was illegal in some countries." So I let it slide for a bit. I honestly didn't mind the Battle Pass system they had in place. But I did notice that you couldn't work for anything that was in the Store. Everything had a price. Then came the first event. Halloween. One of my favourites. I was so excited to see what skins they would release. Imagine my disappointment when again, price tags were placed on the event exclusive skins. I even checked the rewards you could get during the event and it was pitiful. I felt like I was going to pull my hair out of my head, constantly being teased by the items I couldn't obtain without having to open my wallet. Every time I opened the game, it seems like they keep adding and removing items. Using FOMO to tease and tempt me. And I knew this feeling all to well. And I knew that if I fell prey to it, it would be very hard for me to get out of that hole.

A long time ago, I was addicted to a App game (Avengers Academy I think it was called). And they used this tactic. Bombard users with new items, skins and new characters. Set up events and make it nearly impossible for anyone with a life to obtain the special limited items. Dangle the things they want in front of them with a price tag and rake in the cash. I can't tell you how much I spent on that game. But I developed a problem. An addiction. And I knew what I had to do. I deleted the game and never went back. And now OW2 is doing the same thing. I can't tell you how much I really want to play the game but I know that if I give into the temptation of the store, I'll be in a very bad spot. I want to collect all the skins so much but there is no way I could spend that much money every time they release something new. So I quit playing the game. And it's really a shame. It plays so well. The characters are amazing. The maps are fun. But I know that I will develop an addiction, similar to that of gambling. In all honesty, I think using FOMO to make money is far more damaging than Lootcrates. At least you didn't need to buy the crates to get the items. So until something changes. I cannot go back to the game and it makes me so angry. But I'm doing this for my own well being. I don't mind the Battle Pass idea but they need to stop putting Skins and Characters behind paywalls. Everything should be achievable and rewarded with hard work. And that's just the thing. Every Skin is paid for. There is no reward and no incentive to the skins. So when I see them, I feel hollow.

Sorry, I rambled on. I'm just really upset about this. Again. I love the game. I just hate the greed. And I'm scared that if I just play it, I'm going to fall into a hole. A shame really. I had so many good memories and had so many good times with this game. So, yeah. I'm done playing this game.

#overwatch #overwatch 2

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joyandeggs · 2 years ago

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Five Things ♡ Tag Game

I won't tag anyone, I just wanted to do this again for fun. ❤️ Please tag me if you decide to do it though! I love seeing all the different responses!

Five things you would find in my bag...

Hand sanitizer (I love the Bath and Body Works ones... I need to buy some more, I'm almost down to my last one!!! I always have to have some on me.)

Lotion (Like with hand sanitizer, I always have lotion with me. I love lotion so much. Have to keep moisturized. 🥰)

A bunch of keys (My car keys, house keys, keys for work...)

Sugar scrub lip balm (One of the best things I have ever bought in my life.)

A photo of me whenever I was young (My Grandpa "Red" always carried an old kindergarten photo of me in his wallet. He held onto it until he passed. Now, I carry it in mine, just like he did. ❤️ It's like his energy is with me.)

Five things you would find in my room...

My manga (Too many books for just one skinny bookshelf!!)

Shoot McMahon (art and photos I have on the wall, my standee, my photocopies...can I actually have him though? 😭)

Blankets (In this house, we love blankets.)

A Kirby stress ball (one of the best gifts I ever got.)

My husband (who lives with me, hangs out, plays video games and builds Gundams... He is a really good cook. ❤️)

Five of my favorite things...

My dog (He can be a crazy mess, but he is my crazy mess, and I still love him so much.)

Fuji Kaze (My favorite Japanese artist. 😍💞)

Drawing (Despite the huge break I've taken from it. 😓)

Japanese food (especially takoyaki, sushi, and Ramen. 💗)

Kakashi (I would say Shoot, of course, but...I love him just as much. 💞)

Five of my habits...

Fidgeting

Saying "I'm sorry" too much and too often

Speaking in a cutsey voice (I just do it for fun, especially with my dog, but it's probably super annoying to my husband or anyone else who hears me doing it.)

Stuttering / Saying "uh" while trying to talk.

Bad stress and depression thoughts.

Five things about my personality or traits that I like...

A nice sense of humor (I laugh at pretty much everything, and I love laughing. Even though it's very loud and probably annoying. If I can make someone else laugh, I get super happy over it.)

Creativity (I come up with things, draw, write, even organize and decorate in a weird, creative way. I really do like that about myself.)

