sleeping-in-the-sky

[sleeping-in-the-sky]

what're your favorite headcanons about the infinite blue boys

asdfghjkl thank you for the ask! Apologies this took so long, I love wanting to do multiple hobbies and subsequently not making progress on any of them

Anyway I'm a sucker for domestic mundane things, like the list of random facts VelvetFox posted in this ask, so here are some headcanons for the boys with that same vibe:

(I had some scraps of IB dad headcanons so those are mixed in here too)

Infinite Blue LIs x Reader. No mentions of reader pronouns or gender. Also posted on Ao3 here.

——

Alexei:

Has journals full of thoughts and observations about anything and everything. Some of his writing is illegible and other parts make no sense to anybody but him because it's literally his runaway train of thoughts dumped onto paper. He sticks post-it notes with diagrams between the pages, jots down excerpts from Wikipedia pages, and overall it's not an aesthetic read... But flipping through can give you an idea of how this super genius's brain works.

He also writes about you in these notebooks, albeit they're written in between stuff like the thirty-seven fun facts of siphonophores and his favorite part of last night's dinner. Many of them are things you’ve never even noticed about yourself like the way you hold the steering wheel while driving. This is also where he'll stick date memorabilia, like movie tickets. (this hc was inspired by this fic by @sailxrmxrs <3)

If you two own a saucer chair or some other small round comfy seat, he'll probably fall asleep in it at least once. He curls up, all 5'10" of him tucked in that tiny space. Naturally, his body hurts when he wakes up and therefore he gets a bit grumpy. So next time if you see him dozing off maybe lead him to the couch or the bed so he can stretch comfortably.

Brooklyn:

I want to imagine that he has a closet only for his clothing irons and ironing boards. Like a fucking broom closet and you open it to see that there's those four boards and a dozen irons. These include vintage clothing irons, restored and repurposed. He knows how to use them and take care of them too. Why does this make me laugh so hard.

Clothes shopping. Take this man clothes shopping. Yes, he'll buy you anything but honestly? Even disregarding that it’s a fun time because he would enjoy discussing outfits, and if your taste isn't the same as his business-academia-formal style he could be convinced into trying an outfit you styled, or vice versa. Also he's a total simp every time you step out of the changing room. Need fit pics? He's got you covered.

Something tells me Brooklyn would enjoy snacks and desserts from around the world. He'd love to make them himself (and with you!), but you could just come home with some mitarashi-dango because your local Asian supermarket was having a sale and he's already cracking open the container for the ceremonial-grade green tea leaves.

Leo:

Leo's our favorite gamer guy, but I think he also enjoys jigsaw puzzles whether they be with his friends or you or both. These are the quiet nights where everyone is focusing, intently staring at the puzzle sitting on the coffee table while aimlessly chatting. It's super peaceful, though sometimes time slips by unnoticed and by the time you all finish it's two in the morning.

Does that thing where you put someone in a shopping car, sprint across the parking lot while pushing said cart, then jump on it while it's moving. He does it with his friends, you, and his future kid (albeit with a lot more caution). He really wants to kiss you while he’s doing it too, but maybe not because what happens if he hits a car, or worse, someone else?

While we're on the topic of transportation and kisses, every time you're sitting shotgun and he pulls the car in reverse he'll put his hand on your seat and lean in to kiss you. Every. Single. Time.

Kiss him first. It'll get him flustered. Do it.

Milo:

I want to believe he really likes having his hair brushed. If you ask him about it he'll never admit it beyond a quick affirmative, but anytime you sit behind him and start to gently run the bristles through his tangles, he could feel himself relaxing. It's soothing. He might fall asleep like that.

Milo would own a 3d printer. I have no definitive reasons why. Vibe check says he owns a 3d printer and will print out cool little knickknacks and give them to you without a word because they either help you in a mundane way (like a toothbrush holder), or he'll print out something cute like a tiny frog with a mushroom hat because he likes seeing your face light up.

Or he'll print out something cursed, like that Thomas the Tank Engine bottlecap where the liquid streams out of the eyes. It's a coin toss every time.

Rory:

Was that one kid reading with a flashlight under the covers. Even now that he's older, he likes to get a bed light and read before bed. Sometimes he gets super engrossed in it and you gotta peel that book off him. He’ll complain. Stand your ground. Otherwise he'll be super sleep-deprived and cranky the next morning.

If his future child also turns out to be an avid reader, he'll secretly change out their flashlight batteries. Or get them a night light with some half-baked excuse of, "so you don't turn on all the lights when you get up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom and wake the entire house up." Sure, Rory.

