#[verse / roommates.]

[canisalbus]

What if I told you that RoobrickMarine went and wrote an entire novella starring my 16th century dog couple? It's very canon-adjacent, well researched and thoughtfully put together, has inspired me a ton during these past months and it's now publicly available at AO3. I highly recommend it.

✦ Separation ✦

[paintbrushnebula]

"Gwen crashed in Hobie's dimension sometimes"

What Miles thought Gwen and Hobie were doing:

What Gwen and Hobie were actually doing:

[spicycinnabun]

“Steve, something is wrong with Christofern!” Eddie entered Steve’s room, cradling the potted plant in his arms.

He’d come home after work, ready to greet his bud-dy, but one look at him had made Eddie gasp. His leaves were shriveled up like sad little green raisins. Usually, they were puffed up like oversized Rice Krispies.

Christofern had been Robin’s, originally. It had been in a very sorry state on her windowsill before she’d left for college—a lot worse than it looked now, under Eddie’s care, thank you—and she’d told him, “I honestly can’t stand the thing. You keep it. It sheds worse than my aunt’s Great Pyrenees, and I’m tired of vacuuming. Just don’t throw it out, or Steve might murder you.”

And that had been that.

Christofern didn’t look like a typical house plant. He wasn’t a fern, which Steve kept reminding him. Steve was more practical. He didn’t give his plants names but called them by their designated labels.

Christofern was a Donkey’s Tail, or sedum morganianum, part of the succulent family. That term meant absolutely nothing to Eddie unless it was referring to a big bowl of pasta—he had no idea there was a whole plant category called delicious.

“But maybe he wants to be a fern, Steven,” he’d argued. “Ever thought of that? He doesn’t have to be a succulent just because he was assigned so at birth.”

“You’re fucking ridiculous,” had been Steve’s reply.

At first, Eddie had enlisted Steve’s help purely because he’d wanted his attention, and talking about plants was an easy as hell way to get Steve’s attention. Steve was a very passionate plant dad. But later, Eddie grew to love Christofern, and the trials and tribulations of learning how to care for him were almost like raising his own child.

Christofern had not just one but seven long, thickly spiked green tails. Seven tails. He reminded Eddie of a mutated dragon. He was adorable but occasionally grumpy and high-maintenance, like a certain someone Eddie knew. (Perhaps Christofern was more of a prince than a dragon—a dragon prince?)

If he didn’t get enough sunlight, his leaves shed, and he wilted. If he wasn’t rotated daily, he got yellow and sunburnt. And if he didn’t get enough water…

“I swear I watered him... uh, recently.” When had Eddie last watered him? Not the day before, but maybe Wednesday? Or had it been Tuesday? Shit. Eddie pouted. “I just gave him a drink now, anyway. It’s not too late, is it, Doctor Steve?”

He clasped his hands and watched Steve’s attentive eyes rove over his plant, waiting for the diagnosis.

“Eddie, how could you neglect Christofern like this? I should call Plant Protective Services.” Steve grabbed his hand, startling Eddie and his overactive heartbeat.

He took Eddie’s index finger and pushed it into Christofern’s soil right down to his second knuckle. It felt inappropriate. Eddie made a noise, appalled. “Steven, why are you making me violate Christofern?”

Steve ignored him. “What do you feel? The soil is soaked down there, isn’t it?”

Eddie wiggled his finger. It felt goopy. “Yes,” he admitted.

“You’ve overwatered it,” Steve chastised. “Now, the leaves might rot instead of rehydrating themselves. You’ve got to make sure you don’t drown it. Christofern only needs a moderate amount of water every two weeks, okay?”

“Okay,” Eddie said meekly. “I’m sorry, Christofern.”

Steve pulled his finger out of the soil and gave him a look bordering on amusement. “Leave him with me for a few days, and I’ll get him back to where he should be.”

“Thank you, Doctor Steve. How can I ever repay you?” Eddie imagined repaying Steve with his mouth, his tongue, his hands (after he washed the soil off)…

“You can clean the bathroom,” Steve said.

Eddie’s fantasy shattered. He whined. “Does it have to be that?”

“Yup.”

“Damn it, Steve, just make me suck your dick next time,” Eddie grumbled on his way out.

He missed the way Steve’s jaw dropped.