Heart (I try to be nice to everyone. It's hard whenever you work in customer service and people can be just plain cruel and uncaring, or whenever you're driving. 😓 Despite those things...I try. I love getting to talk to people online or out and about, and making their day with a compliment. I want to put everyone else first before myself, honestly.)

Determination (I guess this can go with the previous one. I'll say determination because regardless of my anxiety and depression, the stress I get from work and the bad thoughts that try to get rid of me, I'm still here. I'll keep going, no matter how awful I feel. It just takes one day at a time.)

Borderline clean freak (I'm probably weird for this, but I like to keep myself and everything around me clean as much as I can. Do I get lazy? Yes. Absolutely yes. My home is still messy and everything, but I honestly enjoying cleaning! Gives me a huge feeling of accomplishment, and it is so relieving. Always have to have sanitizer and wipes for everything.)

Five things I want for this year...

Make more things!! I miss drawing everyday, but I never feel like I have the energy or time to anymore. It doesn't help my wrists are bad, so it hurts even just scrolling through apps during the day. I have been writing a lot in downtime though, so I'm happy about that. I miss painting, too. Just doing anything really.

Write down recipes...or even make my husband and I a little cookbook or recipe box! He and his mom make such good food, and I love cooking myself. I wanna save some of our usuals to look back on.

Continue studying Japanese. I want to become fluent one of these days, if only getting close to understanding it a little better. Even that would be a big accomplishment from starting back in 2019.

Trying to get in better shape. My husband is trying to stick to his diet and lose weight, and I want to eat better with him. Been doing pretty good for years now though considering I don't like fast food and junk food really! LOL I need to get in better shape by just being more active in general though. I sit around too much.

Just try to take life as it is. It's not perfect, days don't turn out how you want them to, but...I'm here. I'm alive. Trying to be! One step at a time. It's just difficult. Things have been good though, and getting better everyday, so I'm thankful for that. And the little things in life that bring me my own joy. I rely on those too much, but whatever. ❤️

#about me #joy

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fr3akinthecorner · 1 year ago

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hey where are you? who is this and why are you asking me that? my name is emily rose chan im asking because i want to talk to you im a fan of paradise kiss although i dont read it only look at the pictures im not that much of a reader anymore all women should read but thats cool youre a fan im about to buy a new purse thats nice i just bought one too yea? did you like? i cant pick one out and i am getting impatient i hate the mall me too it sucks why cant malls have bars? i love drinking i could just drink while my friends shop why arent u getting high? your daddy nostradamus is very cautious of you you're very lucky im not that nice to random strangers but i do ike you so tell me what have the other girls talked about in your anime games? not much well im a person who likes to talk about a lot but i see that yourea a muse so it will be very hard to not only talk about men so forgive me if i end the conversation early im very particular about my conversations tell me, why cant you talk to mt st helens? because hes too much like me we are both crazy well then! maybe we do have more to talk about, i ham a bit crazy too but no one believes me when i say that they are going to rue the day they fucked me over and i have a master plan going into effect im a bad person and i relish in it but dont let that scare u emily rose chan i like u and if u need me to beat anyone up for u im your girl it seems like your race war playlist is a mess? that was a genius idea i enjoy talking about race and am very good at it like most things i am a special girl but u know that what else do u want to talk about? what kind of purse did you get? y2k hahaha what? thats not your style why are you doing that? because its cheap and closest to my style get high emily right now!! god hes taking so long i much teach him a lesson about drug manners emily you wait for far too long i would throw a bitch fit hey this purse is kind of cute! u know a lot girls play anime games but they keep it a secret? thats so dangerous and yes i remember back in t he day when you were in middle school when your friends were playing manga and now theyre probably playing without u what losers hey can u tell me something? a sweet girl has a purse to ride in so her mind can keep company and her lies dont have to die the purse is the lie and the mind is the purse of the lie they must always have a wallet to keep mens lies from stealing our ugly truths because a lying purse has no space for the truth of love that was beautiful emily! keep it up im sorry that it comes and goes keep at it and all your content will be that way youre a bloody genius, goodbye emily i have to go shopping and thanks so much for sharing again sweet doll

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purplesurveys · 2 years ago

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1607

Are you anything like your siblings? We share some core habits, I guess? like quirks we’ve adopted from one another from years of living together. But I’m very different from both of my siblings in that I’m the most emotionally expressive and also the one with the biggest inclination to be extroverted. Those two never want to leave the house like ever lol.

