#so here’s some angst and fluff

[baldursgate3tempobsessed]

Okay so thought would Astarion just be uber happy if tav is just clinging to him and is like let me stay here where it is safe for just a little longer pleaseee

I think I'm feeling the energy. And it's an actual drabble instead of a novel! Cw: In-game references, spoilers, but this is just some fluffy fluff fluff.

~

When Astarion made the decision to seduce you, it had been based in cold rationality. In the short time he had known you, you had proven to be intelligent, capable, attractive enough for sex to not feel like a total burden, and extremely hard to kill. Using a falsified relationship to wrap you around his finger was the easy choice for survival. And it did work, with varying results.

Because you provided many, many complications. Like the unfortunate reality that Astarion quickly had grown sincerely fond of you. Not only were you impressively competent, you were fun. Hilariously bitchy in a way that never failed to make him laugh. But you were still kind, kind in a meaningful way that Astarion was simply not used to.

It had felt like a shock when you were so adamant about his right to be his own person. When you didn't make him bite that drow cretin he was struck with the realization that you actually cared about him. What that thing had been offering in return would no doubt have been useful to your journey, but you didn't even give it a second thought. And Astarion wouldn't soon forget how you saying, "He said no," with so much conviction had sent a shiver up his spine.

Perhaps the whole event sent him into a tailspin that ended with him admitting his, in-hindsight, horrible plan, but it had been worth it in the end. Gods knows why, but you didn't abandon him when he revealed the truth. You just listened. You listened and opened up your mind for him to see just how much you cared for him. A care he perhaps didn't deserve, but one he would take. Even if he had no idea what the two of you were doing anymore.

But he did know that something shifted in your relationship after that, the birth of a new kind of trust. Apparently, Astarion hadn't been the only one holding back.

Because seemingly overnight, you got a lot more touchy. A facet of yourself that he really had not seen coming. Not sexually, no. You had been nothing but a dream when it came to understanding the hang-ups he had with that particular topic. But you did suddenly decide that you loved holding hands. You loved hugging him, for no reason at all. The two of you went from the occasional night together before parting ways to simply sharing a tent. And gods were you a cuddler. Every morning he would wake up with you wrapped around him, peaceful and at ease as you slept in his arms.

And... it was nice. Really, really nice. Astarion had always assumed that he would loathe being with someone who was so tactile. But it turned out when every little touch wasn't leading to mediocre and/or horrifying sex they were actually quite enjoyable. It felt good to have you so close, to know that you felt safe and comfortable with him of all people. Nice enough for Astarion to slowly get addicted to it. He wasn't quite sure when his favorite past time became reading while you laid on top of him, but he knew it claimed to top spot with startlingly speed.

Even now, with Cazador still looming, the tadpoles still squirming behind your eyes, worries and responsibilities abound, Astarion felt completely at peace. He was laying flat on his back on his bed roll, a book in one hand and the other carefully petting your hair as you dozed off; your body completely draped over him. He'd have to wake you sooner than later. Baldur's Gate was only a day's journey away now, and if you wanted to make it there before nightfall then everyone would have to get moving. He could already hear the sound of the others shuffling about.

He snapped his book shut, setting it to the side before he gently shook you, "It's time to rise and shine darling, Baldur's Gate won't be saving itself."

You mumbled as you buried your face into his chest, your words slurred, "Don't wanna. Too early."

That was another change with this newfound phase of trust. Astarion had become the only person who knew your little secret of not being a morning person. In the first few moments of wakefulness, you were at your clingiest, your whiniest, surprisingly your most honest, and arguably your most adorable state of the day. A fact that you actively hid from the rest of the group out of sheer embarrassment, but Astarion thought it was cute.

Not to mention that it made him feel special, oddly enough. That he was the only one who was allowed to see you like this; who could take care of you like this.

Astarion laughed at your response, "Tell that to the sun sweetheart. It's high-time we got going."

Despite his own words, he wasn't really doing much to move the process along. If anything he was hindering it when he wrapped his arms around you, only helping to make you more comfortable instead of less.

But then again, maybe he wasn't quite ready to let you go yet either.

You shook your head against him, your hands tightening on the fabric of his shirt, "Le'mme stay, just a little longer."

"That's easy for you to say when you're not the one to get Lae'zel's wrath," Astarion lightly argued, still making no moves to actually hurry this process along. But it was true, Lae'zel always blamed your lateness on him, her favoritism towards you blatantly obvious. The bitch. But at least she was a bitch with good taste, "I would prefer not to be murdered by a gith for being tardy."

But you were already back to being half-asleep, your internal filter completely disintegrated as you mumbled, "Feels safe here, with you. Don't wanna let it go yet. Please?"

Gods, how the in the nine hells was Astarion supposed to say no to that? He didn't. Instead the grip he had on you only tightened, the happy little sigh you let out at the movement striking him straight through the heart. He felt so... happy in that moment, through nothing more than the simplicity of holding you. Because you trusted him. You felt safe with him, which might as well have been a love confession in Astarion's world. It felt so good to have this, an intimacy that he'd been denied for centuries.

Astarion settled back, letting his own eyes close as he smiled. The others would get the two of you eventually, but until then he wasn't going anywhere. No, the two of you would be staying right here.

[teddybeartoji]

彡 A MASSIVE PILE OF GUILT

☆. contains: tooru oikawa x gn!reader; this is called angst i think (with comfort), reader plays volleyball and oikawa comforts them after they lost a match, reader talks badly about themselves:( i'm sorry, they swear they're just really really good friends but they're also just fucking stupid wc: 4k

in the blink of an eye the loud screams and cheers transform into a disgusting mix of muffled noises in your ears. the lights are too bright and you feel like you're stuck to the ground; stuck under hundreds pairs of eyes. you can't move, you can't breathe. your arm stings, a painfully clear reminder of your fuckup.

you should've had it, you saw it coming, you had a plan and yet - here you are, watching the colorfol ball hit the wall of the big arena with a quiet thud!. your eye twitches, locked onto the missed oppurtunity in a form a sphere sit metres away from you and your teammates.

because of you.

like a statue; turned into stone, you stand in your awkward position, unable to comprehend that it's over. that it's really over. it feels like everybody is looking at you, cursing you in their own heads. is this what drowning feels like? even if you could open your mouth to try and save yourself with a big breath of air, the stifling stench of losing would surely just make you choke harder.

a palm slaps onto your shoulder and you don't have to look at the person to know who it is – a dejected captain trying to pick up their loved teammates. you can't look at them; how could you? they're trying to cheer you up while you're the sole reason you lost in the first place. they give you a squeeze, a silent plea for you to snap out of it and you comply, not wanting to humiliate them any more.

you did well!

an arm around your shoulder, you're being dragged away from the court and you taste blood – the result of biting into the soft skin of your inner cheek in order to surpress a cry. the lights are too bright and you just want out.

after the handshakes and the formalities are done, your coach gives you all a pep talk. not that it helps but what else is there to say right now. you eat in almost complete silence; the only sounds in your ears being the chewing and the crying.

you've yet to do that. your lip wobbles and your eyes are red but so far, no tears. but you know you will – it'll be the only thing you'll be doing after you've locked yourself away into your room.

good game!

you feel sick. the food in your mouth is starting to taste like vomit and the water isn't helping either. still, you refuse to stop. refuse to raise your eyes from your table to ask whether you can leave. you will sit there as long as the others do and you won't complain. you will eat the food just like the others do and you won't complain. you don't get to do that.

the hugs feel just as suffocating as the eyes. you've never felt this bad in your whole entire life. you feel bad for thinking that the hugs feel suffocating – they're literally trying to comfort you and you're blatantly refusing it. stupid. stupid. stupid.

everyone has their own things they do after a loss. some like to be alone, some like to go for a run, some like to beat the fuck out of a punch bag and some like to do watch a comedy film with their teammates. it's silly; none of them laugh during it anyway. but it helps. you know it does because you've done it with them – not this time though. and they don't pressure you; they're not stupid, they understand how it feels. you need a moment and they will give it to you.

your captain does sit you down for a second before letting you go though, calmly telling you how it wasn't your fault and how you'll get it next time. and it sucks. it sucks that you don't hear it... it sucks that nothing will make this feeling go away. you know it and your captain knows it.

their warm hand resting on your back does soothe the shivers that have been tormenting you ever since you lost the ball. and for the first time since that moment, you crane your neck, raising your heavy head to meet their eyes and now you do feel like crying. the sadness is there, but so is the same warmth, the same adoration one has for their loved ones. nobody is upset with you, nobody blames you. their hand rises from your back and goes up to ruffle your hair as you let your head fall against their chest. "you're okay."

they hold you close as your tears soak their shirt. you hear a loud sigh and you know they're holding back theirs. the shivers are back and you hiccup out a broken i'm sorry, which makes the captain pull away immediately and grab your shoulders.

"don't. it wasn't your fault. it wasn't. you can cry as much as you want but that? you're not allowed to do that." there's a certain determination in their glassy eyes and you have no other choice but to weakly nod your head before letting it fall again.