[lazypanartist]

Hobie Brown x Artistic/DIY Reader

Pt 1 - Pt 2 - Pt 3

Warnings: maybe spoilers for ATSV, IDK. Reader's in the punk scene and from Hobie's universe. Whole lotta projection.

Features personal Hobie HCs I guess. It's just self indulgent. Also! Roommate Gwen?

Please RB, likes alone don't do anything for the algorithm!

-----

"Who's she?"

You barely whisper the question to your boyfriend, peeking past the dividing wall between kitchen and living room. He glanced up from whatever he's cooking - eggs, probably - to look at the girl flopped across your couch.

"Oh. That's Gwen. Spider-Woman from another universe - she needed somewhere to crash, so I offered her our couch."

Our. The word still made you fuzzy inside, even after he dragged his stuff into your life a month prior.

Even with the warm and fuzzies, you couldn't shake the feeling that something was a bit.. off.

"The new recruit you took a shine to."

He hummed a quiet affirmation, his eyes meeting yours after a second.

"There's nothing going on, I promise."

"You don't have to promise." He wouldn't do anything stupid, that much you knew for sure. Still.. "You don't normally trust people so fast. Not enough to bring them here."

He turned back to you, handing you a plate with a pancake and silently gesturing for a clean plate. "She's.. cool. I dunno. Not like the rest of the people in the Spider Society. Reminds me more of you, actually."

You blinked.

"Home life trash, emancipated at fifteen, got a lot of stupid jobs to stay afloat and support an artisan hobby?"

He chuckled, bumping your hand gently with his own as he takes the plates - plural - from your hand. "Not quite. Her old man tried arresting her." You suck in a breath, and he nodded. "Thinks she killed a family friend. That's why she joined up - the dad, not the friend."

He fans the plates slightly. "Two?"

You shrug, head tilting towards the couch. "Well. She probably needs to eat when she wakes up."

He smiles, and you can't help but return the gesture.

"She's already wearing off on you."

"Yeah, well, I've only heard good allegations."

You lean forward to land a peck on his lips before opening the fridge, and you hear a huff when you turn from him.

"I hope she can help with groceries or something."

He laughs full heartedly at your grumble this time. You feel him approaching before he's actually touching you, his chest - finally healed - pressing gently against your back as he helps you search for pancake toppings.

You lean back into him before grabbing a container of fruit, and he helps you pull away and shut the door before he's back at the stove, flipping the next cake over.

"Well. She might be able to help at the next show."

You nod, grabbing a spoon and scooping some of the fruit onto your pancake.

"The one with the sale?"

He nods with a quiet hum. "She might have patch ideas or something."

You look her over from the distance, her vest catching your eye.

"Yeah.. she has good style."

You can almost feel him look past you before he's laughing, eyes catching the same piece you had been looking at.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah.. if she's stealing my stuff, she's gotta."

You can't help but laugh with him again, looking at your new guest-slash-apparent roommate.

"You steal my stuff all the time."

You nod gently, smiling. "Yeah.. she'll fit right in."

---

Part 4

[sodamnbored]

Jason: *crouching like a gremlin over his sketchbook and models of Temple Hill with his desk light at 4am*

Percy, yawning: Bro, what are you doing up?

Jason twitchy, pen in hand: Inspiration just struck me like a brick to the skull.

Percy, rubbing his eyes: I hate to ask, but given your track record…Are you sure it wasn’t a brick to the skull?

[piratekane]

a continuation from this roommates au 'verse, for @dealanexmachina

This party is loud and reminds Beatrice of all the reasons why she usually says no to these kinds of things - to the lights and the heavy bass and the permanently sticky floors and the press of sweaty bodies. The list goes on and on and on.

The reason she said yes is standing in the middle of it all, arms in the air and hips swaying tragically off beat with her head thrown back and not a care in the world.

Someone bumps into her side and the drink in her hand splashes up against the inside of the cup, threatening to spill over the lip of it and coat her hand in - she’s not sure what type of alcohol is in this. She hasn’t taken a sip. But a very intoxicated boy had insisted and Beatrice had had enough of his babbling, taking the drink and sparing herself another 5 minutes of a curse-peppered run on all the reasons why men really are discriminated against.

Add that to the list of reasons why she usually says no to these things.

She watches someone approach Ava, his body large but his face shadowed by the spinning disco lights that seem to be exploding against the walls. She can see the glint of his eyes, focused entirely on Ava, his goal inelegantly obvious. Ava doesn’t seem to notice, too focused on the music to feel him coming up on her side.

