#anyone know how to leave a job that doesn’t give you any shifts bc you’re a seasonal employee but you can’t be mean about it because you

[fishgirl514]

employed as fuck

[nanawritesit]

Class 1A as Baristas at a Coffee Shop

TW: this is aged up bc there’s references to alcohol and 🍃, so if you’re a child of god then read no further 💀 also mineta isn’t included because i hate him, and you should too 😊

A/N: i’m a barista so i’m qualified to make these claims. also i know i haven’t written any of my actual requests. i’m depressed and my life is chaotic. besides this is just for fun and didn’t really take much effort so leave me alone 😤

midoriya:

literally the best barista boy on the planet

his customer service skills are GOD-TIER

even when a customer is being rude to him, he’s just such a lil cinnamon roll back to them and kills them with his kindness

has amazing relationships with all the regulars, completely memorizes all their names and orders

legit has full conversations with them

“hey carl, how’s the wife doin’?”

“welcome back emily, did you get into that university you told me about?”

“good afternoon joyce, how’d your husband’s gallbladder surgery go?”

comes up with really creative drinks to use for the monthly specials

is secretly all of the managers favorites because he just works so hard (even bakugou’s)

whips through all the cleaning so fast at the end of the day

todoroki: “okay so we need to wash the utensils, mop the floors, and clean the espresso machine…”

midoriya: “oh, i already did all that todoroki!” 😊

loves coffee but is very sensitive to the caffeine so the managers have to make sure he doesn’t have more than two shots a day 💀

bakugou:

one of the managers

honestly the least likely person you’d expect to be a barista

can only work morning shift bc he goes to sleep at 8:30 (nerd)

his customer service SUCKS but he’s literally so good at his job they can’t really fire him

he just hardly ever runs the cash register and assigns it to one of the more sunshine-y baristas (usually deku or uraraka)

not usually trusted with training new recruits bc he’s such a bully

if a customer is being rude to one of the baristas he won’t hesitate to clap back, because HE’S the only one allowed to bully his employees 😤

uraraka will just step away from the cash register and go “bakugou i need your help with something” and he whips around with the most deadly grimace

bakugou: “is there a problem, sir?”

customer: “n-no problem here, the coffee tastes great” 😄

god forbid one of them gets snappy on one of the rare occasions he works the register

customer: “i demand to see your manager!”

bakugou: “you’re lookin’ at him, dumbass”

damn near explodes when some white girl comes through wanting a mocha caramel latte-cino made with skim milk and no whipped cream in a medium cup with the same amount of coffee as a small so she can stir in her own nutmeg

doesn’t give a single fuck about regulations if he thinks they’re unnecessary

iida: “bakugou, the health department says these bagels have to be thrown away after six days!”

locks the doors ten minutes before closing time and won’t let anyone else in

bakugou: “i don’t give a damn what the health department says, i’m not throwing away six perfectly good bagels!”

punched the espresso machine one time when it wasn’t working and it fucking exploded 💀

iida made him walk across town to buy a new one

todoroki:

another one of the managers

is tasked with training the majority of the new recruits since bakugou cant

the most level-headed chill person to have around during a rush, he never loses his head

can instantly correct someone’s order if they mistakenly got a hot or iced coffee

customer: “excuse me, i ordered this coffee iced.”

todoroki: “oh i’m so sorry, lemme just-“ *touches the cup with his right hand and it fills with ice* “there ya go”

OR

customer: “i don’t mean to be a bother, but i wanted a hot coffee and this is iced.”

todoroki: “yeah gimmie a sec-“ *heats up the cup with his left hand and melts the ice* “should be good now”

likes macchiatos because the separated milk and coffee reminds him of his hair 🥺

pisses off the rude customers with his indifference

customer: “i’ll just take my business elsewhere!”

todoroki: “okay well, it’s your money so you can do what you want with it”

gets flirted with all the time but is too oblivious to notice

kaminari: “dude that girl TOTALLY just gave you her number”

todoroki: “nah she probably just wrote it down in case we needed a survey” *throws it away*

kaminari wants to go off on him but he racks in a lot of money in tips for all of them to split so he keeps quiet

iida:

general manager from hell

runs the shop like it’s the fucking army

really nice if you follow all the regulations tho 😀

he’s the best person to have around during a rush because he just kicks his engines into maximum overdrive and speeds through all the orders

also does deliveries on the side because he’s a fast boi

tried to implement a demerit system, but bakugou took one look at the poster and tore it off the wall 💀

everyone prays to god that they get scheduled with momo instead of him

constantly taps the other workers on the shoulder to hand them a wash cloth and a spray bottle and goes “if you’ve got time to lean, you’ve got time to clean”

everyone acts like they hate him, but when he gave a really touching speech at the christmas party everyone started crying

also organized the secret santa

ends up apologizing to customers for bakugou’s terrible customer service and hands them like a thousand coupons

uraraka:

customer service skills only come second to midoriya’s

she’s a DELIGHT to talk to

even at 7 am when you’re sleep deprived and caffeine deficient, the sight of her smiling face behind the counter will cheer you up :)

during a rush she forgets not to grab the receipts with all five fingers, so they’ll just start floating everywhere

bakugou: “hey round face, all my orders are on the ceiling!”

uraraka: “oh shoot, sorry!” *puts hands together* “release!”

draws cute little pictures on all the chalkboards 🥰

somehow knows exactly what a customer would like when they ask her to recommended something? people start wondering if that’s her real superpower

ironically doesn’t like the taste of coffee… her favorite drink is a hot chocolate with whipped cream and rainbow sprinkles

tsuyu:

only got the job to be closer to her best friend uraraka but ends up really enjoying it

gets nervous talking to customers so she mostly just sticks to making the drinks

has to be reminded not to grab things with her tongue because it’s against the health code 💀

when a customer is rude to her the ENTIRE team gets pissed at them, because she’s an angel and must be protected 😤

hates when people watch her make their drinks (she gets anxious 🥺)

pretty much the baby of the shop, whenever she accidentally burns herself steaming milk everyone rushes over like “OH MY GOD TSU ARE YOU OKAY?!?!”

kirishima:

one of the only two baristas trained by bakugou, so he ends up being really good at making coffee

is able to memorize large orders really quickly

“alright i’ve got a skinny macchiato no whip, iced dirty chai with oat milk and an added shot, two americanos extra hot, and a vanilla frappe?”

is the designated carrier of the cold brew kegs

AND the delivery boxes

AND the milk jugs

pretty much anything that’s heavy, he happily carries it

eventually becomes a team trainer, which suits him perfectly because he’s always boosting the team’s morale

bakugou giving the morning debrief: “alright guys, today’s gonna be super busy, and it’s gonna suck.”

kirishima: “SO LETS GET OUT THERE AND DO OUR BEST! I KNOW WE CAN DO IT!” 😆

kaminari:

the OTHER only employee that was trained by bakugou

tries so hard to flirt with customers but fails miserably

is really good at making coffee but he makes a decent amount of mistakes, like using the wrong milk or making drinks hot instead of iced (good thing we have todoroki!)

also wanted to become a team trainer but couldn’t pass the servsafe exam 😀

hooked himself up the espresso machine after bakugou broke it so they could use it until he came back with a new one 💀

does stupid shit with kirishima whenever the shop is dead

bakugou walked in on them making a castle out of cups and knocked it over, then screamed at them to get back to work

conveniently goes to the bathroom every time a huge group of people walks in

sneaks his phone in the bathroom with him

is also a chronic stoner and can’t get through a shift without hitting his pen

he accidentally left it in his apron one night and the next day iida gave everyone a talk about paraphernalia in the workplace

and everyone just had to act like they didn’t know it was kaminari’s 🤡

sero:

only has this job to pay for weed

is basically a glorified janitor because he’s not good at making coffee at ALL

he tries tho 😗

has the worst memory ever

customer: “can i get a small hot vanilla cappuccino?”

sero: “yeah so a large iced mocha frappe?”

customer: “no… a small hot vanilla cappuccino…”

sero: “yeah, that’s totally what i said.” 😀

also can’t remember how to make drinks to save his life

sero: “i’m sorry but what the hell is the difference between an iced coffee and an iced latte?”

bakugou: “OH MY GOD IVE TOLD YOU LIKE A HUNDRED TIMES”

goes to take out the trash with kaminari and they don’t come back for like twenty minutes

and when they do they’re coughing up a storm and reeking of weed 💀 like they don’t even try to hide it

would have gotten fired months ago if they weren’t so short staffed

mina:

is also a team trainer because she’s good with people

tries to get everyone to hang out outside of work, and she usually succeeds

made everyone go to karaoke and get drunk together

iida was QUITE the life of the party after a few drinks, and she evilly videotaped it all

makes memes about the managers and sends them to the barista group chat

spontaneously starts dancing while working, even when there’s customers

drinks like eight shots of espresso a day

is also the shop’s social media manager

constantly takes pictures of everyone and posts them on the shop’s instagram

jirou:

manages the shop playlist

kaminari tried to get her to put a bunch of inappropriate rap songs on it but she didn’t want iida to get mad

sings to herself throughout the entire shift, everyone thinks it’s really cute

except bakugou, he isn’t afraid to tell her to shut up

only drinks black coffee, she doesn’t like milk or sugar

always spices up her uniform with cool accessories and jewelry

she’s not going to sacrifice her individuality for a corporate position 😌 (even if iida constantly lectures her… momo didn’t want to hear it anymore so she started scheduling jirou with her)

momo:

assistant general manager

everyone loves her, she’s an amazing boss

always releases the schedule two weeks ahead of time

is everyone’s barista crush

literally, a new man asks her out every day

is in charge of keeping inventory and ordering ingredients, she’s good at math so everything is always well stocked

is super nice to all the new employees she trains

is a tea enthusiast

sources a bunch of fancy tea and recommends it to the customers

she’s actually garnered a few coffee converts, no one is really able to say no to her pretty face 🥰

never gets made at anyone for requesting time off, in fact she’ll excitedly ask them ab their plans

also never guilts anyone for being sick and not coming into work

pretty much everyone’s mom, if anyone comes in looking upset she’s immediately like “okay what’s wrong, tell me right now”

hagakure:

sneaks up on people all the time

like someone will go up the counter to get their coffee and just see a floating apron

customer: “um, i ordered a latte and-“

hagakure: “yeah, it’s right here!” 😄

customer: “OH MY GOD-“

LOVES to gossip with mina

always has way too much energy early in the morning

*todoroki barely being able to keep his eyes open as he unlocks the door*

hagakure: “AYO SHOTO ARE YOU READY TO OPEN THIS COFFEE SHOP?!?!”

aoyama:

refuses to wear a hair net

DEVOURS croissants

wants to put cheese on the menu, and doesn’t care at all that it’s a coffee shop

buys fresh flowers to put on all the tables 🥰

one day the open sign burnt out so bakugou made him shine his navel laser though it 💀

goes on his phone during his shift ALL the time, and never listens to iida when he yells at him to put it away

tokoyami:

everyone likes being scheduled with him because he’s basically two baristas

“hey dark shadow, can you make this order for me while i stock the bakery case?”

wants to be emo like jirou and only drink black coffee, but can’t stand the taste

“yeah jirou, we’re the only strong ones in the shop!” *dumps three creams and five sugars in his coffee when no one’s looking*

made everyone wear costumes for halloween and handed out candy to customers

purposefully messes up rude customers’ orders 💀

like if they ask for almond milk he’ll put in whole milk so they shit themselves

or if they want it skinny he’ll use the regular syrups so they get sugar overload

doesn’t know how to answer the phone

customer: “is this my hero coffee academia?”

tokoyami: “no, this is fumikage.” *hangs up*

almost has a meltdown everytime he spills something, has to lock himself in the freezer to calm down before walking back out like nothing happened

only works night shift for obvious reasons

shouji:

multitasking king

all his arms allow him to do different things at once

him and iida are the speed demons of the shop, so when the two of them work together everything gets done in like two seconds

iida will be running around making all the orders while shouji is cleaning everything all at once

is pretty much everyone’s therapist, he’s just so easy to vent to

gives the best advice

is so huge and intimidating that there’s hardly ever any rude customers during his shift

koda:

gets so upset every time a bug is killed in the kitchen

koda: “NO PLEASE HE HAS A FAMILY”

momo: “koda i understand this is hard for you, but we cannot have a spider roaming freely around the food”

squeals whenever a customer leaves their dog outside

he’ll be standing at the window with his hands pressed up against the glass and tears in his eyes

todoroki: *sigh* “you can go pet the dog if you want-“

koda: “THANK YOU” *sprints out the door*

starts buying dog treats to give to the owners, he even offers to put them in a little cup of whipped cream 🥺

gets sato to make some vegan baked goods :)

ojiro:

cant spell customers’ names right to save his life

ojiro: “alright, can i get a name for this?”

customer: “yeah, it’s brian with a y!”

ojiro: “got it!” *writes yrian*

or he just writes the wrong name altogether

sharon is now shannnon

tyler is now tyson

jack is now jake

let’s kaminari fluff his tail when he gets overstimulated during a rush 🥺

is constantly apologizing to everyone for accidentally bumping into them with it

sato:

the faithful head baker

comes in at 4 am everyday to prep the baked goods

always asks everyone if they have any special requests <3

customers are constantly complimenting the stuff he makes and asking who made them

the baristas just smile and they’ll them that their baker sato made them, and if he’s still there, they’ll drag him out to accept the compliments 🥰

isn’t very good at asking for help, but hagakure and aoyama are always around to frost donuts or decorate cupcakes when he’s running behind :)

(BONUS) aizawa:

the area coach that stops by every so often to make sure everything is running up to standard

everyone is really scared of him but he honestly doesn’t give a single fuck so long as they’re not serving trash

only comes by during the night shift because he refuses to wake up early

and of course that’s when they least expect him

iida and momo are just nervously leading him around the shop while kirishima and kaminari are sprinting to the kitchen to throw away all the expired food 💀

tells them they’ll get shut down if they don’t get enough customer surveys, which makes everyone panic and hand them out with every order

they still didn’t have enough so sero and mina were in the back filling them out the day they were due 🤡

turns out they were never going to get shut down, he just lied to them so they’d push surveys 🙃

[moriihana]

we can't fix each other but we sure as hell can enable each other instead || eight: fuckin jinxed it

pairing: dabi x disabled!gn!reader

overview: you meet dabi pre-canon because your cat, nugget, literally won’t leave the guy alone. friendship, fluff and (eventual) angst ensue.

chapter summary: dabi is overprotective, compress loses his arm, you try to do something dangerous and get your ass chewed out

content: angst

word count: 1383

a/n: the trend continues of me being unable to find a good dabi gif so we've got shiggy this time. sue me idk

*previously known as “we can’t fix each other (but we can heal our wounds together)”; i changed the title bc these assholes aint healin shit they’re just being overall menaces

taglist: @iincandescenttt

AO3 link

← previous ; next →

Shigaraki entered the main room of the small house they'd relocated—the neighbourhood that was in construction had been abandoned, though you didn't know why—dressed in his full Villain getup. “Twice found a possible ally, so we’re going out to the meeting place. I already sent the others ahead. Are you two coming with?”

“I’m not too particularly interested in meeting the possible recruit,” Dabi drawled, “so I’ll stay behind.” 

You gave Shigaraki a small, apologetic smile. “I’ll hang back as well. My pain’s flaring up, and someone should keep an eye on pretty boy here,” you joked. “Make sure nothing goes wrong without me, yeah? Won’t be there to keep you lot out of trouble.”

Dabi snorted. “If anyone needs an eye kept on them, it’s you, doll. Remember how you f—”

“If you finish that sentence, Shiggy might come back to a dead Dabi. Watch it,” you warned.

“Don’t call me Shiggy,” Shigaraki snarled, though it lacked any real bite. “Everything should be fine without you two. Dabi, make sure Y/N doesn’t overexert themself. You know how they are.”

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t worry, boss.” Dabi waved off the leader’s concern. “I always look after them.”

Shigaraki huffed in response and gestured to Kurogiri to open up a portal. “We’ll be back later. Don’t burn the base down.”

“No promises!” You called after him as he walked through the portal. He flipped you off right before the portal closed.

Dabi rolled his eyes. “One of these days, you’re gonna antagonise the wrong person at the wrong time and end up dead.”

“My ability to antagonise and annoy is one of my more endearing traits.” 

“You keep tellin’ yourself that, doll.” 

You stuck your tongue out at him. “You’re so mean to me. Can’t believe I love you.” You bumped him with your shoulder when he scowled, grinning. “Kidding, kidding.”

“I know, mouse,” Dabi grumbled, albeit with a fond look. 

“How long d’you think they’ll be? D’ya think the new guy will pass?” You rested your head on his shoulder. “I know Shigaraki wants allies n shit, but… I like the League as it is, y’know? And besides, more people to look after’ll just give me a headache. Both metaphorically and literally speaking.”

“I hear ya,” Dabi sighed. “Do you want me to make sure nobody comes to you with trivial issues? Headaches, small cuts, that kinda shit? I can get them to listen.”

“No, no, it’s fine. My job here is to take care of the injuries—trivial or not.” You pressed your lips to his shoulder, appreciating his concern.

“I know that, I just hate seeing it hurt you. You already heal Dusty’s scratches—”

“—despite his protests. Shigaraki doesn’t like that it hurts me any more than you do, pretty boy.”

“Then why do you heal the scratches?” Dabi countered. “If he doesn’t want you to, then stop.”

“I’m hoping if I annoy him enough by constantly bugging him to let me heal them, he’ll stop scratching.” You shrugged. “Unfortunately, both of us are as stubborn as can be, so who knows how long it’ll take,” you chuckled.

“I still don’t like it,” Dabi muttered grumpily. You sat up and pecked his cheek.

“I know, Dabi. Don’t worry. I’m a big kid. ‘sides, we haven’t had any injuries that’re too terrible yet.” You shifted on the sofa to curl up against him. He bit back a smile and tipped his head back, closing his eyes.

You sat in comfortable silence for about thirty minutes, with you dozing off against Dabi. You were startled awake at the sound of panicked shouting, shooting upright on the sofa. At the sight of Twice carrying Compress—why the fuck is he missing an arm—through Kurogiri’s portal, you scrambled to your feet. Your eyes darted over Toga’s distraught expression, Spinner’s shocked one. “What the hell happened? Where’s Magne?” Toga just shook her head in response, sniffling.

“Y/N, heal him, please!” Twice was obviously crying, extremely upset. Shigaraki held his arm in front of Twice to keep him from bringing Compress any closer while Dabi grabbed your arm to prevent you from going over to him.

“They can’t, you idiot!” Shigaraki snapped. “They would lose their arm, too!”

You stared, wide-eyed. “Dabi, let me go. Let me help.”

“No fuckin’ way, doll,” Dabi hissed, tightening his grip.

“Get them out of here, Dabi.” Shigaraki nodded to him. You shook your head, trying to pull away from Dabi.

“Please, let me help, let go! He’s hurt, let me help!” 

“You can’t heal that, Y/N! We don’t need both of you out of commission!” Dabi snapped, tugging you closer to get a better grip. “As soon as I’ve got them out, I’ll come back to cauterise the wound. One of you, get bandages in the meantime.”

You thrashed around in his hold, but he didn’t let go, dragging you out of the room and to your bedroom. He maneuvered you to the bed and gently pushed on your shoulders to sit you down. “Stay put,” he warned. You shook your head, but didn’t move.

