#Chirpy books

[time-woods]

idont think he likes this song very much . .

[rassicas]

Chirpy Chips Livestream, Translated

BancalaWalker reveals the Chirpy Chips are popular twitch streamers (Or, whatever the Splatoon version of it is called), and the book has a transcript of part of one of their live streams.

This looked fun to translate so I went for it. Read on in the link below!

[baikinmanz]

what if… warabi x noiji…

[elodieunderglass]

Love that everyone from the 90s is like “incidentally: Dealing With Dragons”

Dragongirl kidnaps a maid instead of a princess by mistake; comes back to her lair after a hunt to find the coins and gems in her hoard have been organized into neat piles sorted by type, value, and kingdom of origin.

[kquil]

REMUS LUPIN | TEMPER

sum. : remus is usually a grump, as dismal as a cloudy day and you're his sunshine, whether he accepts it or not -- he denies it vehemently until his sensitive nerves make him lash out the day of a full moon

length : 2.2k

tags. : grumpy remus ; sunshine reader ; opposites attract ; angst with a happy ending ; remus is a meanie ; reader is stubborn ; a little ooc remus lupin ; fluff ; angst

navi. | more remus lupin

Remus thinks you’re strange. He didn’t know of you until you made yourself known to him, wearing the brightest smile he had ever seen on a person. It was like the sun breaking through a stubborn wall of clouds on an otherwise dismal day. He wasn’t usually the extroverted type, especially with Sirius, James and Peter as his best mates so he was surprised that someone like him managed to catch your eye.  

He was perfectly fine with being a silent presence in his close group of friends, appreciating them for their companionship despite knowing of his ‘furry little problem’. He hardly interacted with others outside his small group and preferred it that way. So when you suddenly appeared before him, he didn’t know what to do with you. 

You had a horrible preference for appearing whenever he was reading in the library – something he enjoyed for academic and recreational purposes. James, Sirius and Peter never understood his fondness for reading so left him alone whenever he simply wanted to read. He was more than comfortable with having only himself for company until you started sitting with him. That was how you first got to know each other or, rather, how you made him your ‘friend’ but not by choice. 

“What are you reading there?” your chirpy voice cuts through the silence that first day. Hoping you weren’t talking to him, Remus ignored you and, instead, brought his book closer to shield his face. “Hello?~” you sang softly after a beat of silence and he could hear the smile in your words. Finally, Remus looks up but only spares you a brief once-over. He was being rude, yes, but so were you for interrupting his reading. Remus also couldn’t stand seeing your bright and sunny gaze for longer than he’d be willing to stare directly at the sun. He’s half convinced he’d burn himself if he looked at you too long.

“Frankenstein,” he answers quietly, hoping you’d leave soon enough… but that was wishful thinking on his part. 

“Oh! A muggle book? That’s pretty cool.” there’s a pause after Remus gives an acknowledging grunt but nothing more. Please go away!  He remembers pleading to himself as he tried to find where he last left off – you were too distracting, “May I sit with you?” Remus goes to give you a judging look but you’re already sitting in the seat across from him when he looks up. He glares at your happy disposition, unaffected by his obvious disapproval, much to his irritation. His annoyance flares sharply as he emits a low growl from deep within his chest but there’s no response from you. You’re as immovable as a mountain. He has no choice but to accept his fate and does his best to ignore you in favour of reading. 

However, in doing so, he had deeply underestimated how determined you were to disturb his peace. 

From his periphery, he sees you pausing in your own reading to stare blatantly at him from across the table. Your first few attempts were, somewhat, sneaky but, over time, you eventually gave in to an obnoxious stare. Remus felt like he couldn’t turn a single page without you eyeing his long fingers. Your eyes peek out from over your book and Remus has to fight himself to keep from getting lost in your curious, twinkling eyes. 

“What do you want?” he snaps agitated and suppressing the horrible urge to grind his teeth menacingly at you. A disguised effort to resist your infuriating charms. Someone this annoyingly persistent shouldn’t be so adorable. 

“Sorry, I umm…. I just wanted to know what your Frankenstein book was about…”

You were polite and sweet with the decency to appear, somewhat, ashamed of your behaviour —it was very cute— but that only seemed to rile Remus up even more, “Read it yourself.” he snaps again and continues reading. 

He doesn’t feel bad for snapping at you, which is why he avoids your gaze entirely. In his efforts, he manages to make more progress with reading and doesn’t realise how much time has gone by until the ache in his neck makes him look up and see you asleep atop the table. Rolling his eyes, Remus packs his things and leaves you to return to Gryffindor Tower — he’s not a babysitter so he shouldn’t feel guilty and he shouldn’t look back. But he does alert the librarian about your presence so that she gets you up instead. 

Remus doesn’t see you until a few days later when you happen upon him in the library and disturb his peace once again. When he looks up this time, however, his eyes manage to linger on your smile before you direct his attention to a copy of Frankenstein in your hand. It makes him raise a brown in silent question. 

“I got the book to read as you suggested,” you ramble on more than is necessary. At least your voice isn’t super annoying, it’s actually quite nice to listen to, “I haven’t read much yet but it’s really good so far. It’s not like anything I’ve ever read before. You have a really good taste in books,” by this point, Remus has already buried his attention back into the pages of his current book and tries to zone you out with only minimal success, “May I sit with you?” that question immediately catches his attention and he almost snaps his neck in half, looking up to firmly reject your attempts. 

“No–!” but he was too late as you were already sitting down and smiling innocently from your seat across the table. He frowns deeply and sighs loudly, making his annoyance obvious but you’re unbothered and already have your book open. His eyes narrow, perplexed at how someone can act so brazenly. He notices the stray hair that falls out of place, the slight crookedness of your collar, the focus in your eyes, the softness of your skin and the gentle curve of your face… You’re so annoying! “What edition do you have?” he suddenly asks, his voice rough and disinterested as if he couldn’t care less whether you answered him or not. He wasn’t interested at all; he just needed to desperately put an end to his earlier train of thought. Hopefully, your response would irk him again and he could return to being rightfully irritated by you. 

“Oh um…” you flick to the very first page of the book, “I have the 1818 edition, why?” you’re smiling sweetly and he scoffs, turning his head away. His ears had become a bright pink beneath his hair. 

“No reason…” The two of you return to reading your individual books while Remus hopes you don’t register the subconscious hum of approval he let out. He’s only happy you’re reading the original, unrevised version. 

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅

The two of you have become an unusual pair that is often seen around Hogwarts. Many have criticised you for always trailing behind the tall Gryffindor, and despite his cold, impartial disposition towards you, Remus is the first to put an end to such ‘annoying’ talk. 

“Stop talking about things you hardly know anything about,” he would often use his tall height to glare down at those same, clueless people, demeaning them further. And, although that should have been the end of it, many persisted to the point where James, Sirius, and Peter also stepped in when neither of you were around to defend your unusual pairing. 

“Thank you, Remus,” you would chirp at him but receive no response in return. It was odd that, despite his cold shoulder, you persisted. Always wanting to be his friend, always smiling so easily, always greeting him with a friendly tone. It didn’t make sense to him. 

Deep down, Remus wants to keep you. He thinks you are adorable; you are a shining light to a monster like him, and he knows he doesn’t deserve it. Whenever you stand particularly close to him, he savours the warmth you radiate. And whenever you talk, no matter if it is nonsense, he always listens, even if he pretends to ignore you by doing something else entirely. He keeps you at a distance but also wants you close at the same time – he was confusing even himself! 

He was grateful for your consistency, however. Grateful until the week of the full moon. 

You are consistent, and that was something Remus always appreciated about you. But it has become Remus’ main point of irritation for the past few days. Everywhere he looked, you were there, smiling brightly as always, but his sensitive nerves have grown intolerant of you; as soon as he sees you approach, he turns away and hurriedly escapes your company. It scares him to feel so genuinely irritated by you that he doesn’t dare lash out. In the beginning of his friendship with the Marauders, he had lashed out at them too, but their determination for a close bond kept them together. He knows how persistent you can be, but losing you is a thought that makes his blood run cold and leaves an awful taste in his mouth, worse than any potion. 

True to your character, however, you manage to corner him after three days of avoidance, the day the full moon would finally appear in the night sky. It was only a matter of time, but why today of all days? 

“You have the worst timing…” Remus mutters to himself as you innocently tilt your head in question. Usually, as perceptive as he is, Remus would have answered your silent question by now, but he remains silent. The still pause stretches on between you, and Remus uses it as the perfect opportunity to turn away and begin walking off. However, you are adamant about not letting him leave and hug his arm to anchor him down — this is the closest the two of you have ever been. Although Remus never raised a hand at you, his violent flinch to escape your touch makes your heart stop. “Don’t. Touch. Me!” he growls lowly through clenched teeth, his expression making you freeze up. 

“I-I just…” Under his intimidating gaze, you deflate and confess honestly. “I missed you…I haven’t seen you in three days, and you’re my friend. I was really worried. Did I do something wrong?—” 

“If I walk away, then that means I don’t want you anywhere near me!” Remus glares coldly at you, his face crumpled into one that completely replaces his once gentle features. He is unrecognisable. “Leave me alone!” With that, he turns and leaves, a boulder in his stomach and a bitter taste in his mouth, with the still silence ringing in his ears. He needs to get a hold of himself; he can’t believe he lashed out at you like that. Hopefully, you will leave him alone from now on, at least until after he has recovered from his transformation. 

Remus was halfway down the hall when the silence was finally broken by a soft sniffle and a suppressed whimper. He stops completely in his tracks. He dreads turning around, frozen in place in his fear that he had made you cry. The soft footfalls that follow as you walk away prompt him to turn and rush to you, desperate to correct his mistake. 

“I’m sorry!” he shouts, his heart thundering in his chest as he runs to you. It isn’t until he sees your heartbroken expression and the tears falling from your eyes that he drops to his knees and hugs you around the waist, burying his face in your stomach as he repeats his apology over and over. It is overdramatic, in hindsight, but in the moment, he can’t think of any other way to keep you from completely turning away from him. His lycanthropy has taken so many things away from him, and now he is about to lose the one thing he would fall apart without. “I’m sorry…I didn’t mean it. Please forgive me, love,” 

Never before had you heard such affection in Remus’ words than in that moment. You don’t know what compelled him to be so incredibly mean, but his softened, pleading eyes, as he looks up from where he presses his cheek against your torso, have your knees weakening. 

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅

Ever since that day, Remus was found to be always trailing after you, always touching you and eagerly leaning down to hear you better. He loves peering intimately into your beautiful eyes and getting to smell your sweet fragrance. He now insists that you sit in his lap every time you join him to read in the library together. Feeling you close and getting the chance to hold you in his arms is an addictive feeling that Remus will never tire of. 

“Let me carry that for you, love,” Remus’ soft whisper has you hypnotically handing over your books as heat rises up your neck, “I’ll take you to class, today,”

“You walk me to class every day, Rem,” you giggle and smile as he presses a kiss to your temple and nuzzles your crown affectionately. 

“What about it?” there isn’t a trace of malice in his voice, only warmth. 

“Nothing~” he doesn’t let you go easily. Before you begin walking to class, he holds your chin and tilts it up ever so slightly, guiding your lips to meet his own in a soft kiss. 

“Good morning, sweetheart,” his loving eyes and soft words make you melt. You’ve never had a more perfect morning.

“Good morning, Rem,” 

navi. | more remus lupin

a/n : this is dedicated to my darling friend @cheriiepies who's birthday is new years! i hope you enjoy this short imagine/oneshot, my lovely! i just hope i managed to include everything you wanted to me to include. and HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY LOVE! I hope you're surrounded by all the love and happiness you deserve on your special day!

[foreid]

੭ ֪ ֹ — ❝ 𝑰𝑵 𝒀𝑶𝑼𝑹 𝑬𝒀𝑬𝑺 ! ❞

꒰ ੭ summary: first date jitters with boy wonder.. except he thinks you stood him up :( luckily, even though you’re late, the date goes well and he’s practically head over heels.

what's ahead: fluff (ik very ooc for me!), fem!reader, first date, idiots in love hehe, late s1- early s2 reid i couldn’t decide, a lot of sweet talk, awkward flirting, reid can’t take a compliment, first kiss

wrdcnt: 1.6k

a/n: super rushed! finals season is ending soon yay!!! >.< this was not proofread and tbh.. almost scrapped... so plz do lmk if u hate it ! i love u guys and ive missed u.

spencer swore he was breaking a sweat, his collared shirt felt ten times tighter than it seemed to be. 

it felt almost out of character for you to be this late, he assumed, since you were the BAU’s liaison, you had to be punctual. 

he couldn’t stop the tapping of his fingers against the outdoor table, running a hand through his hair, which he spent an awkward amount of time combing and gelling back. 

standing in front of his bathroom mirror in an uncomfortable stance, trying to figure out if all two buttons being up looked too strange.

never, has he ever worried about his appearance like this. but morgan told him that first date impressions meant everything, and it consumed his entire reasonable thinking for the majority of the afternoon. 

but, when all hope seemed lost, spencer heard your chirpy “spencer?” coming from behind him, and it sounded like some kind of angelic choir. 

when he turned his head, he didn’t expect you to look so perfect.

your hair was styled in a way he hadn’t seen before, tickling the borders between classy and professional and you wore a tight silk, maxi-dress with a shade of maroon that complimented your skins color perfectly. 

spencer stumbled to get up, smiling at you awkwardly as he fumbled to pull your chair out so you could sit.

when you sat down across from him, he sort of swept himself off as if touching the other chair already gave him the same amount of germs as a toilet seat would. 

“i’m so sorry, i couldn’t find my other shoe, and then i spilled nail polish all over my desk and i-” you were rambling on, hands up as you spoke, but he quickly cut you off. 

spencer stared at you, admiring you as you spoke on. “don’t apologize. i’m glad you even showed up.” spencer muttered the last few words almost as if he was embarrassed, which he was, but he tried not to make it so obvious.

you didn’t even think he knew how charming he was. he seemed too nervous, his hands were prominently trembling, and every time he spoke to you, his adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed dryly.

when you cleared your throat, automatically gaining his attention, you smiled over at him before speaking. "you look, really nice. well you always, look nice but... y'know?" you giggled, batting your lashes at him then simultaneously clocking your head to the side.

spencer wasn't too late to react, trying to hide the harsh blush creeping up on his face. it wasn't just your words, but that unfamiliar look in your eyes tugged way too much on his heart.

you were somehow getting into his head.

all you did was laugh, a sweet one that almost altered his brain chemistry. "no one's ever complimented you before? i don't believe that, boy wonder." another teasing remark, just so you could keep that flustered look on his demeanor.

“don’t tell me, this is your first date, ever?” you snorted out a laugh, not thinking too much about what you said until you got a good look at his expression. 

“holy shit. it is!” a quiet gasp left your lips, and he seemed as if he was ready to explode right on the spot. 

spencer held up his glass of water to his mouth, almost trying to hide the flush that imprisoned his face. “it is. am i being that obvious?” he meekly admitted, shrinking in his position as he stared at you.

if he was completely honest, he could barely even ask you out. if it wasn’t for morgan being able to read him like a book, he would never be in this position. 

you thought it was sweet, being his first date, and it was at some nice, cozy, restaurant. it seemed like he knew a bit of what he was doing. the chair pulling, the way he was talking to you, handling the bill? there was no way this was his first. 

