grandondavison

[diwtara]

Theres not a big gap between when Zoro heads to bed for the night and when Sanji gets up to start work on the crews breakfast.

So one night on his way to bed Zoro gave the cook a shove to help him wake up.

Just being helpful, he would say if questioned.

And he was helpful on most nights after that.

Maybe sometimes he shoved the cook right off the hamock on his way to his own

Huh, must have forgotten how light and delicate he is, Zoro would grin, watching the blondes blood pressure raise

Sanji cant even shout at him the way he wants to - at least not after the first time, when his yelling woke up the ladies on the ship. (He of course apologized profusely to them, then spent the full day antagonizing Zoro to the best of his considerable abilities)

Now on the days when Sanji wakes up with the floor rising to meet him, all he can do is quietly and furiously make vague gestures promising Zoro bodily harm once the sun is up.

It always leaves Zoro going to sleep with a grin on his face as Sanji stomps out of the boys bunk muttering curses under his breath.

And then maybe one night Zoro is exhausted - cant even summon the energy to make it the three extra steps to his own hammock - so instead he flops down directly onto the cook.

(They argue and wrestle for a few minutes, exhaustion forgotten for the time it takes for Sanji to kick Zoro in the head, give up the fight and extract himself from the bed.

He calls Zoro several choice names before heading out to start the day while Zoro goes to sleep satisfied he got the chance to bug the blonde one last time before going to sleep.)

And maybe he keeps doing it.

Not every night, but sometimes he finds he would rather lay down in an already warm bed, particularly if they are traveling through colder sections of the grandline.

Sometimes he still manages to flip the other man out of the hammock just by jumping into it himself. Knows the blonde will make the day interesting in retaliation. Looks forward to it.

And then maybe at one point, he lays down gently, softly tells the cook its time to get up, and maybe Sanji takes his time opening his eyes, stretching out his legs, enjoying the transition to wakefulness.

Maybe it becomes a thing they do sometimes. Silently enjoying each others company as Sanji wakes up and Zoro drifts to sleep. Enjoying the closeness in a bed not built for two.

Maybe the others have woken up and caught sight of the pair curled up together in the early morning. But they would simply roll over and go back to sleep, leaving the two to their morning ritual.

And if Zoro still shoves Sanji off the hammock sometimes, well, the others are used to waking up to that too

[italiansteebie]

Steve has gone to bed with a lot of people.

he's poured his heart into loving them, holding them close, cuddling in, and willing them not to leave, and maybe that's where he went wrong.

because steve has gone to bed with a lot of people, but he's never woken up with them.

every time, they always find a way to sneak out, slide their way out of his bed, and untangle their fingers from his grasp. and he thinks the ones who leave don't notice that he always wakes up when they leave.

so when he curls into bed with Eddie, he prepares himself for a heartbreak in the morning. only it never comes, because Eddie stayed.

and when he woke up, Eddie's hand was still wrapped around his own.

[leighsartworks216]

In The Moonlight

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Lowkey wrote this for @niermortem bc the Astarion hyperfixation goes hard

I've never written for Astarion before and I'm still not 100% comfortable with his speech patterns and stuff but I had to write this or I would not be able to sleep tonight. Tbh y'all are lucky he even spoke at all. I was going to have Tav shush him lmao

Warnings: Cazador, mentions of past abuse, mentions of biting, vague implications of sex, like one swear

Word Count: 1,110

Masterlist

AO3

He’s so beautiful, just like this. The moon reaches through the window and caresses his hair, turning already-bright white into pure starlight. His pale skin glows. And when the sun rises and casts beams of yellow-orange over him, it’s almost as if blood flows through him once more.

You cannot sleep. Despite how tired your body was, your mind couldn’t sit still. It pondered over the day’s events - if you made the right choices, what you could have done better, your companions - endlessly spiraling out of sleep’s embrace. And you would still have been going over these questions and concerns, if Astarion did not look so damn pretty.

He fell asleep a while ago. With a gentle kiss to your cheek and a whisper of thanks, he’d tucked one arm under his head and draped the other across your waist, and drifted off. A hint of a smile still lingered there. Creases by his mouth and eyes proving a simple joy that followed him into his dreams.

It felt wrong to watch him like this. Like studying how his curls fell across his forehead and the flicker of his eyes behind his eyelids was in some way betraying his trust. The thought alone - of ruining this beautiful foundation of trust and patience and understanding - should have been enough to have you close your eyes or turn away. And yet, something inside you yearned for more. An ache in your chest that urged you to touch him, to be closer to him.

And the urge was stronger than your perceived guilt.

Slowly, you raised a hand to his face. At first, all you did was brush the curl from his forehead. The stubborn thing only bounced right back.

Your eyes trailed from his hair to his eyebrows. So often did a crease find its way between them, pinched in frustration or confusion. Your hand followed. With the barest brush of your thumb, you smoothed out the imaginary crease. Astarion breathed in deeply - causing you to hold your own - before sighing softly. His face relaxed even more, shoulders easing into the pillows that cushioned him.

You focused next on his eyes. Deep, bloody red irises hidden behind thin lids that held so much worry and uncertainty and joy and hope. Hope. It had taken so long for the vampire to actually be optimistic about the future. He had no idea what would happen next - between Cazador and the tadpoles, there was little to be optimistic about. When you helped him, despite his original plans to manipulate and use you, he realized things did not always have such awful outcomes. Even your first encounter, with his blade to your throat, had somehow brought you here, together and warm and safe.

Despite being an elf, he had such deep bags beneath his eyes. Even the crows feet and laugh lines that appeared with his smile were unusual. He’d told you sparingly about his life under Cazador. The things he fed on, the poem carved into his back, and the horrible things he did. Undoubtedly, the lines came from that time. Barely eating enough to survive, luring people in with his charms for an uncaring master, being tortured in the dark. Yet, you couldn’t imagine Astarion without them. He was so pretty when he smiled.

You move on to his nose and his cheeks. His features are all well defined, sharp. It makes him seem dangerous, even at a first glance. Like a snake, hiding fangs behind shimmering scales.

Beckoned by the analogy, your eyes flicker to his lips. They’re so soft, despite the way he chews his bottom lip. Where before his kisses were rough, demanding, now they’re slow, careful. He no longer kisses you like he has to woo you over and get you to play his game. He kisses you like he’s savoring the last drop of wine. Even his bites are gentler, pricking your neck as carefully as he can unless you ask him nicely to be rougher.

“Too distracted to sleep, are we?”

His voice makes you jolt. You weren’t expecting his lips to move so suddenly. Nor did you realize before how your hand cupped his jaw and your thumb stroked his cheek. You can feel his smile as he chuckles.

“I didn’t mean to startle you, my dear,” he coos. “But don’t you think it’s a bit late to be admiring my features?”

You take a moment to compose yourself, urging your heart to still from the scare. Damn you for thinking so much about his mouth. Astarion is nice enough to wait and listen as you relax once more, though you continue to trace over his skin and brush the curls in front of his ears back.

“I couldn’t sleep. And you look so beautiful in the moonlight.”

He slips his arm from underneath his head as he turns into your hand, holding your wrist in place as he kisses your palm. “I appreciate it, my love. But it’s been a long and exhausting day, and we both need our beauty rest.”

Red eyes watch, half-lidded, as you smile - he loves it just as much as you love his. Before, he couldn’t care less. Now, oh the things he would do to see you happy every waking moment of the rest of your lives.

The blankets shift against each other as you move to be closer. You tuck yourself into his chest, wrapping your arms around his torso and pressing your face into his neck. You are so warm. He lets out a soft breath as he curls around you, protective and safe all at once. Slender fingers tangle carefully into the hair at the nape of your neck, keeping your head tucked away under his chin.

For so long, he charmed and manipulated people. They touched and got close to him, in ways he quickly detached himself from. For so long. It was still difficult to fathom how he sought it out with you. How he did not go through the motions of physical intimacy, how he actually wanted to be physically intimate in more ways than just sexually. How long he’d been deprived of something genuine like this. He wanted to savor every gods-forsaken minute of it.

Your warm breath fanned across his neck as you spoke. Had he been able to, it would have sent a chill down his spine.

“I love you.”