"by the way, i saw you not eat properly, so i'm keeping an extra eye on you tomorrow morning, okay?" they poke your cheek and you're thankful. "i'm gonna watch the movie with the others but i'm keeping my phone close by, so if you want company at any time, just let me know."

you raise your head back up, desperate to show your appreciation for them and nod again, cracking the world's smallest and saddest smile and they ruffle your hair again before standing up. "you're okay."

they close the door behind them and you take a minute to compose yourself. you can't seem to stop your hands from shaking though and it makes you angry. your now empty room is too quiet and your own reflection in the window is taunting you with an ugly expression. is that really how you look like right now?

you don't wanna know and you don't want to keep looking at it either. so you grab your hoodie and your wallet and make your way to the lobby of the hotel. maybe the reflection in the vending machine won't be so mean.

and it isn't. it's not mean at all. it's the exact opposite actually. from the fact that it's staring at you with rather soft eyes to the fact that it's not your own reflection.

"good game, right?" you scare yourself with your own voice – already so harsh and raspy. it comes out mean and you wince. you tear your eyes from his, focusing on the sweet drink that's locked behind the glass instead.

oikawa is never this quiet and it makes you want to hit him. make a joke. just do it. just do it already. but he doesn't. his steps are quiet as he goes to lean on the vending machine. he's nothing if not observant; he sees your shaky hands pressing the buttons with so much effort; how the lips that are usually pulled into a beautiful grin he loves so much are now wobbling, ready to spill all of your sorrows. your clenched jaw as you try to avoid his gaze for whatever reason.

please, look at me.

the vending machine dings as the mechanics push your drink to you. his eyes are unforgiving and you know he means well. you know he's not gonna make fun of you, he's not gonna tease you – not now. but you still feel ashamed, whether he says the joke or not; the joke has already been made and it's right here, standing in front of a stupid pink vending machine.

your head shakes on it's own, casting shame on yourself on it's own. the drink falls with a loud thud! but before you can kneel down to get it, a hand on your wrist stops you.

his hand is so warm and it's unusual, considering he tends to be cold almost always. he doesn't push you and let's you take a deep breath before you raise your eyes to his.

if his heart wasn't shattered before, it sure is now. your eyes are red and glassy, but mostly tired, so tired. there's no glint in them, dull and sad. his hand slips from your wrist to your palm, intertwining his fingers with yours. "you did well."

your head falls back as you choke out a broken laugh. "oh, fuck off. i don't wanna fucking hear that. it makes me sick." staring at the ceiling, you shake your head again as if to rid of the words from your mind.

oikawa feels useless. he's been in your situation and yet, he can't think of anything good to say. he remembers how much he hated whenever people said that to him after their loss to karosuno. he tries to swallow the lump in his throat; everything he comes up with just makes him feel even more sick. he wants to cry because he doesn't know how to comfort you. how to make it all better.

"do you want me to stay with you?"

that's the best he can come up with. maybe just his presence will be enough when his words clearly aren't. but when you shake your head again, his heart sinks.

"that's alright. let's uh– ... tomorrow, yeah?" bringing your eyes down from the ceiling, you try to give him a reassuring smile that says i'm fine but it obviously doesn't work. you see the hurt in his eyes and you just feel bad. you feel bad for everything. you're upsetting people even off the court. you just can't help it can you?

"i'm good. i just need to be alone right now." you try again, squeezing his hand. his mouth opens but another voice cuts him off.

"oikawa!"

from around the corners emerges an angry looking iwaizumi. "here you fucking are. coach said it's bed time—"

when his eyes travel from his troublesome best friend over to yours, he swallows his words in an instant. you see the remorse wash over his face and you kind of want to laugh. it's all too funny in a fucked up way. "sorry for interrupting. hey, that was a really goo—"

good game!

he stops himself. fuck. what do you say in this situation?

"good game, i know. maybe next time it'll be a great one, hm?" the bitterness just oozes out of you without your consent, making iwaizumi wince. you feel bad.

pulling your hand from oikawa's, you kneel down to finally grab your nearly forgotten drink. "it's okay, really. i know what you mean."

another weak smile. a pathetic one. "see you at breakfast, yeah?"

oikawa shoving iwaizumi is the last thing you see as you're making your way back to your room. your hands still haven't stopped shaking and opening the door is so fucking hard. the key card slips from between your fingers—

breathe... in...

and out...

you kneel down and pick it up in slow motion as you're tunnel visioning on just getting inside the room. you hear the click! and you burst in, slamming the door shut. the ugly reflection is back and it's laughing at you and you can't do it anymore. your knees buckle from under you, hitting the soft carpeted floor as you weep. hunched over, you just look like a big pile of guilt.

clutching at your heart through your shirt, you cry and you cry, taking in raggedy breaths just to let out pathetic little sounds. everything hurts – your knees, your arms, your head, your eyes, your fingers, your legs, your inner cheek. you pretty much crawl to the bathroom, grabbing a handful of tissues before plopping right back down onto the floor. your nose hurts, too.

for almost an hour – you don't move from your spot, rooted and rotting into the carpet. it's pathetic. you think about how the others are watching the movie, shedding tears quietly but together, nonetheless. sick of your own actions, you push yourself up and change your clothes. you even manage to drink some water and wash your face in this half-alive state of being. a+ for effort, huh?

you bury yourself under the blanket, wishing the bed would swallow you whole instead. the tears have returned and you feel the pillow getting wetter and wetter by the second. you don't have it in you to grab another tissue though, letting the feeling of the soaked material remind you of your fuckup.

a floor and a few rooms away, oikawa can't stop pacing around. "but they said they didn't want me to go with them...."

"have you ever considered that people lie, idiot?" a tired iwaizumi replies from underneath his blanket on the bed. "especially in a situation like this. it's not like you were any better, you know."

oikawa just glares at him, although it's very hard for iwaizumi to take him seriously when he's wearing his matching plaid pj set. "but what if they get upset that i didn't listen to them?"

"but don't you wanna go and comfort them?" iwaizumi questions harshly. "don't you wanna be there for them? is your fear of overstepping more important than their well-being right now?"

oikawa thinks of your tired, sad eyes and his fingers twitch. "no."

"obviously, dick. go on, then. you have to be back for breakfast though or i'll punch you." iwaizumi states before turning away from his friend and disappearing completely under the blanket.

"you're so mean, iwa... can you not threathen to punch me every two seconds? i'm trying to be so good." oikawa mutters with a pout, grabbing his phone and his hoodie, ready to be your knight in shining armor. knight in plaid pyjamas more like.

"just go already." his friend grumbles and oikawa gifts him a small bye-bye as he's already halfway out the door. the next thing he knows, he's sprinting through the hallways, thanking himself in his head for making you tell him your room number the second he saw you this morning. he doesn't even take the elevator, instead taking triple steps up the stairs. he's also thanking himself for becoming an athlete.

knock! knock! knock!

dismissing that as just a noise from the room next door, you continue your sniffling but when the knocks repeat in a faster manner, you figure one of your teammates had forgotten their key card. so, ever so slowly you push yourself from the comfort of your bed and head over to the door while trying to wipe the tears from your eyes as to look at least a little bit more composed. you're even ready to crack a joke about them losing the card, desperate to disctract the person behind the door from yourself.

but it's not any of your teammates, nor is it your manager of your coach.

it's your oikawa instead – eyes wide open and slightly panting. "you said you don't want me here but i– fuck, how many steps can be between one floor..." he clutches his hand over his chest, the stupid comment slipping out all on its own.

for a millisecond, for a fraction of time, the corners of your lips turn upward but they fall just as fast back down, leaving you both just standing there, staring at each other.

your eyes look way worse now; way more red, way more tired, way more sad, way more dull than a mere hour ago. he should've come here sooner and he imagines iwaizumi slapping the back of his head for his mistake.

"you said you wanna be alone but i don't care."

his blunt statement catches you a little off-guard, your eyebrows furrowing but oikawa just takes it as a green light. if you didn't want him there, surely you'd tell him that right away but you've been standing here with him for a almost half a minute and nothing.

he takes a step, closing the distance between the two of you. he pushes his glasses up on his nose and fiddles with his own fingers and it's weird again. he's nervous. but this isn't about him – it's about you. whatever he's feeling right now is nothing compared to what you're feeling and he just wants to be here for you.

for a second time today, he watches your bottom lip wobble and your chest rise as you take short sharp breaths. and for a second time today, a pair of eyes feel actually comforting. he's not trying to burn you, he's not trying to take back time and alter your actions. he's merely observing instead of dissecting. he's ready to catch you when you fall.

and you do. it's hard not to when he's standing in front of you and looking at you so fondly. your head falls against his strong chest, hands tucked between your bodies as his firmly wrap around you. he takes another step inside and closes the door behind him with his foot.

he listens to you cry into him, he feels your tears on his shirt and through it, on his skin. your hands grasp onto the material, bunching it up in your fists and he just holds you tighter against him.