“maybe not too obvious, but definitely apparent.” you replied with a giggle that would send any man to war for you, for the quick hour and a half you guys had been here, all you did was pull at his heart strings. 

he pursed his lips into a tight line at your response, not necessarily aimed at you, but at the fact that he had tried his best to tell himself not to act like a fool, and it was exactly what he ended up doing. 

you had finished the dessert he insisted on buying for you, and with a heavy heart, you thought the night was over. 

with a clink of your spoon on top of your plate, he’d been watching you this entire time, waiting for a moment to speak up. 

“are you ready for phase two?” his voice wasn’t in much of a whisper, but in this setting and the way he was looking at you, it was right on the brink of romantic.

and it left you feeling really excited for whatever was next. “oh? what more do you have planned for me, dr. reid?” you question, resting your chin on your hand, leaning a bit closer to where he was seated. 

you swore he cracked a little smile at your words, looking around the area you guys were sitting in before standing up. 

when he took your hand and led you out of the restaurant’s outdoor seating area, you weren’t expecting him to even touch you tonight, since you were so sure he hated any kind of human physical affection– so it made you feel beyond special. 

if anything, even the memory of him asking you out today made you feel that way. you and spencer were close, far beyond the bond of regular coworkers, but you thought all the slick glances, shared laughs, and inside jokes between you two didn’t mean much to him as they did to you. clearly that wasn’t true, and it felt good knowing that. knowing he felt the same. 

spencer held your hand the entire trip, you two walked side by side, going nowhere in destination– at least that was what you thought. 

at some point in your walk, he stood in front of you, blocking your line of view from anything that was there. 

“okay,” spencer started, staring down at you with his hands behind his back, not as if he was hiding anything, but almost to make himself appear wider. “i’m going to cover your eyes, but i need you to trust me.” he looked and sounded very excited, a charming grin on his face that you were nowhere near accustomed to. but you could get used to it.

you immediately questioned him, raising a brow and trying to look past him, but he quickly blocked it by grabbing you and pushing you back to your original stance. 

he looked down at you almost like a stern owner scolding their disobedient pet. you sighed in defeat and closed your eyes, muttering out a soft “i trust you.” there was no way for you to tell where he was leading you, but you felt spencers cold hands crown right on top of your eyes and he started walking, you followed, moving your feet in the same pattern as his.

the walking stopped deliberately and you tried to recognize the surroundings you heard and felt. you could feel the grass tickling your ankles and the sounds of people, it wasn’t bustling but it wasn’t too calm either.

you felt his breath near your ear and before moving his hands to your shoulders he muttered a short, “you can open your eyes.”

when your vision flickered back to normal, a park filled with different groups of people surrounded a large lake that was mounted in floating lanterns, ready to be released with different designs or writings on their surfaces.

all you did was choke out a gasp, star-struck at the view, and it only got better as you looked down. 

beneath you sat what seemed like a picnic blanket and your personal lantern to customize. 

spencer eventually interrupted your speechless silence by sitting on the blanket, waiting for you to say something, anything. anything to stop him from freaking out. he couldn’t read you, your slack-jaw expression and big eyes, he should say that you’re enjoying it, but he also could never be too sure.

coming back to your senses, you sat down across from him, just like in the restaurant, and immediately started thanking him, an overwhelming amount. 

“how’d you know this would be my dream? have you been stalking me?” you joked, but were kind of half serious. although, you wouldn’t mind thinking about the idea of spencer asking around about things you’d like for a ‘perfect date’. the thought made you blush in its own.

it seemed like half of your thought was true, because he had a flushed expression on his face that read: ‘you caught me.’ he got over himself and looked over at you, nodding. “yeah, kind of? i asked garcia and jj if they knew anything… or if you ever talked about what an ‘ideal date’ would be.” spencer seemed to grow shy again, the way he’s been the entire night. 

a silence grew between you two, but it wasn’t awkward or overwhelming. it was comfortable, almost familiar. 

in a blink, you were holding yourself up with your hands and leaning towards him. and in a blink, your lips were pressed against his in a warm kiss. this was kind of your way of ‘thanking him’ for making tonight so romantically special.

spencer was beyond shocked, but he immediately melted into your lips, feeling them as the most comforting things he's ever felt. along with the intoxicating smell of your perfume.

everything about you seemed to be so sweet.

he didn’t pull away or make any movements that proved he didn’t want it, instead, he leaned in to make it deeper and rested a hand upon the nape of your neck.

the kiss was sweet and lasted much longer than either of you intended, but neither of you wanted to let go. 

this felt right as much as it felt surreal. and spencer knew this was exactly where he should be. 

[the-librarby]

REWARD ME, WON’T YOU DARLIN’? II

- SIMON RILEY (COD)

“You cannot stay in here! I demand privacy!”

He crosses his arms over his chest, “You lost your right to privacy the moment you decided to make a run for it,”

You fluster, “What you expect me to bathe in front of you? That is barbaric!”

Fool him twice shame on him, shouldn’t have done that Princess.

Part I

You had never been this far out from the castle before. You weren’t even sure how many towns over you were now, but the lack of hunters made you feel a little more at ease. You know you didn’t have long before you had to move on, but hopefully a few days respite would last here.

The town was quiet, a peaceful change from the other stops on your journey so far. When you booked your room at the inn there was no chirpy check in girl, just an efficient worker. Everyone here seemed to mind their business from first impressions. Which was a nice change of pace compared to the peering eyes of the last few towns. When you entered your room you took a deep breath and tried to collect your thoughts.

Where were you going from here? You couldn’t outrun the hunters forever, especially not that last one you saw on your way out. The mere thought of him sends a shiver down your spine. Maybe getting a job would help you shake off the rest of this princess identity you’re trying to get rid of. There was a tavern downstairs, how hard could it be to be a barmaid? With a restored sense of confidence you set your mind to marching down there tomorrow.

For now you needed sleep. Dreams of that masked man made it a restless night.

Being a barmaid was tough. It was busy and gruelling, especially at night when the tavern filled with weary travellers. You had no idea how anyone could do this forever, and each day you are reminded how far from home you are, how far from your life you are. You love it here, amongst the rowdy crowds, and the constant darting back and forth between drinks service. You’ve never seen people so in their…element. Back home in the castle everyone had a role, titles, and expectations. There are no manners here, it’s completely barbaric at times when the men think they can get away with a squeeze of your arse. Luckily the owner of the establishment is not afraid of throwing out the wayward customers when they overstay their welcome.

It was the third night of service when you knew you pushed your luck too far.

“Serve that fellow a drink, will you?” The owner ordered, jerking his thumb towards the left side of the bar.

“Who?” You asked, peeking your head over his shoulder trying to catch a glimpse.

“Can’t miss him, he’s wearing a mask over his face.” he says gruffly as he pours another drink.

It feels as though ice has been thrown over your shoulders and soaked you through, you try to pass it off as silly paranoia but you haven’t seen anyone else wear a mask since that day. When you look again, more cautiously this time, you can see it’s who you dreaded it would be. He’s got his arms resting on the bar, looking expectantly in your direction. You quickly look away, clenching your hands by your side.

“Actually, I’m not feeling so well, could I be excused for the evening? I’ll make up my hours tomorrow,” you rush out.

The owner frowns but doesn’t look in your direction as he continues to hand out drinks over the bar, “Serve that gentleman and then you can clock off.”

It’s not what you want to hear, but you’re not going to argue. You exhale deeply through your nose and go about pouring him a drink. As you walk over you duck your head down in what you hope looks like casual shyness and place the drink down in front of him.

“Your drink, Sir,” you say softly.

You can barely hear his deep hum in thanks. Just as you take off your apron and move to walk away he speaks up, “Enjoying your stay?”

You glance over at him through your periphery and offer him a small smile, “Oh yes, it’s been amazing. Would highly recommend the inn’s services,”

“Are you ready to go home?” He asks.

Your fingers freeze, holding the ties of your apron. You turn to face him fully, his drink is still untouched on the bar. You smile gracefully and tilt your head in confusion, “I’m sorry Sir, I’m not quite sure what you mean, I am home,”

He raises an eyebrow, “Grew up here did you? On what street?”

Your smile drops, “I don’t see how that’s your business, stranger,”

The corners of his eyes crinkle slightly at the venom in your tone and outstretches his gloved hand towards you, “Ghost.”

It’s a mockery, a joke to him that makes your blood boil. You slam your apron on the bar counter and make a run for it through the kitchen doors. You weave your way through the stuff, and push through the back door into the alleyway behind the venue. If you could just run to your room and gather your things, you could make it out of here. As you sprint towards the entrance of the alley, a sudden shadow blocks your path and sweeps you off your feet with the force you run into it with.

“C’mon princess, fun’s over,” a gruff voice cuts through.

Trapped in a tight squeeze you resort to kicking and flailing, “Let me go you brute!”

The man huffs at you strained effort to slip free and begins to drag you out of the alleyway, “Stop squirmin’ you brat,”

With all the effort you can conjure up, you concentrate on driving your knee into his groin in with all the strength you have. The man drops you like a sack of bricks against the dirt and clutches his knees as he groans in pain. You can barely hear the cuss words he’s throwing out as you make a mad dash for your room at the inn. You’ve barely slammed the door shut behind you and secured it with the flimsy lock when the door handle begins to rattle.

“Open up,” he demands.

“No!” You shout, back away from the door.

“No? I don’t think you realise what trouble you’re in sweetheart. You don’t just kick a hunter in the fucking balls and get away with it,” he seethes.

You start gathering all your belongings, “All the more reason for me not to let you in,”

There’s a shuffle outside your door, the rattling has stopped, “Oh, got a mouth on you do ya? I’ll kick this door down if I have to,”

You look around in search for something to get you out of here, “The owner is quite fond of me, I don’t think he’d appreciate that,”

“Five,” he starts, at first you think he’s gone mental until you realise he’s counting down, “Four,” you quickly grab the sheets off your bed and throw them in the corner of the room near the window, “Three,”

You run to the door and cautiously open it with the latch still in place to keep some sort of flimsy defence in place, “Please, Ghost is it?” You ask politely as you peek out at him. The man looks furious with his hands placed on his hips, “Is it money you are after? I can pay you out,”

He raises an eyebrow, “With your dwindling funds? Your father has placed a heavy bounty on your head, one that you would not begin to match even with a well paying job,”

You sigh defeatedly, tears springing to your eyes, “Will you at least let me collect my thoughts? You have no idea what it’s like there, please give me one more night here before I have to be dragged back,” you sniffle.

He rolls his eyes and sighs, “I will be here as soon as the sun rises, have your things ready by then,”

You wipe your eyes, “Yes of course, thank you so much for your generosity, Ghost.”

As he turns away you listen to the sound of his heavy boots stomping down the hall until you cannot hear them anymore. Softly you click the door shut behind you once more and start thinking about how to not only get out of here, but evade that bloody hunter. You walk towards the sheets your previously abandoned, the room you’re in is too high to jump from without a leverage but it is facing empty paddocks of land where no one but the farmers walk through during the day. You start fastening the ends of each sheet together to form one long rope, the night is still young so you do not test it yet, you must be patient and wait for the perfect moment.

It’s well past midnight before you decide to crack the window open. The air is brisk against your cheeks, but thankfully the cloak you’re wearing covers most of your body. You toss the sheets you fastened into a rope out the window until they dangle against the brick wall. It doesn’t touch the ground but from here it’s looks long enough to take that gamble. You peer out for one last look of that hunter before carefully climbing out, it’s terrifyingly high to your mind and for a moment you have second thoughts, but you know it’s either this or an escorted trip back to the castle.

The climb down is slow and nerve wracking, every gust of wind has you clenching harder onto the sheets and pausing to stop the swaying. When you reach the end of the rope, the jump down is still quite high but you shut your eyes tight and count down from three before letting go. With a huff you land harshly on your knees against the soft grass, you give yourself a quick once over and breathe a sigh of relief at the lack of injuries— save for the future bruises you will have.

You stand to your feet carefully walking along the brick wall to the entrance, in the stables you can see an unfamiliar black horse. It must belong to the hunter, you duck back behind the wall and walk towards the back road leading out of the town. Hopefully you can hitch a ride on the way, but for now you need to use as much moonlight as you can to make your escape.

Dawn has cracked by the time you make it to the next town and you are exhausted. Thankfully you had managed to find another traveller in the early hours of the morning to give you a ride the rest of the way in, but you had spent a lot of time afoot during the night and honestly had no idea how you had not gotten attacked by some sort of wild animal.

You couldn’t stay here long though, that hunter would already be on his way and much faster with a personal steed. Out of habit you look over at the stable just in case, and deflate once you see it— a black horse. It couldn’t be, how would he get here so fast? How would he know you’re here? You swing your head around, looking in all directions for his recognisable mask.

“You have to get off the cart, Miss,”

You whip your head around to look down at the driver, “Sorry?”

“The cart. Get off, I need to sell this hay.” He repeats.

You nod and climb down, pain shoots up your legs once you set your feet on the ground, a soreness from travelling so far on foot. You see no sign of Ghost amongst the dispersed crowd of people milling around about their day. The cart drives off without you further into town, you watch absentmindedly as it goes already mourning the thought of being without a ride once again.

A sigh from behind you snaps you out of your thoughts, “I underestimated you,”

You spin around on your heel, Ghost peers down at you with his hands clasped behind his back making his shoulders seem even broader. You can only grit your teeth in frustration of already being caught.

“Oh don’t look at me like that darlin’, it’s not your fault, no one escapes me,” he explains, as if that’s a worthy answer.

“I escaped you once, I can do it again,” you hiss.

He leans closer, “You will not fool me again Princess, you have my full attention. I will get my bounty.”

You start to thrash when he grabs ahold of your arm but this time he doesn’t ease up as he drags you towards this town’s tavern. No one even bats an eye as he hauls you over to a free table and tosses you into one of the chairs, you rub your shoulder as he moves around to take a seat across from you. Ghost lounges back with his arms crossed over his chest and thighs spread wide as he watches you with a calculated gaze.

The barmaid comes over to take your order, when you don’t speak he does for you, asking for whatever is being served on the menu before shooing her away. He’s not kind, and seems a little rough around the edges, you can only imagine the horrors he’s seen or been apart of.

“We’re leaving as soon as you finish eating,” he states.

Your eyes widen, “What? We can’t!”

“We can and we will,” he replies, undeterred by your rising tone.

“But!” You frown, “I haven’t even bathed, I need a night here to get myself sorted,”

He leans over with his arm propped against the table, “That excuse won’t work on me again, sweetheart.”

The barmaid places down your food in front of you. It’s some sort of stew you can’t even begin to think of stomaching right now, you slump back in your chair and cross your arms over your chest, refusing to look at him.

“Eat,” he demands.

You scrunch your nose into a sneer, “I do not take orders from the likes of you,”

He scoffs, “You do not have a choice, Princess.”

You try to match his stare but his gaze is unwavering, he doesn’t seem the least bit affected by your hatred for him as he waits for you to make the first move. He looks completely self-assured of your capture except for the way his shoulders seem to be stuck in a tense line, ready just in case you try to make a sprint out the door once again. It’s a small victory that makes your lips curl into a smirk, you could make a fool of him once again you’re sure.

The bowl of food goes untouched, you’re stubborn enough to refuse anything he might buy for you. Ghost doesn’t seem the least bit bothered if you take care of yourself or not, his only criteria is that he keeps you alive to cash in his bounty. After a moment of no movement from either of you he stands to his feet.

“Let’s go,” he rumbles.

You frown, crossing your arms over your chest, “I’m not going until I have a chance to bathe,”

“Get up now before I drag you out,” he’s becoming impatient with your demands now.

“Let me order for a bath, or I’ll make a scene,” you repeat.

