#would taste like hot cocoa i swear

[tortured-poet-of-thursday]

the windows notepad app is the best thing that’s happened to me this year i kid you not

[jasmines-library]

CAN YOU PLEASE DO SOMETHING WITH OLDER BROTHER DAMIAN WAHNE?? LIKE 11 ISH YEAR OLD READER?? Reader is also an ex child weapon. Just a silent cutie pie. I just wanna see Damian spoiling them. Or something with like reader not following his orders and telling Damian to go away and does reckless stuff that Damian did when he was younger and his older siblings are just laughing at the irony

Brotherly Love

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

Note: Sorry again for the wait! but two in one day woo.

Warnings: Just fluffy

Word Count: 800.

ALSO THIS IS MY 100TH FIC 🎉🎉

⛧ BATFAM MASTERLIST ⛧

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

“If you walk out that door I swear to God-” Damian curses as you slink out of the door of the batcave. He had explicitly told you that he didn’t want you going on this mission because he had deemed it ‘too dangerous’ as soon as Bruce gave the details. For a boy who claimed he ‘didn’t give a shit’ he was rather protective. Of course, being the highly trained, and rather confident 11 year old you are (which basically meant you were an adult) you had decided that you weren’t going to listen to him. With a sly smirk, you slipped out of the door. “God dammit!”

Damian kicks the wheely chair beside him. It slides across the room.  And then there’s laughter.

It was Jason, geared up in his suit, minus the signature hood. He was leaning against the wall, an amused smirk on his face. 

“Finally getting a taste of your own medicine, huh Demon Spawn?”

“What?” Damian half snapped, his temper wearing thin as he spun around to face his brother.

This made Jason’s grin widen. “Don’t act as if you weren’t exactly the same.”

Damian glowered. “That’s different.”

Jason just raised an eyebrow. “Is it?”

“....shut up. Where are you going anyway?” Damian nods towards Jason’s suit. 

“Someone has to go and get them. And it certainly won't be you.”

~

“Hi Dami.” You smiled as you sat yourself beside him on the couch. He was still in a grump, grumbling about your excursion. Jason had gone to find you, but instead of bringing you home, he let you finish the mission. This royally pissed Damian off, and he was almost 100% certain that Jason had done it just to spite him. But as much as he wanted to, Damian just couldn’t stay mad at you. Especially when you looked up at him with those bright and mischievous eyes. You very much reminded your other siblings of Damian when he was your age. Though of course, now he would claim he was all grown up and always has been. And, even though Damian wished he could keep holding his grudge against you, his face couldn't help but melt. 

“Hey, kiddo.” he greeted, looking down at you curiously.

“What are you doing?” You ask. You had always been fond of your older brothers, but you had an especially soft spot for Damian, as he did for you. 

Damian held up the book that he was half reading, but then gestured to the TV that he kept getting distracted by. “I don’t even know why I bothered trying to be honest.”

“Oh.” You acknowledged before reaching forwards to pick up the video game controllers. You raised an eyebrow and held one out for him to take. He snatched it up and turned it on. Damian was very clearly competitive, however he let you win the first few rounds before he decided he had had enough and wanted to take all of the glory for himself. 

At some point, the two of you deemed it time for a break. It didn’t last long, but it gave the two of you long enough to stretch your legs. When you returned, Damian was already back on the couch. On the coffee table he had placed two steaming mugs of hot cocoa, topped with cream and marshmallows. He had also haphazardly placed a bunch of crisps in a bowl and had collected an extensive array of snacks that he had chucked onto the table too. 

You raised an eyebrow, looking curiously at him. 

“What?”

“You got snacks.”

“Yeah….well you looked hungry.”

Your face melted at Damian’s tenderness. Damian rolled his eyes as you took a sip of the hot chocolate, getting whipped cream on your face. He chuckled and gestured for you to wipe it away. You grinned up at him again.

“Thank you, Dami.” you beamed, nudging his side affectionately. 

“Yeah, well. Don’t get used to it.” He grumbled, unable to hide the sliver of a smile creeping up onto his face. 

The two of you eventually fall asleep, still in front of the TV and half gripping the controllers as the game idles on without you. It’s Dick who pokes his head around the door to see what the noise is. He is surprised to see you with your head on Damian’s shoulder as the two of you snooze. With a soft smile, he turns off the TV and places a blanket over the two of you. But not before snapping a quick picture of the two of you which he would definitely use to wind up Damian some point in the not too distant future.

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

BATFAM TAGS

@hearts4robs @xxrougefangxx @hell-o-kittys @harleycao @batfamsstuff @alicedawitchbish

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

[lialacleaf]

Simon Riley X Reader: Domestic Headcanons: Baking

Warnings: Simon misses his Mum :c, fluffy

Pt.2

Simon has very few fond memories of his family but he remembers how his Mum used to cook during the holidays, and would always involve him in the food prep to distract him from his Dad's foul mood.

After losing his family, cooking just isn't the same without his Mum, and even if he isn't on a mission he tries to avoid being in the kitchen because it just aches for him.

But then you come along, working on base under Laswell and Simon constantly hears you fiddling around in the kitchen. He avoids investigating like the plague for the first few weeks but eventually, his curiosity gets the better of him.

He finds you covered in flour in mid-October, making a pumpkin pie crust from scratch, and has to just stand there for a moment and watch in befuddlement as you swear at the bowl you just tipped over.

There's something bubbling on the stove, and you're too distracted to notice that your simmer pot is going to boil over. You've got a mix of orange and lemon slices with diced apple and cinnamon sticks. It's just like how his Mum used to make them.

The click of the stove dial has you jumping, having not noticed the shadowy figure of Ghost slipping into the kitchen.

"Heat's too high," he says, and you blink at him in confusion before understanding settles on your pretty face.

"Shoot! I...forgot to turn that down when I..." you gestured awkwardly to the bowl of flour and he tilts his masked chin downwards at you.

You give him an awkward smile before returning to the task of making your dough.

He doesn't leave immediately, just watches you struggle a bit with kneading the dough before he huffs and yanks his gloves off, pushing you to the side as he surprises you by properly kneading the dough, and laying it in the pie pan perfectly.

You watch him from the corner of your eye as you finish making the filling, and add it to the pie crust.

You can hardly believe that you're baking a pie with Lieutenant Ghost. You shrug it off however and pull two mugs from the cupboard, filling them both with the contents of your pot, however, when you turn around to offer him one, he's already gone.

The second time you're in the kitchen making apple turnovers for your co-worker's birthday, the window is open for you to enjoy an early November rainy day, and you're in your coziest pair of socks.

You almost don't recognize him, jumping at the sight of the tall blonde man who has materialized out of thin air to peel your apples. His eyes peek at you over the top of a black surgical mask, and you feel your heart stop, then start up again with a disjointed stutter as you take in the familiar chocolatey color.

He doesn't say anything, just peels the apples until the bag is empty. You reach for the last one and realize there's no Leuitenant to be seen.

The third time he joins you you're trying to perfect your gravy recipe. Most of the base's inhabitants have gone home for the holidays, but the few that have remained are planning a Thanksgiving potluck.

"You're still here." He actually makes you jump.

"Couldn't afford plane tickets for Christmas and Thanksgiving, and I'm not missing my Dad's pumpkin log and hot cocoa," you explain

He hums softly, leaning against the counter as he examines your cheese biscuits.

Your eyes widen slightly when you see him pull the surgical mask down just enough to take a large bite of the biscuit he nabbed off the tray.

You're greeted with the sight of a sharp jaw and full lips, and you quickly pull your eyes away, focusing on the gravy in your pot.

Something doesn't taste quite right, and you frown softly. Ghost leans over to take a deep whiff, bumping your shoulder in the process.

"You added salt?"

You offer him a deadpan expression.

"Scoot," he orders, pushing you aside and fishing a spoon out of the drawer. He nods to himself after a taste and proceeds to add a hefty helping of rosemary.

You try not to think about the fact that you've never seen his face before now as you try his concoction. It's not bad. "Where'd you learn how to cook, Ghost?"

He stares deeply at you for a few seconds, before he sets the spoon in the sink. "My Mum."

He leaves you after that, and you doubt you're going to see him at the potluck.

You don't see him in the kitchen again until December, and you're baking snickerdoodles to leave the boys with when you return to your family.

He's avoided the kitchen for a few weeks, and you're strangely relieved to see him lurking there.

"Wanted to give you this before you left."

He holds out a carefully wrapped package, and you accept it with a dumbfounded expression. He's out the door again before you've even thanked him.

A few days later you're sitting in the armchair of your parents' house, a pile of unwrapped presents at your feet as you carefully tear away the paper concealing the Leuitenant's gift. You're greeted with the sight of an old leather-bound book, one filled with handwritten recipes you realize upon closer inspection and an elegant Mrs. Riley engraved on the front page.

You have a feeling Ghost will be joining you in the kitchen more often. Maybe even Simon.

AN: Requests are always open!

[frenchkisstheabyss]

✦ love poem ✦

✦ Pairing: dad!choi san x pregnant!chubby!fem!reader w/ appearances by ot8

✦ Genre: fluff/light angst

✦ Summary: Being pregnant during the holidays has been hectic. Especially for your fiance San whose tight work schedule has him under pressure. But when his best friend Hwa steps in to ease the burden on him by being there for you, it creates more jealousy than Christmas cheer.

✦ Word Count: 3.5k-ish

✦ Warnings: pregnant reader, occasionally strong language, some quick lusting after San while he's in the shower (nothing graphic), & that's all.

✦ A/N: I really wanted to write something sweet with like the tiniest bit of angst so there's nothing heavy here. It's mostly just lovey dovey shit cause, I mean, I'm a lover girl. What can I say?

Standing at the entrance of the tunnel of lights, you watch in awe as thousands of tiny bulbs twinkle to the tune of the Christmas music that coasts along the night air. Every year the local zoo holds a massive festival of lights to celebrate the holiday season. During your first year here San had plans to take you to opening night but, with his schedule being as unpredictable as it is, that never did happen. This year though, he promised that nothing would stop you from experiencing this together and he meant it.

As much as San and the rest of the boys hyped this place up to you, nothing could’ve prepared you for how breathtaking it is in person. It’s magical. The carnival rides, the little Christmas themed games, the stalls selling some of the best food you ever tasted. And the displays. They’re pure art. It may be too cold for the animals to be out but the elaborate light sculptures of them make up for it tenfold. Children race through the light tunnels while couples cuddle up in line for hot cocoa. If ever “Winter Wonderland” were a place this would have to be it.

“Stop running!” Hongjoong yells from behind you. Seconds later Mingi and Jongho dart past you in a blur. You turn in time to see the look of defeat on Hongjoong’s face as he approaches with the others close behind. “I swear sometimes they act like children,” he groans, “Take it from me. Don’t have kids. It’s not worth it.” Popping on a pair of knit gloves, Yunho gestures towards the pregnant belly rounding out your thick winter coat. “I think that advice is about 7 months too late.”

Hongjoong gasps in horror, “Oh. I mean, you know, except that one. I’m sure it’ll be a cute little thing.” You can only giggle at how flustered any mention of your pregnancy gets him. Hongjoong hasn’t quite grasped that San’s about to be someone’s dad. Even as your belly has grown, he’s managed to periodically forget what’s happening but he’s trying to be supportive and it’s sweet. Seonghwa pats you softly on the belly, laying his head on your shoulder, “Pay him no mind. She’ll be a cute little baby. Not a thing. I mean, look at her mom”

"Oh, Hwa, you’re too sweet” you blush, patting him on the cheek. “The baby! I think it kicked!” He’s right. You felt it. It’s about that time of night after all. The moment she could start kicking she did. Especially around bedtime. Suddenly they’re all gathered close around you staring at your stomach as if the baby will burst out at this very moment like some alien spawn. Woo kneels down in front of you, resting his hand behind Hwa’s. “Aah!” he squeals, “She’s saying hi to her uncles. Hi, baby!”

By now Mingi and Jongho have circled back, stopping dead in their tracks to see what all the fuss is about. “What’s going on?” Jongho asks, Mingi’s hat clenched in his hand. Mingi snatches his hat back, peering over Jongho’s shoulder, “It’s not happening is it?” Seeing the panic in his eyes, you immediately jump to calm him down, “Not yet. She’s kicking up a fuss. That’s all.” “So much like her dad already” Yeosang teases, just as San appears to push them aside. “Hands off!” he orders, shooing them away, “I go to the bathroom for two seconds and you’re already crowding my kid.”