Do you have any good friends of the opposite sex? Hans and JM. I’d say Luis is also a fantastic low-maintenance friend - we occasionally check in on one another from time to time despite the fact that we haven’t hung out since, like, 2016. What can you smell? Fresh paint. My dad just worked on the steps on my loft bed.

Do you want to see somebody right now? It’s my last free day before work, so I prefer to be alone right now.

Are you a forgiving person? Not especially.

Who did you last fall asleep with? Agi, at least until he jumped off 5 minutes later lol.

Would you hug the last person you hugged again? Yes.

Can you be your complete self around the person you like? I don’t like anyone.

Have you had “the best night of your life”? Until I’ve seen BTS I don’t think that night would be able to exist.

If you were offered to smoke some weed right now, would you accept? Not right now, lol. I’d have to be miles away from my family for me to accept + I want my next try to be those brownie or cookie thingies anyway.

Do you prefer to take showers at night or in the morning? Night. Taking showers in the morning here almost feels like a waste of time because the days get too hot and you end up sweating 20 minutes later anyway.

Who’s the most controlling person you know? My mom, to an extent. I appreciate how she’s been more laidback in recent years, though.

Does anyone keep a photo of you in their purse/wallet, and if so, who? My dad has a family picture from like ‘05 in his wallet but apart from that idk anyone else who would be keeping a solo photo of me.

How many instruments do you own/have you owned? Two - a guitar and ukulele, both of which I had to buy for music classes in high school. I gave away the ukulele to my ex’s sister lol; and I’m not sure if they’ve thrown it out or what but wherever it is, I hope someone out there’s been able to learn a few songs by using it.

Do you own a microphone? I have a BT21 wireless microphone in Tata, because I couldn’t ignore buying one after the Tata Mic incident.

Do you enjoy trailers at the cinema? They can be fun to watch, yeah! I can tell most of the movies would suck but it’s fun to see what’s coming out anyway.

Have you ever been burgled? I’ve fortunately never had to experience something like this.

Do males look good in skinny jeans? Sure.

For or against guyliner? Whatever, man.

What’s the name of one of your friend’s dog? Hailey. What’s the last thing you bought from eBay? I’ve never bought anything from eBay.

Do you have a picture of you throwing up the peace sign? So many. You know how when someone takes photos of you they would press the shutter button repeatedly so you can easily pick out your favorites? I always throw up the peace sign for a few seconds in those.

Does your father have any facial hair? Yep, he has some stubble.

Did your grandparents teach you anything? Not so much on actual skills, more on life lessons and values. My paternal grandpa also didn’t directly teach me writing but I got my penchant and love for it from him - I know this for a fact because absolutely no one else in the family writes apart from him and my great-grandpa.

Have you ever been to Arizona? Did you like it? I haven’t. I’m also not sure what I should check out there? so it’s not really on the top of my list of places to visit.

When was the last time it rained where you live? It drizzled all day today so it’s been very humid, which has been unpleasant.

Have you ever played Cards Against Humanity? Did you like it? I have but we had to tone it down juuuust a little bit because we were playing with my teenage, under-18 cousins. Game still ended up being fun though.

You just caught your bf/gf kissing someone of the same sex. Reaction? I don’t have a significant other.

Reach your right arm out. What do you touch? My phone, the Chromecast remote, and my carpet.

You have to write a story for English, due tomorrow. What do you write? Ugh, I’m terrible at short stories...but if I were to try, I’d love to write something inspired by Yoongi’s First Love, considering I’ve also had experiences with struggling to reconnect with past hobbies and passions. Any concerts you’re attending coming up soon? Not technically a concert but I do have Seonho’s fanmeet on the 22nd! What part of the body did you last get pierced? My earlobes when I was months ago. Haven’t gotten any piercings since.

Any of your friends getting married? Nah not any time soon at least. I know at least two couples who are planning to have their wedding by 2025/2026, though.

Who was the last person you took a picture with? Cousins, aunt, and uncles.

Are you currently talking to/texting/instant messaging anyone? Angela.

What’s one thing you’d like to accomplish in your lifetime? Signing off for a few weeks just to travel to a different continent, maybe multiple ones.

What’s your biggest concern right now? Just that I have work tomorrow and the anxiety I usually get the night before is back. Having period-y hormones also isn’t exactly helping me now too haha.

How many different people of the opposite sex have you cried over? I want to say three, but none of them are love/relationship-related. Nacho when he died; my grandpa when he died; my dad whenever I had to take him to the airport as a kid.