He hunches over and he grips the back of your chair to turn you until you’re facing him, “You are not making the demands here, understood? Now get the fuck up,” when he grips your arm once again you scream as loud as you can, everyone looks over in your direction to see what’s happened. It’s completely shocked Ghost into letting go of your arm.

“I’ll only be ten minutes,” you bargain.

His eyes are wide, “You’re a fucking loose screw aren’t you?”

You smile politely and stand up, you’ve got him now, for a minute at least. Before he can think better of it you march over to the front desk and ask for a room and some hot water be brought up. Once the key is handed over you walk down the hall to find it, Ghost follows hot on your heels up until you try to close the door on him.

You frown at the way he’s wedged his foot in between the doorframe to permit you from closing it fully, “I’ll be out in just a moment,”

He shakes his head, using his strength to push you aside and enter the room, “Not happening,”

You hold the open door confusedly, following his movement as he makes himself comfortable on the edge of the bed. Your expression turns into one of embarrassed contempt, “You cannot stay in here! I demand privacy!”

He crosses his arms over his chest, “You lost your right to privacy the moment you decided to make a run for it,”

You fluster, “What you expect me to bathe in front of you? That is barbaric!”

“Hot water?” One of the inn workers calls softly, looking at you expectantly.

Ghost looks to you with a lazy hooded gaze, his eyebrow quirks up in question. What are you going to do about it? You breathe out and let the lady in, she makes her way over to the tub which thankfully, although there is no sort of door or divider, it is sectioned off in a covered corner of the bathroom. It’s not as much privacy as you would like but it’s enough that only one corner of the tub would be visible from Ghosts’ view.

You look over at Ghost once more, the hunter is watching the worker as she pours the hot water in, god knows what’s running through his mind— probably the quickest route to get back into your father’s hands. You kindly thank the lady on her way out before closing the door behind her. Without even looking the hunter’s way you walk into the bathroom and round the corner to wear the tub is, you really do want a bath after all the travel you did just to get here. The warm water is inviting enough that you undress despite there being a man— with a watchful gaze—in the next room.

You can’t help the sigh of relief that leaves your lips when you sink in, Ghost looks away even though he can’t see anything except for your feet which sometimes dangle off the side of the tub.

“How much is my father paying for me?” You call out.

“A lot,” is the gruff response you get back.

You roll your eyes, “Care to be more specific?”

“It rises the longer you’re away from home.” he’s getting desperate, is what goes unsaid.

You look up at the ceiling, allowed the warm steam fill your lungs. There would be nothing to convince this hunter to let you go, he is determined, that much you can see. Your only chance at freedom is to throughly think out a plan of escape, something that would go under his nose.

“Is that black horse yours?”

“Yes,”

You hum, “Must get paid a lot as a bounty hunter,”

“Is there a purpose behind all your questions?”

“Ill-tempered,” you comment, “That’s undesirable in a gentleman you know,”

“Good thing I’m not going for desirable then.” he mutters.

You finish the rest of your bath in silence, the only sound is the swishing of water within the tub as you climb out. You doubt the man will give you time to wash your clothes, so you slip the dress back on once you’ve dried off.

When you reappear you’re dressed again with a sour look on your face. Ghost doesn’t comment on it as he stands and walks towards the door. You watch as he opens it while you fasten your cloak around your shoulders, you’re about to brush past him when he grabs your upper arm. You look up at him expectantly when he doesn’t let go.

“I don’t need to be escorted,” you state firmly.

“Better safe than sorry, wouldn’t want you getting lost again,” he emphasises.

The innkeeper wishes you both safe travels as you walk out, you try to send her a pleading look but Ghost has an already tugged you along out of sight. When his horse comes into view it’s bigger than you imagined—definitely bigger than the horses you’ve seen around the castle. But he’s beautiful, sleek black hair that’s neatly maintained and a good weight. He’s definitely well looked after, you can’t help but reach your hand out towards him.

“Wouldn’t do that if I wer—” he cuts off when his horse unexpectedly knocks his nose affectionately into your hand. Anyone else would have had their finger bitten off by now, he watches you skeptically.

“Hello handsome,” you coo, momentarily forgetting your woes as you rub up and down his muzzle, “What’s your name?”

“Ash,” he grunts as he unties his reins.

Ash is very affectionate you realise as he rubs his nose against your cheek. You laugh and use both hands to give him a scratch until Ghost clears his throat. You step back, smile fallen as he gestures expectantly for you to hop on.

When he reaches forward to grab your hips you raise your hands in defence, “I don’t need assistance.”

He backs off instantly and watches as you attempt to climb on. It’s somewhat clumsy only because you’re not used to a steed as big as Ash, but triumphantly you managed to seat yourself and adjust your dress so it’s draped appropriately over both your legs as you sit on the left side. Ghost grabs ahold of the reins and guides you out of town by walking ahead with Ash. You watch the town one last time before looking down at your lap, with each step back feels a stifling weight of defeat in your chest.

“How did you find me anyway?” You ask curiously.

He looks up at you from over your shoulder, “Hair pin,”

You frown, “What—how?”

He looks back at the road ahead, “Vendor couldn’t forget the pretty face that swapped her earrings for one of his low quality hair pins,”

You clench your eyes shut. Foolish. That’s what you were. A naive little girl that didn’t know what she was doing, letting herself stand out when she was trying to blend in.

“Was a smart thought,” he adds on, “Pawning off your jewellery,”

“I don’t need your sympathy,” you mutter, crossing your arms over your chest.

Ghost shuts his mouth and steers Ash off course towards the forest beside the road, “Where are we going?”

“Shortcut,”

“Through the forest? What about the wild animals?” You ask cautiously.

“Not worried,” he replies shortly.

“Not worried? I am worried! Why can’t we take the road?” You look around trees for any signs of bears.

“Shortcut,” he repeats, “We’ll get there quicker this way,”

“Should I remind you if I die you will not receive your bounty?”

He rolls his eyes, “Don’t worry Princess, nothing will kill you out here. Harm you, maybe, but not kill you,”

“Are you seriously teasing at a time like this?” You ask incredulously.

“Yes, because you are uptight,” he responds.

“I am not uptight, I happen to be quite the opposite,” you argue, crossing your arms over your chest.

“According to who?”

“Friends if you must know,”

“Were these friends after something?” He questions.

You frown, “I don’t like what you’re insinuating.”

He chuckles but doesn’t respond. The walk through the forest is peaceful, you can hear the chirping of birds and for the most part there are no dangerous animals leaping out at you. Ghost is ahead steering Ash like it is a second nature to him, you wonder how far he has travelled and how much of the world he has seen in his line of work. You can’t help but feel a crawling sense of jealously travel up your arms. The sensation is so lifelike you can’t help but look down at your arms, only to see it is not your sense of jealously but a spider crawling up towards you.

You shout and flail your arm around, Ash kicks up a bit of a fuss at your reaction causing Ghost to whip around as see what all the trouble is about. He tugs the reins to still Ash and walks over to you.

“What is it?” He asks, looking over you for any sign of pain.

“Something’s on my arm! A spider, I don’t know where it went,”

Ghost blinks, “Are you serious?”

You look at him incredulously, “Are you stupid? Why would I not be serious!”

He sighs and grabs your arm, instantly you still as he inspects it for any sign of spider. “There’s nothin’ th—” he pauses to look at your cloak.

“What?” You ask, “What? You’re making me nervous,”

“I found it,” he mutters, reaching a hand out.

You clench your eyes shut, “Get it off me, please,” you beg.

He takes a moment to look at your terrified expression before focusing on the spider on the outside of your cloak. It is not poisonous, or particularly big in his option but he reaches out anyway to flick it off.

“Gone,” he finalises.

You peek an eye open and look over your cloak where Ghost’s hand is hovering, “Are you sure?”

“As the dead.” he promises.

You clutch your cloak tighter around your body and nod. Ghost resumes walking ahead towards the next town. The rest of the journey goes without any issue, before you know it, you’re back at the town you previously had a job at. Instead of stopping at the inn you stayed at previously, Ghost travels further in until you reach a different inn, a much smaller one with more room at the back for Ash.

You take his hand to jump down out of habit but immediately draw your hand away once necessary. Ghost doesn’t acknowledge your behaviour as he ties Ash up to his post. He only hovers beside you as walk towards the inn’s entrance, its warmly lit and much quieter than the one you stayed at.

“Good evening,” the woman smiles, “Room for two?”

You return her smile, “Two separate roo—”

“Yes.” Ghost cuts in.

You whip your head around to face him, does he even know what he’s asking for? Before you can explain the lady is already handing over the room key.

“Enjoy your stay.” She hums.

Ghost leads the way down the hall looking along the doors for the marching number, “Do you even know what you’ve done?”

He sighs, “What have I done now, Princess?”

“She,” you gesture to the innkeeper, “Thinks we’re together— like courting,” your voice trails off into a flustered whisper, “Why did you say yes to one room?”

Ghost stops in front of your rooms door, inserting the key into the lock before looking down at you with a quirked eyebrow.

“Courting huh?” He muses, “Suppose a princess could be worth courting if she came with a decent dowry,”

You look at him with disgust, “What a shameful thing to say.”

He swings the door open, gesturing for you to walk in. The room is nice enough, except it is what you feared it would be with only one bed in the middle. Ghost closes the door behind you, making himself comfortable by throwing his minimal belongings on one of the side tables.

“You should get another room,” you insist.

“So you can get thrifty and make another rope out of sheets?” He asks.

You glare at him, “Where are you to sleep? There is only one bed,”

His eyes crinkle, “Worried about me darlin’?”

You wave him off with a scoff, “Not at all, you can sleep as the dogs do. On the ground,”

He shrugs his shoulders, slowly beginning to unravel the ties on his leather armour, “I’ve slept worse places.”

His ability to roll with the punches aggravates you to no end when he knows how to push your buttons so easily. With a huff you sit on the end of the bed and watch curiously as he continues to undress. With the armour gone you can see that beneath he wears a black flowy shirt, which he starts to take off alongside his armour.

“What are you doing?” You ask, slightly panicked.

He looks at you questionably, “Undressing?”

“There is a lady in the room, you should not be doing any of that sort in front of me without intention,” you state.

He quirks an eyebrow, “What sort of intention?” He asks, smirk evident in his tone.

You fluster and look away, now realising the trap you’ve fallen into, “Just go to the bathroom, I do not need—nor want— to see you undressed,”

“You sure?” He asks with amusement but walks towards the bathroom, this inn thankfully has doors which close off the bathroom completely, “What if I had intentions?”

You refuse to respond to his petty teasing by pointedly looking away. However, you can’t help but watch out of the corner of your eye as he pauses in the doorway, it’s completely open for you to see everything as he hikes the shirt over his head. I’m in the bathroom. You can practically hear his voice in your head as his shirt drops to the ground.

For a second you’re drawn to the amount of scars you can see imbedded across his back, some are deeper than others and massive as they stretch across his skin. You barely catch a glimpse of them before the door slips shut behind him.

You sigh and fall back against the mattress. What could you do now? Ghost would not let you out of his sights and even if he did, he has proven himself a skilled hunter—perhaps more skilled than the usual one. No one else had even dared come after you so far.

That’s it. You squint your eyes in thought. What if he had competition over your capture? Your head was needed alive so you could not be harmed, but perhaps Ghost could be taken care of by other bounty hunters? You could make a run for it while they fought over who was more worthy of bringing you in.

You lift your head up when you hear the bathroom door open once again. Ghost still has his mask on but his face and hair look cleaner. You trek his movements as he walks across the room to the only armchair available near the window. Slowly you sit up as he makes himself comfortable and closes his eyes.

“What are you doing?” You ask.

“What does it look like?” He asks crossing his arms over his clothed chest, “Sleeping,”

You frown, “With your clothes on?” You inquire, “And your mask?”

He peers over at you, “I am not allowed to be undressed without intentions, correct?”

You shake your head, refusing to fluster over his amusement. Instead of replying you take your bag to the bathroom to get changed into your nightgown. It feels indecent to wear so little in front of a stranger—a dangerous one at that. So you slip your cloak on over the top before stepping back out into the bedroom. Ghost has not moved but his eyes watch as you crawl into bed.

You reach for the lamp beside you and plunge the room into darkness.

[invincibledc]

McDonald’s Drive Thru

Pair: Raccoon!Reader x Platonic!Robins au

AU: If Batman adopted all the batboys as when they were robins. The robins found, especially Damian, found y/n in a trash bin and adopted the hybrid as a sibling and now it’s chaotic with the raccoon. The robins are 8-12 years old.

Summary: when a toy car gets the hybrid an idea where to get food.

It’s a hot summer day, the Wayne brothers, the robins who exchange simple places during patrol as robins. The robins are relaxing in this faithful day, the yellow-orange sun beaming on the boys as they were in the back yard.

Dick, the oldest kid was doing cartwheels.

Tim, the second youngest who is admiring his big brother with big blue eyes, clapping and cheering.

Damian, the youngest of the brothers who’s playing fetch with Titus.

And you, a random raccoon hybrid child who they found randomly and got adopted to the family. But there’s one robin you’re close to. And that’s Jason. The second eldest.

Jason was reading to you, speaking in a soft tone. He knew you don’t know English phrases well as you let out a soft chirp. You were truly the youngest of them all. “And then the.. the hungry caterpillar ate the apple in one big gulp.” You lean your head into Jason’s shoulder, making him has his head on yours.

“The caterpillar is realllly hungry, chirpy.” You chirped as you place your small hand onto the caterpillar word of the book. “Ca-aaaa” trying to say the word, Jason’s eyes light up as he puts the book onto your lap.

“Yes! Cat-er-pil-lar.” He says slowly. “Cat….uh….pill… lar. Cara pillar!” Jason chuckled out loud. “You tried your best [nickname]!” He pets your head whilst you chirped, smiling wide showing your sharp canines.

Dick coming showing off his backflips, he then flips into air, perfecting the perfect landing in front of you and Jason. With a proud smile, he gives off a bow as Tim comes over with a smile. “That was amazing Dick!”

“I know right.” Dick turns to you, wanting also your approval.

“Cmon, say that your big brother is cool… say it…” he thought as he placed his hands onto his hips.

“Rich!” You pointed at him with a small yell.

Dick deflated at how you used his real name in your own way. After Damian said his full name in anger and out of petty, your small brain started to call him “rich”.

Jason hollers with Damian in the back coming with Titus, holding the big dog on a leash with a smug smile. Tim could only snicker behind his hand whilst Dick could only dramatically sigh louder.

“It’s not funny… you guys have to stop saying my full name in front of them.” Dick sits by you, petting your head. Letting out a chirp of appreciation, you take your head from Jason’s shoulder and put it on Dick’s shoulder.

Jason grabs his book back from your lap, the two young brothers then sat around like a circle. Just you and the boys as you play with Dick’s fingers.

“Well I’m bored.” Tim says with slight crossed arms, Damian nods as he pets Titus and then look at you who is just minding your own business. Dick and Jason were by your side like some kind of guards protecting the royal.

The boy couldn’t help but puff his cheeks, he wants to be a knight for you just like in those fantasy stories Jason reads him.

Moments later of just sitting in boredom, heat bouncing on the boy’s back even more before the beginning of this evening.

Your stomach soon started to growl, making your brothers get up and stare at you.

“Hungry?” In unison they all said as Titus barked and go inside to go alarm Alfred in his dog language that you’re hungry.

“Ah… ah..” rubbing your stomach with a frown, you guess that doing nothing really made you hungry. Although you would love some fruits with nuts or at least some crackers, you feel hungry for… some junk food.

Looking around, you seen a toy car that Bruce bought Jason for Christmas. Smiling mischievously, you got up and went over to it. Dick’s eyes widen as if he knew your little plan already.

