#or maybe she and i are having an excellent drive home from work every day enjoying thinking about That Television Show again

[july-19th-club]

woman who DJs the local rock station during the hours when i drive home from work put ramble on and silent lucidity back to back today . i SEE you miss local radio DJ (things insane people say bc there is nothing to see she just put the songs on bc theyre good songs)

#then again . she introduces herself as charlie . could be her actual name and she just happens to have a job in Old Rock Music #or maybe she and i are having an excellent drive home from work every day enjoying thinking about That Television Show again #she has a cute voice . the morning guy is like. eh whatever but when i drive home she goes hi its me charlie :D and im always like #hiiiiiii #bc her voice is so cute #one thing she DOESNT do is always name the song or artist though. which i usually know but sometimes i don't and i like to hear it #the morning guy is just some middle aged dude who has a veteran segment EVERY morning . but he always names the song and artist #local radio giveth . and local radio taketh away #q

[dreamofbecoming]

listen i know we all love steve “completely ignorant of queer culture to the point that bisexuality is a surprise” harrington being roasted and educated in turns by robin and eddie, yadda yadda, good stuff. i read “they made a horror version of rocky?” in a fic recently and cackled. also a big fan of “he knew he was bi from the start and just never talked about it” as a trope, love it excellent well done

but what about steve who realizes after starcourt that the most important person in his life now has this thing that’s a major part of her life that he knows nothing about, and what if he fucks it up? what if he says something ignorant or rude by accident, and hurts her? what if he loses her because he didn’t know the right thing to say? what if he can’t keep her safe because he doesn’t know what to look out for? absolutely fucking not, this steve says

and listen she’d never say anything, because she can tell that he can tell how much she likes teasing him and teaching him things, so he plays dumb, and she thinks it’s very sweet. but she notices when the zines she keeps under her bed that she buys at that one secret bookshop in indy when she can sneak away on family trips start going missing, always one at a time, and replaced in a few days with another disappearing. and she finds the new ones he must have gone to buy the weekend she was at her aunt’s house hidden in the back of his closet when she goes to steal one of his sweaters. and she notices when he slips more of her queerer movie recommendations into his personal take home pile rather than the movie night stack when he thinks she’s not looking.

she doesn’t notice when he drives to indianapolis after she tries to explain to him why she can’t just ask out a cute girl, tries to impress on him the fear attached to every moment of attraction that he simply has never had to feel, but later she finds a crumpled receipt from a diner in one of his jacket pockets when she’s looking for his keys, and the address is across the street from the bar the gorgeous woman at the bookstore told her about, the one she memorized the address of but hasn’t worked up the guts to think about visiting, and she knows he must have gone looking for a place like that, must have been trying to understand, must have been scoping it out to make sure it was somewhere she could feel safe, after she told him she never had.

so when eddie nearly pops a blood vessel when they clock each other and she mentions that steve is the only person she’s ever come out to before, her hackles come up. because she gets it, she does, he’s only known king steve until recently, so it makes sense that he would be afraid, be concerned for her safety.

but steve is her person, and no one- no one- has ever made her feel as protected or as cared for as he does. no one has ever tried as hard to understand her, no one has ever put so much work into making her feel safe and seen and loved. and she thinks maybe even if no one else ever does, that’s ok. because she has steve, and more importantly steve has her, and that means no one gets to question his ally credentials in her presence without a dressing down to remember, no matter how well they mean or how recently they helped save the world.

(and maybe she’s not as surprised as she could be when he figures out bisexuality all on his own, because she’s been reading all the same pamphlets he has, after all. and she’s seen the way he looks at eddie, i mean come on. maybe no one else has noticed, but then, nobody knows steve harrington like she does.)

#stranger things #steve harrington #robin buckley #platonic stobin #steddie #(if you squint) #this got away from me #i just really love love giving steve a bit more credit yk? #like yes he’s very stupid and he has a history of being self absorbed #and we love that about him #he’s very flawed and that makes him interesting #but i really feel like one of his defining traits is his need to be useful to the people he loves #combine that with his abandonment issues and i really feel like he would be scared of fucking up and losing robin #and yeah he would play dumb like he does with dustin and d&d #but i don’t believe he knows nothing about d&d after all this time and i don’t believe he would let himself know nothing about queer culture #i’m just so so attached to the idea of steve who knows that teasing him for being dumb is his friends’ love language with him #so he pretends to be dumber than he is so they have chances to explain things to him #also stobin sharing clothes is so so so important to me just putting that out there #anyway i just think they’re neat #my writing

[possibilistfanfiction]

do you have any funny or cute details about Bea(or avatrice) in your butch Bea universe that you haven't share yet?

(I'm definitely re-reading some of it to fight against this bad day I'm having)

hello i’m sry this is late! work has been busy 😵‍💫 i hope ur day improved or at least there’s been some better days since 🫶

hmm well bea is good at like… every outdoors activity she tries — she’s coordinated & strong & focused, so once she gets the body mechanics down she’s like. above average to Excellent fairly quickly. surfing, trail running, backcountry hiking, bouldering, trad climbing, skiing, etc. i am lazy & put them in socal since i am in socal lmao but for the majority of the year california really is just outdoor enthusiast paradise.

she started trying stuff bc ava was gone & she was so sad & when her cool friends from surfing were planning a trip to climb in joshua tree or some ppl she met on the pct were driving up to mammoth for an end of the season ski, it was all better to be moving outside in grief than it was to sit at home in an empty house.

i think that maybe she worries, when she’s alone surfing or on a long run along the cliffs, even just bouldering at the gym with her airpods in instead of hanging out w friends who are there — maybe she worries that ava would be disappointed in her, that this isn’t what ava meant by ‘live your life’ — quiet streams & long car rides into the piney forest in a practical small suv, listening to a podcast about architecture. it seems small, to be in the wild — the ocean, the woods, the mountains, the desert — & not grand; at least, she feels small. she worries ava wanted her to feel big.

but then ava comes back & bea has been keeping a list of all the places to show ava, all the things to do with her, the movement & the air that kept her just on this edge of sane. & of course ava is delighted by it all — the kid who cried on the beach when she saw stars? absolutely in love with the waves & the wind in the trees & the sunset on a big hammock on a hot night in the desert in the summer. it makes sense to ava & it is what she meant — settling into the texture of a life.

it’s good to feel small sometimes, yknow? she tells bea, when they’re eating sandwiches a few miles into a hike on the lost coast — ava refuses to camp, so they’re meeting friends later on. it’s good to feel small in a world that’s so big.

they make s’mores that night with their friends & it’s dark & beautiful; the sand & the sea & the sky are all wine-dark & quiet-loud; there are so many stars. it’s rainy & cold in the bay the next day & they sleep in & eat ramen & don’t leave their hotel room all day (ava’s request; if he had to hike ten miles he earned it tenfold). bea worried that a slow day might seem small too, but ava sinks into it just like everything else: rest & softness.

eventually bea gets more used to it, & better at letting it happen. in recovery from top surgery, the worst part is not being able to get outside for a while — but ava drives them both to the mountains & they sit on the balcony together while it snows. when ava can’t move as well, they sit in the warm sand by the beach & bea puts her hand on the small of her back when they walk in the cool surf. eventually bea’s shown ava every place she ached & then there’s the rest of the world left to explore.

#butch bea 🥺🫡 #if i could abscond to the mountains tomorrow forever i simply would #lol

[autisticlancemcclain]

For the last six months, Lance has been acting strange. It sounds like a long time, and maybe something Hunk should have brought up earlier, but he wasn’t sure enough to bring it up for a while — he’s sure now, though. Lance used to send Hunk fifty memes a night for Hunk to scroll through in the mornings, now it’s a rare day he gets even one. He used to get regular calls and facetimes from Lance about every little inconvenience Lance experienced, but now he’s lucky to hear Lance’s voice once a week. And he’s almost never available to hang out anymore.

“What I’m hearing is that you are getting a break, and what I’m not understanding is why you’re complaining about it,” Pidge says.

Hunk glances away from the dirt road he’s squinting at (country driving is hard, especially as the sun starts to set, why couldn’t Lance stay in the city like the rest of them), to roll his eyes at her.

“Oh, don’t give me that. You miss him too. It’s like he’s been replaced by a pod person!”

Hunk doesn’t know if it’s the conspiracy theory tease or if it’s because Pidge misses Lance more than he thought, but she deflates rather quickly.

“Yeah, yeah, okay. It’s a little strange that we haven’t heard much from him. But,” she bites her lip, looking away from her phone for once, “are we sure he’s not just grieving? I mean, he’s become a bit of a hermit ever since his Abuela left him her cabin in the woods. His tree-hugging ass never wants to leave. And I imagine he misses her, too. Is he maybe just trying to grieve in peace?”

“That’s a valid point,” Hunk concedes, “but I don’t think that’s it. Abuela died a year ago. He still misses her, shit, but if anything he’s even more clingy when he’s upset. And he just started pulling away a few months ago, so I don’t think it’s the death. It’s weird. He’s never been like this.”

“I mean, Lance is just kind of a weirdo,” Pidge says, because she and Lance have this weird relationship where they refuse to admit they love each other even though Hunk has seen both of them mope for days after a fight or argument. (But whatever works for them Hunk supposes.) “You’re right though, I guess. He hasn’t sent me a picture of an angry possum with the caption ‘this is u’ in a while, which is kind of concerning.”

“…Is that a regular occurrence?”

Hunk breaks concentration from the road again, looking at her strangely. She barely notices, attention back on her phone as she waves her hand dismissively.

“Oh, yeah. He sends a mocking picture whenever he sees a particularly gremlin-esque animal, I seen him one whenever I see a rat.”

“Pidge, you live in Queens. You see a rat twelve times a day.”

Pidge sniggers. “Yeah, and it’s funny every time. He gets all pissy.”

Hunk just sighs, shaking his head fondly. He will never understand their relationship.

———

Hunk has visited Lance at his new home a handful of times since he inherited it. He always, always has the porch light on (he says it’s in case someone were to get lost in the woods at night, they’d be able to see the light and come to him. Hunk has tried to explain to him dozens of times that that is an excellent way to get serial murdered, but damn Lance’s bleeding heart because Hunk’s worry does nothing).

There’s no porch light on now.

“Maybe he finally just started listening to you?” Pidge suggests.

Hunk levels her with a flat stare. “We have been friends for over fifteen years, Pidge. When, even once in that time, has Lance listened to a damn word I said about safety?”

Pidge shrugs. “Who knows! Maybe his newfound hermit lifestyle has made him wise.”

“Right,” Hunk says, snorting. He takes another moment to stare suspiciously at the dark house, and then sighs in defeat.

“I guess we should go in, huh?”

“I did not drive six hours through rural New York to turn the fuck around, Hunk. We are staying with Lance for the weekend if we have to break in through the goddamn window, and I mean that.”

Hunk doesn’t doubt it — Pidge hates long car rides, and only agreed to come up here in the first place because she misses Lance way more than she’ll ever admit, now that he’s not a two minute walk away.

“Desperate to spend some time with him?” Hunk teases, walking up to the door.

“Piss off,” Pidge snaps, but there’s not nearly enough heat in her voice for Hunk to take her seriously. (Hunk has heard her when she’s truly mad, threatening random cat-callers in the street. It is a terrifying thing to witness, which makes Hunk glad he’s on her side.)

She reaches forward to knock on the door — another proof that she very much does miss Lance, being the first to knock, which makes Hunk smirk — and then steps back next to Hunk to wait.

They stand there for two whole minutes.

“Is he maybe asleep?” Hunk asks, but dismisses it just as quickly as Pidge does.

“That loser never sleeps before, like, 3 in the morning.”

“Maybe the ambiance of the woods has made it easier for him to sleep,” Hunk says, just to be contrary.

Pidge snorts, knocking one more time and then moving shit around on the porch.

“The hell are you doing?” Hunk asks as she lifts the dorky little wicker chair Hunk knows Lance made himself in his basket weaving phase.

Mostly ignoring him, she flips the chair completely over and starts inspecting the legs.

“If I can just… ha!”

She sets the chair down, and triumphantly holds up a key.

“Lance is the most predictable bitch in these lands,” she brags, which Hunk thinks is rich coming from the girl who has lost every board game against Lance she has every played.

He tells her as much. She scowls.

“He cheats,” she insists, which is probably true, but she also cheats and still loses, so.

Hunk decides to drop it, because he likes his kneecaps exactly how they are, thanks, and Pidge has a violence problem.

“Hello? Dork ass?” Pidge calls as they walk in, which is as much of a greeting as any.

The entrance hallway is dark, as is most of the visible rooms. The only light comes from some faintly twinkling fairy lights Lance has strung up around various walls.

“Whose boots are those?” Pidge asks, staring at something right next to the front door.

Hunk peeks over her shoulder, squinting to try and make them out. It’s hard to see well in the low light, but there’s a pair of big, clunky combat boots next to Lance’s dorky retro sneakers.

“Maybe he’s got a friend over?”

“His car is the only one in the driveway,” Pidge points out, which is true.

Hunk shrugs. “Maybe he picked them up.”

Pidge huffs, still suspicious, and starts poking around the living room and kitchen instead of looking for Lance.

Well. Hunk is doing that too, so he can’t really judge. (It’s been so long since he’s had real Lance drama, okay? Sue him if he’s curious.)

“There is healthy food in the fridge,” Pidge says, in the same tone of voice someone might say ‘there’s a nuclear bomb in my toothbrush.’

Hunk blinks. He rubs his ears, he must have misheard her.

“Oh my God, there’s meat!”

