#but halfway through writing it

[qwantzfeed]

technically there's a new decade starting every second and lasting ten years to the second after that second, so you're good.  probably you're good

[theorphicangel]

a thought of shy sukuna...who spends new year's eve trying to stir up the courage to kiss you at midnight.

it's the norm for most couples of course but your relationship with sukuna is far from normal as he strays away from pda. not that you mind, it makes his affection in private even more special.

but now that the two of you are at this new year's eve party he's thinking about the classic kiss at midnight, for good luck of course.

he's hesitant on asking you, hoping that you would make the move first.

in trying to get the courage to ask you he keeps downing glasses of alcohol to the point where you get concerned.

'Are you okay, 'kuna? you don't even like that brand of alcohol.'

'i'm fine.'

you nod at him with a smile, rubbing his arm for comfort. when he gets...tipsy, you do notice the blush on his face which starts from his cheeks and leads all the way up to the tips of his ears. he avoids eye contact with you for the rest of the night until there's two minutes until midnight.

everyone's outside waiting to countdown and for the firework ceremony, you're standing next to sukuna who looks in the opposite direction, fiddling with the glass of champagne in his hand.

'are you sure you're okay-'

'yeah.'

you stare at him up and down, his face heating up all over again. sukuna bites down on his lip, waiting for the final countdown.

10

'I have something to ask you...'

9

'what is it?'

8

For the first time in your life you see Sukuna struggle to get the words out.

7

'are you going to ask to kiss at midnight?' you ask

6

'no.'

5

'oh.' you raise a brow, surprised that you thought wrong. 'what is it then?'

4

Sukuna takes a deep breath, hesitant on his words.

3

'marry me.'

2

'sukuna-'

'that's not a yes' he interrupts.

1

you lean in for a kiss on his lips, taking him by surprise. Cheers of people exclaiming 'happy new year' surrounds the two of you, fireworks setting off all around you.

blue, red, gold, purple fireworks reflect around the two of you. the taste of alcohol on his lips is sour but now you know why he was so nervous the entire night.

pulling away, sukuna's gaze is full of nothing but anxiety as he waits for your response, his face now entirely red.

maybe you didn't hear him right, maybe you're going to say no, maybe you're annoyed that he had to get shitfaced drunk just to ask-

'yes I will, you idiot.'

[mrspiffy123]

Hollow Knight's Adventures with Dewi

"Okay, dad! I'm heading out to the woods for a bit!" Dewi threw his bag over his shoulders and tied up his boots. He wanted to spend every possible moment in Hallownest that he could. His dad called back, "Again? You've gone out every day for the past month… just be sure you have your walkie talkie so I can reach you." Dewi was already halfway through the door as he shouted back, "Don't worry, I got it!" and leapt out of the front door, heading back to the cave to meet up with Ghost, Hornet, and all is other insectoid friends.

After some time, Dewi reached the cave Hornet had first brought him to. He'd gotten better at navigating with each visit. Just as Dewi was grabbing the flashlight out of his backpack, he heard a rustle coming from behind. Whatever it was, it sounded much larger than the squirrels and small prey he was used to seeing. He quickly turned around, but didn't see anything. Dewi held the flashlight close in case he needed to bonk anything and run. Suddenly, from a bush popped up to… horn? Antlers? They didn't look like any animal Dewi had seen before. Quickly, the rest of the figure followed until out from the bush appeared… a small, cloaked child. They looked even younger than Dewi, and the wooden mask they wore looked exactly like his friend, Little Ghost.

"Uh… hi?" Dewi lowered his flashlight.

The figure nodded.

"Sorry, I was just… um… meeting some friends here. Do- do you know them? They go by Hornet and Little Ghost- er, just Ghost… I guess"

They nodded again, this time more enthusiastically. The figure pointed to itself.

"You do know them? That's why you're wearing that mask, right?"

They shook their head and again pointed at themselves.

"You… Ghost, is that actually you?"

The figure nodded and walked up to Dewi. Even though Dewi could now see eyes through the mask, their gaze remained empty as usual. He did, however, notice a small sword hanging by their side. "You, still have your sword I see… no, what did Hornet call it? A nail! Though… I guess sword would be more appropriate now." Ghost followed Dewi's gaze and slowly unsheathed the sword. It hesitated in almost every action, like every movement was a conscious effort.

The sword was real, no doubt about it, but it was a far cry from the glowing, pure white metal either of them were used to. The edge was noticeably sharp, but the blade itself was made from a dull, gray alloy. As Ghost put the sword back in its sheathe, Dewi couldn't help but keep asking questions, "What's happening? Did this happen to anyone else? Are they okay? Are you okay? What's going on?" Ghost waited for Dewi to catch his breath before simply shaking their head once. "Nothing, you don't even know or why this happened? W-what's the last thing you remember? Can you act it out?" The little one thought for a moment. It took a step back and started mimicking vague actions. Old habits die hard, it seems, for even with its new limbs and dexterity, Ghost couldn't manage much beyond stiffly waving its arms about.

"I'm sorry, I- I'm not getting anything from that. You can stop." Ghost came back and sat on a nearby rock. The two sat together in silence for a minute, both trying to process what they've found themselves in. After a while, Dewi took off his backpack and began rifling around in it, "Are you… hungry? Do you still need to eat? Did you need to eat before?" Just as he asked, the two heard a rumbling straight from the little one's stomach! Ghost nearly fell off its seat in shock before quickly readying a hand on its sword. Dewi just let out a small chuckle, "I guess that answers all three! Here! It's the best thing I could pack this early in the morning." He handed Ghost a small foil packet. It took the packet, and simply… held it.

"Oh, right. You're probably not used to wrapping, let me get that for you," Dewi grabbed the snack and tore the top open to reveal two pink frosted poptarts. He handed one to Ghost, who again gave nothing but an empty gaze. "It… goes in here," Dewi pointed at his mouth a took a bite from his own poptart to demonstrate. Ghost followed suit, slipping the confection under its mask and pulling it back to reveal a small chunk taken from the corner. "Now chew it, like this," Dewi started chewing through his food, heavily exaggerating the motion. It took Ghost a moment to figure out the movements, but it eventually got a hang of the process. Dewi tried explaining the rest through a mouthful of frosting and jam filling, "now, you shwallow…" He grabbed his water bottle to wash down the rest. He was about to offer it to Ghost before seeing it clearly struggle to figure out the mechanics of swallowing. Dewi couldn't help but giggle at his friend so clearly out of its element.

