#not too much of a fan of this drawing but I like the concept behind it

[zehl0w]

As long as the hand that rocks the cradle is mine

[sweetiecutie]

Warnings: fluff, a bit of smut (mention of tits:3)

I recommend reading part 1 firstly<3

Loser!Metalhead!König who is completely and utterly smitten by you. You, a pretty little thing, big doe eyes looking up at him adoringly, glossed lips kissing him so softly - you make his very bones melt. König is known for his sharp tongue and stoic demeanour, but with his girl he turns into a little teddy bear, all soft and putty and pliant in your hands.

Needless to say that this is Loser!Metalhead!König’s first ever relationship (and he hopes last one - ain’t no way he’s letting you go), so he’s a bit clueless. Not a bit. Okay he’s completely oblivious. I mean, König for sure knows some very basic concepts of relationships, some of them he feels intuitively, some he saw displayed in movies, but in general? You have to give him crystal clear instructions and explanations because this dude doesn’t get damn hints. Yes, it is okay that he holds your hand in public, that’s what you’ve been waiting for months actually. No he can’t punch a guy for smiling at you after you met eyes for a second.

Loser!Metalhead!König who is a member and co-founder of a small heavy metal band with two of his other loser friends, where he is a drummer. They 100% put way too much meaning into band’s name, lyrics and overall aesthetic meanwhile all of their music is about gore and being a hater. It still slaps tho.

They start low - as all music bands do - performing in local rock clubs, soon finding their small, yet loyal audience which grows bigger with time and new records. And even though you’re not actually participating in process of making music - you sure are a member. Those losers surely don’t know how to give interviews - here comes in old little you, answering questions and explaining meaning and inspirations behind songs, process of their creation. Obviously you are the one leading their socials too - before you stepped in their insta page looked more like a mock account filled with ugly ass photos and near to no information about band nor members, account’s description saying “Austria - we make music”

You’re also the one doing their stage makeup, drawing creepy patterns in black and white face paints, making them look actually cool. These losers can’t even do their own significant makeup by themselves - just smearing black paint all over their faces and proudly calling it a stage look smh

Loser!Metalhead!König who definitely practices his singing while showering. He claims it’s good for keeping his voice cords active, “not letting them get rusty”, but just imagine this - you’re getting ready for bed, doing skincare, making your shared bed and fluffing up the pillows, scrolling in your phone - all while devil’s screeching and howling comes from the bathroom, all because that hulk of a man practices screaming techniques.

The more their band gets popular - the more fans start to rave about dynamic of your relationship. Big, burly, 6’10 brute who has to tilt his head down and draw his shoulders together in order to get through a doorframe dating a bubbly princess of a girl like you. Two polar opposites who work out so good together, Mick Thompson and Stacy Riley vibes frfr (god when will it be me)

Loser!Metalhead!König who definitely mansplains all his favourite bands’ lore to you, giving information about every member, how they became popular, what are their most known songs are (and what they got cancelled for but we don’t talk about it okay?)

Loser!Metalhead!König who is still a fucking loser tho. He blushes and stutters every time he sees your tits, his palms getting sweaty, lips ajar as his widened eyes are glued to your exposed chest, Adam’s apple bobbing on his neck. Has he seen them dozens of times before? Yes. Will he ever not be impressed by your tits upon seeing them? Hell no.

A/n: not me dropping this off after a year of not writing and then disappearing again:3

[itneverendshere]

Just saw the new popular movie ’’This ends with us’’ and I beg of you to draw from the actual beautiful love story, so pure! So same concept of the love story: Pouge!Rafe has been kicked out by his mom and her abusive boyfriend, Kook!Reader sees him homeless & hiding. Reader does small acts of kindness, which builds up to a romance but they separate for whatever reason (could be because they get discovered, he joins the military, like the movie, or something different). It could also be reversed with Pouge!Reader instead being homeless, you pick! Years go by, Reader meets an abusive partner, she bumps into a now grown up Rafe. Lots of angst, lingering feelings and longing, he sees the signs of abusive and gets protective. But without the movie plots of reader getting pregnant and married) I adore and worship your writing skills, truly have a gift to make you feel all the emotions!! <3333333

INVISIBLE STRING - r.c series (one)

i loooove this request because pogue!rafe so i decided to turn into a mini series (two or three parts). im personally not a fan of it ends with us, but i love your requests bc it's still very different from the original plot.

pairing: pogue!rafe x sweetheart!kook reader. chapter warnings: domestic violence; absent parents; angst; fluff.

Rafe was born rough around the edges.

There was never any sugar-coating about it; with his hair always messy, sun-bleached and salty, and his hands perpetually stained with the grime of whatever job he'd taken up that week, Rafe Cameron had never known peace. He moved like a stray dog that had learned to fend for itself, his eyes always scanning for trouble. 

Most people kept their distance, and he liked it that way.

There wasn’t much softness in his life. His mom tried her best, he supposed, but that wasn’t saying much. She had a new boyfriend every few months, and they were all the same — mean, drunk, and looking for a fight. Rafe learned early on that if you couldn’t fight back, you were nothing. So he fought. A lot.

He fought the men who walked into their house at night, stinking of cheap whiskey and cigarettes. He fought the kids at school who called him trash, who mocked the way his clothes never quite fit or how he always seemed a little too hungry. But mostly, he fought himself — every time he looked in the mirror and saw his father’s eyes staring back at him. The man who left and never looked back. 

Another piece of shit. 

He kept his head down, kept his hands busy, and kept his mouth shut unless he had something to say. He wasn’t nice. Nice got you nowhere; nice got you used, broken, and left behind. He had seen it too many times to believe otherwise. The world wasn’t a kind place, and he wasn’t a kind guy. 

Most days, he’d finish work covered in sweat and salt, with just enough money in his pocket to get by. He'd dropped out of school years ago and head to the docks, sit on the edge, and smoke a cigarette while the sun dipped below the horizon.

The only real moment of peace he had.

Rafe took what work he could find — fixing up old fishing boats for the few Kooks who’d dare come down his side of the Cut, pulling shrimp nets in the dead hours of the morning, his back aching and his muscles screaming at such a young age, but at least it was better than being home. If he could call it that.

Home, where his mom was probably passed out again, where the latest loser she'd dragged in might be passed out on the couch or looking for a fight.

He could hear them shouting before he even got to the door. His mom’s voice screaming her throat out, and he could hear something crashing inside — a glass, maybe, or a plate. Then came the matching scream of the new boyfriend, Tony or Tommy or something — they all blurred together after a while. Rafe paused on the porch, his hand hovering over the door handle, debating whether it was worth going in at all.

Inside, she was standing in the middle of the living room, her face flushed, her blonde hair a mess. Tony stood over her, fists clenched, his face red and veins bulging in his neck. 

Rafe knew that look. 

He’d seen it before — seen it in a dozen men who thought they could push their weight around, thought they could break whatever they wanted.

“What the hell’s going on?” 

Tony turned, eyes narrowing. “None of your damn business, boy.”

Rafe took a step forward, his fists balling up instinctively. “If it’s in my house, it’s my business.”

His mom spun around to face him, her eyes wild and desperate. “Just stay out of it, Rafe. You always have to make things worse!”

He felt the sting of her words. He should be used to it by now. “I’m not the one who brought this piece of shit in here.”

That was all it took. Tony lunged at him, shoving him hard against the wall. Rafe felt the air rush out of his lungs as pain flared in his back. “You watch your mouth, punk,” Tony hissed, his face inches from his, his breath a disgusting mix of beer and god knows what.

“Or what?” Rafe shot back. If there was one thing he’d learned, it was how to keep his anger in check — at least most of the time.

Tony’s eyes flicked to his mom, like he was making a point, and she just stood there, watching. He’d lost his faith in her a long time ago but it still blew him away how she never lifted a finger to help him. 

“Get out,” she said finally, hand moving to point towards the bust-up wooden door.

“What?” Rafe blinked, caught off guard. He must’ve heard her wrong.

“You heard me. Get out!” She was shouting now, her voice high-pitched and desperate. “I can’t have you here, always stirring things up! You make everything worse!”

It had to be a fucking joke. He was the only one bringing in money to pay the rent, the only one who kept the house clean enough so it wouldn’t look or smell like someone died in there. Paid the hospital bills when they hit her too hard. He did everything, always. 

Tony shoved him again, harder this time, toward the open door. “You heard her. Get the hell out.”

Rafe stumbled backward, catching himself before he fell. He looked at his mom, his chest tightening in a way he hadn’t felt since he was a kid. “You’re really gonna choose him over your own son?”

She wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Just go, Rafe. I can’t do this anymore.”

He forced himself to nod. He almost wanted to laugh. “Fine,” he muttered, pushing past Tony and heading for the door. “Don’t call me when he sends you to the hospital again.”

He didn’t look back. He couldn’t. The moment he stepped outside, the wind hit his face like a slap, the kind that made his eyes sting and his heart pound. Things had never gotten to this point before. He would’ve rather taken a beating then get kicked out. 

He walked, hands stuffed into his pockets. He didn’t know where he was going, just that he couldn’t go back. Not now. Not ever. He’d die before he begged his mother or Tony to let him in that shithole again. His feet took him along the edge of town, past the marina and the fishing docks, and eventually, he found himself in the wealthy part of town, near Figure 8.

It was ironic, almost funny.

The Kooks lived here, the ones who wouldn’t give him the time of day if they saw him on their streets. And here he was, a beat-up pogue, walking right through their territory, angry and suddenly so damn tired.

He spotted an old, abandoned house, sitting at the end of a street where the mansions stood tall and proud. He had walked by it a few times before and noticed it had been empty for years, the paint peeling off in strips, the windows boarded up, and the grass overgrown. He crossed the street, glancing around to make sure no one was watching, and pushed the broken gate open. The hinges squeaked loudly, proving just how long it had been since someone had been there.

The front door was unlocked; it opened with the slightest push. Inside, it smelled of dust and mold, but it was dry, and it was quiet. It was enough. He made his way to a small room in the back, what must have once been a kitchen. There was an old sofa left behind, covered in a dirty sheet. He pulled the sheet off, threw it in a corner, and sank onto the sofá, finally breathing properly. 

He stayed there, staring at the cracked ceiling and the empty walls, wondering how the fuck he was going to get himself out of this one. 

For the two next days, he moved carefully, quietly, in and out of the house. He didn’t want anyone to know he was staying there. He wasn’t getting his ass thrown into jail again. He found a way in through the back window, kept to the dimly lighted areas, and avoided the main roads. He didn't have much — a few changes of clothes, some cash from odd jobs, and his dad’s old pocketknife, the only thing he had left of the bastard.

It was on the third day that he saw you.

He was sitting on the front steps, having a cigarette, when he heard the sound of a bike chain clicking. He glanced up, and there you were — riding a yellow bike, hair pulled back, and eyes glued to him as you pedaled down the street.

He stiffened, quickly stubbing out the cigarette, his heart rate picking up. You were one of them, a Kook, from one of the mansions just a block away. He’d seen you before, always biking around town, sometimes with friends, sometimes alone.

He didn’t know you, didn’t even know your name, but he knew the type.

You saw him, too, and slowed your bike. His first thought was to get up and disappear back into the house, but he knew that would look suspicious. So he stayed put, trying to look casual, as if he belonged there.

You stopped a few feet away, still on your stupid bike, one foot on the ground to steady yourself.

“You live here?” You asked, not in a mean way, just curious.

Rafe’s jaw tightened. “Yeah,” he lied, “Why?”

You shrugged, “Just… didn’t think anyone did. Looks pretty empty.”

He tensed, waiting for you to say something like, “I’m going to tell someone,” or worse, to start asking more questions. But instead, you just gave him another curious look, nodded, and biked away.

Weird girl.

The next day, you were back. This time, you had a bag with you. He watched you approach, wary. You stopped in front of the house and took something out of the bag — a sandwich, wrapped in paper, and a bottle of water.

You held them out to him, a gentle smile on your face, “Figured you might be hungry.”

He thought maybe you were just trying to make yourself feel better, some Kook guilt thing, like feeding the stray cat in the alley so you could pat yourself on the back for being such a nice person.

And he hated that. Hated you for even thinking he needed your stupid charity. So he gave you every reason to leave him alone.

When you handed him that sandwich, he barely even looked at you.

He just grabbed it and then turned his back, heading into the house without another word. But the next day, you were there again. And the next.

He started making it obvious he didn’t want you around. He’d grunt when you said hello, roll his eyes when you tried to make small talk.

One time, you offered him an apple, and he snatched it out of your hand without a word, just to see if you’d get annoyed enough to leave. You didn’t. Like some fucking saint.

Instead, you kept coming back, like some sort of annoying, persistent fly he couldn’t swat away. Every time, your smile was a little nicer, your eyes a little more curious.

He didn't get it. Why the hell were you still trying? Didn’t you get it? He didn’t want you here. Didn’t want to talk to you. Didn’t need shit from a Kook.

“What’s your problem?” he muttered one day when you showed up with a bag of groceries.

You blinked, “What do you mean?”

“You keep coming back here like I asked you to. I didn’t. I don’t need your charity.”

You raised an unimpressed eyebrow, still not leaving. “I’m not doing charity. I jut figured you could use a little help.”

He scoffed, turning his back on you again. “I don’t need anything from you, princess.”

You hesitated, then placed the bag on the steps anyway. “Well, it’s here if you do.”

He snorted, rolling his eyes again. “Great. Another pity gift from the rich kid. Thank you so much,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

You clenched your jaw, but still didn’t leave. He expected you to finally get the hint, but you just shook your head and walked away.

The next day, you there you were. And the day after that. Always bringing something, always with that same annoying, stubborn smile.

By the end of the week, he was done. You rolled up with another bag, and before you could even open your mouth, he let out a loud groan, throwing his head back. 

"For fuck’s sake, don’t you have anything better to do than bother me every damn day?”

That was it — you snapped.

Your eyes flared, and you stepped in closer, voice getting louder. "Will you just eat the damn food before I throw it in your face?" You shouted, cheeks going red with frustration.

He blinked, caught off guard. He didn’t expect you to clap back.

You’d been silent and too sweet for his liking. Most Kooks would’ve run back to their fancy houses by now, but you were still standing your ground, fists clenched, breathing heavy. Cute.

He almost laughed. Almost. “What’s your deal? You think you’re some kind of hero bringing food to the poor pogue? You think you're gon' save me or something?”

You glared at him “I’m not trying to save you, jerk! I’m just trying to be a decent human! Maybe you should try it sometime!”

He stared at you, face set in a deadpan, but he felt something— something he hadn’t felt in a while. Respect, maybe? But for some reason, he didn’t tell you to get lost.

Instead, he snatched the bag out of your dainty small hand. “Fine. I’ll eat your stupid food. But don’t think this changes anything,” he muttered.

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms. “Oh, trust me, I don’t.”

You both stood there in this weird silence for a minute, glaring at each other. Then you shook your head, and smiled like you hadn’t read him to filth ten seconds ago. “See you tomorrow, Rafe.”

What? You knew his name?

He watched as you rode away and he realized he was grinning, just a bit. For the first time in weeks, he didn’t feel completely alone.

And somehow, that pissed him off even more.

Days turned into weeks, and you kept showing up, like a plague.

No matter how much Rafe grumbled, no matter how many times he rolled his eyes or muttered under his breath, you just kept coming back. It was always something small — fruit, a bottle of water, a warm meal in a container. Every time you showed up, you had that same stubborn look in your eyes, like you weren’t going to back down no matter how much he pushed you away.

He hated to admit it, but he started to look forward to your little visits. He hated even more that he noticed things about you. Like how your hair fell in your face when you leaned over to hand him something or how your laugh sounded when he said something sarcastic. He noticed the way you seemed to care, even when he made it clear he didn’t want you to.

One day, you showed up with a duffel bag. Rafe looked at you suspiciously as you parked your bike and slung the bag over your shoulder.

“What now?” he grunted, eyeing the bag like it might bite him.

