#maybe he/it? but the label doesn't settle with me i think

[wertpq]

hmmm. weird thoughts about gender have been happening again. oaugh

[joelscurls]

give in to temptation

pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

words: 5.5k

summary: you're in a relationship now — a good, healthy relationship — that doesn't stop you from texting your ex Javi late at night.

warnings: 18+ minors dni, post Narcos s3, porn with plot, smoking, alcohol consumption, explicit smut, sexting, infidelity (I do not condone cheating, but unfortunately it's hot when it's with Javi), reference to masturbation (f), oral (f receiving), vaginal fingering, unprotected piv, creampie, use of pet names (cariño, querida, baby, etc.); lmk if I missed anything!

a/n: hi! enjoy 5kish words of dubious morals bc I couldn't get this idea out of my head :)

Humidity clings to the walls, bedsheets strewn across your legs damp with sweat. You kick at them aimlessly, and the cotton grips tighter to slick skin.

In the curve of your palm rests your phone, ringer switched off and brightness turned all the way down — the last thing you want is to wake your boyfriend, dozing next to you as you text another man.

Your fingers are clammy where they wrap around metal, sweat pooling in the divots between your knuckles. 

This is wrong; you know it’s wrong, just like every time preceding this one. But the guilt does nothing to slow the adrenaline racing through your veins. If anything, it makes your heart thump harder.

That, and the words pixelated on the tiny screen of your flip-phone.

Javi [2:03am]:  I’ve been thinking about you all day, cariño. Got me so hard.

You’d met Javier Peña just over a year ago. 

A young woman alone at the bar, you’d drawn him in like a moth to a flame. He had dark brooding eyes and a savior complex that’d been made more apparent with each story he’d shared about his time as a DEA attaché in Colombia, from which he’d recently returned.

Do you miss it? you’d asked, nursing a martini.

Like hell, he’d said. But I have nothing left to give.

I don’t know if I believe you, you’d countered with a wink.

Not an hour later, you’d found yourself in his living room, dress hiked up to your waist as he devoured you. 

Sex with Javi was easy, mindless. For a while, his body served as a refuge for you after shitty days at work and arguments with your overbearing mother. A lone beacon in the fog, he was always more than willing to help you forget the stressors in your life. And your own name.

It was passionate, and filthy, and sticky — left your legs trembling and your head dizzy — each and every time. 

With him, you didn’t have to talk. Didn’t have to think. It was just sex, with no strings and no labels. Your relationship, if you could call it that, was perpetuated by the transcendent pleasure you felt in the spaces between words, when your mouths were preoccupied.

But when your birthday came and went and you found yourself another year older, an aching feeling settled in your gut — a feeling that time had begun to pass more quickly than it used to. And on its heels came the desire for something more, something you knew Javi was not willing to provide: a relationship.

The decision to end things was mutual, amicable. It was the easiest “breakup” you’d ever gone through. Maybe because it wasn’t a “breakup” at all.

A few weeks later, you’d met Nathan, a law student with a polite disposition and an eagerness to settle down. He’d treated you well, the type to open doors for you and ask about your day. On all fronts, he was a good man — a little boring, but good.

After a month, you made it official. After two, he moved into your place.

And you stopped thinking about Javi, about the way his large hand had fit perfectly around your throat, the way he’d been able to coax you to orgasm in two different languages. No, you only thought about the man in front of you, the one with the steadily growing collection of argyle ties and the unstamped passport.

Sex with Nathan was admittedly different. He didn’t make you cum as quickly or as easily; your body didn’t crave his with the same amount of fervor it had Javier’s. But it was loving, sweet, what any woman would want…should want.

And it was normal that you thought about your ex sometimes when your current partner laid his weight on top of you, that you imagined a different mouth slotted against your neck or on your tits. Because certainly, everyone did that every once in a while. It was harmless.

As long as you never uttered his name out loud, he’d remain only in your head, lost to time to exist there forevermore.

But then came the day in the grocery store, on your date to the cereal aisle to restock Nathan’s favorite, bran flakes. He’d materialized like a ghost of good sex’s past.

You didn’t dare speak to him, didn’t trust yourself to. Under the bright fluorescent lights, you’d felt your palms begin to sweat, your throat constrict, eyes glued to the selection of boxes in front of you. But while Nathan debated between store brand and name brand, you’d snuck another cautious glance at him.

Javi’s expression was unreadable. He’d looked between you and Nathan as if he were trying to solve a rubix cube. One he was becoming increasingly frustrated by. He’d gripped the handle of his shopping cart so tightly, the skin on his knuckles appeared near translucent.

And then he’d disappeared, tiny wheels on the carriage screeching, noise barely audible over your pulse.

The first text came later that night.

Are you seeing someone? it’d read.

Yes, you’d replied. But that doesn’t mean we can’t talk. 

You’d quickly established ground rules: messages would only be exchanged after midnight, never two nights in a row, no calls, and — most importantly — Nathan would never find out.

Okay, Javi had said. Just one more rule: don’t use his name with me.

To your right, Nathan snores, the singular catch of an inhale in his throat, and the noise jolts you, face heating as if you’ve been caught.

Then he shifts, turns on his side, away from you. You feel a strange wash of relief. A semblance of privacy that you shouldn’t be after.

You respond to Javier with your tongue between your teeth.

You [2:04am]: thinking about me doing what?

Javi [2:06am]: Riding me. Your tits in my face. My hands on your ass.

 Your breath catches, attention abruptly pulled to the incessant throbbing between your legs.

You definitely shouldn’t sneak to the bathroom and touch yourself. Shouldn’t send Javi a grainy photo of your fingers in your panties. Shouldn’t make yourself cum with your ex-lover’s name on your lips.

Not for the third time this week.

But when your cunt inadvertently clenches around nothing, your judgment is suddenly clouded.

With one last glance at the sleeping form beside you, you clamber to your feet and tiptoe down the hallway, wetness dripping down your thighs as you go.

The bathroom door closes with a quiet click. You fumble for the lightswitch, eyes reflexively squeezing shut when the room brightens. 

You hover over the sink, steadying yourself against porcelain with one hand while you type furiously with the other.

You [2:10am]: yeah? you wanna suck on my tits?

The mirror parallel you reflects something out of a thriller, your pupils fully dilated and your forehead glistening with sweat. You almost don’t recognize the woman staring back at you in all her depravity.

You slump to the floor. Rest with your back to the side of the tub. 

Javi [2:11am]: Dying to. Always felt so fucking perfect in my mouth.

Desperate fingers slip under the hem of your shorts, into your panties. The phone balances precariously in your other hand, thumb stumbling over buttons on the keypad.

You [2:12am]: I miss your cock.

Javi [2:13am]: That’s right, querida. Best you ever had, huh?

You [2:13am]: Yes. Always made me feel so fucking good. 

Javi [2:15am]: Fuck. Are you touching yourself?

You swirl two digits at your entrance, amply coating them in your slick before dragging them up to your swollen clit. You can’t stifle the moan that slips past your lips.

You [2:16am]: yes

Javi [2:16am]: good girl

The phone distractedly tumbles from your grasp, clinking against tile as you begin to work yourself toward the brink.

And then — there’s a knock on the bathroom door.

The room spins, walls suddenly shrinking in on you as you wrench your hand out of your panties. Nathan’s voice on the other side is muffled, by the exhaust fan and by the ringing in your ears. But you can just decipher his words, his voice laden with sleep.

“Babe? Are you okay? I thought I heard-“

“Fine, I’m uh, I’m fine,” you say, scrambling to your feet, wiping wet fingers on your shorts.

The doorknob jostles, and it dawns on you then that you’d forgotten to fucking lock it.

 “No! Don’t come in,” you sputter. The door hitches, less than an inch cracked. “I just had a stomach ache, but I’m okay now. I’ll be back in bed in a minute.”

“Oh.” He yawns. Pulls it shut again. “Okay.”

You brace yourself against the sink, struggling to slow your racing heart. 

With a flush of the empty toilet, Nathan’s footsteps recede down the hall and out of earshot. You wash your hands, then, fingers shaking under the stream of lukewarm water.

You dry them hastily, not bothering to pick up the towel when it slides off the rail and onto the floor.

You [2:21am]: gotta go. sorry. 

Javi [2:22am]: ???

Nathan is far too kind the following morning. He sets a plate of buttered toast and a mug of peppermint tea out for you on the kitchen table, and presses a nauseatingly gentle kiss to your forehead as you eat.

His amber eyes scan you like he’s searching for any indicators that you’re still hurting, fingers anxiously carding through his sandy hair.

You’re sure he’s clocked the dark circles marking your undereyes — not that he knows the real reason for them.

“I’m fine,” you promise when you feel him staring.

“Are you sure?” he probes. “The noise you made was…intense; you sounded really pained.”

Pained? Not exactly.

“I know.” You stuff the last bite of toast into your mouth. Tilt the empty plate toward him.

“But I’m okay; see? Even have an appetite this morning. It was just a weird bug or something.”

The lie burns on the way out, scalds your throat. But Nathan buys it. Doesn’t ask any further questions.

Still, he tells you to take it easy today on his way out the door.

You can’t look him in the eye when you insist that you will.

You call out of work, too sick with self-loathing to show your face in the office. Instead, you mope around all day, attempt to distract yourself with the overflowing hamper of laundry in the closet.

It’s futile though, your brain paralyzed by thoughts of Nathan finding out about the affair, and the clothes remain unwashed.

He returns that evening with a plastic bag in his clutch, the local pharmacy’s logo printed on the front.

“Here,” he says, pulling out a brand new heating pad. “I realized last night that we didn’t have one of these laying around.”

You know, at that moment, that you need to end things with Javi.

Nathan is good to you. He loves you with actions, not just words. Thinks of you before he thinks of himself, in every situation. And you — you’re cheating on him. Taking advantage of him. Not even trying to be what he deserves.

You’ll try harder. To love him, to think of him. No longer will you give in to brainless, animalistic needs. Surely, you can mimic the passion you have with someone else if you just try. 

Try, try, try. You can do it.

Sleep evades you that night, coming in brief stints and leaving you breathless when you wake. 

In those conscious moments, the analog clock in the corner of the room taunts you, glaring red neon making your head pound.

After three straight hours of tossing and turning, you decide it can’t wait any longer.

You fish your cellphone off the nightstand. Snap it open.

You [3:23am]: We need to end this before things get ugly.

You’re sure he won’t be awake this late; not without reason. But then — the screen blinks.

Javi [3:24am]: Nothing’s going to get ugly. Please, cariño. 

You [3:24am]: I almost got caught last night. I don’t want to hurt him.

Javi [3:25am]: Can we talk about this? Javi [3:25am]: In person?

Your heart palpitates. For a moment, you swear it stops altogether.

You [3:26am]: What the hell? No Javi, I can’t.

Javi [3:27am]: C’mon. Just talk. Don’t you think you owe me that?

Your eyes flit to Nathan. 

You watch him for a long moment: the steady rise and fall of his chest, the slouch of his shoulders, the gape of his mouth.

He’s well and truly asleep. You’re sure you could sneak away without him waking. Slip out the door and get a cab to Javier’s, talk things through, and be back in bed before the sun rises — before Nathan even knows you’ve left. 

And then everything will be just as it was before you messed this up. You can leave Javi in the past, where he belongs. 

Of course, you’re not just going to talk. Deep in your bones, you know that. Know that when he’s there in front of you, you’ll be too weak to resist any of his advances.

Still, you play coy. Ignore the spring of excitement tightening in your abdomen. 

In a move of finality, one which you know you won’t be able to come back from, you stand. Make your way into your closet to pull some pants and a t-shirt on, your cell phone clutched in your hand. 

You [3:30am]: Fine.

Javier sends you his address — as if you’d have forgotten it. As if the name of his apartment complex isn’t permanently etched behind your eyelids, along with the wide slope of his shoulders and the plush of his bottom lip.

When the cab pulls up to the curb, the driver is visibly concerned. His bushy, gray brows thread together and his narrowed eyes catch yours in the rearview more than once on the drive across town.

It’s only when you reach Javi’s building and hand over your fare that the man speaks.

“Are you alright, sweetheart? Quite late for you to be out on your own.” 

His voice crackles, the smell of cigarette smoke heavy on his breath, and it’s strangely comforting. 

“Yeah,” you promise as you push the door open and step out.

He rolls his window down, anxiously watching as you maneuver your way to the front door. And then he’s driving off, headlights vanishing into the thick night.

Javier lets you up on the first buzz. He’s waiting for you in the entryway of his apartment, leaning with a large hand pressed to the doorframe.

Your mouth goes dry at the sight of him: shirtless, bronze skin cast in the dim yellow light of the corridor. 

His eyes rake over you the moment you’re in front of him, lingering when they catch on your collarbone, your breasts, your legs. He looks so imposing like this. You find yourself unable to move; frozen under his silent, lustful gaze.

“Are you — can I come in?” you ask meekly.

He nods then, a slow lift of his chin. Steps backward into darkness. You will yourself to take one step, and then another, following him over the threshold and past the point of no return.

It feels so odd to be here, in his space, with the intention of doing anything other than fucking. If you look close enough, you swear you can make out the shape of your body imprinted in the couch cushions, can hear lingering echoes of climaxes reached with your face shoved into one of his decorative pillows — can feel them, too.

Arousal pulls between your thighs. You ignore it.

You wonder how many other women have been here since you, have taken Javi in their hands or their mouths or their cunts. How many names that aren’t yours has he chanted in the throes of passion? 

And — moreover — why do you care?

You don’t. You definitely don’t.