Her grip tightens on her drink and if the cup cracks, she doesn’t hear it over - Ava would know this song, if she was close enough to talk to. But to Beatrice, it’s just a cacophony of noise that wiggles its way into her ear and leaves her with a dull throbbing sensation.

It’s a miracle, then, that she hears her name shouted over it.

Ava crashes into her view as if she was ever not the center of it. Hands outstretched, mouth split in a wide smile, she looks almost wild with glee as she slams into Beatrice. Beatrice is quick, turning her wrist sharply to avoid the contact and dropping the cup onto the side table near the couch she would never even think of sitting down on. 

Ava laughs, her breath sticky against Bea’s chin. “Oh my god, you should see your face right now.”

She tries to smooth out the crease she knows is crossing her forehead. It’s not as hard as she thought it might be, the longer Ava stares at her, smiling. “It’s loud.” She has to lean forward, to say it into Ava’s ear.

Ava pulls away, her smile widening. “Isn’t it great?” She has to shout over the thud, thud, thud. But somehow, it still feels like a whisper just for her.

A hand snakes down her arm and makes the jump from her wrist to her waist. She let Ava talk her into jeans tonight instead of her usual cotton pants. She vetoed a shirt from Ava’s closet, though, and picked something light and loose that sat firmly below her waist line and had no chance of exposing anything to anyone. Ava did not make the same considerations. She’s in a pair of low-slung shorts short enough that Beatrice can see the bottom of a pocket poking out from under the hem and a cropped t-shirt that rests just above her belly button.

If there was anything to be left to the imagination, it’s gone each time Ava lifts her arms above her head. Beatrice feels faint each time she does.

Ava’s fingers dig into her waist, fingers hot through the fabric of her shirt. Beatrice shivers a little and inhales sharp enough that her lungs ache for a moment but Ava doesn’t seem to notice, eyes searching over Bea’s shoulder.

“We lost everyone.” She pouts. Someone bumps into her and she stumbles into Beatrice.

It’s the only reason why Beatrice’s hands go to Ava’s waist. It’s the only reason they sway in towards each other. How did I get close enough for that? she wonders. But it’s the bodies surrounding them, forcing them to anchor themselves together. That’s why, she reasons with herself.

It means she doesn’t have to lean in too far to speak into Ava’s ear. “Mary and Shannon left. Something about being too old for this. Camila is talking to that engineering major she knows and Lilith is…” Well, the last time she saw Lilith, she was in the kitchen berating a boy with a long greasy ponytail who was insisting everyone call him a prophet. “Somewhere.”

“Party poopers.” Ava’s pout smooths out. “But you’re still here!”

“Where else would I be?”

It comes out too plainly. Too honest. She feels a rush of embarrassment flood through her, staining the flats of her cheeks. She’s suddenly thankful they’re at a party with the lights dimmed; Ava can’t see the way she turns red. Her hands give her away, traitorous fingers flexing against Ava’s nearly-bare hips. Ava smiles curiously and Beatrice wonders if she might be granted the mercy of some kind of cataclysmic event to wipe her off the face of the earth.

No such mercy exists. Ava smiles wider. “That’s my girl.”

Beatrice ignores the second ripple that floods through her, not wanting to give this one a name.

“Ava!” someone yells. They both turn and Camila comes into view, dragging along a tall boy with a mop of curly hair. Ava doesn’t untangle herself from Beatrice, curling even further into her. Camila pulls up to a stop in front of them, the tall boy bumping into her. She barely stays upright. “There you are! Where did everyone go?”

“It’s just us,” Ava says, exaggerating a pout. “And Bea and I are leaving.”

“We are?”

“You are?” Camila pouts fleetingly before she shrugs and throws her arms out, wiggling them into the limited space between Beatrice and Ava, wrapping one arm around each of them. Beatrice makes a face as an elbow nearly clips her chin, her stomach roiling slightly at the sharp sweetness of Camila’s breath. “Fine. If you must.”

Ava hugs the both of them tightly, eyes closed as she sways a little. “We must. As you discover changing times, you must have the strength to endure.”

Beatrice frowns. “Voltaire?”