Dabi backed out of the room and locked the door behind him to make sure you didn’t try to come back out.

Not much later—perhaps only fifteen or so minutes—Shigaraki unlocked the door, shutting it behind him as he walked into your room. He narrowed his eyes at you.

“Did you really think either Dabi or myself would’ve let you heal Compress’s arm? Are you stupid?!” He snapped. “We both know how that would’ve turned out for you! The wound would’ve manifested onto you, and you would’ve lost your arm, too! You’re just as aware of that as us!”

You let out a shaky breath. “I know, Shig. I’m sorry, I just…well, you know how I am. I see the people I care about hurt, I have to help.”

“Hurting yourself irreparably isn’t helping, idiot. None of us want to see you hurt yourself like that. I know your Quirk makes the pain unavoidable, but neither Dabi or I will let you damage your body like that.” 

“That your way of saying you care about me, boss?” You gave him a watery smile. He glowered, then his gaze softened almost imperceptibly.

“If that’s what it’ll take to get you to be more careful, sure. Don’t go thinking I’ll be all nice n shit, though.”

“Got it.” The tension in your shoulders eased. “Dabi know you’re in here?”

“Twice is actively sitting on him to make sure he doesn’t drag me out by my ankles, which means I should get going.” Shigaraki opened the door back up. 

You laughed softly at the mental image of that. “Sounds about right. Thanks, Shigaraki.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said as he walked out. You heard him talking from the other room. “Twice, you can get off of him now.”

“You’re lucky Y/N likes you.” Dabi sounded like he was barely restraining himself. He showed up in your doorway a few moments later.

“If you’re gonna chew me out, pretty boy, Shigaraki already did.” You sat cross-legged with a huff.

“I’m well fuckin’ aware of that, doll,” Dabi sighed and shut the door, then strode across the room to sit next to you. “You made me promise that I wouldn’t burn my body away to achieve my goal, and said you’d make sure I kept good on that. Now I’m making you promise that you won’t do extensive, unfixable damage to your body, little mouse. Your body can only take so much before it can’t anymore.”

You snorted. “Fair enough. I promise I won’t try to heal wounds that will mar my body, to the best of my ability.” 

Dabi frowned and took your chin between his thumb and forefinger, turning your head towards him. He gave you a stern look. “Not to the best of your ability. At all. You won’t do it at all.”  

You could see the fear hidden in his eyes and hear it in his voice. Is he afraid my Quirk will kill me if I push it too far? “...okay. I promise, Dabi. I promise I’ll be careful and won’t heal anything that’ll hurt me like that.”

He let go of your chin with a nod. “Thank you, doll,” he said quietly.

“Of course, pretty boy. I’d never do anything that’d take me away from you.”

[flusteredloser]

sugar sweet

richie tozier x fem reader

category: fluff, fluff, literally just fluff

word count: 3,3k

content warnings: swearing, stealing, slight nsfw (sexual innuendos... bc it’s richie tozier), a driving scene written by a bitch who can't drive, overbearing fluff, sonia

a/n: hello here’s a lil soft fic i wrote in a hyper state today <3 i had ‘beverly’ by ben wallfisch from the it 2017 soundtrack stuck in my head while i wrote the ending so !! enjoy

🎡

"sweetheart, if you don't put your head back in, i'm afraid i'm gonna have to marie antoinette you."

you laughed dismissively at his empty threat, feeling a grin take over. you let the wind crash against your face and through your hair, the scent of sea salt softly filling your nose. if richie thought that you were going to give this feeling up, oh, was he wrong.

despite what he was saying, the sight of morning sunlight streaking through your flying hair and your torso poking out the passengers' window was one richie wished he could get used to. despite his nagging for the past half hour, ranting about the dangers of vehicular manslaughter and mishaps, he couldn't help but beam at your laughter. 

he almost hit himself in the head for getting all worked up about safety like eddie always did, but it was something he found himself doing often with you. keeping you safe and sound was one of the few things that kept him from staying up all night. besides, you guys were going to see eddie and the rest of the losers in a bit anyways. the designated role of the pedantic worrier would soon be shrugged off richie's shoulders.

keeping one hand on the wheel, richie’s free hand never left the edge of your knee, not once in the hour-long drive. no matter how far you reached your body out his car's window, his fingers stayed glued around you. you never said anything about the gesture apart from placing your hand over his. being his was something you never got used to, but you were far from complaining.

"richierichierichie i think we're here!" you exclaim, ducking your head back inside the car.

"you sure, dummy? the massive ferris wheel and circus tent means we're close to the carnival?"

your hand leaves his to go shove his temple, "fuck off, rich."

"i know i know, you're really excited," he taps your knee, "so am i."

he pulls into the parking lot, expertly navigating his way through the crowded area before finding a space. an empty space which was coincidentally beside a sketchy beat-up minivan painted with "URIS," in fat letters.

richie laughs, "what are the fucking odds.”

his hand moves from the skin on your knee to the back of your seat, his body shifting to face the rear. you subtly eye your boyfriend sitting in the driver's seat and tried not to physically express any of the thoughts firing in your mind right then. dear god, did he look good today. you end up shamelessly staring at him as he strains his neck to squeeze his way through tight space. his knuckles turn to this ghostly shade of white when he flexed them against the wheel, his rings glinting under the sunlight.

once he finally put the car in park and shifted his weight back to you, he catches your gaze. throwing a wink, he pulls out the keys and stuffs his belongings into his jean pockets. 

you’re sure he has zero clue about the effect any of this had on you. sure, he was your boyfriend but sometimes you found yourself feeling scared at how much you liked him. this boy has you wrapped around his finger and he barely knows half of it.

you reach over and run your fingers through his unruly hair a couple more times, enjoying the way the curls bounce back. “you look so good, rich.”

he rolls his eyes at your remark, but you don’t miss the way a small blush reaches tips of his ears. “enjoy it while it lasts, i can’t let the guards recognise me again.” 

“i still can’t believe you got fired and banned on the same day, rich. that’s genuinely so impressive, you know that?"

richie rolls his eyes but you see the hint of a grin on his face, “you going soft on me, sweets?”

“could never.” you ruffle his hair, letting your nails glide along his scalp and you laugh at the way his head naturally tips back. richie had no clue why the feeling of your hands in his hair that made him short-circuit, but he wasn’t complaining.

“do we really have to go see them...” richie groans, grabbing your hand and placing it back onto his head when you pulled away.

“richard tozier. i did not pester you to drive us an hour away just so you could fold at me playing with your hair.”

he side-eyes you. “why did i agree to this again?”

“because every day for the last month you wouldn’t shut up about ‘taking eddie’s slushee v-”

“ed’s slushee virginity, riiiight,” he breaks out in a smile, “jesus, can you believe sonia never let him near one in his entire life?”

you tug his fringe towards you and the rest of his head followed, “well, now that he’s all alone there, someone’s got to be there to guide him through his first time, right?” 

he faux-pouts back at you, the mischievous glint in his eye sparkling brighter. “fine.”

finally, you let go of his hair and he pecks a kiss against your cheek before putting on his sunglasses and tipping his cap further down his face. opening his car door, you sit there dumbfounded as you watch the 6'2 disguised dork clamber out of his side with your tote bag on his shoulder.

he glances back, offering a hand as if you were going to climb out on his side as well, “c’mon, we don’t have all day.” and richie made sure you knew that by dragging you through the park, evading the guards left and right in under a minute. it was only so long before you spotted a group of idiots wandering aimlessly. bev’s bright red hair was the instant identifier, and watching this bill’s lanky frame grab a fistful of stan’s curls to yank it about sealed the deal. 

“stanley, darling,” richie yelled through the crowd, “if you wanted someone to pull your hair that badly you could’ve asked me nicely.”  “shut the fuck up, trashmouth!” stan yelled back. “wait. rich?”

you walk over and sling your arm around bev, “you guys haven’t been waiting long, have you?”  she grins at the sight of you, “no, but if i have to hear mike argue one more time that the high striker is apparently ‘broken’ i’m going to kill somebody.”

“do me a favour and kill me, bev!” stan’s voice cuts through, followed by a shriek when richie too grabs a handful of his hair. 

bev’s hand leaves yours to go smack both boys upside the head. “y’all better stop acting like children before i get fucking fired. i’m not going out like dumbass richie here did.” she eyes the rest of them, who all halt in their tracks.

“yes, ma’am,” the chorus sighed.

🎡

"ed's, i swear on your mother's smokin’ bod that blue is the. best. flavour. there's literally nothing wrong with it."

"you just called blue a flavour, richie-”

"because it can be. it doesn’t matter if blue and red colouring are the same, you can feel the difference.”

"no, i really can't. i don't understand how the colour blue could possibly be-"

richie groans, "fine, eat your mommy's packed lunch like the big boy you are." he teasingly starts to wave his cup in front of eddie's eyes.

"quit it, rich. if eddie doesn’t want toxins in his body, leave him be." ben interjects before sipping his own neon drink.

the boys huddled together around a picnic table they had managed to snatch before the carnival’s lunch rush swept over. richie and bev used to work in the carnival last summer, the two-week period spent with one another supposedly being “worse than the devil’s asscrack.” the comment itself earned richie five slaps, one each from the boys, and a high-five from bev. that was until richie got permanently banned (which you still don’t know how) and now bev carried on by herself whenever they roll back into derry. 

currently, you and bev were on your way back from the concession stands, attempting not to spill anything. you each held at least four bags of carnival foods and drinks in your arms, bev also balancing the few candy bars she stashed under her shirt. teeter-tottering your way back to the boys, richie burst out in laughter at the sight of you struggling. 

“as graceful as a job you’re doing with that, sweets, do you want some help?” he smirks, already swinging his leg over the chair.

“nope, nothing to see here,” you groan at richie’s smug grin. “rich, i swear to god if you come near me i am going to-”

“hurt me, hit me, murder me, mmhm. i’m sure you’ll do a whole lot of damage.” he winks, swiping the bags from your arms.

“freaky.” stan muttered, churning his slushee with the straw. you grumble at richie’s endearing irritating act of heroism and plop yourself next to stan empty-handed. 

“here, you want some?” stan raises an eyebrow, offering his blue slushee towards you.

“thanks stan, but he’s got my...” you glance towards richie, half-expecting to see him distributing the snacks, only to see him aggressively nudge the slushees in eddie’s face. “you know what, i’ll take it.” 

stan scoffed, “what, you thought i was offering this from the depths of my generous heart? i thought you knew me better-"

the sound of plastic crinkling and eddie’s yelp cut through stan’s sentence. 

you look back at the sight of richie threatening to pour the ice into eddie’s hair, eddie shrieking and wildly missing punches at richie. dear god, your boyfriend was such a menace. richie and eddie never spent a day where they weren’t at eachother’s throats though, but anyone with a pair of eyes could see that they deeply loved one another. rich had that effect on people, you think. he was rarely overtly loving, but it’s not like he needed to be. you guys just knew.

ben smiles sweetly between you and your gaze on richie. “you’re staring again, y/n.”

you immediately snap out of it and go to slug ben in the shoulder. “was not.”

“was too.”

"was. not."

"was too!"

you narrow your eyes at ben who sheepishly smiles in innocence. he reaches over to grab a couple onion rings from your bag to which you lightly slap the back of his hand. he groans, trying again from another angle, “just because i pointed out your goo-goo eyes at trashmouth?”

bev snatched a couple rings from across you and threw them at ben. he chuckles gleefully at the perfect catch. “you know, he’s not wrong,” she points out.

“for the last time, i wasn’t staring,” you groan.

“not about that, genius. the way you’re absolutely whipped for that dick.” she smiles. “i mean,” you barely conceal your smirk, “the dick is pretty g-”

"not what i meant," bev sighs while the rest of them groan at your words.

“seriously though,” bill asks with genuine curiosity, “how did you even end up together? how do you even like someone that much?” bev tuts from the other side, “tread lightly there, denbrough.” 

“shut up, you know what i mean. it’s trashmouth we’re talking ’bout here.” bill grins, “it’s a mystery how someone can shut him up so quick.”

you laugh to yourself, thinking about the few times you get to see richie completely speechless. “it’s not that hard, you know?” you shrug softly at the way the losers nod. you may all pretend to hate the life out of him but he always had a special place in each of your hearts. “he cares with everything he’s got, no matter what. he’s always there for you even if you don’t want him to be. i just...i don’t think he’s been anything less than...” 

“-if you say ‘perfect’, i’m going to hit you.” stan says.

you roll your eyes at stan, “fuck off, but... but yeah. it’s so easy to love him and i honestly owe you guys an apology for being so annoyingly whipped for that dork,” you joke.

aside from the distant bickering coming from richie and eddie in their own little world, a silence hung over the six of you. it was too quiet. wondering if you said something wrong, you scan over them, only to be met with six variations of a smirk. more than confused, you chuckle nervously. “i was joking about the apology thing but if you really want-”

“you said ‘love.’” bev laughed.

“what?”

“you said ‘love,’” she repeated. “that you loved him.”

“i... of course i love him, he’s..” not trusting any more of the words coming out of your mouth, you cut yourself off and gather your thoughts.

of course you loved richie. each and every one of you loved your resident trashmouth, he was one of your best friends. the two of you were the closest of friends, an insufferable duo for years before you began dating. it might have only been a few weeks since he asked you out, but it’s not like too much changed from when you were friends. 

there was only more love, more affection, only slightly more sexual innuendos (majority of them were solely just to piss off stan). 

so of course you loved him. more than you did when you were friends. which he’s gotta know... right?

“fuck, maybe i do owe you guys an apology.” you joke.

“don’t think twice about it, this is nothing compared to him. if i took a shot for every time he went on some sort of love ramble about you, i’d be fucking dead.” bev replies, “and then he would carry on.”

you laugh, shaking your head in denial, “c’mon, he does not do that.”

“are you blind?” mike speaks up. “you’ve had him since the first day you joined us at the barrens. i can still see fourteen-year-old richie ogling you clear as day.”

you stammered at your response, tripping over your words. “mike, i think you broke her. she’s become bill,” stan teases.

you go to shove stan again and sorely miss. “anyways, my point is...” 

you avoid their eye contact and go back to churning stan’s slushee. “he has my heart, fuck, he’s got all of our hearts. like, is he an asshole? sure. does he get on my nerves every other day? definitely. will he be the death of me? probably. but i l-”

“i sure hope you’re winding up to something there, sweets.” 

you snap your head up from your dreamy rambling to see richie smirking next to you and eddie squeezing himself next to bill. you feel yourself go bright red at the realisation that he had been listening. 

“i- no. that was it.”  

“you sure? you going off about me... ‘but’...” richie pushes, quoting your words.

“richie, if you genuinely think you have redeeming qualities, i suggest some self-reflection.” stan quipped. “yeah, i was just pointing how much you bother us. no ifs, no buts,” you jokingly agree.

“mean,” richie rolls his eyes, shifting back in his seat next to you.

he’s gotta know... right? 

you wink and stick your tongue out playfully, to which richie raises an eyebrow at. he glances between the blue drink in your hand and your tongue, his gaze on your lips making you nervous. 

“now, what?” you sigh, wiping the ice from your mouth and pretending that you weren’t dying to know what was churning in that brain of his. 

“nothing,” richie shrugs smugly, “just that i’ve always wanted to know how my cock looked blue.”

the comment took you off guard, your instant blush only fuelling richie’s grin. without hesitation, you lean over with a faux-pout, an act that has richie’s eyes wide. “careful there, trashmouth,” you tease loudly. “you keep this up and you’ll see how stan’s looks blue.”

bev immediately gasps with her hand over her mouth, followed by mike’s stifled cackle as he slapped richie’s back. the rest of the group looks frankly stunned, and stan’s face is on a whole different level of red. 

richie doesn’t even look the least bit angry. his jaw is dropped slightly and he runs his hand over his jaw, trying to stop the chuckle that leaves his throat. if anything he looks proud. 

shaking his head with a smile, he slings his arm over your shoulder to pull you closer. “that’s my girl,” he grins.

“yeah, that for sure is tozier’s,” bill says.

there’s no way any of you miss the way richie’s face goes red under that comment and your heart skips a beat when he squeezes your side. when no one’s looking, you lean up and kiss by his ear, absolutely delighted by the deeper shade of red on his face. 

“darl, if you don’t stop that i’m going to go as red as stan,” he whispers into your hair. the both of you look back at the boy who’s trying to concentrate on his slushee and not the blush that’s continued to creep to his neck. “i’m actually getting concerned.”

you giggle, “shh, he’s fine.”

“no really, i give it a couple seconds before eddie pulls out his medical fanny pack,” richie says.

you look up at him as you’re tucked into his side, his arm still slung around your shoulder. his dark hair and eyelashes caught the sunlight, his blue eyes glinting as he glanced back. his lips were tipped into their signature cheeky smile, almost like a cue that he was going to say something out of hand. you felt the swell of your heart grow as he raised his eyebrows, prompting what he knew you were going to say. 

“you know, earlier...” you whisper, looking down to his hand intertwining with yours. “i just... i wanted to say that i... you know... that i-”

“i feel like i should be offended at how hard it is for you to tell me you love me, sweets,” he whispers back, clearly trying to keep a straight face.  fuck.  “oh god please, you know i-” richie shushes you, kissing the crown of your head. “it’s okay, i know.” you can feel the curve of his lips against your hair. “i love you too.”

trying to tame the aggressive blush and stupid smile that reached your face, you follow his gaze over to eddie. just like richie joked, he had this fanny pack laid on the table in front of stan. you weren’t listening to anything they were saying, but you watched the way stan was squirming from eddie, insisting he did not have heatstroke. mike stood right behind stan, pinching his cheeks and periodically wrapping his strong arms around stan to stop him from squirming. bev was leaning across ben and bill’s laps, joining in and poking her fun at eddie and you notice how bill’s hands traces figures along bev’s side. ben gazes at the group of them, chiming in every so often when stan’s quips got too violent. 

it was one of those moments you wish you could freeze. 

after a while, richie whispers into your ear. “do you think they’d even notice if we left for the ferris wheel?”

you break your eye contact from the group to gaze up at him. “nope, not at all. you think you can sneak us some tickets?” 

“please, you think i got kicked out of here for nothing?” he scoffs.

“is this how you’re going to get banned again?” you grin, poking his side, “stealing tickets for your girl?”

with a soft smile, he takes your hand to subtly stand and back away from the group. with stifled giggles, the both of you manage to make it at least twenty feet without the losers even noticing. the second you two were out of earshot, richie wraps his hand around yours and begins to run, “i wouldn't want it any other way."

🎡

[disasterfandoms]

Car Accident || A Jack Gibson Imagine

Anonymous requested: “ Could you write an imagine for jack Gibson whet he has to respond to a car accident you are in and you get badly hurt. He’s like freaking out bc it’s his girl but ends all cute/fluffy? “

A/N: hope you like it!

Tw: car accident, injuries, hospitals, IV, needle sticks, medicine, description of blood

It had been a calm shift. There had been minimal calls, only a few medical calls, but most of the shift had so far been cleaning the firehouse and making fun of each other. Travis, Vic, and Jack were all watching Forensic Files in the TV room as the others were milling around the kitchen, making dinner, when the call comes out.