Javi pours you a glass of wine, fills a crystal with whiskey for himself. He flicks a lamp on, casting the room in an orange glow, and settles into the couch You follow his lead, perching yourself on one of the arm rests apprehensively.

“So,” you start. “About what we’ve been…doing-“

He cuts you off with a quirk of his brow, a flinch of his jaw. 

“Javi,” you try again. “This has to — we can’t-”

“You’re sure you want to break it off, cariño?” His voice comes out low, dark.

And the thing is — you’re not sure. You wish you were, wish you had the strength to tell him definitively that it’s over, to go home to your boyfriend and block Javi’s number on the way out. 

But the flex of his bicep when he hooks his arm behind his head, the knowing smirk playing on his lips, his cock — which you can’t see, but know is long and thick under his jeans — it all makes your head feel heavy. 

You let the weight of it drop between your shoulders, hang there as you silently search for just a particle of sanity left in your being. You come up empty. 

“Fuck,” you hiss, claw your fingers into your scalp. “This is — fuck.”

Leather groans under Javi’s weight. He stands. Steps in front of you.

You don’t dare look at him, not until he pinches your chin between two fingers and forces your gaze to meet his. His eyes are charcoal-black, something devious swimming behind blown pupils.

“Baby,” he croons. “Why did you really come here?” 

You play dumb. “What do you mean? To — to talk.”

His thumb skates along the underside of your jaw, soft and placating.

“We’re not really gonna talk — are we?”

Your head spins, mind clouded by Javier’s words, his touch. You sense yourself losing resolve just as he pulls you upright by both hands. 

You’re so close like this; can taste the whiskey on his breath, can feel the warmth of his exhale against your skin.

His mouth moves to the shell of your ear, voice a mere whisper when he speaks again.

“Wanna know what I think, querida?” he asks, palm flattening at your lower back, pushing you flush against him. “I think you came here because texting wasn’t enough anymore, huh? Think you missed me.”

And the truth is, you have missed him — painfully so. You’ve missed the timbre of his voice, the caress of his hands, the stretch of his cock. All just in reach, tangible for the first time in so long.

Your need for him borders on carnal. The feeling snakes its way up from your stomach into the cavern of your ribcage, splays its weight across your delicate, pounding heart. 

And then the rational part of your brain whirs weakly to life.

What are you doing?

“I have a boyfriend,” you say. You’re not sure who you’re reminding. 

“Mhm,” Javi mutters, deft fingers peeling the fabric of your t-shirt up, up, up your body. You don’t stop him.

“And does your boyfriend —“ he kneels down, presses a kiss where exposed skin meets denim — “make you feel as good as I do, cariño?”

You can’t answer that. It wouldn’t be right. Because any of this is.

“Javi — I,” you try, cut off abruptly by dull teeth in the flesh of your waist. You yelp, the sweet sting quickly dissipating as he pauses. Pulls back. 

“You can say it,” he goads with a wicked smirk. “I won’t tell him.”

“He — no,” the words leave you before you even feel them in your mouth, and then you’re cursing yourself. You can’t take it back — it’s too late. Javi knows, you know. The only one still in the dark is Nathan. 

Javier says your name. His tone is different, soberingly serious. 

“Tell me to stop.” 

Fuck. 

“Tell me to stop,” he repeats, “and I’ll stop.”

“I can’t,” you whisper, so quiet you barely hear yourself. 

“Cariño-”

“I can’t,” you stammer, louder. “I — fuck, Javi. Please.”

“Please?”

He knows what you’re asking for; he just needs to hear you say it.

“Please fuck me.”

In an instant, he’s standing back up, grasping at your sides and impatiently guiding you onto the couch. He brackets you against the cushions, one hand splayed next to your head on the backrest, the other popping the button of your jeans open. 

You lift your ass as he tugs them down your legs, pulls them past your ankles and leaves them in a heap on the floor. And then he’s moving down your body, kneeling at your altar and prying you open for him.

You surrender to him willingly, desperation growing when he pulls your panties aside and gazes at your glistening sex, transfixed by you.

“This gorgeous pussy,” he hums, leaning down to taste you.

“Yeah?” you breathe. “You miss it?”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he groans. Dips his tongue into the apex of your heat, refamiliarizing himself with your nectar before licking a languid stripe up to your throbbing clit.

You writhe under him, beg with wordless whines and whimpers for more. He knows your sounds, knows their tells, soothes you with a gentle shh against your cunt. 

His lips wrap around your clit, then, envelope it completely as he starts to suckle, and the sudden sensation makes you buck your hips.

“Javi — fuck, oh — holy-” 

He retreats, mouth shiny with your arousal. “What is it, baby? Your boyfriend doesn’t eat your pussy like this?”

“He doesn’t,” you admit breathlessly. Javi clicks his tongue. Faux-pouts at you. 

His lips reattach to your clit and you curse.

“Fuck, Javi, he — he’s never-“

The half-admission stops him in his tracks. He stares back up at you with narrowed eyes.

“Cariño, don’t tell me he doesn’t go down on you?”

Your face heats. “He — he says he doesn’t like to do it.”

Suddenly, Javi looks livid.

His fingernails dig into the meat of your inner thighs mindlessly. You watch his lip twitch and his eyes roll to the ceiling.

He’s unaffected by much these days — but Javi clearly doesn’t take kindly to a man not pleasuring his woman. Especially when you are the woman in question.

“Pendejo,” he murmurs. 

“Javi,” you whine. “Please.”

Your pleading voice seems to snap him out of it. Or at least remind him of the task at hand.

He returns his attention to your dripping pussy with one final huff. “Gonna take care of you baby, don’t worry.”

You anchor yourself with fingers of one hand twisted in the dark, sweaty curls at the crown of his head. Two digits on the other pinch at one of your hardened nipples, just as Javier begins to swipe his tongue back and forth over your clit.

“Fuck,” you sigh, draping your trembling legs over his shoulders. 

He licks your cunt like he fears you’re going to melt, lathes over your clit again and again with the wide flat of his tongue. The wet squelch of him slurping at you, eager to catch every last drop of your arousal, bounces off the walls obscenely.

You hope, fleetingly, that his neighbors are heavy sleepers. Better yet, that they’re out of town.

Maybe he’s putting in extra effort because he knows now that your boyfriend isn’t doing this for you at home. Or maybe he’s just better at it than you remember. Regardless, you find yourself completely overcome with ecstasy, close to falling apart on Javi’s tongue in a matter of minutes.

As soon as he curls two fingers into your cunt, you’re gone, cumming so hard your vision pulls and your thighs shake.

You sing Javi’s name like a hymn. It rolls off your tongue effortlessly, naturally. Like it’s made for you to recite.

He lets you come down, soothes you with gentle hands stroking along your thighs, soft lips pressed to your sensitive mound. 

When your breathing evens, he lifts off of his haunches, motions for you to lay flat on the couch with your neck supported by the armrest. And then he shucks his pants off, his cock immediately springing up to his stomach, a trail of precum dripping down his navel.

You’d forgotten how gorgeous it was — the heady, pink tip shiny with arousal, veins running along the underside of the thick base prominent. It twitches in interest as Javier leans down to kiss you, prods against your slick inner thigh when his tongue presses into yours.

You hook your legs around his back, desperately attempting to pull him closer, attempting to drag him into your achingly empty cunt.

He grins against your lips, hand moving between your bodies to guide himself to your entrance.

“Impaciente,” he mumbles.

You whine, nails digging into his shoulders. “Please Javi, need it.”

“Yeah?” He pauses with his cockhead right at your seam. “How bad?”

“Fuck — so bad, need it so bad.” Your nails burrow deeper into flesh. He hisses.

“God damn, querida; that much, huh?”

“Yes, Javi,” you groan. “Please just-”

He bottoms out in one deep thrust, effectively knocking the air out of your lungs. You moan in unison, his head falling against your shoulder as he slowly begins to move. 

Your cunt sucks him in greedily, clenching around him over and over again. It’s intoxicating, the feeling of his cock nudging your g-spot with every roll of his hips. You wonder how you went so long without this. Fear you won’t be able to again.

He pulls all the way out and snaps into you before setting a new, brutal pace, one that leaves you babbling underneath him. 

The room grows palpably warmer, white heat licking at your neck, your chest, your back — where it sticks to leather. You find yourself lost in the way your bodies move together; a dance you’ve done so many times before; one you’d perfected all those months ago. 

“Shit,” Javi slurs. “Take me so well, cariño. Like you’re — ahh — made for me.”

I am, you want to say. 

“Fuck,” you moan instead, “so good, baby. Feels so fucking good.”

And it does. You’re going to snap soon, going to cum for a second time, soak his cock.

You tighten around him, a silent warning. He slips out and you whine at the loss. But then he’s hiking your legs over his shoulders, spreading you wider for him and delving back in at a new angle that makes you scream.

You can feel it building now, like a snowball in your abdomen. You can’t fight it, can barely warn Javi, his name spilling brokenly from your throat as your orgasm crests.

He talks you through it with praises whispered in your ear. So beautiful, princesa — that’s it. So pretty when you fall apart on my cock. There you go; let it all out, baby.

Fucked-out and boneless, you beg for Javi to please cum inside.

He growls, low and primal, gripping tightly to the flesh of your waist as his thrusts begin to falter. “That what you want, querida? Want to — shit — want to go back to your boyfriend with me dripping out of you?”

“Yes,” you chant thoughtlessly, yes, yes, yes. 

“Dirty. Fucking. Girl.” he grits, each word punctuated by a jerk of his hips. 

He spills inside you with his teeth in the crook of your neck. There’s so much of it, filling your cunt, leaking out around his cock and onto leather. It sates you in a way you didn’t know possible, as if your womb needs to be claimed by him and only him. Nobody else will do.

You almost resent the feeling of your eyesight returning and your breaths steadying. You don’t want to come down — not if it means you need to go home.

But the sky outside is turning purple, bruising with the threat of a new day on the horizon, and you know your time together is nearly up.

“Javi,” you mutter, his chest still heaving against yours, cock softening inside you.

“Up.”

He shifts, pulls out in a devastating loss, and retreats to the opposite side of the couch.

You begin to knead the muscles in your aching calves, Javi fumbling with the pack of cigarettes on the side table next to him. He takes one out and lights it, the end glowing faintly.

“What do we do?” you ask. He rubs at the crease in his forehead, definitely set there by years of chasing after drug cartels. Maybe also by running away from meaningful conversation with you.

“You can’t go back to him,” he mumbles.

You scoff. “I can’t? I have to Javi, Nathan is my-“

“Don’t say his name,” he snaps, abruptly ashing his cigarette and turning to face you. He looks wrecked, his eyes wide and his lips downturned. 

“What do you want from me, Javi?” you bite, pulling your panties back into place and reaching for your jeans where they lay on the floor. “You want me to be at your beck and call forever? Cheat on him until one of us dies?”

“I —“ Javi sighs. “No.”

“Then what?” You pull your pants on: one leg, then the other. Pull your shirt back down to cover your breasts. 

“I — want you.”

You nearly choke on your own saliva.

“What?”

“All of you,” he clarifies. “When I saw you with him for the first time in that grocery store — my heart sank. I didn’t — didn't realize how serious my feelings were for you. Fuck, I shouldn’t have let you end things that day.”

He stands. Braces pleading hands on your shoulders. 

“I know I’m an asshole,” he continues. “I thought I could never be someone’s partner. That I wouldn’t…wouldn’t be good. How could I be when I’ve done so much bad in my life?”

You sink into his touch. His words.

“Javi-“

“No, cariño — I need you to hear this. I want to be good for you, know I can be. I’ll do anything. I just — I can’t let you get away again.”

You feel as if you’ve just been struck by an arrow. Or, more accurately, a train. Your bones hurt and your insides twist.

You’re silent for a long moment, watching as his eyes desperately search yours. You know you need to say something eventually, put him out of his misery, but you’re too afraid to find out what happens next.

The undeniable fact that you want to be with him too is almost too much to bear. You’ll have to break it off with Nathan, split his heart in half. He doesn’t deserve it, you think, over and over.

But then, maybe you don’t deserve to remain unhappy. Unfulfilled.

Maybe you need to hurt him once in order to stop repeatedly hurting yourself.

“You’re good, Javier,” you say then. “You’re a good man. You deserve good.”

“Yeah?” his voice cracks. Tears prick in the corners of his eyes. He retracts them with a deep breath in.

You grab the sides of his face. “Yes. And I — I want you too.”

Javier kisses you, so deep you think your lips might bruise. There’s finality in it — you’re his and he’s yours — and no longer will you pretend that’s not the case.

He drives you back to your place, unwilling to let his girl get in another cab alone before daylight.

Laredo looks beautiful at dawn, all dozing buildings and empty roads. You pass by your workplace and groan at the realization that you’ll have to be back there in a few hours; you can’t call out again. A stack of unfiled reports will surely be waiting for you atop your desk.

That dread doesn’t last long, though, not when you look to the man in the driver’s seat, the one who makes your mouth water and your heart skip.

When he catches your gaze, corner of his mouth turning up at you mischievously, you know for certain that everything will work out just fine.

Javi turns onto your street slowly, moreso than he needs to, a possessive hand gripping your thigh.

“Will you let me know how it goes?” he asks when the car pulls up to the curb.

“Yeah,” you sigh. “I mean, I think it’s safe to say it won’t go well, but-“

“I know. But if he gives you any more trouble than he needs to, you call me.”

Your eyes flit up to your bedroom window, blinds drawn up and curtains pulled aside. The room is still dark, Nathan no doubt still asleep.