“Ah ah! No! No!” Dick runs over to you with Jason and the other hot on his tail. You get in, checking the battery of this Giant 24v Big Kids Ride On Super Car XXL 180W Motor & Rubber Tires black car.

It’s ready. And you already know where to go. You buckled up, ready to step on the peddle. That was before Dick grabbed you up and Jason unbuckling you.

Tim and Damian push the car from you.

“Y/N! As your big brother, and as big brothers do protecting their siblings. You’re not getting in that car!” He points when finishing his last sentence at the car that’s being guarded by the younger brothers.

“Unfair! Unfair!” You chanted, stomping your feet with your ears flatten and your ringed grey tail going under between your legs.

Jason could only frown as Dick glares at you. “You can say ‘unfair’ all you want, but I’m putting my foot down.” When Dick was angry, he was angry. A glaring battle between you and the first robin, the second robin that is witnessing this puts a hand on his older brother’s shoulder.

“Hey bro, why not just let them do it? We can just make sure they don’t get harmed.” Dick whips his head to glare at Jason. Jason stared back, not impressed by the glare. He’s seen worse than a boy that’s older than him stare him down like an angry mother.

Finally letting it go, seeing it was having no effect on him. Dick sighs and loosens up to look back at the raccoon child trying to get through two young robins to the sweet toy ride.

“I.. guess so.” Said hesitantly by the first Robin who goes over to the raccoon who’s trying to get through the younger brothers. Not even trying to use their claws on the two.

“Y/N.”

You turned towards dick with a glare, hissing at him which makes him flinch back before standing up straight.

“…What’s your plan?” Those words made you drop the hostility and smirk.

“Me. Know.”

And know you did as Dick screams trying to control the car while you were on Jason’s lap screaming with joy. The car rides into the road with cars zooming past and swerving. Jason held your waist tightly with a bright smile as Damian and Tim held onto each other tightly.

“WOOOHOOO!!” You yelled as the civilians around either moved around or scolded the boys and you for being reckless.

Dick started to swerve, making Jason hold you tighter, hiding his face into your back while you clapped chaotically. Tim screams, having Damian pushed him away for “blowing his ear drum”. Finally you guys stop a red stop sign due to yknow, following the law.

Each one of y’all has messy hair and different expressions from this crazy ride.

“I think I’m gonna -gag- hurl..” Tim covers his mouth as Damian scrunches his face. “Don’t barf next to me drake!” Dick let’s put a calming breath and fix his hair. “Is everyone alright?” Jason a lifts his face up, smiling wide as you kept clapping.

“Yeah, chirpy here is happy, so I am too.” Jason watched how your eyes light up. “Go! Reen!” You pointed at the green traffic light. Dick couldn’t help but chuckle and drive slowly this time. He was getting the use to driving, although he may like to drive a motorcycle one day.

This time the drive was calm, Tim was better as he glared at Damian who kept making small comments to him. You played with Jason’s fingers that were on your waist while the said boy was relaxing with his eyes closed. Feeling the wind through his red hair.

Dick hums a simple tune as he sees batburger and smiles. “Guys, how about we stop for some grub? Since Y/N is hungry.”

Immediately the boys nodded eagerly, you chirped as you stopped playing jason’s fingers and gave a thumbs up.

Dick smiles with a soft chuckle, pulling over to the drive thru. As he pulls up with the toy car, he leans on the door. A feminine voice calls from the intercom.

“Hello, welcome to Batburger! What can we get you?”

“What do you guys want?” Dick says as he turns to look at his siblings and the hybrid. Tim hums before nodding as he calculated his want of order. “The Bat-Mite meal, but I also want a Choco-Bat Milk.” Tim finished as Dick notes that, he turns to the green eyed boy who has his arms crossed.

“I don’t see why I have to say my order, you already know what I want, Richard.” Dick has an unimpressed face before telling the intercom for a Bat-Mite meal. Damian scoffs. Jason leans over dick to look as he points to the menu.

“The Batburger Delxue with the dark sprite.” Jason says with a smile as he turns to you who just stares at it. All the letters and words looked scrambled to you, you frowned, ears flattening whilst you looked at Jason who nods.

“Y/N will have the Bat-Mite meal,with the Robin nuggets. Bbq sauce and a small side of Dr. fries.” Dick could only stare at Jason before sighing. “It’s scary how well you know Y/N…” the red haired boy could only smirk. “That’s cause I’m their favorite.”

A harsh gasp was heard before Damian pulled jason’s head. “I am! You are not worthy of that placement!”

“WOAH WOAH!” Tim pulls the triggered boy away from Jason. Jason whips his head, wanting to throw hands, but he can’t risk to harm you so he just scoff and turns his head.

Dick nervously chuckles before looking at the menu. “I guess I’ll have the Batburger with just Dr. fries and ketchup packets.”

After the orders were made, they were told to pull up. But while pulling up, Tim says something that made everything stop.

“Wait.. we didn’t bring money.”

Dick slams on the break, almost flinging Damian out of the car before Tim pulled him down without looking.

“Shit.” Jason says, covering your ears while Dick gave him a slight glance. “Language.”

Now the boys looked at each other until you reached into your crazy hair and pulled out wads of money.

“Mon-mon!” Smiling proudly, the oldest gasped dramatically with Tim and Damian leaning over from the back to look.

“You been planned this!?” Tim exclaimed looking at your hands to see crumbled up bills of people you pickpocketed from the amount of swerving. But that’s just your little secret.

Jason takes the money from you and smirks, “Guess we’re eating good boys.” Dick begins to drive to the window, snatching the money from the red haired boy and giving it to a shocked employee who didn’t expect the sons is Bruce Wayne.. and some random raccoon looking kid who’s tail is swaying happily.

She grabs the money without any questions and give them their orders. Dick checked each bag to make sure the orders were correct before giving his siblings each of their meals.

“And what do we say?” Dick looked at his brothers before turning to the nice young lady.

“Thank you!!!!” Said in unison by the other brothers.

“Tha! Tha!” You said as you started to eat your nuggets. One of the people in the back recorded this moment with adoration in her eyes. “Aww this is so cute!!!”

Dick drives off with you guys eating, Damian looks into his bag, smiling happily that maybe he would get a Batman toy in his meal. As Tim finished his meal quickly and started to drink his chocolate milk, he sees Damian’s face dropped at seeing a joker figurine.

“MOTHERFUCK—”

“Language!”

[floraltypes]

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ giggles (🍡)

Pairing - megan skiendiel x 7th member!reader

Synopsis - a deeper look at the three memorable moments a dedicated fan calls out where y/n and megan seemed more than friends

i.  

“We are so gonna' get her!” Megan squeals; she jumps up and down a bit, causing the phone in her hands that is showcasing the image to get a bit shaky. She clenches the phone tightly, hiding about in a dark room, pointing it toward a closed front door. 

“Don’t spoil it,” Daniella is close to chime in besides her, as it can be inferred from the hushed whispers and breaths that a few of the girls are congregating behind the view of the camera.

“Megan, be quiet!” Lara adds, nudging her shoulder so that the camera does a little jostle. “They are going to be back soon, and it will not be as fun if they hear us.”

“I know, I know." She sighs, quieting her voice at the end as if a little exasperated. “I just want n/n to have a special surprise,” the girl mumbles out, taking a few steps away from the door. 

“She will,” Sophia quips. “They should be here any minute now.” All of the present girls become totally mute, listening in on the soft footsteps as they begin to clammer up the steps. Quickly, the steps strengthen in their sound, alerting the girls that you and Yoonchae are just about there. Listening, you can be heard complaining about forgetting lipgloss behind the door before it's swung open and the bright light of a switch turning, illuminating the video that the phone was trying to capture. 

“Surprise!” the girls cheered, Megan's voice clearly outdoing the other girls as she did a few little jumps up and down, shaking up the camera once again in pure excitement.

“Oh my goodness!” you gasp, hands covering your mouth as you look at the girls showcasing a wrapped-up bundle in the middle of the table. “What is this for? It is not my birthday,” you laugh a little, walking forward to take a better look. 

“It is that newly released book series you were trying to buy.” Megan's voice is chirpy on the other side, rushing over while loosely holding the phone in one hand, the angle turning downward towards the floor for a few moments. “I got it in time; look, I even found a funny sticker of our favorite meme included.”

“This is so kind,” you respond, Megan stabilizing the camera onto you as you bend over to get a better look at the bundle, which is tied together with a bright pink bow and sticker tucked beneath on top. “Megan,” your eyes are wide, glistening a little with a liquid substance before wrapping your arms tightly around the girl. “This is so sweet,” you mumble into her shoulder with the phone angle now dark due to Megan's arm now being wrapped around your back. 

“You deserve it,” the girl softly comments, almost barely audible during the video. "I know how much you were looking forward to it."

"It's crazy you remembered and got it before it sold out!"

"It was worth it."

“She did not do everything!” Lara speaks up in the background, some of the girls laughing at her response. The camera is brought back into light as Megan and you separate from the hug. “What! Me and Dani did find the bow!” she continues, gesturing to her and the other girl, who is back to being visible on the camera. 

You make your way over to the two forementioned girls, scoping them up into a hug before turning your attentions onto the other two. 

“Manon would of liked to be here, but the sleep was calling to her,” Dani giggles. 

“I understand,” you nod, putting on a little expression before chuckling alongside the girls. “It looks like I won’t be like Manon tonight though,” you pick up the stack of books, admiring the decked-out cover with an intricate design and satisfying texture. 

“No, no,” Sophia steps into view, teasingly taking the books away from you. “We have a big day tomorrow, and you need your rest!”

“Mommy Sofia,” Lara teases, holding out the first name as the girl sends her a look. 

“Sofia is mother,” Yoonchae quips very calmly and seriously, forgetting to add in the words 'like a' in between, causing boisterous noise to erupt as the girls laugh at her mere nonchalance of the statement. 

“You heard it here.” Dani turns towards the camera, stepping fully into the frame. “Sophia is a mami herself.”

“Hey now!” Sophia pushes the girl lightly to the side to get into view. “How did this get turned onto me?"

“Right, its supposed to be about Y/n,” Megan adds in, sneaking one hand in front of the camera to pull onto your arm and bring you into view. “She-she’s our ma-” and before the girl can even finish with her little joke, a roar is heard, cutting off any other noise in the video. It is clear that Megan is dying at her own joke while your hands reach up to cover your heating cheeks in embarrassment before reaching out to take hold of the phone and switch the angle onto Megan, who is doubling over at her own unfinished joke. 

“Oh my gosh, Megan!” Lara points over at the girl, who is almost hyperventilating at her own joke. 

“Megan breathe!” Dani chirps.

“I-I can't; it-it’s too funny!”

ii.

“We are so lucky to have all of the ladies of Katseye today on K interviews for Tune or Snooze! This is a game where you either get to tune into the juicy questions or choose to snooze and take on a task blindfolded!” the announcer yelled from the side of you. He had his hair freshly slicked back, very gelled up, and pretty casual wear with an overexaggerated smile on his face. With the mention of secrets being spilled, your eyes immediately darted towards Megan, who was three people away from you, and the girl pursed her bottom lip up and widened her eyes for her own exaggerated fearful expression.

“We are so ready,” Manon chirped up, laughing at her side with Dani as you all awaited the next mention of the game. 

“Great ladies,” He walked over towards the back of the line, where Lara stood suspiciously eying the narrator up and down. The large camera followed along his moments before zeroing into Lara. “So, Lara, are you going to start us off and tune in or hit the snooze?” 

“Oh wow,” she mumbled to herself, looking back at her fellow groupmates. Taking a quick nervous scratch at her cheek, she turned back. “Tune.”

Cheers erupted in the background of the episode as there was a little party music entering in before being erased and the narrator becokend for Lara to move up closer. “Alright, since this is the first time for you girls, we want to start off simple. Lara,” he faced her as they both stood directly in front of the camera, and the rest of you girls stood watching in the back. “What color do you see yourself dying your hair next?”

“That is not too bad of a question,” she chuckled before another laugh track entered. “I would say purple; I have seen some of the Eyekons online, and I think it could be pretty hot.”

“Very nice, very nice. Alright, moving onto Sophia, come on up here!” 

"Alright, I am ready," she stuck up two confident thumbs up before brushing the dark locks behind her shoulders.

"That's the attitude!" He reached down into his pocket for a new card and let silence creep in before continuing on. "Sophia, are you ready to tune into the serenade or snooze through the fun?"

"I am prepared to tune in!" she smiled confidently.

"How great! Now the questions are going to pick up a little bit. Which of the girls is the worst to bunk with?"

"I apologize beforehand," she turns back to look over at where Manon is standing, rolling her eyes. "But everyone knows she is a bit loud..." the camera zeros in at Sophia's response, focusing more onto Manon's face as she begins to speak up and argue.

"That is so not fair, especially when Dani is-" but the girl is not able to finish her sentence as the blonde now cuts in with her own comment. Many of the girls begin to speak up, lightly arguing over one another as they discuss who is the worst to share a room with.

"Manon," the speaker raises his voice, thus cutting off all of the voices of your groupmates. "Would you like to share your side?"

"Thank you," she hums, stepping up forward where Sophia is and sending her a little pretend stink eye. "There was one live where I may have screamed a bit too loud at a hotel, and Sophia will not let me live it down."

"There were other times as well," Sophia mumbles, looking away from her friend.

"When?" Manon fires back with such intensity before the host cuts through the heat and gestures everyone back to go ahead and question the next girl.

As the rest of the girls answer questions, they are fairly similar to those of Sophia's, questioning which girl resembles the sentence the most. Though Manon and Daniella dodge these questions by choosing the'snooze' option and offering up for silly tasks with a blindfold. Eventually, it hits the end of the line where you stand with hands crossed behind your back and a slight movement from putting your weight onto one foot and then the other.

"Y/n, get up here!" the host cheers.

Before walking up to him, you took a quick glance over at Megan, almost a little fearful as you soon enough began to pick a little at the fabric of your shirt in a type of nervous habit. Slow steps guided you up to the man who was sweating in the bright scene lights. Luckily, there was gentle encouragement from your friends as you tried to take a more confident stance besides him. 

“Hi,” you spoke out quietly, causing another laugh track to be snuck into the segment. 

“So, Y/n, are you ready to tune or snooze?” 

“I think I will tune,” you nod gently towards the producer. 

“Another tune, play the music!” and at his mention, a chirpy pop song slips out of the speakers around. “Y/n, who is your favorite member?”

“Oh wow!” you gasp at the question, taking a small step away. “That is way different than Lara’s. Can I now choose snooze?” and once again the laughtrack commences as your eyes look scarily wide when peering between the host and the girls behind. The host shakes his head as 'No' to your question, and it is clear that you pause for a moment while looking back, almost as if staring directly at another girl who is sending you a gentle smile. “Megan.”

“What?” There is uproar behind you as the girls argue about what they do and how it was too simple of you to say. 

“We-Well obviously, I love all the girls!” You sputter in response, trying to catch yourself and bring yourself back to the attention of the camera. “Megan and I just spend a lot of time together, and she is always being so goofy. I have never laughed as much as I have with her.” You continue raising your voice over the girls in an attempt to explain your slip-up. “But with all of the girls, it is a different type of love, so it truly is impossible to choose a favorite.”

“What do you mean?” the host prys. 

“Just that each girl has their own special characteristic that changes the way our relationships are. Everyone apart of Katseye is so unique and so special I feel like they are my sisters. Megan was just the first to come to mind; I have no favorite. That’s all! Really!” You wave your hands around, trying to calm down the amped-up nature of the questions. “This was a huge jump from Lara’s question."

iii.