He could tell you were nervous and that weirded him out even more. Since when could he read your mind? 

“I was thinking… maybe you’d want to come to my house. Just to shower and get some real rest. My parents are out of town, and y’know, you could use it.”

He stared at you like you’d grown another head. “You want me to come to your house?”

You nodded, looking a little unsure now, hands tightening around the bag’s strap, “Yeah. Just for a bit. I thought you might like a break from this place.”

He scoffed. “And why the hell would I want to do that? You think I’m gonna be some charity case you can parade around to make yourself feel good?”

You sighed, clearly getting frustrated. “No, Rafe. I just thought… I just thought you might want a hot shower. But if you don’t, that’s fine.”

He usually cleaned himself up near the docks, but the water was freezing during this time of the year. Every time it felt like his balls were going to drop to the floor. So yeah, a hot shower in a big mansion sounded tempting.

Even if he didn’t want to give you that satisfaction.

A hot shower… a real bed, even for a little while. He hadn’t had that in what felt like forever. He looked at you again, trying to figure out if this was some kind of sick twisted plan, but all he saw were those stupid glowing eyes staring him down like he’d be dumb to refuse you. 

“Fine,” he muttered, standing up. “But just for a shower. And if you try anything weird, ’m outta there.”

Your nose scrunched up, “As if.”

Your house was everything he expected from a Kook — big, clean, and way too fancy. He felt out of place the moment he stepped through the gigantic door, like he was tracking mud on a white carpet. You led him upstairs, pointing out the bathroom.

“You can use this one. Towels are in the cabinet, and I’ll leave some clothes outside if you want them.”

Rafe grunted in response, still unsure why he was even there. He went into the bathroom and locked the door, leaning against it for a moment. The place smelled like lavender or some other fancy soap he couldn’t name. He turned on the shower, and the hot water poured out instantly, filling the room with steam.

He stripped off his dirty clothes and stepped under the water, hissing as the heat hit his skin. But then he relaxed, letting the water wash away the grime, the salt, the exhaustion he’d been carrying for so long. He stayed under the spray longer than he should have, almost losing track of time.

When he finally got out, he saw the clothes you’d left outside the door — a plain t-shirt and sweatpants, nothing flashy, but clean. He put them on and headed back downstairs, finding you in the kitchen, making coffee.

You looked up when he entered, “Feel better?”

He shrugged. “I guess.”

You handed him a cup of coffee, and he took it reluctantly, still waiting for the catch. But you just sat across from him at the kitchen island, sipping your own cup, not saying anything.

He found himself watching you, noticing the little things again.

The way you tucked your hair behind your ear, the way your fingers tapped against the mug when you were thinking. He hated that he was noticing, hated that he found any of it interesting. He took a sip of the coffee and scowled when it tasted good, because of course it did.

“You do this shit for everyone?” he asked, breaking the silence.

You looked at him, “What do you mean?”

“This.” He gestured around. “Invite random guys to your house, make them coffee, act like you care.”

You laughed, a light sound that made his chest feel weird. “No. Just you.”

He didn’t know what to say to that, so he just looked away, taking another sip of coffee. He didn’t do nice. He wasn’t used to nice. This was weird.

You kept doing these little things for him — small acts of kindness he didn’t ask for and definitely didn’t deserve. You’d leave extra food by the house when you knew he’d be there, sometimes even a blanket or a pillow you said you didn’t need. You’d offer to let him use the house again, and every once in a while, he’d accept, hating how much he craved the simple comfort of a shower or a bed.

And all the while, he stayed the same — gruff, sarcastic, always trying to push you away with his attitude. But you didn’t go. You took his crap and came back.

One night, after a particularly rough day where everything seemed to go wrong, he found himself standing outside your house again. Your parents were out of town again, and he didn’t have anywhere else to go. He hated that he was here, hated that he needed this, but he knocked anyway.

You opened the door, your face lit up with that familiar smile. “Rafe,” you said, voice warm. “Come in.”

He liked the way his name sounded on your lips.

He hesitated, but he did. You led him to the living room, and he noticed a few things this time — the family photos on the walls, a vase of flowers on the table, the soft throw blanket on the couch.

Your home was nothing like his, but it felt… safe.

They sat in silence for a while, and he noticed how you didn’t bother him with questions, didn’t try to fix anything. You just sat there, close but not too close, letting him breathe. He found himself looking at you more, catching the way your lips curled up at the corners, how your eyes seemed to soften whenever they landed on him. He felt something strange, something he hadn’t felt in a long time.

He sat on that big couch, staring at his busted-up hands, trying to ignore the way his heart pounded in his chest. You were just a few feet away, eyes flicking over to him now and then, like you were waiting for him to speak. But he didn’t know what to say.

He felt… uncomfortable. Not because of the place, or you. No, never because of you. But because of this strange feeling that kept crawling up his spine, making him feel restless.

You were sitting on the arm of the chair, legs tucked under you, looking at him with that familiar, gentle expression that made him feel like maybe he wasn’t such a screw-up. He didn’t know what to do with that. You were the kind of girl who should have nothing to do with him. Yet here you were, again and again, showing up, like you didn’t know any better.

He cleared his throat, trying to push back whatever weird tension was building between you. “So… your parents,” he muttered. “They’re out of town a lot?”

You nodded, sighing, “Yeah. They travel for work. I’m used to it.”

“Must be nice,” he said, but his voice came out rougher than what he was going for. He didn’t know how to do gentle and he was still half-convinced you were going to kick him out or tell him you had enough of his crap.

“Sometimes,” you replied, “But it gets lonely, too.”

He wasn’t expecting that. He glanced at you trying to read you. He knew you weren’t looking for sympathy; you were just stating a fact.

He wasn’t sure what made him ask, but he did anyway. “Why do you keep helping me?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “I— I don’t know. I guess… I just see something in you. Something good.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “There’s nothin' good in me.”

“There is,” you insisted. “I see it. Even if you don’t.”

He felt his chest tighten, and he had to look away. “You’re wrong.”

“Maybe,” you said quietly, “but I don’t think so.”

He feel your eyes on him, could feel the way his pulse was racing under his skin. He hated it. Hated that he wanted to believe you, wanted to feel whatever it was you seemed to see in him.

“You’re too good,” he muttered. “Too good for someone like me.”

You laughed softly. “You don’t know me as well as you think, Rafe.”

He glanced up, surprised by the boldness in you. You were so soft most days it always threw him off when you took the reins. You were closer now, leaning forward just slightly, eyes fixed on his. He felt that breathtaking tension tightening again.

Before he could think better of it, he spoke, voice coming out meeker than what he was going for, “You really think there’s somethin' good in me?”

You nodded, not taking your eyes off of him for a second, “Yeah, I do.”

He swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry. He didn’t know what he was doing, didn’t know what possessed him, but before he could stop himself, he reached out, his hand finding yours. You didn’t pull away. Didn’t flinch in fear or scrunched up your nose in disgust.

Instead, your fingers tightened around his, and his breath caught in his throat.

“Why?” he asked again, desperate.

 “Because I just do.”

Something snapped in him then, something he’d been holding back for too long. He moved closer, his other hand reaching up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing against your delicate skin. You didn’t pull away again, only leaning into his touch. 

He hesitated, just for a moment. “I’m not— I-I’m not a good guy,” he murmured.

You smiled again, softer this time, the way he hoped you only did for him, “I don’t need you to be.”

He didn’t get it, but he didn’t have time to figure it out.

He leaned in and kissed you. It was clumsy at first — just a touch of lips, a bit hesitant. But then you kissed him back and suddenly he understood those stupid cliché novels his mom used to read when he was younger. He’d never kissed anyone before. 

He was too aware of how inexperienced they both were, of the way his lips barely brushed against yours. He felt stiff and unsure, like he didn’t know if he was doing it right. But it felt right. It wasn’t smooth or perfect — there was hesitancy and uncertainty, but it was real. He felt your hand touch his cheek, your fingers warm and trembling just a little.

His hand slid from your cheek down to your neck, pulling you closer, fingers curling into your hair. He couldn’t get enough. It was messy, frantic, his heart racing like it was trying to break out of his chest, and for once, he didn’t care. He felt your breath hitch against his lips, the warmth of you pressing into him, and all the walls he’d built up, all the reasons he’d given himself to push you away, disappeared. 

Your hands found their way to his chest, fingers gripping the fabric of his old shirt like you didn’t want to let go, and that did something to him. Made him feel more alive than he had in a long time. Every time he kissed you, it was like he was drowning in you, like nothing else mattered except for this — your lips, your skin, the way your body pressed against his.

He pulled away, just for a second, eyes wide and breathing heavy, like he couldn’t believe what had just happened.

He looked at you, cheeks flushed, lips swollen and wet from the kiss, and damn, you looked beautiful. More beautiful than he ever let himself admit before.

But then you smiled, that same heart-shattering smile, and it was like you were pulling him back in, “You don’t have to be afraid,” you whispered.

“I’m not…” he started, but even he didn’t believe it. Because he was. He was terrified as hell of this, of you, of the way you made him feel like he wasn’t a complete mess. But before he could say more, you kissed him again, and this time, he didn’t hold back.

He didn’t think about what he should or shouldn’t be doing, didn’t overanalyze the way his hands moved from your waist to your back, pulling you closer until there wasn’t any space left between you. You melted into him, your body warm and soft, like you belonged there and he felt like he was burning up from the inside out.

His hands roamed, exploring, memorizing the curve of your waist, the way your body fit so perfectly against his. Every little sound you made, every breathless gasp, made him feel like he was on fire.

You broke apart again, both of you panting, and he rested his forehead against yours, eyes closed, trying to catch his breath.

“This is crazy,” he muttered, his voice all shaky.

You giggled, the sound making his chest tighten in the best way.

“Maybe. But I don’t care.”

He opened his eyes, staring into yours, and he knew you meant it.

You didn’t care about the Kook vs. Pogue thing, about the stupid rules that had been drilled into them from birth. You just cared about him. He didn’t know how to let himself want something good, something real. But he wanted you. God, did he want you.

From that night on, everything changed. 

You started seeing each other in secret, meeting up when your parents were out of town or sneaking off to some hidden spot by the beach at night where no one would find you. Every time he saw you, it was like a high he couldn’t get enough of. You’d kiss, talk, hold each other like you were the only two people in the world, and he’d forget about all the shit in his life. Forget about the fact that he was supposed to be a screw-up who didn’t deserve someone like you.

You sat side by side at the dock, feet dangling just above the water, the tips of your shoes barely touching the surface. Something was calming about the sound of the gentle waves lapping against the dock, the world feeling small and distant for once, like it was just the two of you.

He leaned back on his hands, staring out at the horizon, not saying much. He’d been quiet today, more so than usual. You nudged him lightly with your shoulder.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

He snorted, shaking his head slightly. “You don’t want ‘em. They’re not worth much.”

You rolled your eyes, nudging him again. “C’mon. You’ve been quiet all day. What’s going on in that head of yours?”

He hesitated, glancing down at the water, his fingers curling into the wood of the dock. He was biting back whatever was eating at him. He wasn’t the type to open up easily, you knew that, but he wanted to, for you. You wanted to know him, all of him, not just the fake exterior he put up for everyone else to see.

“You ever think about… like, how different your life would be if shit didn’t go so sideways?” he asked, his voice low, almost like he wasn’t sure he wanted to say it out loud.

You frowned, turning to face him, “What do you mean?”

He exhaled sharply through his nose, running a hand through his hair.

“My mom, she… she used to date these losers. Real pieces of shit, y’know? Guys who’d roll through, thinking they owned the place, treating me like I was some kind of burden just because I was around.”

It wasn’t easy for him to say it, but he was doing it anyway, like the words had been stuck inside him for years.

“She didn’t really care what they did. As long as they paid for her booze, she was cool with whatever. They’d knock me around sometimes, tell me I wasn’t worth shit. But she never did anything about it.” He paused, swallowing hard, his gaze fixed on the water because he couldn’t look at you. “One of ‘em got real bad. Fucker hit me so hard one night, I thought I was gonna pass out. And when I told her… she didn’t care. Told me I was a liar. Said I probably deserved it.”

“Rafe…” you whispered, reaching out to take his hand. He didn’t pull away this time, just let you hold it, his fingers squeezing yours a little too tightly.

“I tried to stick it out,” he continued, his voice quieter now. “Tried to stay for as long as I could. But one day, she kicked me out. Told me I was too much trouble, and she didn’t need me around anymore.” He laughed, but it was hollow, bitter. “I guess I wasn’t worth the space I took up.”

You were quiet. He liked that about you, that you didn’t try and get his thoughts out of his head, just let him do his thing, on his own time. There was nothing that could make up for the kind of pain he’d been through. You just squeezed his hand tighter, and he just knew you wished you could take some weight off his shoulders.

“That’s why you were in that house?” You brushed your lips against his shoulder.

“Yeah.”

It was hard for him to talk about this stuff. Hell, it was hard for him to talk at all when it came to anything real. You just sat there, holding his hand, being there. That was what made you different. Most people didn’t wait for him. They’d get frustrated, give up, move on.

You just... stayed. And that scared him almost as much as it comforted him.

“You didn’t deserve that.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “Doesn’t matter. Deserve’s got nothin’ to do with it.”

You shifted closer, your knees touching his now. “It matters to me.”

He didn’t understand how you could look at him like that, like he was worth something.

“You knew my name.”

You nodded, “You delivered fresh seafood to the house once.”

His eyes nearly popped out from their sockets, “I was fourteen.”

“Yeah?”

“And you remembered that?”

Your brows shot up like he’d said the dumbest thing ever. “Obviously.”

His breath caught, and before he could stop himself, he reached out, pulling you into his lap. His hands found your waist, desperate, almost frantic, holding onto you like you were the only thing keeping him grounded.

"You shouldn’t—" he started, but the words died on his lips because you were already kissing him, and it was like everything stopped. The world, his thoughts, all the shit that weighed him down. It was just you, your lips, the way your hands tangled in his hair, and the soft sounds you made against his mouth.

He kissed you harder, more urgently, like he was trying to prove something to himself — that he could have this, that he could deserve this. His hands slid up your back, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. His lips moved against yours and he felt like he was falling apart and putting himself back together all at once.

When he pulled back, just enough to look at you, his chest was heaving, and you were looking at him with that same softness that made his stomach twist.

"How—How the hell did I get this lucky?" His voice cracked, just a little. He hadn’t meant to say it, but the words spilled out anyway. 

You smiled, brushing your thumb across his cheek, and he realized then that his face was wet. He hadn’t even noticed the tears slipping down, hadn’t noticed the way he was trembling.

"You deserve this" you whispered. 

That was it.

That was the breaking point. A choked sob escaped him, and before he could stop himself, he crashed his lips against yours again, kissing you so hard it hurt, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t get enough of you, couldn’t hold back the way he felt like he’d been waiting his whole life for this moment. For you.

His hands cupped your face, fingers trembling as he kissed you again and again, like he was afraid you’d disappear if he stopped. 

And as his tears mixed with your kiss, he realized that for the first time in his life, he wasn’t running.

He wasn’t pushing you away. He was falling, hard and fast, and he didn’t care. Because for once, he was exactly where he wanted to be.