Now he’s definitely misheard her, because Lance has been vegetarian since he was four and found out the pollo the feathered little animal was the same pollo in his happy meal.

Hunk scrambles over to where Pidge is starting incredulously at the open fridge, and his own jaw drops when he sees it: a gigantic steak, chilling on the second shelf, waiting to be cooked.

“Maybe he really has been replaced by a pod person,” Pidge breathes.

She’s started to sound nervous, for all her joking.

“Let’s go find him,” Hunk says, and he can’t hide the urgency in his voice. They both rush down the hallway, wordlessly agreeing to be as silent as possible. They pause before Lance’s bedroom door, exchanging a determined look. Pidge nods, and Hunk carefully turns the doorknob, soundlessly pushing the door open.

It’s dark. The only light comes from the moonlight pouring through the open window, and the small shark-shaped nightlight on the desk. Despite the brightness of the moon, the only thing really visible are shadows and figures.

The lump on the bed, wrapped in the covers, is far too big to be Lance.

Hunk hears Pidge’s sharp intake of breath, and is strangely reminded of the tale of Little Red Riding Hood. They’re both silent for a moment, tense as live wires, and then the large lump in the bed lets out what Hunk can only describe as a muted growl.

Pidge whimpers. The smallest of sounds. Barely a peep. But before Hunk has the chance to throw his hand over her mouth, the lump in the bed shoots straight up, and then both of them are screaming as glowing yellow eyes narrow and shining, razor-sharp teeth are bared in a snarl.

Hunk squeezes his eyes shut as the monster in Lance’s bed flicks his hand and a blade shines in the moonlight, extended at both of them as the monster is out of the bed in an instant.

“I am too young to die,” Hunk sobs over Pidge’s incessant screaming. He wonders if the monster ate Lance quickly, or if his own death is about to be slow.

It all makes sense now.

“Hunk? Pidge?”

Well, that doesn’t make sense.

Hunk opens his eyes just as the lights flip on, and sees Lance — he’s alive! — scramble out of bed and in front of the monster.

Right fucking in front of the monster. Zero space between them.

God, where is Lance’s brain?!

“Keith! Chill out. Put the luxite blade away. It’s fine, okay? They’re not a threat. No threat here. That’s it, babe. Take a deep breath. Put the fangs away, there you go.”

Hunk stares in shocked silence.

He thinks his jaw might be brushing the wooden floorboards.

“Pidge, stop screaming,” Lance says irritably, turning around to face the two of them. “You’re freaking everybody out.”

Pidge, predictably, does not stop screaming.

“No! I was just threatened by a real-life monster! A monster, Lance, what the fuck!”

“He has a name and it’s Keith,” Lance snaps. “And no shit you were threatened, you broke into our house.”

“And you’re fucking naked! Both of you!” Pidge continues — somehow more shrill — as if Lance had not spoken.

That wipes the fury right off Lance’s face.

“Out!” he yells, frantically yanking a blanket off the bed and throwing it over him and — and the monster that he knows on a first-name basis, apparently. “Get out! Right now!”

“I’m not leaving you with that!” Hunk argues, finally finding his voice.

He means it. Lance is bad at looking out for himself, and that thing is very obviously bloodthirsty.

“Get out of my room right fucking now, or the most bloodthirsty thing in the room is about to be me!”

Hunk’s not sure if it’s because Lance sounds deadly serious or because the terror of the whole situation is starting to fade into something like shock, but without another word, he turns away and walks out of the room. Pidge follows, closing the door behind her. The walk over to the living room, sitting gingerly on the couch.

Moments later, Lance stumbles out of the room in a robe, the monster following closely behind him.

“Stop looking at him like that,” Lance snaps, which Hunk thinks is unfair.

“Explain immediately,” Hunk says instead of voicing that particular thought.

“I’ll make some tea,” the monster says quietly, pressing a kiss to Lance’s cheek.

Hunk startles.

Well.

The monster can speak English, apparently.

Lance sighs, looking gratefully at the monster and squeezing its hand.

“Thanks, babe.”

And apparently Lance is — sleeping with the monster?

“That is the least surprising thing about this whole thing,” Pidge mutters, which is an astute observation based on Lance’s track record.

(Venom is not a good enough movie to watch 47 times. No one does that without Gay Reasons.)

Lance sits heavily on the loveseat, staring at them warily. “Why are you here?”

“Hi, Lance,” Hunk says sarcastically. “We’ve hardly talked to you in half a year, and it’s basically been radio silence from your end. Yes, I’m doing well, thanks for asking. I did miss you, too.”

Lance glares at him for a moment, but then he slumps forward.

“I know. I’m sorry. I’ve been…busy.”

Pidge, who has recovered remarkably quickly, snickers. She looks pointedly at Lance’s collarbones, which are littered with bruises and bites. He flushes immediately, pulling his robe tighter around himself and hugging a pillow to his chest for good measure.

“I can see that,” Pidge teases. “And from what I saw from Mister Tall Purple and Furry, which is unfortunately burned into my brain for all eternity, I imagine sitting in a car for six hours to come see us would be…difficult.”

Despite himself, Hunk laughs. It helps that Lance looks more flustered and annoyed than angry, now.

“Fuck off,” he says, shoving his face into the pillow. “God, you people are horrible.”

Suddenly a new voice filters through the room, a gruff chuckle making Pidge and Hunk sit up straight, looking at each other nervously. Hunk almost forgot his terror.

“Why are you laughing, you douchebag?” Lance says, begrudgingly accepting the offered mug. The monster says nothing, only smiling fondly — well, Hunk is having trouble looking at the fangs peeking out of that smile and thinking fond, but it certainly doesn’t look malicious — and sets two more cups on the coffee table, and then takes his seat next to Lance.

Like, right next to Lance. Any closer and he’ll be sitting on Lance, and he’s thrown his arm over the back of the loveseat for good measure.

“I’m Keith,” the monster says when Lance fails to explain himself. “I’m not from here.”

That is a gross oversimplification.

“Try again,” Hunk says flatly, and he wasn’t trying to be funny, but the monster — Keith — laughs anyway.

“I’m sorry for threatening you,” he offers. “I was shot out of the sky by the government a while back, so I’m a little paranoid.”

Pidge looks intrigued. “Tell me every single detail about that story and you’re forgiven.”

Hunk scoffs. “Speak for yourself.” But he reaches forward and grabs the mug Keith placed in front of him as a show of trust, anyway, because Lance has lifted his face from the pillow of shame to glare at him and Hunk always feels like shit when Lance is mad at him.

Keith looks hesitantly at Lance. “Is it…?”

“They’re safe,” Lance says with a sigh. He reaches for one of Keith’s hands and starts fiddling with it — a nervous stim.

Now Hunk really starts to feel guilty.

“Okay,” Keith says, only a little reluctantly. It certainly says something that he’s so willing to trust them just because Lance said he could, even though twenty minutes ago he looked ready to stick a sword in their heads. “Uh, I was born on a planet called Daibazaal, about three hundred million light years from here. Earth is well known among the Intergalactic Union as a danger planet populated by gigantic, monstrous lizards.” He grins wryly. “Obviously, that information is pretty outdated.”

“Why’d you come here, then?” Pidge asks, eyes bright in excitement. If she leans forward anymore she’ll fall right off the couch. Nerd.

“My father is human,” Keith says nonchalantly, as if that’s not the most insane thing to have ever been spoken in this timeline. “He was a Texan physicist. He was messing around with things he shouldn’t have been messing in and accidentally wormholed himself across the galaxy, and decided he liked it there, so he stayed. He never told anyone about Earth because he figured if anyone tried to come here it would be mayhem —”

Hunk inclines his head, thinking of his own (possibly) over-the-top reaction. “Fair.”

“—but I grew up hearing stories about it here, so I wanted to come see for myself. It took me a few years because y’all don’t have transporters anywhere near, but I got here eventually.”

Hunk glances at his best friend, who has yet to stop playing with Keith’s fingers and won’t look at them. “I promise I am not being a dick,” he starts, which in hindsight could have been phrased better based on Lance’s scowl, “but why are you here? Like, Lance’s house specifically? And why hasn’t he told us about you?”

Luckily Lance laughs, looking a little more at ease. “He’s here because his father only told him about the Earth he knew decades ago. He was shot out of the sky the second he appeared on government scanners. He crash landed in one of the forests around here, and eventually made it to my door one night because he saw my porch light on and figured hostile shelter was better than no shelter. Luckily, I am not hostile shelter.”

The irony is not lost on Hunk.

“And did you jump his bones the second you saw the claws, or did you wait a week?” Pidge asks, grinning evilly.

Lance goes red again.

“He was injured!” Lance says hotly. “My first thought was to help him!”

“So it’s a Florence Nightingale situation,” Hunk says, smiling just as sharply.

Lance sees the tease for the apology it is.

“You’re a jerk,” he says, pouting. “Nobody in this household loves me.”

“I do,” Keith says, as if it’s the easiest thing in the world to say.

Lance softens like a goddamn block of spilled ice cream on pavement during a summer heatwave. Holy shit. It’s so saccharine it’s honestly a little gross (not really).

“As much as I have decided to be happy for you, Lance, if you two start making out I am going to throw things at you.”

Lance rolls his eyes, but settles for a quick, chaste kiss.

“Alright, you prude. I assume you two broke into my house with the intention to stay for the weekend?”

“Yep!” Pidge says, completely ignoring the dig. “And you are no sooner making me drive the six fucking hours back to the city than fly to the moon, so point me in the direction of the nearest bed. I’ll make fun of you more in the morning.”

“You mean the late afternoon, you lazy dog,” Lance teases, but gets up anyway. He presses another kiss to Keith’s lips as he gets up. “I’ll meet you in a few, okay?”

“Alright,” Keith says, and then he says something else in a language Hunk doesn’t understand that makes Lance all moon-eyed before heading back to Lance’s — to their bedroom.

“I’ll get you guys some fresh sheets and whatever,” Lance says, waving them over. “And then none of you are to bother me until I leave. If you walk in on us again and get scarred for life that will not be my problem.”

Pidge and Hunk look at each other before looking away in disgust.

“Understood,” they say immediately.

Lance grins.

———

part two

#I HAVE MORE PLANNED FOR THIS UNIVERSE #vld #voltron #hunk #hunk garrett #pidge #pidge holt #lance #lance mcclain #klance #established klance #secret relationship #keith #keith kogane #hunk & lance #hunk & pidge #pidge & lance #garrison trio #hunk & lance & pidge #fluff and humour #galra keith #alien keith #modern au #my writing #fic #longpost

[sevikasangel]

❥๑𝒎𝒐𝒄𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒃𝒊𝒓𝒅 — poly! renata glasc and sevika as girlfriends.

including: poly! sevika x renata x f!reader

— contains: fluff, sfw, poly! relationship, f!afab reader, jealousy, overprotection, possessiveness, praising, mommy/mistress honorifics.

— a/n: when's it going to be my turn though? also big thanks to my dad for giving me inspo for the traffic cussing!

𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐚

❝and if you ask me to, daddy's gonna buy you a mockingbird

i'ma give you the world

i'ma buy a diamond ring for you, i'ma sing for you

i'll do anything for you to see you smile❞

renata is a gentle dom. the owner of the glasc company ensures that all your needs are tended, affectionate and financial wise. surprisingly enough, ms glasc craves the more domestic aspects of a relationship: she is nurturing, family oriented, an excellent cook, and she will crave to assume the role of your provider. with her line of work, age, and obscene amount of money, she could say she had lived enough wildness in her life. not a party animal at all. at this point, she just craves someone who will hang her blazer after she comes back home after a tiring day at work and will kiss her softly on the lips. after, you’ll both have dinner and she will exchange small conversation, gentle touches as she tells you about her day.

“i did miss you quite a lot, my sweetheart. i am sorry i’ve been so busy lately, but you know nobody can do my job. i promise i will arrange some exclusive time for you. uhum…maybe a week off, how does that sound? oh, darling, i am not trying to charm you up…i am always charming, though. how about that beach trip you were dying for? how does that sound, princess?”

renata is a bear hugger. her strong arms and big breasts are the perfect combo for you to feel warm and safe. she loves to lift you off the floor and spin around with you while peppering your face with kisses. she particularly loves when you wear summer dresses with thin straps. the way the skirt flows like a princess’ and the softness of your skin warm up her heart to no extent.

it takes a while in the relationship for renata to say i love you, but when she does, you can be sure that it’s completely honest and from the bottom of heart. she will have no problem voicing her feelings, as her love language varies between words of affirmation and gift giving.

and speaking of gifts…ms glasc loves to see her darling dressed in her money. she will give you her cooperative credit card and allow you to buy whatever your little heart desires. fancy dinners, expensive jewels, best designer clothes, makeup, lux trips…expect all of that from her.

this woman definitely puts her hand on your thigh while she is driving with her free one on the steering wheel. she will lean in to steal a kiss from you whenever the traffic lights go red. and yes…she cusses people out.

"fucking idiot! you are the owner of the street, huh? your mother must be a whore! *honks furiously* anyway…ah yes, darling…i do find this skirt of yours adorable."

loves it when you call her mistress and mommy. it softens her heart and it's an effective way to get something from her. you know you're her weak spot.

renata is into a soft, gentle form of pda. she loves holding your hand or wrapping her strong arm around your waist while she's talking to her business partners. her grip on you is protective, possessive even…people must know you are her darling and that you matter to her before thinking about messing with you. because messing with you means messing with her. and trust me…

nobody messes with renata glasc.

𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐤𝐚

❝and if that mockingbird don't sing, and that ring don't shine

i'ma break that birdie's neck

i'll go back to the jeweler who sold it to ya

and make him eat every carat, don't fuck with dad❞

sevika is a brute. in many occasions, she will answer you in a raspy, seemingly impatient voice. your bubbly personality doesn't conflict with her stoic one quite a lot. though that doesn't mean sev doesn't love you. it's quite the contrary, actually. you can see how she always softens up whenever you are in sight. in her own way, yes...but it's still special.

she loves taking you out with her during gambling nights, she calls you her little luck charm. you don't like being alone so much so when renata is working late, you adore accompanying sevika to the last drop.

"my girl gives me so much luck, eh? if y'all keep staring at her, it's gon' be easier money for me...but don't go too far, or you know what will happen to you. last i checked hospitals here sucked ass, so don't crave to get your face bashed in, or your eyeballs ripped out..."

she is so overprotective and possessive over you and everyone knows it. her arm is always tightly wrapped around you as you sit on her lap. you love to snuggle up to her strong chest while she gambles. sevika isn't the type of person who will kiss and coo at you, but you don't mind it, she shows her affection in different ways.

sevika always blows the smoke of her cigar towards the opposite side of your face and she's not letting you take a drag from it. this is bad for you. insist all you want, she's not having it.

"this shit ain't for you, doll face. i am tough, i can handle it. you ain't getting no cigar, they're bad for you. you want something, i can get you some cocktail, but nothing too strong."

if someone messes around with you, they're getting beaten up to near death...or death, she doesn't care. when this one guy began getting too handsy with you, she crossed the bar in huge steps and smashed his face against the nearest wall repeatedly. you can still hear the sounds of his flesh thumping into your mind.

"wanna act all mighty and funny, huh? pick someone your fuckin' size. she is with me, she is mine. y'all better start understanding this crap, I'm not having any of your shit. come, doll face, let's go home."

sevika lets you wear her cloke on cold nights so you wouldn't catch a breeze. if you teased her for it, she'd just roll her eyes and tell you to shut up before she takes it back. also loves it when you wear her shirts at home, this has her wipped in no time.

we can say she's your own soft brute.

𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐚 & 𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐤𝐚

renata's affectionate and sweeter way contrasts perfectly with sevika's practical and brute personality. with renata you'll get the gentler hugs and the forehead kisses, with sevika you'll get thrown over her shoulder and carried to the couch to sit on her lap while she counts all the money she made in the day.

"very charming, renata...but ya know, it's my turn with bunny now. ya took her out to dinner, nice, now we're having a couple drinks. come join us...got that dumbass top shelf wine you love so much."

renata being so good with words is a perfect trait for when you need a shoulder. when you have a bad day, she will put you on her lap and assure you how loved you are and how everything is going to be okay. her soft lips smooch the soft skin of your face as her strong hands caress your arms.

sevika, on the other hand, demands you to tell her who made you cry so she can fuck them up for you. well, renata would too, but she's more subtle about it and will do it in secrecy. sevika doesn't do secrecy. if you just need her company, she will play a card game to distract your mind and she'll even let you win just to see that smile on your face.

cuddling time is the best. your favorite position is laying completely on top of renata while sevika hugs you from behind. you love feeling their warmth. sevika does steal you from renata in the middle of the night and shushes you when you grumble.

dates you have include strolling at the park for fresh air, fancy restaurants and bars, movie nights, and renata's personal fsvorite: mall trips. this way she can spoil both of her darlings rotten.

oh fuck, when they are both feeling jealous of you, you'd better be prepared...they're both possessive women and sometimes they are difficult to deal with. sevika is direct and blunt about it, doesn't hide her jealousy. renata on the other hand is quiet, seemingly unbothered even...however, you know better. her eyes could swallow someone alive as she's the quiet type of angry. you know what she's capable of...specially with all that power and access to illegal chemicals and poisons.

sharing is caring...

#lesbian #wlw #polyamourous #arcane #arcane x reader #arcane netflix #renata glasc #renata glasc x reader #league of legends #league of legends imagines #league of legends x reader #arcane sevika #sevika x reader #sevika imagines

[byrdstrolls]

Meet-Cute

(teehee, wil and melina belong to @dirgelwch!!)

Wilmar Roheir was probably the worst person you could have picked to investigate this case. This is not said as a detriment, but as a disclaimer. He was excellent at reading people. He was good with hard, physical evidence. His mind was as sharp as it ever was in connecting dots and finding patterns. But his damning flaw would be his lack of experience with technology. The key strings and pieces that tied together each of Tyler’s victims were purely digital. The pattern in the victims was clear. They were all jadeblood women, aged 20-25. They had similar horns, facial features, sometimes even clothes. They were all unarmed, killed by gunfire. His first guess would be some kind of psychosocial obsession with replicating perhaps the first victim. The pathos was the easy part to understand. How the killer found them? 

Er, He had no idea. 

The deaths weren’t pinned down by any one location. The killer traveled long distances sporadically. There was no physical trail of evidence, no repeated character or place in any of their lives. They came from different caverns, towns, backgrounds. Their homes were never broken into, the front door left open as if inexplicably, each and every single woman let the killer in. Several even had more robust security systems that were deactivated seemingly by administrator. Perhaps the killer had some kind of voodoos that made them pliant, or allowed him to track them down all across the country. 

But maybe he didn’t need to know that. Maybe he didn’t need to understand the complex digital web Oswell had enclosed around Alternia. Maybe all he needed to know was the pattern, because it was predictable, because it was concise and never varied. Because just maybe, he could find a troll that fit the exact profile before the killer did, and simply cozy down in a stakeout and wait. It was something he had put on the backburner. The private investigator worked several cases at once, and the time consuming work of looking through records for a jade with a similar horn shape was something he’d sometimes just knock out 30-45 minutes of at the end of a long day. 

It had only been last week he had found one. A librarian, a two to three hour drive from here. He had made the trip, and had the difficult conversation with her that he suspected she might soon be targeted by a murderer. He had given her his contact information, and told her to call if she saw ‘anything suspicious. Anything suspicious at all’. Monday through Thursday, radio silence. Friday morning, the woman had rung him up to tell him she had gotten a strange text, threatening her with blackmail and demanding to meet up in person. Incredible, that it had happened so fast. He wasn’t sure if he could call it lucky or unlucky. Just a little chilling. Had he been even just a week later, this lady could have died. 

The blackmail explained their willingness to meet with the killer, at least a little. He buckled up and made the long drive down to this woman’s hive again. The trap that could be laid from there was idiot proof. Agreeing to meet with the killer, Wilmar could hide in a nearby closet or something, and simply pop out once the troll was in sight and subdue him. He sat down at the kitchen table, and with the woman drafted and sent a willing response. The dots on the other side of the screen danced for a moment, disappearing, and appearing again. 

[Haha okay] the killer says. [Just one question! I noticed you made a phone call at 10:21 earlier tonight :> Wondering what that was about <3]

Wil stared down at the phone. Wondering how the hell they knew what kind of calls she was making. 

[was talking with my hive cleaners] he answers. 

[Wowwwww that's funny because I ran a search on the number and it actually pops up for a private investigator firm. The economy truly is in shambles if you’ve got detectives vacuuming your rugs.]

[Irenie, do you pretty please promise, that when I show up at your hive you wont send out some kind of guy with a gun in a wig, right? Like you’re not that stupid. And neither am I. And I would kill you and leak your sensitive images anyways.] 

“What’s he saying?” Asks the concerned Irenie to him from across the room, and he sighs, squinting at the phone keyboard. Not wanting to scare her. 

“More threats.” Wilmar answers, and that's not a complete lie, is it?

“Are you sure this is safe?” She asks. 

“I’ll be right here the whole time.” He answers, trying to compose another text. 

[I promise]

Simple and to the point. 

[And I’m just supposed to take you at your word?] The killer answers. 

[you asked.]

[More as a demeaning hypothetical to illustrate my knowledge more than anything.]

[it's only been a few hours. You really think a detective was able to make the trip all the way down here for a minor blackmailing threat? Those assholes didn’t send me anybody.]

[They’re still gonna be poking around once things are over.] 

[when things are ‘over’?] He answers. Two can play at the game of catching someone one out. The typing bubble appears again, and then disappears. 

[Yes, when our meeting is over. You’re gonna call them again.] He responds, barely skipping a beat. 

[can’t we just talk this out, like civil trolls? I don’t even know you. Why are you doing this to me] 

[I need something from you. It will only take a second.] 

[then get over here already] he pleads. [Whatever you want, you can have it. Don’t leak my images.] 

[If there's a detective there you’re both dead, do you understand?] 

[I understand. It’s just me. I won’t call them again.]

The bubble appears, and disappears again. 

[okay.] The killer says, finally. [see you.] 

Wilmar sets down the phone, pushing up his glasses, barely able to believe that worked. And then passively scolds himself for celebrating so early. The troll could still not show. But judging from how the killer had spoken, he seemed to be missing a key part of the puzzle, that he was already working with Irenie prior to the call this morning. 

The good thing about not working digitally, is that things like Wilmars initial drive out and verbal conversation with the woman months were invisible to him. No phone record. Perhaps the story he had spun about the agency not being able to send someone out this early and quickly seemed reasonable to Tyler. 

.

.

.

.

.

He was not sure what he expected when he climbed in between Irenie’s sweater, squeezing himself just barely into a closet in her living room. He left the door ever so slightly ajar, not wanting to break the woman's doorknob by kicking it out, lifted his pistol close to his chest, and hunkered down. 

“Can you see me?” He calls out. 

“No,” Irenie answers, wringing her hands. “You’re a big guy tho, it can’t be comfortable.” 

“I’ll manage.” 

“Are you sure you don’t want snacks, or anything?” She says. 

Wilmar pauses, blinking incredulously. Of course not. He needed his hands free, and the killer would be showing up in only about ten minutes. But he should not be harsh. People say all kinds of silly things when they’re scared. 

“I’m fine.” He answers. “But thank you.” 

The jadeblood paces back and forth, and Wil stares at the wooden grain of the door. 

The previous victims had not been large, but there often seemed to be some kind of struggle. Judging by the autopsies, the killer was not that skilled a shot, seeming to rely on being the only one with a gun and just shooting it repeatedly. Best case scenario, he manages to quickly disarm him. He wasn’t expecting a huge troll here. Trolls who kill for pleasure usually only use guns if they have no other choice, if they don't have a physical advantage that would allow them to overpower and spend more time with the victim. His first guess had been that the Killer was some kind of jade, or highblood government official, who would have access to a vast amount of records that would lead him into finding these women. He had guessed he was small. 

But, glancing as the troll walks in, he had not thought he would be that small, that sickly looking. Ding Ding for highblood, though, he thinks, catching a glimpse of what sure appears to be fuschia eyes through the crack of the door. The guy has a gun in one hand, and a photograph in the other. 

“Hi” Tyler says, and bizarrely, holds the photograph up seemingly to compare it with the victim's face. 

He could ponder the implications of this later. The troll was distracted. This was his moment. Wil slams open the door, and fires a shot out the window, having a triple purpose both to distract, scare, and warn the attacker. Tyler jumps, and then he just rushes him, hands closing down on the man’s weapon, and after a moment's struggle, wriggling it out of his grasp. He was small, but he was definitely spirited, scratching and biting and letting out several anguished noises. 

“Hey” Wil says sternly. He had two guns, what did this guy think he was accomplishing here? He winces as the guy’s nails dig into him, and resolves to just reach over, and grab the serial killer by the scruff of his hoodie, lifting him up like a disobedient kitten, and holding him just out of reach. 

“Hey” He repeats, a little more loudly. 

“Kill him!!” Irenie exclaims suddenly in a random twist of vengefulness.

“Calm down,” Wilmar says. “Both of you. He’s disarmed.” 

The woman stares for a moment, rouses, before smoothing out her dress. 

“Sorry.” She says flatly. “Got carried away.” 

“I will make your life hell,” Tyler says. “I will send every nsfw text you’ve ever sent to your employer if you don’t set me down right now. You have no idea who you’re messing with. I could destroy you with the click of a button!” 

“N-s-f-w?” Wilmar answers, completely sidestepping this threat by a simple way of not understanding acronyms. 

“If you kill or arrest me” He says. “You and everyone you love will regret it until the day you die.” Tyler threatens, having another fit of trying to attack him and failing. 

“Uh huh” Wilmar answers, unphased. “Shaking in my boots.” 

He turns back to Irenie. 

“I’m gonna head back to the office” He says, tilting his head at the redhead. “I’ll keep you updated.”

The little guy continues to try punching him, maybe even landing an odd blow but not having a lot of force behind them. Eventually, Wil wants this to not be his problem anymore enough that he grabs the man’s arms, flipping him over and handcuffing them behind his back. He’s smaller than him, but this still requires a little bit of force. Suddenly, he squints, glancing down at a spot on the troll's wrist where, for the lack of a better word, the color of the troll's skin has smudged ever so slightly, like a well set foundation.

 He is baffled for only half a second, but unfortunately for Tyler, he has already met one of his kind before. This case only gets more confusing as it goes. The last thing on Alternia he expected was a human serial killer. Against his will, enough of a vague sense of pity encapsulates him that he decides not to inform Irenie of this discovery. 

“Are you gonna kill him there?” Irenie asks. 

“We’ll figure it out once we get there,” Wilmar answers. 

Tyler suddenly pauses his wriggling. 

“My photograph!” The alien insists suddenly. “Grab my photograph! I won’t leave without it!” He says, as if he still has any kind of choice in the matter.  

Irenie, possessed by curiosity, starts to walk over towards where the thing had dropped on the floor. 