You’ll go up in a second.  After you kiss Javier one more time.

He seems taken aback when your lips catch his, maybe because it’s crazy to do this here, now. But you can’t help it. Can’t keep your hands — or your mouth — off of him now that you have him.

He relaxes into it after just a second, licking into your mouth to deepen the kiss, his hand moving from your thigh to the back of your head to hold you against him.

And then — he abruptly pulls away.

“Shit,” he curses, staring wide-eyed at the window.

You follow his eyeline, freezing when you see what he sees: Nathan, tall and shadowy, looking straight at you.

“Well,” Javi laughs nervously, “I think he knows.”

end notes: ty so much for reading! pls consider reblogging and/or leaving a comment if you enjoyed :)

tag list: @janaispunk @kajashe @amanitacowboy @planet-marz1 @littlegrungegirlaf @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @wethairjoel @catchallfangirl @pamasaur

[vagabond-umlaut]

toasty

sometimes, it isn't just the weather which is comfortably warm. sometimes, it can be one person, because of another person, as well.

gojo satoru x fem!reader; pre-relationship; gojo is a menace; you're a miniature circuit breaker; gojo calls you 'cookie'; mentions of food; i repeat: gojo is a MENACE; 610 wc; *empties a big container labelled 'fluff' into this fic*

belongs to the series 'you make my heart flutter and fibrillate' but can be treated as a stand-alone fic if you wanna

divider by @/benkeibear; pls don't plagiarise, translate or repost this; jjk isn't mine

"do you like that dress?"

you shouldn't look this surprised, no. hell no.

you know gojo's been sitting beside you for the better part of the last fifteen minutes. and you know he has a rather sharp set of eyes, with or without his 'six eyes' activated— yet you do look surprised. terribly so— and the man wonders, what made you think he would not notice you staring at the bright piece of cloth in the shop window.

particularly when you've left your favourite ice cream on the brink of melting and falling on your uniform— not that it'll make it any dirtier though; the curses from before have done a splendid job of it...

stealing a bite from your cone, gojo plops back into his seat. the grin threatening to bloom on his lips wilts when he sees the surprise turn into something shocked, maybe even scandalised in your features— eyes wider, brows higher, lower jaw hanging lower...

he lets the grin form anyway. "what? your ice cream was melting— i cannot let the money i spent to buy it, go to waste now, can i?"

you snap your mouth close in less than an instant. then open it again to take quite a large bite from your ice cream, brows scrunching and eyes screwing close— the brain freeze gojo was in wait for, for you to suffer from, never comes.

you take a second bite, even bigger.

some part of him shrivels, disappointed— before it swells up again, at the narrowed-eye look you send his way— before it dries up a second time, when your gaze returns to the dress from before.

the fabric looks extremely dull to the sorcerer now. he kicks your leg under the table. biting back a grin when you look back at him, lips in an annoyed little frown.

although it doesn't take too long to become a smile. tired, yes. but a fond one all the same— you've always been too soft to him, haven't you?

he repeats his ask, "do you like that dress?"

"i..." your gaze drops to your ice cream for a beat. then rises. a warmth settles into your cheeks, visible and adorable. "i kind of like that dress. it looks pretty." a beat. your lips part in a tentative smile. "what do you think, gojo-san? will i look good in it?"

the addressed man pauses.

but it is not because he has to decide on an answer— the answer is a yes. a resounding yes— still, he doesn't find the voice to say the word, the monosyllable repeated over and over and over again in his brain—

"you always look beautiful to me, cookie. no matter what you wear."

the shocked, scandalised expression makes a return to your face, not a moment later than when the words leave his mouth.

only to be shoved away when you attempt to take such a huge bite of your melting ice cream, the chocolate chip treat ends up caking a big portion of the lower half of your face— from your nose and extending till your chin.

gojo doesn't bother to hold back his laughter this time— its loudness increasing at the resulting wrinkle in your nose when he reaches over to scoop up a bit of the mess with his fingers, then licks it off them—

"you're a disgusting man," you mutter, voice so mortified and frail as your gaze keeps jumping from his hand to his blindfolded eyes.

something curls up inside the sorcerer. the sensation growing worse, growing better, the longer he stares at this precious little face you've made:

"and you're a cookie— my choco chip cookie!"

the reader is an mcb— reasons for which, i hope, u all hv understood by now 🤭🤭

masterlist

[dancinglikebutterflywings]

Nail Polish | Kim Hongjoong

-> Pairing: Kim Hongjoong x GF!Reader

-> Request: No.

-> Synopsis: Hongjoong finds a creative way to propose.

-> Warnings: A little cheesy. I had no intention of making this a proposal fic but it happened.

-> Word Count: 453

-> Requests: Closed. I will make a post when they are open again.

Hongjoong Masterlist | ATEEZ Masterlist

©️ 2024 dancinglikebutterflywings - do not copy/modify/repost anywhere. Likes, comments & reblogs are welcomed and appreciated, thank you. 

As Y/N looks through the nail polishes that clutter Hongjoong's dresser she finds a new colour, or at least she thinks it’s new because she doesn't recall him ever having a shade that matches her exact favourite color. Picking up bottle of nail polish, a recent memory comes flooding back to her.  

"What's your favourite colour?" Hongjoong had asked as he painted her nails. She had just finished painting one nail he always keeps painted. He’d offered to do her nails so they could match. It's their thing as a couple. A little “we’re together” without saying they’re together since their relationship hasn’t been made public. Only close friends and family know about it. 

"How long have we known each other?" She responds, glancing from her nails to him. 

"I don't know, four, maybe five years now?" Hongjoong replies, focusing on carefully painting her nails. 

"And you still don't know my favourite colour?" Y/N teases, a smile playing on her lips. 

He looks up at her, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I know your favourite colour," he says confidently, his eyes quickly darting to her shirt that just so happens to be her favourite colour and locking back with her eyes. “But if you could choose an exact shade, what would it be?” 

“I don’t know,” she answers with a shrug. “There’s so many.” 

“Let’s find one then,” he smiles, finishing up the last nail and blowing on it gently to help it dry. 

They had spent a few good hours going through different shades of her favourite colour before settling on five shades that were eventually cut down to one and it just so happened to be the shade in the bottle in her hand. 

As she holds the bottle in her hand, Y/N can't help but smile. It was little things like this that made her fall even more in love with Hongjoong. His small gestures always mean the most to her. 

She looks up at him, finding him looking at her, a sparkle in his eyes as he sees she’s holding the colour he had custom made for her.  

“Check the bottom,” he tells her. 

Intrigued, she flips the bottle over and reads the label. Her heart starts racing as she reads the little circular label. In the tiny lettering, is the date of their first date followed by the words 'will you marry me?'. 

Tears well up in her eyes as she looks back at Hongjoong, who is now down on one knee, holding out a ring. Overwhelmed, she nods her head, unable to speak. 

He slips the ring onto her finger and stands up, pulling her into a tight embrace before sealing the moment with a kiss. 

Hongjoong Tag List:

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@rainydayteacups - @green-agent - @tinyelfperson - @yeonjunnie – @hollxe1

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[shotanzz]

I remember reading an astrology obsv about seunghan which said he might not be the best partner long term since he loves adventure. That makes me think, which members are most to least suitable for being husbands, based on astrology? Love your reading so much <3

RIIZE HUSBAND MATERIAL ~ based on astrology

reminder this is based off of MY opinions of their birth chart placements + aspects and is not exact fact unless I knew them myself and in no way am I saying members ranked lower cant/never will be married !!!

Shotaro

Capricorn Venus…that’s it. KIDDING but he aims more so for long term relationships and stable commitments in the traditional sense so getting married or at least having a long time partner is probably something he desires at some point. His scorpio placements are possessive and bent on loyalty so if he’s with the right person they’d get locked in imo, he'd be the breadwinner and like a traditional family dynamic when married.

Sungchan

He’s a leo venus with a cap mars so I think he’d want to get married and have kids since Leo and Cap are both synonymous with “maintaining your legacy and family name” I put him second because he’d want his choice of marriage partner to make him feel validated and approval especially by his family ESPECIALLY by his mother. Let’s say he was thinking of making someone his fiancée but his family/friends lowkey side eyed his choice..he mighttt change his mind about it. Like Shotaro he'd be a proper provider and might be into the "nuclear family" trope.

Anton

He's mainly husband material because he can take care of himself and wouldn't necessarily rely on his wife for much of everything, he's a taurus venus so he likely would be pretty traditional on a basic sense like paying for things and being committed however I don't think he'd settle down until after living a full portion of his life being independent and only having to worry about himself before adding someone into his life for the long term.. 

Eunseok

Husband material without wanting to be the husband IJBOLL. See when I analyze Eunseok with diff mediums (typology/astrology/etc etc) I can see him 100% being someone's long term partner BUT the label of marriage might be something he doesn't care for. He doesn't like feeling constrained or pressure so being with someone forever SURE ofc ! he secretly wants that ! but. being labeled and having legal documents attached...um. If it was normal in SK culture to not get married to your long term spouse I think he'd take that route. 

Wonbin

Honestly I really wasn't going to put Wonbin this high until I did some brainstorming. His pisces venus and taurus mars makes me feel like he lowkey has this "dream life" or "fantasy" where at a point in his life where he'll find 'the one' and have a comfortable life of being a husband (maybe or at least having a long time partner). Also in multiple readings he wants to be the masc counterpart with his partners and do what a boyfriend is "supposed to do" However he might take a very long time for him to find "the one" or commit to the right person commitment is extremely hard for him especially since his idealized idea of a person can break so easily .

Sohee

Sohee is a Sag Venus, they can be very very hard to pin down and they’re super picky about who they stay with due to the fact that Sag venus wants an equal that is on the same level as them, not someone that makes them feel “owned” and not someone giving him the responsibility to “own” them. But he's a pretty fair partner that can take his own responsibilities and an easygoing lover however he cares about his livelihood and freedom a lot plus he might think with his lusts/desires (venus/mars square) rather than viewing dating and marriage from a more serious pov

Seunghan

Loves the idea of marriage, isn't fond of the act itself. Similar to Eunseok I think he'd rather have a long time partner without the extra of marital duties attached. He's a very romantic sweet guy swear he is but he has a hard time expressing more deeper/complex feelings and is pretty avoidant in times of disputes and as we know marriage it has it's hardships and I think said hardships would turn him off. Also…venus square saturn..like…naur. He’ll fear missing out with other possible romantic opportunities

[originalaccountname]

I've already talked about how the way I read it, our Chuuya is the original and N faked his death and pretended he was (one of) the clone because Chuuya was "a miracle", the only successful attempt the lab made to create a controllable singularity... but I keep thinking of ways it could have actually happened.

I think maybe my most plausible explanation, considering all we know, is that Chuuya was volunteered by his parents, as they were affiliated with the army during the war and their son possessed a rare ability. His ability could potentially be a danger to himself, so it was a solution to both protect their country and their son.

After the war, they chose to live in a faraway quiet rural area, and are still together. Therefore, this wasn't a subject that divided them, and they wanted to be out of sight and out of mind from the government. Also, child Chuuya looked pretty nonplussed in that picture the Flags found of him with N; he wasn't bothered by that man.

I go back and forth wondering if the boy we saw in the video was Chuuya himself or a clone that perished in the accident. Since the video cuts abruptly and we can only rely on professor N the liar to explain how things ended, it's a difficult question to settle. It's very plausible the videotape is documenting one of their failed attempts with a clone and a different activation phrase: his vitals really flatlined and he was absorbed into his own black hole, like N said. It was another failure to create a stable, reusable singularity (gravity manipulation, and further down, Arahabaki) by failing to maintain the gravity part and slipping into black hole territory unwillingly.

Maybe after the nth (heh) attempt, N lost patience and tried something with Chuuya himself... and miraculously, it worked.

They were trying to create a fake human like Verlaine and ignoring ethical questions because it was the war and they were losing. With a working proof of concept, it was probably a half second of "is this a good idea" before N dropped everything and put Chuuya in the place of a clone, erased the evidence of that, and faked the boy's death (I'd guess by claiming an accident with his ability) to get the parents off his back.

Rimbaud and Verlaine were sure they had a clone, and I don't doubt their research, but I doubt what was labelled prototype A2-5-8 was ever a clone/artificial human to begin with. Dazai agrees with me.

That doesn't really answer the question of what happened to Chuuya between getting in the lab and being turned into "A2-5-8". Was he running around, his only job providing cell samples for clone creation? Was he put in a sort of coma in a tube from the start? Was he getting visits from his parents? Had he had issues with his ability before? We don't have anything to suggest one over the others. It's anyone's guess.

[itoshi-s]

@marycorn requested: rin + bathing with him // no lukewarm love v-day event !

wc: 1.7k. cw: fem reader (referred to as woman like, once), fluff, rin isn't all that used to love :,3

"you're feeling more like oat milk and vanilla, or.." you pause, twisting the jar so you can read the label properly, "oh, you like this one- lavender and lemon?"

you hold up the candles, lifting them respectively as you speak, only to find rin - the very one your question is directed at - still staring at his phone intently as he rubs the back of his neck. the little frown etched between his brows and tense stance of his broad shoulders make him seem entirely too stressed for your liking.

"rin?" you ask again, putting one of the jars down on the counter. "you okay?"

it's only the lighter flicking that makes him snap out of his stupor. he glances over, teal eyes a bit confused until they settle on the candle you lit up - his favorite.

(it's hard to call it a favorite when it's actually the only scent he enjoys among all your other gourmand and flowery ones.)

