#it does not work and he still manages to annoy her regardless

[a-dope-fiend]

most people are not brave enough to ship medic with the administrator. i am not those people though.

[nereidprinc3ss]

weber's law

in which spencer reid comforts fem!reader when she's having a panic attack at the rossi mansion

fluff warnings/tags: panic attack lol, spencer is really cute and sweet my little perfect cutie pie angel baby, classic spencer info dumps bc they're pretty much his love language, established relationship, cheesy and sweet at the end a/n: this one is for my queens with panic disorders who are triggered by literally nothing and everything i see you have this ilysm

When Spencer had invited you to a small get-together at Rossi’s, you’d imagined a small get-together at Rossi’s. 

And maybe that makes you a complete idiot. 

Or maybe Spencer is just so used to FBI work functions that to him, this really is small.

But now you’re sitting on an expensive couch in a very nice house, and you’re surrounded by FBI agents who are all milling around and talking and laughing, and you’re worried maybe your outfit doesn’t look as nice on you as you’d thought it did, and you keep having very vivid visions of spilling your drink all over a furry throw rug that probably costs more than your rent does. 

Music that could reasonably be considered relaxing or at the very least not objectionable plays over the sound system throughout the whole house and thus is inescapable—not that you’d get up from the couch even if you could, because Spencer is sitting to your right and he has his hand on your thigh and it’s the only thing that has until this point been keeping you from a full blown panic attack.

Maybe that makes you a complete idiot, too.

Regardless, you try to focus on nothing but the weight of his hand as it travels slowly up and down from knee to hip over the jeans you’re not so sure about, and the feeling of your breath coming and going, as slow as you can possibly summon it without passing out. 

Spencer is laughing at something JJ is saying as she stands next to the couch with Will and you really like JJ but her voice seems so loud right now, and nothing is going particularly wrong but everything feels so, so wrong it’s scary. 

All the buzzing tension in your body telling you to run away because you’re unsafe and at the same time locking you into place builds until you have to express it somehow. So you revert to an old habit—bouncing your leg rapidly like a rabbit thumping its foot. It’s not entirely conscious, but it feels better than being completely still. That is, until Spencer’s hand strays inward and cups just above your inner knee, where he begins fanning his thumb back and forth over the fabric. 

“What’s this?” he murmurs, head angled toward you and voice low enough to not draw attention. You force yourself to plant your heel to the ground even though it worsens the feeling of gears crunching in your chest. 

“Nothing. Sorry.”

That gets his attention. 

Because of course it does. He’s always telling you to stop saying sorry so often. 

His tone solidifies, still quiet but committed to this conversation now and no longer the whispery apparition of a quick aside. 

“Why are you sorry?” 

“I don’t know, it wasn’t—it’s nothing.”

You barely avoid apologizing again. 

For a moment he doesn’t speak, just watches you—and you make the mistake of raising your gaze to meet his. He has that curious, analytical look about him, concern tightening his eyes and knitting his brow. He’s doing that annoying mind-reading thing again, and as soon as he actually sees your eyes, he’s figured you out. 

“Do you want to go outside for a minute? Get some air?”

After examining his face for any clues that he’d rather stay in here, (not that you’d really know what to look for), you nod hesitantly. Spencer mirrors your nod and stands, holding out his hand for you to take as you follow suit after setting your drink on a side table (without spilling.)

JJ is now wrapped up in conversation with another agent and the two of you manage to abscond without attracting unwanted attention, which makes you feel slightly better as Spencer leads you deftly through rooms with high-vaulted ceilings and big windows and heavy, expensive looking oak furniture. It seems like you’ve been wandering through a maze when you arrive to a quieter part of the house and he opens a french door for you—which leads out onto an empty patio. 

A cool breeze immediately sinks into your skin, and your nervous system is so hyper-alert that it gives you chills. Spencer notices the way you shiver and steps closer after closing the door behind him, his hand finding the small of your back immediately. 

“You okay?” he asks, intentionally avoiding impeding your view of the sweeping backyard and the trees beyond. Sometimes focusing on something stationary is less overwhelming, but they’re so tall they seem imposing. Threatening, even. 

But then again, everything feels threatening right now. 

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

Spencer seems unconvinced by your monotone—when you glance over at him he’s still watching you like you’re a puzzle to be solved. 

“Are you sure? You can tell me if you’re not.”

“Why are you so convinced something is wrong?” you laugh, but it comes out too manic. You cross your arms. He looks pointedly at the motion. 

“For starters, that. Often times crossing your arms is a subconscious way of comforting yourself when you feel defensive or threatened. And you could say it’s because you’re cold, but—” he pauses, reaching out to touch your cheek. “I can feel how hot your face is, and you shivered when we came outside even though it’s 71 degrees because your nervous system is overreacting to external stimuli. The leg-bouncing is also often indicative of an activated parasympathetic nervous system. Is me touching you okay?”

Again, you nod—unsure how to deflect when he calls you out so efficiently. 

Spencer’s hand slides down to just beneath your jaw, where he rests two fingers. Each second that passes has him looking progressively more worried. You wish you weren’t quite so catatonic—the fairy lights hanging from the pergola shine through his hair and make him glow so appealingly you want to kiss his cheek. 

“Your heart rate is really high, honey.”

That would be due to the sense of impending doom. Thanks for pointing it out.

But you’ve lost your words, and along with them has gone your sense of humor. All you can manage for a 30 second span is a meaningless shake of your head as you avert your eyes, staring at the sprawling carpet of blue-green grass soaked in night as each blade doubles with your tears. 

“I think I’m dying,” you finally croak.

“Technically, we all are. Very slowly.”

Ah. There’s that social tact he’s so well known for. 

“Spencer.”

“Right,” he kisses your cheek as you stare up at him, affronted, and pulls you into his chest. “Sorry. I was actually trying to be helpful. Changes in brain chemistry and hormonal activity associated with panic attacks change your perception of time and make things feel really fast which can contribute to feelings of anxiety. But in reality time is moving just the same as it always is. One second is always one second. Sometimes remembering that helps me to slow down. Not literally, of course. My gravitational pull isn’t great enough to have any discernible effect on the passage of time.”

You sniff, pressing your cheek to his tie. His words make your head spin, seeing as you hadn't been prepared for a lecture in psychophysics—but it spins in the opposite direction than it had been going previously. It's nice.

“Change your perception of time?”

“Weber’s law of perception. Stimulus sensitivity will increase proportionally with increased stimulus intensity. You’re only perceiving time to be going faster because your cortisol and adrenaline levels are making you hyper-vigilant and sensitive to all the markers of time passing.”

“Like what?”

Spencer hums, the bass of it a comforting resonance against your ear, and strokes your hair unhurriedly. 

“Like… your internal clock. Your body measures time with your heartbeat, so when your heart rate increases, time seems to go faster. Also environmental cues, which lead you to understand that the world is not stagnant and thus is not frozen in time. Like the sound of the wind chimes…” he pauses, long enough for you to realize that indeed, you can hear the gentle, sonorous ringing and tinkling of steel chimes bouncing against each other. “And the wind itself, which is coming all the way from the Gulf of Mexico. Some studies actually suggest that wind direction can affect your energy levels and mood.”

It’s a gentle breeze more than it is full-blown wind. It feels cool against your hot skin. 

Spencer’s hand on the back of your head, still rhythmically smoothing your hair, seems to slow down the passage of time as well. You focus on that, and the sound of the wind chimes and the breeze on your skin for a few minutes, until your breathing and your heart rate slow and soon you regain your footing in the temporal dimension, exactly sure of where you stand on Rossi’s patio and in your boyfriend’s arms. 

“You tricked me into doing a grounding exercise,” you mumble into Spencer’s jacket. 

“I did not trick you,” he defends, voice quiet to match yours. “I just wanted to make you feel better. Did it work?”

You pull away from him and he lets you, watching on as you sniffle and wipe your tears on your sleeves. 

“Yeah, it did. Thank you.”

For a moment, neither of you speak as you gather yourself. He leads you by the hand to a cushioned hanging bench at the end of the patio, taking a seat next to you and gently rocking the swing. 

“Do you know what triggered that?” Spencer asks, over the gentle creaking sound. You shrug, observing the dance of the fireflies in the grass. 

“Nothing. Sometimes I just feel like everything’s wrong and scary but I didn’t want to tell you and ruin your night.”

“Hey,” Spencer murmurs, pulling you into him with an arm around your shoulder. “You are not ruining my night. I don’t want you to worry about that.”

“But all your friends and coworkers are inside, and you’re out here with me.”

He angles his head down toward you and you look up to meet his eyes, even warmer than the sticky summer night. 

“I am. Do you know why?”

“Because I suck,” you sniffle, more hot tears rolling down your cheeks as you attempt to look away. But Spencer’s not having it. He encourages you to sit up again so you can look at him properly, before wiping tears away gently with his thumb. When he speaks, it’s in soft, soothing tones. 

“No. I’m out here because if all my friends were inside having fun, and you were outside having a panic attack, I would choose you every time.”

You manage a laugh through the crying. 

“I don’t know if that’s healthy.”

“Whether or not it’s healthy is an entirely different discussion,” Spencer smiles wryly, before it melts into something softer and more sincere. “All that matters is that it’s true.”

For a while after that, you simply lay your head on his shoulder. Spencer controls the speed of the swing with his much-longer legs, kissing your head and rubbing your arm as you admire the expanse of Rossi’s lush yard bathed in moonlight and the black silhouette of the forest beyond. 

Eventually, Spencer speaks again, likely to make sure you’re not spiraling alone in your head. 

“Can I tell you an extremely classified secret that I've been trying really hard to keep to myself for three days?” he asks, and the mischievous edge to his voice catches your attention. You hum in assent, already wondering what kind of information Spencer would have a hard time keeping to himself. It could be anything. 

“Anderson is sleeping with Childers from Operational Tech.”

“What?”

Despite not working for the FBI yourself, Spencer and Penelope have you so filled in on the drama that you know exactly why that’s shocking. 

You pick your head up to look at him like do not fuck with me right now. 

His eyes sparkle as he nods.

“Yep.”

“Didn’t you tell me Childers was dating that girl in sex crimes?”

Spencer raises his eyebrows. The corner of his mouth twitches. You gasp. 

“No! What? Does Anderson know?”

“I don’t know. I certainly didn’t want to be the one to tell him.”

“Wait—Anderson told you this?”

“Yeah!” He laughs incredulously at your complete disbelief. “People tell me things! I’m an excellent confidant!”

“If you’re relaying all of this information to me then you’re a terrible confidant,” you chuckle, still watery—but feeling light years better. 

Spencer brushes your hair away from your face fondly, leaning a fraction of an inch closer. 

“You don’t count. Telling you secrets is basically the same as keeping them to myself.”

“Basically,” you tease, angling your head up by a few degrees in invitation. Spencer says nothing, does nothing for a long moment—just studies you with soft eyes, continues stroking your cheek. When he takes too long to kiss you, you get impatient. “I’m still kinda anxious, you know.”

He smiles knowingly.  

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” you nod, looking pointedly at his lips. “You should kiss me better.”

“I think that would take more than just one kiss,” he murmurs through a smile, leaning ever closer until your noses are bumping. “I think I would have to devote several hours to that. Maybe even a whole day.”

“How does tomorrow look for you?” 

He’s laughing as he finally presses his lips to yours. The kiss is sweet and lingering. 

“For you? It’s wide open.”

[antiquarianfics]

The Best Things Take Time

Bucky has a code. You manage to crack it.

A/N: This took me so long because I wasn't really sure how I wanted to go about it. I'm pretty happy with it, I think. Also, my first request! I hope I did your brain-child justice. :) Warnings: Mild language. Based on this request. Note: I do not own the character Bucky Barnes or any other Marvel affiliated characters.

You do not have permission to repost or translate my work; however, feel free to like, comment, and/or reblog.

----

Bucky Barnes decided early on in his life as a free man that he wasn’t going to try and date—even with Sam and Yori pushing him all the time. His triggers are gone, yes, but he is starkly aware that he still has a long way to go before he might be considered ready to give time and energy to another person on a daily basis. However, if there is anyone in the world that makes him reconsider his own rule, it’s you.

The two of you first formally met when Steve, Sam, and yourself finally tracked him down. You were kind to him, but you kept your distance. He never made many attempts to speak with you, but the short interactions he did have with you were short and clinical. He never asked, but he’s pretty sure you’re afraid of him—of what he’s done.

