#living pipe cleaner

[random-mica-person]

This is peanut butter. they are friend shaped

I fucking love ferrets but they are a pain to draw aaaa

Good news! If you fucking love ferrets too and would like merch of peanut butter, you can get some on my redbubble :>

[bisthefairy]

The average Mario Kart character owns 35 shitty businesses

[goblinbugthing]

hey check out my lps

the dalmatian on the left is named lucky, he’s the 2nd one i ever got and i love him dearly

in the middle is brownie, she’s lucky’s sister, she’s the first lps i ever owned

and on the right is beagle :) idk how long ive had her but she’s part of my Main Three here and she’s great :)

[hollygl125]

[puppychase]

reacting to random items like they’re celebrities

[queer-with-anxiety]

He looks hungry, I know, but he’s an emotional eater so he’s not actually hungry.

[mrs-weasley-reid]

AUGUST REC FICS

Hello, my sweets!! Here I am, once again, for yet another month of reading and living vicariously through our one and only Reader. I haven't read much this past month, and most of these sweet authors are people I follow (and shockingly, some are my mutuals, too !!! I'm too much of a fangirl to believe it's true). Give these gorgeous, spectacular writers a ton of love. They all deserve it so much, considering they're blessing us with such amazing work for free. Like. Comment. Reblog. The equivalent of a five-star review

Like always, I will be going based on what I've read recently and not by the date the fic was posted. Reminder to please respect these writers. Some contents are 18+. MINORS should not be interacting in any way.

— ✿ — ✿ ✿ — ✿ ✿ ✿

Spencer Reid

✿ a muted shade of green by @dalamjisung ↳ the flow of this fic was so smooth my jaw dropped down on the floor as i read through (writer's first reid fic, and it was chef's kiss)

✿ hearts aligned by @raekensluver ↳ OMG this one had me melting. roommate spencer is such a dream

✿ sick love by @misserabella ↳ guilty pleasure unlocked. a wonderful reading session filled with interesting discoveries

✿ behind closed doors by @incognit0slut ↳ i loved binging this so much !!! was a giggling, kicking mess while reading this one; and it has four parts ! we're so spoiled

✿ kiss it better by @nereidprinc3ss ↳ tmi but was having an episode of mild anxiety attack, and this saved me in the middle of the night, giggling myself to sleep, so thank you for such amazing work x

✿ dead of night & nightvisions by @cxrrodedcoffin ↳ lol i read this at work and had to fight battles not to make any facial signs that i was consuming kinky content. the second part was another level, i was cackling like a witch

✿ much ado about nothing: act iii, scene v & act iv, scene i by @incognit0slut ↳ act iii, scene v left me speechless, reader didn't fold and i took that as a win. act iv, scene i played with my emotions lol

✿ just a number by @reidsdaisies ↳ i became a stand-up actress while reading this because it's overwhelmingly spicy and filled with tension i had to provide comedic relief for myself

✿ untittled req response by @mandarinmoons ↳ no because i saw my reblog post of this and i immediately snorted and then laughed some more after rereading it. pipe cleaner will never not be funny to me

✿ poison me, i'm fine by @gghostwriter ↳ no because this one needs more attention ?????????????? i loved reading this so much i was so tempted to pull my heart out and ship it to pau, show how crumpled it was after reading

✿ my best colors for your portrait & my face in every place by @none-of-your-bullshit ↳ i wasn't lying when i said august is for angst and i immediately gobbled this up after seeing it. the way my chest was so tight but also smiling because the writing style is amazing got me looking like a lunatic

✿ cute, outraged genius by @lavenderspence ↳ tina got me laughing like a gremlin. it's so adorable she made me fall in love with spencer all over again

✿ another untitled req response by @mandarinmoons ↳ sorry, sweethearts, ket just couldn't be bothered with titles lmao. secret lover reader is my favorite lover, sooooo you all will enjoy this cutie patootie creation

✿ one single thread of gold by @gghostwriter ↳ you'll overdose of sweetness. it's so adorable and a great way to feel giggly about spencer reid.

✿ for the fear of falling apart | part one by @pathologicalreid ↳ i haven't read the rest of the parts but mhmmm this was DELISH. well-written creation that made me show emotions while reading at work. my coworkers asked me my my eyes were so wide and i think that says a lot at how great this is

✿ second to none by @raekensluver ↳ ooooo this one got my blood boiling in a good way

✿ untitled work by @sincerelybubbles ↳ adorable stuff make me melt especially when it's a spencer one

— ✦ — ✦ ✦ — ✦ ✦ ✦

Aaron Hotchner

✦ darling, in any life series by @hotchfiles ↳ at this point are we even surprise im including yet another series form lari here ? anywayyy, i love me some old flame trope

✦ picket fence dream by @hotchfiles ↳ this is a new part from the choiceless hope series and i gobbled it up. i was screaming when i read this

✦ tells by @ssahotchnerr ↳ first thing i read in the morning, and i sobbed from the overwhelming sweetness

✦ silver by @solardrop ↳ okay but this was so adorable ??? plus im def one of those gals who tried to throw herself on him, maybe even catapult myself

✦ sympathy for the devil by @hotchfiles ↳ nosebleed. spice level is not as high as i make it seem but the writing really got me sweating. just read it, you'll understand what i mean

✦ spending time with you by @lavenderspence ↳ no because TINA CALLED ME OUT WITHOUT CALLING ME OUT. i was slightly offended. the gasp i gasped was so loud asdkfnkg. but it is adorable, go read it pls pls

✦ doctor, love by @none-of-your-bullshit ↳ i love when reader slaps the character with some reality like a seasoned raw steak.

sorry, not sorry if this post is filled with lari. I reread her works religiously, so here are my favorites from hers truly:

✦ help me hold onto you ↳ oh, this is like crack for me, and i always come crawling back no matter how hard i try to stay sober

✦ half asleep takin' chances ↳ still waiting for future aaron somewhere out there

✦ choices ↳ gonna be honest with everyone this one makes me wanna deck aaron hotchner and then deck reader for folding so easily and also deck myself because im no better than reader

✦ quis ut deus? & daniel 12:1 ↳ my fave series from lari and i will never not reread them over and over and over and over again because i love it so much idk what's the appeal on me but i love it and i want this framed and buried with me even if it's unfinished

I haven't had a lot of time to visit the good ole "for you" feed in a while, so I apologize for missing all the amazing work every writer has put out this month. I will make it up to you, I promise! And if you'd like, you can send me works or mention me so I can read certain creations that you deem noteworthy for the next rec fic month!

love lots, ker x

[reiderwriter]

Hi Kacie!! Now that your requests are open... Could I request a smutty fic where Spencer finds out reader has a not-so-common sensitive spot (like her legs, hair, arms, whatever body part you want). Maybe he finds out kinda in a public setting after she gets all flustered and wants to keep pushing to test his theory?? You can take as much inspo from this as you want<3

(If this emoji's not taken)-💃 anon

A/N: Hello! Sorry for going MIA for a while there. It was the beginning of a new school year here in SK, so I've been really busy! I've been chipping away at this one little by little, and it's finally done! I hope you enjoy it ♡

Warnings; Smut, 18+ Minors DNI, case details, misogyny from a bartender in the opening scene, Semi-public sexual experimentation, edging, PinV sex, use of pet names (good girl), slight degradation, cum play, etc.