His fingers curl into your waist, grounding himself into your body as your skin gives under his fingertips. In return, you squeeze him in your hold, solidifying even more that this is real. You are real.

“I love you, too, darling.”

[ladyxskywalker]

safe & warm

anakin skywalker x f!reader/ofc

falling asleep with anakin during a late night thunderstorm

this is an old story I wrote a while ago, super short based on a happy memory 💌

"The sky is red, come to bed with me."

He says, all while taking your hand in his. Your tired eyes, falling softly - open, then closing again, as he leads you away from the couch where you'd just been sleeping. A quiet show, still playing on the TV in the background.

"It's not safe to stay here by the window."

A single nod lets him know that you're still awake and listening. Seconds away from laying your head down to rest upon all of his pillows. His body, melding to yours beside you. Waiting for a whisper of his breath to carry over with his palms.

"Will you hold me?"

"Yes. Whatever you want."

The blackout curtains are drawn open for all to see on the farthest end of the room, where the balcony now becomes alight in flashes of intermittent heat and wonder. A summer kind of momentary rain and anguish that now beautifully illuminates the sky above. The storm, pouring itself down heavy as you snuggle closely beneath the covers.

So you try to fall asleep against him, sensing a different sort of calm that happens during the later nights when he succumbs to slumber with a low, and gentle groan. The span of his chest, almost made better now by the caress of your loving hands, and the feeling of him just being there, reminding you - not of thunder, but instead, of warmth .

And you love him - just like this, safe and always protected by the strength of his arms.

In all of the simple ways that matter most.

... ❤️

thanks so much for reading ! 😊📖💫

[beyourownanchor6]

army!eddie/babysitter/buck au has arrived y’all!! this is my baby, my absolute pride and joy, and i’m so happy to finally share with y’all 🥹 hope you enjoy <33

rated: e | chapter 1/10 | words: 5.7k | read on ao3

summary:

“Does this story have a point?” Eddie questioned, Lena narrowing her eyes at him; it would’ve felt threatening had he not known she was more bark than bite.

“This guy, my sort of friend—what if he could watch Chris for you?”

Eddie furrowed his brows together. “You want me to leave my kid who’s halfway across the country with some—stranger?” Was she out of her damn mind?

“It beats having him sent home to your parents, right?”

Well, she had a point there.

Eddie shook his head, overwhelmed with his thoughts.

“Look, I appreciate it Bosko, but I just—I don’t know. This is my kid we’re talking about.”

“I know that, and I know how much you love him. Hell, you’ve sent me ten plus emails when I was watching him for you.”

Eddie looked to where there was a line coming out of the office, his other teammates no doubt having several emergency questions of their own. He turned to Lena, giving his full attention.

“Alright, tell me about this friend of yours.”

—or—

The one where Eddie’s in the army, Shannon gives up her rights to Chris, and Eddie needs a babysitter. Good thing Lena knows Buck, the guy having nothing better to do than help babysit until Eddie gets back. Eddie would come home, and he would leave; it wasn’t like they were going to build some lifetime friendship or anything.

**if you wanna be tagged in chapter updates lmk, otherwise i’ll just tag everyone again once it’s finished posting <33**

tagging squad below, lmk if you wanna be added or removed <3

tags: @heartbeatdiaz @redlightsandicedtea @confetti-cupcake @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @swiftiebuckleyhan @loveyourownsmiilee @justsmilestuffhappens @dorkydiaz @honestlydarkprincess @zainclaw @eddiescowboy @djdangerlove @bifirefighters @mr-and-mr-diaz @buddierights @crazyfangirlallert @monsterrae1 @wh0re-behavi0r @panicatthediaz @jacksadventuresinwriting @stanningsky @buckaroo118 @angelwiththeblue-box @spotsandsocks @elvensorceress @alyxmastershipper @buddiearemydads

[rarelyput2gether]

Angel got him those thotty pants. This is such a cute ship

For my first background pic, I don’t think I did bad. Still playing around with how to draw Husk’s face and shadows/lighting

[neontoad]

“One soul in two bodies”, people often say about Double Black. Chuuya calls bullshit on that. It’s ridiculous. But then why every time Chuuya comes to work after tossing and turning in bed all night unable to fall asleep, he sees that Dazai has dark circles under eyes as well? Why every time when Chuuya checks his phone at 3am, insomnia eating him alive, he sees that Dazai is online, too? Why does it feel like there is one more person wide awake in the sleeping city when Chuuya’s staring at the ceiling, as wakeful as ever?

One night, a message pops up on his phone.

🐟: You awake?

“Fuck off,” Chuuya mumbles to himself and turns the screen off. The night is quiet. The air still seems to be vibrating after the notification chime. He counts seconds.

Nothing disturbs the silence anymore.

The next day Dazai keeps yawning and stealing glances at Chuuya as they sit in another boring meeting. He ignores him, even though every time Dazai covers his mouth with his hand, Chuuya can’t help but yawn too.

He sleeps well that night. He knows Dazai does, too - he can tell by how stupidly annoying he is the next day. Chuuya knows well that only well-rested Dazai possesses such a ridiculous ability to get on Chuuya’s nerves in record time. He sleeps okay again. And again. And again. Chuuya even starts thinking that maybe he’s finally out of that cursed bout of insomnia. Seems like Dazai managed to get some sleep, too.

Until another night comes.

He’s exhausted - they have just finished a mission, the last one in a strenuous sequence, and the only thing Chuuya wants is to sleep until next week.

He can’t.

His phone chimes.

He doesn’t bother looking - he knows who’s texting him. Dazai’s insomnia is not his problem.

He lies with his eyes closed, hoping that maybe, just maybe he’ll be able to trick his brain into finally shutting down and letting him fall into Morpheus’ embrace, giving him the rest he so desperately needs. He doesn’t know how much time passes until he hears a knock.

“The fuck you want?” Chuuya grumbles, looking at Dazai miserably standing in the hallway of his apartment building.

“Just checking on my dear partner.”

“It’s 4 in the morning.”

“You make it sound like it’s a problem.”

“I was sleeping, you bastard.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

Dazai yawns and Chuuya follows suit, stretching his sore muscles. Fuck this, he thinks. I’ll let him be. Without saying a word, he turns on his heel and marches to the kitchen. Dazai follows him and plops on the stool. He probably thinks he looks smug. He looks like shit.

“I’ll have a whiskey,” he croaks and smiles.

“Fuck off,” Chuuya says, pouring Dazai three fingers and sliding it across the table before stopping in front of his wine cabinet. That’ll do, he thinks and pours himself a glass of red.

“You know, chibi,” Dazai muses, watching the ice in his glass bob up and down, “I blame you.”

Chuuya takes a sip of wine. He wonders if he looks as stern as he hopes he is. Or does he, akin to Dazai, resemble a miserable stray dog? He doesn’t know. He doesn’t care.

“Whenever you can’t sleep, neither can I,” he continues. “It’s like we have some kind of invisible bond.”

Despite his fatigue, Chuuya can’t help but chuckle. Invisible bond! Dazai sure loves these stupid pretentious speeches. What an emo.

He downs his wine and goes to the living room. “Take your ass with your invisible bond to the couch,” he commands. “Let’s play.”

“It’s not a laughing matter!” Dazai whines but obeys, finishing his whiskey and leaving the cup on the table like the ungrateful pig he is.

Whiskey made him feel warm and fuzzy, making the unwelcoming sleepless night feel slightly less dire. Besides, playing video games with the slug is certainly a better pastime than tossing and turning on his old mattress. They play for a few hours, sleepiness going away as they keep beating each other in a video game, pushing each other with their shoulders and yelling at the top of their lungs.

Chuuya doesn’t care about his neighbours complaining - there’s no one living above him anymore, anyway.

The dark night gives way to the pale morning, timid rays of sun sneaking through the closed blinds. A ray falls on the empty whiskey cup, the last drops of the amber liquid shining like gold under the light. Another one shines on the shattered controller lying in the corner. Another ray of sun caresses the leaves of a half-dead plant on the bookshelf. Another - the picture on the wall, the five people on it forgotten by all but one. Another - the cobweb on the ceiling. Another - the brass door handle. As more time passes, the sun gets more comfortable dancing in the small apartment, its rays travelling across the walls, trinkets and furniture until they reach the boys sprawled on the couch.