"hm? yeah, sorry." rin sighs and locks his phone, setting it down before reaching to pull his hoodie off. "just some press shit before the season starts. had to catch up." he explains, voice muffled by the thick cotton over his mouth before he fully peels the garment off.

"'s alright." you hum softly, hand dipping into the bath water to check temperature. "i just don't like seeing you all pent up like that."

now, rin doesn't like how it feels, either. perhaps that's why he values his routine so much - the daily schedule he's been following ever since he realized how serious he is about football. morning stretch, breakfast, practice, lunch, gym, going home, dinner, evening yoga, then some meditation to finish the day. sounds like a lot — and it definitely is — but surprisingly so, it doesn’t feel as tiring as it might seem.

rin’s never really thought this tight schedule of his lacked anything, either — at least not until you crawled your way right into his heart, albeit a little too cold but oh, so aching for love still, and made yourself home in the long abandoned space. it's only natural you came with a whole package - all your silly candles, drawers full of various bath bombs and salts, and far too many masks to count, which you always looked so ecstatic to put on his face.

you came with your own little routine - one that fit so perfectly into his, it's almost as if it was fate's doing.

perhaps, this is exactly what he needed at the end of his day - your skin on his, head tilted back to rest on his shoulder as you listen to him speak, so intently and calmly as always. maybe, the feel of your fingers in his hair, tenderly pushing the bangs out of his face as you grin upon the sight - here's my handsome boy - is the little piece he longed for everyday.

(love, he thinks is the right word for it. he needed your love - but despite getting better at voicing out his feelings over the years, it's still far too sappy to admit to out loud.)

snapping out of thought, rin shakes his head. “yeah, me neither.” the man mumbles under his breath, and you need to look over your shoulder to make sure he’s just teasing — voice far too tired to make out the tone. “if they end up calling again, it's better cause someone's dead or some shit. not picking up otherwise.”

you laugh, and rin’s mouth curls into a rare smile.

“wow," you mumble, "that’s not very captain of you." you tease, to which he snorts.

"not very teammate of them to be such idiots either." you'd suppose there would be more of a bite to his tone as he retorts, but it's surprisingly gentle as he allows his gaze to rest on your silhouette, taking in the image of you slipping the silk robes off your shoulders and exposing the soft skin underneath. he sniffs shortly, "whatever. let's not talk about 'em anymore."

you only give a slight chuckle in reply as you slip into the bathtub, followed by a content sigh. the bubbles have grown thick and luscious, nearly covering most of your body once you’re fully submerged in the glittery lilac water, and rin’s cheeks grow warm in time with your own. yours, because the water is indeed just a bit too hot even for your liking; his, because you look so fucking sweet, a sight for his sore eyes.

pulling your knees chose to your chest, you squirm forward to make space behind you. "c'mon, it's gonna run cold-"

"shut up, woman," rin mutters under his breath as he steps in behind your back, lowering himself and pulling you flush against his chest once he's fully seated. the water sloshes over the edges at his sudden motion and you gasp - both at the mess and his jab.

"hey!" you try to turn in his grasp, but the way it tightens keeps you locked in place. rin laughs by your ear as you lean your head back with a pout. "it's the first time in, like, forever that we have time for this, and that's the treatment i get?"

rin gives your frame a squeeze again, paired with a chaste kiss pressed to the crook of your neck. you lean your head to the side, allowing more space, and it's almost muscle memory by this point - merely an instinct and unconscious thought that makes rin's heart jolt.

it has been a while, indeed, rin figures. you've been both way too busy with work to make way for the small things, pieces of your daily routines that in the end made the day feel this much better. now, he's not exactly sure how did all of... this become a regular routine for you two, but it has quickly turned out to be the very thing both his mind and body long for whenever it's time for a break.

maybe the lack of time was the cause of his annoyance spiking these past few days, eyes rolling upon the most minor inconveniences. he's never been the calmest type around the team, but it was truly best to keep your mouth around him lately. (if there has to be one person to ask about it, it's ryusei. as always.)

as rin inhales your scent, mixing with the faint citrus of the bubblebath and calming lavender the candle diffuses, he realizes that he's missed you.

long eyelashes flutter against your shoulder as he closes his eyes, hands starting to roam down your waist and grope their way to your hips where they finally settle.

"i missed you." rin admits, albeit to his own surprise - and it seems like yours, too, if the way your fingers flex on his knee is anything to go by. he noses at your neck and feels his shoulders finally loosen up. "missed this, i mean."

you shift in your seat slightly, back pressing against the firm planes of his chest even further, until you can nearly feel the steady thumping of his heart.

"me too." you say softly, one hand slipping to rest on his bicep instead while the other guides his other arm to wrap around your chest again. you squeeze it tight and turn your head to get a better look of rin's face. "it's not as fun without you anymore, yanno?"

rin must sense your gaze on him, cause as soon as you're done speaking, his head lifts from it's spot on your shoulder and turquoise eyes lock with yours. a small smile breaks across your face as you reach a hand up, pushing back the bangs that already start to stick to his forehead.

"you're telling me i'm fun?" the ravenette mumbles, corners of his lips pulling upwards when you go to mess with his hair.

your chest squeezes with adoration upon the sight - handsome, refined features on show, paired with the dearest look anyone could ever grace you with. sheepishly, you nuzzle your face against rin's neck and nod. "well- sometimes." you murmur and feel his throat vibrate with a laugh.

"took you long enough t' admit." rin snickers, straightening his legs a tad more as he leans back, until the water reaches shy past your collarbones. "you wanna tell me something else while we're at it, baby?" he taunts, head tipping down just slightly to steal a look at your face, still snugly fit in the crook between his neck and shoulder.

"mmhm, i just might." you hum, "i love you, dummy," you sigh, holding back an amused smile as you push yourself up. sitting up straight, you look back over your shoulder just in time to spot the very sight you've longed after for the past few days - teal eyes just barely hooded yet sparkling with so much affection, and a content smile to pair with.

you watch silently as rin rolls his shoulders back, arms moving to rest over the edge of the tub. it's been a little while since you've last seen his body this relaxed, lean muscles all loosened up and frame seemingly even more broad now as he rests.

"i love you, too," the man replies, feeling his smile widen upon noticing your lips curl up in a grin of your own as well. perhaps it's just these silly essential oils you've loaded the bath water with, or maybe it's the temperature and steam in general, cause there's a giddy feeling gnawing away at his chest and a loop pulling at his heart that makes it just a tad harder to breathe properly.

(it's the same sensation that only ever creeps up on him when he looks at you. love, rin thinks. he can voice it out all he wants, bare his heart for you countless times - but he's never getting used to how dizzy it makes him, searing hot in his veins and cotton-like in his head.)

a sense of serenity swirls around the room and mixes with the delicate lavender as silence falls over the both of you, other than the gentle fizz of bubbles and flicker of the candle. you hold rin's gaze as he breathes, chest in a steady rise and fall until he opens his mouth to speak - and you're surprised he's only ever asking for it now.

"wash my hair, please?" rin speaks - quietly and meekly so, as if you ever denied him the thing - and you roll your eyes, hand already reaching towards the stand to fetch the shampoo bottle as you smile, feeling so lovesick your chest hollows.

"thought you'd never ask."

[crystaljellie]

I honestly think that there are so many interesting songs that fit the life series characters so well, so I’m going to talk about them here and explain why I associate them with these songs!

Bdubs - Never love an anchor by the crane wives

"With this heart of mine that's guilty, not remorseful" | It's guilty because Bdubs feels bad, he feels bad he couldn't achieve what he should. He feels bad that he killed Impulse in third life, betrayed him, and even then it got him nothing. He's guilty because he knows the harm he's caused

"There is love that doesn't have a place to rest, but it would burry you if it had settled on your shoulders" | I notice that Bdubs has a lot of trust and faith in his companies, something about this brings back the 'He loves me' scene from last life back. Bdubs loves a lot more than people seem to think he does, so he must hold it back in case of that love being used against him

"I am selfish, I am broken, I am cruel" | Maybe things that Bdubs wants to be, for the sake of letting go and letting himself detach from these people so losing them doesn't hurt as much. Letting other people label him as such

BigB - Know How by the Crane wives

"I am not brave; I keep my focus on what is safe," | I think this is fitting to BigB even if it's not necessarily true; I think from his perspective how he feels, ignoring how he is actually very brave. But at the same time he does keep his focus on what is safe, there's a reason why he always makes it to the final or session before the final.

"Just because I know what I'm supposed to do now, doesn't mean I know how" (Edited line to be shorter) | I'm not sure how to explain this but I do think it really fits him, he knows all the things he's meant to do, to survive, for example killing with the boogeymancurse, but he dragged it out till the very very end before he killed Cleo in last life, because he didn't know how he was supposed to do it.

Etho - I don’t know anyone I am by Salvia Palth

"I don't know anyone, I am in relation to anyone I guess" | Etho has always been seen as a loner throughout all seasons, he doesn't very much get the time to make meaningful bonds or understand his teammates. It makes sense he would struggle to see himself as more than just a survivor as well, he hasn't given himself the time to focus on anything else.

Scar - Icicles by The Scary Jokes

"Their shallow observations will only stall the transformation" | This is very secret life scar to me, maybe something something the watchers talking to him, everyone forcing the title of villain onto him, yet the watchers see him as a gift to them, as a victor and they're trying to make sure Scar keeps doing what he has been and not back out because they're calling him 'villain'

"But I admit it would be easier, To be relieved of all this shame and not have to wear it on my sleeve." | This fits Scar's feelings on the matter, not wanting to go forward, not wanting to be shamed and outcast by the rest of the lifers.

"I can only be forgiven if I'm giving myself up to you" | Secret life in general but also back in 3rd life, Scar believing he can only make up for killing Grian at the end by having Grian kill him, something something 'slay me and take the enchanter'

"My world has turned so cold, but I won't cry, 'cause icicles don't soften when they die so why should I" | Despite Scar being constantly alone, he stayed strong he never 'softened' or cried he also became cold which is why he won.

Grian - Bird Song by Florence + The Machine

"And he sang about what I'd become" | How Grian had slowly lost his mind in third life as well as all the other games, how Grian had became someone obsessed with getting kills, going out of his way to trick and trap people and find loopholes to kill

"I picked up the bird and above the den I said 'That's the last song you'll ever sing" | Grian doesn't want to think that he might be a bad person, or he might be going crazy, so he has to silence anyone saying otherwise, anyone that might prove a danger to him. Maybe because he can't let the watchers get word that he's exactly who they say he his. Maybe even so this is relating to the theory that he might have been the one to curse Jimmy.

Impulse - A Mask of My Own Face by Nature Tapes

Okay now hear me out on this one, Impulse is constantly in and out of alliances especially in third life, lying to everyone to gain vantage.

"And none of them would know that I am secretly myself" | Because they trust that Impulse is putting on a facade all the time, but maybe what they are missing is that the facade is what he considers to be him. Or at the very least keeps him safer

"I'd blame it on the person that nobody knows I am" | Something about him always being like 'Oh I did this so they'd trust me more I'm still on your side I promise' Or 'I did this for the task!' When he could have absolutely targeted anyone else.

Martyn - Metaphors by The Crane wives

"I've gotten good at living on someone elses page" | It's the way Martyn is always deceiving and always planning to betray, living on someone else's page, being content and loyal until he has the chance not to be.

"You can't trust a single thing I say" | Idk something about him talking about how he was planning to betray Ren in third life.

"Don't look too hard cause you won't like the scars he left in me" | THIS BEING SO TREEBARK LISTEN TO ME. HE GAVE UP SO MUCH TO REN THERE ARE SO MANY SCARS CAUSED BY FOLLOWING THE ORDERS TO KILL SOMEONE YOU LOVE

Lizzie - The Crooked the Cradle by The crane wives

"There's blood in the water" | Thinking about Lizzie showing up in limited life to play Pearl and the first thing she was tasked with is killing. Like she showed up and instantly was given the title of boogeyman, a gimmick that was only there in the one other season she was in, a sense of familiarity and a sense of dread.

"The quiet are restless the silent are still" | When there is peace on the server and it is quiet there are people waiting to kill. When it is silent it is because all is dead. And Lizzie knows that well being quick to die each time, she is the silent, especially when she fell into the void, she died alone and in scilence.

"If Mercy's abound I'll be safe I'll be sound, and the devil won't know of the love I just couldn't let go" | Something about Joel being the cause of her death In Secret life... loved him so much she went down for him, she couldn't let it go and it got her killed.

"Can anyone hear me?" | Her in the void not being able to be heard....

Mumbo - Saint Bernard by Lincoln

"To remind me that I am a fool" | I am very strongly of the headcanon that Mumbo is also a watcher, something something he needs to remind himself that he is fooling himself into thinking he could fit in with the world of the watchers or the world of the players

"When I am dead I won't join their ranks because they are both holy and free" | And Mumbo's not, Mumbo doesn't get to go where they go, he still has more to do, more to make up for. Still instructions left to follow

"There's really just one thing that we have in common, neither of us will be missed" This is so Mumbo talking to Grian coded for me

Pearl - Here I am by the Crane wives

"How long have I been here all alone" Double life Pearl in her tower....

"Settled in, had a plan but I never factored in, Everyone else saying goodbye" | Basically also double life Pearl she had a plan with Martyn go to the nether get stuff come back find her soulbound, and then they all left her.

"This ghost town is making a ghost of me" | Everyone dying around her, and being alone like this without chance of redemption slowly killing her.