Speaking of sleep-related things, he really likes it when you fall asleep next to him/on him. His expression melts into the softest smile and he'll pull you in tightly. If he falls asleep on you, he's the kind to unconsciously hold onto you/must be touching you at all times. He gets really embarrassed about it if you mention this to him. I recommend taking a picture and making it his contact photo.

Tobias:

Has terrible handwriting but an impeccable signature. Don't ever ask him to write the grocery list because it takes forever to decipher his chicken scratch, but he'll sign stuff for fans in one fluid stroke, and that shit looks clean. And yes, he'll offer to sign something for you too.

Loves it when he's chilling on the couch after a long day and you flop on top of him. He'll happily be your teddy bear and let you lay there for hours, the two of you chatting and watching TV while he rubs soft circles on your back. Feel free to fall asleep like that too.

He's the type to enjoy flashy, expensive dates. He takes you out in his sports car to get dinner at a fancy restaurant, followed by spectating sports games from the VIP seats. But I also think incredibly mundane things, like the two of you going out just to grab ice cream in sweatpants and hoodies give him a special kind of happiness.

Seeing you sleepily rubbing your eyes as you come to pick him up from the airport is enough to make him giddy.

[sleeping-in-the-sky]

Helloo <3 I really love ur writing and was wondering if you would be up to writing about this ask! I’ve been so obsessed with infinite blue lately, the brain rot goes crazy 😭 Anwyas! Thank u in advance <3

Hello, thank you for the ask <3

I've actually written headcanons based on that exact ask here!

I'm hoping to post a separate set of headcanons soon... as long as I don't forget. No promises.

[sleeping-in-the-sky]

ROUND 1 MATCH 87

Rory propaganda:

No Rory propaganda :(

Asher propaganda:

No Asher propaganda :(

[sleeping-in-the-sky]

ROUND 1 MATCH 43

Damien propaganda:

“he is a beautiful demon man i love him he is so bold and fun i just love him so much he literally wants to punch the sun in some play throughs and i think that's really beautiful ngl”

“male Karlach but meaner”

Brooklyn propaganda:

No Brooklyn propaganda

[sleeping-in-the-sky]

Reasons to Love

A conversation between you and Milo during one lazy afternoon.

Milo x Reader, no mentions of reader pronouns or gender. Also posted on Ao3 here.

——-

“Hey, why do you love me?”

“Hm?”

The detached reply comes from the other end of the couch where Milo sat, his focus removed from the book in hand and now pointed at you. The record player behind you two chatters, releasing soft jazz music into the lazy afternoon air. “Why, are you rethinking our relationship?”

“No, not at all.” You shifted and set down your phone. “It’s just that- we’ve been together for almost a year but I’ve never heard your reasons why. Is that weird?”

“Well, you are weird.” Milo chuckled at the indignant glare you shot at him. “I love you because I do. Isn’t that enough?”

“Yeah… But no. Humor me, please?” You stifled your smile and gave him your best puppy-dog eyes. At this point it wasn’t even about the answer, you were stubborn for the sake of it- and to tease Milo.

He sighs. “Fine, hmm… I love how your baking attempts always make the kitchen look like a crime scene. Or that time I caught you half drunk, singing meme songs while forcing our cat to dance with you. I love you even when you cursed in front of the neighbor’s ki-“ he’s cut off by a flying couch cushion. “Asshole,” you complain as you ready another strike, cheeks blazing. “Why’re they all embarrassing!?”

He deftly catches the cushion, then tugs you by the wrist so you lose balance and tumble into his lap. “I love how you openly live your life and being with you makes me smile. Isn’t that enough?” He brushes the loose hairs out of your face and pulls you into a dizzying kiss. When he finally lets you go, he observes your breathless and flustered form, amusement dancing in the soft purple hues of his eyes.

“… Just shut up and keep holding me.”

“Alright.”

[sleeping-in-the-sky]

[sleeping-in-the-sky]

I Love You, I Miss You (Infinite Blue)

You send your ever-busy boyfriend a reminder of how much you love him.

Brooklyn Hayes x Reader. Reader’s gender or pronouns are not mentioned. Also posted on Ao3 here.

——

Keep reading

[sleeping-in-the-sky]

I updated my pinned post with a masterlist! I didn’t think I’d write enough to warrant one but here we are lmao. Also not me realizing I still have yet to write a oneshot for Alexei ffs

now would also be a good time to say that my ask box is open :) my motivation for writing is super sporadic so I can’t promise a oneshot but I’d be more than happy to expand on any asks from the VelvetFox tumblr, or write some bulleted headcanons hehe

or you can tell me who your favorite LI is or what your mc is like. I’m down for p much anything Infinite Blue has given me so much brainrot it’s a problem. Am I gonna do anything about it? Nah

[sleeping-in-the-sky]

Holiday Encounter

You’re not feeling the holiday spirit- that is, until a dog pushes you into a lake.

