#red cedar ceiling

[you-will-rebel-to-any-thing]

Medium Sun Room Medium-sized mountain-style sunroom image with a regular ceiling and no fireplace

[shiningnewlight]

Porch Front Yard Bridgeport Mid-sized arts and crafts front porch idea with decking and a roof extension

[blacksheeptown]

Bridgeport Craftsman Porch

Mid-sized arts and crafts front porch idea with decking and a roof extension

[estimatey]

Transitional Patio Seattle

Ideas for a medium-sized, transitional backyard renovation that includes an addition to the roof

[unstablexbalor]

Newark Living Room Home Bar Image of a large open-concept living room in a mountain style that has a bar but no fireplace or television.

[shipsi]

Family Room - Open Example of a mid-sized open concept vinyl floor, brown floor and exposed beam family room design with gray walls and a wall-mounted tv

[silvabrylee]

Porch in Seattle Ideas for remodeling a sizable coastal side porch with a fireplace and an awning

[emvozbaixa]

Beach Style Living Room in Seattle Example of a large living room in the beach-loft style with white walls, a tile fireplace, a standard fireplace, and a wall-mounted television.

[satan-ryoasuka]

Exterior in New York Large coastal orange two-story wood exterior home idea with a shingle roof

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Would you buy this enormous brick house for $699k if its giant pool needed repair? Well, it has a sale pending, so someone saw value in it. The 2007 build in Cedar Rapids, IA has 6bds, 9ba, 13,666 sq ft. $699k.

The grand entrance has this huge open space with a dining room and kitchen combo off to the side. I have a 1bd. apt. w/a small loft- b/c of the high ceiling in the living room I freeze all winter. In the summer, the main floor is hot. If a little apt. is like that, I can't imagine how much a house this size would cost to regulate.

Interesting how they put the hearth so high in the fireplace.

The kitchen color scheme features dark gray middle island cabinets, dark walnut regular cabinetry, and bright turquoise subway tile.

The kitchen is massive and features a V-shaped red oak China cabinet.

Across the hall is the living room. Oh, how nice, they left a grandfather clock for the new owner. I don't care for the wild floor pattern, though.

Guest powder room.

The stairs are pretty nice.

It's got a beautiful ceiling with a round mural. The space is very large up here.

2nd level family room.

This is confusing. There's a fireplace, a terrace, and a bath. Is the bedroom and bath all one space? It must be. The bedroom area is the carpeted part. Don't like that at all.

This secondary bedroom also has a fireplace and a terrace with the tub in the room, but the shower and everything else is separate.

Here's a 2nd kitchen that has access from the driveway.

Then, these beautiful stairs come down to the lowest level.

Here's a bar.

It's gigantic down here.

Then, the other back staircase comes down to a rec room.

And, a home theater.

The indoor pool needs at least a new liner. Look at the mural- it's a building with a real balcony, doors, windows, and columns with a covered patio.

The view from the faux building. This is such a huge room, it looks like the YMCA pool.

The house is joined together by this little connecting tunnel.

There are garages with connecting patios.

It looks like the home is on a bare, hilly .57 acre lot.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/4012-Paradise-Ct-NW-Cedar-Rapids-IA-52405/124302669_zpid/

[acotarxreader]

Shadow and Flame pt 3

Azriel X Reader

Warnings: Angst, smut, miscommunications, mentions of burn.

A/N: Right, I haven't written smut in a very long time and I am very rusty so apologies in advance there 😂 the end of this segment I hope it's clear that both situations happen concurrently and that that comes across yikes! I'm still blown away by people's kind words and welcoming nature. Thank you so much loves! Part 4 loading

Part 1 Part 2

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

You woke to the smell of cedar and mist replacing the smell of burned skin in your nose. You sighed gently, tempting your eyes to open. You reached to feel the softest silk beneath your hands. This sent fear through you. Where were you? You tried to will your body upright but insurmountable pain shattered through your bones. Your eyes peeled open, to stare up at a delicately painted ceiling, the stars of the night sky looking back at you. You reached for any flame you could find but none came to you, your own fire truly exhausted from the battle with your Father's. 

“Easy there YN” the female's voice stopped your movements, your eyes frantically searching for the source as she stepped out of the shadow.

“Hello, I'm Feyre, please be gentle with yourself you were ravaged” she said quietly and you hated it. Hated the pity. You knew of Feyre, you knew of her and your brother, what happened Under The Mountain and all the things that happened since but mostly you knew she was not an immediate threat unless threatened. 

“Where am I?” You rasped through your smokey throat. 

“Velaris, this is our home, Azriel brought you to us when you landed on the town house steps, we have healers round the clock for you, it won't be long until you're right again” you groaned, trying to move your body, pushing away the pain. 

“I need Lucien” you breathed

“Yes well….about him, he is kind of sort of not available at the moment”

“What?” You gently turned your head to get a look at the beautiful High Lady.

“Az won't allow him to darken the door. I'm sorry if this upsets you but we must let him work through it himself if we are ever to see them in the same room again” Feyre left out the part where Azriel had nearly torn the Prince of Foxes limb for limb, leaving him in his own state of disrepair.

“I have to go, I have to go back to Autumn, he'll come for me”

“Beron will not step another foot in this Court unless he fancies losing it. My mate is handling him as we speak” she spoke with such hatred in her voice for your Father. He had crossed into the territory unwelcomed, certainly ruffling the treaty but you were his to fetch. You knew he'd come back, treaty or not. You couldn't stay here and risk the vengeance. You couldn't stay here and risk them finding out your heritage. You pushed up slightly to sit and rest against the headboard, your skin screaming at you to stop. You glanced around the room lit by sunlight, no flame to be seen

“Feyre, I need fire”

“I think you've had enough of that” she laughed but stopped once she noticed your stony expression.

She cleared her throat before speaking again. “Az has instructed us to keep you from fire until you are rested, he said you're a flight risk, he didn't care to elaborate” she gave a small smile. 

“Azriel is not my keeper. I have to get to flame, it will help me to recover” she weighed up her options as you pleaded with your copper eyes. She moved slowly to the fireplace to retrieve a matchbox and tealight, figuring a small light was of minimal risk. Your eyes followed her hands as she drew the match backwards, watching and waiting for the relief the crackle of fire would bring. The match drew against the red phosphorus as you held your breath. A shadow quenches the flame before it could grow.

“Feyre” her head snapped to Azriel as he stood in the doorway, tea tray in hand. She looked at the Shadowsinger as if she was a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar. 

“I-she said she needs it to recover” he sighed at her before glancing straight to you, the words she said only resonating with him then, you were awake.

“YN, thank the Gods” he dashed to your side, putting the tray down. Feyre allowed a smirk to grow, dropping the matches at the end of the bed before seeing herself out of the room.