The others just laugh, not expecting to witness such a perfect example of Yeosang’s statement so soon. “You okay? Everything okay?” he asks, fixing the scarf around your next and popping your hood over your head. “Baby, it’s not that cold.” “Temperature’s supposed to drop 5 degrees in the next half hour. Gotta stay toasty, honey.” San’s always been attentive, doing everything he could to make sure you were taken care of but the pregnancy has kicked it into overdrive.

Taking his hands, you give him a warm peck on the lips and flash a smile that soothes his worries. “I’m okay, Sannie. I promise. Now let’s go.” The tunnel’s far more mesmerizing from the inside than it is simply looking in. It feels like a portal to a different world, replacing the darkness of the night sky with constellations of red and green that guide you to the next section of the zoo. Each area has one unique to the space you’re about to step into.

A tunnel of mistletoe and vines for the flower garden. One built like a giant sleigh for the reindeer village. And that’s not even half of it. How anyone can make it through this place in one night is beyond you. Then again, not everyone is toting another human around in their belly. By the time you make it through the ice tunnel into the replica North Pole, your feet are killing you but you try to hold it together.

Between doctor’s appointments, work, redecorating the apartment, and a million other things that need to be done before the baby arrives, there’s been zero time to do anything fun. Calling it quits this early feels wrong. Especially since San's been so stressed lately. Spending time with the guys seems to be just the thing he needed to shake some of that off.

“How many more lights do we have to see before we’ve seen enough?” Mingi whines, dragging his feet. Alright, so maybe someone else is as over it as you are. Yunho slaps Mingi on the back, taking a deep breath, “Have some holiday cheer! We’re in such a beautiful place. Where else would you rather be?” “Somewhere warm! With food!” Woo adds, backing Mingi up. Jongho jumps it, never one to miss the opportunity, “And drinks! When’s the last time we all had drinks together?”

Hongjoong crosses his arms, throwing them some wicked side eye, until he realizes, “Actually it has been a while since we went out for drinks.” Woo wraps his arms around Yeosang, determined to rope him into this plan, “You in? Say yes. Say yes!” “Yeah, sure fine, whatever” Yeosang laughs, shrugging him off. Hwa clears his throat, preparing to be the bearer of bad news, “Well it’s not just us you guys. There’s kinda a 10th person here now.”

For a fleeting moment, you were able to detect some excitement on San’s face and Hwa’s words wipe it away in an instant. Everyone falls silent, not quite sure what to do with the awkwardness of the moment. “Hey,” you say, lovingly rubbing San’s chest, “Why don’t you go get those drinks?” “What? No. I’m not leaving you. We said we’d do this.” “We did and I’ve had the best time but, honestly, my feet hurt like shit.” “Then I’ll take you home and run some water so you can soak your feet” San insists, guiding you out of the way of an approaching crowd.

“San, please, for the love of god, go” you beg, looking to his friends for support. “I’ll take her home!” Hwa volunteers, “I’m not really up for drinking anyway.” San glares skeptically back and forth between the two of you. He wants to protest but he gets the sense that arguing with you is a losing battle and he’s right. “Fine” he relents, “But text me when you get home. Love you.” The way you light up when he finally gives in is one of the infinite reasons why he loves you the way that he does. “I will. Love you too.” “Love you three!” “Love you four!” you say, kissing him before Jongho begins to drag him in the other direction. “We’re not doing this all night! Let’s go!”

Parting ways is a sea of goodbyes and bickering that continues until you lose sight of the rest of the group. Hooking his arm into yours, Hwa directs you towards a festive snack stand not too far away. “Wanna eat like trash before we go home?” he offers with a mischievous grin, knowing San would murder him if he knew. You nod, playfully tearing up, “I thought you’d never ask.” 

“Baby, have you seen my keys?” you shout from the bedroom, digging through your purse for the third time. “Huh?” San calls back, the water rushing from the shower making it impossible to hear you. Shuffling down the hall, you pop your head into the bathroom. “I was asking if you’d seen my keys.” San peeks from behind the shower curtain, shampoo bubbles dripping down his sculpted cheekbones. In an instant, you forget all about your keys. What else could possibly matter when San’s standing here dripping wet, every muscle in his defined chest glistening like gold. Snap out of it. This is how you got pregnant in the first place. 

“I saw them by the stove I think.” “Thanks, ya cutie” you wink, ready to skip off to find them. “Wait,” he says before you can make it more than a step and a half away, “You’re all dressed up. Where are you going?” Scanning your outfit, you don’t see anything particularly “dressed up” about what you’re wearing. Some knit overalls with a cozy sweater underneath and your favorite boots are far from red carpet ready in your mind. “Hwa’s taking me shopping for decorations. Don’t you remember?” San frowns, only vaguely remembering the conversation, “Why didn’t you ask me?” “I did but you said you were busy today so Hwa offered to take me.” 

Your phone dings in your pocket. You fish it out and find a text message from Hwa telling you he’s outside. “Ooh, speak of the devil. Gotta run.” Carefully, you make your way across the bathroom floor, giving him a kiss that you struggle to keep innocent with the knowledge of what’s behind the curtain. “Have fun and tell Joong I said hi! I’ll bring you back something!” you sing and you’re off to find your keys. San’s frozen in place, unable to bring himself to move an inch. Even after he’s heard the apartment door close, it takes him a second to get back to his shower.

It’s been two weeks since the light festival and you’ve seen Hwa every few days since. Every time San’s too busy to do something Hwa’s right there to help. When did he become so available? You always come home so happy too. Were you that happy with him? Letting the water wash over his head, he tries to shake away his jealous thoughts.

You moved here to be with him and, in that time, the only friends you’d made were his. Hwa’s just being a good friend to the both of you, helping when San’s unable to. Thinking that it's anything else is ridiculous. All of the long hours spent working must be getting to him. Hwa would never...

You would never...

Neither of you would...

Right? Right? 

Pregnancy hormones. They’re the one thing no one can ever quite prepare you for. One minute you’re hanging ornaments on the tree, humming along to your music in a cozy pair of pajamas. The next you’re crying on the kitchen floor, stuffing your mouth with the cookies you baked for the holiday party tomorrow.

It’s nearly midnight and everything makes you emotional. The lights on the tree are too bright, your feet feel swollen, the cookies aren’t as sweet as you'd like, and suddenly you can’t stand the song that’s playing despite it being one of your favorites. You want everything off but then the house would be quiet and empty. You’d be reminded that you’re all alone until San comes home tomorrow and cry even harder.

You pull out your phone to call him but when you see the time you decide not to. His flight is in a few hours and he’s already told you what a long day he had. You’d hate to wake him up, to burden him any more than you feel you already have.  Just as you’re about to put your phone down it lights up. A text from Seonghwa. Some adorable video of a cat dressed up as one of Santa’s elves.

The poor thing looks miserable running around in that costume but it makes you laugh enough to stop you from spiraling. Taking a deep breath, you wipe away the tears blurring your vision and shoot a text back. 

You: Thanks. I really needed that.

Hwa: Why? Something wrong?

You: I’m having a crying thing. Kinda sad tonight.

Hwa: Need some company?

Without thinking, you type out the words “You don’t have to—” before erasing them and typing out something new. "Sure!"

It takes him no time at all to reach you. The streets are empty this time of night and he only lives a half hour away. Even if he lived two hours away—three hours away—he’d drive every single one of them to come support you. When you became someone special to San, you became someone special to him too. He’s never seen San more serious about anything than he's been about you and this baby. As much as he wishes that San would get out of his head a bit more, it’s cute to see him love something so much. 

“Anybody home?” Hwa whispers, his eyes narrowing when he notices that your front door is cracked. “Come in” you sob from the couch, blowing your nose for what feels like the 1000th time since you sent that last text. Hwa follows a trail of discarded tissues to find you curled up on the couch, as curled as you can be this far along in your pregnancy. “Hey, hey, don’t cry” he coos, easing himself down onto the couch and resting your head in his lap, “Talk to me. What’s going on?”

You try to speak but you’re too short of breath to get anything out. Hwa strokes your hair, taking slow breaths in and out, “Follow me, okay? In and out.” You shake your head in protest. The whole room is closing in around you. You can’t do it. “Just try it. For me. Please” he begs so sweetly that you can’t refuse. Deep breath in, long breath out. The same way that they taught you in those birthing classes you went to. “This is total bullshit” you’d whispered to San at one point during the class but it turns out it isn’t bullshit at all. 

After a few seconds, the tightness in your chest eases and the room begins to open up. The world isn’t falling apart anymore. You’re safe. Hwa sits with you in silence as your breathing quiets, dabbing away any rogue tears that drip down your cheeks. “Is San happy with me?” you ask, catching him off guard, “Is this too much for him, do you think?” Hwa laughs, knowing how extremely far from the truth both of those questions are. “Hwa, it’s not funny! I’m serious!” “I’m sorry! I’m not trying to make fun of you, it’s just—if you make him happy or not, that’s not a question. He’s crazy about you.”

Grabbing the small blanket folded over the back of the couch, he opens it up and tucks you in with it. “None of this is too much,” he swears, “You and her…” Hwa pokes your belly, making you giggle. “You guys are everything he’s ever wanted. He pushes himself so much because he wants to be perfect for you.” You yawn, Hwa’s presence and the warm blanket activating the exhaustion you’ve been fighting. “But he’s already perfect to me. Why can’t he see that?” “Mmm, it’s really hard sometimes to see ourselves the way other people do but he’ll come around. I promise.”

If there’s one similarity you’ve come to find between San and Hwa it’s how important promises are to them. If Hwa says he’ll come around then he will. They’d been friends for ages before you came into the picture. They’ve gone through more together than you can imagine. If Hwa's confident about it, then you have to believe it too. You drift off to sleep, your brain still spinning but much quieter now, trusting that everything will be just fine.

Right? Right? 

“Listen to yourself. You sound crazy!” Hwa snaps, trying his hardest not to raise his voice in the midst of his anger. San tosses his bags to the floor and they hit with a thud that shakes you from your sleep. “I come home to you cuddled up on the couch with her and I’m crazy?” “She texted me last night that she was crying. What was I supposed to do?” “Tell me! And let me take care of her! She’s not yours so stop treating her like she is!”

San’s jaw clenches, the jealousy he’s been harboring turning into true pain for the first time. He thought he had this under control. Those hours of talking with Woo about how stupid his suspicions were had chased off his insecurities. But coming in, tired and cranky from his flight, to see you so peacefully cuddled against Hwa had undone all of it. He wanted to kill him and the knowledge that he was the first one you reached for when you were hurting only adds fuel to the fire currently burning his self control to ash.

“Sannie?” you squeak, stretching out your cramped limbs, “What’s going on?” You sit up, eyes still squinted, to see what all of the fuss is about. Hwa hangs his head, unable to face you, “I think I should go. If you need me I’m here for both of you.” “Wait, no!” you say, doing your best to roll off of the couch and stop him but by the time you’re on your feet he’s gone. Turning your attention to San, you immediately sense his anger. Something happened and whatever it was has him fuming.

“Baby, what happened? You can talk to—” “Is there something going on between you two?” “What?” you laugh, placing your hands on your lower back for support. You keep laughing but the sharpness of his expression never changes. He’s actually waiting for an answer. “Oh god, you’re serious. You’re actually asking me if I’m fucking Seonghwa.” “I didn’t say that.” “But that’s what you’re saying. That’s what you think of me.”

You catch yourself wanting to cry again, only this time it isn’t because of the pregnancy hormones. It’s because you waited for days to see the man you love only to be accused of something like this. San can almost see the moment your heart breaks, making him regret his doubts in an instant. “He’s been helping me because I was worried about you burning yourself out. That’s it. I wouldn’t do that to you.” Your bottom lip quivers and the tears are rushing from your eyes again. “Fuck, I’m so tired of crying” you huff, flopping back down onto the couch. 

San’s at your side quicker than he’s ever been, his arms wrapped around you like he never wants to let go. “I’m sorry! Please don’t cry. I didn’t mean it. I know you’d never do that.” “Then why were you two arguing? Why even ask me?” “Because I’m afraid” he admits, leaving you both shocked at his admission. He’s scared, terrified, so much that it keeps him up at night. “I’m afraid I’m not good enough to be what you need me to be and it was easier to be jealous than to admit that.”