This is an expansion of this ask, inspired by that one scene in the live action 101 Dalmatians movie where the guy’s Dalmatian drags him through the streets and eventually into a lake. Please ignore the fact that it’s already January…

Leo x Reader. No mentions of reader’s gender, reader pronouns are set as they/them. Also posted on Ao3 here.

——- The freezing December wind whipped around the city park, rustling trees and sweeping away any loose leaves that littered the concrete paths. You shivered, tugging the brim of your beanie down and over your ears. It muffled your hearing, sure, but it was worth covering any exposed skin to the cruel cold.

You stuffed your hands deeper into your coat pockets and scowled at your surroundings. 

Christmas carols endlessly poured out of speakers. Every exposed storefront had been painted with swathes of red and green. Maybe it was due to the lethargy that you carried into the end of the year, but you just couldn’t feel the holiday cheer, the joy instead dissipating with every white cloud you sighed out into the cold air. At first your empty apartment felt like a safe haven in contrast to the lawns armed with countless plastic Santa inflatables, but after a while sitting in your own cynicism proved to be suffocating. So in a lame attempt to get some fresh air here you were, with your dog, standing near the park pond and purposely ignoring the nearby street vendors wearing their deplorable Christmas sweaters. 

Your canine companion cautiously pawed the edge of the water before resuming his stare down with the geese, the entire flock floating at the center of the pond and well away from their furry foe. “Guess it’s not your day either, huh?” Sighing, you crouched down to scratch his head. 

Well, what now? Standing out here did little to improve your mood, in fact it felt like the cold was nipping away what little heat and happiness you had left. Is it time to go back home and lay unmoving on the couch for another three hours?

Your wallowing in your little self-made pit of despair was cut short by a loud bark. Turning around, golden fur instantly filled your vision before a heavy impact knocked the breath clean out of your lungs and you fell, backwards and into the water.

Cold. It was ice cold. The temperature shock traveled through your neurons and down your spine, until your mind remembered how to function and you broke your head above the water, gasping for air and your backside aching from the sudden impact against the pebble-lined ground.

Blinking water out of your eyes you spotted the perpetrator- an excited golden retriever, running circles around your pet showing little concern for the accident it caused. A young man ran over, breathless and a torn leash in hand.

“I’m so sorry- are you alright?” He grabbed your hand and heaved you out of the pond. 

“Yeah, just fine. I’m doing absolutely wonderful right now,” you grumbled, soaked with water and sarcasm. Behind you the geese honked in unison, no doubt laughing at your predicament.

A sudden gust sent your teeth chattering. “This is your dog, right? What’s up with them?”

The stranger’s brows furrowed under the brim of his baseball cap as his gaze darted to his energetic pup, then to yours. “I’m sorry, she’s usually not like this, I don’t know what got into her but the moment we got to the park she suddenly started running...” He trailed off for a moment before finally taking in your miserable wet form. He paled, then his expression turned to worry as he looked around. Then his eyes lit up. 

“Quick, come with me.” Without waiting for a reply he grabbed your wrist and started sprinting, your two dogs trailing right behind, all four doing your best to ignore any and every strange look thrown your way.

The dark-haired young man dragged you through the busy city streets until he stopped at a particular glass door and pushed it open. Amongst the clanging of bells, you were hit with a gust of warm air, perfumed with the scent of coffee and spice. A cafe. The barista behind the well-decorated counter spoke up.

“Yo Leo, why’re you here? Today’s your day off…” he trailed off when he noticed you, drenched and gasping for breath, standing in the doorway. “Dude, what the fuck?”

“This is-“ he paused to look back, and you mumbled out your name. “I- my dog pushed them into the pond by accident,” Leo hastily replied before pushing you towards the blazing fireplace. “Stay here!” Then with the clanging of the door he was gone, leaving you and two dogs sitting in front of the brick hearth, adorned with holly leaves and stockings.

You could hear the cafe employees chatting in the back, but they soon mixed with the quiet crackling of the fire and smooth lo-fi and faded away to the background as you heaved a deep sigh and closed your eyes. It felt like a grey cloud enveloped you, and you dimly wondered where things could go from here.

After what felt like simultaneously an instant and an eternity of dwelling in melancholy, a soft voice spoke your name and cut through the shadows. You opened bleary eyes to see Leo, holding out an armful of fabric. “We only have dirty rags, so I had to run to the drugstore.” You took the towel with Christmas embroidery and began to dry yourself off, unsure of what to say. 

“And, uh- here. As an apology for what happened. We make really good hot chocolate.” He handed you a takeout cup full of the sweet drink.

“… Thanks.”