“What necklace is Y/n wearing?” Manon reads aloud alongside you. She’s been answering different questions and blabbing on about different fashion choices she has made for well over an hour, but within the recent ten minutes, you’ve decided to join her on the live. “Well, Y/n, what necklace are you wearing?” She turns over to you with a peering eye. “Should we do a fit check?” she turns back towards the camera, eyes glistening at the idea. 

“I don’t think the necklace I am wearing is anything fancy,” you shrug your shoulders, reaching underneath your shirt to pull up the multiple chains that adore your neck. Dragging your thumb and pointer finger along the chains you feel for the thinnest one before pulling it forward to stand about the others. “This one is what I got when we were in Korea for Dream Academy, actually.”

“Wait, really, let me see." Manon goes from reading the overprodding comments to turning her torso in front of the camera—blocking the view—and peering closely at the necklaces. “Wait, that is actually kind of cute," she says as she moves back in front of the camera. “I have been helping Y/n with her fashion as it is something she is lacking.”

“Wait, I don’t dress that bad!” You try to defend yourself, and Manon catches your attention as she giggles at your side at one of the comments that appeared on the stream. 

“Yes, indeed, thank God for stylists.” You shove her shoulder at the comment, crossing your arms and putting on an annoyed look. “Hey, hey, don’t be all grumpy now.”

“I am getting better,” you add with a slight overexaggerated pout, trying to showcase faux hurt. 

“Of course you are!” She laughs to herself before the door peeks open and a certain orange-haired girl plops down beside you. 

“What happened?” She looks genuinely concerned as she takes in your look and pulls you into her side. “Y/n?”

“Megan,” you peek your head up, faces fiercely close near one another. “Do you think I have bad style?”

“No, no,” she shakes her head, her lips turning up into a silly smile with her pearly whites shining beautifully. “You have me helping you now!” she exclaims, laughing a bit herself. “I mean, remember when you were into those one jeans?”

"Oh, stop, not those!” Manon chimes in. “Eyekons, it was bad,” her eyes widen as she tries to dramatize the situation. 

“Traitor!” you declare, pushing yourself away from Megan's grip, a grip that tends to tighten just a bit before fully letting you go. “I need to defend myself to the Eyekons that they are lying! And I feel we all have a favorite pair of jeans that are just classic! Like vintage aesthetic?”

“More like antique,” Manon chides. “But you are better. Anyway, finish showing off your necklaces.”

“Oh yeah,” your cheery expression is plastered back on as you reach for the second chain around your neck, the curled darker shape of the charm now being shown in the view of the watchers. “This is a matching necklace that Megan and I have. I am Yin, and she has Yang, kind of showing how close and interconnected we are.” You proudly show off the necklace, moving your body closer to the camera as so to give off a better look. 

“It was important that we get something,” Megan chimes up from the back as your charm is taking up the view. “It took us forever, but this is perfect, especially since it is a Chinese philosophy; it was something my mom recommended.”

“When Megan was dealing with her back, I missed her a bunch!” You take a seat back besides the girl, kindly looking over at her before lying your head on her shoulder. The forementioned girl's cheeks light up a little as she looks down at your image. “This was a nice reminder—along with my photocard I keep hanging on my purse of her—that she was with us in those fun moments.”

“Y/n was crazy with that photocard, and then also that stuffie that Megan got you. She had to take those everywhere and looked insane taking a photo of a plush teapot and photocard at all the places we went,” Manon blabbed on reminiscing on the memories of when Megan was unfortunately recovering. “Oh, someone asked why a teacup. For the new Eyekons, we all have charms, as mine is a tiara, Megan has a cherry, and Y/n’s a teapot.”

“I want to clarify; I was not crazy about it,” you point out, shoving Manon a little in the shoulder once again. “I just missed her.”

“The pictures were cute!” Megan cheered, shaking your shoulder a bit to showcase her excitement and appreciation. “The idea of her setting up that plush teapot and super silly photo of me in those different settings made me laugh so hard—especially when she would complain about the comments Dani made or weird looks she got from strangers. I definitely would not have gotten the same amount of laughs without Y/n.”

“Oh, Megan, someone asked if you have a plush of a cherry?”

“I do; I have a jellycat that Y/n had got me.”

“They have too many matching things like that,” Manon rolled her eyes. 

“You can’t talk; you and Dani have matching rings!” Megan fired back, and the Ghanaian girl just shook her head and tsked at the red-hair’s comment. 

"You both are very cringe, not sigma alpha," she spoke very seriously, bringing up her pointer finger and wagging it side to side in a upset nature. Though her facade was quickly erased as loud laughs flooded out of her mouth with the two of you joining quickly along.

katseye masterlist

[chaptersleftunwritten]

Beauty is a beast that roars

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Blurb: You quietly long for Eddie’s attention, and when things with Chrissy start to look serious you resort to desperate attempts for him to look at you the way he looks at her.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Chrissy Cunningham x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Angst, hurt (no comfort), Eddie is kinda a dick, obsession, hurtful notes being passed, mentions of bulimia/eating disorder, mild stalking, low talk about self image, societal pressure to look a certain way, mental health struggles, characters are 20+ and in a college setting!

-

divider by @reveriesources

It started as a slow burn inside of your chest. You blamed it on the stress of finals but the more you saw them together, the more that burn worsened into a blaze; scorching your heart and tarring it black.

You didn’t think it possible to be obsessed with someone that you didn’t love- but you worshipped the very ground that Chrissy Cunningham walked on. At times, you thought she was able to read your mind. The way she effortlessly flicks her natural glowing golden hair over her shoulder as she laughs, looking like she was sculpted by Aphrodite herself- or how she presses her perfect rosy lips in peppery and sweet kisses to Eddie’s cheek. She had him wrapped around her skilful fingers. You couldn’t stand it.

It twisted your insides into a rope like knot- so tight and big and uncomfortable. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t think straight when you looked at her. At them. Your brain harbouring thoughts of envy, rotting from the inside out with lightless horrid concepts.

You couldn’t help but follow study Chrissy. Her signature blue eyeshadow that adorns her gorgeous blue eyes, her tiny upturned nose, her well proportioned features- her body. You had never repeated this information to anyone before, not even Eddie, because not only would it expose your research into Chrissy, but because you definitely weren’t ever supposed to find out.

You had walked in on her one day in the bathroom. She was hunched over in a stall, her white sneakers peeking out from beneath the cubicle door. She was vomiting. Harshly.

At first you thought she may just be sick, and she was, but it was a different conversation. You entertained that thought until you walked in a second and third time to her in the exact same position- her fatigued body draped over the toilet bowl. You understood how she maintained her physique. It broke your heart; momentarily.

What broke your heart more was that Eddie evidentially had no idea. You knew, deep down, Chrissy was just like you. A sad, broken girl. But she was better at hiding it. The Duchess of disguise. The Queen of your psyche. Your admiration of her was unhealthy, you knew that much. You just couldn’t stop. You needed Eddie to look at you the way he looks at her.

So you cut your hair into a fringe, and you change your clothes. You find your own signature colour of eyeshadow and you even purchase a few skater skirts. Sports had never really interested you until now; now you were trying out for the cheerleading team. And with being Chrissy’s friend- of course she gave you direct entry.

Because despite her beauty, Chrissy was also kind. Which made the knot in your stomach grow firmer, imbedding itself within you permanently.

-

“Hey, Eddie!” You make sure your voice is dripping with the sweetest form of honey as you bat your mascara thick eyelashes at him. He glances at you from his magazine, quirking a brow at your chirpy energy.

“Hello… What’s up?” He asks, his words clipped as his eyes focus back on the flimsy book he holds sturdily in his hands. God… his hands. The rings that compliment his slender fingers and the bracelets that dress his wrist. You couldn’t get enough of it- of him.

It was impossible for you to hold his attention for more than a few seconds, and you had bound into the library full of hope and partial confidence today. You had pieced together one of your best outfit. A denim jacket draped over your shoulders, a white tank top (with no bra) and a cute skirt in your favourite colour which also matched your eyeshadow. Your hair was in a voluminous pony tail, held up by a great big scrunchie and your eyes were bright with popping colour. Your cheeks were dusted with blush and your nails painted perfectly; with the help of your mother.

You couldn’t think of a reason why Eddie wouldn’t look at you. You looked totally bitchin’!

“Uhm…” you stutter, your small confidence wavering at his lack of interest, “We haven’t really hung out in a while… I thought maybe we could? If you like!” There is a festering in the pit of your stomach, a panic that grows with every anticipating second, “We don’t really hang out anymore... just us, I mean.” You add, hoping further context will make you sound a little less desperate.

You and Eddie used to hang out every day. Sometimes alone, sometimes with the whole group. But lately… things have changed. And you know the reason why.

Eddie acknowledged you with a hum, finally placing his magazine down and narrowing in on your appearance. You thought you wanted him to look at you, but the intense confusion on his face made you long for the earth to gape open beneath you and swallow you whole.

“Looks like ya did a deep dive through Chrissy’s wardrobe.” His chuckle makes your ears heat and your face flush as his fingertips pluck at the sheer scrunchie wrapped in your hair. You can’t tell if he is joking or not— but to you, it’s a compliment nonetheless.

After a moment of pause and total excitement you gather your composure quickly and cough a meek reply, “I’m trying something new.”

You’re trying to be someone new.

“Hmm,” He examines you further, “I dunno,” Eddie scratches at his chin, his once soft and playful features now express something more distasteful, “I personally prefer your old style— this seems… out of character.” There was a lilt to his deep voice, which made him sound interrogative.

“You.. you do?” You curse inwardly at the stutter in your airy voice. To say his words shocked you was an understatement. They had your jaw hanging loose and your eyes opened broadly. Had you gotten it all wrong? Were you really just as pretty before all of this? Or was he teasing you… was he trying to make you feel better? Was this his attempt at telling you that you look like an utter clown in comparison to Chrissy?

You’d never know… because you would never ever ask him such things.

You think back to a note that got passed to you in class not too long ago- you weren’t sure of the culprit (you suspected Jason) — it read along the lines of,

‘Apply all the makeup you want, but at the end of the day it’s just lipstick on a pig.’

Were you a pig? Was this all just a feeble and comical attempt at beauty? To be desired. To be wanted. It’s all you longed for. It’s all you dreamed of.

You wanted Eddie to see you. To want you. And at this rate, you were losing all hope.

“Yeah,” alongside a small laugh he also flashes you a toothy smile, a mocking smile— and you clamp your jaw closed to stop yourself from shaking out a sob, “Listen, you’re free to chill here with me if you want but— hey!”

You couldn’t take it. The embarrassment. The knife twisting in your chest and puncturing your heart. You flee from the table abruptly before Eddie even has a chance to say anything more to you.

What was wrong with you? You wanted his attention, you wanted him alone and when you got it you despised the humorous way he gazed at you. You didn’t want to be entertaining or funny— you wanted to be loved.

Loved by him.

To please him.

To make him proud…

On exiting the library you pass Chrissy who was entering through the heavy fire doors, clearly she is on her way to meet Eddie. It was uncanny, almost like looking into a mirror.

The blonde spares you a small smile but not without a worried and intrigued glance at your attire before she is muttering a quick ‘Hello’ which you don’t even bother to return. You are too focused on your pursuit to the bathroom where you can hide yourself in an empty stall and cry without judgement. The only issue? You didn’t bring any makeup wipes for the mascara that has plagued your face in splotches and streaks of black tears.

Your eyes sting furiously and your bottom lip quivers outwith your control. It’s hard to believe that you have allowed yourself to stoop this low, crying shamelessly on campus in front of your peers. Their sympathetic eyes and taunting grins don’t go unnoticed by you as you finally make it to the bathroom, bursting into the void room like a bat out of Hell. Slamming the cubicle door closed and sitting on the toilet bowl where you start to question reality.

What are you doing?

You despise the fact that you know, no matter what, no matter how stupid you look- how ridiculous your clothes are and your sorry attempts at looking pretty, you would continue to do it. Even if people stared, gawked, whistled, laughed… you would continue on this descent into madness. The chase of perfection. The downward spiral of your mind had only just begun and you had a far distance yet to fall.

-

Whilst classes had finished for a long weekend and everyone was outdoors enjoying what was left of the sun before Fall crept its way in, you were sat in front of your bathroom mirror. 

Pulling, pinching, tweezing, twisting, sucking, shaving, grabbing and crying.

God, you couldn’t stop crying.

You couldn’t remember a time when you didn’t cry.

To you, winter was already here. You were chilled to the bone, hollow in your chest. Insides were sunken. You felt vacant of any joy.

“Honey!!” Your mother yells suddenly from the bottom of the staircase, her voice is cloud like and warm, “Someone is here to see you!” There is a mutter of something inaudible, “Chrissy!” She confirms snippily and your face drops heavily into a worried frown.

“I’m in the shower!!” You shriek back dishonestly and you are reminded that you have a heart as it shudders inside of your chest. You aren’t ready to see her— you don’t have a lick of makeup on, your hair isn’t done and you are still wrapped up in your bath towel. 

Your first thought is how do you get rid of her? How do you lie your way out of this?

You couldn’t.

“Okay, she’ll be waiting down here for you then…” Your mother’s voice dies out and you can hear her offering Chrissy something to drink and eat; which Chrissy declines.

You move around your bedroom agilely, hustling to get as presentable as you possibly could to face the girl waiting downstairs for you. It doesn’t quite register that Chrissy is sitting with your mother, chatting and possibly gossiping. All you care about is getting some makeup slapped on your face and some nice clothes hugging your body.

Your hair can be brushed, but you don’t have time to style it— that’ll have to come later. After multiple a few sprays of your favourite perfume that smells like vanilla and a tinge of cedar wood you feel ready enough to leave your sanctuary.

Nearly tripping over your entire wardrobe that covers your bedroom floor you fly toward the door handle, bracing yourself at the top of the staircase before you descend.

Time to meet your maker.

Your intense gaze flicks hurriedly between your mother and Chrissy as they both stand to meet you as you enter into the lounge room. Chrissy’s hair is twirled and curled to perfection and a short pink summer dress embraces her small frame. On her feet is a pair of red Mary Jane heels and you catch a peek at the silver jewellery strung around her neck and her wrists.

“Hi,” you say, feeling like it is the first breath you take since entering the room.

Chrissy bounds over to you, stringing her arms around your shoulders and pulling you in for a quick but sweet hug, “Hi!” She giggles in a sing song tone before pulling away, “You smell amazing by the way! You’ll have to let me know what that is later!” Her fingers linger on the exposed skin of your bicep and you cringe away from her touch.

“Thanks,” Your mother has long left the room and you walk a few paces away from Chrissy.

“We were heading to the movies, you wanna join? It’s meant to be such a warm night tonight!” To your disadvantage Chrissy follows behind you closely, closing the distance you were trying to create between the both of you, “The whole group will be there! Plus, it’s a thriller which I know you love.” She winks at you and you hate that you can feel your lips curving up into a minuscule smile.

“I dunno, Chris.” Your hand palms at the back of your neck, you feel hot with discomfort and to be quite frank all you want to do is lay in bed and mope.

“Please!” She clasps her hands together, inching closer to you— if that were even possible, “I’ll even buy your ticket!” Her pillowy bottom lip pouts out slightly, “I just wanna hang out with you, it’s been so long.”

And she was right. It had been a long time. You had been so swept up in this horrible pursuit of yours that you forgot you were actually friends with Chrissy. Long before you even knew of Eddie’s existence.

A defeated sigh leaves through your nostrils and you raise your shoulders to your ears, “Fine.” You smile, a smile that feels the most genuine it has in weeks.

