#and I mean SO much fluff

[yuwuta]

satoru physically withers and crumbles every time you return his belongings. he doesn’t know how to tell you that he can only accidentally on purpose leave his glasses on your nightstand, or his jacket on your couch, or his shirt in your laundry so many times before he loses his mind. every time you don’t take he bait, he folds into himself and wonders why you don’t love him anymore and it costs him $22.50 to hear ieiri tell him to suck it up and use his words because he literally has to buy her company (and drinks).

but when you do take the bait, when you do wear his things, satoru thinks it’s all worth it. he can’t explain why it does what it does to him. it’s a sinister kind of possession he wants to have over you, knowing you’re your own person, free to do as you please, but also knowing you’re caged in him. it’s a lovesick kind of gooeyness that melts his heart seeing you fumble with the sleeves of a sweater that’s too long for you. it’s the vision of you seeing you drowning in him—in his clothes, in his things, in him, in him, in him. he’s selfish, he wants to consume you in as many ways as possible, wants you to drown in him, would die happily knowing you were one tenth as enraptured by him as he is with you. he doesn’t know how or why or when you gained so much power over him, but he doesn’t care, he doesn’t want you to ever stop, so if he has to keep pretending to leave his clothes and bags and glasses around then so be it.

[kokokoula]

prompt: you're in the early stages of a relationship with tsukishima kei, and a secret one at that. one day, you decide to take a peek during his practice to know more about the sport he claims he "doesn't obsess over". however, just before you leave, he sees you, and immediately knows you had been watching him. after his practice, he texts you to tease you about it, until you take away his "kissing privileges" as a joke. he doesn't reply you, but he does shows up at your window. of course, you let him in. "what are you-- mmph!" he cuts you off with a breathtaking kiss. "you kissed me back, which means your statement is invalid." he attempts to leave after that, but you pull him back for another kiss. "it has been and will always be invalid, kei." he melts and hides his face in the crook of your neck as his arms wrap around your waist.

pt 2

[puckinghischier]

here’s a Quinn thought… Quinn values his friend’s opinions about his girlfriend after he introduces her to the canucks for the first time

no cause he would be soooooo excited to get to the rink the next day and (not so) subtly slide you into his conversations to see what they thought of his sweet girl.

“so, speaking of new skates, y/n was so nervous last night to meet everyone, could you tell?”

“bro, that was such a good shot. and while we’re on the subject of shots, it sure was sweet of y/n to buy everyone a round last night, wasn’t it?”

“we’re gelling so nicely together this season! which reminds me, you know who else i feel like gels really nicely with everyone? y/n.”

and of course, everyone would have nothing but positive things to say about you, loving your bubbly personality.

quinn would let out a huge sigh of relief, his teammates’ opinion of you held to only a slightly lower standard than that of his family.

and when you show up at the rink later on in the practice, two massive trays of homemade cookies for the team ‘just because’, he knew it was because you really wanted to win them over, worried about your involvement with the team as the captain’s girl.

quinn simply stood by and watched with pride as the group of grown men dropped everything they were doing to run over to you, eyes fixated on the sugary treats as you handed them out like you were serving a group rowdy toddlers, knowing that the only thing you had to do to ‘earn’ their approval was just be yourself.

[tubbytarchia]

For the ranchers a bit more shleep i just really like charakters comfy and nice:Dc /nf

Eepies. Jimmy woke up to really sore wings but its okay because Tango

[saetoshi]

reo is not above asking for kisses. in fact, he begs for them.

it’s a little embarrassing when you’re out in public, really. the way he tugs at your sleeve, whining because you haven’t kissed him in forever (you kissed him before you left your apartment.)

embarrassingly enough, it’s also why you find yourself hidden away in an alley more often than not with reo pressing a flurry of kisses on your lips.

“reo-” you turn your head to the side, trying to catch your breath. he only hums in response before tilting your head back to keep kissing you.

(you’re starting to think you’re going to pass out from the lack of air.)

“reo!” you hiss, tilting your head up, his lips landing on your chin before he huffs, his hand coming up again to gently push you head down so you’re facing him again.

“jus’ one more.” he mumbles, pressing his lips to yours again with a satisfied hum. (he’s said that for the past fifteen minutes.)