“Get me Lucien” his face twisted in anger at the sound of the name and that these were the first words you'd uttered to him in a week. 

“YN, please I know he is your love but-” your loud laugh cut him off, pressure releasing as your ribs shook.

“That is disgusting” you remarked with a smile to the confused Shadowsinger. You swallowed the laugh growing in you again, attempting to swing your legs to the side of the bed to have Azriels hand stop you in your tracks. 

“YN please you must rest”

“I must get out of here before Fa-Beron comes and burns this place to cinders”

“He wouldn't dare, what is it he wants with you?” You glanced down at your feet and back up to meet the hazel eyes. You must have looked like a nightmare, ash still in your hair, cracked skin screaming to be reconnected with itself and yet Azriel looked at you with pure kindness in his eyes. 

“He wants - I can't tell you what he wants but I should go to him before he comes to collect” you said smally. Azriel kneeled to the side of the bed to fall between your legs as they hung over the edge. His hands slid into yours as if they were always meant to be there. You watched the movement with such caution. This wasn't supposed to happen. You weren't supposed to be seen. You weren't supposed to want to be seen. 

“I will not hesitate to kill him where he stands should he cross the threshold of the Night Court without permission again” his eyes searched yours with determination.

“I want to trust you” he lowered his head to your hands at your response. Azriel almost painfully slowly raised your hands to his mouth to place the gentlest of kisses on your cracked skin. This sent tingles through your body, the lovingness of the gesture warmed you, soothing your exhausted internal blaze. 

“Then trust me” His words broke your heart, but you felt you trusted him as much as you trusted your father would come for you.

“Give me a flame” your eyes landed on the box of matches at the end of the bed. His eyes followed yours with trepidation. If your father was to come then you were not going to have him find you broken in a bed. 

“YN-”

“-If I am to trust you then you are to trust me, give me a flame to aid my recovery” your eyes scanned him from side to side, hoping to portray the genuineness you felt. He released your hands, reaching for the match box again.

He dragged a match from its cage and looked into your eyes as he struck it off the red phosphorus, bursting into life. Its glow illuminated the space between you both. You reached a shaky hand towards the flame, it almost stretching out to you in joy of being reunited.

Azriel watched in awe, never had he seen the elements behave in such a way for any ordinary Fae. But you weren't ordinary, you were of pure Autumn Court blood, the flame a friend of yours. Your finger made contact with the heat, Azriel tried not to cringe at the sound of the sizzle. You breathed the energy before diving in. You were pulled from the bed and deep within its heat. Azriel leapt to his feet at the now empty bed in front of him. He cursed out loud, he trusted you and you left. He wanted to help you and you left. He cared for you and you left. The match fizzled out. 

“Told you” he jumped on the spot as you stood from behind him, skin beginning to knit together again faster than any healer could work. Your loose nightdress flowed over the scars now melting back into your skin as you smiled at the Shadowsinger. He exhaled in relief, closing the distance between you.

“Did you think I'd gone?” he caught hold of your hands as you gave a small laugh at his surprised face. 

“I thought you had evaded my touch once again Flame” you tried to hide your blush at his new pet name for you, failing miserably. You felt yourself almost fall into the shrinking space between you both, Azriels shadows dancing with your flames around your feet, finding home in one another. 

“Who are you Flame?” It was hardly above a whisper.

“I-”

“-Excuse me!” Madjas sharp voice split you both apart. 

“Madja I was just-”

“-Leaving Lady YN to bed rest, as we had agreed” she raised an eyebrow as Azriel almost shrunk into himself like a bold school child. You let a little laugh leave you at the sight, until Madja landed her gaze on you and you hung your head almost in shame. She pointed to the bed with a slender finger, you went to protest but her heated stare told you otherwise as you slipped back into the sheets. 

∆***************∆

You sank into the medicated bath. Normally being submerged in water had you feeling ill but the myriad of lit candles surrounding you gave you comfort. Madja had ordered you to soak your stitching skin and you now feared her almost as much as your father so you obliged. 

You hummed gently as your eyes rested in the swimming pool-like bath that was flush with the floor. You wondered where Lucien was, how angry he'd be with you, how enraged he'd be at the sight of you and Azriel earlier. You couldn't help but smile at the discomfort you'd bring your sibling. You reached for the salve Madja instructed you to apply, it's cream-like consistency foaming on the grooves of your skin.

“YN I brought you- Fuck sorry!” Azriel shielded his eyes quickly while dropping the books he held in his hand. You moved deeper in the water, suddenly shy at his presence. He moved to gather the books still blocking his eyes, kicking one into the bubbling water. 

“Shit!” 

“Azriel just open your eyes before you end up in here with me” you laughed retrieving the book, its ink blending into the water. Azriel thought for a moment to keep his eyes closed, the possibility of ending up in there with you making the hair on his neck stand up in excitement. He opened his eyes cautiously to find you staring up at him through your lashes.

“Thank you for lighting the candles for me earlier, a lovely surprise” 

“You're welcome, anything you need” he gathered the books, shivers running through him at the sight of your body beneath the bubbles.

“Actually Azriel….nevermind”

“No, what is it? Tell me” You shrunk in on yourself slightly, your boldness leaving you. He wanted to stay there with you as long as he could, in any capacity. 

“It's just….I need to put this salve on my back and…I can't reach and Madja has gone home for the evening and-”

“Sure” he replied quickly, cursing himself internally at your smirk. 

Azriel lowered himself on his knees behind you, his wings balancing him from teetering over the edge. You passed the jar back to him over your shoulder, trying to keep your anticipation to a minimum, fixing your glance at the navy tiling. 

He hovered his shaking hand above your shoulder as it glistened from the water. Azriel every so gently rubbed the salve into your skin, it foaming on contact. You rolled your head back slightly at the feeling of the soothing balm on your cracked skin causing a breath of relief to leave you. Azriels eyes fell over your shoulder for a moment to glance at your chest, he mentally scolded himself immediately for stealing the glance, pulling his hand back.

“Are you okay?” You noticed the missing sensation straight away, you rolled to lie on your stomach, forearms across the rim of the bath, you looked up at the Shadowsinger on his knees above you.

“I-I’m not sure I've ever felt so okay before in my life Flame” his eyes were so lovingly looking at you with such true sincerity you'd never felt from someone before. You pushed up from the bath to your feet, your whole torso dripping in bubbles gleaming. Azriel swallowed the lump in his throat, he was now eye level with you as you reached for his hand and pulled him closer to you. He couldn't help but trace your whole body with his eyes, drinking you in. Your hand slipped around the back of his neck, pulling him up from his knees and forward to meet your lips. 

Inferno. Azriels whole body felt warm and secure as you kissed him deeply, his hands going to your waist. You shuddered a little bit at his cold hands meeting your wet sides.

“Sorry sorry did I hurt you?” he pulled back suddenly to your surprise. 