Ever been to a friend's house and starved the whole time? Nah. Filipinos are super hospitable and you will usually be fed more than in your own home, lol.

Who’s the last person you had a sleepover with? Angela.

What’s the biggest bruise you’ve ever had? That time my right leg fell asleep without me knowing and I landed straight on my knee as soon as I stood up. That gave me a nice big bruise for a week.

Who is the youngest person in your immediate family? My brother, who is turning 20 this year.

Do you remember the last song you slow danced to? Not at all.

Do you plan on having alcohol at your wedding? If I ever have a wedding, that’s a non-negotiable. I like my alcohol so I imagine my guests would, too.

Are you one of those people that are always cold? I’m easily cold, but I’m not *always* cold considering where I live.

Have you ever gone spotting deer? No. I’m not even sure we have deer around here. Do you think your ex still wants to be with you? No.

Has a boyfriend/girlfriend ever put alcohol/drugs before you? Not that I can remember, no.

Are you listening to music right now? Yes, 134340 by BTS.

What are your initials? Not giving those away.

What was the last thing you ate? Kimchi noodles.

When was the last time you ran? Idk probably during one of my recent events since those things tend to get very hectic and I have to constantly talk to like 5-10 people at a time.

How did you get one of your scars? A particularly strong scratch from Cooper.

Who do you text the most? Work contacts.

Do you wish you had a pool table? Not really as I don’t know how to play pool and have had little practice at all.

Ever been to Olive Garden? We have one branch here that opened in 2022, but I haven’t visited as it’s way too far from where I live. It’s also been getting so-so reviews since it opened, so I find it hard to justify a trip all the way there.

What is something of which you need more in your life? I just need a longer break from work.

Do you tend to view your existence as more pleasant or unpleasant? Pleasant.

When was the last time you ate a great deal of food in one sitting? Last November in Batangas when we had a five-course dinner.

Do you enjoy talking about music with others? Uhhhh not really my go-to topic but if we have similar tastes then I can enjoy talking about our favorites, yeah.

Is acting something you enjoy? No.

Who was the last person to do something kind for you? My dad reworked the steps on my loft bed since they weren’t as wide as he wanted them to be, so he made the extension from scratch today and painted them, too.

What was going on the last time you were in a bed with someone else? We were on our phones going through our respective social media until we both just fell asleep.

What color of hair do you find the sexiest on the opposite gender? I don’t have a preference.

Has someone of the opposite sex ever told you that you were sexy? No.

Who is the last person you sent a message to on Facebook? Angela. The marriage questions from above made me feel a little sappy so I asked her if she is still up for BTS soundcheck with me and Reena by 2025 when she will likely be married by then, haha.

What was the last thing you said? I’ve just been singing along to songs in the last hour.

Do you ever get flu shots? No. Only shots I get regularly these days would be Covid boosters.

Do you turn your computer off completely at night, or just standby? I always just close the laptop; I haven’t actually shut it off in years.

Is there one show you just can’t stand? The Walking Dead post-Glenn.

Do you watch Disney Channel and Nickelodeon still? I’ll look for shows I grew up watching on Netflix and Disney+ from time to time.

Do you like white Christmases? Does this mean snowy Christmases? ...We don’t have snow here.

Can you shoot a basketball? Not always.

Have you ever gotten stuck in an elevator? Nope.

Have you ever had to go to the police department? Not because I committed a crime but because I had to visit one as a journalism assignment once. It was a group homework wherein we had to act like we’re from the police beat and cover any incident that would be reported; I was in freshman year so my parents were still quite strict and asked me to come home when midnight rolled around (no tips had come around by then), leaving my groupmates to cover for me. I made up for it by writing the entire script for the news ‘report’ instead.

Have you ever had a home grown tomato? As far as I know, no.

Have you ever lived through a hurricane? Yeah we get like 10 every year. And for every year, 1 or 2 of those would always hit the country pretty badly.

Do you like to draw? No.

Do you have soft hands? Do you like holding hands? I haven’t done much labor with my hands so they’ve stayed pretty soft, yeah. Holding hands isn’t something I enjoy doing unless it’s with a significant other.

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obeiii-mee · 3 years ago

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Mammon being greedy and constantly hoarding things away from all the others makes sense. That whole ‘scummy second born’ characteristic he has is what defines him as a demon and as a character. He’s the Embodiment of Greed. He does this shit all the time. The stealing, the lying, the gambling- all of it! Even his brothers seem to be under the impression that he doesn’t care about anyone else but himself. Which is just wrong, to put it in simple terms. Mammon does a lot for his family; they just fail to realise that.