Masterlist

The back of the bar was dimly lit as you walked through it, keeping pace with your teammate as you kept one eye on the shady inhabitants of the bar. 

You'd been sent - with Spencer of all people - to ask the local dive bar staff about suspicious regulars. A fact that didn't exactly take into account his general lack of intimidating looks and your status as the newest member of the team. 

A trial by fire if you'd ever seen one. 

You tried your best not to stick out like a sore thumb, but the people in these parts could spot a Fed from a mile away. And though Spencer was remarkably pipe-cleaner-like, they'd certainly recognised enough FBI in him to clam up upon your entrance. 

“We got some visitors, I see. What can I be getting you, little lady?” The barman greeted you as you reached the first stool at the counter, a patronizing smile on his moustache clad lips. 

“If it's okay, we'd like to ask you some questions. I'm Agent Y/N with the FBI. This is my partner, Doctor Spencer Reid.”

“You're a Fed? Now, why would you bother doing all that hard work when you could be warming my bed, girl. It's definitely more honest and satisfying work.” 

The way the man leered at you over the counter has you freezing momentarily. Your instincts were saying fight, but you held your tongue just long enough to not ruin any rapport your team could build with locals. 

“I'm flattered, but already spoken for I'm afraid. Have you seen any suspicious men in here in the last six months, one that would pass through only semi-regularly, maybe with a few female companions, though never the same.” 

Professionalism at the cost of your peace of mind was going to be a hard learn for you as you grit your teeth and swallowed the bile in your throat. 

He just continued to leer at you as he dried up beer glasses. 

“You're looking for a man who likes cheap whores? Maybe you are in the market for a career change after all.” 

That was about all you could take, and luckily, Spencer Reid was well aware. 

Quickly grabbing you by the wrist, he pulled you behind him defensively and leaned over the bar, his voice low and somewhat chilling. 

“Disrespect my partner like that again, and I'll have you charged with aiding and abetting a murderer who has kidnapped and ended the lives of three local girls. Local girls whose fathers you're more than likely acquainted with, who absolutely have multiple acres of property and just enough bullets to put you in the ground.” 

The blood rushed to your ears at his voice, but the light grip of your wrist held you in place indefinitely. 

All the fight left your body, as you found yourself coming dangerously close to melting into Spencer in relief. 

He forced the man to answer some more basic questions, but it wasn't as if you could hear them. He stroked a quick thumb back and forth across your wrist as all the thoughts fled your head, and the words fell asleep on your tongue, resting there until he released you from his grip. 

You'd known that the area was slightly sensitive for a while, having accidentally brushed up against things and felt serious chills shoot up your spine. What you hadn't known was that it was that kind of sensitivity. 

Though, in all honesty, you hadn't exactly known that you could feel that kind of excitement for Spencer either. You just hoped he wouldn't notice. That much. 

Having finished his line of questioning and reiterating his threat, he moved his hand from your wrist to the small of your back and adeptly guided you from the restaurant and out of the line of vision of every pair of eyes in the place. 

“Are you okay?” He asked when he finally got you to the car, voice still quiet and low, and slightly too close to let you fully relax. 

“Peachy. He talked to you at least.” You turned away from him and began opening the passenger side door. 

“Nothing new or useful, though. Your bpm is high,” he joined you in the car, putting on his seat belt while you completely let go of yours, letting it zip back into itself.

“My… my what?” 

“Your bpm is high. Your heart was beating so fast,” he said, reaching over you to help you reclip it. “Were you nervous, Y/n? Or just sensitive?”

“Your mouth is entirely too close to mine to be asking that question,” you breathed out, cursing your eyes from stealing a glance at his lips. 

Only five minutes into this sudden attraction to Spencer Reid, and you were already mortified and extremely horny. In equal measures. 

“What would be the appropriate distance to ask that, then?” 

“I hear Australia is lovely this time of year.” 

He chuckled softly at you as he finished adjusting your seat and then moved far enough away to let the ground swallow you in peace. 

Never one to leave well enough alone, it seemed that Spencer took it upon himself to experiment with you for weeks on end after that. 

He'd constantly ask you to pass him papers, pens, anything that'd allow him to run a finger across the inside of your wrist. On more than one occasion you'd caught him staring into your eyes as he did it, and it took a nearly embarrassing amount of time to realise he was checking how dilated your pupils were before and after. 

When he'd gathered enough data for that line of questioning, he moved on to bigger things. 

You knew you were in danger of seriously falling head over ads when he offered to walk you to your motel door in a seedier case location. 

You, an FBI agent with a real-life gun and badge and job at Quantico, and you were jumping at the chance to have a man walk you to your room. You'd have been embarrassed if you weren't burning with anticipation. 

You hoped that like every other man in history, he was gently trying to insinuate himself into your bedroom, and by extension, your bed and more intimate places. 

So you were more than slightly disappointed when he started wishing you a good night. All of the aforementioned disappointment fled your body, though, when he picked up your hand and dropped a kiss to the inside of your left wrist, repeating the action on the right before wordlessly retreating. 

You stared at his back as he walked purposefully down the corridor and into his own room, leaving you to pick up your jaw and retreat to your room to lick your wounds. 

You wished it was him picking you up instead and found your brain imagining just that as your fingers dropped between your thighs that night. 

It became a case tradition for him to tease you like this, kissing your wrist after innocently walking you back to your hotel room. The others thought it chivalrous, almost cute and childlike, a form of courting that graced the good old days. They didn't know he grabbed you by the waist and held you against his hard-on every time you rode an elevator together. They didn't know his tongue darted out a few times to lick your wrist on occasion. They didn't know how you once mentally begged him to bite you there and how you shuddered as he ran his teeth along the vein there. 

Spencer was coming to the crux of his research regarding how far he could push you before you cracked. Only now, it was how far he could get without pushing you against a wall and jumping your bones. 

You knew you were in danger when he offered to escort you home after a case. 

“To walk you to your door, you know? Like always,” he smiled at you, the picture of innocence as you became damp between your thighs. 

“Sure. Yeah, okay, I'll get my keys, let's go.” 

