#the hush heist

[hitchell-mope]

Skin of their bloody teeth. Every single fucking time.

[angelcasendgame]

Post 1x13, Dean keeps up with Cassie's career as a reporter and reads all her articles as she gets recognition for all her hard hitting journalism stories and Cassie keeps up with Dean's career as a criminal and is increasingly confused and concerned as he rises through the ranks on the FBI most wanted list

[neil-gaiman]

Hi Neil. I’ve let a lot of my questions go unanswered or stuck to my own speculation because I know you’ve got quite a full inbox, but there’s one scene that I can’t seem to make any sense of even after doing outside research. When Crowley and Aziraphale go to the pub in S2E2 and Aziraphale asks Crowley if he knows who Jane Austen is, Crowley says that he’d never forget her because she was the “mastermind” behind the 1810 Clerkenwell Diamond Robbery. When I first watched the episode, that reference did seem familiar to me but I couldn’t place my finger on where it was from. So I did some research on this supposed heist and all that comes up is text posts of people on Tumblr quoting that conversation from the show, or the Clerkenwell Crime Syndicate in the 1980s-‘90s. The Clerkenwell Diamond Robbery isn’t a real thing that happened, is it? What is Crowley alluding to with that? Or who is he getting Jane Austen mixed up with?

I'm surprised that enterprising people haven't created an entire website by now telling in detail the story of the 1810 Clerkenwell Diamond Robbery. Perhaps it was hushed up.

[buckets-and-trees]

Steve Rogers Collection

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

Unless specifically noted, all of my stories feature a female reader insert character.

dividers by my lovely wife @rookthornesartistry

Series & Collections

EXILED NOMAD a series of encounters that could have happened between Civil War and Infinity War SOFT DARK, explicit smut, rough sex, emotionally damaged Steve, lonely reader

↠ July 3, 2017: When He First Got Me (Steve POV) ↠ July 4, 2017: You Should've Seen Him ↠ September 28, 2017: Pull the String ↠ September 28, 2017, around midnight: Put Me Back on My Shelf ↠ March 10, 2018: It Fit Too Right ↠ March 21, 2018: Puzzle Pieces in the Dead of Night

CEDAR TREES a Royal AU historical romance King!Steve x Queen!Reader politically arranged marriage, reluctant pining to true and utter love, SMUT (rough fucking to fluffy and intimate sexual situations)

↠ Fire Burning From a Cedar Tree [3.4k] ↠ The Thrill of Knowing How Alone We Are [1.2k] ↠ Winter Solstice (response to an ask) ↠ Cold Hands, Warm Hearts [1.3k] ↠ A Shift in the Morning Routine [1.1k] ↠ Love That's Laid Beside Me [5k] ↠ The Silence of the Hushed Sublime [4.8k]

RED, WHITE & TRUE a Steve Stays AU Presidential Candidate!Steve x Wife!Reader politically arranged marriage, slow burn, eventual smut

↠ Prologue: Upstate New York (Steve POV) [1.3k] ↠ chapter 1: Manhattan & Brooklyn [4k] ↠ chapter 2: Las Vegas & Cleveland [4k] ↠ chapter 3: Houston [3.4k] ↠ chapter 4: Fort Wayne, Toledo, Detroit [4.2k] ↠ more coming soon

WARM SHADOWS - complete post-endgame omegaverse AU Alpha!Bucky x omega!reader, Alpha!Captain Hydra x omega!reader, eventual Alpha!Bucky x omega!reader x Alpha!Steve DARK SMUT, tw: non con, tw: dub con, fluff beginning

↠ chapter one: When You Fall On Me Like Night [2.5k] ↠ chapter two: Let All Light Go [7.5k] ↠ chapter three: Carving Through the Dark [14.4k] ↠ chapter four: The Working of Your Hands [15.5k] ↠ epilogue: The Dawn Has Come [5.5k]

LITTLE LARK a modern mafia AU with dark elements mean Mafia!Steve x curvy Millennial Female!Reader x mean Mafia!Bucky

↠ Little Lark ↠ Bird on a Wire ↠ Bird Home in the Darkness

BUCK’S ELEVEN  a snapshot series, historical AU, Ocean’s Eleven-style heist premise Steve and Bucky and many other Avenger cameos

↠ Buck's Eleven Steve & Bucky ↠ Bookings and Rings Steve x Pan Am Stewardess Reader [600 words, light smut] ↠ Good Luck the team [600 words]

THE BROOKLYN BOYS - complete a post-endgame where Steve stays in the present rom-com drabble series, slow burn Steve x reader, Bucky x reader, eventual Stucky x reader

SERIES: ↠ 1: Bucky and the Bench ↠ 2: Steve and the Sandwich ↠ 3: Bucky and the Books ↠ 4: Steve and the Skyline ↠ 5: Bucky and the Brief Brush ↠ INTERLUDE ↠ 6: Steve and the Ballet ↠ 7: Bucky and the Shelves ↠ 8: Steve and the Blindside ↠ 9: Bucky and the Situation ↠ 10: Steve and the Best Friend ↠ EXITLUDE

MORE STORY: ↠ First Night [takes place immediately after part 10] ↠ Idle Hands [first fall/winter] ↠ Big Red Bow [a few days after their first NYE]

Double-Shots

Tiny Vessels [1.5k] + Don’t Forget You Were the One Who [1.3k] end of Endgame Steve gender neutral Reader insert, brief moments of non-graphic physical intimacy

One-Shots

Peering In My Hollow Core [2.4k]  Nomad!Steve x Morally Grey f!Reader explicit smut (dubious consent re: sex pollen)

Witchview [1.3k] ignore Endgame/Steve stays, post-WandaVision, witch!reader soft!dark, smut, magic, manipulation

King [1k] mob AU

All the Pieces Fall [3.4k] unidentified male main character x female!reader modern AU, second chance, smut

Drabbles

Not Meant to Be Like This [680] omegaverse, smut, unexpected heat

Steve with a Breeding Kink [750] soft dark, smut, tw: dubious consent

Steve and a Dog [200]  ignore Endgame/Steve stays gender neutral reader, fluff

With You  fluff, potential future Neighbor!Steve scenario/chaptered work

Bodyguard Steve mildly smutty, modern AU

Other Chris Evans Characters...

[jakescakeislateforourdate]

Hi! I really like your work and was wondering if you do requests? If yes, I would like to suggest something...like it's more a prompt but idk why I see this with Kaz Brekker, so prolly Kaz Brekker X Reader or anyone you'd like to do

"If you do that again, I'll throw you out of the window you- what are you doing?"

"Checking how high the drop is, see if it's worth it"

^this or like a rendition of it or something and you can put whatever you want in it

BUT I JUST READ "HUSH HUSH" AND THE WRITING IS SO BEAUTIFUL, ESPECIALLY THE ENDING

Thank you for requesting. I apologize for the wait.

Kaz Brekker x reader

angst, fluff, Kaz having feelings, hurt and comfort

The gloomy sky hung over Ketterdam like a noose. The filth of the streets complimenting the grungy grey with drip-stained rooftops bridging the space between murky sky and muddled ground.

You stepped onto the dock, legs like jelly from being out at sea for so long. Kaz was waiting for you, scowling and growling about the harbor. His disgruntled stare catches first on the scuffed heel of your boot as you lower yourself onto the tattered wooden planks of the dock. Then his eyes drift up to the gleam of the sunlight in your hair and the redness of your sun ravaged cheeks.

He'd think to call you beautiful but he's so angry right now he can hardly stand still. "You imbecile!" He seethes, teeth clenched and lips drawn back in a snarl.

Jesper drops onto the dock behind you, eyes wide with fright and mouth thinned in resignation. Another day, another job gone wrong. You'd been off your game for a few days now but this last heist put Kaz at his wit's end.

"Easy, Kaz," Inej murmurs as she moves out from behind Jesper. "Everyone did bad today."

You think you catch Kaz's eye twitch subtly. His murderous gaze lands on Miss Ghafa and then moves to Jesper.

"You're lucky we're in public." He turns and begins to limp his way down the dock.

A good sum of money had just gone down the drain. Some jewelry had been taken from a merchant's wife and she'd desperately wanted it back. The merchant offered to pay more than the jewelry was worth pawned and had enticed Dirtyhands into accepting the job. It was an easy job. Simple.

So why had it gone so poorly?

Well, for starters it'd been raining. The rooftops were slick and unfit for climbing. Even Inej had been struggling. Visibility was low which made things difficult for Jesper. The location and party was another thing entirely. An island, hard to get on and off of discreetly, was jammed full of gaudy lads and ladies prancing about a wedding venue.

The jewelry, a diamond necklace and matching pair of earrings all of which were worth your weight in kruge, were the last thing. They dangled from the lobes and clung to the fat throat of the bride. Difficult to procure.

You followed the tacky creature around the venue, trying to get in close enough to nab the items but the damn wedding party blocked you at every turn.

They complained noisily about the rain and about how it would ruin the wedding. Kaz hounded you about obtaining the pieces. You caught glimpses of him everywhere: tucked into an alley, ducking into the kitchens, stalking through the gardens.

You became a target of suspicion. None of the other guests knew you and you didn't have a plus one. Not to mention your constant approaching and then backing away from the bride couldn't have gone unnoticed.

It all came to a head when you finally got in close enough and made a grab for the pieces. The bride was in her dressing room after the ceremony, stripping off the necklace and earrings before slipping behind her the ornate dressing screen to step out of the frilly white dress. You hurriedly entered the room, not wanting to try Kaz's patience, and snatched the jewelry off the vanity.

The bride heard you come in and ripped back the folding screen. She saw you stuff the glittering diamonds into your pockets and screamed "THIEF!" for the whole island to hear.

You grimaced and dashed from the room but it was too late. All the guests were made aware of your juvenile failure at stealing and the struggle to get off the island began. In the hysteria that ensued, Kaz had gotten separated from the team so you returned on two separate boats. Hence his impatient prowl of the docks.

The trip back to the Slat was completely silent. You brooded over your failure. What was wrong with you? Why had you been so stupid?

The crew dispersed upon arrival, locking themselves in their rooms to mull over the mission. Kaz tapped your calf with his cane and nodded towards the stairs. The fix of his jaw and his glowering eyes told you all you needed to know.

You stomped up to his office, already angry because he was going to berate you more than you already had. Kaz slams the door behind you. "What is going on with you? You've been like this all week."

"I know."