"you're gonna win next time, i promise" he murmurs.

but when you just sob out a but i wanted to win this time, his heart aches so bad he thinks he's going to die.

oikawa curses at himself for walking right into that one and this time he swears he feels iwaizumi slap the back of his head for real. but he has no time to pity his poor choice of words when he feels your hands clutching at him just where his heart is.

he whispers a quiet i know and you sniffle again. he starts drawing soothing circles onto your back with his palm and he feels so warm. releasing his shirt from your hold, you snake your hands around his body instead, burrowing your face even more into his chest and you faintly hear him coo. it's the first time ever that he's done it in a genuine way and it's the first time you haven't felt the need to punch him for it.

his hand rests on the back of your head, keeping you in your place as he gently sways the both of you from side to side. "i got you."

after some time, he feels you going slack against him and decides to guide you to the bed. he climbs in with you and safely tucks you into the crook of his neck and lets you cry some more as he whispers it's okay against your temple. he just hopes that he's actually helping, that his words actually have an effect. god, he hopes he's making it at least a bit better for you.

he is. he's doing more than he could ever imagine. the thick goo of guilt and shame seems to be draining out of you when you feel his lips brush against your skin. he just might be washing the it off of you with his quiet praise. his words don't sound condescending nor do they sound fake. he means it when he says that you really did do well.

the tears have dried by now and oikawa can feel your eyelashes fluttering against his neck. the long tiring day is finally catching up to you as your breathing slows. he rests his head on top of yours and presses your body indifinitely closer to his. the tips of his fingers dance across your skin, drawing little circles and hearts as he soaks in the sight of you relaxing against him under the moonlight.

"did..."

your meek voice makes him crane his neck back so he can look at you better, ready to hear out whatever complaint you have, ready to comply to whatever request you have.

"did iwaizumi send you?"

...

"WHAT?" it comes out way louder and in a way higher pitch than he'd intended it to. he immediately clears his throat but his eyebrows are still furrowed. "i wanted to come here, why would you say that..."

he still can't see your face clearly from this angle but the way your body moves, is telling him that this isn't you crying anymore. this is you laughing.

"are you– are you fucking laughing at me right now?" he questions, trying to pry you from his neck to confirm his suspicion. and he's fucking right. when you finally unlatch yourself from his body and roll onto your back, you have the tiniest, smallest smile on your lips and oikawa's mouth falls slack. "i wanted to come! i– i'm a good friend!"

it shouldn't be this funny. it really shouldn't because he is a good friend, isn't he? he's here now, holding you, comforting you; he came to you and you're now making fun of him. but you can't help it, the thought of iwaizumi "lecturing" him is silly in this moment. not that you doubt that he came here only because of that, of course. but knowing him, you just think he probably needed a push to actually do it.

oikawa holds himself up above you, observing the small freckles that adorn your face. your eyes are still red and still tired but... the small little glint is back. the same one that's always there when you make fun of him. or when you laugh.

"i literally ran here and this is how you treat me?"

"you're telling me it took you an hour to run up the stairs? i thought you were a volleyball player, shouldn't your stamina be better–" you poke at his chest (right where his heart is) and he lets out a very loud and a very dramatic gasp. "or did your boyfriend have to convince you to come over and console me?"

oikawa's lips tilt into a smirk, happy to hear you barking at him at last. "first of all, don't ever call him my boyfriend ever again–" he situates himself next to you, so his both hands are free. you should've seen this coming, too. "and second of all, you really oughta treat me better."

before you can taunt him with a good old "or what?", his hands are tickling your sides, fingers dancing along your skin as laughter bubbles up from your throat. you try to fight him off, hands clutching onto his in order to stop his torment but to no avail.

"i am... trying... to be.... a good... friend... and this is... what i get... huh..." he rasps as he continues soaking in the sound of your laughter.

"you're.... always... in it for something... that's not... a... real friend... tooru..." you breathe back with a grin and he stops. he doesn't take his hands off of you though, just resting them on your waist.

"you're spending way too much time with iwaizumi, you're both just so mean to me." he's pouting. oikawa is sitting back on his legs and he's actually pouting.

"am i gonna have to console you now?"

"yes." he deadpans.

...

you push yourself up onto your elbow and lean up to boop his nose. "you're stupid."

"no, you're stupid." he grins back.

he has his ways of getting you out of a slump, he always has. him sitting here on your tiny little bed, pouting and laughing is only merely of them. you couldn't wish for a better friend. his hands feel so warm on you and you're so grateful. sitting up, you slap your hands on his shoulders (which of course, makes him wince in a very over the top way). "thanks for coming, tooru."

he rolls his eyes. "pffft."

...

pfft?

"excuse me?" you glare at him and he decides that you and iwaizumi can never hang out ever again.

"i– i meant– yeah, of course. anything for you." he stutters out as you keep glaring at him. he then leans in closer, so much so that your noses are almost touching. "i'm really proud of you, you know."

heat crawls up from your neck and you feel the tips of your ears warm up, overwhelmed by the sudden genuine praise. but you can't let him have the upper hand. not now, not ever. he'll never let you live it down.

"your breath stinks, you know."

his eyes close with another incredibly dramatic sigh as he rests his forehead against yours but while doing so, he takes notice of your hot skin and the way you giggle, and translates it into your language –

thank you.

[c7arisse]

Hello your art is so beautiful wwww I love your coloring!! Could I pls request some more ReoNagi bc I'm on a bllk downward spiral and got too attached to Disaster Purple Simp™️ n am suffering from lack of content ;;w;;

thank you so much anon!! i am also suffering from lack of content in this fandom so i create the content for myself lol :')

[moviekidd826]

author's note: english is not my first language, so I'm really sorry. I was really worried to post this fanfic, so I hope there will be some people who will enjoy it. I usually go for darker stuff, so be warned.

tags and trigger warnings: secret relationship with f! reader, smut (+18), dom!Noah, unprotected and rough sex, fingering and oral f! receiving, Noah praise?, fluff (Noah just being silly one because he is in love), angst, annoying side character?, violence, blood, anxiety, death(?). [let me know if i need to add any]

word count: +5k

None here knows that he was looking at you.  You, the girl in the lounge on the second floor, pressing plastic card with VIP written on it into your hand, just moving your body a little, like smooth breeze made you do it. With few friends who doesn't know it either. None knows it. Noah's scream filled small venue. They wanted something intimate, just few hundred people. Your smile was so wide, Noah was enjoying this concert and you were able to tell it from his body language. Sweat was dripping from his forehead and those dark brown eyes went up, searching upper floor. He was looking for you, just a little glimpse but you knew it was for you. You were his girlfriend and none here knew that. Just you and him.

Few months back you bumped into Noah while waiting in cue for the concert, of course all girls around started to freak out but even then his eyes were only glued to you. No words were said then. It was just imagination, that's what you thought, but Noah's eyes managed to find you  during the concert too. It's not really happening,  mind didn't let you believe it. While he was ruling whole crowd, seemed that people around disappeared and whole experience was hypnotizing. When show ended, he jumped off the stage. Just thanking everyone who came, some high fives, some handshakes, just smiles. He reached to take your hand through people , nice gesture, you thought then. But you felt it in your arms, tiny paper he gave through few seconds of touch . Can't be a setlist, too small. Just numbers. His number. You looked around, hoped that none saw that. Your eyes caught him leaving and that half smile hit right to the gut. No way it was real. Same sentence was spinning in your head. No way.

Of course after the show you decided to take longer trip home. Rolling digits on your palm. Unfolded, folded back to little tube. Okey, you had to check. You just wrote one word with question mark (Noah?). He didn't respond for few hours. Managed to go home and even remove all the makeup. It was like 3Am when your phone buzzed. (This was very dumb, I never do that). Eyes got wider from those few words . Just small white screen made the dark room light up. ( Probably you would leak my phone number or something, but), other message just appeared right after first one. You started to write back, that you wouldn't do it, but he was faster (I might sound so cheesy right now, but you're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen). Heart stopped. "- No, that..." You whispered to yourself, like someone would actually be able to hear you.  He made you blush even though he was not in the room with you. Speechless, just wanted to pinch yourself at this point. You saw "writing" bubble go up and disappear, there he goes again and vanished again. You had to write something back. ( It's not cheesy, Noah. I'm flattered), you wrote back and  hit your forehead with palm of your hand. Felt stupid writing it, wanted to say to him much more, but also, how not to sound like a crazy fan? (If we passed that, I would like to invite you to tomorrow's show and maybe you would have time to hangout after that?). You sat on your bed reading that message again. You were suppose to go to your friends party tomorrow but how could you pass this? And that important decision made the rest just history. Everything after that was just unstoppable rollercoaster.

You have waited for an hour, maybe more. Back pressed against the wall. Noah texted  that he will be out in few minutes. You checked everything around, valley was empty. Decided to keep it a secret , none should know. Of course, you thought that he already told Nicholas for sure, but he insisted that none knows, after that he always smirked, he definitely told him. Cold hands wrapped around your waist, you jumped out of surprise, but his arms were already around you , "- Damn, Noah, don't do that.." You wanted to tell it louder but it came out as a whisper. Noah just shrugged. His finger running up under your hoodie, pressing palms on your lower back, like his finger tips could draw a map on your skin, like he needed directions, little streets which would lead up or down.  He tried to lean in, but you placed hands on his chest, trying to push him away, "Someone can see us", Your eyes were glued to busy street , looking through his shoulders. "Everyone left already, don't worry about it," his voice was so smooth, he could tell you anything and you would believe him but now you had to be careful. "Noah, come on," You tried to push him but he was much stronger, two steps closer and his whole body was pressed against you.