You weren't sure how no one else noticed that Spencer didn't have a car to drive himself home after taking you to yours. You were unsure if they'd connect the dots between him escorting you home and his own apartment being 45 minutes in the opposite direction. 

Luckily for you, you could keep your hands at 2 and 10 the entire journey, away from his grasp. If he'd have touched you right then, you're sure you'd have driven both of you right off the road into a ditch. 

Or a pedestrian. 

The drive was calm, but pulling up forced your heart to your throat and kept it suspended there, almost like it was frozen at gunpoint, a deer in the headlights. 

“We're here.” 

“Great. Let me walk you in.” 

In. You swallowed hard, wishing very much for him to be inside of your apartment. 

“Okay.” 

Stepping into the elevator a few minutes later, he waited mere seconds after the doors began closing to pull you into his personal space. He was hard, he was so hard once again and his cock was now straining against your ass.

“Spencer, we need to talk about t-that,” he stroked your wrist as his hand splayed across your stomach, holding you firmly against him. 

“About what, Y/N?” 

He pulled your arm up almost as if inspecting the wrist for imperfections, and your head melted back into his chest. Why was this elevator so goddamn slow? 

You sprung out quickly when the doors pinged open finally and moved straight towards your door without a glance back, but you felt him close behind you. 

“Y/N, wait for me, wait, I'm sorry,” he called out quietly as you forced your keys into the lock as fast as possible. 

“Y/N, I'm sorry if I stepped over the line, I didn't mean too, please look at me-” 

You got the door open and turned back around to grab a firm hold of his tie and yank him into the apartment behind you. 

“Months. Spencer, you have been edging me for months, and I am sick of it.” You half growled at him, slamming the door behind him and then pushing him up against it. 

“I can feel how hard you are right now. Obviously you want to fuck me, so why aren't you?” 

His face went from shocked to intrigued, then shot straight for mischievous as he cracked a smile, and you felt his hands wrap around your wrists slowly. 

Before you could react, he had your positions swapped, your arms above your head pinned at the wrists and his breath hitting your neck as he answered. 

“I wanted to see how long it would take you to break.” 

Your lips leapt to his, hitting him angrily as you searched for more pleasure in his touch, one leg pushing up to wrap around his waist as his hips settled between yours. 

He met you at your level, giving just as good as he got.   

“Call it scientific curiosity,” he murmured, lips trailing down your neck, but hips pinning you in closer to the wall, keeping you trapped there. He made his way along your shoulders and then pressed light teasing kisses up your arms while rutting his hips into you, dry humping you against the wall as your eyes glazed over in lust. 

“You react when I touch you, you heat up. But it gets worse if I touch you here, right Y/N?” His lips again found your wrist, but this time his teeth grazed across the veins he found there. 

“You get so horny now when I look at you. I can grab your wrist and make you beg for my cock, isn't that right?” His mouth was back by your ear as your legs went limp under you. He still had you caged against your own door, and you had no idea what to say to that. 

Part of you wanted to protest purely because of the rough tone of voice he was using. The other wanted to flood to the floor and tell him yes, beg him to just fuck you and be done with this pure torture. 

“I asked you a question, Y/N. Isn't that right?” 

“Yes, yes, Spencer fuck, I don't care anymore, yes. You can touch me and I'll react to you, please help me.”

“Good girl.” 

He pulled away instantly, but his hands wrapped firmly still around your wrists. Slowly, he pulled you towards him as he slowly walked backwards further into your apartment. You thought for a second about just throwing yourself back into his arms, to close the space he'd created again between the two of you. 

You tried it, lifted your head slightly, begging his lips to return there, but he held firm. Each step was an agony of need, and you fought to hold your tongue, begging yourself not to beg him so pathetically. 

“Such a good girl, I'm holding you by the wrist, and you won't even protest about how slow I'm being.” 

Your mouth fell open as you registered his words. 

“You're being an ass.” 

“What was that? You want me to touch your ass?”

“Spencer!”

“Don't worry, we'll get to that.”

His back finally made contact with your bedroom door, and you stumbled forward into his chest as he kept his grip even still. 

“You're going to listen, right? You're going to listen to me and do what I ask you to do, aren't you?”

You wavered again. He'd been teasing you, but now he was serious, his tone light and his voice soft, but you could feel the strength in his grip. You could feel his arousal at your hip. 

“Yes, Spencer.”

“Good. Get on your knees on the bed. No clothes.”

He released your hands and opened the door for you as you tried your best to walk forward calmly. 

By the time you reached the bed, you'd removed most of your clothes, but you hesitated at the underwear as he watched from behind you. A quick glance over your shoulder saw him palming his cock through his pants, still leaning against the door he'd opened for you. 

He was getting off watching you, and you were frozen in arousal. 

“No clothes, Y/N.” 

“I know.”

“Underwear is clothing.” 

“I know that, too, Spencer.”

“Then take it off.” 

You shot a quick glare over your shoulder as you unclaimed your bra behind your back and threw it to the floor. 

“On my knees, right?” You said, climbing on the bed still clad in your panties. 

“I also said no clothes.” 

“If you're so invested in my state of dress, how about you come and help me rectify it.”

His lips twitched in small annoyance, but he followed the trail of clothes you'd left, ridding himself of his tie, shirt, jacket, and pants along the way. 

He climbed on the bed slowly behind you, not opposite as you'd presumed he would. His hands reached out to touch your back before slowly sliding all the way up to your neck and pushing your upper body down into the sheets. 

You let out a little squeak in shock, but let his hands guide you, feeling especially pliant when he grabbed your hands and crossed them behind your back. 

“Maybe the panties can stay. I'll just decorate them afterwards,” he said, and with that, he pulled your hips up with his free hand  guiding you into the position he wanted you in, and pushed two fingers into you. 

“Fuck, Spencer-” your brain short circuited as he pumped the digits slowly in and out of you, setting an agonizing pace but holding you so tight that.you couldn't even press your cunt back into his fingers. 

“What? What is it, Y/N? Tell me how you feel?” 

“Feel good, so good Spencer, p-please more.” 

He shifted slowly behind you, pulling his fingers out almost completely before pushing them back in, this time with another finger added. He didn't quicken his pace as you assumed he would, but he took his time stretching you out further as you moaned and whined underneath him. 

“More. You wanted more,” he reminded you, and his voice was like a sharp hit straight to your cunt, rough and hot and filling you completely. 

You barely registered the orgasm that flowed over you, your brain replaying his words on a loop as he continued pleasuring you. 

“That's it. That's a good girl. Get my fingers nice and wet.” 

When you finally grounded yourself in the moment again, your cheeks flushed as you realized just how wet you'd gotten. You felt your arousal still dripping down your leg and turned your face further into the sheets to hide your embarrassment. 

