#and that they would be disappointed if he goes out of his comfort zone and tries something grand it speaks a lot of how much you matter

[inundatae]

calling back to an old post i made about neuvillette not being one to often accept gifts as it can compromise his reputation as the impartial iudex.

for that very same reason, neuvillette does not often give gifts either. for important officials a signed card from the office of the chief justice might be sent. otherwise a select number of individuals can perhaps expect something sent to them via courier. only a very, very select handful can expect something personally delivered.

his gifts are often practical and if one didn't know neuvillette then perceived as cold and utilitarian. pens, sheaves of expensive paper, organizers.

paradoxically, while to the outsider neuvillette only has a sparse number of people to gift give to, his shopping list also numbers close to the upper hundreds.

[allllium]

Hi! I have a Jason Todd x reader request if you’re still looking for those! A little angst, a little hurt/ comfort, a little protective Jason Todd.

Soulmate AU where soulmates can feel each others feelings. Jason is on patrol and reader is at their shared apartment when someone breaks in. Jason is not nearby so he feels a lot of feelings while he frantically tries to get home. Reader may get injured but they aren’t helpless, they fight back.

Thank you!!!

Break In

~ I hope this is what you were expecting, this was so cute to me <3

~ WC: 885 [Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort]

- Things go wrong while he's on patrol

Jason is a man that loves with his whole heart. He falls hard but it takes a long time. Once you win him over, he's yours. Growing up the way he did Jason didn't think he'd ever meet his soulmate, not the way Dick and Tim did. As terrible as it is he always assumed you were dead - he never felt that overwhelming feeling of someone else's emotions that people had explained to him all his life. Not until he died.

No one knows why his soulmate bond didn't kick in until he had come back to life, but that's how it happened. Not only did he have to deal with his own problems of coming back but he finally had to get used to yours too. And he wouldn't change it for the world.

“What's got you smiling like that?” Dick asks, from his position on the roof of an opposite building.

“What? A man can't be happy?” Jason continues smiling to himself as patrol goes on. Feeling your relaxed state through bond makes him stay relaxed himself.

Jason usually tries to stay as close to your shared apartment as possible, his paranoia holding him on a strong leash. However, he was forced to step more out of his comfort zone tonight, due to Dick's excessive begging.

He's almost ready to begin heading home when he feels it, overwhelming fear rushing down his spine. He becomes breathless as he quickly starts running home. Not staying long enough to hear Dick's questioning.

So many thoughts are running through his head he can't quite decipher them from one another. What if you're hurt? It's fine you probably just fell or something. But if all you did was fall you wouldn't be so scared? What if someone got in? What if someone from his nightlife is targeting you? What if he doesn't make it in time?

Still, almost halfway to your apartment, he feels as if he can't breathe. He feels as if his heart's in his stomach and all of time has stopped. Suddenly he stops. All feelings of fear and dread have dropped out of his body. Instead they've been replaced with feelings of relief and humor?

Why the fuck would you be feeling humor? As soon as he's stopped, he's moving again. Moving just as fast as moments before, he reaches the apartment in only a few minutes. After running up the stairs and slamming the door open with unbelievable force, he is hit in the face with a pile of dirt?

“Oh Jay! I'm so sorry I swear I didn't mean to throw dirt in your face.” You immediately run over to him and help get the dirt specks off his face.

“Then why did you?” He asks, sounding more confused than ever before. Only once he's done talking does he see the man laying face down on your living room carpet, surrounded with broken pieces of a potted plant. “And who is that?”

“I have no idea. He kinda broke in.” You tell him, moving to clean up the dirt and leaves covering the floor.

“Broke in? Is that why you were scared? That was a dumb question, don't answer that.” He takes off his helmet and sets it on the coffee table. Right next to the smear of blood. “What happened, sweetheart?”

“I don't even know, everything happened so fast. One moment I was falling asleep on the couch and the next I was smacking a guy with Bob.”

“Oh you smacked him with Bob.” Jason sounds strangely disappointed in the death of his potted plant you named Bob.

“I'm sorry he was the closest thing to me, I didn't think about it.” You stand up from the floor to look at the mess still sitting. From this angle Jason can see the bruise starting to form on your jaw bone.

“What happened here? Did he hit you?” He questions, grabbing your hand and pulling you close enough to inspect the bruise.

“Only once, there was a little fight. But I obviously won so it's fine.”

“It's not fine princess, you got hurt. And I could feel that you were scared.”

“I'm alright Jay.” You smile at him and place your hand on the side of his face. “I handled it.”

He can feel your pride run through him. “I'm glad, but that shouldn't have happened. We're moving.”

“No the fuck we're not. I like it here.” You cross your arms over your chest and raise your eyebrows at him.

“Baby, someone broke in.”

“Good. That means it likely won't happen again.”

“That's not how it works.”

“Oh c'mon. What are the chances that happens again?”

“Too high. We'll move somewhere in the country, away from people.” You chuckle at his suggestion.

“As great as that sounds, not yet. I'm alright Jay, I promise.”

“I'm teaching you self defense.” He pulls you into a bone-crushing hug.

“Why? I did great here.” You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him impossibly closer.

“Because I can't promise you'll always have a Bob to protect you.”

“Fine, as long as we get to spend more time together.”

“Whatever you want, sweetheart. I love you.” He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“I love you too Jay.” You hum into his chest.

[fandsart]

Steve and Nancy's relationship didn't work out because they had different wants and needs so when Steve starts dating Eddie he tries really hard not to have wants and needs of his own. Knowing that Eddie didn't reschedule Hellfire for Lucas doesn't help with this.

He goes to a few metal concerts even though he always gets migraines the next day from the volume, he lets Eddie talks about all kinds of nerd stuff even if it makes him feel stupid when he can't keep up.

It's not even like he's dragging Steve into things that are actively detrimental to him all that often. Just a couple activities things a week. But Steve also feels the need to hide some of his own interests, knowing that Eddie hates them.

Not that he doesn't love being around Eddie, but now that they're dating he's hardly not around, and it's hard to find time to keep up on the teams that Steve roots for. But it's... it's fine. He's happy with Eddie, so he can make the sacrifice to hide these parts of himself. It's fine.

Eddie doesn't realize this is going on because he's aware that he's pushing Steve out of his comfort zone, what he isn't aware of is how Steve far out of his comfort zone he really is, and how he doesn't want to bother Eddie with it, afraid they'll break up over it.

Then he slips up, just a little bit, when Eddie invites him to a concert on the same day he plans on watching a game. This isn't even the first time this has happened, but Eddie usually gives him more of a heads up for this kind of thing. He thought he was close enough to the date that he wouldn't have to worry about it getting disrupted, and it was a pretty big game, so his disappointment is higher than usual.

Eddie is talking about a metal band and is going on a small ramble explaining the context of where they sit in the metal scene.

"And they have a concert in Indy tomorrow," he grins, "and I really want to take you."

"Oh, I was gonna... Yeah, we can do that."

"You were gonna what?"

"It doesn't matter. It's stupid."

"Steve, it's not a big deal. It's not like I'm taking you to a Dio concert. These guys are actually pretty small and relatively local. I'm sure we could catch another one, it would just be kind of down the road."

"Eddie it's fine. We can go to your concert. Whatever you want."

Eddie gives him a look. "I don't want it to be 'my concert.' If you wouldn't enjoy it, I wouldn't want to just be dragging you with me. And I don't want it to be 'fine' I want it to be enjoyable!"

"I enjoy spending time with you."

"Ok, so what were you going to do tomorrow?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Obviously it does!"

They're fighting and this was exactly what Steve was worried about. If Steve could have just gotten over himself, cut the bullshit, they wouldn't be fighting right now.

"Eddie, it really doesn't. Can we just go to the concert and forget about this?"

"No. If you don't want to go, you don't have to."

"If I don't go, will you go without me?"

"Unless you don't want me to."

"I want to go with you, wherever."

"Ok, you know what, I just remembered I actually have to help Wayne with something on tomorrow."

"No you don't. Look, I wasn't gonna do anything. Can we please just go to this concert you want to go to?"

"Look, I have to go to school. I'm already over 2 hours late." With that, he's out the door.

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

Steve's not sure what time the concert was even meant to be at, but if he could just get a hold of Eddie and convince him he wants to go, maybe they won't miss it. It's already fairly well into the afternoon and he hasn't heard from Eddie all day.

The first few times he calls, there's no answer, but when he finally gets an answer it's Wayne that picks up.

"You almost missed me," he says. "Make it quick, I gotta to get to work."

"Is Eddie there?"

"Nah, he should be in Indy by now. Did he not tell you? There's some concert down there."

"Yeah, I, uh... Thank you Mr. Munson."

So Eddie went by himself even though Steve told him he wanted to come, and he'd pretended that he didn't even want to go.

Steve watches his game that night, kind of miserable and guilty. He debated not watching it, almost as a point of honor, since he lied to Eddie and told him that he didn't really have anything planned today. They'd both lied about their plans last night and Steve is so ready for Eddie to come back and say that he had a much better time without Steve and it's time they go they're separate ways.

His team loses and he falls asleep on the couch soon after, the tv still playing in the background.

He wakes up in the morning to a knock at the door. Eddie stands on the other side.

"Hey, baby. Did I wake you up?"

"Um... yeah." He wants to bring up what happened yesterday, that Eddie went without him, but he's afraid it will just make things worse. He obviously wanted to go without him if he did so, and bringing it up might just start an argument about how Eddie doesn't need Steve's permission to do things (and he doesn't) reinforcing why he didn't want Steve to come in the first place. He wants to stay with Eddie forever and he's worried the relationship is starting to fall apart. "It's fine. I should be up by now anyway."

Eddie hums almost suspiciously. "Can I come in?"

"Of course." He moves out of the way.

"'Whatever I want,' huh?" he asks, as he walks through the doorway.

"What?"

"Nothing. We'll talk about it in a minute. A few things first. Come on." He drags Steve over to the couch. "So what did you do yesterday?"

"Tried getting a hold of you, mostly."

Eddie chuckles nervously. "Sorry. But did you do whatever it was you planned on doing before?" Steve tenses just a little bit. Is Eddie going to accuse him of choosing baseball over their relationship? He kind of almost did when he first opened his mouth after Eddie first suggest the concert. Is he going to call him out for that. "Relax baby, you don't even need to tell me what it was, as long as whatever it was you were doing wasn't a person."

"No, never!"

"I know, Stevie. I know you're history; I know you would never do that. So I'm not upset. So did you carry out your plans, whatever they were?"

"Yeah. It was disappointing."

"Well, I'm glad you did what you wanted anyway. And since you were busy and couldn't come to the concert, I went and brought you back a tape." He pulls a cassette tape out of his pocket. "You obviously weren't going to admit you didn't want to go, but I still wanted to share this with you, so here. This is yours."

Eddie's more attentive to when Steve seems hesitant to do something after that. Eventually Steve gets comfortable enough to bring up where his reservations stand regarding a lot of these things. Eddie switches up how he talks about his interests, trying to make it more coherent and gets Steve earplugs for concerts. He encourages Steve to talk about his own interests, even when Eddie doesn't fully get the appeal himself. He can go a little outside of his comfort zone too. For Steve, it's always worth it.

[ikilledmyhamster]

Okay listen, what I love about BTD kid au is that Strade, rire, & sano were friends ever since childhood. I mean it's adorable if you actually think about it 😂

I do have a headcannon story that I would like to tell you all so feel free to read this!

I still don't know how the three met, it's kind of like that one trio where they don't even know how they met each other in the first place so let's just go with that. But I'd figured it would go something like this.

Story: Strade was an only child and had no friends due to his behavior. He met sano when he was around probably 6-7 who was stuck in a pond with ropes around his tail (Sano). Strade upon seeing a young boy with a snake tail, was curious and decided to help him...but the two ended up in the rope and it took 2 hours for them to get themselves free. Strade and sano became friends after that and strade didn't even bother asking about why sano had a tail.

The next part is where the two met rire which is kind of in a weird way. Strade got home from his kindergarten and decided to play with sano as the two were close, sano has an idea to summon a demon, which wasn't normal for a child to say that but hey, he's a naga demon so what do you expect? Anyway, they summoned a demon and you might be asking how and why they did it. Well one; They were pretty dumb kids and also just curious, two; Sano found rire's 'symbol' online for odd reasons and decided to try it. They successfully summoned kid rire but...they interrupted his tea time which made the demon prince angry (Btw he's a prince because his family is still alive, so he ain't the demon king yet). After a full on rampage that goes on for about a few hours, they were able to come into an agreement to become friends.

Childhood Moments: Strade, Rire, & Sano would build their own treehouse in their old neighborhood where they used to live, and they would make the treehouse pretty big. Of course the three had their own rooms and storage for their own stuff, by this time strade had an old camcorder, so he used it to create videos and/or memories of their childhood.

The three would go on adventures and weird places or even terrifying ones. Strades parents never really paid any attention to him so they didn't care if he left the house. Strade likes to draw or doodle in his free time, so he draws a lot of art of him, rire and sano. Sano and strade likes to pull pranks on rire. For example one time, they did a water bucket challenge but instead of it being normal cold water, it was holy water which burned poor kid rire skin. Of course he was not happy, but don't worry...he got his revenge.

Another childhood memory is that the three would occasionally watch horror films like slasher films. Especially paranormal activity, every time there is a demon or spirit that is possessing a person, sano and strade were pretty much scared while rire happily watches the scene. BUTTTT, when it comes to the exorcist scenes...Rire would immediately hold his friends with his tentacles while hiding behind them😂😂 (inspo from the photo above)

Another time, sano and strade did a research and they read that in old Russian ancient times, there used to be a saying that brownies could scare off evil spirits or demons. And so...they tried it on rire, the results did not disappoint them. The moment they bought a brownie cake and placed it on the table in front of rire...the poor boy disappeared. Which confused the two at first, but then they realized it actually works! Rire would stay in hell until he knows for sure, that the brownies were gone.