"Dewi? Ghost? Is that you, little ones?" The two whipped around towards the voice. Behind them stood a woman much taller than Dewi. Her perfect posture would have made her look quite elegant if it wasn't for the ragged cloak she was wearing. In her hands were a ring and a small harpoon, both attached by a long thread of twine, and she wore a mask just like Ghost, only ceramic instead of wood. Dewi recognized her voice immediately, and her mask was unmistakable. Whatever happened to Ghost, it had happened to her too.

"Hornet!" Dewi nearly leapt at her with a hug. She tried to stop him, but the kid's enthusiasm broke through her guard and toppled them both to the ground. "Dewi, please refrain from doing that again! I am not yet familiar with having only four limbs." She nearly had to pry Dewi off her. "Sorry! You don't know how long I've waited for that, now that we're the same size! Well… human sized, at least," he did his best to help Hornet as she slowly got up from the dirt.

"Dewi, what have you done. How have you made us both higher beings such as yourself?" Hornet straightened her mask and dusted off her cloak.

"I didn't do anything! I don't know how to turn bugs into humans!" Dewi was getting increasingly exhausted with Hornet's insistence on Dewi's status as a "higher being". He sat back down on his tree stump, defeated. "To be honest, I kinda hoped I'd get to be a bug and explore Hallownest with you guys. That place sounds so cool…"

"I wouldn't wish such things, Dewi. Even after you and Little Ghost triumphed over the Radiance, Hallownest is still a dangerous place. With your luck, you would wind up alone, or worse, stuck with Lemm." Dewi perked up at the name, "Who's Lemm?" Even in the current situation, he couldn't stop asking about Hallownest. "Just a crotchety old hermit. Lives in the City of Tears, hoarding and obsessing over his relics. I do not believe he would take kindly to your presence, Dewi. Apologies, I did not mean that as an insult."

"Uh… none taken? Oh! You're probably hungry! Ghost is it okay if I…" he plucked the poptart out of Ghost's hands. It hadn't taken more than that first bite, anyway. "Here!"

"What is this?" Hornet eyed the pastry with suspicion.

"It's food!" Dewi continued to offer it with a smile, "it might be a little sweet, but I really like them!" Hornet grabbed the popart cautiously before breaking off a piece and slipping it under her mask, being sure to keep her face hidden from Dewi. She chewed for only a few seconds before spitting on the ground.

"PLEH! This is the food of higher beings!? Is this even natural?!" She was kind enough to give it back to Dewi instead of the ants.

"Well… my dad says they have all kinds of preservatives. He doesn't like me eating too many. Calls them 'an affront to the natural order' but I think they're really tasty!" He breaks a piece off for himself before giving it back to Ghost who continues to hold it absentmindedly. "Here, have some water," he offers the bottle to Hornet.

She grabs the bottle, "This is simply water? Not another disgusting concoction of higher beings?"

"Well you don't have to be mean about it… but yeah, it's just water." He takes the bottle when Hornet's finished and sets it back in his back. He offers Hornet a seat at their new, impromptu meeting spot, to which Hornet silently obliges.

"Dewi, we need to know what is happening, and we are unfamiliar with your world. We do not know if this has happened to anyone else, or who. Are you willing to guide us?"

@lilybug-02 @violetthunderstorm

[qdkdraws]

Finally. Finished. Chaotic Wonderland AU.

[spooksier]

relistening to tma and losing my mind more with each episode. anyways. today we're talking about how there are three characters in the show who are meant to be/groomed to be "the chosen one" for some specific purpose (agnes for the lightless flame, gerry to carry on some esoteric bloodline, jon for the watcher's crown/the web's escape plan) and all three of them have that running theme of being completely powerless in every aspect of their lives despite being made to be something powerful. we never get agnes' own perspective on her own life, gerry dies and is kept in limbo for *years*, and jon is marked to be the antichrist from age 8, like all of them were used as tools rather than people and if you couple that with all three at some point expressing that their fantasy is to live a normal life and be a normal person but they were trapped by divinity......fucked up if true

[whinesandwhimpers]

cw: murder, stalking, desc of dead body

you've been stood up.

it's been forty-five minutes since your date was supposed to arrive. he's not replying to any of your texts even though the 'read' is clear on your screen. He's seen your messages and is not replying. He's changed his mind about you. He's ghosting you. There's no other reason for thi— your phone chimes.

Your date isn't going to make it.

The text is from your date himself. weird. Is he trying some new tactic to get you to leave him alone? Your phone chimes again.

He won't be answering you again.

You send a text back asking what is going on. Your phone chimes the moment you place it back on the table.

Attached: 1 image.

Heartless.

You gasp at the picture, dropping your phone onto the table in shock. Your date is lying in a dumpster, his chest cut and torn open, bloody and lifeless.

You throw your phone in your bag and immediately get up and leave. Once in your car you lock your doors through your tears and let out a shaky breath. Your phone chimes again. You brace yourself and pull it out of your bag and click the screen on.

Open my gift, Love.

You squint in confusion before you turn and notice the wrapped red box with a pink bow on top. Just rip it off like a bandaid. You quickly pull the lid off, then scream.

Inside the box is a human heart. Heartless. Inside the box is your date's heart. Someone has murdered your date and gifted you his heart.

You realise too late that whoever did this managed to get inside your car to leave this gift for you.

And that they never left.

[alexcabotgf]

THE MATRIX 1999 dir. The Wachowskis

[megtrns]

thinking of the little moments between you and the bots experiencing intimacy together for the first time, how foreign yet exciting it must be to explore one another — the rush, the thrill, the quiet, almost hesitant interactions, where every touch and look feels electrifying. (sfw!) (slightly suggestive)

rodimus urgently running his servos down your body: metal fingers grabbing your thighs and squeezing your hips. too impatient to wait and too eager to slow down, he starts fumbling with the hem of your shirt. unsure of how to undress you, the captain glared at the material as if it had personally insulted him, almost tearing the cotton to shreds. and for a brief second, it was just the two of you standing under the half-light, laughing together as you teach him how to pull it over your neck. he tries to be careful, going as slow as he can even when his hands shake in anticipation — cooling fans growing louder with every inch of skin you reveal underneath.

minimus brushing your hair to the side to reveal your nape, the cold air of the room acting as a delicious counterpoint to the sudden press of his warm mouth against the back of your neck, causing you to shiver. the first kiss had been tentative, shy, and barely ghosting over your skin. you understand that the last thing your lover wants to do is to hurt you, but judging from the noises you're making : breathless and begging, minimus has nothing to worry about. and so the point-one-percenter carefully tilts you forward to continue a path down your bare spine, making you sing into the pillows.