Leo took a seat beside you with a drink of his own, gaze flitting back and forth. “Uhm, I hope you’re not still angry with what happened. My dog- she’s good most of the time, we were walking in the park and she saw you guys…”

“Yeah, you already said that.” Leo grimaced at your dry retort, and a pang of guilt shot through you. 

“Maybe she fell in love at first sight or something, I don’t know…” 

The cafe became quiet. Leo awkwardly glanced your way and sipped on his hot chocolate while you avoided his gaze and instead focused on your two dogs who were… cuddling. How romantic.

Finally, you took a sip of the bittersweet liquid. Strangely, it warmed you to the bones faster than the flames. “I’m… I’m sorry too.” Your voice was gravelly as you searched for the right words to say. “For my attitude. I’m not angry. It’s just… it’s been a day. Not a good one, I guess, so the falling into water thing was the icing on the cake… but I’m not angry. Thank you for bringing me here, and the towel and the chocolate.” You finally worked up the courage to meet his eyes, and Leo visibly softened.

“Yeah, no problem, it’s the least I could do. We all have those days but you know,” he grinned warmly, and you didn’t miss how your heart skipped a beat, seeing that puppy dog-like smile. “You gotta remember, after any long day, the day’s gonna end.”

You nearly choked on your drink. “What kind of saying is that?”

Leo tilted his head in confusion. “But… I mean what I said.”

Cheeks rosy and warm from the warmth and laughter, you shook your head. “Nevermind. But thank you. As silly as that is, I feel better now.” Absentmindedly you turned the paper cup in your hand, only for you to notice that on the back was your name, written neatly in sharpie along with a shaky doodle of a dog. 

Cute. 

Silence settled over you two as you went back to watching your dogs and the crackling fireplace. Lo-fi music floated through the cafe, blending with the quiet conversations between the other customers and the barista. Your dog raised his head and yawned, before settling back to sleep against his new companion. It was the same cafe, the same silence, the same people as just five minutes ago, but it wasn’t all the same. The fog that followed you around had dissipated, leaving nothing but cozy warmth. Suddenly you felt reluctant to return back to your cold desolate apartment.

“I guess I need to thank your dog for all of this,” you commented. “For throwing me into the water.”

Leo gave an embarrassed smile. “Are you free this weekend? The weather report said it’ll be warmer then, and maybe we can go somewhere else, so there’s no chance of you being pushed into the water agai-“ He paused upon seeing your bewildered expression. You could almost see the gears turning in his head as he finally understood what he said, and as if on cue immediately turned scarlet.

“I- I meant for our dogs,” he stammered, words tumbling out one after another. “It seems like they really like each other, so I- uh I was wondering if we can hang out again, I mean if you’re busy or don’t want to it’s okay but um-“

“Leo,” you cut him off softly. “I’d love for our dogs to hang out together again, but if you want this to be a date too… I’d like that too.” He smiled sheepishly, and you two broke out into laughter.

The first rays of dusk filtered through the heavy clouds. Cold winds danced through the streets, weaving through briskly-walking pedestrians. But inside the cafe was warm, and as you chatted away the evening with Leo you couldn’t help but feel giddy inside. The weekend couldn’t come soon enough. 

[sleeping-in-the-sky]

A Garden in the Heart and Lungs (Infinite Blue)

I’m procrastinating on one fic by writing another fic lmao 

Anyway I came across this incredible thread that reworked the Hanahaki disease trope, which served as my inspiration. For this little mess of scenarios I’ve reinterpreted the disease to be a symptom of intense emotional turmoil, which doesn’t always involve unrequited love or imminent death. But it still means angst ahahahahahahah not again im sorry

Hanahaki Disease AU, featuring all IB boys. Some imply x Reader, some may not. No mentions of reader’s gender, reader pronouns are set as they/them.

CW: Blood and vomiting. 

-----

Alexei: 

Every inch of his mind, trained from birth to explore and collect all forms of scientific knowledge, tells him that this flower-coughing disease makes no sense and shouldn’t exist. He thinks back to when you first made the desperate plea, to create a cheaper cure that didn’t involve surgery. Despite accepting he continued to tell himself that it was impossible for flowers to grow from the inside.

But yet, they say seeing is believing, and when he doubles over in a coughing fit he can’t deny the existence of the blood-red petals that leave his lips. 

Revulsion and unease shift restlessly within as he hazily stares at his desk covered with failed remedies, stained with remnants of blood and tears. At least now he had an endless supply of test samples. He needed to do whatever it takes, to save both you and himself. 

Brooklyn:

He’s long since understood that this chronic illness of his was peculiar, with the way he’s always coughed out various flowers with meanings that somehow reflected whatever emotional distress he was experiencing at the time. How ironic it was that this was where his penchant for floriography came from. 