"That's all you've got to say?"

"What else is there to say?"

Kaz's face goes red with rage. "You cost us the job! How can you not have anything to say? I should knock your teeth out and cut off your fingers for this! It was easy. How could you possibly have messed up this bad!"

"I'm sorry." You feel tears burning.

"That's not going to fix this. I can't have you on this team if you're going to be inconsistent. A mistake like this could cost us much more. Someone could die and that's on you."

You pull the necklace and earrings from your pocket and drop them on Kaz's desk. His eyes flicker to the diamonds and then back to you. He's upset you. He didn't mean to but all he can think about is if you had been caught. He'd have to go through so much trouble to get you back. And he would.

Gladly.

But what if you got hurt. What if they stuck you in the gallows or shipped you off somewhere he could not reach. But that had not happened. It was not physical pain nor the thought of prison sentence that was making you cry. It was him.

You were both aware of Kaz's feelings. Neither of you said anything but you both knew from the tender brushes of palms and long lasting gazes that something was lurking under the surface.

"Just," Kaz swallows when you turn away from him. "If you do that again-- mess up like that-- I'll throw you out of the window you... what are you doing?"

He watches you cross the room to the window, where rain drips from the soaked wooden window frame. "Checking how high the drop is," You glance back at him, fighting tears and trying to bring on a smile. "see if it's worth it."

Kaz sighs. There you are. Trying to make light of the situation. He looks at the heap of jewels on his desk. You did retrieve what he asked. He'd still get his money. And if he played his cards right he could still have you.

"Come're." He waves you over. The leather of his gloves groaning a little.

You arrive in front of him and Kaz raises a palm to your cheek. He doesn't touch, only lingers over the warm skin. He juggles emotions, anxiety and love hashing it out. He settles for a feather light sweep over your temple and a barely-there kiss to your forehead.

"Try not to provoke me."

"You wouldn't kill me."

"I don't even want to think about it."

[fioredeciliego]

Chapter 3

Busan, South Korea 

 2021 

 The day of the mission had started like any other. Irene had directed them through each stage, each step carefully timed and planned. The team had split up: Minjeong was on the look out inside the building, Aeri was stationed by the van for a quick getaway, Ningning was on lookout outside, and Jimin and Y/N had been sent to retrieve the files. They moved like shadows through the corridors, their steps soundless and synchronized. Y/N had stayed by Jimin's side, and Minjeong's could only watch with a pulse that hammered with the feeling of their jelousy. With envy. 

The dim glow of city lights poured into the room as they crouched, breaths steady and minds sharp. The mission had been set up perfectly, each piece meticulously placed. Irene had planned it to the second, her voice in their earpieces a constant, calculating guide. But the tension was palpable. The heist was supposed to be the culmination of months of planning, a quick job with a high reward, but each of them felt something in the air that night—an edge that didn't belong there. 

 Y/N was tense, but Jimin's hand found hers, giving it a comforting squeeze. "We've got this," Jimin whispered, her confidence grounding Y/N's frayed nerves. 

 Y/N glanced up at her, their eyes meeting in the dark, and she found herself smiling despite it all. "I know," she replied, her voice softer. "I trust you." 

 Jimin's grin was reassuring, a steadying force amidst the chaos around them. They moved in sync, Jimin leading as they bypassed another security checkpoint. In moments like this, Y/N felt unstoppable with her; Jimin was her anchor, her strength, and that night, the unspoken bond between them felt even more powerful. 

 But as they reached their mark, that comfort was fractured. It was only a flicker at first, an unexpected noise that drew everyone's attention. The silence in the air shattered as alarms blared, echoing through the complex. Each girl felt the panic surge, but it was Y/N's glance back at Jimin, her eyes filled with sudden fear, that shattered something essential between them.

 — 

Minjeong had tried to ignore her growing feelings for Y/N from the start. It was unprofessional, dangerous even, to let emotions interfere with the mission. But over time, the glances became more frequent, the moments they shared felt more charged. She found herself watching Y/N more than she should, her heart racing every time Y/N turned to her with a smile or a whispered joke.

Y/N was everything Minjeong admired but felt she could never reach. Y/N was fierce but gentle, with a softness in her smile that disarmed even the toughest of guards. She was capable and calm under pressure, yet warm and quick to offer words of encouragement. But it was the small moments that undid Minjeong—the stolen smiles between planning sessions, the way Y/N would look over her shoulder to make sure everyone was okay, and the simple touches she seemed to save just for Minjeong: a pat on the arm, a squeeze of her hand. 

One night, during a quiet moment on the rooftop as they prepared to scout their target, Y/N had opened up to Minjeong. They'd been laughing, talking in hushed voices to avoid drawing attention, and somehow the conversation had veered toward personal lives—an unspoken rule they rarely broke. 

"You ever wonder what life would be like if we weren't doing... this?" Y/N had asked, her voice soft and thoughtful as she leaned against the metal railing, looking out over the city lights. 

Minjeong had hesitated, surprised by the question. "Not really," she'd replied, her tone steady. "This is all I've ever known. Feels right, somehow." 

Y/N nodded, her eyes clouded with something unspoken. "I know what you mean. But sometimes, I wonder... if I could ever just live an ordinary life." 

The vulnerability in Y/N's voice caught Minjeong off guard, and for a moment, she allowed herself to imagine it: a life where the two of them could exist without the chaos of their work, without the danger. Her heart raced with the thought, but she pushed it down, hiding behind her usual stoicism. She couldn't confess, not with the life they've chosen, not with Jimin on the picture. 

— 

As the guards closed in, Minjeong saw Y/N falter in that brief, terrifying moment. She watched the way Jimin steadied her, how Y/N leaned into her strength without question. Minjeong's hands tightened on her weapon as she turned away, focusing on her own position, but something about that moment lingered in her mind. 

In that chaos, Minjeong felt a gnawing sense of helplessness as she watched the two of them. She'd known Y/N for years, respected her as a strategist, admired her resolve. But in that instant, seeing her look to Jimin with a trust so complete, Minjeong felt the first pang of something that would haunt her long after the mission fell apart. She wished, however briefly, that it had been her by Y/N's side in that crucial moment—that she could be the one Y/N trusted so deeply. The realization was sharp, unexpected, and as dangerous as any weapon she'd ever handled. 

But as her focus wavered, a miscalculation threw her off guard. A guard spotted her position, forcing Minjeong to take cover. The seconds slipped by, and the job quickly unraveled. 

Fuck 

Yizhuo saw the guards starting to run inside the building, and panicked, screaming at Giselle to tell the other. The panic was infectious. Aeri tried to get everyone back on track, but even she felt the weight of the escalating disaster. Her calm voice over the comms grew urgent, "Jimin, Y/N, Minjeong, we need you out—now. It's not worth it."

 A beat too late, they heard the door slam shut behind them. They were trapped.

—

Seoul, South Korea 

 2024 

Irene's gaze was cold and calculating as she revisited the last mission, every detail still fresh in her mind. To the others, it had been a job gone wrong—a series of unfortunate errors and unlucky timing. But to Irene, it had been a carefully orchestrated test, one she'd seen as a probe the limits of their loyalty, resolve, and trust in each other. She had studied each of them that night, watched as they were forced to confront their deepest vulnerabilities, and witnessed the fractures that formed under pressure.

Jimin had been predictable in her strength. She'd taken the lead, unflinching, pulling Y/N with her and charging forward with a tenacity Irene both respected and knew could be her undoing. Jimin's unwavering trust in herself and her loyalty to Y/N meant she would always fight to the end—an admirable trait but a liability when strategy required sacrifice over stubbornness. Irene had observed how Jimin's pride kept her anchored, even as the walls closed in. She could rely on Jimin to be protective, but it also made her an easy mark in moments of vulnerability. Irene had stored that away, knowing one day she might need to turn that strength into a weakness. 

Then there was Aeri, ever the stabilizer. Irene respected her pragmatism, her sharp intelligence, and her ability to adapt under pressure. When things spiraled, Aeri's quick thinking had nearly salvaged the job. Irene had been watching her closely, admiring her tenacity, even as she saw Aeri sacrifice the payout and abandon protocol to get everyone out safely. But Aeri's independence had limits. In that moment, her sense of responsibility for her teammates outweighed the mission, and while Irene valued her loyalty, she knew Aeri's altruism could be used to tether her—to keep her bound by obligation rather than orders. 

Yizhuo, though the second youngest, possessed an insight that intrigued Irene. Beneath her lighthearted facade lay an acute awareness of the group's dynamics, something that often went unnoticed. Yizhuo's easy laughter and quick wit had a way of easing tensions, but Irene could see the loyalty and fierce protection she reserved for her friends, particularly Aeri and Y/N. 

Yizhuo was no stranger to the intensity of their work, but Irene sensed that the turmoil of the last mission had weighed heavily on her. She held onto her optimism, using it as a shield, but even she couldn't fully mask the lingering pain of betrayal. 

Minjeong, however, had been the one who intrigued her the most. While Jimin and Y/N were drawn to each other for reassurance, and Aeri and Yizhuo had tried to keep the team together, Minjeong had stayed in position, following the plan without hesitation. She'd moved with a quiet intensity, her actions precise, her focus unshaken, even as the mission unraveled. Irene knew that Minjeong, despite her quiet demeanor, had felt the weight of the chaos around her. But she'd stayed—choosing her loyalty to Irene's instructions over her loyalty to the team. Minjeong's dedication was absolute, and while it hadn't won her the admiration of the others, it had earned Irene's. 

And finally, Y/N—the one who had managed to capture all of them in some way. For Irene, Y/N was a strategic mind, astute and calculating. But she was also the heart of the group, the one who drew people in, who made each of them feel understood and valued. Watching her now, Irene saw how she moved seamlessly from one teammate to another, adapting, understanding, drawing out the best in each of them. But Irene knew the danger in being so universally loved. Y/N's role in their last mission had shaken her to the core, but rather than let it harden her, she'd remained as open as ever. Irene wondered if Y/N's faith in her friends might prove to be a strength—or the very thing that would break her. 

Watching Minjeong's gaze shift from Y/N to Jimin and back, Irene had sensed the first glimmer of something personal—an attachment that had surprised her, but one she understood could be an asset if used correctly. Minjeong's loyalty to Y/N was budding, almost subconscious, and it struck Irene as a potential weak point, a thread she could pull when needed. 