He was trying to catch your gaze, while smiling. Those hair got longer and now eyes were hiding behind them. His lips were able to catch yours. Warm, wet and hungry. Cold palms was absorbing your body heat. You gave in. Arms got around his neck and muscles relaxed. His tongue slipped into your mouth. Can't never get bored of that. Hands were running on your skin. Hot breath filled your lungs every time he leaned back a little, just to keep few centimeters(inches) from your lips. His breath got a bit faster and you could feel pressure getting stronger. "- We should go.. " You said under breath. Noah clicked his tongue and he took a step back. "You're right," Noah smiled, though you could see that he wanted more. Noah put on his black face mask and hoodie's  hood on, covering his messy hair. For now you can breath when his body is no longer making you melt. Now his palms were warm and both of your fingers crossed with each others. Holding his hand became so natural.

You also wore mask, usually Noah wore his band merch but around you, something that wouldn't catch anyone's eyes, like right now, just plain black hoodie and black jeans. None looked back while you walked the hall together. Hotel room just for you two. He opened the door and let you in first. "Today's show was great" You said smiling when you walked into the room and turned around, placing your mask on the coffee table. Noah was standing with his back pressed at the door, already took his face cover off. You know that he didn't hear what you said, something else was already in his mind. "I want you" He said deeply, like the sensation were burning whole time you were walking back.

You opened your mouth to say something but he was faster with his actions, like always. Just few steps and he was standing right in front of you. You  lifted your chin up to look at him. His fingers softly touched your cheek, slowly going down. Fingers tips on your neck skin made your body shiver. "I-" you eyes closed just to say that you want him too "No, don't speak, " His voice brushed your face like warm summer wind. Both his hands griped the end of your hoodie and lifted it. Your hair got all electrified from the material brushing against them. You smiled and Noah caressed them back to the spot, right after that placing his hands on your checks and jawline. Lips pressed against yours. Even though now you were standing with bra, you didn't feel exposed, you never felt that way with him. His tongue slippery and all the movements making you want more and he knows, he always does. He leaned back quickly and you wanted to unbutton his jeans, but he stopped you, "No, take your skirt off first," He said out of breath looking down on you. Your lipstick were smeared off and you saw dark red shade on Noah's lips.

You quickly took zipper in your grip, "-Slowly," Noah said while breathing out the air which was trapped inside his lungs. You looked up to him and your black long nails slowly unzipped the skirt, it dropped on the ground. Just a fabric. Like dark puddle beneath both of you.  Fishnet stockings seemingly fit with black underwear. Noah was looking at you like he never saw you like that before, though it would happen almost every day and that made you smile proudly. Though that it would change in time but it didn't. You walked few steps back not looking and sat on the bed. Dropping your shoes right near his feet. Looking at him through eyelashes. He took his hoodie off, leaving himself with black tank top. With two fingers he unbuttoned his jeans but didn't took them off. His eyes got darker, seemed that you could have heard his breathing from afar.

Just few steps closer and your finger caught his necklace, so you pulled him into a kiss. One of his palm rested on mattress near your thighs, while other hand got tangled in your hair. His teeth caught your lower lip for a second and released it right after. Your hand lost his silver chain and you laid your back on the bed, spreading tights from each other. Biting your own lip a bit. Noah tilted his head to the side. He took his shirt off, revealing all those tattoos you never get sick off. Your nails ran through his  arm , which was still pressed near your thigh. But then he stepped back, so he could take off his jeans. You wanted to do the same with your stockings, 'No," He stopped your just with his words. You left your hands on your stomach. Now he was only with underwear and you could see the change. He pressed his body weight on you. Arm firmly gripped your legs, pressing them closer to his side, it was a sign for you, so you wrapped both of them around Noah's waist.  He kissed your skin between the breasts and aggressively pulled bra strap off, right after that he pull all of it off down revealing your naked upper body.

His tongue found his way around your nipple, while his stomach was pressed against yours, you felt him getting harder  between your legs, twitch which was screaming he is already ready, just as you were. His lips sucked your breast,  griping other one between his fingers. Will definitely leave marks.  You let out little moan and he pressed his hand from your tight onto your mouth. You looked to him and he meet your eyes. That gaze. He was up to no good. Noah put his two finger in his mouth and right after that stuck them into your underwear, which was surprisingly still there. He found his way in fast. You felt tension from his action, his fingers open you up. Moving slowly inside you. You were already wet. Making you arch your back a little, to show him that you want him deeper. Actually him. He let go off your mouth, wanted to hear those short breaths. You moved your head to side, his tattooed hand made you look back, " Don't look away", he said while leaning back, fingers got out off you and that made you tremble.

His finger tips grabbed your fishnets and underwear together, pulled both of them off.  Throwed them somewhere behind his back. Your bra was still on you, though your breast was revealed and nipples were already showing him that you want it all. You lifted your head from mattress to see him bent, knees on the floor and head between your thighs. Lips gently pressing against that thin skin. Your toes already twisting. You brushed your fingers through his hair and right after he slipped his tongue inside you, making you grip them tighter.  "Noah.." Just his name with long pleasing muttering sound after that. You know that he likes when you say his name.  His tongue going between you. Licking you like there is no tomorrow left, like he was too thirsty and you were his glass of water. Slowly but surely. He pressed his head below your stomach just to say " You taste so good," he said muffled, he was still close to your pussy, you felt those words brush against all that wetness. You looked at him all the time, tension in the neck was no problem, you did as he wanted you - you were looking at him. Those dark eyes , drunk in passion.

You could've swear he ripped your bra off, unhappy look to him that he stopped twisting his tongue inside you. The last piece of clothing you had on yourself just went away. Your nails caught corner of his underwear, you just wanted to take them off at this point. And he let you. Both your hands took his black underwear off revealing his hard dick. You wanted him inside now, wanted to show him that, lifted your pelvis just a little from the bed, so he could see, feel it close to him. While one of the hands rubbed him just a little. Noah closed his eyes just for a second, opening mouth. Giving in to your hands, firm strokes was like intro, you knew he will come for the chorus.  Just like that, his body was on you. You didn't even see how he handled the underwear of his which was just a second ago still stuck on his legs, because now you felt just his skin on yours. Him between your legs.

You let out a moan when you felt him go into you. Slowly, making you feel the length penetrating you. You felt his eyes on you. He wanted to see every small change in your face. His lips on your neck, while he slowly pushed himself in. Your nails dug into his back and felt how Noah's breath left his lips on your neck. Marking his back. While other hand is pressed on his ass, to show him that you want him to do what he can do best. With him inside you , you felt full. Like there was no space for anything, just him. Pressing you into the bed, making you moan with every move he makes, feeling like your insides moves with him. One of his hand pulled your hair, it stings, but just for a moment, you can feel that it makes him even harder. Twitching. You feel burning sensation bellow your stomach, legs are shivering. You open your mouth for more air, when his fingers grips your hair tighter while  feeling him go in and out of you. The sound of flesh fills up the room. He grunts while your nails goes deeper into his back. That makes him change a bit.

He slips out and pushes you on the bed on your stomach, "Bent for me," he says running his hand on your back. You look at him through your shoulder. Tighter this way, feels different when he puts his dick inside from the back. You both let out a little gasp. His takes your hair into his grip, pulls towards himself, make you look up. Other hand on your torso, pumping inside your, making sure you don't slip away. "-Fuck.." he whimpers. You moan louder, his grip gets stronger on your skin and hair. You feel burning slap on your ass, it doesn't hurt, but it should. Not now, not now when all of your body trembling. Your chest moves with his motions "- Faste-" you say with uneven notes while he is hitting the wetness. He speeds up right before you finish the sentence. You grip pillow in front of you. He let go of your hair and now both arms on your waist. Both of your breath starting to sound the same. He pressing you so close. You want him to finish, you can feel electricity going from your toes to legs, signaling that you will not gonna handle it anymore. You trying to push your ass against him, making him change his rhythm to match yours,to match what you want too.

"-I'm gonna..", he said breathing through his nose right after, it tightens even more. His moans fills up space just like yours. Fingers going into your skin. "You feel so good," he said right after he throws back his head with open mouth and closed eyes. You didn't even needed to say, he knew, you almost let out a whimper when he thrusted roughly last seconds few seconds. Pressed his lips onto your back, leaving small kisses on the skin. Pulling himself out. Your body fell fully on the bed. Breath was uneven. You still felt weight he left. You looked around and he was already cleaning himself up, "Come on, let's wash up and I'll order some food" He said while smiling , his hair got sweaty around his face and you got up. Sweaty and numb. He hugged you like he was not fucking your brains out just a minute ago.

Room service. You were sitting in his "Pearl" T-shirt on the bed and he just took food with his underwear. They left the cart in right there on that gray carpet in front. He opened metal lid and there was just some burgers, "- Oh wow Mr. Sebastian, such a great choice," you said to him mockingly and his eyebrows tilted a bit , "Shut up," he said playfully and brought two plates onto bed, crossing his legs in front of you. "I just thought of," He looked at the sheets like there was an answer to his questions, " Thought of the first day when after the show we went to McDonalds?" you asked him gently and he nodded, sometimes he was so sentimental. At first it was hard to understand what he was thinking looking at you that day and one is just see him on stage or in interviews, other thing is to actually speak with him like a real person, like someone who is actually wants to know you. For a brief second you thought he will say it, he will confess what he is feeling but then his mouth was just full of food and some ketchup got in the corner of his mouth, " You got, " your finger went up in the air , pressing it to your own face to show him where he got it on his face but he just touched the opposite site, "Here?" said almost with muffled sound, you shook your head while smiling and just took a napkin to get that red spot of his face. Noah murmured something like thank you, but didn't want to speak with full mouth. Just you two and silence.