“Stay back bitch!” The human insists, kicking his legs in the way, trying to drag the polaroid back near him with his feet to varying degrees of success. 

“I got it,” Wilmar says, leaning down to pick up the thing.

In the half a second he does not have a hand on him, Tyler immediately sprints for the door, only to be tripped by Irenie putting out her leg to trip him. Wil sighs. 

“Are you gonna be like this the whole way?” He says, pocketing the photograph. Tyler does not answer, only glaring daggers with his vibrant, sunken eyes, and Wil picks him up off the floor and throws him over his shoulder. It was probably going to be a long two and half hour drive. 

.

.

.

.

.

By the time they got to the office, the murderer had changed his tune. In an almost ridiculous one eighty, Tyler had turned into a picture of politeness and kind hearted restraint perhaps in the hopes of sucking up enough to get out of this whole thing. He could easily tell he was lying with his pssionics, but he might not have needed them even with how the human was acting. Chronically online was not a term that was in Wilmar’s vocabulary nor sphere of reference, but he was able to surmise that the man’s social skills were sorely lacking. 

“Mr. Detective” Tyler says, as he had suddenly taken to calling him mid car ride. “This is all a big misunderstanding.” 

“How so?” He says, flipping through his desk for the paperwork he needed to finish filing this case. 

“You hunt murderers- that's the same thing I do! We’re on the same side, really.” Oswell insists, tilting his head. 

Suddenly, Wilmar pauses. Confusingly, the alien appeared to be telling the truth, or at the very least, he believed he was telling the truth. 

“What did 30-40 unrelated jadeblood women ever do to you?” He asks. 

“They- Mr Detective, one of them killed someone close to me. I’m just trying to figure out who.” 

Wil pulls the photo out of his pocket, the pieces sliding together, Tyler freezes as he stares down at the picture. Perhaps the human had just recalled his very not troll mother was clearly in frame. 

“This lady?” Wilmar says, pointing at Taylor,  taking the whole alien thing so nonchalantly it confused him. There is a long pause before he answers. 

“Yes,” Tyler says slowly. 

“So you’re looking for this woman” He says. “Trying to find this murderer, and just… killing every single woman with a vague resemblance to her just in case?” 

The Alien does not answer. 

“I am sorry to break it to you,” Wilmar says. “But that is not even remotely close to anything I do as a detective.” 

“Not even a little bit?” 

The cerulean cusp sighs, touching the bridge of his nose, trying to think of how to handle this. He couldn’t give him over to law enforcement, he’d immediately be culled. But he couldn’t just let him run around massacring people either. He continues to shuffle through his papers, thinking. 

“Okay” He says, straightening a pile of reports by taping it on the desk. “How about this? I let you go, you stop murdering people, and I take on this case and find this woman’s killer for you.”

Perhaps forgetting he was supposed to be being charismatic and demure, Tyler Oswell laughs out loud. 

“Are you deranged?” He says. “Are you stupid? Is it crack that you smoke? I have been looking since I was thirteen years old. I have an entire galactic empire to search and the hunt has consumed me for half a decade. You think you can just FIND the troll that murdered my parents? You think you can just FIND them???” He says. Then, he finally seems to recall he wants to leave this place, and get out of here consequence free. 

“I mean,” he says. “You must be very good at your job, Mr. Detective. Sure, that deal seems fair to me.” 

Wil squints back at him, and then exhales. “Alright” He says. “I still have some things I need to file regarding this. Wait out front and I’ll be there in just a second.” 

.

.

.

.

It does not take long lingering in the lobby for Tyler to figure out he’s being watched. A minor debate happens in his mind on whether or not to turn his head and notify whoever was across the way he had noticed, out of fear of both violence and awkwardness. Eventually, in a series of slow, hopefully natural looking movements, he shifts his sight far enough that direction to notice the other troll in the room. 

She was a woman, standing calmly across the way in a long Victorian gown. She had long, platinum white hair that curled where it fell on her collarbone. Wasn’t that an unusual color for trolls? His mind went immediately to his own redheadedness, and then quickly dismissed the comparison as silly, but a misplaced feeling of solidarity did not fade. She was dressed modestly, which he liked. She had a smile that well, could not quite be called serene but there was something distant about it. She was taller than him, by at least four to five inches, and he could not decide whether this upset him or not. With a careful unease, the thought crossed his mind that, between a gender segregated boarding school, and male juvenile detention center on earth, and never leaving his hive on Alternia, Tyler had not really had a lot of chances to have more than passing conversations with women since he was young. His gaze slid away from her to the floor, suddenly frustrated by this. 

“Hi,” He says. “Are you the like, secretary?” Coming out swinging with a misplaced sexism that his teachers in Edinburgh would have been proud of but only confused Melina. 

“The what?” She answers. 

“You know, the lady up front who answers calls and does paperwork” he describes. 

For an elongated moment, the troll simply stares at him blankly. 

He begins to feel uncomfortable, suddenly. Knowing that this alien did not have the background on complicated gender dynamics of earth to understand that what he said had been demeaning, but inside some hidden part of him he was unwilling to admit, he knew its implications. 

“No.” She answers, finally, continuing to flash that smile. 

“Sorry” he says nonchalantly. “I haven’t talked to a girl in years.” 

“Ah” She answers. “That’s alright.” The troll takes a step or two closer.“My name is Melina,” She says. “What’s your’s, if you’re willing to share?”

Comforted by the familiarity of her politeness, he relaxes a little.

“I’m Tyler Oswell” He says, offering a small half smile. “It’s nice to know some people still have manners” He remarks, as if he himself had not just been asking Wilmar if he smokes crack and threatening to leak his nudes not so long ago. 

“I’ve known one of your kind before” She says, regarding him with an intense and possessed curiosity in her eyes. 

“You have?” He asks, made only mildly self conscious by it, curious as well. 

Suddenly, a darkness flashes across her gaze, as if remembering something unpleasant, or maybe painful. 

“Yes” She answers. “I didn’t know there were more of you around” She says, artfully sidestepping a deeper explanation regarding Vinh, the playfulness returning to her gaze. “Why are you handcuffed?” 

“Silly reasons” he dismisses, turning his hands in the cuffs. Suddenly, he is taken by a bizarre desire to do something impressive. 

“Wanna see a trick I learned in earth juvie?” He says. 

“Earth what?” She answers. 

He does not answer, instead deciding to put extravagant amounts of effort into trying to shim the cuff’s Wilmar had put on him, and frustratedly not being able to manage it. The more Melina gazed as this bizarre looking behavior with confusion, the more frantic he became, pushing his knuckles together more and more forcefully, until, with a tiny, upsetting little crack, he is able to pull his hands from the cuffs, having severely cut into his index finger. 

“Are you alright?” Melina asks. 

“I’m fine” he answers, blinking back tears.

She stares at him for a moment. 

“I’ll grab a bandage” She says, “The denizens of Earth Juvie do not appear to be as reliable a teacher as you imply them to be.” She says. 

“It’s- that barely hurt” he insists. But Melina does not seem to entertain this response, returning with a small bandage anyways. He winced as the purpleblood carefully cleaned and wrapped the wound. She lingered perhaps just a little bit too long at the sight of his bright red, human blood, which upset him. 

“Why are you here if you don’t work here? Also under arrest?” He asks. 

“No,” She says, with a slight tilt of her head. “I’m friends with one of the detectives.”

“The blue one?” Tyler says. 

“Do you mean Wilmar…?” Melina replies, ever so slightly confused. 

“Never asked his name” The human replies. “Is he blue?” 

“You may not know this, as an alien” Mel answers. “But that’s a strange way to refer to someone's blood color. Blue encompasses several castes.”

Yes or no question! He wants to retort. But in a remarkable show of restraint and slightly condescending ‘respect’ for women, an earth specialty that regarded the other gender as much too fragile for such things, he does not. 

“Sorry.” He says. “I couldn’t tell which.” 

“My friend is an indigo cerulean cusp,” She says. 

“That would explain it.” He says, slightly unhappy she was close with the man, Tyler did not have any real fondness for him.

“Have you been on Alternia long?” She asks. “How are you finding it?” 

“Pshh” He mutters. “Not very long” he lies. It has been five years. But he doesn’t want to tell her that, because it would make his cultural blunders harder to justify. 

“I could show you around,” She says. “If you’d like.” And then she pauses. “Perhaps also help you with a better disguise” She says. 

It’s not the first time someone had told him that, but the way she quietly sidesteps outright remarking on his stupidity pleases him. He glances back at Wilmar’s office. 

“I don’t know how long this will take.” he says, lifting up his left hand and glancing at the one cuff still attached, the other swinging below it. He pauses. Contemplating just dipping from here as he had many times attempted to do earlier. But, he did not feel altogether mentally prepared for an outing the likes of which Melina had described. It felt like the kind of thing he needed at least a day to convince himself to do at least. 

“Could I have your number?” He asks, pulling out his phone. “And maybe we could meet up some other time?” 

“Sure,” Melina says, taking out her phone as well to recite it to the strange little man. 

Tyler Oswell constructed the first non-murder victim phone contact he had made in years, writing down Melina’s name and number. The conversation was more friendly and curious than everything, but by the time made it home for the day he had already retroactively decided and imagined he had been quite suave.

#serial killer tw #<---no deaths in drabble #blackmail tw #sexism tw #tyler writing #my writing #fantroll #fantroll rp #homestuck #homestuck oc #homestuck rp

[harukaprism]

Pulling all the weight

Pairing: Draken (Ken Ryuguji) x F!Reader

Warnings: Angst/comfort

Word Count: 1,164

This was getting ridiculous, yes living with your boyfriend was the best idea you had ever had but now? You were regretting it. Ken was a good guy, an excellent boyfriend, he provided for you and took care of you. 

But you were doing everything in the apartment. Cooking, cleaning, keeping up with all the work; and Ken was just working. You were just pulling all of the weight. He had just gotten home (late) from the shop again, as you had been cooking dinner. “Welcome home, how was work?” 

He only offered you a grunt as he made his way to the bathroom to shower. Waiting until he was out of earshot you let out a sigh. “Fuckin’ typical.” With that you finished making dinner in silence. 

You glanced at the sink full of dishes, asking him was out of the question of course. The last time you had brought it up to him he was already having a bad day and blew up on you, so you just cleaned the whole kitchen by yourself with tears streaming down your face while he left to go back to the shop. 

After setting the table you didn’t bother waiting for him to finish his shower before you started to eat. It wasn’t too long before he joined you again after grabbing a beer from the fridge. Nothing was said between the two of you as you ate in silence. 

Once everything was finished Ken made his way to the living room with another beer leaving you again, for the second week, to clean everything up. Biting the inside of your cheek you put your headphones in to drown out the news that was blasting in the adjacent room. Slipping on the dish gloves you started working on cleaning all the dishes known to man apparently. 

After cleaning the kitchen you took a glance at your phone next to Kens, his lighting up with a message from Inui. 

Inupi: 

Hey, we have a problem at the shop. Can you stop by? I know you just got off but this is pretty big. 

“Of course.” You mumbled out before getting Drakens attention. “Inui needs you at the shop. Like always.” Once his eyes met yours you tossed him his phone and walked away. It was always like this, you did everything while all he did was work. He could get mad at you for your one sided comment you didn’t care. You had every right to be angry about this. 

“Babe you okay?” Ken called out as he started to follow you. Don’t answer, don’t answer, don't answer. 

The second you crossed into your shared bedroom you slammed the door in his face. He didn’t deserve to be looking at your face with what he has been doing.

He knocked on the door softly. “Baby, tell me what's wrong. Please.” 

“Just go to the fucking shop!” You yelled out as you flopped onto the bed. You were exhausted, emotionally and physically. Maybe stepping away from him would be a good idea. After a few minutes you heard the door to the apartment open and close. 

Was this really worth it anymore? 

~ 

The second Draken left the apartment he had a bad feeling, but if you didn’t want to talk about it he wasn’t going to press you. You always came to him when you wanted to talk. He just had to be patient. 

He spent the whole drive thinking about what could be bothering you. He knew that the two of you hadn’t spent much time together, the shop has been getting pretty crazy lately and business was booming. Could that be it? You were upset about not seeing him? 

He was only met with a blank stare. “You have to be kidding right?” When Draken didn’t say anything the shorter man rolled his eyes. “Forget the bike, we can deal with it later. Go back home you idiot!” 

Once he got to the shop he walked up to the lanky man. “What’s up Inupi?”

“Got a problem with a bike, it’s still leaking.” The blonde man looked around. “I thought you would have brought your girl.”

“Nah, somethings up. Don’t know what but she doesn't want to talk to me about it.” He could only shrug as he went to follow Inui to the bike. But he didn’t move. “Yo, what’s up?” 

Draken allowed himself to be pushed back to his bike. “Alright alright!” With that he left the older man at the door to the shop. He had no idea what was going on really, he was stressed out over the shop and some repairs that he had to do, your relationship was not a stress in his life, if anything it was the only saving grace that he had. 

Once he got back to the apartment his ears immediately picked up on the sound of the shower running, good he can finally join you in the shower. He made quick work of the distance between the front door to the bathroom but the second he reached it he could hear your sobs. “Babe?!” Opening the door he was met with your wet figure, tears mixing with the water. 

Your bloodshot eyes met his. “So what Inui needed from you wasn’t important then?” 

“Why are you crying? Is it cause we haven’t spent much time together lately?” He wasn’t going to start making excuses; he knew it wouldn’t help how you were feeling.

When a scoff left your lips he was taken back. “No, it doesn’t matter why I am crying.” 

“Then tell me what’s up? This time I ain’t leaving until you do.” Taking off his shirt he moved to join you in the shower but you turned off the water. 