Despite this assumption, Bucky takes note of the way you drop everything to help him time and time again. You back him in Washington, you back him in Siberia, you back him in Wakanda, and you back him in Washington in the second go-round. He is appreciative—very much so—but he keeps his distance regardless. After all, he shouldn’t risk losing an ally by something as silly as small talk.

Things begin to change, though, when he runs into you at the airport. Both him and you felt the need to get on Sam’s back about giving up the shield.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, a little indignantly. You cringe a little at your tone, but you brush it off nonetheless.

Bucky shoots you an annoyed look before turning to Sam.

Throughout the mission to track down the Flag Smashers, you and Bucky bicker (even more than Sam and Bucky do). You challenge him on every opinion he shares, poke fun at every misstep he takes, and side with Sam for the sake of disagreeing with him. He returns the favor, and he ignores the bitter taste it leaves in his mouth.

Your interactions are not particularly pleasant, sure, but they’re existent—which is progress.

—

“Does he always stare like that?” Walker asks Sam, eyeing Bucky uncomfortably.

“You get used to it,” Sam replies.

You glare at Walker. His attitude towards you and your boys bothers you. His entitlement to Steve’s shield and name bothers you. He bothers you.

“Does she always stare like that?” Walker asks, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

“Only when douchebags harass my friends,” you deadpan.

You are plenty aware this is the first time you’ve called Bucky your friend, and you can tell he is too by the way his eyes shift from Walker to you. You’re not aware, though, that your concession of friendship serves as the push he needs to talk to you more.

—

It takes time, but over the next few weeks, Bucky manages to get you to open up. He’s surprised with himself by how he’s willing to talk to you; after all, people are usually trying to get him to talk.

Bucky finds out that you’re actually not as reserved as he thought, but you had heard both Steve’s stories of before and multiple people’s accounts of after. Your distance, you admit, was a consequence of you trying to give him space when everyone else was crowding him. Your teasing and bickering with him was a consequence of trying to create said space. The revelation makes Bucky’s heart clench: no one has made him feel so cared for in a long time.

Bucky sticks by his no dating rule, though. After all, you may be friends, and you may be acting nicer to him lately, but there’s no way you like him like that.

Or, at least he thinks so until Louisiana.

—

“Hey, Sarah,” Bucky says, flashing a charming smile at her from where he sits next to Sam and yourself on the dock.

“Hey!” You smack his chest with the back of your hand. “No flirting with Sam’s sister.”

He lets his attention shift to you, and he can’t help the surprise. He’s aware that you could just be enforcing Sam’s demand from earlier, but you’re so adamant. He thinks maybe he sees a flash of jealousy in your eyes, but he thinks, too, he might just be seeing what he wants to see.

Sam and Sarah continue to bicker before she shoos the three of you away from the boat. Sam and Bucky step onto the dock and begin to walk away before you, and they keep walking even when Sarah stops you.

“Subtle,” she says, smirking at you. You wave her off, your face heating up with a blush.

“Shut up,” you say, embarrassment entwined with each syllable.

Bucky thinks maybe—just maybe—you might like him back.

—

Looking back on the last few years, Bucky can hardly believe the journey you and he had been on. Being so distant most of your time together in the first few years, and then being so rude to each other the next few, and then needing a push from the Wilsons to actually do anything about your feelings… it was interesting, to say the least.

He remembers the day you agreed to leave Louisiana with him. It was an impulsive decision, but it led to the first time the two of you had truly been alone together. It led to inside jokes and deep conversations. It led to a genuine friendship.

“I’m headed out tomorrow,” Bucky informed you and Sam.

The three of you were sitting on the porch of Sarah’s house, conversation flowing from friendly jests, to Karli, to the boat, to whatever else. Your head shot up to stare at him, eyes widening.

“What? Why?” Your tone was a little panicked. Bucky raised his eyebrows at your tone. Sam laughed, and you shot him a glare.

“I don’t want to overstay my welcome, Doll,” he said. Ever since the incident with Sarah, he’d let a few pet names for you fall from his lips, and he smugly noted the way they made you squirm.

“Oh.”

“Well!” Sam exclaimed, clapping his palms on his knees as he stood. “I’m gonna go check on Sarah and the boys while you,” he pointed at the two of you in turn, “figure whatever is going on here out.”

You protested, but Sam was gone without another word. Neither one of you spoke for a moment, and you chewed on your lip.

“You’re really going?” You asked shyly.

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

“You can come with me, if you want,” he offered before he can think better of himself.

Your eyes shot to his, analyzing his face for any sort of jest. He seemed sincere, and once you decided he wasn’t pulling your leg, you responded.

“Okay.”

He remembers the day the two of you finally addressed that you were more than friends. Bucky, of course, has a no dating rule, and you? You had no such thing, but you weren’t dating either. In fact, you hadn’t since before Karli and the Flag Smashers showed up.

Bucky and yourself were at a bar, drinking and laughing with one another. He was sober, of course, but you were a little tipsy. You had a dopey smile on your face that he thought was the prettiest thing he’d ever seen. He still thinks your smile is the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

That’s when a young woman sauntered up to the bar. She was gorgeous; her long, black braids reached her waist, her lips were painted a bright red color, and she wore a halter top that left little to the imagination.

“Hi,” she said, grabbing your attention, shooting you a flirtatious smile.

“Hi!” You said, the alcohol making you friendlier than you usually are.

“I saw you across the bar, and I was jus’ wonderin’, would you wanna grab a drink with me? Maybe dance a lil’?” Her eyes dragged down your body and back up to your eyes.

Your eyes widened and you blushed.

“Oh, uh! T-thank you! I’m flattered, but, uh, I got my guy right here, and I kinda like him too much to date!” You sort of yell-whispered the confession to the girl.

She glanced behind you to Bucky whose eyes had also widened in shock, his mouth hanging open a little. The woman laughed and touched your shoulder comfortingly.

“‘s alright,” she assured. “Was worth a shot, though.”

She turned to Bucky then.

“Yo, congrats, man. You’re a lucky guy once you two talk that through.”

With that, she had left, and you turned around to Bucky.

“Look,” you said, more sober sounding than you’d been since the two of you arrived at the bar. “I don’t know what you think this is, or what you want it to be, but I’m all in if you are.”

Bucky leaned forward and kissed you without a second thought.

And he remembers the moment he decided he was going to marry you, if you’d have him.

The two of you were sitting on the couch in your shared apartment; after about two years of dating, you insisted you live together.

“Buck, you’re always here. All your stuff is here. I don’t think you’ve stepped foot in your apartment in a month. You’re just wasting money on rent at this point.”

You were leaned into his side, eyes glued to the tv screen. The two of you were watching The Princess Bride (it’s one of the many movies you insisted was so culturally significant that he had to see it). It was the way you would turn to him at your favorite parts, gauging his reactions to see if he loved it like you did; the way you would mouth the most iconic lines along with the characters; and the way you would sigh contentedly and cuddle further into his side at the romantic scenes that really pulled the realization from deep within him. And, perhaps, it was the way you produced the most ridiculous voice to say "Mawwiage! Mawwiage is what bwings us here today!" that truly brought the idea of marrying you to the forefront of his mind. Regardless, he knew he wanted you around for the rest of his already over-extended lifetime.

—

Bucky Barnes decided early on in his life as a free man that he wasn’t going to try and date, and he decided late in his life as a free man that he wasn't going to ever try and date anyone other than you. So, here he finds himself, kneeling on the ground in front of you with a ring extended towards your person, and hoping you'll say yes.

"Sweetheart, I know we've had a lot of ups and downs. We met when I wasn't truly myself, we got together when I was still figuring out who I am on my own—without Steve, without HYDRA—but no matter what, you've been there for me. You're still here for me.

"You deserve the world, Doll, and I want to give it to you. I want to be here for all your ups and downs, and I want to spend my life being to you what you've already been to me.

"You're my partner, you're my best friend, you're the love of my life. And if you'll have me, I'll be your king, if you'll be my queen. I'll be your husband, if you'll be my wife.

"Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N, will you marry me?"

You let out a laugh through a sob, pulling your hand to your face to quickly wipe your tears away, and you nod vigorously. You drop to your knees, pulling Bucky's face into your hands, caressing his cheek gently. Smiling, you respond.

"James Bucky Barnes, of course I'll marry you."

[horrorhot-line]

eunoia

(n.) beautiful thinking; a well mind.

➵ pairing: saiki kusuo/reader

➵ word count: 4.8k

➵ genre: slight angst? fluff

➵ warnings: none

➵ summary: teruhashi and mikoto swap looks and all it does is annoy saiki, he asks you for help once again. alternatively, teruhashi and mikoto compete to figure out saiki’s type, you try not to get involved but get dragged into things anyway.

➵ masterlist  (requests are open)

➵previous post -  rame

I DO NOT CONSENT TO MY WORK BEING POSTED BY ANYONE ELSE ON ANY PLATFORM

before you read:

‘saiki telepathically communicating with reader’ ‘reader thinking or interacting with saiki through thoughts.’ “saiki talking without moving his mouth.” “saiki talking using his mouth.”

notes: this was a request, found here, finally i’ve managed to update the series and i hope you all like the newest rendition. this one’s based off of season 2 episode 17. enjoy!!!

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵       ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵

Sitting across from Kokomi, you took down notes from her book. You had asked her beforehand for help since you didn't understand the class material. Of course, like the 'angel' she was, she didn't refuse. After grabbing a chair from another desk, you had parked yourself in front of her. Though, it proved hard to focus when everyone around you gushed about her perfect she was.

You leaned back in place, picking up Kokomi's notebook to take a closer look at it, squinting your eyes at it. Almost as if the action itself would help it magically make sense. The words written on the pages were elegant- even her handwriting was perfect. You sighed, yet again realising that if anyone ended up with Saiki- it would be her.

'Stop thinking useless things.' You nearly jumped in surprise. Would you ever get used to him randomly talking to you telepathically? Probably not. You furrowed your eyebrows and closed your eyes in slight frustration. 'I swear I told you to stop that.' You thought back at Saiki, recognising his voice in your head.

You shoved down the thought of how nice he sounded, regardless of whether he talked to you with his mouth or not. 'Stop what?' He retorted. You were grateful Teruhashi was too busy feeling proud of the attention she was getting from the guys in the class to pay attention to your expressions. 'Checking into my thoughts like I'm some radio station.' You huffed mentally.

'I can't help hearing you.' You exhaled through your nose, slumping in your seat. You knew he was right, but still! He didn't have to reply to you- he could ignore it. 'It's not like I'm wrong, she's perfec-' He cut off your thought before you could continue. 'Don't care.' Typical Saiki, always having to be in the right. 'Why not?'

'Because I don't... besides, she's not my type.' That made you raise an eyebrow to yourself. You looked over your shoulder to Saiki, still sitting at his desk, before you turned around to face in front of you. 'Why not?' You hoped you didn't sound too curious, aiming for indifference. It didn't work. 'She's not my type,' He reiterated.

That made you wonder, who was then? You shook your head, going back to pretending you were paying attention to Teruhashi's notebook- or trying to, at least. It was none of your business, to begin with, so it's not like you'd pry. Part of you didn't want to know so you wouldn't go around unconsciously changing your appearance.

What good would it do finding out anyway? It's not like you would fit his expectations. Knowing him meant being aware of the fact that he didn't have a single bone for romance in his body. That didn't stop the pang of pain you felt in your gut. You chose to halt your thought process before you got upset. There was no point souring your mood over something like that.

You would've started focusing on the school work you had left had it not been for Mikoto calling out Saiki's name. "Kusuo!" Turned out, you weren't the only one paying attention- Teruhashi had whipped her head to look in their direction. If you hadn't moved back in time, her perfect hair would have slapped you in the face.

"Let's go get cake later!" Mikoto announced, and you ignored the bitter taste in your mouth. Was this feeling... jealousy? No way. It was, but it's not like you would admit it to yourself. You watched Teruhashi's expression darken, and you moved back. She had a piece of her hair in her mouth, and she ground her teeth in anger. She looked creepy, and you had no intention of setting her off, even by accident. She was giving off Sadako (girl from the ring) vibes. You shivered involuntarily.

You didn’t need the power of mind reading to know what she was thinking. ‘Acting so friendly with Saiki, darn that b!tch!’