Their breath is even, chests rising and falling in unison. Chuuya’s head is resting on Dazai’s lap, his hand against his chest still holding the beaten controller. He squirms when the sun shamelessly goes across his eyes but doesn’t wake up.

Neither does Dazai. He just smiles through his sleep and puts his hand on Chuuya’s back. The rays of sun stall before continuing to move across the room as if taking in the unusual, eerily peaceful atmosphere in the living room, the raging fire turned into quiet embers for a bit.

Chuuya might call bullshit on the “one soul in two bodies” idea.

But… the sun surely knows better.

[quizzievivicalavellan]

How to Make Me Smile

In which Gale helps Aster fall asleep after a nightmare and Aster talks in her sleep. Occurs in the Underdark after confronting Nere.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53341882/chapters/142956958

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

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”

A swipe of a hand, a body flying through the air.

Screams echoed. And laughter. Nere, teeth bared in a wicked smile. Red-hot fire reflected in his eyes.

Lava spreading, engulfing everything. At the center, a gnome, crying in agony. Flesh melting, exposing blood and bone. Lips half burned away. “Help me! Help me…”

*GASP*

Aster woke with a start. Her eyes shot open, and the gruesome image of melting flesh was replaced with the familiar walls of her tent, barely visible in the gloom of the Underdark. Her breath came in ragged, shallow gasps and her heart felt as if were trying to escape her chest. As she sat there shaking in the dark, the gasps turned to sobs, and her eyes stung with unspilled tears.

The same nightmare, now three nights in a row. Each time it seemed to affect her even more than the last. After everything she’d been through recently, most would find it odd that the death of a single gnome would be what finally gave her nightmares, yet that was the truth. Honestly, despite the mind flayers, the parasites, the goblins, and every other threat and horror of her adventure so far, she had been enjoying it. Her new friends actually valued her opinions and looked to her for guidance. She’d been able to help people, and she’d felt such a rush of happiness and victory and appreciation partying into the night with the tieflings after saving them from the goblins. She felt important for the first time in her life, like a hero in the stories the caretakers at the orphanage used to read when she was a child.

She’d been a fool.

People like her, like that gnome that Nere had cast aside like she was nothing, weren’t heroes. They were pawns in the universe’s great game of lanceboard, mere sacrifices for the truly important players. And Nere, though more formidable and horrible than Aster had anticipated, was far from the most important player in the Absolute’s army. How was a nobody like her supposed to defeat such a powerful foe? It was impossible. She felt so small and weak and insignificant as she sobbed into the darkness. The gloomy, cramped interior of her tent felt as suffocating as the growing dread in her heart. Aster wrapped a blanket around herself and stepped outside, hoping a walk might soothe her mind.

It was impossible to tell night from day in the Underdark; only the quiet of the camp and her own tiredness betrayed the lateness of the hour. Aster longed for the lush flora and cool breeze of nighttime forests that had always brought her peace, but the druid had to admit that the Underdark had its own kind of natural beauty. Instead of trees and shrubs, mushrooms of all colors and shapes decorated the subterranean landscape. Many varieties glowed defiantly in the gloom, shining across the ground like a mirror of stars in the night sky.  

The mushrooms weren’t the only things glowing. Light emanated from one of the tents in the camp – Gale’s. It seemed she wasn’t the only one having difficulty sleeping. Then again, Gale was a night owl by nature and could often be found lost in a book in the wee hours of the night. The thought brought a small smile to Aster’s lips despite the heaviness of her heart.

Gale – in the short time she’d known him, she’d grown quite fond of the wizard. A blush crept into her cheeks as a memory popped into her mind. Aster had been so embarrassed when she had accidentally imagined kissing him while they had been connected by the Weave that she’d almost run away. But then, she’d felt his surprise and trepidation morph into elation “A pleasant image, to be sure.” He had imagined it before too.

And yet, save for some stolen glances, subtle touches, and flirtatious exchanges, their relationship had remained imaginary, both of them too scared to make it real. Something real could hurt, something real could be lost. Aster was too familiar with heartbreak and found it hard to let someone close enough to hurt her that way again. She cared deeply for Gale, and he seemed to care a great deal for her, but it was difficult to be certain of the truth of his feelings. Between the fallout of his disastrous relationship with Mystra, the orb, and the parasite, he might just need someone to grasp onto in the middle of the chaotic storm of his life. Would he still need her, when it was over?

Aster blinked away her troubled thoughts and found herself right outside Gale’s tent, unaware that she had even been walking toward it, drawn to that warm light like a moth to a flame. Her hand hovered over the flap of the tent. Part of her wanted nothing more than to go inside and throw her arms around him and let herself cry into his chest. For him to hold her and tell her everything would be alright.

But the other part of her made her draw her hand away from the entrance and turn back toward her own tent. The part that didn’t want him to see her so shaken and weak, eyes red and tearstains on her cheeks. She took a deep breath to try and pull herself together. She needed to be strong enough to face whatever dangers lie ahead. More than that, she needed them, and him especially, to believe that she was. With a sigh, she took the first step away from the warm glow of Gale’s tent.

****

Gale couldn’t sleep. This was far from unusual for him, but it was frustrating, nevertheless. Although his body felt tired, the minute his head hit the pillow his mind started racing with the couple of dozen things he ought to be worried about at the moment, and several dozen others he likely had no need to worry about, though every day it was getting increasingly difficult to tell the difference.

To give his overactive mind something else to mull over, Gale cracked open one of the newer tomes he had found on his adventure, Fringe Philosophy, Vol. 5. by Taura Brinn, who had some fascinatingly radical opinions on the study of more forbidden magics. As he reached a chapter on implications of Netherese magic study for the understanding of the nature of the Weave, he heard a noise outside the tent.

It was probably just the baby owlbear their troupe had somehow ended up adopting. Owlbears were nocturnal creatures by nature, and the little scamp could often be heard getting into trouble at night. Still, he supposed he ought to make sure the noise wasn’t something dangerous. Well, more dangerous, anyway. Gale was not entirely convinced that the owlbear wouldn’t grow up and decide to attack them all, but Aster did have a way with animals, and he could hardly protest after seeing her smile when it showed up at their camp for the first time.

He put the book aside, leaving it open on the blanket to keep his spot, and walked quietly to the entrance of the tent. He carefully pulled away the flaps and peered out into the dark camp, gently lit by the glow of hundreds of mushrooms. He looked down and saw a familiar head of red curls start moving away from the tent.

“Aster, is something wrong?” he whispered, stepping outside the tent. She flinched in surprise and stopped walking but didn’t turn around.

“Sorry, I… I didn’t mean to bother you,” she whispered back, pulling the blanket tighter around herself.

“Nonsense, you are never a bother.” He pulled back the flap of the tent with one hand and gestured toward the entrance with the other. “Would you like to come in?”

Finally, she turned around. Their eyes met for a moment before she looked away, turning her face as if trying to hide it behind the thick curtain of her hair. It was obvious from her red, puffy eyes that she had been crying. Gale realized then that this was the first time he had seen her cry, and his heart ached at the sight. He had a sudden urge to hug her, but he didn’t want to overstep and make her uncomfortable, so instead he kept holding open the tent until she stepped inside.

She sat down cross-legged on one of the blankets strewn across the floor and he sat down next to her on top of his bedroll. They sat there for what felt like a long time in uncomfortable silence. Finally, unable to bear the quiet any longer, Gale started to ask “Do you want to talk about –“ but Aster interrupted him before he could finish the question.

“What are you reading?” she asked, pointing to the open book on the ground next to him. While the deflection tactic was obvious, Gale let her get away with it.

“Fringe Philosophy, Vol. 5. The author makes some fascinating points on the potential costs, benefits, and implications of the study of Netherese magic. It is rather technical and verbose; I doubt it would interest you.”

“That sounds perfect.” She paused for a moment before speaking again. “Would you… read it to me?” she asked shyly.