“Engine 19, Aid Car 19,  4 car pile-up on Route 5 Northbound, exit 233″

They run to the trucks, and within minutes they’re on their way to the scene. Jack was excited, he had been itching for some action, a juicy call to make the time move faster so he can come home to you.

Jack loves you more than he thought he could love anyone. The way you dance in the kitchen when you’re cleaning, the way you lose yourself in a book, the look you give him when he says something that you couldn’t believe came from his mouth. As he was nearing the sight of the crash though, his heart dropped.

Your car was smashed between two others, the engine completely pancaked. A door was ripped off of the driver’s side, the passenger side was smashed against the guardrail. Jack could tell it was your car because of the sticker on the bumper, or what was left of your bumper. It was one he found for you when you two had taken a vacation to California for a week last year, and was the easiest way to find your car.

“Shit.” He heard Andy swear, but he didn’t respond, he couldn’t accept it, not yet. 

“Is that-”

“It’s Y/n’s car.” Jack said, interrupting Dean. You all quickly got out of the trucks, and rushed over to you. Dean and Travis stopped him from going over to you, he knows he can’t be involved because he’s too close to this. He didn’t stop trying though, they made him lean on the truck while Bishop and Vic looked you over.

“That’s Y/N, Miller. What if it was Sasha, or JJ? What if that was Grant, Travis?” He was yelling at them now, but they didn’t take it personally. They knew how much you meant to him. 

“Gibson, we get it, but I know you know why you can’t be over there right now. If you go over there, they’re going to be distracted and that takes away from Y/N being cared for. They’re the best at their jobs, you have to let them work,” Travis reassured him, and he finally complied until you were out of immediate harm’s way.

Vic put a c-collar around your neck, while Ben checked your airway, breath sounds, and your pulse. Vic got to work on an IV in your forearm to give you fluids, but it worries them that you haven’t gained consciousness yet. The rest of 19, minus Jack, Helped quickly and carefully get you out of the car and onto stretcher. As they were loading you onto the ambulance, Bishop gave the okay for Jack to ride with you. 

“Hey baby, I’m right here, okay? You’re going to be okay,” Jack tells you, although you don’t hear him, nor do you see the tears rolling down his face.

He lets Ben work, checking your vitals and assessing your injuries, and calls Grey-Sloan to give report. While he does all of this, he watches Jack gold your hand, occasionally brushing your hair away from your face, like he was completely lost into taking care of you.

Once you got to Grey-Sloan, they made Jack wait in the waiting room while Miranda, Amelia, Link and Owen started working to take care of you. Ben and Vic sat with Jack, but he couldn’t sit still. He was pacing back and forth, and they knew he wouldn’t be able to relax until he knew you were okay.

They eventually had to leave for another medical call, but Bishop let Miller go sit with him in just in case. They waited at least another hour before Bailey came out with an update.

“Y/N is going to be fine. They had a skull fracture, but there doesn’t seem to be any lasting brain damage. They do have a grade 2 concussion, and a broken nose from their head hitting the steering wheel. They have several broken ribs, one of which punctured a lung. Pierce repaired it, and they have a chest tube in to drain any excess fluid. You can go see them if you’d like,” she finished explaining, and when Jack nodded she lead him to see you.

You were just waking up from surgery, and god your head was pounding. The nurse came in a few minutes ago to give you your pain medicine, so the pain in your side had started to subside. Jack came into your room, and you can tell he had been crying. His eyes were red, his hair was a mess, and he was still in his uniform.

“Hi love,” you offered and tried to smile, but just about everything hurts your head at the moment. He smiled lightly, then sat in the chair next to your bed and grabbed your hand.

“I thought I lost you. You can never do that again. Understood?” He said roughly, his throat was raw from crying, but he needed to make sure you knew just how much all this scared him.

“I love you too, Jack. And this wasn’t my fault, by the way. Those two idiots in front of me gave me no warning that they were going to crash.” you said lightly, eliciting a giggle from Jack as he rubbed his eyes.

“Alright smartass, glad to see you’re back to your normal self,” he laughed, you always knew how to cheer him up, even when it’s pretty morbid.

You sent him away to go finish his shift, promising him if anything happened the hospital staff would call him. He would come back in the morning, and wouldn’t leave until you were ready to leave a few nights later.

[relaxxattack]

okay this is prob au/ooc bc it’s banking on jackie knowing ran wants to kill him and thinking it’s funny when he fails but here u go (if I cuts off i’ll send the rest of it. also I’m on my phone and not checking for typos sorry)

Jackie jumps up to sit on the bench, leaving Ran to stand awkwardly in the middle of the room. The general is talking about something. And Ran should really be listening, but all he can think about is how much this one person is ruining his life. If he goes back to Terminus a failure what then? The delays are already had enough.

He snaps out of it when he hears his name being called. And Jackie is gesturing for him to come closer so he does. He tries to leave a respectable gap between them - most people don’t like having their personal space crowded (Ran included). But Jackie frowns, drags him closer, and then frowns again.

“What the hell! You’re still so much taller than me.”

“Maybe you should try standing up.” Ran suggests, painfully aware of the fact Jackie’s hand hasn’t left his wrist. “Although I don’t see how it’ll help your ego if you need to stand on a bench to be taller than me.”

Jackie laughs, and finally lets go of Ran’s wrist. Only to loop his arms loosely around Ran’s neck. What. “You’re lucky you’re so cute because that was really rude.”

And he doesn’t have anything to say to that so he doesn’t respond. He’s sure that at any moment, Jackie will release him and go back to talking about whatever. But Jackie seems content. And Ran is quickly growing uncomfortable by how much he feels the same.

This is an opportunity, he reminds himself suddenly. He’s close enough to his target to reach his back. And the knife hidden up his sleeve means he won’t draw suspicion when getting it into his hand. All he needs to do is lean forward slightly to rest his hands on the bench behind Jackie.

So he does. He hoped to make it a casual shifting of pose. But he’s close enough to hear Jackie’s sharp intake of breath so he pulls back. Surely Jackie suspects him. There’s no other explanation for it. He didn’t think the general would be smart enough to interpret such a subtle movement as a threat. But he supposes Jackie was an assassin as well.

But when Jackie unloops his arms from around Ran’s neck, he doesn’t shove him away. He slides on hand down to hold his shoulder, and the other up to cup his cheek.

Oh.

Slowly, giving Ran more than enough time to move away, Jackie drags him down so their faces are almost level. (It forces him to put his hands behind Jackie on the bench, but that barely registers in his mind.) Jackie stops just before their lips touch.

And Ran will never admit this to anyone - not even himself - but he’s the one that closes the distance. It’s a short kiss. That’s the excuse his jumbled mind provides him for not taking advantage of his potion and Jackie’s distraction to complete his mission. It’s a short kiss, but they only barely pull away from each other. Jackie’s eyes are still closed and there’s a soft smile on his face.

Ran desperately tries to collect his thoughts. He has never wanted to complete a mission less. Because Jackie’s touch burns in the best way possible and he doesn’t want to ever move. And that scares him more than anything.

He could go in for another kiss. Now that he knows what’s happening. He can approach it calm and collected, and he won’t be too distracted by the shock of it to complete his job. He can finally be rid of the whirlwind force that is General Jackie, who spins around him and leaves him disorientated at every moment.

He leans in again, and forces himself to focus on the cool metal of his knife in his hand. It’s an easy angle straight to his heart. If Ran was perhaps less focused on not being distracted by the kiss, he’d be able to note how poetic it is.

He kisses Jackie, and feels his knife skate off Jackie’s armour. The armour that Ran didn’t realise he was wearing due to his layers of clothing effectively concealing it. Jackie laughs a little into the kiss when it happens. And there’s no way he hasn’t been found out now. The hand on his cheek disappears, only to reappear around his wrist. Where Jackie must press some nerve or something because Ran’s hand spasms and the knife clatters to the bench.

The smile on Jackie’s face would almost be cruel if Ran thought the general was capable of such a thing. But surely smiling in the face of his failure is cruel no matter how soft it looks.

“You’re going to have to try a bit harder than that.” Jackie murmurs. And they’re still so close that Ran can practically feel the words against his lips.

He’s so sure that this is the end. That Jackie will shove him away and call for the guards so he can be jailed and executed. Or pick up the knife and kill Ran himself. And he should be running. He should be trying to make a hasty escape. Which is something he wasn’t even considering in his desperation to finally be done with this.

He hadn’t checked to see if Jackie was unarmoured and unarmed. He hadn’t planned his escape route. Jackie has disorientated him so thoroughly that he may as well be a novice at this.

If he runs now, he’ll go back to Terminus a failure. But at least he’ll be alive. And he can pass off whatever knowledge he’s gathered in his stay here to the council so they can finally finish the job.

But he’s frozen in place.

Jackie pushes him back enough to so that he can jump off the bench. Ran feels inexplicably cold now that Jackie’s no longer touching him.

“You’re lucky you’re handsome.” Jackie is grinning, as though he didn’t just thwart an assassination attempt from someone he was kissing. “Let’s go get dinner tomorrow night, yeah?”

Ran takes a step back and forces his brain to start back up again. He’s half convinced that he made the whole thing up due to Jackie’s strange reaction. But the knife is still sitting on the bench.

“Okay.” He says. Because he’s simply not sure what else to say.

“Um, I don’t really have a time preference. 6pm sound good to you?”

“Sure.”

“Or, if we hang out during the day doing investigation work or whatever else then we can just go whenever we’re hungry.” Jackie shrugs. “Doesn’t need to be a fancy event.”

“If you say so.”

“Great!” Jackie grins and makes an excited motion with his hands. “It’s a date! See you tomorrow!”

The general gives him a lazy salute, and then practically skips out of the room. Leaving Ran to stand there and try to process what just happened.

He’ll have to go back to his room and figure out what to do now that Jackie knows for sure he’s trying to kill him. He’ll have to figure out if dinner is some obscure play to trap him, or whether Jackie is really just stupid enough to let this slide.

(The best and safest solution, is for Ran to just leave. But for reasons he can’t and won’t explain, he pushes that thought away.)

THIS IS SO GOOD HELLO. ITS LIKE. FUCKED UP AND I AM SO INTERESTED. JACKIE IS DEFINITELY FUCKED UP LIKE THAT LIKE I THINK LIKE THIS SEEMS LIKE SOMETHING HED DO.

[reidyoulikeabook]

hi i saw that your requests are open for the night for that list and i feel like 15&35 with spencer might be all i need to survive

anyways i’m on anon bc i’m scared you’ll hate this request but just know your writing is my favorite i would read your grocery lists at this point

excuse me i love this request please do not disparage yourself ever again <3 that’s the loveliest thing anybody has ever said to me and i will now think of you and this compliment whenever i write a grocery list

Ship: GN! (wears a bra, no mention of gender other than this) Reader x Spencer Reid

Warnings: Mentions of canon-typical case things, pining, mild thievery.

Word count: 2.4k

Prompts: #15 - "You’ve just won one free pass to my bedroom.”

#35 - “Well fuck, didn’t expect to be announcing my undying love for you this early in the morning.”

A/N: This got so ungodly long I’m so sorry I don’t even know if I can call this a blurb at this point it’s a full fic but I loved this idea so much and it ran away from me.

PLEASE let me know what you think because I bashed this out in the span of an hour and I’m not sure if I love or hate it.

--

Rossi’s spitballing theories behind you. Your head lolls on the desk, feeling far too heavy to attempt lifting up at this time of night. The case was hard, you were sleeping in shifts, and somehow you, Rossi, and Reid had drawn the short straw. Your eyes are blearing a little too much to make out the exact time on the clock, it’s on the opposite side of the room and your eyes burn when you squint to look at the time; you’re fairly certain you’re somewhere on the wrong side of 3am.

23 hours awake.

Sighing, you push yourself up, looking around and only now noting that Spencer isn’t in the room. He must have made his exit while you were flicking through the files making notes, it was often easier to do that with your headphones in.

Thankfully, you'd set up shop in a conference room at the hotel, given the local PD was tiny and barely equipped to handle its own officers.

“What about the meat packing district?” Rossi muses.

It’s a rhetorical question but one you actually have an answer to, “I don’t think so. The busiest part of the city is between the meat packing district and where he’s dumping the bodies. Cops do random stop-and-searches sometimes, I don’t know if he’d risk it.”

“He could drive around.”

You frown, thinking, “He’d be crossing state lines. Hey, wait,” You stand up from your chair, walking to the board and starting drawing circles that illustrate your point, “Spencer thought there must be a pattern, right? But it died off here and we didn’t know about any more victims. If we expanded the search to outside of state lines it might connect here, here, and here,” You circle each here with a point, tapping the pen against the board triumphantly.

Rossi smiles, “Good thinking kid. I’ll call Garcia.”

Exhausted from your breakthrough, you flop back down into the chair. The clothes you’ve been wearing are icky, uncomfortable with sweat and flying and you’re strongly regretting your choice in underwear now too.

You hear the door swing open, looking up to see Spencer entering the room. Holding your go-bag. The one you’d left on the jet this morning. The jet that was a two hour drive from your current location.

“Where did you? When did you?” Your incoherency is related to both your tiredness, and his thoughtfulness.

He smiles, “It took some calling around but I found a cab driver willing to go and pick it up. It just got here.”

“Spencer I-,” You start, scrambling to your feet to accept the bag he’s offering to you, “Thank you. That’s so sweet of you. How much was the cab?”

“Don’t worry about it,” He says, handing it to you and heading over to the board, “What are these?”

Rossi - who was watching the exchange with some amusement - starts explaining the eureka moment you’d had. Spencer nods along, turning to smile at you when Rossi credits the thought to you. It’s something he does a lot, Rossi’s noticed. Not in a condescending way, Spencer knows more than anyone just how capable you are at your job. It’s as if he needs to channel his love for you somewhere, and chooses pride. It’s the easiest one to explain, after all, because who isn’t happy for their colleague making breakthroughs?

That’s how Spencer justifies it anyhow.

You leave the room, heading to the bathroom to change. You’re incredibly grateful to slip out of your dirty clothes and the bra that’s cutting into you, so much so that you decide to pop on a t-shirt under your blazer. The sports bra and t-shirt combo revitalises you more than you thought possible for this hour.

Digging through, you find an item that you didn’t pack. A pair of brown fluffy slippers. Attached to them, a note, ‘I thought the heels on your boots looked uncomfortable, and I didn’t want your feet to hurt. - Spencer.

He signed the note. Something about that, alongside the gift itself, sends a flush of warmth through you.

He gave you his slippers

So?

Is that something friends do?

Wracking your brain, you try to think up if he’d do this for anyone else. Hotch? The thought makes you laugh. Emily? Maybe, actually. If she didn’t make it so hard for others to take care of her. Penelope? Almost definitely.

Your heart sinks a little, and you distract yourself by fumbling to get your work boots off and the slippers on.

It doesn’t matter it isn’t romantic, it matters that he did it.

It matters to every other person you date

He sets an impossibly high bar

Thankfully, the late hour means that there aren’t many local PD still hanging around to see your interesting choice of shoe. You slip through to the conference room, where Spencer and Rossi are huddled over the phone talking to Garcia.

Spencer does a double-take. He knew the gift he’d given you, but he hadn’t expected to see you...wearing them? You look beautiful: hair mussed from fiddling with it, an old college t-shirt under your blazer, brown fluffy slippers on your feet. The mix of professional and homely attire does something to him that he can’t quite explain, and he has to clear his throat before making his next point to Garcia.

Did he just blush?

You try not to stare at him, try not to see if that’s a tinge of red creeping up under his turtleneck.

It is.

“Thanks Garcia,” Rossi clips, hanging up the phone, “I’m going to go and find some coffee. You two,” He points, looking knowingly between you, “Just keep doing what you’re doing.”

No sooner has Rossi left the room, you both try speaking at once.

“You look-” He starts.

“Thank you so-” You start.

You both tinge with warmth.

“You go first,” He says, gnawing at his plump lower lip, finger turning oer the pen in his hand.

You laugh, a little breathless, “Well fuck, I wasn’t expecting to be announcing my undying love for you this early in the morning.”

His eyebrows quirk, is that...hope?

No. Wishful thinking

It’s probably confusion, and you’re a little embarassed, so you quickly clarify, “I mean Spencer Reid this is the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me. I’m endebted to you forever, really.”

A look washes over him: disappointment? You can’t trust your eyes to see the clock, so you feel you can’t entrust them to analyse his micro-expressions right now either. Especially when you’re biased by personal desire.

“It’s no problem,” He says, voice cracking a little, “You look...” He trails off.

“Unprofessional?” You suggest, teasing.

He shakes his head, swallowing, “You look really nice.”

It’s your turn to swallow. You drop your gaze to the pen, feeling too flustered to continue looking your colleague in the eyes at this moment in time, “Thank you. Where did you get slippers at this time of night?”

He shifts, one hand settling over the wrist of the other and fingers nervously rubbing over the back of his hand, “They were uhm. They were mine.”

“Yours?”

“Yeah,” It comes out pitchy, a squeak, “I’m sorry, that’s probably weird I just thought-”

“No, Spence,” You say, looking up at him and giving him a genuine smile, “No, it’s really sweet. I’m really lucky to have you.”

He gives his signature tiny tight-lipped smile, the one he gives when he’s feeling awkward or suppressing something he wants to say but can’t.

Please let it be the latter.

You relinquish him of the obligation of responding, instead standing to join him at the board, “You think you’ve got enough to make a geographical profile out of this?”

He nods, tapping the board with his pen, “Your idea about crossing interstate lines was really smart.”

“I have my moments.”

He wants to tell you that everything you have is a moment. You want to step closer, to cup his face in your hands, to press a kiss to the lips that you swear are pouting, begging to be kissed. You don’t.

Namely, because Rossi chooses this moment to re-enter the room, clutching three cups of coffee, “A little help here?”

From the way you spring apart, despite not even being that close, he wishes he’d taken a little longer. Damn kids and their inability to express their feelings for one another.

***

It’s 4:30am when the alarm on your phone goes off. With the work of the four of you - Garcia sporadically included when she had genius updates - you’ve managed to uncover a pattern that arches across states. You’d called Hotch, who’d commended the good work and advised that you should head to bed at 4:30. The others would get up then, and start to head out to the different potential crime scenes. Local PD was already on it.

You’d been told under no uncertain terms that you were to rest until at least 10am. Unless there was a call from Hotch. You prayed there wouldn’t be.

Rossi’s off the minute the alarm rings, bustling out the door with a “See you later kids.”

You wait behind while Spencer packs his things into his satchel. Or rather, unpacks his things from his satchel, frantically tearing it apart.

“What are you looking for?” You ask.

“My key card,” He murmurs, “I swear it was in my wallet.”

“You were rooming with Morgan, right? Want me to call him?”

“Yes please,” He says, continuing to unearth the contents of his bag onto the desk, with an increasing degree of agitation every second that goes by.

You dial Morgan’s number, and he answers after two rings, “Hey kid.”

You put the phone on loudspeaker.

“Hey. I’m with Spencer, we’re about to head up to our rooms for the night, are you still here? He can’t find his keycard.”

He lets out a breath of air through his teeth, “Sorry, I’m already on my way to one of the crime scenes. Local PD found a body over the state line. Nobody’s at the hotel but you guys and Rossi.”

Spencer outwardly sighs.