Treehouse: The treehouse that they built in the forest is still there standing stable till this day, and that treehouse holds a lot of childhood memory. Strade Sano & Rire would often sleep in that treehouse as their comfort zone and also since it's the place they mostly hang out in. They carved their names on the treehouse door, something like this; "LR+SK+S" Which obviously means in order; "Lucien Rire+Sano Kojima+Strade". Of course soon strade had to move out of his old town and so did sano and rire. They left their old treehouse but kept their stuff there.

Present: Whenever Y/N is free they sometimes go to the Kojima brothers house just to hangout or sleep over. One day they stumbled upon an old photo of the main trio. Rire in the center, strade on his left side and sano on his right side. The photo looked like it was taken a few years back and Y/N was able to open the frame and found a note attached to the back of the photo which had coordinates, which if your guessing correctly; Leads to their old treehouse. Akira & Y/N visited that place and found the treehouse with all of their stuff still there in the same places where they left it. And if they went all the way to the back, they would find a wooden box container which is filled with many cassette tapes and writing of dates. Strade would record those childhood videos and put them on cassette tapes so there was a lot of them. Of course, Y/N & Akira ended up watching some of the videos in the end and didn't bother telling sano, strade, or rire.

Anyway that's pretty much my version of the BTD main trio kid AU. Let me now which one should I do next down below here ⬇️⬇️⬇️

(Btw, credits to the art above belongs to @darqx)

[literaila]

still here 

tasm!peter x reader 

summary: there’s an ache in me, put there by the ache in you

(for @elysian-chaos)

warnings: angst, fluff, feeling unworthy, feeling useless, you know, seperation 

a/n: ‘tis the damn season is the best song ever. dont argue 

*

there's this little thing called stress baking. 

typically, stress baking is referred to as coping by making something delicious to scavenge on, instead of dwelling on the feelings scavenging you. and typically, it's done with a certain type of elegance--one that is made up of chaos. completely insane, yet completely in control. it's a messy dance, but perfectly choreographed. 

stress baking is a very reviving task. filling up the house with muffins and pies is not only good for distracting yourself, but also for making friends when you run out of room. or smiling at the cashier every time you have to go to the store for ingredients. 

it's something you've practiced for years. something you've become somewhat addicted to. 

but then there's baking while stressed. which, you swear, hadn't been your intention. 

brownies from a box were supposed to be easy. they were notoriously easy. a couple of eggs, some oil, and some water. the hardest part of your job was mixing, but you'd done it so many times that you zoned out while doing all of it. 

box brownies were supposed to be non-stress and quick. but when you burn the brownies and batter rises over the top of your glass pan, and the oven is dirty, and the apartment smells like burnt batter and oven cleaner--well, you have to reread the directions. 

you're a good baker. you've been making cookies and cakes for parties for years. you pride yourself on not needing measuring cups because you can eye a recipe by the gram. 

not that these brownies would agree. 

and it's already five-forty-five. peter is going to be home in the next fifteen minutes and this was supposed to be a treat. something good. 

"surprise! i ruined our oven, and now we're going to have to spend the next few nights at your aunt's house in your twin-sized bed until the smell of death goes away!" doesn't typically bring out any smiles.

and peter's been stressed lately, and you've been stressed about him. 

and now you're making brownies from scratch without butter--because you used it all on the last batch, oops--and the number of candles you've lit is a sure fire hazard. 

but if peter would just smile at you, pull you in by your waist and laugh while he kissed you with a chocolate mouth, it would all be fine. 

if there wasn't so much riding on this one (two) pan(s) of brownies. like being able to sleep comfortably tonight. 

you turned the oven down, found a new pan--threw the other one out because it was nothing but a source of disappointment--and cleaned the oven just enough to not draw any suspicions. but you could still feel the failure lurking. 

peter was going to come home to a chaotic house, and it was your fault. 

so you scrubbed at the counters. fixed the stack of bills on the table so that you couldn't see any of the stamps, folded the blankets, and even swept the kitchen floor. 

still, you knew peter would know. because he always knows. and maybe that was why he was acting so weird lately--maybe that's why you were acting so weird. 

the door opened when the timer on the oven went off. 

you'd wanted to watch peter walk through the door--so you could gauge how tired he was, how miserable--but maybe it was better not to know. to let him put on a mask while your back was still turned. 

"hey, baby," he said, as you were pulling the brownies out of the oven, setting his house keys on the counter and sighing. "i'm home." 

you peeked over your shoulder, giving him a hint of a smile--the same type he was giving you. "hey, honey," you said back, "you're home." 

peter walked around the island to stand right behind you, kissing the back of your head and stealing a look over to the stovetop. he clears his throat. "brownies?" 

you shrug. "thought you might like something sweet when you got home." 

you take off the oven mitt, not really wanting to look at him--maybe because you're scared of what you'll see, or maybe just because you can already feel his eyes tearing down your skin. 

but you can feel his breath on your neck as he chuckles. his exhaustion as he leans into your back. 

"i've already got you, though," he whispers one peck at the edge of your jaw, another by your ear. 

you snort and pull away, turning so you can look at him. and then you pretend to throw up. 

he laughs and pokes your forehead.

you're not looking at him and he's not looking at you. 

you turn back to the brownies. 

"did you drop something in the oven?" peter asks, leaning his chin on your shoulder. 

"no," you answer, a bit too defensive. 

"sure?" 

"am i sure that i didn't burn something in the oven, peter? yes." 

there's a beat. "...cause it smells like it." 

you headbutt him. "you smell like it. go shower. you can't eat these yet." 

"yes, ma'am," peter takes a step back, and you look at him again.  you can see the question in his eyes, and see your own reflecting the same question. 

what are you hiding? 

"we have some ice cream, too." 

peter moans, his head back. you roll your eyes at him. 

and you start cutting the brownies, worries, and chocolate chips sticking to the knife, listening to peter's footsteps, feeling his presence sticking to you like sugar, sticky and rich, his eyes keeping you on edge. 

you know you shouldn't feel stupid--peter doesn't actually know what happened, or care--but you do. because he knows, and because even from the split second you looked at him, you could see the strain on his skin, the pressure weighing him down, dragging his feet across the floor. 

you feel stupid just because you don't know what to do. so before he can close the door, you turn around. choosing reaction instead of pretending. 

"peter?" 

he pauses, his head whipping towards you. his eyes are as soft and loving as they always are--his attention remains the same, even when his energy doesn't. like he's wasting himself away just to take care of you. 

he swallows. "yeah?" 

"are you--" you blink, look away, try not to taste burnt brownies. "are you okay? you seem tired. was work… alright? 

peter smiles, shaking his head. "just the usual, bub. work and... work. i think i'll go to bed early tonight?" 

you raise a brow. 

peter clears his throat. "i mean, i think i'll take a nap tonight before i go out." 

you nod. "okay." 

you both stare at each other for a moment. he's far enough away that it's easier. you don't have to feel his emotions as he processes them. don't have to see them from up close. 

you hate yourself for being afraid of him. for being afraid for him. 

“d’ya want to join me?” peter asks, whisper slipping from his mouth, smile taunting from his lips. “we can cuddle and eat brownies.” 

you lick your lips, shaky smile enough. “you sure? i’ve heard i can be a bit distracting…”

peter’s laugh makes his shoulders shake. “you heard correctly,” he says eyes crinkled, “but i don’t mind.” 

you nod. you’re grateful for his ease. the careful reveal of his true face, the peeling of a mask. the admittance that not everything is perfect, no matter how small. 

“go shower. i’ll get the sugar.” 

peter kisses you on the cheek before he goes.

and at least you got a couple of smiles out of him. at least you can feel his kiss lingering on your skin. 

* 

it's not that serious. honestly. 

you hardly even think about it. you're not thinking about it. 

you're not dwelling on the smell of soft skin and the feeling of calloused hands running up and down your back, the tickle of a breath against your neck. 

you're not thinking about it at all. 

and if it's been a week--or a week and a half, or two, or three--since you last spoke, or shared the same space with peter, then it's fine. 

this is something you've grown used to. something you're supposed to be used to. 

peter has obligations. 

he has things he needs to fulfill--not just for himself, but for others, for the guilt that you can see rocking his bones all of the time, the shame in his eyes when he comes home a bit too early. he has places that he needs to be, if only because he won't be able to live with himself if he's not there. 

but then again, you're not sure how to live when he's not here. especially when the sink breaks. 

still, as long as you can feel him pull you into his chest every night, imagine him kissing your forehead before falling asleep, then it's fine. 

you're not thinking about any of it because it's fine. 

but you miss him. if only momentarily. 

he'll come back--you repeat this like a promise, like it's his voice whispering it to you--because he always does. 

space is good for the heart, some part of you swears. though you don't think you could think of peter any fonder than you already do. 

he comes in too late at night and is already gone when you wake up. he texts you updates--because you've talked about communication before--and tells you that he loves you through sweet little notes he sends during the day. 

if the thing he wishes to share about his life is the worm he found in his apple, then you're perfectly happy to listen (read). 

it's normal to miss the person you love most in the world. 

and it's normal for your boyfriend to disappear for fourteen hours each day, just barely cuddling with you for three hours before he's gone again. 

it's normal for you, at least

he’ll come back. 

and so, instead of thinking about peter, and wondering when he might notice the frayed edges of your relationship, you make sure that he doesn't have to worry about anything. 

you clean up after the two of you, running the dishwasher and cleaning the bathroom, and packing him lunch on days you know he'll be gone for the office. making sure there's always something he can eat in the fridge when he gets home late at night, and texting him to know what he wants from the store. 

you make the bed and wash his clothes and hope that maybe it'll keep him from burning out. 

you hope that maybe it will keep you distracted enough to not ask him for anything. like love or support or a five-minute conversation. 

if taking care of him is the only way to keep him going--the only way to keep yourself going--then you'll do it. peter takes care of you enough. 

but even if you're not thinking about it, it's there. 

because you've just fallen asleep--which is extremely rare recently, mostly because you like to wait until you hear the window and then slow your breathing until you feel peter crawl into bed with you--and just woke up. 

woke up with sweaty skin and a headache. it's night ten and you're getting nightmares again. 

it's ridiculous that you can't even last two weeks without peter there. without him kissing you to sleep. 

and when you burst out of bed, you almost fall into him--almost scream because you're sharing the bed with someone else. 

tears are running down your face. your heart feels split open--like your dreams have revealed something inside it. 

but you look over to peter and he's there; he's still here. 

so you take a deep breath--chest caving in, body following--and you rest your head in your hands. 

if there's anything you want right now, it's for peter to wake up. 

it's for him to know all of this. 

you want him to appear next to you, leaning over your back like he's going to shelter from the world if that's what you need. rubbing your back and whispering in your ear. you want him in your house and laughing when you break the shower rod again. 

you want him to cuddle with you before he leaves, and cross his heart when you scold him while he crawls out the window. 

you want him in more than just your memory. 

but peter is snoring next to you, and so you sit there in silence until the tears begin to ease.

*

peter's not supposed to be home. 

he works until five, and then takes the subway home--and you're not expecting to see him anyway. he's been shoving his suit into the bottom of his backpack right as you pull it out of the hamper.

so it's not that unusual for you to be laying in bed, shoes and socks kicked across the floor, hands gripping for some stability, and eyes puffy and red. 

and it's not that unusual for you to squeak when the window opens, and spider-man's head peeks into your room. 

you can feel peter's wide eyes behind the mask. 

you're quick to wipe your face, throw on a clumsy smile. "peter," you say, exhaling. "what're you doing here?"  

a body crawls into the window, dirt and grime on clothes finger-tips reaching out to you. "what's wrong?" he asks, voice only slightly muffled. 

but you take a step back, moving away from him when he lands on the floor, leaving spots for you to vacuum up later. 

"what're you doing here?" you repeat, voice a bit harsher, a bit faded. 

"i need--" he reaches his hand out toward you again, retreating when you do. "i needed some more web fluid. i don't--" he shakes his head. "what happened?" 

"i, um," you wipe traitorous tears away again. "i think there's some more in the closet. i keep moving it when i'm cleaning, sorry." 

"you're crying," peter scolds. like you're being ridiculous. like you're not trying to save him the effort it's going to take to fix this irrational piece of you, these lonely broken bits. 

you bite your lip and look away. 

because although you can't even see his eyes--they are still scolding. they are quick and cruel reminders that you haven't talked to peter in two weeks. 

you turn towards your bedside table, pretending to organize the contents on top. 

you can hear peter moving. 

"what's going on, bub?" he says, soft enough for the words to crawl under your skin. he's taken the mask off. his voice is clear. 

"oh, nothing, you know," you pause, shrugging. "just the usual sad movie type of cry..." peter's hand reaches your back and you flip around, almost knocking over your lamp. 

"c'mon," he whispers to you, far closer than you'd been expecting. 

you try and take a step back, only meeting a dead-end. he's cornered you. "you should go, peter. you were just--" 

"this is more important."

you laugh. "some silly tears are more important than a collapsing building?" 

"you're more important," peter swears, his eyes so focused on yours, "to me." 

you blink and shake your head. gesture back towards the window. "go and save some people. you don't have to help me too." 

peter swallows, brows furrowed. "will you tell me what's wrong?"

"i can take care of myself, peter. you don't need to worry about it." 

"well, i'm going to." 

you roll your eyes. and then you break free of his hold, moving away from the table, from the cage he's built around you. "move along, spider-man." 

peter doesn't move any closer, but his limbs are tense. his face is concerned and hurt--you try and shield that out.

"i'm not leaving you when you're crying."

"i'm not crying anymore." 

peter scowls. "stop deflecting." 

you take a deep breath, throat dry and aching. "i'm not--" you clear your throat, shaking your head and looking away from him. "i'm fine, peter. but some people actually need you. go and save the day," you tell him. "i'll still be here when you come back." 