He pulled his fingers out of you, though, and with his now free hand he crouched over you and hooked his fingers under your jaw lifting your head and body up, forcing your crotch back into his as your back arched. 

“Don't hide from this. Look how wet you are for me, Y/N. Taste it.” He tapped his fingers against your mouth and you were ashamed at how fast your lips dropped open, tongue falling out to let him wipe his cum stained fingers against your pretty little lips. 

You tasted yourself on his fingers, wrapping your tongue around them and sucking as he dragged his dick across your back, trying to relieve himself in any way he could. 

“Good girl. It's time for one more, Y/N.” 

You released his fingers with a wet pop as he pushed you back into the sheets. Lining himself up, he entered you easily, your cum providing ample lubricant. 

You whined at his first few pumps, certain he was going to continue his torturous pace and leave you begging for more hours into the night. 

Instead, he let himself work you up to it, each thrust gaining in speed and strength until you could hear the slap of your skin against his more vividly than your own heartbeat. 

His cock was thick, filling you perfectly as you lost yourself in the sensations. 

“One day, I'll handcuff you to this bed,” he said, leaning down and whispering in your ear as each part of your body vibrated with lust. 

“I'll tie you down to this bed, and I'll treat you like a princess. I'll eat your cunt for hours until you cum every time my breath hits your cunt, and I'll cover your pretty tits in my seed. I'll let you use my cock as your personal sex toy, and I'll fulfill every single need you have.” 

His hand released your wrists as both of his hands came to wrap around your waist, pushing you deeper into the plush covers and changing the angle of his dick. 

You screamed at the pleasure, forgetting the paper thin walls your apartment boasted. 

“Fuck, Spencer.” 

“And you're going to love every single second because your brain switches off every time I touch your delicate little wrists.”

With that, another wave of pleasure spread through your body, sending prolonged shivers throughout your body. 

You felt him withdraw and heard the sticky mess of him stroking himself behind you until he made good on his promise and sprayed his generous load across your ass and panties before collapsing on the bed next to you. 

The two of you laid there for what felt like hours, sharing nothing but your labored breaths and the space of the bed before he finally rose. 

You tried not to sleep, but your entire body felt stiff from the awkward, if enjoyable, position he'd held you in. 

Your eyes drifted shut, and you just listened to his movements. A creaking floorboard here, a stumble against some furniture there, culminating in some running water and a return to your space. 

“Y/N,” he whispered, cautious to rise you from what he assumed was much needed sleep. 

“Mmmm,” was all you could reply.

“I realize now that I made a pretty big mess, so we need to get you in the bath.” 

“Mmm,” you protested, brows furrowing as you tried to gather your sheets closer around you, cradling yourself in the warmth. 

But doing so only made you more aware of the sticky wet mess around your torso and legs, and you let out a small, frustrated sigh. 

“You're stubborn, you know that, right?” He said, admiration coating his tongue as he lifted you slowly and helped you place your feet on the floor and walk towards your bathroom. 

“Spencer, shouldn't have a bath, too sleepy.” 

“I know, I'm going to stay.”

“In the bath?” 

“In the bath.” 

“Good.”

And it was. You let him lift your legs one by one into the scorching water and melted back into him, your head resting on his shoulder as if it were the most comfortable pillow you'd ever used, and you slept. 

[dangerouscommiesubversive]

A quick reminder for those observing Wash Your Water Bottle Wednesday: if your water bottle has a straw or a spout, give it some extra attention! Get in there and scrub the crap out! Use a little straw-cleaning brush if you've got one--you can generally find them at the grocery store--but even a craft pipe cleaner or just a little stick can help! The critters that might be living on the hard plastic walls of your water bottle are nothing compared to the nightmare monsters being incubated in the warm embrace of a silicone mouthpiece.

[sweetercalypso]

What Takes the Edge Off || Joel Miller

Word Count: 2.0k

Summary: Now that Joel is living in Jackson, he’s picked up a few bad habits. When he comes home smelling like cigarettes, you punish him for his choice of vices

Notes: smoking, lap sitting, hair pulling, semi-public sex, grinding over clothes, edging, dom reader, sub(ish) Joel, no reader pronouns; smoking is gross unless you’re hot <3

joel miller masterlist main masterlist

Joel’s problem started with a crushed pack of Camels he’d found just a few short months after settling down in Jackson.

Truthfully, his problem had started when he was nineteen and naïve about the habit he was forming with the hand-rolled cigarettes stashed in his glovebox. They’d belonged to Tommy before Joel had quickly confiscated them with a lengthy lecture about the dangers of smoking.

Tommy was still a kid, but Joel was old enough to choose his own vices.

Everyone in Texas smoked; pipes, cigars, cigarettes – it was all commonplace in the rural heat of the South. Even after the world fell apart, there were plenty of people in QZs willing to trade a week’s worth of ration cards for a single carton of cigarettes, a stale taste of the life they’d left behind.

Joel had been more than happy to meet their demand, only occasionally skimming a few from his and Tess’s supplies. He didn’t crave the relief of nicotine any more than he craved a bottle of old whiskey or a quick, drunken fuck – it was just a way to cope with the life he’d been given.

Living in Jackson is different. The air is cleaner, the streets aren’t littered with soggy cigarette butts, and the weight of Joel’s bad habits has finally caught up to him.

The first pack he found, he’d shared with Tommy. The pair stood outside a crumbling house on their patrol route and chain-smoked what was left in the half-crushed box, reminiscing about the time Tommy stole an imported cigar from their father’s nightstand and had gotten sick from the first puff. Twenty years since they’d seen home, their Southern upbringing still kept them from smoking indoors.

The smell of tobacco had worn off by the time they returned to the city gates, and you were none the wiser about their indulgence. Even when you threw your arms around Joel and buried your face in his chest, you’d greeted him like nothing was out of the ordinary.

A couple days after he’d finished the first pack, Joel realized how much he enjoyed smoking. He found himself missing the bitter taste in his mouth, fingers twitching at his sides like he’s flicking loose ashes from a phantom burning tip.

There’d been a gun in his hand for as long as he could remember, and now that his days are spent in protected leisure, Joel feels like a crucial piece of himself is missing.

He’s constantly searching for the sleek steel of a pistol, the pressure of a trigger responding to his unabating command. The weight of a cigarette balanced between his fingers had eased the grief of being still.

A sealed pack of Marlboro’s was Joel’s next find, left behind on a coffee table in a house just beyond his normal patrol route. His habit had never been routine enough to pick a favorite brand, but the familiar red and white emblem is a welcomed sight, a promise of earthy tobacco and a good, slow burn.