You’re frustrated enough that you could slap him but your body feels so at home in his embrace that you can’t pull away. “You’re good enough for me…for us, San. You have to believe me when I say that.” “Then why do you call him when you’re crying and not me?” “Because,” you sigh, “I’m afraid too. I don’t want to lean on you too much.” “What? Lean on me too much?” he asks, almost offended, “Lean on me all you want. What do you think I work out for?”

You giggle when you feel his muscles flex against you, “San, be serious!” “I am! Lean on me, please. We’re a team. I need you to trust me to be here.” You stare at him, your eyes beautiful enough to hypnotize him even when they’re clouded with tears. “You have to trust me to be here too, you know?” San kisses your forehead, one hand gently massaging your back, “I trust you, baby.” Closing your eyes a tingly feeling washes over you. Is it love? The Christmas spirit? The tingling is chased by a contraction stronger than any period cramp you’ve ever felt.

“The baby’s coming!” you shout, gripping your stomach. San jumps back in shock as if he didn’t know you were pregnant to begin with. “Are you sure?” “You said you trust me!” “I do! I do! Hold on!” Leaning you back on the couch, San darts around the apartment collecting all of the things he’s prepared over the last few months to make you comfortable when this happens. A bag packed with clothes for you and your favorite slippers. Phone chargers, baby wipes, stuffed animals, the snacks you love. The list is endless.

“I’ll pull the car up and come back for you, okay?” he says, propping your feet up on the coffee table as he tries to put your coat on. “Just get the car. I’m okay.” “You sure?” “I’m sure and San,” you say, grabbing his arm. “Yeah?” “You’re gonna be a great dad. The best ever.” San can’t fight the smile that spreads across his face or the slight reddening of his cheeks. You believe in him, you truly do, and for the first time, he does too.

[six-eyed-samurai]

HEHEHEHEH >:3 all im saying is rindou x popular!reader? like bratty and full of herself. REGINA GEORGE. REGINA GEORGE READER. but not actually

SORRY IF THIS IS CONFUSING I JUST WANNA KNOW WHATYOU THINK AND IF YOURE WILLING TO WRITE IT OK LOVE YOU MWAH MWAH MY WHIPPED CREAM ON TOP OF THE PERFECTLY WARM HOT COCOA WITH THE SMALL BUT REALLY TASTY MARSHMALLOWS <3 (almost typed mushrooms LMAAOO)

A/N: PLEB MY BELOVED TERIYAKI PEACH I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK ME SO LONG YOU ALREADY KNOW MY EXAMS AND SHIT BUT RAAAAAH ALSO I NEVER WATCHED MEAN GIRLS (the number of people about to murder me rn) SO I HOPE I'M ACCURATE, PLEASE ENJOY IN RETURN FOR THE VIP I LOVE YOU TO PLUTO AND BACK (Did someone say mushrooms? Well, I am a fun-guy- get it? GET IT?!) WARNINGS: Swearing and breaking the fourth wall. Nowhere says the Haitani brothers attend high school, but nowhere also says they don't, so here they do.

🌸First of all, let this be known that the one and only Haitani Ran came up with that title and is responsible for the whole story below (or so he claims, because I did about 80% of the work typing this out).

🌸Anyways.

🌸You meeting each other was probably inevitable - the Haitani brothers the head delinquents of Roppongi, you the literal head of every single popular girl clique.

🌸Do you hit off at once? Absolutely not. You made a very cutting comment about Rindou’s hair, even after your terrified girlfriends (minions) warned you about who he was and similarly Rindou called you a wannabe with fake Prada and your makeup was smudged.

🌸What a great start to a friendship! From that day onwards every time you both caught side of each other it was snarky jab after snarky jab at each other’s hair, clothes, shoes, speech, grades, lunch, anything you both could think of.

🌸Rindou hates you because you’re just such a prissy, spoilt princess brat with hella nice hair. You just hate him because who does he think he is to insult your fashion taste? So what if he’s a total bad boy delinquent? What about it?

🌸Ran thinks it’s hilarious. Rindou cannot not talk about you even when you’re not around, even if it’s just the repetitive complaints of your usual petty annoyingness, and gee, Rin-Rin, are you really that obsessed with them that you even still think about what colour their nail polish are in the middle of a fight? It’s almost worth missing a nap, Ran decides, when he can record Rindou spluttering out protests and declarations that you’re the ugliest, nastiest girl he’s ever met.

[Ran turns the camera to his face] I think my brother is a kindergartener afraid that girls have cooties. Sigh, he was supposed to be the more mature of the two of us.

🌸Even your traitorous girl clique were shipping you both! Even after you told them to shut up! Ugh! You don’t need them to stalk out his socials, you don’t need them yammering about how you always greet him in the corridors (”Did a dog shit on your shoes, Haitani?”), you don’t need them taking pictures/photoshopping you both together. Just, ew.

🌸Once again, so what if both your rivalry was turning into a…really weird obsession?

🌸You were pretty sure you hated Rindou with a burning passion, but one day you caught yourself studying your figure in the mirror, judging - judging?! - your own outfit by his standards: what sort of comments would he make this time? Is he going to jibe that you had finally found a skirt shorter than you? Are you actually wondering if he’d like it?!

🌸You CANNOT be seriously breaking one of the sacred rules of no pink on Wednesdays right now either just because Rindou had once made a muttered remark this being the only thing that looked good on you.

🌸Rindou was quite certain as well that if he could, he’d run a bus over your snobby ass but…here he was, cringing at whatever made him stop by the roadside asking if you needed a ride home since it was raining. Not because he cared or whatever. He hoped you got soaked to the bone sitting on the back of his motorbike. And that your hair gets messed up from wearing his helmet.

🌸You treating him to the boba cafe that nearly opened the next day was also strictly returning a favor so you didn’t have to owe your biggest nemesis. In fact, HE should owe you for making you wash his stupid jacket that he had forced you to wear that night as protection from the storm.

🌸Rindou sasses you right back, but yes, he supposes he owes you another drink. And another. And another. And another.

🌸At this point it’s so obvious the only reason none of you have admitted you’re practically dating already is because of your egos and reputations.

🌸That is, until one day when you’re strolling home by yourself and scrolling on your phone to scoff at Rindou liking your latest photo, A FEW DAYS AFTER YOU POSTED, you’re cornered by several members of a gang with a grudge to settle with the Haitani brothers - what better way to do so than to target Rindou’s girlfriend (see, if they were targeting Ran, they’d have to target every girl in the neighborhood, playboy that he is).

🌸Now you might be a prissy mean girl but that don’t mean you can’t kick ass physically. One of them made the stupid mistake of trying to grab your arm and EW, WRECKED YOUR NAILS? You slapped him pretty hard for that…and the rest too, with your new handbag, which made you even more pissed off, because hello, that shit was designer?!

🌸Also, congratulations, you've managed to make them all extremely self conscious while unconscious with your jibes about their appearances.

🌸Unfortunately that can't help you when more of them show up and you're outnumbered. At least you're going out with a bang…but not in the way you think when Rindou’s motorbike suddenly plows through them, engines revving, an irritated expression on his face.

“The only one who gets to piss my girlfriend off is me, so hands off.”

🌸Most people would've thanked him once he was finished knocking them all out but you immediately start berating him for taking so long in arriving.

”You really took your sweet time driving here, so of course I just decided to head home myself! I didn't need you to accompany me!”

He rolls his eyes because if he ignores your ungratefulness he can see your fingers trembling as you picked the items fallen from your bag, evidence of you still being shaken up. This (bratty) behaviour was just your…coping mechanism? Or maybe just typical you. “Then how'd you get surrounded so easily?”

“How was I to know people wanna beat me up today?!”

“You know what, stuff it and get on the bike. I'm taking you home whether you want me to or not.”

You stuff it and get on the bike. Rindou only uses that tone when he's worried.

🌸Aaand then it's only when you're on your doorstep do you realize what he had said.

🌸Rindou sees you frozen and raises an eyebrow. “What is it this time?”

“You called me your girlfriend.”

“So I did. You're not? Aren't we going on dates and everything? Sorry, “outings just between the two of us”?”

“We never talked it out or agreed on anything official!”

“I didn't know we needed to file a form and get a stamp of approval in order to go out.”

“OMG, you're so annoying I can't even - fine, I’ll…be your girlfriend. The moment you get a better haircut.”

…

“WIPE THAT SMIRK OFF YOUR FACE! Ugh, gotta go redo my makeup now.”

“Stop talking about my hair then, before you look at yours.”

He's still smirking as he leaves.

🌸So now Rindou has not one but two divas in his life. He can't decide which of you is the lesser evil, because on one hand he has Ran killing his wallet with all his dye jobs and on the other you're demanding his wallet for that new pair of heels he's pretty sure will break in less than a day.

🌸What are dates like? You dragging him off to clothing/shoes/jewelry stores, mall dates where you empty him of all cash on dessert and boba, going to the latest trending cafe while you judge everyone around you, spill all the gossip at school and naturally, talk about yourself (Rindou secretly eats your cake and zones out when the last one happens).

🌸If you've seen that reel of someone digging a hole in their cake to secretly reach the other person's cake…you know what Rindou does now.

🌸However both you and Rindou's favourite kind of date is when you're just driving around aimlessly in your shiny sports car with the wind blowing through the windows and the only fights are over your music choices: popular ones from Instagram (you) and whatever strikes Rindou's fancy.

🌸Has Ran attempted to gatecrash your dates and plead to drive your car? Absolutely. Have you let him? No. It's one of the few things you and Rindou agree on.

🌸You can be pretty annoying with that full of yourself attitude, “camera eats first!” mindset and double meaning words, but it's only annoying because Rindou has to go clean up your messes and apologize - apologize - to whoever was dumb enough to incur your wrath lest you get into trouble (for the millionth time). You'd never admit it, but you'd stopped directing any of that bxxchiness at him a long time ago.

🌸For anyone that did something wrong to Rindou though? Hell hath no fury like a woman with an ego bigger than Jupiter and a protective instinct for her man.

🌸If Japan has prom, you both would be crowned king and queen. If someone's hosting a party, you both would be the ones rocking the dance floor. If any of this happened, it's because you forced Rindou and he can't say no, however much he grumbles.

🌸First kiss was probably during some heated argument in front of everyone and Rindou claims he only instigated it because he wanted to shut you up. You reveled in the gossip that came with such a scandalous affair but yes, he took you very aback with the “Because I love you, dumbass?!”

🌸(Ran recorded everything and posted it on his super secret fan account following his favorite crack ship, the two of you.)

🌸Rindou doesn’t strike me as the jealous type. He KNOWS, however full of shit you are, you ain’t going to leave him for any of those losers just staring at your ass. To him they’re just minor annoyances, like flies - bothersome, but easily dealt with. Besides, who’s crazy enough to take THE Haitani’s girlfriend?

🌸You don’t get jealous much either, or so you claim. It’s quickly proven false whenever you snap spitefully at any girl who dares to lay a manicured hand on him - you won’t even tolerate your own girlfriends. You’re proud of the fact he’s so attractive, but that makes you even more possessive, because some deep, dark, insecure part of you is afraid he’d leave you for a similar girl, because surely there’s no difference between you and them. Just petty, bratty, arrogant mean girls.

🌸”I’m just going to get this tattooed on you, because for the hundredth time, sweetheart, I’m not going to leave you for some airhead bimbo. You’re more than just a face, and yeah, you really need to get off your high horse sometimes, but I’m still here, aren’t I?”

🌸The sappy moment is ruined when you sniffle and slap him lightly for making you cry and ruin your mascara. Rindou sighs (how many times has he sighed throughout this piece of writing already?)

🌸Average conversation between you and Rindou:

“I’m not surprised he got beat up with that kind of hair…is he trying out a new style from the slums?”

“Mhm. Couldn’t even throw a punch properly.”

“I bet you put him in his place, bae.”

“I’d kill myself if I didn’t.”

🌸And if the person in question overhears?

“Oh…we were just, you know, discussing your ah, state of hair. Bad hair day? Thought so.”

“That black eye really goes well with it, don’t you think?”

“Now that’s why you’re my boyfriend.”

[yandere-writer-momo]

Fall is on the mind so I wanted to make some cute fluffy fall date head canons!