*

and you are. 

you're sitting on the couch, staring at photos peter took on the wall, wondering how to explain any of it. 

how to explain yourself without digging the two of you any further in this hole. 

you've been trying to prove just how little you need peter--just how useful you could be--and by doing so, you've put yourself in this situation. 

because you do need him. you just hadn't wanted peter to know that. 

so you're sitting on the couch, trying not to flinch every time the air conditioning comes on, or there's a footstep from the apartment above you. you're waiting for peter to climb in through the window, waiting to see how exhausted he is before he has to deal with you. 

and you've bitten your lip raw. completely eliminated any evidence of fingernails you once had. 

your heart stutters with every minute that comes by. 

and when you finally hear peter hop in from the fire escape, your heart stops completely. 

you wonder if he's going to change before he comes and finds you. before the inevitable happens, and you give him another reason to work so late. 

your restlessness must be audible because it only takes peter forty seconds before walking into the living room. he's wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt. 

he's wearing a frown like a well-tailored suit. known and made for him. 

you're trying not to frown back. 

"hey," you say, putting on a smile, voice flighty and an octave too high. "everything okay?" 

"no one got hurt," peter says, the antonym to your tone. 

"good." 

apparently, your tight-lipped smile isn't enough to ease the tension in the room. 

"are you ready to talk?" peter asks, slowly stepping toward you, just barely meeting your eyes. 

you'd scrubbed your face after he left. sobbed in the shower as you washed away any of the shame you hadn't meant for him to see. you'd made sure that your eyes weren't puffy, and your eyelashes were dry before he'd got home. 

so when peter scans your face--as he's doing now--he shouldn't notice anything unusual. 

besides the facade you're putting on. 

you clear your throat, eyebrows lifted like you're unconcerned. "there's not much to talk about." 

peter's sullen face doesn't move an inch. "why were you crying?" 

"i already told you. i watched a sad movie," you wave a hand, "you just came in at the wrong time." 

peter sighs. he sits down on the couch next to you, keeping his distance. "don't lie." 

you frown. "i'm not lying." 

"you've got some pretty obvious tells, you know," peter whispers, giving you a hint of a bittersweet smile. "you don't have to talk to me. but i'd like it if you did. i just want to make sure that you're... okay." 

"i'm fine, peter." 

he looks away. "and if you're not then we'll figure it out. i just want to know." 

"well, you do." 

peter opens his mouth, then closes it, shaking his head. 

he's sitting three feet away from you, but his hands are clasped together, his legs are opposite of yours, and he can't even look at you. 

you can feel it, as you push him away. as you try so desperately to hold him close without touching him. 

"okay," peter says, eyes meeting yours again. "i don't want to push you." 

no, but he should pull you off of this ledge. should keep you from falling any further than you already have. 

you shake your head, laughing. it's not funny. 

"what?" 

you close your eyes. count to ten. forget how to breathe, or how to speak to the person you love most in this world. 

"what?" peter repeats, but softer. 

you open your eyes. 

and then it all crumbles. 

you scoff. "can you stop looking at me like that?" you plead, breaking away, physically distancing yourself from him. 

"like what?" 

it's his fault, really, for coming home so early in the day. 

"like you can't deal with this. like this is exhausting." 

the tears sneak up on you, knocking you out before you even notice that they're there. 

peter's eyes are wide as he stares at you. "you're not--" he swallows, frantically reaching towards you. "this isn't exhausting--i'm not--" a moment, tears beginning to fall. "what do you--" 

you sigh, shaking your head. "you're always gone, and you come home exhausted every night after you think i've fallen asleep, and you only talk to me through text, and even now you just--" you stop, voice breaking. "if you can't do this," you say, softly, "then you should just tell me." 

peter is closer than he was a moment ago. "what?" 

"i know this is a lot of work, okay? and i know that you're already pushing yourself, so it's fine if i'm too much. if--if loving me is too much." 

there's a moment of silence, and you're almost sure that peter has already left. 

but then there's a thumb wiping a tear from your cheek. you can't open your eyes, can't face the reality you've been desperately holding off. 

"you're not too much." 

peter moves closer to you, his leg touching yours, his hands moving so that he can hold you closer. 

you couldn't push him away if you tried. 

"you're not too much," he repeats, the words sinking into your skin, his breath meeting yours. "i can't believe you would think that." 

you half laugh, half sob. peter wipes away those tears too. 

"you're the only thing keeping me going," he tells you, kissing your forehead. "i'm sorry i haven't been there. i didn't realize..." he shakes his head. 

"you shouldn't have to take care of me as much as you do," you whisper. 

peter nudges his head against yours. "hey. you take care of me way more than i take care of you. you clean up after me and stay up with me when i can't sleep. you help fix my suits, and do all of the laundry. and you never complain. you're practically my guardian angel." 

"that's all easy." 

"not for me," peter says, voice lighter than before. 

you shrug. 

"but you do all of that cause you love me," he adds, kissing your forehead again. "or, i hope that's why." 

"it's the sex." 

peter laughs, nuzzling his head into you. "well, at least you're honest. but, it's the same reason that i take care of you. you shouldn't feel... guilty because of that. you're no burden on me." 

"no?" 

"absolutely not." 

you bite your lip. try and believe peter. but honestly, you're most lovesick from how close he's holding you. how you can feel his skin and listen to him speak somewhere that isn't your bed. you're not quite sure that this isn't a dream. 

"hey," peter moves his head so you're looking at him. "we suck." 

you laugh, leaning your forehead against his. 

"i'm sorry it's been so long since we've... anything. it's been a rough couple of weeks." 

"for me too. it's not your fault." 

"you have to tell me if it's not enough, okay? i don't want you to suffer through it by yourself. if you need to talk to me--even for ten minutes--then you have to let me know." 

"okay." 

"do you promise?" 

you nod against him, nose brushing his cheek. "i promise, peter." 

peter smiles, satisfied. he groans, pulling you even closer to him. "i love you, bug. so much." 

you can barely hear him because of how tight he's hugging you. it sort of hurts, but mostly heals. 

"i know," you say back. but peter probably can't hear you, because you say it right into his shirt. 

*

my masterlist here.

tags:@moonlarking-blog @v1ci0us @preciousbabypeter @alexxavicry @directioner5life @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah @localrockstargf  @thestudiouswanderer @take-my-hand-time-boy @thoughtsofagodlovingsunflower @nyomjoon  @moo-b1tch @raindropstearsandtea @rqmanoff @hollandweather @wetcoldnoodle @urlocalavenderhazestan @valvlry @imthatcoolmom @spideysimpossiblegirl    invisibletrolleyson-jeremy  @sharkswaters  @rowniebow @anaislfbv @take-my-hand-time-boy @mileyc111 @starsval @ratsys

[heavenlyysstuff]

Reflection.

NETEYAM.s x metkayina!fem!reader

summary , neteyam talks to you after witnessing you being scolded by your parents for his brothers actions.

a/n , guys please request stuff my tiny brain only has about 1 writing idea every few months

Your mother has you by the arm, dragging you to your marui as the sully brothers and their own parents follow, your own siblings already inside your marui after not wanting to upset your father and followed him when he didn’t even order them.

You were foolish to think something like this would slide past them, a forest boy bonding with the outcast tulkun.

Everyone is stood in your parents marui, with the exception of the two Sully parents as they stand just outside.

You stand between the two Sully brothers, one of which got you into this mess in the first place. You take a quick glace towards your siblings who stand just beside Neteyam, a little ways away from you. Still, their presence brings you some comfort.

As your father walks to stand in front of all of you, your ears pin further back into your head, preparing yourself for the worst.

It’s your mothers words that break the cruel silence, “you allowed him to bond with the outcast!” She stand in front of you and motions her hand towards Lo’ak.

The accusation only makes blink for a prolonged second and let out a heavy breath as you try contain your emotions in front of your parents. Whats worse is that most of the Sully family is present. You can’t break, not in front of them, him.

Your mother hastily releases your arm and goes to pace slowly back and forth behind your father, who’s gaze is now harshly directed at you. “You disappoint me, daughter.”

It was those four words that made your eyes water, the feeling of rejection nothing new, but only breaking you more than it ever did before.

Your lips quiver for just a second before you bite down onto the inside of your lower lip to stop it. You suddenly feel exposed, besides your father you are almost exactly in the middle of the group, nowhere to hide. All you do is lower your head a little.

You feel the eyes staring into the back of your head as you are scolded, and another pair beside you…he’s looking.

You father stands up with a strict posture in the middle of the room, “sit down.” His aggravated voice sounds through the marui. You immediately go into the action of kneeling, not fast enough for him you suppose when his voice booms out again, “sit down!” Now he’s livid, you and the rest of the teenagers kneel hastily, not daring to make eye contact with the Olo’eyktan. All except for one.

Neteyam glares daggers into your father, who only looks at him for a split second before casting his eyes on Lo’ak, it seems a lesson is in order.

At that point you are already zoned out, lost in never ending thoughts of shame and hurt. You eyes appear empty as you stare to the floor infront of you, your head not completely down, leaving a certain Sully to look at you in pity.

You fail to realise how long you’ve zoned out for because when the sudden voice of Neytiri breaks your trance you’re focused again.

“Lo’ak, you speak to Olo’eyktan.” Her voice is harsh. Lo’ak simply glances in her direction before he turns to your father once again.

“I’m sorry, but I know what I know.” Are what might as well be his last words as your mother hisses at the reply.

His father, Jake Sully crawls his way towards his youngest son, and with warning in his tone speaks “that’s enough.” His eyes look towards the your own father “I’ll deal with this one.” Lo’aks arm is roughly grasped and used to be dragged out of your marui, Neytiri following her mate and son.

Your eyes haven’t once left the floor since your scolding, but they’re brought up to your father when he huffs, “You’re dismissed.” And with that he stands up, and turns to pace in the marui.

You’re the first to leave, not a single thought in your head as the headache from the recent events settles in your forehead.

You opt to go to the shore of the ocean, cool yourself down and most importantly regain the ability to think straight.

So here you sit, on the wet sand of the shore, letting the soft waves collide with your feet. Not a single Na’vi in sight, the sounds of natures music bringing you some peace.

And all is quiet until you hear a voice, right behind you.

“How are you feeling, Y/n?” The foreign accent immediately tells you who you’re talking to.

Quietly sighing as you turn to look at the male that somehow found you. “I’m fine Neteyam, what are you doing out here..?”

He walks to stand beside you before swiftly sitting down to face you, “I came to find you.” His voice softens while he speaks, it’s a nice change that you can come to like. “Back at your marui, with your father…”

You sigh immediately at the mention at the events before “did he send you to come get me?.. I’ll go now.” You mumble when trying to stand, but a hand on your arm quickly stops your movements.

“No no, I haven’t spoken to your father. I just wanted to see you.” His eyes show the genuineness of his words, and it immediately melts you to sit back down next to him.

“Oh.”

He chuckles quietly, but then remembers the reason he came here, “I’m really sorry you had to be responsible for my brother, truly.”

Your eyes flicker to his for a moment. “Thanks, but it really wasn’t your fault… they were right I should’ve done.. something.” You tone is quiet but desperate as you try finding the right words to speak.

“No, I understand. But you have to realise it really wasn’t your fault, I know that you must take the blame a lot.” He says and places a hand on your bicep, his thumb running soothing circles on your patterned skin.

When you don’t reply he speaks again, “I think you and I are a lot alike.” You turn your head to face him.

“Why do you say that?”

“Well, both oldest siblings and always taking the blame for their siblings, and others.“

“…yea, I guess so.” Your words are soft, not used to being so open about your family life. You shuffle in your spot on the sand. “Why are you telling me all this.”

He tilts his head a little, almost unnoticeable, but not to you. “Because I want you to know you’re not alone.”

Both of your eyes meet, and suddenly you’re too shy to speak in front of his gaze, so all you can do is look away back to the ocean in front of you. “That’s… actually really sweet. Thank you.”

He smiles at your flustered reaction. “You’re welcome.” He reply’s “you know if you ever need anybody to talk to about this stuff, I’m always here to listen.”

You finally look back to him, looking into his eyes and smiling softly, “thanks Neteyam…”

[sulumuns-dootah]

Taking the WHB demons thrifting

⟡ Masterlist ⟡ 

Characters: Paimon, Bimet, Eligos, Barbatos, Beelzebub, Amon, Morax, Ronove, Andrealphus, Vassago

A/N: First time writing for Vassago so let's hope I can nail his personality down since we didn't really get much of him the Beleth/Bephie event.

    ༺☆༻

The best one to go with, honestly

You could be looking through a rack for hours and yet, they manage to find something cute and in your size in the same rack

Will hype you up to buy something a bit out of your comfort zone

A thrifting trip can't be complete without a lunch before and a slushie or a visit to a café afterwards

    ༺☆༻

"Tell me why we're buying rags after some hobos instead of buying something nice and unworn, again?"

You've made a mistake, I'm afraid

Even designer outlets aren't good enough for Bimet

Your explanations about how more fun and good for the planet it is fall on deaf ears

    ༺☆༻

Another amazing patootie to choose to go with

It's harder for him to find something he likes, but once he sees the stuff you like, he's hoarding that shi at your feet

Snacks, snacks, snacks!

Honestly tho, Eli and Pai is the best fashion duo ever

    ༺☆༻

For someone who is naked most of the time, Barbs enjoys shopping for clothes a lot

He's especially interested in eye-catching prints

Doesn't really care about what you like, but what he would like on you (again, he literally wants you to be naked all the time, so what's the point of picking out clothes for you?)

Withe very item he wants to get the criteria are: how easy is it to remove? and will it make Barbatos look too good, making Leviathan hang him out of envy?

    ༺☆༻

This fucker tagged along only bc you promised to take him to some restaurant he hasn't tried before after you're done

*sigh* I hate to say it, but he would try to smell the articles of clothing for any remaining scent of the previous owner

You better hold him by the scruff of his neck so he doesn't do anything

"I like this top, I'm gonna buy it." "Oh? Lemme see *sniff sniff* Ooh, this belonged to someone who liked italian food and mostly matched it with (some other article of clothing)!"