Quite a few of the limited edition figurines and anime DVDs sitting on Levi’s shelf are from him, y’know? He made it seem like it was no big deal, that he found them lying around on the ground and he just happened to stumble across them and, out of the generosity of his own heart, handed them to his brother who was obviously excited to receive this kind of rare equipment. And the third born believed him because that sounds like a Mammon thing to do, since why else would he have such precious possessions within his reach? And give it to him no less, when he could’ve sold them for a lot of money??? In truth, Mammon probably went into debt trying to win these things and proceeded to spend weeks trying to get his hands on at least one so he could give the damn toy to his brother already. As an early birthday gift or something, idk what excuse he had in mind because he still has a reputation to uphold so he can’t be caught being a softie now, ya hear?!

Satan woke up with a cat in his room once. No tag, no owner. He swore that was the happiest day of his life simply because this random baby kitten found its way into his mess of a bedroom and he decided it was fate that such a wonderful thing were to happen. It took a while for Lucifer to agree but eventually he had to give in because Satan was being persistent, so he agreed on the condition that it’s just ONE cat and he better not come home to find a million of them sitting in the living room. Yeah, Mammon brought him that cat. He found it on the streets, in an empty alleyway or something, thought Satan might find it cute and then just…brought it home, I guess. And afterwards, he sneaked it into his brother’s room and pretended to act surprised the next day when its discovery was announced. He was also the one to convince Lucifer to let Satan keep it. Also, turns out the cat DID have an owner and Mammon just stole a pet, without even meaning to.

Asmo knows Mammon buys him make up kits and clothes from time to time. What he doesn’t know is that Mammon buys a lot of his jewellery too. To put it simply, the second eldest gets some really expensive looking-ass necklace, shoves it into a lower demon’s hands and tells him to go on and ‘give it to Asmo over there! He’s gonna love it, no need to thank me. You’re gonna earn some brownie points with the Avatar of Lust, good for you small, insignificant demon. Now just do it already!!’ Essentially, he’s too embarrassed to give these gifts himself but this is a regular occurrence that he forces onto others of lower status lol. Asmo comes home every time, flaunting this new gorgeous pair of earrings a fan of his gifted him and Mammon just goes ‘Whoa, that thing must be worth a fortune! Why dontcha hand it over to me, eh? C’mon, older brother privileges’ and the fifth born yells at him to stop being such a greedy asshole. The whole time he’s putting up a font so he doesn’t get found out because it would hurt his ego immensely if the others knew. Rinse and repeat after a couple of days….

The twins are easy because for Beel, all he needs to do is make him his favourite dish as often as possible and take him out to a few restaurants every once in a while to make him happy, which is good enough for Mammon, even if his wallet is screaming at him by the time they’re done. Belphie wouldn’t even notice this, but half of his pillows have either been ordered by Mammon on Akuzon or stolen from somewhere. I would be too afraid to ask where he stole such high quality pillows and blankets but yeah. Actually, those are two of the many things he does for the twins, the others including:

-Doing quite a bit of schoolwork for Belphie when he misses his classes (though he sometimes jokingly asks for compensation) or for Beel who stained his notes after salivating on them in class

-Sewing a few of Belphie’s pillows that he knows his brother used to like a lot before they ripped and had to be discarded of

-Always lets Beel know where his twin is because Belphie has a habit of falling asleep in random places and he doesn’t want Beel to worry about him when that happens so if he happens to spot him, he always tells Beel first so he can go and get him back to their room

-Etc…

Lucifer is last, mainly because Mammon doesn’t really give him a lot of physical gifts. I mean, some of the pricey alcohol the eldest has displayed in his office is from him but for Lucifer, Mammon was mostly there to provide him with emotional support. Especially after the fall happened and they all transformed into their ‘deformed’ demon forms for the first time, unrecognisable from the beautiful angels they once were before. That’s why Lucifer has so much trust in him-it’s because he knows Mammon is the most reliable demon out there and has always been there for him, quietly supporting him from the sidelines because he knew his brother had too much pride to ask for help from others. If I had to guess, Mammon would’ve had to pull Lucifer out of countless nervous breakdowns and self-pitying lines of thought, even more so after Lilith’s death. Honestly, Lucifer would’ve been totally lost and even more closed off than he is in the game at the moment if Mammon’s hadn’t been there for him. Actually, I guarantee you everyone would’ve fallen apart if Mammon was the one to die the Celestial War instead of their sister just because he’s the glue that’s holding them all together.