It was a delicate balance, one that Irene held in her hands like a fragile piece of glass. She knew each girl's strengths and weaknesses, had memorized the fault lines of their relationships, and now, after all this time, she would see just how deeply those bonds ran.

[mcntsee]

cold

summary: Y/N faces hypothermia after a dangerous mission. Kaz helps her warm up by the fire, their bond growing stronger.

warnings: The story contains scenes of peril, violence, and life-threatening situations. Kaz is not fully ok with y/n’s touch, but he fights trough it. Ooc Kaz.

notes: Posting this again because it won’t show up in the #

On a moonlit night, the crew moved stealthily towards their next heist, anticipation electrifying the air. The target: the elusive Heart of Nebula, a gem said to hold secrets from the stars themselves, and worth even more, now resting within the hold of a formidable merchant ship. Kaz Brekker's mind hummed with strategies as he and his crew prepared to infiltrate the vessel, a symphony of darkness and cunning.

The assault began with a fierce volley of blows and flashing knives, the Crows expertly weaving through the chaos of the guards. Amidst the clash of metal and cries of alarm, Y/N's prowess shone bright as she fought with a grace that belied her strength. But in the midst of the turmoil, the situation took a turn.

One of the guards managed to corner Y/N, his arm snaking around her neck while a cold barrel pressed against her temple. The edge of the ship loomed dangerously close, its abyssal depths waiting hungrily. Kaz's icy eyes snapped toward the scene, his cane slicing through the guard before him with lethal precision. Without hesitation, he moved toward the guard who held Y/N captive.

The guard's voice rang out, its venomous tone laced with desperation. "Make them leave, Brekker, or the girl takes a plunge."

Kaz's gaze was as unforgiving as the sea's depths as he assessed the situation. A subtle nod towards his crew was met with hesitation, a collective tension palpable in the air. Yet, the Crows trusted their leader's decision and reluctantly retreated, fading into the shadows like wraiths.

With the other Crows gone, Kaz approached the edge of the ship, his voice a chilling breeze. "They're gone. Let her go now."

The guard's laughter was mirthless, his grip on Y/N relenting just enough for her to catch her breath. "You're quite the strategist, Brekker. But this time, you've lost." Kaz's eyes darkened, "You're the one holding the losing hand."

The guard's response was a cold, harsh warning. "One step closer, and I'll blow her brains out, Brekker."

In the deadly hush that followed, Y/N's eyes flickered to Kaz's, a subtle nod passing between them like a secret shared only between souls deeply connected. In the space of a heartbeat, Y/N's hidden blade flashed into her hand, finding purchase in the guard's leg. The gun wavered, and in that instant, Y/N twisted her body, pushing the gun skyward. The guard's grip slipped, and Y/N tumbled over the edge, disappearing into the inky depths below.

Kaz's gloved hand tightened on his cane as he stared at the fallen guard, fury simmering beneath his calm façade. With a swift, efficient motion, he rendered the guard unconscious, the cold weight of his cane delivering justice.

Breathless seconds ticked by, tension thick in the salty air. Kaz's sharp gaze scanned the dark waters, searching for any sign of Y/N. Relief flooded him as her head broke the surface, her voice piercing through the night. "I'm fine!" A sigh of relief escaped Kaz's lips. Y/N's determination was palpable as she called out, her voice carrying above the water's gentle lapping. "I'll swim to shore. Go ahead."

Kaz watched as she began to swim, her strokes strong and determined. With a final glance at the ship, he turned and walked away, his steps resolute and measured.

As Kaz reached the shore, he cast his gaze over the moonlit waters, waiting anxiously for Y/N’s return. His heart was a relentless drumbeat, matching the rhythm of the waves. The moment her form emerged from the darkness, shivering and weakened, he closed the distance between them. Urgency propelled his actions.

“Get rid of the clothes,” he instructed firmly, his voice laced with concern. “They’re wet and will make you colder.”

Y/N’s nod was slow, her trembling fingers fumbling with the soaked fabric as she undressed. Kaz turned his head, a gesture both respectful and protective. In a deliberate and almost rehearsed motion, he removed his coat and held it out to her. She accepted it with a shaky “Thanks.” her voice barely above a whisper.

As Kaz’s sharp eyes examined her, a surge of worry pulsed through him. The sight of her pale, chilled skin and lips tinged with blue sent an unexpected pang through his chest, a haunting echo of memories long buried. But he shoved those ghosts aside, focusing on the task at hand. Y/N needed him now.

“Y/N,” he heard her voice, fragile and wavering like a whispered plea. “We have to get you somewhere warm.”

Nodding at her, he guided her towards the Slat, their steps slow and deliberate. But soon, it became apparent that her strength was waning, her movements faltering as her eyes fought to stay open. Kaz’s instincts kicked in, and he brought them to a nearby safe house. “Stay awake, Y/N,” he urged, his voice a lifeline.

With the gentlest touch, he grasped her sleeve, guiding her with utmost care. Inside the safe house, the dim glow of the fireplace greeted them. Kaz moved with practiced efficiency, gathering wood and coaxing flames to life. “Take the coat off,” he instructed softly. “I’ll get you blankets.”

Y/N’s trembling grew more pronounced. Her weakened state made even the simple act of unbuttoning her coat a struggle, her shivering fingers fumbling with each button. Kaz watched for a moment, concern etched on his face, before taking a step forward.

“May I?” he asked, his voice low and filled with a rare tenderness, pointing towards the buttons. Y/N’s eyes fluttered open, her gaze meeting his as she nodded slightly. A barely audible “Please” slipped from her lips as he delicately unbuttoned her coat. His movements were careful, his touch a lifeline, as he worked the coat off her shoulders.

He noticed Y/N’s weakened posture, her struggle to remain upright, and her eyes that threatened to close for longer with each blink. A gentle tap to her cheek accompanied his soft words, urging her to stay awake. Once the coat was removed, he set it aside, then settled Y/N close to the warmth of the fireplace.

Debates waged within his mind as he assessed the situation. Should he fetch a blanket or offer his own warmth to stave off the cold? Y/N’s sudden cessation of shivering tilted the balance, a sign that he couldn’t ignore. He quickly discarded his clothes, his urgency matched only by his fear. Ghosts of his past slowly attacking his mind. But that fear was replaced with a resolute determination as he reminded himself that he had to help her. For fuck’s sake. She’s dying, do something!

“Y/N,” he called softly, his voice a lifeline in the quiet room. He moved swiftly to her side, his heart pounding with a mix of trepidation and purpose. He hesitated for a moment, the depth of his feelings surfacing before he banished them, replacing them with a driving need to save her.

“Y/N, look at me,” he whispered urgently, his hands cupping her face gently. The storm in his eyes met the battle in hers, a silent affirmation that they were in this together. “Stay awake, Y/N.”

With quick, precise movements, he guided her closer, his arms enfolding her delicate form. He drew her legs over his lap, holding her securely, a barrier against the cold that threatened to steal her away. His heart raced as he whispered her name, a litany of small pleas and encouragements, willing her to hold on.

His hands moved over her body, a desperate attempt to generate warmth. His touch was gentle yet purposeful, rubbing and caressing in a rhythm meant to bring life back to her numbing limbs. A sigh of relief escaped him as her body began to respond, her shivers returning.

“That’s good, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice a mixture of relief and reassurance. “That’s good.”

Y/N’s voice trembled, her weariness evident as she spoke of her desire to rest, if only for a moment. Kaz’s response was a gentle yet unwavering plea. “Hold on a little longer, Y/N. You’re doing good.”

As the warmth of the fire seeped into the room, color began to return to Y/N’s face, a welcome transformation that Kaz couldn’t help but watch with a mixture of relief and gratitude. Her lips, once tinged with blue, regained their natural hue, easing the knot of worry in his chest. He assessed her carefully, the weight of his concern slowly lifting as she regained strength.

Gradually, he eased her down, his touch gentle as he ensured she was comfortable before he rose to his feet. “I’m going to get you some blankets, Y/N,” he announced, his voice soft. Y/N met his gaze and thanked him, her gratitude a quiet melody in the stillness of the room.

Kaz put his pants back on before he climbed the stairs, his steps measured, his mind focused on the task at hand. In the closet, he found a collection of blankets, each one a comforting refuge against the cold. When he returned to the room, he laid one blanket on the ground for Y/N to sit on, then carefully wrapped a second one around her, his movements deliberate yet tender.

Settling back down beside her, Kaz draped the third blanket around himself, creating a barrier of warmth between them. The room was filled with a palpable sense of quiet, an unspoken understanding that permeated the space. Moments stretched on, the fire’s crackle and pop providing a gentle rhythm to their thoughts.

Y/N, who looked remarkably better now, broke the silence with words that carried a depth of meaning. “Thank you, Kaz.” Her voice was soft yet sincere.

Kaz’s response was equally quiet, his tone carrying a hint of vulnerability. “No problem.”

Y/N glanced away briefly before turning her gaze back to him, her eyes holding a mixture of gratitude and something more. “I’m sorry you had to do that,” she said, her words holding a weight that was both apologetic and appreciative. “I know it must’ve been hard.”

Kaz’s mind churned, reflecting on the moments they had shared, the emotions that had surged through him. He hesitated, grappling with his own thoughts before the words emerged, honest and unfiltered. “For you, I would do it again,” he admitted, his voice a gentle affirmation of his feelings.

In response, Y/N’s smile was soft, her eyes reflecting a warmth that mirrored the fire’s glow. “I would do it for you too, Kaz. Anything.” Her words held an earnestness that touched him, a willingness to stand by him no matter the challenge.

[highonmarvel]

You just let it happen

Bucky Barnes: After witnessing an ostensible but seemingly non violent crime in its outcome, you push it to the back of your mind, but the offender escalates.

An entry for Day 2 of the exciting @sintember challenge! [this is my favourite prompt, I hope you enjoy!]

Prompt: You just let it happen, ft [Biker AU] Bucky Barnes/The Winter Soldier of the Marvel Cinematic Universe.

“Bystander, victim or accomplice, perhaps you shouldn't have let it pass...”

warnings: dubcon!, robbery, violent crime, very mild ‘gore.’ 18+!

It’s not like you lived in the most dangerous of areas, but there’s not really a neighbourhood a reasonable woman would feel comfortable walking in alone after sunset. Despite the relatively warm air, you shiver slightly, pulling your cardigan tighter as you walk at a brisk pace down the cobbled pavement.