"I promised myself I'd learn to be the one who leaves" | Throughout the next games, like secret life, she'd be the one who leaves instead of gets left behind, but she didn't seeing how she was always last one alive out of her teammates

Skizz - Wrecking ball by mother mother

"I made a fist and not a plan" | Skizz is usually quite reckless and goes action first plan second.

"You gotta see the artistry In tearing the place apart with me, baby" | This but more in the ironic sense, because Skizz while he wants to reign chaos he is also fiercely loyal and kind to his allies, so tearing the place apart with me, is important. He doesn't just want to cause chaos he wants connections

Scott - Icarus

"Climb ye higher and higher and higher 'Til you're far away and breathing cleaner air" | Scott winning last life, climbing higher and higher through the ranks until he breaks through the clouds into what he had hoped was cleaner air spoiler alert it’s not.

"Who have you become in the wake of all that's happened here?" | What’s happened to you, what happened in last life that changed you, what made you so cold and bitter and so quick to assume the worst when double life came

"Spreading out the ashes of a love That only gave and gave" | Either this as flower husbands, being the ashes of a love that only gave to others, or specifically Scott’s love, that only gave and gave to the one whom he loved

"There's no room for all the hearts who will not stay" | For the people who will not stay with him, the watchers pressuring him to do better and leave the, behind. He won’t though.

Joel - The Wolf by the crane wives

"I will join the wolf at my door Breathing out storms when she comes around" | Well yes we know Joel is a dog boy clearly, but also how he is oh so aggressive to everyone he meets, ferocious and knocking things down.

"I am always burning, burning, burning" | Burning with rage? Burning things down? So many emotions they're lighting up his world so much that it blinds him from seeing anything else

Jimmy - Hollow Moon By the crane wives

"In the darkness, Slowly crawling over my skin, Whispers at the door, "let us in, let us in" | Whispers of the watchers, or maybe his curse, something knocking to let death in.

"I won't be sleeping, There's too many monsters in the backyard" | Okay yes funny because of Minecraft mechanics. But also, idk something about Jimmy not being able to see the watchers but still feeling their presence.

(I'm giving Jimmy an extra song because he's special)

Strawberry blond by Mitski

"I love everybody because I love you When you stood up, walked away barefoot And the grass where you lay left a bed in your shape I looked over it and I ached" | YES I AM BACK ON MY FLOWER HUSBANDS BULLSHIT! Trust me so much they're so insanely in love, they love the world because they love each other, their relationship is so sweet and soft.

"All I need, darlin', is a life in your shape I picture it, soft, and I ache" | because all they ever needed was each other, not the death not the violence, just to be in love

Tango - Monster by Dodie

"I'm guessing that I've grown horns I guess I'm human no more I can tell I've rotted in your brain" | Tango's anger and wondering if those reactions made others see less in him. Make him a monster

"You think I'm a crazy bitch I craft my words to fit your head 'Cause no one listens to the dead" | Idk... something about this and Tango, he always dies relatively early too, maybe it's only death that'll comfort him

Cleo - The Garden by The Crane Wives

"My stone, My shield, my steady hand, Hold your light To the darkness in my head" | Something about this being about how Scott has been her friend and ally throughout all seasons

"Give me something pretty to wear beneath my blood-stained clothes" | I CAN'T EXPLAIN IT BUT THIS IS LIMITED LIFE CLETHO, DOES ANYONE HEAR ME PLEASE TRUST

"My darling, the devil knows my name" | Cleo makes a name known for herself by fighting, making a point with their sword

"Get on your knees and, Dig up the garden, Won't you throw down that spade and, Dig up the garden, darling?" | Something something a wife talking to her husband

Ren - Arms Tonite by Mother Mother

"I died in your arms tonight" | Martyn killing Ren in 3rd life....

"I lost sight in your arms tonight, it was nice" | Lost sight of the goal so obsessed with his kingdom and the Red army

"I cry hard because I have died, and you're alive" | Martyn out living him (Not by very long) In third life

Gem - The Well by the Crane Wives

"All the words I couldn't say to you Fill up the spaces in my chest" | This being Shiny Duo and Gem and pearl being on different sides unsure of how to stay together

"Send me anywhere, take me out I'm the well they're gonna drag you down" | Gem knowing she's only going to be used as a catalyst to hurt others despite her wants

"That old house, those rotting memories Burned easier than I'd have thought" | Those short memories of limited life being replaced by the nicer memories of at least the first half of secret life

And I am done yapping, mayhaps I will do more someday

[fauustic]

aa hello!! could I request a miguel x enby reader in any way??

the genre really doesn't matter but maybe a little fluff?

for an idea i was thinking the reader works as a florist and miguel knows them meeting them as spiderman. he begins taking a liking to them so he comes to the shop often getting flowers or small bouquets, but each flower means love or care, or notice me? (I'm thinking it would be really adorable if he just, late night studied floriagraphy for them) in the flower language, and they start taking notice to it, and eventually ask him?? idk this is silly but if you wanna write it!!

I hope you have a lovely day!!

(( stares at the miguel gifs i've used so far with a longing gaze... i only have so many left ..

i really hope you enjoy this, thank you so much for your request! it was super sweet. ))

nonbinary reader x miguel “spider-man 2099″ o’hara

fluff. like pure fluff. its literally just miguel pining after a little silly florist.

warnings: literally none except the use of some language. possible use of incorrect spanish because i'm learning so i have help of a translator in some parts :) let me know if i can fix anything!

word count: 3742

The smell of all kinds of flowers flooded your senses as the floral shop's door opened with a little chime, a beautiful melody that brightens every beginning of your shift. The shop that has become the core of your life was nothing too fancy, hidden away in a cozy little alleyway accompanied by a coffee shop and another restaurant– a safe space along the bustling city. 

Your identity wasn’t something that you mentioned often, but with the support of your coworkers you couldn’t help but express yourself easier. Being able to incorporate outfits of all kinds in your daily life without much more than a stare, some days you’d adorn a long skirt and a tank top, finished off with a floral-patterned apron to keep yourself tidy. Other days, you didn’t exactly confine yourself with a particular style because you were just you. As free and as happy as ever.

That was one of the many things you loved about the city you found yourself in. The growth and ability to thrive in Nueva York was a symbol of diversity, no matter who you were or where you had come from. It was different back home, so the newfound independence pushed you to be more talkative and approachable because you didn’t need to worry about others' thoughts. Labels and identities were celebrated in the cultures you intertwined with.

So when you found out you aligned with the embodiment of being nonbinary, you snatched it up like a piece of treasure and hadn’t looked back at who you were once before.

The love you had for flowers was immeasurable, somehow finding ways to include floral in your outfits no matter what you were wearing. A lovely white magnolia, fresh and healthy, found shelter in the secure pocket of your apron. Another flower was tucked upon the sunhat you adorned, a light pink peony settled right within the ribbon.

The alley your store took home in held a usual quiet atmosphere soothed by the comforting ambience of bird chirping due to housing a small little section for trees scattered about the alleyway. It reminded you of where your love for nature first began. Yet as you misted a bundle of Irises blooming upon a full window-sill, doused in a beautiful sunny haze, the tranquillity washing over you was unfortunately interrupted when a cat bumped against the shop’s window closest to you. It was loud, shaking the Irisies you just tended to.

Jumping from the sudden chaos happening outside your floristry, you couldn’t help but rush out the door with the watering pot still in hand. Did you need to get involved? You couldn't help but wonder to yourself when you noticed the little feline looked as if it was running away from something, but before you could intervene the answer dived past you on all fours, claw marks left in its wake. The figure, you have recognized from the news, was the talk of the city– broadcasts nicknaming the hero “Spiderman.” But what was he doing trying to grab one little kitty with the intensity of a predator? Surely Nueva York had more crime than that.

Entertaining the idea of watching such a well-respected hero having difficulty catching a feline, you played it off as if you were watering the flowers that decorate your shop– but in reality you just wanted to have a good laugh at seeing the man who has made criminals beg on their knees for forgiveness speak to the cat in desperation.

Funnily enough, the cat did climb one of the many large trees planted around your shop, and even if it was a bit hard to hear from the distance, this Spiderman guy wouldn’t stop trying to call for it to come down.

“Come ‘ere, gatito.” He shouted towards the cat at the tree’s base, his claws digging into the bark as if he was contemplating scaling the tree himself. “If I don’t bring you back with me, you will have to give up treats for the rest of your life. You don’t want that, do you?” His next step was to “psspspssp,” which just came out as a weird hiss. The cat only hissed back, which only fueled his discontentment even more. Without another moment to spare, Spiderman scaled the tree in two leaps, plucking the cat from the branches with a cautious hold. When he landed on the ground, he caught you staring a little too hard.

But the scene was just too hilarious, having to stifle a hearty giggle with the back of your hand as you noticed he was walking straight towards your shop. But luck wasn’t on your side today, as he stood right behind you. The window mirrored how he was holding the cat the same way as before, held like a little baby with its arms reaching out to you. You only laughed harder, crumbling to your knees as water splashed at your boots from the watering can. He didn’t dare to utter another word, obviously finding amusement in your little laughing fit over something so stupid.

“Did you get it out of your system, jardinero?” It was no doubt he was smirking under his mouth as he loomed over your laughing form. A ruffled meow followed his question, which only made you double down on your giggles. “Oh my god– I can’t breathe. Holy shit–” You cried out, rolling on the side to only have a flurry of Wisterias cloud your vision. 

“Who knew the biggest baddest hero that Nueva has, could barely even catch a little animal?” You cackled into the air, which instantly made him defensive. 

“I did not have a difficult time with this little pest, he’s as agile as a Roomba.” His tone was flat, if not a bit irritated. If you didn’t notice the soft chuckles escaping him softly, you would have thought he was genuinely bothered. Spiderman scooped up the cat in a more comfortable position, belly facing the both of you as the cat’s back lied against his arms. “Lo que sea–” He muttered through his mask, shaking his head in disbelief. After a short pause, it's clear he had nothing else left to say. “That’s enough entertainment for you today.” It was clear he was done once he spun on his heel, cat in arms and not even sparing a wave.

Something overcame you, as you called out to him. Maybe you were just as stricken as all his other fans, but as he paused with an awaited glance– you rushed through the waves of color in your floral shop before stopping to a bundle of crimson petals. Plucking a single bloom, you rushed out your store in a flustered mess so he wouldn’t have to wait long. 

There wasn’t much to his suit, so there was no way you could easily position it in a way the flower couldn’t fall. So you just settled with putting it against the cat’s ear, the feline wearing it without a care.

You sighed, smoothing out your apron in nervous relief. This was an eventful start to your day, to say the very least. But Spiderman didn’t move from where he moved despite being eager to leave just a moment ago. Instead, his attention was fixated at the bloom in his grasp.

“It’s an Amaryllis. Truly a beautiful one, right?” Your tone shifted, excitement lacing your voice at the opportunity to explain a flower to a stranger– let alone someone that is apparently a huge deal.

“... What does it mean?” When your attention snapped to his masked face, you weren’t able to distinguish his wonderstruck expression. You gladly took the chance to ramble about what you knew about the flower, and explain the exact reason why you chose it. 

“Amaryllis have multiple kinds of meanings you see– every flower does– but they’ve always been a symbol of hard-earned success due to its representation of determination and pride. I thought it was fitting because I was able to watch you in action, and you deserve a reward for your civic duties.” You couldn’t help but include some form of humor in your sprinkles of a compliment, but the truth was there. No matter what he had to do under the mask, he deserved to be reminded that his successful missions help so many people. It may have not been your cat, but you were happy that someone will now return back home to their fluffy companion. “And the scarlet coloring of its petals kinda matches your suit, so in a way it kind of reminds me of you.” The masked man in front of you was completely silent, until the gloved hand meeting his shoulder shook him from his daze. “Good work, Spiderman. Can’t wait what next animal you’re going to save,” The spell you unknowingly put him under was slapped away in an instant at the little jab.

He couldn't help the chuckle that escaped his lips before he could turn away, which only encouraged your teasing more. He waved behind his back, keeping his focus on what’s in front of him. “What will it be, a giraffe? Maybe a walrus–” Spiderman was gone by the time you sputtered the second animal, leaping away with an iron grip on the feline to a nearby building rooftop.

“What about something cool like a whale shark? Now that’d be something to read online..” You mumbled to yourself, brushing off your apron one last time before clutching your trusty watering pail and beginning your duties for the day.

Which is how Miguel O’Hara found himself hunched over his computer, staring at a gallery full of vibrant botany with a sigh. He couldn’t express it under the mask– he had a purpose to not allow any sign of weakness when the suit is on, but he was absolutely smitten by you over some stupid mishap on his end and a nervous, endearing ramble about your knowledge of flowers. The nightlife seeped into the windows of his home, neon lights reflecting off the walls. It was late, but Miguel was determined to shove some kind of information down his brain to make him not look like a complete fool when he arrived at the floral shop again. He was a chemist, for god’s sake– botany wasn’t too far off, was it?

He was just so enthralled with you, the way your eyes lit up ever so slightly at the opportunity of ranting about your favorite thing. The scent of fresh flowers entering his senses through the slightly cracked door of the floristry– it was a place he wanted to spend all his freetime in. Having been surrounded by the burning smell of chemicals and the pollution of such a technologically advanced city, Miguel craved to surround himself with so much nature. Or maybe, secretly, he just yearned to have a space of his own that was hidden away from the evils of Nueva York.

It took him a little while to finally work up the courage to stroll in, not having the mask around his head while he met someone as Spiderman always gave him a weird feeling. But he pushed that aside, chanting the knowledge that he crammed in his memory so he wouldn’t stupidly ask for a bundle of flowers that probably didn’t even exist.