This post got really long but the point I’m trying to make is that Mammon loves his brothers and none of them really appreciate it enough because they’ve got this painted image of what they thought he should be like in their heads and therefore take all of his actions, as sincere as they may be, with a grain of salt. Obviously, these are just my HCs but I’m sure there are times where Mammon wonders if his siblings care for him at all or if they really dislike him as much as they let on. I know I would start thinking like that if I grew up in an environment where I’m constantly being insulted for the most minor of mistakes, since negative behaviour affects and sticks with you for a long time.

#obey me #obey me mammon #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me leviathan #obey me lucifer #obey me satan #obey HCs #I did it again #I was thinking about Mammon today #and then I got sad thinking #about how he gets treated sometimes #so I made these #to make you all suffer with me #:)

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absolutepokemontrash · 3 years ago

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The Brothers and Side Characters Go on a Road Trip!

So, Diavolo, Lord of the Devildom, wants to go on a road trip for reasons unknown. You know what? Screw it, the reason is because Dia wants to do a fun human thing because MC brought it up during tea time. No one can defy the king, so TIME FOR A ROAD TRIP!

Shut Up! HE DOESN’T NEED DIRECTIONS! (Lucifer)

He was going to turn that car around. That’s it, he was going to leave. Someone else drive.

I hope your MC likes staticky traffic updates because that’s what Lucifer constantly had on the radio.

Obviously, some of the brothers complained, so Lucifer put on Beethoven’s Symphony no. 9. HELL YEAH TURN IT UP DJ!

Lol JK no one can car-dance to classical music. Just go back to the staticky traffic updates…

Lucifer would have preferred it if MC or Barbatos were riding shotgun next to him, but Diavolo ended up getting it. Dia is constantly asking Lucifer to stop so he can take pictures of the most mundane shit.

Lucifer stopped stopping after the first fifteen requests.

“I’m not stopping at McDonalds- hang on. Hi McDonald’s employee, one black coffee please.”

In true father fashion, Lucifer got lost and REFUSED to ask for directions. They were lost for five hours before Diavolo finally asked:

“Lucifer, you can turn on the GPS right?”

“Yes, but I don’t trust it.”

Everyone screamed in frustration and were all fully prepared to abandon Lucifer at the side of the road.

Please… can someone else drive? Anyone else…

Are We There Yeeeet..? (Mammon)

Okay, so, Mammon was one of two ways on that road trip. One: complete ADHD daydream zoned out. Or type Two: AAAAAAAAAARRRRRRREEEEE WEEEEEEEE THEEEEEEEEERRRRRREEEE YEEEEEEET???!

He wanted to stop and go to all the tourist traps, by the end of the road trip Mammon wanted to open his own.

The Avatar of Greed loves driving, problem is, he’s used to driving off into the sunset as a lone bachelor, not with his friends and brothers in the car as well.

He only got to drive once, and it was awful. 0/10 would not recommend. Luke thought MC was driving and called shotgun…

Mammon just turns on the radio for music and hopes something good is on at least ONE channel.

STOP WEAVING BETWEEN LANES YOU MORON-

Not all of Mammon’s time driving was bad, the combined powers of Luke and Mammon meant that everyone stopped at a petting zoo at the side of the road. Everyone had a good time, even though when they got back into the car they all smelled like a farm.

Did anyone else hear that oinking in the car-

*Vibes to Music in the Backseat* (Levi)

After being cruelly dragged from his room and placed in this stupid van… he just climbed into the backseat and put on his headphones.

Maybe anime openings could drown out this problem…

Levi only drove for fifteen minutes, it was the most terrifying fifteen minutes of everyone’s lives.

Mario Kart is not a substitute for proper driving school!

Listen- Levi actually saved the entire trip, after stopping at a gas station everyone noticed that Levi never complained about what was on the radio because he was wearing headphones, so everyone bought their own pair and the car trip was so much more pleasant…

No matter how many times Lucifer told Levi to get his feet off the seat, he wouldn’t listen, he was GAMING and they took him away from his gaming chair! HE NEEDED TO SCRUNCH HIMSELF UP LIKE A GOBLIN TO FOCUS DAMMIT!

Whenever the car would stop so everyone could get out and take a picture or look at something, Levi had to be practically dragged out of the car and manually posed for the pictures.

“Is this one of those vans with TVs in them? I brought the first five volumes of TSL on DVD!”

While Satan was driving they stopped at a lake, and Levi burst out of the car and made friends with all the lake fish.