Chrissy squeals with excitement, jumping up and down on the spot before taking your hand into hers. Interlocking your fingers so she can make sure you don’t make a run for it, “Let’s go, tiger!”

-

You all find your seats quickly, settling into them with your snacks and beverages. You partially regret not getting a drink but you decide that you’ll be able to soldier through. It’s what you do.

It was no surprise to you that Eddie was there too, but you couldn’t help but panic at the sight of him waiting for you and Chrissy to arrive at the theatre. His tatted arms crossed comfortably over his chest and a love filled smile teasing at his lips as Chrissy trotted over to him, practically jumping into his arms for a hug.

You fell behind them, ensuring you left as much distance as you possibly could. The sight of Eddie alone was enough to send you tumbling into a frenzy of inky feelings.

You could smell Eddie’s cheap cologne mixed with a hint of powerful weed and for a moment it clouds your senses. Taking hold of everything you knew— past, present, future. You couldn’t think about any of it, not with his scent engulfing your nostrils like second hand smoke.

Once the group had settled into the dimly lit theatre you sink into your seat behind Eddie and Chrissy, your shoulders slumping as you wish for the seat to turn into some sort of magical trap door that will transport you to another universe. But of course, you could never be so lucky.

The movie begins with a deafening introduction and you wince at the sound, your finger tips brushing over your ears gently to make sure that they hadn’t been blown off of the side of your head.

Steve occupies the seat next to you, and Robin is next to him with Vickie. You had grown to quite enjoy Vickie’s company. You loved how happy Robin got when she was in touchable reach… you pined for a connection like that.

Normally, you would be in your element as you watched a thriller movie, but something in front of you proved to be far more interesting.

Eddie and Chrissy were whispering sweet nothing into one another’s ear, Chrissy giggling and blushing at whatever it was that Eddie had said— probably something dirty and ridiculous.

And you could handle that. You could endure that.

But what you couldn’t take was watching as their tongues battled it out in a sloppy and erotic kiss. Chrissy had asked you to come and see this film— was it all a rouse just so she could show you who Eddie truly belongs too? So she could dismiss your attempts and break your heart further?

Unbeknownst to you, Steve had clocked the expression on your face. Tears glossing over your eyes, your front teeth gnawing on your bottom lip to try and contain whatever this was that you were feeling— but most importantly, he noticed the newfound stiffness in your body. He could feel you going rigid next to him.

“Hey, you okay?” His voice is low and kind and you should have paid more attention to his attentiveness but you don’t.

“I need to use the bathroom.” Is all you reply before lugging all of your stuff loosely and lazily into your arms and bolting for the theatre isle, but not without earning a few confused looks from Robin.

You bypass the restrooms, your eyes focused on the colossal glass doors which would separate you from Eddie and Chrissy officially.

The humid air hits your skin in an agonising envelop of warmth and you pull your sleeve over the palm of your hand to rub against your soaked cheeks.

Your chest feels heavy with every shaking intake of breath that you manage to pull into your lungs. You are heaving, gasping for air as you sob into the thick material of your sweater.

The sound of passing cars hits your ears and you slightly angle yourself away from the access road connecting the theatre to other public establishments. The images of Chrissy tongue down Eddie’s throat plays over and over in your mind— you don’t even know what the film was about because you were so hyper focused on them.

Your skin feels as though it doesn’t fit right over your skeleton and you grab at the material of your skirt, fisting the fabric as you try to ground your raging emotions.

You catch a whiff of theatre food and it causes bile to raise up the back of your throat, vomit threatening to project from your mouth.

People pass you by, their out of context conversations entering one of your ears and leaving the other. You felt so overstimulated— so riddled with anxiety that your brain hadn’t had space to even register Steve’s hand on your shoulder.

But when you do, you flinch away from him, taken aback by the horror stricken look on his soft features, “Hey… what’s going on?” His voice is low, a whisper as he tries to contain the situation between the two of you. Not wanting whatever this is to spill into the public.

You shake your head, your strong walls flagging up, “Nothing,” you dismiss him, “That movie was just… really scary..” you lie through your teeth and your watery eyes betray your words as tears continue to stream down your flushed skin.

“Bullshit.” He spits, his eyes turning to slits as he inches in closer to you, “Tell me what’s wrong right now.” His thick eyebrows have furrowed deeply on his forehead and you continue to deny him of any information.

“Steve— I’m fine! That movie was scary, I’m scared! That’s all… and.. and I needed some fresh air.” You shrug your shoulders, hoping that the messy headed man would leave it at that but he replies to your dishonesty with a discontent shake of his head.

“You’re fucking lying. Why are you lying to me?” He is so close to you now that you can feel his breath fanning onto your face, “We’re friends, right?” He cocks his head slightly to the right, his eyes becoming a bit more gentle, “Right?”

“Yes!” You respond instantly, “Of course we are friends-“

“Then tell me what’s going on! What is all of this about!” He gestures to your face, but his eyes scan across your body as well. He wants to know the whole truth, and you aren’t going to give it to him.

“I just told you!” You try not to yell, and thankfully your despair is doing a good job at strangling your voice, “I needed air—“ Steve cuts you off.

“Stop it. Stop it now.” He takes a hold of your arm, hurrying you away from the movie theatre entrance, “Just tell me. Whatever it is, I can help! I can help, okay? There’s nothing too big.” You stare into his honey suckle eyes, seeing your owe reflection staring back at you. It causes your stomach to flip with disgust.

“Why can’t you just let this go? I’m fine, Steve! I’m fucking fine! I just wanted air because I felt sick and you’re causing a scene!” You’re yelling now, your once sadness provoked tears turning to anger.

“I’m causing the scene? You’re the one lying to me and busting my balls! I just want to help you!” He takes a frustrated hand through his hair.

“I don’t need your help! I don’t need anyone, I’m fine on my own. I can take care of myself— you don’t get it! You’ll never get it, Harrington!” You jab at his chest, your body shaking with adrenaline.

“Harrington? Wow, okay. Something is definitely bothering you because you only ever call me that when you are really fucking pissed and I know I haven’t angered you this much so just tell me.” He circles you like a shark in murky water and you flee from him, needing some breathing space.

“Tell me!” He demands, charging after you.

You swing around to face him, your entire body feeling as though it’s going to combust.

“You wanna know, Steve? You really wanna fucking know?!” You march toward him, stopping a few paces away from his large frame.

“I’m in love with Eddie!” Your voice is an unattractive squeak, “Is that what you want to know, Steve? Are you fucking happy now?” You’re trembling now— a mix of rage, melancholy and dread.

“I am in love with someone who will never love me back. I… I have tried so hard to win him over.” You pluck at your t-shirt, scoffing at the silliness of it all, “I tried to change everything about me. I tried to be the one he would want but he doesn’t want me. He’ll never fucking want me, Steve.”

You wrap your arms around yourself, a form of defensiveness, “I’ll always be second best— no.” A moment of ugly realisation hits you, “I’m not even on his list. I’m not even a back up option to him. I’m a nobody. I can’t compete— I can’t compare.”

You’re a mess now. Smudged eyeliner. Smeared lipstick. You are a museum of failed art.

“I am in love with Eddie Munson and he doesn’t even know who I am.”

You try to lessen the blow of your own words with a tight lipped teary smile and a shrug of your shoulders… but whatever was left of your bruised heart was now torn to shreds. Unfixable. Unlovable.

“No one wants me.”

Through your distorted vision you hadn’t even noticed the tears pricking at Steve’s own eyes as he watched you fall to pieces in front of him.

Gently he brings you to lay flat against his chest, one of his hands rest tenderly against your hair whilst the other it draped over your shoulders.

He doesn’t say anything. He just holds you silently and allows you to sob into his broad chest— your makeup destroying his pristine white shirt.

A few moments of the embrace pass and that’s when you hear a muted voice from behind Steve’s large frame. A voice you had hoped to not hear— a voice that belonged to someone you had prayed would never ever hear you confess what you just had. A voice that was laced with what you could only pinpoint as malice and repulsion.

Eddie.

“What.. the fuck?”

And as Steve’s body tensed against yours, you blinked away the last of your tears and accepted your fate.

-

taglist: @colorful-white-ideas @littlered0000 @ali-r3n @daisy-munson @serenadingtigers

[elodieunderglass]

Hi there! I need to write A Guy who is Extremely Narrowboat, for reasons, and the Narrowboat Guy you just posted is. well. Very much that-adjacent, I suspect. Do you have advice for a) what this Guy is like, and some tips on conjuring them into existence, or b) a good place to look for Narrowboat Things? (if this ask has come in twice I am sorry. Cursed)

No worries at all!

Post references: description of original character Ken who lives on a narrowboat, post about Ken describing characteristics of a quite normal boatie, picture of Ken trying to recruit you into his band (he will teach you how to sing maybe.)

Ken is a Very Boatie Boatie so you should be able to pick or extrapolate some aspects of his character from some of those. The overall smell, of course, being woodsmoke and diesel and slightly damp wool. Personalities range from shifty and feral, to surly, to normies, to chirpy influencers, to wide-eyed wanderers, but boaters are often (not always) daytime drunk. Ken’s a sunny inclusive one that strikes a careful balance between many boatie extremes; practical enough to do a lot of his own repair and maintenance, but silly enough to always have oil on his nose. Your character can fall anywhere on these spectrums!

People who live full-time on narrowboats are incredibly diverse, ranging from prosperous retirees in custom-designed floating houses worth hundreds of K, to people who are functionally homeless. They can be people who live permanently on moorings or marinas, or continuous cruisers who are completely nomadic, (or sensible plan-ahead people who pay a “winter mooring” fee to pause the “continuous cruising” rules during winter and get the best of both worlds.) Ask five boaters and get ten opinions. There are a thousand nuances and reasons why. Some people choose the lifestyle with excitement; for some, it’s forced on them. Some are right-wingers and some are left-wing and some are anarchists, but all of them are living in someone else’s back garden on charity-owned property. The only things they have in common are some basic boater characteristics, like cork-ball keyrings and a lofty resentment against anglers, and the fact that every boater has willingly chosen to marginalise themselves.

The UK has always been hostile to nomads, but is increasingly so now, and the various inconveniences of living without a fixed address add up to some material penalties. It’s not just slightly harder to pay bills, do admin, arrange childcare, commute, vote, etc. The liveaboard narrowboat community once prided themselves on being “the last legal nomads” in the British Isles; anti-traveller legislation has increasingly soured this, with laws being passed limiting everything from the use of wood-burning stoves (positioned by the anti-biofuel lobby in the Guardian as an eco thing. In London. I ask you.) to laws making it easier to remove off-grid children from their parents. And yet, due to housing pressures and the cheap sustainability of the lifestyle, the liveaboard population hasn’t dropped.

By going off-grid you are commenting, politically, in some way, about the grid. By stepping out of society you are agreeing to be a little bit out of society. You simultaneously cross many social classes, and don’t leave your own life at all. Your rights and worries are now shared with the legal rights of Travellers, the Roma, fairground workers, and the unhoused - to the point where the collective term for your community is G****y, Traveller, Roma, Showmen & Boater (GTRSB). (Yes the first one’s a slur, yes people know that - it’s still a community self-description for some, and essentially you’re expected to ignore it and not use the word.) ultimately, a boatie only has to be slightly sideways. A bit self-reliant. A bit willing to be outside.

Reference books? Well, Narrow Dog to Carcassonne is an exciting account; I read Narrow Escape by Marie Browne before moving aboard and appreciated her honesty. There are a lot of influencers living aboard nowadays, but plenty of books abound. My friend Dru remains brave and true and is a trans woman in some tricky days, so you can buy some poetry books from her Etsy shop to keep her afloat and hear from boaters.

I lived aboard for years and am happy to answer questions - maybe Ken could do his own information post! A boater character is a wonderful, rich, textured thing. What would you like to know?

[viaxslz]

·　　₊　 Ⳋ I CAN’T HANDLE CHANGE ꒷.

享受 ! .°. ݁₊ 𐙚 f!reader (idk gender is really specified), cw: ceo x secretary, mention of an oc (Jiwon), attempt at crack in between not proofread :P, 1.2K WC

Masterlist

When you walked into Hyunjin’s office that morning with a somber expression, he didn’t expect to feel the sudden heaviness that dropped in his chest. He had barely taken a sip of his morning americano when you quietly announced you’d be taking a short leave to take care of your sick mother. It wasn’t forever. You’d be back in a week or two, depending on how things went. You promised to keep him updated, and you even emailed a full, color-coded schedule for the next ten workdays, complete with notes, reminders, backup documents, and even motivational post-it messages for when things inevitably went wrong.

Hyunjin blinked at you for a long moment. Then he nodded slowly, not trusting himself to say much.

“Alright,” he said after a beat, trying to sound neutral, professional. “Family comes first. Take all the time you need.”

You smiled softly at him, and he returned it, even if his felt tight around the edges. When you left that afternoon after wrapping up the day's work, he sat in his chair staring at your now empty desk outside his office, wondering why the thought of not seeing you for a few days made him feel so off-kilter. It’s not like he liked you. That would be completely inappropriate. You were his secretary. A very good one. Efficient, organized, smart, annoyingly intuitive about his moods. That was it. Just a secretary. A very competent, extremely capable, incredibly witty, irritatingly cute—

He cut himself off with a grunt and tossed a pen across his desk.

—

The next morning, the substitute secretary arrived. Hyunjin had been assured by HR that they found someone “just as qualified” as you, someone with experience and a calm demeanor. Her name was Jiwon, and she seemed nice enough. On paper. She walked in ten minutes late, introduced herself with a chirpy tone that made his eye twitch, and proceeded to unpack a Hello Kitty stapler, three pink gel pens, and a very large mirror from her tote bag.

Hyunjin stared. Then blinked. Then stared some more.

To be fair, Jiwon wasn’t bad at her job. She just wasn’t you. And that, unfortunately, meant that everything began falling apart.

The first thing to go wrong was the meeting schedule. You always arranged everything with precision. Hyunjin never had to check twice. But now? His Monday meeting with the marketing team was double-booked with the finance review, and instead of his 2 PM lunch with a client, he was dragged into a Zoom call with someone named Gerald who kept calling him "Mr. Huang" and asking him about stock investments in Albania.

The second thing to go wrong was the coffee. You always knew how he liked it. half sweet, no foam, two shots of espresso, slightly less ice, stirred counterclockwise, and served in his black mug with the little red crown on the side. Jiwon brought him iced vanilla lattes. With whipped cream. In a cup with a paper sleeve that said “Slay Queen.”

The third thing…well, by the time they reached the third thing, Hyunjin had a headache. And not the usual, manageable kind. No, this was the I-miss-my-secretary-and-the-world-is-burning kind. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was spiraling. The office looked the same. Functioned the same, technically. But something was off. You were the glue that held everything together, and now it felt like the glue had melted and everything was sliding into a chaotic pit of doom.

One morning, Hyunjin walked into the office, sat down at his desk, and stared blankly at the screen. The company’s quarterly review was that afternoon, but the numbers on the slide deck didn’t make sense. You always prepped the data for him, color-coded the charts, and wrote notes in the margins with little jokes to keep him awake during meetings. Now, all he had was a spreadsheet and a sad little sticky note that said “You got this, boss!” with a winky face.

He slumped in his chair. “I don’t got this.”

Jiwon poked her head in a second later. “Did you call me, Mr. Hwang?”

“No,” he said flatly.

“Oh. Okay. By the way, there’s a guy named Gerald waiting on Zoom again. I think he’s in Albania.”

Hyunjin slammed his head gently against the desk.