 “Umm, yes I… sure, I can do that,” Gale stammered out, taken aback by the request. Without another word Aster rolled up her blanket into a makeshift pillow, set it down next to his bedroll, and laid down on her back. Gale followed her lead and laid down beside her. He picked up the book again in one hand, resting the base of it against his chest, and began to read aloud in hushed voice just slightly above a whisper. “Consider, if you will, what an understanding the formation and structure of the Karsite Weave might reveal about the metaphysical essence of…” As he read, the sound of her breathing slowed and deepened.  

After several pages, he felt a weight press against his side. He looked down to see Aster’s head resting on his shoulder, her arm draped across the left side of his chest. The book almost slipped from his hand, but he caught it and set it down gently before it could fall and wake her up. Her hand brushed unconsciously down his chest, and both his heart and the orb pulsed rapidly beneath her touch. He couldn’t pretend he hadn’t pictured it before, lying next to her, her hands on his skin, kisses hot and breathless...

He took a deep breath to calm himself. The orb thrummed dangerously at the rush of emotion and desire, a reminder of why he had not acted on his feelings for her. Well, part of the reason, anyway. The other major factor was his lingering doubt that she actually felt that way about him. Sure, he had seen that imagined kiss through their connection in the Weave, but she had seemed embarrassed and perhaps it was just a passing fantasy brought on by the warm embrace of the Weave. Many of their conversations after had seemed flirtatious, but Gale was sorely out of practice at detecting that sort of thing and had not been particularly gifted at it to begin with.

That was all true, but the biggest source of doubt was thus: what could she possibly see in him? He was a disgrace, a failure, a mere shell of his former self with but a fraction of the power he once wielded. Once, great feats of magic had come to him as naturally as breathing, and now even the simplest spells sometimes proved challenging. The great archmage Gale of Waterdeep, reduced to the ability of a novice by his own recklessness. He would do anything for her, give her everything he could, but he knew he had little to offer. She would realize that, sooner or later, and then she’d have no more use for him. He couldn’t go through that, not again…

“Mmhmm, Gale,” Aster murmured, bringing Gale back to the present.

“Yes?” Gale whispered, looking down at her head resting on his shoulder. Her eyes were closed, and she seemed to still be asleep.

“Gale, you’re… sosweet,” she said, sleep slurring her words together. “Youalways… knowhowto… make me smile.”

And she was smiling. All the worry and sadness that had been weighing on her when she was standing outside his tent were gone from her peacefully sleeping face. It was as if she had read his mind, had heard his doubts and answered them. Yes, that was something he could do. He could try to be a source of comfort, a laugh, and a smile in these uncertain times, make her burdens a little bit lighter. It might not be much, but it was something.

“Scraaaaatch,” Aster whined in her sleep, her dream clearly having changed subject. “Wyll’s boots arenotforeating!... Good boy,” Aster mumbled, petting Gale’s chest as if he were the camp dog. Gale stifled a laugh, trying not to wake her.

“Goodnight, Aster,” he whispered, tucking a stray curl of red hair behind her ear. He closed his eyes as sleep finally washed over him, the two of them lying there together, both smiling as they dreamed.

[understance]

“We Take it Day by Day” | fluff, some comfort, artist! marvin

it is now officially may 27th at 8 for me, so here’s the falsettos fic i promised y’all!

summary: marvin loves sketching whizzer, but is a little embarrassed about it. whizzer has to find out about it on his own.

word count: 1,080

—

Everything was truly, undoubtedly, alright. For the first time in Marvin’s life, he felt he could finally breathe. Him and Whizzer had been back together for a month, both men content with the life they had built, and the relationship they were working to rebuild.

Things were different this time; things were better. The two were happy. Which brings them here, laying in bed, Whizzer holding Marvin from behind- arms around his middle, while Marvin laid awake.

Marvin spared a glance over his shoulder, looking over Whizzer’s relaxed and peaceful state. Before, Marvin never saw Whizzer like this. They would screw, Whizzer would leave, and Marvin would let him. But now, Marvin tried to soak in as much of Whizzer as he could.

Marvin could stare at him for hours on end, never looking away, and never getting bored.

Over those two years alone, Marvin picked up drawing. His new psychiatrist, Cynthia, had suggested it, saying it would be good for him to be able to get his inner ideas out through using his natural creativity, and soon after taking up the hobby, he had realized he was actually quite good at it. He studied styles and anatomy in his free time, finding solace in both the order and disorder a person would draw with.

On weekends, when he would begrudgingly sit in the bleachers of whatever field Jason’s baseball game was being held at, he would take out his sketchbook and draw his surroundings. He would draw Jason out on the field, the nature around them, the streets, and sometimes even Trina and Mendel, hands intertwined, when he could push down his pride.

And that day, the day Whizzer was brought back to him, the moment he sat in front of him and turned to face the field, Marvin had pulled out his sketchbook and drawn the back of his head. That drawing had been the first of many- the pages of his sketchbook basically all now of Whizzer. From behind, from the side, from above, but one he hadn’t yet captured was him head-on.

Marvin was shy about this hobby, never directly asking Whizzer to pose, and always hiding his sketchbook whenever the younger man would shift or look his way. But this was perfect- Whizzer laying on his side facing Marvin, giving him a clear view of his face.

So, Marvin, ever the opportunist, wiggled out of Whizzer’s hold, and quietly opened the drawer of his nightstand. As quietly as he could, Marvin repositioned himself to be sitting crisscrossed facing Whizzer, and began sketching.

He looks over the details of his face- the deep dip of the bridge of his nose, the permanent pout of his lips, the perfect swoop of his hair that looks flawless, even now. As he sketches, using the glow of the street lights from outside the window as his light source, he gets lost in the detail. After laying out the guidelines, the rest was almost effortless- Marvin having practically memorized every wrinkle and divot of Whizzer’s face.

Too lost in the page, Marvin fails to notice the others' eyes open.

“Marvin?”

He jolts at the voice, almost falling off the bed before meeting Whizzer’s eyes. The other man’s gaze drifts down to Marvin’s lap- shit, Marvin thinks, the notebook. He snaps it shut, shoving both it and his pencil off the bed like a child who had just been caught with a cookie. It hits the ground with a quiet thud. “Uh, what was that?” Whizzer’s eyebrow quirks up as he sits up on one elbow.

”Nothing!” Marvin replies far too quickly, “It’s nothing.” Whizzer hums, suspicious, as he tries to lean forward past Marvin to get a better look at what he had tossed away so hastily. Marvin shuffles- trying to block Whizzer’s view with his body- but fails.

Whizzer catches sight of the object on the floor, only making out the shape before he’s lightly shoved back. “Whizzer, please- just go back to sleep.” Marvin all but begs. Whizzer just stares at him, giving him a look that he’s never once been able to resist. It’s full of concern, a silent plea.

Marvin huffs, annoyed, but complies with the unspoken request. He gets up, switching on his bedside lamp, and picks up the sketchbook. He gently sits back down next to Whizzer, feeling his gaze following his every move. He begins flipping through the pages, past dozens of sketches of Whizzer, before stopping on the new page.

He hesitates, what if he thinks it’s weird? what if he doesn't like it? Getting lost in his thoughts of doubt for a moment before a warm hand is placed on his knee. He looks at Whizzer, takes a breath, and flips the book around.

Whizzer quietly gasps, reaching for the book, “Marv, this is,” Marvin holds his breath, “this is beautiful.” He smiles, sitting up fully, resting against the headboard, and begins going through the previous pages. “You think so?” Marvin asks. “I know so. When did you start drawing? I didn’t even know you liked art.” His tone wasn’t condescending, but Marvin couldn’t help but feel self conscious.

”Two years ago, after the breakup. Cynthia suggested it.” He fiddles with his fingers, watching Whizzer’s face for any signs of disapproval; signs that never came. Whizzer’s eyes soften, smiling once more as his gaze lands on a sketch of Jason on the baseball field.

“Marvin, I just- I don’t know what to say. These are amazing. Though I do wish you had told me sooner so I could’ve posed better.” He gestures to another page with a drawing of Whizzer sitting on the couch, eyes fixed on the baseball game on the tv. Marvin chuckles lightly.

“So…you like them?” Whizzer shuts and places down the sketchbook, holding Marvin’s head in his hands, “I love them.” He kisses him on the forehead before reaching past Marvin to place the book on the nightstand. “Now c’mon, it’s like 4am, let’s go back to sleep.”

