#i am simply going to curl up in my bed with my blankets and pillows and laptop and a stack of books next to me

[cuubism]

now, this one got REAL. unfortunately. do you want some angst (+hurt/comfort +fluff)

cw burnout, depression, animal death

--

It started when Jessamy died.

Or.

Well.

Hob is pretty sure it started when Dream was a teenager, if not even earlier. But it comes to a head nearly fifteen years later, when Hob comes home from work and finds Dream sitting on the floor by the couch, Jessamy held in his arms. She is still. And Dream is equally still, equally numb, staring off into space.

Hob knew it was coming someday soon. Dream had had Jessamy since he was twelve, when he’d found her as a kitten by the side of the road and somehow convinced his parents to let him keep her, so she was not a young cat, and while her health had generally been good she’d been increasingly tired and wobbly lately. And cats didn’t live forever.

She looks peaceful, there in Dream’s arms. It isn’t a bad death for a cat, Hob thinks, to curl up in a patch of sunlight on the couch and just not wake up again. Not that that will make Dream feel much better.

Hob sits down beside Dream on the floor. Doesn’t say anything, but lays his hand on Dream’s knee. Dream just keeps staring off into the distance, one hand lightly stroking Jessamy’s fur.

“She didn’t come to greet me,” he says, eventually, when they’ve been sat there for some time. “She always comes to the door.”

“I’m sorry, love,” Hob says.

Dream sits there for a long time, just holding her. Later Hob helps him bury her in the garden, then Dream goes upstairs and buries himself under the blankets in their bed and doesn’t come back out for the rest of the night.

Later Hob will think, that was the first domino to fall. Even later, he will realize it wasn’t the first, but the last.

~

Dream was often seen as stoic. Unemotional. Hob thought so too, when he’d first met him. But he’d quickly come to learn that the real Dream was extremely sensitive and had simply learned to keep all of that inside and present a functional front to the world. And Dream was, indeed, exceedingly functional. Not just functional, Dream was brilliant. He’d graduated top of his college, and he’d gone to Oxford, and then he’d launched a tech company, and even published a novel on the side simply because he enjoyed doing it. When it came to standard metrics of success, Dream was one of the most functional and successful people Hob had ever met.

And Dream was crashing.

~

Hob comes home from work a bit late one day to find Dream slumped on the couch, face pressed into a pillow. The TV is on, but he doesn’t seem to be watching it. There’s a book on the table beside him, but he isn’t reading. He’s just lying there. Listlessly.

“You alright, love?” Hob asks, and Dream just shrugs one shoulder under his blanket.

“I fell asleep on the couch in my office,” he says, “so I came home.”

This immediately rings Hob’s alarm bells because Dream doesn’t do that. He doesn’t come home early from work. He barely takes a lunch break.

“Feeling ill?” Hob asks, perching on the couch beside him.

Dream shrugs again.

“Want some dinner?”

“I suppose.”

He’s barely looked at Hob. He’s not even budged from his sprawl on the couch. But when Hob gets up to get dinner, Dream reaches out, snags a hand in his sleeve, squeezes once and lets go.

Hob leans down to kiss his forehead, and Dream sighs.

Hob brings dinner back to the living room a half hour later, and Dream sits up with him and eats but barely says a word. He listens as Hob talks about his own day but barely contributes beyond brief answers to Hob’s questions.

After dinner he lies down with his head in Hob’s lap and goes quiet again. Hob is starting to get worried, but he gives him the benefit of the doubt. It could just be an off day.

Dream falls asleep in Hob’s lap, and then later gets up and goes to bed at barely 9pm despite how he’s normally a night owl.

“Dream?” Hob says, before Dream retreats to their bedroom. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I am just tired,” Dream says.

Then he sleeps for ten hours and wakes barely early enough to get to his office on time. And doesn’t seem particularly concerned about it. Then again, Dream does own the company, and can hardly fire himself for being late. But he’s normally much more particular about it.

Then it’s an off two days. Then it’s an off week. Then it’s an off two weeks.

Hob comes home from work and, instead of finding Dream back on his laptop doing more work, or working on his novel, he’s just lying in bed with the covers over his head. Earbuds in, listening to music or an audiobook. I’m tired, he says when Hob asks. I don’t feel well.

Do you want to work on your novel? Hob asks. Usually cheers you up.

Dream’s novels are an escape from the stresses of his other work. He’d published the first one under a pen name so it would have no connection to his company or anything else about him. He’d been so proud when it hit the bestseller list.

No, Dream says. I don’t care. It’s meaningless.

Worry is starting to sit heavier and heavier in Hob’s chest.

Hob’s known for almost as long as he’s known Dream that Dream struggles with a latent, underlying level of depression, but it’s been well managed thus far and he’d thought Dream had found an equilibrium with it.

Apparently it was a much more fragile equilibrium than he’d realized, because now everything seems to have tipped and flipped over.

At first he thinks Dream isn’t doing anything about it. But then Hob learns that he is, and that almost feels worse, because now Hob doesn’t know where to even start helping him. Dream has already taken medication for years. He’s recently increased his dose and it’s done nothing. He already sees a therapist. He’s started going twice as often as he did before and still nothing seems improved. He hasn’t pulled away from Hob. He still curls up to him in bed at night, and lays on the couch with his head on Hob’s lap while they watch TV. He lets Hob drag him around doing things he thinks might cheer him, like walks in the park, feeding the pigeons, going to the botanical gardens to look at flowers. If Hob cooks something, he’ll eat, but he makes no effort to eat otherwise.

He goes, he does things, but he isn’t there. He’s checked out, distracted, and his smiles are hollow.

Hob watches him pick up books he would normally love, read one page and then put it down again. Watches him abandon the newspaper crossword puzzles he usually likes to do over breakfast after solving only one or two questions. Watches him get dressed in the morning, putting on his usual all-black attire with a mechanical precision that suggests he’s operating on autopilot and not thinking about it at all. He just doesn’t seem to care about any of it, and Dream normally cares so much about everything that it’s really starting to freak Hob out.

Hob asks him if he’s okay and he says he’s just tired. Hob asks him why and he says he doesn’t know. And the worst part is, Hob believes him. He doesn’t think Dream does know what’s wrong. It’s not just grief for Jessamy that’s doing it. Hob thinks it’s more that Jessamy was a tiny piece of a support structure that was far more meager than either of them realized, and now all the rest of the heaviness has come crashing down. That doesn’t mean Dream has the words for what any of that is, though.

Hob worries about him when he’s at work. He worries about him whenever Dream is out of his sight. He thinks about how relentless and intense Dream usually is and contrasts it with his current listlessness and he worries.

He thinks about Dream graduating university with honors while he built a whole fucking company in his dorm room and wrote the first half of a novel on the side, and he worries.

Dream had always made time for Hob then, too. And he always has since. Or maybe being with Hob was the sanctuary he carved out for himself amidst the whirlwind of all that he was.

Now more often than not Dream comes home and immediately collapses on top of Hob on the couch and doesn’t speak a word for a least two hours. Hob is just glad that, whatever’s going on, he at least isn’t fully isolating himself. He’s still coming to Hob for comfort, in whatever way he knows how.

The next time it happens, Hob messages Lucienne, Dream’s COO. In fact he does it from his phone while Dream is lying on top of him, and Dream doesn’t even notice.

Has Dream been alright at work recently? he writes.

Lucienne responds fairly quickly. She’s a bit of a workaholic, just like Dream. I am not sure he would want me sharing all his business without his knowledge.

Hob sighs. He supposes it’s fair that she’s protective of her boss. Lucienne. Come on. Please. I’m worried about him.

He seems tired lately, she writes, at length. And distracted.

Anything in particular going on?

No, if anything, we are in a bit of a slow down at the moment. There is not as much on our plates.

Odd.

Do take care of him, Hob, Lucienne adds.

Always will, Hob says.

He puts his phone aside, and pets Dream’s hair. Dream hums in pleasure, nuzzling into him. “Sweetheart. You want some dinner?”

“If you desire,” Dream says.

Hob’s not convinced he would eat anything at all if Hob didn’t push him.

“Come on, up, we’ll get something to eat,” Hob says, and Dream groans, but lets Hob maneuver him up, and sits placidly in the kitchen with the cup of water Hob pushes into his hands as Hob cooks. He is so placid, lately, in general. Hob is used to Dream being strong-willed and opinionated. It’s upsetting to see him passive.

All he can do for now, though, is take care of Dream as best he can. As he always does.

~

It hits a breaking point when Dream simply doesn’t go into work at all.

Hob is working from home that day, and doesn’t notice at first that eight o’clock has passed and Dream hasn’t left the house. At around nine he goes to make more coffee and realizes, suddenly, that Dream’s shoes are still by the door, his coat still hanging on its hook. So Hob goes to find him.

He finds Dream still lying in bed, not asleep, just sort of staring blankly at the wall, arms wrapped around himself. Hob lays a hand on his shoulder. “Hi, darling. You getting up for work?”

“No,” Dream says, flatly. “I cannot. I don’t want to.”

So Hob calls Lucienne to let her know Dream’s sick and won’t be coming in. He can hear her concern over the phone. Dream almost never calls in sick. If he gets something contagious, he just works from home instead of resting.

Maybe this is part of the problem. Maybe this is all part of the huge, looming cloud of pain that has apparently been covering Dream like a shroud for longer than Hob’s even known him without Hob ever truly seeing it.

When he puts his phone away and comes back Dream is still lying in the same position. Heart in his throat, Hob climbs into bed to sit beside him. “I told Lucienne you’d be out today,” he says gently. Dream turns over to face him, wrapping his arm around Hob’s thigh to pull close. That gives Hob some hope. That Dream still wants to reach out. “She was worried about you.”

Dream looks up at him solemnly. “And you?”

“I’ve been worried about you for a long time, darling. Talk to me.”

“I meant to go in today,” Dream says. “I have things to do. I suppose. But. I realized that I don’t care about any of it. I tried to remind myself how to care about it. But I could not remember. And so there was no point in getting up.”

“Perhaps you’re a bit stressed about it all,” Hob suggests, but Dream shakes his head.

“I do not feel anything about it at all. I think the company could disappear entirely in this moment and I would feel nothing but this... numbness. I ought to care. But I don’t. It’s meaningless.” He presses his forehead into Hob’s thigh. “I think it ought to scare me. But I don’t feel that either. I don’t feel anything.”

Hob breathes out hard. “Okay. Alright.” He pets Dream’s hair as he thinks. He doesn’t feel very equipped to handle this, but Dream’s regular therapy and meds don’t seem to be doing anything so he’s going to have to try. And if Dream’s regular routine isn’t helping then maybe it’s not his usual depression. Then maybe Hob can work out something to begin to help. “Maybe we need to take you on a very, very long holiday. So you can have a rest.”

Dream lets out a choked laugh, though when he speaks there’s no humor in it. “Hob. I think if I stop moving for that long. I will not get up again. So if you wish to have a functional partner, you may want to withdraw that suggestion.”

Hob feels his heart break in two. “What if I want an alive partner?”

“I am not planning to kill myself.”

“Recently it seems you’re well on your way to it, Dream.”

Dream is silent for a long moment, then says, voice cracking, “I am not trying to—”

“I know, I know, honey,” Hob slides down the bed to rest beside him, pulling Dream into his arms. “I know, I’m sorry.”

“I don’t know any other way to be,” Dream cries, pressing his face into Hob’s shirt. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s okay, my love.” They have been together since university. He’s seen Dream go through bouts of depression before. But he’s never seen him like this. Fracturing at the seams. It’s frightening. “I love you so much, do you know?”