By the end of the week, everyone had noticed. He was moodier. Snappier. His tie was crooked two days in a row. He accidentally wore mismatched socks. During one staff meeting, he nearly burst into laughter halfway through a very serious presentation because he remembered how you once drew cat ears on his financial report when he wasn’t looking. He missed your weird little habits, like humming when you typed, or sticking post-its on his lunch container with puns like “lettuce meet deadlines today” and “you’re egg-cellent.”

He was in denial about it, of course. Anytime someone asked if he was okay, he’d wave them off with a grumble and mutter something about seasonal allergies or being behind on sleep. What he would never admit was that he had started checking his inbox way too often just to see if you’d emailed an update. When he finally received a short message from you that Friday afternoon, saying your mom was doing better and you’d likely return the following Monday, he nearly stood up and cheered. Instead, he calmly replied, “Glad to hear it. Take your time. Let me know if you need anything.” Then he stared at the screen for another five minutes and whispered, “Please come back before this place burns down.”

Monday came like a blessing. The sun was shining. The birds were singing. He even managed to tie his tie correctly on the first try. And when you finally walked into the office, tote bag in one hand and your usual iced coffee in the other, Hyunjin swore he heard a heavenly choir somewhere in the distance.

You beamed at him like you always did, setting your things down at your desk and immediately pulling out a notepad.

“Alright, what did I miss?” you asked brightly.

He looked at you for a long moment, then leaned against the doorway of his office.

“How much time do you have?”

You blinked, a little wary now. “That bad?”

“Let’s just say Gerald might have bought stock in our name. Also, there’s whipped cream in my soul.”

You snorted, clearly confused but entertained. “What?”

“Don’t leave again,” he said, too fast and too serious.

You raised a brow. “Hyunjin…”

He cleared his throat. “I mean. If you do. Give me a week’s notice. So I can mentally prepare. Or maybe just… take me with you next time.”

Your laughter was loud enough that a few interns turned to look. Hyunjin didn’t even mind. He was just happy to hear that sound again. To see your post-its appear one by one around his office. To have his coffee taste right and his schedule make sense and his thoughts stop spiraling every time he walked past your desk.

Maybe it was inappropriate. Maybe it was bordering on ridiculous how much he’d missed you. But when he caught your eye later that afternoon and you gave him that small smile the one you reserved for private jokes and quiet moments he realized something.

The office wasn’t the only thing that felt out of sync without you. He was, too.

And now that you were back, the world made sense again.

Even Gerald.

Kind of.

PERM TAGLIST 📌🔖 ──── @the-sea-called-history02 @oc3anfloor

[fflrrrtt]

Recognition

(Pro-Hero Bakugo Katsuki x Reader)

Synopsis: After years of blood, sweat, and sleepless nights in medical school and residency, you’re offered the chance of a lifetime: a position as a physician in Japan. With the public interest in healthcare on the rise, the elite Medical Unit has just been established, and you don’t hesitate to accept.

You have a one-track mind: to excel. It’s expected. It’s career-focused. No distractions…until you cross paths with a certain blonde.

(total chapters: approx. 5): One, Two, Three, Four, Five

Note: This is highkey inspired by a post I read from @azzo0 where reader's a med student and I want to explore this profession for this short-chapter fic I'm cooking. I also want to take this time to say that reading the works of @ofmermaidstories , @andypantsx3 , @willowser , and @thetrashywritingwitch for literal YEARS actually pushed me to brush-off my writer's block and cultivate my writing skills. So if you see this, tysm muah <3 - from a not-so-popular fic author.

Enjoy!

“Pro Hero Dynamight surged from rank 15 to 5!” The newscaster’s voice was loud and proud, and the sounds of explosions could be heard from the television placed on the wall. Then, the screen pans to a familiar green-haired man, One for All Hero, Deku, speaking gently to the cheery live reporter as Dynamight stood by him, brooding as usual. It was the aftermath of a villain fight—a quick fight at that. 

“They really got the public hooked, huh?” Dr. Miyano says before she shoves rice and curry into her mouth using the spoon she bought at a merchandise store, it was a minimalist design of Creati. The cafeteria was filled with chirpy health professionals—some were talking to each other, some watching TV, and some were ready for seconds as they stood up, went back to the cafeteria line, and already dished out their debit cards and IDs to be scanned. 

“I’m not surprised,” you remarked, sloshing the ready-to-go glass of coffee you just ordered at the vending machine. Ever since the new generation of heroes rose, the crime rate plummeted and, of course, the heroes gained a shit ton of popularity, especially the U.A alumnis because they played key role in defeating Shigaraki and All for One, “they literally saved Japan and the whole world by extension.” 

Lunch went by in a blur—literally because it’s only a 30-minute duration. You and Miyano walked into the physician’s lounge, greeting coworkers and putting the now-empty bentos in your respective lunch bags. “You think we’re gonna meet them?” Dr. Miyano says aloud, zipping her lunch bag. 

You snide, “yeah, we’ll meet them one on one if we’re…A, we’re in the middle of a villain attack.  B, we’re tending to them, and C, one of us is in the Medical Unit, which is a competitive sector. Totally easy.” you fix your white coat and apply lip gloss—you gotta atleast look presentable even though you were running on only two hours sleep from the damn graveyard shift you took last night. “Alright, I’ll see you later.” At that, you left the room to do your patient rounds, prescribe medicine in doctor appointments, and the like. 

After your afternoon shift, you headed to a nice cafe—to unwind and do a quick email browse before you shut your damn brain off. Upon entering, you were met with the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee, calming your nerves. Soft jazz plays in the background as guests sink into plush chairs, sipping lattes and chatting beneath shelves lined with well-loved books. You greeted the barista, flashing a curt smile before stating your order, and this time, you added a pastry—you know, just to treat yourself after your tiring shift.

Sitting on a comfortable plush chair, you bring out your laptop, turn it on, and start browsing through your emails, double-checking to ensure you don’t miss a single damn thing. A notification popped up from your calendar: GUN SHOOTING RANGE at noon this Saturday. An open tab of an online shop that you’ve been browsing last night. Rubbing your eyes, you look out the window in thought. It’s easy to get burnt out when you overwork yourself, which you knew ever since you chose to be in pre-med during your undergraduate years. You honestly thought of being a hero, entering as a hero medic, but it was just never for you.

A familiar barista approaches you, holding a tray of your order, breaking you out of your stupor. You smile again as he places them on the cool wooden table. “Thanks. How’s the college thus far, Ben?” you ask.

“It’s ok! The Japanese literature class is lowkey kicking my ass.” he says, rubbing the back of his head, “Kinda started to question the major I chose, but how about you, doc? I remember you briefly brought up a Medical Unit application.”

Oh my fuck. I was literally avoiding to think about this shit, damnit. You’ve been doing a great job suppressing this feeling of what? Butterflies? No—it’s maggots, definitely. You stirred your drink, taking a sip to act unaffected, “It’s going to be released tomorrow.” You say as cool as a cucumber, but mentally? Oh girl, your mind is doing laps. 

“Well, you’ll definitely get in! You’re one of the hardest-working doctors I’ve met. That’s not me trying to mooch off of you or anything. I’m just being truthful,” 

“Thanks. I hope.” The conversation ended when one of his coworkers called his name, leaving you alone with your thoughts and idling laptop. After a while, you left, seemingly satisfied with the quick relaxation you had using public transit to head home. 

The sun begins to set, coloring the sky a dark hue, and the stars start to fill up space, shining bright as you pressed a code to enter the condominium building. The place is neither super luxurious nor janky. Your condo is simple, yet spacious and affordable. Your mom really did make sure that you’re financially literate. You changed out of your work clothes, followed your nightly routine, and not giving a damn about the outside world. It didn’t take long for you to drift to sleep minutes after taking a melatonin pill.

-

“Ma, you don’t have to worry a goddamn thing. I’ll take care of it,” you grumble, phone placed by your ear, walking out of the train station with purpose, it’s early morning and your back hurts from the fuck ass mattress you slept on last night “I’ll pay for my little brother’s tuition. All I want from you is to relax! Goodness sake, I know you’re handling grandfather’s business, and it’s stressful. Just don’t worry about—” A public commotion cuts you off, “I’ll call you later.” You hang up, eye twitching because the short route you always go to is filled with crowds of people. It’s literally 7 am..what could be happening now?! 

“Red Riot!! We love you!!” a man screams, people gushing over the unbreakable hero. The two police cars are there to put the handcuffed villain in the vehicle. 

Red Riot chuckled, and you could just sense the signature panty-dropping shark-toothed grin he’d show to the public. Hell, even guys admit they have a crush on this guy and bought the Red Riot-themed calendar. As much as you would like to see the hero in person, you have work to do, so you briskly walk to a different path. “Hey, miss!” his voice was loud, and you thought none of it until you felt a tap on the shoulder. You turned around, and lo and behold. The hero stands before you. He’s tall as hell, clad in his hero uniform, “Oh..uh, doc, you dropped this.” he hands you your condo key. 

Your brain buffered for a quick second, “Thanks,” you took the key, “I didn’t notice.” “It’s okay!” he smiles, and it looked like he was expecting something from you, but eventually settled with, “hope you have a great day!” 

“Yeah. You too..!” You walked away while the crowd went even wilder. You missed the way Dynamite arrived at the scene, red piercing eyes glancing at you before calling out to him in a raspy voice. 

And at the physician’s lounge? You were surrounded by your colleagues, asking so many questions about your interaction with the hero. “Omg, what was he like?”

“He’s so damn fine. Did you take pictures with him? An autograph?”

“Did you ask for his number?” “I would sell my kidney for him.”  

You admitted that you didn’t ask him for anything and just expressed appreciation for picking up your house key. Of course, they clowned you, but you just laughed it off. However, the atmosphere soon shifted as everyone received a message from the medical director’s assistant about a meeting. Your heart dropped outta your ass as everyone hurried to the big meeting room, feeling excited, nervous, and curious. 

Once everyone is situated, the well-esteemed director, Dr. Lee, stands unwavering at the podium. That alone has every health professional sit up and take notice. His eyes were sharp behind the wire-rimmed glasses. “Good Morning. As you are all aware, the Medical Unit has announced the results for the top three ‘pillars’.” He paused for dramatic effect, and it didn’t fail. Everyone stilled; it was pure silence. You seriously heard someone gulp behind you, and you fight the urge to bite your fingernails. Fuck.

“And I’ve received a memo that one of you was chosen out of the thousands of applicants across Japan,” he continues, “It is commendable and we couldn’t be any prouder.” his assistant comes up to him, handing a small envelope. The silence stretches, and the tension is palpable. You literally felt all your senses shutting down like you’re astral projecting. “The Medical Unit is a new sector that integrates medicine in not just the hero world, but also the general, support, and management courses. This cultivates an expansive understanding.” The rest of Dr. Lee’s explanation of the Medical unit became static to you, in exchange of mulling over your brave choice of applying. 

It’s not like you’re not confident in your abilities. Hell, you managed to get into a top medical school. You’re well-rounded and you know the ropes. You’ve dealt with the real shit outside academics, molding you into a strong professional that you are today…It’s just that sometimes those intrusive thoughts have their way of making you overthink and compare yourself to others. Are your credentials enough? Is this laughable? Are you stupid for believing that you have a shot at this? All you want is to excel in life and thrive. Maybe be someone in this world. Make a mark that influences those around you…

 All of your thoughts dissipated when you felt a nudge on your arm from Miyano, “Dude. dude.” 

“..huh?” You blinked, and all of a sudden, you felt all eyes on you, including the medical director, whose eyebrow was raised. Your eyes dart everywhere, making eye contact with everyone. “I assume you’re Dr. L/N.” Dr. Lee’s voice echoes. 

“Yes. I am,” you said aloud, not showing any weakness. Eyes resolved. Posture assertive and ready, bracing yourself to be told that you’re rejected from the Medical Unit. 

“Congratulations.” And that was not something you’re ready for. 

Thank you for reading! Oh and I totes enjoy feedback, asks, anything!!! Keep an eye out for updates! Oh and if anyone wants to be added on my tag list, lmk!!! My ao3 is flrtt

[luveline]

I don’t really have a request I just love anything you write💗 maybe something with girly!reader?

thanks lovely💗

Spencer wrings his hands behind his back, shifting from one foot to the other unhappily. He hasn't felt this nervous since he was young —his PhDs have acted as a shield for years now. Even if he doesn't know what to do, he physically cannot be stupid. 

He feels pretty stupid. Less when you look up, smile blinding and sticky with gloss. He's thought about how it would feel to kiss you before and he tries desperately to push the thought away now, his hands shaking where they're hidden. 

"Hey, Spencer Reid," you say, lightly teasing as you wave him toward you. "How are you?" 

"I'm good." 

"Yeah?" You gesture at the empty seat in front of you. "Are you having lunch?" 

The bureau cafeteria is less of a cafeteria in the kitchen sense and more of a staff room, though hot food is served at the very back. There are couches toward the patio of an outdoor area to the left. You sit at one of the tables near the doors. The air is cold around his ankles as he sits with you. 

"No, I– I came down for coffee, but the jug is empty." It's a bad lie. Luckily you have no idea that there's a kitchen in the BAU offices. "You're not?" 

You turn your laptop screen to him. "I ate my lunch at my desk. I'm just catching up with my show." Your laptop has stickers around the screen, silver shiny stars and tiny pink hearts that look like they're made of jelly. There's a closed bottle of nail polish resting near the keyboard. "And I'm gonna touch up my nails, too. They're always chipping." 

"They look perfect to me," Spencer says. 

You beam at him, beatific, so, so pretty, he could die. He might. "Thanks, honey. You'd look cute with painted nails, have you ever thought about it?" 

Spencer honestly forgets about his nails. He should take better care of them. He thinks about hiding them under the desk. "I don't think I could do it." 

"No one's good at it, at first. I'd paint them for you, if you wanted. I have a couple of things in my bag." 

Spencer's relieved to present freshly trimmed nails to you for painting. Your polish is a light blue colour, milky, and he assumes it'll be the one you use on him, but you decide to ruin his life, taking his hand into one of yours. You hold his fingers in a way that presents the nail as you brush cuticle oil around the edges of his nails with a small pen brush. You chatter as you do in your way, all sweet and gentle in mirror of your touch. 

He's proud of himself for keeping his cool. To have you touching him for so long, so kindly, to have your attention, it has him squirming with a mixture of pleasure and horror. He wants to be seen by you but he doesn't know if he likes what you're looking at. 

"You have really lovely hands," you say, using the tip of one of your nails to scrape stray wet polish off of his skin, "do you play piano?" 

"You can tell?" he asks. 

"Pianist's fingers," you say. "That's a thing, isn't it?" 

"I haven't played much since I was younger. I got distracted by other stuff." 

"Maths," you surmise. "And criminology?" 

Everything. He pushed away a want for human connection with books and education until it got too much. Even the wisest of honeybees will brave heavy rain for a beautiful flower, and that's sort of how he feels about you. He knows it's stupid, knows it's doomed, but he couldn't not try to speak to you. You're the prettiest girl he's ever seen, all your lip colours and shimmery eyeshadows, the chirpy way you talk, the earnestness of your please and thank yous. 

Your hands. The silver ring on your index finger dotted with tiny pink stones. Your bracelets. The smell of your perfume and your soft sweaters. 

"Done," you announce, an uncharacteristic hesitance to your tone. "Are they okay?" 

You've done a perfect job. "They're so neat. Thank you. I– I love it." 

Your eyes linger on his hands. "I love when guys wear nail polish. You're even handsomer now, it's crazy. I didn't know it was possible." 