skids staring at you from across the table, servos drumming against the chair. even when your eyes were cast down to read the papers in your hand, you could sense him watching—the gears in his processor turning. you knew it was because you had your glasses on, and for some reason, the mech had taken quite the fascination with them. with a call of your name, you looked up, fully expecting him to distract you with one of his usual hypotheticals. instead, he used a single servo to push your glasses up the bridge of your nose. tilting your face upwards, skids continued to shamelessly stare, flashing you a lopsided grin before swooping down to press his mouth against yours.

first aid trying his best to undo the buttons of your shirt, big, blocky servos struggling against the fabric. you didn’t want to intervene, urging him to continue and using this opportunity to steady your breathing. the medbay was void of any sound, save for the incessant whirring of the monitor systems and machinery faintly beeping in the background. once the last button came undone, it was as if every single noise suddenly ceased to exist. all you could focus on was the medic sinking to his knees, resting the side of his helm against your chest—audials trying to pick up the faint beating of your heart. he said this was for research, but even with his visor, you didn’t miss how his optics followed the flush blooming from your face down your neck.

[theellipelli]

yuki tsukumo as a jujutsu tech student

[bamsara]

obligatory trod snippets from my drafts

and some less-serious placeholders i have in drafts rn

[sukunas-wife]

Faking a pregnancy with Sukuna for some humanities class project

But-

Sukuna hit it one night and now it’s not so fake…

[konigbabe]

frosting of my cake

DAY 5 ⇢ Breeding Pairing: Satoru Gojo x fem!reader Word count: 1.2k Tags/warnings: no y/n; smut; breeding kink; manhandling; mating press Summary: You want a baby. Satoru is determined to give it to you. [Part of NSFW Gojo Week 2023]. Divider by @benkeibear [source].

event masterlist • masterlist • navigation • faq • AO3 • ko-fi

"My last, third wish," you put up three fingers, "want a baby."

He looks at you in silence, not quite comprehending the request you've just made. Casual over the breakfast bowl in your hands, hair still all messy and tangled from sleep.

"I was thinking you'd say more of a food play when you said you got the idea when grabbing lunch with Shoko…or another threesome. Both would be acceptable."

But this...this was unexpected. You've surprised him for once, made him speechless.

"Is baby not acceptable," you query, setting your breakfast bowl on the kitchen island.

Satoru shakes his head quickly and puts his breakfast on the table. "No–god no," he moves to stand beside you, one of your hands in both of his. Yes, it might've been sudden, but Satoru can't deny his heart skipped a beat when your words reached his ears – body shaking with anticipation and excitement, mind already running ideas of how you could make a baby.

"It's acceptable. Of course–completely acceptable. Very sudden but that's it."

"So…do you want a baby with me?" you suddenly feel timid. Even though this conversation has been long overdue.

The question seems to linger in the air. You remain still, staring into his face. Waiting.

"I do–yeah," he exhales oppressively, squeezing your hands between his own in a reassuring manner as if he knows exactly what you're thinking without ever having to say a word.

And so you get to work.

You should've seen it in highsight–

Satoru's determination – no matter the cause – has always been unwavering. Perpetual and steadfast, he's committed to his goals regardless of the situation or objective, whether in the jujutsu world or your love life. And if it involved you, Satoru Gojo has become anthropocentric.

–so when those words left your mouth a few days ago, you should've been more aware of the consequences.

It's also the reason there's a calendar on his nightstand, today's date circled in red – ovulation.

And why your cries resonate through the dimly lit bedroom. Sheets sticking to your back, slick with your sweat as Satoru pivots his hips into your quelching cunt. Puffy and swollen; already leaking his release, creating sounds that would make your face burn with shame if it weren't for the pure greed in his hungry eyes..

"Satoru–," his name flows out of your mouth, head fuzzy and unable to comprehend no more, "agh–feels so good."

Satoru's hand settles on the dip of your knee, pushing the leg into your chest more as his chest presses against your legs.

"Fuck," his hips roll into you with fervor devotion, "squeezing me so tight."

Once more you utter his name in a shattered tone. Satoru's response an unsteady thrust of his hips. It makes your back to arch in his grasp, toes curling as he relentlessly batters that sweet spot that sends waves of ecstasy crashing over your senses.

His thumb brushes against your slick, swollen lips, and his kiss is a wild, intoxicating mess. Sloppy. Messy. Unhurried with languid strokes of his tongue against yours. An oasis in the storm; a brief reprieve from the intensity that throbs between your legs. Satoru's hand drifts to your breast, cupping it like a precious gem, as he slows down.

The pressure moves from your breast, trailing along the curve of your waist until it presses against your throbbing clit. Small, filthy noises escape from the back of his throat as his lips meld with yours; a satisfied hum that spreads through your body with each thrust he gives you.

"Ahg–I'm gonna cum, Satoru–"

A guttural moan rolls over his tongue, past your lips. A rumble of approval that makes your stomach flutter with glee.

Your limbs pinned, unable to do anything against the relaxation that overcomes your body. And in this position, even if you could move, you wouldn't. You savor the leisurely gliding thrusts, the euphoria and warmth flooding your veins, the sensation of his body covering yours and the breathless sound of his moans against your lips.

"I love you so much," it's barely above a whisper, lips brushing against your skin as you feel his mouth curve into a smile against your neck. Satoru's name tears from your lips, fingers digging into the meat of his shoulder blades, legs straining painfully as he folds you in half.

It's your third time today and your second time in a row. A record for you. The sheer amount of energy you've expended almost unfathomable. A few minutes of rest to catch your breath is all it takes to has Satoru all hot and bothered again.

His name a constant thread beneath your breathless lips, heart racing so fervently that it threatens to burst from your chest before it's pulled back into your throat.

"Fuck–fuck–love you s'much," he babbles, feeling your pussy flutter around him. helpless to resist the temptation as your slick warmth pulls him in again and again–

The white stars in his eyes have always been mesmerizing but when he's close – about to blow – you've never seen anything more stunning.

–milking him dry when he reaches yet another climax.

(Fourth, you think. But given the passage of time, you wouldn't be surprised if it was even more.)

Satoru waits until you calm down, limp and pliant in his arms, before he lays a palm over your abdomen.

"I think we need more."