“No problem, we’ll figure something out.”

“Alright, good work kid, get some rest.”

The phone line clicks. Spencer’s brow is pinched with frustration, and your heart breaks for him. You’ve all been awake well over 24 hours, and he looks exhausted. He’s more eyebag than man at this point.

“Do you want me to go to the front desk?” You ask.

He shakes his head, “Reception doesn’t open until 6am. I’ll just wait here until then.”

He starts packing the belongings back into his bag, a resigned look on his face. And you have an idea.

“Actually,” You say, pulling the keycard out of your pocket and sliding it across the table to him, “You’ve just won one free pass to my bedroom.”

He picks the card up, squinting in confusion.

“Me and Rossi both got put in single rooms. I mean, it might not be the most comfortable thing in the world, both of us in a single bed, but it’s better than nothing right?”

He opens his mouth to object, and you shake your head.

“Spence you look like you’re about to drop unconscious on the floor and I don’t want to be responsible for yet another injureid.”

You’re so tired that the pun seems hilarious to you, and it does elicit a small laugh from him.

“Come on, it’s either share a bed with me, share a bed with Rossi, or try to sleep in one of these chairs. And I’ll be honest, I’d be kind of offended if you’d rather either of the other two options.”

“I can sleep on the floor,” He says, obviously warming up to the offer but not wanting to push his luck. You can hear the hesitancy in his voice.

“You can. But you won’t,” You tell him, settling your go-bag on your shoulder, “And might I remind you that all this time you’re spending objecting are minutes we could be spending sleeping.”

That seems to win him over. He tucks everything back into his bag, zipping it up, “After you.”

“You have the keycard,” You smile, “After you.”

***

The bed is a single bed. It prompts another round of ‘No really, I can sleep on the floor’ from Spencer, your enquiries about if it’s too much for his germaphobia or issues with touching, and his blushy embarassed reassurance that he doesn’t mind if it’s you.

He doesn’t mind if it’s you.

Not as if you’ll spend the next year mulling over those words or anything.

When you get out of the bathroom from changing, Spencer is tucked up in bed. Well, you say tucked up, but he’s practically lay right on the edge. How he’s actually physically still being supported by the mattress at this point must be his physics magic.

“I thought I said I didn’t want you getting injured,” You say, crossing the room to him.

He opens his eyes, “I didn’t want to-”

“It’s okay Spence,” You tell him, huddling down into bed.

There’s about enough room for you both to fit in, with an inch between you, so you pull gently at his arms, urging him closer.

“There’s enough room for us both without you going flying in the night,” You tell him.

He nods, obviously still a little nervous. It’s odd, lying face to face with him, illuminated only by lamplight. He looks soft. He always does, but there’s something intimate about this. You can feel his breath fan across your cheek, can feel how heat radiates off his arms.

“Do you want me to turn the lamp off?” He asks.

It’s not your staring that implores him to ask, because he’s been staring at you too. The both of you, trapped in a perfect bubble of a moment. Lamplight a spotlight, highlighting all the features of the person you love most.

“Sure,” You whisper, breath catching in your throat.

He flicks it off, settling back down.

His breath brushes against your face when he asks, “Do you want me to turn around?”

“Do you want to?”

He hesitates for a moment, voice even softer when he answers, “No.”

It’s dark. You can hardly make out his outline. Yet somehow, you both just know. Shifting, infitismally closer. Breaching the tiniest gap between you somehow feels like crossing the Grand Canyon. Your heart thumps in your chest, and you can feel it in your fingers, the fingers that trace cautiously along his jaw.

His mouth finally, finally, slotting against yours in the most gentle of kisses. A blink and you’d miss it.

And yet, in the same blink, your life changes forever.

When Rossi makes a speech at your wedding, he admits to being the thief of the missing keycard, and intentional orchestrator of the greatest love story he’s ever known. His words.

---

Permanent tagslist: @reidingmelodies @takeyourleap-of-faith @sassiest-politician @calm-and-doctor @ssa-m-187  @seasonfivereid @averyhotchner @muffin-cup @purplewaterbottles082 @spencerreid9 @drspencerreidd @reidsnose

(message/reply to this to be added or removed!!)

[yesimwriting]

The Promise of Rain, Blurb 3

Technically the third in a blurb-ish series (though this is kinda long for a blurb lol) but can technically be read as a stand alone, but i think the other parts make this seem more significant lol

A/n kinda angsty, not sure if i loveeee this but i haven’t posted a fic in such a long time bc of graduation chaos but now it’s summer and i’m working on a lot of requests/stories :))

Summary: jealousy is out of place when there’s no real warrant for it, and sometimes it’s okay to be content--to not need the rain to make you promises. 

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x sunshine-y! reader

--

Tiredness dulls the part of me that craves the rambunctious, but I’m still positive. I smile when someone does something only the truly inebriated find comical. I laugh when something somewhat actually funny happens, and I let the world around me drink. Twenty minutes--in twenty minutes I will claim a headache and go upstairs. 

“You okay, y/n?” Jesper’s concern would border on genuinely considerate if it wasn’t for the slightest hint of slur in his words. Nights in which he consols himself after losing game after game are when he’s the friendliest. “You’re strangely quiet--you’re never quiet.” 

I press my lips together oddly, smiling in a way that finally reaches my eyes. Jesper’s nice in an oddly particular way when he’s tipsy. Overly observant and careful. “Just a little tired,” I shift in my seat, leaning back against the plush seat in Kaz’s office, “I wish Kaz would just get here and dismiss us so I can go to bed.” 

Jesper smiles, lifting his arm slightly and causing his glass to sway. Kaz is not going to take it well when he realizes that Jesper was extremely involved in the downstairs celebration. He turns ungracefully, moving to sit next to me with no warning. I half-heartedly glare as he takes up most of the small couch. 

“You’re grumpy when you’re tired,” Jesper hums, stretching his casually. 

I sigh once, but it lacks any bite. “I do not.” 

He smiles easily, tilting his head so far to the side that it falls against the back of the seat, “No...but I know the real reason you’re grumpy.” 

Rolling my eyes, I suppress my instinctual reaction. That would only expose his words as true. “I am not grumpy, there is no reason--” 

“You know he hated it.” 

I exhale, tired and slowly losing my fragine hold on fake tranquility. “Yeah.” That should make it  better. “I know.” It doesn’t--it doesn’t make anything better. 

So the contact we so desperately needed on our side took to flirting with Kaz. It was an uncomfortable situation because of its precariousness and I was worried because I know about his issues with touch. But it’s not like I care about the flirting part. No. It was unprofessional and so easily turned messy--that’s what my problem was.

Jesper sighs, stretching even more. I let him stretch his legs over me, too tired to push him off. I sigh, setting my chin on his bent knees. “What’s with the face, l/n?” 

I roll my eyes again. Sometimes having someone care about you is annoying. I take back all of my positive thoughts about him--Jesper Fahey is an annoying drunk. 

“There’s no face,” despite my words, I feel my expression sour even further. Jesper’s expression shifts from that of gentle worry to teasing pride. “And if there was one, it wouldn’t be because of Kaz Brekker.”

Jesper’s lips twitch upwards, something strange tainting his tipsy grin. “I never said a name.” 

“One more condescending comment, and I’m shoving you off this damn couch.” 

He laughs flatly, shifting closer and making himself more comfortable. Drunk and touchy--anyone else would have been slapped by now. “You’re nicer after some of this.” 

He holds his glass out towards me casually, amber liquid sloshing slightly. I blink at the liquid with slight disinterest. I’m not exactly in the drinking mood...but I’m not exactly in the mood for any of this. The sound of the door opening doesn’t phase me--it’s not Inej, because she never lets herself be heard. Kaz doesn’t say anything, taking one dull step and then another, footsteps leaching the room of any warmth. The coldness he exudes so easily as a mask is strong tonight, I haven’t even looked at him and I can feel it. 

Maybe I do need a drink. 

I take the glass from Jesper, taking a quick and shallow sip of the liquid. It’s offensive in smell, taste, and the way it spills down my throat. The taste is much more intense than expected, some of the liquid slips past the corner of my mouth. Somehow more bitter than this moment, the liquid leaves me ready to splutter like a child. I exhale, pushing through the burning. Jesper moves his hand forward absentmindedly, wiping a single drop of liquid from my chin carelessly. The gesture would be sweet if my throat burned less. 

“Jesper,” the warmth of the alcohol takes root in my chest, “That’s--” He laughs at my reaction, coaxing a smile from me. “Like literally the worst--why do you even have this?” If this is served in the Crow Club, I’ve never heard of it, this is the kind of under the counter alcohol that isn’t mass produced. 

He laughs a little more freely. “Won it off of someone passing through--I don’t always lose.” 

I wrinkle my nose, “An outlier shouldn’t be--” 

“Oh, shut up.” Jesper laughs again. 

“Both of you ‘shut up’,” Kaz sighs, stepping further into the room, “If you need to drink, at least wait until after my meeting.” I frown, ignoring Kaz’s lingering and sharp gaze, “You should all follow Inej’s example.” 

“We can’t even see Inej.” 

Kaz raises an eyebrow, but he regards me with nothing but voidness. He’s never exactly emotive, but normally in moments like this something I can never interpret touches his expression, coloring it human. “Exactly.” 

“You’re funnier than people give you credit for.” The comment isn’t exactly sarcastic, but it’s something lighter than I should be offering. It’s an attempt at peace, the slight stiffness between us is starting to bother me. Our usual dynamic isn’t exactly friendly, but it’s more than this. Kaz glares. “But not tonight.” 

His expression hardens. “Business is business. It’s not humor, it’s not whatever you try to make it.” Right. Just like it was business when that girl spent more time hitting on him than actually revealing real information. The thought leaves my expression tight as I swallow back my instinctual words. “It’s not whatever you’re currently doing.” 

It takes me longer than it should to realize he’s referring to the position Jesper and I are in. Can he relax? It’s not my fault Jesper is tipsy and touchy. 

“Kaz,” Inej’s voice is soft yet determined as she emerges from the shadows. It’s a miracle the way she’s nothing more than a shadow until she chooses not to be. “What’s our next job?” 

Prompting Kaz in order to prevent a fight--Inej, always the closest thing to a mom available. I give her a partial smile, glad that she’s wedging herself between us and the tension, preventing conflict I’m too tired to follow through on.

“A merchant’s house,” he begins slowly, “We’ll be searching a merchant’s house but I’m seeking evidence more than property.” Jesper swings his legs off the couch with no warning. My head falls. I glare at Jesper who offers me a slightly apologetic tsk before dropping his head on my shoulder. Kaz must note the exchange because something in his expression tightens. He’s extra irritable today. “I’ll disclose more tomorrow,” he sighs once, already turning away, “Most of you are beyond listening tonight anyways.” 

He’s at the door before I can tell him that I’m not drunk. The door opens and closes, but Kaz’s heaviness lingers like led. I frown, letting my head fall to the side, resting on Jesper’s.

“He’s weird today,” I mumble, unsure if I want a reply. 

“He’s always like that,” Jesper breathes, “You’re losing your novelty, y/n--he always learns to harden himself against anything bright.” 

The words leave me even more tired. “I don’t think I’m particularly bright.” 

“Kaz does,” Inej replies, “And it has nothing to do with ‘novelty’, Jesper’s just cynical when he drinks.” I don’t know if I believe her, but I like knowing that Inej thinks that. “And Kaz can’t harden himself against you, and he hates that.” 

I press my lips together, straightening my spine. “I’m not that great, and whatever Kaz does or doesn’t harden himself against doesn’t affect me at all.” My nails press into the plush seat. “I don’t even know why we’re talking about this because whatever he does or doesn’t feel doesn’t matter to me.” I force myself up, doing all I can to seem perfectly calm. “All I care about is going to bed.”

Turning my head, I start to approach the door. Kaz has been strangely cold all night, and while I’m used to his moods, he hasn’t exactly directed them at me so fully since the day he caught me waiting for him to wake up after he almost died. If he wants to go back to how it used to be, then it can. Maybe I’ll care in the morning, when the growing weight of my eyelids is no longer a distraction.

“Sometimes the two of you confuse me,” Inej begins, “And sometimes I see you try to deal with emotion and I see the common ground.” 

The words leave me cold. I don’t think being compared to Kaz is an insult, not when there’s so much it could mean. He’s much more complex than he wants to be. There is goodness within him, gilding the parts of him that are more shards than anything else.  

I exhale, refusing to turn. Inej is too observant for her own good. “There is no emotion.” 

“I’m not going to waste my time arguing over that because I know it’s a waste of time.” She pauses and I consider turning around in hopes of reading something less honest from her expression. “I’m just telling you as a friend that one of you needs to be mature and talk to the other tonight before the tension gets worse and that it’s not going to be him.” 

She’s right. I exhale, “Do you think I should let him go?” Even just saying that leaves my heart aching. I know instantly that that’s not what I want, but it might be what he wants--it might be the best option. I might have the strength to let him go if I work at it. “I don’t--that’s not what I want and I’m not sure I could, but maybe that’s selfish of me.” 

“Y/n.” I turn slowly, but I purposefully avoid her gaze, keeping my head down. “I know that I’ve known Kaz longer than you, and I know that when he’s getting along with you he’s,” she trails off, uncertain, “More him, in a good way.” 

My heart swells, and with that comes feelings of panic. I never wanted to change him--to make him better or worse or anything; all I’ve ever wanted is to know him and to maybe help him with his burden. And to hear that maybe I’ve done that from someone so close to him--someone so observant and aware. That’s everything. And that terrifies me. Nothing good can last; nothing that seems to be all you could ever want actually is. I know that from life before the Crows, before I ran away from the castle I called home.

“I think he does the same for you.” I’ve never really thought about Kaz’s effect on me outside of the fact that he makes me feel warm in small moments and painfully seen in large ones. 

I smile because she’s trying and she’s given me something. “I’d say I’d tell you when I make my decision, but something tells me you’ll know.” 

She nods, expression shifting to something kind. “Goodnight, y/n.” 

Jesper stretches out on the couch, settling himself comfortably, “Night, y/n.”

“Goodnight, guys.” I disappear past the door easily, heading towards my room.

I haven’t decided whether or not I’m going to look for Kaz tonight. How much damage could be done in one night? Maybe he needs space. Maybe seeking him out now will make things worse. I exhale, opening the door to my room easily. I’ll decide before going to sleep.

When I step into the room, everything is in place. Everything is fine--but something about it feels off. The light is on. I didn’t leave the light on. Nothing else raises any red flags, so I continue into the room calmly, examining everything carefully. Nothing feels out of place as I further enter the room. I take in my bed, my dresser, and lastly my nightstand. 

My heart swells all over again, but this time it feels even heavier than before. On the center of my nightstand, in perfect condition, is a copy of Pride and Prejudice. The same book I told Kaz about, the one thing besides clothing I took from the palace. I told him it was my mother’s favorite and then he asked me to read it to him. 

I can’t picture him seeing this and thinking of me. I can’t picture him thinking of me--but no one else knew about my attachment to the book. I need to find him. I need to--to see him, to speak to him. To look him in the eye and see something I only ever see when we’re alone. Maybe he won’t have that look this time, but that’s okay. 

I can’t expect to always understand him, but that does not mean I don’t know him. 

The thought leaves me feeling a little more settled within the boundaries of my skin, but I don’t ease entirely. The good is more frightening than the bad. My fear of happiness is a benign secret I haven’t had to worry about in years. I don’t know enough about it to know how to deal with it let alone mention it to Kaz. Not that it’s his problem. 

I squeeze the book to my stomach. Swallowing pride is a difficult thing, but I’m used to it with him. It’s usually worth it with Kaz because sometimes when I try he tries in his own way. I should find him. He’s not awfully creative about where he goes when he wants to be alone because people know better than to bother him. Kaz is probably in his attic or getting air outside or…

The lights were on when I came in. I’m an idiot. I didn’t feel weird when I walked into the room because of the book. Someone’s in here. He’s in here. 

Setting the book down like I should have never touched it, I let out a sigh. “Lurking is unbecoming.” 

“It’s also unbecoming to work for me and be so easily distracted by a book.” His voice reveals nothing as he emerges from the shadows. “I could have killed you with how long it took for you to notice my presence.” He pauses, eyebrows drawing together. “The light was on.” 

Normally I’d have some kind of comment, some kind of joke that offers a more peaceful situation. “I know.” It’s a flat response. “I think on some subconscious level I knew,” I drop my gaze away from him, “I knew I was okay.” That sounds dumb. “I mean...I think I knew it was you so I knew I was okay.” Yeah, that wasn’t anymore eloquent. “That doesn’t make sense, but if you get to be confusing, I do too.”

“Confusing? There’s nothing to understand.” Curt. Simple. Dismissive. 

I frown. ‘Nothing to understand’. Right, because there’s nothing confusing about how quickly he decided to dismiss me just to bring me some obscenely sentimental gift. “If you’re mad at me, you should at least tell me why.” I press my lips together. “At least that way I’ll know if I need to apologize or kick your ass.” 

At that, he presses his lips together, corner of his mouth threatening to tilt upwards. “You would kick my ass?”

Great, even when he’s easing he has to be annoying. “I could.” There is no universe in which I could take him in a physical fight. “On a good day.” I let out a breath, doing all I can to not focus on his expression. Awkwardness settles in my chest as my eyes land on my bed. I sit down, trying not to let my shoulders slump tiredly as I stretch my legs across my bed. “You’re not having a good day.” 

“My day is fine, I’m just not naively cheerful like you,” his words turn sharp, “Or Jesper.” 

Weird addition. “Jesper’s not cheerful, he’s just drunk.” I let go of the ‘naive’ part, deciding to focus on the bigger picture. “And I’m not as naive or joyful as you think I am.” I’m not sure if I mean that as a rebuttal or just a fact. “I have bad days too.” This isn’t the kind of conversation I should have while this tired. “I could be less cheerful if you’d like.” 

He’s so silent I momentarily wonder if he’s left. “No.” It’s not much, but I take it. Straightening my back, I pull my legs beneath me, intentionally creating space. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

Ah, blatant rejection. It would sting if I was less in the right. “Maybe you’ll be less weird then.” 

“I am not being weird.” At least I’m getting some kind of reaction from him. “You’re the one who--” 

“Who what?” Finally--progress. 

Kaz sighs, turning slightly. “You’re the one who decided to ignore me after we met with the contact.” I part my lips, ready to retort, but no words come. He did pick up on my slight annoyance, and he reciprocated it in a much larger way. 

He can never know that this all came from some ridiculous, territorial--partial jealousy. “I didn’t mean to ignore you,” partial lie, “I’m just kind of in a weird place today, I’m tired.” 

“Not too tired for Jesper, it seems.” 

What? Is that what this is about? “What? All I did was sit there--he’s a touchy drunk and I just happened to be next to him.” 

“You laugh with him,” he says this blankly, “You can touch him.” 

The edge of unsafe territory cuts into me at an odd angle. Is this about him? Is he really tormenting himself over something so asinine to me when it comes to him? I’d rather have him than all the physical touch in the world. The book on the nightstand feels closer to me, growing by the prospect of its significance alone. That gesture, that’s more intimate than anything Jesper and I did downstairs. 

“So?” I straighten my back slightly. “It doesn’t mean anything.” 