The matchbook in his pocket is a heavy burden on Joel’s conscience as he picks up the cigarettes and quietly slips them into his supply bag. This time, he isn’t sharing with Tommy or anyone else who feels they have a claim over a portion of his findings.

Jackson might be a commune, but just this once, Joel’s nicotine-fueled prerogative trumps his commitment to sacrifice.

He waits until he’s past the city gates to unwrap the crisp plastic and slide the first cigarette out of the pack. It’s nearly midnight when he returns his horse to the stable and begins the short walk home, unlit cigarette dangling between his teeth as he attempts to light a match under the warm embrace of the streetlamps.

The initial thrum of nicotine flooding his lungs is bittersweet, a slight burn that dulls his senses with each deep breath. He walks with his cigarette pulled up to his mouth, the weak orange glow of lit tobacco burning a crude effigy into the shadows of his face.

You’re sitting on the porch when he rounds the corner, lazed in a rocking chair that Joel had built the previous summer – his attempt at adjusting to the slow life.

When he realizes that you’re still awake, he flicks the half-finished cigarette onto the ground and crushes it with the toe of his boot, waving a hand to clear the lazy smoke lingering in the air. He grumbles under his breath and pulls the front of his jacket to his nose to gauge how long it would take the smell of tobacco to fade, but he realizes too late that the sickly-sweet aroma is already woven into the material – still clinging to his breath.

He makes his way up the sidewalk with a guilty look on his face and a hand tucked in his pocket, thumb rubbing soothingly over the side of the cigarette pack as if the feel of the box was enough to bring him relief.

It wasn’t that he expected to be chastised for his nasty habit – you knew better than anyone that Joel preferred to take care of himself. But he distinctly remembers a conversation you’d shared some time ago about old-world vices and your distaste for smoking.

He didn’t think it was worth mentioning his habit at the time; smoking was a luxury he doubted he’d ever have again, so why ruin his image of calloused self-restraint?

The sound of the porch steps creaking under Joel’s boots grabs your attention from whatever book you’d been reading, now abandoned face-down on the arm of the rocking chair as you turn to greet him.

“You’re home,” you drawl, the tired lilt in your voice betraying your content expression.

His chin dips in a bashful acknowledgement, tucked to his chest as he leans down to press a kiss to the side of your face. He still isn’t used to having someone waiting up for him; the thought only adds to the weight of his self-reproach.

“How was patrol?” you ask as Joel pulls away, though your eyes rake over him with another question in mind.

Before he can answer, you reach out and grab the front of his jacket, bringing the material to your nose to confirm what Joel already knew. “You smell like smoke.”

He swallows the sandpaper feeling in his mouth and shrugs. “Got a little cold out tonight, we stopped to make a fire on our way back.”

He cringes internally at his halfhearted attempt at avoiding the matter, but it doesn’t seem to deter you from putting the pieces together anyway.

“No,” you interject, brows pulled together in confusion. “You smell like cigarettes.”

He’s silent for a moment, unable to think of an honest way out of this conversation. “Huh.”

“Joel,” you drawl, standing and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. A teasing grin pulls at the corners of your mouth, a scandalized amusement that makes his cheeks burn. “Have you been smoking?”

Your fingers weave through the dark curls at the nape of his neck, tugging softly until his head rolls back.

His eyes flutter shut and he shudders as he pulls the offending pack from his pocket. “Found ��em on patrol,” he pants, his free hand gently squeezing your hip. “People leave all sorts of useful things behind when the world’s endin’.”

You offer only a simpering tsk in response, not quite the reaction Joel was expecting.

The night air is silent beyond the quiet lull of Jackson and the floorboards shifting under your feet as you shuffle closer together, sharing an intimate moment in the dim light seeping through the front room windows. Joel’s hands are a firm presence on your waist, separated from your skin by only the thin flannel shirt you’d stolen from his closet. 

Eventually, you pull away, ushering him into the seat you’d abandoned upon his arrival. He drops into the rocking chair with a grunt and drags you into his lap.

“Missed you, baby” he murmurs, admiring the way you fit perfectly into the hollow of his frame, the way you balance yourself overtop him with practiced ease.

He knows he should be more concerned about your indifferent reaction, more worried about the possibility of someone walking by. But his sensibility is swept away by the heave of your chest and the little sound you make when his hand presses against the base of your spine.

Your hips drag slowly over his and for a moment, Joel thinks you’ve forgotten about the cigarettes. Or maybe you won’t mind his indulgence as long as he makes up for it. The warmth of your body pressed against his makes Joel ache for more, ready to offer an apology with more than just his words.

Just as he leans in to press his mouth to yours, you pull away far enough that he misses.

“Ah-” you stop him with a raised hand, fingertips pressed to his pouted lips. “You can kiss me when you don’t smell like cigarettes.”

The warm, hazy feeling is suddenly ripped from the air. Joel’s head jerks back in a look of disbelief, mouth hung open and brows pulled together as if he’d been scorned. “You’re serious?”

“Mhmm,” you nod, running a hand over his chest to soothe his trampled ego. “Can’t stand the smell, baby. You know that.”

The rocking chair dips forward as Joel drops his head onto your shoulder with a groan. “That’s just cruel.”

“It’s not cruel,” you laugh, pushing back the mess of curls falling into his face. “When you come home from patrol, I wanna taste you, not smoke.”

Your hips stir over his once again and Joel swears under his breath. His cock twitches in interest and he begrudgingly accepts the torment of your slow pace. This isn’t the time to take charge and chase his high; he’ll let you take the reins until you decide that he’s forgiven.

He picks his head up to glance around the empty streets, assuring himself that there’s no one here to witness his weak-willed acquiescence.

“I wanna touch you, make you feel good,” you continue, ghosting your fingers over the front of his jeans. “But how can I do that when all I can think about is those nasty cigarettes? Hmm?”

Your hands travel back to his chest, but your hips continue to roll over his, trapping his stiff cock beneath the comfortable pressure of your thighs. His eyes flutter shut once more as he leans back into his seat and lets you have your fun.

It doesn’t take long for Joel to near his end, subtly bucking his own hips to help himself along. He’s right there, right at the edge of his release, knuckles turning white as his grip tightens on the arm rests and—

The weight in his lap is gone, replaced with an empty chill that makes Joel’s hips stutter. His eyes snap open as he struggles to focus in his blissed-out state, but a hand on his shoulder brings him back to reality.

You’re standing in front of him now, no longer providing the friction that’d been fueling the fire in his belly. “Sorry, baby. You don’t get off that easy.”

He groans when you crawl back into his lap and you’re flooded with a sense of empowerment. It shouldn’t feel this good to see Joel suffer. You know it’s not fair to tease him like this, but maybe he deserves a little punishment.

“Maybe if you hadn’t been smoking, I’d let you enjoy this. Let you use your mouth to make me come, let you fuck me the way you want to.”