“I know.” He squeezes Hob close. “I do know.”

“I don’t care how functional you are,” Hob says, making a clear mockery of the word, and Dream laughs weakly. “I do actually like you, you know. You. Not Mr Great Tech Innovator.”

Dream groans. “Please do not call me a ‘tech innovator’ or I may have to actually kill myself out of shame.”

Hob remembers when Forbes had wanted Dream to be in their thirty under thirty issue and Dream had refused because he thought it was ‘stupid and self-aggrandizing’ and because he ‘didn’t put in years of work for the purpose of being on the cover of an insipid magazine.’ Hob loves this stupid idiot so much.

Dream doesn’t do any of it for fame. Hob doesn’t entirely know why he does it. He think maybe pouring all of himself out is the only thing Dream knows.

“When’s the last time you feel you got an actual break?” Hob asks.

Dream thinks about it. “Year 10,” he says at last. “I spent the summer holiday doing nothing but reading. It was blissful.”

“Dream, that was fifteen years ago."

“After that summer I was always working somehow. Doing advanced class prep work. Then university prep.” He gives Hob a sly sidelong glance, and despite the heavy topic, Hob internally cheers to see a bit of his humor come back. “Needless to say, I was not spending my free time partying when I was in school.”

No, Hob knew that about him. Dream is practically incapable of having fun. Even one of his supposedly stress-relieving outlets, writing, he’s managed to turn into a side career as an author. And Hob knows that, unless one is a verifiable genius, one doesn’t earn the perfect marks Dream had all through school without sacrifice. Hob had gotten good marks, too, but Dream had always been a step above.

And he knows Dream’s parents had always demanded utter perfection. Whether they ever rewarded him for any of it, Hob doesn’t know.

“Hey, darling,” he says. “You’re doing a good job.”

Dream whimpers, pushing his face into Hob’s chest.

“You’re doing enough,” Hob continues. “You’re doing so well. I promise. It’s all okay. It’ll be okay.”

“I love you,” Dream says. He clings to Hob, wrapping his arms around him, slipping one leg in between Hob’s thighs. “So much.”

It would be easy to feel insecure around Dream’s level of success, except that Dream’s love for Hob is so obvious. To Hob it is, at least. Dream cares for him so deeply, in his way, and he never acts like he thinks Hob is lesser for not being someone Forbes is pursuing for their lists. If anything, Dream usually discounts his own success, and is, generally speaking, obsessed with Hob and everything Hob does.

This is also a visceral reminder of the costs of this type of success.

“I love you, too, sweetheart,” he says, rocking Dream in his arms.

“I have been feeling. Somewhat unwell, recently,” Dream admits. “Increasingly so. I suppose I ought to be grateful, in a way, that my mind forced me to shut down before my body did.”

Hob’s not sure he himself feels quite grateful about it, but he is glad Dream at least recognizes the problem.

“We’ve just got to send you to the seaside for your health,” he says.

Dream laughs, genuinely this time. “Truly.”

“Get you a little break. It’ll help, I promise. You’ve just been over-working yourself, hm?”

“I do not think it is my current level of work that is the problem,” Dream says. “I think. I have been running so long. I simply cannot anymore. Effort, itself, is not a problem for a marathon runner. But duration eventually becomes exhausting.”

“I know. It’s okay. Might need a bit longer of a break, is all.”

“I do not know how,” Dream says.

“You let everyone else at work take breaks, don’t you?”

“I used to not,” Dream says. “Not enough of them. Until Lucienne made it quite clear that I was being unfair to them. I was not trying to be. I was simply… used to my own work patterns and did not realize the strain it was putting on them.”

“But you changed it,” Hob says. “You can change it for yourself, too.”

“Perhaps,” Dream says.

“Hire someone who can do some of your tasks and then give yourself a little break. Go somewhere warm and sit on a beach and drink sugary cocktails.”

Dream laughs. “I don’t know if my brain is suited to that.”

“Exactly why you should do it.”

“Will you come with me on this… health retreat by the sea?” Dream asks, some humor back in his voice.

“Course. I’ll take a sabbatical and go with you. But also. Do you think you might want a bit of time to yourself?”

“By myself?” Dream questions. “I do have time to myself. I am already quite solitary.”

“I know. But. Do you think you’d want a bit of extended time to just do what you want to do?” It would hurt, to be away from Dream for an extended period of time. But he wants Dream to have that, that freedom to be completely unburdened, to have no expectations, if it will help him.

“Hmm.” Dream considers. “Perhaps a bit. But I like to be with you.”

“I like to be with you, too, my love. Think about somewhere you’ve always wanted to go. And we’ll go. Or if you just want to rest here, that’s fine, too.”

“You don’t have to do all this,” Dream says quietly.

“I want you to be well,” Hob says. “More than anything, I want you to be well.” He kisses Dream’s forehead. “Besides if you don’t think I’m already imagining us on a beach—”

Dream laughs. “I see.”

“Come now, you want to see me shirtless, don’t you?” Hob teases.

“I see you shirtless every day,” Dream says dryly.

“Don’t you want to get extremely drunk and naked and fool around in a luxury villa?”

“What counts as ‘extremely’ naked?” Dream asks. “Taking off my skin?”

“Dream.”

Dream chuckles. “I do. That sounds enjoyable. I would like to leave my laptop at home and perhaps wander around a seaside village, drinking wine until I have killed all of my brain cells.”

“Now you’re getting into the spirit of it,” Hob says.

“Hob,” Dream says, serious again.

“Yeah?”

“What if I take a break,” Dream asks, quietly, “And then I cannot convince myself to go back?”

There’s true grief in his voice, but still Hob counters, “What if you take a break and you feel better?”

Dream smiles, faintly, Hob feels it against his skin. “Always the more positive attitude.”

“One of us has to.”

“But what if,” Dream continues, “I take a break and I learn that I never wanted to do any of it at all?”

This is a stickier question. “Why would you have done any of it, if you didn’t want to? You must have wanted to on some level.”

“I don’t know,” says Dream. “It is just what I’m used to.”

“Maybe you’ll want to again,” Hob says. “Maybe you won’t. Can’t we take it one day at a time?”

Dream lets out a long, aggrieved breath. “You are so nonchalant.”

“Thought that’s one of the reasons you liked me.”

“It is,” Dream says, sounding incredibly frustrated about it. “Yet I do not understand it in the slightest. You truly just… have faith that everything will work out regardless?”

“I have faith we can figure it out,” Hob says. “And that I’ll always have your back. That you’ll never have to work through it alone.”

“You are a wonderful partner,” Dream says. Then, “I would like to go out tonight.”

“You… would?”

Dream nods. “I would like to remember what it was like when we first met. And I feel sorely lacking in romance and I’m well aware it’s my own doing. I know it may not feel the same right now but I want to... try. And. I miss you. Will you take me out on a date?”

Hob is thrilled by this turn. “Of course I will. Are you sure?”

“Yes. Can you also tell Lucienne I will be out sick this week and then hide my laptop and phone somewhere I will not find them?”

Hob laughs. “Alright, darling. Get some rest for today, hm? We’ll go out for drinks or something later. I have missed you. I’ve missed seeing you cheery.”

“‘Cheery’ may be pushing it,” Dream says, with a small smile. “However. I would like to have sex tonight.”

Hob bursts out laughing, not at the idea, but at the absolutely flat way Dream says it. He really does have a way about him.

“It’s been too long,” Dream whines.

It has been too long. “Oh, don’t think I’m saying no,” Hob says, and slips a hand up under Dream’s shirt to feel up his back. Dream laughs, snuggling closer to him. It’s so good to hear him laugh.

“Anything you want, anything that will make you happy,” he says. “I love you more than anything.”

Dream leans up to kiss him, long and sweet, then collapses atop him again, as he has nearly every day for weeks. Except this time it doesn’t feel quite so defeated. It feels like it could maybe be rest.

[v-tired-queer]

Today is canceled, I'm going back to bed ✌️

[n0tamused]

Hello! If requests are open, I would love yo request something

Would you be willing to write about Ratio comforting his s/o who's mental health is not the greatest (by which I mean awful)

Head canons, a little drabble, whatever you're most comfortable with

- 🦐

Contents: Dr. Ratio x GN reader, angst, turns to fluff, overworked and stressed reader, depression. Hope you enjoy this shrimp anon!<3

Words: 2275

Rises of the moon

‘I will not come in today, I’m sorry. I am still not well enough for work, but hopefully tomorrow I will be.’ 

You stared at the message yet to be sent, the phone feeling like a brick instead with the weight of it pulling you down into the ground and into the abyss. Talking was exhausting, yet sending the message seemed like an even more arduous task to complete. Your reputation waited, and you’d throw it away simply because you couldn’t type out a sentence good enough to send, a sentence that could save you some questioning and some dignity? 

Like a trap door your mind opened beneath you, your worst critic and the source of the distress. You felt like you were falling endlessly and hitting rock bottom all at once, making days and hours converge together until nothing but dust blinded you alongside your tears. 

‘I will not come in today. I am still not well enough for work, hopefully tomorrow I will be.’

The letters stared back at you.

‘Good morning, I will not be coming in this morning either, my health is not yet improved for the work environment. With kind regards- (Y/n)(L/n)’

Send, just send it, send. 

Before you can look at the message once more your hand grips the phone hard enough to press into the button at the side, making the screen go dark and after that you don't try to turn it on. Instead, you curled up on your side, your bed feeling like spare traces of comfort you could still grasp on with your phone getting lost amidst the blankets and pillows you hoarded up around you. Sleep had evaded you this night as well, overtaken by more important tasks of weeping over imperfect papers and reports. It’s been three days, today is the fourth. How much longer will they take that sorry excuse before they bring your integrity into question? You didn’t want to know.

Tomorrow, you told yourself. Tomorrow will be better (I’ll pretend).

After what felt like hours of laying in your bed, hoping to outlive the rumbling of your stomach, you finally dragged yourself out and roamed your home for some more, glancing at the trash can full of crumpled papers and the broken glass cup you accidentally pushed off the table the night before. Opening your fridge you could only relish in the cold breeze that licked up your neck and face, but the food held within looked no more appetizing than the night before. You stood there for a while longer, waiting if suddenly, by some chance, you may get a craving for a slice of cheese or perhaps a pepper instead.

Around half an hour later your ears were grated by the sudden ring of the bell, which snapped you out of whatever damp thought you had at the time. You weren’t expecting anyone - matter of fact, you told your close ones you needed space and time to heal from the ‘fever’ you told them about. 

Yet when your heavy feet delivered you to the door, you couldn’t say you were surprised by who was behind them. Greeted by the sight of damp purple hair and coral eyes, heavy with intent to get dry, you could only clear your throat before Veritas spoke up for you.

“I got your messages this morning. Quite late to send such notices for work, wouldn’t you say?”

“..What?” you blinked owlishly at him, completely lost for words. 

“Hm, what? You sent me messages you were feeling unwell, multiple of the same as well.. I thought it would do us both well to check in on you” Veritas stood looking down at you, letting all the cool air in as you remained glued to the door like a statue, heavy lidded eyes and ears struggling to process what he had said. You were sending the messages to your boss - but in your anguished stupor you have sent them all to him instead. The malicious feeling came back underneath your ribs and stabbed right up, and you could see Veritas’ eyes widen upon seeing your face morph into a frown-pout. 