Satoru stretches his muscles as he rolls onto his back, his arm extending beneath the bed. Fumbling around in the dim light, searching until his fingers close around a thin, lightweight book. The image of a newborn on the cover already gives away the content, so it comes as no surprise when you read the title: BABY MAKING 101.

With an almost magical swiftness, Satoru produces a pen from somewhere and flips the publication open to its last page. You watch as he scribbles inside for a moment, his actions causing a curious intrigue to build within you until you can't help but ask, "What is that?"

He glances at you, his cheeks still sporting a faint pinkish hue. "A book. It has a list of all the best positions for breeding. Look, "and he turns the open page toward you, revealing a bulleted list of various positions—missionary, reverse cowgirl, wheelbarrow, waterfall, mating press—some of which you've never heard of before.

You raise an eyebrow and notice that some of the positions have a star drawn next to them. "Should I be asking why some of them have a star next to them?"

Satoru grins mischievously, and the tip of his pen clicks against the word "lotus" on the page. "For future reference," he says playfully. "My personal favorites."

You can't help but chuckle before he continues, "It even has tips and research on how to make babies."

"I'm pretty sure I know how babies are made."

[madbard]

I just realized another reason I love Hozier’s music. It’s not just that the lyrics are complex, or the music itself is beautiful - it’s that Hozier is a musical liar.

Take Cherry Wine. This is a song about an abusive relationship, told from the perspective of someone very much in love with their abuser. Throughout the song, the narrator describes their lover’s cruelty. Lyrics like “I walk my days on a wire” and “open hand or closed fist would be fine” make the darker aspects of their relationship all too evident. At points, the song suggests that they are defending this relationship to someone else who cares about them (“it looks ugly but it’s clean. Oh mama, don’t fuss over me”) and even the more beautiful and seemingly romantic lines later in the song (“oh but she loves like sleep to the freezing”) have dark undertones (what else is sleep to the freezing but death?) Still, I often come across the song being used in a wholesome, romantic context. A lot of factors contribute to this, but I would argue that this song mainly gets mistaken for a romantic song because of how soft and gentle the music is - it presents as a sweet love song in every way except the lyrics. Even those lyrics are told through the lens of someone defending their broken and abusive relationship, deepening the lie. Our narrator wants to portray this relationship as something dark, yet also immensely beautiful and encompassing. The result is a song about the agony and pleasure of a broken relationship, disguised so well as a love song in every possible way that it gets mistaken for something romantic. (Even if you are aware of the meaning, there is still that deep urge to experience the song as something romantic. Just like the narrator, the listener is drawn in by beauty and the powerful idea of love, so much so that it can blind them to reality.)

Variations of this can be seen in Talk. In this song, the narrator makes their intentions very clear - they are sweet-talking someone in order to hide their own thoughts and desires (“I try to talk refined, for fear that you find out how I’m imagining you”). Despite knowing this, the sheer power of the lyrics (“I'd be the voice that urged Orpheus / when her body was found. / I'd be the choiceless hope in grief / that drove him underground. / I'd be the dreadful need in the devotee / that made him turn around, / and I'd be the immediate forgiveness in Eurydice”) overwhelms the listener. We know the speaker is putting on a show. We know they have ulterior motives, and likely don’t even believe what they are saying. But their words are so beautiful that we don’t care. The intense, almost mythic music in the background is so lovely and deep, it makes the lyrics seem genuine, because what lie could sound so astounding and true? In this case, the song about smoke and mirrors and empty talk becomes a love song because the narrator is just that skilled at lying.

Even songs like Too Sweet, sung by a narrator who refuses to be with someone unless they allow their standards to slide, become ‘romantic’ and ‘sweet’ to certain listeners - not because the lyrics are impenetrable, but because so many of Hozier’s narrators are unreliable. His songs spin sweet stories, lies so stunning that listeners are willing to deny what they know in order to experience the beauty of that untruth, the complexity of that space between what is real and what we want to believe.

And isn’t that more true to the experience of being a person, and loving other people, than the simple truths we often see in these types of songs?

[iceman-soup]

ftm reader (post top surgery) x top!price

Thinking of Price finger fucking you in his office: you're sat on his lap, facing him and half-leaning backwards against the edge of the desk. He's got one hand on the small of your back, holding you up, and the other down your trousers, gentle touches to your wet heat before shoving two of his thick digits in, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your bare chest.

Your shirt lays crumpled on the floor next to his chair, the only piece of clothing from either of you taken off. He insists it gets in the way, but you both know he just loves to see and feel your pretty scars, kissing them and reminding you how handsome you are whilst he curls his fingers inside your cunt, only going faster when you groan or whine.

And of course he's never stingey with the praise, calling you a "gorgeous lad," kissing you softly and breaking apart to murmur how you're his "best boy," to your lips as you moan.

[ghost-proofbaby]

It's summer for you, winter for me. Warm me up with strawberry fluff! As always, my muse, your muse, the one and only, Eddie.

Midsummer's night, because I don't have a lot to inspire you with. I'm thinking something cute but weird? Maybe some human body softness where Eddie is a bit of a freak and we love him for it. And we're told our bodies are lovely, even when they're doing weird shit.

I lalalove youuuuu. xo Rhi

RHI!!!! <3 i adore you. thank you for this prompt - i had far too many ideas for it, but ended up on settling for this one, which coincidentally feels like the most subtle of them all? either way, it definitely turned out being the softest. give me an eddie munson who just wants to sniff me like a dog. this definitely got a bit long but i hope you enjoy, my dear <3

the smell of you

warnings: weirdos in love? idk. i have a skewed sense of what is actually weird i think. mentions of death and coffins jokingly. eddie 'manhandles' reader sort of. not edited.

wc: 2.2k+

come enjoy a sweet summer treat with me <3

“Eddie?”

The entire apartment is quiet – too quiet – as you drop your keys into the old crystal bowl on the counter. The clink resonates through the air, louder than the soft murmur of the stereo static you can hear from down the hall. 

“You dead?” you call out again, slipping off your running shoes and tossing down your headphones onto the counter as well now, “Do I need to call the coroner?” 

Your tone is lilted, teasing with airiness as you continue to wander deeper into the apartment and head straight for the room you know Eddie has to be in. Like the waves pulled by the moon, there’s an incessant string tied around one end of your soul that connects you to his, and you follow it all the way down the hallway. The bedroom door is wide open, and you can hear his mumbled yell of a response without clarity before you even cross the threshold. 

You wouldn’t have even needed him to verbally respond to find him in this tiny apartment. You two could get separated on the streets of a bustling city, of a buzzing New York sidewalk, and you still wouldn’t properly lose him. It’s more than just soul ties and his gravity that keeps you pulled to him. 