Now he could finally see your exhaustion, you had been doing everything alone while he worked, came home, ate dinner and lazed around. Man he was a shitty boyfriend. 

This time when you met his eyes anger filled your look. “When was the last time you touched a dirty dish, or how about the last time you swept, cooked, vacumed, laundry?” Oh fuck, he couldn’t even remeber. “It’s been over 2 weeks now Ken. Everything has fallen on me and I am the only one responsible in this household for keeping it clean.”

Placing a kiss onto your head he broke out his grin. “Whatever you need baby.”

Finishing getting undressed he joined you under the warm water. “‘M sorry baby, I’ll do the work for the next week, I swear. I’ll even take some time off work. How does that sound?” He half expected you to get out and push him away but as his arms wrapped around your waist you allowed him to pull you close. 

“Laundry needs to be done tonight.” You mumbled into his chest, the two of you stood under the water for a moment in silence before your laughter filled the shower. “You owe me breakfast.”

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers fanfiction #tokyo revengers fanfic #tokyo manji gang #tokyo manji revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #draken x reader #ken ryuguji #draken x y/n #draken tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers draken #draken angst

[aceouttatime]

5, 10, and 20 for Sylvan please :3

Good evening, smallcomfycat. I believe I've already answered a couple of your questions, but I suppose it can't hurt to indulge you just once more. That is unless these happen to be more on the personal side, in which case, it may--my poor mind can take no more punishment.

Give me a moment to read through that damned list...

Upon further review, I don't have any particular qualms with any of these besides number ten, but I sign up for this hell, so I can't necessarily deny you an answer. Though, I do have a question for you--what could have possibly caused you to want to know my nightly habits? Is the manner in which I brush my teeth just absolutely riveting to you?

I should have been more adamant with my work partner, Tamia, about wanting nothing to do with this little interview game. Alas, I was bribed.

5. Do you have any role models? Tell us a little bit about them.

Role models? I see. Well, a select few professors from back when I attended college stuck out to me. I have a couple now, as well--my direct superior, Col. Strasse, has excellent management skills and was the driving factor in my promotion to the...challenging disappearance case I'm working on at the moment. Not many as young as I can boast the credentials I have already. It really was in her best interest to pull me from the masses; thank god she recognized my potential.

My grandfather on my father's side was a noteworthy individual in his prime as well. Theodore Okeanoú was the son of a lower-class immigrant couple, and, despite the unforgiving events of his childhood, he found success through hard work and endurance. He attended the same undergraduate school I did and went on to do investigatory work for the FBI.

I wish I'd gotten to meet him.

10. What’s your biggest goal? How do you hope to achieve this?

My biggest goal is to take Strasse's job. Hah, I'm only kidding. Mostly.

In my opinion, the 'biggest goal' is a broad question. In life? In my career? Morally? Physically? Specify next time, would you? I'll just go with life, as it's probably what you're getting at, considering most of these questions are posed to destroy my ego.

I want to find contentment. I often wonder if living my life for my career is something worthwhile, but I continue to circle back to doing so anyhow. I don't have a family to provide for nor a partner (not that either of those are a necessity). The only hobbies outside of work I regularly attend to are reading, gardening, and caring for my cat, Archie. I don't need a gaggle of friends, but an emptiness still plagues me somehow.

I'd like to know what it is I'm missing and if there is more to life than the mundanity of my day-to-day. I want a reprieve from the turmoil fogging my mind. Maybe progressing in the Gaelis case will bring me lasting comfort. Maybe not. But what is my life if not a series of trials?

20. Describe your nighttime routine.

After I return from work--if I do, that is--I make the last few calls and send the last few emails I need to before I can put it all aside. Then I take a few moments to give Archie his much-needed attention. He's such a pampered little fellow, but he's the most intelligent cat I've ever met.

Once I came home to him sitting on the windowsill with nothing separating him from the outside but the flimsy screen. How he opens the glass bit without opposable thumbs will forever remain a mystery to me, but every now and again, I find him in that same spot. And when he's not there, sometimes I'll find a few bits of coppery fur marking his spot.

Orange cats. There's something about them that just exudes oddity.

I take great care of my appearance and cleanliness, so I shower or bathe, if time allows, as soon as possible. My hair has been long for years, and I've developed a precise routine of applying certain products to keep it healthy. I've gotten quick about it over the years.

After that, I fix dinner for Arch and me. Sometimes Tamia stops over, but most nights, it's just the two of us and a bottle of red wine. I'm no cook, but I can make a decent veggie stir-fry. My little sister was more artful in that department.

Then I settle down with a book on the balcony if the weather's nice. It's a high-rise, my apartment, and the view on clear days is stunning. The sunset almost masks the commotion of this terrible city.

I don't end up falling asleep until late in the night, most nights. My thoughts keep me up.

That's about all I can say about my evenings.

Thank you, I suppose, for the host of asks. Sleep well.

Lt. Sylvan Okeanoú

#aceouttatimeasks #sylvananswers #oc:sylvan #g/t #jesus christ #i got way ahead of myself #sorry it's so long winded lol #sylvan had a lot to say ig

[wincestisnotabuse]

Okay so I have a j2 plot in my mind

And it goes something like.

Jensen has seen his first bestfriend die right infront of him in a car accident.

That day was the most horrible day. Every horrible day Jensen had next used that day as their scale.

Hence the word bestfriend and car and accident

All in one sentence throws Jensen off again after almost 17 years.

Jared his bestfriend. And car. Was a very bad combo. And somehow Jared had been in two of the most terrible car accidents Jensen has ever seen and has come out alive. Jensen would forever thank whoever he can for that.

Right After supernatural ended Jensen figured he was an ambitious man. That he liked to be on plane plannin what he d work on next. But eventually he figured.. that it wasn't ambition what drove him. Lack of peace in his house for him to settle was what driving him away further and further.

He thanked God that he liked his job and was established enough to not sit idle due to lac of jobs.

Jensen was so scared to get attached to things and people after his bestfriend died and the woman he thought was his teammate in life didn't turn out to be the right teammate. Danneel was an excellent women and very lovable. But just... As a friend. She wasn't much invested in their relationship and it wasn't her fault. After their marriage Jensen had barely given their marriage time. But it never felt wrong back then because ...he felt at home.. already? In supernaturals set with his bestfriend. He was more invested in the show and his and Dean's relationship with jared and sam more than he was ABT danneel.

So definitely not her fault.

Jensen tried to make it better. He started to do things together with danneel like he used to do with jared. Thought it'd help.

It's still in process though. Jensen doesn't know where it's headed.

Jensen had deliberately kept jared away from "the Winchesters" because he wanted to have what he had with jared but this time with danneel.

Maybe thatd save his marriage and.. two families

Jensen tried his best to detatch from jared.

And Jared's tweets about the prequel showed him just how shocking and betrayed jared was.(obviously ..if it had been other way round Jensen would've been devasted enough to do more than just tweet , he thinks)

Jensen couldn't tell jared or anyone the truth. So he made up diff stories and messed them up raising suspicion among fans and jared.

When he heard the word jared and car in one sentence .. he didn't know what to feel.

And the fact that Jared had hasitated to call him.

Yes his jared second guessed telling him about the accident because Jared had thought Jensen wouldn't care.

(okay so all these drama wraps up with Jensen and jared growing further apart. And Jensen not finding the peace he had with jared ,with danneel hence ruining the marriage. Then Jensen has a breakdown and wouldn't call anyone but he so oh so wishes to call jared his bestfriend..the only person whom he could've talked about these stuff. But he ruined his relationship with both jared and danneel. But finally some car accident happens to Jensen. Jared finds out. In hospital they talk and sedated Jensen blurts out about how he thinks he had married jared and not daneel for reasons like peace and love and..well..etc

And how jared is not like him and is happy with his family.

And jared says it's too late.

But Genevieve heard them and she either pitches the idea of polyamory or gen asks jared what he wants an teary confused jared mumbles Jensen and welp happy ending after that)

I d k man... I d k how it sounds

@lailaphx-is-havin-a-crisis

@fandom-hoarder

@brotherwives

#j2 #jaredpadelcki #soulmates #supernatural #jensen ackles #jaredjensen #fanfic ideas

[indelibleevidence]

I posted 4,735 times in 2022

That's 1,895 more posts than 2021!

306 posts created (6%)

4,429 posts reblogged (94%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@nachosncheeze

@scarletfern

@yesifitswithyou

@seananmcguire

@take2intotheshower

I tagged 3,867 of my posts in 2022

Only 18% of my posts had no tags

#blindspot - 1,786 posts

#blindspot rewatch 2022 - 1,378 posts

#uk politics - 156 posts

#😁😁😁 - 149 posts

#blindspot 3x01 - 105 posts

#blindspot fanfic - 90 posts

#blindspot 3x04 - 82 posts

#❤ - 78 posts

#blindspot 2x22 - 70 posts

#blindspot 3x11 - 65 posts

Longest Tag: 138 characters

#like you'll have a plan and then the characters will do the 'well now i am not doing it' pingu meme & decide to do something that adds 50k

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Remi: And I need to be naked inside the bag, so they'll see the tattoo and know to call Weller.

Roman: WTF?

Oscar: You want to flash the entire bomb squad?

Shepherd: Why don't we get you a halterneck shirt and some hotpants? That way, Weller's name will be visible when they have you turn around to be cuffed, and your arms and legs will be bare-

Remi: Nope. Naked.

Oscar: But you-

Remi: Weller has to see the goods.

Roman: Gross. *walks off*

Oscar: Weller isn't even with the bomb squad right now!

Remi: But he'll watch the footage, and this way he'll know exactly how hot I am, even before I start hitting things.

Roman: *from next room* EWW.

Oscar: Hello, still wounded from you breaking off our engagement, here...

Remi: Sacrifices must be made to save our country. I need to bone Weller.

Shepherd: I don't remember this part of the plan, but you know what? I approve.

Roman and Oscar: I don't!

Shepherd: Kurt will make an excellent husband.

Oscar: Wait, what?

Remi: Yeah, and he's weirdly loaded for an uncorrupt cop, so maybe after I'm bored of snuggling him - I mean after we execute Phase Two and build a new, non-corrupt government - I can kill him for his life insurance.

Oscar: Snuggling?! *runs upstairs* Kinga, play Everybody Hurts by REM.

Remi: Anyway, if I'm naked in Times Square, at least Roman won't be trying to keep an eye on me.

Shepherd: I was just going to take him to Coney Island and brush up on his defensive driving skills with the bumper cars, but your way will work better.

55 notes - Posted March 26, 2022

#4

Abled culture teaches abled people to be entitled. You are entitled to never have to learn anything about disability and ableism. You are entitled to get to move through the world, and through our movements, with little-to-no understanding or political analysis about disability, even as you pontificate about every other system of oppression and violence. Abled culture in our movements mean that we will say, “we must center those who are most impacted,” all day every day, but then not include disabled, especially those who are high risk, in the center during a global pandemic. Abled entitlement means that you will still continue to plan your vacation abroad, even amidst the Delta surge; you will still post pictures from your giant family holiday gathering amidst the Omicron surge. 

You are not entitled to our deaths. You are not entitled to the deaths of our loved ones in the name of capital, privilege and “normal.” You are not entitled to our silence about our pain and suffering and the wet tar grief that envelops us. You are not entitled to our fear and terror at the worsening conditions and chaos of this pandemic, wondering if we will ever be able to safely leave our homes again.    

- Mia Mingus

Source

71 notes - Posted February 19, 2022

#3

If you need a sign from the universe to replay the Portal games, this is it! They're still just as good a decade on!

(Though the lyrics to Still Alive hit a little differently in a mid-pandemic era, I have to admit. Just me?)

111 notes - Posted May 24, 2022

#2

Hey, Gen Z sapphics currently stanning Elizabeth Mitchell because of First Kill! Did you know she played Angelina Jolie's girlfriend in a movie called Gia in the 90s?

123 notes - Posted June 21, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

The worst thing about chronic illness is the way you follow all the good self care advice, and your body still goes 'nope'.

Get a decent night's sleep? Wake up feeling completely unrested!

Eat the nutritious, balanced diet? Have your body completely reject it, so that you absorb next to none of those nutrients, and end up reaching for a giant pouch of Skittles for energy, because it's better than nothing!

Exercise? Get hit with post-exertional malaise so you can barely get out of bed for the next two days! (Ditto for showering.)

And then you tell people that you've tried doing the healthy things, and they don't work on you...and people act sceptical, like you're just not trying hard enough. Like you don't want to be well. But when the trying hard leads to nothing but your body giving you a giant 'screw you', it's easier and more effective to not even bother.