    ༺☆༻

Amon, doesn't really have much of an input

Most likely he'll just stay parked somewhere, leaning against a wall and sleepily watch you browse the racks

When you ask for his opinion, you always get the same answer: "Looks good on you, love"

If you find something he might like, he'll have more to say, but is mostly happy that you want to get him something

    ༺☆༻

Aw, this cutie only went with you because you mentioned you wanna go to a cat café afterwards

Ironically, Morax ends up getting more things than you

The amount of fluffy and comfy sweaters that he can wear at home is enough to fill two bags

Visit to the cat café goes even better

You barely couldn't even leave bc the cats kept surrounding Morax

    ༺☆༻

As soon as you enter the store, he's immediately making his way to the lingerie section

"Hey, how about this? You'd look good in this and wouldn't have to be mad at me for ripping it apart."

To be fair, his style is on point and you end up buying the things he found for you

But to disappoint him, you also don't want him to rip thise things too, especially since they're unique and not from some store where you can buy more

    ༺☆༻

Oh no, this poor baby is trying to help you find nice things, but he can only pick them out by touch :(

He always brings you the ugliest things and it hurts you to tell him that they might feel nice, but look horrible

You end up buying some of the stuff anyway, so you can at least wear them at home while spending time with Andre

On the other hand, you find some nice suits for him, but he hates the texture of them

    ༺☆༻

Somehow, going thrifting with Vassago, you come out with outfits that would make a profesional stylist jealous

This man can take anything and make it look fancy af

Hell, you could give him a tablecloth and he'll make you look like a greek statue

In the end you both end up having a full bag of things

You have a bag of stuff for yourself and Vassago has a bag full of stuff for Agares

[beaker1636]

Stress Relief - Noah Sebastian Smut

AN: I saw this photo earlier and couldn't help myself, I had to write something to go along with it.... hope you enjoy!!!

You let out a sigh as you drop your purse on the table by the door, kicking your shoes off before slinking your way through the house slowly after a long day at work.  It was a terrible day and honestly all you want to do is curl up with your boyfriend and forget about it, but unfortunately he had other plans and was currently sitting around some of his equipment in the living room with the rest of his band trying to figure out what they don’t like about a song.

You let out a disappointed sigh, slowly padding your way over to him to give him a tight hug and a kiss without a word, not intending to be there long but needing the affection from him.

“Long day baby?” He whispers in your ear, pulling you down onto his lap for a moment so that you can relax against him, able to quickly tell that you need it.  You nod, resting your head in the crook of his neck for a moment before relaxing slightly against him.

“Yeah, I just needed a hug.  I’m going to go shower while you work,” you answer softly, moving to pull away but he doesn’t quite let you.  Instead when you look at him he pulls you into another soft kiss, resting his forehead against yours after and whispering an I love you before he lets you go.

You slowly make your way upstairs to the bathroom that is attached to your bedroom, starting the shower so that it would start to get warm while you strip before climbing in.  Feeling the hot water start to wash away your stress, relax you as you stand there, letting it run down your body.

When the water starts to grow cold you let out a soft sigh, turning it off and stepping out.  Slipping into something comfortable before debating if you should go back down to deal with everyone or just hide in your room until they leave.  You love the rest of the guys, you genuinely do but after the day you have you would honestly rather just be alone where you can relax. 

You decide that your best bet is to slip out of the room and look down to see if Noah is alone or not before going down, and when you see that he is in the living room alone you are a bit happier.  And, not going to lie, the way that he is sitting right now and at the angle he is at is well, it is an attractive sight.

You make your way down the stairs and walk up to him, watching him for a moment to see if you are interrupting anything before you bother him.  When he gets in the zone and is focused he gets really frustrated when you just walk up, but he lets you know that he is in a good place when he opens your arms, welcoming you to come sit on his lap which you do.  Letting out a content sigh while he wraps his arms around your back, holding you to him.

“Want to talk about it?” He asks you gently, unsure if you are in the mindspace where talking about it would help or make it worse.  Sometimes it is best to just let you relax, forget about whatever was happening while other days you need to vent.  

“No, not really.  What were you working on today?” you ask, trying to change the subject when you turn to straddle his lap, resting your head on his shoulder.

You honestly have no clue what he is talking about when he goes into the intricacies of the song they are working on, the details they can’t get right and all the other things they are talking about.  But his voice relaxes you, it helps you unwind and destress, so even when you have no clue what he is saying you love listening to him.  Sometimes when he is away on tour you even listen to interviews online so that you can hear him talk.  

He knows that you currently have no clue what is going on, but he has no problem with that, it's helping him vent his frustrations with this new song while helping relax you as well.  When he stops he moves one of his hands to the back of your neck, hoping you get the hint and look up at him and when you do he leans in to give you a kiss.

The kiss is relaxed, no urgency or rush, no pressure.  Just the two of you lightly moving your lips against one anothers as you both seek comfort from the other one.  Lazy, relaxed and loving, almost overwhelmingly so as you both press yourself against the other.  Eventually his tongue moves across your bottom lip, Noah wanting to deepen the kiss while one of his hands settles on your ass, pulling your body closer to him while both of you continue to make out. 

Neither one of you are usually very patient, willing to take your time with each other like this, but at the moment you are both enjoying it.  Loving the feeling of being close to one another without having to rush.  

You decide to slowly move your hips against his own, see if you can make you crave him like you want him.  Feeling satisfied when you can feel him hardening underneath you, feel him start to meet your movements and rut his hips up against your own while you both continue to kiss, hold yourself close to one another.

“Let me take care of you, make you forget your day,” he mumbles against your lips, a hand slowly slipping underneath the bottom of your tank top, lightly rubbing the skin of your lower back.

“Okay.”

The moment you agree he moves his hands under your thighs and moves you so that you are now laying with your back against the couch, looking down at you and meeting your eyes for a moment while he smiles before reaching to slip your tank top off of you, pleased when you didn’t have a bra on.  One less thing that he has to slip off of you before he gets started.

He bends down, wrapping his lips around one of your nipples with no hesitation.  Wanting to bring you pleasure, but also because he enjoys doing it.  Loves the way it makes you whimper and squirm against him when he slowly trails his tongue around it, sucks it harshly, lightly bites it.  Knowing that when you are starting to whine that he is getting to you, that he is making you crave him even more than before. 

He moves to the other one, giving it the same treatment, his eyes meeting yours while you watch him.  Watch how his tongue circles the bud, how he closes his eyes when he starts to suck on it.  The sight alone is arousing, has you shifting your hips as you seek any kind of relief that you are not getting, that he is not letting you have right now.

One of his hands slips to the waistband of your sweatpants, teasingly dipping just barely below your waistband.  Trailing his fingers lightly against your skin there but not daring to draw any lower.  His lips slowly trailing lower down your torso as he does, taking extra time to kiss along your stretch marks that he knows you hate, his silent way of saying he loves them even if you don’t.

He reaches the top of your pants and decides you have had enough, he slowly trails them down your legs, making sure to brush his hand against the skin of your thighs as he does so, glancing at you with a smirk when he realizes you have no panties on either.

“Were you hoping for this babe, had to be prepared for me?” He asks, pulling you so that you are leaned back on the couch, able to see him as he kneels on the floor in front of you. He wants you to watch him as he brings you to the edge, to see him worship you like you deserve.

“No, but I guess it is a good thing huh,” you ask, your eyes meeting him for a moment before he turns his head and leaves a light kiss against your knee.

He wraps his hands around your thighs, pulling you forward so they hang off the edge of the couch, quickly sealing his mouth over you.  Sliding his tongue along your clit as you whimper, the sudden shockwaves it sends up your spine making you tremble slightly against him.  You can feel the smile on his lips before he dips lower, and his tongue finds its way inside of you.

You throw your head back at this, your fingers digging into the fabric of the couch as you let out a whine, normally you would worry about ruining the couch but right now, you really can’t be bothered thinking about it.

“Fuck baby, you taste so good, and you’re so wet already for me,” he says, sounding amused. His voice makes your toes curl slightly, the moan he lets out being orgasmic in itself. You love it when he talks dirty, when he tells you exactly what you are enjoying and what he wants.

Before you can answer he moves again, this time his hands settle on your inner thighs as he uses his thumbs to spread you open, the exposed position you are now in allowing him to reach your most sensitive parts that much more, making you feel an orgasm begin to come on as he continues to lap at your clit.  Tormenting it with light licks and sucks, lapping at it like a starving man having his first meal in weeks.

“Oh god,”  you moan, reaching down and pulling your hands into his hair, urging him to continue to worship your soaking cunt with his lips and tongue while you can’t help but allow the pleasure begin to wash over you.  You feel yourself growing closer, knowing that you might not last much longer when he slips a finger inside of you, able to feel him moan against you when you clench around him.

“So wet and tight for me baby, can’t wait to be inside of you,” he groans, adding a second finger.  Working you with his fingers, your head falling back in pleasure when he suddenly pulls away from you completely.

“Watch me, watch me make you come y/n,” he demands, refusing to touch you again until your eyes are on his, watching him closely.

He dives back in, doing a twirl that instantly brings the pleasure back, the pleasure that your body loves. His eyes never leaving yours as you watch him and what he is doing.  Your hand settles into his hair again, pulling him down into you further, seeking the orgasm that is close.  You can hear him chuckle against you, him finding your desperation amusing while you grow more and more needy.  

“Please don’t stop,” you whine, needy.

In response he hooks one of your legs over his shoulder, one of his hands kneading the flesh of your thigh as he continues to fuck you with his fingers, to torment your clit with his tongue as you to quiver underneath him.

“Come, come on my tongue baby,” he says with a groan, quickly returning his tongue to where you need it as you finally give in.  You walls clenching around his fingers as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm, before slowly withdrawling while your chest is heaving.  

He slowly kisses up your torso, before they settle softly against your own, allowing you to taste yourself on his lips when they meet yours.  Both of you moving them lazily against each others before you pull away, meeting his eyes.

“Can I ride you?” You ask him softly, despite everything he does to you, has done to you, part of you still feels shy when it comes to asking for what you want.  You aren’t sure why, there really isn’t much that either of you haven’t tried at this point, but you still do.

“Well, since you asked nicely,” he answers, smirking at you before he moves, quickly stripping before taking a seat on the couch, pulling you over on top of him.

He holds his hard cock, helping you line yourself up before you slowly sink yourself on him, taking him inside of you while both of you let out a groan.  Your lips meeting his as you slowly start to rock your hips against his, gliding yourself up and down on his cock as you both start growing a little more needy, desperate.  

His hands move up your torso, settling on your breasts as he begins to toy with your nipples more, wanting to make you more needy so that you move quicker against his hips, moving one hand to wrap around your throat.  He smirks slightly when he feels your breath hitch when his hand settles there, even without any pressure just the act alone makes you suddenly grow wetter around him, makes you work harder against him.

His other hand snakes down to settle on your clit, finding that he is getting closer and wanting you to finish with him.  Wanting you to come undone again around him before he does.

“Fuck, I’m close babe,” he warns you, his grip on your throat tightening some as you work yourself a bit quicker against him.  

“Fill me Noah, want to feel it inside of me,” you whisper in his ear, giving it a kiss when you feel his hands move and settle on your ass.  Gripping it tightly as he cums inside of you, warm spurts as he groans, you continue to rock yourself against him as you grow close yourself.

His hand moves back to your clit, working it harshly before you cum around him yourself, falling into his chest panting as you come undone for a second time.  This one is much more intense than the last one.

His arms settle around you, holding you against him on his lap while you feel his cum slowly leak out, running against both of your thighs while you both sit there quietly, enjoying the skin to skin contact after the scene that just happened between both of you.

“Hey-oh fuck,” Jolly says from behind you both, hands quickly covering his eyes.  “I uh, I had Nick text you to say that I forgot my phone.  I’m just going to grab it from the kitchen counter and go out the back door.  Sorry for interrupting.” 

He quickly makes his way out of the front room, eyes covered and bumping into the doorframe to the kitchen as he runs out there, grabbing his phone.  When the two of you hear the back door close you let out a laugh at what just happened.  

“Well, I don’t think that he is going to sit on the couch tomorrow when we resume working on the song,” Noah says with a laugh, leaving a teasing kiss against your neck. “Now, I know you just showered but we’ve sat here long enough that I have a feeling that the second you get up we both will need another one so,” he trails off, running his hands against your sides.

“Probably, want to order dinner and we can take a shower while we wait for it?” You ask him, resting your head in the crook of his neck again.

“Sure, the usual? I’ll meet you up in the bathroom in a minute,” he says softly, helping you lift yourself off of him.  Admiring when he sees both of your cum on his dick after you get off before pulling his phone out and placing an order… and reading the text from Jolly that is giving him shit about what just happened in the group chat. 

He closes his phone and makes his way towards you in the bathroom, where you already have the water going to warm up so that both of you can settle under it and start to wash your mess off yourselves.

“So, I must ask, did I fix your bad day?” He asks you, a smirk on his face because he already knows what your answer is.

You just roll your eyes before giving him a gentle kiss, letting him hold you under the running water until you both figure you better get out before your delivery arrives.  Settling in front of the tv while he puts on an anime that he has been wanting to watch while you eat.  Eventually the food is forgotten on the coffee table in front of you while your head is laying in his lap, his fingers playing with your hair.  He knows you have already fallen asleep, that you aren’t the biggest anime fan but he appreciates that you are willing to watch it with him, that you are just happy to be around him and to have these soft moments. 

He’ll just have to remember that one of you needs to pick up plan B in the morning, because it is just now hitting him what the consequences are for what you did earlier, and while he wants kids… maybe it's not quite time yet.

[muriels-brainrot]

Happy [Belated] Father's Day, everyone!