Something unspoken. Something homely. 

“Sorry, what was that?” you hum as you spy him face-down in the bed, pillow muting him by the mouthful, “Say it one more time, and this time not into the pillow.” 

When he finally properly turns over, he’s a vision. Sleep lines folded into his skin and a bit of drool in the corner of his mouth, eyes squinting in irritation not at you but the sunlight flooding in through the bedroom window. Messy hair, messy shirt, messy everything. A kind of mess you just want to collapse into currently, curling up in all that he is from the day’s exhaustion. 

He’d mentioned wanting to take a nap before you’d left for the gym. Something about the summer heat draining him, trailing off as he’d rambled about how he’d probably thrive as a vampire. 

“I said,” he huffs, sitting up, the frizz of his hair becoming a makeshift halo, “If you call the coroner, request the comfiest coffin possible.”

“Why do you need a comfy coffin if you’re already dead?” 

“You dare deny me of being buried in tempurpedic memory foam? In my hour of need?” 

You roll your eyes as you huff out a little laugh, forcing yourself to turn away from him long enough to strip out of your socks. But just as you reach down for the pieces of clothing, you catch sight of the source of that stereo static flooding the room. 

Your shared record player, spinning a blood red pressing of one of your more recent vinyl purchases. The album has been played through, but the player no longer had an automatic stop mechanism, probably from years of use. 

The center of the record is probably scratched, and Eddie knows it, from how sheepish he looks when you glance over your shoulder at him. 

“Speaking of death,” you walk over quickly, purposefully, before carefully lifting the needle and cutting the static finally, “Care to explain why you’re burning scratches into my Momento Mori vinyl?” 

“I’m sorry,” he quickly apologizes, nearly flinging himself off the bed as he scooches quickly to the end, clearly fully awake now, “I put it on and thought I’d just lay down for a quick second, but then the bed was so comfy, and I thought it wouldn’t hurt to take a quick nap, and then…” he trails off, looking up at you through his lashes with big eyes already pleading for forgiveness, “I’ll buy you a new one. Swear it.” 

It’s impossible to be mad at him when he’s looking like this, inhumanely soft and easily forgiven, “You’re lucky you’re cute, or you really would be dead.” 

He doesn’t respond with words, but instead the outstretch of his hands, fingers flexing as he beckons to you. The needle rests on its perch, the vinyl left behind to gather dust for a few extra moments, as you go straight to him. 

When his palms slip beneath your old t-shirt and meet your skin, they’re pleasantly warm. 

“You were right,” you admit as his knees spread, delegating even more room for you to stand in front of him as your hand wanders to cradle the side of his face, fingers tangling in sweaty curls from his rest. Your thumb mimics his on your own skin instinctively, tracing a large arch right up over his cheekbone, “It’s hot as balls outside.” 

“Told you so,” he murmurs, smiling softly in satisfaction as he leans lazily into your touch. 

“You did,” you agree quietly, half-entranced by his relaxed face, no sight of pride in the room currently. 

He resembles a cat as he continues to preen under your gentle hand, and you almost expect him to start purring right before you find the strength to pull away, removing his hands from where they'd wandered to your lower back. 

One swipe of his finger along your sweaty spine, and you’d remembered what your original intentions had been immediately upon getting home. 

“Wai- Where are you going?” he’s seemingly brought back down to Earth the moment he loses the pattern your thumb had been tracing, the press of your fingertips into his scalp. When he reaches back out to latch onto you again, you take a step back, “Get back here-”

“I need to shower,” you laugh, shaking your head and smacking his hands away as he continues to barter, “I’m all sweaty and smelly, let me go clean up and then we can nap togeth-” 

“You can shower after we nap,” he nearly whines, finally catching your shirt between his fingers and tugging, uncaring for if he stretches the fabric. A small price to pay to have you close to him, “C’mon, sweetheart. I know you’re just as exhausted as I am.” 

You swear you meant to take another step backwards, but somehow, you end up back between his knees, “Did you not hear me, Munson? I stink.”

“Good.” 

He doesn’t give you any time to react – in an instant, he’s throwing his face forward, burying it against your stomach as you let out a gasp and immediately try to pry him away with far too gentle of hands in his hair. 

“Eddie!”

If it were anyone else, you’d probably be mortified. But Eddie just takes a dramatic deep breath in, nose buried just shy of your belly button, and when his shoulders start to shake with muted laughter, you can’t stop the smile from breaking. Your fingers are still twisted in his hair, still pulling back in an attempt to get him away from you, but he’s resilient. 

And all your faux resistance is weak in comparison. Soon enough, you’re back to melting into him. 

Only once you’re relaxed once more, no sign of trying to pull away again any time soon as his hands once more evade the space beneath your shirt to wander up and down your sticky skin without a care in the world, does he lift his face away from you long enough to breathe and speak, “I’ll have you know – I love your stink.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m serious.” 

“You’re an idiot.” 

“I’m your idiot.” 

The game of banter is cut short when he goes back to pressing his nose into your clothes that surely can’t smell good. No amount of deodorant or perfume could erase that underlying stench of sweat. Hell, the shirt is still a bit moist from it all: from the walk to the gym, from your workout itself, from the walk home. It’d been through the ringer, and you’re back to tugging him away from you. 

“I refuse to believe you like how gross I smell right now,” you reinforce, eyes darting towards the bathroom connected to your master bedroom, “I promise I’ll be quick with the shower.” 

“Baby,” he fights back, wrapping his arms around you securely, no intention of losing this battle, “You remember that time we went to the fair, and you were complaining about how you were sweating, so I tried to lick your face?” 

Your nose scrunches quickly at the memory, “I do, unfortunately.”

“You really think I’d be willing to lick the sweat off your body but be afraid of you smelling a little bad while we cuddle?” his shoulders drop as he looks up at you, head tilted, almost as if amused with the conversation, “What kind of man do you take me for?” 

“The kind that gets off on annoying me.” 

His jaw drops, putting on a fake look of offense before he dramatically throws himself back onto the bed, laying flat as he makes a fist to mimic stabbing his chest, “You wound me.”

You’ve heard those words a thousand times in a hundred different ridiculous voices. You’ve seen this scene enough to have it mesmerized at this point, down to the over-exaggerated pout of his lips and the lingering of the fist against his sternum. 

You never grow tired of it. You never will. 

“Need me to kiss it better?” you joke as you prop a knee up on the bed, following the same script as always. 