Even now, as he gifts you a bouquet of yellow roses (“my gratitude for your friendship and companionship,” he says,) he could feel the familiar tickle in his throat that he hides behind a gentle smile. As soon as you step away he coughs into a handkerchief and inspects the petals. 

Black dahlias and maroon roses. 

“Dishonesty and unrequited love,” he whispers the meanings, feeling the familiar pang in his chest.

Leo:

“The Hanahaki disease,” Leo repeats, the words sounding as foreign to him as the bitter taste of flower petals. The doctor sitting in front of him nods. “Severity and frequency of its symptoms will vary from patient to patient, but looks like yours is pretty serious. Could be terminal, but it’s unclear-“ 

The rest of the doctor’s words fall onto deaf ears as Leo’s mind begins to race, and by the time he steps out of the examination room he’s in a daze. Only when you run up to him with a worried look does he finally snap out of it. 

“Don’t worry, it’s just a common sickness,” Leo reassured you with a smile. “I’ll be all better in a matter of days!” He doesn’t want to burden you with the truth, even if it meant letting these vines wrap around his lungs and throat, slowly suffocating him from the inside.

Milo:

"Relax, it's just a cough", Milo says, and your sounds of protest are quickly cut off when he walks away, seemingly unfazed. And to him, it was the truth; his illness was chronic, yet light, and seeing a petal-lined trash can had long become part of his everyday routine. Sure, he could try and figure out where all this emotional turmoil comes from, but it would take far too long. 

Or so he justifies. 

"But I've heard symptoms get worse over time," you argue.  "Are you saying yours hasn't changed?" 

"Yes, now stop worrying." That was a lie. He stifles a cough and feign ignorance at how your eyes narrow in suspicion. Yet he refuses to remove his mask of indifference, for ignoring his grievances had become second nature. 

Because no matter how bitter the flavor of petals and blood was, when one has it enough times it starts to taste sweet.

Rory:

The pain is sharp and searing, and it feels like his throat and lungs are set aflame. Mumbling out a half-hearted excuse about how he's feeling lightheaded Rory brusquely leaves you confused and standing by the library's front counter, and as soon as he's out of your sight he sprints to the nearest empty container- a cardboard box- to hurl. A dozen scarlet blossoms soon paint the packaging.

A librarian approaches him with hesitant concern. "Rory, are you sure you don't want me to call the ambu-"I said I'm fine." Between the dry heaves he shoots his coworker a nasty glare. "And don't you dare tell them what's going on." 

"But-" Rory stalks away to the restroom so he can rinse his mouth. Sure, all this could be solved if he confesses how he's carried a torch for you for these past several years. But you were too kind, you would no doubt put his feelings over your own. And if you were to reciprocate out of guilt than mutual affection, his shame would be much more excruciating than the countless thorns that pierced him now.

Tobias:

Tobias thought he was pretty honest to himself and others, somebody who lived as his heart desires. But the petals, drenched in crimson sitting in his shaking hands tell him otherwise, and he wonders where he went wrong. 

There's a knock, and he quickly wipes away the flowers with a makeup wipe before the dressing room door opens and a staff member pokes his head in. "Mr. Fox, five minutes until filming," he says. "A lot of your fans are here today, so don't forget your image and keep your relationship a secret, okay?" 

"Yeah, I know~" Tobias flashes a grin that melts as soon as the door closes. He sends you a quick text. 

Gonna go live soon babe! A lot of my fans are here today but don’t forget that I only have eyes for you

As soon as he hits send he feels the telltale sign of the garden growing in his throat. "So that's why," Tobias mutters to himself, smiling bitterly. Whether he should announce his relationship and possibly destroy his career, or prioritize his career and put his relationship in jeopardy, the predicament twisted his gut as he reached for another makeup wipe.

[sleeping-in-the-sky]

IT’S CANON RORY PUTS SANTA HATS ON HIS PLANTS WHAT A DORK

i love him

doodled this yesterday I’m so glad it’s real and true

Office Festivities (Infinite Blue)

You’re excited for the holidays. Rory isn’t impressed. 

Office & Coworkers AU, Rory x Reader. No mentions of reader pronouns or gender.

——-

“Good Morning, Rory!”

“Morni- what the fuck happened to your desk.”

Tiny trees outfitted with garlands and ornaments stood in a neat line. Elf and reindeer plushes sat on top of your folders, simultaneously fulfilling their duties of paperweight and bringing Christmas cheer. String lights hung from your computer monitor and the cubicle walls, and amongst the swath of red, white, and green was you, sitting in your office chair and beaming proudly. 

“Cubicles are always so drab and grey, so I thought I’d add some holiday flair,” you remarked, aimlessly spinning a candy cane between your fingers. “Looks pretty nice, don’t you think?”