He presses his lips together. “That’s the problem--anyone can manage meaningless contact…” The silence is louder than the words that came before it. Oh. I guess I’m not the only one who gets just a little jealous in an unwarranted way. “What if you were hurt? What if you were hurt and we were alone and you needed someone to help you and I couldn’t?” He lets out a sigh, a sound too tired for me to associate with him. “You say you don’t care now, but you’ll grow tired of it--the only life I can offer.” 

Inej’s words about the similarities between Kaz and I echo in my mind. “Sometimes I don’t like when things are going well because I don’t know how to be truly content, fully happy.” Saying this twists my stomach. “I don’t know how to trust good things, so whenever there are good things I think about all the ways I could ruin something and then I do.” I take a breath. “I’m not saying that things are particularly good for you or that you’re happy, but I am saying that maybe you shouldn’t think three steps ahead when there’s nothing to think ahead about.” I regard his expression carefully, but nothing has changed. “I told you the only thing I want is to know you, and that’s not going to change.”

“Y/n,” his voice is low, “I am not rain--I can’t promise you anything.” 

I scratch my knee, dropping my gaze. “For once I don’t want rain.” 

Kaz sighs. “Get some sleep.” Something about the way he’s speaking is authoritative but it lacks any weight. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

I frown freely, “Kaz--” 

“You look tired,” he mumbles, “You need rest.” He’s using this as an excuse to escape his feelings, but he’s already given me more than I expected. Greed ruins things, but then again, so does selflessness. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“For the job?”

Something strange crosses his features as his expression teeters on shifting. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he repeats, a little more certain.

The response doesn’t satiate me. “Kaz--” 

“I may not be the rain, but I’m capable of making promises as well.” There’s something final about the way he says this, but it doesn’t feel cruel. 

Maybe I’d protest if my eyelids were less weighted. “Goodnight, Kaz.” 

My head falls against the pillow. I’m not sure if he replies, too lost in the drawl of sleep before he can even close the door. 

--

General taglist: @theincredibledeadlyviper, @grishaverse7 @benbarnes-supremacy  @tranquilitymoon @kaitlyn2907 @lunamyangel @christinawxxx @deceivedeer @real-mbappe @tonks33

[saintodo]

ouweriuwriuwrowe (^≗ω≗^) anon here!!!!! i'm doin fine nowadays since we have break from school for this week which means no pts or hw of any kind!!!! (thank god i didnt think id be able to handle anymore ifwkhw) anyways--

i know that catboy gojo is your baby but may i raise you catboy nanamin?

nanami with his matching blond ears and thin tail thats just as sensitive as his ears, catboy nanami who was hesitant on having a human until you came along and changed his mind, catboy nanami who hates and i mean HATES anyone (hybrid or not) who breaths in your and his general direction bc your not theirs or his you belong to one another >:((! are they blind to the marks on your neck and on his body? catboy nanamin who follows your every whims and every steps with devotion bc he loves loves it whenever you praise him, catboy nanamin who hates it when you degrade him or ignore him, he's a good boy for you after all so why are you being so mean to him? :((

catboy nanamin who takes and takes everything you give to him, whether it'd be edging him or overstimming him he doesnt care!!!! he's all yours and he'd follow you to hell and back if thats what you wanted

anyways just catboy nanamin in general 💕

hello (^≗ω≗^) nonnie !!!!! im happy that you’re on break, i hope you take this time to relax lots <3 also you are exploiting my weaknesses……catboys AND nanamin…..two of my most favoritest things in the world

♡ word count: 643

♡ warnings: hybrids, catboy nanami, gn reader, dom reader, sub nanami

catboy nanami is an independent hybrid. for most of his life, he’s been alone- living just fine without a human to care for him. he’s not against the idea, but he’s not for it either. he’s just indifferent for the most part. that is, until you come along. you make nanami realize that yeah, he doesn’t need a human but coexisting with one might not be so bad.

it takes time for him to fully warm up to you and even longer for you to persuade him to come home with you. you never pressure him, which nanami greatly appreciates, always letting him go at his own pace. when he eventually moves into your home, he’s reminded of how considerate you are- moving things around in your home so nanami can have his own living space for the occasions where he may want to be left alone. it’s a very thoughtful gesture on your part: something that cements nanami’s belief that you’re a good human and that he made the correct decision.

nanami’s not possessive. he knows that you’re his and he’s yours. you made your intentions perfectly clear when you first started talking to (aka courting) him. that doesn’t mean he doesn’t get irritated when people try to speak to you- or him- in a more than friendly manner. nanami’s always had a very good sense of people’s intentions, being a hybrid and all, and nothing bothers him more when others trample all over another’s boundaries.

he’s not so petty to start an argument, but he’ll be viciously blunt.

“i am in a committed relationship,” he says blandly. the sleek blond ears resting on top of his head twitch in mild annoyance. “even if i was not, i would not entertain your advances.” he walks away from the conversation to where you are standing, leaving the individual who was attempting to flirt with him wilting like a dying flower.

he’s respectful of the fact you have a job where you can’t appear unprofessional, meaning he cannot leave marks up and down your neck, so nanami takes care to be a little more discreet. the marks and bruises he leaves are right below your collar. if you shift a little or stretch your arms, others would surely catch a quick glimpse of the healing marks. 

same goes for nanami, but you’re a little more careless with where you mark him. yes, you know nanami is your hybrid, but you’ve seen the way some eye him in his office when you drop by and visit him during his lunch break. most of the marks you bite and suck into his skin are concealed by his dress shirt and slacks, but every so often there’s a stray reddened bruise right below nanami’s jaw or high up on the column of his neck. you just gotta drive it home for his coworkers that nanami’s a taken man.

catboy nanami is a really well-behaved hybrid, so it’s easy for you to lavish him in praise. he pretends to be indifferent to your compliments, but you can see the way he preens afterward. it’s cute how his cheeks color the slightest bit too.

he’s so so so good to you. all the time. he always cleans up after himself and even goes so far to take on more of the household chores- even when you tell him it’s unnecessary to- because he wants to make you happy. he lets you play with him any way you want, taking everything you throw at him in stride. if he starts to squirm too much for your liking or starts to whine too loud, all you have to say is i thought you were my good boy, kento :( with a pout on your lips and he’ll try so hard to calm his movements because yeah, he is your good boy

[ofmythsandmadness]

to be called beautiful | d.h.

❛ do you ever miss, having someone around to love you?❜

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

SUMMARY: vigilantes!au. you push the boundaries of your relationship, and ask for a wish you know won't be given back. (or — it's late, and after another night of patrol, loneliness sets in deep.) WARNINGS: slightly nsfw??? mentions to sex, no descriptions. it's not a sexual story, just a part of an inner monologue. WORD COUNT: 2.6k+ NOTES: reposting this in hopes it shows up this time (pls pls pls i'm gonna cry). i've been writing a whole other series that is a totally different writing style, but i've been trying to work out my emotions in small, focused pieces like this one when i can't focus. i might develop this into a small ficlit series of it's own, bc i think it's kinda fun — but we'll see how this goes.

THE BEAST THAT IS YOUR LONELINESS has been your burden for too long to say.

It's hold on you is a familiar ache, one you've felt for years, like a chronic tight tugging on your heart that refuses to give in no matter what you try. But you still refuse to name it for fear of coming to terms with the implications of it all. That you're really alone in this life and you're terrified of what that means and the fact that you can't have what your childhood stories promised would be yours.

Like the fool you are, you cling to the idea that it's just passing notions. You'll get over it one day. The flitting daydreams of a fairytale romance better fit for a vanilla Hallmark flick suck, but one day they won't hurt so bad. You'll numb and find a way to fill the void. And you try, you really do, pushing it down for the quick release of meaningless acts and walks of shames and cold bedsheets.

Sex is a toxic friend. You choose it's pull when your heart aches most and the loneliness begs for your breath to the point where every gasp of air is a privilege, not the bare minimum. It's not what you crave. There's no romance, no love. It's a trade and one that always leaves you feeling robbed of something you're not sure you ever even had.

You rarely remember their names. You know they probably won't remember yours. And why would they? The shudders, the whimpers, the cold moans that amount to nothing but crumbs of a supposedly passionate act only pass an hour, then they're gone. Or you're gone, if you're lonely enough to risk it. A bit of fun, a breath of pink and white and the feeling of someone pulling you closer, begging for your skin against theirs.

And then, it's all grey again. And you're alone at your apartment, washing your body free of the marks some stranger dared to press into your wilting skin, wondering what it would feel like for a lover to kiss you that same way. Running your fingers over every inch that has been caressed by so many faceless guests, trying to hold yourself in the way your foolish heart pounds for. But it's never enough. Your hands don't cup your flesh, don't mould and kiss and promise the carefully knitted lies any lover had dealt you in the past. And you're as cold as ever when they fall back to your sides. Nothing enflames your skin like you wishes it could — like those you wish would.

It's a discontent you live with. Just as you're sure millions of others do. That's what life is; you push yourself through the day, through your mundane day job and your taxing nighttime hobbies (because you sure as hell can't claim what you do as real work if your only pay is in blood and tears). You cling to the good times that happened too long ago to remember clearly, and make the moments that you're alone with your thoughts as small as possible.

But there's no time to consider all that now.

You scrunch your face up as tight as you can, squeezing your eyes shut to the point where you see stars, exploding like confetti in some absurd black void that hides behind your lids. For a moment you hold the pose, watching the stars erupt, until the position hurts too much and you have to release.

Surroundings blur and then clear as your eyes readjust from their disassociation. You stare blearily at the random coffee shop you and your 'associate' chose for the night. It's just as generic as the last five visited, a thousand shades of brown and red and weary smiles the bored baristas wear just for a cheap check that'll barely cover their asses. It's worn and empty; no one's hear except the two of you and the workers who probably hate you for being here so late.

Normally, you would feel like an asshole staying so late. But you can't bring yourself to move, or even suggest to. It's all too heavy. And even if it's in brooding silence, you don't want to leave your partner. Not yet, you beg the universe, just a few more minutes.

And, speaking of—

"What's got you so blue today?"

You blink. Look over to him, only to see him already watching you.

There's really no point lying. He always unravels you too quickly, too easily — it's the detective in him, unravelling anyone and scooping their truths from shivering flesh. Some sort of childhood trauma response he developed into another super power.

You used to hate it. Now...if you concentrate hard enough, his sharp gaze feels like one of a lover's.

"Don't know what you mean," you tell him, foolish and flustered. "I'm just fine."

"Bullshit. You've sighed a dozen times in the last five minutes."

"Tch. No I haven't."

"Did too!"

His teeth glint, white and clashing against the full pink of his lips. You wish you could denounce all the times you wondered what it would feel like to have them graze against your keening skin — but not even all the gods could cleanse of you of those thoughts. Those desperate, pleading, melancholic memories stain; he can't see them, but you do when you look close enough. And you can't escape it, much as you try.

"Seriously, though. What's up with you?"

Your gaze falls down to your hands, eager to escape his allure, though it's not a great distraction. It only makes you more bitter, really, taking in all the flaws that litter your weaponised limbs. They're calloused from a million fights. Your knuckles are scarred, aching from wounds you reopen every other night. A thousand scars from a thousand scrapes, cuts, slashes and grazes linger on once perfect skin. You don't know how many there are, anymore, only that you wish you could wipe them off. Start over, have a clean slate. Erase all your mistakes and be beautiful again.

"I'm just tired," you lie. It's tense and pitiful; you know you've screwed it up the second the words leave your lips. "S'all."

"Ri-i-ight, and I'm the goddamn queen of England."

The absurdity of his retort makes your lips twitch. It's not enough for a smile, your self-inflicted misery makes sure of that, but it's a seed of something. "Wow. Didn't know I was in the presence of royalty."

"Yeah, yeah. Shut it."

"My apologies, your highness."

"Shut up, you little shit," he grumbles, but it's as soft as you get from him. It's practically a cry of love — or your foolish mind paints it as such. You take his teasing insults as promises of adorations and his arguments are poems of lust and infatuation that tug on your heartstrings in ways you know they shouldn't.

You're partners, for crying out loud. Professional coworkers (if you call the bloody mess you two create work). You don't get to miss him, or crave him, or love him like you do.

"Something happen to you?"

You watch his own hands fold and unfold on the table. The long, delicate fingers stand out on a man like him; someone who paints himself in only sharp angles and cutting lines. But you think they match him well. They promise life. Bleed hope, even in the raised scars that lace his skin like your own. You've watched those fingers grip a blade, launch it into flesh, pull and push and dig and rip and take and committed acts of atrocity most people would run from. You know he probably thinks of his hands the same way you do. But you think they're beautiful.

"Nah. It's...it's nothing. Really."

You can't see his face, but you imagine his narrowed eyes and furrowed brows asking for an answer you're just not willing to give. "C'mon, just tell me. Can't be that bad."

Your body laughs. You hear it from some place far away. It's cold and hoarse; you wonder how long it's been since you've heard a genuine laugh from yourself. You wonder if he notices (and wishes he did, foolishly, frivolously...).

It's probably stupid, but you go for it.

"You ever miss having someone?"

Something creaks; his chair, groaning as he shifts his weight. One of his fingers taps against his empty coffee cup; idle music for a restless soul.

"Like, in what way?"

"I..." Your nails dig into your palms. This was a mistake, but one you have to follow through with. He won't accept silence after something like that. "In the cheesy, domestic sorta way? That whole, havin' someone to come home to, someone who you can talk to, someone who..." the words stick like molasses in the back of your throat. Try as you do, they refuse to give themselves to him, so you have to substitute. "Just, someone who likes you, past your body or, or whatever."

"Oh."

"Sorry." It's your turn to shift in your seat, awkwardly searching for something to occupy yourself with as this uncomfortable energy you've created carries on. But your cup's empty, and you don't have the cash to ask for another overpriced latte. "Forget about it. Let's talk about somethin' else, yeah?"

He doesn't answer that. In fact, he doesn't say anything at all for a moment, long enough to make you wonder if you've just crossed the line of no return. You can't bring yourself to look at him, hell your cowardice is painful enough to make you wonder if you should just make a run for it, say au revoir! to the bond you've built with this knife-obsessed robin hood and crush your heart forever.

It's tempting, and you consider it, but then he fills the silence.

"I miss Eudora sometimes."

Finally, your gaze tilts up. Your eyes meet his lips. He's not smiling anymore.

You guys don't talk about exes together. It's a forbidden topic, same as family or childhoods or the number of people that have cut you open and bled you dry for fun. It's too personal, and in this line of work, personal doesn't fly. But you know Eudora Patch, because this line of work requires a couple run ins with people like her, and because your partner in crime has never learned how to stop his emotions from bleeding into his expression.

"Not because I still love her, but y'know..." his fingers wave aimlessly. "It was nice, when it worked. I liked having someone to sleep with. In a non-sexual manner." His lip curls a little. "Guess the sex part was nice too, though."

You nod. "Yeah, I get that. It's...it was nice, having someone who knew you. Who wanted to make you feel good, not just for themselves but 'cause that sort of things matters."

"Mm."

"Y'ever consider pursuing that sort of thing?"

He shakes his head. His adamancy is a truck smashing into your heart — though you know you should have expected no less, it still hurts. "I can't. It never works, with people like us. Y'know?"

"Yeah. Makes sense." You want to say more. You probably should say more — but you doubt he wants to hear your woes about intimacy, and the pathetic ways you crave affection you probably don't deserve. "Yeah."

"Why?"

"Hm?"

His brows knot. "Why're you asking? Someone do somethin'?"

"What? No."

"Cause, like, if someone's hurt you, I'll—"

"I'm fine," you promise, and without thinking, you reach across the table to pat his hand. To reassure him like one would a lover. But just before your fingers meet his, the bitter reminder that he's not yours sets in and you draw back. Your hand falls a couple inches from his own. "And I can take care of myself, if I wasn't. Don't worry."

He chuckles mirthlessly. "Y'sure about that? You're still the dumbass that tripped over her own feet twice walking down an empty sidewalk, and—"

"—oh, you are such an asshole, why can't you just—"

"—so if you need someone to cut a bitch, I'm available."

You soften slightly. Try to smile, even if it's a false promise and probably hangs like a broken door on mismatched hinges. "I appreciate that. But I'm okay. Think I'm just tired, and a little lonely."

"What, I'm not good enough for you anymore?"

Bitterness seeps onto your tongue; it speaks before you can shut your lips around it. "You're fine as a partner against crime. But you're not anything otherwise, are you?" It feels like a taunt. You hadn't meant it to be — though, maybe you had.

If he takes your jeer poorly, though, it doesn't show on his face. He's still smiling and watching you, eyes simmering with a joke you wish you were in on.

"It doesn't matter though. Having someone's too complicated, 'specially for fools like us. Sometimes it's just..." you don't have a good answer. Not one he'd want to hear, anyways. "I just miss it sometimes. It'd be nice to have someone to talk to, or eat breakfast with in the mornings."

He nods slowly. "Yeah. Was nice, having another body around."

"Yeah. Ha. I," you stutter out a chuckle. Tug at your lip, nibbling at the cracked skin that comes with your long nights. "No one prepares you for how lonely adulthood is. Like, I'm half tempted to make friends with the takeout guys, just so I have a friend at all."

"We're friends."

"You know what I mean," you mumble, swallowing the bitter 'are we?' that almost makes its way off your tongue. "It was just nice when I had the time, to have a person around. Someone to like, hold hands with, or-or call me beautiful, sometimes. I-I can't remember the last time called me that, any..."

Fuck.

You hadn't meant for that last confession.

He wasn't supposed to hear that. It's too personal, too personal, too fucking personal for someone you don't even know.

Everything trembles; you're shaking like an avalanche, ready to sweep it all away under some snow drift. Never to be seen again. But you can't do that, there's no taking back the way your voice cracked as it reaches it's last word, and how your hand slips into a fist, ready to charge even though there's no punching your way out of this fumble.

You crack. Stumble out of your seat. Before he can talk you're moving, throwing a couple bills (too many for your poor wallet, you'll pay for that later) down and mumbling something about heading home. Your head's spinning and you just want to sit down again, pretend like this never happened and ask about some meaningless moment in a meaningless day that you wish could be yours and his, not just—

"—text me when you're goin' out again," you say, high and nervous. "I'll be around."

You turn.

"You don't have to leave."

"I got work tomorrow. Early."

"Thought you had the day off?"

Fuck, la deuxième acte. "Taking a shift for someone."

"Oh." He doesn't believe you. He would be a fool to. But he agrees anyways. "Okay."

"See ya, Kraken."

He doesn't answer you back. It's probably better that way.

BONUS

Many hours later, you're in bed, finally dozing off. You've rinsed off the filth of the night and resigned yourself to a barely adequate rest alone, too tired to consider what usually makes your mind race. It's been a long day; let future you contemplate all the ways you've screwed up.

Just as you're about to fall asleep, however, there's a small ping! that immediately wakes you up A notification sound reserved for only one person.

You groan but still roll over. Your heart may be a humiliated, burning mess, but it still beats for him, much as you've tried to stifle it.

kraken // 2:36 am. you available at 11p tomorrow?

kraken // 2:37 am. got word somethin going down at east docks, wanna check it out before it gets bad.

Relief is a sweet blessing. You exhale and smile into the darkness. He's still a professional, even if you seem unable to understand what that means.

you // 2:40 am. for sure. meet me at my place whenever and we can prep.