There’s only really one spot you’d say was explicitly ‘sketchy,’ for lack of a better term. You’ve heard a few motorcycles rev near a small gas station, but they didn’t really stick around for more than a few minutes every couple of days—you think they know the owner or something, or maybe the owner owes them something, but you’ve never really heard of them being violent—they may just very well be some regular guys who just happen to ride bikes, not every group of guys is a gang. Still, you’ve never been one for walking past more than two men at a time.

You stop in your tracks and sigh as you check your watch. It’s nearly eight, all the grocery stores are definitely closed by now, and you really need to pick some stuff up. You look up the small hill to the garage—there’s only one motorbike parked outside it, it probably doesn’t even belong to one of those guys.

You shield your eyes from the bright lights illuminating the road and gas pumps, but other than the loudness of the neon, it’s silent. The automatic doors slide open and the chill from the air conditioner causes a shiver to run down your spine as you reach to pick up a plastic basket. Unfortunately for you, you don’t notice the scene at the front of the store.

You grab a few things from the aisles, it takes less than five minutes, you anticipate being out of the store before eight strikes, but as you turn the corner to join the queue to pay, you freeze.

A tall man, broad shoulders, with his back turned to you is holding a gun up to the cashier, almost lazily, like he does this often and he’s getting bored of it. You gasp and nearly drop your things. Just as his head turns, you manage to duck behind some shelves, clasping one hand over your mouth, the other on your chest, as if you can somehow control your spiked heart rate by pressing down hard enough.

You hear the man make a curious noise behind you and cock his gun. You shut your eyes as you hear footsteps approach, like you’re a child who lives by ‘If you can’t see them, they can’t see you.’ Heavy boots come to a stop in the row behind you, and you hear a mechanical whirring of some kind. When he turns and the footsteps get lighter and lighter, you nearly want to sigh in relief, but don’t dare make a sound.

You’re not sure how long you’re hidden—realistically it can’t have been more than five minutes (robbers just wanna get in and out, right?) but it feels longer, and the hushed conversation you can barely hear over the blood thumping in your ears seems to last too long for a normal heist.

When you hear the ding of the automatic doors open and then close, you know he’s left. You risk a glance to the counter, where the owner (who’s working as the cashier) is dragging a rag across his sweaty forehead, and looking shaken, understandably so. But you don’t remember hearing the cash register open. Maybe your panic blocked it out, you could hardly hear anything with how harshly you were breathing behind your clammy hand anyway.

Should you say something? What could you do, call the cops? You don’t think he stole anything, he just had a gun, isn’t that some protected amendment in the US? Was a crime even committed? Maybe this could count as harassment, intimidation, but did you really see enough to make that call? The owner doesn’t seem hurt, just stressed out, maybe there’s other stuff going on, nothing to do with what just happened. You don’t even know what the guy looks like, and the owner isn’t making any moves to call the police, he’s not calling anyone at all, so it can’t have been that bad, can it? Maybe that guy didn’t even have a gun, and you were just seeing things because you’re tired. Yeah. Yeah, that all makes sense. It was probably nothing.

Although you’ve talked yourself into believing—realising—that you didn’t really witness anything, you still dart out the door, ignoring your name being called by the man behind the counter and leaving your basket in your hiding spot. When you get home, you shut the door firmly behind you and triple check all the locks.

***

The next day, there’s not a peep of what happened. No one in your neighbourhood seems to have heard anything about it: so you were right, nothing happened at all. Even if the cops weren’t called, you’re sure some gossip would have spread if it was a scene, but it wasn’t. You were right, it was nothing.

You feel a bit better as you go through your day, having tossed and turned the night before about whether you made the right call, but evidently you did: nothing bad happened! That is, until you’re walking home, and yellow tape is lined outside the gas station, cop cars and men with notepads gathered around the scene. You can’t help but walk up, feeling a sense of dread at what you might find.

The owner is laying on the floor in the middle of the parking lot, crimson bleeding from his head. You gasp at the sight and an officer whips around to see you. He shakes his head, tuts and sighs as he flips his notepad to a new page.

“Go home, lady,” he says, but he seems more tired than anything, almost like he was… expecting to find this. “This ain’t a safe place for a dame like you.”

You swallow hard and turn on your heel, trying to maintain a normal pace (that ends up being speedwalking, nearly running) as you near your flat. In the building, you all but fly up the stairs to get to your floor.

Oh, god, should you have said something? You can’t change yesterday, but should you turn back and say something to the cops now? Tell them what you saw, have them question you on why you didn’t say a word to anyone, let alone the authorities?

You’ve closed the door behind you and are safely in your apartment when you finally let a few tears fall. Back against the door, you dig the heels of your palms so harshly onto your eyelids colour blots your blackened vision. Oh god, oh god, oh god, what should you have done? What can you even do about this now? You really don’t know anything! If the security cameras caught something, then it would be okay, right? They’ll find the guy—you only saw him from the back but he wasn’t wearing a balaclava or anything. And if they needed you, they’d be able to find you too, right? If they could identify you on the CCTV. It’s fine. It’s all fine.

The door opens and you fall forward with a shriek. Oh, fuck, you had been so focused on your inner monologue you didn’t lock it.

You fall onto your front but manage to prop yourself up on your forearms, turning over onto your back to look up at the intruder. Your stomach sinks.

You didn’t see his face yesterday but you know this is him; even if his broad shoulders and leather jacket didn’t give it away, under what other circumstances would a man burst into your place shortly after you entered unless he was following you, and what other man would be following you except one who knew something, or knew you knew something.

The lights are off in your apartment, but the hallway ones illuminate his silhouette like he’s an axe murderer standing in your doorway. He raises his gun and you whimper, shutting your eyes and turning your head away.

“I heard you,” he finally speaks in a low voice, slightly gruff.

“I didn’t tell anyone!” you swear, tears spilling out of your eyes. “I didn’t even see anything, I couldn’t even see anything, I swear!” you cry in between deep breaths.

And you’re sure you imagined a snort. You look up in horror, expecting to hear a bullet fly. But you hear… a laugh?

“I’m sorry,” he apologises and straightens his posture. He flips the light switch on and you see his face: his teeth sink into his plump lower lip, and he tries and fails to suppress a smile, “I’m sorry!” he apologises again, this time he laughs out loud, and you realise he’s apologising not for the situation, but that he can’t keep a straight face about it. “Sorry, it’s just—I could hear you, you know.” He steps closer and you back away again, shuffling on your forearms because you’re not sure if your legs will be able to carry you if you tried to stand, let alone run. He lets his brow drop into something like faux concern as he looks down on you with steel blue eyes. “Your pretty little heartbeat,” he murmurs, eyes briefly raking your form. “I can hear it now.”

Okay, you know you’re heart rate’s got to be in the 300s, but he can’t hear it… can he?

He raises a gloved hand, and for a moment you assume he’s going to cock his gun, and you brace yourself, but instead he sighs as he turns it over, looking at the back of the glove, and you furrow your brows in confusion. He twirls the gun and tucks it safely into his waistband so he can use his free hand to reveal… a metal hand? That must have been the mechanical whirring you heard last night. You tilt your head at it as he flexes the fingers, and somehow, this arm seems more dangerous than the gun.

“Relax,” he scoffs when he notices you staring at it as he pulls the glove off his other hand. “It’s not gonna feel good if I’ve got these on, now, is it.” He moves to stand over you, and you’re paralysed by fear. You’re not quite comprehending what he’s getting at until he winks at you. “And you won’t be telling anyone about this either.”

You finally manage to scramble to your feet but stumble back a few paces, your back hitting your bedroom door at the end of the corridor. He stalks towards you and you find it in you to speak again, ignoring how the shakiness to your tone has you seeming like helpless prey cowering in a corner. “You—you need to leave,” you try, as if a criminal is suddenly going to change his ways at a command.

“Come on,” he groans as he fishes his gun back out of his pocket with his right hand, pointing it at your thigh. You still when he finally comes to a stop way too close to you for comfort, or even a little relief. “This isn’t a punishment,” he sighs as he kicks your legs apart, and you grab onto his shoulders to steady yourself. You watch him with wide eyes as he pops his metal fingers into his mouth and smiles at you. “Don’t be difficult, and you’ll see how good this can feel.”

You shut your eyes when you feel the cool metal graze over your folds, slightly covered in saliva. When you tense, he whispers, “Relax.” and presses the gun into your thigh. You reluctantly unclench as he slowly drags his fingers along your folds before pressing his thumb onto your clit, making you gasp and dig your nails into his skin, to which he just hums in delight.

You can’t help the wetness that slowly gathers as he rubs rhythmic circles over your clit, gently dragging his fingers back and forth until they’re coated with slick. You clench again to try to keep him from breaching your entrance. “I know you feel bad,” he coos, but doesn’t let up on his assault, “But just let this happen. Yesterday… you just let it happen.”

He presses a kiss to your cheek when he finally slips a finger inside you, and you involuntarily adjust to him. “There you go, good job,” he praises, ignoring the tear that falls onto his lip. When he slips another finger into you, you cry out and throw your arms over his shoulders, burying your face against him to muffle the quiet moans you can’t control, urging him closer to you, and pressing the metal of the gun harder into your thigh, making an indent you’re sure you’ll see the mark of tomorrow.

You feel your stomach tense as the bubble builds and builds, and when you finally let go, throwing your head back with a frustrated groan, he nuzzles his face into your neck. You feel him smile against you as you push at his shoulders trying to get him off of you, or even just to relent his fingers still dragging in and out of you even as your legs wobble, hardly keeping you up, and your aftershocks start to reach a level of intensity that’s bordering on painful.

“Just let it happen…”

✪

my beloved taglist: @cjand10, @cowboysnbugs, @buckys-wintersoldier

[tarrenterror25]

Black Mask, Hush (if you want) and Two Face training reader to be their good girl 🥵

OH 💖

Black Mask:

-Involves a lot of bondage and degradation -You wanna be his good girl? Just let him use you as a stress toy, tell him how much you love being used by him. -Impact play with him testing your limits and slowly building up your pain tolerance from spanking with his hand to using a branded paddle with his initials. -Let him put his hands on you no matter where you are; the car, the club, a meeting. God, he gets so desperate for you, he just needs you, needs his hands on you, needs to be buried inside you. -Being Roman's good girl is being ready to explore things with him; he wants to fuck you literally everywhere and he wants to fuck you in every way possible, with his hands, his cock, toys, using your cunt, ass, mouth, everything, he's insatiable for you. -Being submissive to him is a one way ticket to being spoiled by him.