Happy Fluffy Friday

Baki Head Canons

Fall activities with Baki men (+ Kozue)

……………………………………………

Katsumi Orochi

Hot apple cider and fall rom coms (he always chickens out with horror movies)

Sweet kisses, soft giggles, and cuddling under the same scarf

Haunted houses (he always picks you up and runs out of there)

Matching fall outfits

Katsumi is incredibly romantic. Expect his social media to be flooded with pictures he took of you (and him)

Baki Hanma

Jumping in leaf piles

Pumpkin spice lattes and other fall treats

Haunted houses

Baki is so sweet. He takes a lot of pictures of you during each activity

Jack Hanma

Hiking in the forest to see the leaves changing colors

Stealing his hoodies

Cuddling by the fire place and drinking hot cocoa (he put protein powder in his)

Sitting on a hill together to watch the stars after he’s done training

Jack doesn’t say much about his feelings for you, but his actions show you that he cares

Hanayama Kaoru

He will buy anything you want. Whether it’s a new fall wardrobe or seasonal treats, he will buy it for you

Hanayama is down for whatever activity you’d like to do so long as it’s classy

He would take you to a fall festival and he’d secretly hire a photographer to take pictures of you during the entire outing so he can keep the pictures in an album

Hanayama just enjoys spending time with you

Kaioh Retsu

Fall treats and pumpkin carving. Retsu is surprisingly artistic

Retsu enjoys fall festivals and he loves the weather. He thinks it’s cute that the two do you adorn matching sweaters

Retsu is all about the seasonal treats. He’s a little sucker for sweets. He is quite fond of chai tea and pumpkin cookies

He is the perfect boyfriend

Pickle

Why? Why would you bring him along to the fall festival?

Pickle ate a handful of leaves and then cried in your arms because they tasted awful

Pickle burned his tongue on hot apple cider and it made him incredibly sad (you made it up to him by getting him apple cider slush)

Pickle also ate all the apples in the apple dunk activity. You can’t keep your eyes off him for a second…

Kozue Matsumoto

Baking sweet treats! Kozue loves to bake with you

She insists on wearing matching sweaters with you. She thinks it’s cute

Kozue also knitted you a scarf for when it’s extra chilly

She mostly enjoys being inside with you so she can rest her head on your chest

Kiyosumi Katou

He brings you to a distillery to try all of the seasonal beverages. He swears he won’t drink much (you have to get the two of you a ride back home)

He mostly enjoys the simplicity of laying in bed or on the couch with you. Katou just enjoys being near you

Katou isn’t much of an activity guy, but if there’s something you really want to do, he will go with you

Doppo Orochi

Perfect husband material right here. He will surprise you with presents that contain seasonal clothing or treats. Doppo just loves to make you smile

Doppo will take you to all the festivals you want to go to. He enjoys being in your company so any activity with you, brings him joy

Doppo will give you his jacket if you get to be a little chilly. He always puts your well being above his own

He secretly takes pictures of you sipping apple cider or staring at the leaves on his phone. You won’t know about it until you see the collage he made to be his Home Screen

Doppo constantly steals pumpkin cookies from you when you’re not looking

[chvoswxtch]

to the halloween queen, i hope this october is treating you well!! i was wondering if i could request a gut wrenching, angsty fic with billy based on paramore’s sanity?

if i call out your name, you don’t come/

no one home, but the void is loud/

echoes around my empty house/

sentences are slowing down

in all honesty, i don’t have many specifics in mind. i was thinking of an established relationship slowly but surely growing apart. to the point they eat dinner in silence, the distance between them whilst sleeping in the same bed grows more and more…in other words, i am asking you to break my heart!

i go by she/her pronouns and they can be used!

<3 thank you, take care, and ily <3

oh my darling sweet nonnie, you definitely came to the right place. I hope october has been kind to you, bc i'm about to break your heart as requested. i'll be here with tissues afterwards 🖤

warning: swearing, slight mention of alcohol, heavy angst word count: 1.4k

sanity.

no one home, but the void is loud / echoes around my empty house

The white noise of bustling traffic was muffled by the dull roar of an icy midnight breeze slowly fading in the background. Through the grand floor to ceiling windows of the penthouse, you could see brilliant lights twinkling in a kaleidoscope of colors, vehicles zipping by in a flash in various directions, and masses of people navigating the city by heart. Outside, New York City was clamoring proudly with life.

But in the emptiness of the penthouse, it was so silent and still that the sound of fresh snow hitting the glass was as loud as thunder cracking across the sky.

In a place that more than three million people called home, you had never felt more alone. Standing in front of the expansive windows with the chill radiating through the glass nipping at your nose and cheeks, you felt completely numb and simultaneously like an open wound at the same time. It didn’t always feel this cold.

Last year at this exact same time, this place still felt like home. You could still feel the heat from the flames dancing in the fireplace licking at your skin while the golden glow of the fire created a warm and comforting ambiance in the living room. You could still taste the richness of hot cocoa caressing your tongue, and still hear the sound of Billy’s heartbeat playing in your ear while your head rested on his chest as the two of you admired the tree you had put up together from the couch. Billy had insisted on going all out since he had never really celebrated the holidays before due to growing up in the system. 

In a moment of sincere vulnerability while you were teaching him your special recipe for chocolate chip cookies, Billy had revealed to you that you were the first person he’d ever had to make the holidays feel special. It had been such a big deal to him to make sure everything was perfect, and it made your heart swell like a balloon in your rib cage seeing the childlike happiness on his face as the two of you celebrated together.

That special time now felt like a lifetime ago.

Now, there was only the scent of stale ash in the fireplace, and the absence of Billy’s holiday spirit lingering along the mantle and in the corner of the living room.

You weren’t sure exactly when it happened, but somewhere along the line, something changed. Billy no longer stopped by your work because he was “in the neighborhood” and just wanted to see you. Conversations became shorter and shorter at dinner until it reached the point of the two of you eating in deafening silence, and then ultimately you found yourself eating alone. Billy no longer wrapped himself around you in bed like a security blanket, and instead you found an ocean between you that kept growing wider and wider until you were stranded in the middle of it alone struggling to keep your head above water. He began to travel more, spent longer hours at the office, and lately would go days without speaking to you at all.

There was no more playful banter and flirtatious teasing in crowded spaces. It had been five months since you and Billy had gone on an actual date, and he had barely touched you in three.  On the rare occasion that he made it home at a decent hour, he ignored your passionate advances and locked himself away in his home office. You and Billy used to not be able to keep your hands off one another, and now you couldn’t even get him to give you a simple peck on the cheek. You couldn’t even remember the last time that he had told you he loved you.

For the past few months, there was a heavy sense of grief weighing on your heart like liquid cement almost as if Billy had died. He would appear suddenly, and then vanish right before your eyes even quicker like an apparition. He barely acknowledged your presence when you called out to him, as if you were the ghost lingering around. The last time you had reached for his hand, it was cold and stiff like that of a corpse. You fought defiantly against the stage of acceptance and refused to admit to yourself that your relationship was decaying in the grave. Instead you remained stubbornly stuck in a purgatory of mourning for the Billy you had fallen in love with, feeling haunted by your own foolish hope and his lingering presence in your heart.

Denial plagued you for months as you frantically tried everything to resuscitate the pulse in your relationship. You changed your hair a few times and put more effort into your outfits and appearance, which consistently went unnoticed by Billy. You planned romantic dates and elaborate getaway trips that he instantly declined. The past three times you had attempted to surprise him at the office for lunch, you couldn’t even get past his receptionist. 

Most nights you spent alone, drowning in your own agony, screaming and sobbing at the stars for answers because Billy wasn’t there to provide them. In moments of over indulgence from the built in bar, you nearly gave into your desperation and participated in the reckless thoughts intrusively entering your head that you were absolutely sure would capture Billy’s attention. But then the epiphany that you felt like you had to put yourself in a dangerous situation just for him to notice you again would shatter your soul into a thousand jagged pieces.

Had you done something to make Billy become so distant? Was he going through something he felt he couldn’t talk to you about? Did he love you at all anymore? Was there someone else? 

That last question made you violently nauseous. The not knowing what was happening with Billy drove you absolutely fucking mad, and you tried every method you could think of to stop the hemorrhaging to salvage what the two of you had. 

But eventually, the weight of the blood staining your hands was impossible to ignore, and the tone of a flatline rang loudly in your ears. The heaviness you felt was a clear sign that there was no longer life left in what you and Billy had created together, and the warm thrum of a pulse would never be found again.

You didn’t bother to tell Billy that you were leaving. The eulogy had already been engraved on the headstone months ago, you just couldn’t bring yourself to read it. Taking one last glance around the penthouse that had been your shared home, all you could think about was the day you first moved in. Everything had looked so bright, felt so warm and inviting, and Billy had been ecstatic to share a home with you. He had told you that you were what made the place feel like home, and in a moment of candor entrusted you with the sentiment of how happy it made him to finally have someone to come home to.

But now as you stood in the middle of the living room in the dark, it just felt cold and empty. Billy had been gone for two weeks on a business trip and was supposed to return home tomorrow, but this time you wouldn’t be there waiting by the door to welcome him back. After finally finding the strength to face the heartbreaking truth of your reality, you had spent the past twenty-four hours removing every trace of your existence. There was only one last thing to erase.

The devastating loss had left your heart maimed, and the memories of Billy’s touch afflicted phantom bruises onto your skin. It was time to tend to your own wounds and mend the parts of you that had been broken by him. After one final look around, you placed the handcrafted engagement ring on the kitchen island like a rose on a coffin as a silent goodbye and quietly disappeared into the depths of midnight.

tags: @nolita-fairytale @thyme-in-a-bubble @mars-rants-a-lot @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @topperthornton

[sweethoneyrose83]

Comfycore dialogue prompts to set the tone:

"I made some tea and brought extra blankets—want to sit by the window and watch the rain with me?"

"You know, sometimes the best part of the day is just sitting on the couch with you, no words needed."

"I found this bakery in the corner of town that makes the warmest cinnamon rolls—thought you'd love one."

"There's a soft patch of grass under that tree, perfect for an afternoon nap. What do you say?"

"Here, I knitted this scarf for you. I know it's not perfect, but I thought it would keep you warm."

"I've got a stack of old books, fluffy pillows, and a candle that smells like vanilla. It’s the perfect reading night."

"The world’s so loud sometimes, but here with you, it’s like everything slows down. Peaceful, you know?"

"The stars are so clear tonight. How about we wrap up in some blankets and stargaze on the porch?"

"I thought we could build a blanket fort and watch our favorite comfort movies—sound like a plan?"

"I baked cookies and the whole house smells like chocolate. Want to share some while they’re still warm?"

"Comfycore" is all about cozy, heartwarming, and comforting vibes. Here's a list of dialogue prompts inspired by that aesthetic:

Lazy Sunday Afternoon

A: "Do you think anyone's ever found the perfect pillow?"

B: "I think I just did… and I'm not moving for the rest of the day."

Tea by the Window

A: "The rain sounds like a lullaby today."

B: "Want some tea to go with that melody?"

Blanket Forts

A: "If I hide under the blankets, do the worries disappear?"

B: "Only if you let me join you in there."

Baking Together

A: "Why do cookies smell like home, even if it's not your home?"

B: "Maybe home isn't a place. It's a feeling… like fresh cookies."

Cozy Bookshop

A: "Every book feels like a secret waiting to be shared."

B: "Care to share one with me over some hot chocolate?"

Fireplace Glow

A: "I could listen to the crackling fire forever."

B: "Well, I’m not going anywhere. We’ve got forever and a night."

Candlelight Evening

A: "Do you ever just stop and watch the candle flicker?"

B: "All the time. It’s like a tiny dance, just for us."

Morning Light

A: "The sun feels softer today, like it's taking it easy too."

B: "Maybe it knows we needed a slow morning."

Sweater Weather

A: "Do you think a sweater can feel like a hug?"

B: "Only if you knit it with love."

Hot Cocoa Talk

A: "What’s your secret to the perfect hot chocolate?"

B: "A dash of cinnamon, and a pinch of… whatever you love."

Winter Walks

A: "Your breath looks like tiny clouds. Do you think they fly away?"

B: "Maybe they’re off to join the big ones in the sky."

Couch Snuggles

A: "We could stay here, under these blankets, forever."

B: "And no one would ever have to know."

Late-Night Stargazing

A: "The stars look closer tonight. Do you think they’re listening?"

B: "Maybe they're waiting for a story."

Pajama Day

A: "Why do pajamas make everything feel better?"