And he hits his queue perfectly when he lifts his head eagerly at the expected response, wiggling his brows a bit. “Absolutely. Doctor’s orders, in fact.” 

“Great,” you see an opportunity, and take it, “I’ll get right to it, after my showe-” 

You don’t even get the final syllable of the word off your tongue before he’s clenching his thighs around your own, knees pressing hard before he wraps his legs the rest of the way around your waist to pull you in. A squeak of surprise leaves your lips as you begin to fall forward, but Eddie is quick to break the fall with ease. Catching you with his eager hands, maneuvering for you to half drop to the mattress while some of you still lands atop of him. 

He has you right where he wants you, turning his head to be face to face with you, noses nearly brushing, “Unfortunately, the doc said you have to kiss it better now, or else you’ll be comfy coffin shopping.” 

“A fatal wound?” you gasp, nearly mocking him. It doesn’t offend him – if anything, his boyish grin only grows wider, “First, I’m smelly-”

“Again, I like when you’re smelly.”

“-And then I inflict a fatal wound upon my lover? Oh, how dare I.”

Slowly, all your insecurity of how you currently smell is simply fading. The entire ordeal has become an art of childlike, whimsical jokes – and Eddie is an artist. A professional at the dance, locked and loaded with his incomparable skill set equipped for disarming you this way. The ability to make someone feel loved, imperfections and weirdness aside. 

He likes you, even when you claim you don’t smell your best. And you like him, even when his hair is tangled beyond recognition and one of his socks is half-hanging off his foot from a nap.

You like him when he’s embarrassing you in public, tongue chasing after you with the threat of licking your sweat away, and he likes you when all you can do in response is a weak palm to his chest (that isn’t even making an effort to push him away) as you giggle relentlessly. 

You like each other on the good days, the bad days, the weird days. 

Disarmed entirely, you don’t even notice when his face conveniently slots itself far too close to your armpit as you two scooch further up into the bed. You’re more occupied with the way your legs tangle up, toeing each other’s socks off properly as he slings a heavy arm across your torso. 

“We’re gonna have to wash the sheets,” you mumble, exhaustion catching up as the two of you finally settle. 

He hums absentmindedly, nuzzling into your skin a bit further as he makes himself comfortable. “And wash away your sweet, sweet stink? I don’t think so, sweetheart.” 

“Oh, fuck off,” you laugh, unbothered as your fingers start to trail up and down his back over the t-shirt, smoothing out wrinkles along the way, “I’m serious. We need to change them soon anyways, I think I got crumbs in the bed the other night with those crackers.” 

“Bury me in the crumbs of all your midnight snacks,” he almost slurs, clearly drifting back off. 

You snort in response, relaxing and letting your own eyes shut. Matching all your deep breaths with his own, a million different last words crossing your mind to whisper to the boy you’re sure is once again asleep. 

I love you.

I adore you. 

I would like to spend the rest of my life with you, if you’ll have me. 

And maybe some of those unspoken thoughts slip out without you realizing, because he squeezes you just a little bit tighter, presses his face just a little bit deeper into your skin as his scruff tickles you. 

The only actual thought you can know for certain that you say, though, is, “Do you think they actually make coffins with memory foam inside?” 

To your surprise, even despite the almost-snores that had been escaping him, he answers in a heartbeat. 

“Oh, definitely. We’ll order two.”

[slowcatsworld]

Noel Noa - sfw character alphabet

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I tried my best but I don’t think I understand his character as well as I want to so some of this might be a touch ooc. Bro looks so good in the master striker color spread tho oml. Also I wrote so many freaking words my head hurts so not proofreading in any way. Have fun dawg

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A • Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Noel is affectionate, in his own way. He’s more of a provider and silent strong type than someone who would skip through the streets if a raining city with you like life were a rom com.

Noel’s affection shows by his consideration for you. He is prone to offering you something to drink, he brought an extra bottle of water with him because he knew you wouldn’t have one with you when y’all met up. He always can recall reminding you to bring the right attire when you go out in preparation for the weather, so for when you don’t take his warnings he can calmly explain how he tried to tell you and how you should be more thoughtful of the future. Noel is also an avid listener when you are talking about something, making direct eye contact and asking questions relating to the topic.

Noel’s very a very controlled individual, so his gestures of affection typically reflect that. Instead of running up to you and bringing you into a tight hug, Noel would walk to where you were standing and greet you with a call of your name while beginning to walk with you to your next destination. If you look closely you can see his ears are dashed with cherry red, and he’s been staring at you the whole time.

B • Babies (How do they react when they see babies and infants in public? Do they want kids of their own?)

I would wager that Noel would be rather indifferent to a smaller child he sees out in public. He might glance at the kid and note their hand that if fiercely balled into a fist around their mother’s dress, or that the father has a harness attached to his chest for the child to sleep there if they so choose.

The sight doesn’t cause any profound emotional changes to Noel, but his body does feel a tad heavier than it did a second ago. His mind might feel a little more clouded, noise beginning to creep around. However, these feelings don’t swell much more than that. Noel won’t allow it. There is no reason for the sight to affect him, right? Noel has made himself the man he is today, on his own- he must stay true to his own past and how he made more of himself.

I don’t think Noel would be opposed to kids, but he is very loyal to his career. He is at the height of his performance, the best striker in the world. A kid would complicate things, even if he wouldn’t need to take that much time off for them. A child shouldn’t grow up in an environment where his father is in another country with a rigorous job schedule. His child shouldn’t need to have that barrier between the two of them, a tension that they might not understand now, but will later in life. Noel wouldn’t want something like that. He would want to be present, to be everything he should have had as a kid.

Perhaps later in life, if there was enough time. However, if his lover did fall pregnant, Noel doesn’t really strike me as the type to advocate for an abortion. It might be the most logical choice, but the air gets tighter around his throat when he thinks about it. It would be his lovers decision at the end, and he would end up quietly wishing for her to keep the kid. To give him a chance. As the best striker in the world, Noel might be able to multitask.

C • Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle?)

Noel took a while, but he does enjoy cuddles. They are soft and safe. You would instigate the majority of them, but he comes around to silently lay by you side and put his hand on your hip until you understand what he’s trying to do.

Noel likes to loosely cuddle before bed and wake up in a tight mess of limbs in the morning. Cuddling eases the noise he hears in his brain and often replaces it with a soft, silent haze. It makes him sleepy. And lord I would wager he needs to get some extra sleep.