“Here, let me in, will you? You don’t want to get even more sick, or get me sick as well?” he tried to urge as gently as he could, walking in when you stepped aside and putting down a grocery bag for just enough that it took him to take off his shoes. His umbrella was put in the corner, sopping wet and letting you know it was still raining. You stood stiff in the hall, shoulders wanting to push up to your cheeks while your hands crossed at the wrists down in front of you. You sighed quietly, watching him as he straightened up, looking over at you.

With a step he closed the distance between you, his hand reaching up already as he said “Come here..” and his palm pushed gently against your forehead. His touch was warm, and from how close he stood you could smell the damp smell of rain and autumn leaves. It was refreshing.

It was a quiet moment as he assessed you in the entry hallway. “Doesn’t appear you have a heightened temperature at all, but we’ll confirm that in a bit with a thermometer, just to be sure. Hmm.. you do look pale though. Have you had breakfast yet?”

“Not yet, I was just about to make something” You smoothly lied, not wishing to bring more shame by allowing him to look sad or worried or angry at you if you told the truth.

“Good. I’ll make you something. Now, don’t just stand in the hallway, come inside. You act more of a guest in your home than I do..” he motioned with his hand while taking a step to the side to let you through, urging you to come by, and when you did his hand found its spot at your lower back as if to guide you in. He hummed something softly in his throat, no certain melody but it was a small sign of his focus, and perhaps the liberty he found in your home. “Would you like to sit down here, or be with me in the kitchen?” he asked and you can’t help but gawk a little with the way he addressed you so gently, warmly, all while you felt slimy and ready to crawl out of your skin.

“With you, I’d like to be with you in the kitchen”

He nodded, his eyes mellowing further as he motioned for you to come with him, his grocery bag rustling as he lifted it up to set it on the counter. You slipped into a high chair at the kitchen island, watching as he pulled out a whole chicken, celery, onions and carrots. In his orderly fashion he sorted them out in a line before him, and by now he was quite familiar with the placements of things within your home and had no trouble finding the plates, the cutting boards and the rest of the ingredients. He washed his hands before handling the ingredients directly. 

“Can I do something to help?” you muttered after the lump in your throat felt so huge, nearly about to pop out of your mouth. Sitting idle did more harm than good, it showed in your shoulders and eyes. Veritas looked your way and shook his head, coming a bit closer until he could lean down and plant his lips to your forehead warmly, letting his lips linger a moment longer. 

“You can sit there and relax, I got this” he told you in a softened tone, going back to his cutting board. 

Veritas was no fool, he never  was, and especially not with you. He knew this was no fever, even if he did end up making you stay still as he handed you the thermometer to check again after he let the chicken cook in a pot along with the vegetables and herbs, standing next to you until that fateful beep sounded over the simmering and bubbling water.  No fever.

While the chicken was cooking, making the smell waft in the air in delicious waves, Veritas opened you up to conservation, small talk mostly until you relaxed further, distracted by the endless flow of words. He told you about what happened in the time of your absence, and what he has been up to with the Guild and what shenanigans his student did too. The last topic got a giggle out of you, and Veritas seemed to glow at the sound. He smiled too, along with you.

Hunger seemed more natural and welcome now as a bit more life returned to your joints and you rose from your seat to pace around the kitchen, still tired but more.. alive, just that - alive. Alive and comfortable. You would occasionally glance into the pot, narrowly missing the gust of steam that jumped up from the pot. 

“Should be done about now.. let me see... hmm” Veritas nudged against you over the stove, wearing kitchen mittens and removing the pot off the heat, and you promptly turned it off  and watched what he did. 

Veritas had made this recipe once before, when you really did have a fever. ‘Healing chicken vegetable soup’ - he said it was called, a recipe he seemed to recall from younger years of his childhood. You wanted to learn to make it and try to make it, but it would seem he never got sick or that he let you do it. This dish was his in truth. 

What came of his meticulous work was a delicious plate of soup with cut chicken meat, not a bone in sight. It was soft on the throat, although you ended up adding a bit more seasoning for your own tongue while Veritas dined on the soup as it was. He was slow with it, bent on observing you eat. 

“I assume that it is to your liking?”

You nodded, mouth full to respond. 

“Good. I am glad of it. Sometimes you have to take the back seat to get the joy of life, no matter how long you remain in that station it will be well worth it once you get back into the driver’s seat” He told you, hoping to get to you without addressing the matter directly, knowing it may result in more harm than good and your mood was just beginning to look up.

“Yeah… I know, Veritas. Yet having spent so much time at the head of it all, taking the back seat feels like a punishment” you managed to say after nearly scalding your throat with how eagerly you swallowed your bite, wanting to converse with him.  

“It is not a punishment, especially not when you know you need such a change in perspective. You’re doing yourself a misdeed by rooting yourself to the place that drained you in the first place” 

“Speaking from experience?”

“Pft- now, don’t be so brazen with me after letting me see you so wilted” he bit back quickly, but he held no actual malice, only wasn’t prepared for your rebuttal. He cleared his throat and took a sip of the tea he prepared for you both. Veritas was human too, and you knew of his own trials and errors more than anyone else - of course he felt the same, but you didn’t need to force him to admit it.

You smiled at his jab, scooping up more soup. 

“Wilted? I have to thank you for the nourishment then, I am already feeling more.. revitalized” you told him and your look softened his own when you looked up at him. Color seeps back into your cheeks, and you don't wobble in your step or stumble. Your bones felt like bones again, not air. 

“I will take your thanks properly once you really feel better.. until then, I’d prefer if you ate well and actually took some of the advice I gave you.. I may have not said it but your message did worry me greatly..”

The words made you slow down in your motions and you looked at him in silent apology now, but he once again beat you to speaking. “Imagine - I had to cancel my classes. What will my students think now?”

“They must be thinking it’s the end of the world”

“Hah” His pearly whites show as he grins at your words and you nearly imitate him, but you smile regardless with what energy you got back. He is leaning back in his seat, arms crossed in an almost boyishly fashion, relaxed. “Perhaps, but I can easily make up for a missed class. Let them think what they will.. May this even get their mind spinning a little bit more if my absence is so heatedly understood”. 

By the time you were done sharing jabs and words, you had eaten more than you expected. The warmth of the tea and soup brings sleep to pull at your eyelids, beckoning you to close them. Veritas noticed you nearly nodding off at the table and was quick enough to come up to your side, hand on the opposite shoulder from where he stood. 

“It is time you go get to bed”

Had you had any more strength, you would have said you needed to get to working on those papers, but the memory of the same was lost in the night before, and all you could think of how comfortable the pillow will be when your heads falls onto it, and how warm Veritas’ arms will be when he lays down next to you.

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

A/n: the recipe is actually a greek recipe ehehhehee, I wanted a little easter egg

[kissitbttr]

your mafia!toji fic got me thinking so hard abt him😭😭 he’s deffo the type to just buy you sm stuff as an apology but when you don’t forgive him and sleep in a different bedroom mf will come into the room on his knees and beg for you to come to sleep 😩😩 imagine still saying no and him just flipping you onto his shoulders and carrying you to bed 🤭

oh you are absolutely correct!

|

“darling” toji softly calls you, letting out a tired sigh. “i said i was sorry. what am i supposed to do?”

“die” she replies nonchalantly, shoulders shrugging before grabbing a pillow and your favorite blanket off the bed,

he snickers, looking over at her with a raised eyebrow. “now, now that would be over dramatic don’t you think? won’t you miss me?”

he almost pisses his pants when she throws him a glare,

“okay. no jokes. got it” he put his hands up in surrender, feeling absolutely terrified at his baby being mad and speaking less than two words to him,

if anyone ever finds out that the most feared and notorious man in the city being tamed by his woman, he would never hear the end of it,

but she is scary. can you blame him?

toji looks over at the designer shoes and bags he just purchased a few hours ago, tucked neatly in the corner. untouched by her.

guess the apology gifts aren’t working,

“i didn’t know that she was coming, i haven’t even talked to her in years! never planned to anyway, you know i only got my eyes for my girl, right?”

she tries so hard not to roll her eyes,

toji had a meeting with one of the cartels at the club earlier that night. and of course, she always goes. it’s where he can always keep an eye on her and refuses to leave her at home all alone because he can’t risk that. also, because she’s his good luck charm. whenever she’s around, deals always goes well,

tonight was an exception though,

all was well until a certain person decided to crash. his old fling. one before he met his precious girlfriend. the red haired thought that it would be fun to press her fake ass tits against toji,

y/n was shocked to say at least. she didn’t say anything but her face spoke thousand words. toji could see that. throwing daggers at the bitch, corner of her lips quirk into a form of disgust.

and the worst part was? toji didn’t do anything about it! can you believe that asshole?!

something about being absolutely unprofessional if he was ever to push her off and it ticked y/n to the fucking bone so she decided to ignore him the rest of the night,

toji feels defeated when she chooses not to respond, simply just taking her stuff. he crouches lightly to look at her pretty face clearly. “baby… can you please look at me? I can’t stand seeing you mad. i’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you”

if it was any circumstances, sure she would melt and jump in his arms. but tonight is different. how could he?

she looks up at him and whisper “fuck. you” before turning around angrily and walk out of the door to go sleep on the guest room,

toji groans, the heel of his palms pressing against his eyes. she has always been so stubborn. too fucking stubborn. exactly why he had to get rejected seven times before she accepted his date.

what? he needed to get humbled, so she gave him that.

he contemplate for a while whether or not he should let her be or not. then he chooses the latter. it would probably be best if he let her cool off some steam for a while, he doesn’t want to do any more damage or make her feel more annoyed by his presence,

bet. not even ten minutes later, he feels like losing his mind without her here.

“fuck this shit” he mutters, getting up from the bed. rubbing his face furiously before stomping towards the other side of the room,

he walks in without knocking, ready to say what he needs to say again. yet he stops. heart clenching at the sight of his girl curled up in bed, back facing him.

“love?” he slowly walks over to her laying figure,

“go away” she speaks. now in a softer tone

“please” he begs, walking around the bed and catching a glimpse of her playing with her pink manicured hands. “sweetheart. I’m sorry” he repeats, going down to her eye level before letting his hand moves to rest on her bare thigh. he’s internally relieved when she doesn’t push him off,

he sighs when she’s not looking at him, seemingly only focused on the nails that she had gotten done a week ago.

“i should’ve pushed her off. shouldn’t let her touch me like that. hell, i shouldn’t even let her breathe near me. i know that” he realizes his mistake. “i didn’t even think about what my girl needed. i was being a horrible boyfriend”

no answer,

he sighs again, refusing to look away from her pretty eyes,

“baby—“

“i heard you the first time. leave. and close the door”

toji is taken aback. fuck. she really is mad at him.

“you don’t mean that”

“uhm, yes i do” she retorts in an obvious tone, sassily raising her eyebrow before scooting a bit further from him. she doesn’t realize this but it makes his heart break,

“princess, i swear-“

“go call that girl back to keep you company. let that fucking bitch sleep by your side” she mutters, looking at the tv instead of him,

he can’t take this anymore,

“you know what? that’s it” toji had enough, he will not be sleeping alone and neither will she. standing up on his feet, his hands reach out to circle around her ankles before tugging her body towards him causing her to yelp,

“toji! what the fuck are you doing-oh!” her voice gets cut off the moment he pulls her body up like she weighs nothing. throwing her over his shoulder. “put me down!” her fists start to hitting his back—as if they’re actually hurting him— legs swinging back and forth

“nope” he answers, keeping a firm grip around her waist before swatting her ass, locking the guest room behind him and walking back to their shared one. “you’re driving me crazy, woman—not saying that i hate it, but i’m pretty fucking beat tonight and we are going to sleep together. so stop fighting me”

she huffs, admitting defeat and letting him carry to the bed. “fuck you, toji”

he smirks at that. “oh i will, baby”

[spdrvyn]

miguel as a weighted blanket — drabble

inspired by @desb3ar's art of miguel as a blanket for reader! love your art, mootie ^_^ reader is implied to be autistic in this because what else do i do in my works if it's not project, am i right folks haha...