You leave it at that. Whatever he has to say after that, cannot be too important to waste your precious hours of sleep. So you roll over and shut your eyes and let yourself forget about the empty space that fills your place.

It's a decision you regret the next morning, when you wake up and realise what you missed.

kraken // 3:31 am. you ever get lonely for someone, feel free to let me know.

kraken // 3:32 am. might not make a great boyfriend, but i'll eat breakfast with you. so long as you're cooking.

A/N - I had a whole idea for two tired vigilantes (like what Diego does in season one, but partnered up) who both are really lonely and tired of life and all it's shit, and rely on each other more than they'll ever admit, and...I'll probably never write it, but this was a fun bit of that. two lonely emotionally deprived assholes who can't accept that maybe they can be loved and the person who wants to is right in front of them. :)

[loth-wolffe]

hello there! um, so. I saw that You'd marry Fox and my first thought was that I'd ABSOLUTELY love to hear Your hc on him 🥺🥺🥺

GENERAL KENOBI sorry I had to

but hi sweets! i would absolutely lOVE to share my hcs on him with u my love<3 🥺

so this goes for u my sweet nonnie.

(also this turned out to be extremely longer than I thought it would be bc apparently I don't have any self control lmao. enjoy ✨)

first of all, fox is tired. VERY.

so this isn't any kind of news right, but I just think that because of this, he doesn't have both time or energy for so many things. He carries Coruscant on his back, literally, so there are two (2) kind of fox in this life. 1. he wants to destroy you bc he's all pent up with all this stress or 2. he's a soft baby.

speaking oF SOFT BABIES

listen. contrary popular belief, I really think fox is a lil softie who just wants to feel loved by you but he does mask it very well tho. (not me making headcanons of everyone being soft) BUT ANWAYS. I mean, there's different levels of Softness™ ofc, foxie can be softer than wolffe but less than cody, I don't know if u got me but uh huh, pretty much.

so now that we have clarified that fox is a lil babey I have these amazing soft hcs for him alright now hear this:

he absolutely loves baths

it's a plus if he's the lil spoon. he loves to just relax, his back touching yours as your fingers shampoo his locks, curling and uncurling in them and scratching his scalp. he sometimes rants about his job and other times he just listens to your soft, quiet voice as you talk him about your day and he feels this peace and so so loved.

in this same train of thought I can assure you that fox loves sleeping above you

MOSTLY if he's had a bad day. he loves cuddling with you and be the small spoon. his favorite times are at night when he comes home from a long shift and collapses onto you after he showers quickly, your fingers on his hair and his head on your chest as he listens to you read whatever book you're currently reading. whenever he thinks of home, he thinks in this exact scenario.

i feel like, during very very though days, maybe when he loses a brother (that doesn't happen thAt usual unless there's something like, a fucking gigantic animal trying to destroy both Coruscant and the chancellor or that kind of stuff) and he would feel this lump in his throat that only tightens when he feels you squeeze him in your arms, and kiss the top of his head but he also feels so relieved because you're there, with him, and when you whisper that you're not going anywhere he just, feels like he was falling only to be catched by you.

he aDORES so much when you visit him at the office

at first he was very apprehensive because he didn't really want to mix his work and his love life, and if thorn or anyone found out he would nEVER hear the end of it. (they eventually did find out and always tease them but I'll talk about this later).

so anyways, fox was kinda nervous and at first he didn't even let you take off his helmet and rushed you to leave asap. ofc you didn't take it personally, and just said a lil hello, told him you'd be staying late at work and that you loved him and that was that. maybe left a kiss just a cm or two down the modulator and said your goodbyes (since I read this post, the thought lives rent free in my mind and if I could I'd make a different scenario for every clone using that post and that post only bc I just love it SO much. thank you murdy for your service, I will always be in ur debt)

anyways, after that you stopped by a little more and he ended up yEARNING for your visits, letting you sit on his desk or lap as he worked and you talked about this new gossip or whatever and he just breathed you in or took a few glimpses of you from time to time, stealing a kiss or two and letting go a few "uh huhs" and "oh yeah?" for you to know he wAS listening.

other times you go for a quickie and yeah

NOW. the troopers that tEASE HIM.

they are aLWAYS joking about when are you coming to see fox again, and make kissing sounds and are always like "your s/o is really hot commander" and sometimes he shuts them up and other times he feels this pRIDE swelling over his chest because he loves you so and you're his.

but that doesn't mean he doesn't get jealous. foxie my mans is v insecure sometimes, lemme tell you. he doesn't know why you picked him and the first time you told him he's beautiful he gave you this deadpan expression and went "I literally look like a million others." my baby doesn't know he's one of a kind and that you love him for who he is, so when he sees, idk, thorn making you laugh, he becomes very self conscious.

but like, he sort of suffers in silence and won't EVER let you know he's afraid you might change him for another, but you know bc he always f word you very hard and deep and literally destroy you but he would also be a bit more attentive than usual.

but then again, fox is also a giver.

he always comes home with whatever is missing from your fridge or this one candy you love so much, and he always makes caf for you before heading out, he likes to pass by the medbay or wherever you're working at a minute or so before your shift ends just so you can go home together.

he doesn't like pda and is very Private but like I said before, he will always be ready to help you if you need him.

this one time you fell sick very badly and he stopped by almost every few hours and commed you every hour to make sure you were alright. you got slightly annoyed but you found very endearing how much he cares for you. besides, you were rEALLY ill, so yeah.

and let's not forget that one time he was on patrol close to your apartment and you commed him to ask him if he knew where the flour was or whatever (truth was you just wanted to hear his voice bc you were feeling down and wanted to cheer yourself up.) and he caught on your sad tone and well, the point is that he ended up going all the way to your place just to give you a soft kiss on your lips, shrugging and saying something like "I forgot my comnlink" because clones can't lie for shit but he didn't want to tell you he couldn't focus in his job if you were sad:(

SO ANYWAYS, these are my commander fox hcs, thank you for sending this lovely ask baby. (don't know if you were expecting like, general hcs on him or hcs of him with you or? heh)

lemme know if I agree or don't or if you wanna punch me bc fox is nothing like that, or if you have some amazing hcs u wanna share or wanna ask me or idk idk

u know I love hearing from you guys and talking with u as well 💖

[shesawriter39049]

|FEVER| M|

Pairing: Namjoon X Reader

About- Namjoon just has a kink for letting you do whatever the hell you want with him...Whether that be putting him in a hot pink suit shirtless! Or, telling him he’s a good boy as he fucks you into oblivion!

OR- Namjoon and yourself hooked up 5 months ago when the boys were in London on Tour, and you were the creative director for there British GQ & Harper’s Bazzar Cover! Now, months later he’s prepping to release his second mixtape “RM vs Rap Monster”. Opting to go a complete 360 from his first release Mono in all realms. So, with that being said BigHit thinks he needs someone with a little more... “umph” Take a wild guess as to who they call...

WC:1.2k (Sneak peek)

WARNINGS: Switch OC (Top & Bottom...but there's no real dom/sub tones here) Service top/power bottom Namjoon, praise kink, Fingering, Unprotected sex(Back shot), come play, dirty talk, light choking, light overstimulation, (This is lowkey a little softer than it sounds) The OC kinda leads this, but Joon isin’t the cliché “sub” he just likes letting her take control.

NOTE- Just my take on the OG cliché Artist X Stylist AU (Though she’s more of a full package, Art Director/Stylist/Photographer ETC) I have tried to add some minor elements to make it a little more realistic. I will say I typically stray from “Idol-verse” just because if we’re being real, the cultural difference alone sometimes stunts my creativity...BUT I just had a little fun with this one...so I hope you all enjoy it. Also, I don’t go into much physical details but in my mind regardless of race, aesthetic wise the OC is a huge contrast to what he’s use to which is part of her appeal. I picture a tatted Barbie of some sorts...

SIDE NOTE: No shade, but shade, I was lowkey inspired to write this bc I have very strong opinions about the creative team at BH....

*** Let me know if you guys want the full thing or not...I kidna flaked on posting because it is such a cliché lol

SONG- FEVER DUA LIPA  FT ANGELE

~~~~~~~

“Well, it’s a yes for me” Eyeing him in this Hot pink-fitted Burliti suit, which you paired with a very sheer black Arnar Mar turtle neck. The minute you saw the piece on the runway you’d been dying to get it on someone with melanated skin, and it just so happens, the boys are fresh off the US leg of their stadium tour! So, lucky for you, baby boy’s been in the sun a lot, and Namjoon’s currently a sinful shade of brown and you're totally here for it…

Then to top it off, the mesh material of the turtle neck creates the perfect silhouette around his offensively toned chest, outlining the muscles sinfully. Eternally snorting at the way the fans are gonna thank and curse you out all at the same damn time once they see the looks you’ve pulled for this man!

And yes, you had your crew bring extended shades of foundation and concealer, because his face and neck will match if your name is going to be attached to these damn photos! 

Head tilted to the side as you silently observe the way he rakes over his reflection in the mirror, it’s a sixth sense you’ve acquired as a stylist at this point. Half of your job is essentially being a hype man/self love coach, real shit, a lot of these artist aren't always as...confident as one may think!

And just like clockwork Namjoon runs his palm down his thighs, smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles on his pants for the umpteenth time in the span of oh I don’t know 30 seconds? Which in turn prompts you to say….

“You look good Joonie...” Musing over your second glass of Don, the compliment was genuine, tone warm, soothing even, not a hint flirtation insight because that wasn’t your motive. You weren’t trying to get him flustered you’re just trying to gas him up a little, you wanted to see Namjoon get alittle cocky and feel himself!

Ears perking up like an overgrown puppy, head whipping in your direction “Yeah?” The way this man’s eyes just lit up like the soul skyline. I just-goddamn, an almost bashful smile toys on those plush lips of his, and you can’t help the way your chest flutters with nothing but fondness.

“So fuckin cute” Flutters off your lips, as you hide a smile of your own behind a half empty whine glass. The delivery was so faint it almost go lost in the background music floating through the air. However the slight flush hitting his cheeks let you know Namjoon heard you whether he wanted to admit it or not!

”Mmmhmm, the color looks fuckin insane against your skin, not to mention, the way everything's going to pop once we tone your hair a little! “ Eyes drinking him in from head to toe, though there was nothing suggestive playing within your iris. Very much aware of time and place and right now your genuinely looking respectfully! Seeing if any alterations are needed, making sure you like where everything sits along his frame. Making notes in your phone of places you want to pin and adjust later...snapping a couple shots here and there. 

Licking his lips anxiously as he plays with the lapels on the blazer “But like-I mean-I- dont’-It doesn’t look like I’m... trying too hard or anything?” Brows furrowed in the center of his face, jaw tight, wincing slightly at his own words, almost as if he was afraid of your response. The vulnerability within his delivery was more than evident, and no matter how common this is with artist, it’s still just as devastating! Regardless of how much he tried to play it off as if he was just making casual conversation, you can see how blatantly uncomfortable he is . Gazing back at you wide eyed, and uncannily exposed, pointing at the outfit in question. Licking his lips anxiously as he plays with the the blazer, switching posses subtlety trying to get a better feel for the suit.  

You stayed silent for a minute, taking the time to actually process before speaking which is rare, not gonna lie. Gaze piercing as you hop off the bed, wine, and accessories in hand, swaying closer. “It’s fashion”. The baited pause almost implied that’s all you had to say, as if one-word was self-sufficient, and in your mind it was...but you knew better than to just leave it at that.

“Art at its finest Mr. Kim” You smile something a little devious, and he flushes even deeper as you slowly start to invade his space eyes locked with him meaningfully. You can physically see the shift, the closer you get, Namjoon starts fidgeting slightly under your gaze but he doesn't back down.

“It gives you room to play, create...it’s something that let’s us connect to people without saying a damn thing.” Suddenly the hand that wasn’t holding your alcohol has become a prop, flailing around haphazardly as you spoke, pointing at the various pieces hanging on clothes racks in your suite! The penthouse has essentially been transformed into your own personal walk in closet for the next 5 or so days! “It’s a statement. A opportunity to tap into a side of yourself that maybe you can’t always verbally articulate to the world around you! More importantly, it’s supposed to be fun, it’s literally something that can be removed within seconds! I mean we all have to wear clothes so why not just enjoy it?”  Head cocked to the side as you appraise him, brow quirked, eyes warm, yet there's a clear challenge playing within your gaze.

Namjoon’s watching you intently, almost as if he’s taking mental notes as you speak...the heaviness within those dangerously honed eyes of his could almost be unsettling to some, but you quite like it. Made you feel as though he actually gives a flying fuck about what you’re saying.

“In my opinion the only time it looks like someone’s “Trying too hard” Making little air bunnies with your spare hand “Is if they look uncomfortable in what they’re wearing, confidence is key, and I know you know that better than anyone RM!” You muse batting your lashes in Namjoon’s direction, and he dimples back at you, eyes sinking into tiny crescents, face rivaling the color of his suit, trying to hide said smile behind his own glass of champagne.  

“I could put you in a damn clown suit...” Words trailing off your tongue lackadaisically as you grow distracted searching the bar for a specific chain from John Hardy. “Which” Focus snapping back in his direction making the later splutter a little “Would be fire as fuck if I did by the way, but-”  Namjoon ended up cackling midsentence, almost choking on his drink in the process, fist pounding against his sternum.

Yeah..killing the leader of Bangtan wasn’t really high on your list tonight....

“Ayee, none of that shit...” Smacking him in the back a little more so just to be an ass because he wasn’t even choking anymore “Don’t die on me until we at least get this damn photoshoot done, I had to cancel my trip to Jamaica for this shit!”

Now he’s damn near choking and his laugh was contagious, it’s just.. loud, carefree so yes, your cackling, and there's nothing cute about it. But you honestly don’t care, you let yourself get lost in it! Finally able to feel the atmosphere in the room start to shift to something a little less scripted and a little more organic...

Throwing his hands in the air as If he’s waving a nonexistent white flag “I’m sorry, noona” There’s a pout playing in his lips, not exactly aegyo per say, but it’s fuckin adorable “Blame PD-nim, it’s his fault we had to do this so last minute” Wheezes from his throat, in the form of a slight whine, almost rivaling Jimin if I’m honest.

You already know he was laughing more so due to your delivery, specifically, your casual use of profanity over anything else. This is actually something you use to be self-conscious about, especially at your first shoot with the boys, at the shoot for GQ . Well aware it wasn’t as common in Asia for people especially women to use “fuck” like a comma. So you were hoping they wouldn’t be offended, or uncomfortable by your dialect, and, thankfully they didn’t seem to mind. Much like Joonie over here, they found it entertaining over anything.

“Yeah, a huh, sureee...” Eyes rolling to the back of your head playfully as you start lightly altering the suit in question with clips and pens. “Stay still babe” The pet name slipped off your tongue effortlessly, honestly, that's what you call most people in your life. However you were far too focused to notice how wide eyed and flustered the man before you became upon hearing it directed at him so casually.

A faint little “Sorry” muses off his lips as he gnaws on his inner cheek, trying to stay still as you ghetto-rig hems into place until you can get this under your sewing needle.

“ No, but real shit…” You sigh, taking on a slightly more serious tone “If you step in front of that camera like you own the bitch, regardless of what your wearing..., then they can’t tell you shit! If your comfortable there’s no such thing as trying too hard” You shrug nonchalantly like that was the simplest concept known to man, downing the rest of your drink “Alright, that’s all, thanks for coming to my Ted talk” Waving him off as if you’re about to leave the room and he pouted playfully, jokingly begging you not to leave him yet...it felt good to be able to banter like this. The shift continuous shift within the atmosphere was more than welcomed…

Hesitantly you watch his eyes find their way back to the full length mirror, which promptly smacks you back to reality!

Unfortunately you didn't fly all the way to Seoul just to drink,  and shoot shit with Namjoon for hours on end,  your actually here to work…

Sooo...

“Alright” Placing your arms on his shoulders, giving him a reassuring squeeze as you peer over his shoulder. Meeting his gaze through the glass, chin resting gently against the blade. “Back to the reason you came Mr. “I’m sooo anxiously” Shooting him a teasing little smirk in the process “The suit, yay or nay”

So, here’s the thing technically the official fitting is tomorrow, and as far as his team knows he’s in the studio with Yoongi and Hoseok finishing up a song!

Which of course raises the question as to why he’s here..alone..mind you..no staff or security in site.

Just Kim Namjoon and yourself.....

~~~~

Heyyyy, Lemme know if you guys want this or not, it will leave kinda open ended because it was supposed to kinda be a 3 part mini series initially. Part 1 ends the morning of the shoot, the full thing is set to be around 6/7k! Spoiler, the company is going to want to keep her around for more than just Namjoon’s solo project....

Also, YES...I did see that they actually put Tae in that Burliti suit (I wrote this long before that shoot was released)...I actually hated the way it was styled it though...I never thought I’d say this but MGK’s team did a better job than BH....

[seancekitsch]

I was Never Young: A Klaus x Reader fic

Anyways uhhh heres my fic based on the Klaus spin off series!! I made sure not to really spoil anything in the series if u guys haven't finished it yet but it does take place after the series events. there's no smut which is weird for me bc i usually write just smut but like yolo this is where it went.

Klaus had been through the ringer. Los Angeles seems to just be more of the same, so why even leave home? Right, he’d been kicked out and cut off. Well, at least one of those problems has disappeared, he thinks as he pats the ugly little satchel full of money at the side of his hip.

He meanders down the street, no real direction or motive as he shuffles down. The diazepine is starting to wear off, and he’s going to need something to dull the corners of his mind in about an hour. A neon green sign draws his eyes, looks as sick as he’s about to be.

‘Cobra’s’ the sign says, and this one is probably as good as any.

The bar has exactly six people inside of it, he realizes as he pushes the door open. It’s hazy, full of the stale and welcoming scent of menthol tobacco. Perfect, Klaus thinks.

The bartender is a stern looking man, like he used to be a wrestler. Maybe this is what Luther or Diego will look like in thirty years if they don’t eat their wheaties.

There are two other men sitting in a booth by the corner, deep in conversation with one another. They’re boring suits, no one that Klaus could have for company. He’s just looking for someone alive to have a conversation with while he numbs himself. Someone alive, he clarifies to himself. His last friend left for heaven’s greener pastures, which he’s happy for him, but maybe the guy could have stuck around on this plane of existence for a weekend longer.

There’s a couple at the end of the bar that looks like they're on a date. In the middle of the day? Wonder if their spouses know they aren't at work. Klaus laughs out loud, poor bastards.

And then there's you, with your mixed drink, absentmindedly swirling it with your little stirrer. You seem like a safe bet, so his feet drag him over to sit down at the middle of the bar near you. He more or less throws himself into the chair, his feet immediately feeling the relief. He’s still clammy and feverish in the come down, his stomach hurts, but that’s nothing a little booze and sugar can’t help.

You notice the guy as soon as he walks in. Of course you do. After a few years, you start to recognize people even if you don’t know them. You don’t recognize him. He looks paranoid, fresh off a set and worried about what a job will do, for and to him. Poor thing. Probably one of those River Phoenix types. Young, pretty, and overwhelmed.  In teen mags one day, in the obituaries the next. All preventable, hundreds of people that could step in if money meant more than the people around you.