Noel doesn’t mind who’s the big spoon, but he generally starts out the cuddling session as the bigger spoon until you move to change positions. He is really fond of laying his head either on the crook of your neck from behind, the space between your shoulder and neck from in front of you, or having his face resting on your chest. Being closer to your pulse and heartbeat soothe him, makes him acknowledge the fact you’re a human and he’s laying with you.

If he didn’t want to sleep, he would prefer more restrictive cuddling. Something like sitting up with your heads, arms, or legs intertwined.

D • Dreams (Do they sleep well at night? What do their dreams normally consist of?)

I wanna say Noel actually doesn’t sleep that well. He gets sleep yes, but he often wakes up at random times. He’s also a light sleeper.

His dreams don’t usually have visuals to them, he mostly feels the motions of the plot. (Yk how you can feel or sense things in your dreams so you know what’s happening even if it doesn’t look that way? Yeah that’s basically all his dreams as a blur that he can feel but can’t see) Lots of nights the feeling reminds him of the slums of France, but when he wakes up the softness of his sheets always confused him even more. He gets cold a lot of the times in his dreams.

Noel stays relatively still when he sleeps. I don’t see him being a snorer, at most he’d have those wispy snores when he inhales.

E • Elegance (Are they a smooth talker? Do they fluster up and forget how to speak?)

Surprisingly, I’m going to say that Noel is a rather good flirter. Not so much with his body language. His words are also rather plain, just skimming the lines of flirting or not so you get confused when you try to analyze what he means. He doesn’t give much away.

If you know him well enough though, you can tell. He’ll face you when speaking more, and engage in the conversation with a tad bit more banter than normal. Nothing he says ever seems flirty though, but with context you just get the vibes. (Am I making sense rn??) -If you don’t get me then think abt his interaction with Ego before the PXG vs BM match for the vibes ish and how he talks to the other Master Strikers there’s sm banter and shit talking on both sides I’m convinced he’d be a little like that but more lively if he were comfortable with a love interest

If you start off strong flirting or teasing, he doesn’t reciprocate. He might he end up annoying you, questioning whatever you said previously and debunking your taunt and how it’s not actually true or wtv. His calm and confident tone sometimes makes it a tad annoying when this happens. #canttakerizz

His manner of speech is very proper. He sounds well educated, even when he’s being causal. Very good vocabulary usage.

F • Fighting (How do fights happen between the two of you?)

I don’t think there would be loud fights and arguments with Noel. Small squabbles more like it. Normally you and him would talk it out and voice both of your perspectives. Noel would be good at keeping a level head in these situations.

If you were too fired up however, I think he’d wait until you were done yelling and tell you to breathe and think. Think about what y’all can do to fix whatever happened. He never seems to get angry or sad when you yell at him, but it’s never a pleasant situation. And you know him well enough to know he’ll be thinking about it for the next couple of days.

G • Gentle (How gentle are they with you physically and emotionally? Do they consider you in certain situations?)

Noel wouldn’t shy away from simple physical contact with you. Things like his hand on your shoulder, moving you out of the way by placing his hand on your back, your feet brushing up against each other when you sit together to eat. Nothing too much, but enough to feel you.

He tried his best to think of you and your perspective on matters. Things like buying a new fridge, he’d think about how you would like the built in freezer in fridge 1 more than fridge 2. However if fridge 2 was less expensive and there was better drawers, he’d prolly end up buying fridge 2.

H • Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do they receive hugs?)

I think Noel would learn to like hugs, especially if you were a physically affectionate person. At first he was rather stiff and didn’t allow for them to last more than a couple of seconds. Now he’s chill with it, as long as it isn’t over done like a bone crushing hug where the both of your rock from side to side. A simple loose wrap of your arms around his neck or back is good for him. In public, that is. I think he’d accept all types of hugs in private.

He doesn’t shy away from the rougher and physical side of football, and I want to say this translates into his hugs. Even though it doesn’t? Idk I’m thinking about it too much and confusing myself.

You would probably initiate hugs, he never gots hugs when he grew up so he wouldn’t think of giving you one.

I • Intimacy (How serious are they about this relationship? Do they do one night stands or are in the game for marriage?)

Does not do flings or one night stands. He needs to know you first. He needs to have some type of emotional connection to you before anything turns physical.

Most likely would date for marriage. Dating someone takes time and energy, things that could have gone toward his football career (yall he is serious asf abt his career I can smell it off him) so I think he would want an end goal out of it yk? Dating someone just to have some fun or pass the time of life doesn’t seem like Noel. Even if you didn’t want marriage, understanding that you two are the end for each other is all he wants in a serious relationship.

J • Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

He doesn’t seem to be someone that would get jealous to me. Noel is such a confident person in his abilities. However, I do think he would be vulnerable to insecurity. Not in your relationship per se, but of what other people could offer you that he couldn’t.

He wouldn’t suspect you of cheating or being unfaithful, but seeing well bred men born into their society standing interacting with you isn’t a comfortable sight for him. He knows you are coming home with him at the end of the day, this soothes the noise.

He might voice these to you, when you two are alone in the privacy of your home.

Perhaps you are making dinner, Noel working through some plays on his computer, he mentions a little, “the man representing the football club we met today, did you like his suit?”

You turn your head around to see him staring at you already, “I don’t recall his suit looking any different than all the other men’s suits I’ve seen before. It was standard, I guess I liked it?”

“It was a part of an old vintage collection, did you know he also owns a fashion brand that has been in his family for generations?”

You purse your lips, “I don’t understand the significance Noel. If anything I liked the one you wore more. It was probably softer anyway if he was wearing something ancient.” You go back to cooking. Noel feels his face and neck heat up. That was all he needed to hear, mumbling a little okay, yn before going back to analyzing.

K • Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

His go to is chaste kisses to your forehead. Your hand if the context of the situation calls for it and matches the elegance vibes. Small pecks out in public. He’s prefer to not really kiss in public, he’d never tell you I don’t think but it flusters him too much and he gets to hot under his jacket.

When the two of you get more intimate for the night, Noel doesn’t want to part his lips from you. It gets sloppy, more rough than usual. Something only the two of you can experience with each other. Lip locking with some fingernails grazing along his scalp or muscles is the easiest way to physically get him yearning for you.

Noel likes the soft kisses you give him in the morning when he sleeps in. The way he can feel your lips through his eyebrow wisps or on his pointed nose. It’s alluring touched of heaven to him, something he wants private for himself.

L • Love Languages (What are their love languages?)

Acts of Service and Quality Time.