[waitineedaname]

i was thinking my little thoughts while falling asleep last night, and a concept occurred to me: what if binghe learned about the system not from shen qingqiu, but from shang qinghua

look, he likes shang qinghua alright. he's pretty disinterested in p much anyone who isn't shen qingqiu, but on the list of People Luo Binghe Tolerates, shang qinghua is relatively high. he gave him advice on wooing sqq, after all, and sqq likes his company, so binghe tolerates his shang-shishu

but the thing is, shang qinghua is a spy. has been for decades. binghe knows this. really, everyone knows this at this point, which isn't a great look for a spy, but still. and since shang qinghua is a spy for mobei-jun, who is a subordinate for luo binghe, then technically shang qinghua is also working for him, but you don't get to the position of demon emperor without a healthy amount of suspicion for everyone in your court

so he decides to test shang qinghua a little bit. nothing major, just a little poking around in his dreams. he starts out with a subtle touch, just sifting through his memories. most of it is what he expected. he sees his time on an ding as a disciple and then later as peak lord, he sees him working for mobei-jun. he sees mobei-jun in some compromising situations, which he files away for later, and then sees him in an entirely different flavor of compromising situations, and binghe immediately decides to act like he never saw that

then he decides to take a more direct approach and starts nudging the dreams in other directions, to see how he might react to certain scenarios, test his loyalty. he expects shang qinghua to act cowardly, or bluff his way through a situaton, maybe even draw his sword if pushed far enough

what he doesn't expect is for shang qinghua to frown at the changes luo binghe made and go "I didn't write it like this"

what

binghe is so bewildered by that response that he loses his grip on the dream for a second, and before he knows it, shang qinghua has spun the dream scenario back into the way the scene originally played out. he steps back and looks satisfied. "there we go," he says. "that's how it went. you know, if I'd known I'd be dealing with this scene myself, I would've written it differently"

what the hell does that mean?

fascinated, luo binghe continues to test him. most of the time, when he toys with someone's dream, they're completely unaware of the changes. shang qinghua, despite not seeming aware that he's lucid dreaming, seems very aware of how each scene should go. except for, strangely, many of the scenes that binghe himself was in. binghe pulls up one from his disciple days, one of the times he remembered shang qinghua coming to qing jing on some errand. he hadn't even changed anything yet, had just let the dream version of his younger self launch himself at shizun in a tacklehug, but shang qinghua tsks and takes the reins from him before he can make any edits. "sorry bing-ge, but that was just way too out of character," shang qinghua says. the dream copy of luo binghe's younger self is sent further away, watching the peak lords with a sullen gaze. he's skinnier than binghe remembers being at this age, and one of his eyes is swollen with a purple bruise. that doesn't make any sense, luo binghe thinks. he hadn't been beaten on qing jing peak for years at this point.

the shen qingqiu beside shang qinghua in the dream stands with his back straight as a ruler, and when his gaze lands on luo binghe, he sneers behind his fan. shang qinghua sighs. "cucumber-bro really wasn't as good of an actor as he thought he was. he's way too soft to ever seem like the original goods."

alarmed, luo binghe dispels the dream and steps out of it entirely. sure, he knows shen qingqiu's personality changed almost overnight when he had that qi deviation. everyone knew that. he avoided questioning it much, unwilling to look a gift horse in the mouth when it meant having a shizun that cared for him

but shang qinghua. shang qinghua seems to know something more about shen qingqiu's personality change. something he's not sharing. luo binghe didn't like the idea that one of his subordinates could be hiding something as vital as this from him

well, this had been a test of his spy's loyalties, hadn't it? perhaps he should make a visit to an ding. he had some questions.

[akanemnon]

I wanted to create a version of Frara/Squeezo in your style (which I really like) along with a possible form for the Dark World. I’ve made three versions of the same drawing, but now I don’t know which one to choose, so I’d love your opinion or advice as an artist. (I draw on physical paper because it’s easier for me that way.)

There’s not much to say about the "Light World" forms; I simply took the sprite of Frara/Squeezo and adapted it into a drawing. There are a few differences, but I’ll briefly mention them:

The color of the fringe changes: in the first version, it’s rainbow-colored because I thought it looked nice; in the second, it’s gray as a sort of contrast to the first one; and finally, in the third, it’s red, like the classic fringe of Kris and Frisk.

The color of the pants and socks, some details of the sweater, and the hairstyle also change. Lastly, in the third version, there’s a visible eye (to avoid making it look too much like Kris) and a kind of pseudo-nose (which I’m not sure came out well).

The Dark World forms are more interesting:

In the first version, I was inspired by a simple knight, and I used all the colors I had available, thinking it would look good that way. The skin is gray to resemble a doppelgänger in fantasy games (since Frara/Squeezo is a kind of "double" of Frisk/Chara).

The second version, on the other hand, is inspired by a dark wizard (it seemed cool), with white and gray hair. The cape resembles Chara’s shirt as a sort of parallel, since Frisk has a cape with colors similar to Kris’s shirt, and vice versa.

The third version is inspired by this image:

(Doppelgänger from Forgotten Realms).

In this version, I added a weapon, as I realized I hadn’t included one in the previous versions. If you’re wondering why I chose an umbrella as the weapon, it’s because I found this fan art during my research:

(Credit to: @Art-in-heart4va)

I thought it was a cute idea. Finally, I added a few minor details.

Bonus: If you’re wondering why there are red cross-outs on the drawings and why I scribbled on them, it’s because I didn’t want to ruin the drawing.

I tried to come up with a made-up name for Frara/Squeezo. In the first version, he was called John (literally the first name that came to mind...). In the second version, I called him Ulan (because it was the first name that started with “U” that came to mind. Why the "U"? Well, take the first letters of the names Frisk, Chara, and Kris, put them together, and you’ll figure it out (; ). Finally, in the third version, I gave up and still haven’t decided on a name for him...

P.S.: I’m sorry for writing such a long text, but these drawings are very close to my heart, and I wanted to specify every single detail.

Hi there! Thanks for showing me all this art and going though your thought process behind it. I couldn't help but cobble something together on my own, based on all these concept pieces. You might find bits from all designs in there. Also played around with the colors a little, because I do like me some color theory.

Anyway, I REALLY hope you don't mind! I don't wanna undermine your work!

[yeollie-plz]

Rom-Com

Charles Leclerc x GN! Reader

Synopsis: You just wanted to buy some merch, you didn’t realize you’d return with a man too.

Genre: fluff, angst

Warnings: kissing, tbh I don’t think anything else it’s too fluffy

Gif credits to owners!

A/N: So this literally came to me in a dream and I just had to write it! Ik the concept is a bit shaky but tbh I didn’t get much detail from dream me so!

Arriving in Las Vegas, you were over the moon to see the GP that was being held there this weekend. It was your first time ever getting to go to one in person and to say you were excited would be an understatement.

When your friend first suggested the idea, you never thought you’d be able to swing it. But, here you were landing in Sin City!

Then your friend suggested to go to the secret pop-up shop that she had saw online. It seemed just a bit sus but hey you wanted some exclusive merch. So you agreed.

The shop was cute, they had merch you had never seen before! As you looked through the various items, you couldn’t help but notice a crowd drawing towards a certain corner of the shop.

The shop was small, only letting a few people in at a time, so for them all to be so close together. Something had to be going on.

Curiosity got the best of you as you let your body ease towards the crowd. Whispers getting louder as you got closer. Hearing words of ‘a driver being here’.

You rose to your tippy toes, trying to get a glimpse of anything. As your neck craned you saw a head of brown hair, right as a camera flashed. You lost your balance, letting yourself recenter when you landed on the ground. Was there really a driver here?

As you moved around the outer ring of the circle, you tried to get any view that you could. Long since losing your friend, you decided you might as well just push forward. As nicely as you could, you wiggled your way through the crowd trying to decipher all the commotion.

That’s when you saw him. In all his glory. Charles Leclerc.

It couldn’t be! The Charles Leclerc was in a random pop-up shop, down a random alley in Las Vegas? It was like something from a meet-cute in a romantic comedy. No! It was like an event from a fanfiction!

And just like how the fanfiction would play out, you waited for your turn to acknowledge the boy and when he finally locked eyes with you, sparks. You stumbled over your words a bit, trying to find the right way to extend your appreciation for him.

He laughed lightly as you tried to find your words. He gestured to the couch that lined the wall, willing you to sit and as you did the camera flash went off again. It seemed to snap you into reality, remembering that this was just a PR thing. Some fan service that he was doing.

You let the pictures be taken, smiling as brightly as you could with your nerves the way they were. That’s when on his own accord, Charles closed the distance between the two of you on the couch and threw his arm over your shoulder.

Your smile instantly dropped, a look of shock replaced it. The last camera flash went off, leaving white lights in your eyes.

The arm that was around your shoulders helped to gesture you to stand. You stood and whispered a thank you before scurrying off.

As you meandered around the store, trying to find your friend, you found yourself glancing back to the area Charles was at. Each time his eyes met yours, something flashing behind them. It was almost inviting.

You turned a corner finally finding your friend. As you scolded her for wandering off without you, a voice sounded behind you.

“So what do you think, do you think if I wrapped this enough it would make it home in one piece?”

You turned to see Charles standing there holding up a snow globe. His head was tilted in question, a smirk playing on his lips.

“I-um I think with enough it would be fine, sure.” You confirmed.

“What did you pick out?” He gestured to the shirt you were clutching, you hadn’t realized how firmly until he pointed it out. Walking closer to you he grabbed the shirt from your now limp hands and held it up, considering it.

“Nice choice. Although you should’ve went with Ferrari red. It would look good on you.” He said with a smile, slipping the shirt back in your hands and leaving you two alone without a word.

“First of all, was that Charles Leclerc? Second of all, was Charles Leclerc just flirting with you?” Your friend asked in shock. She grabbed your shoulders as if shaking you would loosen some answers from you.

“Yes it was and no he wasn’t.” Brushing her hands off you as you spoke.

“Then what’s this?” She grabs a piece of paper that had somehow made it into your hands, bunched with the shirt. “His number!” She confirms after looking at it.

She holds it out for you to see before whisking it away and running through the store. You chase closely after her. Not only are you trying to catch her, but the number of the super hot F1 driver.

Finally you do and you snatch the number from her death grip. Glancing down you see it truly is Charles Leclerc’s number. Your eyes go wide.

“So are you going to text him?” She asks, hand on her hip.

“Is that even a question?”

It’s almost three months later when you see Charles Leclerc again. The two of you have been texting almost nonstop in that time. You could feel yourself slowly falling for him. You just hoped he felt the same way.

When he said was coming to visit New York and would like to see you, you were overjoyed. Somehow that made you even happier than when you had gone to your first GP.

Charles made you feel like a teenager again. A teenager with a huge crush on a cute boy, that is. But you were grateful for that, it felt good to feel this way.

Now to just get him to say it back.

That entire weekend, you were on a mission to get a love confession. You had pulled out all the stops. Booking museum tickets. Walking Central Park. You even got the two of you tickets to ice skate and you were terrible at ice skating!

You were writing a script to your own romance. First the meet cute, now the fun montage set to an upbeat hit. All that was left was the grand gesture.

And that’s where you were stuck. Usually there was a conflict in the movie that would call for that grand gesture. But you and Charles got along too well, you didn’t see any intense relationship ending arguments happening any time soon.

That was until someone finally took a picture of you and Charles out one day. Honestly, you were surprised it took that long. It wasn’t like you minded it had leaked, you were just friends hanging out, technically. Charles’s PR team on the other hand, had a big problem with it.

Ten minutes he had been in the other room, whispering yelling into his phone. Suddenly he yelled something like a goodbye and rushed out the door of his bedroom and into the living space of the huge hotel suite he had booked.

He sighed, “Sorry, they are just so dramatic about everything. One picture and they say it’s the end of my career. I drive for a living! I’m not a puppet!”

“Would it really be that bad if you were with someone?” ‘With me’ is what you wanted to say but you didn’t have the heart to.

“They think it would be. But I don’t see why it would matter if I dated anyone, I’ve done it in the past.” He sighs again, running his hand through his hair.

“Is it because I’m a nobody? They want some big star to boost your name?” You looked down at your hands.

“It has nothing to do with you! They just think anybody is an issue! I told them we are friends! I just-maybe you should go home. I’ll call a car. I’m sorry.”

With that, you leave. Not sure what to say.

The day of his flight home comes and Charles has not come to see you since that day you left his hotel. You hadn’t reached out to him and he hadn’t reached out to you.

There was no reason to feel sad about him saying you were friends, you knew that’s all you were and any silly little feelings you had couldn’t change that.

A knock sounds at your door. You glance through the peephole, seeing Charles standing there. Your brows furrow in confusion as you open the door for him.

“What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be on a plane?”

He seems out of breath as he answers, “I couldn’t leave, not without saying what I need to say.”

“Okay, go on.” You urge sweetly.

“So I know I said we were friends but you and I both know we are more than that. I mean hell the first time I saw you I think I fell in love. Then I played this game with myself. I thought you would never love me back and I was a fool for even trying. Then you seemed to reciprocate my flirting and I was elated. For the first time I felt whole. But I think I got scared when the pictures leaked.” He paused like he was contemplating what to say next.

You reached your hand to his cheek, rubbing slowly. He leaned into the motion, seemingly giving him his confidence back.

“I got scared that you wouldn’t want a life in the spotlight and I could never give you that normal romance that you deserved.” Another pause.

“When I asked you about your favorite movie, you couldn’t give me just one. You gave me a genre, I went home and watched every available rom-com I could find just to understand you. You don’t need textbook perfect, you just need perfect for you. You need your rom-com.”

A smile creeps into your lips as he searches your eyes. You grab the front of his shirt, pulling him into you. Passionately, you kiss him, silently giving him your answer.

He laughs as he pulls away, breathless, “I guess you could call this the grand gesture.”

Your heart skips a beat.

“I guess you could.”

[onyichii]

Shushu Possessed Amalia Doodles

Can Yugo save Amalia (and the kingdom)? Or will she be lost forever to the power of the shushu?

This idea came to me as I was designing a dress for an AU Yugo x Amalia drawing (I'm still working on). I have 7 dress concepts for this drawing. However, this dress design was...🤔...sexy and domineering...and kind of felt a little evil (after I colored it black).

Thus SHUSHU AMALIA was born!

Shushu Amalia is the embodiment of dangerous plants. The tree horns growing from her head are a symbol of how much control the shushu has. Plus, they have a poisonous sap. Touch them and you're a goner.

All plant life Shushu Amalia creates is poisonous. And yes, even her clothes are poisonous too. so you can't touch her (with your bare hands).

Her clothes are also based on poisonous plants and flowers. We have (from left to right) the…

Daffodil dress: Yellow petal collar and bra with a double split leaf dress (⭐ this is my favorite and the dress that started it all!)

Foxglove unitard: Fuchsia petal sleeve dark green romper with dark green thigh highs. (Her butts so big it makes the romper look like a unitard)

Deadly Nightshade pant set: Purple petal crop top with purple bellbottom floral pants. This style is kind of giving Megan the Stallion! Haha

Castor Bean skirt set: Castor Leaf top+ leaf skirt with red castor bean spikey earrings + thorn choker

I also drew an Uma Thurman inspired Poison Ivy outfit—which was a fun idea. I could see that as her battle outfit tbh. I also added a tiny redesign of her current outfit but with a poison ivy leaf belt.

I do have a dress based on Angel Trumpet (poisonous flower) but it's cute and I don't want to put evil Amalia in it. But then the irony of evil Amalia in a cute dress is also fun. It reminds me of evil people ironically wearing bright colors like white or pink. I might post the concept art when I finish my Yumalia drawing.

I tried to make her demon marks leaf-or-tree-like but went back and made it regular. I should have used a smaller brush for the leaf vein demon marking 🤦‍♀️

We also have a chibi shushu Amalia with an Aurora voodoo doll. she is about to impale her ☠️. The shushu is also not a fan of Aurora and her daddy.

I had fun with this. Thinking of outfits was challenging but fun! I love drawing revealing clothing—and it was fun dressing her up in sexy clothes to murder her enemies and manipulate minds.

I kinda wanted to put mushrooms on her feet as a sign that she is infected. But didn't...oh well. Instead, imagine she leaves behind deadly mushrooms as she walks.

She is my demonic plant queen. 💚😈💜

[vanilla-rainbows]

Behold, my ugly sketches! These are random moments from my WIR AU (poorly explained here). I've been feeling a little drained lately, so this is the best I can do at the moment. Though I must admit, working on this silly project has been kind of therapeutic for me. It's not just the act of creating a new character, but King Candy/Turbo in particular is genuinely so much fun to draw (and I think you'll see that for yourself very soon lol).

Also, I cannot fully express how thankful I am for all your nice comments and tags 🥹. They really motivate me to work even harder.