(you think he’s becoming spoiled.)

you pull away, turning your head to the side, biting back a smile when he whines as you place your hand over his lips. a soft, slightly annoyed huff leaves your lips when he presses a kiss to the palm of your hand.

"reo." you sigh, looking at him with a frown. "we're gonna be late."

he frowns back at you.

"nagi's gonna be even more late than us!" his voice comes out muffled due to your hand. you hum in confusion before he slowly grabs your wrist and lowers your hand, repeating his words with a pout.

you sigh, slightly shaking your head, "even if he is, i don't wanna make him wait too long for us."

reo groans, resting his forehead on your shoulder. you absentmindedly lift your hand to pat his head in slight comfort.

"do we really have to go now?" he pouts, lifting his head from your shoulder to look at you.

he whines when you nod. he sniffles, "nagi's probably not even there yet!"

"doesn't matter," you hum, smiling when he huffs and crosses his arms, turning away from you with a frown as he grumbles under his breath.

you gently turn his head back to yours, a teasing smile on your lips. "i thought you'd be more excited to see your best friend?"

"i am." he pouts, "i just don't see why that means i can't kiss you."

"you can." you blink, "it's just embarrassing when you beg me to kiss you in the middle of the street."

he lets out a gasp, "no it isn't!

"for you, maybe!" you laugh, poking his nose. "wouldn't you feel embarrassed if i suddenly stopped you in the middle of a busy street, just to ask for a kiss?"

"no!" he huffs, puffing his cheeks out, looking slightly offended at the accusation, "i'd feel flattered."

you roll your eyes, "yeah, right."

he huffs again after a beat of silence, pouting before he steps back and sighs, "fine. let's get going, then."

"wait," you hum, a mischievous smile on your lips as you grab his shirt and pull him close to you again. "aren't you forgetting something?"

you laugh when his face lights up, his hands cupping your cheeks as he leans in, whispering, "one for the road."

(it was not, in fact, one kiss. he started pressing a flurry of kisses on your lips again.

he's too spoiled, you conclude. still, you can't find it in yourself to stop indulging him.)

(though, you're both embarrassed by the time nagi's spamming your phones with calls, asking why neither of you have arrived at the café yet.)

[troyssix]

NEWTMAS NEWTMAS NEWTMAS

(books)

"newt squeezed his hand tightly"

"thomas realized how much newt meant to him"

"what's up, tommy? you look bloody great for 3 in the morning"

"i knew i'd follow you anywhere. and i have" (this is just the films ik but still)

also newt only trusting thomas with the note

also the TENSION

also newt being confirmed fruity

historians say "they were great friends" THEY WERE GAY BITCHES

[djarinova]

candles and cuddles

spencer reid x gn reader

Spencer comes home from a day out in the city and finds you feeling overwhelmed and tired, so he helps you get the rest you need to recharge yourself. content - fluff, comfort, cuddles words - 2.2k

The keyrings rattling outside in the hallway stir you from your thoughts and you smile briefly, knowing that this means Spencer will be walking through the door any second now. You can hear him struggle to get the key separate from all the keyrings, and you can’t help but feel giddy. Despite the fact that you know he likes to keep his keys fairly free and accessible, he still uses all the keyrings that you’ve gotten him from the various trips you have taken, both with and without him.

“I bought this really cool book. Come and read it with me?” Spencer asks, his voice alerting you to his presence, now inside your shared apartment.

You look up from your spot on the sofa, tilting your head to indicate your question. 

“Would you like me to explain what the book is about?” His voice is gentle; in the same way a hot bath can soothe achy muscles, his voice soothes the aches in your soul.

You nod your head in response, straightening your back and stretching your legs out in front of you. You had been sitting in the same spot for the last few hours, waiting for Spencer to get back from town. He had been out shopping and had stopped for lunch somewhere with Derek, leaving you to fend for yourself at home for the afternoon. You’d managed to get a couple of the chores done from the long list you’d given yourself, but for some reason once the dusting in the lounge was completed you had found yourself almost completely devoid of motivation.

“Are you sure?” He pauses before adding, “are you okay?”

He puts his bag down without looking at the floor, and steps towards you. His eyebrows knit in worry and confusion, your lack of words seemingly causing him to be concerned for you. 

You clear your throat before speaking. 