Marvin lays down and shuffles back under the covers, laying his head on Whizzer’s chest. As he begins to drift back to sleep, he feels Whizzer’s fingers begin carding through his hair. “I love you.” He hears from above him. “Love you too.” He mumbles in response.

He listens to the steady heartbeat of his lover, and silently thanks whatever god is out there for bringing Whizzer back to him. For once, he thinks, everything was truly, undoubtedly, alright.

[hazbinficsandstuff-eyeshadow]

[awhitehead17]

Battling Nightmares

TimKon, Hurt and Comfort, Fluff, Cuddles, Idiots in love, Literal Sleeping together.

A/N: This has been inspired by this post from @timdrakebrainworms I read it and wanted to put it into a story, I hope they don't mind!

Enjoy! :D

Blinking into the darkness, Kon frowns and wonders what’s going on. As his mind is fogged up with sleep, nothing registers for a long moment. The clock on his bedside table tells him it’s two in the morning, and considering how tired Kon has been recently he’s confused to what could have woken him up at such an hour.

A soft sound reaches his ears, and while it’s tempting to fall back to sleep, he wouldn’t have woken up without a reason and going back to sleep wasn't an option until he worked out what was wrong. He props himself up on his arms and glances around the dark room, finding nothing amiss he stares into the darkness, perhaps if he concentrates he’ll be able to hear that sound again.  

The sound comes again and this time Kon catches it. It’s a soft whisper coming from outside his bedroom. It was so soft that even with his super hearing Kon would’ve had trouble picking up on it, however because Kon’s so tuned in on the person whose whisper it was, he’s not surprised he heard it.

Without thinking Kon jumps out of bed and rushes across the room to the door, any lingering sleepiness is now gone and has been replaced by worry and adrenaline. He throws open his door and darts across the hall straight into the opposite room. He slows down enough to shut the door and immediately heads to the bed where his best friend sits hunched over hugging his  knees to his chest with his head ducked down resting on them.

Crouching down by the mattress Kon sighs softly, his heart feels heavy inside his chest as he looks at Tim. This isn’t new. The nightmares. Every night without fail for the last two weeks Tim’s woken up during the night due to the terrors that haunt his sleeping mind.

At the end of the first week it got bad enough to the point where Tim refused to even go to bed, and then continued to refuse for nearly four days. It took Kon, Dick, Bruce and even Ma Kent - not mentioning his complete exhaustion – to convince Tim to go to bed and sleep.

For the last week, Kon coming to Tim after he wakes from a nightmare has become routine. Once Kon drilled it into Tim’s head that he wanted Tim to call out for him when he woke, Tim had done so and each and every time Kon’s been willing to comfort his best friend after the ordeal.

Tonight is no different.

“Tim.” Kon calls out softly. He doesn't want to accidently startle Tim, that never ends well. “Hey it’s okay, I’m here. I heard you.”

“Kon.” Tim’s voice comes out muffled from where his face is buried in his knees.

Now knowing Tim’s acknowledged his presence, he gently grasps his leg. “Yeah I’m here. What do you need?”

Over the last week Kon’s come to learn Tim wants different things depending on how he’s feeling after waking up. Sometimes it’s cuddles, he just wants a solid hold around him and someone by his side as he recovers. Sometimes it’s no touch at all and just quiet company in the room. Other times he wants to be distracted and they end up playing video games or watching a film.

“Cuddles.”

Kon nods and starts getting situated on Tim’s bed next to him. Stretching out and getting comfortable, Kon reaches over and pulls Tim into his side, he sweeps his hand up and down Tim’s back in a motion of comfort. His best friend stays curled up but he leans into Kon. He knows from experience it’ll take some time for Tim to calm down and relax against him.

As time goes by, Tim slowly relaxes. It’s surprisingly comfortable to hold Tim against him, Kon wishes it was different circumstances and hates how Tim is constantly plagued by nightmares after what had happened weeks ago.

Once Tim is relaxed against him, stretched out with his arms wrapped around Kon’s waist and his head resting on Kon’s shoulder, Kon breaks the silence between them, “how are you feeling? Would you like to talk about it?”

Again these questions are part of the routine and often have different answers. Sometimes Tim will speak up about it, other times he won’t.

This time Tim doesn’t want to. He shakes his head and lets out a long resigned sigh. Kon accepts the answer, forcing Tim to talk won’t achieve anything other than aggression of some sort, and ducks his head to press a kiss to Tim's hair.

“Okay. Do you want to try and go back to sleep, it’s still early.”

Tim groans, “I don’t think I can.”

Kon smiles weakly at the almost whine. Under different circumstances it would have been both adorable and amusing. Using one hand he strokes his fingers through Tim’s hair, the other now stays still on Tim’s back keeping him pressed close to Kon.

“Well, I think you can. I’m here now, I’ll keep the nightmares away.”

“Gonna fight them off like you do bad guys and robots?” Tim asks, his tone now lightening up.

Kon gives Tim a squeeze.  “Yup. They aren’t getting past me!”

Tim snorts and smacks Kon at the ridiculousness of it. As laughable as the concept may be Kon managed to lighten Tim’s mood – even if only for a moment – so he’ll take it.

Tim sighs and settles against Kon again and Kon mimics the action and relaxes deeper into the mattress beneath him. He presses another kiss to Tim’s head and readjusts the covers around them. “C’mon, we can get another hour or two before dawn breaks.”

Kon’s promise reins true as Tim doesn't have another nightmare that night. They wake up together and Kon checks in with Tim, they talk for an hour before emerging from the bedroom to join their teammates for breakfast. No one comments on how they come out of the room looking suggestively sleep rumpled, like everything else about the situation it’s become normal for Kon to stay in Tim’s room when he has a nightmare, the rest of the team are use to it by now.

That night Kon tries something different. After Tim calls it a night, looking displeased with the decision, Kon decides to follow him. He says his goodnights to the team who all weirdly roll their eyes at him, and heads for his bedroom. He goes through his nightly routine however instead of getting into his own bed he traipses across the hall and enters Tim’s room.

Standing in the middle of the room Kon finds Tim scowling at the bed, clearly unhappy about going to sleep. After a moment of no movement Kon speaks up, grinning at the way Tim startles. “Are you planning to sleep standing up or are you going to use the bed?”

Tim glares at him for a second before dropping the look. He runs a hand through his hair and looks despondent. “I hate this,” Tim says, “just knowing I’ll wake up in a few hours terrified out of my mind. Finding myself again completely at mercy-”

Before he could say anything more Kon steps up to him and puts his hands firmly on Tim’s shoulders. “Hey. If you keep thinking about it before you go to sleep it’s all your mind will focus on. I know it’s hard but things will get better, they’ll stop soon.”

Tim shakes his head and Kon’s heart breaks at the expression on his face. Kon pulls Tim in for a tight hug. “I was thinking what if I joined you in bed now? We can sleep together and I can keep my promise of fighting the nightmares away. Only if you want too of course.”

Pulling out of the hug Tim looks uncertain. “Are you sure? I don’t want to keep you awake all night with my tossing and turning.”

Kon rolls his eyes and pushes Tim to the bed, he forces him under the covers and quickly joins him. “Dude, you say that like I’ve never slept next to you before. We’ve been doing an awful lot of bed sharing these last couple of weeks. I’ll be fine. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Tim stares at him for a moment before nodding accepting it. He smiles shyly. “Thanks. I do actually sleep better next to you.”

Unable to help himself Kon presses a kiss to his hair before moving to turn off the bedside lamp. The room plunges into darkness and Kon gathers Tim close as they both settle down for the night.

It becomes a thing. In the weeks following, Kon now spends the entire night with Tim instead of just half when Tim calls out for him. Unfortunately Kon loses some battles against the nightmares because Tim still has them even when sleeping next to Kon, but his presence undeniably helps.

Whenever they’re at the tower, at the manor or at the farm they just share a bed. It feels so natural to sleep together now, it doesn't even occur to them anymore to not share a bed. The only time they sleep apart is they’re in separate locations or on missions.

