#roomie writes

[theroomofreq]

Reblogging an old fav of mine :’)

all around you

written for the 2021 Hinny Birthday Challenge! huge thank you to liza for organizing and @whiffingbooks for being a wonderful beta!!

A text blinks up at Harry on his phone, and he fights the urge to roll his eyes.

Get your arse down here. Match coverage starts soon.

Harry locks the phone, ignoring his best friend. It’s only an opening charity game, not even season matches. Another text comes through, Harry, hurry up. Harry scoffs before typing a reply, we’ve got hours. chill. Ron replies with GIFs of his miserable favorite team, the Cannons, and a reminder, Bring snacks.

Harry shakes his head at the phone, feeling like he might leave the snacks at his flat. But thinks better of it and gathers bags of junk food, keys, and his phone. He pulls hard on the door and curses Ron Weasley and his obsession with the league’s worst team.

Harry and Ron met last year during their first year of University studying Criminal Justice. During football season Ron wore garish orange supporting his team every single match day. It was his dedication and team-deprecating humor and pride that drew Harry to Ron. Harry convinced Ron to play pickup football games after long days of studying, and Ron invited Harry over for football matches.

Although Ron watched essentially every match available, Harry only came over for big matches, his own team, Puddlemere, and to tease Ron when the Cannons played.

Today, Ron is trying to convince him to watch a charity match, Cannons versus a women’s team, the Harpies. Harry doesn’t exactly have a problem watching the match, he would just rather do something else. Maybe playing a pickup match, getting food, or taking a long kip.

He’s absolutely spending his time walking to Ron’s flat by brooding, and he will keep doing it until Ron picks a new team to support. Which he won’t. So Harry is supporting his best friend and his horrific team.

Harry walks down the stained halls of the dingy flat. Loud music is emanating from nearly every door. Nearly the entire building is filled with loud day drinking University students, a classic Sunday afternoon. Harry nods at the students who walk past him. There isn’t much else he can do, loaded down by junk foods. He recognizes a few faces, based on the frequency of his trips to Ron’s flat, but he doesn’t stop to chat with anyone he sees.

Harry approaches Ron’s door to find one of the more interesting things he has seen in University flats. More surprising than the time a group of seniors turned the place into an interactive haunted house.

read on AO3

[teddybeartoji]

imagine walking out of your room while trying to rid of the remaining sleep from your eyes when you see him.

roomie!suguru – in a baggy tank top and a pair of shorts, his hair in a low messy bun with sweat trickling from his temple. you're stopped in your tracks, lips parted at the glorious sight.

his eyes are closed, his breathing controlled as he sits in a deep stretch. you can see his biceps and his thigh muscles and his calves and... his ass. his hands are placed together in front of his chest and he looks so peaceful.

yoga.

he's doing yoga and you feel like you're about to faint.

you clear your throat and his purple eyes snap open; his lips tug into a sly smile, his canines flashing at you in the sunlight.

"morning."

his voice is syrupy, maybe way too so for the early hour. he moves his hands to his hips as he lowers himself deeper into the stretch, gaze glued onto you. he makes you nervous and you hate it – he's not even really doing anything! you feel small as he observes you, as he takes you apart. suguru thinks you look adorable; still sleepy with multiple pillow lines running over your cheek. you're fiddling with your own fingers, eyes flicking all over his body – from his exposed thigh to his hands to his face. you're not slick and he loves it.

"hi." suguru's smile stretches wider at your soft tone. "i'm gonna make coffee, do you– do you want some?"

he gives you a small nod, always amused by your desire to take care of others. he has seen it with others too; you always have extra sweets for whenever satoru comes by and you've started carrying around a small lighter just in case shoko ever forgets hers.

suguru takes in your faint little smile, your head cocking to the side as you mouth "ok" before disappearing into the kitchen. he switches his legs and sinks back into the stretch; he closes his eyes and focuses on his breathing again. he thinks about you in the kitchen, he thinks about you grabbing your mug and then his. he thinks about you placing them side by side. he hears your quiet steps and he hears you yawn. it's a perfect morning.

when he's finally done, he saunters into the kitchen while raising his shirt to wipe the sweat from his forehead. you have to do a double take, his dark happy trail making you choke on your own saliva. he chuckles at your reaction, but makes no comment, focusing on the freshly brewed coffee instead. his shoulder bumps into yours as he leans over you, the warmth of his body engulfing you. he still smells so good and you want to be mad.

you take a second to admire him and the flush on his cheeks but almost jump when his eyes suddenly meet yours. he's so close. sharp teeth and a sweet smile, he gives your hip a squeeze; his touch burns and you're about to melt, but he doesn't let you. he doesn't let go when he leans even closer, his breath fanning your face as he whispers.

"thank you, sweetheart. smells so good."

you give him a little high-pitched sound as a reply and he tongues the side of his cheek. you're so fucking cute. he grabs the mugs with a small grin and places them on the table behind you before taking a seat. he taps on the wood, telling you to come and join him.

the sun swallows him with ease, illuminating his beautiful sweaty, tanned skin; his piercings flicker at you and the thought of kissing them settles in the back of your mind. birds continue chirping lovesongs (for you, they're singing for you) while trees dance against the blue cloudy background, the smell of coffee fills the peaceful air around you and it's comfortable. this is your new routine - he makes your heart tremble and you make his grow in size.

suguru hasn't felt like this in a long, long time – your attention is addicting; he loves it more than he wants to admit. satoru would never let him live it down but he just cannot stop thinking about you. warm hugs and silly jokes, he's grateful for choosing you as his roommate.