B: "Because they're like a soft reminder that it's okay to slow down."

Midnight Snacks

A: "Isn’t there something magical about eating cookies at midnight?"

B: "It’s like they taste better because no one else knows."

Comfycore is all about creating cozy, warm, and heartwarming vibes. . Here are some dialogue prompts that fit the Comfycore aesthetic:

1. Late-Night Conversations by the Fireplace

Character A and Character B are wrapped in blankets, sitting in front of a crackling fire.

A: "Isn't it funny how the world feels a little smaller when it's just you, me, and the sound of the fire?"

B: "Yeah, like time slows down and all the big, scary things outside don’t matter as much."

2. Cuddling on a Rainy Afternoon

The sound of rain patters softly against the window as Character A rests their head on Character B's lap.

A: "I could listen to this forever."

B: "The rain?"

A: "No, the sound of us just… being here."

3. Morning Coffee Ritual

Character A is making coffee while Character B sits at the kitchen table, wrapped in a fuzzy robe.

B: "I swear, the smell of coffee in the morning feels like a hug."

A: "Well, consider this your daily dose of warmth."

4. Walking Through the Woods on a Crisp Autumn Day

Character A and Character B are bundled up in scarves and jackets, walking under a canopy of orange and red leaves.

A: "I love how the world looks like it's on fire, but it’s the softest kind of burn."

B: "Yeah, like the trees are tucking us in with blankets of leaves."

5. Building a Blanket Fort

Character A and Character B are constructing a blanket fort in the living room, laughing as they drape sheets over chairs.

A: "This is totally going to collapse on us, isn’t it?"

B: "That’s part of the charm! Who needs perfection when you have pillows and blankets?"

6. Baking Together on a Sunday Afternoon

Character A and Character B are in the kitchen, baking cookies. The air smells of vanilla and cinnamon.

A: "The best part of baking isn’t the cookies, it’s the waiting."

B: "Waiting for what?"

A: "For that first bite, when everything feels like it’s going to be okay."

7. A Cozy Afternoon Reading Together

Character A is reading a book, and Character B is knitting nearby.

B: "What are you reading?"

A: "Just something about a place where it’s always autumn. Sounds perfect, doesn’t it?"

B: "Maybe one day, we’ll find a place like that."

8. Watching Snowfall From Inside

Character A and Character B are sitting by a window, sipping hot chocolate as snowflakes drift outside.

A: "It’s so quiet… like the world’s holding its breath."

B: "Yeah, it’s like a blanket for everything. I love how snow makes even the loudest cities feel small and soft."

9. Taking a Nap Together

Character A and Character B are cuddled up on the couch, drifting off to sleep under a shared blanket.

A: "I think this might be the best part of the day."

B: "Which part?"

A: "The part where we don’t have to do anything except be together."

10. Stargazing on a Clear Night

Character A and Character B are lying on a blanket outside, looking up at the stars.

A: "Isn’t it wild? We’re so small compared to all that."

B: "But right now, this feels like the whole universe."

[ghossttoast]

Are we connected?

Chapter one: Yes

(A/N: not important, this is my first time writing any fanfiction in at least a few years so be patient with me please （´∇｀''）Anyway this chapter is a smidge short, but its stopping point seemed smooth sooo. Hopefully starting at chapter three at the latest theyll be a bit longer)

Next

 Kris was tired, their muscles were sore, and they really just wanted to pass out. They’re not sure if it’s from running around all day fighting for their life when they’d normally be sleeping or from forcefully tearing their soul out of their body, probably a mix of both if they were being honest. They finally made it back up to their room, the freedom was worth it for a bit and the pie tasted good, especially since whatever was dragging them around all day hadn't let them eat anything other than that hot cocoa. Kris turned to glance back at it, they’re pretty sure it was an it, but either way, they should probably put it back it was warm and they were cold.

“Jeez, I need to get a lock…” Kris paused before beginning to stagger back over to the cage, were they hallucinating? “Why am I still on this screen?” They looked around their room to see what could be speaking, maybe Ariel’s computer had somehow turned itself on and was playing YouTube or some other totally normal explanation. “Ugh, I don't wanna go back through Hometown,” Their gaze eventually settled onto the heart floating inside their old birdcage as they heard the voice speak again. They leaned on the cage, earning a “Huh.” from the soul.

Should they say something? How would they even start a conversation with the thing that had been possessing them? They had questions, sure, but they had no idea if this thing would answer anything, much less be honest about it. Maybe they could threaten it somehow-- Kris’s thoughts were cut off by a bright flash, lighting up their room for just a moment. They fell back, their hands covering their face, their eyes had been adjusted to the darkness of their room, so any light would have caught them off guard, especially the extreme flash they had gotten hit with.

“Ahh, what’d I do?” The voice from their soul spoke again, “That was an accident, I swear!” It apologized quickly 

“What was that!?” Kris wasn't normally very loud, but their general distaste for the soul on top of still being started from the flash had caused them to momentarily drop that trait, they just hoped it wasn't loud enough to wake up their mom.

“It won’t happen again, promise!” It attempted to assure them that despite its honestly far too loud tone, the soul was totally still, a strange contrast compared to its spinning from when Kris first ripped it out. “…Wait, why am I apologizing?” It said to itself as if it had done something so obviously unnecessary.

Kris leaned against Asirel’s bed, still tired and not particularly feeling like going near it and getting hit with the light of a thousand suns again. “Because you almost blinded me,” They weren't nearly as loud as they had been before, but their voice did hold a slight venom to it. 

Kris was met with silence for a few moments before the soul spoke again, with slight hesitation “Ok ‘Kris’, I'll bite,” The tone of its voice was mildly accusatory like it didn’t believe they were Kris, which was stupid in their opinion, of course, they were Kris, who else would they be?”

The soul’s weird behavior aside, it’s not like they expected this thing to be normal, Kris wanted answers “What are you?” they questioned after some time to think about it, seemed simple enough and an easy answer.

“Uh…” The soul thought for a while, apparently not such an easy answer, “…The Player.” they answered eventually “Yeah, that’s accurate enough,” it confirmed, agreeing with itself.

Accurate enough? Did it not know, or was it not going to tell them? “Did you pick that out yourself?” Kris questioned, it was an odd way of referring to something and felt like an odd title to grant yourself.

“I technically didn’t come up with it, but it was pretty much used to describe me,” It answered “There's a context around me that if I tried to explain would probably have you end up like our jester pal,” The soul finished leaving Kris feeling uneasy, they’d prefer to keep their sanity, thanks. 

As comforting as that was, Kris still wanted some answers, “Why are you here? Why this town? Why my life?” Their tone was tense as they stared it down, they don't understand why in the name of the angel this thing would want to be them.

“Oh, I have theories!” It exclaimed, “Ok so first of all, you’re a human humans and monsters have different souls I’m human soul just wouldn't be compatible. Or, have you dabbled in any demon summoning lately? Especially with say a guy that speaks in hands and may or may not be a skeleton?” It asked them.

They paused, staring in disbelief at the soul for a moment, “You don't know?” How could it not know? It was the one that had control over the situation, over them.

“Nothin’ but theories! But I’ve got a lot of theories” It informed them enthusiastically, “Theories on the knight, Dess, Ralsei, that sketchy bunker, Sans and Papyrus, Ice-E, GASTER-” It rambled on

“Okay, I get it,” Kris cut them off, not wanting to sit there for the entire list.

“Rude, but yeah I know about as much as you do, probably less considering I only got here today. All you weren't here for was me making the vessel I was supposed to have before it got tossed by some punk, probably Gaster, and I got stuck with you,” It stated, sounding bitter especially at the mention of the vessel it apparently made.

“Someone stuck you with me?” They asked it, raising an eyebrow

“Yeah, I mean is what it is, ‘m stuck with you now, I can’t do stuff without a vessel, and you can't do stuff without a soul. While we’re on the topic, you might wanna put me back so you don't uh drop-dead, that would really suck considering you're the only human in town” It warned(?) them, Kris wasn't totally sure what to make of it, felt enough like a warning. The soul did have a point, they were exhausted, and not having a soul wasn't exactly helping. 

Kris pushed off of their brother's bed and shuffled over to their birdcage, hesitating for a moment before opening it and grabbing the soul and shoving it back into their body quickly, a pain shooting through their body for a few excruciating moments before fading shortly after as they lost control of their body once more. 

“Okay, uh” ‘The Player’s’  voice echoed in their head once more, “Can you still hear me?” It questioned, resulting in a familiar box appearing in front of them, earning a sigh from their soul. The red heart moved to ‘No’ and they remained still for a moment, “Alright, trying again think something unrelated to this cage you locked me in!” It said facing them towards the cage

Kris thought this was stupid, most of what this thing did was, constantly going out of its way to look at random objects, or talk to literally everyone they could in town, or track down key shards just so they could find some stupid clown and almost die.

“Let's go, it works!” It cheered, “And fighting Jevil was necessary, we’re doin’ it every darkworld! I mean, not him specifically, but I’m pretty sure all of ‘em has at least one wacko, we’re two for two right now,” The voice sounded off once more, responding to their thoughts

So it can read their mind?- “two for two?” this thing has shown up today, there hasn't even been a chance for there to be some secret other darkworld. 

“I can like see your thoughts in relation to items or general objects, I guess? That's why I’ve been walking up to random stuff I like to read the narration, you Dreemurrs are good at that I suppose” It paused, yawning “The second darkworld is tomorrow, but after that, once you start snoozin, I’ll be going in as blind as you” It finished as it walked Kris back over to their bed

Tomorrow? So it knows the future but only by a day, that’s pretty lame and super useless, especially considering Kris doubts it will tell it anything. This thing definitely knows a lot more than it’s telling them, considering its weird list of theories, it has to assume they’re all at least partly relevant to their situation. Then again, Ice-e was a pizza place mascot– sure Noelle used to be terrified of him (which Kris may or may not have contributed to)– but he wasn't real, and there wasn't anything to warrant theorizing over he was just kinda creepy looking. 

“Yo, bedtime, I’m tired” It said, interrupting their thoughts, “Tomorrow's adventure awaits, or something, I dunno,” It said as a choice box appeared, the heart moving to ‘sleep’.

[sunsetzer]

As I was drinking coffee this morning I started thinking about what the returners' drink preferences were and this came out of my head (under a cut because it's a bit long):

Terra is very sweet so I imagine she likes sweet coffee drinks, something like a vanilla cappuccino. She doesn't enjoy it if it's not sweetened enough but isn't going to complain if someone brings her coffee that isn't quite to her liking.

Locke is the kind of guy to show up to a meeting 10 minutes late with starbucks (that Edgar probably paid for). What he drinks could barely qualify as coffee and is more along the lines of "very wet cake". One sip would probably send Gau into orbit.

As a guy who lives in the desert, I imagine Edgar would rather drink iced coffee than hot, with a little cream and sugar in it. Even if the party is staying in a snowy place like Narshe, he's just in the habit of liking a cold drink. I also picture him as someone who only has coffee in the morning, and enjoys iced herbal teas through the day. His favourites aren't the expensive imported teas he is gifted by noblemen and politicians looking to get on the king's good side, but rather those that are made with the leaves and petals of plants endemic to the Figaro desert-- they remind him of home. (Where do they get ice? He's probably personally responsible for the creation of the ice box in their world.)

Sabin doesn't particularly like coffee, but he loves tea. Since he doesn't live in the desert 24/7 like his brother, he drinks it hot. After a hard day's work training he relaxes with a pot of his favourite herbal tea (similarly to Edgar, his favourite is a tea from Figaro for the same reason) in a peaceful manner that would surprise anyone but his brother.

Setzer has expensive taste in coffee, and prefers dark roasts with stronger flavour. He doesn't drink it black, though; he adds a splash of liqueur or an alcoholic cream (like putting bailey's in your coffee except way more ridiculously expensive). He swears it's only for the flavour, but there are maybe some of his worse days where that's not entirely true. He also drinks several cups of the stuff in a day, because the man is perpetually tired. He's possibly built up a tolerance to caffeine at this point like one does for alcohol (which I imagine he also has a high tolerance for).

Celes says she only enjoys coffee with a splash of cream, but she actually does like the same sweet drinks as Terra occasionally. She'll never admit it to anyone but Terra.