Two months after the ordeal Tim’s nightmares have mostly come to a stop, they still occur maybe once a week or in ten days if he’s lucky. Even after the nightmares stopped they continued bed sharing, again because it felt right and comfortable to do so.

Three months after the ordeal Kon and Tim officially get together as a couple in a romantic relationship. In the months they have been bed sharing, Kon’s gotten to know Tim in a completely new way which is saying something considering how well he knew Tim before everything happened.

He had always felt deeper affection for Tim with him being his best friend, but in the nights he spent lying next to the guy, Kon discovered the affection ran much deeper than he realised, and most definitely in a different way. It turns out his feelings were reciprocated.

After a particularly bad night Tim ended up confessing his feelings for Kon, at first Kon hadn’t believed him, thinking it was stress and an emotional release from the nightmare, however the following day Tim made it perfectly clear it wasn't a false confession. From there they went from best friends to boyfriends. A rather incredible upgrade Kon would say.

They kept quiet about their relationship for a little while before announcing it to the team. It wasn’t so much they were worried about what their friends would think but rather they wanted to explore the romantic side of their relationship before sharing it.

When they announced it to the team, with everyone gathered in the media room, everyone ended up with a confused expression on their face. It turns out they were confused for a different reason than what he and Tim were expecting.

“You’re saying you only got together a couple weeks ago?” Cassie stares mystified at them like they had grown another head each.

Kon shares a look with Tim. “Uh yeah… what do you… this is not the reaction I was expecting.”

“So you guys haven’t been dating for years! You’ve only just got together?”

Tim gawks at her. “Wait what? What do you mean?”

“Dudes,” Bart drawls at them while munching on pretzels, “we all thought you were already dating! And had been dating for years! We figured you didn’t want any fuss about coming out so you just didn’t.”

Both Kon and Tim were shocked into silence by that little revelation.

“Kon is so touchy feely with Tim unlike anyone else, ever, and Tim the prickly cactus he is, allows it all to happen.” Bart carries on talking.

Cassie jumps in with her own comment. “Don’t forget about all the bed sharing and cuddling. Like none of that is platonic. Granted we never heard you guys going at it, we just thought you were incredibly discrete, or it’s because of Tim’s insane soundproofing he has.”

Kon feels his face heat up and when he glances at Tim he finds his boyfriend impersonating a tomato rather accurately.

“Well we weren’t dating,” Kon tells him unable to meet anyone’s eyes, “but now we are. So…” he waves a hand around as his sentence trails off. He doesn’t know what to do with this situation anymore and would rather it end.

Thankfully Vic becomes his saviour because he calls out, “now the oblivious lovebirds are done, are we doing this or what?”

That breaks the room up and everyone settles down to watch the screen. Kon lets out a breath and turns to find Tim staring at him, looking embarrassed but relieved. He smiles at Kon and Kon’s instant reaction is to smile back.

“Oi!”

The shouts makes them both jump and it’s only then Kon realises they had been staring at one another like lovestruck fools.

“If you’re gonna make out you have bedrooms for that particular activity, otherwise sit your asses down and enjoy the movie.”

While making out with Tim sounds awesome, and hot as hell, he takes Tim’s hand and guides him to a free space on the couch where they settle down together and get involved with the team bonding. No one cares they’re together romantically and Kon is pleased to continue going forward surrounded by his friends and with an amazing, strong, boyfriend at his side.  

[alleiwentcrazy]

Eddie Munson finds great joy in collecting strays. That’s obvious.

With people, it’s quite pronounced. He treats the word “freak” like an acclaimed royal title, not some low insult. Eddie loves his freaks – he treats them with care, understanding and unmistakable devotion, always offering some sort of safe haven and an outlet for both their sadness and glee. Everyone who knows Eddie knows that.

It’s a bit less pronounced with other creatures. Although Eddie’s adventures with wild, sometimes even feral (or simply interdimensional) animals still present a sore spot for him, he’s never stopped caring about them and trusting them. Eddie has a whole clowder of half-domesticated cats wandering around the fields behind his trailer at all times, because he can’t seem to accept the fact that it’s impossible to efficiently help each and every one of them just like that. Sometimes their constant presence, walls-scratching and low mewling spawns some unwanted pictures and dreams in Eddie’s head, but he will never admit to that.

What’s even less obvious—even to Eddie himself, it seems—is that his relationship with all kinds of strays is, more or less, a two-way street.

Eddie takes after his strays more than he’s aware of. For example, he’s just a little more sarcastic when he’s back from hanging out with Max. He’s a little more excited about basketball when he picks up Lucas after his practice, even though he considers himself a sports’ sworn enemy. He’s a little more tentative and reflective when he gives El some advice about regrowing her hair, because he’s well-versed with how much of a pain in the ass it can be. And so on, and so forth.

It’s the same with his cats. He takes after them a lot.

Usually, it’s Steve who notices it first. He’s also the one who falls victim to Eddie’s cat-like habits.

*

The first time it happens, they’re “studying” for Eddie’s exams. He’s been forced to retake his senior year once again, but this time he’s doing everything in his power to get through it unscathed. Usually Nancy plays the role of his tutor, but Steve takes over when she can’t make it. He’s more like moral support than anything else, since Eddie studies best when he has someone to talk to, and Steve isn’t too confident about his academic skills to really tutor him, so he’s just happy to help and listen.

But it’s starting to get late, he had a morning shift and he’s finding it hard to fight off the drowsiness, especially because Eddie’s voice is deep, raspy and warm, and it makes him feel like he’s listening to some type of bedtime story.

“...so that’s why, I think, trig kinda sucks. But I’m getting the hang of it, I guess?”

He barely registers the meaning of the sentence. He’s so comfortable sitting under the blanket on Eddie’s bed everything loses importance. Moving his mouth seems to be an impossible task, so Steve just hums. When he cracks one eye open, Eddie’s looking at him with an unreadable expression.

“I’ll make some coffee,” he says, but Steve doesn’t even see him leave. He slides down and buries his face in the pillows.

He knows when Eddie comes back because the smell of coffee infiltrates his sleepy haze, but doesn’t motivate him enough to get up.

“Budge up,” he hears. Then a hand squeezes his shoulder, so he moves closer to the wall with a whine, squishing his cheek further into the pillow. Something warm settles beside him and he thinks, simply, that it’s really pleasant to be this cozy and comfortable before he drifts off for good.

When he opens his eyes in the morning, he’s welcomed by a very curious sight.

Eddie Munson sleeps like a cat.

He’s lying on his back, long hair only slightly tangled where it’s splayed over the pillow. When sunrays hit his face, he instinctively turns his head in the right direction and Steve almost expects him to make a noise—a noise that would most probably remind him of purring. Eddie’s limbs are spread out all over the bed and his whole body seems to be twisted to the side, but he still takes up a lot less space than anticipated. His left hip is pressed to Steve’s right, but it’s the only point of connection between them.

Steve has seen this sleeping position only once, when he met Robin’s cat, Biscuit. Biscuit supposedly hates Robin, but somehow trusts Steve, because he sleeps with his tummy out when Steve’s around. Just like Eddie.

Steve raises his brow and looks at Eddie’s sunlit face again. He’s peaceful and relaxed, unbothered by the noises coming from outside. When the sun moves again, Eddie moves with it, pressing his bony hip a little closer to Steve’s.

That’s curious indeed. Steve doesn’t want to dwell on how it makes him feel at the moment, so he just looks. It’s quite a sight.

*

Weeks pass, Eddie’s peculiar habits get more and more frequent—or maybe after that one night spent at the trailer Steve’s just more focused on taking note of them. His hypothesis that Eddie’s a lot like his animal companions of choice is being confirmed time and time again, mostly when Eddie falls asleep.

After some time, Steve notices that on top of preferring weird sleeping positions, Eddie also makes a habit of seeking other people’s warmth whenever he wants to take a nap. Steve honestly doesn’t think it’s anything personal; Eddie will fall asleep on anyone’s shoulder if they let him, but he seems to have a preference. The preference being Steve.

When Robin tries to comment on that, Steve silences her. Half because he doesn’t want to confront that yet, half because he enjoys it and doesn’t want to spook Eddie away. Sue him if he likes being needed, right?

