Two years.
Two years with Conner, and there were still moments where everything felt… new. Not awkward, not uncertain—just that kind of new that makes you realize that even after all this time, there are still things about him that catch you off guard.
Your relationship was steady, easy. The kind that didn’t need constant grand gestures to feel real. There was trust, effortless laughter, small arguments that never went too far… and that quiet closeness that just became part of everyday life.
But yeah—there was one thing.
A very… Conner thing.
Conner loved your scent.
It wasn’t something he said out loud at first. It just… happened. Every time he hugged you, every time he got a little closer than necessary, there was that small, subtle action: a soft inhale, almost absentminded, like he needed to make sure you were really there.
At first, you thought it was coincidence. Then you thought it was just a weird habit.
And eventually, you realized… it relaxed him.
Like your presence—not just physically, but completely—worked as some kind of anchor for him.
You never really knew if it had anything to do with your Viltrumite side, or if it was just him. But it didn’t bother you. If anything, there was something… intimate about it. Something quiet that said more than words ever could.
You stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the clothes you had bought a while ago.
You shifted slightly, checking how the fabric fell, tugging at the sleeve, pulling the collar down just a bit. Thinking. Analyzing.
Maybe you needed to change something.
A piercing, maybe. Something different. Something that marked a change, even if it was small.
You were so focused that you didn’t hear him come in.
What you did feel were arms wrapping around your waist out of nowhere.
Your body tensed for a second—pure reflex—until you recognized it.
The warmth. The way he held you. That absolute familiarity.
Conner.
Your breathing settled almost instantly, and you barely had time to turn your head before you felt him lean into your neck.
—"Dude… you smell so good…"
His voice came out low, slightly muffled, like he wasn’t really thinking about what he was saying.
And then came the kisses.
Soft. Short. Repeated.
The quiet “smooch” of each one barely broke the silence of the room, but it felt louder than it should—just because of how close he was.