[fireflysugarpie]

cumplane meet cute where they're taken to the same hospital after their near death experiences and have to share the same room ♡♡♡

[deepspace-nasty]

imagine being gale's roommate / friends with benefits during his blackstaff days, before he gets with mystra. just thinkin about a 20 somethin year old gale, still experimenting with everything, but more cocky than ever. he is on a first name basis with the goddess of magic after all, he deserves to be a little cocky. him getting so frustrated one night at his classes, he asks you if its ok that you two use each other for "stress relief". you agree, and that night you have the best orgasm of your life thus far.

and for a while it's just that - quick romps after tests in your dorm room, drunk make out sessions on the couch after one too many at the yawning portal, and, rarely, sex where you both slow down and take in each other's bodies and noting what gets the other going.

but then something shifts - maybe gale and mystra are finally together at this point, and she doesn't like sharing her lovers. you think its fine, you weren't more than just friends anyway.

but then it hits you one night, while your only companion for the night is a near empty bottle of wine, that no, you aren't fine. you've gown fond of gale's long winding ramble, his hair that he has started growing out and putting in tiny ponytails. you've grown fond of his patchy stubble thats started to grow in, and hasnt allowed himself to let it grow more than a 5 o'clock shadow. you've grown fond of how his hands move (how they used to hold your hips), how his fingers wrap around his quill (and your thighs-), how his eyes glimmer with mischief when he realizes he needs a book that he Definitely can't get access to (the darkness of his eyes in the candle light, roaming over your naked body).

but its too late. by the time you realize it, its time for you both to graduate, and gale has most certainly moved on from you, and into the arms of mystra. can you?

its not until years later, way down the line, that you even see gale again, right in front of you and not at a wizard's party or ball, and he looks so different. longer hair, and a beard of all things. his eyes still hold that mischief, but now, like you and the others you've found they also hold a parasite behind them.

[goingdownorup]

Finished Secret Life again, the roomies killed me once more so this appeared

Roomies, winners remember the games, 1245 words

“I don’t know how you do it.” 

Cleo looked up from the book she was reading, watching Grian shuffle through the front door of her bookshop. His wings were puffed out but he was clearly trying to hide the fact he was on edge. “Hello to you too, Grian.” Cleo said in response, the predictable scowl that crossed Grian’s face at the indirect call out of his lack of manners only fueling her amusement. “What brings you to my shop?”

“You remember.”

Ah. 

Cleo’s grin slid down her face, the cat that had been cozied up on her lap vacating as soon as she shifted in her seat. “I do.” Cleo finally agreed, because there was no point in lying about something like this. She gestured to the empty spot next to her. “A pretty silly way to win, I won’t lie.” 

“I thought it was poetic.” 

“We can settle on an attempt to not kill someone close to me.”

That was apparently the wrong thing to say, since Grian ignored Cleo’s attempt at getting him to sit next to her. His shoulders tightened, his fingers trailed along the book spines as he paced. Cleo couldn’t help but remember a familiar scene, a moment where her and Etho stood around an enchanting table with Grian moving just like this because he couldn’t stand still. Back then, Cleo always wondered how he had so much energy, how he could be ready to go at a moment's notice. 

“See?” Cleo shook her head at the accusing tone in his voice, focusing back on the current Grian now pointing a finger in her direction. “I don’t know how you can do that! You- you remember something, you pause, and then you keep going with your day. How do you do that?” 

The shop could use some music, Cleo would admit. She was used to having multiple people here to fill the silence, not an angry winner of a death game she only recently remembered. “Because I would tear myself apart if I didn’t.” 

Grian collapsed into her with a dramatic sigh, wings whacking her face. Before, Cleo would think it was odd that she felt like she had done this before, that it was weird how natural it was to wrap her arms around Grian’s shoulders and pull him closer. Now, Cleo knew why it felt so right. 

Cleo knew a lot of things, now. 

“Scar told me it was fine.” Grian mumbled into her shoulder, his own body slumping into her own. “He told me that I should’ve killed him in that pond for all the bullshit he put me through.” 

The laugh was more forced than Cleo would’ve liked, the sound sticking against the walls of their throat for a moment before it escaped. “He did put you through a lot, I won’t lie.” Cleo agreed. A cat scratched at the wood of her bookcase, far enough away that Cleo couldn’t get after it. “I think it’s easier for me.” Cleo added on after a few more minutes of silence. Grian made a sleepy noise, something to confirm he was still listening. “I guess it's how you look at it. I won, and then got blasted with five death games in some kind of recap style.” 

Grian snorted, the sound almost wet. Cleo resisted the urge to look down and check on him. “But that’s all I got.” Cleo continued, raising her hand to run her fingers through Grian’s hair. “I got memories. You, on the other hand, lived all five. You lived through all five and have the memories. You got a two for one deal, I guess.” 

Laughing at misfortune was another thing that was natural but used to feel like it shouldn’t be. Grian shook his head, digging into her shoulder. “I guess.” Grian looked up, finally making eye-contact with Cleo while offering a shaky smile. “Welcome to the world's worst club.” 

Cleo took the sentiment for what it was, tightening their hold around Grian. Maybe the store didn’t need music. Grian’s steady breathing was enough, at least for now. It was nice to hear, in any case, since the last time Cleo was this close to him they were in a dark tunnel about to pull the lever on three of their other friends. His heart was racing then, Cleo’s too, both pairs of eyes bloodshot due to the tears that had fallen after Etho-

“You’re doing it again.” Grian mumbled, the sound of rockets going off in the distance. Cleo just pulled him closer. 