You said nothing when Teruhashi got up abruptly and excused herself to you, knowing full well she was going after Mikoto and the psychic. Saiki was popular- he had two of the prettiest girls in the school chasing after him. You exhaled deeply, shaking your head to yourself.

So much for not putting yourself in a sour mood. You quietly returned to your desk, deciding to sleep the rest of the day away instead. Education be damned.

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵       ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵

Your jaw dropped to the floor when you came to school the next day, only to find Teruhashi had copied Mikoto's style. The rest of the guys in the classroom shared your sentiment. "Oh, my!" and "No way!!" was all they could muster. One of them asked what had happened to her directly. "A makeover," She answered, a faint blush lining her cheeks. You cringed.

The boys in the class ogled at her telling her how great she looked. Personally, you thought the change didn't suit her, but to each their own. Did miss perfect think the fortune teller in question was Saiki's type? Oh, dear lord.

You were sat across Saiki this time when she showed up to school. 'What is she doing?' Saiki thought at you, and you replied, still staring at Teruhashi- dumbfounded. 'I think you already know.' He deadpanned, sighing at her behaviour. 'She thinks I'm going to gasp.' 

‘Who knows, maybe you will.’ You teased, only for him to turn to you with his face void of emotion. ‘Stop it.’ You wanted to snort because Saiki would do that when pigs fly. Disclaimer: never gonna happen. Not on your watch. 'Fat chance.' Knowing him, he'd just sigh at her behaviour. She had the wrong idea about the pink-haired boy, that was for sure.

You hadn't noticed Mikoto standing behind you until Saiki raised his head to look at her, and she spoke. "Wah! Terukoko, that look fits you!" She complimented, before presenting herself to Saiki. 'And this one, what has she done?' You raised your head back to look at her before you rushed to turn around in your chair when you caught a glimpse of her. 'Oh, no...' You thought back at Saiki. 'Oh, no indeed, good grief.' What a disaster.

She had straightened her hair and dyed it brown- though her iconic clip remained. Her jewellery and acrylic nails were nowhere to be seen. "What do you think? I'm mainstream, now," Mikoto questioned. Had the two- had they switched their looks for the day? Of course, they had. But why? Ah, it was because they were trying to be Saiki's type, each one confusing something fundamental. The boy didn't have one- a type. 

He did, but what you weren’t aware of that.

Not waiting for an answer from Saiki, she turned to Teruhashi, going back to gushing over her with a smile. "Terukoko, you looked really cute, so I tried a more conventional look like yours." At least she was honest, you had to commend her for that. 'Terukoko?' Saiki commented, questioning the nickname. You were too shell shocked to reply.

"It's a wig, though," Mikoto clarified, and you sighed in relief. She hadn't done any permanent damage. 'What are they trading looks for?' Of course, he didn't know- the boy was dense as a rock. 'What's that supposed to mean?'

'Exactly what I said. It means you can't even tell when they change their styles to impress you.' You shot back. You felt Teruhashi staring at the two of you, but refused to look her way- in fear of incurring the anger of a jealous high school girl in love. 'Great, now Teruhashi thinks I like girls for their boobs.'

You turned to look back at him, your back hurting from twisting to observe Mikoto. 'Why would she think that?' You questioned Saiki. He sighed, lowering his head. 'That's the difference between the two.' You brought your hand up to cover your mouth. He wasn't wrong, Teruhashi's chest was small compared to the fortune teller. A cup vs Double Ds.

It was clear the psychic had had enough of the whole fiasco. Mikoto left after Saiki told her off, apologising as she did. You exhaled. Something about the two of them switching styles to catch Saiki's attention didn't sit well with you. You ignored the feeling, refusing to dwell on it further. Instead, you focused on Saiki. A mistake, if you were being honest.

The moment you got lost in admiring his features, the world faded away. A horrible sign, because it meant this boy had a hold on you and he wouldn't do a damn thing about it. You wanted to reach out and touch his hair, it looked soft to the touch and you wanted to feel it. To feel him. You restrained yourself, not wanting to make him uncomfortable.

Saiki would let you touch his hair if you asked, but you didn't- so it's not like he'd offer himself. You didn't need to know that, though.

His lips looked soft too, they were light pink, a few shades dimmer compared to his hair. When the thought of kissing him crossed your mind, you clenched your jaw. No. You would never go there, you wouldn't allow yourself to even imagine it.

He was your friend for god's sake! You had to keep yourself in line. Lest you destroy the relationship you had with him. When his eyes met yours, stoic and devoid of emotion, you felt your heart stop. The butterflies erupted in your stomach and you cursed at yourself for letting something that simple get to you.

You didn't even realise he was calling, your mind hadn't even registered his lips moving, calling out your name. Only when he softly touched your hand, the one on his desk did you snap out of it. You flushed red- the colour, you were sure had enveloped your entire being.

"Y/n. Pay attention. You'll fail the upcoming mock test otherwise." No witty response came from you, too dazed to fire back. "Ye-yeah." You said meekly, failing to notice the look of slight worry Saiki shot at you. The feeling of his fingers on the back of your hand, made the tips of your ears burn. You tried not to think about how nice his touch felt. 

His hands were warm. He was warm.

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You decided by the end of the school day that you weren't going to get involved with the non-existent love triangle Mikoto and Teruhashi were convinced existed. You made quick work of packing your bags, noting how Saiki had come to the same conclusion as you, excluding himself from the situation.

Saiki had gone to the toilet right before the last period concluded, his typical escape route when he wanted to avoid people. Truth be told, you were surprised that neither female had followed him.

Before you had the chance to put your pencil case away, the girls in question had walked up to your desk. You reluctantly looked up, your hand in your bag as you shot them a tense smile. You had spoken too soon. Looked like not getting involved wouldn't be an option.

Mikoto brushed her wig behind her shoulder before folding her arms in front of her chest. You tried not to pay attention to the way her boobs looked bigger because of the action, looking at the desk next to you as if it was interesting.

'Y/n, don't say a word. Walk away.' Saiki's voice reverberated inside your skull.

You tried to control your expression of surprise, had you not done so, your eyebrows would've disappeared past your hairline. Trying not to think about how much you missed his honey-like voice, you zipped up your bag quietly.

Traitor. If he was going to escape, knowing what was to come, he should've taken you with him. A fair warning, at least, would've been nice. You didn't have the braincells for this. The remaining three just screamed 'Hungry, angry, hangry!'

"Need something?" You asked absent-mindedly as you checked the time on your phone. "What's Saiki's type?" You sighed inwardly. Of course, Mikoto would be direct. Your eyes met Teruhashi's, who immediately looked away as if she was embarrassed. No surprise there, she would never ask, lest she gives away the name of her 'secret' crush.

'Don't say anything, Y/n. I'm warning you.' Saiki affirmed, and you groaned internally. 'I got it, I got it. Wasn't planning on it anyways, I don't know your type to begin wit- wait, are you still in the bathroom?'

Silence passed for a few seconds before he said something again. '...Yes.' The corners of your mouth twitched. You stopped yourself from laughing, the idea of Saiki squatting on a closed toilet bowl trying to talk to you flashed through your head. 'I'm not squatting. Good grief. Just get rid of them.'

You rolled your eyes mentally, before looking at Mikoto, who was still waiting for your response. "You're asking the wrong person- I don't know." You hoped that would get them to leave you alone. You didn't even get the chance to grab your school bag before she spoke up again. "How could you not? You're close with him!" You sighed, audibly this time.

"So, what? Doesn't mean I have an answer to your question." Forget being polite, you did not have the mental capacity for a conversation like that today. You turned to leave the classroom only to find Mikoto was still following you, Teruhashi on her heels. "Wai- Wait up! Stop trying to keep him to yourself, Y/n! I got a right to know." Her voice still as cheery as always.

That pissed you off. Keep him- to yourself? What a joke. You had no intention of making a move on Saiki. You turned around abruptly, stopping her in her tracks. "I am not. He's my friend, and I have no interest in the guy. Do you get that? F-R-I-E-N-D-S. I don't know his type, he's never told me or shown a liking for the female gender for that matter." You clenched your jaw.

Did they have any idea how much it hurt watching them try so hard for him? Knowing you could never act as freely as they did? Watching them chase after him any chance they got? You didn't mind their feelings for him- after all, it wasn't your place to decide who could go after him and who couldn't. That didn't mean you wouldn't feel jealous of it, though. ‘F^ck this.’

"Why don't you ask him, yourself?" You huffed before you turned on your heel. You half-heartedly accepted the sorry Mikoto shot your way, waving your hand before you walked down the hallway to the stairs that would get you out of the stupid school building. 

When Saiki teleported from the bathroom to the shoe lockers near the exit, joining you in walking home, you stayed silent.

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The next day wasn't any better. Mikoto showed up with the same wig from the day before, and glasses this time. You assumed she hadn't taken your advice and asked him. When Teruhashi entered the classroom, you sighed for the 1000th time that week.

Teruhashi had dyed her hair blonde and had a bow resting in it. Not to mention the fact that it was curled just like Mikoto's. 'It gets worse,' you thought to yourself, shaking your head. Like clockwork, the boys in the class crowded around her, telling her how cute she looked. Some wondered why she had changed. What was she? Some kind of zoo animal?

"Te-Teruhashi, what did you do?" One of them asked. 'She really did it,' Saiki thought at you, and you glanced to your left to observe him. His glasses hid his eyes, but you knew he wasn't pleased. Teruhashi put her hand up next to her eyes like Mikoto would and answered the boy, "I just felt like it." Like hell she did. "So edgy!" The boy who had queried, exclaimed. 'A personality makeover, too?'

Teruhashi passed in front of your desk, heading to Saiki's. You would have bet money that she was trying to get him to gasp. "Good morning, Saiki." When Saiki nodded at her, acknowledging her existence, she turned her head 180°, like some owl. She was clearly shocked he hadn't reacted.

'What's wrong with her brain?' Saiki questioned, and you answered, of course. 'It's because she went to so much effort for you.' The two of you watched as the girl in question ran out of the classroom.

'She's still fixated on boobs?' You snickered quietly to yourself at Saiki's comment. 'Good grief, I don't want her to fall deeper into this,' He stated before he turned to you, 'If she asks for love advice from you, tell her to go back to her normal self.'

'Before I agree, I have to tell you something.' You thought back at him, before completely clearing your mind. A skill you developed, knowing how to stop the psychic from seeing it coming. 'What is it?' There was a pause, you continued to look in front of you. 'You should never fart in an apple store.' You heard him audibly sigh, '...Why?' You tried not to laugh. 'Because they don't have windows.'

'I will kill you.'

'No, you won't.'

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Truth be told, you weren't sure why the school turned to you for advice on relationships when they had Mikoto to just point them in the direction of their soulmate. It was a good revenue to make money though, nothing in this world came for free, after all. That's how you found yourself sitting across from Mikoto, a 100 yen coin in her hand. She had decided to turn to you the right way this time. With money.

"I need advice." She claimed, and you nodded looking around the empty classroom. Mostly empty, since Saiki was still there, just existing. You were next to the seats near the lockers since everyone else had left to go on their break and the chairs were free. "I know." You rubbed your temple, ignoring the headache that emerged.

Trying not to pay attention to the dull pain behind your right eye socket, you gestured with your hand for her to continue before folding your arms in front of your chest. "I changed my style to fit Teruhashi's looks and it's not working, I don't understand what I have to do to get his attention."

When you stayed silent, she continued, and you pretended her talking about Saiki didn't affect you. Nope. Not one bit... Okay, maybe it did a little. Your job as the designated love guru came first, though. You needed the 100 yen to buy coffee jelly for Saiki. "I'm gonna be honest with you. You're my rival." That caught you off guard, and you furrowed your eyebrows at her.

"Heh, why?" You questioned, not understanding what she meant. Why would you be her love rival when you had no intention of acting on the stupid crush you had? She sighed, looking out the window of the classroom. "I looked into your fortune like I did with Saiki. I just want you to know I'm not going to stop competing with you." Mikoto turned back to look at you, and you were left even more confused.

Your head reeled. What the hell was she on about? You liked Mikoto, she was nice, and headstrong, not taking shit from anyone, but she was cryptic. Something you didn't enjoy much, since she spoke in riddles at times. Like now. "Why would you compete-" You didn't get a chance to finish as Mikoto cut you off. "You're his absolute future, his absolute soulma-"

Teruhashi walked in before she could finish, and you coughed into your hand and moved back in your seat, pretending you hadn't been at the edge of it. She still had Mikoto's style, and you had to say, it was growing on you. You wouldn't lie, she was still pretty. She took a chair and placed it beside Mikoto.