Thunder clapped mere blocks away from your flat, it caused you to stir once more as you uttered curses at Mother Nature for bringing unfortunate weather to the city today.

You'd come back home exhausted, the work day had taken away all the spoons you had left for the day, so you had hoped to rejuvenate through a power nap, but the universe has decided to play its twisted little game with you this afternoon, you think.

Every thing was just too loud, the city noise, the rainfall, and the distant workings of the shower contributed to your disturbed slumber. You would have woken up by now and gotten to work if it all just went according to plan, but the constant interruptions had left you more than perturbed.

That burden lifted only slightly when the water falling from the shower had stopped, to be followed by your lover exiting the bathroom. Hair being furiously dried with a towel, water droplet ran down his high cheekbones, and onto the plumpness of his lips. You raised your head from your pillow just a little, to gawk.

Miguel adorned an ironic science pun tee and grey sweatpants, his curls looked more frayed due to his impatience to use a hair dryer, so just the way you like it. Your head flopped down on the pillow again, a pout curled on your lips.

"Are you going to stay?" Your finger drew shapes into the pillow casing, Miguel simply chuckled as he discarded of his towel onto only what you can assume to be the bathroom sink.

"Hope so," the weight he put on the bed when he laid down had caused you to shift closer to his side. Almost instinctively, his arm wrapped around your shoulder. A large hand at your nape to pull you close, even closer.

He was so undeniably warm, it was a comfort– no– privilege that your already comfy blanket could not grant you. As if on autopilot, your body also seeked that delicious body heat and you wrapped both of your arms around him as well, positioned yourself so that his chin was on the crown of your head.

As you flinched when the thunder crashed, this time even closer to the apartment, Miguel had begun to understand your groggy disposition, asking if he'd stay longer. His grip on you tightened.

Since it seems he can read minds, he shifted one of his legs to go in between yours as his arms moved down to wrap around your waist to slide you underneath him a little. The weight and warmth of him blanketed (literally) the overwhelming stimulus from outside.

You hummed contently as you nuzzled your face into his chest, the thin fabric of his shirt leaving little to hide. His breaths were slow, but his heart pounded like gunfire. A soothing rhythm you found yourself entranced in as you begun to fall asleep.

The only outside noise you heard was one you didn't awaken to, one that didn't leave your energy bar unsatiated, one that you absolutely loved.

"Go to sleep, I'll be here when you wake up."

[causenessus]

for your event, can I request suna with ⭐️ and 🍳? :D

Almond Butter. | Suna Rintarou

suna x f!reader

written in 2nd pov and it tore me to shreds

prompts from 1k followers event -> ⭐ -> insomnia & 🍳 -> cooking

"you've adored me before, oh my good looking boy." from good looking (stripped) by suki waterhouse

word count: 1.1k words

notes: fluff <333 i can't help talking about how hot and sexy this man is everytime i write for him i am so in love with him i am barking from him HHHHH— suna being a good boyfriend and brother!!! i love this man to bits and pieces <3 1K WRITING EVENT IS BACK IN SESSION!!! AND SO AM I!! NESS!! FOR A SINGLE DAY!! WITH CRAPPY WRITING!! i'm obsessed with him and him only using petnames and also i see this as a scenario being quite early into your relationship with him <3 and basically this being the first time he says "i love you" to you (without realizing it) and you realizing you love him (and being too sleepy to say it)(this makes more sense once you read the drabble)

mango anon, if you see this <3 this is us <3 this is me making u almond butter toast <3

cw: food, talk about food chemistry and how your brain converts food to melatonin using carbs yay science! work is not exactly proofread

you’ve been waiting in your living room for the past 10 minutes.

well, actually, you’ve been waiting for the past two hours to go to sleep but your brain won't let you, no matter how tired you feel.

finally giving up any chance of falling asleep soon in your bed, you let the screen of your phone blind you as you shoot a quick text to your boyfriend:

y/n : taro are you awake? i can’t sleep :( insomnia’s kicking my ass again

you collapse back onto your pillow, throwing your phone haphazardly to your side with a groan. almost immediately, your head pops back up again at the sound of a buzz, and you blindly reach for your phone, looking at its screen.

rin <3 : yeah i am

rin <3 : give me 10 min

you weren’t entirely sure what he had meant by that; if he was busy, and would reply again in 10 minutes or if he was coming over.

you hoped it was the latter, but you'd find out soon enough. in the meantime, you moved to your living room, curled up on your couch under a heavy blanket, dimly lit by the warm light of a nearby lamp as you watched the seconds go by on your phone.

you always slept better with him, whether he was holding you in his arms or he was just simply in the room with you, it felt nice to be in his presence. just the thought of him was slowly making your eyes start to droop before the sound of the door unlocking made you perk up.

there he was, gently swinging your door open, a white plastic bag in hand. his yellow eyes fell on you as you looked him up and down, obviously judging his poor taste in clothing (sweats and a t-shirt) despite it being the middle of winter.

“hi baby,” he whispers, kicking off his shoes before immediately making a beeline towards you. you were peeking out from over the arm of your couch, and he knelt on the floor at the side of the couch, chin propped against the arm of it where you were, leaning in towards your face. there was a smile on his own as he spoke, “don’t fall asleep now, i just got here.”

you can only sigh quietly in response, happy to finally see him. “can’t help it,” you mumble, “‘was thinking of you.”

his smile only grows at your words, and he presses a chaste kiss to your forehead, letting a hand run down the side of your face, caressing it carefully. “you’re cute when you’re tired, doll,” he teases as you lean into his touch, too tired to even respond. “at least let me take care of you before you fall asleep though, yeah? i went to the store for you after all.”

“you didn’t have to buy me anything,” you whisper, reaching an arm out to him, trying to get him to join you on the couch.

he grabs your hand, rubbing a thumb lovingly over the back of it, but doesn’t let you pull him down, “of course i’ll buy you things, y/n. i love you. can i make you something to eat?”

you hum in thought, thinking about if you really want to allow him to move you, but when he tugs gently at your arm, you get up (begrudgingly) bringing your blanket with you to the kitchen.

you rest your arms on the counter you’re sitting at, lazily watching his figure move through your kitchen, pulling items out of his bag. “what’re you doing?” you eventually question, eyeing his selection of groceries with confusion. the jug of milk you can understand, but not the jar of what you assume to be jam and a nut butter.

“‘making you toast,” he answers, rummaging through your drawers for a knife, “my sister used to have trouble sleeping sometimes too, and she’d always wake me up instead of our mom so i had to figure out what helped.”

“and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches are supposed to help you fall asleep?” you ask, sitting up to rest your head on your hand as you watch him pull a plate from your cupboard.

the bread he dropped into your toaster pops back up as he corrects you, “almond butter. my sister hates peanut butter, and rightfully so. almonds are better.” he continues talking as he places the toasted bread on the plate he grabbed, “i had to google what kind of foods you should eat when you can’t sleep and it’s the first suggestion i saw. the almonds have something in them that gets converted to melatonin using the carbs from the bread and jam, or something like that.”

you nod along like you really care about whatever science he’s rambling about when really, all you can pay attention to is how nice his voice is. ever since he entered your apartment, you’ve realized how much he was all you needed to sleep. you’re slowly getting more attached to him and the longer you date him, the more sure you are that you love him, too.

he slips into the seat next to you, sliding the plate of toast over to you. you mumble a small thanks, biting into the sandwich before opting to lean against him, your head resting on his shoulder while the rest of your body is wrapped in the heavy blanket you brought from your couch.

you hum in satisfaction, deciding that maybe rintarou was right about whatever science is behind the contents of this sandwich, or maybe he just needs to research the effect he has on you. you’re sure just being in his presence is sending melatonin straight to your brain–or however he said that works. “rin,” you hum, eyes closed as you remain leaning against him.

“what is it, sweetheart?” he asks. one of his arms has moved to wrap around your back, holding you close while one of his fingers grazes the skin of your arm, drawing lazy circles onto it.

“will you stay the night, too?” you ask, taking another bite of the sandwich.

he can’t help but smile, watching you snuggle up against him, scooting your chair and plate closer to him, closing the gap between you two. “of course, love, if that’s what you want,” he whispers, pressing a kiss into your hair.

you nod in response to the statement, holding up your sandwich to his mouth for him to take a bite of. “you're good at making sandwiches, but i think all i need is you to fall asleep,” you mumble tiredly and he chuckles.

“if you fall asleep here, i’ll have to carry you to your bed, you know,” he warns, but you're already drifting in and out of sleep, the plate on the table in front of you both now empty, besides a few crumbs of bread.

“that’s okay,” you try to say, fighting a losing battle against the sleep that's slowly overtaking you. “you can do it,” your last words of encouragement make his heart twist before your head lolls slightly, and he knows you’ve knocked out.

taglist: @akaakeis @wyrcan @daisy-room @eggyrocks @cheriisae @alexithemiyatic @kameyyy @iiwaijime @chaotic-neutral-ig @bakery-anon @kakeru-eem

[silent-stories]

𝐂𝐀𝐍'𝐓 𝐒𝐀𝐘 𝐍𝐎

Pairing: Eddie x GN!Reader

Summary: Waking up with Eddie.

Warnings: fluff

When you woke up you were curled up in the blankets, warm, next to Eddie.

For a moment you wondered why you weren't at your house, then you remembered that the night before you fell asleep on Eddie's bed.

You noticed that the first lights of the day were filtering through the window, illuminating his bedroom with different shades of red and orange, so it must have been early morning.

Resting at the foot of the bed was Eddie's guitar that he'd kept in his lap all night before, occasionally running his fingers over the strings until you playfully said you were jealous and took its place.

You felt Eddie, next to you, starting to move when you tried to get out of the bed.

"What's happening?" He asked with a husky and sleepy voice, raising his head slightly and rubbing one eye with his hand.

His hair was unkempt and his dark curls went in all directions.

"Why are you laughing?" He asked again.

"Because you're cute." You said. "But I gotta go. My mom must be wondering where I am. I didn't tell her I wasn't coming home yesterday."

You were about to get up and get out of bed but he wrapped his arm around your waist and you fell back on the mattress.

"Eddie, c'mon." You laughed.

"You're not going anywhere." He said as he pushed you against his body and your legs got entangled.

Instinctively, you rested your head on his chest, even though you knew you should have gotten out of bed. He slowly ran his warm hand up and down your back.

"Eddie." You said again.

"Stay, it's too early." He muttered as he left a kiss in your hair. "Please."

That "please" almost convinced you, he soundend just like a little kid.

"I'm so sorry Eds, but my mom needs to know that I'm still alive. I have to go." You said as his arm still held you against his body.

"What about me?" He answered moving a lock of hair that had fallen on your face and placing it behind your ear. "I need you too."

Eddie's morning version was absolutely one of your favorites.

"Eddie." You muttered as you left a short but tender kiss on his lips. "If you keep acting like that, I'll never leave this room."

"That was the idea." He chuckled as he slowly wrapped the blanket better around your shoulders.

You sighed, enjoying the feeling of Eddie's arms around your waist for a few seconds, listening to his heartbeat.

"I really should go." You murmured.

"Or you can call your mom and tell her you're spending all Sunday in bed with your amazing boyfriend." He replied, his hand still running up and down your back. "Specify only cuddling"

"Eddie..." You tried to convince him, even though the exact opposite was happening.