“Earth, Wind & Fire.” Ava grins and pulls herself away from Camila but doesn’t let go of Beatrice. She rocks them back a step, Beatrice’s body moving stiffly as Ava controls them. “Remember to rob him later!” She laughs. “We love you. Say you love her, Bea.”

Beatrice softens. “We love you, Camila.”

The words get swallowed by by the music as the song changes and a cheer goes up. Ava doesn’t wait, moving her through the crowd with focused intention, aiming for the door. They spill out into the night and the cold air dampens the sound of the party they just escaped. Ava is still wrapped around for another moment longer and Beatrice navigates walking backward past a girl puking into the bushes. Ava finally unravels from her as they hit the sidewalk and Beatrice is equal parts relieved and melancholy at the loss.

“Let’s go home,” Ava sighs, grabbing Beatrice’s hand and lacing their fingers together. She throws her head back and shouts up into the night. “Home is wherever I’m with youuuu.”

Ava walks steadier than she seems she might on the way back. She doesn’t let go of Beatrice’s hand, though, clutching it tightly as she navigates broken curbs and cracks in the sidewalk. Beatrice lets the cool air ground her back in reality. She’s going to go home and have a glass of water and try to forget what Ava’s hands feel like pressed to her face and what Ava’s mouth feels like against the line of her jaw.

But Ava has a different idea. Because she drapes herself over Beatrice’s back as she works the key into the door, hanging on as Beatrice shuffles awkwardly into their apartment. The air smells fresh and Beatrice breathes it in for a second, feeling Ava move against her before her body slides away and pours like liquid across the living room to the couch.

“No, no.” Beatrice follows after her, hands grabbing at Ava’s wrists. “No, you need to brush your teeth, Ava. And change into something else.” Ava’s nose wrinkles and she sits down on the couch anyway. Beatrice sighs and puts her hands on her hips. “Ava.”

“Beatrice,” Ava says, voice pitched low. Her attempt at an accent is always slightly better when she’s drunk, Beatrice has noticed. She pushes out her bottom lip and pulls her feet up under her as she wiggles back into the couch. “Come. Sit with me.”

Beatrice changes tactics. “Wouldn’t your own bed be better?”

“No.” Ava holds out a hand, beckoning her. “You won’t be in there with me.”

It’s one place Beatrice has yet to go. She cleaned it out when her last roommate left, changed the sheets in preparation of Ava’s arrival. But since Ava moved in, she hasn’t crossed the threshold. It feels too sacred. She feels too exposed.

Because if she did, if she allowed herself the chance to enter the last private space Ava has, Ava would know how desperately she wants to be there. And that is something Beatrice wants to keep under lock and key, hide it away and pray that Ava will never find out. If Ava knew… If Ava knew that Beatrice wants nothing more in the world to wake up underneath the plastic glow-in-the-dark star-dotted ceiling with her legs tangled in Ava’s and her fingers curled into Ava’s shirt - the world might break into two and create a chasm Beatrice could never be able to cross.

Ava pitches dangerously towards the floor and finds Beatrice’s wrist, tugging hard until Beatrice stumbles forward the last inch and narrowly avoids landing on Ava as she crashes to the couch. She doesn’t have a chance to recover before Ava is pulling her closer, wrapping Beatrice’s arms around her own body and pushing back into her.

Ava sighs, body loose and warm. Beatrice holds her breath until her lungs scream at her to let go.

“This is my favorite thing to do,” Ava sighs. “I love being with you.”

It doesn’t mean what Beatrice thinks it means, of course. Ava loves being with everyone. She loves something every day, uses that word so effortlessly where Beatrice uses it like fine china she takes out once in a while. Ava loves love. She loves being with Beatrice and she loves when Mary lets her ride on the back of her motorcycle and she loves ice cream dates with Camila and she even loves Lilith, when she’s drunk enough to admit that.

“You’re drunk,” Beatrice says kindly, the words like knives in her throat. Because it doesn’t mean what Beatrice wants it to mean.

“I’m tisp- tipsy,” Ava corrects. She shuffles around, stretching out until she’s sandwiched Beatrice between her body and the back of the couch. Beatrice can feel the line of Ava’s spine against her chest as she burrows backward into her. “And you’re warm. I love that about you.”

It doesn’t, it doesn’t, it doesn’t.

Beatrice bites back a list of things she loves about Ava in return. “Ava,” she says quietly. 