In light of Father's Day, I thought it would be fun to think of how Muriel would act as a dad. I only have one headcanon for it right now. But I hope I can add more scenarios in the future! I'd even be happy to do it as a request. But for now, this is:

How Muriel Will Act As A Father:

[Headcanon Scenes] [Post Upright Ending Muriel]

POV: You're the one giving birth to your child

Before being a dad, his only responsibility other than himself was you. The moment he learns that your baby is on the way, something in him snaps.

In the back of his mind, his coping mechanisms - though totally valid - meant that his trauma served as a big reason why he wouldn't go beyond his comfort zone.

But not anymore.

Interacting with people, cooking new foods, eating said new foods, going to the doctor, buying clothes, paying bills; he's taken it upon himself to get better at doing these things.

You never hear this from him, but there are rare moments you catch him walking into Julian's clinic or slipping into the marketplace by himself. When you follow him out of curiosity, you watch him try his trembling best to act out as being a normal participant in human society. It breaks your heart to watch him get discouraged when he stutters too much in dealing with vendors or staff, or struggle to even get the proper words out of his mouth.

But it warms your heart to see him step up and do his best. You know it's not your place to interfere, but you keep an eye on him anyway. Just in case. Sometimes Inanna goes with you, with her being just as curious as you are.

One sunny afternoon, you catch him slumped on a bench outside a store front. You'd never seen him look so disappointed - or ashamed in himself. Perhaps another attempt at talking with the cashier didn't go the way he expected it to - and he's had enough.

Before you could approach him, Julian walks by. Great. As if things couldn't get worse - or so Muriel thought as he tries to sink into his seat. But Julian notices anyway. You and Inanna share an amused look when the two men end up talking. Well, more like Julian talking at him. Though you can't make out the words that your red-head friend is making, Muriel slowly perks up, as if realizing something.

By the end, when they go their separate ways. A new goal forms in Muriel's mind and he makes a beeline towards wherever that goal is.

Within a few weeks, your shared home in the forest turns more into a house befitting of a small family. Though you knew some things needed to change, it's a surprise - as this much renovation would have taken a year's salary to accomplish this.

Muriel tells you that he did all of this with his two hands, from building the nursery to woodworking new dining chairs. Your heart squeezes with glee as he spares no detail in telling you how he got here. He looks so handsomely adorable in this rare moment where he talks this much.

It turns out that a certain someone told him to play to his strengths instead, and not get so hung up over his weaknesses. Whatever those weaknesses they may be, they may simply be what you, his partner, are better at than he is. And that's not a bad thing - but rather, one of the many luxuries afforded in a relationship such as the one you share with Muriel.

A few months fly by - and your child is born. Up until now, Muriel was a nervous wreck. Will he be a good dad? Can he ensure that he can carry his own weight in raising this child properly? Is he even sure that this child won't inherit the same fears and traumas he's had growing up?

It isn't until you gently place the small bundle in his arms. The first thing that surprises him is how warm the baby is in his embrace. The way their tiny chest rises and falls. Their skin is paper thin as Muriel watches their tiny heart beat for its life. So fragile. So small.

But baby doesn't like being away from you, the other parent. Opening and closing its tiny grasp, they fight against Muriel as they wriggle in frustration.

You expect Muriel to get flustered and pass them back to you. Instead, your partner's eyes soften with a kind of affection you only see him have for those he deeply cares for. He lets the baby use their tiny hand to grab their his big finger. A soft smile grows on his lips when the baby is soothed by that.

"It's okay", Muriel says, "You're gonna be okay."

Nothing warms your heart more than that. You watch him in quiet adoration as he and the baby spend a little time together like this.

And he was right. Everything turned out alright in the end

[sleepy-steve]

(pray) ‘til i go blind

wc: 4k // rating: M // cw: language // tags: modern au, metal burlesque performer eddie munson, audience participant steve harrington, very blasphemous song lyrics (see ao3 link for other tags)

♡ read on ao3 ♡ or below the cut ♡

Steve sees Eddie staring right at him, eyes dark as sin and ringed by even darker makeup. And that beautiful, cheeky smirk in full force as he slowly lowers himself down to a crouch. Steve meets Eddie’s eyes and feels the air disappear from his lungs. He's mesmerised. "And you would too if this sexy devil caught your eye..." He holds a hand out to Steve, and Steve can do nothing else but take it and be pulled up to the stage.

song referenced is Rev 22:20 (Don’t Shoot The Messenger Version) by Puscifer (one of my personal favourite filthy dance songs).

It was one thing to be an audience member. To sit in the crowd and clap or cheer when appropriate. These were all things Steve could do, and if it meant an evening spent with his best friend, he was more than happy to do it. (And if he saw some boobs in the process, he was also happy with that.) 

It was Robin’s absolute insistence that he would enjoy tonight’s burlesque show in particular, despite his general ambivalence toward the production as a whole, that gave him pause. The music didn’t really do anything for him, though he could appreciate the performances. And sure, he liked seeing beautiful women dance as much as the next dude. Why was she so convinced he would like this show more than any other? With no answers to his wondering, he sat comfortably, enjoyed his drinks, and tried to be a model audience member.

What was less in his comfort zone was sitting at a table right up front, basically right under each performer’s nose. It’s not that he didn’t enjoy the view, but he did wonder about how the performers might feel having him gawking from behind his glasses right up at them from such a close distance. Throughout the night, both Steve and Robin are among a few selected for some level of performer interaction. Dancers waving their fluffy feather fans in their faces, tossing clothing garments at them, trailing their hands over arms and shoulders, and in one case, a cute redheaded performer allowing her long satin glove to be shakily pulled off by Robin.

After a brief break, the emcee announces the fifth and final dancer of the evening. Steve finds himself a little disappointed, having had more fun than he originally thought. But he joins the audience in applauding for the next performer.

The stage goes dark. He hears the faint tapping of someone stepping on stage. Slightly different to the previous performers, less snappy. Different shoes. A beat of silence, before a red spotlight flashes on. On the stage, a figure stands with their arms raised and crossed above their head. Curls hang around their shoulders, different to the perfectly pinned and sprayed curls of the previous dancers. This hair is wild.

A beat kicks in. It's heavy and dark, reverberating in the floors. The figure lowers their arms, wrists twisting and gloved fingers snapping on the beat. A female voice sings a harmony and the figure turns in time with it, facing the audience, additional warm spotlights flashing on, and a jolt runs through Steve.

It's a man. Probably one of the most beautiful men he's ever seen. Wearing ripped jeans and what looks to be a leather jacket, the man is running a gloved hand across his chest, touch featherlight. The voice sings again, moaning almost, and the dancer—Eddie, Steve belatedly recalls the emcee introducing him as—slowly pulls the jacket open, revealing a loose black tank top. He runs a hand up his tattooed neck and back down his chest. The audience cheers, a few low whoops coming from the back.

Another moaning vocal. With a cheeky grin that makes Steve's heart skip, Eddie lets the jacket fall down to his elbows, revealing even more tattoos on his shoulders and arms. His gloved hands trail down to his hips, and on the last harmony, he moves his hips back in a slow half-circle.

"Don't be aroused," a male voice croons in the music. "By my confession..."

Eddie looks out at the audience, who are captivated by the way he owns the stage. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Steve notes that Eddie has barely done anything at all, yet the audience is completely transfixed by him. He takes a few slow, confident steps, searching the crowd below him.

"Unless you don't give a good goddamn about redemption..." Standing up tall, Eddie lets his jacket drop to the ground behind him, the audience cheering as he does. The gloves reach to just below his elbow, and the tattoos disappear beneath them. Steve imagines what his hands might look like—how they might feel—the realisation that he's not really thought about another man's hands before quickly shoved to the back of his mind.

"I know Christ is comin', and so am I..." Leaving the jacket behind, Eddie walks again, stopping right in front of Steve and Robin's table. Steve glances at Robin, partially excited and partially fearful, only to see her with a grin that says exactly what he knows she's thinking right now: I was right.

Looking back up, Steve sees Eddie staring right at him, eyes dark as sin and ringed by even darker makeup. And that beautiful, cheeky smirk in full force as he slowly lowers himself down to a crouch, ripped jeans opening further to reveal even more tattoos. Steve meets Eddie’s eyes and feels the air disappear from his lungs. He's mesmerised.

"And you would too if this sexy devil caught your eye..."

He holds a hand out to Steve, and Steve can do nothing else but take it and be pulled up to the stage. The audience cheers—though none louder than Robin—as Steve is guided by Eddie, and led to a chair that he did not see before. As Steve sits facing the audience, Eddie leans down to his ear and whispers, "Is it okay if I touch you?"

Steve looks at him in surprise and nods quickly. This close, Steve can see the two nostril piercings, and the silver ball nestled in the scoop of his cupid bow. It's unbelievably hot.

"Anywhere?" Eddie clarifies, letting his gloved hand run up Steve's arm to his shoulder. Steve nods again, trying hard not to think about what anywhere could mean—what he absolutely wants it to mean. Eddie winks at him, smirk back in place on his plush lips, and moves behind Steve, hands running over his shoulders, down and across his chest. He leans over from behind, wild curls tickling Steve's neck. Wanting to reach out and touch so badly, Steve keeps his hands firmly clasped in his lap, trying to behave. Flicking his hair behind him, Eddie tips Steve’s head gently to the side, exposing his neck. Steve feels warm breath on his skin, and then the drag of teeth and lips along the length of his neck and holy shit. Feeling hot everywhere, Steve takes a shuddering inhale. Sliding his gloved hands off Steve’s head, Eddie walks around again, this time in front of the chair.

He drops, crashing to his knees at the edge of the stage as the music ramps up. "Pray! 'Til I go blind..." The audience cheers as the vocals scream.

"Pray!" Eddie rolls his head, curls flicking around him in a wide arc, long tattooed neck stretched and exposed before his hair settles around him again. "'Cause nobody ever survives..."

Arms crossed over the front of his body, and gripping at the bottom of his tank top—which from this close view, Steve thinks may actually be a cut up band tee—Eddie cocks his head, teasing the audience. Waiting for them to cheer louder. He pulls it up a few inches, no doubt showing off more tattoos on his belly, if the ones on his back were anything to go off. The audience screams, encouraging him to take it off.

"Saviours and saints, devils and heathens alike, she'll eat you alive..."

The music slows back down, and Eddie drops his shirt back down. Steve lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. Jesus, since when was he so ramped up about another man taking his shirt off? He doesn't have much time to think about it, because Eddie has turned himself around to face Steve, grin that borders on evil with glee on his face. Steve feels his eyes widen.

"Jesus is risen, it's no surprise..." He drags himself close to Steve, kneeling before him, a hand on each of his knees, pushing Steve's legs open. Steve swallows as the gloved hands trail up and down his thighs, before resting back on his knees.

"Even he would martyr his mama to ride to hell between those thighs..." Eddie leans forward, swinging his hair in a figure-eight, face dangerously close to Steve's crotch, and holy shit, Steve thinks he may lose his entire mind. Leaning back again, Eddie gives him a quick look as if to ask, all good? Steve gives a faint nod. Eddie smiles up at him, a genuine and very sweet smile, before shifting back from Steve, pulling himself up off his calves.

"If I gotta sin to see her again, then I'm gonna lie, lie, lie!" Eddie swings his arms across his body, head swinging and hair flicking in time with the words, in a way that would be almost thrashing were he not so purposeful and smooth with it.

He then lowers himself backward, back arched as the top of his head taps the stage, knees still bent beneath him. Steve faintly thinks it looks uncomfortable, but has no time to ponder on it because Eddie is running those gloved hands up his arched chest, pulling the tank top up and up, showing off his tattooed abdomen. The shirt bunches just below his chest, hands continuing up to glide and grab at his own neck, silver chain gripped and pulled taut at his throat.

"Gladly now please suck me dry..." Steve watches unblinkingly as Eddie opens his mouth, slowly pushing two gloved fingers inside, letting them drag back out over his tongue. Mouth watering at the sight, Steve thinks about what else Eddie’s mouth and tongue might be capable of.

Steve snaps out of it quickly, because Eddie has pulled back up, standing with a thump of his combat boots, stepping to the side of Steve's chair so he's side-on with the audience now. He stands with his right arm outstretched toward Steve and one finger raised on the other hand. Steve notices the smirk back in place.

"Pray! 'Til I go blind..." Eddie shoves the finger into the opening of the glove below his elbow, before pulling it out slowly. He raises two fingers this time.

"Pray! 'Cause nobody ever survives..." He shoves two fingers into the glove opening this time, self satisfied look on his face as the audience screams and cheers. Eddie raises three fingers. Steve thinks he may pass away in the chair.

"Prayin' to stay in her arms just until I can die a little longer..." He shoves the three fingers into the glove, using them to push down the leather in time with the music. When the glove is mostly bunched around his wrist, Eddie pulls at the middle finger, dragging the fabric off of his hand slowly, letting it stretch back out. Once it leaves his hand, he flicks it off into the audience to wild cheers, just in time for the music to slow down again.

Eddie turns to Steve now, a look of absolute mischief on his face. With his now bare hand—Steve was right, the tattoos do continue all the way down to his hands—he pulls lightly at the middle finger of the other glove, loosening it slightly. He then leans forward, bending at the hips with a sinful smile, hand held aloft near Steve's mouth, and says, "Bite it."

Steve leans in, taking the fingertip of the leather glove between his teeth and slowly pulls back. The glove barely shifts, Eddie’s hand pulled close to Steve's face.

"My pulse has been rising, my temples are pounding..." Eddie pulls back slightly, jerking his arm softly but acting as though it's taking much more effort. He runs his free hand up his chest, to his neck, as though the act of having his glove pulled off is turning him on.

"The pressure is so overwhelming and building..." The music is starting to build up again, Eddie’s movements growing more erratic along with it. He pulls and pulls, arm slowly being revealed, mouth hanging open like he's panting and eyes hooded as he looks to the audience, his free hand dragging back down his chest.