"Don't go," he whispered "please."

"I-" You tried to say, but he continued.

"I'll give you one of my t-shirts because they look better on you than on me and then we can order a pizza, listen to some music and I can read you The Hobbit. Or even better, I can teach you how to play D&D." He said.

It sounded nice, you had to admit it.

"What do you think about it, mh?" He asked, you could hear the hope in his voice.

You knew you should go, that your mom was probably worried and you also had to do your physics homework by Monday. But you just couldn't say no to Eddie.

"I think I'll stay." You muttered as a smile formed on Eddie's lips and he left a kiss on your forehead.

"Good." He said simply as a satisfied smile appeared on his lips.

You wrapped your arms around his torso.

"Good." You whispered back, placing your head better on his chest that you were still using as a pillow.

[guppygiggles]

Pale Blue

What: Sleepy tickles, body positivity, fluff.

Word count: 1.2k

Universe: Canon

Who: Casper and Avery

Description: It feels weird to formalize this because it's so short, but I desperately needed to write something for comfort. This is a little messy, but... so are my feelings right now, so at least it's honest. Please forgive any typos or formatting mistakes. 💙

The humidifier whispered at our bedside as I laid in big-spoon position against Avery's back, the ice crystals inside his head reflecting our nightlight in tiny flashes.

With my arm resting on his ribcage, I studied the rhythm of his breathing, trying to figure out if he was still awake. We'd been in bed for around an hour according to my phone, which I'd just checked for the eighth time. I couldn't stop thinking about the audit in which I was mired at work, plus, my shoulder hurt from poor posture all week. I was tired, but I couldn't sleep. 

I rolled over, nuzzling my head into my pillow to try and get comfortable. To my surprise, Avery rolled with me, his long arms wrapping securely around my body. He enveloped me like an oversized beanbag – when I spooned him, I was more like his backpack. Avery sometimes rolled over in his sleep, but as I felt his hand move with intelligence against my hip, I spoke into the dark. 

“Are you awake…?”

“Mm… no.” He did sound sleepy. That cool palm slid up my body and under the hem of my t-shirt.

I exhaled slowly. “Good, you're not supposed to be.” 

“I could say the same to you.”  

His fingers traced down my bare tummy. I flinched. 

“Why are you so tense~?” He asked. 

“Aheh…” 

“Relax your belly.” 

I whimpered. 

“Casper, relax for me~” 

I bit my lip, but did as instructed, releasing my stomach muscles with a shaky exhale. As the pudge of my belly expanded into his palm, he gently grabbed at it. 

“Mm, there we go~ I love how soft you are, here…”

My legs twisted as I turned my face into the pillow, muffling giggles into it as he fondled and teased my vulnerable tummy. My hands knew better than to interfere with this ticklish evaluation.

“A-Ahavery…” 

“Yesss~?” 

I could hear his smile. I squirmed against the cool softness of his body. 

“That…!” 

“Mhmmm~?” 

I tensed again, my muscles knitting together. This was met with a punishing fingertip wiggling into my navel. 

“Ah, ah~ You know better. Do I need to get mean~?”

“P-pleahease…” My ears burned. 

“Please…? You want me to get mean?” 

Oh, no. 

“No, no wahahait-!” 

“Well, who am I to turn down such an invitation?” 

His curious fingertips turned into a plush claw as all five digits dug into my belly. My bubbling giggles turned into a geyser of laughter I had no hope of holding back. 

“WAAAhahahaha!” My legs kicked, toes curling in futility. 

“If you won't relax your belly for me… I want you to at least complete your thought from earlier, please… Tell me what this does to you.”

Avery's politeness made the demand twice as scary. I grabbed a fistful of blanket; anything to help me resist grabbing his hand. I knew what was down that road. 

“I c-cahahahan’t!” I whined as he continued to wiggle his fingers into me, exciting all those wickedly sensitive nerves. I could barely hear his voice beneath my laughter; low, controlled. Amused. 

“You know how much meaner I could be than this~ Is that what you want?”

“Nohohoho!” His hand scampered across my tummy, lightly skittering to a new spot and then digging in again, with random breaks to gently pinch my side or hip. With every attempt to roll onto my stomach, he simply pulled me back with his gentle strength. I could feel the restrained power behind that touch; hands that could easily unrest a tree from the earth handled my human body like a priceless Fabergé egg. 

“Tell me, then…” 

His index finger found the crease at the top of my thigh, pressing it like a child presses a streetlight button when there's an ice cream parlor across the street and five dollars in his hand. My reaction was explosive. 

“WAAHAHAHAHAA! OKAHAHAY! OKAHHAHAY~!” 

The handful of blanket was damp with the sweat of my palm as the tweaking stopped. A pause heavy with expectation fell over us. 

“Well…?” 

“It… it…” My blush was so hot, I was sure Avery could see it in the dark. 

He chuckled against my back, placing a cool, refreshing kiss on the back of my neck. I wanted more… I wanted them all over. 

“Sing for me, dewdrop…” 

A single tweak into that crease made me jolt and gasp. 

“Fihihine! It…” I tucked my head into the pillow. “...Tickles…” 

“What was that? Apologies, I'm afraid you'll have to speak up…” 

I felt swift movement behind me and even before the attack, I realized that I had pushed Avery's ler rage too far. In an instant I was on my back, cushy cloud cuffs around my wrists as they rested above my head, Avery's leg like a lap bar across my thighs. His hand spidered over my torso, scribbling under my arms, my ribs, my belly. I howled with laughter, my back arching uselessly. 

“OKAHAHAY IT TIHIHICKLES! IT TIHIHICKLES!!” I cried through gale after gale of deep, hopelessly honest cackling. 

“Oh, it does? It tickles when I do this? Hm! Could that be because you're ticklish?” He'd adopted a casual, playful tone as he laid beside me, propping his head up with one hand as he tormented me with the other. 

“YEEHEHEHEHESSS!” What good was it to resist at this point? I didn't even bother tugging at the cuffs as he used a single fingertip to wiggle into one armpit, then the other, then back to a big, ticklish claw at my belly. I just laughed and laughed, letting it all pour out unimpeded by resistance. 

“Very good~! My goodness, such hair-raising laughter, all from such a small amount of stimulation…” 

He lifted my night shirt up to my ribs, then went back to gently pinching and grabbing at my belly pudge, patting, squeezing, and playing with it. 

“I'm sorry, I just can't get enough of this.”

“Plehehehehease stahahahap thahahahahat~!” I protested in a combination of ticklishness and embarrassment. Much as I was a huge proponent of body positivity, I wasn't exactly immune to insecurity; I'd packed on a few pounds from work stress. 

“I will never understand what you humans find shameful about fat on your bodies… especially here…” 

He shifted on the bed, repositioning so that he could nuzzle his cool face into my exposed middle. He kissed and cuddled, making me giggle shyly. 

“So soft and warm,” he cooed, peppering me with more kisses, the last one landing on my navel. 

I felt the cuffs around my wrists dissipate. I reached down, stroking the rolling curve of Avery's head, even as my belly quivered beneath his touch. 

“I love tickling you,” he said. “I love loving you. All of you, just as you are.” 

The corners of my eyes felt wet as he crawled back up the bed, wrapping his body possessively around mine, pulling me into him like he was an oyster and I his treasured pearl. I tucked into him, his cool arm a relief against my cheek as I rested my head on his bicep. The world disappeared around us; we were a mote of sanity glowing amidst a blackness of merciless chaos. 

“I'm so tired,” I whispered. 

“I know, sweetheart. Can you sleep, now?” 

“I think so.” My eyes were already closed; there was very little thought involved. 

It was quiet. Avery's breathing slowed. 

“Avery…” 

“Hm?”

“Don't let go… okay?” 

He pulled me in tighter. I felt his lips on the back of my head, nuzzling my hair. 

“Never. Never, ever, ever.” 

[astarioffsimpmain]

Misty Morning Respite

Pairing: Astarion x Aelene

Word Count: 1k

Author's Note:

Surpriiiiiiiise @charlenestrawart !!! 🥰😁 This is my gift to you for the Astarion Brainrot Discord autumn exchange! I used the "foggy mornings" and "soft blankets" prompts, and I really hope you enjoy it. ❤️ It's been WILD trying to keep this a secret from you, but I'm so glad I got to write for you and your beautiful tav, Aelene. I love you, friend!! 🥹

♡ ♡ ♡

The slow coming of morning filtered through the thin curtains of the Last Light Inn, but for the first time in 210 years, Astarion was not concerned. The gauzy cotton did little to hide his pallor skin from the slowly rising sun, but instead of scurrying to the far side of the bed or ducking beneath the covers, he lazily lifted his hand to the still-bluish glow, and admired the iron ring on his third finger. The crimson stone that sat at its center cast a ghostly shadow on the wall of the room, not yet glittering due to the clouded, dewy sky. A soft smile tugged at his pink lips, still plush from the previous night’s activities. He cast a glance down beside him to the woman resting in his arms. Her snow white hair fell over her face like a blanket, covering her wintery skin and most of her shimmering silver scales.

He took a moment to simply admire her as she slept, curled around him tightly, seeking the familiar comfort of his cold body. She had risked her life to acquire the ring he now wore. She had tangled with death to help him become a victor over the sun. She had done it with little more benefit to herself than having him beside her. She not only sought his freedom, she now also sought his joy; and gods had she found it. He chuckled quietly, imperceptible to the untrained ear, but his lover stirred slightly nonetheless, ever so used to his sounds that even in her sleep, she perceived them. He quieted, not wanting to wake her yet. The lines of stress and pain from the past still haunted her face sometimes - when he did not manage to kiss them away - , but in sleep she held none of that tension; slack-faced and innocent as she dreamed.

Gently, he brushed strands of hair from her face to reveal her angular scales; so light and metallic that they almost reflected his red eyes gazing down at her. It was fitting, he thought, that the stone in the ring that would allow him to walk in the sun again would match both his own eyes and the eyes of his lover. It seemed meant to be… like fate. He smiled, and another chuckle escaped him that the idea of fate - something he had always hated so desperately - would finally grant him kindness after 200 years. A second sound from him would not go unnoticed by his sleeping lover, and a pitiful whimper came from her throat as she slowly gained awareness.

“Good morning, darling,” Astarion murmured, swooping down to kiss her lips before her eyes opened. She hummed against his lips and smiled, her hands wandering up around his neck.

“Mmm, good morning, Astarion,” Aelene muttered against his mouth, tangling her fingers in his locks as she did.

“Now, my love, you can’t be too greedy before you eat something,” he tutted quietly, all the while, his fingers traced patterns on her bare thigh beneath the velvety blankets she had insisted on buying once they returned to Baldur’s Gate with their prize. “You must replenish your energy if you’re to keep up with me.”

She giggled softly, urging closer to him, as if she could meld with him completely. “Can’t you feed me once I’m well and truly spent?”

“I am not hand feeding you again. You bit me last night!” her lover balked in return, only half joking.

“You bite me all the time!” she rebutted, her laugh growing louder.

“I ask, darling.”

“Then may I please bite your pretty fingers while you feed me?” Aelene batted her sleepy eyes at him, and he chortled.

“Hmm,” he pondered, a finger coming to his lips. “Since you asked so nicely… no.”

“Astarion!” she laughed, her head thrown back against the pillows, and Astarion grinned down at her.

“Come on, darling. I want to enjoy my first sunrise in 210 years, with you.” He booped her nose gently with his index finger and she beamed up at him, her carmine eyes twinkling.