“Yes I'm sure. I'm okay, I promise.” You give a small half smile to try and back up your words, and to try and convince Spencer, but by the look on his face you know he doesn't believe you. Goddamn profilers. 

“Did you have a good afternoon?”

You hope that asking him a couple questions will help to ease you back into talking, but your voice is very small when you first speak, and you assume it's because you haven't spoken out loud since he left. 

“Yes, we did, thank you. Derek was unhappy about being dragged around to all the small, dingy bookstores, his words not mine, but I think he forgave me after I bought him lunch.”

You can't help but let out a small laugh at that, it does sound a lot like Derek, he loves to tease Spencer. Even more so when they’re both out shopping and Spencer is trying to buy new books, he’s said to you before that Derek finds his need for over checking and going back and forth a million times between stores a little excessive sometimes, all to ensure the perfect book is bought, but you know Derek only means it lovingly. He'd never say or do anything hurtful towards Spencer intentionally. 

“That sounds about right.” You answer with a laugh. 

Spencer is right in front of you now, having removed his scarf and coat, leaving them untidily thrown about on the nearest chair. 

You feel the sofa dip under Spencer’s weight, and you can tell by his short sigh that he wants to ask you if you're okay again, but you speak before he's able to. 

“It's okay Spence, I really am okay. Just tired I think.”

Spencer nods, willing himself not to keep prying. He knows if something was really wrong you would tell him, he just needs to give you some time first. He has come to know your ticks and quirks quite well now, the two of you had decided to move in together almost a year ago now, and you had been friends long before your romantic relationship started, so he is familiar with how your brain works. 

He watches you as you shut your laptop and place it on the table, his eyes following your hands as he shuffles back into the sofa to get comfortable. As you lean back Spencer puts his arm around you, bringing you closer to his side. You let out an audible breath of relief at the contact, something that doesn't go unnoticed by Spencer. 

“Do you want to take a nap with me?” Spencer asks, squeezing your shoulder with his hand. 

“Spence, you know I'm not good with na—”

“I know, but resting can help with feelings of exhaustion, even if you don't actually fall asleep. It's important to let yourself rest in order to help boost your mood, and resting can also help reduce stress and improve your creativity and motivation.” He pauses, tilting his head to look at you, before adding, “I don't want you to burn yourself out.”

Spencer punctuates the end of his sentence with a smile, and you can't help but smile back. The ways in which he wants to help and look after you never fail to make you happy. 

“Okay,” you agree, “let's go to bed for a bit.”

You can tell Spencer is happy you said yes by the way he jumps up almost immediately, extending his hand toward you and practically pulling you to your feet. You let out a laugh as he drags you to your shared bedroom, watching as he struggles to hold your hand and get the room organised enough for you both to relax on the bed comfortably at the same time. 

“Spence, it's okay, I'll sit.” 

He looks at you as if he'd forgotten you were still attached to his hand, almost as though he'd become so used to your presence beside him that he hadn't even thought to let your hand go, even if it meant he'd be able to organise the room better. 

Spencer had long considered you a part of him, almost since the very first moment he had met you. The way you seemed to light up the room as soon as you entered, your smile was warm and inviting, and your voice… He had never heard anything like it. He hadn't turned around upon your entrance on that first day, he knew that Emily had invited a friend to the bar, but he was focused on watching Derek play pool against Rossi. Although, more accurately, he was focused on telling Derek the precise ways in which he was bound to lose the game; the way his stance was wrong, the way his hold on the cue was wrong and how he was breathing at all the wrong times in order to make the perfect shot. But as soon as he heard you introduce yourself to JJ and Penelope his head had whipped around, his eyes falling on you immediately. There was no mistaking his feeling in that moment, he needed to know you. 

And he hasn't lost that feeling in all the years he'd known you, it had grown and changed as the two of you had become more and more familiar. What once was needing to know you, had then changed to needing to hear you, needing to see you, and now, needing to be near you.

Even as he gently let go of your hand and watched you quickly sit on the edge of your bed he wished he was nearer to you. He wished he could feel your soft skin against his, and feel your chest rise and fall with your breathing.