251 notes - Posted November 18, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#year in review #okay it's kind of weird that i reblogged one of those posts again like two days ago #anyway i'm not shocked that rewatch posts are my most frequently tagged

[whentherewerebicycles]

hello! prepare for a long chatty life update. I went out with friends last night and it was so nice wahh. then I slept nine hours and that was glorious too. turns out this week’s sleep trouble was just my usual pre-period insomnia and not my new magic sleeping meds failing me. phew!!! I took Pip to our new vet this morning for his annual checkup and he was such a sweet boy even through the indignity of many shots. 😭😭 I love my little dog so much. also when Pip sits his front paws point outwards in a way that makes him look like he’s posing, and today the vet techs were like ‘awww how sweet! you know that’s actually a genetic deformity, right?’ I was like ummm excuse me. this is the best dog who has ever lived and he is perfectly formed in every way so think carefully about how you describe his flawless & unique paws please!! anyway he is in excellent health and three different people independently praised him for being so lean & well-conditioned. I can’t wait for fall (and/or to get him to seattle) so we can resume his preferred 70 min walks instead of the 30 min forced marches we are limited to in the summer.

then I came home and started working my way through one of the books I bought on evidence-informed learning design in training contexts. it’s interesting so far! not a lot of new content yet but it’s kind of nice to go back to basics and resolidify my understanding of core concepts/frameworks. I feel like it’s making me a bit sleeeepy though so I might just do an hour each day instead of trying to power through. I have four weeks left before new job starts… I think I just want to read two or three of these fairly dense books so I go into the first month feeling like I have an understanding of how the L&D profession overlaps with/differs from the classroom pedagogy stuff I’m more familiar with. I also want to read more about the history and structure of my government agency so I have at least a rough mental framework to fit first-month new information into. THAT SAID as psyched as I am to get started on a New Project (tackling a new job lol) I need to remind myself to also enjoy this time and try to use it to really fully decompress from the year and job search stress. it’s okay to just let myself enjoy this month of very few responsibilities.

next week I need to reach out to my current boss to let her know that I accepted the position… and I need to do that sooner rather than later because they’re starting to process my security clearance and that involves interviewing my references. I hope she isn’t upset with me for kinda changing gears after we talked last, but I’m also reminding myself that it’s normal to change jobs and that I went above and beyond trying to make things work with them… they didn’t move fast enough to make it feasible for me and it’s okay for me to make decisions that prioritize my own long-term future (because academia sure as hell won’t do that for me!). I can’t decide if I hope the grant funds come through & they let me do it as a part-time position with support staff, or if I hope it doesn’t come through and my energy is just freed up to focus on the new job + creative projects. we will see what the universe decides.

we released the first two episodes of our hockey fandom podcast yesterday and have gotten a nice response so far! I am deep in planning/research mode for future episodes and might spend the rest of the afternoon working on that. I feel like my brain is a little bit too fried still to write short things or fully dive into my new long project (I need a bit more rest/recovery I think) so I’m gonna let myself continue taking a little break from writing and instead focus on building out this other project so it’s up and running by the time the job starts. ooh and I am also going to beta a friend’s fic this weekend—tonight or tomorrow tbd.

okay let’s see. going to drive to target now to pick up a curbside order and then I think I want to lie in bed doing nothing or maybe thinking a bit about podcast planning. I have this idea that if we can create like… a planning structure of some kind? a brainstorming and research template kinda thing? it’ll help organize and streamline our prerecording thinking so we can have deeper conversations in the actual recording session. I like the idea of designing a repeatable learning exercise that will make the planning process more seamless, so if we get really busy with real life stuff we won’t have to expend as much intellectual bandwidth on the prep & planning work each week. idk just something I am kicking around we’ll see. mmkay! if I go to target I will have cherries to eat 😍 so it is time to make the quick drive over.

#daily processing

[whats-wild-to-you]

Dark Horse (100 Days sequel)

[endgame]

[Changmin’s POV]

I didn’t even know how I got sucked into this mess, but there I was, wired and mic’d up, waiting for Wooyoung to leave work.

‘... and remember, we want him to get riled up but not to the point where he calls the cops on you. If he calls the police, you’re on your own!’

“Thanks, guys!” I replied, receiving odd looks from passersby.

Ten minutes later I saw someone approaching and heard Jay in my ear going ‘That’s him!’

“Choi Wooyoung?”

“Yes?”

“Let’s talk!”

“I’m sorry, do I know you?”

“Don’t act coy now! You know who I am!”

I deliberately raised my voice, but Wooyoung was either an excellent actor or indeed clueless. He stepped closer to me, examining my face. He had a lightbulb moment and instinctively took a few steps back.

“You were there the day I met with Soo-jin.”

“Correction. I was there the day you harassed Soo-jin.”

“Whoa! What are you talking about?” 

“You heard me.”

I stepped closer to him, towering over him, hoping to intimidate him enough, to rattle him, so he would slip up.

“And you keep harassing her, and I don’t like it!”

He knew it was a lie, so he got all defensive, finally yelling at me.

“I haven’t talked to her in months! Back the fuck off!”

‘This is not working...’

“Why the hell do you even care? As far as I know you’re not her boyfriend!”

‘Wait! I think we’re getting somewhere.’

“So you admit it! You’re stalking her. But see that’s where you’re wrong. I am her boyfriend.”

“Really? What happened with her and Jay. Did he grow tired of her?”

“What do you know?”

“Oh, I know enough. He gets tired looking at the same woman every day.”

In my earpiece I heard Jay growling. I was afraid he’d storm out here and beat this guy to a pulp.

“I guess you’re speaking from experience?”

“Me and Soo-jin was a different situation. I broke up with her for her own sake! Mother would’ve never approved of her!”

‘Whoa! Back off. Let him go!’

“You’re a real jerk. Stay away from Soo-jin!”

“Gladly!” He snarled at me, getting in his car and speeding off.

As soon as he was out of sight, I sprinted back to the van Jay and Mr. Kim were in and had the wire and mic removed.

“This was a waste of time!” I said, looking at Jay. “Sorry.”

Jay was rubbing the back of his head in utter desperation.

“It’s a good thing you two aren’t private detectives!” Mr Kim weighed in. “Did you not hear what he said? He said ‘Mother would’ve never approved’!”

“Yeah, so?” I shrugged my shoulders.

“I just texted Soo-jin, and she replied back saying she met his mother many times and that the two of them had a great relationship!”

“Son of a bitch!” Jay exclaimed.

“Quite literally!” Mr. Kim added, smirking.

“Wait. So that means, he knows?” I asked flabbergasted.

“She would’ve never approved? Does that mean my stepmother knew about Soo-jin?” Jay mumbled, talking more to himself.

“I don’t think she met her, maybe Wooyoung talked about her? Oh my God, that’s it! The benefit gala! Both of them were there! You two drive back to Jay’s place. I’ll contact some people, see if we can secure footage of them together.”

Mr. Kim didn’t leave room for discussion, and immediately set off. We stood there for a couple minutes, before Jay cleared his throat, saying that it would be best to get home. Since the news reported about his breakup, he constantly felt chased.

[Jay’s POV]

Back in my place, I got some beer for me and Changmin, and plopped down on the couch, waiting for hyung to work his magic.

“You think he’ll find something?”

“There were many photographers there, paparazzi as well. Someone might have taken a candid shot of Mrs. Choi and Wooyoung.”

“Have you talked to Soo-jin yet?”

I shook my head. I trusted that she would see the bigger picture and not get caught up because of some fake report.

“Do you mind if I text her? I just want to check up on her.”

“Sure, but no details about what we’re doing!”

“Of course.”

I watched him type in his phone, then send the message. Soo-jin’s reply came only a few seconds later. Changmin read it and chuckled, but his face fell when he looked up and caught me staring.

“Do you wanna kn-”

I got up, leaving Changmin alone in the living room. I laid down in bed, needing to clear my head and to refocus. My anxiety was at its peak level. In the past I always did stupid things whenever I felt anxious, hurting the people I loved most.

Suddenly there was a knock on my door, and Changmin entered without waiting.

“I think I know what’s going on. Soo-jin is okay though. She’s not mad, she realized right away what you were doing, and she believes in you! That woman is smart, but I don’t have to tell you that! I think you’re being a bit too harsh on yourself. I know you’re staying away from her to protect her, but maybe it’s her you need the most right now!”

I hummed but remained otherwise quiet. Changmin smiled faintly at me and closed the door on his way out. I hated being lectured, but I knew he was right. I needed to see Soo-jin right now.

Hastily I changed and walked downstairs. Changmin was sitting on the couch, sipping his beer.

“She’s at Ri-Na’s.” He said casually.

“I know! Call me if hyung stops by!”

[Soo-jin’s POV]

Hours passed since Mr. Kim sent me that weird text. What did my relationship with Wooyoung’s mother had to do with all of this?

Since Ri-Na was at work, I was alone at home, bored out of my mind. I refused to turn on the tv, afraid I’d see more fabricated news about Jay and myself. So I just sat on the couch, watching the minutes go by on Ri-Na’s antique wall clock.

The doorbell put me out of my trance, and I hesitated to get up. I wasn’t expecting anyone, and Ri-Na had keys. 

I was surprised to see Jay standing outside. He tried his best to disguise himself, but I still recognized him. I buzzed him in and left the front door ajar.

“Wasn’t expecting to see you here!”

Jay didn’t respond, instead came over to me, embracing me in a tight hug.

“Missed you!” I felt his muffled voice against my skin, erupting in goosebumps.

I was afraid to speak, because I wasn’t sure what I could ask him. He said he wanted to keep me out of this, and I wanted to respect that.

“I missed you too.” I replied in the end.

Those were the only words we spoke, before Jay lowered me on to the couch and undressed me slowly, while simultaneously getting rid of his clothes too. 

We were right in the middle of it when Ri-Na returned home. Neither Jay nor I heard her unlock the door, or her footsteps as she walked towards the living room.

“Oh my God!” She yelled, immediately covering her eyes, turning around and wanting to escape, but bumping on every piece of furniture.

“Ouch!”

Minutes later I had thrown on my bathrobe and walked into the kitchen, where she pretended to be busy with storing things away.

“Sorry!” I giggled, looking at her being uncomfortable.

“I’m traumatized. Is Jay gone?”

“No.”

“I can’t look at him. I- This- His ... back ... was right in my face.”

I pulled a muscle laughing so hard, watching as my friend squirmed in pain.

“C’mon, we’re all adults here. I’m sorry you had to see this, we got carried away.”

“I thought you two would keep your distance.”

“We missed each other!”

“Clearly.”

I grabbed Ri-Na’s hand and dragged her out of the kitchen and into the living room, where Jay was sitting on the couch, fully clothed, browsing through magazines.

“Hi. Sorry!”

“Nice butt.”

“Thanks!”

“So? Where do things stand? Any updates?” She asked, sitting down next to him.

“Actually, we found out that Wooyoung knew all along that Mrs. Choi was his mother. Hyung is currently trying to obtain footage from the benefit gala, seeing as both my stepmother and Soo-jin’s ex were there.”

“Smart! But what good will some photos do?”

“We haven’t figured that out yet, but we’re going to find a way to use them to our advantage!”

“I bet you will.” Ri-Na stared at Jay until he became visibly uncomfortable.

“I guess I should go now. Hyung could be back any moment.”

“I’ll walk you out.” I offered but Jay immediately shook his head.

“Not a good idea.”

“Right. I forgot we’re supposed to be broken up.”

“Whatever you do, do it fast!” Ri-Na yelled, covering her eyes.

Jay chuckled, planting a sweet kiss on my forehead before leaving.

[Jay’s POV] 

“Hyung, I remembered something earlier. The day the scandal broke I went back to the house, remember? Me and Soo-jin called you when we were there, saying there were no paparazzi.” I said, out of breath, throwing my coat and keys on the couch.

“I remember.”

“I also called my stepmother and went over to her apartment. She completely ignored Soo-jin. No details had been leaked at that point, so why was she so wary? She knew about everything! Had to.”

“I’ll be damned! So it is really your stepmother who’s behind all this!”

“Yes. And no. But it’s not about the company either, or the fact that I ousted her.”

“Yeah? Then what?”

“Wooyoung. He broke up with Soo-jin because his mother didn’t approve. He said it himself, right? He might still have had feelings for her and might have tried to change his mother’s mind, but then Mrs. Choi meets Soo-jin at the benefit gala, and she recognizes her. Then Wooyoung shows up all of a sudden, sees Soo-jin with me. His ego is hurt and so he seeks revenge. But he can’t do much without his mother’s help. Mrs. Choi has the resources, the connections, the gossip.”

“Ari?”

“It was a group effort!”

“But it all started with Wooyoung!” Hyung remarked absentmindedly.

“Did you find anything? Photos, articles we can use?” I switched the subject, eager to put all this behind me.

“Some photos of your stepmother and Wooyoung standing next to each other, talking, but that doesn’t prove anything.”

“What about witnesses?”

“Witnesses?”

“If we manage to change the public’s opinion about those two, we win! We can always go to the press and get an article published but without evidence nobody will believe us.”

“You’re right. Let me check again with a couple people. Maybe I can find something valuable.”

Byung-ho left, and I only then noticed how Changmin wasn’t there anymore. 

Thanks again for today. You talking to Wooyoung really helped.

I sent the text and waited for a reply. When nothing came, I put my phone aside.

Seconds later I picked it up again, sending a text to Soo-jin.

We know who’s behind it!

Is it over?

Soon.

I stayed up all night, trying to find the missing puzzle piece. In the end I had to admit to myself that I knew the answer all along. 

Soo-jin.

I had to reveal how we met. How I faked her identity. She was the key. And the people would need to hear the truth from her.

Are you up?

Yes. Can’t sleep.

Me neither. I need to ask you for one last favor.

Sure.

Let me explain first before you agree.

***

[aftermath]

#Jay Park #more soju please #MORE VISION #park jaebum #park jaebeom #park jaybum #jay park scenarios #Jay Park fanfic #jay park imagines #khh imagines #jay park AOMG #aomg jay park #aomg scenarios #aomg imagines #aomgofficial #AOMG #h1ghrgang #h1ghrmusic

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

Here's one I'm wondering: which Animorphs do you think would be drift compatible, and what do you think their Jaegars would be like?

Honestly... all of them?

Like, I joke about them being a codependent platonic-polycule of murderbabies, but. The shoe also fits. The six of them really are in a sort of six-way codependent relationship by the end of the series.