As the music reaches its peak again, Eddie lets his hand free of the glove—which swings back down to Steve's sweater with a soft tap—chest heaving with the false exertion of it. Steve is stunned, glove fingertip still between his teeth, unsure what he's meant to do with it, and unsure why this is one of the hottest things he's ever participated in.

Eddie now faces the audience, looking down, back up at them, and down again. His hand is at his jeans, teasingly pulling at the fly, his other hand raised to his ear, as though he can't hear the deafening cheers of the audience. When they've reached a loud enough volume to satisfy him, he yanks open the button and zipper, letting the denim hang open. It's not until Eddie turns back to Steve that he sees the black lace now revealed beneath the denim. It sends a bolt of electricity through Steve, jaw dropped slightly, glove now in his lap.

With another cheeky grin, Eddie turns, Steve realising quickly what the man intends. He shoves the glove into his own jeans pocket just as Eddie settles himself on Steve's lap, back against Steve's chest. Grabbing Steve's hands, he settles them on his hips, head hanging back over Steve's shoulder, lips dangerously close to Steve's neck. As Eddie runs his hands up his own chest, pulling at the shirt again, Steve's breath hitches in his throat, and he could swear Eddie is holding back a laugh.

The music is wild as Eddie pulls his shirt higher, body rolling slowly against Steve's, his ass pressing into Steve's crotch with each roll. Eddie sits up slightly, giving just enough space to pull the loose tank over his head, finally revealing the rest of his tattooed chest—and fuck, the guy is covered from the neck down it looks like—and more importantly, a lacy black bra. Steve tries not to grip any tighter to Eddie’s hips as he flings the shirt into the audience.

Laying back down to Steve's chest, he grabs Steve's hands and guides them up, letting them run over his hot skin, fingers trailing over the man’s ribs, up to the lacy black bra. Feeling the smooth metal of Eddie’s nipple piercings makes Steve feel hot all over, not at all helped by the man's fluid body rolls against him. Eddie continues to move his hands though, finally guiding Steve's fingers to the little clasp at the centre of his chest. With trembling fingers, Steve fiddles with the clasp until it comes undone. Continuing the rolls and not-so fake panting—now that it's right by Steve’s ear, he can hear the little huffs of breath—Eddie keeps a grasp on Steve's wrists, keeping Steve's hands firmly over his chest.

The music begins to fade, and Eddie releases Steve's hands, standing up quickly. The open lace bra slips down to his hands, to uproarious applause and cheering from the audience. Eddie pulls at the straps and slingshots it into the audience with a clear laugh that Steve can hear from his chair. The music has stopped, and the crowd continues their cheering. Eddie takes a deep bow, then stands with devil horns raised on both hands.

He turns to Steve with that same genuine smile from earlier in the show, taking his hand and pulling him up to standing. Eddie gestures to Steve with both arms outstretched, as though showcasing him. The audience continues their cheers, and Steve's face grows so hot, he's surprised his glasses haven't started fogging up.

All too soon, the emcee is thanking everyone for coming to the show and Eddie is taking Steve's hand to help him off the stage with another wink and cheeky smile. Steve only says a very quiet "thank you" before Eddie has released his hand and started walking off backstage.

Then Robin is all over him, chattering excitedly about how cool the whole thing was and that she tried to film as much of it as she could but she thinks she might have missed some because she was so into the performance that her phone fell away from them.

"See?! I told you that you'd love this!" She laughs, grabbing his arms. Steve is still a bit starstruck, but Robin misreads it. "Hey, are you good? Was it too much for you?"

"No, no, Robs, it was great," Steve says, a little sadly. "I'm just, uh. Never gonna see him again, am I?"

"Who? Eddie?" Robin asks.

Steve only gives her a sheepish look, embarrassed to have even admitted his fear of not seeing Eddie again.

Raising a brow at him, Robin looks pointedly down at his pants. "Uh, you might just, Stevie." Steve follows her gaze with a frown.

He still has the leather glove in his pocket.

Steve looks back to her, wide eyed with nerves. Robin just snorts at him, patting him on the arm. “Come on, dingus. Let’s grab another drink, maybe your new friend will come looking for his glove.”

They settle in at the bar, Robin laughing as she makes Steve watch the video of him on stage, looking flustered as hell. His face burns with more embarrassment, but she asserts how proud she is of him for doing something like this. With another drink in his system, he’s able to find the humour in it. If nothing else, it’s a crazy story he’ll get to tell his friends about.

A low husky voice in Steve’s ear makes him jump. “I believe you have something of mine, sweetheart.”

Steve turns on his barstool to see Eddie standing behind him, shirt back on and jeans buttoned back up. Most of the eye makeup is gone, but smudges of black still line his lashes, making his dark eyes seem even bigger. From his periphery, he notices that Robin has dutifully stayed facing the bar. Pulling the glove out of his pocket, he bashfully hands it over. “Uh, sorry about that,” Steve says, other hand going to the back of his neck. “I think I just panicked about what to do with it.”

Eddie takes it back with a smile, shoving it into his own pocket. “No problem, at least you didn’t try to take off with it. You wouldn’t believe the amount of clothes I lose to audience theft.”

“I can imagine,” Steve laughs.

“Yeah, I mean, the staff do a great job at collecting my things from the audience, but some people are sneaky, y’know?” Eddie kind of rambles a bit, hands twirling and gesturing with his words. It’s super cute, Steve realises, a grin growing on his face as he forgets to actually respond.

Humming, Eddie nods, probably thrown by Steve’s lack of response. “So! Did you have fun? I’ve been told I can go a little… overboard, sometimes.”

Steve chuckles nervously, hand automatically brushing through his hair. “Not overboard at all, but it was my first time doing anything like that. Definitely had, uh, a good time.” He can feel his cheeks heating again.

The charming persona comes over Eddie again, as he leans in with a smirk. “Well, you were a great audience participant,” he says, like it’s a secret he’s sharing. Steve can see a very faint dusting of freckles across Eddie’s nose and Christ, could this guy get any hotter?

Smile growing bigger and cheeks growing hotter, Steve just manages a quiet “thanks” and what the hell?! Steve knows how to flirt, he knows how to respond when he’s being flirted with. But something about Eddie, with his tattoos and his piercings and his cheeky smiles… it’s all just turning Steve into a puddle. The silence stretches between them, growing almost awkward, as they look at each other. From his side, Steve can sense Robin practically vibrating next to him. He can only imagine that she’s losing her mind over the tension between them. Or his stupidity. Maybe both.

Playing with his hair—pulling slightly on a curl by his shoulder—Eddie clears his throat. “Well, I, uh. Better get back to the, y’know. Packing up. Backstage.” He scratches at the back of his neck. “Um, it was lovely to meet you…?”

Steve blinks at the sudden change in conversation. “Steve!” He says, feeling slightly panicked. He holds his hand out and immediately thinks he must look like a massive idiot.

Eddie smiles at him, almost… resigned? “Eddie,” he says, gesturing to himself before taking Steve’s hand. “Lovely to meet you… Steve.” Eddie says his name like it’s fucking reverent. Steve feels his soul about to leave his body.

“You too,” Steve says, not wanting to let go. They finally let their hands fall away, Eddie taking two slow steps backwards—eyes still locked on Steve’s—before turning. Robin immediately jabs Steve in the ribs with her sharp elbow, making him gasp in pain.

“Unless!” Steve calls out, not even completely sure where he’s going with it.

Eddie looks over his shoulder, not quite turning back to him. “Unless…?”

“Would you, uh, like a drink, maybe?” God, even Steve can hear how pathetic he sounds.

With a grin that’s… actually quite shy, Eddie pulls a lock of his hair across his face. “Yeah… I’d like that,” he says, voice soft.

Steve goes home with Eddie’s number in his phone and a date planned for the next night.

immediately post-show, backstage:

Eddie flies into the dressing room and dramatically flops down across the beat up old armchair with a sigh.

“Great show tonight, Eddie!” Vickie is sitting at the mirror, all her belongings packed up. “The audience was going crazy!”

Letting out a hum that turns into a groan, Eddie rests his forearm over his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, turning to him on her stool.

“Vickieeee…” Eddie whines. “My beloved Victoria—”

“Not my name.”

“I’m in love!” Eddie cries, letting his head hang back over the armrest.

Vickie snorts. “God, dare I ask with whom?”

Eddie whines again, a loud moan coming from deep in his soul. He sighs again. “Soft swoopy hair… big, beautiful hazel eyes and glasses… moles like a constellation on his skin… Vickie, he can’t be real. He just can’t be. No one should look that good in a yellow sweater.”

“Yellow…?” Vickie trails off before gasping and leaping to the floor by Eddie’s head. “Your audience participant?! No. Eddie. Edward. Say it isn’t so!”

Holding both hands over his face, Eddie lets out another wallowing moan, before opening his fingers to reveal one eye. “I… bit him.”

Gasping, Vickie slaps the floor with both hands. “You didn’t!”

“I did!” Eddie wails, covering his face again.

“Oh my god!” Vickie laughs.

“Hey, Eddie.” Gareth walks in, holding a small bundle of black fabric. “Great show tonight. We got almost everything back, but we’re missing… one glove. Sorry, man.”

“Thanks, Gareth,” Eddie says miserably. Gareth drops the pile of clothes on the armchair and heads back out with a two-finger salute.

Vickie turns to him with light in her eyes. “Eddie, Eddie, look at me.” She shakes his arm until he turns his forlorn gaze to her. “Mister Yellow Sweater has your glove.” 

Eddie just looks at her, his brain processing too slowly.

“Go!” she cries, pulling him up. “Go and find him, he’s probably still here!”

“What? No!” Eddie lets himself go limp and heavy against her pulls. “Just leave me to my yearning for what will never be.”

“Eddie, I swear to god,” she says with effort, finally pulling him up. “Get out there and find your man. And your glove.”

Groaning loudly, Eddie stands up and finds his shirt in the pile. “Fine. If only to get my glove back, I’ll go and find Mister Perfect Hair.”

[ceapa-mica]

How to befriend Grand Admiral Thrawn

I AM SO BACK! And I wanna thank my friend @thrawnsboots for some ideas for this. 💙

SFW | reader is gender neutral

Taglist: @bingbongooo @dance-like-russia-isnt-watching @ele-millennial-weirdo @enaelyork @jesslove23 @thrawnalani @twincesskorisoka @davesrightshoe @shoe-bag @tearyeve @blackddarling @obbicrystaleo

You want to become Thrawn's friend? Let me tell you how to gain friendship points with the Grand Admiral.

Work hard and contribute good strategies and ideas to his plans.

Be willing to take responsibility for mistakes and errors you've made.

Dare criticize him. Your co-workers would never. Thrawn is glad you're open and honest with him about your concerns.

Thrawn appreciates people he can trust and who keep their promises. Honesty and reliability matters a lot to him.

Show genuine interest in his art collection, and don't mind him explaining art for hours.

You can impress him with knowledge, specifically about art, culture and war. Even more so if he isn't familiar with the knowledge you're sharing with him.

If you want to spend time with him, be prepared for intense sparring lessons in his personal dojo.

Respect Thrawn's boundaries. Period. That goes for both, emotional and physical. If he doesn't want to talk about himself, accept it and move on, and don't be clingy.

Keep in mind that he's a busy man. So don't be disappointed if he doesn't seek you out outside of work all the time.

Learn to read his facial expressions. Thrawn's very good at hiding what he feels and thinks. Only those closest to him can read him, and when you do, he knows putting effort into your friendship is worth it.

Share your hobbies with him if you can. Cook a meal, knit him socks etc. He will appreciate your efforts.

Remember what he likes. How does he like his caf? Favorite artists? Favorite music? Favorite holonovels etc.

Gift giving is one of Thrawn's love languages (platonic & romantic), along with acts of service. He appreciates when you return the favor. Love languages are a two way street!

Let Thrawn feel included. As a Grand Admiral he has a certain reputation to maintain of course. When off-duty, he won't mind if you treat him like you're on the same eye level though. Less formality and more deep conversations.

Make sure Thrawn knows you see him as the man he is. Not only as the powerful Grand Admiral but as an autistic art nerd with an extraordinary mind.

You know you've gained maximum friendship points with this man when he chuckles over one of your jokes

Be prepared to go out of your comfort zone. Thrawn will encourage you to try new things, whether it's food, art or work related.

Thrawn is hard to befriend, but once you manage to earn this man's friendship, he's a loyal soul who will stop at nothing to support you unconditionally and who brings out the best qualities of yourself.

Let me know in the comments what you think or if I missed anything. 💙

[whalesforhands]

even trivial moments are fine (satosugu x reader)

warnings: fluff?, somewhat different from my usual formats, i’ll let you decide where this fits in, gojo-centric haha

i’m somewhat late on my upload streak i’m SORRY

Grabby hands that find comfort in reaching for Suguru’s, feeling the rough callouses on the other boy’s hand and threading his long fingers through his, the comfort of having Geto with him, beside him, he can finally feel the joy of summer.

When he’s childishly tugging off the hairtie that held the entirety of Suguru’s bun up, letting the wind whisk those black locks up against the azure blue sky. Before his very own glasses are suddenly grabbed and pulled off from his eyes, joined by a melodious sounding of laughs paired with upturned eyes that shone with the glow of a blue spring.

“Payback is really something, huh Satoru?” Geto is laughing despite his hair that continued to billow in the summer breeze, grinning as he held onto the pair of dark sunglasses that hid the affection that adorned the crystal blue.

By the windy grass and clear skies that ran endlessly in this summer of his youth, he knows that that someone will always be waiting, reflected by midnight black and deep, hypnotizing purple.

Gojo Satoru is irrevocably in love with Geto Suguru.

Even when he sees you brushing through Geto’s hair, the mentioned boy with his eyes closed and leaning back onto the back rails of the loungeroom chairs, ears keened as Suguru hears your quiet humming, leaning into your touch as you continue your administrations in quiet, serene delight.

“Satoru?” Suguru calls out, sensing the familiar sorcerer first. “Were you not able to sleep? I’ll join you in a bit.” You’d look over your shoulder and flash him an apologetic smile as you keep brushing.