"I need your advice." Of course, she did as well. You dragged your hands down your face, already done with the day. You weren't a fan of talking about love with them when you knew that they were trying to pine for Saiki. Regardless, you'd give it, because the boy in question had asked you to.

"Payment first, both of you." When they gave it to you, you put the 200 yen on your side of the desk before you looked at them expectantly. "The guy I like doesn't care no matter how much I change myself for him." Teruhashi piped up first, and Mikoto agreed with her, saying she had the same issue.

You leaned back in your chair and it creaked slightly due to the shift in weight. "The issue isn't whether he cares or not. Ask yourselves this, why are you changing into someone that isn't true to yourself? Why do that for a guy? There isn't any point in it, because if he doesn't like you for you, then what use is he to you?"

Both of them looked at each other before turning to you. "So, what are you saying? Give up on him?" Mikoto spoke first this time, and Teruhashi agreed. You sighed, they still didn't get it. "No- I'm saying go back to your original styles, then try again. Copying each other won't help you." When they stayed silent, thinking on your words, you knew your work was done. With that, you took the 200 yen and returned to your desk next to Saiki.

The day after, the both of them had returned to normal and you sighed with relief.

'You owe me.'

'I know.'

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bonus: 

"I need your help, again." Of course, Saiki did. It was a regular occurrence. Whenever he didn't want to be bothered, he'd use you as some sort of human shield against 'nuisances', i.e, his friends. Now it was your turn to deadpan at the pink-haired boy.

You raised your eyebrows to mock him, your eyelids lowered as you nodded your head with a knowing look. "What is it this time?" As your eyes trailed from his to stare at the hand on your arm, a feeling of deja vu washed over you. This situation was eerily similar to when Saiki had asked you to third wheel when he didn't want to hang out with Teruhashi alone. "Mikoto wants to get cake with me after school."

The only difference this time was that it was break time and he had caught you on the roof of the school. You tried not to think how pretty he looked with the sunlight bathing him in its glow. You ran a hand through your hair, "I can't refuse, Can I?" You turned from looking at the school field to Saiki. When your eyes met the place he was holding you, he didn't let go.

"It wasn't a question." He stated bluntly. You let out a huff of amusement, of course, it wasn't. The same predicament as the last time this had happened came up, to help or to not help. You could try ducking under him to escape, but you knew it wouldn't work. As much as you didn't want to roll over and let Saiki have his way, you knew you'd let it happen.

Then, making him work for it, wouldn't hurt right? "I don't think so. I'm not helping." Despite Saiki's expression not changing, the twitch of his eyebrow told you he was peeved. "You're coming with me." You huffed in annoyance. Always so damn stubborn. "Why don't you just go with her? You love sweet stuff." You tried not to pay attention to how his touch was doing things to your heart. You felt the breeze of the afternoon on your skin, thankful for it since it helped cool you down.

Saiki had yet to break eye contact with you, and you didn't like the feeling of your insides being squeezed, not one bit. You broke the stare first. "Because it's bothersome." You looked at him incredulously, why was it your job to help him, just because he thought of it as a chore?

"You already owe me, Kusuo." You stated.

"I know." He replied almost immediately.

"I will come to collect a favour." You confirmed.

"I know." He shot back.

You sighed, "Fine! I'll come with- see you after class." You agreed as much as you didn't want to. Seeing Mikoto try to get Saiki to like her didn't sound appealing in the slightest. You expected him to leave, he had gotten what he came for.

To your surprise, he stayed put. "...What?" You asked, unsure what he wanted. "I'm waiting for you. Class is about to start and we're going to be late." You gave him a soft smile at that. The small act of consideration was enough to remind you that this boy owned your heart. Out of all the people in the world, Saiki Kusuo just had to be the one you fell for. When you didn't move, too lost in your thoughts, he spoke.

"For your first favour, I'll let you touch my hair. Once." You nearly choked on the spit in your mouth, did you hear him right??? When you stayed silent, too shocked to say a word, Saiki elaborated, "You were thinking about it two days ago." You flushed with embarrassment. He had heard you?!

Of course, he had- he had telepathy after all. Curse you for letting your thoughts run wild in a 200-metre radius of him. You wanted to combust, praying to any higher power to just let the ground beneath you swallow you up. Anything would be better than having to be in this situation.

"Stop reading my mind, will you?" You said meekly, hoping that was all he heard. "I can't help it when you're that loud. Now hurry up before I change my mind." You forced your mind to not go at a hundred miles per hour. No such luck. Act cool, Y/n, please. You begged internally.

You moved closer to him, trying not to pay attention to his eyes following your every move. Why did this man have to make you so nervous? You could feel your face burning, and when he finally let go of your arm, you reached forward. You tentatively placed your fingers over his pink locks, exhaling nervously.

The moment your hand came into contact with his hair, your mind went blank. Why did it all feel so natural to you? You were surprised at how soft his hair was, it was like a fluffy carpet, the ones you'd draw designs into just because of how nice it felt on your hands. You let your fingers move to feel more, experimentally.

Saiki's expression had yet to change, the only thing that did was the fact that he was no longer looking at you, staring off to the side. You licked your lips, letting yourself enjoy the moment, knowing you'd never get a chance like this again. You would.

'Why does it feel so soft? What conditioner does he use?'

You sighed in contentment, absentmindedly running your hands through his pink hair as you thought back to when Mikoto and Teruhashi had cornered you to try and find out Saiki's type. What was his type? Did he even have one? If you had to guess, you'd reckon it was someone who loved themselves.

You had a feeling that Saiki didn't like those who tried too hard or who changed just for him. That much was obvious from how he reacted to the two girl's switching styles. So, someone who remained true to themselves, no matter what? That had to be it. 

“Oh, Wow.”

You froze, what f^ck was that? You looked to Saiki, questioning if you had misheard him. It was his voice, but there was no way the robot of a human was capable of saying those two words. The only thing that changed was that his hand now covered his mouth. You watched him, and when he refused to meet your gaze, you became suspicious.

"Kusuo...?" Your words trailed off when you noticed his ears, moving your hand to the side to take a better look. Were they... were they pink? Compared to his normal ivory skin, they looked flushed. Again, what the f^ck?

When you realised the same colour was creeping up to his neck from the collar of his school shirt, you wondered if you were hallucinating. Then, like it had been a trick of the light, it disappeared. He turned to you, finally looking you in the eyes. "What?" He tried to act nonchalant, but you saw through it. If you weren't so shocked you would have teased him.

You knew it! You had heard right! You had managed to do what even Teruhashi couldn't after months of effort. You had gotten the boy to say, "Oh, wow!" You were never going to forget this, mentally patting yourself on the back. You didn't care this time when your ears burnt as if they were on fire.

With one final rub to his hair, you retracted your hand. You wanted to say it. Right then and there. 'I like you. I've liked you since the moment we met, I don't know how it happened but I like you, you idiot.'

You stayed silent, swallowing your words, and biting your tongue. "Your hair is soft." Was all that you could muster. Saiki sighed, "Good grief. Now that you're done, we need to go. We're going to be late if we don't leave, Now." When he turned and started to speed walk, you shouted, "Wait up, Kusuo." Before following him.

The smile on your face didn't leave, not once.

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next part - kilig

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[a-libra-writes]

Ok you did rocky and nico but what about Mordecai with widow reader with three kittens? (bonus if you include aunty Serafine and uncle nico)ps I love your writing!

This one is a bit different from the other widow-with-kiddo asks but I hope its still to ur liking ~

Firstly! Regardless if you're working the Marigold Room as a bartender or musician, or you're in the gang directly, the kittens are often at the hotel. The staff knows them, the managers don't mind because they stay away from guests, other gang members are familiar with them and make sure they stay outta trouble. The hotel's back rooms and staff quarters are like an endless maze to the kiddos, and they know the whole place like the back of their hands. ... Kinda.

Not to mention how they're doted on by everyone - Asa gives them candies, Nico tosses them high in the air, Serafine is kind of scary but she gave them these funny bracelets (made of bones??? but theyre funny and she's pretty so it's okay!), various hotel staff cooing over how cute and well-behaved they are.

And then there's Mordecai. He's pretty scary to adults, let alone kids. When he sees them skittering around in the peripheral of his vision, he has to frown even more. Who let these wayward children in here? He hears them running about the halls and empty offices while he's trying to do accounting. And as much as Mordecai wants nothing to do with them, he's a figure of great interest to your kittens. Someone who isn't cooing over them? Whose in an office way in the back, only one light on? The one who follows Mr. Sweet and dresses in all black? Their little imaginations run wild, even if you've plainly told them that "Mr. Heller" is your colleague and to leave him be.

The oldest one approaches him first. Which is to say, she lingers behind the doorway, peeking in and thinking he can't see her tail and ears sticking out. He hears the younger ones shushing each other. As much as Mordecai wants to be annoyed, instead, a painful deja vu comes over him. Your oldest finally patters in with a nervous "Mr. Heller?". Before he can ask what she wants, she plops a candy on his desk and runs off, the other kittens right behind her.

As much as the shadowy cat doesn't want the trio bothering him, he's torn about them being so fearful of him. All three of them stir up painful familiar memories of his sisters, but the youngest especially reminds Mordecai of Rose. He tries not to think of how old she and Eshter are now, if they miss him the way your kittens miss you when you're away. It's hard for him to keep up his cold exterior when those painful memories bubble up to the surface.

So when the oldest comes by his desk, he finally sighs and says with a frown, "All three of you, just come in and show me what it is." And the other two shuffle in, with their big eyes and hand-me-down clothes and it's just. Very difficult not to dismiss them.

The two youngest have decided he's their "secret friend", even if you were well aware of how they liked to pester your overly serious colleague. You'll watch your girls draw him alongside other people they know (why does he always look so shadowy and sketchy, even in crayon form?) but you don't know they like sneaking their drawings into his satchel or desk drawers. They'll leave wrapped candies and pretty strings and buttons too, to his exasperation. Eventually Mordecai walks over to you and drops a handful of the little treasures at your table.

"Gee, Mordecai, I'm flattered. You know what a guy/gal likes."

"Don't be ridiculous, I'm returning what your snooping progeny keep leaving me. Tell them to stay out of my things."

"Looks to me like they're trying to add some color to that depressing office you hole up in."

And so on, and so forth, you two really like to bicker, don't you?

(Oh, and Mordecai starts keeping the door shut and locking it, but then he hears giggles and sees them shoving the pictures and little things under the doorway.)

Now they aren't afraid of him at all, which means they want to run about Mordecai and get his attention. They'll giggle as they dart between his legs or "hide" under his coat. Their fur gets all over his black clothes. When they inevitably tumble and fall, he picks them up by the collar or under the arms and scolds them for running indoors. And he yanks them down when they get too rowdy and climb up furniture, or sometimes he finds the youngest one crying because she got lost and takes her back. If he catches any of the kittens with an unlaced boot or messy face, he stops them immediately.

"Stop! Lace up your boots immediately. You'll trip and crack your skull open. Don't run in the hotel lobby, either. This is an establishment, not a wild jungle you can traipse about in - keep still, what is on your face? Is that - syrup? Did you not think to wash your hands and face after - no, there will be no giggling about breaches of hygiene -"

(A few people are staring as Mordecai fusses over her, which he doesn't notice until a woman walks by and says, "oh, it's so hard at this age, isn't it? Don't worry, you're doing great." And he dies a little a lot inside).

He tried doing these things in secret, but inevitably one of the Savoys or Asa or you would spot him, and the youngest one loves prattling on about him. Asa, Nico and Serafine find "Nanny Heller" to be hysterical. He's going to throttle someone or plan a murder swear to god-

There's been several moments when you hear a high-pitched squeal that sounds like a scream, and you run over in a panic ... and oh, it's just Nico dangling one of the kittens upside down and pretending to lose his grip. False alarm - wait, why is Mordecai here too?

If you're a triggerman with the gang, it means you're keeping all sorts of odd hours. You've been with them for years and you're more than useful, so having the children set up in an empty office isn't looked twice at. They've got their bedding, some books and toys, and ... sometimes they're sleeping there more than they sleep at home, which you aren't proud of. It's not just the cost of childcare, but the odd hours and questions being asked about your job, especially if you're a woman.