His longing made his organisation an entertaining thing to watch. His steps were hurried, his feet tumbling over each other and you were surprised he hadn't fallen head over heels yet. You placed your hands on the bed behind you, leaning back onto them slightly as your eyes followed Spencer around the room. He was caught in his own world and luckily didn’t notice your staring, although you could feel your face heat up at the thought of him catching you. He was focused on clearing the bed at first, he had moved the scattered papers and books left there from your morning in bed, and had moved them onto the chair beside you. Next he had ensured all the curtains were closed, only left open the tiniest crack to allow some of the air to flow in from the open window. He had then flicked off the main overhead light, choosing to turn on the warm bedside lamp on his side of the bed instead. And finally, he fluffed up your pillow, turning to you when he was done and extending his hand towards you, stretching it as far as you could in a bid to get closer to you.

Smiling, you accepted his hand, allowing him to pull you to your feet and lead you towards your side of the bed. He had left your favourite green fleece blanket at the end of the bed, and as soon as you laid down he wasted no time before placing it over your body. You smiled, wiggling a little to get comfy. Spencer checked the room one last time, as though he needed everything to be perfect for you, and paused. You weren't sure what he was doing. At first all you could see was his back as he rummaged through a draw, but it didn't take long for you to realise his idea once he turned to face you. He was holding a matchbook.

“Which scent?” He asks simply.

“Hmmmm,” you tilt your head and purse your lips while you think. “I don’t know, there’s so many— Oh! How about the white jasmine and sandalwood candle you got me last week? I haven't had a chance to use it yet.”

Spencer nods, and wordlessly walks to your bedside to light the candle. He smiles as he watches you slowly close your eyes, happy that you’ve given yourself some time to rest.

“Spence? Are you going to continue watching me, or are you going to come and join me under this blanket?” 

His smile widens to a grin at your words.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m coming.”

And, true to his word, after barely a minute he is next to you. 

You curl your body towards his, lifting your neck so he can slot his arm underneath it. You can feel Spencer bouncing his foot ever so slightly underneath the blanket, and you smile, leaning further into his chest. You hadn't realised how tired you had been, but you feel it now. You take a deep breath, wanting to relax yourself even more. You can smell the outside on Spencer’s shirt, a fact that, although is not unsurprising, does make you a tad disappointed. Until you met Spencer you never realised how addicting it can be to be enveloped in a partner’s smell, you never realised that a smell could make you feel so relaxed and so calm. Draping your leg across Spencer’s body you take another not so subtle sniff, trying to smell that familiar mix of vanilla, coconut and coffee.

“Are you smelling me?”

You bury your face in his chest before answering, and you feel Spencer squeeze your arm.

“Yes.” You whisper.

“You like how I smell?” His question is genuine, but his voice is small—almost as though he was afraid of the answer.

You crane your neck upwards to look at Spencer.

“Yes.” You whisper again, with a smile on your lips.

You feel your cheeks warm as Spencer looks at you, you think he must be looking for a sign of teasing on your face. 

When he doesn't find one he pulls you even tighter against his chest.

“Thank you.” He breaths, the words barely perceptible. 

You smile, wrapping your arms around him as best as you can from this angle, and you feel his other arm lay on your side. His touch completely surrounds you, and you can hear his heart beating in his chest. The rhythm relaxes you, and coupled with the candle and the dim lit room, you find your eyes beginning to feel heavy. You know sleep is not far away now. 

“I love you Spence.” You whisper. “Thank you for looking after me.”

Spencer watches you as you finish speaking, he loves that he was able to help you this afternoon. And, despite your regular insistence that you can't nap, he feels your head go heavy and he can hear your breathing change. He knows you must be practically asleep now, but he doesn’t mind, he always has his thoughts to keep him company, and luckily when you’re in his arms he knows it will always be the good thoughts, and never the bad ones.

“I love you too, baby.” 

Spencer’s voice is quiet so as to not disturb your peaceful rest, but he hopes you hear him. He hopes you are able to hear what his actions say to you.

I love you, I love you, I love you

You mean everything to me

[kenm4vhs]

that’s me girls is literally me

[milkivikk]

it me burfdei today, so here are some more UT sketches :v

(that one exiled queen neutral ending where Sans and Paps go live with Toriel):

(colored lineart of underswap skelebros :^), might color idk):

(undyne and paps bonding must be talked abt more/also a neutral ending):

(random kek foe me :V 🎉):

tysm goatmom

[merakiui]

SKULLY HAS RAIDED MERA'S BLOG!!!???