“Azriel do you intend on hurting me?”

“No”

“Then no, you didn't hurt me, it's just because I'm all….wet that your dry hand just…startled me” Azriel took a moment to think before a devilish smirk grew across his face, he stood and began to strip down in front of you. Your mouth dried out at the sight of him, your skin felt electric as he sank into the water alongside you. His hand grazed the side of your cheek, pulling you forward to meet him gently. 

“I-was-so-scared-when-I-found-you-on-the-steps” Azriel breathed out between kisses. You passed one of your legs over his lap beneath the water to straddle him, tilting his head back to deepen the kiss. 

“Were you looking for me?” You smiled into the kiss, his hands wrapping around you to pull you flush into him. 

“I think my whole life Flame” your heart sang at these words, your breath taken from you as he attached himself to your neck. You moaned at the feeling of his teeth nipping you, trailing down your neck to your chest. Azriel hardened beneath you even more at the sound. You leaned up slightly, running a hand down his chiselled chest to beneath the surface of the water to his lengthy member. 

“Fuuuck” he breathed at the feeling and you grinned. You slowly lowered yourself back down onto him, moaning loudly in his ear, your nails dug into his shoulders at the sensation. You adjusted to him between your legs, the flames of the candles growing wilder around the bath. 

“Are you going to set me on fire Flame?” Azriel groaned out as you began to bounce slightly on his length. He reattached to your neck to muffle his groans, failing massively. The both of you moved in unison, tension building building building. Azriels fingers gripped into your sides with burning pressure, the flames around you growing taller and taller with your tighting core until the whole bath was surrounded by a ring of your fire. If Azriel was honest with himself, he was a bit afraid of the growing towers of fire but he felt so easily lost in your moans he forgot the fear as soon as it came. You moaned his name so loudly you were sure they heard you in Summer Court, toppling Azriel over his own edge, the flame on the candles becoming small and still again at the release. 

You stayed on his lap for a moment, until he stood with you still in his arms. He passed through the bathroom doors into your adjacent room with your flames dancing around to dry you both before he placed you on the bed. 

“Flame, I have to see to something with Rhys but I will be back before you know it” you ran your hand gently down his cheek as he leaned and whispered those words from above you. 

“I'll be here”

“Do you promise?”

“Do you trust me?” He kissed your cheek in answering your question before retrieving his clothes and redressing. You allowed your eyes to fall close as he slipped out the door. 

********* 

You rolled over to find the bed empty alongside you still an hour or so later. You lifted yourself from the bed, dressing in a robe that Feyre had laid out for you. You wandered down the hall in search of Azriel. 

“I don't care Rhys, she stays!” You heard Azriels sharp tone from the other side of a large oak door. You couldn't help but stop and listen. 

“Az, she is not from the Court, she belongs to Autumn-”

“She belongs to no one” Azriel seethed.

“Brother, she brings a threat to our door. Lucien has told us she must go to Autumn, to Beron, it is beyond our control-” your breath hitched in your throat, had Lucien let the cat out of the bag?

“It is very much in your control Cass” 

“Beron has made it clear that he will help us in our efforts should we return YN” 

“She is not a political pawn!”

“She belongs to Beron, she must go back! I am not going to war for some female that landed on our doorstep! He wants you dead Azriel, I will not have you sacrificed for her!” Rhysands hands banged against the solid wood of his desk. 

You took a step back from the door again. They were going to send you back. Your Father would have you mangled for the embarrassment of having to be sent against your will back to him. You looked at the candles lighting the stairwell adjacent and with a deep breath you knew it was time to go before they took you kicking and screaming. But you didn't want to, you couldn't leave like this, couldn't leave Azriel. The rock of having him hurt because of you and the hard place of returning to a vengeful father is where you found yourself wedged firmly between. You ran from the stairwell to your room, head scrambling.

“I could have said the same when you barraged in on Tamlin and Feyres wedding!’

“Az!” Cass reprimanded Azriel with his eyes for his comments. 

“That was different Az, Feyre is my mate!”

“And what if YN is mine!?” The two were instantly silent to this. Azriel felt such strong and complex feelings towards you, such a magnetic force, the flame to his smoke.  A chill ran down his spine. Something was happening. The three Illyrians took an instinctive fighting stance.

“Y/N” your father stood in a circle of flame in your room, eerily calm with an outstretched hand. 

“Come home now and all will be forgiven” Berons eyes told a different story. He was boiling in anger, anger you knew Azriel would take the brunt of if you didn't go now and yet you hesitated, looking around the safe space Azriel had made for you. You went to speak, to defy, to scream but you were too slow, too weak still, Berons flame engulfed you and pulled you from where you stood. 

 ****

Azriel materialised into your room, the other two warriors searching for the source of their unease elsewhere in River House. 

“Flame, you wouldn't believe the- YN?” He materialised in your room to find it empty. He ran to the bathroom to find you gone from there as well, all the flames in the room doused out.

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

What do we think friends?

Part 4

Tag list: @sunshineangel-reads @skylarkalchemist @tele86 @saltedcoffeescotch @impossibelle @quiettuba @thecraziestcrayon @fightmedraco

If you were forgotten please feel every right to give out to me

[trashmouth-richie]

⛧「 ✦ 𝔞𝔩𝔩 𝔥𝔬𝔭𝔢 𝔦𝔰 𝔤𝔬𝔫𝔢 ✦ 」⛧

⛧tattoo artist! steve 💋 ⛧rising rockstar! eddie

⛧eddie x fem reader | previous steve x fem reader

⛧reader is nicknamed cherry 🍒

⛧summary: series of blurbs revolving around you, eddie and steve. after vecna: eddie sold his soul to remain alive— him and steve leave hawkins and indiana to go to college and leave what happened in the past. eddie is on the rise of fame while steve is still battling his demons. they both meet reader at school. reader has no idea what happened, and never finds out the truth. eddie progressively turns into a mentally abusive asshole throughout this story so keep that in mind. he’s not our lovable boyfriend.

⛧part one summary: a surprise for your boyfriend, you decide to get a tattoo of his name in a very private spot, from the only one he would trust to do it, his best friend… whom you have a past with. 

⛧warnings: implied smut, depression, anxiety, possession, selling soul to devil, post s4 where both eddie and steve leave hawkins. there will be a few blurbs in this au, (in other parts: smut, degrading, possessive mean! eddie)

It was your idea to surprise your boyfriend with a tattoo. After months of him joking around about branding you as his in a more permanent way, you decided to do it.

A tattoo would last forever, it wouldn’t heal like teeth marks did or fade away like his hickeys would. His dick kicked up at the thought of his name scratched into your delicate skin. The same night he had mentioned it he had you face down in the sheets, burying himself deep within your walls until you were both out of breath. Panting, aching for and from one another. 