“Hey,” the guy next to you greets you, his voice uneven, watery and cautious. His hands shake a little as he pulls a stack of cash out of his threadbare satchel, pulling a few bills from the rubberband holding it together and flattening them out against the bar.

“Hey, yourself. You new here?” He looks surprised as the words leave your lips, but is interrupted by the bartender approaching.

“Yeah, whatever that special is for today, that’ll do,” he orders like he doesn't really know what to do at the bar. He turns back to you, looking ever so boyish and lost with his big green eyes.

“How did you-?”

“How did I know you're new here?” You throw the rest of your drink back, carelessly placing it at the far end of the bar from you, “Because you don't look absolutely beaten down. I mean, you look a little twitchy, but you look fresh.”

Fresh? That’s not at all how Klaus would describe his look, having not slept in days and having been using an extreme amount of controlled substances, even for his standards.

The bartender slides a glass towards him, and he scrambles to catch it. There’s a total of two umbrellas, a flamingo stirrer, and two straws in it. In all, garish and hard to look at. The bartender takes the money, and they nod at each other.

“You look kinda young to be here,” with that remark, Klaus takes a long sip of the fruity cocktail he ordered, a sickening blue color so intense you bet it could substitute as hair dye.

“You do too,” you quip. You’d been working in this town for a few years now, on and off movie sets and bartending clubs with live acts. This boy? He looked fresh. Like he’s just been taken for his first ride. He looked rough and unused to it.

“How old are you?” he asks,  he can’t place your age or accent. You look just as young as him, if not younger. You sound southern- Boston- Chicago- western and somewhere European he can’t place. Is that what Hollywood does to people's speech patterns? Is that gonna happen to him? But you seem to be as much an anomaly here as he does.

“How old are you?” you mimic back.

Klaus stares in awe as you rest your elbow against the bar, making sure he sees that as you snap your fingers, a cigarette materializes between them. You quickly shift the rolled tobacco to rest between your index and middle finger, ready to place it against your lips.

“Listen, I’m old enough.” That's all you have to say about that.

“Yeah,” he agrees, “Sometimes I think I was never young.”

You exhale sharply through your nose, the hint of a laugh.

“Yeah, alright.” You fish around in your jacket pocket for the lighter and ask, “Do you wanna get out of here? Only smoking bar in town, but it ain’t got hotdogs.”

Hotdogs, Klaus thinks, He remembers having sausage back home, but he’s never had a hotdog.

“Why are you lookin’ at me like that? You never been to a baseball game or something?”

He shook his head, no. Klaus hadn’t ever seen a baseball game. He knew the history of it, the impact it had on American society. All from a very clinical and academic standpoint. Sports weren’t really his thing.

“Nah, I always preferred activities with a bit more... uh, substance.” He laughs at his own joke, whether you get it or not really doesn’t matter.

“Right, right. So River, what’s your real name?” You talk with the cigarette but between your teeth, lighting it quickly, before the lighter in your hand vanishes from sight.

“It’s….. uh, It’s Klaus.”

You give him your name, and he repeats it, tests the name out on his tongue.

You take a deep inhale, blowing the smoke out of the corner of your mouth.

“So Klaus, wanna buy us some hotdogs?”

You leave as soon as he finishes his drink, and he talks in a way that he thinks might be too much. But you listen. You’re the first living person that’s actually listened to what he had to say since he got here. He asks about you, your story, but he doesn’t get as much as he wants. You like your smoking, you’re a special effects designer, you dropped out of high school to come out here, and you fucking love Alonzo’s hotdogs.

“Hey ‘Lonzo!” you shout, interrupting Klaus mis sentence, raising both arms above your head, the baggy sleeves of your jacket falling closer to your elbows.

“How’s my kid doin?” The man shouts back. A tall man, with heavy brows and a mustache. “And who’s this?”

“My friend Klaus here just directed a movie! With Vivian Clarke, and the kid’s never had a hotdog! Can you believe it!” Your footfalls come quicker, starting to jog as you clear the end of the block, Klaus starts to shuffle quicker to catch up. When he gets to see the man up close. clear chocolate brown eyes greet him. He looks pretty trustworthy, Klaus thinks, Like Santa Claus, or John Stamos. Basically, like anyone but Dad or Viv.

Alonzo asks all about Klaus’ recent accomplishment, not exactly something he wants to talk about, but he likes that Alonzo is genuinely curious and polite. The only thing you say is “extra relish, on both. Big shot director pays.” during the conversation, focusing more on finishing your cigarette and stubbing it out with the toe of your boot. Klaus looks down and the cigarette butt leaves no trace on the concrete.

“So back there,” he says as you wait for your dogs to be handed over, “That cigarette business, are you a magician?”

“Nah,” you say, not fully meeting his gaze, “I’m a Libra.”

You nod at the guy as he finally pulls the dogs over the edge of the cart he operates. Extra relish, just like you asked. When he places the hotdog in Klaus’ hands, the redhead’s eyes go wide. Guess he wasn’t kidding about never having relish, you think.

“Huh,” he starts, dumbfounded by the hunk of grease and meat and relish in his hands, “I’m a Libra too, actually.”

“Guess that’s something about balance or something,” you say, effectively ending the conversation again by opening your mouth as wide as you can to accommodate the sheer mass of one of Alonzo’s hotdogs.

He looks at the meal, his first and probably only for today, and then takes your lead, opening his mouth as wide as he can before finally chomping down on a huge bite of it. The bite is… heavenly. Pickled vegetables and chutneys exploding on his tastebuds, the coolness of it contrasting with the fresh off the grill meat. No offense to mom or Pogo, but none of their cooking could ever hold a candle to this street hotdog.

“Good, yeah?” Your voice, distorted by a mouth full of food, breaks his almost nirvana like trance.

“So good,” he tries to say, mouth just as full as yours. He finishes chewing, swallows with a huge gulp.

“You got any more food spots to show me?”

[pagingdoctorbedlam]

Hello I just happened across this after finishing the Enies Lobby arc bc I am now liking most of the CP9. Love ur writing and was wondering if you'd do a headcannons thingy for cp9 being soft while having to take care of a colleague (us) while we recover from sickness, injuries, or whatever? I just wanna see them show some tenderness towards someone they like, whether we be a bestie or a crush or whatever to them :)

Thanks for blessing me with your writing, regardless if you write this or not. Great job! :3

(Thank you for writing Jabra content because holy hell is it rare. Whats with me liking the rarest characters in fandom lmao)

Aww, thank you anon! That's really sweet, and I'm glad you've joined us in the CP9 pit! (Jabra really does need more love, he's such a fascinating and complex character!)

Thanks for your patience while I cooked up these headcanons! I'm gonna' put them below in a readmore, but I hope you enjoy them!

Rob Lucci: Lucci isn't the sort to fret in public (though he'll definitely be more irritable, which the others will refrain from pointing out if they value their lives). But in private, he rarely leaves your side. His presence is quiet but reassuring as he keeps watch, and you often find him reading a book or sewing an outfit for Hattori. And sometimes (especially if he's fond of you), you'll wake up to find him holding your hand. He's not one to naturally show such affection while you're awake...but if you ask, and you're alone, you might be able to convince him to shift into leopard form if you need something warm and soft. (He'll claim it's solely to help you heal faster, since research suggests that cat purrs have healing properties...that's the only reason he's purring, and don't you dare suggest otherwise!)

Kaku: Kaku gets particularly antsy when he's worried about others, so he'll do all he can to help you feel better while keeping himself busy. If there's anything you need or that the doctors request, he's off in a flash to get it. If you need any sort of physical therapy to recover, he'll be there to lend a hand. He feels like he's got to keep his mind clear and hands busy, so sometimes you have to remind him that you aren't dying and convince him to sit with you a moment. Then he'll keep his hands occupied by holding yours (resting his head on top of yours or in the crook of your shoulder if you're particularly close), quietly admitting how worried he was. But he knows you'll be okay, and he'll be with you every step of the way.

Kalifa: Kalifa is ever practical, reminding you to take your medicine and helping you stick to a schedule so you don't forget to eat or sleep. To some, she seems tougher than the doctors. But they don't see her in private, quietly running her fingers through your hair and along your body to help you stay clean, because she can think of nothing worse than feeling grimy and battered while stuck in a hospital bed. They don't feel her touch upon your brow as she puts a damp cloth to help with any fever you may have. And if any of the medical staff don't take your pain seriously, she will tell them off until you get the treatment you need. She is fierce on your behalf, and soft for you and you alone.

Blueno: Blueno isn't the sort to hover over anyone; he knows you're an adult, you need your space to heal and he's got a job to do. He's practical, but far from heartless. If supplies you need are low, he'll sneak in and acquire whatever you need from even the most well-guarded fortress. If you need a break from your hospital room (and are well enough to do so), he's got a Door out so you can catch some fresh air. Once you've recovered, he'll make you a nice meal and drink of your choice to celebrate, though he'll do so in his own low-key way.

Jabra: When someone he cares for isn't feeling well, Jabra dives into protective wolf mode. This is sometimes even literal, keeping guard around your bed and growling at any unwanted visitors before curling up at the foot of your bed for the night. He gets embarrassed if anyone brings it up afterwards, especially if they call him a puppy or something of the sort...but while you're recovering, he doesn't care what others say, so long as you're safe and sound. If you need extra help once the worst is over, he'll even accompany you (in human or wolf form) to help keep you steady while you get back to your old self.

Kumadori: Once you get Kumadori to stop crying and blaming himself for whatever happened to you, Kumadori is one of the best folks to have by your side while under the weather. He knows a lot about how the body works, so he knows just what you need to feel better. He'll make you soothing tea, guide you through breathing exercises, anything else that could help. Many of his methods are more traditional, but there's a homey touch to them that warms your heart. At night, he'll tell you stories and poems until you're able to sleep...and as you rest, he'll pray to his mother to watch over you and aid your recovery, because he couldn't stand to lose you too.

Fukuro: If you need someone to talk to while recovering, Fukuro's got your back. He'll share the latest gossip and all the going-ons so you're all caught up for whenever you get back. He'll jot down what the medical staff says too, since he figures it'll be hard for you to remember everything when you're not at 100%. He advocates for you, relay messages, anything where he can use his voice to full advantage. But really, he just loves to keep you smiling and entertained, because that's how he knows you'll be alright.

BONUS: Spandam: Sends you a get-well card and flowers. He doesn't visit as often, claims he's busy. But in soft moments, he'll bring Funkfreed by, because his elephant pal always makes him feel better and he hopes it'll help you feel better too.

Nero: Assuring you that you'll be just fine on the outside, *freaking out* on the inside. But he'll do his best to hold it together, for your sake!

Bedlam (CP9 OC): Being a doctor, is likely the one in charge of your care. They're prone to sarcasm in lighter moments ("Oh yeah, that's a terminal case of the sniffles, I give you like, three and a half hours left"), but when you're in the worst throes, they work tirelessly day and night until you're back from the brink. Don't be surprised to find them whirring around you with a full carafe of coffee while they help you out, or to wake and find them asleep in the chair next to your bed.

[zevlors-tail]

Rooftops

Pairing: ProHero!Deku x Reader

Description: Sometimes being a Hero isn’t just fighting villains and rescuing people from burning buildings; sometimes it’s battling demons and rescuing people from themselves instead.

Warnings: Suicidal reader, thoughts of suicide, attempted suicide? (reader doesn’t succeed), trauma bonding, mentions of bullying, little bit of touch starvation? Talks of therapy, decision to try therapy.

A/N: I guess you could say I needed to vent some heavy things. PLEASE do not read this if you are triggered by anything mentioned above. Also, I HC that Midoriya never would have gone through with it, but he might have at one point been in the reader’s position, and I wish they would expand on how what Katsuki said and did to him in middle school affected his life more. I will never be satisfied until we get a proper apology from Bakugou and the two of them sort out their feelings about it, bc you KNOW that had to create some trauma. So I guess this might be sort of a fix-it fic? Also, I’m sorry for the ending, it might be cringe, idk. I can’t help but add fluff to everything I write, apparently. I love Best Boi, what can I say?

You breathed in the cool night air as you leaned against the railing, fingers trembling slightly against the rusty metal. Everything seemed so surreal; the noisy traffic below, the people bustling down streets and alleyways, the dimmed apartment lights from the building across... What did any of it matter? In the grand scheme of things, you were just a small spec of the universe observing all these phenomenons, a waste of space taking up time that could belong to something or someone more useful than your sorry excuse of an existence. That’s what you thought, at least.

You leaned a little farther over and rested your chest against the bars of steel. Would anyone miss you if you were to just...disappear? If you dropped everything and left right now, would anyone care? Would anyone cry for your absence? These were questions you had asked yourself over and over again, and each time you had managed to convince yourself that maybe, just maybe, the answer was yes, someone would care. But each time the questions rolled around in your head, it got harder to convince yourself of that. You found doubts in every corner of your mind, in every crack and crevice of your brain that they could slink into. Quiet at first, but now as loud as a siren, they overwhelmed you and made you believe you were worthless. They beat you down, exhausted you, claimed your once happy spirit and soiled it with numbness and apathy. Those doubts were the reason you wholeheartedly believed that you no longer mattered to anyone.

They were also the reason you were twenty stories up in the air on the roof of your apartment building.

Steeling your nerves and taking a deep breath, you let everything sink in. This was what you were waiting for all these years. All of your life had lead up to this single moment; all of your past mistakes, all of your life decisions, all of the lost friends, your job, your family and their snide remarks, your short comings...and all the rest. It didn’t matter. Every time you blinked, every sneeze, every laugh, whether genuine or fake, didn’t matter. Nothing mattered, including you.

Nothing matters, and no one cares.

And with that final thought, you hoisted yourself up and over the railing, limbs heavy with a dull numbness as you planted your feet loosely on the other side. For a second you balanced yourself, arms outstretched behind you to grip on to the bars for one last fleeting sense of security. Just one more step. But even as you moved forward, you found that your hands seemed to tighten their grip on the steel, and suddenly you felt physical panic despite your mind telling you that this was what you really wanted. It seemed your body was defying your mind.

“I don’t think you want to do that.”

Startled, you stumbled back and tightened your hold on the rails until your knuckles turned white. Were you imagining things, or did you just hear a voice? And if so, who was it and what were they doing all the way up here? Whatever their business was though, it surely had nothing to do with you, right? So why were they meddling in your affairs when you just wanted to be left alone? The thought of it was just a little too much, and you found yourself snapping at whoever was behind you.

“Uh, yeah, I think I do.” It came out more spiteful than you meant it to sound. But then, that was just how you were these days...bitter and cold. All the more reason to end everything.

“Please, just come back over here to the other side of the railing. We can talk if you want, or I can just sit with you, or we can listen to music together if that would help?” The stranger’s voice was gentle and pleading, as if he was afraid to break you if he spoke too loud. 

“Just leave me alone! Why do you care anyway?” You stole a glance behind you to get a good look at the person trying to talk you down. The first thing you noticed was the green hair, and then the pair of concerned emerald eyes reflecting back at you. Under those were a set of freckles, giving him an overall boyish look, and finally- his costume. You recognized Japan’s Number One Hero, Deku.

“Because I don’t want to see you get hurt...or worse.” His tone was solemn. “I’m sorry, but I can’t just leave you alone up here. Clearly you had one purpose for coming up here, and I’m not going to let you go through with it.”

For a moment, you felt your heart soar at the possibility that someone cared after all. But just as hope was about to take root and bloom within your chest, it seemed that your mind had other ideas to cut the poor blossom out. As fast as the feeling settled, it was gone, and you reminded yourself that this was his job; he was required to help anyone who he thought might be in trouble. It wasn’t like he really wanted to be up here talking to you.

“What the hell do you know about why I’m up here? And anyways...it’s your job to save people. You don’t have to pretend to care about me. It doesn’t matter if you’re the number one hero or not, you’re still going to forget about me some day or another. A week from now you won’t even think twice about me. I’m forgettable. I don’t matter...not really. So please just leave me be. You’re bothering me.” No matter how hard you tried to keep the anger in your voice, you couldn’t help how it faded with each passing second. It was tiring to keep feeling everything and nothing all at once. You wanted it all to just stop.

There was long moment of silence that passed between the two of you, which you took as a sign that you had been right about everything you had just said. Your anxieties and nerves were starting to get to you by then; you were about to really go through with it and had inched forward slightly when he decided to speak again. 

“Once, someone told me to take a swan dive off the roof of my old school.” Your breath hitched as you stopped in your tracks. “I know what it’s like not to be wanted or needed by everyone around you. To feel like a failure, like there’s no hope left... Like you’re not worth saving. But even if you really think and believe all those things you said about yourself, just know that I care. And it’s not because it’s my job to, or because I’m a Pro Hero, or because I just happened to be in the area and saw you up here after my shift ended. It’s because at one point in my life, I could relate to where you are now.”

You were left without words for once as you stood there, wind whipping through your hair and eyes focused on nothing in particular. After the initial shock wore off, you finally turned around to face him. You searched his eyes for any trace of deception, anything to prove that maybe he was lying or just trying to get to you, but all you could find was sincere honesty. And Deku, upon seeing you turn around from the edge of the building, seemed to tense for a second before continuing.

“I climbed up to the top of the school roof that day and when I got up there, I just...stared down. All I could think about at the time was making the pain and the numbness go away. But then I thought of my mom’s face when she would hear the news...and I thought of how I would only be a statistic after that- a number, you know, like the ones I recorded every day in my notebook. But I didn’t want that. I had a name that I loved, a mother waiting for me at home, and a dream I was still holding on to. I realized what I really wanted was to prove everyone wrong, to still become the hero I wanted to be as a little boy. And even more than that, I just wanted the pain to stop. I think that’s what people truly want- just to feel better.” He gave you a small smile and offered a hand to you after that, and you swore his eyes were glistening a little if you looked close enough. “I would care if you were gone. I would think about it every day. I don’t even know your name, but your face is already engraved in my mind. I would have made the biggest mistake of my life had I ended things that day; look at where I am now! If I let someone else take away all their future opportunities and potential life experiences knowing that I could have stopped them, knowing that I didn’t offer them the support I desperately wanted when I was going through it, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”

“...you mean that?” You couldn’t help the tremble in your voice.

“Every word. Please, just come back over to this side and talk to me. Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours. I promise I’ll do my best to help however I can.”

Something pulled at your heartstrings as you listened to him. He had put into words everything you had been feeling these past few months, everything you wanted to express but just couldn’t. Tentatively, you reached out a hand to meet his, and he wasted no time as he wrapped his other arm around your waist and hoisted you back over the railing towards safety and into his arms.

“Oh thank god,” he breathed out. His arm was still wound tight around your waist as he pulled you flush to him and walked you backwards. When the two of you reached the wall of the entryway to the rooftop, he stopped and slid down to the floor with you, a heavy sigh of relief escaping his lips. “Please don’t ever scare me like that again.” You blinked back tears as you leaned into Deku’s tight hug, your arms coming up to wrap around him as well. You couldn’t remember the last time someone had been so loving and caring with you or the last time you had been hugged like this. 

“It’s okay, I’ve got you. I’m here.”

That was all it took for the dam inside of you to burst.

Hot tears finally spilled over and soaked Deku’s costume as all the emotions you had been suppressing came back full force. You hid your face in his shirt to try and stifle your cries as much as you could, but it was no use. There was no hiding the turmoil in your soul; all you could do was endure the sadness and frustration while he held you and comforted you. Slowly the reality of the situation started to sink in, and the realization that you almost took your own life hit you full force.