Resident feral child Gau had a sip of coffee one (1) time and has since been banned from all caffeine. He tore through the Falcon faster than any human person should be able to run and knocked over many things, including but not limited to a very disgruntled Setzer, who taught him a new curse word in response. Gau then hopped around shouting this new word for everyone to hear. Locke thought it was hilarious.

Shadow prefers his coffee black, but isn't picky if someone offers him a drink with something added to it. He strikes me as someone who likes it almost hot enough to burn.

Strago wants to drink coffee but Relm manages to sneak decaf into his mug more often than not. The man's 71 years old, too much caffeine might send him into cardiac arrest.

Relm herself thinks coffee is gross and adults are weird for enjoying it. She sneaked a sip of Shadow's black coffee once and was turned off of the stuff forever, despite being told that there are sugary drinks that aren't as bitter.

Cyan doesn't drink coffee, but occasionally drinks tea. Specifically, he drinks a traditional calming Doman herbal tea that reminds him of peaceful nights spent with his lost family, on nights when his mind wanders to his darkest memories. If he closes his eyes in the quiet, he can almost feel as though he is back in that castle, before the kingdom fell. It doesn't make him sad, though; it's cathartic.

Mog doesn't drink much coffee or tea, but he does like hot cocoa. Relm thinks he's the only sane one because adult drinks are weird and gross.

Absolutely under no circumstances should Umaro be given coffee. The consequences are very much the same as with Gau, but with much more devastating results. A caffeinated yeti managed to storm his way into the Falcon's engine room once and proceeded to knock several things out of place, causing the airship to make a crash landing. Edgar and Setzer spent three days repairing the damage.

Nobody knows what Gogo's coffee preferences are, mostly because nobody knows what Gogo exactly is. They have revealed nothing and will continue to be an enigma.

[fallenangelofsalt]

Purple Gold 4 (major TW for drowning and fear of death, plus some wild murder-related imagination)

Masterpost

@styck-figure @whirld-of-color I think I went a bit overboard on the metaphors here.

It's been two weeks since your fall.

You wake up with tear stains in your pillow and corndogs in your mouth, like you've done for fourteen days now.

You get up with a wince and aching legs, and bite into a carrot to chase away the taste in your mouth. Your mom liked to slip them in your meals when she wanted you to feel better, the crunchyness of the raw slices pleasant in your teeth even if the taste got funny sometimes, but now it always tastes like bone.

(It tastes like eating pork ribs and scraping your teeth on the bone to chew on the last scraps of meat still clinging to it, the rock salt caught around the edges of your mouth keeping the picked clean leftovers deliciously salty on your tongue. Dad made it with love, and you can tell with every bite. You really miss him.)

You walk outside to check on your small farm, aches fading into mild numbness after a few steps in the sun. Your carrots grew well, the wheat, beetroot, watermelons and potatoes just a few steps behind. You reap the full grown crops and plant new seeds calmly before dumping the fruits of your labor inside the small chest already filled with seeds, hastily harvested mushrooms, apples, bones, bowls and some fish.

(You wonder at the other, bigger chests in your base, filled almost to the brim with enchanted books and bows and fishing rods, iron and gold, music disks and name tags, saddles and horse armor, redstone and gunpowder. You wonder if it was really meant to be that easy to find those moss-filled rooms, if the stuff you fished up was really that easy to get. You swear you feel the sunshine wrap itself around you, a gentle but impossible hug, just like the laugh you hear in the wind.)

Your weapons and tools never left your inventory, but you to take a couple minutes to stock up on food and put on your armor, iron leggings, chainmail chestplate from a zombie that dropped in oddly perfect condition and leather boots from five days ago where the only thing you managed to get in six hours of fishing was four chests worth of heavily damaged leather boots before you gave up and went to sleep, but not before combining all of them into two less damaged ones.

You head out towards the jungle biome you found a while ago. Before the fall. You remember seeing cocoa beans and cookies on gameplays during your past visits to the outernet, and wonder if you could make hot chocolate in this world. Maybe it would help with the nightmares of hugs and love and laughter and happiness and dad you've been having lately.

(You avoid the pumpkin patch that wasn't there before, every carved out gaze aimed towards your base, your bed, you. You avert your eyes, pretend you don't hear the squirming, and hope they'll go away while you're gone.)

~

You reach the jungle by sunset.

You know better than to stay outside at night, so you take out your shovel and make a quick dirt hut to wait for dawn. You made a clock a while ago so there is no need for doors or windows for mobs to spot you.

The wait is long and boring, but you have plenty of food on you, and at no point do you hear the telltale noise of creepers.

The next morning you exit the hut, iron axe slung over your shoulder as you search for cocoa. You catch glimpses of ocelots darting out of sight and collect plenty of melon slices and jungle saplings between cutting down trees and harvesting cocoa beans.

You even find some sugar canes at the edge of a river, and make a mental note to get some cows and chickens later, you've been itching to try some cake.

After a while of chopping wood and a near-full inventory, you look up at the towering two by two trees that nearly block out the sun entirely, and wonder if you could climb far enough to reach the leaves at the very top.

(A childish goal, but you can't help but think it sounds fun, and maybe, on the back of your mind, something childish and small and fragile like glass whispers that he will catch you if you fall. You don't know who he is, but maybe you want to believe in the glass dust inside your bones, even as it scrapes you raw from the inside out.)

You approach the tallest tree in view, covered almost entirely by vines swaying to the gentle breeze. You place your hands on the vines, and pause, taking off your heavy armor before you take a deep breath, grab the plants once more, and start climbing.

Your hands hold on to vines and uneven bark, ignoring the slight scrapes left on your fingers and the way the wood seems to shift beneath your grasp, the vines tangling just under your feet every time your grip slips even slightly.

You reach the lowest branch, taking a break to rest your limbs and taking a look at the jungle from your new vantage point. You see ocelots peeking out of the foliage, gazing curiously at you. You munch on a carrot before returning to your goal.

As you get closer, the jungle seems to cheer you on. The meowing of ocelots growing louder the further you go, the wind almost deafening as it ruffles the leaves and vines like a playful challenge.

Finally, you reach the upper canopy, leaves getting stuck in your braid as you squeeze yourself between them, until your hand breaks free above it all and you finally stand at the very top of the jungle.

Drunk in childish triumph, you look up at the sky in unrestrained joy, a shout of delight tangling with the laughing wind, and as you gaze at the flourishing biome from the top of the platform of leaves you swear the sky smiles at you.

(The sun squints with fondness and the clouds mimic your excitement, but the teeth you pretend aren't there shift into a shape of spirals and fractals that could only be described as mischief.

There is no malice there, but maybe that should scare you more.)

Suddently, the leaves vanish, your feet sinking into air like they were never there, and you fall.

Your fall only takes a couple seconds, and maybe you'd be grateful for landing on water, but the river where you found the sugarcane had been left behind hours ago and a panicked glance around before you hit the water revealed no nearby land.

You fight to keep your head above the surface, but your father never bothered teaching you how to swim, and your mom had been too sick to do it herself. In barely any time, you sink.

Holding your breath and flailing your limbs frantically, you look around in panic for something, anything to keep you from drowning, and yet there is nothing.

(He can't save you here. He won't.)

Clawing desperately in the direction of the light, you barely notice yourself opening your mouth, begging for him to save you-

You notice your mistake-

You end up inhaling anyways, water flooding your lungs, salt burning on the cuts inside your bones and leaving you full of tears that won't go away no matter how much you claw at your throat. Your screams and sobs go unheard, silenced by the blue caging you on all sides.

The darkness is almost gentle when it closes in, but you know what comes after.

You wake up once more, in that not-quite-space, with something formless holding you tight in its unphysical grasp.

This time, it doesn't rip you open right away, and yet maybe it does, something sharp and soft cracking your head open like taffy and ripping your stitching anew until your waterlogged lungs and bleeding ribs are exposed in the bright darkness of the unlife. Glass dust lands on your heart and spine, burrowing into your flesh and causing beads of your namesake to well up and float off to rest between sky-spiral teeth.

You want to squirm, to cry, to beg. Yet you are terrified of moving, of making a single sound, of the thought of the fingers caging you in starting to squeeze and crush until you pop into leftover nonexistence, of the sharpness you feel around your heart biting down on it like a bitter, sour apple, purple-coded blood driping down the sharp nothingness of its mouth to pool inside your small pocket of unreality.

None of it happens. The sky bares its teeth with love instead.

It stitches you back together once more, and your skin feels tight and loose and off-color for a moment before you fall back into existence.

You wake up in bed, a sharp ache in your body and pineapple slushie on your tongue.

When you finally muster up the strenght to get up, you note more gold in your hair and a pair of strange eggs in your inventory.

(The pumpkins are still there when you go outside.)

[lucielxbe]

in the midst of the party, luciel notices his phone lighting up several times. he skims through the notifications and realises they were from siwoo, cursing him. he almost laughs when he sees another notification from an app he uses for the door passcode, conveying that the keypad is now locked from multiple incorrect attempts. he has to manually unlock it now, something he could do remotely but he lets the time pass for around fifteen minutes before replying his messages.

( to: Ryu Siwoo ) > I apologise. I may have given you my older passcode by accident. (｡•́︿•̀｡) > I don’t appreciate the swearing, though. Mind your language. (ᓀ‸ᓂ) > Wait for me, I’ll be there soon. > ૮ ⚆ﻌ⚆ა ← You look like this in that picture.

of course, he still doesn’t remotely unlocks the door for him. he could, but he thought siwoo deserved to wait there. it would be hilarious to see his reactions.

eventually luciel bids his farewells to his coworkers for the night. he had a drink or two he couldn’t refuse, but it was nothing he couldn’t tolerate. he also brought back slices of cake, maybe siwoo would like them. he doesn’t knows his tastes, and if he didn’t liked it he could still eat it all anyways.

it’s been almost an hour since siwoo started spamming him with messages when he came to his floor. he could spy the latter from afar.

ah, yes. this is a comedic sight to behold. though he wasn’t as puppy-like as he expected… perhaps more of a stupid wolf about to chomp on him? hmm. why was he thinking about this so seriously anyways?

he whips out his phone again to manually unlock the keypad this time. “we have to wait for a few more minutes for it to unlock,” luciel mentions quickly before his lips curled up slightly, unapologetic in the slightest. “sorry about that~ did you got tired of waiting? this nii-san will make you a hot cup of cocoa with marshmallows as an apology. i have cake too.” his tone isn’t sarcastic, but he definitely is sarcastic about it. although he isn’t lying about making that hot cocoa.

contrary to popular belief, siwoo does quite enjoy reading. he's always been a fan of literature – though in recent months, he'd gotten into the habit of reading on a kindle rather than carrying around a physical copy of a book. it was much easier to throw a kindle around and not worry about figuring out what page he'd left off on. and maybe that had somehow transpired into siwoo's taste for reading on his phone.

he comes across it by accident. like any other person would, siwoo had searched his name online throughout the airing of next gen – just to see what the general public's opinion of him was. some were good, great even – some enjoyed seeing his growth, and some loathed him. which to siwoo, was no surprise. his parents were terrible people, and that trickled down to his own personality. whatever. but something had caught his eye – a constant mention of the name "five lives." something that siwoo was unfamiliar with. more so than that, the constant mention of "five lives" alongside luciel. odd.

more digging, and he soon discovers that it's fanfiction. fanfiction of him and luciel, and while dirty and raw, it's wonderfully written. siwoo's always been a sucker for a good story. one thing had led to another and he'd sent luciel the link, had told him to read it and give him an opinion. of course, he hadn't expected luciel to send him a pdf full of comments.

"this guy is fucking insane," he'd mumbled. but it was amusing. in truth, luciel is an amusing person.

the friendship (?) grows, funnily enough, and siwoo – without so much as asking, had announced to luciel that he'd crash at his penthouse. he stands in front of the door, keying in the passcode that luciel had sent him multiple times. though he's constantly met with a BEEP. wrong? siwoo thinks. did luciel give him the wrong code? not... possible... but again, he's met with a beep of rejection.

"this fucker..." he mumbles, pulling out his phone before spamming luciel with texts.

( to: niisan ) > fuck you > fuck you > what the fuck is wrong with you > fuck you > this isnt the code??? > (IMG.PNG)

he sends a photo of himself frowning in front of the gate, and like a kicked puppy, waits there.

[cherrydreamer]

(Warning: Contains rookie!cop Steve which I know is very much not to everyone's tastes. Also some description of Neil Hargrove inflicted abuse. Nothing overly graphic but just be aware.)