The first time Mordecai came across this office was by accident, but he knew the children had to be staying somewhere. He walked up very quietly, and looking through the open doorway, saw the oldest doing her homework at the big desk while her two siblings slept under it, curled up with their pillows and blankets and stuffed toys. He didn't think he'd be affected so strongly, but it was painful. A very, very painful reminder, and maybe he saw himself a little too much in that girl, furrowing her brow and making sense of numbers.

You and Mordecai have had strange arguments about the the children, which was odd at first. You wondered why the so-called unfeeling triggerman cared at all. If he felt you were being too reckless during a job, he'd tell you as much, but there was more bite in his voice. He never outright said 'you have others depending on you', but it was in his tone. Many times you felt judged, or looked down upon - but a lot of these fights weren't about you specifically. It was the situation that upset him, the lengths one had to go to keep their family fed and safe in a clean environment. He was definitively projecting, and not always aware of it, or just in denial about it. Mordecai tried not to dwell on his own mother and sisters: what they felt when he didn't come home one day, when they read that letter explaining where all the money was hidden, when the realization sunk in for Eshter and Rose that their brother wasn't coming back. If they were sad, or angry, or resigned, or didn't think of him at all anymore. Or maybe they'd resent him forever.

Look he really doesnt want to be thinking about these things -

After long jobs, you'd wash the blood off and change shirts and tiredly walk all the way to the back rooms where your kittens were sleeping. Sometimes you stir the oldest awake so she can help you carry the other two to the car, but honestly, the only apartment a single parent with three children can get is pretty shit. So most times you just curl up on the floor with them, catching a few hours of sleep before you need to wake up the oldest for school.

You hold her hand as you walk through the back rooms and out the staff exit. Sometimes Mordecai sees you. You wear the same tired but persevering expression as his mother did, looking a mess compared to your well-put together daughter. He knows she washed up and dressed herself, and packed her own bookbag. She has that look of responsibility and eyes that are a little too old, and it's too familiar, so he looks away.

(Sometimes the oldest finds an extra sandwich in her bookbag, or new pencils and one time, a new pair of mittens. She feels like it's magic, so she doesn't want to tell anyone, otherwise the magic will 'break'.)

You and Mordecai already have a very strange relationship (can you call each other friends yet? You'd consider him that, or something more, but his feelings are something else entirely), and your kiddos would certainly add another layer of strangeness onto it. You might actually get to know him a little faster and closer than most do, or at least see a side that most people have never seen or even considered him capable of.

[vesuvianhermitcrabs]

The Arcana M6 Getting Ready For Bed

AN: because I'm sleepy AND alone, and it's late so no judgement lol

Asra

This man will sleep anywhere, any time.

His before-sleep routine is usually just shedding a few layers of clothing (I mean boots and jackets and stuff you perverse neanderthals) and then cramming himself into a space that he deems comfortable

Hair care? Pbbffftt, no, he doesn't do that, MC (how do you think he maintains hair that fluffy, of course he has a hair care routine)

After their hair care they tend to grab the nearest object and snuggle it before they sleep

Guess what the nearest object usually is

BINGO, it's you

Nadia

Bedtime preparation with Nadia usually means working through an extensive list of self care requirements

If you want to sit with her while she nourishes and brushes her hair, and bathes, and brushes her teeth, and moisturizes, and washes her face, and waxes her legs, and exfoliates, and does nightly stretches, and changes into her nightdress, she'll definitely appreciate your efforts. You'll recieve a smooch on the forehead or something

You cannot fathom how Nadia manages to keep up with all her nightly routines

Julian

Bitch you thought he was going to bed?

The bedtime routine with Julian is often just him refusing to sleep for longer than he should, and then you needing to haul his bony ass into bed

Other times, you end up lounging around with him while he works, head in his lap. This is more bedtime prep for you (because he won't rest at all), especially when you can't fall asleep. The sound of his quill on paper is insanely therapeutic

And other times, he gets blackout drunk and his bedtime routine is sobbing into the bar table before letting out the most horrendous gut wrenching snore

Muriel

Originally, Muriel's bedtime prep was literally just him laying down on the ground (either fully dressed or completely not) and shutting his eyes

Nowadays it's still a little basic, but it's a lot more healthy than what it used to be

He usually just puts his hair up, brushes his teeth and crashes in the bed. The clothing thing doesn't really apply anymore because he sleeps in a bed and shoes + bed = sin. Oh, and also he doesn't want to sleep in his panties with you around /hj

It's worth mentioning that if you buy him pajamas he will wear them, regardless of what they look like. You shouldn't abuse this, of course. Buuuut if you wanted to buy him an otter onesie–

Inanna will make fun of him for the onesie for the rest of her life

Portia

Portia is very consistent, that's for sure

Her nightly bath is very much needed, more so in the warmer months, as she is super busy throughout the day

Your bathroom always smells nice

When you're in town you end up buying her soothing smelling soaps and shampoos and all that

Asks you to heat the water beforehand (then every night, without fail, asks you if you want to join)

Then she gets dressed, does basic hygiene things, and crawls into bed with you, immediately falling asleep

Lucio

Much like Nadia, he also engages in extensive self-care before bed

Or at least he USED TO. Damn you, nomadic lifestyle

His skincare routine has gone from twenty-eight steps to only twelve, and it devastates him, like an immense amount

It still takes him an annoying amount of time to get ready for bed, but you can't imagine what it used to be like

He always waits for you to be laying down before he takes his heels off (he's worried about seeming short)

"MC, is my hairline receding?"

You regret buying him a pocket mirror as he will not shut up now

[teecupangel]

*chants* CAPYBARA DESMOND MILES! CAPYBARA DESMOND MILES!

Look at that little face:

They would probably first see Desmond somewhere with a body of water.

For Ratonhnhaké:ton, it would be when he first sees Aquila. He would be walking back to the manor and find Desmond following him. He’s never seen a capybara before but it seemed friendly enough and had went on his hind legs, raising his front legs as if to ask for Ratonhnhaké:ton to pick him up. Ratonhnhaké:ton does and he brings him to Achilles who admits to not knowing what Desmond is, only that ‘it’ usually stays inside the wreckage of the Aquila. Faulkner would probably have more information so Achilles suggested that Ratonhnhaké:ton talk to him (but also to not get distracted by the ‘rodent’, cue Desmond glaring at him) but Faulkner only knows as much as Achilles as the ‘thing’ appeared one day and never left until he followed Ratonhnhaké:ton anyway. At least, Faulkner was able to tell Ratonhnhaké:ton what Desmond likes to eat. Desmond spends most of his time in the manor and served more as a companion to Achilles who always gives him something to eat whenever Ratonhnhaké:ton is gone.

For Ezio, Desmond would actually be a gift from Machiavelli. A strange gift with Machiavelli saying “He reminds me of you” which Ezio and Desmond still aren’t sure if it’s meant to be a complement or not. Regardless, Desmond becomes the unofficial mascot of the Italian Brotherhood and is super spoiled by the other recruits. Claudia also teases her brother that Desmond (and Ezio didn’t know why he named the animal Desmond, it just seemed right) is the only child that Ezio would accept officially. It’s all said in jest as Ezio has no idea if he has any illegitimate children running around. (Claudia doesn’t believe it, Ezio is more on the fence, Machiavelli says the only way Ezio wouldn’t have any unknown children is if he can’t have children at all). So Desmond is treated like the mentor’s child more than pet and everyone spoils on him. Then Leonardo meets him and… Desmond began to appear in Leonardo Da Vinci’s works and sketches.

Altaïr would meet Desmond during his travels to one of his mission. A small pond or lake that he stopped by to let the horse rest. Altaïr would find Desmond flopping around the bank and they would stare at each other for a moment before Altaïr would turn around to ignore him. Desmond would probably be offended and ‘run’ after him, his feet making wet squishy sounds against the ground. Desmond would grab hold of the reins of Altaïr’s horse or maybe his robes and wouldn’t let go. Altaïr has no time to deal with this kind of tomfoolery but he couldn’t just kill this creature since it wasn’t dangerous. Annoying, sure. But innocent nonetheless. ……… and that is how… Altaïr finally manages to turn Malik speechless when he brings the creature with him to the bureau, letting the creature rest in his arms. Oh. And the creature waved at Malik and Malik was simply too confused that he instinctively waved back.

[multifandomimagin3s]

Chaotic Co-Worker

Requested by Anon

Summary: Reader is a Spider-Person, and is best friends with Deadpool.

Idk what this is. But anyways, I'm alive. Hope you guys enjoy.

Miguel O'Hara

Both you and Wade give this man chronic, back-to-back migraines.

As soon as Wade somehow manages to get to the Spider-Society HQ ((*cough cough* he snuck in through a portal with you)), Miguel can't get five minutes to himself.

Miguel's been around the Multiverse, so he's probably encountered various Deadpool variants on his travels - and he claims that none of them were anywhere near as annoying as the one that you happen to be best friends with.

He basically just treats Wade like he treats Hobie - actively trying to ignore him and not lose his shit.

It only works 30% of the time.

Regardless of how many times he literally kicks Wade out, he always finds his way back in.

God help him if Wade ever gets it into his head that Miguel has a crush or something on you - I mean, you're Wade's best friend and probably would get up to some shenanigans with him... and you haven't been fired? Suspicious.

He would probably ask Miguel if there's a 'casting couch' involved when he does his 'interviews' for joining the Spider Society.

And he'd probably try to grab his ass.

Peter B. Parker

I think he would find Wade's antics funny, until he's on the receiving end.

Tries not to laugh when Wade's clearly pushing Miguel's buttons on purpose, but as soon as Peter starts being called Spider-DILF, he doesn't know whether to be flattered or weirded out. Or both.

Doesn't know whether Wade can be trusted around Mayday or not - I mean, Wade's not a bad guy and usually has the best intentions, but I can just see Mayday picking up some of his coarse language after hanging around him.

Probably would be as confused as Miguel when Wade keeps popping up out of nowhere - like, how tf does he keep coming back??

But all-in-all, I don't think he would really mind that much about Wade being there.

I mean, I'm pretty sure Miguel hired Kaine. So it takes a lot to shake Peter B.

Ben Reilly

Ben would instantly get annoyed when Wade mocks his broodiness.

And Wade being Wade, the fact that he got a reaction out of Ben would just fuel him more.

"Emo Ken Doll" is his new name.

I think that Wade's more brutal way of doing things would kind of pique his interest though - not that Ben would admit it since he'd still probably be annoyed at being the butt of his jokes.

It would also make him more interested in you by proxy - whether you're secretly similarly natured to Wade, or if you're complete opposites.

You'd know this, of course, because of his monologuing.

Ben: Deadpool is brutal. But he's their best friend. Hm, thinking.

Spider Noir

I think it would be 50:50 as to whether he and Deadpool would actually get along, at all.

On one hand, he'd get annoyed when Wade insults him - especially when Wade called him Nicholas Cage, despite neither Noir nor you knowing who he was on about.

But on the other hand - Noir canonically likes punching Nazis and isn't opposed to violence, so him and Wade would probably find some common ground there.

Since the Deadpool from the movies lost Vanessa, but did everything he could to protect her, I think Noir would sympathise with that - he's from the 1930's, so those old-fashioned ways of looking after your partner really resonate with him a lot.

Basically, Noir would either hate him, or they would be the most unconventional friends that you'd ever see.

Jonathan Ohnn / The Spot

**[Contains some spoilers]**

Okay, so depending on which version of the Spot that you two encounter, really determines his reaction.

If it's Jonathan, or the initial version of the Spot we meet in ASTV, he's arguably more tame in his reaction - I mean, you're a Spider-person, so he's going to be annoyed straight away.

And Wade would most likely give him some verbal taunting and 'mild' abuse.

He'd just be like >:( ... well, he doesn't actually have a face so it would just be a squished 'O'.

But if you two were to encounter him after he went to the collider in Mumbatan...

If it's one of those BookTok scenarios where he secretly likes you, then you'll probably be fine...

But he realistically would try to kill you. And Wade... and would be equal parts fascinated and annoyed when he can't kill him due to his healing factor.