“I’m sorry for keeping him.” You fully turn your body to meet his.

“Would you like to get your hair brushed too?”

Your footfalls that slow and turn on your heel to look back at him and wave, waiting patiently as Suguru goes after an excited Haibara and rushing Nanami, Shoko’s laughter be serving as the background’s noise whilst you stood in the foreground, smiling as he approaches you with pockets tucked away deep into his pockets, grin on his face as he meets your gaze.

“Waiting for me, huh?”

“Always.”

The way you’d always keep spare change for the whole group in your little pouch, saving them the disappointment of not having the funds to enjoy their weekly vending machine sessions.

“Haibara-kun, you’re doing great! Keep it up.” Shoko’s grinning as the diligent first-year stands before the setting rays of the sun as both you and the aforementioned girl squatted down and hid within the tall first-year’s shadow, her drink in your hand as she took a sip from your chocolate milk.

“Yes ma’am! I will do anything to help keep our benefactor safe from the dangerous UV rays!”

“Yu, your cola’s turning lukewarm.” Nanami’s deadpan call to him would cause the boy to panic, not wanting to leave his duty, and yet, the call of his drink yearned for him.

Satoru likes how you care for all of them. But, he thinks he likes it better when it’s reserved just for him and Suguru.

Finally, notices that he finds solace in the silence with you. The quiet musings of your voice as you slowly sip from the cup of chilled barley tea, the comfortable hush about the both of you zoning him out as his eyes trailed over the way happiness and alleviation manifested on your face, the way you’d turn your attention towards him when you finally notice his gaze.

“Satoru?” You’re bringing him back from his spaced out state, soft giggles that beget his undivided attention to you as you tilt your head slightly, awaiting his reply to your question that went unheard in his indulgence of you.

…Is it pathetic, shallow, selfish of him to wish for you to hold his hand and walk together with him too? Perhaps it is.

For he still wants, hopes, wishes for you to see him as more than just the Satoru that belonged to Suguru, for you to finally see that his love is more than just this.

His body that jumps up at the cue of your heartbeat, his heart that finally loosens up when you’re both finally in his presence, a simple desire to know, to learn every intricate thing about the both of you until the end of his time and beyond.

Because, there’s no denying it.

Gojo Satoru is irrevocably in love with you too.

[diazfox]

How do you imagine a more complex sexual awakening for Buck? Cause I also thought Buck's coming out went surprisingly smoothly. For one, I specifically missed how Buck never questioned if his strange conduct in that ep was only about Tommy and not at all about Eddie, and most importantly, no experiences of his have been addressed other than checking out a hot guy's ass

hey anon! i'm coming from a purely storytelling perspective, not pro/anti buddie/bucktommy so yall better not come for me!

i think this trajectory is very on brand for buck. a complex coming out arc is dearly reserved for eddie in my head, i always imagined buck's coming out to be pretty smooth and i think season 7 writers have done a really good job at that!

for all his acting before thinking tendencies, i think there's also a comfort zone buck has built around himself that he doesnt feel the need to step out of.

for starters, i definitely see comphet elements to buck. he stops at mere appreciation (checking out hot guys asses) because he doesnt feel the need to think too deeply about it given that he's very comfortable in his attraction to women already. he attributes these sorts of questionable moments to his strong allyship instead and prides (🏳️‍🌈?) himself in it. this would explain why he never dwells on moments of doubt because he set those criteria for himself and never revisited them because loving women was satisfying enough.

which is why i think spontaneity is the driving force for his sexual awakening rather than a surface level attraction. tommy kissing him is what allows him to see past his comfort zone and realise that he could expand his options if he wanted to. the eddie vs tommy conflict is never addressed in his head because tommy becomes instantaneously and willingly available and there's no need for him to think or look further.

speaking of, a second example of the comfort zone he has built is with eddie. in comparison to his past relationships and having to overcompensate for others' shortcomings, his relationship with eddie is perfect. he doesn't give room for any other interpretation or extrapolation of this friendship because for once he feels this mutual trust and security he never felt before with others, not even family. it's the fact that even when they do have a conflict, the writers made buck be the one to apologise for not caring enough. this further cements just how entrenched eddie is in their friendship, something buck has been guilty of doing in the past and getting hurt by repeatedly. hence buck doesnt give room for questionable moments to penetrate the platonic boundaries he's set for his and eddie's relationship and instead finds answers within the confines of friendship. he maps his confusion around eddie to guilt about lying to his best friend.

given these interpretations plus the fact that he's often the source of comedic relief, it's understandable why his coming out arc is less complex and more romcom-esque. this is especially important if they are planning a coming out arc for eddie as well, because his is going to be a trainwreck and they would want to cover different bases instead of repeating similar stories.

looking at recent directional choices though, i think there's still room to build complexity through bucktommy. especially since all of tommy's scenes since he's been established as a LI serve no other purpose than to further buck's bisexuality journey (building confidence, publicly coming out). there was no need for him to be written off the bachelor party if they wanted us to properly root for him. he wouldn't have disappointed buck for not dressing up and not being there for the search party, which are perfect opportunities to build an emotional connection between them. i'm especially intrigued by this knowing tim minear through lone star, because you can tell how much he values significant others being there for each other in the most random times (carlos literally follows tk everywhere he goes). if this direction keeps being intentionally pursued, their relationship might end with a purpose too, and perhaps this could turn buck's world upside down?

all i'm desperately hoping for is that this doesn't end in another person abandoning buck... because he's had enough. and I'VE had enough

[strawberryfairi]

A Sensual Surprise 🩵

Satoru Gojo X Black Fem Reader smut🤎💦 (ANYONE CAN READ🧚🏾‍♀️)

It's four in the morning and you're long gone fast asleep in bed, having drifted off to sleep hours and hours ago.

The place is quiet, not a single sound in your apartment except for the soft, minor key ambient music playing from your Macbook on the dresser a few feet from your bed.

It's a fairly new discovery for you, ambient music. The ethereal eleven hour long youtube video with visuals of space and surreal looking art of planets showed from the dimmed down laptop screen. It was the perfect way to help you get a full nights sleep, especially during times like these when Satoru is off somewhere being a hero.

Sometimes it's a few days, others it's weeks, and then the worst ones of all...when he's gone for a month or more.

It's been eight weeks since Satoru had to leave for Europe, Austria to be exact. You'd never been, yet you always hear folks saying how it's so beautiful, and so of course you were excited and suggested to come along with him this time. But Satoru's protective over you, and always thinks realistically.

"You know that's not a good idea. I can't be worried about your safety while I'm working." He'd said, his tone dead serious yet soft.

"I know..." You sighed with a disappointed frown, feeling your heart sink to your feet.

"Just stay home, baby. I'll come back." He hummed, lifting your chin up and leaning down to plant a little kiss on your lips.

You don't get to really talk to him much during these times when he's working from far away, the time zones and overall busyness making it nearly impossible to communicate for longer than a few short texts back and forth, or a couple minutes phone call.

At this point you felt you were basically in a long distance relationship, but you love Satoru, so you're always faithful and wait for him to come back home with as much patience as you can muster.

Tonight though, your wait would soon be over. Satoru had been planning his surprise for you days before he'd get on his flight back to Japan, and now he could finally execute it in real time.

He eased his way into the apartment, shutting the front door quietly and making his way to the bedroom. One by one he sheds off his clothes and sets down the bags on bags of random gifts and trinkets he got for you while in Austria.

He couldn't help the wide, loving smile that made it's way across his lips as he watched your sleeping form on the queen sized bed. His heart was so warmed, he found you just so damn cute with your relaxing music on to help you sleep without him.

You were laying on your back, wearing your light blue, satin bonnet with a cute bow that he picked out for you himself a few months ago at the quaint new beauty supply store you'd tried out. He knew you always wore that one specifically whenever he was away. He made a mental note to steal it and wear it himself tomorrow when you finally take it off just to mess with you and make you laugh.

He eagerly pulls the sheets and comforter from the foot of the bed, untucking it as he sneaks underneath. You've always been an extremely light sleeper, hearing every single little noise, so over time he's gotten his technique together so he doesn't prematurely wake you up and scare you.

He gets to around your pretty thighs, slowly opening your legs so he could rest himself right in between. He pauses, feeling you slightly stir and try to reposition your legs how you had them before, yet stop when your body gives up.

"Don't wake up, baby..." He coos barely above a whisper, using all his might not to rush into his plan.

You're wearing your usual sleep attire, nothing but an oversized t-shirt and panties. He'd prefer it if you skipped on the panties as it would make what he's about to do easier, but he can work with it.

Satoru shifts your legs over his broad, muscular shoulders, licking his lips excitedly as he goes to slowly shift your cute, black panties to the side. You stir again, this time a bit more than before, but by now he doesn't really care too much. His warm lips graze and brush against your soft, smooth thighs, basking in the feeling of your skin against his once again.

He plants the most gentlest kisses up each leg, up and up until he reaches his most precious treasure.

All it took was one kiss against your clit to wake you, jumping slightly as your hands fly downwards to his head underneath the covers. You let out a noise of shock and confusion, your mind feeling disoriented since you were so abruptly ripped out of your sleep.

Satoru continues on anyways as if nothing even happened, stroking your thighs with his hands as he gives a long, slow lick between your folds. A blend between a gasp and moan breaks past your lips, eyes widening as you rip the blankets away.

You're speechless, only able to look down in astonishment. Blue eyes meet your pretty dark brown ones, a light chuckle vibrating against your pussy.

"S-Satoru..?" You mutter breathily, your voice a bit raspy and weak.

"Mhmm." He moans back, running circles around your clit with his tongue. You wanted to talk more, tell him you're so glad he's back, and that you missed him so much, but the way he's eating you out so slowly and passionately is making your head spin even more than it already was.

"Mmmmm." You moan lowly, taking your hands and placing them in his soft, white hair. The once ethereal music-filled bedroom now became a cacophony of lewd moans, panting, and the sloppy wet sounds of his tongue lapping against your needy pussy.

"You missed me, baby?" He purrs between licks, looking deep into your eyes.

"Mhmm! S-so much." You moan airily, beginning to tug onto his hair.

His tongue moved faster, skillfully attempting to bury itself inside your little hole, then flicking and swirling around your clit.

"Ooooooh", You throw your head back in ecstasy, "Don't stop, don't stop!"

Your legs start to shake, quickly becoming overwhelmed as you reach what would be your first orgasm of the night.

"Cum on my tongue, princess." He commands lowly. Your back arches off the bed, eyes squeezing shut. You do exactly as he says, clenching your thighs around his face as you cum right on his eager tongue. Satoru laps up every last bit of your (what he believes strongly is) honey-like cum, not letting a single drop of nectar go to waste.

You pant heavily, trying to come down from the high he granted you yet his tongue keeps going, not even bothering to slow down a little bit.

It was then that you immediately realize it was definitely going to be a long night, and you didn't mind in the slightest.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Mmmm, I missed my tight little pussy so much." He moans lowly, rolling his hips into you harder.

You'd lost count how many times he'd made you cum at this point, you were a hot mess, legs held open wide by his large hands as he pounds into you. The way his hips snap into yours makes you see stars, eyes rolling back as your pussy keeps tightly squeezing his dick.

"I-I can't....baby!" You whimper, trying to tell him you were tapping out. To be honest, you'd tapped out waaaay long ago while he was still just eating you out, but he didn't care.

Satoru was focused, set on a mission to beat his pretty pussy up all night into the morning, making you cum as many times as he sees fit. You love the way he looks on top of you, so damn sexy with his hair sticking to his skin, and those big muscles you love tensing and releasing with every stroke.

"You're doin' so good taking this dick, baby. Creamin' all over me..." He coos into your ear, keeping his strokes hard and deep. His right hand releases your leg, placing itself right on your neck and choking you just the way he knows you like it. Your body shakes violently underneath him, about to cum again just from the sound of his voice and his hand around your throat.

"Oh my god! I'm cumming, I'm cumming!" You announce frantically, digging your nails roughly into his back as your walls flutter, granting him yet another sweet orgasm.

"Fuuuck babygirl. You look so pretty cumming all over me like that."

A/N🧚🏾‍♀️: Y'all this idea hit me literally out of nowhere and I JUST HAD to get to typin'!!!

[valiantstarlights]

[Wedding Planner AU] Part 3: Wedding Dress

Part 2: On the Restaurant's Balcony Area

I would like to thank @seiya-starsniper for reminding me about this AU, and making me realize that I had not, in fact, posted this chapter yet. 🙇‍♀️ It has literally been sitting (90% completed) in my labyrinth of notes since June 25. 😂

CW: just the usual 28 angsty stab wounds 😊

Being inside the Endless mansion is like being in a tomb.

Not that Hob has been to any tombs, since that would require a fuckton of money as well as the absence of common sense, but the air inside was noticeably heavier. No doubt the tangible weight of generations' worth of expectations and disappointments.

He remembers Dream not wanting to go back home for the holidays. How he took his sweet time packing, and even then he only packed light: a toothbrush bought from the convenience store near the dorms, a bottle of black nail polish, and snack sized chocolate bars enough to last him a month. He didn't take any of Hob's clothing with him, even though he wore them almost exclusively during the school year. He claimed that it was because they might get taken from him, but Hob suspected that it was because Dream had been ashamed of him.

Their eventual break up had proven him right.

"Mr. Gadling!"

Hob turns towards the pool area and spots Ms. Muse, wearing a bright yellow sundress and looking positively radiant. Meanwhile, Hob is a frazzled mess, having come straight from Constantine's main office all the way across London, making nonstop calls to catering companies in his car about the billion and one hors d'oeuvres Mrs. Muse and Mrs. Endless wanted.

"Ms. Muse," he greets amiably, and notices the distinct lack of her groom-to-be, as well as their overbearing mothers. "Is everyone else running late?"