🎃 Harringrove Harvest Day 2- Gone Feral 🎃

Steve's at a loss.

It had been easy enough for him when he was right in the thick of it. Easy to know what to do. To trust his gut. Because, really, all it boiled down to was that fact that there'd been a bunch of monsters he needed to fight and a bunch of kids he needed to protect. 

But now it's all over. Monsters fought. Kids protected. Everything squared away, neat and tidy.

And Steve isn't quite sure where he fits anymore. He hovers in doorways, on the edge of the groups, drifting from the kitchen with a mug of Joyce's hot cocoa in hand- loaded with extra marshmallows because, "you look like you need the sugar, honey," over to the table where Dustin is restating his theories about d'Art and the potential domestication of Demodogs, sneaking a look back towards the couch where Nancy and Jon are huddled, heads together, in a world of their own.

So when Hopper beckons him over, it's easiest for Steve just to follow him, to step out onto the porch and accept the cigarette held out in front of him and wait for whatever favour it was that Hopper needed him to do next. Drive the kids home, probably, or maybe run out for some more food. Something useful. Helpful.

But instead of asking for anything, Hopper rests a firm hand on Steve's shoulder. It feels good. Grounding. Reassuring in a way that Steve didn't even know he needed. 

"You did good out there, kid," Hopper says, quiet but serious in a way that has Steve's gut squirming, "I know it can't've been easy, keeping those brats safe, but y'did it. And I heard the whole thing, about what you did in those tunnels. Trust me, Dustin won't stop yapping on about it, and I gotta say it was damn brave of you, son"

It's a lot. Too much praise for something that anyone would've done, most likely, so Steve tries to dismiss it, to shake it off, not feeling like he really deserves the warm glow of pride blooming in his chest. He manage to mumble something about how it'd been dangerous, really, dangerous and stupid, and Hopper laughs, a proper, deep in the gut rumble of laughter that ends in a cough.

"Dangerous, stupid and brave, huh? Not the worst combination in the world, hell, it may as well be the damn motto of the Hawkins Police Department. Might get Flo to make one of her cross stitch pictures. Have it framed for the office."

Hopper laughs again, and then he pauses, and Steve swears he can almost see the cartoon bulb lighting up above his head.

"Look, kid, I don't know what you've got lined up for after graduation. College? Or a job? Something with your dad's place, maybe?"

Steve can only shake his head, already waiting for Hopper's look of disappointment, only it never comes. Instead he nods, satisfied, like a plan is coming together.

"Well, it'd be good to have another person down at the station who knows what we're actually up against," and then he snorts, amused, "And someone like you? Someone with a bit of common sense? Well that would make a hell of a difference too. I can't say it's always this exciting," he shrugs, "But it ain't a bad job. And you've got more potential than a hell of a lot of the rookies I've seen. You think on it, son," 

And that, seemingly, is that. Hopper gives Steve's shoulder another one of those warm, firm pats, and then he stubs his cigarette out on Joyce Byers' porch railing and heads back inside.

But Steve stays put for a while longer. 

Just thinking.

—

He goes back to Hopper the very next day, asking if he was serious, surprised when Hopper doesn't even blink before he's sliding Steve an application form and a pen. And so, within a week, Steve is sitting in the break room of the Hawkins Police Station in a brand new blue shirt and a tie that Hopper had taken one look at and re-tied for him, his eyes growing wider and wider as Flo hands over a thick, official looking book.

"Just a little light reading, dear," she says, "Make sure you know exactly what you're signing up for."

Steve's regretting it all already. A regret that only grows as he scans through the first page of his new training handbook.

As expected, he starts right at the bottom of the heap, with no more responsibility than fetching coffees, washing the cars and helping Flo with the filing. But Steve doesn't mind that. That sounds doable. Achievable. 

What's worrying him is what happens next, if he proves that he can manage not to fuck up those simple tasks. Because then it gets tough. There's a whole program of training, months and months of it covering all the procedures and codes and policies that Steve is expected to learn before he can even begin to shadow an officer. 

There's reading. Studying. Questions he needs to be able to answer. Tons of shit to remember. 

Just the thought of it has him feeling sick. 

"Hey, uh, Chief?" he's standing up the moment that Hopper enters the room, tripping over his own feet in his haste to try and shove the training manual back into Hopper's hands, "Look, I think, uh, I think I made a mistake, I can't…I can't do this," Steve thumbs through the book, his face growing paler with every new page, "And there's a test? Like a proper, pen and paper- yeah, no, no, I'm not, I'm not gonna be able to do that."

He shakes his head, already feeling like a failure before he's even been here half an hour, but Hopper only smiles,

"We got Callahan through it and that guy locks himself out of his car at least twice a month."

"Locked himself in it last week," Flo calls out cheerily.

"There you go." Hopper grins, "And let me tell you this. None of this crap-" he tugs the book from Steve's hands, flinging it down onto an already overflowing desk, -actually matters." His hand is back on Steve's shoulder. Heavy but reassuring, just like before. "Look kid, far as I can see? You've done more than enough to prove that you've got what it takes. And I'm in charge here, so you pay attention to me and not that book, and you'll be just fine. Now c'mon, we've got our first case of the day and I reckon you're just the person to help solve it."

From the way Hopper's smirking, Steve knows it's a trap, but he can't help keep the eagerness from his voice when he answers, "Yeah?"

"Oh yeah, big mystery alright. There's an empty space in my cup, right where my coffee oughta be. Reckon you can figure that one out, rookie?" 

And, with a sigh, Steve starts his first day.

—-

Slowly but surely, Steve finds his feet.

There is a lot of coffee fetching and filing with Flo and car washing, but he doesn't mind that. He likes chatting with Flo, hearing her talk proudly about her grandsons and their important jobs in the city and her husband, Harold and the rowboat he's been fixing up so he can go out fishing; and he likes the hum of appreciation that Powell lets out whenever Steve's spent a good couple of hours shining up his car. And it's really not long at all before Hopper is inviting Steve along with him when he goes out on a job. It's routine stuff at first, of course, dealing with shaken up drivers that misjudged the sharp corner of Cartersville and Cornwallis, or helping to calm down arguments about a few inches of encroaching ivy between otherwise civilised neighbours and, of course, there's the memorable times when Hopper gets Steve to dress up as McGruff the Crime Dog and accompany him along on his visits to Hawkins Elementary to talk to a gaggle of over excited little kids, and the even more memorable time when Hopper owed him one and ended up being the one donning the dog costume.

It's fun. And Steve finds that he's not too bad at it. In fact, he's pretty good. He learns how to approach situations. How to calm angry guys and comfort hysterical women or- more often than he'd expect- vice versa. He learns when to talk, to take control of a situation, and when to hold back and just listen. He learns what to look for, how to read rooms and faces and body language and situations.

And he learns, most of all, that usually people just want to know that someone is there and sees them and understands them. People just want someone to help. 

—

It's sometime around mid December when things ramp up. A lot. It's an evening shift, the two of them parked up in the Blazer, coffee in hand as they keep an eye out for teens speeding their way down to the Quarry, when their peace is interrupted by a crackle on the radio. 

"Here we go then, kid," Hopper says, unhooking the receiver, "First call of the night. Bet you dollars to doughnuts it'll be Beth Landingham calling to complain about her neighbours' Christmas lights being too damn bright again." 

But it isn't. Flo's crackly voice informs them both that Hopper's presence is required immediately at a domestic disturbance over at Cherry Lane, and Hopper fills Steve in on the most important detail.

"Hargrove place," he clarifies with a groan, "Not the first time, probably won't be the last." 

"It'll be Billy being an asshole," Steve says confidently. "Probably came home drunk or something. Or maybe he's finally snapped, gone feral. Wouldn't surprise me."

"Maybe," Hopper muses, his jaw set grimly, and Steve can't deny the thrill he's feeling at the thought of being there to see Billy get put in his place. He wonders if Hopper will yell. If he'll need to restrain Billy or hit him. He bets Billy will resist and put up a fight, and maybe Steve will need to step in and-

"Hey, Hop, you think I can be the one to, y'know, give him a warning or whatever?"

And Steve's already imagining it, how he'd have the upper hand. How he could flash his ID badge and stand right in front of Billy, maybe even order him to sit down, make him listen and obey. A small part of him is hoping that Billy doesn't listen, so that Hopper has no choice but to cuff him, and maybe he'sd even let Steve do that but too and Steve already knows he cinch those cuffs just a little bit too tight, enough to be really uncomfortable. Enough to pinch. 

He can't wait to make Billy squirm. Make him pay.

But Hopper's face is blank, "Let's see what we're dealing with first, Harrington."

"I'm gonna call him William," Steve says, thinking out loud, "Bet he'll hate that." 

—

But when he gets there, Steve doesn't call Billy 'William'. He doesn't flash his ID badge or order Billy to sit down or slap the cold, metal cuffs around Billy's thrashing wrists. He doesn't do any of the things he'd imagined.

Instead, Steve stands in the middle of it all, staring round. He doesn't know where to look first, where to even start. He's still coming to terms with the very real, very visceral shock of what his job could actually entrail. He knows he's been naive, and he's seeing now that it's not just going to be school visits and speeding fines and even the occasional infestation of supernatural monsters, but that some of it is going to be this kind of fucked up shit too.

Fucked up shit like Billy Hargrove being on the kitchen floor, curled up in the middle of a whole table-worth of broken crockery, his face a mess of blood and tears. The more Steve looks, the worse it gets. He takes it in, in that way he can now, picking up on the details: like how Billy's shirt is hanging open, some buttons torn and others hanging from threads, and how he has one arm twisted against his chest, bent at a sickeningly wrong angle, while the other one is raised above his head in a desperate attempt to protect himself from the man standing over him. Steve manages to pull his gaze away, checking in on everyone else: Susan, standing off to the side, her arms tight around Max who sports a scarlet red handprint on her cheek.

And then Steve turns his attention to Mr. Hargrove, Max's stepdad. Steve only really knows him by sight, but even then he'd always seemed… off, a little too calm, too controlled. Stiffly polite, but with a flicker of something cold and mean behind his eyes. 

He had known he could be a hardass though. Steve had picked that up just from overhearing Max's grumblings about him, how Neil was always more concerned with Max seeming respectable and being a 'good girl' for Susan than having any real interest in her as a person, and how he was even harder on Billy. 

Good, Steve had thought at the time. If anyone needs a firm hand, it's Billy.

Steve feels sick to think about it now. Because this man here, this Mr. Hargrove, is more than just a hardass. He's a whole different beast, and whatever facade of 'respectful family man' he once tried to project is gone entirely. His face is red, his eyes are bulging, and flecks of saliva are falling from his mouth as he spits insults after insult in Billy's face, before turning to Hopper and telling him, in no uncertain terms, exactly 'what kind of filth that son of mine really is'.

He lets fly with a whole host of slurs and accusations, each one more graphic than the last, and Steve winces at Neil Hargrove's particular choice of words, a sick feeling churning in his gut when he thinks about how often he's said some of them himself, back before. Back when he needed to prove how much better he was than the kids who didn't fit, the weird kids, the quiet ones, the ones with the wrong clothes or haircut or who lived in the wrong part of town. Back when certain insults, certain implications, were enough to have rumours flying quickly enough to turn a socially awkward kid into a social pariah by the end of the school day. 

But Neil Hargrove isn't just throwing them out as casual insults. Steve can tell, from the utter disgust dripping from his voice, that Neil means them. And that, worst of all, Neil thinks that those words, those accusations, are more than enough to excuse what he's done to Billy. The mess he's made of his own son. 

And maybe they had been before, Steve thinks with a dawning horror, wondering just how long Billy's been living with this. Maybe this isn't the first time something like this had happened, and maybe Neil got away with it then, maybe he even had the police on his side because what Billy was and what he was accused of doing, was seen as so much worse than whatever punishment Neil had doled out.

Because Billy isn't fighting back. Even now Hopper's shoved Neil away, Billy isn't showing any of the spark that Steve associates with him. He isn't even standing up. Instead he's huddling right down, curled away as much from Hopper as he was from Neil, trying to make himself smaller, trembling but not making a sound. Neil is shouting and Max is yelling and Susan's crying but Billy is eerily silent.

Like he's given up. 

Like he knows there's no point asking for help.

Like he's resigned to this.

Like it might only get worse, now that the police are here.