“I...I almost-!” You didn’t have the strength to finish your sentence as you sobbed harder and shook in the hero’s arms. He eventually shifted the two of you around to a more comfortable position and rubbed circles on your shoulder soothingly while you cried, a look of understanding and empathy in his eyes.

“But you didn’t. And you know what that tells me? That despite all those lies you’re telling yourself, there’s still a part of you left that wants to live. There’s still a part of you, no matter how small, that’s holding on to hope that things will get better. Find that feeling deep down inside you, grasp it, and never let go of it. You deserve to exist here. You deserve to be loved. You deserve to wake up each day and live and enjoy life. And I know you probably don’t feel that way right now, but believe me when I say that it’s the truth.” A comfortable silence settled between the two of you as you took a moment to contemplate his words.

“You said we could talk if I wanted to...” you sniffled.

“Sure, we can talk. It doesn’t even have to be about anything in particular. Whatever you want to talk about, I’ll listen.”

So you told him everything. You poured your heart out to someone who was no more than a stranger to you, even if you recognized his face because it was plastered on every poster and broadcasted on every T.V. Even if you knew who Deku was, the person behind the mask was someone else entirely, and it brought a sense of comfort to you to know that a real person was listening to your troubles and caring about them. For once, someone was taking the time to make you a priority, and that was not something you were used to.

“I’m sorry, you’re probably tired of listening to me by now. I can’t believe I dumped all of that on y-” you tried to apologize, but he shook his head and cut you off before you could finish.

“Don’t be. I offered, didn’t I? I genuinely want to hear about what’s troubling you. Everyone deserves to be listened to, especially when they’re hurting. You’re important, and what you have to say is also important. Don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise.”

You blinked up at him with wide eyes. How was he so good at this? A thought crossed your mind then, and you wondered for a brief moment if...had anyone ever listened to him? He had taken the time to calm you down and make you feel important by listening wholeheartedly to everything you had to say. The least you could do was return the favor, right?

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a really good listener?” you asked, a small but sincere smile on your face.

“Yes, actually. Plenty of times, but I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of hearing it. It just means I’m succeeding at making others feel important, which is what I aim to do, so thank you for that.” He stared up at the night sky, his eyes reflecting the sparkling stars above. They were...so full of life. You found that fact inspiring.

There was a small pause before you asked him another question, hesitance evident in your voice. “Have you...told anyone? About what you said to me earlier, I mean.” It came out more awkward than you intended it to, and he seemed confused about what you were trying to ask.

“About what I said to you earlier?”

“Y-You know, the...rooftop...” you trailed off, not wanting to pry if he didn’t want to talk about it after all. “I’m so sorry, I just assumed since you mentioned it earlier that maybe you wanted to talk about it or something- Ah, I’m making things worse, I’m really sorry!” You ran your hands through your hair, anxiety getting the better of you and making your heart race. Deku shifted slightly beside you but kept his arm around your shoulders, a look of understanding coming over him.

“Oh, that?” He gave a small airy laugh. “While I appreciate the concern, I have a really great therapist. It’s kind of a requirement for Pros; we deal with a lot on the job.”

“...oh.” Oh. Oh. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but certainly not...that. “Again, I’m sorry if I pried,” you apologized one last time. At the sound of your third ‘I’m sorry’, Deku looked over at you thoughtfully.

“You know, I used to apologize a lot too. Actually, my therapist was the one who got me to kick the bad habit. Speaking of which...” He reached into one of the red pouches on his costume belt and produced a single card between his index and middle finger, the lamination of it emitting a dim glare as he held it out to you. “I think you could really benefit from therapy. I’m not saying that to be rude or anything-!” His face flushed as he tried to explain himself; he didn’t want you to feel like he was dismissing you or that he wasn’t concerned with your issues. “I swear! I just...really think you could use another person in your corner right now. They’re super nice, I promise! I’ll even help you set up an appointment if you want.”

You shrunk a little at the idea of seeing a therapist, but took the card anyway. The writing on the little piece of plastic stared back at you menacingly, an uncomfortable feeling settling in your gut.

Dr. T/N T/L/N Deku Agency Specialist in Psychology Phone: 800-888-8880 Email (Mon-Fri): T/nT/l/n@deku.agencies.com Office Hours: Mon-Sat, 9am-5pm

As if he could read your turbulent mind, Deku pulled you closer and rested his head against yours. “I know talking to someone else about your problems seems scary at first, but it really helps. If you keep everything bottled up, then those feelings and problems don’t have anywhere to go, and they’ll eat you up on the inside. Therapy gives you a safe way of letting those feelings out and sorting through problems in healthy ways. Of course it’s ultimately your choice, and everybody’s experience differs...but it did help me.”

You considered everything he said, including his offer to help schedule an appointment. If nothing else, you could really use another friend... You pocketed the card and decided to worry about it later; exhaustion was starting to settle in by now, and the air only seemed to get colder by the minute. It had to be past midnight by now.

“Thank you for everything you’ve done. It means a lot to me, truly. I’ll...think about the therapist.” 

“I’m glad to hear that. But in the mean time, can I see your phone?” The question caught you off guard and forced you back to the reality of where you were, and what you’d planned to do earlier.

“Uh, well...” you started, “I left it in my apartment. I didn’t think I’d need it up here since... Anyway, I don’t have it on me.” You stared off to the side, not wanting to talk about the subject any longer.

“Do you live around here?”

“Yeah, actually, I live in this apartment building.”

“Oh! Then, I’ll walk with you back to your apartment, since it’s getting kind of cold now. But first...” He whipped out his own phone, opening the contacts app and clicking on the ‘Create New Contact’ option. “What’s your phone number?”

“My phone number?” You stared at him, dumbfounded.

“Yeah, so I can text you and call you. I’d like to be friends, if that’s okay?” He gave you a shy smile with a faint blush, and it was hard not to burst into tears again.

A friend. You had made a new friend. One that cared about you, that wanted to make sure you were okay, that would put in time and effort to talk to you and see you. You could hardly believe it.

“Really?”

“Of course! Sooo, can I have it, then? Oh, and I guess I’ll need your name at some point too, huh?” he teased, a playful glint in his eyes.

“It’s Y/N,” you stated happily.

You immediately gave your number to him, and then the two of you stood to go back inside. He helped you up and held the door open for you, and from there you took the stairs back to your apartment. You made small talk on the way back, and things finally started to feel normal to you for once. But as soon as you turned down the hall that led to your apartment door, you started to feel it; that familiar sinking feeling was creeping in, apathy and the sense of nothingness overwhelming you again. The night was finally coming to an end. You would go back to your apartment, and things would go back to normal, and Deku would probably forget that you even existed. He said he would text, but would he really? He was so busy with hero work, and you half expected things to go back to the way they would be. What if nothing changed? What if you went back to feeling numb? What if everything that happened tonight didn’t really matter? What would you do?

“Whoah, Y/N, slow down. Everything’s gonna be alright.”

Huh? Shit! Had you said all that out loud?

You panicked as you stared at your door. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t-”

“Hey, look at me.” He cupped your face between his hands, tilting your head up to meet his concerned gaze. “Everything will be okay. But these kinds of problems don’t just disappear over night, they need time, and sometimes some outside help from others. I promise to keep in touch with you. I want to make sure you’re okay, and I’d like to get to know you better too. Maybe I can introduce you to my friends? They’re really great people, and they would make you feel right at home. But for now, let’s just focus on one thing, okay? Let’s get you settled back into your apartment for the night.” He ruffled the top of your head softly, and while others might have taken the gesture as offensive or belittling, you were just glad to have felt his warm touch.

“Okay,” you agreed quietly, and you twisted the handle to the door, which you remembered you had left unlocked.

The small apartment greeted you with familiar darkness, that is, until Deku flipped your light switch and the few lamps you had lit up the living room. He let himself in and shut the door behind the two of you, earning a surprised look from you and giving you an apologetic look of his own. “I don’t mean to intrude...I just...” He looked like he was choking over his own words. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to let you be alone right now...but if you want me to leave, then-”

“I don’t want to be alone either,” you were quick to cut him off. You had wanted to invite him to stay, but you also didn’t want to overstep any boundaries. However, it seemed like he beat you to the punch. “I don’t mind you staying. Besides, it’s late, and you look tired. The couch pulls out into a bed; let me get you some extra blankets.” 

You tried your best to be hospitable, even with him insisting that you didn’t need to and that he could just crash in the comfy clothes he wore under his costume. You didn’t have any extra clothes for him, but at least you could give him a pillow and a blanket. As you went to fetch those, you also grabbed your phone from your desk and dropped it next to him on the makeshift bed. He took the liberty of entering his phone number and his real name into your contacts before passing it back.

“No way, you like All Might too?” he asked as you handed him the themed blanket. “This is the same exact blanket I have at home!” A wide grin came over him as he cuddled into it.

His enthusiasm made you laugh a little as you tossed him the pillow. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.” You started to walk away to your bedroom, and as you were about to turn the lights out, he stopped you.

“Hey, Y/N.”

“Did you need something?”

He peeked his head over the edge of the couch. “I just realized I never gave you my name. You can call me Izuku, if you want. Since, we’re friends now, and all.”

“Izuku,” you echoed, “I’m really glad I met you.” And you meant it.

“Yeah, me too.” A moment of silence. “That I met you, I mean! I’m glad I met you too!”

You smiled and turned the lights out. “I’m gonna head to bed.” You hesitated a bit to ask him the question burning at the back of your mind, but your anxiety forced you to ask anyway, the fear of not knowing eating at you. “Will you still be here tomorrow morning?”

He answered you right away and gave you a reassuring look. “I’m off work tomorrow, and I don’t have any plans, so I won’t be going anywhere unless you want me to.”

“Okay. Goodnight, Izuku.” 

“Sweet dreams, Y/N.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding for so long, and with that, you made your way to your bedroom and changed into your favorite pajamas. The card that Izuku had given you earlier dropped to the floor while you were changing, and you picked it up carefully before reading it over again. Maybe...it was worth a shot. You had a lot you were dealing with, and the idea that you could talk to someone about it without being judged or made fun of almost sounded too good to be true. Sure, you had Izuku now, but you knew realistically he wasn’t going to be around all the time. You were tired of feeling like you were always alone, tired of feeling everything and nothing all at once, tired in general. It was all so exhausting. And he had said the therapist was nice...

You crawled into bed with your phone and pulled the covers over yourself. The home screen lit up the room as you opened your contacts and scrolled, looking for one name in particular. You tapped on his name and the familiar conversation screen appeared, the little vertical line blinking at you repeatedly as you worked up the courage to type out your message. Finally, your fingers flew across the keys, and you hit send before you could think twice about it.

Y/N: I think I want to schedule an appointment with the therapist. Can you help? 1:34am

It didn’t take long for you to get a response.

Izuku: Of course. I can contact them tomorrow, if you’d like? 1:34am

Y/N: I’d like that a lot. Thank you, Izuku. 1:35am

Izuku: Are you alright? If you need anything, come get me. I won’t mind. 1:35am

Y/N: I really appreciate that. I’m doing a little better. I’ll let you know if I need something. 1:35am

Izuku: Promise? 1:35am

Y/N: I promise. 1:36am

[aftgficlibrary]

Are there any AUs where renison or lailalverez is the main pairing?

there are quite a few but here you go -maz

renison:

Before All I Heard Was Silence by moonqueerdom (T | 7,430 | 1/1)

Allison's eyes widened and her face burned immediately, spreading to her neck and the tips of her ears. "Oh my gosh, Renee," she lowered her face and covered it with her hands.

Renee chuckled. "She is beautiful when she blushes, ok noted."

"Oh my gosh, Walker, stop that," Allison's voice was too wobbly and high-pitched even for her own ears, and there was a grin threatening to pop on her lips.

~

About to disappear in the afterlife, Allison Reynolds meets Renee Walker, who was ready to change her life even after death.

Last Café by uberimmortal (M | 4,802 | 1/1)

Like every weekend for the past year, Renee finds herself on a Saturday morning in front of the Last Cafe. She takes a deep breath, key still in her hand, shivering from the autumn breeze as she tries to muster up some energy to open the door. The sun is just beginning to poke over the horizon, lighting up the city in a blue haze, not close enough to this side of the earth to provide any real warmth. One by one street lamps flicker until they turn off completely.

The Gracekeepers by wishbonetea (M | 112,116 | 20/20)

The sea has flooded the earth. Allison lives on a circus boat, floating between the scattered islands that remain and trading dazzling and death-defying feats for food from the islanders. Renee lives alone in a lighthouse in the middle of the ocean, with only the birds and fish for company. As penance for her past, she works as a gracekeeper, tending the graves of those who die at sea. A storm brings them together, but under clear skies they must part. When one of the Foxes goes missing, Renee joins to help. It’s meant to be a temporary escape, but Allison might be a reason to stay.

⁂

An AU of Kirsty Logan's The Gracekeepers.

she's got lips like wine not sugar by IzzyAguecheek (Not Rated | 8,561 | 1/1)

The coffee shop was mostly empty the first time Allison came in. It was too early for most people, specially on a Sunday, when most people didn’t have work and therefore didn’t need to stop by to grab a coffee to wake up. Allison, however, didn’t strike Renee as the type of girl to drink coffee before a shift at some boring company. She looked more like someone who had stayed up all night and now was trying to fight off a hangover with caffeine.

Dan was late, per usual, so Renee and Andrew were the only employees working. Andrew took one look at the car parked outside, right in front of the window, and firmly turned his back on the girl sitting at the corner booth.

“You take that one”, he decided.

(or: Renee works at a coffee shop, and, when Allison becomes a regular there, she is absolutely in love. It's just a Renison Coffee Shop AU.)

counting my blessings by quensty (T | 10,354 | 1/1)

The last letter is from Wymack.

Allison, it says. Forest Falls, California, has been having problems with a robber. Dan and Matt are too far, and Neil and Andrew are already working a job in Nevada. Get on it. -DW

“Motherfucker,” Allison says.

Real Gravity by loose_canon (T | 1,723 | 1/1)

RECORDED 04:08, PILGRIMAGE YEAR 1584 DAY 29

[begin message]

Hey, Mom. You’re probably watching this and thinking about how much you want to kick my ass right now. Well, my butt, because you don’t say words like “ass,” much less think them. Anyway, I know you’re mad at me. I’m the ungrateful daughter who hijacked an emergency pod and zipped off into space in the middle of the eclipse service like a dumbass—sorry, dumbbutt—with another girl because I just had to go and open myself to the spirit of lesbianism. I’m not gonna lie, I’m mad just like you are. Part of me wants to just say that the spirit is a good fucking time and be on my way. But I need you need to know that I’m losing something, too.

A sci-fi one shot: Allison leaves a final message for her mother after she and Renee escape the generation ship they grew up on.

On Dragon's Wings (Under the Blue) by tinystreetlamp  (T | 8,417 | 3/3)

For hundreds of years the six kingdoms coexisted in peace due to a magical contract that prevents violence between them. Ever since Allison's brother Jean was kidnapped by Riko she has wanted to lead her armies to war against the Island of Night, but the contract prevents her from doing so. When crown prince Nathaniel arrives and asks for sanctuary, Allison sees her chance to unite four of the kingdoms against Riko and rain down her vengeance upon him.

(How to seduce a pirate: drag her underwater unexpectedly)

/Graphic Depictions of Violence

vengeance and death by cthulu_sun (M | 2,446 | 1/1)

legend says you have wax-dipped wings and golden fingernails and knives made of the blood you have spilled. legend says you are not merciful.

-

in which renee is a tired guardian angel, finds the foxes, and falls in love.

a hundred jewels on throats by ghvsts (T | 3,226 | 1/1)

"have you seen the goddess from the seafoam," they whisper, "she is more beautiful than anything."

(in which seth is ares, renee is persephone, and allison has had enough)

fabrication of a grand scheme by cloudghost (T | 13,787 | 1/1)

Renee was silent for a while. Then, finally, she said, “I want to try going outside.”

“I thought you were scared.”

She hummed her assent. “That doesn’t mean I shouldn’t do it.”

Since that was basically the philosophy Allison lived by, she nodded. Renee turned back around and met Allison’s gaze. In that moment, Renee looked unbreakable and unshakeable, like nothing that ended up in her way could ever stop her for long. Allison shivered.

Love You a Latte by ceilingfan5 (G | 8,465 | 1/1)

Allison's favorite barista is adorable Renee, so when she gets the news that she has to go on a terrible family vacation and bring an "appropriate plus-one", she decides to finally get herself uninvited from the rest of those events for all eternity. She and Renee go together, pretending to be a very much in love couple, stir shit up, and leave a lot closer than they ever expected. (Obviously they fall in love.) Allison may say "I decided love was fake a long time ago and it’d take a miracle to change my mind now,” but if anyone can be a miracle worker, it's Renee.

say you'll never harden to the world by orphan_account (T | 10,300 | 1/1)

Of course it’s when the knife finally doesn’t feel awkward in her hand anymore that Allison shows up.

Instead of the relaxed way she usually holds her wings, they’re pulled taut behind her back. Her arms are crossed in front of her chest and there’s a decidedly not pleased look on her face.

“Hey,” Natalie says, not interrupting the sequence of stabbing moves she’s been practicing. She has no time for the way seeing Allison makes her feel.

Safe – a joke. Not alone – Allison might not even be real. Cared about – impossible.

Those kinds of emotions aren’t meant for someone like her in the first place, and she’s not going to indulge them.

give me shelter or show me heart by hondayota (Not Rated | 4,720 | 3/3)

Renee had always thought of hope as a feeling, something she scraped out of her insides when she had nothing else to hold onto, but over the past months, hope had ceased to be a feeling and had become synonymous with Allison Reynolds.

or

the renison zombie au no one asked for

or

renee and allison are hella gay even when there's zombies

laila/alvarez:

It's Called Fashion Hunty. Look it up. by theKristastrophe (T | 15,440 | 8/8)

Sara works for a company that she doesn't hate but doesn't love either. So she sits at the bar with her two other best friends and tries to get through the work week.

When a fresh lawyer stumbles into thier weekly Rant Club, Sara knows she's in for a wild ride.

Featuring gratious eyerolling, snark, and everyone's favorite Foxes.

Buckle up kiddies. It's time to Sashay, Sashay, Sashay...

Come Close by tinystreetlamp (T | 10,932 | 1/1)

Sometime around 200 BC in Ancient Greece, in a world where the greek gods are real, Laila is a warrior from Sparta. During her first visit to Athens she meets not only Jeremy of Troy but also falls head over heels in love with Sara, a daughter of Apollo and local poet. But Sara is cursed, and soon the three cross the Mediterranean on a quest to break the curse and save Sara.

Sara means Sun by tinystreetlamp (M | 27,739 | 8/8)

Five years ago, ships with black and red sails appeared on the horizon and wiped out all of the royal family - except one. The Raven King conquered Coralia and is doing everything he can to stay in power. Jeremy of Troia, the rightful heir to his kingdom, has been in hiding for the past five years, but he found something worth fighting for.

Laila, an Elven Warrior and Jeremy's best friend, will do anything to protect him. Meeting a cute stranger isn't going to change that.

/Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death