Under the cut I included a bit of an explanation on Luna's character, if you want to read it!

As I said before, her name is Luna and she's been present in the arcade since the '80s.

Knowing that Fix-it Felix Jr. took inspiration from the first Donkey Kong, I wanted to do something similar with another great classic. And I'm a huge Zelda fan, so...

I know the first Zelda game didn't exactly release for the arcade, but the idea was too tempting for me. Later on I discovered Gauntlet, an actual arcade game very similar in concept to what I had in mind. And so I tried to design a character that could belong in an ipotetical adventure game but with a cute, simple aesthetic. I'm definetely no expert when it comes to retro gaming, so I apologize if my design doesn't look very accurate. All I can say is that AT LEAST I tried to make her design believable to the movie.

In her first sketches she looked a lot like Link, and while that could have been considered ok given my goal, I didn't want to simply make a copy. Ralph and Felix are inspired by Donkey Kong and Mario, but they don't look like them. So I tried incorporating new elements that could help distinguishing her more. She became less of a warrior and more of a mage. Her weapon went from being an ultra powerful axe to a magic paintbrush that could also serve as a broom to fly on. I'm still not sure on this one though. I like the concept, but I wonder if it isn't a bit too much.

On the topic of the game itself, I'm still debating a few things, but here's the core idea behind it: I'd like to explore what happens when a game just… isn’t played anymore. At least like it used to in the past. And its characters are are faced with the prospect of losing their home and purpose forever. That's definetely going to be one of the main conflicts of my AU (and the thing that makes Luna's decision to be Turbo/KC's guardian a controversial one - she just made everything worse).

That's all for now. Take care everyone, I'll be back 😈.

[yuri-is-online]

Hello a TDB fan here

I have been playing the game for a week and Rui is soo fine. If it's fine with you can you write something about MC and him kissing through sheer cloth. I had seen this scene in one of the chapters of freaking romance (webtoon) and that's all I can think about after knowing Rui's curse.

notes: they/them used for MC, extremely angsty and pining, heavily inspired by his Ephemeral Bouquet card (because you can't give a man who can't touch a skill called Envisioned Future and not expect me to play with it) More Tokyo Debunker content can be found on my masterlist here (x)

I altered the request slightly? As I was thinking about the specifics of Rui's curse and his bride card a bit too much and the concept of him longing to get married sort of took over, apologies (シ_ _)シ

There are small porous holes in tulle. It's meant to make the fabric breathable. See through. Ideal for a bridal veil, which is not what you are wearing but the thought has wormed it's way into his brain now. Rui can't unsee it.

The low light shines in the sages ring, a blonde hair falls out of place and your hand moves towards your own temple. You smile; he remembers what it feels like to touch someone. He thinks there was a weight to it, a shift. Was there warmth? There wasn't a taste, or has it been so long that he's forgotten?

"You may now seal this union with a kiss." His bare skin moves through the tulle, eyes closed as his smile grows with eagerness to feel- nothing. There was a person in his arms, but his eyes open to shimmering dust. All that is left of you in his grasp is sand, but the damned veil remains. He knows what he did to deserve this, but still-

"Rui?" The glass Rui's holding slips from his fingers as he laughs, sheepishly he tells himself. Just a little of his boyish whimsy and not aching relief at seeing you still alive. "Are you sure you don't need any help?" You don't move too close, just to the opposite side of the bar. Your costume has gloves too, white would be such a nice color on you but Romi put you in grey. The same color as his hair.

"Whoops, sorry 'bout that (name)!" He snatches up the broom before you can go for it and sweeps up the shards of glass. "I didn't scare you or anything did I?"

"No I'm ok." You draw yourself up a little taller. The veil makes it a bit hard to see him, but you think there's something just a bit off with Rui. More so than usual. "Are you sure there isn't anything I can do to help? Professor Moby-"

"Nope~ I've got this on lock promise!" He sure does, the task is practically already complete but it's not really what you were asking about. "Sides you can't just let that guy push off all his work onto you! You're still a student just like everyone else there's got to be something you want to do at the fair." Rui's back to smiles and laughter. If you hadn't been paying attention you never would have noticed there was a slight dip in his mood.

Hook. "Maybe." You noticed though. Line. "I haven't gotten much of a chance to look around it just yet."