The only time he kind of regrets letting Eddie cling to him is when they go to the beach with the kids.

It’s not even a real beach, but they’re set on enjoying it as much as they can. Eddie takes his van, Nancy takes the wagon, they pack everyone inside and get the hell out of Hawkins for a full day. The weather is perfect, the grass is green and soft, the lake is nothing like Lover’s Lake at home. If only because there are no horrible memories attached.

Steve’s off babysitting duties when Nancy announces lunch, everyone wolfs down their sandwiches and lounges lazily around the lake in the scorching afternoon sun.

There aren’t many things Steve enjoys more than good sunbathing. At home, he can’t really do that anymore. He can’t stand the pool and the chlorine, he can’t stand the sound of unnatural sloshing of the water. It all makes his head spin and before he knows it, he’s back inside, fully dressed and calling Robin to ease the panic.

It’s different here. He lays down on his fluffy towel and enjoys the sun, listening to Dustin’s happy squeals and Lucas’ joyful giggling.

Until he has to hiss, because glacially cold droplets of water hit his sternum and a shadow obscures the light. When he opens his eyes, Eddie Munson grins at him despite the glare he’s being welcomed with.

“Hiya,” he says, shaking his head like a dog. Steve scowls some more. “Move over, beauty queen.”

“Don’t you have your own towel?” he grumbles, but makes space nonetheless, all while desperately trying not to catch Robin’s eyes at the same time.

Eddie plops down beside him, immediately making himself comfortable in the sparse space Steve has left him. “Yeah, but yours is better. And you wouldn’t starve a man of his rightful summer afternoon nap, would you, Stevie?”

Steve closes his eyes, not letting go of the frown. “Stop yapping or I’ll throw you into the water again.”

“Will you carry me to the shore princess style this time? Because—Hey!” He finally shuts up when Steve elbows him.

When Robin wakes him up again, Eddie’s on his side, so close to Steve he can feel his steady breaths on his shoulder. Eddie’s both arms are thrown over Steve’s chest—because of course, even his side sleeping must be cat-like.

“Wake up, tiger,” she says, barely holding back a smirk. Steve knows this face too well.

“What are you…” Robin points at the sun and then at his chest. Steve’s brain is still a little hazy from his nap, so it takes him a while to understand what she means. When it hits him, his eyes get so big Robin can’t contain herself anymore. She lets out a loud cackle that soon transforms into a full laughing fit. Steve can’t even blame her for it.

Eddie stirs beside him. Slowly, he sits up and yawns. While he’s rubbing his eyes, Steve looks down at his chest in agony. It’s all red and scorched – all, aside from two pale stripes where Eddie’s arms were lying across his skin.

He sighs at it in disbelief while Robin cackles some more.

*

Overall, Steve quickly finds out that he really doesn’t mind the fact that Eddie includes him in his every nap when they’re together. In fact, he learns that he enjoys it so much he can’t imagine napping all by himself at this point.

But it’s all okay. And it’s not that unusual, right? They’ve all gotten really close since Vecna—even Nancy and Robin have some kind of secret proximity contract going on between them, it seems. It’s the magic of shared trauma and shared secrets that keeps them together and pulls them closer to each other every day.

At least that’s how Steve explains it to himself. That’s how he explains the comfort and sense of safety he gets every time Eddie’s back is pressed to his chest, when they’re breathing evenly and in sync. That’s how he sees it when he absent-mindedly reaches for Eddie’s hand when they’re falling asleep on the Munsons’ worn-out sofa. That’s how he feels when Eddie’s arms pull him closer.

Deep down, he knows it’s not usual at all. He’s had enough dates and romances to recognize when things cross the line, but he purposefully closes his eyes to that for the time being, letting himself enjoy the comfort and the safety of it all.

He learns the hard way that while both him and Eddie decide to stay oblivious, not everyone else does. And the fact that they never talk about it doesn’t help.

As per usual, when their monthly movie night with Nancy and Robin – the original Upside Down Bat Squad – comes, Steve and Eddie squeeze themselves into one loveseat. Eddie’s head drops to Steve’s shoulder almost immediately and he folds himself into a small human ball, pressing his side to Steve and going to sleep instantly.

Steve would love to take a nap himself, but the movie is just interesting enough to keep him in the half-dazed lethargy between sleep and consciousness. When he finally drifts off, it’s not for long.

He opens his eyes again when he registers the sudden lack of warmth beside him. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Eddie leave through the glass door in his living room. He wants to call after him, but before he does, he finally notices the muffled talk in the corridor. Nancy’s voice cuts through the silence first.

“...yes, but isn’t it kind of… Strange for them to be like that without acknowledging it in any way?”

It’s quiet for a bit, as if the conversation is being actively processed by both participants. “You mean the, uh… The closeness, or…?” Robin tries to keep her voice steady and neutral, but her cover blows a little bit more with every word.

“Yes! You clearly can’t be this intimate with someone if you don’t care about them deeply. There’s always a reason to be so close to each other, right? And you’re Steve’s platonic soulmate, so it’s definitely not like that between them.”

So many things come to Steve’s mind so suddenly he has to close his eyes—things concerning not only him and Eddie, but also Nancy and Robin. Things they were all too blind to notice.

“You mean, um,” Robin swallows so loudly even Steve can hear it. “To be as close to each other… As we are, sometimes?”

He gets up, then, deciding that he’s heard enough. Robin will tell him everything either way.

When he opens the glass door and catches the sight of Eddie, sitting on one of the lawn chairs and smoking, he realizes that they’re both going to have a lot to confess to each other at work tomorrow.

He sits down on the chair next to Eddie’s and lets the silence envelop them for a second. Eddie passes him the cigarette and he takes a prolonged drag.

“Robin and Nance woke me up with their babbling. Sorry for waking you up too,” Eddie says without looking at him.

Steve doesn’t really know how to approach it. It would be difficult enough if only one or two of them were having a revelation this evening, but since it’s all of them—well, that complicates things. He’s only a little bit surprised that his revelation doesn't hurt him at all, though. It’s not making his stomach churn or his eyes water. He still feels safe within it. When he glances at Eddie again, he can’t help but hope, even though their situation has more layers than either of them has had a chance to discover.

“It’s alright,” he reassures, passing down the cigarette. “I wasn’t really sleeping.”

Something sour flashes on Eddie’s face, but it’s only temporary. He smiles again, then, although his eyes stay dim. “Bet you don’t get good sleep at all when I’m all over you.”

“Actually,” Steve says, making sure to time it perfectly. When he reaches out to take the cigarette from Eddie, he lets their fingers stay pressed together for long enough to make some ash fall to the ground by itself. “It’s the other way around. I like it. I like when we do that.”

Eddie frowns, but his expression is as far from sour as possible. “You do?”

“Yeah. It’s just… It’s calming. I feel safe. Far away from the monsters and shit.”

Eddie smiles and huffs. He lets go of the cigarette gently. His fingers drag down along Steve’s skin. He’s not too willing to admit that, but this simple gesture gives Steve enough goosebumps to last him for life.

“Monsters and shit,” Eddie says, smiling. He turns and presses his knee to Steve’s.

“Yeah, exactly,” Steve presses back. “Monsters and shit.”

[icefeather22]

WLW week has started! Chapter 2 is out!

Chapter prompt: Trapped

Relationships: Fujisaki Chihiro/Celestia Ludenberg

Fic Summary: Works for the WLW Week from October 20 to October 25. They're all about the best ship, Celeshiro!

Chapter Summary: To her horror, Celestia realizes she's been trapped inside the school library, and she now has to stay until it opens again the next morning. But she soon realizes she's not alone.

[writing-forever]

Ragatha took a deep breath as she picked up the headset. All her friends had already disappeared to, wherever it went…

She hoped they were ok. She hoped there were people waiting for them in the real world. Especially Gangle, goodness knows she needed it.

Caine was watching her nervously, fiddling with his cane. “Last chance Ragatha! You could always stay right here!”

Ragatha smiled at him. “Sorry Caine. But I have to look after my friends.” And with one last wave, she fitted the headset over her head.