Stepping foot in the floral shop for the first time was like a big breath of fresh air, his muscles relaxing ever so slightly at the influx of sweet scents. It reminded him of you, the same smell of blossoms clinging onto you even after you walked through the alleyway to give him that Amaryllis. He still kept onto it, dried against the confinement of his wallet. 

Miguel was going to start browsing even though he already knew what he wanted simply because he wanted to know this place inside and out– it was a part of you after all. But he didn’t go very long unnoticed, your voice making him well-aware of that. 

“Hey, welcome to Nueva’s most diverse little flower nursery! Happy to see a new face, if there’s anything I can do for you just let me know!” Your voice came from the back of the store, yet you peeked out and was able to study him from afar. He tried his best to be stoic, nodding in understanding before quickly averting his gaze to the waves of flowers you clearly took very good care of. 

Miguel, when faced with attraction to another, struggled deeply with bringing it into words. It didn’t exactly help his case when you haven’t met him outside of being Spiderman, so he devised a subtle plan to get closer to you. He wasn’t religious, but he still prayed that you would pay attention to his little requests and specific choosing of flowers.

And you did, of course you did. Your attentiveness squeezed his heart with a grasp he’s never felt before. After transforming into the Spiderman 2099 he’s come to accept, Miguel just couldn’t bring himself to fall for another. But when it came to you, and your silly little knowledge about flowers and the way he watched you tend to each and every one of them with the same amount of tenderness, the sweetness in your touch made him fall even harder. He imagined your hands grasping his own, as if he was as fragile as a flower. The idea made him flustered.

“A bouquet of red tulips and camellia, please.” He found himself asking you, his index, middle, and ring finger drumming along your counter in a soft rhythm. You were caught by his words almost instantaneously, a certain look in your eyes that even he couldn’t decipher. A knowing smirk erupted on your features, not being able to help yourself at teasing this new customer. “That’s so cute, you found yourself a soulmate?” Miguel choked at the proposal, the question rolling off your tongue in a singsong as you began skipping along the shop you owned. 

The gracefulness you had in every step distracted him, plucking every sense of dignity he had as if he was a flower getting its own petals plucked by your graze. “Only a flower connoisseur would know the meanings behind such simple flowers. It’s what makes them interesting, but I suppose the mix of bright crimson intermingled with a calming purple brings a sort of intensity most people don’t get.” You unknowingly held the bouquet to your heart, a smile blessing your lips. “Camellias are standard flowers that convey longing, mostly a yearning for one out of reach. While a red tulip is a promise, the subtle intention of trying to tell another that you want to spend the rest of your life with the recipient. It’s a big commitment to use such flowers for a bouquet, hopefully you know what you’re getting into.” You wrapped it without a second thought, framed with a sweet soft yellow. 

The cashier popped open as he paid.

“I do,” Miguel peered into your gaze, “I know exactly what I’m gettin’ into, mi sol.” He couldn’t help but utter, scooping the bouquet from your stunned response with a cheeky smile.

“W-What’s your name..?” Your composure lost, you demanded an answer as your finger twirled around an Amaryllis. You had kept one close by since your run-in with Spiderman, your thoughts never swaying from the masked hero until now. The stranger now seemed so familiar, but you couldn’t bring yourself to blurt out anything stupid.

Breathing in the bouquet he picked out, his shoulders sagged just a bit in relief. “Miguel,” He picked up a red tulip, the darkest hue in the bunch, and gently placed it right beyond your ear. “Miguel O’Hara.” His gaze flickered from your name tag and the flower he placed upon your curls, a satisfied quirk of his lips dashing his features. He sounded your name out like a blessing, and the two of you shared a stare that almost knocked you down. 

As he left the floral shop, with the little chime of the door signalling his exit, Miguel had waved behind his back with his other hand keeping the bouquet close to his chest. It reminded you how the masked man occupying your thoughts gave you the same gesture in goodbye, and you couldn’t help but pry the red tulip he placed upon you with delicate hands. 

Bringing it to your nose, suddenly red tulips smelled a lot more honey-like.

The two of you found each other in this routine for weeks now. Neither of you could break, he’d walk into the floral shop and continuously order different kinds of bouquets– sets of flowers that practically screamed, “love me back, you’re all I think about, notice me my dear.” Pink roses hugged by Peruvian and Stargazer lilies, the next week would be more simple– a pair of red roses intertwined with fresh caspia.

His voice was distinct, over the many years you’ve operated this little floral shop hidden away, the only two times you’ve heard the little rambles of his and the light accent within his tone was of course from him, but you kept help but think you’ve heard him somewhere else too. It made you nervous thinking about it, was it truly stupid to think he may be Spiderman? Over just one simple interaction with the masked hero and all of a sudden a person with a similar voice and mannerisms begins parading around your store and buying the most mushy, cliche bundles of floral you’ve ever seen? At this point, Miguel has helped generate an amount of revenue you haven’t seen in months.

By the time his next visit came into fruition, you couldn’t help the question that has loomed over your consciousness for the last week.

“Do.. do you-” You stumbled over your words clumsily, picking at the new floral he’s offered this time. Red roses surrounded by pink, finished off with a row of calla lilies. A beautiful balance of red, pink, and white. “Miguel, what are you trying to say with these bouquets?” You breathed out heavily, the nervousness of speaking about something weighing on you to someone you’ve found yourself attached to crashed against your usual calm and teasing attitude. You were out of your element.

Miguel’s eyes widened at the sudden question, which he averted from your gaze almost immediately. 

Your mind was working a million miles a minute, and as you were trying to get the questions out as fast as possible you stumbled over your words like how you usually do, which in any other situation Miguel would cackle as you burn into the ground in a flustered mess.

“Are you into Spiderman?” You yelled into the empty floral shop, placing your hands down upon the counter in accusation with a thud. A moment of silence hung over the two, bouquet still in your grasp like it's glued to you.

“Am I- what-” Miguel’s jaw practically fell open, in which his fangs were finally on clear display to you. You only could point, stuttering in an embarrassed flurry of limbs as you tried your best to explain yourself. 

“That’s not–” You mumbled as his gaze only widened more, not believing the question he just heard. “I meant are you like–” The silence on Miguel’s end wasn’t making this situation any better. “Are you into me?” You blurted out again, hiding your face in embarrassment. “Like– are you sure you’re into me? Like I didn’t know you would like me like that because I know I express myself a bit differently but–”

Miguel cut yourself off with his hands grasping yours, the bouquet now shared between the two of you. “I-” He sighed, casting his gaze downwards before facing you with a look of determination. As you spent time with Miguel, you came to understand that he never was good at talking about himself. Everything clicked into place as he nodded slowly, not a hint of doubt in his silent confession.

“I thought you’d notice sooner or later,” He huffed, dragging his thumbs against the skin of both of your hands. “Since the moment I saw you with an ungrateful gatito crowding my arms, I can’t lie that you piqued an interest I didn’t know I could feel.” Miguel sighed, leaning forward to lean against the counter opposite of you. “Who you are, how you express yourself– that's why I became so drawn to you, cariño.”

Now your jaw was the one to drop, before dropping your head to the counter the two of you shared in exasperation. “Oh my god! I knew it, I literally knew it. But I didn’t want to seem like some crazy person, you know? But I was right, what the fuck.” He couldn’t but laugh, which earned a warmth spread throughout your chest. Miguel only let out a chuckle and it had your insides twisting as if you were on a rollercoaster.

“You are too much, mi sol.”

“I wasn’t the one buying flowers to subtly tell someone I have a massive crush on them!”

Miguel frowned for only a moment, before leaning in just a bit closer. “Since I put in so much work to flaunt my love for you, do I earn a kiss?”

You rolled your eyes, before practically melting into his touch upon your jaw. Miguel met your lips and it almost felt like rain after a long drought. You didn’t know you wanted to kiss him so badly until his mouth was already on yours, his other hand trailing up the sleeves of your shirt and pulling your floral apron closer to him. 

When the two of you separated after becoming putty in one another’s grasp, Miguel mumbled right upon your lips, breath fanning the blush you felt;

“May I please visit you still, mi corazón? I wouldn’t know what to do without coming here, swallowed by your scent and surrounded by what you love the most.”

You only laughed, nodding against his hand upon your cheek. It soon became a nuzzle, relaxing against his touch like the cat he saved when you first met him. 

“Don’t start asking stupid questions, you know you’re more than welcome to come find me wherever I may end up at.” Miguel smiled, full of teeth and unapologetically showing his fangs.

The two of you intertwined like bonded stems, peppering kisses on one another until the door chimed once again.

[russellsppttemplates]

Hii🫶🏻 So for the blurb night I was thinking about a wedding planning with Lance. He wants to take part in everything even if it means staying up late after a race night just to decide the flowers and cakes and sets absolutely no budget as he wants the teader to have absolutely the best day🥺 like imagine going to cake tasting eith them and choosing the menu. Uhh, to be a wag😩

"Please, Lance. We have to pick a cake! We have already been to so many bakeries and we are running out of time and offers - not to mention the money I'm sure this is costing despite you telling me it doesn't matter", you sighed.

"I just want to make sure you have the best day ever and you have all you've dreamed of", Lance said as he sat at the table with you after he alerted the bakeshop owner you had arrived for the tasting.

"Lance, I love you, and you know I'm not lying when I say this - my dream is spending the rest of my life with you, and yes, I want us to have our perfect day and for that we need to make decisions!", you hissed slightly.

"I have a feeling you'll like these a lot", Lance winked as the owner started bringing out the different cakes, explaining what was in each one of them before letting you take a bite.

"Vanilla is always a safe option, I feel like that's something everyone likes", you reasoned as you tasted the sponge, "but red velvet has been my favourite", you tapped the plate.

"Did you like this", he checked the label, "fresh lemon one? I think it tastes nice and with the wine and champagne we picked out it would be a nice contrast", Lance offered.

"I did - I'm torn between these two", you pouted.

"Is there something I can help you with?", the older man said as he approached the table, noticing you were already discussing options.

"Actually, yes - would you be able to make a cake with two flavours? We really like these two and perhaps there's a way to make it happen", your soon to be husband said.

"Yes, we can do different layers, but that would have a different price point than the ones we discussed earlier, let me just get the price table for you", he said.

"No need for that - we've settled on it then", Lance stated.

The owner went back to the counter to gather the forms so you could make the order while Lance took another bite of the cake, "before you go at me, it's what we both wanted and now we'll have a great cake - that's all I care about", Lance smiled, knowing the thoughts going on your mind.

"You're lucky you're charming like that", you teased, kicking his chin playfully and smiling at him.

.

"I'm home, I'm home!", Lance said as he walked through the door, leaving his backpack on the floor along with his shoes before he met you in the dining room table, "hey love", he kissed the top of your head and sat down after he greeted your mother, his mother and his sister.

"You didn't have to rush home like that - wasn't there traffic?", you wondered.

"I took a short cut - I didn't want to you to this alone", Lance said as he looked at the different arrangements.

"Hey, little brother, Hi! You've greeted me so I'm sure you noticed your fiancée wasn't alone", Chloe lightly swatted the nape of his neck as everyone laughed.

"So these are the ones we decided on after the Monaco GP", you pointed to the five options you and Lance picked out in your hotel bed over some room service after the race, "and they also sent those two - I think they're new and they thought we should consider them".

"I really like the idea of the dry flowers for your bouquet and the bracelet things for the girls and for the guys to have one in the pocket as well", Lance noted as he looked at the arrangements up close.

"It's called a corsage and a boutonniere", Chloe teased.

"As I was saying", he sent her a side eye, "maybe we could match them to the tables so it doesn't look to different", he checked, "what was your idea?".

"I like your idea, Lance, perhaps this one here?", you mother held the arrangement she recalled would be the most similar to the dried flowers you had already picked out. Lance had been on FaceTime for that meeting since the team needed him for Testing, so he knew some details but not all of them.

"Yes, I think so, maybe with those because they also have the purple and brick red tones", you agreed.

"I also like the idea of having some of the little flowers on my suit if that's okay", Lance mused as he picked a few of the loose ones on the table, fiddling with an elastic as he made a quick accessory for him, "does this boutonniere look nice?", he pointed it at his sister as he made fun of the word.

(Thank you for sending this in ✨️)

[r4inyclouds]

You can take Steve Rogers out of the fight, but you can't take the fight out of Steve Rogers.

I heavily recommend putting ya glasses on for this ride of a rant. A... practically an essay on how Steve was out of character in Endgame:

Look, I still wholeheartedly believe that Sam deserves the title of Captain America, but even before that Steve dropped that shield, that title in the Civil War movie, for Bucky, in respect for Tony. Captain America wasn't even his label for years after that. Surprising how many didn't realise Steve in the endgame movie was Nomad, not Captain America.

But, he still fought, didn't he?

So people who say "Steve will always be THE Captain America!!" can go cry about it for all I care. Sam is the hero that he deserves to be. Yet, I suppose we're all entitled to our own opinions.

I don't even think the producers at the time even read the comics they were basing their large franchise on. That Steve in Infinity War wasn't Steve.

He was born a stubborn fighter, he was meant to end as that stubborn fighter we knew from 'The First Avenger'. It's in his nature how he was meant to be articulated as a person. It's in the comics, that hell- I haven't even exactly read most nor possess many of them! It's a joke, a jest; it's funny but not funny 'haha hilarious', but funny, odd, peculiar and perplexing. But from what I've seen from the fans on this side of the debate who have read the comics thoroughly, they all explicitly state that Steve would never do this or abandon anyone. I could, respectively, not care that the MCU was never, and never will be, canon to the comics, but they couldn't even keep one thing, an aspect that's similar or alike in any particular way to the comics, and that's the whole nature and personality of one of their most main focused characters, diverging from the whole point, centre, heart of Steve.