Cleo didn’t know how long it took for someone to find them. The footsteps were familiar, far more to Cleo than Etho would expect. He peeked his head around the corner, just like he would do at the bottom of the staircase at their base. He glanced around, looking at the cats before his eyes landed on the two of them. Cleo’s throat felt dry. 

She might have been lying, about Grian having it worse. 

Because now, Scar remembered. Grian had several death games under his belt to process and grieve in the best way possible for him. Etho’s eyes crinkled around the edges, eyes full of confusion but a warmth that Cleo didn’t think Etho understood. He couldn’t, not without winning. 

But he still made his way over to the two of them, hands tucked deep in his pockets like he was trying to rip a hole in them. He glanced at Grian, who was now tucking his face back into Cleo’s shoulder like he was embarrassed that Etho found the two of them like this. Etho looked back at Cleo, who shrugged, who couldn’t find the right words to explain what was going on without sounding crazy. “Room for one more?” Etho finally asked, the awkward tilt in his voice that made Cleo want to laugh and cry because she knew him when he sounded like this, and she knew him when he was past feeling awkward and it hurt that he was back to feeling like- 

Like he didn’t know them. 

“For you?” Cleo said anyway. “I guess we can make an exception.” 

It was a tight fit, another flash of a memory that would haunt her of all three of them trying to cram onto Bdubs’ bed. Grian ended up sprawled across both of their laps, Etho’s arm wrapped around the back of Cleo’s shoulders. There was a knowing look in Grian’s eyes that Cleo stuck their tongue out at, before Etho let out a tiny breath he was apparently holding. “This is weird, right?” He asked, looking between Cleo and Grian like he was trying to figure out what was really going on. “I feel like this should be more weird than it is, but it’s still weird.” 

Grian laughed again, Cleo couldn’t help the tiny snort she let out. They knew the feeling well. “Yeah, it’s a little strange.” Cleo agreed, resting her head on Etho’s shoulder. He tensed, holding his breath again for a moment before forcing himself to relax. “You’ll figure it out.” 

He would figure it out. Bdubs would figure it out. Bigb and Lizzie and Ren would someday, hopefully, figure all of this shit out. 

Letting out a huff, Etho slowly rested his head on top of Cleos. “Sure. whatever that means.” 

Etho would figure it out. 

Eventually. 

And maybe by then, Cleo would actually have an answer to Grian’s question he asked in the first place.

[its-muffin-tyme]

These Characters Are Stolen From Their Respective Life Games And Thrown Into A Tiny Life Series World/Game Together:

[candyfsh]

.ᐟ.ᐟ bed chem (nonsexual) ༉‧₊˚.

by candyfsh

a/n — this is the roomie thing from the poll btw!! also how are we liking the new layout..... idkkk

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y/n and dallas both live up in the apartments in buck's bar. it isn't the best place, but it was good enough, plus, y/n knows dallas. they aren't good friends or anything. they actually tend to avoid each other, but they don't not like each other.

they both have their differences. a lot, actually. she's a girly girl, he's obviously not. she's normally a people person, while he aims to intimidate others. she goes to school, he doesn't. etc, etc. but they can't not like each other. they just avoid each other because of the amount of differences they have. they don't have anything in common.

tonight, y/n is fumbling with her shower and the knob that turns the water on. she groans, unable to figure out what the issue is. she'd ask buck for help, but he's busy bartending.

although it might be awkward, maybe she could ask dallas for help. she'd just need to wrap a towel around her, of course. so she quickly does that, and exits her bathroom. she holds her arm tight around the towel as the other arm reaches out to open her bedroom door.

"dallas?"

after a moment, she can hear a faint, "what?" come from his room. she approaches his room, but stays outside. she pauses.

"can you help me with my shower, please?" she asks politely, but it's clear she's impatient with the dumb shower.

he pauses before responding to y/n, seemingly thinking about it for a second. "i don't know how to do that, man. that's som' for a plumber or whatever."

there's a bit of a silence. dallas doesn't seem to care much, and y/n's just wondering what to do. she doesn't want to ask if she can use his shower.

"yknow what?" he speaks up through the door. she perks up a little bit, wondering if he'd offer up his shower or not. fortunately for her, he's feeling generous. "jus' use my shower, mkay?"

y/n smiles. "thank you, i'll go get my clothes."

not like he's totally immature, or not like he doesn't think she's attractive, but a small shudder runs through his body at the realization that she's probably naked in front of his door. he doesn't respond to her. he just focuses his eyes back on the tv and he brushes his hair back.

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dallas swears he heard the water running for an hour straight. he probably didn't. but once the water turned off in the bathroom, he didn't know exactly how to feel. even if y/n was in his bathroom, it felt kind of nice to have her in his room.

the bathroom door opens, so dallas perks his head up to look. a towel is wrapped around her body and she's brushing her hair out. she makes little eye contact before moving out of his room and going to her own. he furrows his brows. she's leaving and she didn't even get changed?

fortunately for both of them, she was just grabbing products she forgot in her own bathroom. she quickly returns with a small amount of skincare items and a bottle of perfume. dallas would never in a hundred years mention it, but he loves the smell of her perfume.

y/n leaves the bathroom door cracked. dallas looks back up at his tv, before deciding to make conversation.

"what's all that shit you brought in?"

he could hear a quick "hm" sound from the bathroom. he's not sure if it was directed towards him or not.

"skincare," she replies. "don't you use it?"

boys don't often use skincare products. they never really have, and they probably won't in the future. who knows, though?

with a light-hearted scoff, dallas responds to her innocent question like he's too good for that kinda stuff. "no."