Sinker. "Well that just won't do!" Rui always seems so... happy at the thought of spending time with you. It makes your heart ache. "Just give me a second to lock up the bar and I'll take you around! We can make it a date!"

~~~~

"Wow what a unique choice for prizes!" Rui says cheerfully as you politely examine the masks this Hotarubi student has displayed at her booth. He had been talking himself up just a second ago about how he could win you a nice stuffed animal but finding a booth with only a few people around it had proved difficult. "Did you make these yourself?"

"Thank you." The girl bows respectfully and gestures towards the targets behind her with a set of darts. "Care to test your skill?" Rui winks at you.

"Can we have two sets?" Might as well have some fun and help the poor girl's numbers out.

"Of course." She sets the darts down on the counter and settles back into her chair.

"Aww don't you have faith in me?" Rui smoulders just the bit, but you think he's having fun. "I'll have you know I'm pretty good at this."

"You'd better be Mr. Bar Tender." You wink and his facade breaks just the bit. "But I'm not that bad myself."

Rui barely hears the rest of what you say, something about a bet. Something about how if you win then he has to do anything you say. He probably shouldn't agree so quickly, but he wants to be normal. Wants to pretend that this is a normal date, that you would have noticed him if he had flirted with you. That he still would have had enough confidence not to wiff every shot. Not that he feels shame for losing to you, the sting comes from not being able to-

"Do you see a mask you like?" Your smug voice is so cute, he wishes the prizes were too.

"Ahaha not really?" Now that he's staring them down, it feels like he's being mocked. Doesnt he wear enough of these already? "You're the winner here! Shouldn't you pick out which one you think suits me best?"

"Then I wouldn't pick any of them." You snort, but pick one anyway. You twirl it around in your hands and hold it up against your face. "How about this one? Sort of looks like me don't you think?" He doesn't. The mask has none of your features, it is lifeless and hollow. You lift the mask up to his face and gently tap his lips. He closes his eyes to play into it because that's what this is right? A joke?

So why is there a face behind the mask?

Nakedness would be less intimate than this, there would be room for him to lie and bluster if he didn't have his clothes. You taste like clay, he can feel the push and pull of your lips against the barrier. Rui gasps against it, opens his mouth and presses himself closer. His hands grip the lapels of his jacket, you are so so warm and alive. Your gasp for air is muffled and Rui pauses out of instinct against the mask.

"Please." He doesn't know what he's asking for. He doesn't want you to stay, this was such a risky move he's almost angry at you for it. He wishes, he wants for something he cannot have. You feel Rui smile, his kiss is gentle against the mask and finally you think you get him to say something just closing in on being real. "I hope you live forever."

The polite cough of the girl running the stand interrupts whatever you had wanted to say in response.

[abiiors]

HI HELLO HI this is a half-formed, fully horny, wedding guest ross concept. i'm not fully back to writing yet but ross in white is a damn good muse!!!!

cw: minors dni!!! smut, finger fucking in a bathroom, alcohol consumption, smoking, typos probably-i wrote this at work

you haven't really met a lot of john's friends yet, that's probably why you don't remeber seeing this handsome stranger across the bar, cigarette dangling between his fingers, a glass of whiskey in his hands that he sips from so lazily.

he's busy in conversation, you're busy gawking at him, wondering how you've never seen him before (and this you're sure of because let's face it, there's no way you're forgetting this man if you'd ever had the chance to talk to him before.) much to your surprise, he's alone--well, his group of friends is there and he seems particularly close with the groom but there's no date in sight. at least you hope not, because you've definitely caught him staring a few times--long, hard, lingering stares that make you feel like you're about to spontaneously combust.

"this seat taken?" he comes up from behind you just when you're think he's too busy socialising. you smile to yourself, throw him a coy smile too.

"not if you're the one asking."

"is that right?" he smirks and settles into the chair. up close he's hotter somehow--the white shirt clings to him in ways that have you drooling. he takes a quick drag of his cigarette and exhales the smoke to one side.

"ross," he introduces himself quickly, "no one told me there would be gorgeous bridesmaids."

you take a sip of your wine and tsk, "'m not a bridesmaid."

"so you're not off limits then?"

"off limits for...?"

he takes a sip of his whisky and leans in, almost like he's about to divulge a secret. then he looks you up and down slowly, gaze landing on your lips. you get the vague sense that he's undressing you in his head, and it sends heat swirling in your gut. "don't pretend like you weren't undressing me with your eyes, darling."

"and if i admitted to it?" you challenge, "what will you do about it?"

ross leans even closer, his breath fanning your face, his fingers are on your wrist, cool from the whiskey and deliciously callused. he draws circles on the skin. "i hear the first floor bathroom is not open to guests."

"is that right?" you mimic him, smirking when he nods.

"we can sneak in though. if you want?"

in one quick gulp you finish your wine and stand, smoothing down your dress that reaches just past your knees. he's up in an instant too, towering over you and so close that you can practically taste the heat radiating off him.

"lead the way," you giggle and he takes your hand in his.

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

the marble edges of the countertop dig into your ass, his fingers dig into your thighs, and yet all of that simply fades to the background when you kiss--hungry and feverish, teeth clashing against each other, your lip caught between his teeth until you hiss and he slips his tongue in.

his hand snakes down your side, effortlessly undoing the hidden zip until you feel cool breeze against your ribs, and then his fingers--his big, warm, rough fingers, tracing the visible skin, leaving goosebumps behind.

hastily you loosen his tie and move on to his belt, fumbling with it until it's almost undone. ross laughs into your mouth.

"so impatient!" he tsks, "is that how much you want me?"

"the undressing with my eyes didn't give it away?" you retort, and finally undo the belt, sliding it out of the hooks and off his waist. it goes flying in some corner of the bathroom, clinks against a wall.

"turn," he pants, and the moment you obey, his hand are on the straps, pulling them down and off your shoulders until the dress falls just below your chest.

"fuck, darling!" he curses at the sight in the mirror--you, utterly breathless with messy hair and swollen lips. your peaked nipples are fully on display now. his eyes turn darker, taking you in hungrily, then he moves.

the moment his fingers close around your nipples, you moan, head thrown back and eyes closed and ass backed into his crotch where you can feel him completely. he's painfully hard and deliciously big and just the thought of him in you makes you clench around nothing.

"oh you are testing me," you grit out, desperate to be touched. his fingers circling your nipples feels good, his hand snaking down your body feels good, but you need more and more and more, you need him until everything other memory in you brain is replaced by the feel of his cock pounding into you.

he laughs, mouth hot on your neck, "what would you like me to do then?"

"touch me!" you hiss.

"like this?" his hand snakes down, bunching up the fabric of your dress until it's lifted up and around your waist. you close your eyes in anticipation, waiting, shivering when his fingers trace the inside of your thigh--up and up and up and---

"oops," ross grins, and rips the flimsy lacy underwear off you in one smooth motion. you gape at him in the mirror, but then his fingers are on you, circling your clit at a delicious pace and the buzzing in your head grows so loud, you forget the stupid underwear and forget the cold marble digging into your hips.

you moan, clutching on to the countertops when your knees threaten to buckle. "yes--god, yes, like that..."

tentatively he dips a finger in you and your breath hitches. ross clearly likes the reaction because a moment later he plunges a finger inside you, rubbing your clit with his thumb, thrusting the finger in and out and in and out until without warning he adds a second and you have to bite on the palm of your hands to stifle your scream.

"fuck, you'll kill me with those sounds you make," he growls in your ear, and increases his pace. you barely care to answer, mumbling something in gibberish, entirely focused on the feel of his fingers dipping in and out of you, of his thumb pressing into your clit and his cock digging into your ass.

heaven...is exactly how you'd describe it. your body agrees too--tensing and tensing until you're panting and barely even controlling the moans anymore. fuck it, it's fine if anyone walks in at this point. you and ross can put on a good show!

"'m so close," you moan, "ke-keep going, shit!"

and he does, his other hand snakes around your hips, holding you in place so he can reach deeper, hit your sweet spot with his long, thick fingers every time. your head spins, overwhelmed, dizzy and---

there's no warning like there usually is, all you know is that your vision goes white, your body feels slack and with a cry you cum all over his hand, holding onto the countertop to stay upright somehow. ross holds you too, dipping his fingers in and out slowly so you can ride out your orgasm. his hand feels wet and slick, your release coating his fingers. he looks like he's enjoying it though...

the moment you open your eyes, he holds your jaw in place, making you look at him in the mirror, them he places his fingers on his tongue, licking and sucking every corner, making you watch the filthy scene unfolding, making you wetter by the minute somehow.

"delicious," he moans, right in your ear. "ready for round two?"

you bite your lip and nod. "ready for round two."

[holy-reference-in-a-username]

Hi, random comment but Holy shit your half-transformed Monster Tom with the mouth in his chest is so fucking cool! Also, monsterfucker Tord is so real! Can only imagine Tord's reaction when he saw Tom like half-transformed for the first time.

THANK YOU! im like. super happy with how i draw tom, monster form ABSOLUTELY included. i put like. way too much thought into it lmao but ive always been a fan of unique creature designs so what else is new.

RRRAAH RAMBLINGS UNDER THE CUT

so ive been obsessed with the concept since i figured out what exactly happened during PowerEdd, ~2015. tom was kind of already my favorite but i only got more obsessed now that i could draw him with claws and fangs now.

(lmao old art^ lets all point and laugh)

when i finally got back into eddsworld this most recent time and started thinking about how i'd draw the guys i already knew i wanted tom to be trans, so when i started sketching i drew him with top surgery scars... which kind of looked like teeth... and the canon monster design already has a mouth on its chest/head... it just worked!!

...

ok tangent time- i dont like the canon design very much (the combined head/torso is Very limiting for poses. F!!!) but i also have never really liked the popular fanon of just making monster tom a wolf with horns and a single eye. it always feels so reductive!! do you KNOW how many monsters there are out there who are just "big dog/cat plus one fantastical feature"???? MANY!! so i was pretty determined to find a design i liked (one that was both flexible and fairly unique) before putting it in anything.

...and the partial transformation cliche of just putting accessories on a character is SUPER boring to me. so i wanted something that would be an actual halfway point to a fucked up freaky creature that is only barely humanoid.

ok back on track it took me like fuckin forever to finally get the final ~50% design together. i tried mimicking the merged torsohead of the canon monster and it just left me disappointed. :/

the single blank eye instead of the rest of the face was a god damn GENIUS move i am so proud of it im pretty sure the first time i drew the design was the actual draft sketch for the comic. because fuck making reference sheets!! the design's in your mind, right???

oh! as for the second half of your ask, the first time Tord saw Tom half transformed was right here^^!!

then a couple weeks after that i managed to find a 100% design i liked that still looked like a reasonable end point. at which point i actually made a little ref sheet! BEFORE i used the design in a comic!! it hasnt gotten much use but i still like it :)

i took a much more wyrm-like horizontal approach as opposed to the vertical design of the original, but the arms (connected to top of spine, directly behind head) and legs (close to the bottom, optional) allow it to still match the original's body plan, especially from the front view. then extra legs, big spiky scales, even larger mouth... because who wants just a dog with horns am i right!!

ahaha so basically im incredibly proud of how the design turned out so thank u for liking it :))

[kitorin]

LOVE ALL PLAY. - ITOSHI RIN

TWO - ANNOYANCE

contents. one kys joke, swearing, nsfw jokes / mention (again, it's just me writing shidou as a typical high school boy), smau component :>

"Two nil."

You remain facing the front, just to avoid getting caught by the teacher for speaking in class again. But regardless your whisper is aggressive, full of energy and Rin doesn't have to see your face to comprehend the smug expression you were most likely donning.

The teacher smiles ever so slightly. "Well done y/n."

Rin glances to the side as the teacher goes back to scrawling on the blackboard, teal attempting to capture what was happening without drawing too much attention.

Oh how he wishes he could wipe that shit eating grin on your face.

He scowls at the sight of you. "The fuck are you on?"

"One from running the other day. The other from just now."

With a scoff, indignation rolls his eyes. "Correction: You did not beat me. You interrupted practice like the little shit you are."

"I won."

Rin hisses, careful not to be louder than the teacher's lecturing. "We weren't competing. And I never will. Quit being delusional."

Now, neither of you are bothering with remaining unnoticed by the teacher. "Why so defensive? You scared?"

"I have no reason to be." He scoffs. "Midget."

"'Course you resort to making fun of my height. That's how you know you're truly losing."

Suddenly, Rin's arm shoots up, to which the teacher addresses instantly. "Yes, Itoshi?"

"Because war literature's purpose is to illuminate the dictatorial essence of warfare, the injurious effects it inflicts on entire communities and the brutal changes it forces upon generations. The author utilises a form differing from the traditional novel, as visual representations can express what words cannot." It takes a lot not to smirk at the impressed gasps buzzing around the classroom, as he controls his voice to sound passionate, but not obsessive; calm but not emotionless. "Adopting a different form of literature simply allows the author to amplify and convey their ideas in a manner they desire."

By now, all eyes were on him. It's oddly exhilarating, he knows very well this moment doesn't compare to the 'point' you scored earlier.

"Very impressive, Itoshi. Please maintain that effort for the rest of the year."

Rin smiles, one that displays appreciation evidently, whilst being polite and not excessive. "Thank you sir."

"What the hell was that? That came out of nowhere, I thought you weren't paying attention as well."

"One point for a sufficient answer. Another for being 'very impressive. And one for every classmate that turned to stare." Satisfaction blossoms inside of him, he'd take a photo of the way shock paralysed your features and capture the moment forever. "First set's mine, and you didn't score shit."

"You don't get to decide that."

Indifference pulls his shoulders into a shrug. "You insisted on earning two points for your delusions. I'm just stating the obvious."

You're sweating, because of summer's insolence but Rin liked entertaining the idea that it was you getting flustered. A hand reaches your face to fan it. "I'm not delusional you're just crazy. Did you even understand what you just said, Mr 'dictatorial essence of warfare'?"

"Yeah." He replies, as if he simply didn't memorise synonymous words with an intelligent complexion. "Did you?"

Rin doesn't miss the exasperated roll of your eyes. "Obviously. You can't hide a simple message behind fancy words. All you had to say was that literature's form changes the manner of how it illustrates a piece's concepts."

"Only an average Joe would be satisfied with an answer like that."

You grumble whilst copying down notes. "And only an idiot would feel the need to hide behind obnoxiously long words."

He imbeds sarcasm into his tone. "I can't believe an honor roll student would say such things to a fellow peer. Anyways, hurry up and admit your loss."

"You know, I hope you trip over and ruin your uniform in the dirt during training today."

"And I hope you melt into a sad puddle, in the same way Hiori's ice block did."

Restraint disappears, as you raise your voice. "You—"

"l/n. I'm about to send you out into the hallway if you don't behave. That applies to anyone else in this class." Rin feigns innocence at the teacher's scolding, maintaining stoic composure. Conversely, you seemed to find it difficult to do so, apologising to the teacher.

Victorious, Rin whispers. "Second set. One nil. My way."

For some reason, you were oddly calm now. "Your fly's undone, by the way."

His eyes widen with alarm, glancing down and realizing too late that you were kidding. By then, his well sustained equanimity had gone out of the window.

"You fucking—"

"Itoshi. Get out of my class."

"Rin Rin, please help meee."

As if automatic, Rin frowns at the nickname and Isagi's pleading, pausing from his drink break. "With what?"

"Literature. I didn't understand a thing you said in class today..."

Neither did he. "Read 'The Book Thief'?"

Isagi pouts. "I did. But I don't see how sir reached his conclusion while analysing it."

Rin doesn't even bother looking at his teammate. "Same." Instead he watches Shidou and Bachira (an irksome pair, Rin thinks) argue with Reo over a goal, as Yukimiya attempts to serve as a mediator.

"Huh?"

"What? It's not that hard to reword the things sir says and what you find on the internet."

The older player narrows his eyes. "You're a liar, then."

"Excuse me?"

"You told y/n you knew what you were talking about. Behind your wordy answers is just a search history filled with synonyms."

Rin scowls. "It's not a lie. I do understand what I'm saying."

"You're prideful in things other than soccer too... I mean I can't say it was unexpected." He places a (sweaty) hand on Rin's shoulder. "It's okay to be bad at something, you don't have to be perfect." Isagi was being genuine, though he was treating Rin like a stubborn five year old.

Yielding it as a weapon, Rin grabs the towel draped around his neck, trying to hit Isagi with it. Instinctively, the victim dodges it, barely in time.

"Fuck off—" Rin yells, recoiling the towel to smack Isagi again. "What are you on this time?"

"It's okay Rin Rin, we support youu." Isagi doesn't even take Rin's anger seriously, effortlessly dodging his towel, agile and quick on his feet. "Self esteem issues are valid no matter what. You and y/n are equals no matter what."

The use of the nickname and the mention of you only fuels his anger, Rin doesn't give up, but neither does Isagi. "Don't compare me to that little shit."

"Should be stop them..?" Reo asks Nagi, who was for once, not hyperfixated on his phone.

"Nah. This is funny." He dries the sweat soaking his fluffy white hair, Rin notices it from the corner of his eye. "Do better, Rin."

"Shut up the fuck up, Nagi." Rin chases Isagi (who seemed to be having a great time), around the side of the field.

"Sounds like a skill issue to me." Nagi yawns. "Cope harder." This time, he yells it out loud. "Reo, how much are you betting for Rin to hit Isagi?"

Gaze averted, Reo doesn't even bother watching their quarrel. "None, because it's not going to last very long." He points in the other direction. "Coach looks pissed."

Rin takes notice of this too, it was beyond too late to pretend nothing happened, as he halts his movements. So does Isagi, bowing to Ego when he approaches the two.

"I leave for five minutes and you idiots are fighting." He runs his fingers through his straight bangs. "You're packing up today. Try something like this again and I'm removing you off the starting team."

Relief washes over him, thanking Ego silently for a second chance. "Yes sir."

Ego dismisses the rest of the team. "Isagi. I was referring to you as well. Go help Itoshi."

"Pardon?"

Their coach glares at him. "Don't try to act innocent. I already know you well enough as the type to be annoying. Anyways, don't forget to lock up. Get home safe too."

With that he leaves, murmuring something about teenagers being irritating, and after the events of today, Rin couldn't agree more.

"This is your fault." Rin says, as he collects the cones.

Isagi doesn't bother teasing him. "Yeah, yeah, sure. Get this done so we can leave quicker.

Though he'd never admit it, Rin agrees in silence, exhausted at the antics he had to tolerate today.

It's late at night when conversation stirs in the group chat, Rin texts with one hand while the other dries his hair.

Hair now dry, Rin flops into his bed, face landing in his pillow. He can't stand practice with Shidou, let alone a full studying session where he's the focus. He hasn't known him for long, yet is already sick of him and his jokes regarding his older brother.

But from a logical standpoint, it was a good idea. He's hopeless on his own, only literature permits utilising the art of bullshit to pass, and he refuses to ask for a proper tutor; they're expensive and Rin doesn't intend on going to tertiary education.

Just do it for soccer, Rin thinks to himself as he drifts off to sleep, drained from today's chaos.

ONE | MASTERLIST | THREE

pairing. itoshi rin x reader

synopsis. all itoshi rin ever wanted was a peaceful high school career, his plans go to ruin thanks to the school's badminton genius; entangling their lives—and emotions together.

contents. rivals to lovers, badminton player!reader, sports romance, fluff, high school au

taglist. @yuzurins, @silly-ez, @chigirizzz, @kaiserkisser, @httpshujii, @saesins, @yoimyas, @saetorinrin, @hxniplayz, @certaindreampost, @rroxii, @jar-03, @celestair, @satoruskitchenrag, @kaitfae, @biaonww, @hellothere9597, @its-ur-pillow, @saesofficialwife, @miyanaranagikenmal-intp — bold means i cannot tag you

© kitorin : do not repost, plagiarize, change, or translate

[thepoisonjackal]

Do you have any headcanons or concepts of how houses would look for each tribe? I’m always so curious about what people think

Sure I can write some thoughts! I might doodle these later but I'm not the biggest fan of drawing buildings so we'll see. This is all coming from my OC Universe, but it's mostly consistent with canon too.

Skywing: It's said they like caves, so commoners and nomads probably just find whatever random cave they can find. If they actually take the time to build it, maybe they could carve out more intricate rooms, windows, pillars and carvings, and maybe the richer ones could get wood for balconies/struts/furniture. If they're built from the ground up, mostly a lot of stone work, stained glass for richer homes, tall pillars, not a lot of stairs (more for flying in and out) so a lot of open areas and big doors/windows to fly out of if needed.

Mudwing: Although the poorest live in those packed mud hut things, the common house is a beaver dam thing with an underwater entrance, an underground basement (though not very big) with more of a terracotta/brick based structure above ground. They're very warm and very open plan, not individual rooms per se but more of a big ol studio for all the sibs to live in. And you'd get a bunch of these in a village. The richer could probably afford wood stilts to get raised houses outside of the water made of wood, though not every mudwing prefers that because they like the mud to sleep in. So it's more of a merchant stall type thing rather than somewhere you sleep. The palace would be a mix of wood and terracotta brick, with a lot of water features.

Icewings: Most icewing houses are igloos or underground bunker type things. It also depends on where you're at. In the more mountainous areas, they could probably make relatively simple stone buildings that look more like fortresses/fortified castles, with snow and ice being used as mortar inbetween the stones. The rich houses and palaces though are in the heart of the ice kingdom, where it's coldest, and the houses are made of pure ice, either carved or made with frostbreath. Wood isn't the best for the cold, so they wouldn't bother importing it.

Seawings: Underwater, it's mostly underwater caves, or coral reef areas. They might be able to bring around some stones to create a little hut out of, but they're usually nothing super elaborate. Houseboats are popular for merchants because they can move their stuff around and catch the attention of swimming seawings. On land, on the shores, they would use stone and wood that they can get near the shore and from the sea. They're usually nothing super fancy or crazy, just functional for seawings who have business on the land more than they do the water. The palace would be in a coral reef area, with a lot of underwater/underground rooms. There would be a little bit above ground for when non-seawings visit, but its not used very much if there's not guests.

Rainwings: Pretty much just what canon says. A lot of wooden platforms, a lot of rope bridges and wooden huts with leaf canopies, it would be very layered and open for everyone to fly around. I don't have much to say here, I love the canon rainwing kingdom.

Nightwings: (In my OC universe they live in the mountains where Jade Mountain is in canon, so the range between the desert/rain forest area) Nightwings love the canyons more than the peaks, so they also love caves, but they adore taking their time with every single one and meticulously carving something into every cave wall. Rope bridges connecting the canyon walls, a real maze carved out behind each wall, and plenty of wood and gemstones embedded to show their wealth. The palace is built into the highest peak, with it being quite narrow relative to other palaces, but going very, very deep into the mountain with a lot of layers. There are a few towers and windows seen from the outside, however.

Sandwings: A lot of sandwings are nomadic, and towns are built around oases. The buildings are made of sandstone and brick, and due to most sandwings moving around a lot, inns are more popular than individual houses, though there are still houses for those who don't feel like moving around a lot. They tend to be not very noteworthy, mostly square with only a story or two, but with paintings and tapestries to spice it up. There's also tents for those going out into the desert and those who just want to rest in a town without getting an inn. A lot of sandwings also travel at night/dawn/dusk and sleep during the heat of the day. In the richer communities, they'll add wood and glass, and fancier inns. As for the palace, honestly I just visualize something that looks like the Taj Mahal or the Kremlin Palace. A lot of sandstone, glass, taller towers and walls, and water features to show off wealth.

[chocostrwberry]

Since in your AU there's less seasons, plot changes, and some different akumas than canon, do you have an idea of what the order of the episodes would be? Or how many episodes are in each season?

Speaking of episodes, are you also planning on writing your AU and posting it as well? Or are you just drawing it out?

I love your art style and your AU (especially as a huge fan of the reverse crush and a marichat stan HAHA)

I have a semi-idea,, Not too much on filler episodes, but it’s paced like Gravity Falls and Danny Phantom in my head; there are fillers, but most of the episodes are plot driven. So maybe 20 episodes each season? Hypothetically?

AND TO BE DEAD HONEST… I DONT KNOW WHAT IM DOING ABAHAHAH

I hadn’t expected so many people to be interested in my au?? I’m sure the art helped tons but I expected people to be more into my illustrations than actually asking about the concept behind it WHICH I AM ETERNALLY GRATEFUL FOR BTW!! 🥹🫶

So,, once I completely flush out my AU (create the masterpost list, make sure everything you could ever know about it is on my blog, etc.) I think I’ll start making more mini-comics!! My dream is to turn it into a webtoon of some sort, but I have little experience with webcomic-making.

Even though all the spoilers for it will be on here and probably already common knowledge, that’s most likely the path I’ll be going down!!

(DW FELLOW MARICHAT STAN, IM WORKING ON MORE INFO ON THEM TOO!! I’m not very good at creating romantic dynamics 👉👈 so I’m struggling a bit on how I want to portray Marichat, since they’re so in love in my AU AHSJWH curse my limited knowledge in romance-)

[kafus]

as the resident ceo of likodot, what are your thoughts on the scene in episode 9 where dot ends up being the one who gives liko the courage she needs to tell her father that she wants to continue traveling with the RVT?

AH YES. THIS SCENE. I HAVE MANY THOUGHTS. THANK U FOR ASKING. apologies if this post is messy i have brainfog but i wanted to answer it anywayyyy

dot and liko's early connection is pretty interesting to me because at the time of this episode, the two barely know each other. dot first appears in episode 7 and this happens a couple episodes later in episode 9... not a lot of time has passed.

at this point in episode 9, liko knows that dot:

is murdock's niece and around the same age as her

is a tech wiz who wrote the app the RVT use to maintain the brave asagi and talk to each other

is good at gathering info online too

is a social recluse

does not eat very well/doesn't eat with other people

is interested in legendary pokemon, mysteries, that sort of stuff

and of course, she has heard the gurumin theme song coming from dot's room, and seen her quaxly, which leads to the iconic misunderstanding that dot is a huge fan of gurumin and not... literally gurumin lol

on the other hand, liko has no idea what dot looks like, does not know anything about her history, and has not had a proper conversation with her - their only communications have been through her bedroom door, first through quaxly bringing her and roy notes (which are drawings to interpret and not even actual written words), then when dot yells angrily at her to shut up/go away because she's interrupting dot setting up for her livestream, and then when dot finally budges just enough to mention her interest in legendaries & mysterious things.

by all regards dot is probably more of a concept to liko at this point than a whole person; a disembodied sometimes-voice who belongs to someone that deserves to be reached out to, but who hasn't actually been reached yet. this is overtly clear with her misunderstanding about dot being a gurumin fan - liko is piecing together who she thinks dot is with very little context clues and actual interactions and she is literally drawing the wrong conclusions lol. at most right now liko is interested in dot because of the whole gurumin thing... and because she's just a compassionate person who can't imagine that the person behind that door is a bad one, or someone who should be ignored, so she's compelled to learn more and reach out and figure dot out.

and that's the thing. liko is just naturally the sort of person to want to go out of her way to reach out to dot despite knowing pretty much nothing about her personally, and even having their first couple of interactions be rude ones. she follows through - she takes dot's lunch to her, makes sure to say "i'll talk to you later" and thank her for things, in a way that roy isn't (not to say that roy doesn't care, but liko is focused on her in particular). sure, the idea that they have a mutual interest in gurumin definitely helps, but she was interested before that and wasn't thrown off by her rude drawing of roy losing to fuecoco even before she started associating dot with gurumin. and this, especially coming from a peer and not a worried adult, is certainly foreign to dot and she kind of doesn't know how to deal with it, but it means a lot to her.

^ i think this bit at the end of episode 8 after liko and roy walk away is a really good summary of how dot is about all of this. she's reclusive, doesn't like noise, likes being in her own space, and she's "supposed" to find people like roy and liko irritating... but she can't help but smile about them being around, and while thinking about them.

oh, and of course dot has been overwhelmed by liko's compliments towards her work as gurumin even though liko doesn't know that's who she's complimenting. she's a popular youtuber and i'm sure she gets compliments from people all the time, but this is definitely a foreign experience for her in person, coming from someone verbally like that, not to mention how genuine and passionate liko is about it. i mean it makes her blush like this okay come on:

ALL OF THIS is to say that liko is a meaningful person to dot at this point, despite how little liko actually knows about her. liko has reached out to her in a way that no one has before, has directly complimented her work/passion, and has responded to her rudeness/antisocial behavior with even more curiosity instead of shying away.

so like of course when it's possible that liko is going to leave, she's upset about it and wants to do something about it. this is such a new situation and she's still so reclusive that she needs a little push from landau (who knows her well enough to tell she has emotions about this despite her not exactly wearing them on her sleeve), but the feelings she has about liko are enough to push her through, just enough to leave a wordless drawing by her door, which is massive for her at this point in time.

liko's response to this is understandably not super expressive or emotional, and in fact right after seeing the drawing, she first has a far more emotive conversation with mollie and orio and then roy, before eventually taking the drawing with her to dot's door and thanking her. she still doesn't know dot that well and honestly even though she was thinking that dot was opening up a little bit, she probably didn't expect this gesture. she doesn't know how meaningful her reaching out to dot has actually been.

regardless, she understands the meaning of the drawing and once again goes to talk to her, even without expecting a response back, and is able to go leave and tell her dad she wants to stay on the brave asagi, so it obviously contributed to her courage. it's proof that even this person who she barely knows cares about her and wants her to stay, and it also rewards her efforts of reaching out and proves to her that yes, dot is opening up and receiving liko's attempts at reaching out - her advances aren't unwanted. how's she supposed to leave now that she's sunk this time and effort into connecting with dot? dot is not the only reason she wants to stay of course, but it's a piece of the puzzle. she can't just leave now that they've made this connection successfully!!

dot says this after liko's already left, but regardless they've made a connection in their own unique, nonverbal way, and of course everything between them continues to grow from here.

so anyway all of this is to say i think it's fascinating the way these two connect mostly without words and through action/gesture at the start of the series, and i think the lopsidedness of their connection with each other is actually pretty interesting and reveals how much liko's compassion and efforts affect dot early on. she really is the vessel through which dot comes out of her shell and that's evident from the beginning

ALSO as an aside, very cute that dot does these little doodles at all? they aren't bad!! liko also draws... even though dot doesn't seem to take it as seriously or have it as an actual hobby i think they should draw together i think this would be cute JIOSJDOF

[ofthecaravel]

Brandy

Chapter Eight

Summary: Years after Sam gets his sailor, big plans are hatched and tensions arise as Daniel attempts to keep a secret.

Tags: Lotsa crying (both good and bad), anxiety, insecurity, illusions to saucy shit, overall a very very good happy time though I swear

Words: 9.2k

A/N: SURPRISE SHAWTYS you know I couldn't leave this one alone for too long. Here's a little follow up. Enjoy!