And that's what shakes Steve out of his stupor. Because he got into this job to help people and that's what he's always wanted to do. All he can do. All he's been good at. And even though he has absolutely no idea how to help with this, no idea how to even start with Billy, he needs to try.

So he does.

He lets his instinct take over, and he steps carefully over broken glass, kneeling down just a few steps away from Billy. And when Billy turns to face him, his eyes clouded with fear and his lashes clumped together with a mix of tears and the blood that runs from a still bleeding gash on his brow, Steve says the first thing that comes into his head, 

"So, uh, guess your Dad's kind of a huge asshole then, Hargrove?"

And god it's dumb. So dumb. Steve knows it's dumb even as he's saying it. He's following absolutely none of what little sensitivity training he's had, and he's probably made a terrible situation even worse. 

But it gets a snorty, watery huff out of Billy. And there's even a flicker of a smile, despite everything. 

And Steve thinks that maybe he is helping here, after all. 

[flowersandbirdsflyingfree]

FIRST OF ALL- YOU ARE AN ABSOLUTE GIFT💖

SECOND- perhaps your ‘a night in’ post, but featuring Ultimis?💖💖💖

YOU ARE AN EVEN GREATER GIFT FOR BEING SO SWEET! You can always count on me to be your cheerleader as well💖💖💖💖

A Night In With Ultimis

Edward Richtofen

*Compared to his younger self, he’s way more relaxed when it comes to work. He may meddle with schemes every now and then, but not until his sweet schmoopy falls asleep first. So in the meantime, he’ll probably be very curious to see what you’re up to and do anything in his power to get your attention. Grabby hands included.

*He did say he wanted to take up a new hobby that isn’t opening up a morgue (although I headcanon that in a modern au he’d either be an alchemist or mortician). Believe it or not, he often enjoys doing puzzles sometimes to keep his mind going. He would love to have you help him out with a written puzzle (he’s not keen on jigsaw but he’ll do one if it makes you happy). Edward also loves sweets so maybe you two could bake in the kitchen! I can see the two of you working together with him methodically planning out the measurements for a Swiss roll cake and you stealing the batter and getting scolded… until he gives up and joins in too

*When he isn’t being a horny bastard and banging around the house like a maniac, he’s demanding that you pay attention to him and loves to be a koala to your arm when you both lay down. It’s oddly adorable to see him gazing up to you with such happiness radiating from his smile. The voices eased up so much better with you around, but sometimes he needs to stick closer to you in hopes the nasty thoughts don’t come back. Other times, he will be the big spoon/sit up straight with confidence and have you lean on his shoulder. He’s very charming when the time calls for it. “Oh, darling. I could just stay here with you in my arms forever. You are my one und only.” And then you’re peppered with kisses all over your face.

Tank Dempsey

*Dempsey’s a hardcore gamer and you can’t deny that fact. So that means it’s gaming night again! Oorah! FPS shooters are obvious but he also loves stuff like Mario Kart too. It isn’t always multiplayer games though. If it’s a first player or story-based, you both take turns and enjoy the journey together.

*Depending on the night, he’ll either crack open a nice, cold beer with you or whip up some hot cocoa. He prefers coffee and isn’t a fan of tea at all. But it’s a bad idea to drink any before bed to begin with. Then you both think up of a list for what to do on the weekend. Places to go, seeing if any movies came out, etc. You guys are always up to some sort of adventure together.

*If you’re the cuddly type (like me), then you’ve gotten into Tank’s soft side. He does this little this where he rests his chin on the top of your head and hugs you tightly. You swear it almost sounds like he’s purring. If you’re not, then it’s literally the most shameless make-out session on the planet. But if one thing’s certain, you got him hooked to you. “Night, babe. Get some rest ‘cause we’ve got ass to kick tomorrow.”

Nikolai Belinski

*Nikolai used to go out to bars as late as closing time. There’s a good chance that sometimes it still happens unfortunately. But over time, he knew he had to shape up eventually. Nikolai decided to stay homebound to get out of trouble. He would never forgive himself if he let the fantasies of his 8 wives come true. So he may need vodka to prevent a headache like no other. But he at least makes sure to do it enough to where he won’t get super drunk.

*At the very least, he’s the same as his younger counterpart in that he will watch any movie or TV show with you. He shares the same taste of genres (action, comedies, dramas). But unlike Primis Nikolai, he actually likes crass humor comedies. Yes I’m referring to something like Borat or Jackass because neither are taken seriously. It’s not uncommon for him to fall asleep during a movie. The night usually ends with you curled up on his lap, both of you snoozing in an armchair.

*Russian teddy bear is his full-time job. He will always be the big spoon and he is a very tender lover. Despite his drinking habits, you can at least count on him remaining affectionate and concerned about your needs no matter what. “Is okay, Y/N. Nikolai will keep you save in his strong Soviet arms.”

Takeo Masaki

*Takeo is a grumpy old man who wants to enjoy his peace and quiet. He’s extremely introverted and the only person welcome in his presence is you. He enjoys a hot cup of tea with you. You both essentially have a evening tea party for two.

*He does a lot of healing work, however. Every evening is the chance to meditate. You both started it in silence to clear your thoughts. But through your suggestion, you added soothing ambience. It helps you guys stay grounded from the bustling stress of the outside world. Aside from meditation, you guys started a small scrapbook of the places you’ve traveled. You hope to preserve all of your memories to share with future generations of your family.

*Takeo quietly snuggles up to you but he will be easily flustered from all the affection you give him! He’s hiding under the covers and chuckles when you join him to kiss him again.

[i-am-bitterly-jittery]

Five Times Someone Mistook Roman And Remus (And One Time They Finally Met)

1. Austin

[Original post] • [2] [3] [4] [5] [+1]

Word Count: 701

Rating: Teen

Pairing: Intruxiety

Warnings: shouting, accusations of cheating (no actual cheating), swearing, shitty (ex)boyfriends, panic attacks

Also just to be clear Roman and Remus are not in any way related in this, they just happen to look a lot alike

~~~START~~~

This was only their third date, but Remus really liked Virgil.  

They’d originally been sent on a blind date by their mutual friend, Patton (who, Remus later learned, had had to bribe Virgil with cookies so that he’d even go), and had hit it off immediately. Remus was an artist whose work focused heavily on horror; Virgil was a fashion designer whose work could be called “Hot Topic-Chic”.  

But it wasn’t just their mutual participation in counter-culture and fascination with the darker things in life that made Patton certain that they were “soulmates”. No, it was the way that most of Remus’s favorite pieces were about finding hope in the darkness; it was the way Virgil lined his favorite clothes with a cute kitty-cat patterned fabric; it was the way Remus had named his dog Mr. Snuggles; it was the way Virgil’s apartment was filled with cuddly plushies that he made himself.  

And quite frankly it was the way that both of them had horrendous taste in eye makeup.  

But no matter what reason Patton had for setting them up, Remus couldn’t be happier about it.  

For their third date, they’d gone to Patton’s cat-theme café (which didn’t have any real cats in it since Patton was allergic), and then they’d taken their hot chocolates (since both of them were on medications that prevented them from having caffeine) and donuts to the park across the street. It had been threatening to rain all morning, so there weren’t too many other people out and about, but now the clouds were starting to clear.  

Remus wasn’t really sure what had happened — one minute he and Virgil were discussing the darker themes in cartoons, and the next there was a very irate man screaming at them.  

Or more specifically, screaming at Remus.  

“I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS!” The man screeched. “YOU'RE CHEATING ON ME!? AFTER EVERYTHING I'VE DONE FOR YOU!? AFTER I ATTENDED THAT SHITTY PLAY LAST MONTH!? Oh, don’t tell me, you actually are sleeping with that actor guy? I knew it! That ‘stage kiss’ had way too much chemistry! So, who’s this? Your third side-hoe? Fourth?” 

“Okay first of all,” Remus seethed; he had no idea who this man was, but clearly Remus resembled someone he knew, and clearly that someone deserved better. “Back the fuck up! Secondly, I don’t know who the fuck you are, but you have problems, dude. Thirdly, Vee is my only hoe, so write that down!” 

“Oh, grow up!” The man sneered. “You think gluing some shitty fake mustache to your face and changing your clothes makes you unrecognizable? Newsflash Ro, it doesn’t, so stop pretending you don’t know me, and let’s have a real conversation like grownups!” 

The man reached out to pull at Remus’s mustache, but Remus slapped his hand away before he could make contact.  

“Maybe you need to grow up and stop yelling at strangers in parks,” Virgil hissed, but the man fully ignored him.  

“You know what? We’re through! Your singing sucks, your acting is hacky, and it is weird that you’re a full-grown man who’s still into Disney! Lose my number, I never want to see you again.” 

The man shoved past Remus — knocking the cocoa out of his hand — and stormed away.  

“The feeling’s mutual!” Remus shouted at the man’s retreating form. “HE’S BETTER OFF WITHOUT YOU! What a turd.” 

“Y-yeah,” Virgil stammered, drawing Remus’s attention to the fact that he was shaking.  

“Are you okay?” He asked softly, taking Virgil’s hand gently. “I swear I’ve never seen that man before in my life! I would never–” 

“I believe you,” Virgil cut him off, breath hitching. “I do. I’m just bad at confrontation.” 

“Okay. Do you need to sit down? We can go back to Patton’s. Or there’s a bench over there if you want?” 

“Bench!” Virgil gasped.  

Remus led him over to the bench, and sat patiently while Virgil went through some breathing exercises.  

“So?” Virgil asked once his breathing had evened out. “I’m your only hoe?” 

Remus cracked a grin. “Oh absolutely! Nothing could compare to that ass!” 

Virgil lasted exactly two seconds before he was doubled over laughing and wheezing with Remus close behind.  

“You’re my only hoe, too.” 

~~~END~~~

I don’t think I’m quite sold on the title, but I had trouble finding a short way to word what this is (technically I don’t need to put “Five And One” but shut up)

This is my first attempt at Dukexiety as a pairing, and I’m not exactly sure I’ve quite hit the vibe, but to be fair, it is a new relationship soooo

(I picked Dukexiety mostly so I could have Virgil go “who are you and what have you done with Remus?” to Roman)

General taglist:

@royalty-of-all-things-snuggly @pixelated-pineapple @knight-shives @misunderstood-shadowling

[mari-the-bimbo]

Oh Mari 💕 I adore your headcanons!! How about cosy autumn night with Gojo? Maybe sth like an unofficial date of him and a reader (unofficial because he wouldn't named is as such. he's too stubborn and cocky for that). But they would make homemade snacks, have some cocoa or good quality tea, and then they would just talk, covered by the blanket.. and just have fun together despite the fact that Gojo would keep touching reader with his cold feet lol 🧡

Cosy autumn nights with Gojo Satoru

(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

A/N: Mannn I’m so glad you requested this- this was exactly the type of requests I was hoping for! I need some comfort fluff rn 🥰 Enjoy! <3

Pairings: Gojo x reader

Cozy autumn nights are always the best with Gojo

You guys would make homemade snacks, like soft cookies and heart shaped biscuits. Well, you would make the snacks while Gojo 6’3 figure would tower over you, asking if it’s done yet.

Then you guys would take it all to the living room, playing some random studio ghibli movie in the back, while sipping your hot cocoa, basking in each other’s warmth while the rainfall grew heavier outside.

Gojo would talk your ear off with all the stories about his students while twirling a strand of your hair around his finger absentmindedly.

And like the man child he is, Gojo adds whipped cream and cinnamon powder to both of your cups of hot cocoa.

He swears it’s the most delicious thing, as he licks the whipped cream off the corner of your mouth, teasingly swirling his tongue, making you squeal.

“Gojo!”

“What? There was whipped cream around your mouth, I got rid of it for you!” He said ever so casually with a mischievous smile.

“You didn’t need to” you mumbled with a blush, poking his chest.

“Why? Did you want to try some?” He asked teasingly, but before you could answer, he smashed his lips sloppily against yours, making you taste the cinnamon sweetness in his mouth.

As you pulled away breathlessly, you looked up to see the proud giddy smile on his face, you couldn’t help but laugh,

“You’re so stupid” you giggled as you covered yourself and the 6’3 man in the cosy blanket, he bends down to fit his tall self under the blanket. “Mmm but you love me” he answered confidently, as he placed his head on top of yours.

And just as you’re about to agree with him with a smile, he presses his big ass cold feet against yours, making you yelp.

“Gojo!”

“Hehe”