He was still soaking wet when they had to leave.

I’m a Responsible Driver- IS THAT AN OLD BOOKSTORE?! (Satan)

Satan, we believed in you…

Our favourite nerd wanted to stop at any and all historical spots or cool looking bookstores he saw.

When everyone went to buy headphones, he got a pair with cat-ears on them! Because obviously!

Satan’s a responsible driver, and he’s not as prone to road rage as one might think. He has patience, remember in the Jobs event when he worked in customer service? Those kinds of jobs take a godlike amount of self control to do.

Asmo called shotgun and Satan got to have the wonderful experience of having his ear chatted off by his dear brother.

Satan was not about to have fast food for the eighth time in four days, if everyone wanted food, he’d stop at a restaurant.

He was terribly sorry to anyone who needed to use the restroom, but they should have gone at the last rest stop.

When Satan stopped at the lake, he gave everyone a long lecture on the historical significance of the place, then noticed that Levi was being crowned king of the lake and decided he should cut his history lesson short before Levi abandoned his family to chill with the fish forever.

I wanted Satan to be the normal chill one with the radio… I really did… but deep in my subconscious I feel like Satan would put on one of those language learning DVDs so he can learn another language on the go like a total dork.

Road Rage (Asmodeus)

No one saw this coming but- Asmo gets some B A D road rage. Someone cuts him off? “Hi hello dear, WOULD YOU LIKE ME TO SHOVE MY FOOT UP YOUR ASS?!” Someone doesn’t use a turn signal? “YOU BRAIN DEAD MORON! LEARN TO DRIVE!” Someone just pisses him off? “*prolonged horn sound*”

It’s just… the car trip was so taxing on the poor Avatar of Lust… he was crammed into the middle seat for the majority of the trip… he had to give his sleeping mask to Belphie… Beel was getting crumbs all over him and he couldn’t move over… just so tragic…

Solomon called shotgun and it was the greatest couple of hours of his life. He got a front row seat to Lucifer and Barbatos dragging Asmo back into the car because he tried to pick a fight with another driver.

Asmo wasn’t having a good time…

He didn’t want to stop for any gas station food or go through a drive-thru so it was another expensive restaurant trip. Rest In Peace to the gang’s wallets.

When he wasn’t driving, Asmo was loudly talking with MC or talking on the phone. It was a blessing in disguise when they went through an area with bad phone reception and Asmo finally had to shut up.

Oh well… at least he got a few nice pictures for Devilgram.

MCDONALDS! MCDONALDS! MCDONALDS! (Beel)

We all know Beel is massive, right? His head is touching the ceiling and every speed-bump hurt.

He’s the one begging to stop at every gas station or fast food place they pass by.

Beel’s section in the car was covered in empty bags of Doritos by the end of the trip.

When Beel got to drive, Belphie got shotgun! Hell yeah dream team!

Poor Beel, he got distracted and ended up somehow popping a tire. He pulled over next to a farm, changed the tire, then got back in the car and kept driving.

Uh… there was an awful lack of snoring next to Beel- OH FUCK THEY LEFT BELPHIE!

Belphie was found sleeping next to the cows on the farm they had stopped at earlier.

The cows didn’t want to give their sleepy god up so easily…

After that… Beel didn’t want to drive anymore…

“Look, cows.” (Belphie)

I really need to stop with the cow jokes but I CAN’T

*snore*

Belphie’s crammed between Beel and MC for most of the trip and is probably drooling all over poor MC’s lap or shoulder.

Beware, he jolts up randomly and looks around in a panic before he realizes he’s in a car. This happens every three hours.

Belphie’s not allowed to drive, he’d fall asleep. But when Lucifer takes the wheel and puts on that fucking staticky radio, Belphie forms an idea.

“*ahem* four thousand bottles of beer on the wall, four thousand bottles of beer,”

Mission success, Lucifer wanted to tear his hair out.

Belphie ended up asking to stop when they get to a stretch of road with no streetlights, everyone got out of the and stared at the stars.

…listen, it’s a miracle no one got axe murdered but the stars were gorgeous.

Remember when I said Satan put on those language learning DVDs? Yeah uh…. Belphie woke up from his last nap of the trip almost fully fluent in Spanish. At least one person gained a new skill on this trip…

Oooo, Look at Thaaaaat! (Diavolo)

Even though the side characters were in a different car most of the time, sometimes people would switch to the other car if they met up at a gas station.

By the end of the road trip Dia looked like one of those tourist dads, Hawaiian shirt and all.