Skully over shining Zuzu?

UNFORTUNATELY...... yes,,, (˃̣̣̥ᯅ˂̣̣̥) WAAAA I AM SO SORRY, ZUZU!!!! My heart is just too big and I fell for the dead guy with his Victorian rizz and kiss addiction. I couldn't help it...... he charmed me. This obsession is terrible, dear Izuna!!!! OTL he's completely taken over my brain,,, a parasite that I can't shake!! >:(

He's so precious,,, my beloved King of Halloween, oh how I adore you most ardently. <3 I wish him nothing but peace and happiness forever hehe.

[darsynia]

Surprise blurb bomb!

You’re at a conference and a little worried because your boss has enlisted you to present. You’ve got about a day to go, so you’ve been in pacing in your hotel room rehearsing. However, the frustration mounts every time you hear yourself make a little mistake. Your next door neighbor has heard all of this, so they come to knock on your door, checking that everything is alright. When you explain what’s going on, they nod sympathetically, having to present as well. They kindly offer to help you practice, which leads to the two of you falling asleep collapsed on top of each other on your bed. What happens after that? Who’s your babe?

Thank you so much for this!! I chose Steve, and this is teeth-rotting fluff with my signature little characterization moments. I hope you enjoy!!

gif from @askthesuperhusbands

Notes: Pre-Ultron, no warnings, 2,447 words, first draft so I get it out without fussing

Excerpt:

“I get it. Public speaking is hard enough when it’s important, but it’s even harder when there are no friendlies in the audience.” Steve smiles wryly. “That won’t happen here, I promise. I’ll be in the room, because just like with the war bonds, I’m a symbol of what you’re fighting for.”

Always On

“The idea of ‘public relations’ has fallen into disrepute, just like ‘human resources’--and I think their tarnished reputations are related,” you say, hands clutching the edges of the wooden desk chair ‘podium’ precariously balanced on the hotel bed. “I know everyone in this room is well-acquainted with the concept of finding common ground with a myriad of people-- Argh!”

You frown, feeling the judgment of the rumpled sheet hanging on the wall. It’s covering the mirror that had pulled your focus away for the first twenty minutes of this practice exercise, but you still know it’s there. At this point, the sheet is a fig leaf covering your dignity and your inability to stay focused.

It’s past midnight, and the long day is getting to you. The introductory paragraph of your presentation is in the bag, but paragraph two isn’t working at all. It’s your thesis statement, the crux of the whole project, and you know you’re fighting an uphill battle. Without help from the well-respected UNITY Project, the governments of the world might try something extreme to keep the Avengers in line. Each year the group of philanthropists, aid workers, humanitarian lawyers, and other notorious do-gooders meet and choose ten groups to endow aid or oversight on. You’re hoping for the oversight, but it’s a long shot. The group has a sterling reputation, and their clout might be enough to get Secretary Ross to back down.

Your hands ache from where you’ve been clutching at your makeshift podium, but you square your shoulders and try again. “What we’re seeking is a partnership, a way to celebrate this team’s efforts and smooth over their rough edges.”

The sheet is mocking you, so you close your eyes and picture the faceless group you’re going to be appealing to.

“Citizens around the world trust your judgment and their heroism. Together we can ease fears and--” You stop, struggling to remember the word you’d thought up in the rental car on the way to the hotel. No amount of squinting at the note cards does any good. Your notes are rain-splattered and ruined in exactly the wrong spot, of course.

Throwing your head back, you let out yet another miserable groan.

Seconds later, there’s a gentle tap on the door. You recognize the pattern.

“Go away Steve, I’m busy dying of frustration!”

There is silence for over thirty seconds, but you’re not fooled. After counting to fifty-five, you stride over and throw the door open right before Captain America’s knuckles strike the wood again.

“Yes?” Your withering glare doesn’t faze him. Steve just raises his eyebrows and holds his hands up in a ‘surrender’ gesture.

“Three ‘arghs’ in fifteen minutes gets a visit, you should know that,” he tells you with mock sternness.

Hot embarrassment has you stepping back in dismay. “You could hear that?”

“A few words of the speech, too,” he nods, prompting another ‘argh’ from you.