Spencer should have more style for sure, but he asks you to dinner right then and there. 

You smile until the lashes kiss in the corners of your eyes and say yes. This new place opened just around the corner from your apartment, and you've been trying to drum up the courage to ask him all week. When Spencer hears that he almost passes out. 

[xxsyluslittlecrowxx]

isekai and in over my head.

chapter three │ there's no wiki for this.

it starts with you waking up in what might be a coma, probably isn't a otome game, and is definitely not your life. It ends with five dangerously attractive men forming an unofficial committee to keep you alive, loved, and under constant emotional surveillance.

ABOUT │ 2.3 k words. f!reader x 5 Li (non-romantic so far). slice of life.

TAGS │ isekai. for shits and giggles. flirting. banter. fluff. survivors guilt.

NOTE: wow. absolutely wow. i went in to this not expecting anything. just writing for my own sanity. and the fact that you guys love it this much? fuck this community is amazing. thank you sm for the support!

INDEX │ chapter one ✧ chapter two ✧ chapter three ✧

chapter three │ there's no wiki for this.

THE DOOR CLICKED...shut behind Tara with a chirpy, “Rest up!” and the second her footsteps faded down the hall, I dropped the smile I’d been holding like a tray of drinks that had overstayed its welcome.

One beat.

Two.

Then I doubled forward, bracing my hands on my knees, and let out a noise I can only describe as part whimper, part wheeze, part this-can’t-be-happening-to-me.

Because I’d done it.

I had successfully faked normalcy long enough to be left alone.

And now—I was alone.

In an apartment I didn’t recognize but was apparently mine. Sleek. Immaculately organized. Suspiciously dust-free. The kind of place that came scented like bergamot and quiet breakdowns. Stainless steel accents. Dimmable lights. Not a single dish in the sink.

I was standing in someone else’s life.

Someone composed. Someone capable. Someone who didn’t show up to their interdimensional apocalypse wearing bloodstained pants and one sock.

I stumbled over to the coffee table—real wood, glass top, coasters no one ever used—and collapsed onto the couch like a marionette whose strings had just been very politely severed.

A framed photo on the sideboard caught my eye.

I blinked at it. Once. Twice.

It took three full seconds to realize I was in it.

Me. Smiling. Positioned neatly between Caleb and Zayne. All of us laughing like we shared inside jokes and complicated history and the occasional brush with death.

Which, sure, might’ve been sweet—if it weren’t borderline existentially catastrophic.

Because I didn’t belong in that photo. Didn’t belong in this apartment. Didn’t belong in this story.

Not with them. Not here. Not like this.

I grabbed a throw pillow and clutched it like a life preserver. The silence pressed in, thick and padded, the kind that didn’t care how close I was to falling apart.

My legs wouldn’t stop twitching. My heart kept thudding like it was trying to get ahead of something. I couldn’t breathe without noticing how weird breathing had become.

I wasn’t panicking. Not yet.

But the runway was cleared. Engines on. Takeoff imminent.

I leaned forward, pulled the pillow tighter, and muttered, “Okay. Okay. Let’s think.”

Which was optimistic, really—considering half my brain was still screaming about Zayne’s jawline and the other half was building an isekai survival flowchart using crayons and fear.

I shifted the pillow to my lap and reached for the notepad I’d found earlier—tucked beside the bookshelf like a secret. Cream pages. Gilded edges. It looked far too expensive to be defiled by my nonsense.

Naturally, I grabbed a pen and got to work.

The Isekai Disaster Log. Title at the top. Underlined. Bold. Possibly cursed.

Step One: Identify Method of Entry. – Truck-kun? No. – Fell into a book? Also no. – Video game glitch? Closer… but there was no dramatic boss fight screen-suck. – Summoned by higher power? Still pending.

I tapped the pen against my lips, trying not to think about how unhinged this all looked—sitting cross-legged in someone else’s apartment (mine, technically, fictionally), scribbling genre tropes like a conspiracy theorist with a soft spot for K-dramas.

Because that’s what I was, wasn’t I? A placeholder. In high-waisted pants.

Next Section: Potential Exit Routes. – Defeat final boss → unlock return. – Earn true love → reset cycle. – Regain original body → body-swap reversal. – Die → classic dramatic reset (not ideal). – Confess truth → universe implodes?

That last one I underlined three times. Then drew a skull. Then a frowny face. It made me feel slightly better.

I tossed the pen aside and flopped backward into the cushions, arms flung wide like a swooning opera widow. The ceiling stared back—matte, pale, too sleek to be real. Probably had hidden heating vents and mood lighting triggered by emotional instability.

I blinked.

“Okay,” I said to no one. “Let’s say this is an isekai. Let’s say I got pulled into the body of the character I’ve played for years. Let’s say I’ve overwritten her like some cursed save file from hell.”

I sat up again—faster than necessary—and seized the notepad like it had personally offended me.

New Heading: Ethical Implications. – I stole her life. – I stole her wardrobe. – I stole her contact list, her unread messages, and—oh my god—I stole her men. – Her SSRs. – Her entire romance arc with the most devoted, animated, emotionally generous love interests ever coded.

I scrawled across the page: I AM THE PROBLEM. IT’S ME.

Taylor Swift would be ashamed.

Some small, rational part of me whispered, It’s not like you meant to. You didn’t hit “Steal MC Identity” in the settings menu.

But that part was quickly drowned out by a louder, nastier voice—one that sounded suspiciously like the YouTube comment section under a spoilery reaction video:

You’re ruining the canon. They loved her, not you. You’re breaking the story. You’re just a fan with access.

My throat tightened.

I reached for the water bottle on the counter, then stopped. It wasn’t mine. Nothing in here was mine. Not the framed photos. Not the notes in my inbox. Not the half-unwrapped gift on the kitchen island with a tag that read:

Don’t open until tomorrow – C.

I didn’t even know if C was Caleb or someone else entirely.

The guilt settled in my chest like a paperweight—heavy, cold, polished by years of fandom, lore, and longing.

I was a reader who’d fallen into the game.

But I wasn’t supposed to edit it. I was supposed to cheer from the sidelines. Cry when the confession finally happened. Not be the one getting tackled mid-battle by Caleb or scanned under sexy-doctor scrutiny by Zayne.

I pressed both palms to my face.

What if I couldn’t leave? What if this wasn’t temporary?

What if I was stuck here forever—playing the part of a woman who had earned every bit of love this world gave her, while I just flinched every time someone touched my shoulder?

My hands dropped. I stared at the notepad.

Pages torn. Corners dog-eared. Ink smudged by my own uncertainty.

A new plan began to form.

Not an exit strategy. That wasn’t coming anytime soon.

But a coping mechanism. A survival guide. A soft reboot.

If I couldn’t leave—if I was here for the long haul—then I would be so nice. So harmless. So deeply inoffensive that if the real MC ever came back, she’d look at my log of wholesome side quests and say: Wow. You really took care of my save file.

I nodded to myself. Out loud.

“I’ll smile more,” I told the wall. “I’ll bake muffins for Caleb, even if I nearly die turning on a space-age oven.”

And above all?

I would say nothing.

Not one syllable. Not a single whisper about who I really was.

Because this world had rules.

And I had read enough manhwa to know exactly what happens when you break them.

Best-case scenario? Narrative collapse. Worst-case? A tear in reality. Everyone dies. Caleb cries. The End.

So I was going to be good.

Like, really good.

I was going to smile at everyone like I’d graduated top of my class at the Hunter’s Association Charm Academy. I’d say things like “great teamwork” and “thank you for your service” with such radiant sincerity that even Zayne would log it as medically viable.

I’d become the kind of woman people described as “so lovely” and “just a joy” and maybe even “strangely polite given the circumstances.”

With that sacred vow in place, I folded the notepad shut, gave a resolute little nod, and stood.

Immediately tripping over my own foot on the way to the sink.

Because grace, it seemed, was not included in my starter kit.

Still, I rinsed my face. Brushed out the knots in my hair with something called an ionizing detangler. Changed into a pair of sweatpants I prayed were actually mine and not something the real MC had once emotionally bonded with. Every motion was deliberate. Precise. Good girl on her best behavior.

I was going to pass for normal if it killed me.

Which, frankly, it still might.

Then came the knock.

Soft. Polite. Almost apologetic.

I froze mid-sip from a pastel mug that read: Hunters Do It Better.

One gentle knock. Then another.

A beat. Then—

“Your lights are still on.”

The voice was deep. Calm. The kind of voice you’d hear during a power outage and just trust. Familiar, too—like velvet cut with steel.

I crept toward the door like it might bite.

Then—

“It’s Xavier.”

My entire soul left the chat.

No. No-no-no-no—

Because Caleb and Zayne coexisting in the same timeline made sense.

But Xavier?

The quiet, lethal swordsman with the voice of a lullaby and a gaze that could skewer you into next week?

That meant—

Oh god.

That meant they were all here. All of them.

Not spaced out by chapter unlocks. Not split across plot branches. All. Together. In canon proximity.

I flung the door open more out of panic than purpose.

Xavier stood there like a moodboard come to life—hoodie sleeves pushed to his forearms, hair slightly tousled, expression unreadable. One hand in his pocket. The other holding—

A thermos.

He blinked, slow and unbothered.

“I saw your lights.”

I nodded. Then realized I was nodding like a socially anxious bobblehead and stopped.

“I—yeah. Lights.” I cleared my throat. “They’re… on.”

Another blink. Another pause.

Then, tilting his head just slightly:

“You okay?”

Which, to be fair, was a complicated question.

Physically? Fine. Mentally? A patchwork quilt of anime tropes and impostor syndrome. Spiritually? Somewhere between “lost in a cutscene” and “actively dodging God’s gaze.”

“I’m great,” I lied. “Perfect, even.”

He gave a small nod—slow, deliberate, as if filing the answer away in a database for later review.

Then he held out the thermos.

“Chamomile.”

My brain short-circuited.

Because nothing in the romance route prep guides—nothing in the character notes or fandom wikis or fan-translated interviews—had ever warned me about this.

Not quiet night visits. Not sleep tea. Not the soft weight of care wrapped in a mundane gesture.

“Oh,” I said, brilliant as ever. “Thanks. That’s… nice.”

“I can stay.”

He said it without drama. Without loaded meaning. Just a simple, solid offer, like staying was something people just did when they noticed someone might need it.

I opened my mouth. Closed it.

Then, very, very dramatically—

Shut the door.

Because this world didn’t make sense.

Because if Xavier was here, calm and lethal and handing out herbal tea like it was standard field protocol—

Then Sylus might be next.

And Rafayel.

And if that happened?

I really would die. Right there. On canon soil. Of romance-induced heart failure.

From the other side of the door, his voice came again—low, steady, perfectly calm.

“If you change your mind…”

I didn’t answer.

Just leaned my forehead against the cool wood and whispered, half to myself, half to the devs:

“Fucking hell, InFold. Are you trying to murder me?”

I stayed like that for a while.

Just breathing.

Forehead pressed to a door that had no idea how high the stakes were. That didn’t care about timelines or fan theories or character routes or the logistical nightmare of making muffins in a kitchen where you didn’t recognize the knives.

The air on the other side stayed still.

Eventually, footsteps.

Not angry. Not impatient. Just quiet.

Xavier didn’t wait for permission. He didn’t knock again. He simply left—offering space like someone who understood the weight of silence and had no desire to fill it.

Which was kind, really.

And also maddening.

I peeled myself off the door like a sticker someone had given up on and slumped back into the living room, thermos still in hand. The tea was warm—floral, faintly sweet. It tasted like a lullaby I hadn’t earned.

I sank into the couch and stared at the ceiling.

Plain. Elegant. Ambivalent to my suffering.

“I’m in a dating sim,” I muttered.

It wasn’t a revelation. More like a Google Maps reroute: You are here, even though I’d known for hours because nothing around me had changed. Except here, the landscape was made of heartbreak rendered in high definition, elite military uniforms, and a doctor who looked like the human embodiment of a soft-focus lens.

And they were all in love.

Not with me.

But with her.

The one who belonged. The real MC.

I looked down at my hand—the same hand Caleb had held, Zayne had examined, Xavier had offered tea to—and curled it slowly into a fist.

“I didn’t ask for this,” I whispered. “But I have it.”

So maybe I couldn’t fix it. Maybe I couldn’t undo the weird narrative tumbleweed that rolled me into this story. Or explain why no one could see through me. Or how I’d managed to fall face-first into the Super Bowl of boyfriend content without so much as a strategy guide.

But I could survive it.

One kind gesture at a time.

I would become the world’s politest interloper. The most considerate impostor. The human equivalent of a please and thank you wrapped in seasonally appropriate gift wrap.

I would make muffins. I would compliment everything. I would be so pathologically nice that if the universe did collapse, it would at least whisper, thank you for your service on the way out.

And I would say nothing.

Not to Caleb. Not to Zayne. Not to Xavier. Not to Sylus or Rafayel or anyone else who might appear in this dimension like it was just another Tuesday.

No world-breaking honesty. No selfish confessions. Just saintlike patience, passive support, and possibly chamomile-induced enlightenment.

“Okay,” I exhaled.

I curled into the corner of the couch, clutching the thermos like it held divine answers.

Lights still on. Ceiling still boring. Tea still warm.

“I can do this.”

Beat.

“I think.”

To be continued...

♡ taglist : @spicypomegrana2 @asilaysdead @sunshine-angel08 @demon-master-zero @mosscoveredmist @glassandhoney @adrasteiax @mentaltrouble2201 @inutrasha94 @aweebs @noxus123 @in-a-far-away-land @pastelsweaters-and-bubble-t

[reiding-writing]

Hi!!!! Congratulations! You’re amazing!

Could I get a couple different author’s picks for angst fics starring our favorite Dr.Spencer Reid? They do not have to end happily but they can!! Please recommend yourself as well! (Maybe your current top 3??)

Thank you, wonderful person!! -🐈‍⬛

thank you so much ml 🫶🫶

R E D ‘ S P I C K S — ANGST .ᐟ

the ogs will know i am an angst fiend in the deepest threads of my heart, and when i tell you i have plans to return to that era, i mean it 🙂‍↕️

please make sure you read all of the warnings before indulging in these fics!

red’s 2k book fayre !!

you’re losing me. | 2.0k | @parfaitblogs

in which he's an entirely different person after prison, and your relationship is crumbling.

passive aggressive. | 2.1k | @ddejavvu

spencer's stressed, and he takes it out on you. you're sure it would have hurt far worse if he'd shouted, but instead he broke you down bit by bit, his cold demeanor leaving you crying in your car.

the ninth step. | 1.1k | @pathologicalreid

spencer works to make amends after mexico, and he's starting with you.

you were like an angel to me. | 5k | @januaryembrs

spencer swore he wanted to hate her. she was too happy, too chirpy, too much for a guy who spent months rotting in prison. but how could he ever hate her when she cried in his chest like that?

better off as lovers. | 12k | @eideticmemory

three years after ending your relationship with spencer reid, you find yourself representing him in court on federal murder charges.

we’ll be alright. | 9.1k | @unseededtoast

in which you discover that the line between love and hate is quite fine. Your actions are done out of love, but they only make you hate yourself more and more.

transgression. | 8.2k | self rec

you're in love with spencer reid. He's in love with somebody else.

forgiven. | 3.7k | self rec

you lied to him with good intentions, but when he finds out the truth he says something detrimental in the heat of the moment. after weeks of radio silence any chance of reconciliation is almost lost after you get critically injured in the field.

absolutely all of the love in the world to these writers and their works, if you enjoyed reading these, make sure to check out their other fics as well !!