"my mistake." y/n says in a quieter tone, as if she was telling a secret to whoever was in the next room. she's quiet, but not too quiet. she's not loud, either. "i thought you used it."

dallas furrows his eyebrows again and looks toward the door. he's not insulted or offended, anything like that. just kind of surprised.

"how come?" he asks.

she gives that soft, quick "hm" sound again. "your skin is pretty. i've felt it, too. it's smooth."

he doesn't know how to take this. it sounds nice, since she complimented his skin and called it pretty. but this isn't the type of compliments he's used to. almost every girl that compliments him calls him the typical lustful terms. it's new.

"...thanks."

a soft chuckle could be heard from the bathroom, then a drop of the towel. he looked away from the door as she shut it completely. they could still talk, though.

"should i make my next comment sound more normal and not with...cannibalistic undertones?" she asks with the cutest little laugh dallas has ever heard.

he can't help but let out a small, scoff-like laugh. he shook his head, as if she can currently see him.

"i didn't take it that way, 's alright." dallas chuckles breathily.

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after y/n got ready for the night, said her thanks to dallas and left his room, he had this nagging feeling in the back of his head. he can't quite identify it. but it has to do with her, and that's all he knows.

and as though he summoned her, y/n knocks on his bedroom door. it's about 9:30 pm or 10:00 pm, somewhere in between. this is usually when she gets ready to sleep, so he assumes it's buck.

"come in."

he knows it's not buck anymore by the hesitant turn of the knob and the slightly slow door pushing. she smiles softly at him.

"i don't think buck likes me, dal..." that's the first time, or one of the first times she's used one of his nicknames. it sounds so sweet coming from her. "my heater isn't working for tonight."

dallas gives her a look of feigned annoyance. he scoots to the other side of his bed and pats the spot next to him. y/n seems relieved that he let her in. he doesn't do this often. maybe because she's kind of his roommate? maybe because she's so unlike him, he just can't say no? who knows?

she approaches the bed and sits down next to him, then leans back against the extra pillows.

his bed is nothing bigger than a twin bed, so hopefully, they'll both adapt. dallas is used to having a girl in his bed. maybe this just feels different because y/n is not his type. but if she's not his type, why does he get this weird feeling as he sees her in his bed? and why does he feel a skip in his heartbeat as he smells her perfume?

"yknow, my room ain't the warmest, y/n." dallas points out, his eyes on his pretty roommate. she looks up at him and smiles softly.

"i know," she glances at his tv, which is playing some old western film. she looks back up at dallas. he's right, his room isn't the warmest. but it also isn't really cold. just chilly. "but i figured body heat would be beneficial, right?"

he tilts his head to the side slightly, and a tiny, harmless smirk forms on his lips. he likes the way she thinks, even if it is a basic way of thinking. he'd never do that. if he's cold, he sucks it up.

"yeah. yer right."

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[hiemaldesirae]

The Hazbin Graduate's Guide to Homicide (2)

Student Report: Alastor Hartfelt Supervising Staff: Vice-Dean Lilith Morningstar Sponsor: [REDACTED] To the esteemed and generous sponsor of one Mister Alastor Hartfelt, The following enclosed letter is a partial recount of Mister Alastor's first week during his term here at our esteemed institution. Please dispose of this report as soon as you are finished reading it for privacy insurance. We at the Hazbin Institution for Homicide Practictioners thank you for your continued interest and patronage. Sincerely, Vice-Dean Lilith Morningstar.

(Enclosed is also a photo of your charge with our current star student, Vox Vanhal. Please note that Mr. Vanhal's file is not yet open for your private purposes, but Dean Lucifer is working on it.)

[more murder academy radiostatic content] <- read the first for context! ^^

"Does this radio only have one station?" Alastor frowns at the contraption.

Having arrived at Pride House late into the semester (according to Dean Morningstar, anyway- he hadn't wanted to come here in the first place, so he doesn't see why he should be given the blame), Alastor had been stiffly informed by the receptionist- one Mrs. Mayberry- that he would have to be sharing a joint bathroom with a young woman named Charlie as a result of no other rooms being available. He'd been tempted to ask about the peculiar young man who he'd met that afternoon and how he'd assumed they might be roommates, but after one sour look from the receptionist that reminded him far too much of his late grandmother, he'd simply kept his mouth shut and taken the key.

The room he was assigned honestly wasn't half bad, if he could push out the questioning in his hindbrain of why he was given a room with a bathroom to share with someone of the fairer sex. Light from the setting sun streamed in from the open curtains, and through the window, an elevated view of the small Dutch-themed town square was easy to see. If Alastor squinted, he could see the glittering waters of the oddly named Lake Pandemonium, and past that, a thick covering of colourful flowering trees he had never once seen before in his life.

The room itself reminds Alastor a little of hotel rooms: somewhat sterile in its professionalism, and altogether unattached from any sense of home. Though he supposes it's better this way: he would rather a completely sterile and unlived in room than one bearing marks of another's absence.

Anyway. Back to the radio.

Alastor fiddles with the knobs a little, but still, the tunes of the blues persist on, with not even the slightest bit of variety.

It was ironic now, thinking of how he used to dance to songs just like these in Mimzy's company, and now he was complaining for no reason. He'd expected much less kind treatment when he'd been brought to Hazbin, after all, but after not even a day of staying here, it seemed to him that their service alongside their accomodations had been top notch. Excluding the presence of the Dean, Alastor found himself thinking that he may even end up liking this place.