~~~

“This is honestly going better than I expected.”

Jake gave a muffled little laugh from behind the wide, felt brim of his hat, which he was holding to cover his face as he sat on the very edge of the couch. Josh, on the other hand, made no acknowledgement of the teasing, simply continuing to keep his face buried in his hands while his chest sputtered with dramatic little sobs. Jake reached blindly to the side and his hand found clumsy purchase on Josh’s back, giving him a sympathetic pat as Clarice the chicken pecked gently at Josh’s curls. 

Daniel stood awkwardly in front of them, wringing his hands nervously as he had been doing from nearly the moment he’d woken up that morning. He hadn’t even said very much to them, but if he was being honest, he’d definitely expected far more drama from the both of them combined after he’d told them his thoughts. Daniel had gotten used to the high energy hysterics that they seemed to draw from each other, which had seemed so unusual at first considering that the cool, swashbuckling Jake that he had gotten to know was jovial yet never ridiculous. But Josh so easily riled him up and Daniel found their mania a comfort when he spent time at the Kiszka residence, which was nearly every day despite it being a 15 minute walk from his inn. 

He’d made that walk earlier in much less time, channeling his anxiety into speed and then shuddering babbles as he’d burst through the door and instructed them to sit down and listen. What he’d said was very simple and straightforward and went something along the lines of Hello, so, basically, you’re aware I’ve spent the last 5ish years dating/falling in love with/wrangling your brother, Sam, I guess I don’t need to say his name because we all know him, obviously, anyways, but I was sort of thinking that since he lives with me at the inn now that the next step would be for me to, uh, well, ask him to…marry me. Officially. But I wanted to ask you guys first if I, uh, have your blessing. Considering you’re his family and I’d actually really like it if you ended up being mine too. Yes. Okay. That was what I wanted to say. 

They had, of course, immediately burst into synchronous spells of tears, which Daniel took as a positive answer while they fumbled to hide their rosy, contorted faces.

“Christ,” Jake finally said, his voice thick with emotion but clearly desperate to answer with levity. “Daniel, you don’t even need to ask. But it means so much that you did.”

“So much,” Josh repeated, barely coherent through his tears. He straightened from a dramatic slouch to a dramatic backwards lean, turning his face to the ceiling and attempting to fan his tears away with his hands.

“You’re already family,” Jake insisted, reaching out to Daniel and taking his hand to pull him closer. “And- wow, your hand is sweaty, ew -you’ve been family since I first met you on that shabby old ship off the coast of God knows where. I loved you then, I love you now, and I think Sam is going to actually lose his mind when you ask.”

“If you two are reacting like this at the mere prospect, I feel like I should be expecting him to have a full blown meltdown,” Daniel laughed, flushing at the concept as Jake gripped his hand passionately and kept borderline uncomfortable eye contact with Daniel.  

Something that Daniel loved so dearly about Jake was his fierce sincerity, and he felt it hard in that moment as they grinned at each other. Without Jake’s friendship, Daniel never would have gained a certain kind of confidence that had made him reliable on the ship and assured within himself. When Daniel had first met Jake and the rest of their crew, he had been a seasick, homesick shrinking violet that had to be coerced into talking. And Jake, who was being slowly driven nuts without the perpetual chatter of his brothers, was more than happy to be the one to poke and prod Daniel until his guard was down. It was after Jake had worn Daniel down and nurtured his shy laughter into raucous babbling that Jake had known he had to bring him home to Sam…but that’s a fact that Jake would save for the wedding. That reminiscence was at the forefront of Jake’s mind as they held to each other.

“Sam is going to fucking explode,” Josh blurted tearfully, his weeping finally giving way to laughter that punched out of his chest and infected Jake and Daniel too. Jake released his grip on Daniel and slumped backwards against Josh, who received him with an “oof” and set off a chain reaction of bantering back and forth between the two. Daniel listened fondly, wringing his hands with increasing fervor as he remembered that his speech wasn’t quite finished. Jake noticed Daniel’s notorious nervous tic and calmed again, sitting up straight and arching an eyebrow.

“What?” Jake asked. “What now?”

“I, well, I kinda wasn’t done,” Daniel explained meekly. “There was something else I wanted to ask about.”

“Do you need a ring guy? ‘Cause I know a guy,” Josh piped up brightly, quickly mirroring Jake’s posture and grinning. 

“He does not know a guy, he knows a guy who knows a guy,” Jake clarified, rolling his eyes and pinching Josh’s side. “Or at least that’s what he says.”

“Why would he lie?” Josh scoffed, smacking Jake’s hand away and shoving at his cheek. “You like him.”

“Yeah, well, you like like him, huh?”

“Shut up!”

“Guys!” Daniel interjected, clapping his hands. “Hi!”

“Hi, sorry, yes,” Jake cleared his throat, waving his hands as if to clear away a spiderweb. “You were asking something.”

“I was, yes, okay, so,” Daniel started, wiping his sweaty palms on his shorts and gearing himself up. “So. I was thinking. That. Maybe. Jake, would you be interested in being my best-”

“Yes!” Jake yelled, flying to his feet and hurling his full body weight at Daniel, who caught him with a wheezing laugh. Josh stayed on the couch with an anticipatory look, holding his hands out like he was waiting to receive a first class package. 

“AND?” Josh blurted, clearly anxious about the assignment Daniel was going to entrust him with.

“Josh, would you want to marry us?” Daniel asked gently, dividing his attention between patting Jake on the back and scanning Josh’s face. Josh’s eyes, already red and heavy from tears, began to glitter again and his lip quivered. There was a flicker of confusion as well, and Daniel jumped to tend to it.

“It’s just, I can’t think of anyone else that I’d want to do that,” Daniel further explained. “For us, I mean. I can’t say I’ve ever pictured myself getting married at a church and I know you guys have never been religious, so…I choose you.”

“I’m not a priest, honey,” Josh whispered, voice thick with awed emotion. “It wouldn’t, you know, count.”

“Well, I think any rites you’d do would hold a lot more weight than any performed by someone actually ordained,” Daniel smiled, hot in the face like he always was whenever he explained his thought process. It suddenly sounded very silly now that he’d said it out loud and he began to think of a backup plan, but then Josh was leaping to his feet and tackling Daniel in a hug of his own and he realized that probably wouldn’t be necessary.

“Of course,” Josh accepted, struggling to wrap his arms properly around both Daniel and Jake, who was still firmly cemented to Daniel’s chest. “Of course. God, it’d be an honor. I promise not to fuck it up.”

“Same here,” Jake agreed, giving Daniel another squeeze. “I’m gonna write the best speech you’ve ever heard.”

“I don’t doubt that for a minute,” Daniel laughed, a warm light burning in his chest and making his face ache with a smile. “Just try and keep it under 10 minutes.”

Jake paused.

“I am not going to make that promise.”

They all gave a laugh in their varying harmonies and stayed in their embrace, Daniel allowing the love from his friends to pass through him. With this rare silence, Daniel closed his eyes and basked in his gratitude. Just outside he could hear a squall of seagulls flying overhead, somewhere beyond it the pluck of a fiddle from the instrument repair shop that Jake had impulsively bought a guitar from a few years prior and hadn’t put down since. In the house, the windows were open and let a cool breeze wash over him and these men he felt beyond grateful to call his closest friends and soon his brothers. 

Getting lost in the moment, Daniel indulged in his fantasy of this perfect wedding day he was working towards and the parts they would play: Jake, wine drunk and flushed, flailing about theatrically as he delivered a speech that was equal parts lecture about the sanctity of true love and embarrassing stories about the grooms. Josh undoubtedly fighting a warble in his voice through his entire faux sermon, one that he painstakingly crafted for months on end and will certainly complain about not being any good despite it being beyond beautiful. 

And Sam. God, Daniel couldn’t even begin to imagine how he’d look, what he’d say. The prospect of it had the creeping ache of tears pressing on Daniel’s throat and at the back of his eyes. All he could manage was fleeting imaginings of Sam’s hand in his as they stepped into their first dance, or the sensation of Sam smiling into a kiss at the altar while their eardrums are blown to bits by the ferocity of the cheers from the audience. It’d all be perfect. A swan song from all the hardship they’d faced before they’d even been together officially and the gentlest, softest beginning of the rest of their lives. Calm. Peaceful. Quiet, even.

“‘Sup, fuckers!”

With a startling bang, the door was thrown open and Sam’s peppy voice filled the previously serene room. In the years they’d been together, Daniel had watched Sam come alive in a way he couldn’t feasibly describe. It could be felt in the way he dragged a certain electricity with him from room to room, something practically visible with every movement. Daniel could see it when he bounced in the house then, a sort of colorful blur at the borders of Sam that kept Daniel transfixed to him wherever he went. His face was already warm with a smile that reached his eyes and appled his cheeks, and Daniel for a moment forgot just what kind of strange position he was about to be caught in as he let the sight of Sam settle over him like sunlight. However, he was cold a second later when Sam finally looked at the strange amalgamation his brothers and Daniel had become and his bright expression was soured in an instant. 

“What the hell are you doing?” Sam asked in an incredulous tone, his eyebrow raising sassily when Jake and Josh peeled themselves off of Daniel a little too fast to not be suspicious.

“We…” Daniel began, making brief panicked eye contact with Jake as he struggled to come up with a story. “Josh…had a bit of bad news and we were all hugging to make him feel a little better.”

“I’d say it worked,” Jake added on, nodding confidently and gripping Josh’s shoulder. “He’s pulling through.”

“I’m pulling through,” Josh finished with a bit of an amused waver to his voice that Jake dispelled with a dig of his nails into Josh’s skin. “From my bad news, I mean. Everything is fine, really, don’t worry about me.”

“It was just some moral support,” Daniel continued, trying to give Sam a calm smile that ultimately he knew he wouldn’t buy.

“What’s wrong?” Sam questioned with his brows still furrowed critically. 

Daniel and the twins all exchanged a split second nervous look, with Josh begging for help with a slight squint of his eyes and Daniel and Jake returning it with apologetic silence.

“It’s just…Clarice,” Josh began unsteadily, feigning a pained look with uncanny quickness. “She’s not been doing so hot and I’m worried.”

From across the room, Clarice was hopping merrily from the top of the couch to the cushions over and over, clearly swept up in the excitement of playing and clearly in good health. Sam regarded her for a long moment and looked back to Josh with unrestrained scrutiny, squinting his eyes at Josh’s act of agony. 

“You’ve been crying,” Sam noted coolly. “What about?”

“Clarice! I just said Clarice,” Josh wailed, smacking his hand against his forehead and looking at Clarice like it was the last time he ever could. “My Clarice…”

“What fucking ever,” Sam grumbled, rolling his eyes and landing his gaze on Daniel. “Do we have everything we need for dinner tonight?”

“I think so,” Daniel answered happily, hoping he was masking his body’s involuntary sigh of relief at Sam dropping the topic so quickly. “Was there anything special?”

“I think we just needed, like, yogurt or honey for the dessert.”

“I have honey!” Josh offered. 

“Don’t get him fucking started on the fucking honey,” Jake lamented as Josh dropped his pitiful performance and scurried off to the kitchen to dig in a cabinet. “I can’t hear one more story about how ‘the cute honey guy’ looked at you while you weren’t looking but were actually looking or whatever.”

“He, like, super definitely did, though.”

“It might not even need honey, I was just saying that it might need honey,” Sam interjected. 

As they all watched Josh pull jar after jar of honey out of a low cabinet like a clown pulling silks from his sleeve, Sam finally migrated over to where Daniel stood. When Jake sighed and went to Josh’s side to bicker about where they placed the recipe for the fancy Friday dinner they’d planned, Sam reached out and clung to Daniel’s arm with his cheek burrowed into his bicep. This was something Sam had done from the very start and it still made Daniel’s stomach flip. 

“Hi,” Daniel whispered to the top of Sam’s head. 

“Hi,” Sam whispered back, looking up at Daniel through his lashes. “Everything all good at the inn tonight?”

“Yes, indeed,” Daniel affirmed, kissing Sam’s forehead. “Apparently those rowdy sailors from Greenland left this afternoon, so they won’t be any more trouble.” 

“Aw, all of them? Even the one with the two different colored eyes?”

“All of them, as far as I know.”

“Man. He was kind of cool.”

“You’re just trying to make me jealous.”

“Is it working?”

Daniel let out a laugh through his nose and kissed Sam’s forehead again before he dug his fingers into his side to make him yelp and wiggle away. 

“Not at all,” Daniel replied with a chuckle.

“I’m gonna kill you,” Sam answered, covering his side with his hand and smacking blindly at Daniel with the other. A smile split his face again and Daniel drank it in.