[rynnaissance]

ok so for future reference, if i ever do continue working on my fic, how do we think bell’s hells would be at driving cars in a modern au? i’ve got ideas, but i want to hear other people’s input.

here’s what i’ve got:

chetney: DO NOT GET IN A CAR WITH CHETNEY WHATEVER YOU DO. that senior citizen is batshit insane and he WILL road rage. if someone cuts him off then wherever he was going is forgotten because he has to tailgate that person now while yelling at them to pull over so they can “talk.” i can’t decide if he would have a really nice car or a really shitty one because honestly both fit. maybe a fancy truck for hauling wood?

orym: he’s your safest bet out of the hells if you want to get somewhere on time without fearing for your life. bro is a law abiding citizen of the road. he never loses his cool (unlike chet) and his car is always clean and smells super nice. he mostly listens to meditation style music, but he’ll let the other person have the aux because he’s genuinely curious to hear what they listen to. shout out to orym.

laudna: okay back to the insanity. ALSO DO NOT GET IN A CAR WITH LAUDNA! girlie pop should not be on the road. she’s blasting the weirdest fucking genres of metal imaginable, she can hear nothing else. the music only somewhat drowns out the horrible keening noises her car makes, as if it’s begging to die. that thing hasn’t been to the shop in decades and omits the occasional plume of black smoke that smell like burnt hair and buttered popcorn for some reason? i saw someone else talk about how she’s a crazy driver with everyone except imogen who she drives very well for and never blasts music, and i like that idea a lot.

imogen: it was her dad’s truck before her’s, a farm vehicle meant for rural roads with four wheel drive. it’s pretty beat up, but it’s reliable. imogen hates driving though, as it can be super overwhelming in the city, and prefers to go with laudna. outside of the city, on rural roads where you won’t see another car for miles, she finds it almost as relaxing as horseback riding. she likes to cruise around with her widows down, shamelessly listening to country music. yeehaw.

ashton: should you get in a car with ashton? depends on the day, as they are kind of a wild card. one day, it might be a chill drive with you two causally exchanging stories, like sober “what the fuck is up with that?” other times you better hold onto your seat because you are getting to your location regardless of how traffic is flowing. ashton is the person who cuts chetney off. it may be on purpose, no one knows for certain, but he always seems to manage to find the old man and make his day a little more difficult. if they see someone they know, they’ll lay on horn and yell, “hey asshole!” with a wave and a grin. the car itself is covered in stickers and sharpie graffiti, interior and exterior. you’ll always know it’s him.

fearne: does she have a license? she would say yes. the truth is no. fearne was never taught how to drive, she just kinda figured it out as she went along. because of ashton, she used to think honking is a friendly thing, but had to be informed by fcg that those people are not just saying hi, but are actually mad at her. she didn’t like that very much. she doesn’t seem to be aware that there are any dangers to driving. she’s almost always getting into crashes, which she responds to with a giggle and a “whoops(:” it’s a marvel she hasn’t been arrested yet. there’s also an angry possum that’s sometimes found in the truck of her car, so it’s best not to open it.

fcg: much like orym, fcg is a very safe person to drive with. although maybe a little annoying, as he’ll let everyone go before him at a four way stop regardless of if it’s actually their turn. sometimes though, when they’re under a lot of stress, they resemble chetney more. they won’t tolerate any bullshit from other drivers and yell at pedestrians to get out of the way. he’s been getting better about this though, but still.

[heyhihellosworld]

𝗢𝗳𝗳𝗶𝗰𝗲 𝘀𝗲𝗰𝗿𝗲𝘁

Rúben Dias x reader

Word count: 2.3k

Summary: You and Ruben where adamant to keep your relationship out of work but things don't always go according to plan.

Warnings: Smut, fluff, angst

Notes: First one I post about Ruben but kinda liked it even though it's kinda messy and all over the place.

"Is Y/N in today?"

Lucy shook her head with a crooked grin, trying to bite in a smug smile "She will come in an hour or so" she proceeded to tell the Portuguese who nodded.

"Don't make things up Lucy" he muttered but a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"Oh I am surely not Mr Dias" she smiled back, sitting back on her desk chair as he straightened up "Well, have a good day" he mumbled before hurrying up the stairs.

You knew you were late as you rushed through the entrance of the building, out of breath and stressed out.

"A certain someone asked for you this morning" Lucy grinned as you stopped at her reception desk. Hands full of your working bag, gym bag and files that you needed to go through after failed attempts at doing it during the weekend.

"Who?" you questioned, putting the bags down on the ground as you breathed heavily, being late to work was a bad habit but it did make your fitness better.

"Who do you think?" Lucy chuckled, folding her arms over her chest like it was the most obvious answer.

"Uh-uh Ruben?"

"Ding ding ding" she grinned, tapping her finger on the desk in tact with the sounds she did.

You rolled your eyes but couldn't help the little smile that tugged at your mouth. "Don't give me that look"

"I'm not giving you anything I am just asking you a question and pointing out something obvious"

You shook your head, warning her to continue. "I'm gonna go work, see you for lunch?" you hummed, picking up your bags and starting of to the stairs while she laughed at you "Don't try to hide the truth!" she shouted tempting you to flick her off behind your back but you held back and settled in your office. Putting the bags on the small chair by the door before settling in the spacey room which you proudly called your office.

Working as a PR manager for Manchester City had been a dream so far. Only being on the post for a month short you still had a lot to adjust to and a lot to learn but it had all been going great so far. Finding new friends by the staff and also befriending a few of the players. It was your dream job and landing it at your age was a dream in itself.

You spent the morning working through files of different events and matches. Writing player profiles and interview-templates.

The clock was about eleven when a knock made you stop and welcome the person inside.

"It's open" The door shot open and Ruben appeared, his small smile and two coffee cups in his hands making you smile widely.

"Hi, I know it's pretty late but thought you might want some coffee" You couldn't help but smile foolishly big as the Portuguese sat down the coffee at your desk. "Thank you Ruben, it's very nice" "So.... what are you doing?" he questioned, peeking over your shoulder to get a look at your files.

"Well, right now I am writing some files for Nick to pass on to Lucy and Pep regarding the Christmas event and this is your player profile template" "Wow okay, didn't really get that.. wait, that's mine?"

"Mhm"

"What does it say?" he questioned and you chuckled at him, turning to look at him briefly before opening the file up to full screen, showing him the template.

"It's basically empty. I'm gonna have to go around and fill in this information later on, some of it will probably be filmed and all but I have just filled in the basics so far, like your name, birthday, birthplace and so on"

"Mhm" he hued as his eyes scanned the document. He looked ridicolously good regardless what he was doing, it was beginning to become almost a little bit annoying, like how could someone be so beutidul only doing something so simple as reading.

"Are you supposed to know my favorite movie?" he grinned at you, meeting your eyes. "Well I don't know Mr Diaz, are you supposed to know how I look naked? I don't think so but still you do" you mused back, grinning at him as he huffed. His hands rested on the desk, next to you as he leant forward, head tiling to the left to watch you.

"Don't put those images in my head" "You are not getting anything here, it's workspace" you muttered, turning back to your computer and continuing filling in some information in his profile.

"Favorite snack?

"Isn't this supposed to be filmed?" he questioned, "Well maybe but I should start posting this before we can even proceed with the filming so I need to get a few done before, well most of them plus these are not great interview questions"

Ruben hummed, reading through the page now open on your screen as you were thinking.

"Is Jack still here?"

Ruben tilted his head and tutted in disapproval "why would you want him?" You couldn't help but to chuckle at him "Because I want to post his profile?" "Why not mine?"

"Well because I think it would be better to post his first. He is a very popular player and his transfer was a really big publicity thing so I feel like it would get attention to the series of profiles that will occur"

"Post mine first" he grumbled, shaking his head at you while you chuckled "Come on, let me do my work and go find Jack for me"

"I will not"

"Okay, fine. Then I will go myself" you said, standing up from the chair and walking around the table, looking over your shoulder to smirk at his grumpy expression.

"Stop" he grunted as you reached the door, you stopped and turned to him with a smirk. "What? Can't I do my job?" you teased but he only shook his head at you, beckoning you over to him. "You can but right now you can not go and look for Jack" "Why not?" You laughed but still walking to him until you stood chest to chest.

His eyes had that fire they always held when he was in the mood but you had been strict in your rule that no sexual acts where gonna take place at work.

You had already broken that rule twice, once in the changing room after a red-card and another time in the media room after a dinner party.

But you were still adamant on trying to keep it as much as possible. "You shouldn't be so bratty" he murmured. You looked up at him with a chuckle "I am not bratty Ruben, I am trying to do my work and I think Jack is a great player to start with for the profiles and people love him. He is hot, strong and a great player" you teased.

He grunted at that, pushing you against the desk. "Don't stand here and say Jack is hot or you will have a problem"

"Hmm" you hummed as response, feigning thinking. "He is" "Stop"

You couldn't help but to chuckle at him as you patted his chest reassuringly.

Ruben didn't find it funny though. Grabbing your thighs and hoisting you up on the table, standing in-between your thighs and pressing up against you.

"You say one more thing and you will be in trouble" he hissed, pressing his fingers into your thighs. You hummed slightly mockingly, sticking your tongue out from the corner of your lips with a smirk on your face.

"You're just such a brat sometimes" he muttered, pushing your skirt up until it pooled around your waist. He roughly pulled your legs apart and pushed his hand into your panties. You let out a gasp at the rough treatment but you loved it.

Ruben stood with his back against the door, blocking what he was doing with his fingers from any intruders.

"Gonna make you cum in your office and then maybe you will stop being such a brat and maybe stop talking about fucking Jack" His fingers started to rub at your clit. You bit your lip tightly, trying to conceal any sounds that threatened to come out.

Two of his fingers plunged into you starting to pump furiously and making it impossible to stay quiet.

"Ruben" you whined, begging him to slow down. Pressing your face into his chest to try to conceal your moans and whines when he didn't. "Please stop. I can't keep quite" you whined, rocking against his hand.

"Try harder Gathina" he murmured against the shell of your ear, his hot breath trailing down your neck.

He switched between slamming them in and out of you and hooking them against your spot, his thumb never leaving your clit. It felt electric and you knew you would be close within minutes.

Your legs started to shake as you neared your orgasm, the sounds being louder and louder and in the end even Ruben decided it was too much, trying to muffle them with kisses. Swallowing all of your sounds. "You're so close aren't you" he smirked at you chuckling as all you could do was nod.

Just as you were right there a knock echoed through the room before the door swung open. Ruben detached his mouth from yours in shock making you let out a loud moan as you were so so so close to orgasm. Desperately trying to move away from his fingers as you heard the door open.

"Oi! What the fuck!" Jack screeched out quickly exiting the office and closing the door, standing outside the door, waiting until you were ready.

"Ruben stop!" you whined but he continued, only a few more pumps of his fingers was all you needed to release biting your lips so hard they almost bled to not moan too loud for Jack's ears.

You tried to calm down, get your breathing under control and when you did you panicked. "Ruben what the fuck! Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck" You whined, watching as he licked his fingers clean before placing his hands on your shoulders to calm you down.

"Calm down y/n it was only Jack it's okay" "It's not okay! You are not gonna fired for this but I am!" You argued, gathering your bag and computer before hurrying out of the door. ignoring Rubens call of your name.

You opened the door to find Jack scratching his neck but a grin plastered on his face. You turned to him, pointing a finger at him "One word about this Grealish, and i'm talking about anything. One fucking word and you are dead"

Jack's eyes wiedened as you stormed off down the halls.

He whistled as he walked into the office where Ruben still stood, closing the door behind him.

"Soooo" Jack chuckled, pursing his lips at his teammate who mirrored his smile and chuckle. "What did I interrupt" "Nothing" Ruben hummed, shaking his head. "Nothing pft, that's bullshit you were fingering her on her office desk!" Jack burst, eyes wide and voice high.

"Okay okay, but seriously. You cannot say anything to anybody. If you do she can honestly loose her job"

"Hey, I won't but if you wanna keep it a secret ya know, maybe don't finger her in the office" he advised, walking towards the door. "Tell her I will meet her tomorrow and talk about the module she have done" he tilled, grinning as he walked out of the door.

Ruben sighed, taking the spare key from the drawer and locking the door behind him as he made his way down the stair. He was done for the morning, having a break until three when training was taking place again. "Hey Lucy have you seen y/n?" he questioned as he walked down the stairs.

Lucy looked up at the man, a slightly nervous look on her face "Uh, she, I"

"Lucy" Ruben deadpanned, knowing she knew exactly where you were.

"She just left home but she didn't want me to tell you that"

Ruben sighed "Thank you Lucy, I won't tell on you"

She nodded in appreciation as he quickly walked towards his car.