Two-Face:

-Likes someone who can cater to both sides of him -Definitely is a brat tamer and pairs well with the duality of a brat; someone who can push his buttons and is a bit of a menace, but once he puts you in your place you're all soft and pathetic and helpless -He likes to push your buttons, too; cockwarming with you in his lap while he sits at his desk going over some heist plans or just idly rolling his coin in between his fingers, pretending that he doesn't notice you squirming or hear you whining for more -Being his good girl means taking him as he is; sometimes he wants to fuck you six ways to Sunday, bent over and screaming for him and other times he wants to take you nice and slow, you on top so he can see you and admire you.

Hush:

(okay ive never written for hush so im sorry if this doesn't seem right)

-Manipulative, he'll sweetly convince you to slowly break down your defenses for him -You're perfect to him, buuut he might make some suggestions on things that could be changed, just in theory though unless you want him to alter you. Having you lie naked while he takes a marker and gently draws little lines all over your flesh of where he would like to change you, highlight your features or he's just circling the parts he likes already -Lots of receiving and reciprocating body worship is how to be Hush's good girl. -Loves to fuck you while you wear something expensive

[auroravictorium]

bejeweled (k.b.)

Summary: reader gets ready for a heist and shares a few sweet moments with kaz.

Pairing(s): kaz brekker and reader Word Count: ~2.2k Warnings: a bit of violence (mentions of prior stabbing), allusions to kaz's touch aversion, mentions of a near-death experience Genre: total fluff

Author's Note: the response to lavender haze has been SO AMAZING, thank you all so much for your notes and kind words <3 you do NOT have to read lavender haze before reading this, but these two can be read as part of a larger series that i'm working on if you so choose! the link to my grishaverse masterlist can be found here. please drop any requests you have in my inbox! happy reading loves <3

You fiddled nervously with the skirts of your dress, bunching up the silky fabric in your palms and releasing it. Scrunch, squeeze, release. Over and over until Inej slapped your hand. "You'll wrinkle the fabric," she told you, then returned to figuring out the best way to hide a knife in your hair. If anyone could do it, it was Inej. You aspired to be as collected and creatively armed as she was.

"Sorry," you muttered. You examined your outfit in the cracked, dirty mirror in front of you. You wore a gown nicer than any clothing you'd ever owned, clearly seized from a store along the Geldstraat. The material was soft and dyed a rich color that went beautifully with your skin tone. It was also very susceptible to creases, judging by the look Inej kept giving your nervous hands.

A few harsh tugs on your scalp later, Inej stepped back to admire her handiwork. The blade was thin and capped with a black sheath, making it look like an innocuous stick holding your bun together. It wouldn't do much damage, but it would be semi-useful if you lost access to the five other knives and the pistol strapped to you.

Three months after the disastrous job where you'd almost died after a nasty dagger to the chest, Kaz had tried to assign Nina to this mission. You argued that he couldn't keep you out of heists forever. After one tense standoff in front of the Crows and two hushed arguments in his room and an empty Club parlor, he'd reluctantly agreed to designate you for the task. The conditions? Jesper should not leave your side, and Kaz would kill him if you got injured again while partnered with him on a mission. You found that unfair, considering it hadn't been Jesper's fault you got stabbed in the first place, but you could only get so far arguing with Kaz. He'd forgive the sharpshooter eventually.

"Well, it'll have to do," Inej sighed. She caught your gaze in the mirror and rested her hands on your shoulders. "You'll be alright?"

"Not you too," you said, though you appreciated the concern. You'd heard it enough from Kaz in the past three months, and it was getting tiring.

"We're just worried about you." She squeezed your shoulders. "Especially him."

Heat rushed to your face, and you looked down at your hands and wrists, adorned with beautiful jewelry too glittery for your taste. You and Kaz hadn't told anyone about how he'd been waiting for you to wake up after the heist had gone wrong or how he'd bared his feelings to you as best he could. In fact, you thought you had continued with business as usual between the two of you. Aside from more lingering looks and brief moments spent together in your rooms, soaking in each other's company a few feet apart, nothing had really changed. 

Her observation had only reminded you how nobody could hide anything from Inej.

Inej turned you around and squeezed your shoulders again. "I won't tell anyone," she told you. You lifted your head and looked her in the eyes. They were filled with sincerity, and she offered you a smile that matched the warmth in her eyes. "I think you're the only one he doesn't scowl at. It's refreshing to see a look on his face that doesn't indicate him plotting or mentally counting his kruge."

A laugh slipped past your lips before you could stop it. "Maybe I'll put in a good word for the rest of you. It would do him some good to stop scowling so much. I've heard that prevents wrinkles."

The day Kaz stopped frowning was the day hell froze over, and all of you knew it. Inej grinned and handed you the last piece of jewelry to complete your outfit: a glittering necklace that Kaz had swiped from an oblivious Dime Lion's pocket. "Can you get this on yourself? I need to help Nina in the Club."

"Yeah, of course." You smiled at her. "Thank you."

She ducked out of the room, and you turned back to the rusty old mirror. You almost didn't recognize your reflection. Never in your wildest dreams did you believe that you would get to wear a gown and jewelry like this and attend a party like tonight's. Though it was a facade designed to get an expensive set of Dekappel paintings for reselling (you assumed), you thought you looked... beautiful. Wildly overdressed for a potential combat situation if you got caught, yes, but beautiful. You polished up quite nicely.

You jumped when a pale reflection appeared in the mirror behind you and cursed. Whirling to face Kaz, you demanded, "Have you heard of knocking? Or making any noise?"

He smirked in amusement and nudged the door shut behind him with his cane. His eyes roamed you up and down, taking in the exquisite gown you wore and how it clung to your hips and fell gracefully to the floor like a silken waterfall. 

As his eyes scanned your form, your breathing stuttered. There was no reason for you to feel exposed as you did right then, but you did, and you started to fidget with the necklace in your hands. Your face heated up again, and you prayed that he would stop looking at you like... that. You were losing focus on the assignment ahead. Instead, you were thinking about his eyes and that stupid smirk on his face.

"You look...beautiful," Kaz finally said, hesitating before choking the word out. Saints damn him. Why couldn't he offer a simple compliment without feeling like he needed to throw up? As soon as the word was out, his nausea receded, and he felt like he could breathe again. 

You smiled, unaffected by his hesitation. You understood. "Thank you," you murmured, looking down at the hem of your gown. You turned and went back to fiddling with the necklace in front of the mirror.

With your back turned, Kaz took the opportunity to admire how the neckline fell around your shoulders, how the gown clung to the curve of your waist, and how the skirt spun around your legs as you turned from him. How absolutely perfect you were. All the little details that he had secretly let himself indulge in before you nearly died, he now admired openly. He embraced the way his heart pounded faster and leaped into his throat when you smiled. He made sure to savor every grin and laugh, and he would never take any of those things for granted again.

"I like the color," he added. He felt like he needed to make up for hesitating so clearly. He loathed himself for it. He saw you struggling with the necklace in the mirror and stepped forward. "Can I help?" His blood rushed in his ears as the words left his mouth, and it took every ounce of determination in his body to not yield to the terror starting to rise in him.

You looked up from the chain, catching his icy blue gaze in the mirror, seeing the genuine desire to help in them. "Okay," you said softly. You passed him the necklace, and he undid the chain with ease.

Slowly, he brought the necklace around your throat. He saw you swallow, the goosebumps spreading across the back of your neck. His gloved fingers brushed your skin as he clasped the necklace for you, and they lingered even after the jewelry had been fastened. His eyes fixated on the contrast of the metal against your skin, and he imagined how soft and warm you felt compared to it. For a moment, he let himself remain this close to you. He challenged the water rising around his chest, threatening to crush his lungs, and he brushed a few loose strands of hair away from your shoulder.

Before he could back away and bow to the tide trying to pull him under, he slipped off a glove and brushed that loose hair behind your ear. His fingers stayed there for a long moment. You sucked in a startled gasp but remained still, watching him close his eyes and try to battle the current. He could feel the warmth of your skin ghosting across his fingertips, and he clung to that feeling. 

Warm. Near. Alive. All the things Jordie wasn't.

Kaz pulled away as his brother's name crossed his mind and pulled his glove back on. He gripped his cane so tightly that his knuckles ached. "No mourners," he said roughly. He took a few steps back, and self-hatred burned within him as the pressure on his chest lessened the moment there was space between the two of you. What kind of man was he if he couldn't stand close to the woman he cared about?

"No funerals," you whispered back. You smiled at him. He caught your glance one more time, expecting pity or sadness. Instead, he found pride. You were proud of him, and that realization startled him so much that his cool mask slipped. The knot of anger within his sternum loosened, and a ghost of a smile crossed his face. Then, adjusting his grip on his cane, he turned and made his way out of the room deliberately louder than when he came in.

You couldn't help but giggle and cling to that feeling of bliss as you worked through the heist without a hitch. Aside from a band member pressing too close for comfort and asking if you had anyone waiting for you, to which you responded with faux timidity, "I don't remember," and cursed Jesper for taking so long, it went perfectly. 

"Your delivery, Boss," Jesper said proudly as the two of you swept into Kaz's office, pulling the canvases out of his jacket with a flourish and setting them on Kaz's desk. He bounced on his heels and waited for an acknowledgment. "Shall I take a bow for our excellent work?" he asked after a few moments of silence from Kaz, who finally looked up from some piece of parchment he was looking over.

"Well done," Kaz murmured, but his eyes flicked to you. He searched your face, then let his eyes run over your body. You realized he was checking for injuries and offered a reassuring smile. Nearly imperceptibly, his shoulders lost some of their tension. "Can you handle the door?" he asked Jesper.

Jesper sighed. "'Shouldn't you be at the door, Jesper? Can you handle the door, Jesper?'" Despite the mocking, he left without complaint and whistled as he strolled down the hall.

Kaz pretended he didn't hear the sarcasm and turned to you. "You're okay?" he prompted, analyzing your face more closely once the door closed.

"Perfectly unharmed," you confirmed. You started to remove your jewelry, intending to give it back. Maybe Kaz could pawn it and add the funds to the emergency reserve he pretended he didn't have. For someone so brilliant, that discolored brick in the wall wasn't the best hiding spot for thousands of kruge.