“And I’m gonna marry you,” is what he replied in his head, but out loud, Daniel only scoffed. He went after Sam for another jab and gave chase when Sam squealed and ran in the opposite direction, eventually losing the thought as he fell into the hectic atmosphere of the Kiszka household on a Friday evening.

-

Lucky for Daniel, he never had to take Josh up on his “ring guy” offer. He already had one. 

Truth be told, Daniel had had a ring on hand for an embarrassingly long amount of time. Since that agonizing year where he’d been at sea and oceans apart from Sam, in fact. A few days after getting Jake and Josh’s blessing, Daniel bowed to the compulsion to check the hiding spot the ring had been nestled in since the day he came back and hastily moved into the inn. It was a little risky considering Sam was in the shower and not far away like Daniel usually preferred him to be when he checked in on the ring, but Daniel just had to look at it. The anticipation of the actual proposal was killing him and he could only be soothed by the ritual of pulling the little velvet box free from the handkerchief it was wrapped in, which was in turn hidden in the inside pocket of a coat hung in the very back of his closet. Listening closely to the rush of water hitting the tile behind the bathroom door, Daniel popped open the lid and smiled at the ring. It wasn’t anything flashy, but it was damn near perfect in Daniel’s eyes: a simple rounded diamond surrounded by a halo of little pearls, all set on a silver band. Looking at it, he remembered wandering into a jewelers when they’d docked in Italy with the ring in tow, pulling it out and stumbling through a request in broken Italian to resize it. The jeweler had spoken a few words of English and they managed to get through the transaction without much issue, and Daniel remembered how he’d told Daniel that whoever was going to be on the receiving end of the ring was a very lucky person. The irony was not lost on Daniel when the jeweler informed him that the ring was, if Daniel’s feeble understanding of Italian wasn’t mistaken, made in “the siren style”. Daniel could’ve told him about how the lucky person was a siren themselves, but he just wished him well and pocketed the ring again.

“Done!” Sam announced from the bathroom, sending a shock of panic through Daniel as he fumbled stuffing the ring back into its box and springing into action to shove it back in the closet. 

“I’ve missed you!” Daniel responded weakly, his hands shaking slightly as he struggled to wrap the handkerchief around the box. His body was half hidden in the closet when Sam strolled out of the bathroom, towel around his waist and a comb being dragged through his wet hair. He’d cut it recently so that it reached just past his shoulders, and he often wore it in a ponytail to combat the stiff summer heat that had settled over the town in the past month. When Daniel had successfully jammed the coat and its secret treasure back where it belonged, he turned around and was happy to see Sam’s hair loose and already beginning to curl slightly from the humidity.

“Lose something?” Sam asked innocently, looking around Daniel into the darkness of the closet. 

“Nope, just putting a shirt away,” Daniel lied, closing the closet behind him with a smidge too much enthusiasm. “How was your shower?”

“Rejuvenating,” Sam sang with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “Energizing, even.”

“Yeah?” Daniel countered, casually leaning back against the door and crossing his tattooed arms over his chest.

“Yeah,” Sam flirted, looking Daniel up and down where he relaxed in his comfortable outfit of shorts and a thin tank top. “Would you be interested in taking advantage of this burst of energy before I go clock in?”

In the past few years, after Josh had mercifully yet begrudgingly hired some non-familial help around the Caravel, Sam had been splitting his time between the bar and working the front desk of the inn. Seeing as it was only a few steps from their front door, Sam and Daniel were in a continuing game of how close they could cut it before Sam had to run to the desk as the clock hit the hour on the head. Despite their ever growing catalog of games and running jokes they shared, this one was an undoubted favorite.

“I’d be extremely interested,” Daniel purred, straightening and closing the distance between them. “I think I can get you there at 5:58 on the dot this time. Plenty of time to get to the desk and lovingly tend to our guests.”

“You’re on,” Sam responded, already breathless as he wrapped his arms around Daniel’s neck. “Loser buys dinner.”

“I always buy dinner no matter what.”

“Loser.”

Daniel laughed and kissed Sam, one arm circling Sam’s waist to keep him close and the other reaching down to loosen the towel. After all was said and done, Sam would cheerfully wobble down to the lobby and Daniel would slip out to talk with Josh about a restock of Kiszka Liquor in the gift shop that had gone up in the past year. 

But not really. Daniel had bigger plans than that.

-

A week or two passed. Sam stood in the doorway in the early evening, watching Daniel lace up his boots with an odd look in his eye. Sam’s whole world pretty much revolved around Daniel, so he was quick to pick up on the little things. And he had never been more convinced that something was wrong. 

There wasn’t anything glaringly obvious, but Sam had spent his days attuning himself to Daniel and he’d been picking up more and more frequencies that didn’t quite make sense to him. His gaze lingering on Sam a beat longer than usual, the new and unusual way he twisted his ring finger while lost in thought, the thousand yard stare at couples passing them by on the street. He hugged Sam a little tighter, like he was bracing them for something. It was driving Sam absolutely crazy, and the worst part was that Daniel had to know that.

“Remind me where you’re going?” Sam asked nervously.

“Putting up lights for Josh,” Daniel answered patiently, eyes trained on the movement of his hands as he finished up a double knot. “I won’t be long at all, it’s just, well. You know he can’t reach.”

“Yeah,” Sam answered with an absent little laugh. His thumb gravitated to his mouth and he began to anxiously gnaw on the thick skin next to his nail while watching Daniel get to his feet and stretch. For a moment, Sam’s anxiety fluttered away as he became consumed with the sight of Daniel’s back muscles flexing and his long ponytail swaying. Daniel looked over his shoulder at Sam in the doorway and smiled softly. A few short curls strayed from his bangs and stuck to his temples, and Sam fought the urge to push them away just to feel the flush of Daniel’s soft freckled skin under his fingertips. There was some kind of…distance that Daniel seemed to have been implementing lately, and he didn’t want to disrespect that. But he did want to understand it.

“Hey,” Sam started, briefly removing his thumb from his teeth. “Are you okay?”

“What?” Daniel replied, looking confused but not confused enough for Sam to register it as genuine. “Yeah, I’m great. Are you okay?”

“I don’t know. Are we okay?”

Daniel blinked in real disbelief and Sam’s fears were assuaged slightly in the way that Daniel was at his side in an instant. 

“Baby,” Daniel cooed, cupping Sam’s cheek in his hand. “We’re amazing. I mean, I think we are. Why?”

“You’re being weird,” Sam accused, his words mumbled as he looked at the floor. “You’ve been weird for, like, a full week now.”

Shit.

“I’m not weird!” Daniel sputtered.

“You’re very weird.”

“Well, I can’t help being weird. You’ve known I was weird from the start,” Daniel laughed. 

His flippance sent a flash of irritation through Sam. Sam tore his gaze from the tips of Daniel’s boots and glared as best he could right into Daniel’s eyes.

“Stop it, stop deflecting,” Sam demanded, smacking Daniel’s hand away. “What’s wrong? And don’t say there’s nothing wrong because there is. I know you well enough. You can’t lie to me anymore. You promised.”

“I wouldn’t want to lie to you,” Daniel answered, his tone faltering slightly as his eyes skipped anxiously around Sam’s face and into the corridor behind him. 

Come on, Sam couldn’t even give him two hours? Did they have to do this now?

“Daniel,” Sam said firmly, holding Daniel’s face between his hands and staring him down. “Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

“Sam, I am not lying to you when I say nothing is wrong,” Daniel replied earnestly. “I’m fine, we are fine, I swear. Okay?”

Sam didn’t reply. He had never ever known Daniel to be cruel, but he knew something was off and Daniel blatantly lying about it made it sting all the more. As Sam tracked Daniel’s expression, every twitch of his lip and guilty squint of his eyes, he spiraled deeper and deeper into all of the worst possibilities.

He’s met someone, Sam’s paranoia whispered to him, smooth and assured. He’s going stir crazy. He’s finally sick and tired of you and your high maintenance.

In the blink of an eye, Sam’s fire dimmed and he dropped his hands from Daniel, taking a step back and opening up the hallway to Daniel. Whatever was going on with him, Sam wasn’t going to stop him.

“Just go,” Sam muttered, nodding towards the front door with a placid look. “You know how impatient Josh gets.”

Daniel, terrified by Sam’s sudden and completely uncharacteristic shift in demeanor, felt sick to his stomach. He wanted nothing more than to stay with Sam until Sam was entirely reassured that everything was fine, but there was so much Daniel couldn’t say. There was a plan in place for the rest of the evening and he needed to set it into motion, which didn’t allow any time for any of that. Every beat of Daniel’s heart felt like a palm pressed to a barbed wire fence. It was all going to turn around in such a short amount of time, but up until that point, Daniel was wracked with guilt. There was nothing on Earth that disarmed him more than the sight of Sam’s sad puppy dog eyes boring right through to his soul, and he actually had to look away for a moment to regain his composure.

“I’ll see you so soon, Sammy,” Daniel said weakly. And then you’ll understand just how secure we are.

“Sure,” Sam replied blankly, crossing his arms and clenching his jaw to keep the tears at bay until after Daniel had gone. 

“And I don’t need you at the desk for another half hour.”

“I know.”

“I know you know, I just…”

“Go,” Sam whispered, crumpling in on himself a little more as he stared at the floor.

Daniel hesitated, fighting every instinct to pull Sam into his arms and confess everything right then and there.

Tonight is all for you, he’d say into Sam’s hair. If you just wait a little longer you’ll see that I don’t want to go anywhere if you’re not going to be there too.

“Kiss for luck?” Daniel blurted. 

He fully expected Sam to spit in his face at that point, but Sam immediately took hold of his collar and pulled him down into a deep kiss that had them both exhaling heavily through their noses at the shock of it. And when Sam finally released Daniel and steered him by the shoulder into the hall, there was a thought at the back of Sam’s mind that put a lump in his throat.

I hope that wasn’t the last time.

-

Sam spent the half hour before his shift at the front desk perched on Daniel’s side of the bed, white knuckling the edge and staring a hole through the carpet. One hand he kept free to press the silver heart of his most beloved locket into his palm over and over again, keeping time to his own erratic heartbeat. 

Deep down he couldn’t believe that Daniel would hide anything from him. Hell, Daniel kept Sam up to date on anything from room renovations at the inn to the state of his matching sock pairs and which ones seemed to have “run away”. But if it wasn’t bad news, why would Daniel hide it?

Sam laid down and pressed his cheek into Daniel’s pillow, inhaling his intoxicatingly calming scent of fresh smelling shampoo, spiced cologne and his simple natural warmth that clung to all his clothes. In the time that Daniel had been away, Sam had associated that smell with adrenaline and butterflies, but now it just made him sleepy. It was the first thing he breathed in in the morning while curled into Daniel’s chest and the last thing he inhaled when he was evening out his breathing to drift off in Daniel’s tight embrace. There was a stab of icy panic when Sam tried to picture falling asleep without it and he rolled onto his back to stave the chill off, staring up at the ceiling and fiddling with his necklace some more to regulate. 

Eventually, Sam found the strength to rise up from his pity party and make his way down to the lobby, his feet dragging and his head low. All he could think about was Daniel not being close to him, which made him think about the year he’d spent thousands of miles and several time zones away from him, the isolation, the abandonment…

However, when Sam turned the corner from the stairs towards the front desk, he was startled from his storm cloud at the sight of…Jake. Behind the desk. Flipping through a magazine, looking bored, barely acknowledging Sam’s presence until Sam was right in front of him and rapped his knuckles against the wood. Jake glanced up at him and smiled briefly before looking back at the article he was reading, his finger tracing the outline of a microphone stand while Sam scowled.

“The fuck?” Sam asked pointedly.

“Language, por favor,” Jake scolded in an uninterested sort of sing-song, only raising his eyebrows in response instead of giving Sam any kind of eye contact.

“You’re in my seat,” Sam accused as he came around behind the desk. “And at the wrong job, actually. Scooch.”

“Oh, right, about that,” Jake began, turning in the chair to properly face Sam. “I’m covering your shift tonight.”

Sam blinked in surprise, furrowing his brow in confusion while Jake maintained a very neutral expression as they stared each other down.

“What?”

“Yeah. Daniel said he needs you down at the bar so I’m gonna shack up here for the night. You should probably get down there.”

Save for a couple years of piracy, Sam and Jake had always been pretty prolific at reading each other. However, they could also tell when the other one was trying to get a glimpse into their head, and Sam tried to play it as cool as possible as he studied Jake’s body language. Jake must have anticipated this because he simply sat there like a statue, staring up at Sam like this was an everyday occurrence and Sam was the odd man out for making a face at him.

“Needs me at the bar? He literally just told me that he was going to hang up lights with Josh,” Sam stammered. “‘Cause the other ones burnt out.”

“Yeah, I know they burned out, I work there, dumbass,” Jake snorted, side eyeing Sam as he turned back around to face the empty lobby. “Josh isn’t even at Caravel tonight. He’s got a hot date with that beekeeper, actually, and I mean thank fuck, I thought he’d ne-”

“Why would Daniel tell me he was putting up lights if he’s no-”

“Sam, oh my god, just get the hell out of here and go answer your own questions!” Jake sighed, throwing his hands up dramatically to gesture to the doors. From the strain of his eyes, Sam could see how desperate Jake was to get Sam out.

Sam, riled up from conflicting accounts and the cold ache of being left out of something, let out a frustrated howl and stalked off towards the front. But before he could burst out into the humid night, Jake called his name and he spun around. 

“Sam,” Jake repeated. “Don’t be mad at Daniel, ‘kay? He doesn’t need it.”

“What do you know what he needs, huh?” Sam snapped. Even though Jake had introduced them and known Daniel for long before Sam ever knew he existed, Sam felt a fierce protectiveness over him. With the state he was already in, jealousy came easily. 

Jake just gave an absent little shrug and smiled, getting swept back up in his magazine and leaving Sam to fume for a second longer before barging through the doors and out into the night to track Daniel down. 

Behind him, Jake watched Sam go with a growing smile. That version of Sam he’d just sent off, frustrated and snippy and primed for a fistfight, was one that Jake had been well acquainted with from the time that Sam could walk. It wasn’t his favorite way for Sam to be, if he was being honest, and that was something he was pretty confident in after he and Josh had had to step up to the parenting role and Sam had stayed in that combative sullen state for years on end. But it was a storm he weathered happily for the chance to get to laugh with his baby brother, who really was all things good and honest at his core. That was the thing with Sam; there was so much nuance you had to understand to really get close to him. And Jake knew that the man Sam was no doubt about to give a piece of his mind to was well aware of that, and he was going to ask Sam to spend forever with him anyways. 

It was Sam’s night, or it was about to be. But Jake couldn’t help but feel pretty lucky too.

-

Daniel had been transfixed staring at the door since he’d arrived at the bar, but he still nearly jumped out of his skin when Sam’s trademark 3 point knock touched down on the wood. Sam didn’t wait for any kind of response, he simply pushed the door open in a way that Daniel could read as irritation in a second. Despite this, Daniel felt oddly assured by it. If he knew Sam so well that he could read his emotion in the way he opened a door, he was more than qualified to ask him to marry him. 

On the walk over, Sam’s mental state had taken an even more rapid decline. As his walking began to border on jogging, Sam’s unwinding anxieties took him on a tour of every possible negative reasoning for this mysterious meetup.

Pick your poison, Sammy, his brain taunted him as it showed him nauseating imagery of Daniel pressed up against a faceless figure with a lovesick expression, Daniel sneering behind Sam’s back at all of eccentricities, Daniel boarding a ship for adventure and far off shores…

Sam had settled for the latter scenario by the time he was outside the Caravel. That had to be it. He saw the way Daniel looked out over the harbor, his eyes smoothing over cresting waves and his broad chest making room for great breaths of salt slick air. Sam knew that deep down Daniel missed his seafaring life no matter how much he assured Sam that he now preferred dry land and the lull of a consistent schedule. But when he thought back on it, Sam couldn’t recall the last time Daniel had assured him of this. Maybe he had changed his mind.