Your choices are to spontaneously develop superpowers so you can drop through the floor, or do as you always do in this friendship--or let Steve Rogers be the hero. Your dilemma must show on your face, because for once, he doesn’t wait for you to ask for help.

“Something tells me the board of United International Continuing Acronym won’t be convinced by those noises,” Steve says, using Stark’s nickname to cover for the way he pushes past you into the room. For a few seconds, the fronts of your bodies brush against each other, and the heat from those few seconds burns through you.

By the time you recover, Steve’s already across the room, clearing his throat. “I sympathize, believe me. Doesn’t matter how much public speaking I’ve gone through, it still ties my stomach into knots.” He turns and gives you a look of teasing determination. “I have a few suggestions, but I’d have to swear you to secrecy.”

Your crush surges up to color your voice with maybe a little too much affection as you say, “Captain America has secrets?”

The look he shoots you has the same sort of heat from seconds ago. “Here,” he says, pulling a folded page from his pocket. “This is a new one, but back when they first put me in tights, I practiced my script in a room set up with some of these.”

Steve hands you a drawing of a crowd of people, some smiling, some frowning, some turning to their neighbors instead of looking forward. It’s got all of the charm of his usual drawings, despite being more simple than usual. When you look up at his face, his sheepish expression tells you why. He must have drawn it right before knocking on your door.

“Steve,” you breathe, touched by the gesture but also the way he’s captured the spectrum of audience reaction. It reminds you of everything he’d gone through to be the man he is now, the man you’ve fallen for as inevitably as a crowd cheers for a brilliant performance. You couldn’t help it.

“Not now, all right?” he whispers, a kind of pleading in his eyes. “Speech first.”

You blink at him. Did he just acknowledge that something’s different between you? What is it about this corporate hotel hundreds of miles from the home that’s turned everything deliciously sideways? He’s already on the next Act, and you shove those feelings aside to focus like he’s asked you to.

“My place was a quarter this size, but maybe we can…” Steve trails off, propping his drawing on the draped wall sheet and flipping off all but the lights above the bed. Somehow it works, limiting distractions and changing the covered mirror into an easel for his thoughtful drawing.

There’s only one problem.

“Are you planning to lurk behind me?”

“Well, I’d sit in the chair, but--”

“Steve!” You can’t even glare at him, because all you can see is the glint of the fluorescent light reflecting off of his shined shoes. He pushes off the wall and steps forward just enough so you can see the kind look on his face.

“I get it. Public speaking is hard enough when it’s important, but it’s even harder when there are no friendlies in the audience.” Steve smiles wryly. “That won’t happen here, I promise. I’ll be in the room, because just like with the war bonds, I’m a symbol of what you’re fighting for.”

There’s no way he could know how romantic that sounds, so you swallow against the sudden tightness in your throat and nod at him.

You start again, and suddenly it works. The chair is a podium. The crowd is real. Steve is somewhere out of sight, rooting for you. You get through the whole thing, and it feels great. You can hear Steve clapping for you through the relieved buzzing in your ears.

Then it all falls apart. When you let go, the chair falls over and smacks you in the face, and the little breeze from your flail of pain knocks the drawing down. Steve rushes over to help, but he bumps into you, and you both fall sideways onto the bed.

The giggles last for a glorious few minutes, and then he says, “Okay, since everything went sideways, can I make it worse?”

You’re lying on a bed with Steve Rogers and his smile is like an early sunrise, so you say yes.

“The concept is good, but you sound like you’re using big words to impress. There’s nothing wrong with that, but it’s not really us. Tony’s irreverent, Clint’s the salt of the Earth, and Bruce is the kind of scientist that puts everyone at ease, at least until he turns green.” Steve turns onto his back, but he doesn’t get up, which feels consequential, despite his criticism. “Nat’s public persona is standoffish but not pretentious, and I’m--”

“You’re folksy,” you interrupt, still stinging from the unfortunate truth of the word ‘pretentious.’ “The epitome of ‘plainspoken.’”

Steve shoots a look over at you, and you realize those two words are exactly what he meant.

“The guy next door,” you add. Inside, you’re crumbling a little bit. Does he think you’re pretentious? Are you pretentious?

Steve rolls to face you again, reaching out to brush his thumb gently across the place the chair had struck you. It’s covered by your hair, but he somehow knows exactly where it is.