--

When Ruben unlocked the door to your apartment you were sitting on the sofa, lazy watching tv as you worked with your files. You knew who it was the second you heard the lock rustle.

"I don't want any visitors" You shouted towards the hallway but you couldn't help the small smile that tugged at your mouth. The time on your sofa had made you calm down slightly, knowing Jack would never tell on you.

"Shut up" Ruben chuckled, stopping in the doorway to look at you, his arm resting against the frame and a crooked grin on his face. "Sorry for running" you hummed, settling your computer aside as he approached you. Leaning down to kiss your lips softly.

"No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't risk your job like that"

"Well I appreciate that but it's not like I didn't willingly spread my legs for you" you hummed jokingly. "Well no but still" Ruben smiled, settling down next to you on the sofa.

"It's all okay, we just need to talk about a solution. I don't wanna have to hide us forever"

"We will find a solution" he nodded in agreement, kissing your lips again, just as soft and loving.

[aoxue]

AU ask game: Yi City peeps in space! What are they doing? 🤔

What are they doing indeed! There are so many ways to answer this prompt.... I'm going to go with a scifi setting with manageable interplanetary travel, in the vein of Star Wars or Star Trek (without the same major institutions). There are other alien races, but solely for the sake of simplicity, I'm going to say our quartet here are all human.

Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan are technically merchants, in so far as the work takes them all around the major trade routes through space. But they're not concerned about getting rich; Song Lan manages trade agreements and sales so they just have enough income to keep going, and their profits mainly come from wealthy markets where people won't miss the money. (Xiao Xingchen would give away their stock if someone in need asked him nicely).

Their focus is instead on helping people along the trade routes, especially in far-flung planetary systems that get less traffic and are a little more lawless. They offer aid, cheap food and resources, and useful equipment that might otherwise be hard to come by. They try to keep a low profile, but they're still wanted by several parties for interfering with their jurisdictions' affairs (powerful gangs, corrupt rulers, that farmer who owned the sand beast they killed because it was terrorizing the nomads on the Sand Planet, and who had ever heard of someone keeping one as a pet).

Other members of the MDZS cast exist in this world, too, but they're in more central places and positions of power, members of the Intergalactic High Council or whatever. By and large, they don't bother coming out to the fringes of Civilization.

Xue Yang is a mechanic on one of these far-out planets, and songxiao bring their ship to him for maintenance and repairs, and he doesn't ask too many questions. (Well, he'll ask to be annoying, but he doesn't actually care about the answer, or so he says, and will work with them regardless.) He runs his own operation and does good work for as sketchy as his shop might look. He gets business from some customers with pretty fat wallets, and a lot of that money does not come from savory places. But he keeps his nose out of people's affairs and the business keeps coming.

A-Qing is a street kid (as usual) on one of these distant planets; could be the same one Xue Yang is on, and she annoys him but will still hide out in his shop when situations get sticky. She stows away on songxiao's ship one day :) They only find her when they're far away from her planet, and then they have to outmaneuver some thugs in a drawn-out cat-and-mouse pursuit through an asteroid field or something and then lie low for a while. And. Well, A-Qing lives here now

AU ask game

[the-s1lly-corner]

Can we have reader who has the "gift" of changing the weather with their emotions x TADC ? (Either platonic or romantic, I don't mind! ^^) Like- they can go from sunny days and rainbows everyone and if they get upset the weather suddenly changes into cloudy day with a few thundering here and there, there's probably rain too but it depends on what made you upset lol

Kinger, Pomni, Ragatha, and Zooble x reader who can manipulate the weather through their feelings

still limiting the number of characters per post since im still not mentally where i need to be in order to... do full casts(?) </3 more than willing to do the rest in a second post if you want, though WOOOOO admin managed to fall asleep early last night and now im up early, nature is healing!! im finally out of my "can only sleep for a few hours until 12am then be unable to sleep for the following 8 and then spending the day sleeping" cycle melatonin gummies aint shit!/j

POMNI:

will jump if you ever get angry enough to summon some lightning bolts. as mean as it sounds i think she would put some space between the two of you if you're setting loose the aforementioned lightning before or raining everywhere. but that might work out if youre the kind of person who needs some time alone to calm down- she will apologize for giving you some space, i hope you can understand that she doesnt want to be electrocuted </3 but it does offer up a reason for you two to work together to find a system to better regulate yourself, and i think pomni might just be one of your biggest supporters during that!

RAGATHA:

probably has made you a custom/personalized umbrella so you have at least some level of protection against your own rain or even from your own sun rays (eyes!! your eyes!!).. really put her all in making it for you, anything you'd ever want in an umbrella is there. okay jokes aside, i think she would be really good at calming you down enough to quell your storm clouds, and enough for you to recollect yourself enough to calmly communicate your feelings out; she probably lets you hang out in her room once everything is under control (she has lots of stuff in there, doesnt want it to get rained on or zapped)(understandably)

KINGER:

Probably jumps when your little storm cloud above you lets out thunder or lightning; but that might be because im self projecting on kinger again and making him anxious about storms.. shrugs. unlike pomni i think he would try to find a solution right there, offering himself up to talk to you regardless of risk. likes seeing your sunrays cast down because he's well aware that its a visual indicator that youre happy, and that makes him feel more.. sure of himself that everything is fine, or at least as fine as it can be in the digital world. very nice, very sweet

ZOOBLE:

doesnt like water getting into their joints/where their body parts connect since it can make them feel.. weird. slicked or even waterlogged depending on which joint it is. not the best comforter but theyre trying their best; will yell at someone is they made you upset (cough cough jax). as mean as it sounds, they can sometimes get a little overwhelmed/annoyed by your weather patterns, but they do feel bad since they understand its a reflection of your emotions. definitely still cares about you, though. bad at cheering people up, but they will at least make an attempt though unlike some other characters in this post/other characters not in this post, theyre not going to pester until they see your sunrays come back

[quietblueriver]

First Date

Quick little thing. Thanks @gingerniiiija for the prompt!

-

They live on the edge for a while. There’s no war, but the threat looms, and there are too many battles, too many wraiths, new demons, an annoying number of cult-y losers who try, and fail, to pull an Adriel. Things begin to slow, although nobody is really willing to trust it, and then, one Wednesday evening, a tarask shows up to bring Ava some news.

Like an asshole, he shows up in their fucking bedroom, Beatrice out of the bed, out from under Ava, and armed within like two seconds and Ava instinctively sheltering them both in a halo bubble as she scrambles in the bed. When she realizes what’s happening, she groans, flopping back in frustration and pulling her shirt back into place.

“What the actual fuck, man?”

The messenger doesn’t answer, but his massive shoulders move and his head tilts sideways in what Ava likes to think is a flaming, otherworldly demon-ish gesture for, “My bad.”

Beatrice is close to flaming herself at this point and her glare is only mildly less intimidating with her bright red cheeks. She’s pulling her hair back into a bun and has somehow already pulled on sweatpants. Ava mourns.

“This better be good, dude. I was busy.”

It is good, in the end. It’s fucking fantastic. Ava’s crying when she sits up in bed, tosses the crown as quickly as she can before pulling Bea into her. “It’s over, Bea. It’s over. We’re done.”

- They’re not done done, of course. There are still wraiths and weird demons and whatever, still egomaniacs trying to harness supernatural shit to do bad things. But it’s at, like, a normal, manageable level, and, not for nothing, Ava’s now got a (sort of) god on (sort of) speed dial if things get really out of hand. They can relax a little. They can relax a lot, relative to the way they’d been living, and Ava’s ready. She’s got a long list of things she wants to do and she knows exactly where she’d like to start.

-

It’s not that they haven’t had any time together. They share a bed, and they’ve tried really hard to find time to be together outside of work. She has loved the little moments, where they could steal them—tucking herself into Bea’s shoulder for a movie or star-gazing on the roof or taking dinner to the garden, Bea shyly pulling candles from a backpack. She has loved them, and she wants more of them, but she also wants to take Bea into the world. Since she’s been back, every non-work trip outside of the Cradle has been a group outing—some combination of friends and novices and other OCS members. It made sense while the war was still an “any minute now” kind of thing. Safety in numbers and divine protection on her spine and all that.

No more.

She finds Cam and Mother Superion and Dora in Mother Superion’s office while Bea is training a small group of novices who are ready for more advanced sparring.

“Ava!” Camila springs up from her seat to give her a hug, standard practice regardless of the fact that they’d seen each other three hours ago. Ava welcomes it and then stands in front of Superion’s desk, arms crossed. She realizes she might look a little too serious when Superion’s brows furrow and she asks, hand reaching automatically for the spot where Ava knows she keeps a favorite knife, “Is something wrong?”

Forcing herself to relax, she moves her arms to her side and breathes out. “No. No. I’m sorry. Nothing’s wrong. I just…I need a favor.” Superion raises a brow. “I want to take Bea on a date this weekend. In the city.”

A Goldilocks array of grins appears across the three faces in front of her.

Camila, big and beaming, claps her hands and says, “Oh, yay.” Ava smiles dopily back at her, because yeah, oh yay is right.

Superion prompts, after a moment, small but genuine smile still in place, “And how can we help?”

“Right. Yeah. Okay.”

They agree, happily, to keep an eye on things and avoid calling either of them unless it’s absolutely essential, a standard she does not have to explain. They also agree to keep it to themselves until she actually asks Bea. Camila walks out with her, asking about the details of Ava’s plan until they reach the turn for the chapel. Her chest expands as it does sometimes in moments like these, when she realizes she has a friend like Camila, who will get into it with her about plans to take her girlfriend on a date. Gratitude, big and effusive, runs through her.

“You better tell me everything.”

“Of course.” Ava lets her smile shift to something a little less wholesome, and Camila immediately rolls her eyes, pushing her shoulder.

“Not everything. You know what I mean.”

“I do.”

A hug, reflexive and familiar.

“Text me when you actually ask her,” Camila orders as she turns down the hallway.

-

Ava takes a deep breath. Her stomach flips again and she feels silly for being nervous, given that they sleep in the same bed in a very non-platonic way. But like, Bea deserves to have someone be nervous over her. My god, is she the kind of girl to be nervous over. And Ava deserves to get to be nervous over a girl, is fucking outrageously lucky to get to be nervous over Beatrice. Neither one of them got to have this when most people do. It’s a gift to get to have it now. She won’t waste it.

She lets herself enjoy the swoop in her stomach as she says, “Hey, Bea.”

“Hmm?”

They’re finishing lunch, Bea contemplating the fruit on offer for her afternoon snack. Her sharp eyes, having already found both a banana and a pear wanting, are now critically appraising an apple.

“Do you want to go on a date with me tomorrow?”

She feels better now, about her nerves, as Bea’s cheeks shift close to the shade of the apple in her hand. Her wide eyes meet Ava’s and suddenly she’s back in Switzerland, hoping hoping hoping—in the bar, at the farmer’s market, in their tiny kitchen, in their perfect, uncomfortable bed—that maybe the look on Bea’s face means Ava isn’t the only one in trouble.

“That.” Her voice is low and a little rough, and she clears her throat, cheeks even darker. Ava nearly bursts with affection. “That would be nice. Yes.”

Ava kisses her then, because she can, because there are some definite perks to having done basically everything backwards. Beatrice melts into it, strong shoulders relaxing as one of Ava’s arms wraps around them, the other cradling her jaw. She feels Bea’s right arm lift and then drop, limited by the apple, but her free hand settles at the small of Ava’s back. They’re still in the dining hall, even if they are relatively tucked away, so they break apart much more quickly than either of them would like. The blush is still there, but Bea’s eyes are bright with something else now, and Ava lets the halo hum a little as she steps back and reaches for Bea’s hand.

“Cool.”

[cafeseoulmate]

baby bear

established relationship au; Why We (Don’t) Work standalone bonus; wc: 773

If there is one habit that Beomgyu brought from your childhood to adulthood, from your years of strictly platonic friendship to almost a month of officially dating now, it’s the way he would not hesitate to trade you to Satan if it means getting your old teddy bear, Ms. Fluffy.

The little white and red teddy was actually a gift from his mom to you back when your respective parents were still the ones picking out your gifts for your schoolmates and writing the gift tags as if you were the ones who prepared them. You were in kindergarten back then and though you weren’t in the same section, little Beomgyu still insisted to Mrs. Choi that they buy you something, anything to show you that he considered you close enough to buy you a holiday gift.