When you got to the necklace, you hesitated before removing it too. It reminded you of him, of the moment he trusted you enough to take off his glove and touch you. You didn't want to give it back.

"Keep it," Kaz said, seeing the hesitation written clearly across your features. "It suits you." He'd go to his grave before admitting to anyone other than you how much he enjoyed seeing it on you. He liked seeing you sparkle, and he also liked knowing that it made you happy. In the three months the two of you had been something, he realized that your happiness was a drug he could not get enough of. It was stronger and sweeter than any liquor, and he longed to protect it.

So damn the kruge he could get from selling the necklace. It was yours. It had been from the moment he'd seen it and swiped it for this heist.

Your hesitation dissipated upon hearing the sincerity in his words, and you pondered your response. "Only if you help me put it on sometimes," you said. A small smile curved your lips. 

Kaz was silent for a moment, considering. In his opinion, and he was quite the business expert, this seemed fair. "Deal," he said. He gestured for you to sit in the chair across from his, and he passed you a book of his that you'd started reading.

As the night passed by and heavy rain started to pour over the city, the two of you sat in his office and basked in the success of the heist and the sheer comfort of each other's company. You shared your lingering glances and tiny smiles, and when you left his office in the early hours of the morning to finally get some sleep, the necklace back around your neck, you couldn't wipe the stupid smile off your face or the memory of his fingers brushing over your skin out of your mind.

[hitchell-mope]

Oh Jesus.

[aziraphales-library]

hi! i don't know if this ask has been done before but do you have any comedy fic recs? i've had enough of angst for a bit and i just want to read aziracrow bicker and laugh out loud :))

Hey. We have #humour, #humor, #crack, and #bickering tags, for all your laughing needs. Here are more to add...

Seamstress of Soho by GayDemonicDisaster (M)

Season 2 spoilers! When Mrs. Sandwich spots a suspicious new guy apparently lurking on her turf, the misunderstanding leads to an unlikely friendship between the ‘seamstress’ and a demon. So in episode 6 we see that Mrs. Sandwich is clearly at ease with Crowley and he with her, enough to share a joke together. Combine that with the curious sign on her door which might just be referring to Crowley, and we have a little buddy comedy in the making. I decided to explore the backstory of how they came to know one another between season 1 and the beginning of season 2. While this little comedy is about sex workers, there is NO sex in it, and rated M solely for oblique references to things like contraceptive devices and so on - honestly it could get away with a “teen and up” rating but I like to err on the side of caution.

Pass the Remote, Angel by Mrs_Cake_Is_Here (M)

Aziraphale has returned to Heaven, leaving Crowley a tv binge-watching wreck. However, healing can come from the most unlikeliest of places. While Muriel has been instructed to provide daily reports of the demon’s emotional state, they find that sharing time together, even by watching a scary show, can be the catalyst that builds friendships. And they’d probably both be couch potatoes by now if the Supreme Archangel hadn’t just gone missing.

Christmas Lights by FuzzyGoblin (T)

Christmas Lights is on the agenda at the monthly meeting of the Whickber Street Shopkeepers and Traders Association, but it's not the only thing on Mr Brown's, of Brown's World of Carpets, mind. As he pines for the mysterious bookseller, his efforts are thwarted by the tall ginger goth.

The Book Thieves by ThingsJustHappenSometimes (T)

“Did they steal it? Professional book thieves, probably going around in their car stealing books.” Be careful what you tell an adolescent antichrist who has the ability to warp reality, he might just make things real. - - - Featuring: A confused ineffable duo in ridiculous costumes, a presumed relationship, overpowered magical books, meddling humans, multiple chase scenes, and a generally all around silly action-packed time. - - - [If you like 1920s Costumes, Indiana Jones, Isekai Vibes, and/or That-One-Auction-Heist-Scene from Uncharted 4, you’ll like this story.]

Rattle Those Pots & Pans by Mackaley (M)

“My instructions…” He parted his mouth as he searched for a word. “Instruct that I just get right into it. You all have been brought here tonight because you have one thing in common: you’re all being blackmailed.” A tense hush fell through the room. “You’re all paying what you can afford - in some cases I’m sure more than you can afford - to prevent your secrets from being exposed. And none of you know who is currently blackmailing you.” Gabriel scoffed. “This is ridiculous. I’m an upstanding member of the international finance community - what could I possibly have done to be blackmailed about?” “You’re a member of the international finance community,” Crowley drawled. ----- A Good Omens Clue (1985) AU

through the tides by viperinz (T)

With that thought, Aziraphale takes to asking experts if his feelings are something more or just love for his dearest, most sweetest friend. If he wasn’t sure himself, then surely the experts on the internet will have something for him. Which brings him to the front of his computer, ready to search something up on the search engine he has pulled up. He’s not one to ask too many questions, but he supposes it won’t hurt. He starts typing, and is satisfied with his search of "Am I in love with my best friend?" Straight to the point, and very concise. Aziraphale has no doubt he’ll find what he’s looking for. He presses enter on the keyboard, and a bunch of results flood in. “Oh, dear,” he gasps at the mass amount of answers. Where is he supposed to start?

Aziraphale discovers the wonderful world of online love quizzes and WikiHow, all in the process of wooing and confessing his love to Crowley.

- Mod D

[writingduhh]

Chuckle Sandwich || Shopping With Him (HC)

I had this idea while talking to my absolute bestie babe @lvrj4mie 😩 ILYSM

Im also taking requests or just any suggestions or ideas!! Thanks for reading!

❥ Jschlatt:

▷ Would rather die than go shopping… He only goes because he loves you.

▷ Holds all your bags and items you pick.

▷ Definitely will pull some skimpy or revealing clothing off the clothing rack, suggesting you try it on for him.

▷ Trying to encourage him to get outside his comfort zone (Only wearing shorts and sweatshirts 😭)

▷ After some time passes he actually begins to enjoy himself. Well, he enjoys spending quality time with you.

▷ I can see him sharing random yet entertaining stories with you as you walk around from store to store.

▷ He absolutely insists on treating you to at least one thing. Whether it’s a new pair of pants, some new shoes, or even just a pretzel from the cafeteria.

▷ Having to stop his impulse buying of stupid or useless things.

“Y/n look!” Schlatts voice calls, catching the attention of a passersby or two.

“Shh. What is it?” You playfully hush, walking over to where he stood, investigating the shelves.

Suddenly he pulled out the most ridiculous looking monkey replica (the golden ball monkey lmao

“What is THAT?!”

“It’s a beautiful golden balled monkey.” He grins, happily showing off his find.

Together you both shared a laugh. Assuming he’d put the item down you began to walk over to the next shop. To your surprise he didn’t follow you. Turning around you saw him motioning towards the register as he stood in kind.

“Jay, what are you doing? That’s expensive for such a silly thing.”

“Don’t worry y/n, we’re rich!” He jokingly responds (he would say this)

“Schlatt, are you seriously going to buy it? What are you going to do with it?”

“I’ll take him everywhere with me! I’ll tuck him into bed and kiss him goodnight.” He excitedly explains.

You can’t help but smile as you let out a small sigh.

“If you really want it, go for it.”

▷ He definitely makes sure you stop at the cafeteria for some lunch or just to taste test some snacks.

❥ Ted:

▷ Such a gentleman. He holds all the doors open for you, holds your bags, offers to pay (even though you politely refuse)

▷ He’s Low-key quite fashionable. He’d be helping you pick out trendy clothes and even help you put together cute outfits

▷ Always suggesting things for you to try on. He loves to see you happy and confident in the new clothes.

▷ Enjoys trying things on himself as well. He’d definitely throw in a crazy outfit just to get your reaction.

▷ Definitely takes this opportunity to use the Photo Booth or at least get some cute and funny pictures with the two of you

▷ I can honestly see him being the type who enjoys people watching.

▷ You sit in the cafeteria together sharing some food as you watch people walk past, making up little stories about their lives.

“Ok ok, what about him?” Ted questions, motioning towards the passerby.

“Uh, I think he is currently in a big fight with his partner. He’s definitely trying to find them a gift or something… I’m not very good at the game. You go. ” You reply.

“I thought it was a great story. Hmm ok that dude right there. He’s actually undercover right now. He’s an fbi agent called… 770. There is a huge heist going on right now in the store below us.” He seriously remarks.

“Why are you so good at this game.” You playfully sigh.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get it eventually.” He chuckles, placing a kiss in the back of your hand.

▷ Makes you do a try on haul the second you get home, mixing and matching every possible outfit

[silky-nereid]

– the dead, the gold, and the obsession || DARK CONTENT

Yandere! Cowboy x Former Cowboy! Reader/You

tw : gun usage, injuries, manipulation, death, kidnapping.

Yandere! Cowboy who was always a close associate turned into a close confidant of yours; at times she knew you better than yourself.

Yandere! Cowboy who was the brains of the group that you lead and  in charge of every single robbery from mills, stealing the occasional cattle or finest horses.

Yandere! Cowboy who always kept you level headed when you were just furious on a simple mistake that would have cost you the whole heist. 

“Look at me.” Her leather gloves gripped the sides of your face. “I said look at me.” 

Your eyes looked at her, your hands brushed at the intricate design of the recently stolen buscadero holder that held your revolvers. Her faded bandana was snug around her neck, a jagged scar extended from the right side of her jawline to under her right nostril.

“Where are we?” She asked. 

“At camp,” you responded. 

“Good,” she replied, “and where in the camp are we at?”

“Why are you doing this?” You asked. “I just need to talk to him.” 

Her eyes looked to see your hands seemingly itching to reach your revolvers; a behavior that she knew far too well. Only talking that would be done would be eulogies to a shallow grave. 

“We are running low on people,” she replied. “We can’t be killing them off, can’t we?” 

“Yes, we can but we could have—“ 

“Where are we again,” she interrupted. “Are we in a cell? At the gallows because we both know that there’s a bounty on both of us.” 

“We…we are at camp in my tent,” you replied. 

“Good,” she replied, “I’ll keep watch while you sleep ‘cause you haven’t slept.”

Yandere! Cowboy who doesn’t trust the newcomer because they just seem a bit off; seemingly becoming your mouthpiece during planning portions of heists or crimes and starts seeing you less and less.

Yandere! Cowboy who notices your candlelight never going out at night even though you are seemingly the first one awake but often wakes up to hushed whispers of your voice and the newcomer. 