That line of thought would soon be tested the very next morning, when Alastor made his way out of his rooming quarters and down to the building that housed the institution's dining hall.

Though the dean had been careful to point it out to him during the tour, he hadn't realized just the sheer size of the place: its high-sloped ceilings and massive polished columns of oak wood and obsidian enlays made for a stunning, if intimidating layout.

"Ah, Mister Hartfelt- Alastor, right?"

A voice catches his attention and before he even turns, Alastor knows who the soft hand on his shoulder is from. Lo and behold, the man with the mismatched eyes offers him a smile, one that Alastor returns after a beat of silence.

"Since you're new, do you want to come sit with me?"

"I don't see why not," Alastor responds simply. There's no harm in it, exactly- he's not quite sure what exactly he's supposed to be doing at mealtimes (see once more: coming in to the start of the term 'late') and, besides. He's been curious about the man with the gemstone eyes since they met the day prior, so the chance to sit and eat with him... well, it was quite the unexpected boon.

"Right, you'll have to get a plate for yourself, but you can always just take one from someone who hasn't woken up yet," Vox says as they make their way to the table where he was sitting. "Just be careful that the one you're taking isn't from someone really protective of their property."

"Why not?"

"They've probably already laced the plates with some kind of poison." Vox shrugs. "Most have antidotes on hand for that kind of thing, but only for their own poisons. So we try not to get the plates mixed up."

"Ah," Alastor says succinctly. "My apologies, remind me how long you've been here for again?"

"Two weeks," Vox says. He laughs a little at the face that Alastor makes, "I mean, well, you tend to learn these kinds of things pretty quick. If not cause of the upperclassman, usually staff are around to tell you what not to do... and if they're not there either, there's always the medical personnel who can help you after you've done the deed and gone belly up, so to say."

"I'm quite sure I'd rather not have to resort to said medical personnel, but to each their own," Alastor says.

This gets a laugh from Vox again, one that provokes that deep sort of familiarity inside of Alastor, and once again he asks himself where do I know this man from? It was certainly never from any radio program he'd ever heard, but he couldn't quite rule out the possibility of it being from a foreign program either, given the soft influence of german notes in the other man's speech.

He's drawn out of his thoughts when Vox pushes a plate towards him, already laden with food. "Here. Snatched this one from my former roommate a week back and he never questioned it. Guy didn't even show up to breakfast half the time."

Alastor takes it without asking any further questions, though he does look at the meal to check for any sort of poisons he should watch for. Not that he has enough faith in Vox to think that the other would be able to murder him, but, this was a school for murder, and in the current moment, he was outclassed (even if it wasn't by much.) However, there was a question he wanted to ask unrelated to the food.

"Former roommate?"

"Mm, he graduated- well, went to complete his thesis, which is basically the same thing but shorter because if you don't complete your thesis you may as well say your goodbyes- and that was three days before you arrived," Vox clarifies. "Or, well. I s'pose I shouldn't say that. I'm pretty sure he graduated. The guy was an upperclassman, and the terms here are pretty unpredictable- there's no limits on the time you spend here unless your funds are limited, and he was definitely not one of the people who have to scrape their savings together to afford a single year here. I didn't know anything about his academic career though, so it's definitely a possibility he didn't graduate."

"If he didn't graduate, then-"

"If he didn't graduate then he's dead, simple as pie," Vox clarifies once more. Alastor squints his eyes at the other man, who huffs and bites into his toast before saying anything else. "Well, hey, I mean I know I don't seem like the best roommate right now, but look, all right, I'm not gonna be looking into the disappearance of the guy who kept wrecking my bathroom setup for two weeks! Besides, when Dean Morningstar introduced you the other day, I thought that we'd be rooming together- especially since I already had the vacancy, and it'd make sense to just, you know, lump us together, right? Since I've got the room, and you need it?"

"Yes, it'd seem that way," Alastor says. He picks at his own food for a moment longer, debating between telling Vox of his actual room arrangements and keeping his mouth shut before deciding that whatever information he could get out of the man would be worth the potential embarrassment and questioning. "But instead, I was assigned to share a room with a woman."

Vox spits out his food onto the table, hacking and coughing as Alastor reaches over the table and pats him on the back firmly, shaking his head when some other members start making their ways towards him. "You- they made you room with a woman? What?"

"Well, it's certainly not as bad as you're making it sound-"

"I mean, sharing a bathroom, whatever, I know how rooming works in the Pride House so, all right, not that bad considering you'd have the double locked doors and as long as neither of you forget to lock the doors everything's all right, but, seriously, what?" Vox sounds puzzled, almost as if he himself can't work out what the staff are getting at, and in fairness, Alastor himself can't really puzzle it out himself. "Couldn't you file like, a report against that or something?"

"I'm here on a sponsorship," Alastor reminds the other man, who seems to shrink back into his chair at the reminder that he hadn't been the one to put himself into this facility. "I'd rather not risk their ire, if only for the sake of my sponsor."

That was a lie, of course. The truth was, as amiable and sociable as the man before him was- and as much as Alastor had a personal sort of curiosity towards him, he still didn't wish to room beside a man, even if it was Vox specifically who he was sharing a bathroom with.

Whatever it was that the Dean and whoever had arranged their rooms had been planning, Alastor felt free to turn a blind eye to the proceedings, at least until it affected him negatively.

"Makes sense," Vox says after a beat of silence. "Well... even if we aren't roommates, are you up to being friends, perhaps?"

"Sure," Alastor says. The other man's face brightens, and with it, his eyes too, sparkling like the gemstones he'd been silently comparing them to. "As long as you don't kill me."