Another addition to The Sum Of Our parts! Aka, the series where I throw rocks at Jax. This time from Ragatha’s pov! With a little bunnydoll thrown in! Oh and also the threat of Imminent Abstraction

[fuzzbraiin]

LOOK at the roomy and slept in side of the bed beside stede? hmmmm?? perfect fitting for a potential boyfriend?? hmmm??

[atths--twice]

Malodourous

What happened at the end of War of the Coprophages?

Fictober day 12

Prompt: Honestly, why would I care?

Hope you enjoy!

This one is for Sue. 💓

“You know, I never thought I’d say this to you, Scully… but you smell bad,” Mulder said, smirking slightly as he walked past her, bringing the umbrella with him.

“Hey,” she called after him and he turned around, a small smile on his face.

“Yes?” he asked, waiting for her to catch up to him before they began walking again. 

“It’s not as if you smell like a bed of roses. In case you’d forgotten, we’re both covered in…” 

“Shit,” he said, grimacing as he shook his head. “Do you think that could’ve been something I forgot?” 

“Just stating the obvious considering your statement. People in glass houses…” she said, raising her eyebrows. 

“Need to invest in curtains,” he replied and for a second she stared at him in confusion. Then she laughed and shook her head. “You know, because they can be seen by everyone? Especially if they’re naked?” 

“Yeah, I got it,” she said, laughing again and he nodded with a smile. “Where are we going?” 

“Well, considering that our cars are trapped by fire trucks and police vehicles, and I would very much like to not smell like I rolled in a pile of horse shit, I was going to see if we could hitch a ride back to my motel.” 

“Oh. Good plan.” She stopped walking and turned back to look toward her car. “Let me grab my bag.” 

“Here,” he said, handing her the umbrella. “You do that and I’ll secure us a ride. Or, if I can't, I suppose we’re walking back to the motel.” 

“God, I hope not.” 

She hurried to the car and opened the trunk, globs of manure falling off as she did. 

“Revolting,” she murmured, taking her bag out and closing the trunk again. 

“Ma’am,” a firefighter said, walking over to her. “You won’t be able to get your car out for a while yet.” 

“I know. I just needed to get my bag so I can shower and change, because…” She gestured to herself and she saw his nose wrinkle in disgust. “Yeah. Imagine that being on you.” 

“You… yes, ma’am,” he said, nodding at her and walking away. 

“That’s what I thought,” she said under her breath. 

She zigzagged through the firefighters and police officers, making her way back to Mulder. 

“Hey,” he said as she handed the umbrella back to him and they stood beside each other. “The fire chief has graciously offered to take us back to the motel.” 

“That’s good.”

“It is,” he said, looking at her and she frowned. 

“Is there something else I should know?” 

“We have to ride in the back of the pickup. He doesn’t want the smell getting into his truck. So, if you don’t mind…” He shrugged and she did the same. 

“Look at the state of me. Of you. Honestly, why would I care? At the moment, I think it’s probably the best place for us.” 

“You do smell bad, as I previously stated. I think it’s a wise decision.” 

“Fuck off,” she said, flipping him off. He laughed as she shook her head. 

“You folks ready?” the chief asked and they both nodded, following him to his truck. 

Mulder climbed in first, offering Scully a hand as she climbed up. The chief took her bag and put it in the cab with him. 

“The rain is likely to pick up while we’re driving. Wouldn’t want your clean clothes to get wet.” 

“How kind of him to worry about that,” Scully said, sitting down and leaning against the front of the bed. “Yet, he’s fine with us getting rained on while we’re driving.” 

“Free coat wash,” Mulder said, sitting beside her and closing the umbrella, knowing it would not work well while they were driving. 

“Only thing worse than the smell I’m experiencing now, is the smell it will have when it gets wet.” 

“Hmm,” he said, resting his head back and closing his eyes. 

By the time they got back to the motel, they were both wet, the rain beginning to fall harder as they scrambled out of the truck. 

“Thanks for the lift,” Mulder said, taking Scully’s bag from him and ushering her inside the motel. 

They walked past the front desk clerk who gave them a confused look, but said nothing. 

“Here,” he said, taking out his key and opening the door. “Go take a shower.” He put her bag in the bathroom and walked out. “I’ll go see if they have any trash bags for these clothes.” 

“Okay. I’ll try to be quick.” 

She closed and locked the bathroom, turned on the shower to warm the water, stripped off all of her clothes and left them beside the sink in a heaping pile. 

Washing twice, she stepped out of the shower feeling like a new person. As she dried off and dressed, she wondered how Bambi and Doctor Ivanov were getting along. 

“Scully?” Mulder said, knocking on the door. 

“Almost finished. Nearly yours,” she said. 

“That’s good, but I was just going to say that I got some trash bags.” 

“Okay great.” 

She ran a brush through her hair, hung up her towel, grabbed her bag and opened the door. 

“If you take this, I’ll take a trash bag,” she said, holding out her bag, but he shook his head. 

“I’m still dirty and smelly. You’re clean and you smell good. I can bag them up for you.” 

“You don’t have to-”

“I know,” he said, smiling as he walked into the bathroom with two trash bags and closed the door. 

She sighed, looking around the nondescript motel room, the morning light pouring in. 

“Hmm,” she hummed, suddenly feeling very tired, the night catching up to her. 

She turned on the television and adjusted the bed covers. Sitting down, she leaned against the headboard, as she heard the shower begin running. 

She woke to Mulder, pulling the comforter over her, the room slightly darker as the curtains were closed. 

“Oh! Hey,” she said, attempting to sit up, but he stopped her. 

“I just talked to the sheriff and the cars are still on site.” 

“Mmm,” she moaned, closing her eyes and pressing further into the pillow. 

When did I lay down? she thought with a frown. 

Oh, who cares? came another thought and she nodded as she exhaled. 

“He also said, the fire station agreed to wash them for us, so he will have them towed over there.” 

“No one wants to get inside?” she asked and she heard him chuckle as he moved around the room. 

“I’d say we’ve got some time. You want to get some food?” 

“I want to sleep. Someone kept calling me when I attempted to do so at the time most people dedicate to sleeping.” 

“He sounds like an ass,” he said and she smiled. 

“He can be at times. Especially when he hangs up on you, leaving you wondering if he’s still alive.” 

“Yeah, sounds kinda douchey.”

“Hmm,” she hummed, not saying anything further and he chuckled softly. 

The bed suddenly shifted and she opened her eyes in surprise. 

“What are you doing?” she asked, turning her head and seeing him lying on the bed. 

“Well, as you mentioned, you didn’t get much sleep last night. The same thing happened to me, oddly enough. Seeing you sleeping here when I got out of the shower, it dawned on me that I am also quite tired.” 

“Hmm,” she hummed, turning her head back and closing her eyes. 

“We have some time for a quick nap,” he said tiredly and she yawned, burrowing further into the comforter and nodding. 

The ringing of a phone woke her, something heavy holding her in place when she attempted to get up and answer it. 

“Mmm,” Mulder moaned close to her ear, his arm around her tightening its hold. “Not yet.” 

“Mulder,” she said, nudging him until he woke up, and moved his arm off of her midsection. 

“Sorry,” he said, his voice sleepy and low. 

“Your phone was ringing. Maybe it was the sheriff.” 

“Maybe,” he said in the same tone, not rising from the bed. 

“Mulder. Get up.” 

He grumbled as he got up, picking up his phone and calling the sheriff back while Scully stayed wrapped in the warm blankets. 

Thirty minutes later, the sheriff picked them up in front of the motel room and then dropped them at the fire station, chuckling under his breath every so often. 

“At least you both smell better today,” he teased. 

The outsides of the cars were clean, though the inside still smelled and would need a thorough deep clean once they were returned to the rental agency. 

“This will be an interesting one to expense,” Scully said as they walked from the rental desk and into the airport. “I don’t think there’s space for- a building full of manure exploded onto my rental car.” 

“Or we don’t say anything. And Skinner will never know.” 

“But my credit card will,” she said, bumping her shoulder into him. 

“Hmm… well,” he said, opening the door for her. “Then let me treat you to breakfast. It’s the least I can do.” 

“The very least,” she muttered and he laughed, nodding as she walked past him. 

She shook her head in reply as she thought about everything that had happened in the past twenty four hours. 

Yeah, buying her breakfast was the least he could do.