After late dinner, you washed your teeth , of course Noah made that impossibly hard. Sometimes he acted like a child, next moment his arm was around your neck during sex. And now, his hands were around your waist, pulling you close, the small spoon. In this huge bed with white sheets. His minty breath near your ear. Pitch dark. Could hear cars on highway somewhere far away. " - I was thinking..." he whispered in your ear and made you look through your shoulder, even though you couldn't see his face properly, just some silhouette. His dark eyes were sparkling in the dark. He cleared his throat. Now you switched fully to his side. "-What is it?" You asked impatiently, seems that he was hesitating. "Tomorrow is the last show and I thought, well.. We gonna have a month break from touring, " His fingers creased your hair strands which  kept falling onto your face, he was nervous, you can tell. "- Would you like to move in? I know it's fast..." He of course tried to coat it right after laying out the option, sadly you couldn't see his face fully. His palm rested on your cheek. "- I want this everyday and.." You felt his eyes on you, even though it was too dark to see. "I've already told Nicholas about you," Noah smiled for sure, you punched him in the chest, at least felt like it " I knew it" You said it playfully while his chuckle filled hotel room. "-No rush, think about it," His voice got serious right after. You nodded, oh, he can't see it " - I will," reassured him and pressed your lips gently onto his, before that placing your hand on his cheeks, just to make sure you aim right at the target.

Last show in the same city, first one was sold so fast. You wanted to support Noah and even when he didn't feel the best about upcoming concerts, but he always smiled after finding you in the crowd. Of course you left the show earlier. At the line to the toilet some girl bumped into you, "Excuse me? " you looked at her with  hands in front of you. No sorry? She just glimpsed at you for a second and walked away, "-Rude," You told yourself while rolling your eyes back. You wore oversized hoodie and some jeans. Different is that the jumper was not yours, but Noah's. He always insisted that his clothes looks better on you. People already left .Empty venue. Some plastic cups and other trash. You put on your jacket over the hoodie while leaving. It was getting colder. (See you soon). His message made you smile. You suppose to go to dinner tonight, get some drinks. Nonalcoholic of course, usually you drink some but wanted to support his choice cutting it out of the life. And you like it. Skin cleared. You got out the best features for each other.

Noah always asked what you would like to do, what games you liked to play together. When he had free time and you were also not working, then he wanted to introduce you to his world, as you did the same to him. Maybe you were his biggest fan but he was the same for you. Sending you small bouquet of flowers to work without any cards, co-workers just kept guessing. At this point you probably would be able to open a little garden with all the vases filled with colorful petals. Noah  always smiled and just shook his head when you kept telling him to stop sending them because you will not have any more space.

Of course you waited out the back, even managed to grab coffee before that, they take some time to leave and also for extra carefulness, you didn't wanted anyone to see you together. You looked to left and saw him leaving. His eyes were tired but with the biggest smile, because those brown circles caught you. Noah put his arms around you and pull you into the hug, pressing you into his trap. "- Missed you," His whispers into your hair, while his chin was pressed onto your forehead. " It's been just few hours , silly," you  playfully say while smiling but you feel the same. Sometimes it's hard to agree that without him the day is so slow. His hands loosen and he bent over to tie his shoe laces.

" I thought so," Third voice came out of nowhere. You faced to direction you heard it. The girl from the cue to the toilets. The rude one. "- Excuse me?" You asked, like it was the same from before but now just asking to be sure what she meant by that. Noah stood up. "- So you fucking her?" She asked with disgust on her face while both hands were in her jacket. Noah stepped in front of you, covering half of you from the girl, she was like fifteen steps in front. "- Do I know you?" Noah asked politely but his body language spoke louder. One hand lifted a bit from the side, like trying to keep you in the distance. "- I was writing you like for months,I'm Mindy"  She said angrily, like Noah should've remember her. Noah shook his head, "I'm sorry but I think we should go, " He managed to remain calm though your face showed to the girl that you don't like anything she was saying. "You love her?" Girl said almost crying. You felt that uneasy feeling, she is insane. " Noah, let's go," You touched his arm, wanted to pull him away from it, just vanish from this unsettling feeling. He looked at you and nodded, " Thanks for coming, but I have to go, I'm really sorry" He said without any emotion.

Going few steps back, reaching for your hand. Girls eyes went from your face to the gesture. " Bitch!" She screamed and just ran to you. Noah came in first. Grabbed girl by the shoulders and pushed her against the wall. You heard loud bump. She was moving, like trying to escape his grip. " Y/N, get security!" Noah screamed back to you, looked just for a second, like he wanted to be sure that you are safe, " You don't love me, " Girl was crying and looking at him , to you, back to him. " For fuck sake, stop with that," He said filled with anger, mostly because that was concerning you. He didn't care if someone knew at that point, he just wanted to protect you. Noah never lost his temper around you, but now seemed that he could.

You ran to the door and opened them, screaming into the corridor, " Security, help, please help!" You screamed , adrenaline pumping through veins. You looked back and you met Noah's eyes. They were wider. Open mouth like he was trying to gasp for air. He didn't held the crazy girl anymore, she was standing aside with a pocket knife. It was bloody. Noah's palm was pressing on his stomach. You loosen your grip from the door handle. Doors closed on their own. Usually it was a load creaking sound. You didn't hear anything anymore. Just your own blood rushing through ears. Legs got heavy. His tattooed fingers was painted with bright red color. Black shirt was getting darker but color was visible only on his fingers. Even with legs which felt like they weight a ton now, you managed to run to him. He dropped to his knees and so did you. Bent his back and the face now was pressed onto your shoulder. Girl dropped the cold weapon and started to run from the narrow street into busy one.

"-Everything is fine, Noah" Your fingers were trembling, one hand was placed on his stomach, where left hand of his was pressing the wound. Time was moving slow now. Felt his breaths on your skin, heavy and uneven. He was hurting. You heard security running, one was already on the phone. But surroundings was just background sound. You heard your own heart beat. Just his voice managed to get through it, "- I-i-" Noah's voice was almost silent. He was strugguling to speak, eyes in shock. Brown haired fell right into your arms. Palms automatically placed on his back. " It's fine, everything going to be okay" You said it, repeating  it like a mantra. You looked back at man who was with the phone, " Fucking help me," You cried out.  Guy was almost as pale as the snow. You felt warm tears roll from your face. Security got on his knees while the other one got back with med kit. Noah was laid on his back, his head on your thighs. His fingers were not pressing open wound anymore. Two guys was doing it for him. White bandage became rose red after few seconds. He looked at you. Now his chin up was a bit up, just to see you. Usually you were the one who needed to do that. Slowly blinking. Your blood rushing like river. Seemed like red noise. "-Shh, everything is okay" You said touching his cheeks. He was not speaking, you tried to calm him in advance.  Reassuring him, but you damn well know that you were barely containing yourself. " - I love you," he whispered and let out all his air out like it was stuck for ages. And then smiled but it was too hurtful, like he felt sharp pain right after.

That damn smile. You shook your head. Not because you didn't believed him. Not right now. Not because he was bleeding in your arms. "No, don't say that," You said angrily but trembling voice made it unclear, what  did you actually felt. You heard sirens in the distance and hoped that that was ambulance. He lifted his hand, just slightly brushing your  cheek, like he wanted to go higher, to fix your hair strands which were falling on your face again, but arm didn't reached it. Just left thin red line on skin while falling onto cold ground. This only happens in movies. It felt wrong. He blinked and closed his eyes, your hand instantly pressed his face, "No, Noah, open your eyes," You said it loudly, or it was just muted sounds around you that made it seem that way. Tears felt without your knowledge.

"It hurts," he whimpered. He managed to look strong for so long and now you saw pain in his face, his body, his words. Biting his lip to contain physical pain. It almost turned blue. You didn't see how many stab wounds there was, how serious it looked. He grabbed the hand which you placed on his face. Crushing pain, strong grip. All of his negative emotions put into that gesture. You saw blue and red blinking lights in the busy street. You eyes were sparkling from the lights. It was the best view you could've asked for now. Pressing of your fingers stopped. You looked down and those brown eyes were not looking at you anymore. Muffled. Medics were saying something to you, but you just stared like empty shell at closed Noah's eyes and big dark spot on his shirt while his unzipped hoodie was  like a cape around his torso. Security guy pulled you away. You didn't managed to blink, just staring into distance, while two people with bright color uniforms surrounded Noah like vultures. His bloody hand was moving a bit while they were pressing his chest. Tears dried up on your cheeks. Now you only felt his perfume on the hoodie he gave you. You griped it, hugging yourself. Security was trying to comfort you but you didn't hear him. Only red noise.

[a-small-writer-in-a-big-world]

I feel like I write a lot of angsty things for the roommate series so here’s something fluffy:

Simon loves to read.

I’m not talking just reading as like a downtime thing, he gets into books and consume anything that pertains to it. He’ll buy an entire series, he’ll a book front to back in a matter of a day or two, and will analyze it so much that he even has a note book full of notes on it (he doesn’t like to write or put tabs in the book)

And it’s not just with books. He wouldn’t admit it but he almost loves comics more than he likes books because of the medium and how easy it is to consume

He’s stayed up late just reading, especially when he can’t sleep and if the book is really good his nose is stuck in it.