"Hey, I wouldn't do that," Vox rolls his eyes. "If you wanna meet someone who'll kill you after becoming friends then you can go ahead and talk to Miss Rosetta Levi. She's taking... Mariticide as a major if I remember correctly? Oh, don't call her Rosetta, though, I hear she prefers Rosie."

"I'll keep her in mind, dear pal," Alastor chuckles. With that, he begins to once more dig into his breakfast, before a final question occurs to him. "Oh, right. I wanted to ask- if it's not too personal- what is it that you're here for?"

"Huh?" Vox blinks at him, spoonful of food raised to his mouth as he waits for Alastor to clarify.

"Your target. Because there's one for everyone here, right?" Alastor says simply. "They make you write it on the application, don't they? Whether it's your mother, your father, the organization who wronged you..."

The other man sets the spoon down gently before grabbing his glass of orange juice and taking a swig of it like a day drinker. "They do."

Alastor waits for a moment, but there's nothing else. "Well, all right then. I'm not quite sure what mine was listed as when the application from my sponsor came in- the Dean refuses to let me see more than I absolutely have to when it comes to my own paperwork- but I'm quite certain my father's name is on the list there somewhere."

He's not saying all this solely in an attempt to get Vox to open up, though that is part of it. Still, it's nice to let someone know of his own things (if only because he's a bit of a fiend for attention). "Anyway, it's all right if you don't want to say. I figure it's personal."

"It is," Vox says simply before he sighs. "Sorry. It's... well, it's a bit of a touchy subject for me. Not exactly something I'd like to spill at breakfast twenty-four hours after our first meeting."

"I understand," Alastor responds, though in his head he's already beating himself over the head for his lack of tact and how much he'd said. "I'm sure not many would."

"Eh," Vox waves his hand. The easy flow of conversation has returned now, as Vox continues, "I met a guy my first week here called Arackniss and he proceeded to tell me every single gory detail about how he planned to do away with his stepfather for the sake of his cartel's future. Lot more mob people than I'd expected."

"It's because of Prohibition." Alastor says absentmindedly, not expecting anything to come of his throwaway comment. Then he looks over at Vox, who's staring at him.

"You're that old?"

"What?" Alastor squinted. "The year is 1948, right? I'm not crazy? I'm 32, this isn't-"

"You're- no, sorry, I-" Vox laughs, hand flying up to his mouth to cover it. "Sorry, I just- you look so young."

"I am young," Alastor says. He sighs even as Vox continues laughing, pressing a hand to his temple to quell the coming headache.

"Sorry! Sorry. Different age standards, you know. It's a Hollywood thing," Vox smiles, mirth twinkling in his eyes, and suddenly, Alastor knows where he recognizes the other from.

"You-"

At that moment, a loud ringing echoes through the halls nine times.

"Ah, that'll be the morning bell. I've got Aesthetics and Disguise with Professor Asmodeus next," Vox says. He scarfs down the remaining food on his plate in record time and gets up, readjusting the uniform shirt and jacket he wears before grinning at Alastor. "I'll see you at lunch, then!"

"Right. I'll see you there."

[a-rti]

Roomies band au

C!Cleo gives the energy of someone who has the singing voice of a god, but will unintentionally destroy any instrument they touch, while C!Etho gives the energy of someone who can play any instrument known to man with varying levels of successfulness while still being decent at all of them, but can't sing to save his life, so I propose this: a band au where they make little songs and such in their garage together.

Grian would get dragged into editing everything for them simply because he lives with them and they don't want to do it themselves. He especially hates editing anything Etho has created because his stuff, every single instrumental ever, is so much more to edit than Cleo's vocals.

They would post their songs on a YouTube channel Grian set up for them after Cleo bullied Etho into letting her.

All of their songs become emo the moment Etho gets his hands on them and Cleo allows it without resistance.

One of their songs is a platonic love/rant song Etho wrote about Joel and he always says that it can be about anything the listener wants it to, or makes a stupidly complicated story for what it's actually about, but it's really just about Joel and Etho can't lie about it. It's probably called "Neck Kisses" or something to match Joel's Spotify playlist. Of course, Cleo bullies him into releasing it since it unironically goes hard. (Think "You Stupid B!tch" by Girl In Red, but with less romantic undertones.)

The second Bdubs finds out about their little band/duo thing, he goes completely feral. He immediately becomes their #1 fan, makes merch for them and begs them to show him unreleased songs. I can't decide if it's actually because he loves their music or if he just wants to be supportive.

Joel, on the other hand, finds out about it and lovingly hates on them. Not publicly or anything and not really to Cleo - it's mostly just him making fun of Etho, so really just the usual for them. He calls himself their de-hype man nonetheless.

The merch Bdubs makes is surprisingly high quality for hand-made stuff, mostly consisting of shirts and jumpers decorated with song lyrics and names and maybe a few socks and some custom kazoos. He and Grian team up to make them an official merch website.

I like the idea of them just being like a small indie band that appreciates every like and nice comment they get, so Etho has some kind of heart attack when they hit a hundred subscribers. Of course, Bdubs convinces/forces them to celebrate the, albeit small, achievement and invites everyone even vaguely involved, so it's just Cleo, Etho, Grian, Bdubs and Joel cramped inside of Cleo, Etho and Grian's garage, drinking and eating snacks together and having a marathon of every bad horror movie they can find.

They also have a friendly rivalry with "Gem and the Scotts", (since someone commented that and I loved the idea) but don't really focus too much on rivalries since half of the band (Etho) is too busy obsessing over their de-hype man.