Yandere! Cowboy who slowly gets a bit jealous at seeing you and the newcomer side by side; that was her spot not theirs. She notices the subtle changes that weren’t there before like the sudden change in revolvers or the amount of coins in your pocket that you used to donate to the nearest saloon when you were feeling ‘generous’ before robbing it.

Her eyes looked at your tired ones, the newcomer that had weaseled their way into her spot. Their hands that held your tired shoulders while your horse held a muffled person wrapped with your rope, she recognized the person; gloved hands trembled with anger. 

“Do you know who you have tied up?” She asked.

“Someone,” the newcomer chimed. 

“I’m talking to the leader, not you,” she said. “Do you know who you have tied up?” 

She stepped closer to you, sitting on a wooden stump. Your face was stained with grime and specks of dried blood, reeking of fresh gunpowder from your new buffalo rifle and the butt of the rifle had specks of dried blood. 

“I’m asking a question,” she replied. “Do you know who you have tied up on your horse?”

“I know who I have,” you replied. “One of the Buckley boys.”

“You might as well signed us off to the gallows,” she said. “Not just one of the Buckley’s boys but Cyrus’ kid, you realize that we have an even larger target on our backs because of this.” 

Her hands pulled you away from them, arm remained around your shoulder and the dirt underneath your boots were heard with each crunch. Each step, each tether and she held one side of your face. 

“What’s going on with you?” She asked. “Not talking to me, I helped you with one of our greatest heists and this is how you treat me.” 

“I’m just…it’s just,” you replied, trailing off.

“What is it?” she asked. “We have been through enough together but this is nothing, remember? It’s you and me, nobody else.”

She pressed her gloved hands against your face; holding it as if only you mattered to her and her alone. 

“What are we going to do about this?” She smiled. “What are we going to do?” 

Yandere! Cowboy who will have her hands in other things to get knowledge on the next heist that will cause more money to be raised on the bounty that you both shared together since you and her were one of more prominent ones in the spotlight.

Yandere! Cowboy who has the wooden box filled with golden bricks hidden in a special spot that only you and her know because it holds sentimental value to your heart and hers. 

Yandere! Cowboy who for once fails to notice the growing plot of an uprising within your group due to her obsession of you being a slight overwhelming feeling but it never went to extreme levels—or so she tried to make it look like that. 

“I’m not standing for this.” Her finger was itching to be pressing on the trigger of her Winchester rifle that she had stolen during a train hijacking. “They rescued you and this is how you repay them?” 

You stumbled out of your tent, head aching. The cold rain touching the warmth of your skin caused an involuntary gasp while your blurred vision tried to register the scene. 

She stood in the center of the woods, strewn the supposed traitors as she was always making jokes that she would tie them up by their wrists; it seems that she wasn’t joking this time. 

Your boot crunched on a twig and she turned to face you, her eyes always calm; a mixture filled with hatred and annoyance. Her blue-silver eyes darted up and down your face; trying to examine you and her lips grew into a smile. She slung her rifle as it was held by a leather strap and her gloved hands held your face.

“Can’t you see?” She said, “I’m doing this for you—for us.”

You pushed her away, she pulled you back; a short scuffle between the both of you as you and her rolled in the meadow greenery around amidst the struggling of you trying to disarm her. Mud coated your clothes during the struggle and the occasional smacking into stumps of the chopped woods. Yet, she managed to stab you in the leg; she was always a better aim than you. You cried out in the pain, looking down to the blood staining your pant leg and feeling the blade turning around in your leg, your gasps echoing the seemingly peaceful meadow. 

Her blood splattered on your face, your hands held her while grimacing in pain; the blood bloomed on your side that reached your abdomen. One of the supposed tied members managed to get free and used one of the spare guns to shoot; her bloodied face was buried onto your chest. 

You gently pushed her off of you, staggering towards your tent; this life wasn’t working out for you…Not anymore. You looked in the small fractured mirror, seeing your bloodied face staring back. You needed something new—a new identity in a different city.

You managed to get exactly that, giving up your old ways by faking your own death as it was seemingly easier than every average heist that you had committed before for a small farmhouse and having the familiar warmth of a lover that didn’t know about your past—they didn’t need to know because the past you was a different person and they loved you. 

You had managed to get a small career in the back of a saloon for stocking tobacco and cigars for an extra fee to smoke. It was a normal work day and feeling the cold barrel pressed against the back of your head. 

“Tobacco.” The barrel pulled back slightly only to be pressed back again; harshly. “Give it.” 

You handed the crate of tobacco to them and turned to face them; your eyes widened. Recognizing the half of the exposed face and faded familiar bandana pulled up.

“I thought you were—“ you said. 

“It’s you,” she interrupted. “I finally found you.”

Before you could say anything else. She struck you; stumbling to your knees and feeling the hot blood trickle down your face, looking up. Last thing, you saw was the heel of her boot kicking you and fading into black.

Yandere Cowboy who takes out the crates of tobacco and cigars to share with her small group of outlaws; she doesn’t get too close to them since they aren’t you. Nobody could replace you.

Yandere Cowboy who purposely sets up faulty heists that ends up in her group of outlaws slowly dying one by one because she can’t have loose ends now.

Yandere Cowboy who knows where your little farmhouse is and she watches when you come home to greet your lover from a hard day at work; she knows you’re not meant for this domestic life—you just need a push towards this lifestyle. 

You winced and recognized the insides of your farmhouse. Your hand touched the dried blood from, using the doorframe to pull yourself up and seeing the sight in the once organized kitchen; the food in the pot  was charred, table stained with blood, broken plates and your squirming lover who was bruised and slightly bloodied in trying to defend themselves from her but their wrists bound while she aimed a revolver to the side of their head. 

“Dorothea,” you cried out, “let them go. This is between us, right?” 

“Right.” She looked at you then to your lover. “It is just between us.” 

She harshly shoved them to the floor, putting her revolver back into her buscadero holder, watching as they scrambled to you. 

The deafening noise of the bullet flew, whistling in the air and making their home in the middle of your lover’s head. The blood splattered onto your face, cradling their body in your arm; looking up at Dorothea. 

“Why—“ Your voice was broken. “You—Dorothea…”

“Don’t cry on me.” She stepped closer but you stepped away from her. “Don’t be like that. You didn’t like being tied down, remember?” 

“I—This life.” You held them closer to your breaking body as if this was a dream and you would wake up anytime soon. “You promised—I don’t…” 

She maneuvered you to let go of them with mild disgust of how overly sensitive you were towards them; they were a corpse, nothing more. Her hands—calloused hands held your bloodied and tear stained face. 

“It’s just you and me,” she said. 

[thatlotuscookie]

hello how are u doing😊 could you please write for dabi x fem!reader who is a solo villain. and before you meet your soulmate u meet a chibi version of them, and you usually meet them when you turn 18, but reader didn't so she thought that she doesn't have a soulmate and then one day chibi version of dabi appears out of nowhere, and the chibi has dabi's personality and that's super cute because of its size. and i would like this to be about how reader deals with tiny chibi and how it warms up to her

✧･ﾟ: a/n : hiii anon!! im doing great and i hope you're doing good yourself. thank you for requesting! this is so adorable :33 i hope you enjoy, and that i captured everything in the right way<33

✧ Title: ✧ Tiny Flames ✧ ✧ Characters: Chibi!Dabi x Reader (Fem!Reader) ✧ Genre: Romance, Action, Comedy ✧ Rating: T ✧ Summary: You’ve made a name for yourself as a feared solo villain. As your eighteenth birthday arrives, you eagerly await the appearance of your soulmate's chibi form. But when midnight strikes without any sign, you resign yourself to the belief that perhaps soulmates are just a myth. However, after a particularly exhausting mission, a sudden flash of light brings Chibi Dabi into your life. ✧ Content Warnings: Minor language?, themes of villainy ✧ WC: 1612 words // 9.4k chars

In the shadowy underbelly of society, where chaos thrived and villains ruled, you carved your own path as a solo villain. You had built a reputation—feared and respected by heroes and fellow villains alike. Thriving in the thrill of the chase, you relished the freedom that came with being an independent agent of chaos. No one dictated your actions; no alliances held you back. You worked alone, and you liked it that way.

Your name was whispered in hushed tones, often accompanied by tales of your cunning plans and daring heists. You had mastered the art of deception, slipping through the cracks unnoticed, leaving a trail of confusion and destruction in your wake. Yet, despite the adrenaline rush of your dangerous lifestyle, a nagging void lingered within you—a yearning for something more profound, a connection that eluded you in the chaotic world you navigated.

Every year, on your birthday, you awaited the moment that would signal the arrival of your soulmate’s chibi form—the tiny, whimsical representation of the person destined to be by your side. It was said that the chibi would appear to you when you turned eighteen, guiding you toward your true love. However, as the clock struck midnight on your eighteenth birthday and no chibi appeared, your heart sank.

Was it possible that you were destined to be alone? The thought gnawed at you, but you quickly pushed it aside, convincing yourself that you didn’t need anyone. You were a villain; you thrived in solitude. But deep down, the ache of loneliness lingered like a shadow, reminding you that something vital was missing from your life.

Months passed, and you resigned yourself to the belief that perhaps soulmates were just a myth. You threw yourself deeper into your villainous pursuits, planning heists and wreaking havoc on unsuspecting heroes. Yet, even in your most triumphant moments, a part of you longed for connection—a partner to share in the exhilaration of your exploits.

One fateful evening, after a particularly grueling mission, you returned to your dimly lit lair, exhausted yet exhilarated. You had successfully executed a plan that would send shockwaves through the hero community, but instead of feeling accomplished, you felt an overwhelming sense of emptiness. As you slumped against the wall, letting the adrenaline fade, a sudden flash of blue light illuminated the room, causing you to blink in surprise.

When the light faded, your heart raced as you stared at the tiny figure standing before you. He was a chibi version of Dabi—small, spiky-haired, and exuding an intense aura that was oddly familiar. He stood no taller than your hand, his fierce glare somehow managing to hold the same intensity as the original Dabi.

“Who the hell are you?” Chibi Dabi demanded, his voice laced with a cold edge that sent shivers down your spine.

You blinked, half-expecting to wake up from a strange dream. “I—I’m Y/N. Your soulmate, apparently?” Your voice came out more incredulous than you intended.

“Is that supposed to mean something to me?” he retorted, his icy demeanor unfazed. “I don’t need anyone.”

His response stung more than you expected, but you were determined not to show it. “Well, you’re here now, so what do we do?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions in your chest.