“Well, how could I say no to that?”

~ ~ ~

Moments later, they were dressed and leaving their room behind, blankets folded into packs and food for the road stuffed into pockets. The sky had begun to turn a rosy gold by the time Aelene and Astarion had settled beneath a large oak tree just outside the limits of the city, at a vantage point high enough to be unobstructed by the goings-on of the everyday folk nearby. Aelene had snuck under Astarion’s arm once again and was gently playing with his fingers as the rising sun vaporized the fog that still lingered on the damp grass. She cared little for the sunrise; she’d seen hundreds. Her focus was on her lover’s face. She allowed her head to fall against his shoulder as his glittering red-wine eyes stayed trained on the coming day; his eyebrows raised, his pink lips parted ever so slightly. He looked so young.

As the sun broke through the clouds of the morning, the sky erupted into brilliant shades of orange, red, and yellow, painting the clouds with vibrancy, and Astarion - her Astarion - looked on in captivated wonder. His eyes widened as he took it in, the sunrises he had seen in his time with the tadpole not even daring to compare to this. Aelene’s heart clenched as she watched a tear chase the length of Astarion’s beautiful face, another following close behind; and another, and another. His vision misted completely, and he brought his palm to his face, a sob wracking through him. Aelene’s hands came to rest atop his and he allowed her to move them, smiling through tears as she swept away his overflowing awe with her fingertips, kissing each place they had previously been as she went.

They watched the rest of the sunrise in silence, wrapped tightly in one another, and as the sky turned to its mid-morning blue, Astarion curled his fingers under Aelene’s chin and turned her to face him. “Thank you, my love,” he whispered softly, his eyes more tender than she had ever seen them. She rested her forehead against his, bumping his nose gently.

“I love you, Astarion.”

A beat of silence passed before he smiled.

“I love you, more.”

~

fin

[moonlight-prose]

wip wednesday!

thank you for the tags @joelsgoldrush @eupheme @elflutter @joelsdagger & @sceletaflores!! i didn't do this last week cause i was thoroughly exhausted but i am very excited about what's cooking in my drafts this week!

Hopelessly Devoted To You

A shove against his chest had him stumbling towards the door, your entire body being used like a counterweight to push him out. He fell into the hallway with a grunt, teeth clamping onto his bottom lip to silence the laughter that threatened to echo off the empty walls. This wasn't an unusual position to find yourselves in—fighting like children who each held onto one end of a life altering secret.

Nights spent in the comfort of your home in high school with Eddie forced to sleep on the floor (per your mother's instructions) lead to picking on one another until the other caved. A past time you often ached to get back.

Maybe that's why you couldn't stop smiling at the sight of him trying to cling to the edge of your doorway. Maybe that's why your heart was set to burst when he snuck back in to simply hear you shout his name.

Two humans helplessly gone for one another with nothing to show for it but a lifetime of friendship. Never meant to be more than this.

"Night kitten!" he called from his room, the door shutting with a soft thud as you slipped beneath the thick comforter.

"Goodnight Eddie," you sighed, settled atop the mountain of pillows, your eyes fixed on the frame a few feet away.

The smiling image of younger you mocked the current situation; her haughty demeanor formed a sour pit in your stomach, your body desperate to curl in on itself the longer you stared at the past. You were so naive back then. Ready and willing to jump when Eddie gave you the go ahead. But what's changed? How had you moved away from that young hopeless girl? You still gave into his pleas, you relinquished your strength and handed it over without taking a second to think perhaps you should have considered the fallout.

Eddie said jump.

And suddenly you found yourself in New York.

Still naive. Still hopelessly in love with a man who might never see you as anything other that highschool girl. The kitten who trailed after him looking for an owner who might show you some love, who might spare you a second glance.

"Pathetic," you muttered, flipping to your other side in the hopes that sleep would find you.

The creak of your partially shut door is what roused you from a restless and fitful two hours of chasing sleep to no avail. Your eyes cracked open in the pitch black, body rolling to see the kitchen light illuminate a rather tall and shirtless Eddie. He rubbed a hand over his face, eyes bleary with lack of sleep, and wordlessly you pulled the blankets back to the empty side on your right.

A smile curled on his lips, lazy and barely there, but it lit you up from the inside out—his feet softly padding on the cement floor as he stumbled through the room. Unsuccessfully if the whispered cuss word muttered under his breath after hitting his leg was anything to go by. You hid your grin beneath the edge of the comforter, feeling the bed dip when he shuffled to find the comfiest spot.

"'S fucking cold in here," he mumbled, shoving the blanket up to his neck.

"It's your apartment."

"Yeah, yeah. Just c'mere." He sighed, long and bordering on defeat. "I missed you."

He didn't give you the option of backing out, his hands grasping blindly for your waist. Of course, you didn't put up much of a fight either. The bed felt desolate in his absence. As if it'd been waiting for him all this time—hoping he might come to fill the gaps where frigid air seeped through. Somehow Eddie remained your knight in shining armor. Your savior against the horrors no matter how minuscule.

Dark bedrooms and empty beds included.

Silence swept over you in gentle soothing waves. The promise of sleep settled contently in your grasp, allowing you a moment to finally rest for the first time since you got on that plane. But you couldn't find it in you to close your eyes. Instead you let your gaze wander over Eddie's face as he sunk into the depths of sleep—his hand clasped in yours and settled between your bodies.

"Hey Eddie," you whispered.

"Hm?"

"I missed you too."

tagging: @ovaryacted @silverskyeline @guiltyasdave @superhoeva @zloshy

[keru0]

Tickletober 2024

Day 12: Trapped

Lee!Zhongli x Ler!Childe

Ngl kinda wanted to make this one longer, but i thought it was a good stopping point...who knows though, maybe I'll come back to it

*Warning for feet lol

===========================================

“Are you quite done?” Zhongli raised a brow to the ginger. The archon was currently wrapped in a blanket, only his head and feet poking out, thanks to his boyfriend’s playful antics. It had started just a bit ago, Zhongli ignoring Childe’s taunts to rile him up, simply resigning himself to relaxing on the bed. But Childe didn’t stop, resorting to wrapping the man up tight in a blanket, hoping he’d have no other choice than to finally acknowledge him.

“Ah, so I’m not invisible…” Childe rolled his eyes, laying next to the burrito-fied man and poking him in the cheek.

Zhongli twitched his head away and glared at the harbinger, though it had no bite to it. “You never were, you have simply been…I think energetic would be the right term.”

“Just because you’re old doesn’t mean I’m energetic. Everyone my age is like this.” He sighed, fluttering his fingers over the other’s neck and ear. 

“I am not old- Ajax get me out of- Ack! Stop that!” His head flinched away again, eyebrows creasing together as Childe’s playful fingers tickled his exposed neck. “We can go out so you can expel some of your energy.”

The redhead hummed to himself, looking up at the ceiling as if he was contemplating an answer. “Nah, I’ll have way more fun here.” He chuckled to himself, kissing Zhongli’s cheek before getting up and walking to the foot of the bed, settling himself next to the wiggling feet, loafers and sheer socks forgotten in the entryway.

Zhongli’s eyes widened, toes curling and shaking his head. “Childe, don't even think about it.”

“Think about what?” He asked innocently, lazily dragging a finger up and down the trapped man’s sole, from his heel to his toes and back.

“Chihihihlde! Y-Yohou knohohow-”

“No I don’t.” He answered, far too quickly for someone who was truly clueless about what he was doing. He added a finger to the other sole, both feet wrinkled from the toes curling tightly down, though they quickly uncurled and spread out whenever the long fingers tailed up to scratch beneath them.

“AhAhaHAjahAx! StaHahAhAHp!” the ex-archon pleaded, covering one foot with the other, his laughter becoming more frantic as he tried to wiggle around on the bed, trying to escape the tight security of the blanket.

“No, you’ve been ignoring me for the past hour, so I feel it’s only fair that I get to spend an hour with you…” He chuckled under his breath, skittering all ten of his fingers over a single sole, moving back and forth from foot to foot depending on which one was protecting the other. “NOhOHoHoHOhOHO!” Zhongli yelled, his head falling back onto the soft pillows as he was forced to deal with the fingers crawling over his feet. His head rolled back and forth, hair already a mess on the pillows.

“Yes~” The harbinger teased, grabbing ahold of the toes and bending them back, making sure they weren't in the way as he scrubbed his nails along their bases. Zhongli’s feet twitched in the strong hands’ grasp, trying their best to escape the scratching nails.

“AHAHAJAHAHAHX! PLEHEHEHEASE!” Zhongli begged, beginning to work up a sweat trapped in the warm blanket. Tears started to leak down his cheeks, legs twitching and feet trembling as Childe thoroughly worked them over, not sparing an ounce of mercy.

“As I said, an hour. It’s only been, I’d say, ten minutes? Another fifty to go~” He purred, a devilishly mischievous shine in his eye as he held the feet hostage, now raking his nails up and down the trapped sole rabidly, as if he was scratching an incessant itch.

The archon could only beg and laugh as sweat and tears of mirth soaked the pillows, trying his best to claw his way out of the blanket. Childe truly had no mercy as he scratched and scrubbed the helpless feet, trying and failing to wiggle as he held their toes back tightly with one hand. He wasn’t anything if not a man of his word, so Zhongli should prepare himself for the next fifty minutes…but he’s a god, so if he truly hated it, he could get out easily, not that he would make the younger man aware he actually enjoyed being trapped like this, even if just a tiny bit.

[damiansgoodgirll]

Can you write an sick fic with Damian where reader is running with a warm fever and doesnt want to get up and he takes care of her and end up in good cuddling

this video just made me realise how single i am :(

damian priest x reader

favorite job

you were curled up in your bed, covered in blankets because you were cold but feeling hotter than ever. you woke up feeling sick and you felt your head was going to explode any minute.

damian noticed you being sick the moment you started shivering a little and covered yourself with two more blankets.

“good morning beautiful” he smiled but you simply groaned “are you okay baby?” he asked, already knowing you were running a little sick.

“my head hurts…and my bones too…and my throat is sore…and my eyes are burning…” you whispered keeping your eyes closed.

damian checked your temperature, putting his hand over your forehead and gasped in shock when he felt how hot you were.

“baby…” he sadly smiled at you “i’m going to make you something to drink for your throat, and something to eat before you can take some medication…”

“not hungry…”

“don’t care mi amor, you have to eat something…” he whispered before getting up. he moved quickly, not wanting to leave you alone for too long. he went straight into the kitchen and prepared you a hot tea, knowing it always helped you with your throat and made some pancakes for you to eat, everything accompanied by two bottles of water because you needed to stay hydrated.

he took your favorite blanket from the couch too and moved back into the bedroom, carrying everything with his hands and laying all the good stuff he got you over your nightstand.

“we have pancakes and hot tea…can you sit baby?” he asked you and you tiredly nodded. he helped you putting a pillow behind your head and sat next to you.

“i probably look like shit…”

“you’re always beautiful to me baby…even with your eyes all red and your face all sweaty” he smiled at you and you smiled back “now, you’re gonna eat at least two pancakes so i can give you your medicine” he said and you nodded.

your throat hurt and it was hard eating but you did all you could, feeling a little better once your stomach was full. after that you drank your tea and you felt your throat burning less.

“very good baby…now take this” he gave you the pill and you swallowed it, helping yourself with some water.

“do you have to be somewhere today?” you asked him.

you knew you probably sounded like a child but you didn’t want to be left alone, not when you were feeling like shit.