The date was set, and you knew better than to go to anyone but Eddie’s best friend to get it done, and Steve agreed to do it for free, since you’re Munson’s girl. 

He agreed to keep it secret because you had wanted to surprise Eddie, but as the appointment creeped up, you became more and more nervous about trying to keep your present for him under wraps. 

The day of the appointment landed on a Friday, the same night Eddie’s band was set to play at The Bloody Dime, an up and coming bar that was known for fights breaking out and drinks being cheap. 

Per his demands, you weren’t allowed within 10 feet of such a place, already having to find out the hard way when he beat the bricks off a guy who wouldn’t stop staring at you. 

Pretty baby like you doesn’t belong there, kitten… understand?

Steve’s shop was downtown from your apartment, a cozy little space nestled into a black brick building—Inked Demo spelled out with neon blue lights. 

The walls were covered with paintings of strange creatures you couldn’t imagine in your worst nightmares, deep reds and violent shades of purple. Various plants hung from the ceiling and were potted in planters or tucked into ornate little terrariums. 

It smelled of rich cedar and hand rolled cigarettes. The bell on the door dinged announcing your arrival and Steve stepped from behind the back wall. His hair was how it always was, slicked back in a dark wave, and he merely nodded to acknowledge your presence. 

“Cherry,” he greeted, using the name Eddie had introduced you to his friends. He wrapped you in a bone crushing hug, kissing your cheek gently before he held you at arms length. 

Out of all of Eddie’s friends, Steve knew you just as well as your own boyfriend did. 

A smile creeps across his lips as he lets your arms go and walks to a small desk. His tall frame slinking like a shadow as he clicks on a slim lamp and begins flipping through a binder full of current work and past tattoos. He finds the heart shaped cherries with Eddie written in pretty cursive underneath. 

They were perfect— Steve was able to capture your ideas through horrible explanations and give his own little twist to them. A modern mockup of American traditionalism with the speckles of glitter you had seen on Pinterest.

His eyes sparkle through the shadow from the light as he proudly holds up the drawing, “so… where we puttin’ this sucker?”

Originally you had thought to put it on your chest, but decided against it when Robin had told you how much her tattoo had hurt there, even more so when she had to get Barb’s name covered by a butterfly. 

Crossing the tiger print carpet to the black tattoo chair, you sit down gently with your ankles crossed, “umm, would it be weird to put it on my thigh?” you asked meekly, “kinda high up so it’s a little more private?”

Raising your skirt, you show Steve the placement. A slivered peek of scarlet lacy panties are visible beneath the hiked up fabric in your fingers, and he nearly bites a hole in his cheek to not look. 

“You could put it there,” he ponders, moving a large veiny hand through the slick of his hair, only to land on his chin to really sell the act of him thinking, tapping his bottom lip, “but ass tats are really popular.”

Eddie would go berserk seeing his name anywhere on your body, but you had to admit— there was something a little bit sexy about his name being tattooed only somewhere he could see. 

“Will it hurt?” 

His eyes light up as he grabs supplies to sanitize his work area clearing his throat, “haven’t had anyone cry yet, so I’m gonna go ahead and say no.” 

Steve’s reputation for his artwork spread far and wide, he was booked solid for months on end, self taught, making tons of money for a college drop out— despite what his dad had said. 

He had done all of Eddie’s tattoos including the enormous stretch of bat wings that spread across his shoulders and down the expanse of his back. Sharp talons protruding onto the beginning of his hips, curved around to his wrists. Steve had freehanded most of it, as if it were from memory. 

Biting your lip contemplating the placement, you think of Eddie and the swelling size of is cock as it split you open once he laid eyes on his name branded into your skin. 

“Okay,” you smile, “let’s do it.” 

Steve smirked and rubbed his jaw, “cool, lay on your stomach for me.”

Flipping onto your front you lay with your hands under your chin, looking up at him through your lashes, “like this?” 

Steve sits on the stool facing away from you, straightening his table and tattoo gun, looking over his shoulder meeting your eye, “yeah… that’s perfect, Cherry.” 

You watch in amusement as he sterilizes his work station and sets up the ink, “Eddie playin’ at the Dime tonight?” 

“Yep,” you sigh, thinking of all the time you’d spent alone while he was gone, “last show of their College Daze Tour, then back to finals, and normal life.” 

A scoff rumbles from Steve’s throat as he wraps his gun, “what’s even considered normal? Everything is pretty shitty around here.” 

Propping up on an elbow you set to argue with him, “going to class is normal, hanging out with our friends, partying, sleeping in the same bed instead of him crashing in the back of someone’s van— that’s all routine for me, for us…” you sigh a little, picking at your thumbs. 

Steve looks over and sees the sadness in your face, grabbing the pink disposable razor, “last I heard from him, he was looking to leave Corroded and start up somethin’ with a few guys from here. Can’t say I blame him, anything to do with home is hard to deal with.” 

Eddie never talked about Hawkins. The only thing you knew about it was that he and Steve got the hell out of there the year he graduated, never looking back, never visiting. 

“That’s the plan for now at least… honestly, I wish he would take a break for a while, but you know him— he’s really driven to be the best he can be.” 

Steve knew all too well. Spending nights awake staring out of his large apartment windows, missing the way things used to be, regretting everything that happened in Hawkins. 

 “Eddie’s…passionate…about the things he cares about, he’s always been that way.” 

That part was always true, Eddie carried his feelings on his sleeve, never afraid to show his emotions, or make sacrifices for people he loved. Steve himself was a living breathing reminder of that. 

“…alright Cherry,” his voice dripped with smoothness as he got closer to you, “everything’s ready…I’ll need to lift your skirt so I can prep the skin, you cool with that?” 

You reply with a yes, and feel the goosebumps prick at your skin as the cool air hits your exposed cheek. The rubber of Steve’s glove drags across your skin as he rubs in the sanitation spray. “‘m gonna shave you now.” 

This being your first tattoo you didn’t know what to expect, heat flooding your cheeks immediately, “oh my God is it hairy?” 

Steve chuckles low, a fan of his breath blowing warm against your skin, “not at all honey, it’s just standard procedure for any tattoo.” 

He was delicate as he ran the blade across you in small motions away from him. One rubber gloved hand held your skin taut, the other on the razor. Your ass bounced back to him after the last drag of the razor leaves your skin, and you swore you heard him suck in a breath. 

Steve had always been handsome, ever since the first time you met during that freshman year mixer in the backyard of some random frat house it was that he was rushing for. 

He was different then, preppy clothes and expensive shoes, surviving during the week just to live for the weekends. A flask with his name claim permanently pressed to his palm. King Steve. 

But somewhere along the lines of college stresses and life back in Hawkins— he changed, dropped out of college completely and dove into his natural talent. Making a name for himself, carving his own path. 

That was why you had fallen for him to begin with. 