Joel stays silent, obedient. He swallows around shallow gasps of air that make his chest rise and fall with the labor of his breaths, thighs tensing as he struggles not to chase that feeling dangling just out of reach.

“I could do this all night,” you note, settling your weight in his lap again, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth. “And I think you’d let me.”

[demigod-shenanigans]

Jason thinks love needs to be earned. The only love in tiny Jason’s world that ever came without strings was Thalia’s, but he was so young when they got separated that he barely remembers her. His mom abandoned him but surely she had her reasons. Maybe he just wasn’t a good enough son.

So he tries to be a good strong wolf and then a good little soldier, for Lupa’s approval and Camp Jupiter’s approval and because maybe if he earns enough points on the achievement scoreboard his dad will come see him. Maybe his dad will love him. If he hasn’t yet, it’s just because Jason hasn’t tried hard enough.

And his friendship with Reyna feeds into this mindset. It’s not anything Reyna says or does. But Reyna is guarded—understandably so, considering she’s extremely traumatized and lived the first ten years of her life knowing love mostly as a thing that could blow up in your face at any given moment. Of course she’s slow to trust and even slower to love.

It takes time for her to let herself love Jason.

And she doesn’t love him because of some achievement scoreboard, or because he’s a good soldier, but Jason doesn’t know that. Jason just sees that Reyna is his friend now, so apparently he’s gotten a good grade in being a friend through his achievements. His dad may not love him yet, but Reyna loves him, so clearly it’s possible to earn love and the world works exactly how he always assumed it did.

And then he meets Leo and Piper. Leo and Piper who love each other without terms and conditions. Who get in trouble together and make fun of each other and would die for each other in a heartbeat. There were no grand gestures or heroic achievements that caused that love to happen. It just did. They just looked at each other and knew they were meant to be friends.

And they love Jason, too. Even after they realize their memories of him aren’t real, they stick with him. Even when he keeps messing up, which in his world should get friendship points docked and make their love go away, they keep loving him anyway.

Jason sees Leo make his little pipe cleaner helicopter and immediately asks if they’re actually friends, because he may not even remember who he is, but surely he hasn’t done enough to earn the friendship of someone that cool. In MoA he talks to Piper about how he keeps being knocked out and having to be saved and how that makes him a terrible hero. He tells her he doesn’t deserve her when she tries to reassure him.

But Leo and Piper keep loving him anyway. They met the version of Jason that’s a mess before they ever met the Jason that’s capable and heroic and they still love him. Leo loves Jason so much he dies to keep him safe.

Leo loves the Jason that laughs at his stupid jokes and plays video games with him and gets stupid competitive about it. He loves the Jason that’s a nerd about Ancient Rome and the Jason who is kind and the Jason who’s unsure what the future holds and what he wants it to look like. He loves the Jason who’s a bit childish and cannot cook to save his life and has a terrible taste in movies.

When Piper is trying to comfort Jason when he almost dies, she doesn’t talk about his heroics. She talks about Jason when he was happy, with a goofy grin on his face and marshmallows stuck in his hair.

All his life Jason thought there was a certain version of himself he had to be in order to earn love. A mold he had to somehow fit himself into, no matter how uncomfortably it fit. And here Leo and Piper are, loving him even when he’s not exactly the fearless hero leader everyone’s expected him to be all his life. Even when he doesn’t know who he wants to be, or what he wants to do with his life. Even when he tells them that maybe he hates being a leader.

And Jason wonders if that’s what love is supposed to be. If he’s been doing it wrong his entire life. If maybe Reyna could have loved that version of him, too, if he’d let her see it.

But he’s so afraid of the answer to that question—so afraid that the girl he considers his platonic soulmate won’t like who he is now—that he never lets himself find out.

[squidpedia]

HI I’M PEDIA, MASTERPOST DOWN BELOW BUT HOLD ON REALLY QUICK READ MY FAQ:

Boundaries on reposting, dubbing, and pfp’s?

Dubs and reposts are ok just let me know please so i can check it out (and give credit duh)! Send it to my inbox or dm’s or something, anything, pleaseeee I’d want to see!!!!! PFP’s also don’t need permission, just include credit somewhere like your bio!

Do you like [other show/video/series]?

Maybe! All my my non utdr fanart goes to @squidpedias-fanart so maybe check/ask there?

I sent you an ask a while ago/tagged you in a post but you never responded, did I upset you somehow?

NOOOOOOOOOOOO I’M JUST AWFUL AT RESPONDING TO ASKSSS OR TEND TO MISS A LOT OF NOTIFICATIONS I’M SORRYYYYYY YOUREE FINEEEEEE. ITS YOU AND LIKE 150 OTHER PEOPLE I PROMMY IM JUST TERRIBLE. don’t be afraid to rb it and tag me in the rb again, sorry for that!

I also sent you a dm but didn’t get a responce

Ohhhhhhhh yyeeeeahhhhhh😬my bad you’re far from alone and I’m sorry. I respond a lot more to people with inquiries or if they want to inform about something, but like otherwise when it comes to just chatting I prefer to limit that to my mutuals sorry! Really, really should’ve stated that sooner.

I liked this drawing concept you made. Can I make fanart, redraw it in my style, or make something inspired by it?

YEAH!!!! Flattered and happy I inspired you in that way!! Just 1) tag and credit me, because I would be so sad if I didn’t see and would love love love to rb it and 2) if it’s a redraw, try to link back to original post if possible (but I forget to mention that a lot so that second part isn’t as big of a deal)

What about writing fics?

A FEW OF YOU ARE WILD FOR THAT BUT YEAH GO OFF?????? Still let me know, give credit, tag me if possible, clarify any questions you have in the dm’s if you want! Id be happy to elaborate on literally anything!

What other socials do you have?

I have a Youtube, Twitter (for lurking only at this point), Instagram , Bluesky, and a Switch (SW-2670-2211-5056) (thats not a social but you should crash my splatoon lobbies)

Do you have any oc’s or personal works?

@an-unconscious-effort-comic and @dragontry-comic (neither stories are connected to each other and are their own projects)

Pronouns?