“It looks like Santa came and vomited all over.” Rory winced at the aggressively blinking lights, wondering if they were asking for help in morse code. 

You made a face back at your coworker. “Why don’t you decorate your desk? Yours look like a jungle every day of the year, at least one of your plants could use a little star.” You held out an unopened box of tiny ornaments.

“I’m not putting string lights on my aloe.”

“Even though I saw you putting a Santa hat on your tomatoes?”

“Hey!” Rory glanced around furtively, ensuring that nobody was around before leaning in and dropping his voice to a whisper. “You promised we wouldn’t talk about our private lives at work.”

You shrugged. You respected Rory’s decision to keep you two’s relationship a secret at work, but to be honest it was more like an open secret. At this point it was only him who didn’t know that everyone else had long been aware.

Dumbass doesn’t even realize that the number of people flirting with him decreased.

“Sorry, sorry.” You held your hands up in self-defense. “But I had to point out the fact that your apartment is decked out as much as my cubicle. Why not do it here too?”

“That- that’s ‘cause this is a workplace. Im trying to be professional.” 

“Excuses.” Suddenly a thought crossed your mind and you smiled, one Rory knew too well as an expression you made when you were up to no good.

“Speaking of which… Did you notice that I put up a mistletoe in the bedroom doorway?”

“You what!?”

“Guess not then. Well, I think you owe me something.”

With a shit-eating grin you watched as your partner stood flabbergasted, staring at you as his mind fiddled trying to process and make connections. But when he didn’t move for a minute, you grew a bit concerned. Perhaps you pushed him too far? You opened your mouth to rescind your statement-

“Fine.” A low voice. A hand grabbed your wrist and pulled you in, Rory’s lips meeting yours in a fiery kiss. He pulled away and observed your dumbfounded flustered self, his own cheeks slightly tinged pink but with a smug smile on his face.

“I’ll be taking this-“ he plucked the plastic ornament box from your hand. “As payback. I’m gonna put a star on my aloe. And it’s gonna look better than your holiday abomination of a desk.”

[sleeping-in-the-sky]

Office Festivities (Infinite Blue)

You’re excited for the holidays. Rory isn’t impressed. 

Office & Coworkers AU, Rory x Reader. No mentions of reader pronouns or gender. Also posted on Ao3 here.

——-

“Good Morning, Rory!”

“Morni- what the fuck happened to your desk.”

Tiny trees outfitted with garlands and ornaments stood in a neat line. Elf and reindeer plushes sat on top of your folders, simultaneously fulfilling their duties of paperweight and bringing Christmas cheer. String lights hung from your computer monitor and the cubicle walls, and amongst the swath of red, white, and green was you, sitting in your office chair and beaming proudly. 

“Cubicles are always so drab and grey, so I thought I’d add some holiday flair,” you remarked, aimlessly spinning a candy cane between your fingers. “Looks pretty nice, don’t you think?”

“It looks like Santa came and vomited all over.” Rory winced at the aggressively blinking lights, wondering if they were asking for help in morse code. 

You made a face back at your coworker. “Why don’t you decorate your desk? Yours look like a jungle every day of the year, at least one of your plants could use a little star.” You held out an unopened box of tiny ornaments.

“I’m not putting string lights on my aloe.”

“Even though I saw you putting a Santa hat on your tomatoes?”

“Hey!” Rory glanced around furtively, ensuring that nobody was around before leaning in and dropping his voice to a whisper. “You promised we wouldn’t talk about our private lives at work.”

You shrugged. You respected Rory’s decision to keep you two’s relationship a secret at work, but to be honest it was more like an open secret. At this point it was only him who didn’t know that everyone else had long been aware.

Dumbass doesn’t even realize that the number of people flirting with him decreased.

“Sorry, sorry.” You held your hands up in self-defense. “But I had to point out the fact that your apartment is decked out as much as my cubicle. Why not do it here too?”

“That- that’s ‘cause this is a workplace. Im trying to be professional.” 

“Excuses.” Suddenly a thought crossed your mind and you smiled, one Rory knew too well as an expression you made when you were up to no good.

“Speaking of which… Did you notice that I put up a mistletoe in the bedroom doorway?”

“You what!?”

“Guess not then. Well, I think you owe me something.”

With a shit-eating grin you watched as your partner stood flabbergasted, staring at you as his mind fiddled trying to process and make connections. But when he didn’t move for a minute, you grew a bit concerned. Perhaps you pushed him too far? You opened your mouth to rescind your statement-

“Fine.” A low voice. A hand grabbed your wrist and pulled you in, Rory’s lips meeting yours in a fiery kiss. He pulled away and observed your dumbfounded flustered self, his own cheeks slightly tinged pink but with a smug smile on his face.