“nowhere except this bed…” he smiled, joining you once again under the covers. he helped you laying again and he scooped you into his arms, your head on his chest as his arms wrapped you like you were a burrito. one of his hand went on your back as he gently started massaging it and you felt yourself closing your eyes again “you know…taking care of you is my favorite job” he whispered and left a few kisses over your head.

“and wrestling?” you teased him.

“oh princesa…you come first, always…” he said and you could hear the honesty in his voice.

“thank you for taking care of me…”

“i’ll always take care of you baby…always” he kissed your cheek “now…you’re gonna sleep for a few hours and once you’re feeling better we’re gonna stay in bed all day and we’re gonna watch your favourite movies, how’s that sound?”

“perfect…thank you damian, i love you so much…” you said sleepily, feeling the effect of the pill.

“te amo mi amor…” he smiled, knowing that you probably were already asleep but he didn’t care because he knew he had a lifetime with you to tell you how much he loved you.

[tooxmanyxships]

something about them having a domestic ass argument and lando making daniel sleep on the couch that night and then going to go sleep w him on the couch bc he can’t sleep w out him 😭

Silly domestic fights is just so them

If you'd told Daniel a few years ago, maybe even just a few weeks, that some stupid argument about how to do the laundry right would get you a ticket to one night sleeping on the couch, he would have laughed in your face.

Now, however, he found himself in that exact predicament.

So what if he forced the washing machine to stop before it's time so he could pull his sweater out?

No one told him the floor would suddenly be soaking wet.... And the washing program was ruined.

He thought it would be fine. But it wasn't.

And to make it even worse, he gave Lando some smart-ass replies, which all resulted in Lando telling him that he would be sleeping on the couch that night.

He thought he could get away with just sneaking into the room that evening, but Lando held a hand against his chest, looking at him with one eyebrow raised.

"Where do you think you're going?" emphasis on the last you in that sentence.

"Going to sleep?" Daniel tried to play aloof.

Lando snorted, lightly putting pressure on the hand against the other's chest. "Your 'bed' is in the living room."

"You're serious about this?"

"Of course I am. I told you earlier. You have a date with the couch."

"Can't I get my pyjamas?"

"You don't wear them."

Daniel huffed, "Fine. Can I at least have a pillow and a blanket?"

"Closet in the hallway."

And there goes his arguments, because they'd already brushed their teeth together and it was stupid to ask to do it again.

"Don't I get a goodnight kiss?"

Lando clicks his tongue, but holds onto his boyfriend's shoulder as he softly kisses his cheek.

"Night Danny."

Slightly deflated, but too proud and too stubborn to show it, Daniel gives him a mock salute and goes to grab a pillow and blanket out of the laundry closet in the hallway.

He makes his way to the couch and drops himself down onto it.