For instance, Tobias and Marco. These two start off the series the most antagonistic of any two Animorphs — Tobias calls Marco a coward to his face, and Marco responds by calling Tobias an idiot. By #3, Tobias is confidently saying "I'm pretty sure [Marco] and I will never be friends." By MM1, Marco is announcing that he "doesn't get" Tobias. But then #9 sees them agreeing with each other about nasty things needing to be done sometimes. But the events of #23 draw attention to them being the Animorphs with the "broken" messy home lives. But Marco realizes that Tobias will back him up when it comes to Visser One, even when he's making a "bad" decision (#30). But then Tobias witnesses Marco being willing to crawl over broken glass to save his life (#33). But then Tobias spends a huge chunk of the series gaining confidence and becoming willing to snap back when Marco goes too far. But then Marco mellows out and matures enough that he's no longer bullying Tobias.

And in #51, they demonstrate almost literal drift-compatibility. They're operating a giant tank together with little effort, if plenty of friendly teasing. Marco effortlessly plays off Tobias's strengths (spatial intelligence, why-not attitude) and Tobias plays off Marco's (mechanical-mindedness, non-terrible driving). Throughout that book — while fighting off controller birds, while playing at diplomacy, while supervising tactics meetings — they play off each other effortlessly and seamlessly.

Tobias and Marco are the most obvious example, but there are zero dyads of Animorphs that don't make excellent murder-partners by the end of the series.

Rachel and Ax frequently snark at each other during fracture-points of the series (#18, #22, #37), but we also get that friggin heartbreaking moment in #52 where Ax looks at Rachel saying goodbye to her mom and realizes that they've got a ton in common. We get Ax understanding that Rachel will take on a responsibility he himself fears when she steps in for a fallen Jake (MM3, #26) and giving her every bit as much loyalty as he does to Jake. Those two end the series as friends, and — maybe more importantly for those two in particular — as warriors who respect each other's honor on the battlefield.

Cassie and Marco also butt heads throughout the series, but they also have several moments where they look at each other and just instantly understand each other. The opening of MM3 is a big one — they exchange one look and know that they're going to spend the rest of the day trying and ultimately failing to save Jake's life. But that conversation in #54 in the café outside Visser Three's trial is another big one. So much goes unsaid between those two, because so much doesn't need to be said. Marco sees the big picture; Cassie defends the little guy. When those priorities conflict, those two do, but they never lose sight of each other's ideals.

Rachel and Jake sometimes conflict, partially because in some ways they're working off outdated versions of each other — they have that very sibling-like energy with Rachel being surprised by Jake's selflessness (#2) and Jake by Rachel's maturity (#1) early on in the series. But the instant an outside threat enters their vicinity, they turn away from snarking at each other and turn toward standing between their friends and their enemies (#22, #31, #43). These two would be a nightmare to send on a long road trip together, but most of the time they're shoulder-to-shoulder in the same foxhole, ready to become a single killing machine at a second's notice.

Oh, and obviously the Animorphs' Jaeger would be a Megazord straight out of Power Rangers. But only if Jake could be talked into yelling "it's morphin' time!" just before each battle.

#animorphs #animorphs meta #animorphs characters #pacific rim #drift compatible #jaegers #it's about the deep and powerful love between friends #who team up to punch aliens #that's all there is to science fiction

[messers-moony]

Divorce 2 | J.P

Paring: James Potter X Slytherin!Reader

Summary: Reader goes through divorce with her arranged husband but sees her Hogwarts crush almost two years later at her Potions shop in Diagon Alley

Prompt: Holding hands while driving

After that moment in the Potions store, James came around a lot more, much to Leo’s excitement. It became customary for James to restock items or help brew potions despite his lower levels. Leo was ecstatic to have him around. The mischievous and playful James Potter always kept Leo excited.

James spent lots of time with both of them. Making sure they were both taken care of and loved unconditionally. Frequently James would stop by to make dinner for them while Y/n worked late shifts or take Leo out of the shop to give him an adventure. A year had passed, and James had a crucial question for her. The shop was empty, and Leo was upstairs - ecstatic for his new Hogwarts adventure.

“Love?” James called as Y/n stepped down from the ladder, “Yes?”

“Can you- Can you come here a moment?” James ran a hand through his hair as she walked in front of him, “What's on your mind?” Y/n questioned softly.

James was hesitant, “Move in with me.”

“What?”

“Move in with me, please?”

Y/n chuckled, flabbergasted, “James, that’s a big step.”

“I know, but I- I really want to be with you, all the time. I want to wake up to you every morning. I want to make you and Leo breakfast. I want to see you in a dreary state after a long day at work. I want to take care of you when you’re sick. I want to take Leo to Platform Nine and Three Quarters.” James swallowed, “I- I want to be the father Leo never got….” He murmured.

Y/n’s eyes turned soft at his muttered confession, “You- You mean it?” James nodded, “You want to be Leo’s father?” He nodded.

“I want to hug him before he leaves to Hogwarts all seven years. I want him to jump into my arms after his terms at Hogwarts. I want to watch him cause mischief and get those owls home. I want to write him letters to remind him that I’m here if he needs anything.” James’ eyes welled with tears, “I- I want to be there for everything.”

“I may not be his father biologically, but he is the closest thing I have to a son, and I’ll be damned if I don’t treat him like my own.”

Y/n wiped the stray tears away, “James, you need to understand that this is a big responsibility you’re taking on. You know there’s no one in this world I’d rather than you to be a true father to Leo, but I want to make sure this is truly what you want.”

“I’d want nothing more.” James swore, and Y/n smiled softly, “Then yes, we’ll move in with you.”

That night James, Y/n, and Leo were eating at the dinner table when James finally decided to speak up, “Leo?”

“Yes?”

“How- How would you feel about leaving this place?” James asked carefully.

Leo’s face contorted to one of confusion, “Leave? Why?”

“Leo…” Y/n began with a smile, “James wants to know if you want to move in with him.”

“Both of us?” Leo queried, looking at his mom and gaining a nod, “James wants us to live with him!?”

James’ features softened at the boy's excitement, “Only if you want to.”

“Of course I want to!” Leo exclaimed with a bright smile.

Leo jumped up from his seat and hugged James tightly, “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”

James chuckled and ruffled the boy's hair, “You’re welcome.”

Lots of packing came with moving. It was a lot of cardboard boxes. James insisted they do it the muggle way, wanting Leo to experience new things after growing up being a pureblood. James saw how sheltered Sirius was and didn’t want Leo to be the same. It was also the reason they took a car to James’ house. Leo was fascinated when he entered the back seat.

It made Y/n and James laugh at how the boy was so quickly excited. Leo always had a lot of energy and not many ways to exert it, but with James around, that energy never went to waste. James and Leo would spend hours walking around Diagon Alley or flying on broomsticks together away from the muggles. Leo would enter the shop breathless and hair in disarray. James not too far behind. It warmed Y/n’s heart to see her son so happy.

While riding in the car, James gently took her hand in his. It was a small gesture, but it made her blush. Leo stared out the window of the vehicle the entire time while James played music from the radio. It took about an hour, but eventually, they got to Godric’s Hollow. James parked the car outside - upon hours later, he confessed it was Remus’ car - and began putting the boxes in the house. It was about midnight when all the boxes were on the bottom floor.

Leo busied himself with an old spell book James gave him while the other two unpacked. Y/n was opening a cardboard box when two arms wrapped around her waist. Y/n rested her hands on his and leaned back into his embrace. James left a kiss on her cheek, relishing at the moment. His girlfriend in his arms and her - their - child on the couch.

It took a month to get everything in place. James and Y/n had settled in their room together. Leo had found sanctuary in his bedroom that they painted a deep blue color. Leo was always obsessed with the stars and constellations. Perhaps a gift he collected from his biological father. Zenix always had a way with the stars Y/n didn’t quite comprehend. James was always willing to listen to Leo talk about them, though.

Only days until Leo was due to leave for his first year at Hogwarts and Y/n, was wishing for more time with him before she had to send him off. She was well aware that he’d be fine, but it was still her baby. More often than not, she was still selling Potions at her potions store. James stayed home with Leo and took him out on adventures. But the week before Leo was supposed to leave, Y/n took off of work.

The following week was filled with school shopping, getting ice cream, exploring the muggle world, riding broomsticks, and playing board games. It was possibly the best time Y/n had ever had since before getting married to Zenix. Although marrying Zenix was something she never wanted, she did get something amazing out of it - Leo.

He was her pride and joy, so when they - James and Y/n - stood on the platform, Y/n felt like sobbing, but she didn’t. Instead, James was the one crying. Leo held his mom extremely tight out of nervousness and anxiety. Leo reeled back to meet his mom’s bright e/c eyes.

“You’ll be fine, honey. You’ll make plenty of friends.” Y/n assured, and Leo’s eyes welled with tears, “I’ll miss you.” He whimpered.

“I’ll miss you too, my love.”

Leo hugged her again. Y/n chuckled and wrapped her arms around him again. James stood beside him, quietly crying. Here he was - James Potter - crying over his stepson leaving for Hogwarts. He wasn’t expecting it, but Leo wrapped his arms around him too. He was quietly sobbing into James’ shirt. Y/n stood back and watched with a bright smile.

They pulled apart, and Leo’s eyes looked like an ocean with the glossy texture, “You’ll be okay kiddo. Raise holy hell for me, okay?” James chuckled tearfully, kneeling to Leo’s height.

The boy nodded and wrapped his arms around James' shoulders, “I love you, dad.”

Y/n was barely able to withhold a gasp, and James was sobbing, “I love you too, kiddo.”

The raven-haired boy pulled away and took one last look at his parents. Leo jumped on the train and quickly pulled down the window as the train began to move, “I love you, mom! I love you, dad!”

“We love you too, sweetheart!” Y/n exclaimed, and James wrapped his arm around her waist.

The adult male was crying with a smile on his face facing his girlfriend, “He called me dad!”

Y/n laughed, “I can’t believe it! He called me dad!”

“I’ve dreamt about this moment for months!” James laughed, “Is it everything you dreamed of?”

“It’s so much better.” James replied, kissing her lips sweetly.

Not every story starts great. Maybe you’re loved one rejects you. Perhaps you start a commitment with someone you never loved or fell out of love with. Maybe not every story starts excellent. But who’s to say you can’t change the end? The beginning of your account is just that - the beginning. James and Y/n’s start was dreadful, but they were determined to change the ending.

#james potter fluff #james fluff #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter x reader #james potter #james potter smut #james potter x slytherin!reader #James Potter x reader smut #marauders era #marauders x reader #marauders smut #marauders imagine #marauders fluff #marauders #harry potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter fanfiction #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin smut #James Potter #sirius black x reader smut #sirius black x reader #remus lupin x reader smut #remus x y/n #remus x you #remus x reader #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin #sirius imagine

[donald4spiderman]

can i request a fic where the reader gets an injury from being in the field and doesn’t have clearance to fly so she is forced to stay back with penelope while spencer is worrying his ass off and lecturing pen on what to do? maybe with a love confession at the end?

Worth The Risk

masterlist

Summary: Spencer let’s a secret slip during a worried rant about Reader’s injuries.

Pairing: SR x GN!BAU!Reader

Category: Fluff!!!!

Warnings: mentions of gunshot wound, fighting, broken bones, injured!reader, and spencer being so cute he is the cutest

-

It’s your first day back at the BAU in two weeks, and you couldn’t be more excited.

After an unfortunate scuffle with an unsub, resulting in two fractured ribs and a gunshot wound through your shoulder, Hotch ordered you to stay home for a minimum of two weeks.

You hated nothing more than being away from the BAU. Your job encompasses your whole life— you’re basically empty without it. You also fear loneliness. Being alone, in your plain apartment, for two weeks— you’d drive yourself insane after the first day.

Fortunately, Spencer announced that he’d be by your side every second he was available. At first, you were grateful that your best friend (and crush... not that you’d ever admit it) was going to be spending time with you.

But one night, he showed up at your door holding two large duffel bags in his hands.

“I’m staying with you for the next two weeks.”

You were puzzled, but let the genius in anyways. Apparently, Spencer requested two weeks off from work so he could take care of you. And according to him, Hotch thought it was an excellent idea.

He spent every moment being your best friend, nurse, chef, and entertainer. It was fun for the most part, but eventually, Spencer turned into a badgering caretaker.

“No! You shouldn’t be standing up so much! You wound will reopen!”

“Stop moving your arm! I’ll feed you!”

“No TV after midnight! Your body needs sleep to regenerate.”

You resented him, and his rules, and how much you wanted to kiss his stupid little face despite all of it. ‘Cause let’s face it, the most challenging part of living with Spencer for two weeks was the fact that you could hardly contain your feelings for him.

So, once your two weeks of bed rest finally finished, you were practically crawling to get back to Quantico (with Spencer following closely behind).

.

You’re unsure of what to expect when you returned to work. And by that, you mean you don’t know how big of a party Penelope Garcia will throw.

Your suspicions are confirmed as confetti is tossed through the air, signaling and celebrating you and Spencer’s return.

“Welcome back!” Penelope shouts, sprinting over in her bright pink Louboutins. “I missed you both so, so much! (Y/N) mostly, but you too, Spencer.”

Spencer rolls his eyes, suppressing his smile. “Oh, thank you, Garcia.” You chuckle at his sarcasm.

“Ugh, it is so good to be back.” You sigh. “Especially since living with Spencer is like having a doctor and a drill sergeant wrapped into one.”

You hear him gasp in offense towards your left. “I am not a drill sergeant.”

“Oh, please. You wouldn’t even let me feed myself— with my good arm!” You raise your left arm and shoulder, causing everyone else to laugh.