“I’ll be taking this-“ he plucked the plastic ornament box from your hand. “As payback. I’m gonna put a star on my aloe. And it’s gonna look better than your holiday abomination of a desk.”

[sleeping-in-the-sky]

Infinite Blue Headcanons - Kisses

What do you get when you take this IB ask and run wild with it? This. Infinite Blue LIs x Reader. No mentions of reader pronouns or gender. Also posted on Ao3 here.

Milo - Hands: 

Milo likes holding your hand. It’s casual, non-obtrusive, yet intimate enough that he feels connected to you.

It’s become a habit for him to mindlessly stare at your intertwined hands, comparing the size of your fingers to his, taking note of whatever moles/bumps you may have on your skin.

You notice him doing this yet again during movie night, so you lift his hand to pepper kisses - on his fingertips, then his knuckles, then his wrist.

“What, are you trying to seduce me?”

Milo’s tone is deadpan, but you can tell he’s pleased.

As he uses his free hand to brush the hair out of your face, you can see that he’s wearing a faint smile. 

Alexei - Cheek: 

Alexei’s cheeks, like the rest of him, are soft. They have flecks of acne scars, like trophies won from stressful days at work, and pinching them between your fingers will usually garner a soft giggle from him, although if you do it too much he’ll squirm away. 

It was probably a spur of a moment kind of thing - he was relaxing on the loveseat, doing research on the behavior of wild hamsters when out of nowhere his phone was plucked right out of his hands. 

His expression is quizzical, but before he could ask what the matter was you cup his face in one hand, lean in and place a kiss on his other cheek. 

When you pull away you’re greeted with a spellbound Alexei, cheeks rosy and looking up at you lips parted in surprise. 

If you do it again he’ll nuzzle into your hand like a cat, warmth crawling up his skin.

Tobias - Chest:

Tobias has a tendency to sleep shirtless on hot summer nights. He likes the feeling of blankets and sheets against his bare skin, plus he knows his abs look good even while slumbering.

Not that you’re complaining.

Sunlight filters through the window and eases you awake, and it’s no surprise when you lift your eyelids to find yourself in Tobias’s embrace ‘cause that man clings onto you like a damn koala when he sleeps.

As you shift and move in his arms he starts to stir, and in a half-asleep state you turn to press your lips against his chest, close to his heart.

Partially coherent Tobias doesn’t have the brain cells to make any flirty remarks. 

Instead, he breaks out into a sleepy soft grin and pulls you closer so he can kiss you properly to reciprocate.

“Morning, babe.”

I hope you didn’t have any plans for the day, cause you’re not leaving the bed for at least another hour. 

Leo - Neck:

Leo loves PDA, so if you’re dating him you’ll have to get used to spontaneous kisses. 

You two are holding hands? He’ll kiss your knuckles and joke about how he’s your Prince Leo. Is his arm slung over your shoulders? He’ll pull you in to plant one on your temple.

It’s kind of like how a dog automatically wags its tail whenever it’s happy- you being in close proximity triggers his physical affection switch.

So why not do it back?

The thought comes to you when he’s giving you a piggyback ride, and so you trace the skin at the base of his neck where there’s a faint tan line before kissing it.

Leo laughs. It’s an airy sound that’s music to your ears, light and warm like sunshine.

He’ll get back at you if you keep doing it,  dropping you to the ground and chasing you around until he tackles you, both of you breathless and giggling.

Brooklyn - Jaw:

It’s become a sort of tradition for you two that on mornings where you both had an empty schedule, you would set the kettle on the stove, Brooklyn would select a vinyl to play on his vintage record player, and together you two would make breakfast.

On this particular morning, the sky gave blessings in the form of a pleasant rainfall and as you waited to make your tea Brooklyn took your hand and pulled you into a slow waltz.

Reaching up you draw circles against his cheek with your thumb and brush a kiss against his jawline.

You’re rewarded a bashful Brooklyn, face flushed as he pulls you in closer, rocking back and forth as classical music plays and raindrops tap against the glass in harmony.

Rory - Ears:

Rory’s interests of painting, cooking, and gardening don't allow for a lot of human interaction. If you have your own hobbies to tend to, he’s more than happy to exist in the same space, silence permeating the air as you two pursue your respective creative endeavors.

But he also wouldn’t mind if you were to hug him from behind and ask him what he’s doing. He’ll complain, saying that you’re distracting him, but he’s a damn simp and will make no move to push you away.

His entire neck and ear area is sensitive, pale and littered with light freckles which makes for a nice contrast to his bright red hair. Kiss the nape of his neck, then his hairline, and slowly make your way up.