Thinking about it now, they probably started by making covers of songs made by bands like Paramore and Twenty-One Pilots, probably some Panic! At The Disco as well. Then Cleo came up with a song about something going on in their life and asked Etho to do the instrumentals for it. Asking him to do backup vocals for her taught them that he was awful at singing since he outright refused, leading to them teaming up to create the actual band.

They're one of those alternative/indie emo bands - like Fall Out Boy and such.

I have no idea what their band name would be- it could be something simple, like just "The roomies", but I feel like they wouldn't want to leave Grian out since he isn't actually in the band. Maybe he could play the kazoo or something??

I enjoy imagining Bdubs asking about what Etho does in the band since he has never thought about him being musically talented and Cleo just takes him into Etho's room - it's filled with different instruments and merch of different bands, like they all have their own special spaces and stands. Bdubs is flabbergasted.

Despite their friendly rivalry with "Gem and the Scotts", they don't really interact with them tons because Joel has this weird hatred for Scott that he has never ever explained - No one can ask about it either since he'll just start to angrily mutter names under his breath. Cleo has deduced that it must be because of something that happened in high school, but nobody knows much more than that, except Bdubs who keeps his lips firmly sealed. (Thank another comment for this.)

I feel like if they ever managed to play at a concert or go on tour or anything like that, they'd both have very contradicting outfits. Like, Cleo would probably go all out in some Chappel-Roan-inspired outfit, makeup and all, while Etho is just stood their in some baggy shorts, a Naruto shirt and his comfort jacket. I think that'd be funny.

OMG if they ever played out, they'd get Joel to be their drummer!! So Etho doesn't have to pre-record too much stuff!! He'd probably only do it if they bribed him lol. Maybe Etho offers to go to the cinema with him or something lol /j.

I've been thinking about what their favourite artists and stuff would be - for inspiration and just in general. Etho has mentioned irl that he used to listen to Paramour and Green Day and stuff and I feel like that carries into his character, but why do I feel like he's a riot grrrl enjoyer? And why do I feel like Cleo would listen to GRLwood??

[saphstories]

Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic

A ShadowxAurora One Shot

Shadow never meant to keep it. With the limited space in his apartment, a piano wasn't exactly practical. But he'd seen it sitting on the street while on a run, a pathetic little spinet that apparently wasn't worth the effort for repair according to the owner, so it sat in wait for the dump truck.

Omega thought he was nuts when Shadow had used Chaos Control to transport the piano into the apartment, and perhaps he was. The instrument had definitely seen better days, and it would take more than a simple tune up to get it in pristine condition again.

That didn't stop Shadow from shoving the spinet against the wall between his mattress and the front door and then going out to purchase the necessary items for piano repairs.

The spinet became Shadow's passion project over the next several weeks. Any spare moment between his mercenary work with Omega and dates with Aurora, Shadow could be found with the spinet piano, painstakingly doting over the instrument to set it to rights again.

"You never told me you can fix instruments." Aurora had noted once, sitting on the little bench with her legs swinging while half of Shadow's body was inside the back of the spinet.

"Never came up." Shadow had grunted.

"Where'd you learn?" She'd pressed.

Shadow had shrugged. "I did a lot of things while off world, Light. Sometimes I was asked to fix things, and music is universal." Aurora had accepted that answer, and Shadow minutely relaxed.

No way he was EVER going to tell her that some aristocrat across the galaxy had taken fancy to him and tried to get his attention by breaking her piano, just so he'd come and fix it. It was the fastest he'd ever fled a planet. Omega still hadn't let him live it down.

The plan for the spinet once he'd finished repairs was simple enough: take it to the resale shop and get a decent sum of cash for it. He'd contacted the shop, gotten a good offer, and was set to deliver and receive his rings, but when he arrived and saw the buyer...a mother and son duo, the latter whom was whining about how much he HATED piano lessons and was currently and carelessly swinging a baseball bat around in his fit....Shadow took his piano and left.

No way was Shadow going to let all his hard work repairing his baby go to waste on some ungrateful brat that lacked basic appreciation. So, the little spinet piano became a permanent fixture in his apartment.

Shadow had never considered himself a musician of any sort. He was a warrior, a mercenary, the Ultimate Lifeform, a guardian. Music...required a certain softness that Shadow, with all his broken pieces and jagged edges, simply did not possess. But, somehow, that didn't matter. Sitting at his little spinet, gingerly filling his apartment with the soft tones of the classics centered him with a kind of peace he rarely ever achieved...with one exception. When he played, Shadow could pretend that was all there was. Just him and his spinet, creating something beautiful together. It was almost magical, if he believed in such a thing.

Shadow huffed a quiet chuckle, gently resting his hand atop the keys but not pressing down, his thoughts drifting towards the other almost-magical thing in his life. Honestly, if it magic was a thing, Shadow could believe it, because of her. The way she pranced through life, with such light and arms wide open, eager and excited for whatever came her way...could anything else but magical describe his precious Light?

Almost without his command, his fingers gently drifted across the spinet's keys, a delicate melody that swirled and danced through the air. Shadow sighed.

"Though I tried before to tell her

Of the feelings I have for her

In my heart.

Every time that I come near her

I just lose my nerve as I've done

From the start."

How many times has Shadow looked into those emerald eyes, seen that smile, and choked? It was three simple words, why was it so difficult? He's made peace with the past, hasn't he?

"Every little thing she does is magic

Everything she does just turns me on.

Even though my life before was tragic

Now I know my love for her goes on."