Any

————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

UTDR/UTY COMICS MASTERPOST

(uty comics are highlighted in orange if you’re more interested in the strictly undertale comics)

Clover’s Memories (ongoing - i prommy)

(12/4 - today i had the realization that maybe i should just redraw some of the panels if i hate looking at them so much to the point that i cant even finish coloring the lineart. So i did that! Yayyyyyy)

Silence | Memory 1 | Memory 2 | Memory 2.5 Coming Soon | Sound | Memory 3 | Discrepancy | Memory 4 | Static

Clover’s Hat (post revive au)

Part 1 /// Part 2 /// Bonus

Kanako Integrity Duo (really short mini doodle comics)

Reconciliation // Introductions // Ceroba // Chujin

Miscellaneous:

Kris and Clover Interaction // Clover’s Sacrifice // Frisk vs. Clover’s POV // Clover Tells Martlet a Secret // Who’s Your Friend? // Pipe Down // Family Visit // Unwell // Letter // Humor // Gamer // They // Kicked Out // It Keeps Happening // What’s In A Name // Clover’s Nightmare (i’ll probably make a cleaner version later) // Banter // Time

————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

TAGS:

#Happily Ever After and Then Some (HEAaTS?) -> everyone lives au (based on the events of undertale and uty) including chara, flowey/asriel gets his body back, fallen kids, where i offer very limited explanation for why or how because it simply makes me really self-conscious to try to come up with reasoning and really i just want to imagine these characters in fun and interesting scenarios. Theyre all alive, just go with it and have fun! Note this is not a comic series or anything, i just like doodling random scenarios sometimes. So a few comics, some doodles, whatever is fun rn for me

#Phantom integrity au -> someone sent an ask once about what if clover’s narrator was integrity. It’s a fun idea to explore and where I got the concept of Lilac’s design for! It’s not something I think about very often plotwise but I like drawing ghosty lilac. Ps if you wanna make your own content based off this concept, please go for it!! You don’t even have to use lilac, i call it the phantom integrity au and not narra lilac just in case someone wants to yoink the concept for their own integrity. I think that’d be awesome :)

#Deltarune Orange -> went crazy one too many 5am mornings in a row and started cooking this. Basically just my deltarune yellow take but i wanted a unique name and it has stuff to do, with orange

#Fallen Kids -> all posts talking about my designs and thoughts for the other 6 human souls and also clover is there too hi clover. Its mostly lilac sorry

#Pedias art -> self explanatory

#Other peoples art -> you should check them out please 🥺

————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

[rinzsu]

FLOWERS, MY LOVE .ᐟ

cw: itoshi rin, fluff, gender neutral, established relationship, wc 300+, this is by far my fav piece of mine your boyfriend has other methods to express his love for you

„rin.. what are you doing?“

silence, followed by the slight crunching sounds the paper made as he folded it. that’s right.

itoshi rin, sat on the floor of your living room, surrounded by loads upon loads of pastel pink paper, folding it into dozens of little flowers.

you took a step closer, picking up a blossom that was laying astray before examining it closely. it must’ve been one of his first tries.

it’s petals were uneven, with one or two of them bent downwards. overall it looked like it was on the brink of falling apart, disfigured by the way he must’ve haphazardly thrown it on the wooden floor in his frustration of messing it up.

you smiled. he must’ve spend hours on making these, you noted while looking at the bunch to his left, little pastel flowers piling upon another.

you took another step towards him, stopping beside him to examine the flower he was currently crafting.

it looked downright perfect, petals forming a little crown around a little silver gem in the middle of the blossom matching perfectly with the soft pastel pink of the paper.

“are these for me?”

your question seemed to have startled him, the little jump he made upon noticing your presence beside him gave him away.

he turned to look at you, cherry red tinting his cheeks as his eyes washed over with confusion and guilt.

“you’re home early. you weren’t supposed to see them before they’re done.”

you giggled at him. he looked at you embarrassed before turning back to his task at hand. stubborn as ever.

you watched as he turned the flower in his hand, it’s downside facing upwards as he took ahold of the liquid glue, filling it into the small hole on the bottom before carefully closing it with a soft green pipe cleaner.

he gently collected the other flowers beside him, adding the his newest creation into the bunch before tying it tightly with a cream colored ribbon.

your boyfriend took one last look at his masterpiece, handing it to you together with a small note after giving an approving nod and a satisfied hum.

you gratefully accepted the bouquet, hugging it close to your chest while reading the little note.

with love, your rin

you smiled. these last few days rin has been feeling guilty every time you said i love you.

you understood tho, knowing full well that some people have difficulties expressing their feelings verbally, especially this early into your relationship.

you turned to look at him again, anticipation and nervousness swimming in those teal orbs of his.

“thank you rinnie.”

i understand. i love you too.

© rinsque 2023. plagiarism, translation and distribution of my works outside of tumblr is not permitted.

note. this is a repost from my old blog. while i tried not to repost too many of my old works,, i just can’t live without this one for it is one of my favorite pieces

[high-functioning-nerdiness]

here are his dismembered body parts for your amusement along with a silly little sketch of the unbreakable bond, with chimera Sonic

Monster may not be able to tell friends from foe, but it seems brotherly love is an exception

When your supposed to be getting ready for art fight, but your brain tells you to make a little beastie first

I will repost with the finished little guy, but I need more grey pipe cleaners.

Thanks @son1c, or your amazing chimera Sonic that has been consuming my every creative thought

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Anyone interested in a cheap old brothel in Fallon, NV? The living quarters is a manufactured building w/3bds, 3ba, (the whole building is 4,400 sq ft), reduced $34k to $275k. Man, is it yucky inside- bring your UV light to detect all the body fluids and several cases of bleach.

It's the old Pink Cadillac brothel and all of the furnishings are also for sale. It looks so unappealing. Why isn't it painted pink and black?

This must be the common area where the girls hung out.

Open mezzanine above with a nice gold railing. Is that a bar or a reception desk?

What in the world is this setup? Is this a drive-in movie simulation? It's upstairs, and it's a 1955 T-Bird that will convey, but it's just a shell.

Grungy old hot tub room.

Oh, lockers. Maybe for the girls' or clients' belongings?

Depressing looking powder room. Why would they install that style sink w/those old exposed pipes?

I don't know if all these things are included or not. Look at the big cage. I wonder if that was for go-go dancing. There's a stripper pole in the opposite corner.

Ugly kitchen with the flooring taped down.

Small, dingey lounge off the kitchen.

Old washer and dryer right off one of the rooms.

This is depressing.

1/2 bath ensuite. So dreary.

Just burn the mattresses and bedding.

This room has a full ensuite. It will take more than that spray cleaner to sanitize this.

5 acres of desolate dessert.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/2700-King-Dr-Fallon-NV-89406/71185528_zpid/?

[the-kr8tor]

i saw your requests were open for the holidays and i’ve got one for you! hobie and r making homemade ornaments for their first christmas together?-@thesevenofstaves

Bestie!!! Thank you for the lovely request! ❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 1.4k

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, cw slight injury, cw food mentions, one suggestive joke, fluff!

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

The air runs warm with the scented candles lit, cinnamon and peppermint scents wafting from the lit candle wicks. It's better for the whole houseboat to smell like a bakery rather than it smelling like hot glue and metal wires that Hobie's busy with connecting. He's trying to make a homemade mini ice rink to work. With a bunch of magnets, glass and a dream, it's almost done. The ice rink that's as big as a book shines under the lit candles, looking as if the so-called ice on it is about to melt under all the soldering he's doing.