He shrugged, crossing his tiny arms over his chest defiantly. “Do whatever you want. I’m just here because I have to be.”

As the days turned into weeks, the bond between you and Chibi Dabi grew stronger, but not in the way you had hoped. He remained aloof, often retreating into his own world, indifferent to your presence. Despite your attempts to engage him, he would simply roll his eyes or give you snarky remarks that cut through the air like a cold wind.

One evening, after a particularly hard day, you returned home feeling defeated. The weight of your actions pressed heavily on your conscience, and you found it hard to shake off the guilt.

“Why do you look so miserable?” Chibi Dabi asked, his tone lacking any real concern.

“Just thinking about things,” you replied, trying to dismiss it.

“Thinking? That’s lame. Just burn something and move on.” He leaned back, his tiny form perched on the edge of your desk, looking like a fierce little king on a throne.

You laughed softly, but your heart felt heavy. “It’s not that easy. Sometimes it feels like we’re just doing bad things without any real purpose.”

Chibi Dabi’s gaze hardened, and for a moment, the intensity of his demeanor threatened to swallow you whole. “Then why do it? You’re the one choosing this life.”

His bluntness made you sigh, feeling the sting of truth in his words. “Because it’s all I know,” you confessed. “But I don’t want to be alone in this.”

“Too bad. That’s your problem,” he replied, crossing his tiny arms again but failing to hide the faint blush creeping onto his cheeks.

Despite the hurtful nature of his response, you felt a flicker of determination ignite within you. “I’m not going anywhere, Dabi. Whether you like it or not, we’re in this together.”

His eyes narrowed, but for a brief moment, you thought you saw a flicker of something softer beneath the cold exterior. Yet, he quickly masked it with indifference, turning away. “Whatever. Just don’t expect me to hold your hand.”

As the days passed, Chibi Dabi continued to be an enigma—cold, distant, yet somehow intriguing. You couldn’t help but be drawn to him, the fiery spirit that flickered beneath his tough exterior. With each passing day, you sought to break through the wall he had built around himself, determined to warm the icy heart of your chibi soulmate.

One evening, after an encounter with a rival villain left you rattled, you returned home, only to find Chibi Dabi sitting on the table, legs swinging in mid-air. He eyed you with a mixture of curiosity and disdain. “What happened? You look like you lost a fight.”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “I didn’t lose, but I didn’t win either. It was… complicated.”

Chibi Dabi leaned forward, his expression suddenly serious. “Complicated? You mean weak.”

“Dabi!” you exclaimed, half-laughing, half-frustrated. “I’m not weak. I just—”

“Then stop whining about it,” he interrupted, a small flame flickering to life in his hand. “If you’re going to be a villain, act like one.”

“Easy for you to say,” you shot back, trying to keep your tone light despite the hurt lingering beneath. “You’re all fire and no fear.”

His expression softened slightly, though he quickly masked it with irritation. “Maybe you need a little fire, too.” He stood up, his tiny fists clenched at his sides, glaring defiantly at you. “You don’t need to wallow. You’re better than that.”

A warmth spread through your chest at his words, despite the typical coldness of his personality. “Thanks, Dabi. I appreciate it.”

He rolled his eyes but didn’t dismiss your gratitude. Instead, he seemed to regard you with a flicker of admiration. “Just don’t let it get to your head.”

Days turned into weeks, and with every shared moment, your bond grew deeper. Dabi’s once-icy demeanor began to soften as he discovered the warmth of companionship, while you learned to embrace your vulnerabilities. Though you remained villains in a chaotic world, you found solace in each other’s presence.

One night, as the two of you sat together on the couch, the glow of the television illuminating the room, you decided to watch one of your favorite movies—a thrilling tale of heroes and villains in a world much like your own. You settled into your spot, and Dabi perched on your shoulder, his tiny form fitting perfectly against you.

“Why are we watching this trash?” he grumbled, crossing his tiny arms as the action began to unfold on screen.

You chuckled. “It’s just a movie, Dabi. Just enjoy it.”

“I’ll enjoy it when I see some real fire,” he shot back, but the way he leaned closer to you hinted at his interest.

As the story unfolded, you found yourself glancing down at Dabi. His fierce expression mirrored his adult self, but you noticed the way his little eyebrows furrowed in concentration. He was fully engaged, despite his earlier complaints.

During a particularly intense scene, you felt him tense up, gripping your shirt tightly. “What’s going to happen?” he muttered, clearly invested despite his attempts to act tough.

You laughed softly. “You actually care, don’t you?”

“Shut up!” he exclaimed, his face turning a shade of red that contrasted with his usual cool demeanor. “I just want to see how it ends, that’s all.”

As the movie progressed, you noticed that Chibi Dabi began to shift closer, using your shoulder as a makeshift pillow. His tiny form curled up against you, and you could feel the warmth radiating from him, a stark contrast to the cold exterior he often projected.

When the credits rolled, you found yourself smiling down at Dabi, who was now fast asleep, his tiny face relaxed and peaceful. You reached down to gently stroke his spiky hair, a sense of warmth enveloping you.

“Guess you really enjoyed that, huh?” you murmured, your heart swelling with affection for the tiny villain.

Dabi stirred slightly, mumbling something incoherent, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly. In that moment, you realized that the icy barrier around his heart was slowly melting, revealing a warmth that matched the flicker of fire within him.

You knew the road ahead would be challenging, but as you watched him sleep, a sense of peace washed over you. Things would be okay.

[abrunettefangirlnerd]

The Accident

Request: JJ got hurt when he crashed his motorcycle and he woke up to see the reader sleeping, head resting on her arms, on the edge of the bed. She’s had a crush on him for years, but never told him cause he liked Kiara since kindergarten.

Paring: JJ Maybank x reader

The screeching of metal on concrete vibrates through my mind as the scene plays on repeat. Kie’s sobs, Pope’s shouts for JJ to stop playing around, Topper and Sarah helping load JJ’s body back into the truck. JJ’s head resting on my lap, my fingers running through his blood matted hair, telling myself he is just asleep and we are on John B’s couch.

               The world is submerged underwater and my only focus is on the boy laying in front of me, my best friend. The whole idea behind getting the cross back was absurd, every moment of it. No other moment of my life has come close to the horror that chilled my bones watching the cops chase after JJ once getting Kie to safety in the truck.

               Rustling coming from the door frame snaps me out of my trance to find John B, Sarah, and Kie with hushed whispers. John B wasn’t with us on our failed heist and by the look in his eyes the girls are obviously catching him up to speed. We are supposed to be taking shifts so someone is here with JJ when he wakes up but I refuse to leave. JJ’s cousin checked him out and said he should be fine, but I can’t help but watch each rise and fall of his chest to be sure.

John B’s eyes meet mine and I can see the slightest rise of his eye brows at the scene he is witnessing. I duck my head back to JJ and ignore the heat rising on my cheeks. He is the only one who knows about my crush on JJ ever since a very embarrassing late night drunk conversation after everyone else passed out for the night. But we both know that JJ has been carrying a torch for Kie since kindergarten. JJ was most hurt during her kook year, taking a long while to forgive her, but now acts like it never happened.

JJ paces back and forth with joint in his hand. Pope and John B left with Kie to get provisions for her welcome back party. Only JJ is having a harder time letting go of the last year and I am trying to talk him down. I’m really hoping the weed kicks in soon, JJ is usually more open minded when he gets a nice relaxing dose.

“Y/N how could she just leave us like that and try to come back like nothing happened?!” JJ stops mid pace to look at me, waiting a real answer.

“JJ she explained everything. We were all mad and upset she froze us out. She’s sorry and she’s back. P4L right?”

               Honestly, with Kie’s abandonment I was hoping that JJ would get over his little crush and set his sights somewhere else. Ideally I would want his sights set more on me since I was the only girl in the group. I guess it takes a while to heal a broken heart. Everything went back to normal after that night.

“Y/N,” John B whispers from the doorway. I try to ignore him but he walks till he is standing directly behind me. Placing a hand on my shoulder he tries again. “Y/N, you need to get some rest. Or at least a shower.”

I shake my head as a sob builds in my throat.

“Please, shower at least. You still have his blood on your hands and your legs.” John B squeezes my shoulder, “I’ll stay here with him.”

               Relenting, I nod my head in agreeing with John B. I will my legs to get up and he swiftly takes my place, not letting me change my mind to reclaim my seat. Slowly I make my way out but pause at the door to look back at JJ. Just one more peak at his face before I make my way to the shower.

               On the sink one of the girls laid out some of their extra clothes for me to change into. A swirl of gratitude dances in my chest. It is the lightest I’ve felt since this terrible night started. Operating on autopilot, my hand turns on the water to the shower. I let it run to allow some time for it to warm up. Hot water here is hit or miss, but who can complain about running water.

               Tearing off my clothes one piece at a time my eyes lock on to the red coating my hands and thighs. You still have his blood on your hands and your legs. I run my hands over each other in attempt to rub it off. Not hard or fast enough. My hands move faster, I press harder. I move to my thighs. Small pieces flake off but not enough to make a difference.

               Tears patter against the tile floor breaking me out of my trance. I take deep breathes, 1…2…3… I count in my head. JJ is here, he is alive and he is going to wake up. Finally stepping in the shower the luke warm water cascades down my back and I can feel my muscles loosening. I quickly get to work on cleaning myself up and changing into the new set of clothes.

“He’s still asleep,” John B’s voice greets me without looking up from the ground.

               John B gets up to leave and I quickly reclaim my seat. I feel his presence linger at the door, not quite ready to leave. I can’t blame him, I don’t want to leave him either. JJ is my best friend, and I know John B feels the same.

“Have you thought about telling him yet?” I don’t answer him, which is an answer in itself. “When he wakes up you should.”

               His footstep leave toward the living room with the others. Tell JJ? Just so he can tell me I’m just his friend and that he still has a thing for Kie. To have him act weird around me for the rest of our lives. The thought of that happening is more unbearable than the idea of seeing him and Kie together and losing him in the process. At least I lose him because of her instead of losing him because of myself.

               My eye lids grow heavy as the last bit of adrenaline seeps out of my system. Maybe I should lay down for a bit, just rest my eyes. I’ll wake up before JJ does. Slowly I climb onto the side of the bed that JJ is not on. I loop my fingers in with his as I rest my head against the pillow.

For the rest you can decide how it ends:

Angsty/Sad Happy