“E-Eddie said you have a date this weekend, are you excited?” 

Steve wipes your skin with a paper towel and spreads a thick ointment to lay the stencil, “I wish he’d stop trying to set me up.” 

His thumbs sweep across the stencil laying it firmly in place, “oh c’mon Steven…Lydia’s cute, she’s in one of my elective art classes, she reminds me of you.” 

Steven. Nobody ever called him by his full name.

“Of me?”

Looking over your shoulder you meet his deep mossy eyes, “in a weird way I guess, yeah.”  

He looks back into your eyes, watching as you slowly blinked and drifted your gaze downward to where his large hands were still splayed across your ass. 

The dusting of hair on his arms tickled your skin when he pulled back gently, pinching a corner of the transfer paper and peeling it from you. He purses his lips and blows on the stencil lightly. 

Steve often thought back to the way things were three years ago. The way your eyes gleamed under the string patio lights, the scent of your vanilla perfume and how it seemed to bake deeper with the sun's rays on your skin. 

He remembered how your lips tasted like melted ice cream against his, and how deeply he craved to be floating in the candy confectionery of sugar and sprinkles with you in the center of it, center of his world. 

Steve shakes his head, trying to erase that time in his life but always coming up short. “This won’t hurt too bad, I’ll stop whenever you need, okay? It’s best if you lay down.”

Your chest tightens with nerves as you nod your head, pressing your cheek into the vinyl of the black headrest. 

The gun starts and Steve tells you he’s going to do the outline of the cherries first. The needle vibrates into your skin and you wince at the first few lines made but eventually getting used to the way your skin buzzed and the pain that came from it. 

You whimpered out in a few spots and Steve’s velvet voice shushed you gently, telling you the worst was almost over. 

“Outlining is finished,” Steve murmurs, rubbing ink from your skin, “you’re doing really good, honey.” 

Your mind slips to him saying those words in a different setting, a miniature golf course with clubs that were too short and a go-kart track. He had said it when you finally sunk your ball after par ten thousand on hole eleven. 

Sarcasm spread across his face and you wiggled your tongue at him and threw a middle finger his way. Only for him to chase you around the tiny windmills and grassy hills, catching up and tickling you under your arms until you were near to tears. 

You thought he would have kissed you that night, but to your surprise and dismay— he had waited for the third official date.

“Thank you,” you smile weakly. 

He returns the smile and looks away, clearing his throat, “the shading will be a cake walk, we’ll be done here before you know it…might even catch the end of Eddie’s show.” 

“Really?” you say with a spring of hope in your voice. He couldn’t dismiss how his friend's name made his mouth taste like poison, but how it made you weak in the knees. “That would be great, Steve.”

“Sure thing princess,” he nearly whispered, “lay back now, I’ll be done soon.” 

Steve tried to blank it all out as his tattoo gun spelled  Eddie in a cursive calligraphy he knew was yours. Letter by letter he swallowed down the feelings he had been harboring from you, from him— from everyone. 

He wished he had never taken you to that concert. He loathed himself for the way Eddie slithered between the two of you, how Eddie could have had any girl at that after party but he chose you simply because you were with him. 

Steve tried to deny him of it, tried to steer him toward another girl, a girl who wasn’t you. One he hadn’t been in love with, one who didn’t appear in his dreams despite the nightmares clouding in. But one low growl and a flash of those sharp fangs and Steve knew he didn’t stand a chance. 

Letter by letter he branded his friend’s name into your skin, giving the girl he loved a silent goodbye with every curve and final dot of the ‘i’.

“All done,” he said with a shaky throat, cleaning you up, “wanna see it?”

You nod and reach for his outstretched hand,  swinging your legs and standing to follow him to the mirror. It was perfect. Equal parts colorful yet traditional with a spark of modern flare added to it. 

“Steve,” you gasp, mouth hung open in adoration, “it’s beautiful!”

He rubs his neck and watches your reflection in the mirror, the way your mouth ticks up on the ends into the sweetest smile he’d ever seen.

His heart was aching knowing it wasn’t for him

[icarusdescending7]

Aquamarine - Chapter 3

Ao3 | First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Your fiancé died seven years ago, and you joined the military in his wake to fill the void his death put on you. Now, you work with the 141 for an assignment, hunting associates of their enemies.

Their Lieutenant, however, given you an uneasy feeling. You have a vague sense of familiarity with him, but from where?

-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-

You sighed as you stared up at the ceiling, replaying the day's events over and over. What a… stressful first day. First, the other Lieutenant doesn’t like you, then the gift your fiancé gave you breaks, and you get the shards in your hand and have to have Soap help you pull them out. What a mess. You clenched your hand a little, sighing at the feeling of the wounds splitting open. These are the days you wish he were still- you need to stop thinking about him. He’s dead and gone. In the past. If only it were that simple. But it is that simple. It really isn’t. It is. It’s not.

You rolled over, glancing at the clock, and sighed— 1 am. You buried your face into the pillows and immediately relaxed. Your brow furrowed for only a moment before you fell asleep. The smell of citrus and cedar lulled you away to the best sleep you’d known in years.

~~

You were lying on the ground, a thick dust clouding up around you as you struggled to regain your senses, the sound of thundering boots approaching you, grabbing you by your vest, and attempting to pull you up. Keyword: attempting. You were quickly dropped as a red mist hit your cheek, the hulking man before you with a newfound hole in his head. He collapsed on top of you, and you were quick to shove his corpse off, the drop shaking you back to reality.

“Too close, Ghost.” You grumbled into your earpiece, wiping the blood off your face with the back of your hand. You recovered your rifle and shouldered it, moving to take cover.

“You’re getting sloppy. Did you eat when we told you to?” He asked, another gunshot coming over his mic. “I have a feeling you didn’t. I can see it, in the way you’re shaking.” He said, a hint of annoyance in his voice— which wasn’t lost on you.

“I meant that you almost got me too with that shot. Did you eat?” You asked, annoyed, “Why do you care? Christ, you sound like my fiancé. Always on my ass about eating…” You mumbled, turning to move forward, finally hitting the door you were trying to get to and shooting the lock off. You swapped to your sidearm, dropping low as you entered, waiting for Soap to catch up.

“What, we can’t be concerned for our teammate's health?” Soap’s voice came in over the comms, breathless like he’d been running. “We cannae do a ton with you operatin’ at fifty percent, can we?” He slipped in through the door, giving Ghost an indirect thumbs-up as he did.

“Right, because me being a little hungry is so much worse than you dodging bullets at every opportunity you get.” You rolled your eyes, looking at him. “Look at you, you’re covered in scrapes and gashes… Ghost, you got our six while we’re in here?” You asked, poking your head out and looking for the glint of his scope.

It takes him a minute to respond, then a raspy “Yeah, got an eye out.” rung in your ears.