She hears a hum in response, the kind that lends itself to the moment just before someone falls into a deep sleep. A hand reaches back, pulling hers across warm shoulders until it’s balled up under Ava’s chin, feeling the hollow of her throat.

She tries again, fingers fanning out as far as they can in Ava’s tight grasp to feel the smooth skin of her neck under the pads of her fingertips. “Ava, wait.”

Ava wiggles down further into Bea’s arms. “Wait for you. I-” A yawn overtakes her and Beatrice feels selfishly impatient with it. “I’ll wait for you,” Ava finishes in an exhale. She hums again, a smile against Bea’s knuckles. “I’d wait for you forever.”

Beatrice swallows back the hope that presses against her teeth and runs her free hand through Ava’s hair, brushing it off her face. Ava is asleep already, mouth hanging open slightly as she breathes in and out. Beatrice watches for for a long minute, wondering how she happened upon something like this; how she got so lucky to find someone so… perfect.

She wonders when the dam will break inside her chest and the truth will come spilling out of her. Not tonight, with Ava asleep in her arms and all the lights on. Not tomorrow, with Ava smiling at her, bleary-eyed and hungover.

Ava mumbles something unintelligible and shifts in Beatrice’s arms and while it might not be tonight and it might not be tomorrow, Beatrice knows it will be soon. She can’t pretend for much longer. 

[scriberated]

Stand By Me Chapter 12

Chapter 12 || Ao3

Chapter Summary:

“You wanted me, Halbrand, now have me.”

His eyes darkened, a glimmer of a smirk spreading across his mouth before he lunged, his mouth covering hers as he settled between her thighs, one hand firmly holding the back of her neck. He kissed like a man starved, his lips pressed so firmly and so often against her own that she could hardly catch her breath. His tongue swept the inside of her mouth, sliding and writhing alongside her own — a promise, surely.

“Like that?” he broke their kiss to ask, pressing more kisses along her jaw as she greedily gulped in air. His teeth grazed her collarbone as he continued to lavish kisses on her skin, in the valley between her breasts as his fingers swiftly undid the rest of the buttons on his shirt. “Or… maybe there are other places you’d like to be kissed.” 

Work Summary: He turned towards her, frowning. “My family’s 4th of July picnic is tomorrow, and my cousin Melian’s engagement party is the day after. We talked about it this morning. Weren’t you listening?”

She had been listening, but she had never heard an invitation, and told him as much. “I heard you complain for over an hour about your family, and how you were very much looking forward to leaving it before you’ve even arrived. I don’t recall an invitation being mentioned. Besides, I have plans.”

“What, to sit here by yourself on a holiday, for a whole week?” he snorted, giving her a disparaging look. Part 2 in the ‘And They Were Roommates’ ‘verse. Part 1: Stay Rating: Explicit Warnings: Mention of Grooming, Drug Use, Ships: Halbrand x Galadriel, Halbrand x Melkor (past), Galadriel x Celeborn (past) Tags: Fake/Pretend Relationship, and they were ROOMMATES, Accidental Kissing, Intentional Kissing, Oblivious, the slowest burn for how stupidly in love they are, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Slow Burn, Cunnilingus, Grinding, Kink Negotiation, Praise Kink

BIG THANK YOU TO @lassieposting for this wonderful cover art she made for the Roommates 'Verse series!

[ditzyredrobin]

“It was an attention-getter stab, ya know? A baby stab, nothin’ to worry your pretty little head about, yeah?” - Jason Todd, Shrike!verse

Another Shrike quote I can’t keep to myself. I love this man. 😂

-

Chapter two and three are both just about finished. Chapter two will be out super soon! There’s a sister quote I’m dying to share but can’t decide if I will or not. Well, actually two. But I might just share the one. I don’t know, convince me and I’ll drop it.

[queers-ofthe-stoneage]

introducing my own Doc Ock: Odelia Octavius ‼️

[mint-termsandconditions]

Kirbtober Day 1: Together Again / Friendship

A heartfelt reunion after KATFL

The conversation afterwards:

Also, I’ve learned from the last post that Gooey is also Kirby’s roommate, which probably makes Chilly's fridge twice as empty somehow.

Bonus drawing:

American Sign Language used:

[Disclaimer]

If you notice any spelling that is integral when signing certain words is removed, it’s not because I’m disrespecting ASL, it’s because Kirby does not have any fingers.

[vermillioncrown]

another tpac ch 11 snippet

...