Steve never needed a label that told him he was a hero even when he was some twink before the serum, his whole arch, his whole goal was to become someone who helped, it wasn't from the start to settle down with a woman he was at a high school situation ship with, maybe, just maybe it could've worked if they attempted to even build and develop their relationship for it to make that little sense. Steven Grant Rogers admitted to being that stubborn little thing, and in a sense, he was like that, someone who determined to not be a coward and went against his non-spoken word.

And no, this has nothing to do with the fact I'm a HUGE Stucky shipper, I exclusively tried to avoid talking about Bucky in this half of the rant for a reason. I love Peggy, she's in my top 5, and I love domestic Steggy. It's just it was never right for Steve.

Steve will never, ever be able to run away from what he is. He is THE fight, with or without a useless hero label.

Now since I'm a bucky glazer, and he's my favourite character (I'm putting him in a jar once I get my first-ever Funko pop) I will go on to talk about Steve and Bucky, now, I'd understand if someone would not want to read this part because I'm 'just a wild Stucky shipper!' Who's own priority is trying to keep the ship afloat (I'm also occasionally a Sam x Steve x Bucky shipper but that's besides the point) But in this segment, I will be talking about them in an otherwise platonic sense; it doesn't even need to be romantic for me to say this. And, honestly, if the character of Bucky never existed in this universe, I would've still had this rant on my Tumblr about why Steve leaving is just... odd.

Okay, Steve spent THREE, THREE, I REPEAT THREE, HIS WHOLE DAMN TRILOGY, having at least one huge plot point just purely based on Bucky in each of his movies.

1. He went against whole military orders to get Bucky back, had a whole depression episode thinking he was dead, and then had another depression episode when he died, and then kind of just offed himself after that (Now, am I saying he offed himself for no reason for other than his friend?... yeah, so, there's a deleted scene where Rhodey asks Steve about how he practically died, and why he didn't just jump out into the water before he crashed, I'm tellin' you if you search it up it's there, now, people suspected that the reason it's a deleted scene is that it, well, opens a plot hole, and it just kind of seems like... he killed himself because bucky's dead? Like, ya know, there's no other reason to why he did this. But I might just be reaching there) God. So that point just says a lot about how the producers didn't even think for one second about him going back in time.

2. Nearly got killed by him, but when he figured out it was Bucky he went a berserk kind of insanity and risked his life as he put his trust in a man who was about to knock the shit out of him. Then, like- went for months on end to get Bucky back just because he left him on the side of the beach to not let him drown. Yeah, okay, sir. Also, does everyone just... Like, all silently agree not to talk about how they casually just drop platonic wedding vows to each other in every movie? Like, what do you exactly mean by "I'm with you 'till the end of the line", every time I hear that quote I go "WRITE THIS DOWN, WRITE THIS DOWN!" (not like I'll be getting married though)

3. How am I meant to summarise this with detail without just saying the few words in my mind that would just tell you the whole plot? [Squints eyes, checks notes]... Guess I gotta. 'Bro split Avenger for bro, Avenger no longer, Captain America? No longer for bro, bro picks bro up, bro says wedding vow, bro sad Wakanda.'

Then, now, I apologise sincerely for using this analogy, but he kinda, just, ya know, abruptly left to get the milk. He dropped everything once he got the chance to go back and left poor Bucky wide-eyed like some traumatised puppy with attachment issues they newly developed after shown that much devotion and affection from an owner who'd treat them right, and then was suddenly dropped into a random field of an environment, unfamiliar, they don't recognise it, as they then watch the rustic car they were once rescued from becoming a blur, speeding off into a distance he couldn't possibly ever trace back to. What in the holy fuck was that waste of three movies then.

(DEEP FUCKING BREATHS, RAIN, HOLY SHIT DEEP FUCKING BREATHS)

I hope people can't tell I'm a fanfic writer; this is the shittiest thing I've ever written, I swear my fanfics are more descriptive and crap, but I'm foaming from the mouth right now; I think I permanently disrupted my breathing pattern, well done me.

Sigh, okay, well.

He's a defender for his friends; his bonds double-tied with the strength that could be held within the core of the earth, yet that somehow immediately loosened, cracking the surface, crevice by crevice of that earth with one scene, one moment. His mantle of the goal, his word that he once held dear to his child heart, became not even an earth-shattering break.

Now, here we are.

So, I shall, if you don't mind, end this with my small conclusion of how it's was out of character for Steve to leave.

You can take Steve Rogers out of the fight, but you can't take the fight out of Steve Rogers.

[can-of-pringles]

My Ghost characters orientations headcanons

Sister Imperator: Feels comfortable as a cis woman and "mostly straight" as she would say. She doesn't really have time to unpack it. She's just like "yeah I had male and female partners back in my youth what of it" I think she'd possibly like she/they pronouns.

Nihil: He's actually very queer but fits into that '"all guys think that other guys are attractive, just like how we find women attractive" and doesn't realize that in fact not all guys think that' situation. Which makes his sons give him a look but they never say anything. So he's queer, maybe pansexual, but doesn't think about it because he's so focused on Sister anyway lol. Gender is probably cis guy. The only time he did some questioning is probably when he was on something back then (please don't lecture me about if I'm incorrect on that I've never done anything)

Primo: Honestly, I'm not as sure he's slightly a mystery to me. I think he's somewhere on the demi-romantic spectrum... and is just queer for the rest but wouldn't call himself that. It's sorta just *shrug*, as for gender I think he'd say he's "too old to look into that" and is just mostly settled on cis guy. Though I think if he did have modern label knowledge he would be a demi-boy?

Secondo: I think either pansexual or bisexual. Big preference for women though which I guess traditionally would put him more as bi, though labels aren't too important. Cis guy who hates gender roles.

Terzo: Bisexual with somewhat of a masculine preference. Cis guy, but likes to experiment with other pronouns from time to time for fun.

Copia: I think he flips between grey-sexual and straight up asexual, but for simplicity's sake he calls himself asexual and bi. So he's asexual (sometimes grey-sexual) biromantic. Probably sex neutral btw. He's a cis guy but doesn't really care about pronouns much. Like if someone called him something other than he/him he wouldn't really mind much. Though he/him is his usual.

[stabbyfoxandrew]

hi! can I have some angel Neil this week?

—💖💖

WIP Wednesday (9/18) | Guardian Angel Neil AU (Part 236)

"No. I was just making sure," Andrew says, aiming for nonchalance. Neil doesn't look particularly convinced and now Andrew worries he's accidentally granted himself an angelic audience for tomorrow's session. Damn. Andrew licks his lips. Time to lie. "I am going to talk to her about the nightmare I had the other night. I wanted to be sure you wouldn't listen."

Neil's eyes widen minutely, then he nods. "Good. You should talk to her about it," he says, taking Andrew by surprise.

"I thought you didn't believe in therapy."

"I don't. But you do. And I could feel how much that dream affected you, Andrew. It feel like you needed me, it felt like I needed to wake you. But then you woke yourself up and came up here and tore your brother a new one." Neil says, making Andrew cringe internally. He really hadn't meant to go berserk that morning, but Aaron's a fucking idiot. (And no matter what Neil says, they're twins. They're the same.)

Neil moves to sit back up and stretches his arms over his head. "All I'm saying is it must've been bad."

"It was."

"So, if you can't talk to me about it you should talk to her. Maybe she's got the magic cure for recurring dreams."

"Recurring." Andrew repeats. 

“Isn’t it? I’ve felt you have nightmares before.” Neil says. Andrew isn’t sure. He's never thought about it much. He's never tried to label the horrible things his brain makes him relive when he goes night-night. But he supposes Neil could be right. Is it recurring when the places and faces and sheets are sometimes different? Does he actually need to talk to Bee about this? (Probably.)

"I used to have a recurring nightmare when I was a little kid. It was about a clown," Neil offers randomly.

"What?"

"Yeah. It would come into my bedroom and just stand there in the doorway, staring at me with a bloody knife in its hand. Sometimes it would laugh, but usually it was deathly quiet," Neil says, trying to suppress a shudder. He fails and shivers so violently Andrew can feel it. A moment later, Neil makes a face as if something's occurred to him. "Come to think of it that might've just been my father playing a prank on me."

The easy way Neil says it has Andrew choking on a badly-timed laugh. He coughs at Neil's look. "How fucked up of him."

"Oh yeah, he was real fun like that. It's not the worst thing he ever did though," Neil says with a shrug. Andrew looks at Neil for a moment, then glances down to where the hem of his jeans has rolled up, revealing a thick scar around Neil's ankle. It matches the ones Andrew's seen on his wrists. He very nearly asks about it, but forces the question off his tongue because he swore he'd never ask.

Instead he sighs and accidentally lets, "Honk honk," slip past his filter.

Neil gives him a quizzical look. "What was that? Are you a goose now?"

"No. Don't clowns honk?"

"I... My father didn't."

"Never mind then."  Andrew says, looking to the side. They're quiet for a moment, then Neil is sputtering laughter. 

"Honk honk." He says, devolving into a fit of giggles. Andrew can only watch, awe-struck and mesmerized at the sound. When Neil covers his face with his hand and starts to settle down, Andrew says it again and laughs with him until he can't breathe.

[delaber]

The Ask Out (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Summary: After having finally plucked up the courage to approach the handsome stranger who’s been eyeing you for weeks, you’re disappointed when he doesn’t ask you out despite the signals you’ve been sending.

Words: 1.6K

Fluff fluff fluff

As you scan Bucky's handsome features for what feels like the millionth time tonight, you're trying to decide for yourself which category he falls under: 'not interested at all' or 'just really thick'.

...God, with the embarrassing way you've been making an ass of yourself, you sure hope it's the latter. To flirt so obviously only to find out he's not the least bit interested would be absolutely devastating, so you hope that he truly hasn't understood the signals of your batting eyelashes and the vigorous hair-flipping to the point where you have damn near given yourself whiplash. It's a stretch, but maybe he's even honestly mistaken your featherlight touches and prolonged eye contact for mere friendliness?

If you're unlucky, however, his unaffected behaviour is simply because he doesn't look at you that way - which would suck - and if you're really unlucky (and this is without a doubt the worst scenario you can think of) he's only keeping you pity-company because he's too polite to leave you alone in a crowded bar.

Gaaah!

The humiliating thought alone is enough to give you a stomachache, so you're hoping, hoping, hoping to dear God that he's just a little thick-headed...

"So, what are you doing this weekend?" you flirtily try asking him while seductively tilting your head to the side, hoping that if the suggestive words alone aren't enough, the vulnerable body language will put ideas into his head.

"No plans," Bucky shakes his head with a small, charming chuckle that thankfully seems genuine.

Silently, you conclude that he does seem to be enjoying himself even though he hasn't made any move at all to advance your conversation to more than just, well, conversation.

"How about you?" he continues, "doing anything fun?"

"Oh, I'm not doing anything either," you chuckle suggestively and wink at him but he doesn't take the bait and just smiles shyly at you before quickly emptying his beer bottle, clearly unsure of how to react to that.

"Bummer," he ends up shrugging and even though he's still smiling at you, you feel the last remnants of hope slip through your fingers.

To say you are disappointed is an understatement; Bucky is funny and sweet and very easy on the eye, but he's making it more and more obvious that he's only settling for a night in your company because the alternative is worse: drinking with his friend who's clearly only out for the night because he's on the prowl for some tail.

Fucking bummer, you think to yourself and is about to place him in the category marked 'not interested at all' when his smile goes all charming and crooked again. It makes you pause mid-thought and with a pounding heart, you wait to put the definitive label on him.

"Do you -" he hesitates for a moment and your breath hitches in your throat as you without thinking are about to blurt out that yes, you'd love to go out with him! But then he points towards the bartender over his shoulder,"- do you want another drink?"

Your heart immediately sinks back to the bottom of your stomach.

He might be enjoying your company but he's certainly not crushing on you as hard as you are crushing on him, so you shake your head no. "I should probably head home," you point over your shoulder in the opposite direction, "- I have an early shift tomorrow morning."

"Oh..." a disheartened look flashes over his features for a split second before effortlessly being replaced with a careful smile that makes you wonder what he really thinks of your turndown. "Okay," he nods respectfully without pushing you to stay although he does sound a bit despondent. You honestly cannot decipher him...

"I had a great time," you smile and softly bump your knee against his in one last attempt at showing him that you're interested in him.

"Me too," he nods and shifts a little in his seat, his eyes never leaving yours.

You can't quite figure out if your gesture is making him slightly uncomfortable or not, but at least he looks sincere as his blue irises start scanning your face.

Kiss me. Ask if you can see me again. Get my number. Anything!

But he's still just smiling softly, clearly unsure of what to do with himself.

Disappointment growing hot in your stomach when he keeps his silence, you move your knee away from his and step out of the booth. You know a lost cause when you see one, and Bucky clearly doesn't want to go out with you.

"Well, thank you for a lovely evening," you fight to put on a smile as you pull on your jacket.

"Yeah... thanks," he breathes and looks as if he isn't quite ready to let go of the night yet as he studies your every movement.

"I'll see you around, okay?"

"Yeah," he smiles again though it falls a little flat. "See you."

With one last look at his fidgeting hands, you turn on your heel and walk out the door, ready to leave this catastrophe of a wonderful night behind you. You really like him, and he'd made you feel so special...