~

“Soap! You done planting those C4 yet? We got to get the fuck outta here!” You shouted, ripping the hard drives and USB sticks from the computers you found, hoping something might be useful beyond what you were sent after. You quickly shoved it all in your pack, running down the hall and dipping into the room he sat in.

“Yeah, lass! Let’s go!” He said, grabbing your arm and dragging you along as fast as possible to get out. At some point, you ended up in a fireman carry over his shoulder, being shaken about as he ran like a bat out of hell. You let it happen, not trying to run when you could barely see straight.

He dropped you on the ground face down, a puff of dirt kicking up around you. You got up on your knees, shrugging your pack off your shoulders, and flopped onto your back, trying to cool your pulse. You were shaking like a leaf. No, you didn’t eat. Before you could fully recover, your pack was snatched off the ground by Soap and you were quickly picked up by Ghost, who carried you much more delicately if not a bit tight— bridal style. The three of you booked it, the sound of trucks rumbling on the dirt path, getting closer with each second.

After an hour of running, the three of you finally settled in a dense patch of woods, taking a moment to breathe. Before you could think, they both shoved energy bars in your face, their expressions mildly annoyed.

“Eat.” Ghost nearly demanded, opening the bar and shoving it in your mouth when you went to protest. “I’m done carryin’ your ass around.” He huffed, leaning back against a tree and closing his eyes.

Soap closed his eyes, also leaning against a tree. “Where are we, now? We must’ve missed evac by a mile by now.” He sighed, pulling a satellite GPS out of his bag. “Sorry, two miles.”

You finished eating the bar that Ghost gave you, swallowing the last bite. You took Soaps GPS, fiddling with it for a moment before locking it on a clearing about 4 miles north of you. “We could make our way there, send the coords to Watcher?” You offered, handing it over to him and plucking the other energy bar from his hand.

He showed Ghost the suggested route, shrugging. “Could work.” Ghost only nodded, sighing a bit.

~

The car ride was quiet except for the grumble of the vehicle and the occasional bump making stuff roll across the steel floors. Soap had fallen asleep at some point and was snoring loudly, and you were fighting to stay awake.

“You should sleep.” Ghost's voice broke through the silence, making you jump a little.

“Don’t want to.” You said, looking at what you could see of him. It was dark in the cabin, so all but that creepy mask of his was in shadows. “You’re creepy.”

“So I’ve heard. You gonna fight sleep the whole way or…?” He questioned, turning to look at you. “If you don’t sleep now you won't get any until we get back to base.”

“I’ll sleep when I want to. Are you gonna sleep, or do you have the whole ‘I don’t sleep mehmehmeh’ vibe going on?” You asked, your joke making him huff in amusement.

“I don’t sleep. Not when I’m in the field.” He said, “Just sleep. You’re clearly fighting it, there's no use.” His hand came up to make you lean back to rest. You could only grumble before succumbing to sleep, your head lolling from the back of the seat over to his shoulder, despite the awkward distance between you two.

~~

He watched you as you raked the leaves from your yard into a pile, your focus waning slightly as you hit the same spot for the third time now. Simon went out, taking the rake from your hands and making you take a break.

“Did you eat, sweetheart? You look dizzy.” He asked, making you look up at him. Your eyes were unconcentrated, making him frown. “That’s a no. Go inside, love. I’ll finish up.” He kissed your forehead, sending you on your way.

“Was gonna finish this then do that, but sure, okay.” You grumbled, gently touching the spot where he kissed you. “Are there leftovers from breakfast?”

“Yeah. Go eat those. I’ll be in after a bit.” He called over his shoulder.

You went in and heated up the breakfast you made, taking the plate to the couch and watching him from the window. He’s so kind that you find it hard to believe that he’s a soldier. But then again, it was easy to believe he was a soldier. The scars across his arms and neck and face told all kinds of stories. Not ones you knew, of course, he would never in a million years tell you his tales of war. You were too precious to him, and he feared that you’d fear him instead of love him if you knew the horrors he witnessed and contributed to. But you knew. Even if they were vague hints and words of the ghosts that haunt him. You’d had to ground him from PTSD flashbacks on more than one occasion, and they were never pretty. After each and every one, he’d apologize, hold you close, call you his “pretty girl” and “love of my life”. He’d worry about making you go through that with him, even though you never minded.

You broke out of your trance when he sat his hand on your shoulder, making you turn up to look at him. His cheeks were rosy from the chill of the autumn air, and his hair was messy from his stocking cap. You sat up on the couch, pulling him to eye level and examining his face. You ran your fingers over scars you’d memorized, then found a new one.

“You have a new scar. How’d you get this one?” You asked, knowing you wouldn’t get a straight answer. You ran your fingers over it, bringing him closer to kiss it.

“A battle. Like most of the other scars. Nothin’ you need to worry about” He answered quietly. He leaned in, pressing his forehead to yours. “You don’t have to fuss over every new scar, you know.”

“Maybe not, but is that going to stop me? No. I need you to know that I love you, even with all your battle wounds.” You hummed, closing your eyes.

[theonlyonesora]

Chapter 8: Joy in the Little Things

 “Fair enough, fair enough,” Gojo declared with a theatrical bow, his arms spreading wide as if performing on stage. “I am a man of my word, after all. Lead the way, dear lady, and we shall uncover something elegant, something flattering, something that highlights your… attributes.” He straightened up, a wicked glint dancing in his eyes. “Let me fetch my credit card. I do believe I have a debt ceiling to shatter today.”

Yuna couldn’t help but roll her eyes, though the corners of her lips tugged into a smile.

The shopping district was alive with energy, a kaleidoscope of color and motion as people bustled from store to store. It had been a while since she’d done something so simple, so carefree. It felt strange at first—indulgent, even—but Gojo’s infectious energy quickly pulled her out of her shell.

To her surprise, he turned out to be a surprisingly good shopping companion. He gave honest feedback, his opinions sharp and thoughtful, even when they came with his signature teasing.

“Nope, not that one,” he said as she emerged from the dressing room in a sleek red dress. “Too much drama. You’re dramatic enough without the outfit adding to it.”

Yuna snorted, but when she glanced in the mirror, she had to admit he was right.

“What about this?” she asked later, stepping out in a flowing, pastel blue dress.

He tilted his head, studying her like a connoisseur inspecting fine art. “Hmm. Better. It says, ‘I’m elegant but approachable.’” He grinned. “Which, you know, is a lie, but hey, fashion is all about illusion.”

“Careful, Satoru,” she warned, wagging a finger at him, “or I’ll make you carry all these bags.”

Hours passed, but neither seemed to mind. Their laughter echoed in the quieter corners of the stores, their banter filling the gaps where heavier thoughts might have crept in. For a brief moment, it felt like nothing else mattered.

Then Gojo stopped abruptly, his smile turning mischievous as he pointed across the street.