Sometimes he uses reading as an escape, but truly he’s fascinated by the stories told and the worlds created (he’s a fan of fantasy and fiction, will sometimes pick up a non-fiction book)

You like catching him when he’s reading because unbeknownst to him, he has a very expressive face when he’s reading. You can almost see when a plot twist happens, or when there’s a part he doesn’t like just by the expression on his face. You’ve noticed that he rubs his fingers over his lips when he reads and now because you’ve seen his dog tags, he tends to put one of the disks in his mouth when he reads.

It’s adorable, you think, how engrossed he gets into the stories. You like watching his little expressions and habits when he reads.

But the best part is when you ask him to talk about the book or comic he’s reading.

It took a little bit for him to get past his shyness about sharing his thoughts with you. At first he said short little things about it, but the more you told him you wanted to know what he really thinks, he started to open up more.

Now when you ask him, he’s pulling out his notes and practically giving you a full presentation. He gets excited and riled up talking to you about the current book he’s on and his feelings towards it is.

His eyes light up he smiles a little bit more and he doesn’t see so tense, and though he’s not particularly animated, you can tell that he’s invested.

He’s happy.

Simon loves telling you everything you want to know, he loves that you’re interested and that you’re the one who asks. It makes him feel warm, it makes him excited and it takes everything in him to not kiss you for every encouraging word you say to him.

Doesn’t matter what both of you are doing; whether it’s cuddling, about to go to sleep, or just sitting in the couch, he’s always so ready to tell you everything he thinks about the book/comic

(Added bonus if you’re an aspiring writer, he’s your number one supporter and will pester you to let him read your work, will help if you ask but mostly just wants to read it even if it’s “bad”.)

[arkham-guard-dp-au]

... Casually throws more fuel to the fire

Residents of Arkham learn about Danny and his "death day" in one way or another. (Coincidentally, it aligns with the same day 2nd Robin died cause of Joker here)

What caused an uproar was when Danny slipped about how during his "death day", he's in quite a bit (read: a lot) of pain and he thinks it might be because of having no grave. Which- oh boy... BATMAN DIDN'T GIVE YOU A GRAVE!?

"Wait wait- what do you mean you don't have a grave!?"

"... I mean... Kinda hard to have a proper funeral of sorts when there wasn't a body left to have one and all. Plus, why would Batman give me one, anyways?"

Everyone's looking at Joker and later Batman. They're both in hot shit. Mainly Joker atm since Batman ain't in Arkham for them to target- at least not until they do a massive breakout just to solely torment him later on.

Like you said, it's mostly general concensus at this point that Death Day is painful. Physically and/or mentally, the amount depends on how much angst the author wants to give.

That being said, you'd think that would mean Danny would take that day off. But we all know he is also the kind of self-sacrificing idiot that would so cover a co-worker's shift that day after being litterly begged too, thanks to understaffing. That or he just forgot but I'm pretty sure it would be hard to forget after the first few times and Jazz would probably call him like before, during, and after his death day because it is just traumatic all around for Danny.

Furthermore, he probably doesn't want to call and talk to Sam or Tucker about it because it makes them feel guilty and he doesn't want to bug them well they are off doing collage things or whatever. Even if his friends are 100% willing to be there for him.

As for the whole inmates knowing about it. Idk if Danny just let it slip or something, perhaps made a joke thinking that no one would believe it anyways. Completely forgetting this is Gotham and weirder things had happened. Though now there is a debate between the inmates on whether Danny was resuscitated, brought back through superhero shenanigans, or is just a zombie or something.

One particularly brave and/or foolish inmate just straight up asks Fenton if he eats brains. He gets a confused no in response, so most tend to cross zombie off the list after that.

[caelanglang]

first verse . seven cuts .

I hope to bring this out of wip jail soon…

song: THE LONELIEST - Måneskin

messiest storyboards that I am not doing properly bc I suck pls don’t be like me…

also animated another dead character breathing yahoo

[aria-greenhoodie]

"Aria, how many Petrigrof AUs do you even have!?"

Well um.

Well you s ee...

[hastalavistabyebye]

Fox was hunched down on his desk, looking at the datapad in his hand. He had stopped reading a long time ago without noticing. There was too much noise in his head. 

He had to complete too much datawork. Make security plans for five different senators’ departures, for the same day. Give a final look at the patrol rotations for the next tenday. Sign the supplies demands he had received a few days ago, from both the 4th and 7th Sky armies, in addition to the Guard ones. Write the reports the Chancellor had asked him. How many already ? Six, two for the prison, one regarding the changes in the Rotunda’s security protocol, three for the missions achieved by Stone’s squad, the ARFs descent in the lower levels and the hunt he was charged to take care of, a few rotations ago. 

He should check on his troops,down in the medbay. And make sure B Squad had checked in like they were supposed to. He didn't want them to go in comms blackout like the last time. How was he supposed to have their back if he didn't know what happened and where they had to hide ? Tell Bral -or whoever they had chosen to replace them at the front desk- to look out for the next patrol coming back at HQ. Things were getting heated with the Pykes and Black Sun lately. The next few rotations were going to be hard, with three battalions coming back at Triple Zero at the same time. 

He should eat something. And make himself a new cup of caff. He really should go down in medical. He’d also have to prepare himself for his next shift in the Senate. Had he updated the Lists yesterday as he was supposed to ? Yes, Thire had given him a few names to write in the No Shiny list, and delivered him some sweets he had steal in one of those big bowls the Senators loved to put in their waiting rooms. Then had told him the last gossip and some blackmail to put in his files. He should check on his Shinies. Some had come from other battalions, he had to make sure they were not taking things too brutally. And assure they had a good support system. 

Haran, he hoped B Squad’s mission would be successful. Getting that intel on this karking slave ring would make a priceless difference. He'll have to talk to Mick about training a new trooper. They couldn't stay three during field missions, they needed someone else. And he might be at the head of the squad, but he could barely leave the planet anymore. Kriff, that was going to be hard. Thunder’s loss was still heavy on them all. 

The patrol shift was going to happen in ten minutes. Was there a vote today ? Yes, but a small one. He’d go to the kennels at the end of the day, see how the new litter was doing so far. But first he should do that datawork. And go refill his mug. He really hoped the Chancellor wouldn't call him tomorrow. He was supposed to lead an exploration mission in the lower lower levels, the day after that. How long has it been since he saw his batchers ? Any of them ? Well, not counting Thorn and Stone. He should ask one of the two to cut his hair soon. They were getting annoying. And most likely looked like a messy, terrible nest made by a drunk aiwa. He should shave too. And move a bit, Nightmare told him to move regularly, stretch, walk a few steps, when he was doing datawork. 

But he had so many forms to fill. And he’ll have to move soon anyway to go check his men. He hoped no one had been trapped by angry civilians again. He thought that attacking troopers  for being there, when they had no real other choices at that, was a waste of civil rights. If he had rights Fox would just take his troops for some vacations. The beach was a natborn classic, right ? If he couldn't leave Coruscant still, he would take them for some hunt and explore in the lowest levels, though. It’d give for amazing parkour routes too.

He was so tired. Everything felt muchy and like a Kamino storm. The one where the rain slapped you until your skin felt raw and the wind was so strong it could just take you with it, but more often preferred to kick you down and pinned you under the rain. Where the thunder was so loud you could feel it in your teeth. 

Was the last patrol back yet ? Fox sometimes loathed his siblings for being able to choose their own paint colors. But then he just loathed himself for it. He should really check on Bal and make sure they were safely back home. And make sure B Squad did check-in with Ghost. He'll do that once he had signed those requisition forms. What time was it ?

Fox was hunched down on his desk, chin in one hand, datapad in the other. He was looking at the screen but had stopped reading a long time ago. 

[kkpwnall]

wine & dine

or: the quickest way to a man’s heart (and parts beyond)

((edit: now on ao3))

[ @corrodedcoughin laid down a reverse uno card, and i am extremely susceptible to gentle persuasion. i know you asked for headcanons, but apparently i have lots of thoughts about eddie taking a cooking class to wine and dine steve so this one got a bit away from me. anyway, hope you like it, and hope your day got better. ]

“Shit!”

Steve’s steps up the trailer stairs falter when he hears Eddie’s shout. He balances a tray of cupcakes and a bouquet of red daisies in one hand and knocks on the door.

“Fuck!” Eddie shouts again, followed by a loud banging and clanging.

“Eddie?” Steve knocks again. He’s been here often enough since they started dating that he knows he doesn’t have to knock, that he’s welcome to just walk right in. But it’s their date night, and he wants to do this right.

More banging, more clanging, more cursing. Then the alarm starts. That’s enough for Steve.

“Eddie!” He bursts through the door and skids to a stop halfway to the kitchenette. The trailer is full of smoke and Eddie is right in the middle of it, waving a dish towel in front of the screaming smoke detector. Steve drops the cupcakes and the flowers on the small kitchen table and grabs a flaming pan of… something off the burner, moving it to one of the empty burners further back on the range and cutting the gas.

Eddie gives up trying to fan the smoke away, and climbs up on the counter to rip the alarm out of the ceiling instead. Steve grabs his abandoned towel and flings open the kitchen window, fanning the smoke out as Eddie manages to get the thing off the ceiling without bringing the tiles crashing down on their heads.