The floors of the houseboat looks like a crafts store barfed on it. On your left is a Christmas tree you've made out of green pipe cleaners, decorated with tiny wreaths, and candy canes made from the same material. Near your socked foot are the figurines you and Hobie hand sculpted. You've hand painted it in excruciating detail so that it goes perfectly well with the ice rink where the figurines are supposed to glide around in a figure eight until they meet in the middle for a kiss. It's the sweetest thing he has suggested for decoration, you've smooched him to hell and back for the brilliant idea.

He decided to go all out this year since it's the first time you're celebrating with him now that you're officially together after what must've been years of pining for each other.

But now he’s starting to regret ever suggesting it for he has been wiring and programming the darn thing for hours now. His eyes are narrowed, glued to the rainbow of wires in front of him as he squints at it. His tongue pokes out slightly in between his lips, concentration clear on his face as he dodges a stray spark.

“Careful, Hobie, your face might get stuck like that.” You hum above the soft piano music playing on the record player, you've chosen it to add to the cozy atmosphere. Hands occupied with doing the finishing touches on the pipe cleaner tree, the hot glue gun is warm against your palm.

The strings of popcorn for the actual tree in the living room lays right next to you, it has gotten so long that it runs up towards the bedroom. You're surprised at how long you managed to make it when you've been sneaking bites of the popcorn you haven't stringed just yet.

He tilts his head towards you, eyes remaining in the same narrowed gaze. “What do you mean?”

You giggle, grabbing a couple of popcorn for him because you know he has been sneaking glances at you whenever you pop one in your mouth. “We don't have to finish this today, you know.”

He opens his mouth, prompting you to toss the popcorn in as he catches it effortlessly. You clap in return, beaming at him. “I know, love.” He says in between chewing. “Once I start I can't leave it.”

“Just say that you're excited to see it all finished.” You tease, blindly squeezing the glue gun.

“Careful with the glue.” He warns, concerned for how close the hot material is from your finger.

“I'm an expert by now, don't worry—! Fuck!” Yelping, Hobie's immediately by your side and off his seat the second the searing glue touches your middle finger.

His hands hold yours, “let me see, love.” Carefully twisting your wrist around to look at it, he sucks in his teeth at the searing glue clinging to your angry skin from the side of your middle finger and slowly dripping down to your palm.

“Is it bad?” You look away, hissing in pain as you place your chin atop his shoulder.

“No.” He tries to hide his own worry, “‘m goin’ to get somethin' to help, stay put, yeah?” With peck on your temple, he's speed walking towards the kitchen. “Don't peel the glue!”

“I won't!” You occupy yourself by staring at the ceiling, band posters and stickers dotted along it. The sound of the faucet opening and the gurgle of water has you squeezing your eyes shut, feeling the molten glue sticking to your hand, tightening up the skin. “This kind of feels like one of those facemasks we tried, but hot and not refreshing at all.”

He crosses the small distance towards you, water sloshing as he walks. “The mud one?”

“Yeah,” you sigh when you feel him sit next to you, taking your hand in his and gently submerging your hand in cool water. “Can I look now?” He places a towel over your hand and on the bowl, shielding you from the sight of the molten glue.

“Yeah,” he sighs, relief flooding his veins. Taking your chin, he slowly moves your head down to meet with your eyes. “There you are.”

“Here I am.” You smile, hand cooling down and feeling the ache slowly fade.

Hobie's eyes shine, “you alright?”

“Mm-hmm, thanks to you. Sorry to bother you.” With your apology, he holds your waist, pulling and sliding you towards him.

“None of that, you're not a bother.” His free hand grasps at the back of your neck, placing your head on his shoulder for you to rest on. You nudge your nose against his jumper, lips grazing along the side of his neck. “I remember tellin' you to be careful though.” He jokes, already smirking at you the second you lift your head up with a feigned gasp.

“You know what?” He raises a brow, “I'll let you have this one because you administered first aid.”

He chuckles, lifting the towel up slightly to check your hand. “Part of the job, lovie.”

“Is my hand okay?”

“Third degree burns, love, I have to graft some skin from your thighs to fix it.” He teases, poking you right on your thigh.

You laugh loudly, thumping your head against his shoulder. “Just say that you like my fucking thighs, Hobie.”

“I do.” He cranes his neck down to look at you, palm cupping your cheek. “That and more, especially when it's wrapped around my—”

“Okay!” You cover his mouth, feeling the rumble of his laughter through it. “How's the skating rink, genius?” Knowing Hobie, he's about to chomp down at your hand. Sure enough, you feel his teeth about to bite down on you so you lift your hand away in the nick of time. “Too slow.”

He shakes his head, rolling his eyes as he stands up to get the mini skating rink. “See for yourself.” Placing it in front of you and away from the bowl of water lest he electrocutes you, he turns it on with a simple click of the button. The lights under the ‘ice’ lights up, its iridescent shine taking your breath away. There's even a music box rendition of Frosty the snowman playing from its speakers.

“Holy shit, Hobie!” You stare at him, bewildered and giddy. Shaking him, he chuckles at your reaction, eyes lovingly staring at you as you mirror his expression. “This is amazing, even better than the ones we've seen around in the shops.”

He hides his grin as he places white garlands around the rink to decorate it. “Told you I could do it better.”

“Hmm, makes me think I should start listening to you more.” Teasing, you half embrace him, happily squeezing him once for a job well done. “Oh! Can we put us on it?”

“Yeah, we can.” he acts nonchalant, but inside he's all warm and fuzzy from your reaction. Happy that he has made you happy. Taking the figurines, he gives you the mini Hobie whilst he holds onto mini you.

“On three?” He nods, smiling through your countdown. “One, two, three!”

You simultaneously place the figures on the rink, watching them take its place while the magic of the magnets does its thing. The machine whirrs, clicking for a second. Hobie suddenly worries that it won't work, but once the figurines move by themselves on the ice, dancing along to the music, he smiles, watching your face bloom into pure joy.

Your eyes shine, tears of happiness clinging to your lashes. The mini you and Hobie complete its route, meeting in the center for a kiss before returning back to skate around again. Turning to face him, you find that he's already looking at you with fondness.

“I love it,” you hold his cheek, pecking the tip of his nose. “I love you,” you kiss his forehead. “You did so well.” Before you could kiss his lips properly, he beats you to it, leaning to kiss you instead.

Hobie kisses you warmly whilst music plays in the background, and the whirr of the machine he painstakingly made sure that it will last for a hundred holidays with you hums in the background.