“Hey, look! An onsen!” he said, his voice lilting with excitement. “Think about it—peace, relaxation, warm water, and a serene atmosphere. Why don’t we turn this shopping spree into a full-body experience, huh?”

Yuna raised an eyebrow, catching the sincerity beneath his teasing tone. She understood what he was offering—more than just a dip in hot water, but a chance to truly unwind, to let go of the tension neither of them spoke about.

“Yeah, it’s our last day,” she said cheerfully. “Let’s do it.”

Gojo’s grin widened, a softer, more genuine excitement replacing his usual playful smirk. “Alright, then. Let’s go. After all, what’s a day of shopping without a bonus stop at an onsen? Consider this the cherry on top of our adventure.”

He threw an arm around her shoulder, pulling her close as they walked. “Lead the way, Princess. I’m all yours for the next hour or so. Let’s make it count.”

.

The onsen was everything Gojo had promised and more. The soft glow of lanterns illuminated the wooden interior, and the faint scent of cedar mixed with the steam that rose from the mineral-rich waters.

Settling into the warm pool, Yuna let out a deep sigh as the heat seeped into her muscles, melting away the day’s fatigue.

“They say the minerals in the water have healing properties,” Gojo remarked, leaning back against the edge with an expression of utter contentment.

“That’s exactly what I need,” she replied, sinking a little deeper into the water.

Gojo exhaled slowly, his usual energy replaced by a rare stillness. “This might be the best decision we’ve made all day.”

She chuckled softly. “Shopping didn’t even make the top spot?”

“Nope,” he said, his eyes still closed. “I think I’m going to need to update my ‘best moments’ list, because this just moved up to number one.”

She glanced at him, and for a moment, the lightheartedness gave way to something quieter, more profound. Beneath the surface of the water, she felt his hand find hers, his fingers intertwining with hers in a gesture that spoke volumes.

“I’m here,” it seemed to say.

The silence between them stretched, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that didn’t need to be filled—one that spoke of trust, of understanding, of shared solace.

“You know,” Gojo murmured after a while, his voice softer than usual, “I think this is exactly what we needed. A little retreat from… everything.”

She nodded, the weight of unspoken words balanced by the simplicity of the moment.

The steam swirled around them, cocooning them in warmth as the tension they carried began to dissolve. They stayed like that for a long time, side by side, letting the world fade away. For the first time in what felt like forever, joy wasn’t something they had to chase. It was simply there, in the laughter they’d shared, in the comfort of the warm water, and in the quiet company of someone who understood.

[scandistar]

Exceptional Young Man: Part One

(This is a Rolan short fic that I've split into multiple pieces about my headcanon for his childhood. I'm quite a slow writer since my perfectionism can get the better of me, but I'll publish it on ao3 once the whole fic is finished. Constructive critisism is appreciated.)

(I hope I’ll break your heart with this one <3)

Parts two, three

Word count: ~1700

“I should’ve thrown you out the moment he was born!” the yell boomed through the house, beating against the tall ceilings and flickering in the flames of the candelabras. “You had me believe he was my mistake, woman!” the roar sounded, but not louder than the abrasive thrash that shook the hallway shortly after. 

He gripped the cedar frame and left small, yet noticeable notches from the tips of his nails. He caught himself and retracted with a sharp gasp. Father is fuming, who knows what he would do if he saw this.

“Look at you! I should’ve known your blood was filth!” the boy’s small ears perked to hear the man hiss. “And I shared a bed with you... You’re a devil in porcelain skin and I shared my bed with you!”

A moment's silence swept through the halls that had just been rumbling and the absence of thunder made his little heart squeeze and his pointed teeth clatter.

He hid around the corner, by the arch before the hallway where the dark covered him. But he braved the rapid thumping of his heart and peeked past the frame, through the large hallway and into the dining room. He saw the candlelight hit his father’s tensed back while he rubbed his face in both hands, but all else was hidden by a wall.

“Love, I-”

“Get out of my sight!” his father spat and shoved her at the table. She yelped and the chairs groaned as her weight pushed them aside. “Tomorrow-- Tomorrow I’ll make it official! You will not taint my lineage with another hellspawn!”

Fit to lose his last ounce of composure, he decided to turn and leave before the rest of the house suffered his wrath. There were none here but them, but the floors were fine cedar and one scratch would require him to refurbish the entire intricately arranged parquet.

As he barged out, the boy caught his father’s rough look from head to toe. Strands of loose hair draped his rage-flustered face and his dark, bloodshot eyes were cloaked by his hard brows. Those eyes met the boy’s in the man’s retreat and widened in what appeared to be pure bewilderment. 

He huffed, staring at the child for seconds that might've as well been hours.

“Why are you still up?!” he snarled and yanked the boy out of the dark. 

“Please, I- I’m sorry, father!” he cried out and prepared every fawning excuse he could think of, but luck has it the brute only sighed in exasperation.

“Don’t be difficult. Get back to your room.” he said, and much softer than expected. A tone edged with exhaustion and a look in his eyes that wasn’t coloured by rage, but something just as sour. It was disappointment - he could tell. That same dull regard he received for every little mistake he made, but it didn’t linger on him. However, it didn’t leave his father’s eyes either.

The man promptly left up the stairs and after his steps had softened into nothing, the boy bounded to the other room where he peeked past the archway again. 

He was silent as can be before he saw her.

Thankfully, she only stood there, leaning against the table while she rubbed her tender cheek bruised by her husband's temper. It was a burning red layered over her powdery skin and it deepened in the contour of a palm.

She bit down on her bottom lip, trying her darndest not to burst out in tears, even if her breath quivered and her shoulders shook. The rosy colour under her puffy eyes stained by her mascara tells she’s already been crying, which is why he got out of bed to begin with. She had been wailing as her husband wouldn’t stop yelling.

The boy struggled to name the feeling, but there was pain in his chest. Pain for her. A deep wound that he felt everywhere and it gnawed at him from his stomach to his throat, so he clung to his shirt tight to force it away until his nails pricked holes in the fabric.

“Mama?...” he asked like a pitiful chirp that made the poor woman jump.

“Oh dear lord Torm…” she gasped and pushed both her hands against her chest to pull her breath back in. And again and again, over and over until she could form a sloped smile on her slapped face. Until she could look at her son.

“Did he hurt you?” he dared ask, but silently began berating himself over the obvious. Of course he did, he heard it himself. That choleric bastard had done so before, in front of the child, and the boy had memorised the sharp snap that his father’s slap rang.

There was overwhelming concern in her child’s eyes, but his mother took a moment and another breath to count the little details scattered on his face, but she made an effort to avoid his gaze. 

“I’m fine, darling.” her brittle voice spoke softly and turned her cheek to hide the bruising.

She stepped ahead and put a gentle hand on his shoulder to usher him out of the dining room. “Now, let’s get back upstairs.”