"Oh, no," Ms. Muse says, and gestures to the comfortably padded wicker chair beside her. It seems that this meeting will be taking place in a less formal setting. Hob wonders if it is for his benefit or hers. Does he look as sleep-deprived as he felt? "Mother and Mrs. Endless are attending a soiree in Berlin, and Dream is working inside." She points to the side, where a dark figure is seated behind a desk, typing on his laptop, face set in concentration and earplugs in.

Hob remembers that face well. Dream is deep in 'the zone,' as they called it, back in the day. Hob remembers bringing him tea once in the early days, only to find it cold and untouched, and Dream apologetic afterwards. He had insisted on drinking the cold tea, but Hob took pity on him and drank the tea himself. After that incident, he would only make tea for Dream when he surfaces from his 'zone,' and it's a system that worked for them.

He wonders if Ms. Muse knows that, then mentally slaps himself. Of course she does. She's Dream's goddamn fiancee.

And more to the point, she would know Dream better than him, being in the same social class. They probably attended the same rich people parties all the time since they were kids.

Hob should just get this over with and leave. He still has more than three dozen calls he has to make before the end of the day, and an appearance to make at one of the junior wedding planners' small wedding receptions, to make sure that everything goes well, and to serve as back-up in case something goes wrong.

It's barely midday and he's already so fucking tired.

He takes out a stack of bridal magazines, since Ms. Muse expressed in her email that she prefers to flip through magazines rather than browse pinterest boards. Hob went the extra mile and got a couple of good vintage issues as well, in case she prefers the style of older gowns.

"Here," he says, and slides the stack towards the middle of the glass-topped wicker table between them. "Please feel free to browse and point out anything you like, even if it's just a color palette from a certain gown, the style of the lace, or the hairstyle of the model. We'll narrow down your choices later, and I will write and note down all your preferences. If you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask me."

Ms. Muse dimples at him and excitedly flips through the topmost magazine on the stack. "Thank you for doing this, Mr. Gadling," she says. "I know it's not easy, what with our mothers' extravagant ideas, but you still manage to do everything so well and so professionally. I'm glad you're our wedding planner."

"Of course," Hob says, returning her smile, but doesn't say anything more. Lord knows what would happen if he were to speak his mind and tell her that all he's thinking about lately is foisting off the Muse-Endless wedding to someone else, preferably to someone who doesn't have a romantic history with the groom-to-be.

--

Hob notices that Ms. Muse is different when her mother and Mrs. Endless are not around. She looks more at ease, and instead of holding herself up so rigidly, she was slouching a little, one elbow on the table and one leg tucked neatly underneath the other.

She has told Hob that she definitely wants to have a simple, Grecian style gown made with light fabrics, and maybe a short train. She wonders if she could have a wedding gown that ombres from white to a dark orange at the bottom, while her bridesmaids (Dream's sisters and her own), could wear sunset-colored gowns to a style of their choosing that would fit their body type well.

"Delirium would definitely want to wear something like this, but have it ombre from a dark pink at the top to white at the bottom," she says, pointing to a Cinderella-style gown.

"Is Ms. Delirium Endless your maid of honor?" Hob asks as he notes down the page where the Cinderella gown is located, as well as the title and the issue number of the magazine where Ms. Muse found it.

Ms. Muse nods absently, waiting for Hob to finish his notes before flipping the page. "We have been friends since we were toddlers. I remember getting into so much trouble when she dared me to dye my hair bright green."

Hob chuckles. "I'm sure you looked like a very beautiful forest nymph."

"That's certainly one way of looking at it," Ms. Muse says, smiling. "But now I hope to repay the favor by making Deli look like a very beautiful radish."

Hob hums and reviews his previous notes. "Seeing as all the gowns of the wedding party are to be sunset-themed, I'm sure your mothers wouldn't take issue with it, if that's something that you're worried about."

Ms. Muse sighs happily. "I'm so glad we see eye to eye, Mr. Gadling. Oh, but please don't tell anyone about the secret meaning of Deli's dress!"

Hob smiles at her, this beautiful woman with a sunny personality. No wonder Dream fell hard for her. "Your secret is safe with me, Ms. Muse."

--

They talk about colors and fabrics some more, as well as the style of wedding veil that would pair well with her wedding gown. Ms. Muse, Hob is coming to find, is a very reasonable woman, very much unlike her own mother.

He just knows that she will be a good wife to Dream.

Hob had just finished answering her question about the feasibility of long wedding veils at a beach wedding and how detailed their embroideries can be, when Dream comes out from his office space and walks up towards them.

"Dream!" Ms. Muse says cheerily. "Are you going to be joining us after all?"

Hob makes sure the lines of his body are relaxed as he writes some more detailed notes, so he has the excuse of not looking up and greeting Ms. Muse's groom-to-be.

"No," Dream says. "I'm just taking a short break to get some tea. I still have emails to reply to and a meeting to oversee."

Ms. Muse nods understandingly. They really are a good match. Were it Hob in her place, he would have pestered Dream to eat something as well, and maybe rest his eyes and mind and hands for at least ten minutes. He would have asked Dream to lie down on his lap and stroke his hair until he falls asleep, then wake him up with kisses once his low-volume alarm beeps.

No wonder Dream got tired of him.

"That's too bad," Ms. Muse says. "But no worries! I'm having fun looking through the bridal magazines Mr. Gadling brought. Maybe we could even decide on what flowers to put in the wedding bouquet today."

"Sounds wonderful," Dream says, and he does sound like he means it. Hob wishes he could excuse himself without drawing any attention. He's sure Dream wouldn't even notice or care if he disappeared, but it would be rude to Ms. Muse if he just left.

Maybe he should just leave anyway so the bride and groom could have some time for themselves. Let them unwind for a bit and openly show each other affection without an unwanted audience.

"It is," Ms. Muse says brightly. "I was nervous because the task seemed daunting, but Mr. Gadling has been super helpful. He really knows his stuff, and he listens well and is very kind."

A pause. "He is," Dream says, and there's something in his voice that sounds unsure and vulnerable and maybe even a little hopeful. Hob quickly squashes that treacherous thought. Dream is about to get married. He would do well to remember that.

"Oh, hold on," Ms. Muse says, standing up. "Let me ring someone for tea. We could all use some, anyway."

She walks away, her yellow sundress waving like a flag behind her.

Hob does not have to look at Dream to know that he is staring after her.

Hob says nothing. He has nothing to say. Not now, when he is just the help.

"Thank you for assisting Calliope," Dream tells him, when Ms. Muse has disappeared from view.

"Of course, sir," Hob tells his notes, his tone bland and professional. "It's what I'm here for, you know. Gotta be helpful somehow or I'm gonna get fired."

The last part comes out bitter, and Hob doesn't know why he thought to say that. He should have just stopped talking after the first sentence and left Dream to navigate the awkward silence alone.

"Our mothers wouldn't dare to fire you," Dream says quietly. Gently. Hob grits his teeth as subtly as he could. "You are the best in your field. They would be hard-pressed to find someone better."

"Oh, I don't know about that, Mr. Endless," Hob says airily, and this time he looks straight at Dream when he says it. Dream looks taken aback when their eyes meet. Hob wonders if he could see the pain of the last ten, fifteen years in Hob's eyes. Hob hopes he does. Hob hopes he feels every last fucking glass shard buried in Hob's heart, still bleeding to this day. "I'm sure they would immediately find someone better to replace me with."

Dream looks like Hob just slapped him.

For a moment, there is pure devastation on his beautiful face. Lips slightly parted as if feeling the need to explain, eyes wide and wet, brows furrowed in hurt.

Hob has never seen him look like this before. They had never argued badly enough in the past to the point where Dream would be brought to tears.

Hob almost stands. Almost reaches for Dream to hold him in his arms, and allow him to hide his face against his neck while Hob pets his hair softly and soothingly, shushing him and murmuring against his ear that he doesn't mean it. That he's just hurt. That the last thing he wants is to hurt Dream.

But before Hob could do anything, decide whether or not to comfort the lost love of his life, Dream's mask reforms, and between one blink and the next, he is once again the picture of neutrality. "As you say, Mr. Gadling."

Hob opens his mouth. To apologize, perhaps, or to ask Dream how long it took him to move on.

'How long before you and Ms. Muse got together after we broke up?'

'How long before I'm only just another bad memory from the past?'

'How long did you really love me?'

'Were you actually in love with me, or was I just another way for you to rebel against your parents?'

He closes his mouth and says nothing. And for a few moments, he and Dream just looked at each other, Hob cataloguing all the ways Dream is still the same, wondering if he could have maybe done something differently that would have made Dream stay with him. Or maybe their relationship has always been destined to fail. They come from different backgrounds, after all, and Hob should have known to listen to fairytales.

Princes do not end up with paupers. They end up with beautiful princesses and live their lives happily ever after.

The only indicator of Dream's tumultuous thoughts is him raising his hand and almost unconsciously fidgeting with the ruby pendant of his necklace.

As soon as Hob's eyes drop to it, though, Dream stops entirely and places his hands on his sides, like nothing happened.

They were startled out of their silent staring when the door to the side opens, and Ms. Muse comes out like she brought the sun with her, as well as a fancy metal tea tray with three cups and a kettle that would not be out of place in 18th century Versailles.

"Mrs. Jones would be by in a bit with afternoon tea snacks," Ms. Muse says, just as Hob rises from his seat to take her burden from her. "Oh, thank you, Mr. Gadling. See how kind he is, Dream?"

"I have to return to my work," Dream says, and plucks the black teacup and its accompanying saucer right out of the tray that Hob is still holding.

Like Hob is just another goddamn servant employed by the Endless.

Then again, Hob thinks sardonically, that's exactly what he is, isn't he?

It's actually so nice to finally see that this is how Dream really sees him. Now Hob won't have to guess just what he is to him. What he always was.

Ms. Muse shrugs. "Sure. But don't work too hard, okay? Death will have my head if she finds out you're not taking proper breaks."

Dream visibly softens at the mention of his favorite sister. "Of course. I will see you later, Calliope." A colder glance at Hob. "Mr. Gadling."

Hob fights the urge not to bow mockingly. He settles for his default professional mode. Dream has just shown him where his proper place is, and Hob would do well to stay in it. "Mr. Endless."

Without another word, or indeed, another glance at Hob, Dream turns and walks away.

[k0r3s-smu1]

𝐌𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐨 𝐬𝐟𝐰 𝐚𝐥𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐭

Part 1

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

I don’t think he’d actually talk about his past unless you asked him about it.

If you two had just recently started dating, I see him hesitant to tell you.

But if you two have been going out for a while, then he’ll tell you everything.

As for other things, he might mention stuff about himself randomly, but if you want to know something, just ask him, he’ll tell you.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Sometimes he’s passive aggressive with other people, but he has more patience with you.

Still, stupid behavior will irritate him. Especially if it’s in a dangerous situation and you’re supposed to be high ranking.

He loves you but don’t be a dumbass in battle🥰

But in other things, he has more patience. Even if you’re trying to anger him it’ll take a bit of work.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He definitely remembers more about you than any information anyone else gives about themselves.

But he’s still very forgetful. I’m sure you knew that though when you started dating him,

So don’t get mad or disappointed when he fails to remember certain details about you.

Seeing you saddened about this does make him feel bad though, so he started journaling things about you to use as reference. “What was y/n's favorite flower again..?” checks journal “ah, (f/f).”

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

You two were fighting in the Muzan battle together. You were both on the verge of death,

And teamed up, back to back. You told you him you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him… here, and in the afterlife as well. You two would go down together.

It was a beautiful confession of love, even if you were already dating him.

With renewed strength, you two fought the hardest you ever had. And survived. 

There was nothing quite like that smile of triumph you gave each other.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Protective as hell. This man won’t let any harm come to you.

You don’t have to worry when you’re with him, in public, on missions, at home. You’re always safe. The lives of other people should take priority as a demon slayer, not his girlfriend.

It goes against what he believes, but it’s such a hard choice, and ultimately it's you.

He’ll feel bad afterwards, but he needs you. He hates seeing you hurt in any way.

how could he save some random person over the one he loves the most?

He doesn’t want to be protected. He doesn’t think he needs to be. He’s strong, he’s capable, he’s gone through and seen a bunch of shit, don’t worry about him.

Just hold him in your arms, kiss him and tell him you won’t ever leave. That’s all the security he needs.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, and everyday tasks?)

Not much effort, I admit… He’s very laid back, and as I described before, dates with him aren’t extravagant or overly romantic. It’s sweet and relaxing, taking comfort in each other's presence. 

It’s not too uncommon for him to bring you gifts; he’ll see something cute, think of you and buy it. This is spontaneous, he never really has thoughts like “Today, I’m going to buy something nice for y/n”. He enjoys cooking, cleaning, and doing tasks in general alongside you. He does want to help you, and he wants to be near you, so it's perfect. But anniversaries? Unless you mention it, I don’t think he’d realize it came up. And that goes for other special occasions as well, like your birthday.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Probably the fact he sometimes zones out during important conversations. 

You have to snap him out of it.

He might also zone out while you’re lecturing him about something, which is really irritating.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Not at all. He barely thinks about things like that. He has more important stuff to worry about.

He knows his time is valuable, while he’s concerned about his appearance, lives are been lost. It’s a waste of time.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

There’s just something missing.

His life was brightened when you came into it, without you?

It’s just not the same. It’s dark again. It’s serious and gloomy and he’s missing all the new feelings you ignited in him. He misses your touch and your voice and your smile and laughter, he misses the warmness in his chest as you cradle him, now it's empty again.

Of course he feels incomplete without you.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them)

He can play the flute well if you ask him to. It’s relaxing and puts you to sleep.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Being happy and energetic is fine, but just don’t be super loud. He doesn’t like noisy people.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

Sometimes you can hear him mumbling in his sleep. 

It’s really soft so most of the time it's incoherent. 

Also, his grip on you tends to be loose at first until you move, then it gets really firm.

so you have to wake him up for whatever reason.

What are your thoughts?