He rips the batteries out of the back of it and turns to look at Steve, panting like he’s run a marathon. Eddie’s thighs are eye level with Steve, who has to drag his eyes up and away from his favorite gray sweatpants, the ones that always make him a little crazy, past the old sleeveless band shirt cropped above Eddie’s waist, to finally look up at him. Eddie’s curls are spilling loose from the bun he’d tied them up in, framing his flushed face and wild eyes.

“You’re early,” is all he says, looking Steve up and down. He suddenly feels over-dressed, standing there in the middle of the tiny kitchen with his maroon button down securely tucked into his best pressed khakis. He even wore the leather shoes with the little tassels on them.

Steve tugs self-consciously at his shirt and looks around the kitchen. “It’s date night,” he says simply. “Thought I'd see if you needed any help with dinner.”

It looks like Eddie’s used every dish in the house. Twice. He’s crouched on the kitchen counter now, looking like a wild animal that might bolt at any sudden movements. Steve slowly reaches out a hand and tucks some of those stray curls behind Eddie’s ear. “Seems like you’ve got it handled though.”

Eddie sighs and flops down so he’s sitting on the counter. He puts his head in his hands and mumbles, “this isn’t how this was supposed to go.”

“What are you talking about? I’m here, you’re here, you made us…” he looks over at the softly smoldering pan, trying to figure out what exactly Eddie’s been making, “dinner? Sounds like the perfect date night to me.”

Eddie just groans and shakes his head, hiding behind his hands and his hair.

“C’mon, it’s not that bad, it’s only a little burnt. We can still salvage it.” He throws the towel on his shoulder, and unbuttons his cuffs, starts to roll up his sleeves. “What are we having?”

“Beef stroganoff,” Eddie mumbles through his hands.

“If you’re going for medium well, I think it’s done.”

Eddie just groans. “Steve…”

“Hey, hey,” Steve puts his hands on Eddie’s wrists, gently pulling them away from his face.

Eddie looks close to tears. Steve brushes Eddie’s bangs out of his eyes with one hand and cups his cheek with the other. “I’m sorry. You just surprised me, I didn’t know you could cook like this. I thought we were gonna have Macaroni a la Eddie tonight.”

Eddie makes a face, and looks away, mumbling something so quietly, Steve wouldn’t have known he’d said anything if he didn’t see his lips move. Steve dodges down and around, trying to catch Eddie’s gaze again as he plays keep-away with his eyes.

“Didn’t catch that, Eds.”

Eddie sighs dramatically and half shouts, “I’ve been taking a cooking class down at the learning annex!”

“Oh…” that pulls Steve up short. That’s time, that’s effort, that’s… serious.

“The head chef at Enzo’s has a class every Thursday night, and it went fine when I made it there! I don’t know what happened tonight!”

“Well there’s your problem, you’ve got an Italian chef teaching you a German recipe.”

“Pretty sure it’s Russian, dude,” Eddie says with a roll of his eyes. “And it’s not just Italian, she teaches a different recipe every week.”

“Ok so, let’s figure this out. Where’s the recipe?”

Eddie looks around and fishes out a slightly singed, very crumpled piece of paper from under the corner of the cutting board with a half-chopped onion on it. It’s less a recipe and more doodles and half-written thoughts in Eddie’s chicken-scratch. Some of the ingredients don’t even have a measurement next to them, just ‘brandy,’ ‘Worcestershire,’ ‘beef’. Nothing like how Steve bakes, with everything carefully measured out and plotted before he even starts mixing.

It also becomes rapidly apparent that Eddie doesn’t have half the ingredients the recipe calls for, as Eddie directs Steve from his perch on the counter, translating his hieroglyphic scrawl and making substitutions on the fly. But together they manage to cobble together something that might resemble a technical definition of beef stroganoff. It’s got beef at least, all the burnt parts scraped off, and noodles. Steve figures it’s close enough.

Eddie rinses out an old coffee grounds can to put the flowers in while Steve plates their dinner. Out of the corner of his eye, Steve catches Eddie holding the bouquet to his nose, a soft smile on his face.

When they sit down at the scratched and dented and much-loved table, Eddie quickly scarfs down several bites. He chews thoughtfully and makes a face. Steve’s barely got the fork halfway to his mouth when Eddie whisks his plate away and throws the whole thing in the garbage can.

“Hey, I was eating that!”

“No, you’re not,” Eddie says fiercely. “You’re not getting poisoned tonight.”

Steve takes the bite on his fork defiantly and stares Eddie down as he chews. It’s somehow both over-cooked and underdone. He chews and chews and eventually swallows, and does not make a face.

Eddie stares back, hands on his hips, working his jaw back and forth. Steve twirls his fork in the air. “I came hungry tonight. I’ll eat it out of the trash can, don’t tempt me.”

He holds Eddie’s gaze for a beat longer, then he’s up and out of his chair, pivoting around Eddie like he’s on the basketball court. He just manages to stick his fork in the trash can before Eddie jumps on his back.

“At least let me get the plates out of there!”

“No!”

They wrestle for a few minutes, knocking things off the counter, and making a bigger mess than the one Steve walked in on tonight. Eddie grapples for his hands, but Steve’s arms are longer so he gives up and puts his hands over Steve’s eyes, making him stumble backwards into the refrigerator. The cereal boxes on top fall off as Eddie gives a small “ooft” and slides off his back.

Steve whirls around and pins Eddie to the fridge with his hands on his hips. His lips find Eddie’s and he kisses him fiercely, already breathless. Eddie holds out for a moment, just for a beat, then he winds his arms around Steve’s shoulders and sinks his hands into Steve’s hair with a deep sigh. His mouth parts and Steve deepens the kiss, titling his head just so, tongues brushing, hot, desperate, feverish. He drags his hands slowly up Eddie’s waist, toying with the raw edge of his cropped shirt, thumbing over his ribs. Just as slowly, he drags his hands back down, plucking at the waistband of those stupid sweatpants. He breaks the kiss to trail his lips along Eddie’s jaw, down his neck. He drags his tongue over Eddie’s collarbone and scrapes his teeth over the spot where his neck meets his shoulder.

“Why have you been taking cooking classes?” Steve breathes into his neck, trailing his nose back up under his ear.

“Don’t make me say it…” Eddie says with a groan.

“Eddie…” He sinks his teeth into Eddie’s pulse point, and soothes the bite with his tongue.

Eddie growls, he actually growls. Steve feels it rumble from Eddie’s throat under his lips as Eddie gently tugs on his hair in frustration. It sends a thrill of electricity straight down Steve’s spine, making him press closer. “Because I wanted to learn how to make fancy recipes for you! You deserve better than box mac and cheese!”

Steve pulls back, just slightly, just enough to see Eddie’s eyes, just enough so Eddie knows he’s serious.

“I love box mac and cheese. Especially when you cut up the little hotdogs to put in it? With the hot sauce? That’s what makes it Macaroni a la Eddie.”

“You’re Steve Harrington,” Eddie says desperately, “you deserve to be wined and dined. And I—”

“Hey,” Steve says, squeezing Eddie’s hips in his hands, shaking them gently. “You’re Eddie Munson, if anyone deserves to be wined and dined it’s you. I’ll get dressed up and take you out every night. Candlelight, roses, you name it.” He can’t resist, doesn’t even try to resist, diving back in for another kiss, gently dancing his fingers from Eddie’s hips to his waist, then smoothing them back down. “I’ll hold your hand and shout about it from the rooftops. ‘I’m dating Eddie Munson and we’re more in love than you’ll ever be!’”

“Always a competition with you jocks,” Eddie rolls his eyes and grouches, but his tone is fond.

“It is, and I’m winning.” Steve pecks a kiss on Eddie’s nose.

Eddie catches his lips, draws him back down for another kiss. It’s less frantic but just as heated. Until Steve’s stomach growls and Eddie breaks away laughing.

“I wasn’t lying when I said I came hungry,” Steve laughs, pressing his forehand against Eddie’s.

“Yeah, well… sorry I messed up dinner. I think my cheffing days are over. Glad you like box macaroni, ‘cause that’s all we’re having from here on out.”

“No way,” Steve says, shaking his head. “I just got used to fancy home cooking, I need to taste your other recipes. And you need a sous chef.”

Eddie looks at him skeptically. “Steve, I almost burnt down the trailer tonight, you really want to try that again?”

“Absolutely,” Steve says immediately, kissing him lightly again.

Eddie still doesn’t look convinced though, so Steve says, “let’s make a deal, ok? You can experiment as much as you want in the kitchen, try anything at any time, as long as you let me help. And, if it’s truly inedible, which I do not for a single second believe is possible, I’ll buy us a pizza. Deal?”

Eddie’s eyes flick between both of Steve’s as he thinks it over. He bites his lip and nods. “Deal.”

“Good,” Steve kisses him again, sealing the deal. He pulls Eddie away from the fridge and nudges him towards his bedroom with a wink. “Go get changed, we’ve got a date tonight.”

Eddie laughs, “what, you don’t like the sweatpants?”

“I love the sweatpants,” Steve says with feeling. “Which is why you need to get changed right now. Otherwise I won’t be able to keep my hands off you for the rest of our date.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, sweetheart,” Eddie says with a cheeky wink of his own.