“You still have a full day left of the conference before it’s your turn. I could have colored that drawing and given it to you tomorrow, but that wouldn’t have helped tonight.” He pulls his hand back, but sets it on the bed between you. “That’s what makes us a team.”

You’re confused, but comforted nonetheless.

“You paint with words. It’s not that different from art, and every artist chooses how much effort to put in each piece,” he explains patiently. “It’s the same for this. You’re representing everyone, and that means you have to save some of that energy for the physical part of it. Not everyone realizes that.”

“Oh, God,” you blurt out, sitting up. “You are a symbol, just like you said. You’re always on, even at the Compound! How much energy does that take?”

He looks up at you, and the truth in his eyes is painfully intimate. “It’s not as bad now. When I came out of the ice, it kind of felt like I was still in tights. Always exposed for the greater good.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. It’s your job to book him for events. You’re the one shoving him onto the stage.

“No, no, don’t do that,” Steve says, sitting up and framing your face with his hands. “It was worse before, when it was Tony or some random person at SHIELD sending me out. I trust you. This conference was your idea--”

You scrunch up your face with guilt at that, and Steve gets this look of determination on his face. The next thing you know, he’s leaning forward and kissing you. It’s electric, stage lights blaring, orchestra in crescendo, and the velvet curtain rolling closed on the triumphant final scene to the roaring of the audience applause.

Then he’s pulling back, standing, and running his hand over his face. “That was out of line, I’m sorry.”

“It was a masterpiece,” you say, looking up at him with your hands clutching the blanket and your heart in your eyes.

The way his nervous tension completely leaves his body is even more reassuring than the softly-spoken “Oh. Good,” he lets out. His encore wins all the awards your heart has to give: “I didn’t practice that at all.”

Joy colors your voice. “You’re a natural.”

Steve’s ears turn red, and he says, “Well, I should let you get back to it. It’s past one--”

“You could stay,” you rush to say, standing up and stepping past him to pick up the drawing. Behind you, he makes a strangling sort of coughing noise, and you realize what you’ve said. “To practice!”

That just makes Steve gasp your name, clearly amused and scandalized in equal measure, and you groan in frustration. Feeling giddy just destroys your cognitive abilities.

“The speech! What is it about this hotel??”

“A new medium. Canvas instead of watercolor paper. A speech instead of short stories,” he says, setting the fallen chair back upright.

“You know about those?” you ask, surprised. You’ve made a point of working on them only during your downtime.

He has the grace to look apologetic. “Tony made a comment once, that I’d turn up in one of your stories if I offended any world leaders, when I was sent to the UN Grand Assembly.”

“Shit, I forgot I threatened him with that one time when he was being an ass.” Your grumble ended in a colossal yawn. “What time does breakfast start tomorrow?” The conference is a multi-day affair, and missing the early meal had not set you up to stay awake through the panels today. “I won’t have any time to practice this tomorrow night and you’re right, I really need to clean up the wording,” you add, feeling your elation at the kiss drain away with worry.

“Then let’s keep at it,” Steve says, taking the drawing and setting it back up on the sheet. He turns and gives you as wicked a look as you’ve ever seen on his face. “The speech, I mean.”

You wake up to the alarm with a sore neck, your dress pants digging into your hip, and a bed partner. He’s the farthest from a pain in the neck as a man can get, but falling asleep fully dressed with your head on his shoulder wasn’t the wisest decision you’ve ever made. You pull in a deep breath, trying to clear out the mental cobwebs scattered in happy glitter, and Steve tenses up under your head.

“I’m sorry,” you say immediately.

“Don’t be. I’m the one who should have left you to sleep.”

You sit up so he can slip out of bed, knowing that he needs to put distance between you for his own peace of mind.

“Be honest: have you ever voluntarily abandoned a woman who needs your help?” you tease. “In all seriousness, you were a huge help last night, and I’m sure that was outside your comfort zone. That was probably the most I’ve ever seen you talk outside of lecturing Stark!”

“I didn’t even notice,” he says, pulling the sheet off of the mirror expertly folding it over in the corner of the room.

He’s faced away from you, so you indulge in a back-arching stretch while muttering under your breath, “You have no idea how hot that is.”