--

She lit her candle by the door before she opened it for him. “Go on - get to bed.” she nodded inside and he ran over to slip in under the toasty sheet and curl up with the blanket tight to his chest. It felt safe like that, balled up and burrowed into the mattress. 

“You’ve stayed up long enough.” she said as she walked over, holding out the candle to meet him before she knelt down beside the bed and looked into his big eyes that were plastered on her, still asking millions of unuttered questions.

Was she okay? Would she be okay if she wasn’t? Would they be okay? What will they do if they won’t be okay? Why was father so mad? What made him mad? What happened? Was it something he did? He had mentioned him, so it must’ve been something he did. Was there something he did wrong? Was there something he didn’t do? Was there something he could’ve done better? What could he have done better? What did he miss? Father didn’t get angry at him. He should’ve gotten angry at him, he always gets angry at him, but this time he didn’t. Why didn’t he get angry? What is going on? Something must be bad. Really bad.

His mother placed the candleholder down softly on the nightstand, then turned to him with lips that smiled, but eyes that mourned. Why did she look so sad?

“It’s okay.” she whispered and brushed his hair out of his face. “I’m okay.”

She could say that a hundred times over and she wouldn’t get close to convincing. He heard their fighting - he still saw her bruise. Of course she wasn't okay. None of this was okay, so why would she bother to say it? Did she think that he couldn’t see it? Did she think he didn't understand? Did she think that he was stupid? Father did and so did she, but he’s not stupid. He would show them, but… He didn't understand why he had to. Why did father force him to?

“Why do you think I’m stupid?” he asked genuinely, but his voice was tinged with jagged hurt.

“Why I-” she froze and stuttered. She leaned back and bit her tongue before she shook her head and returned to him. She stroked his brow tentatively down to his cheek, her touch avoiding that which pronged from his forehead. “Who said that I did, love?” 

“But you do.” he pouted and turned away from her hand. “You do and father does, too. That’s why he’s always so nasty!” and as he huffed through the ball coiling in his throat, he flipped to his other side.

“Oh, dear. No, you misunderstand.” she said with a wilt in her voice. 

He felt her weight slump down on the edge of the bed and he saw her reach out for him, despite how desperately he tried to hide his face from her. From this room and from father. From everyone that could see him and think less of him for whatever reason they had.

“He’s only hard on you because he loves you.” she cooed.

“No he doesn’t.” he sniffed.

“He does - and dearly so.” she put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed it as lovingly as she could, but she was shaking. By the gods, she was shaking. “He only wishes to see you become the best version of you, which he knows you can become, but you need to trust him.”

He begrudgingly paid her a glance, then a look and at last turned to her where he met the gentle touch of her fingers tracing the line of his cheek down to his chin. She then brushed a tousled lock of hair back behind his ear, so careful not to touch his horns.

“I promise you - he loves you.” she said, but before she could trip over the rest she had to say, she stopped and withdrew. She was holding it back in solemn defeat, instead smiling to assure: “He just shows it in a different way.”

He shifted beneath the blanket and looked down at her clasped hands in her lap before he chose to accept her words. It hurt to do so and the twinge in his chest drew a sobbing breath from him, but she was smiling at him so comfortingly, so he said nothing more and cuddled into his pillow.

“It’s time to sleep now, dear.” she said and traced his little nose and tapped it. “The sun will rise soon, so you better get some sleep before it does.”

Then she stood, picking up the candle and looking down at him with a smile as she asked him to close his eyes, only blowing out the candle before he had done so. She probably believed he was none the wiser, that he didn't notice how she waited for him to look away and shut his eyes before she turned out the light, but he did. He’s not stupid.

[bugsnax-community-questions]

Bugsnax Community Questions ~ Poll #25

Put filbo, eggabell and the others in one option because there aren't enough slots to fit everyone.

FILBO: Basic Furniture, Dandelion, Cot (secret), Grumpy Baby Mayor, Pawprint rug, Cloudy paws print, painted hut, Group Photo, Streamers, Garden gnome, snaxburg flag, Golden Strabby, Certificate of completion

WAMBUS: Scarecrow, beechwood, Sauce plant seedlings, Sauce rug, Rustic Bed, Mini Cactriffy, Grow light nursery, Wood panel print, cowboy hats, ceiling fan

BEFFICA: Sleeping bag, Ladder Shelf, bestie print, Bestie (exterior), Fuzzy heart rug, Privacy curtains, Bulletin board, glowing stars, purple lupin, befficas journal, Kiddie pool (technically from floofty)

WIGGLE: Hanging lights, Luxury bed (secret), Gilded (Secret), record player, Palm tree, Platinum Award, Beach Chair + Umbrella, Armoire, Music print, Rock club sign, Psychedelic rug

TRIFFANY: Map of Snaktooth, Drafting Table, Prehistoric Floorcloth, Grumpus Skull, Giant skeleton, Barrel cacti, Dig site print, hanging pots, ancient bugsnax statue 1 (pinkle), ancient bugsnax statue 2 (incherito), Bone and Stone (exterior), Bone and stone bed

GRAMBLE: Lantern, Pink oleander, Weather Vane, Knit Sprout Mat, Hay bales, knit bed, Strabby Hat, Doily Table, knitted (exterior), knit baskets, Strabby print, Bunger bed

CROMDO: Tulips, Police tape (Secret), Bug juice dispenser, Big safe, A single hanging bulb, boombox, money print rug, worn mattress, billboard, Motivational poster, Antique print

SNORPY: Loose Newspaper, Conspiracy board, Blueprint print, Protective coat hangers, Metal plating (exterior), Metalworks flower, Satellite dish, deprivation tank, bookshelf, HAM radio, hot tub

CHANDLO: Red Cedar, Framed jersey, Rock climbing holds, Strong trophy, Hammock, Bean bag, Orange bloodroot, Home gym (secret), Sports print (secret), Gym mats, chandlolier,

FLOOFTY: red ti plant, lab bench (secret), Specimen jar, Pirate ship (exterior), Beheading machine, ecience poster, chemistry rug, test tube lights, science print, Chalkboard

SHELDA: Hanging Planter, Herbology station, Primitive grass, Salt crystal, ebony stained wood, zen garden, Meditation cushion, Prairie grass, wind chimes, desert print, torch

EGGABELL: Family Photos, Eggshell print, medical egg rug, Medicine cabinet, Emergency bell, First aid kit, Draped fabrics, igloo (exterior), snow grump, medical bed

OTHER: Cowboy hat roof (Cactriffy), Planted snak (Cactriffy), Snak print (L), Strabby Shelf (L), Snakgoyle (Snaxsquatch), Matilija Poppy (Snaxsquatch), Eyes (exterior ~ B), Legendary snak rug (B), Snak mobile (C), Sodie Fountain (C)