Steve playfully slaps at his ass and starts looking for the phone book. “The Works?”

“No olives,” Eddie reminds him.

“Extra olives, got it,” Steve says, picking up the phone.

Eddie sticks his tongue out at him, backing away towards his room.

Steve quickly dials the number and fumbles through the order. They’ve got at least thirty minutes before the delivery shows up. If he hurries, maybe he can take those sweatpants off with his teeth.

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

I dunno if anyone's asked this already, so I'm writing it anonymously

How do you think the bachelorettes or bachelors would react if they found out you turned their kids into birds?

Oh wow...

Ok, let me take a quick look at my masterlist... Nope, I don't see such a question, so it will be a new headcanon 😀

I also have a large number of bachelors asks, so to be fair I'll make this one about bachelorettes. I hope you don't mind dear anon, since you asked "or" (I'm not lazy, I'm trying to be fair!) Anyway, thanks for ask 👋

⚠️ Warning: angst, mention of blood, mention of violence, loss of children, nervous breakdown

Leah:

"You did not do anything bad to our children. You wouldn't dare. You did NOT do that to OUR CHILDREN!!!!" If Leah had one of her sculptor's tools at hand, she would immediately turn into a deadly weapon. That even an easel will strike a man just as hard as a sword if it is in the hands of a furious and in tears mother who has just lost her children. Somebody's blood will be spilled on the floor...

Penny:

When Penny heard about what the Farmer had done to their children, she just dropped to her knees. She stared glassy-eyed at the man she thought was the love of her life, not understanding why this had happened. Hysterical, she would crouch in a corner and scream loudly. To Penny, her family, her spouse, her children, is the treasure of her life, and what happened made Penny's mind wobble.

"Mother..." *hic* "Mooootheer..."

Haley:

Screaming and throwing things. Haley can't control her emotions. And who can blame her for reacting this way when the one she married essentially killed their precious children? Not even death, but a fate worse than death, to wander like the damned, in the body of a short-lived bird, at the hand of their own parent... Screaming and throwing things. Haley wished she wasn't so helpless right now... That she could get her kids back, that she could punch her (already ex) spouse with all her might, that she... She...

Screaming and throwing things... What else could she do...?

Abigail:

Abigail, in utter shock, heard clearly her inner voice, which kept saying one word: run. And she ran. Without stopping, she ran to the forest, to the tower, to that strange wizard man. Abigail run because she needed help. She needs help to get her children back. She needs help to find out what happened to her husband. Because what stood before her in their house is not even a human being, it cannot be...

Emily:

"Turn into pigeons? Oh, you bought pigeon costumes for our little ones? That's very nice of you, I remember they wanted animal costumes." Only Emily's smile slid lower and lower every second as her spouse stood before her, not saying a word. "Honey..." Her voice broke. "Please tell me you bought costumes for them. Please...Tell me what you bought..." She could say no more, and her spouse's blank and indifferent stare made the situation even more tense.

"Yoba, help me...."

Maru:

But that's... It defies all logic. Dark magic? What do they mean "turn into pigeons"? What are they talking about? Where... are her children? Maru thinks her spouse has a fever. She wants to stay calm, not show aggression, and just ask what happened and where the children are. But another part of her, her instinct for self-preservation, is screaming that she needs to run to safety. Run home to her parents and stepbrother. Run for help. Why can't she stop shaking...?

[steamworksfairy]

Ya know, I think my favorite thing about KitTy is the angst. The gut-wrenching longing, the fact Ty's flower card says 'I have loved you and you haven't known it' and Kit's says 'Am I forgotten?' How in SoBH Ty asked Kit when he'd forgive him, and Kit said,"I don't know." And then Ty followed that up with,"But not now?"

It was the 'but not now' that broke me. I can’t get that moment out of my head. I'm a little scared to reread QoAaD now because the moment Kit gets his heart broken is gonna make me sob 😭

Of course, I say all this before having reread LoS. So their angst is still at the forefront of my mind.

[lyraeeee]

let me cook???

a small sneak peak of my upcoming work🤞🤞

it really has been such a long time since I last wrote anything and I’m just so excited to share this to everyone soon.

might be posting this on tuesday? wednesday? It’ll depend on my mood

I only wrote for the earthrealm gang so far but if other people ask for it then I’ll consider writing one for the other characters too :)

[mercymaker]

i need soft malstarion in my life like a person waking up at 4am needs water

[etheravie]

Headcanon: After the events of Pizza Tower, out of all of the bosses, Peppino and the Vigilante have the closest relationship. They aren't the bestest of friends per se, though. They both still remember what they did to each other, but at the very least, they were able to clear up misunderstandings and explain some things.

Bonus: Sometimes, whenever he's heard that Peppino had an especially bad day, the Vigilante will drop by for a short visit to check up on him. It's not much, but he hopes that Peppino appreciates the gesture.

[password-door-lock]

“Do you ever play match three games?” 

Saeran tears his gaze away from the wall he’s been staring at for the better part of five minutes. What kind of a question is that? “No.” 

“Oh,” you slump against the stiff chair you’ve claimed for yourself since the two of you arrived in the waiting room. This is the first trip the two of you have taken out of the bunker without Saeyoung present, and although you're trying your best, it's still a bit awkward. “Can you help me anyway? I’m stuck on this level.” 

Saeran rolls his eyes, but holds out his hand for your phone anyway. What else is he going to do? You insisted on showing up a full twenty minutes before the start of his appointment “in case there’s any paperwork” (there was none), and the magazines littering the coffee table in front of him interest him about as much as the drama rerun playing on the blocky old TV behind him— which is to say, not at all. “Whatever.” 

You beam at him like it matters that he’s agreed to “help” you with your mobile game. Maybe it does matter to you— maybe in your head, this is an indicator that Saeran is healing, or maybe you’re just irrationally invested in the game. “It’s just match three,” you reiterate, as if that would mean anything to Saeran. Once, several months ago, he looked at the games section of the app store. It couldn’t have been two minutes before he became overwhelmed and frustrated with the sheer number of seemingly identical options available and decided that until further notice, his phone would be for accessing the RFA messenger app and playing with search engines only. 

Your phone, however, is apparently for all kinds of nonsense outside of those basic functions. When Saeran accepts the device, he is greeted by a screen full of colorful orbs, dispersed in a seemingly random alignment against a pastoral backdrop. He stares at them, transfixed, trying to figure out what the hell he’s supposed to be doing with them. This is fun for you? Really? After a few moments, a strange grey cartoon character pops up in the corner of the screen to scold him for his inactivity. Its ears are large and round; its elliptical nose takes up half its face. Try this move, it urges, and two of the orbs begin to glow. Is he supposed to swap them? That would make a row of three green orbs. “What’s with this mouse?” Saeran asks. 

He follows the creature’s instructions, and indeed, the green row disappears in a burst, though it is quickly replaced by new orbs which cascade from the rows above. “That’s a koala,” you explain, “Not a mouse. They’re marsupials, I think, so they live in Australia. They eat, um… leaves, from… I think it’s a eucalyptus tree? And either only koalas can eat eucalyptus or eucalyptus is the only thing koalas can eat, I don’t remember.” 

Saeran shakes his head. This is not the first time you’ve presented him with contradictory and confusing “facts,” about which you seem decidedly unsure. Once you’d answered his questions about common house pets and local fauna, Saeran’s inquiries had apparently exhausted your animal knowledge, which proved to be severely limited from the start. “I’ll just look it up later.” Maybe he will, maybe he won’t. That depends on a lot of things, like how he’s feeling after his confrontation with the dentist and whether he’s still bothered by his ignorance about koalas when the two of you return to the bunker.

You watch over his shoulder as Saeran tries to play the game— tries being the operative verb. He switches orbs at random, more to see what will happen than because he has any strategy in mind. He isn’t even sure about the intended objective of the game, let alone the goal for this level— is he just supposed to get rid of as many orbs as possible? Instead of offering gameplay advice— which would, doubtlessly, vex Saeran to no end— you merely observe, occasionally cheering him on when he swaps some particularly important orbs or beats the koala to the punch with choosing a move. Normally, having someone hovering there would bother him, but… with you, it’s different. This is your phone, after all, and anyway, even if Saeran doesn’t trust you with his deepest, darkest secrets (he’ll probably never trust anybody with those) he has grown comfortable with your presence in his space. Maybe that’s a mundane thing for other people, but it’s monumental for him, and he knows that you don’t take it for granted. 

He loses, of course. You probably play this stupid game all the time, and if you couldn’t pass the level, Saeran doesn’t see how you could expect him to do any better. “Sorry,” you grin at him, “I couldn’t set the difficulty level any lower for you. I’m pretty much a pro at this game— did you know I’m internationally ranked?” 

You’re joking around with him now, treating him like a normal person despite the things you know he’s done and whatever you can guess. Though it doesn’t make much sense to him, Saeran can’t say he minds. “You play it, then.” He puts the phone back in your hand. He watches you lose six times before the dentist calls him, at which point, he rises, leaning in to mutter to you on his way out, “Maybe you should set the difficulty level lower for yourself.” Your laughter, loud and abrupt, draws a few stares from the other patrons of the waiting room— but in the scheme of things, Saeran is grateful to have made you laugh.