Dia can’t drive

He’s absorbing human culture… and human culture involves ordering everything at this random Wendy’s.

Diavolo’s camera roll is so unbelievably full by the end of the trip and he refuses to delete ANY of the pictures.

Most of the pictures are of really weird and boring stuff, like traffic signs and trees, but the picture he ends up printing out and putting in a picture frame is a picture of the whole group at the petting zoo having a grand old time.

He wanted to take home a baby goat but Barbatos said that wasn’t a good idea :(

Help. (Barbatos)

So, it could have been worse for Barbatos, he could have been stuck in the car with the brothers and MC.

Dia always had the seat up front, but when he left the car to go hang out with the dude-squad, Solomon got the passenger seat.

Solomon decided it would be a good idea to pester Barbatos to go faster and take weird shortcuts through (probably not legal) backroads and creepy forest paths.

Good thing Barbatos, Luke, and Simeon had functioning brain cells and knew that’s how horror movies began.

Barbatos stopped for fast food once and only once. It’s not healthy!

He’s the only driver to take suggestions for music, meaning that the side characters’ car was the best one of the two.

“SOMEONE GET THE BARF BAG!”(Simeon)

He’s just… he’s just trying his best not to vomit…

Simeon thought the car would be a good place to get some writing done while they drove down long stretches of road. Simeon was wrong in that assumption.

With his head down way too much while the car zoomed down the highway, Simeon felt himself getting *very* sick about four hours in.

He was worried he may have accidentally eaten something of Solomon’s… but nope. The angel was carsick.

Luke had the important job of patting Simeon on the back as he leaned over the barf-bag while Solomon dry heaved up front.

Hurry and open the windows before Solomon barfs too!!!!

Other than the car sickness, he had the job of making sure Luke was entertained, there was a good hour of eye-spy until they just got to a stretch of forest.

After that, Simeon realized that he could just give Luke free permission to ramble about whatever he wanted and that would keep the little guy entertained for HOURS.

What do You Mean I Can’t Legally Make This Turn?! (Solomon)

Shifty bastard can drive, problem is, he doesn’t care about the laws of the road.

He ended up getting pulled over after breaking approximately 11 traffic laws in less than ten minutes.

“License and registration.” “Yeah yeah yeah…” “…sir, this license expired in 1989.” “…shit.”

Solomon gunned it and managed to use his magic to hide the car and evade the very confused traffic cop.

Luke was completely aghast at the flagrant law breaking, but Solomon’s excuse was that the 80s were a lawless wasteland and he completely forgot he legally had to update his license.

He’s an equally obnoxious passenger as he is driver, but at least no one in the car is bored.

“You know, back in the day cars didn’t have seatbelts.” “Solomon put your seatbelt back on.”

…Can we keep it? (Luke)

He was against this from the start. A road trip? With those nasty demons? No! Never!

Okay fine… maybe he wanted to see some more of the human world… he agreed to go.

After helping Simeon through his car sickness, he misheard the other car say that MC would be driving, and Luke wanted to hang out with his third parent 🥺

That’s how he ended up riding shotgun next to Mammon. It started out rough, but when the two spotted the petting zoo it was all sunshine and rainbows.

Luke made friends with all the animals! He was like a little Disney Prince. He got especially attached to this one piglet, it was a surprise to Simeon that the goodbye wasn’t tearful.

Luke smuggled that piglet out of the petting zoo and they were all over fifty miles away before anyone noticed.

Of course, everyone was just shocked that Luke had stolen something, but he looked so cute holding the little piggy… awwww…

The bros obviously joked that Luke had gone to the dark side and was totally evil because he had taken the pig, much to the poor kid’s dismay.

Simeon tried to convince Luke that he needed to return the piglet but Luke was adamant that he could totally take good care of it.

Welp, time for Lucifer to fix this.

“Luke, you need to go put the pig back, it’s not yours.”

“No! I’ll take good care of it!”

“That doesn’t matter, you stole it. It’s not your property, do you want to end up a scummy thief like Mammon?”

“No not at all. Let’s go return the pig.”

“THAT’S ALL IT TOOK?!”

#Obey me #Obey me!#Obey me Headcanons #obey me shall we date #obey me! shall we date?#Obey me Lucifer #Obey me Luke #Obey me Simeon #Obey me Diavolo #Obey me Solomon #Obey me Barbatos #Obey me Mammon #Obey me Leviathan #Obey me Belphegor #Obey me Beelzebub #Obey me Asmodeus #Obey me Satan

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