Noel just does things for you, makes life a little easier with gestures. I alluded to this in the Affection portion. Making sure you have your necessities in any situation is something that Noel just does. Maybe because of his backstory idk.

Noel is surprisingly a rather talkative guy. If he wants to say something, he’ll say it. Especially if he knows you. He doesn’t go out of his way to be brash, but if it applies to the situation he’s probably saying it. He enjoys talking to you about things. Moments where there is a lull in the day for the two of you, where you can talk freely about whatever you want. He likes those.

Physical Touch and Words of Affirmation are next I would think. I’ve said before I believe he finds comfort in physical touch with his lover, and he’s a quiet supporter that can still say what you need to hear while staying true to his own philosophy.

For Gift Giving, I just don’t think he puts that much emphasis or importance to it. Tangible items were never permanent in his early life, so they aren’t his preferred way of expressing himself to others.

M • Memory (what is their favourite memory with you?)

Grr I don’t know. Maybe he doesn’t know either.

Kidding, maybe something gentle. Like you two go to your favorite restaurant for a date. Your smile radiated heat through his body. You glimmer in the warm light of the lamps and candles beautifully. Your hand reaches over the table to where his is resting. Intertwined, you stroke your thumb over the skin of the bad of his hand. It’s comforting, makes everything go quieter and you feel louder. He asks you to repeat what you just said. Maybe he didn’t hear you that well the second time either, but he feels you all too well that it works out. (Idk I don’t like this but it’s wtv)

N • Night (What time do they go to bed at night? How easily do they fall asleep? What do they wear to bed?)

I think Noel values his sleep and tries to go to bed as early as he can. Even though he does, he still ends up tired a lot of times throughout the day.

Noel would want to be comfortable when he sleeps, generally wearing a t shirt and pants. If it’s a little too cold he throws on a hoodie. He isn’t fond of waking up in a cold sweat though, which has happened to him a number of times,

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

Noel is rather guarded, but he also doesn’t hide certain things about himself. We’ve seen him open up about his connection to Ego to Isagi, a kid he’s only known for a couple weeks.

Once he gets comfortable and your relationship is at that stage, he’d tell you a little bit about himself and his interests. His upbringing though, is a tad different. He doesn’t like thinking of it that much. It in dignifies him in a way. Especially the rougher times, the one that manifest into his dreams. I’m not sure he would ever really tell you everything, unless you have been together for a very, very long time.

P • Patience (How easily angered are they? How slow did y’all take your relationship?)

Noel is patient. Even when someone annoys him or angers him, he is never loud and violent with it. He knows how to be firm and unwavering. He also knows how not to be overbearing and cruel.

Your relationship would be slow and steady. Things happen in time. If he is serious, there is no need to rush something that will stay with the two of you for the rest of your lives.

Q • Quirks (What are little things they do that only those closest to them would know about?)

Noel cloud watches. He thinks of all the different things he can imagine from the blobs of fluffy white in the sky. All the different possibilities that all seem so far away.

Noel’s eyebrows are already thin and wispy, and their pale color doesn’t help them stand out. But when he takes his eyeliner off, it’s as though he shaved his eyebrows. The contrast from black to white made them more prominent if that makes sense.

Noel is ambidextrous with his legs, but he has a hard time writing with his left hand. He didn’t know of his ambidextrous nature until a little late into his teenage years, every time he would practice writing he always did it with his right hand as that what most people did around him. He can write legibly with both hands, but his right hand is much more defined.

R • Resentment (Who or what do they hate? Why?)

I think Noel would hate being a nobody. That’s who he was in the slums of France. He made himself into the best football striker in the world. He always says that second place and below aren’t remembered and don’t have the same worth as first place. As the truest of victories. He wants to leave his mark on the world. Second place and below don’t make marks on the world.

I don’t really think he needs strangers to love him, or know him personally, but he needs their attention. He needs their respect. He needs to belong with the best and be the best of the best. He earned it and he defends his title vigorously.

S • Scared (What are some fears they have?)

Bro what if he was scared of the dark? Or at least doesn’t like being in total darkness? 

I think realistically Noel would have some fear of being poor, not having enough financial resources to provide. Provide food, water, clothing.

T • Tough (What do they think makes them tough?)

Noel’s tenacity makes him tough. His hunger to be the best. The drive he has inside of him. Even on the days where his body is sore and his movements are slower than they should be and the noise gets too loud in his mind, his motivation burns that much brighter. The break the next challenge, to do something damn good with himself.

U • Unity (How well do they work with others?)

Honestly, Noel isn’t the biggest team player. He does work with people, but it’s literally canon if he wasn’t leading he would follow the person with the most solid rationality and the highest possibility of success, right. He still does work with others though, but he called efficiency over comfort a lot of the time.

V • Valuables (Do they think objects are valuable? Companionship? Words? What do they hold close to their heart?)

Actions hold the most importance to Noel. If you say you’re going to do xyz, Noel would expect you to do xyz. Proving your credibility by matching your actions to your morals and words is important to him.

Noel likes words. Being able to articulate your thoughts and wants. That is something he thinks every adult should be able to do without trouble, no matter the context of the conversation or situation.

Objects don’t hold as much significance. He’ll value something he has been gifted and set it somewhere in his home, but it just sits there. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t appreciate it.

W • Wildcard

Sometimes when Noel wears slides he won’t pick his feet up enough and kick just a tad too hard and bam! His slide is flying across the room a couple feet ahead of him. It stuns him for a second, not believing he did that.

Noel worked hard in academics when given the chance. He likes being educated.

(idk)

X • X-Ray (What do they look like without clothing? What is their body type? How much muscle do they have?)

Noel is a sturdy and firm guy.

He doesn’t have abs, he has a healthy layer of chub on top of them. Think Chris Pratt, but not when he was shredded for Guardians of the Galaxy but like the second or third Guardians of the Galaxy yk. Healthy and yummy.

He has thick thighs, canon.

His arms are very comforting when they are wrapped around you.

He has that V taper body but not as drastic as say, a swimmer would have. Wider shoulders, skinnier waste. Dorito shape, but it’s only truly noticeable if you’re looking at him from the back.

Y • Yearning (How do they deal with their feelings when they miss you?)

When he gets the time, Noel would call you. Your voice is good for him.

He thinks a lot, thinks about what you were wearing the last time he saw you, what your hair looked like, what time of day it was. Thinks about your favorites, your least favorites, things you have in common.

Z • Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Noel doesn’t like natural light pouring in when he’s sleeping, but he likes a small lamp on.

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Mwah 😽