“Right back at you,” Steve retorts, looking back at you with the sheet in one clenched fist. “I need to get going. Want me to pick up breakfast for you?”

You’re off script and floundering, trying to reconcile the sexy rasp in his voice with this attempt at professionalism. It’s exactly the kind of relationship you’ve always dreamed of, and you find your heart slipping further into romantic oblivion.

“Yes, thank you.”

“Thank you,” He says, holding out a hand to help you up. Once you’re standing, Steve holds your gaze and lifts his eyebrows in a very clear question. Heart pounding, you nod, and he takes your lips in a brief but fervent kiss. He moves back, pausing at the door. “I just thought of something, but it’s--”

“Tell me anyway,” you interrupt. “You don’t have to alter your wording for me.” It’s maybe too symbolic and cheesy, but you’re sleep deprived.

“I’m looking forward to another collaboration,” he says, flashing you a brilliant smile.

Note: I may have to write a sequel with what happens AFTER, given that I impulsively wrote this and missed that the prompt was 'what happens after that' I feel so dumb haha

[yuwuta]

yuuta exhibits such previously abandoned, recently adopted dog behavior. incredibly anxious all the time, even though nobody’s out to get him or leave him behind. waits for you to return home or from school or from work excitedly, just to see you when you walk through the door. follows you around senselessly, hovering in your space just for the sake of companionship. initiates affection in prodding ways—starts off next to you, then a hand on your thigh, then deems it safe to lay all the way down, then slowly pushes his head into your lap. gets up whenever you need to get up, and resumes his position as soon as you’re ready. brings you gifts as a sign that he’s thinking of you, and maybe because he likes the affection it brings out in you, maybe because he likes the gentle affirming touches of a hand in his hair or a pinch to his cheek. rests his head on your stomach or his chin on your shoulder when he’s sleepy, stays there, immobile, and will not move unless absolutely necessary. sometimes he gets surprised when he hears you calling for him, there’s a moment of disbelief as he thinks “me? really? you need me?” but it’s very quickly overshadowed by this compulsive need to show up, to please, to do anything for you, which is why he always answers when you call. he doesn’t realize that he has puppygod eyes, especially when he’s excited or confused, but he does and it’s incredible endearing. very reluctant to share your space or attention after a while, considers that to be sacred and he won’t risk being let go or lost again, so as a safety precaution, he keeps himself right by you, waits for you always. 

[kokokoula]

HEAR ME OUT-- i headcanon that tsukishima kei has a sweet tooth, and absolutely cannot take anything bitter, mainly because his favourite food is strawberry shortcake. so here's an idea:

"i thought you'd like coffee. it's bitter and black, just like your soul." kageyama had stated bluntly one day, and hinata nodded his head in agreement. (tsukishima retorts back about something to do with a milk obsession.) it seems like a common misconception.

you ask him to check out a new cafe that's famous for their coffee with you, and even though he hates coffee with a passion, he finds himself agreeing to it. he is convinced it's because of how excited you look.

he gets a mocha, hoping the chocolate could even out the bitterness of the espresso. he stares at the black liquid in his cup and braces himself. he takes a sip of it, and still winces at the taste. you catch the scrunched up look on his face.

"is the coffee alright?" you ask, and the concern on your face made him feel bad for disliking coffee at all.

"it's fine, i'm just not a fan of coffee." he admits, but waves it off, hoping you wouldn't worry about him. he doesn't expects you to laugh, though. he raises an eyebrow. "i assumed you were the type who likes coffee, so i brought you here thinking you'd like to try. i actually prefer anything over coffee."

oh.

he lets out a small laugh of his own. "idiot," his expression is softer than his usual cold demeanor. "it's about time we ditch this place then." you two end up getting bubble tea.

also imagine you taking a sip of his drink, from the same straw he had used, and his cheeks burn. when you ask him about it, he simply turns away and denies everything. hfjdgfhihd.

[mossypidder]

YOUTUBE SHORT CAN BE FOUND HERE (showing all their little details is just easier in video format)

@canisalbus i made your silly little dog men as a gift for a friend (we frequently scream at each other about them because they are precious and we mutually adore them) and yeah. That’s all. Here they are- Small beans that they are.

[pocketed-sketchbook]

this was supposed to be a sketch but i got carried away 💀💀

please do not repost

[sysig]

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