“Stop looking up KVM switches, Korv—my setup is fine.”

“It’s for me,” Korvin insists. When no one believes him, he amends, “And it could be for you too, Barbie.”

“You don’t need that kind of setup,” Dick absently calls out as he enters the room, holding a couple of documents and envelopes under his arm.

Korvin ignores him. “Just thinkin’ it’d be really convenient: less of a rat’s nest, multiple interface points, rack mounting—”

“—I do not want to see you raccooning around my cables,” Babs says firmly. “Appreciate it, but no.”

Korvin’s mouth twists into a petulant scowl as he turns back to his assigned reading; Gotham Academy is reopening their campus for the spring. Tim’s due back in his dorm end of next week—meaning he’s supposed to be home for his dad to drop him off the day before—but he finds his motivation for school has reached an all-time low.

“Korvin Kwan—what the hell?!” Dick’s indignant question interrupts their peace. The large envelope he was carrying earlier has been opened, revealing three large 8” x 10” landscape photos on the table top. Each one is a blown-up snapshot, slightly blurry like through another layer of glass, of an urban intersection and focused on the first car at the stoplight.

If Tim squints, turns the photograph sideways, and backs up a few feet—it wouldn’t be so obvious who was seated in the front. At that angle, though, he—

Dick snatches one of the photos off the table, puts his face right to the print, and pulls back to stare blankly at Tim. The lack of expressed anger is a warning sign; Cass abruptly gets up and moves to stand next to Babs’s wheelchair. Meanwhile, the older vigilante looks back and forth between Tim and Korvin, jaw tight as he’s working through some internal debate.

When Dick finally decides to fixate on Korvin, Tim can't explain the little bit of affront mixed in with his reflexive relief.

...

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

polycule from Hell . to me

[sorry-but-no-sorry]

Empty wip sketch concept for Mysterio/Quentin Beck for across the spider

Following my Spot getting a cloaking device ti look like his old self headcanons, i’m putting his old roommate and VFX master technician into this earth.

[mysteriousmissweems]

The swans

[miidnighters]

@womanlives | Paloma said i'll fight the bad dreams off if they come to get you.

<<You don't have to do that,>> Callisto signs, kind of uncomfortable that they're discussing this at all. It's something she's dealt with on her own for years (if by dealt with, you meant studiously ignore and deprive yourself of sleep to avoid, but it was a system that worked).

Still. The sentiment is more touching than Callisto is willing to let on.

<<I'm fine. You should get your own rest. Go nap with Flynn or something.>>

[cartelheir]

@sharpsuite : Chishiya lingers in the doorway for a moment, feeling exhaustion numb his body. At least, he likes to BLAME the exhaustion as the reason. He takes a moment more to assess the situation, despite the fact there's no threat that warrants such strict observation. (Except it's vulnerable. What he wants requires vulnerability.) Finally Chishiya pushes off the frame and walks over to the couch to plop down beside Pat. Rather than stop at that, he falls onto his side so his head falls onto her lap and he closes his eyes. Hides, in a sense. They've never talked about the soft moments outside of when they happened. Never asked for more. Chishiya forces down the tremble in his confidence with his usual subtle smile. "Mm, nice as I recall. Better circumstances. " He murmurs with a half joking, half sincere tone.

she doesn't pay much attention when he approaches. sharing a space has become familiar, just a part of their routine. instead her eyes are focused on the book she reads over the armrest of the couch. reading glasses rest over the bridge of her nose; when did she start wearing them rather than straining her vision or relying on contacts all the time? it's still a rare sight, but along with the natural curly hair, the lack of makeup, the hoodie that she had snatched from chishiya's closet, one thing is clear: she feels more at ease here than she has felt in a long time, maybe ever.

she finally takes note of him when he moves beside her, flops down similar to the way chiaki does sometimes. his head rests upon her lap, and the surprise must be obvious in her expression ━━ the kind of face cartoon characters make right when an exclamation point shows up above their heads. the book closes without a mark, but she doesn't mind it, she'll find the page later. the weight of his head feels so familiar, yet so different than it was the last time this happened, safer.

" i was wondering when you'd do that again, " she admits. her face softens into a smile, and her fingers find their way through his hair almost instantly, without him having to ask. " are you okay? " for a moment she's serious again, wondering if the sudden urge for affection comes from some kind of distress, or just because.