Sam geared himself up for a fight as he walked into the swell of air conditioning, taking in a deep breath as he prepared for the words to spill out and sink into Daniel’s guilty conscience as…as they... 

Sam froze as the door swung shut behind him, cutting off the light from the streetlamps so that Sam could be fully encompassed by the light inside. 

As it turns out, Daniel hadn’t lied entirely. The night prior, the last of the string lights hung up by Jake in his teen years had flickered their final goodbye and left them all scrambling to pull lamps from storage and furnish the floor with enough light for their patrons to drink by. Since then, a winding river of string lights had been strung in their place, lining the ceiling with warm blurs of orange, red, blue and pink that drenched the entire room. Sam assessed their march around the perimeter of the walls before his gaze landed on Daniel, who was leaning on his hip against the bar and his long, long legs crossed casually. To Sam’s further surprise, Daniel wasn’t wearing the comfortable hooded sweatshirt and jeans he’d tossed on before leaving the house. He was now sporting a wine colored button down with the first few buttons undone and dark dress pants, making him look oddly professional and utterly handsome. Sam flushed and struggled to conjure the words that just moments ago were threatening to burst out. 

“Hi, Brandy,” Daniel hummed with a shy smile. “Glad you could make it.”

Sam hesitated, unsure of what to do with his face as he took in the change in his surroundings, his drop dead gorgeous boyfriend, and the fact that he was now even more lost than he thought he could be. Daniel watched him with an amused grin, his rampant anxiety starting to settle down now that he was in the thick of it. No going back now.

“You wanna come here?” Daniel offered, holding a hand out to Sam. “You look cute.”

Daniel couldn’t help but notice that where Sam stood floundering was a few paces to the side of where Daniel had been standing the first time he had ever seen Sam. He recalled it often, usually without meaning to and always when he sat in a designated corner booth on busy nights as their unofficial security detail. It sounded so impossible, but Daniel was always baffled all over again at the memory of watching Sam fly through the back doors, realizing that he was the annoying little terror that Jake had been talking about for months, and then feeling himself fall in love without even hearing his voice.  

Sam shook himself from his haze a little and, going off of instinct, he took Daniel’s hand and let him pull Sam next to him. Sam still couldn’t think of anything to say and let Daniel tuck a stray curl of hair behind his ear and gently smooth his knuckle along Sam’s cheekbone as he stood there speechless.

“Seriously, you look so cute,” Daniel cooed. “Did you get cuter since I last saw you?”

Unexpectedly, Sam felt a rush inside him and tears sprang to his eyes. As his bottom lip gave an involuntary quiver, Daniel’s face fell and he leaned in to anticipate Sam’s needs.

“Baby?”

“Please don’t leave,” Sam gasped, a little sob escaping him as he started to cry. It shocked Sam as much as it shocked Daniel, but he couldn’t stave off the wave of borrowed grief and insecurity as he crumpled forwards into Daniel’s chest and cried. Sam had always been an angry crier, but it had been so many years since he’d had good reason to. He’d forgotten what it felt like to feel so stupid, so small. 

“Sammy, honey,” Daniel soothed, cradling Sam’s head as his heart raced with a renewed flush of anxiety. “Don’t cry, this is-”

“Don’t tell me not to cry when you’ve spent all this time lying to me!” Sam wailed. “Don’t you dare.”

“Sam-”

“How bad can it be if you can’t talk to me? If you have to use my own brother as some kind of pawn to get me here?”

“Sa-”

“I won’t do it again,” Sam declared through a shuddering sob, clutching the back of Daniel’s shirt and buried his face into the familiar crook of his neck. “I won’t sit around and wait for you to get eaten by a whale or get your throat slit by pirates or what the fuck ever, I won’t, Danny, I won’t.”

“Sam.”

Finally, Sam’s mouth shut and he quieted, not yet lifting his face from the jungle hot humidity he was crying against Daniel’s skin. Daniel smoothed a hand up and down his back, keeping their racing hearts pressed together.

“Sam,” Daniel repeated in a low whisper, speaking right into Sam’s ear. “Nobody is leaving anybody. Okay? This is not what this is, not in the slightest. There you go, deep breaths. You’re alright, baby, just breathe for a second.”

Sam obliged, drawing in as even a breath as he could muster and melting into Daniel’s near hypnotic suggestion as his voice continued to lull Sam into a state of calm again.

“Better?” Daniel asked gently after a minute. 

Sam nodded and sniffed, looking up at Daniel and breaking his heart all over again with the remnants of his meltdown blushing his nose and cheeks. This was a face that could break Daniel completely, he realized. Maybe it already had. A face he’d tried to jump overboard for, even though he’d known in some capacity that it was only a mask for a hungry monster. 

“What is it, then?” Sam asked cautiously.

“It’s…” Daniel trailed off, trying to remember how he had planned on doing this. It’d all he’d been thinking about, but now that everything had fallen into place, he really couldn’t call to mind what he was supposed to do. What he was supposed to say. It all felt too simple now.

I love you. I want you. I’m staying. Here’s a ring. It’s not enough. But it’s something.

“Why don’t you go put on our song,” Daniel suggested. “And then we’ll talk, hm? You want a drink?”

Sam finally smiled and rolled his eyes, sniffing again and straightening out his clothes as he stepped away from Daniel and attempted to resituate himself. Daniel watched him with a sly grin of his own, fighting to remember every moment with crystal clarity when Sam looked from him over to the jukebox. He watched as Sam’s face registered and then split into an even wider smile, this time laced with a high laugh.

“You dork,” Sam laughed, striding over to the jukebox. It was so predictable what Sam would say next that Daniel mouthed it along with him as he quietly followed behind Sam.

“That’s my tray”, Sam echoed, borrowing his own words from the first time he’d ever spoken to Daniel. It’d become a running joke over the years as Daniel kept his long accused kleptomania alive in the practice of constantly trying to steal Sam’s tray, something that was only funny to the two of them and decidedly idiotic to Sam’s brothers. Sam wasn’t surprised to see it perched atop the jukebox as he settled in front of it, flicking his eyes up to it for a moment before looking back down through the glass crown of the jukebox to find the desired disc.

“You gonna get me a drink or are you just gonna be my creepy shadow?” Sam teased as he selected the song, a familiar violin beginning to whistle over a bright guitar when the jukebox lit up. He could feel Daniel at his back, and if he didn’t know any better, he could feel Daniel’s smile. Sam’s eyes skirted over the tray again as he began to turn around to further question Daniel, but before he got the chance, he caught a flash of something glimmering bright from where it sat atop the worn metal saucer. 

Leaning in closer, Sam could see it for what it was. His heart seemed to freeze up in his chest and he drew in a sharp breath, his body seizing so as not to prevent any distraction from the simple little ring that seemed to stare him down as much as he was staring at it.

“There’s an old sailor’s tale,” came Daniel’s voice right over Sam’s shoulder, his arms coming to encircle Sam’s waist as Sam dared to pick up the ring to further gawk at it. “About a lonely pirate and a mermaid’s ring. Can I tell it to you?”

“Daniel,” Sam replied breathlessly. “Daniel, I-”

“Once upon a time,” Daniel interrupted. “There was a very, very lonely pirate who sailed the seven seas. He was lonely because he’d had to leave his lover behind very, very unexpectedly, and he missed him very, very much. The pirate wasn’t the superstitious type, but he was a man in love, and love makes you do crazy things. So the pirate started praying for a sign that when he made his way back to his lover - and he knew that he would - that he would be waiting for the pirate with open arms.”

Sam felt those tears from before rising up again with a renewed purpose, but he didn’t dare interrupt Daniel. He leaned back against his chest and ran his finger along the smooth circlet of pearls, all of them twice as small as the beads on a rosary but just as holy. 

“One day the pirate gets the idea that he’ll bring back treasures for his lover as proof of his love, just in case his begging didn’t work. The next time his ship lands on a sandy beach, he spends his day combing the sand for sea glass and shells and anything else the ocean might’ve given up for him to find. As it turns out, the ocean was feeling extremely generous that day, because while the pirate was on his hands and knees looking for his treasure, he found something he never expected to find. A ring. And the pirate knew right away that this ring was his sign that somewhere across all those oceans, his lover was thinking of him too.”

Sam, unable to bear another second without looking into Daniel’s perfect face, turned around and found that Daniel was as close to tears as he was. He looked almost pained in the way he regarded Sam.

“I think the lover would think the pirate was foolish for ever thinking anything otherwise,” Sam rasped, his voice thick with emotion. Daniel laughed a little and rested his forehead against Sam’s for a brief moment.

“Yeah, well, maybe the pirate knew the lover well enough in only a few days that he was pretty sure he was capable of murder considering the state the pirate left him in,” Daniel explained, delivering a kiss to Sam’s forehead when he leaned back to look at him again.

“Finish your story,” Sam whispered eagerly.

“Well,” Daniel continued, clearing his throat before going on. “The pirate had a lot of time to think about the ring. He figured it had probably been thrown into the ocean under the pretense of heartbreak. Maybe love that had fizzled out, or maybe something worse. He got paranoid about it carrying the memory of all of that, but over time, the pirate realized that the ocean had brought it to him because it was ready for a new love. It had been washed clean. The pirate thought maybe he had been too when picking it up and dedicating it with the purpose he had decided for it.”

“What purpose?” Sam blurted. Daniel laughed again and smoothed a hand over Sam’s hair lovingly.

“Can I finish my dramatic monologue or do you want me to spoil it?”

“Spoil it,” Sam grinned, now visibly vibrating with energy as the last of his insecurity wore off and was replaced by pure adrenaline. “Say it. Do it.”

“The pirate decided on two things,” Daniel clarified as he thought back on it. “He decided that if all else failed when he returned to his love, he would get down on one knee and give him the ring and ask him just one more time if he would please be his. But it never came to that. The pirate returned and their love was just as strong. However…”

Daniel gently took the ring from Sam and, carefully, lowered himself down to one knee, never taking his eyes off of Sam.

“He eventually decided he wanted to give him the ring anyways,” Daniel smiled, holding the ring up to Sam. “He decided that he really did want to ask his lover if he would be his forever, even if he was pretty confident that he was already going to be.”

“What are you saying?” Sam breathed, his forefinger and thumb splayed at the hollow of his throat as he tried to assuage his dizziness and anchor himself to the comfort of his locket. 

“Sam, I fucking love you,” Daniel sighed. “I’ve loved you before I even knew you. I think I’ll probably love you after I know you, too. Will you marry me?”

Sam couldn’t respond. He simply dropped to his knees and hugged Daniel hard, knocking a laugh and a little cry out of the larger man as he clung to him and began to weep all over again. This time it was from utter relief and unbelievable, blinding, terrifying love.

“Yes,” Sam agreed, nodding his head excitedly and wiping his face with his palm. “Yes, of course, I’ll marry you, oh my god. I can’t believe you. Yes.”

Daniel collapsed into Sam and reciprocated the hug fully, able to relax for the first time in a long time at the confirmation that his years of daydreaming weren’t wasted. Daniel borderline crushed Sam against him as they embraced and laughed, murmuring about how they loved each other and how silly they felt to cry.

“Can I put it on you now?” Daniel eventually asked.

Sam nodded and peeled himself from Daniel’s chest so that Daniel could slip the ring onto Sam’s left hand. Once it was on, Sam held it up and tilted it this way and that so it caught the light just right, electric and pearlescent and beyond beautiful. A bright, clear diamond offset by the pearls; it was everything Sam could’ve wanted. Maybe this was also an apology gift in part from the ocean, Sam wondered. 

“Now who would toss this into the ocean?” Sam questioned as he watched the ring dance in the orange glow of the lights. 

“Must’ve been a rough break up,” Daniel hummed. 

“Yeah, like, maybe one of them left to go be a murderer and the other one had to stay behind to hustle drunks for tips.”

“I can’t imagine anybody would ever be that evil.”

“Yeah, imagine that,” Sam smirked, casting a sidelong glance at Daniel. 

“I just said I can’t,” Daniel joked, leaning forward and kissing Sam’s cheek. “Are you feeling a little more assured that I’m not leaving?”

“Maybe a little,” Sam murmured, turning inwards to catch Daniel’s wandering lips in a proper kiss. 

After a long couple of minutes of clawing at each other and Sam nearly tipping over from how far Daniel leaned into him to chase his tongue, they broke apart. Sam held Daniel’s face in his hands, the cool metal of the band on his finger tickling Daniel’s fiery skin and making him grin.

“You wanna know something wild?” Daniel asked, voice hoarse from crying and kissing.

“Always.”

“When I went to go get the band adjusted in Italy, the jeweler told me the silver used for the ring was from Spain,” Daniel revealed, hooking the chain of Sam’s necklace and pulling it out as he spoke. “That’s where I got this. What do you think of that?”

“I think it’s fate,” Sam marveled, curling his hand inwards so they could compare the two pieces of jewelry. “I think it was meant to be.”

“Yeah, that’s what I think, too,” Daniel whispered.

“You big sap.”

Daniel turned and kissed Sam’s cheek again and Sam giggled, falling against him and into the touch. Daniel withdrew his lips and stretched before standing up again, holding a hand out to pull Sam to his feet. On the jukebox, the song had long since skipped to something new, but Daniel reached out and selected their song again. 

“You wanna know something else?” Daniel asked when the music changed. 

“Hm?”

“Remember the night we met?”

“Duh.”

“Hey, watch it with the sass, mister. I’ll pry that ring right off.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

“Anyways,” Daniel laughed, taking both of Sam’s hands and swinging them slightly. “The night we met. Before you ran away from me, did you know I was going to ask you to dance with me?”

“Really, now?” Sam smiled, blushing with a flutter of butterflies when Daniel nodded toothly and pulled him against him again. A hand went to Sam’s waist, another held the hand with the ring proudly on display.

“Yeah, really,” Daniel confirmed, swaying them to the jovial melody of the song. “I knew you’d say no, but I was gonna ask anyway.”

“You should ask,” Sam flirted.

“We’re already dancing this time.”

“And I was already going to marry you, but you asked me anyhow,” Sam pointed out with a cocky twinkle in his eye, letting Daniel give him a twirl before they settled into an amateur sort of side step with Sam’s arms around Daniel’s neck and Daniel’s arms around his waist.

“So you’d thought about it before?” Daniel prodded shyly, curls hanging down as he smiled dopily at his fiance. “Getting married?”

“Of course,” Sam murmured, feeling the heat creep into his face. “We have been dating for, like, a million years. Glad you decided to stop dragging your feet.”

“Gee, you’re welcome,” Daniel scoffed. Sam laughed and rested his head under Daniel’s chin, allowing them to dance in silence until the last few notes of the song bubbled over and then petered out.

“You wanna go inform the troops?” Daniel asked. 

Setting the whole thing up had been a group collaboration between himself and the twins, with Josh giving him the space for the night and Jake being a distraction to allow Daniel the time to set up the lights/change/get his mind together. He knew that they were both on the edges of their seats at their respective posts, Jake sat at the inn and Josh on the couch, probably with Clarice and any number of her chicks fluttering around him. He also knew (because they had told him, loudly and repeatedly) that they needed to know how it went as fast as possible, because they were just as antsy if not more than him.

Sam thought about it quietly before making an indifferent noise and cuddling up closer to Daniel.

“They can wait,” Sam announced, his voice muffled. “I want you all to myself for a little longer.”

“If you follow through on the whole marriage thing, you’ll have me to yourself forever, Brandy,” Daniel reminded him.

“Love the sound of that,” Sam giggled. “How about after forever, too? I think you said something about that.”

“Yes, after that, too. I don’t even know if there’s anything after forever.”

“Wanna find out?”

Daniel pretended to think about it long and hard, like he hadn’t spent every day for the past 5 years saying yes to it over and over and over. 

“Yeah,” Daniel agreed. “If we find out together.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

~~~

Taglist: @holdingup-fallingsky @streamsofstardust @spark-my-nature @jake-whatthefisgoingon-kiszka @lightsofthe-living-gvf @nessie-stardust @musicislove3389 @joshkiszkashusband @currentlyfangirling10