A sniffle behind him had Shadow whirling around, Chaos Spear halfway formed in his hand and a snarl on his muzzle, when those same piercing emerald eyes damp with tears stopped him dead. Shadow gulped, his ears flattening against his head. Damn. How long had she- Shadow made get up, averting his eyes as embarrassment colored his cheeks rosy red.

And then she's right there, pushing him back down on the bench with pleas of "Please don't stop, don't mind me-," and she's still looking at him with those eyes, pleading and wet, her body pressed tight against his side, lips protruding in the most pitiful pout...

Chaos, he was screwed, wasn't he?

Shadow sighed and tapped her nose with his finger. "You will say nothing to anyone about this." He commanded, and tried to ignore how distracting that beaming smile was in order to return to the piano. He gulped, frozen with his fingers in position. He knew his voice was not what anyone would call gifted, hers was so much better, and he chanced a glance down to his shoulder where she'd laid her head. She smiled at him again, eager and encouraging, and Shadow gulped and resumed playing.

"Do I have to tell the story

Of a thousand rainy days

SInce we first met?

It's a big enough umbrella

But it's always me

That ends up getting wet.

Every little thing she does is magic

Everything she does just turns me on.

Even though my life before was tragic

Now I know my love for her goes on."

Shadow rested his cheek against the top of her head, mindful of the short grouping of quills that acted as bangs, closing his eyes momentarily and just breathing.

"I resolve to call her up

A thousand times a day

And ask her if she'll marry me

In some old fashioned way.

But my silent fears have gripped me

Long before I reach the phone.

Long before my tongue has tripped me

Must I always be alone?"

Her arms squeezed him gently, reassuringly, around his middle, and he pressed a kiss to her head in response, smiling at the growing damp spot on his shoulder.

"Every little thing she does is magic,

Everything she does just turns me on.

Even though my life before was tragic

Now I know my love for her goes on,"

Shadow dropped one hand from the piano and cupped Aurora's cheek, tilting her chin up to look into her eyes, shining with light and joy, and he knew his words wouldn't fail him this time. He smiled at her and leaned his forehead on hers.

"Every little thing you do is magic

Everything you do just turns me on.

Even though my life before was tragic

Know that my love for you goes on."

Shadow ended the song with a soft kiss to her lips, sealing his declaration of devotion with all the love and passion and dedication he had in his heart in the best way he knew how. Words always failed him, but somehow, in this moment, it didn't matter. Aurora wept through his kiss, and he smiled as they parted, a quirk of his mouth so gentle and loving that only she would ever get to see it.

Aurora pounced on him a single moment later, using her own gift of speed to press kiss after kiss on his lips, face, head, everywhere she could reach, glowing so brightly and joyfully exclaiming "I love you"s between kisses. Shadow briefly wondered how she wasn't suffocating before dismissing the thought and basking in their shared love, trading her kisses and words with ones of his own. It didn't matter anyway.

Every little thing she did was magic, after all.

[rapidhighway]

[samaraxmorgan]

I need to “do it scared” my way into writing smut but I’m too nervous to even open a word doc skskskssk

[desceros]

soooo in order to keep y'all from sitting on the edge of your seats, i decided to put together a bit of a february road map. uh. such as i'm capable of having one, barring me being thwacked in the head by an idea i simply MUST get out, ahahhaa!

feb 14: leo valentine's day one-shot

feb 19: super secret project that definitely isn't a present for my roommate's birthday

feb... sometime: symphony 24 (will likely be before the other dates, depends on how quickly i can get them finished!)

feb 27: ...dont worry about it

late feb: donnie didn't mean to do that but well he's here now

late feb again, if i have time fingers crossed: symphony 25

march 1: mating season event

[luvrodite]

once again thinking about roomie jason. he gets so extremely jealous he has to go run around the block when he hears you're going on a date. gives you a smile that looks a little deranged and you're sure his eye is twitching. it's worse if you think the guy is actually nice because if it's just a hookup at least he can reason that you're coming home to him and yeah it's as his roommate but the distinction isn't important to him. but if you like him? he's got this burning feeling in his chest, squirmy and uncomfortable at the thought of you bringing some guy into your life and by extension, his.

he has a mini crisis and flashes forward through every single scenario and all the while you've only just mentioned you're going on a date. you're standing in the kitchen in your pyjamas stealing a bite of his sandwich and he's too distracted to swat you away because he's having a minor meltdown lmfao.

he breathes a sigh of relief when you come home afterwards and curl up on the couch next to him, and is so selfishly thankful that he doesn't even complain when you press your head against his shoulder and leave a smudge of makeup on his sleeve.

[astrowarr]

thinking about gem and etho in my roomies zombie apocalypse au.. they're siblings, of course

it's the idea of etho having taken care of gem for years but she's grown up now, and definitely able to hold her own- has been able to for ages now- but he has to grapple with that fact. because it's not that etho doesn't think gem isn't entirely capable of leveling a room full of zombies- he knows she is. he doesn't look down on her at all, and he's not even that much older than her in the first place. it's just that he can't fathom living in this world without his gremlin little sister, because before there was cleo and grian, it was just... him and gem.

he will always put her first. and he's a survivor, so that's saying something.

[asexualasshat]

I have this fic I started writing for another fandom and then abandoned for a year but I still like the concept of it so I want to change it into a Steddie fic. The only problem??? Robin would have to be moving out of her apartment with Steve at the start cause Eddie and Steve need to be roomies. And I cannot think of a single goddamn reason why Robin wouldn’t just stay if she’s still living in the same city