"What a fucking disappointment," you give out a sigh as the cold night air hits your cheeks and you take a moment to just breathe as you overlook the almost empty street, deciding on walking home.

Fumbling for your gloves in the pockets of first your coat and next your bag, you realise that you must've left them inside, and with a slightly irritated huff, you push open the door behind you again, hoping you can avoid running in to the man who so brutally have just rejected you.

He's not in the booth anymore and you breathe a sigh of relief when you manage to fight your way through the crowds unnoticed and over to the lonely gloves lying atop of the leather seat, you'd only just occupied minutes earlier.

As you pocket them and zip up your jacket again, ready to get the hell home so you can forget all about tonight, you hear a familiar voice hissing in frustration from the bar and it makes you freeze in your tracks.

"I'm such a goddamn idiot!" Bucky is vexing and running his fingers over his face, obviously very angry with himself while his friend who'd introduced himself as Sam nods in agreement.

"Go after her," Sam says with a roll of his eyes. "Simple as that.”

"I can't go after her now?! I choked! It was embarrassing!" Bucky's hisses while his fingers once again roll down his face in frustration, "I cannot believe I fucking blew it!"

"Dude, you've been gawking at each other every time we come here," Sam sighs, "you didn't blow it - she clearly has a thing for bionic men," he smirks with a shrug.

"Ha-ha, very funny" Bucky says sourly, grinding his teeth without looking the least bit amused. "God, I need a whisky," he turns around to face the bartender and Sam seems to heave a deep breath as his eyes scan around the bar for someone else to introduce Bucky to.

He doesn't seem to find any of interest over at the tall tables nor on the dance floor, but when his eyes land on you by the booths, his lips spread wide. "Hey man," he elbows Bucky in the side, and you start walking over to them, more interested in the mystery that is Bucky Barnes than ever before. Seems like you mislabelled him after all...

Bucky turns around with a deadpan look on his face that disappears within the second as he locks eyes with you. Immediately, he straightens his back.

"Oh, hey," he breathes and runs a hand through his hair when you stop right in front of him, "you're back."

"Forgot my gloves," you cannot contain the smile that erupts on your face when he looks downright relieved to see you again.

"Yeah, yeah okay," his eyes wander down your entire frame, "have you checked over by the booth?"

"Got them," you nod your head and hold out the two pieces of leather for him to see. "I just came over because I wanted to say proper bye to you."

"Yeah?" He smiles broadly and swats Sam's arm away when his pointed elbow meets Bucky's ribcage. "Yeah, hey, uhm, listen," he licks his lips and looks suddenly nervous. It's cute. "I wanted to ask you if maybe you - uh - you wanna - uhm - do something this weekend maybe?" He exhales heavily, "...with me, I mean."

"Yeah!" you grin excitedly, "yeah, I'd love to do something this weekend," you chuckle happily and can't help but teasingly add a "- with you, I mean."

"Great!" he nods and looks a fifty-fifty mixture of proud and surprised, "yeah, great, can't wait!"

"Me neither," you chuckle, and he carefully joins in. "Good thing I forgot my gloves so you could finally ask me, huh?"

"Yeah - uhm - sorry about that," he awkwardly laughs and rubs his neck while his cheeks blush pink. "I wasn't sure if you wanted me to and I didn't want to make you uncomfortable..." he smiles shyly again and as your heart soars in your chest, you can finally place him under his proper categories: insanely cute, handsome, clever, flirty, sweet, but my god, really, really thick!

[dullgecko]

Okay so this might be a little too niche, but having just seen "museum" as a prompt, it got me thinking about the bad kids if they worked at a museum. (This totally isn't based on my uni degree - shhh)

Gorgug would be doing conservation in the labs, probably specialising in metals (he's an artificer, he's obviously doing metals). I can also see him enjoying larger stone objects, and he would tolerate ceramics if he absolutely had to. Don't ask him to do textiles - he'll give advice about treating the metal fastenings but that's it. Conservators pretty much always get forgotten from thank you lists, but once the bad kids get involved, conservation gets a little spotlight on the museum social media courtesy of Fig. Gorgug definitely isn't the stereotypical conservator (most are middle-aged elven women) so Gorgug can sometimes feel a little out of place, but works with Riz and Kristen to address the problems in the sector and do some outreach to get more people into conservation.

Riz would be doing research for the objects and writing up the object interpretation labels. His favourite exhibition he was involved in was a community-curated exhibition about goblin culture. He was also a big advocate for the outreach programme that supports lower-income families/individuals. He loves his job, but there are definitely a lot of problems and he's constantly having to advocate for repatriation of objects, because no, that was clearly stolen, and that community is asking for it back, and you can't just say you want to keep it because you think it looks nice in that display. He constantly has to remind people that providing reasonable adjustments is a legal requirement (and really asking for an adjustable height desk and a wrist support is quite honestly the bare minimum for what Riz actually needs for his chronic pain). And don't even get him started on the diversity of the top end of the organisation - you can't say you're diverse if elves are in all of the management roles. It does slowly get better, but gods is it slow progress.

Adaine would probably also be doing research, maybe in the science labs doing analysis (she has the identify spell and legend lore - it's perfect for analysis!). She's pretty high up so sometimes gets asked to lead private tours of the labs - she hates it, but she does get more confident the longer she's there. She works with Ayda and she loves it.

Kristen would probably be part of the education team. Teachers are always a little amazed when she can make even the most disruptive kids settle down enough to pay attention. Kristen doesn't think she's doing anything exceptional by listening to the kids and engaging with them and letting them move around if they want to, but apparently a lot of teachers hadn't considered that maybe their students just had unsupported disabilities and that if you accommodate them then they actually do care. For the students that really don't care, Kristen meets them where they're at and either relates the topic to something they do care about, or gives them a "secret task" to do instead that keeps them engaged.

Fig works mainly on the marketing team, and helps organise events like museum sleepovers and silent discos. She also runs all of the social media and somehow manages to keep up with various trends without making them terrible (a true marketing skill). The older museum staff were very reluctant to have her join, but the events brought in a large increase in engagement and they couldn't argue with the numbers. (It helps that Fig and the Sig Figs perform once a year as a fundraiser for the museum and always raise a lot of money).

I don't think Fabian would work there necessarily, but I can see him coming in to volunteer sometimes when he's not off doing pirate stuff. He'd never admit it, because he's not a nerd (he's not!), but he really loves hearing his friends talk about all of the cool things they're working on and he happily talks to them about possible interpretations of objects. He gets brought in to help out with an exhibition about pirates or something along those lines. I think he also probably has a large regular donation set up that he'll never admit is him. (Everyone definitely knows that it's him).

Gorgug likes doing all the quiet back-end work because people rarely bother him and he can sit with his music playing without getting interupted.

Riz got sick of having to climb on the furniture in his office once and threw it all out into the hallway (it involved a lot of dragging, disassembling and swearing) because it was all human sized. He didn't want to steal any furniture from his gnomish or halfling colleagues, half of them were ALSO having to use human sized desks, but he definitly got his point across by setting all his stuff up on the floor to work instead. He also advocated for at LEAST having steps and platforms short-folk could use to see the exibits, half of the more fancy display cases were above his head height.

If Adaine is asked to give a private tour to someone she knows is particularly snooty (or even a little racist, most high elves are after all) she'll kidnap Riz. The goblin will do the whole tour from on her shoulders (he memorised it after watching her do it once and can rattle it off word for word due to his stupid good memory recall) and she enjoys how the tour group ends up looking a little uncomfortable. Its especially funny because his Elven is perfect, he doesnt even have an accent, they dont expect it.

Kristen does the same sometimes but only because kids think it's hilarious, if she holds her arm out Riz can dangle from his knees and talk to the kids upside down without skipping a beat. Its good because sometimes kids have questions that come WAY out of left field about the goblin exibits and he can answer them in ways that they understand.

Fig also does all the fun posters and flyers for the museaum, she's a pretty good artist even outside of her music and she designed all her own album covers and merch. If she's not wearing a SigFig shirt she's wearing one of their promotional museam shirts from years ago.

Fabian does the reverse-pirating when no-one is looking. If he finds a museam that has stolen artifacts that a culture wants back they somehow find their way into Riz's hands. Riz is very good at sneaking things back to people without getting caught.

[box-architecture]

"Sam?" Dream called from the other room.

"Yeah?" Sam looked up from his miniatures. He had been trying to get the tiny Blackstone looking just right-

"Have you been using our turtle-master pots?" Dream sounded… puzzled.

"I don't think so, no."

"You don't think so?"

Sam shrugged, though he knew it wouldn't be seen. "If I suddenly started sleepwalking maybe that version of me did."

Dream snorted. Sam preened; yes, he was very funny.

"I'll ask Punz then. A double chest of pots doesn't just disappear." Dream sighed, and that made Sam curious.

He set down his paintbrush and trotted into the storage rooms, where Dream was checking the other chests. The one labeled 'Turtle-Master' was thrown open, bare of its contents.

It was incredibly unusual for The Box be completely out of anything for longer than a week. Dream took painstaking measures keeping things stocked for every possible situation, and even when Punz managed to get him to relax, Sam couldn't help but sort things the way he preferred, giving Dream more room to store things. Punz remained exasperated, but they agreed to allow Sam his sorting system as long as he didn't sort their personal items. Sam was okay with that. Even if he really wanted to.

But of all the things to run out of, this was never even close to being on the list.

"Is that all that's missing?" Sam asked. Dream huffed and shut the fire res chest.

"Yeah, but who knows why."

"Maybe Punz wanted to go on an adventure." Sam suggested.

"I don't think he has the inventory space to go on an adventure with that many pots." Dream waved his hand at the empty chest. Which, yeah. Fair point.

"I'm sure we'll figure it out." Sam reassured him, walking up to press against him. "I can make new ones in the meantime."

Dreams arms came up to pull him in a hug. Sam melted into the warmth.

"No, I've got it. You were busy with your figures, you should go back to them."

"But I can help." Sam nuzzled him. "And I miss you."

Dream let out a small breath. He buried his face in Sam's hair, letting out another sigh. "We've been together all day."

"Not in the same room." Sam insisted. He gently pushed Dream back until he was pressing him against the wall, still hugging him. Keeping him safe. "Not in the same space."

Dream made a soft noise, tension draining, and Sam's heart was overcome with love.

Dream had been a healthy weight for a long time now- muscled, strong- but Sam could still carry him. Dream placed a small kiss on his neck, automatically settling into the hold like it was the most natural thing in the world. Sam couldn't help the purr beginning to rumble in his chest.

"Are you comfortable?" He asked.

"Always." Dream said simply. He placed another kiss, just slightly higher than the last. Sam flushed, nuzzling him back.

"Okay. I'm moving us now." Sam murmured.

He was going to take them outside into the grass. There was a sunlit spot just out of range of the house's pathing, warmed by the cloudless day. Their cave was wonderfully cool in the summertime, free from the worst of the heat with its small, low dripstone, but there were streams of light that broke through the ceiling and brought a warmth to their chosen spots. Sam was a simple man; who could blame him for clearing a little area for catnaps?

His love sighed comfortably as Sam adjusted him to open the door. It was a bit of a shuffle, but Sam was used to having his hands full. The thought tugged at him as he shut the door with his back paw. He carried out supplies a lot, did he need a Redstone door? Not at the entrance but maybe in a special area off to the side, like people who had garages-

"Ranboo? What are you doing?"

Sam was pulled out of his thoughts. Dream was staring at Ranboo, who was sitting in their low-quality lawn chair at the front of the house, as per usual. Sam scowled.

He did not like Ranboo at The Box.

However, his light- his love, his flightless angel- had said Ranboo needed a place to stay. So Sam would tolerate his presence. It was the honorable thing to do, regardless, since Sam had killed him that one time. Sam could be the bigger man.

"I'm on vacation." Ranboo said.

"But the water- are those the turtle-master potions?!" Dream exclaimed in disbelief.

Sam walked closer so Dream didn't have to twist around to properly see, and narrowed his eyes at the potion bottles littered around Ranboo like sticky soda cans. The majority of the pots seemed to have made their way into the kiddie pool that Ranboo was using for his feet.

"Come on in, the water's fine." Ranboo shrugged, and gently kicked his feet to let a bit of potion splash outside the pool.

Sam recoiled instinctively, jumping back and nearly losing his grip in the process. Dream yelped, but held on as steadily as he could until Sam readjusted him with an apologetic nuzzle. When Dream nuzzled back, Sam turned to Ranboo, growling; he made Sam almost drop Dream, like the menace he was.

"You are not a real cat." Ranboo stated dryly. "And that was not real water."

Sam's growls increased, but a calm, trusted hand cupped his cheek, and he leaned into it.

Dream smiled at him, before turning back to the vacationing menace. "Ranboo, you can't just take an entire double chest of potions; it's expensive."

Ranboo swirled the coconut drink in his hand. "I know, that's why I took the ones you don't use."

Sam glared, but Dream made an exasperated noise. "Can you at least- tell me? Next time you do this? So I don't look through the storage bins and think I'm going crazy?"

Ranboo tilted his head until his cheap Hawaiian themed sunglasses slid down the bridge of his nose, doing finger guns. The effect was slightly muted by the dark circles under his eyes and half-hearted manner in which he seemed to perform it.

"Right." Dream stopped holding Sam's face to pinch the bridge of his nose. "We'll talk about this more later. Idiot."

Ranboo took a sip of his drink, and Sam took this as a sign to go take his love somewhere safer, far away from the enderman and his blasphemous idea of a pool. The lake Sam made for their house was better anyway.