Mrs. Choi ended up picking out Ms. Fluffy for you when Beomgyu then mentioned how you sometimes complained about having trouble sleeping during class nap times, something you’d scold him for later because you thought that was embarrassing (regardless of how much he reassured you that it isn’t).

Then the name Ms. Fluffy, proudly given by your six-year-old self way back then, is from the fact that her fur is exceptionally soft and her ears stick out from all the times you’ve picked on them nervously. Beomgyu used to teased you for it during sleepovers but you always manage to eavesdrop on him affectionately calling the teddy bear by its name with a higher-pitched voice when he thinks you’re not in the room or not paying attention.

Though it’s a gift from him to you, it does often feel like he just had his mom buy it for you to have an excuse to have a teddy bear. You’re pretty sure if your boyfriend were to choose between saving you and Ms. Fluffy from drowning, he’s probably going after your teddy bear first.

He always moves her little arms and legs to imitate walking and dancing, conjures up a specific high-pitched voice as if to make her talk, hugs her to his chest whenever he’s in your dorm or at your house, and shamelesslt borrows and steals her before you could leave for a trip.

And, naturally, since you started dating officially last Christmas break, Beomgyu’s obsession with Ms. Fluffy has grown exponentially worse.

You don’t know if you’re going to be endeared or annoyed specifically with how he always places the teddy bear either between the two of you or on your laps during movie nights, calling the teddy bear your baby and treating her like she’s actually your child accompanying you on your stay-home dates.

It makes your heart flutter, of course, but when you do actually want to hug Ms. Fluffy, Beomgyu’s somehow always objecting to it.

“She’s my kid originally, why can’t I hug my own kid?” You pout, playing along to Beomgyu’s antics in the hopes that he would give in this time. Tonight, Insidious is streaming on Beomgyu’s laptop because you both thought that your respective cowardice would cancel each other out. “Let me have Ms. Fluffy, Gyu!”

Beomgyu, however, stubborn as he is, pouts back even harder while keeping Ms. Fluffy in place between the two of you. “Uh, no, she stays in the middle.” He insists for the second time, patting Ms. Fluffy’s head. “Let her watch the movie in peace, Y/N. What if she wants to actually sit through a horror movie?”

“What if she gets scared like me, though? Look at her, she’ll need hugs too!”

“Then I’ll hug you both like this!” Your boyfriend then circles his arms over you, his hoodie sleeves covering Ms. Fluffy just as the doorbell starts ringing in the movie. “See? I’ll just protect you both!”

You scoff teasingly, though you do already feel your insides melting at the gesture. “I want to hug just Ms. Fluffy, though.”

He glares down at you immediately in response. “I’ll divorce you and take custody of Ms. Fluffy.” He threatens, making you stifle a giggle. “I’m being serious, Y/N!”

Serious Beomgyu, however, is always an adorable sight to see with his pout and his furrowed brows, so much so that you easily break character after this and reach a hand up to pinch his cheeks. “You’re so cute.”

“Hug me back, then! I’m not waiting all day!”

“Fine, fine, you grumpy baby.” You roll your eyes, picking up Ms. Fluffy from between the two of you and directing her arms to Beomgyu’s neck before hugging the two. “Better?”

“Suddenly, I’m not in the mood to watch a movie anymore. Let’s just cuddle, I think Ms. Fluffy would also agree.”

“Agreed.”

barista’s notes: merry christmas everyone! 💗🎄

[mihrsuri]

ooooh so I would love to hear more about Helen Norwich, and about how the English Civil War might have gone in that 'verse!

Helen, I don’t know if I said but she’s Norwich’s niece. Which I want to be clear, he never did anything to her but OH BOY. She was also born not that long after Tom Cromwell escaped him (Helen was born in 1523) after he’d been expecting to be his older brothers heir for so long (his brother had been married twice before Helen’s mother with no children and they had Helen late in their marriage).

Helen is very quiet, very considered and sensible - but she is beautiful which Norwich, after his Annoyed At Her Existence was like ‘…oh yay BARGAINING CHIP’ - it meant he could hold her wardship and then find an appropriate husband for her that could best benefit him.

(Helen was preparing to make the best of this she could - at least Norwich didn’t actually give a fuck about the actual management of the Earldom and she’s fairly sure that any husband he would pick for her wouldn’t either and would be happy for her to stay in the country with their children while he was at court so…she’d have that at least, in between whatever cruelty)*

*I’m fairly sure Norwich wouldn’t suffer like extreme cruelty because Status Thing and Status Thing Only but also he would totally not care if Helen was miserable or not.

She gets the Earldom in her own right in the end and makes it a really lovely place again - I think Welles Hall is actually particularly famous for fine wool(s) but I’m still working that out.

The Civil War in OT3 verse is me going ‘what if I flip things and the Restorationists are pissed about the increasing democracy + their colonial attempts got slapped down HARD’ essentially.

Essentially there’s this but I’ll babble some more!

Baron Hugh Wake (Of Liddell) is based on a real historical family - the first Baron had a daughter married one of the sons of Edward I by his second wife. It is however by his son (in our history both of the first barons sons died but here his oldest lives) John that Baron Hugh is descended.

King Hugh/The Restorationist King essentially begins the rebellion, well I’ll go from my notes:

Started it after his father, son and some of his sons friends were going to be jailed for human rights abuses. Believed that England should be an Empire to be great, should expel all the Jewish people, should become a Christian nation and revert to the ‘natural order of nobility.  

(They attempted to start a colony in what we would call North America. (The Spanish had previously been kicked out of South America in a story that is not mine to tell but does happen). They failed Miserably)).

There are whisperings about the changes Thomas and Mihrimah make and things do happen but they really start in Turhan’s reign. And then it goes on and becomes louder. About how Not White, Not Christian the royal family has become. About how there are Jews and Muslims and…in England. About how there is no imperialism, no ‘glory of empire’ and how people are being penalised for trying to make one by like jail. 

So we get to Henry VIII’s great great (I think that’s enough greats!) grandson Arthur (Jahan) II (I call him Arthur II because of the Tudor Arthurian Fandom Thing). His first child is a daughter and he decrees that she’s going to be the heir regardless of any brothers born afterwards. The royal family takes the final steps to expand representative democracy. Also the eventual restoration king’s son, his sons friends and his father are jailed for a failed attempt to colonise North America. They rebel at all of the above (it is possible that I a biracial jewish etc woman am Having Some Feelings). Arthur is eventually beheaded, there’s a Restoration King for the same time Oliver Cromwell ruled and then..Arthur’s daughter Charlotte Askala is invited back. 

The Restorationist Reign included a lot of awful things happening - like I mentioned the reform schools here

But that was very much the idea - they also did that to the children of nobles etc who weren’t restorationists. It’s pretty heavy history and I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately (including Gregory Cromwell’s descendant(s) and how the chest with the Triads letters etc survived). The King Arthur Jahan was beheaded, his wife and daughter sent into exile. (I love them as well). Then Charlotte Askala (his daughter) is asked back because the whole thing falls apart after Hugh’s death (he’d styled himself essentially as protector of the realm for the quote ‘true king’

There’s a whole bunch of other things that will come up in the modern day with this universes version of the Abdication in the 1930s but I will stop now! (Also the other thing to know about Hugh is that he has two children he loves deeply - his son ended up in luxurious exile and never had children but his daughter had three daughters of her own but because Restorationists do not accept inheritance through the female line they are never going to be able to be held up as heirs which is a whole other Fuckery related to the abdication).

[blindmagdalena]

i was thinking ab reader being homelander’s assistant or something and him just ordering her around more than usual bc he knows it’s irritating her but she’ll never say anything bc she’ll lose her job. he’s annoying like that

Being Homelander's assistant isn't so bad. He is demanding, but he's also generally predictable in his needs. You manage his schedule, ensuring he shows up when and where he needs to, you answer his emails, and occasionally he will send you on inconsequential errands. Lately, however, he's been... escalating. He's been calling you in for every meeting he takes, recording notes for him, despite the fact Vought employs several scribes who are much better at their job than you are. Most of the time they're present, so you really don't understand your redundancy. Regardless, you do your job, which is to do whatever he tells you to. You'd do the same for any other boss, supe or not.

Homelander calls your name, snapping his fingers over and over. Each one rings as loud as gunfire in your ears, jostling you from your thoughts. You stare blankly at him. "Hello-ooo, yes, thank you," he says, giving one last snap of his fingers before he's satisfied you've returned to earth. "Sorry, sir," you give automatically, adjusting your grip on your leatherbound notepad, flipping to a clean page. You begin writing as you speak, "Reschedule your 11:45 to Thursday, confirm evening booking with The Daily next week, have the kitchen send up your PM standard instead of your AM, whole milk only, follow up with–" "Christ," Homelander cuts in, leaning back in his seat, fixing you with an intent stare. You look up from your notes, expression schooled. "You're like a goddamn machine," he says, huffing a laugh. "Sir?" You inquire, confused. Is he pleased, or annoyed? You're certainly irritated about being interrupted. " 'Sir?' " He echoes mockingly, raising his pitch, standing up from his chair. "That's all I ever hear from you. " 'Yes sir, no sir, right away sir.' Not a single sigh, no pissy little muttering under your breath when you think I can't hear. Everyone does it. Everyone. But not you. You don't even roll your eyes. You're just... obedient," he says, approaching you as he does. You stand your ground, confused. You still can't tell if he's angry or not. He's wrong, honestly. It's not that you're never annoyed with him; you're always irritated by him. In fact, most people annoy you, but after a lifetime of surviving under the thumb of aggravating people, working service jobs, you've learned to live in this disaffected state of compliance. "You'll do anything I tell you, won't you? Without so much as a goddamn twitch," he says, and based on the tone of his voice, his expression, you get the feeling he has something specific in mind.

"That's my job, sir," you answer simply, keen to move on. You look back down at your notes. "Follow up with Tike Toys regarding the new lineup of Home–" A large, red gloved hand abruptly blocks the path of your pen, pushing your notebook down. You look up, and now Homelander is directly in front of you. "You know, I could really use a shoulder rub." "Okay." Your tone remains even, despite the annoyance broiling in your gut. "I will book a masseuse. You have an hour opening at 2:00, and another at–" "Now," he interjects, plucking your notebook right out of your hands. He beckons you with it, like he's just taken a ball from an attentive dog, waiting for you to follow as he walks backwards. "Feelin' real tense." Homelander sits down, dropping your notebook carelessly onto his desk. As if to really drive the final nail into the coffin of your psyche, he snaps his fingers twice. "C'mon, hop to." Begrudgingly, though your expression hasn't changed, you approach. He's got a self-satisfied smirk as he watches you circle him. Even once you're behind him, you can't escape the smug weight of his stare, thanks to the mirror hanging on the wall directly across from where he's sat. It feels intentional. "I'm not a masseuse," you say by way of warning. Is he even going to feel this? Not only is his suit a thick, protective fabric, he's an indestructible human shaped weapon. This feels ridiculous. "What did you say your job was?" Homelander asks through a smirk, brows lifted. You stare impassively at his reflection, and then look down to the back of his neck. Without so much as a sigh, you lift your hands to his shoulders, and begin working your thumbs into the sturdy fabric of his suit. His smile widens slightly, and he tips his head back, humming a pleased noise. After a moment of your mild, ineffectual squeezing, however, he does show a flicker of annoyance. "Knock off the limp fish act, would you? Put some fuckin' effort into it," he says, staring you down in the mirror. You glance up at him. Seeing yourself in the mirror is odd, maybe a little jarring even. Your face really is entirely vacant, despite the hot churn of your stomach. Your stare flickers down to meet his in the mirror, and you nod. You really need this fucking job. "Yes, sir," you say, voice even emptier than your expression. You channel that deep, buried aggravation directly into your hands, grinding your thumbs into his shoulders as hard as you can manage. Homelander watches all the while with a perverse sort of satisfaction. He even has the audacity to moan, outright grinning when he finally hears you make a small noise of exertion. "Thaaat's it," he says, the glint in his eyes downright predatory. "There you go. Now get my neck." "Yes, sir," you answer automatically, pushing your thumbs from the base of his skull down his neck, into the collar of the suit. Homelander exhales a wicked little laugh, watching intently.

Being Homelander's personal assistant wasn't so bad. However, a nagging voice in the back of your mind tells you that this is only the beginning.