Might as well make himself as comfortable as possible.

~~~~~~~~~***********~~~~~~~~~~

Sending Daniel out to sleep on the couch had seemed like a great idea at first.

He was punished for almost breaking the washing machine and letting Lando do the cleaning of the bathroom.

But now..... After like 2 hours of tossing and turning in the too big bed, Lando was starting to think twice about his decision.

Instead of being able to curl up against his boyfriend's warmth, Daniel's side of the bed was cold.

He tried to cuddle up with the other's pillow but it wasn't the same. Not even close.

He simply couldn't sleep.

He stared up at the ceiling, a huff of annoyance at himself escaping his lips.

Why had he made the awful decision to make Daniel sleep on the couch again?

Finally giving up, he pushed himself out of the bed and slowly shuffled into the living room.

It was dark, but the small gap between the curtains sent some tiny bit of light onto the couch where he could make out his boyfriend's sleeping form.

Threading carefully, Lando tiptoed to the couch.

He hovered over Daniel's sleeping body, watching the rise and fall of his chest through the movement of his side.

His face was turned towards him, but his eyes were closed.

The couch wasn't really that big, but maybe he could make himself fit.

He sat down on the edge of the couch, then lowered himself into a lying down position very slowly. Wiggling around to get himself to fit.

It worked so far.

But then - --

Then Daniel made a move in his sleep, making Lando scramble to not fall to the floor.

He'd resigned himself to his misfortune already and closed his eyes before the drop, but it never came.

Blinking his eyes open in confusion, Lando finally realized that there was an arm wrapped securely around his middle and his back was pressed against a solid chest.

A solid chest which suddenly rumbled with a quiet chuckle.

Lando turned himself around carefully and found himself staring into a pool of warm brown eyes.

"Fancy seeing you here."

Lando huffed. Holding back on the urge to slap his boyfriend's chest.

"Couldn't sleep," he mumbled with a half shrug.

"You missed me, huh."

An eye roll, "No. Just couldn't sleep."

Daniel poked Lando's side, making him squirm.

"Just tell me that you missed me."

"No!"

Daniel started tickling his boyfriend for real now, who squeaked and squirmed, the only thing keeping him from falling was Daniel's arm, because Daniel was somehow able to tickle and hold him on the couch at the same time.

"Daniel!" Lando sounded almost out of breath. "Danny, stop!"

"Admit it then. You missed me in our bed."

"Never!"

"Well... Enjoy the floor then."

"N-no!!!"

Daniel acted like he was pushing Lando off the couch, but in reality he just rolled them over so Lando was trapped between the back of the couch and his boyfriend's body, but at least he wouldn't fall.

Daniel shuffled them both around a bit to get as comfortable as possible.

He let Lando tuck his face into his neck and gently rubbed his hand over his back, letting him calm down from the tickle attack.

As the younger male got his breathing back under control, he murmured softly into the Aussie's skin.

"I did."

If he wanted to be obnoxious, Daniel would ask him to say it again, but instead he just smiled and turned his head a little to kiss the side of his lover's head that he could reach.

"I know."

A snort.

"At least I didn't give in and didn't let you sleep in our bed."

A soft laugh. Warm and deep.

It felt like coming home every time.

"At least there's that."

[annmariethrush]

Suptober Day 6: Full Spread

Dean can't share a bed like a normal person, which Cas carefully documents throughout the night while they are supposed to be sleeping together.

On AO3 or below the cut

Dean was thrilled to be in possession of a large bed at the bunker. While it sometimes got a little lonely, or a little cold since the place was particularly drafty, he had spent so much of his life without things that he could call his own that he savored having a bed which was just for him. However, after a few weeks of Cas sneaking in and out of his room at night in partial states of undress, he figured that he should start letting Cas come sleep with him. Although he still associated sharing a bed more with getting the short end of the stick and not having one to yourself than with anything romantic or otherwise, he had decided not to be a little bitch about it and buck up.  After all, he did have the bigger bed, and sharing was better than giving up his sweet sweet memory foam entirely to go sleep in the bare bones room that Cas occupied when he was at the bunker.

So here he was, scooting his pillow over to the right side of the bed, mentally preparing himself for his first night of co-sleeping with his angel.

"Dean, I don't even sleep. I would be perfectly happy to sit at the desk and watch you while you rest. My presence on the bed is not necessary for you to sleep." Cas eyed him warily as Dean shuffled around the room, doing a poor job of hiding his stupid feelings on the matter.

"No Cas, that's stupid. I don't care if you don't sleep, if you want to be in here with me while I'm sleeping, you'll get in bed with me cause you're my boyfriend and that's what boyfriends do." Dean plopped himself down onto the bed with a huff and pointed at the spot next to him. "Strip or be stripped, sweetheart, it's time for bed."

Cas rolled his eyes and began the tedious process of pulling off layer after layer of clothes until he was left only with his undershirt and boxers. Climbing into bed under the blanket, Cas placed a gentle kiss on Dean's cheek before snuggling close to him. Dean sighed contentedly and relaxed his body into Cas's, letting the rhythm of his breathing slowly lull him into sleep.

--

When Dean awoke, everything seemed normal. His jaw gaped in a big yawn, and his arm was stretched most of the way across the bed to grab his phone from his night stand when he remembered. Why was he alone and in the middle of the bed again? He went to sleep with Cas! He bolted upright, panicked, only to discover Cas, now partially reclothed with his dress pants on once more, sitting in the desk chair across from him looking at his phone.

At the sound of motion, Cas's eyes lifted. "Oh, good morning, Dean."

"What the fuck, Cas?" Dean suddenly felt more hurt than he had anticipated. "I told you to stay in bed with me, what happened?"

The corners of Cas's mouth slowly curled upwards, causing Dean's racing heart to slow ever so slightly. Without saying a word, Cas returned his eyes to his phone and started swiping through something. A few moments passed this way, with Dean staring at Cas wide-eyed while Cas swiped away, and just as Dean was about to voice his frustrations at not being answered, Cas pulled himself from the chair and came to sit on the side of Dean's bed.

Cas handed the phone to Dean, saying simply, "Swipe."

Dean's jaw slowly loosened as he stared at the picture on the screen. With a time stamp of 1:44 am, a dim and grainy photo showed him laying diagonally across the bed, head exactly where it had started, but his legs and feet almost to the opposite corner in the space where Cas was supposed to have been. With a creeping sense of shame, Dean swiped to the next photo, finding another dim and grainy image of him from 2:07 am, this time with his right leg and right arm sprawled out to form some sort of janky 'K' shape, his body taking up at least three quarters of the bed. Hesitantly, he swiped again, finding yet another dim and grainy photo, this time from 2:56 am, where he had rolled over and assumed a large right angle, leaving only his ass on his designated side of the bed. 

He felt his cheeks and neck begin to redden and he looked over at Cas with big eyes, "I'm so sorry Cas I didn't--"

"Oh, there's more." Cas's face was smug. "You haven't even gotten to my favorite yet."

"Fuck me..." Dean muttered, returning his eyes to the phone.

The next photo was from 3:22 and featured Dean in some sort of corrupted yoga pose, with one arm above his head, one leg directly underneath him, and the other bent in under him, a stretch he wasn't even sure he could purposefully achieve. 

When Dean swiped to the next photo, he heard Cas stifle a giggle. "This is my favorite. You look like you're praying."

Sure enough, when Dean inspected the photo, this one from 4:13am, he had somehow ended up on hands and knees with his face at the foot of the bed, hugging his pillow to his face and chest, his ass pointed into the air.

"How did I even..." Dean trailed off, defeated.

Cas took his phone back from Dean, smiling a little too hard. "You're a very animated sleeper. I'd be excited to see if you can do some of those while you're awake though. Watching you gave me some ideas about how I'd like to see you spread out for me."

Dean shoved Cas's shoulder lightly, "You horny bastard. Maybe I'd get better sleep if you just laid on top of me instead of next to me."

Cas raised an eyebrow suggestively and then shook his head. "Perhaps... Now I want to confirm that you are not a direct descendant of the starfish, though, as you seem to be very good at imitating them."

[sighs-deeply-and-dreadfully]

it's me, the whore. you know who i am. (i'm using anon for deniability)

Could you do Wally Darling x Insomniac!Reader pwetty pwease? *cutely flutters eyelashes* I think it'd be cute to have them having a little sleepover, maybe do each other's hair and nails and shit :squishy: ALSO thinly veiled mutual crushes.......... maybe stare out the window at the stars together and subconsciously hold hands then get all flustered when they realize... yeah...... queers........

ew…. Gay person on my blog….. /j (hi Sammy) (your deniability doesn’t work when you MESSAGED IN OUR SERVER ABOUT SENDING THIS— you’re lucky I’m such a kind fellow! So dear and merry! So sweet! Or else I’d post the proof and ruin you to my Two Followers (one of which you are)!! You better behave, BUCKO!!!!! /j)

But yes! Yes I can! Points at and laughs. /j

Slumbern’t Party!!

Wally Darling x GN!Insomniac!Reader !

Drabble format, pre-established (romantic) unconfessed crushes!

It was the middle of the night, the sleepy little neighbourhood deep into it’s slumber by now. The sky hung sweet and deep above, cloaking the town in a comfortable dark hue dappled by stars. It was a pleasant summer night, the occasional warm breeze slicing through the ever so slightly slightly chilled air.

With their window creaked open to let the soothing breeze in, currently sprawled out on their hardwood floor, was our dear, little Y/N. Insomniac nights are so fun, aren’t they (/sar)? They had laid upside down in bed, with a pillow— without a pillow, no blankets— every blanket. They had tossed and turned, before eventually trying the floor— and yet again; with pillows, without; with blankets, without. Upside down, right side up (is there such a thing as a ‘right side up’ when you lay on the floor..?), spinning around! It simply was no use, though. No matter how long they laid in silence, eyes screwed shut, slumber simply just would not dawn upon them. With a soft groan, slowly pushing themself up off the floor, they’d frown to themself. They didn’t necessarily have anywhere to be tomorrow, no, but.. still, the inability to sleep can be a frustrating thing— maybe even nerve-wracking. And, now? They had finally hit the breaking point of simply giving up. Perhaps getting up, and moving around, might help…

Quickly, though, it was as if a light bulb had flickered up over their head! They had lovely friends in the neighbourhood, surely.. maybe one of them, was up?

Ah, no, no,.. one cannot go knocking on doors at..— what time was it? Their head would swivel around, before shrugging— at whatever time it was. Impolite, impolite.. Soon, though, their gaze would land onto the phone nestled sweetly into the corner as a new idea rose to mind.

Wally Darling, no other, had.. well, found out about their troubles! From the stamped, dark eyebags nestled underneath the lovely Y/N’s gaze, to how— mysteriously— they’d be up before everyone else some days.. and then be the last to show up, sometimes not even appearing until near evening, others. To say your sleep schedule went unnoticed by him would be a lie— and, some days ago, he had approached you about it.

You were curled up on a bench when he approached you, staring blearily into the distance— exhaustion having abruptly caught up to you. Why, it even made it hard to think, a little.. how unpleasant. Soon, though, you were lulled out of your daze— just a tad— by a soft, concerned voice and a careful tap to the shoulder.

“Neighbour.. heelllooo..? Heellloooo?.. Are.. you there?”

You soon came face to face with Wally, who was looking at you with quite a bit of concern, cupping one of his own cheeks as his other hand held his lifted arm. He was doing that one pose, that concerned mothers do.. haha!

“There you are,..” His voice rang soft and sweet, a certain tenderness to it as he spoke, “.. what happened, friend? Were you watching the clouds?”

From there, you sat him down— explaining to him your insomnia, and just.. how you didn’t sleep well— and you hadn’t, not really, for the past few days. Though his concern read.. somewhat clear on his face— his smile dampened a bit, and his brows furrowed— he nodded along, carefully.

“Does.. anything help.. you on.. those nights?”

You rolled your shoulders in a shrug, lifting a hand to rub your eye.

“I see,..” He seemed to contemplate for a moment, before placing a felt hand on your arm with his signature, kind of dopey, smile. “Well.. if you ever want company.. on those nights, I’m always available, neighbour..!”

You smiled a bit to yourself, soon shuffling towards the phone. If he hadn’t meant the offer, he wouldn’t have proposed, right..? Wally wasn’t the type to play people pleaser, and he certainly never proposed something he didn’t mean!.. As far as you knew.. So, with slight hesitance, you began to roll in his number on the circular number pad. Soon, you held the phone up to your ear; soon, a small click could be heard; soon, a sort of hummed mumble slipped through the phone.

“Mmm,.. hellooo..?” He waited for a second, before you could hear the brief inhale he’d give before he would, typically, lull out another greeting— and you beat him to talking, first. You explained, he listened— seemingly yawning a few times as you spoke— and he soon gave his signature “ha ha ha!” through the receiver. Though, it was notably softened, maybe even a bit higher pitched..?.. likely due to him being, well, sleepy.

“I can.. come over, sure..” He’d trail off to yawn again, before humming, “.. is it.. a sleepover?”

You could tell he was joking, at least.. he probably was?— But either way, you said sure! Yeah! It’s a sleepover. I mean.. who sleeps at sleepovers, anyways? Your response lulled another soft bout of his laughter out of him.

“Okay, neighbour.. I’ll be over soon.. I have to tell—“ Yet again, he’d be cut off by a yawn. He sure did that a lot, huh? “— Home.. I’ll see you soooon..”

With that, the line clicked dead— and you soon poised yourself by your front door, somewhat anxiously. Each minute ticked by agonizingly slow until you heard the soft rasping of.. knuckles..?.. on your door. You’d lunge to your feet, quickly pulling it open— to reveal a.. surprisingly unkept Wally. His hair was let down, messily shoved into the vague shape of his pompadour, and he was wearing his usual clothing!.. Just very messily put on. To be frank, he still looked half asleep as he, uhm, blinked one eye at a time up at you.

“.. Hellooo..” His smile widened as he greeted you, staring up at you.. blissfully? You couldn’t quite tell, “.. Can I come innn?”

Quickly, you side step and let him in— of course! And he soon makes himself at home, settling onto your couch. His smile looked.. especially dopey, right now, as he just.. somewhat buffered before looking to you.

“So.. what do you.. want to do?”

You kind of.. full stop, buffering. Ah, shoot, what hell did you want to do? Your gaze flickers around quickly for a moment to try and figure it out before— oh!.. Slowly grinning, you’d point to his hair. He took a moment to understand what you mean, before defensively— though playfully— placing his hands over his.. mess of a pompadour.

“My hair.. my beautiful hair, no..” He’d trail off, before whispering out another bout of laughter. Next thing you both knew, you were sat in front of him— brushing down his hair.. basically down onto his face, due to where it was long and where it was short. He just say there, staring at you silently from behind the drapes of blue, as you worked.

After un-doing all the knots his.. horrific attempt at a hairstyle had made— did he not wear his bonnet tonight??— you’d soon brush it back, beginning to braid it. And Wally simply just.. sat there, letting you play with his hair. He’d eventually shut his eyes, kind of just sitting there like a cat getting groomed— looking rather content! It was a cute view, but you focused more on his hair— carefully twirling the sectioned off strands into smooth braids. It was calming, and you slowly felt your exhaustion ebb back into you. Your eyelids grew heavy as you tied off the last braid, holding a content smile. As you told him you were done, he’d lift a hand to feel over the work— as he had no mirror (how woeful!)— he’d soon hum, pleased.

“Thank you, friend.. ha ha ha!” He sounded less half-awake now, soon giving a small stretch as his arms lifted over his head. “What next?”

With that, you began to do a handful of activities— including forcing (/j) Wally to paint your nails a lovely glittery blue, and after a lot of chaotic smudging and trying to let the nails dry— you soon did his, in turn, painting them a lipstick red. As you grew more relaxed, though, he seemed to only wake up more— though he was still calm, and slow paced— as he always was. He was so pleasant to be around, in general… ah.

Eventually, you found yourself seated on your sofa close beside him— which was placed near your window. You had been seated in comfortable silence for a good moment, now, Wally idly looking out the window— though.. not actually, no, he was very much still staring at you. His gaze would just advert to the window each time you looked over— not that you.. noticed. You were much more akin to how he was when he had first arrived; half-awake. Without thinking, you’d lean back onto the couch— and somewhat onto him. He didn’t seem bothered, though, his smile instead widening as he looked down at you.

“.. Finally tired, friend?”

You nodded, still not really aware you were so close to him until you— abruptly— felt his arm loop around your shoulders. You felt your face warm a bit, but he was just being friendly, surely. And the contact wasn’t unwelcome, anyhow..

“Then sleep.” He didn’t speak it like it was a command, his voice still tender and sweet— and either way, you didn’t exactly have it in you to disobey. Nor did you want to.

Hesitantly, you’d lean into his touch with an incoherent hum— probably some kind of reply, though you couldn’t form the words. As you drifted off, you didn’t get to see the way he held you a bit closer, or smiled a bit wider. His large, doe eyes trained on you as he simply just.. admired. A very friendly activity, yes! Just friend things, here (/j)!

This had been a pleasant sleepover. At least, in his opinion it had been. Any time spent with you, dear, was pleasant, at least to him. Always.

So… it wasn’t hand holding….. HAHA!! I hope you don’t mind I went a more cuddly route :] cuddles are nice HEHE

Tell me how Moon feels /ij

also how dare this prompt be the one that wrings the MOST writing out of me!! How dare!! Scandalous!! /j

Also I’m going to proof read this, later. Right now, I’d just like to post it- haha!!

Edit : it has been proof read! Wooo!

Thank you for requesting!! <3 /p

[much-obliged-timothy]

Whumtpober #8

Day 8 - Baldur's Gate 3 - "Leave the lights on"

*

Tav walked through the dark, damp hall of the home they’d built for themselves. Torches cast flickering shadows around him, but he’d been through far too much for it to make him paranoid. 

He reached the end of the hall and gave a light knock on the door. When there was no answer, he knocked harder. Still nothing.

He sighed quietly and pushed the door open. Astarion lay in their shared bed, white curls a mess on the pillow and blanket tugged up to his neck.

“They took some of the young ones out to hunt,” Tav said. “It’s as quiet as it’ll ever get around here, if you want to go out.”

“No.” Astarion did not even bother to look at Tav.

Tav walked over and sat on the edge of the bed, giving Astarion his space but staying close enough that the comfort was there if Astarion wanted to take it. He watched the flames of the nearest torch dance around a bit before speaking again.

“I know it’s not easy,” he said quietly.

“Don’t,” Astarion snarled. “Don’t you even pretend to know what it’s like. I had the sun back. I had a life back. I gave it up, and for what?”

“Me.” Tav tried not to let the pain into his voice, but it slipped out anyway.

Astarion stiffened next to him. “Yes. You. You, who can go into the sunlight and see something other than the bloody Underdark whenever you want. I am always confined to the shadows.”

“I know…it’s not the same,” Tav said. All he’d been through, and this conversation felt like the most dangerous battle he’d ever faced. “I know it, Astarion. But I sacrificed for you, too. You wanted a purpose, so here we are, living in the Underdark with the other vampires. Together. I had a home in Baldurs Gate, once, and I’d never consider going back to it if it meant leaving you.”

“And if you tire of me?” Astarion asked darkly.

“I won’t,” Tav said simply, but with a certainty that eased something in Astarion. “I will die one day, though. I’m not immortal. And I cannot stand to think of you like this alone. Centuries are nothing to an elf, much less a vampire. But I don’t get centuries. What time I do have, I want to spend with you, wherever we are.”

Astarion didn’t respond to that. Tav waited a few beats longer before slowly rising.

“You need to rest. You’ve been stressed lately,” he said. “I’ll put out the torches and-”

“No,” he said, finally rolling to face Tav. He swallowed hard, then reached a hand out from under the covers. “I don’t…want it to be dark in here. Leave the light. Come join me, so long as you promise not to continue being so unbearably sappy.”

Tav took his hand and slid under the covers with him, both holding tight to each other. Tav pressed a gentle kiss to Astarion’s shoulder, nuzzling his head up under Astarion’s chin.

“No promises,” he muttered. “Maybe it’s not the sun, but it is light, and you are not alone. You’ll never be alone in the dark again, if I have my way.”

He would die someday, and Astarion would live on. They both knew it.

But for now, the torches cast a pleasant light over them, and they embraced, enjoying each others company while they could.