“W-Whatever. I’d rather have you hate me than have your injury heal any bit slower.”

“Aw, I could never hate you.” You pull him into your side, ruffling his hair despite his whining.

“How cute.” Penelope gushes, clasping her hands in awe at the sight of you two.

“Hardly.” You scoff, making your way to drop your things off on your desk.

Hotch emerges from his offices, clearing his throat. “(Y/N), Spencer, great to have you back.” He flashes you both a straight smile— classic Hotch. “And you know I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but we have a case.”

Emily and Morgan let out loud groans, but you smile. “Ooh, Hotch! Where are we going?”

You might as well be jumping up and down, so it pains Hotch to deliver this second piece of information. “Actually, (Y/N)... You’re not going anywhere.”

“I’m sorry— what?”

“You’re working the case from Quantico. The rest of us are headed to Cleveland, Ohio.”

Your brows knit together, and you toss your hands up in frustration. “Hotch! You said nothing about me not being cleared for the field.”

“I know. But I believe it’s in your best interest not to engage in physical activity for the next week.” He mutters.

You’re visibly upset. “Fine. But only one week, right?”

“You have my word. We’ll brief in the round table room, but you’ll stay back and work in Garcia's office.”

That puts a smile on your face.

“Yay! I get the beautiful (Y/N) (Y/L/N) all to myself!” Penelope squeals.

Morgan chuckles, “Try not to be too jealous, pretty boy.”

Spencer blushes and looks in the opposite direction nervously.

“Alright,” Hotch exclaims. “Let’s get started.”

.

You and Penelope bid goodbye to the rest of the team before making your way back to her office. It’s homey and decorated with the cutest stuffed animals— it’s a shame you don’t spend more time in here.

“You know, I don’t think I’d be nearly as happy if I were stuck here with anyone but you.”

Your words seem to put a genuine smile on her face. “You are so sweet. But don’t let Spencer hear you say that.”

You raise a brow, “Why is everyone acting so weird about Spencer and me?”

She shrugs, “We figured the two of you would be dating by now. Two weeks spent crammed in your tiny little apartment together— I bet you could feel the sexual tension brewing!”

“Garcia!” You groan, leaning back into your chair. “Stop it. Nothing is going on between Spencer and me. We're just best friends.”

“For now... for now.”

You chuckle, dismissing her antics. The two of you run some scans through her data systems, and you work on crafting some sort of a loose profile.

The phone rings, and Penelope claps with enthusiasm.

“It’s the rest of the crime fighters. I’m sure your Spencer will be so excited to hear your voice.”

Before you can object, she clicks the answer button with the back of her glitter gel pen. “Office of Penelope Garcia and (Y/N) (Y/L/N). To whom do we owe the pleasure?”

“H-Hi.” Spencer stammers over the phone. You figured Hotch would be the one to call, asking Penelope to run for IDs based off of new perimeters. “It’s Spencer.”

“We know.” You hope they can’t hear your smile through the phone. Despite being stuck with him and his rules for two weeks, you still loved the sound of his voice. “What’s up? Found anything new?”

“Uhh, no, n-not yet. I just wanted to check on you.”

“Spencer.” You scold. “You left thirteen minutes ago. That’s not nearly enough time for my wound to tear back open.”

“Hey, you never know. You could’ve... I don’t know... reached forward— or back— too hard. If you crane your neck too far to the opposite side, it could stretch the tissue—“

“Thank you, Spencer,” Penelope interjects. “But (Y/N) is completely and totally fine under the care of Penelope Garcia, MD. I won’t let her out of my sight.”

“Just... make sure she’s not in any pain. If your ribs start to bother you take 400 milligrams of Ibuprofen every four hours.” He states.

Penelope groans, “Spencer, (Y/N) will be fine. She’s a grown woman. I’m sure she knows her body well enough not to let her ribs crack open and her shoulder fall off. Do you not trust me?”

“No! No!” Spencer corrects. “I trust you, Garcia. But, I just— we can’t let anything bad happen to her.”

“I’m right here, guys.” You deadpan. “And I can take care of myself, thank you very much.”

Spencer sighs, “I know, (Y/N). I just wouldn’t want you to be in any pain or discomfort because of your injuries. I know how much getting shot sucks, and I can’t handle someone I’m in love with being in pain.”

Silence settles over everyone.

“You’re in love with me?” You whisper, far too shocked to care that your entire team is listening in on your conversation, and that your behavior is far too inappropriate for an agent working on a murder investigation.

“What? When did I say that.” His voice cracks mid-sentence. “I-I never said that.”

“Yes, you did.” You mutter. “You said you’re in love with me.”

“I-I don’t— I’m sorry.” You hear his embarrassment and anxiety through the phone. Knowing Spencer, he’s probably praying for the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

You shake your head, biting your lower lip. “Don’t be sorry. I’m not mad.”

“You’re not?”

You let out an airy chuckle. “Of course not; I’m in love with you too, Spencer.”

You glance over to Penelope, whose palm is slapped over her mouth in pure excitement. You hear gasps coming from the other side of the phone as well.

“I’ll talk to you when you get back, okay.” You’re surprisingly calm despite your biggest dream coming true, mainly because everyone else is listening. “And please, do not call me unless you have new information about the case.”

Spencer gulps, “Y-yeah, the case, the case.”

You nod, “Okay... we’re going to go now. Goodbye, Spencer.”

“B-Bye, (Y/N).” He stutters.

With a shaky hand, you click the end call button on the phone, finally letting out a nervous breath you’d been holding for the entirety of the conversation.

“Oh my god!” Penelope screams, jumping up and out of her seat. “Dreams do come true! Oh my god! This is amazing. You and Spencer— Oh my god!”

“Relax, Garcia.” You shake your head in amusement. “You can celebrate when they finish the case.”

“Because then you and Spencer will talk and finally get together and then get married and have the smartest, toughest, most adorable babies ever. They’ll get the tough from you, obviously.”

You place a hand on her shoulder. “Calm down. You have all the time in the world to be happy for me and Spencer.”

She nods, pointing her finger at you. “I can celebrate this forever?”

“Sure.” You shrug.

If anything, you’d be celebrating with her too— because Spencer fucking Reid in love with you.

Getting shot was totally worth it.

-

a/n: i decided that i liked this sm that i would add a proper summary and description and shit so i could actually call it a oneshot instead of a blurb bc it was already a fucking long you’re welcome

#spencer reid #criminal minds #sub!spencer #dr reid #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #baby!spencer #glasses!spencer #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid oneshot

[sirthisisa-wendys]

Hanma Shuji as reader’s sugar daddy lmao

STOP I--

I CAN'T STOP WRITING FOR THIS MAN I--

The Arrangement: Shuji Hanma X Fem!Reader

wc: 1.4k

tw: a lil' NSFW at the end

masterlist

song recommendation: Pu$$y Talk - City Girls (Feat. Doja Cat)

Fluttering your lashes seems to do the trick every time for the men who come to the ritzy bar.

"A cognac?" Flutter them for emphasis when you ask a question. Purse your lips a little. Lean forward so they can see your cleavage.

It works every single time. Even on married men who are 100% dedicated to their wives... or mistresses. They're already half-drunk when you pull out your tricks, and their over-confidence leads to fatter tips in your pockets in hopes of scoring an hour with you. But even after all of the cajoling, the pursuing, the lusting... you turn them down and head back to your shared apartment, stuffing the money into your rent jar before taking a shower and heading to bed.

And the cycle begins anew the next day.

You don your slinky black dress, spray a tap of perfume on your wrists, and twirl your curls around your finger before leaving the apartment and driving to the place that hogs your evenings. And it's Friday evening, which means the work crowd and the wealthy crowd would come together in the glamorous bar.

"Y/n," Okina, your manager, calls out. "Big client in the VIP room upstairs. Think you can handle it?"

Big client? VIP room? Serving drinks at the private bar? "Fuck yeah," you answer, saluting the woman who just rolls her eyes, laughing.

"Don't drain them of all of their money, y/n," she replies and you nod, giving her a wink. You climb the stairs up to the private room and watch as servers make the wooden table nice and shiny for the guests coming. The VIP room has only been used four times in your entire seven years here, but every single time it was used for a big client who left amazing tips.

"Maybe I could use tonight's money to save up for a dog," you muse out loud, wiping down the bar and preparing your workstation carefully. The image of the Maltipoo you'd desired since childhood pops into your head, and you smile to yourself, coming up with a list of names as you work.

You're so lost in thought that you don't realize a good portion of the clientele has already come in, each one of them dressed to the nines and taking their seats.

Two snaps call you back to reality, and you look up at the man waiting for your assistance as you clean a bar glass.

"How can I help you, sir?"

The black and yellow-haired man looks at you with a bored expression, orange eyes roving over your appearance slowly. He adjusts his glasses, then states,

"Whiskey. Neat." You fulfill the request and place the drink in front of him with a napkin.

"Anything else, sir?"

"I'll be back shortly." He downs the drink all in one go, and you watch him walk off warily. The tattoos on his hands are enough to warn you that maybe this guy is bad news, but you shrug, taking the glass and putting it in the small sink against the wall. A few others come up to the bar for drinks, but the presentation and following discussion claims most of the men's attention.

Which is fine... sort of. It's really eating into your tips, to be honest.

"Another whiskey." You immediately offer it to the man in front of you, and he downs it, just like the one before.

"Anything else?" you murmur, and he crooks his finger at you. You lean a little closer, tilting your head just so and tucking your lip underneath your top row of teeth.

"You work here part-time? Full-time?"

"Full-time," you reply, fluttering your lashes. The earring in the man's ear shakes a little as he tilts his head a little, mimicking your stance.

"Do you enjoy it here? Make a lot of money?"

"Money is okay; I like working here," you answer, leaning forward to show off your cleavage as you grab his abandoned drink. He grabs your wrist, giving you a small smile before caressing your fingers.

"You know who I am, don't you, y/n?"

"No." The truth rolls off of your tongue with ease, but the man's face falls slightly as if he's disappointed that you don't know about his wealth and fame. "Should I?"

"Only if you want to." He raises a brow, blinking slowly. Did you want to? "Shuji Hanma." The man flips you a card, covered in gold foil and black, shiny cardstock. "If you're looking for some fun outside of work, you should give me a call."

_____________________________________________________________

If you're looking for some fun, you should give me a call.

You flip the card around in your hands, noting the numbers in gold foil and the lack of a name, a business, or anything else identifying. Yeah, Shuji Hanma is clearly someone who needed to be paid attention to. You consider dialing the number that night, but then you remember the lack of significant tips. Why bother with a man who wouldn't pay you for excellent service?

Even Onika thought it was odd that you hadn't received a cash flow...

You sigh, tossing the card aside and laying back on the bed, the dream of owning a Maltipoo slipping even further from your grasp.

"Curiosity killed the cat," your roommate warns day after day after day. But on the fifth day of having the card lay on your desk, you finally pick up your phone and call the number.

"And satisfaction brought it back," you muse, waiting for the line to pick up. It picks up on the second ring. "H-hello? Shuji Hanma?"

"Well, well, well, if it isn't the beautiful hostess from the bar. Thought about my offer?"

"Yes," you breathe, and Shuji hums softly.

"Meet me at Ocean Prime for dinner tonight. Say, at eight?"

"Eight is good."

"Do you want me to send a car for you?"

"No," you reply. "I'll drive."

_____________________________________________________________

You're sitting across from Shuji, who is dressed in a pinstripe suit and wearing the same glasses as before.

He is handsome, you think to yourself, but it doesn't stop the way you nervously interact with him as he peruses the menu, cuts his fish, or asks you about your life.

"Y/n, have you ever thought about... quitting your job?" You shake your head immediately, thinking about all of the bills that would need to be paid and how much debt you'd rack up on credit cards. "You see, I'm looking for someone who is willing to be... somewhat of a comfort to me. You know, in the mundane things, like being there when I come home after work and allowing me to take them out on dates, or being my plus one to events where I'll be forced to interact with others."

"A girlfriend?"

"No," Shuji shakes his fork at you. "That's a level of commitment I cannot allow for myself. More like a younger, prettier beneficiary. It would come with perks, like bills being taken care of, a new wardrobe, a work-free lifestyle, travel, et cetera."

"Wait." You swallow your water with a hard gulp. "Like..." You scan the room for people who may be tuning into your conversation nervously. "Like a sugar baby?"

"Sure," Shuji answers, shrugging. "I mean, it's a lot of work - attending to my needs, that is. But I'll make sure you're well compensated."

"I..."

"Take some time to think about it. Oh, and by the way," The man slides you a thick envelope. "For tonight, as well as the tips I had to extort from the others. Go ahead and count it." You look through the money and realize that the hundred dollar bills add up to about three thousand dollars.

"Shuji, this is..."

"Fifteen hundred for your time, and fifteen hundred for your tips." You can't say anything else as you hold the envelope in your hand. However, Shuji continues to eat his meal, sipping at his water carefully. "What're you thinking?"

"Even if I say no, this money is mine?"

"Of course," he smiles. "Though it would be nice to take you home tonight."

It's only as Shuji is eating you out that you realize that you can officially quit your job. Not even with a two-week notice. You could call today and quit.

"Give me two weeks," you whisper, and Shuji hums, looking up at you and ceasing his movements.

"Two weeks for what?"

"My job."

"Oh," he chirps, smiling. "I expect nothing less from you, pretty girl." He hoists your legs up around his shoulders and dives back into your cunt, removing his glasses and slurping up your juices eagerly. You tangle your hands into his hair and moan loudly as he sends you right into your first orgasm of this little arrangement.

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