As soon as your lips brush against that sensitive spot behind his ear, a shiver runs up his spine and he whirls around, his face an impressive shade of scarlet.

He can’t decide whether to snap at you or kiss you senseless. 

For an even better reaction, gently bite his ear :)

[sleeping-in-the-sky]

Those Halcyon Days (Infinite Blue)

“Plotting these schemes, pulling the strings… It has been painful. It is still painful,” Brooklyn confesses. His voice, usually rich and warm like honey and hearth, is ragged as he shares his sins. "But I have come too far for this to be all for naught, I can’t- I shouldn’t- stop now for the sake of the nation, for the sake of the duchy, for the sake of the people and you-”

His voice cracks. The hand holding his cup is trembling, and the amber liquid contained within ripples.

Brooklyn x Reader, Vampire & Royalty AU. Reader’s gender or pronouns are not mentioned. Also posted on Ao3 here. 

CW: Blood, character death, grief.

-----

Author’s Note: The vampire lore in this story doesn't have the classic "to become a vampire, you need to get bitten by a vampire/drink vampire blood" rules. Instead, I borrowed my incredible friend's homebrew vampire lore (with permission, bless her heart). The condensed version of her lore is as follows:

Vampires are, on a metaphorical level, a representation of trauma that haunts people. In a lesser sense they also represent regret and guilt. Every vampire is the tragic protagonist in their own Ancient Greek play, doomed from birth to fall to a cataclysmic disaster. They can be the instigator of this tragedy, and then vampirism is a sort of purgatorial punishment for them, or they could be a victim, perhaps dying in an extreme circumstance where they never received closure and they’re still searching for it, etc.

To become a vampire, the vampire-to-be must have lived a life of tragedy and misery, leaving an unrepentant wake of destruction in their path. Then, as their human body dies, or after it has died but before rot sets in, blood must be ingested by the vampire-to-be. This is not necessarily a vampire’s blood. Even animal’s blood will function well for this purpose. That’s it. Other vampires are not needed to create a new vampire. In fact, in certain conditions, vampires can even turn on accident.

-----

Act I: Cloudless Blue Skies

The children’s laughter rings throughout the town, excited voices mixing as they share old tales and imagine new ones. Armed with satchels full of toys and snacks, they race through the streets fueled by innocent excitement.

The adults engage in friendly chatter as they walk down stone-cobbled paths. Some start their daily banter with the lively street vendors, others wave goodbye and head home, all of them going about their humble lives to support their families.

The elderly bask in the gentle afternoon rays, watching their grandchildren and passing along the stories of old; tales of magic casting miracles and curses, legends of heroes fighting against dark-dwelling demons of sin.

From the open window, the young lord hears them all yet pays no mind, for he has more pressing matters to attend to. With a feather duster in one hand and a rag in the other, he continues his mission to make the entrance hall spotless, ignoring his servants' pleas to stop. After all, today was the day for his spouse’s arrival. Why shouldn’t he help make the manor as presentable as it can be?

He hears the creaking sound of the mansion gates opening, and he turns to see you - dressed in your best attire, hands clasped nervously in front of you - but with a quizzical look on your face. No doubt wondering why the head of the household, a high-ranking noble of the kingdom, and your new husband, was doing the duties of a maid.

He brushes away his embarrassment with a small cough before setting down the cleaning supplies. “Brooklyn Hayes, thirty-fourth head of the Hayes Duchy, at your service, ” he says with a graceful bow. He raises his head, and as soon as you lock eyes with that golden gaze he visibly softens.

“Pleased to meet you… My dear.”

Act II: Soft Clouds

The silk curtains sway to the rhythm of birdsong as the breeze leaves soft kisses on your cheek and entices your book to turn its pages. You set the novel down and look out the window, watching and listening for signs of life in the town. Your town.

It’s a good day.

As if right on cue, you hear two knocks at your door, and Brooklyn enters the room. He looks a little fatigued, but his usual grace is prevalent as he kisses you in greeting. “My dear, I was thinking of going to the café by the town square for lunch,” he said. “Would you like to join me? I heard they’ve added new tea cakes to the menu.”

He doesn’t even need to wait for a reply - the joy that lights up your face says it all, and he laughs. It’s a deep warm chuckle, and you can’t help but give a bashful smile in response.

“Well now, shall we go?”

The town square is bustling with its usual activity when the two of you arrive. The younger ones cheer and wave at the passing stagecoach, and the adults smile and bow respectfully. Your heart flutters as you accept a tiny bouquet of daisies from a particularly brave child, grateful at how accepting the townspeople were to you, an outsider.

Entering this arranged marriage was quite frankly, intimidating; joining the household of the famed Hayes Duchy, and even marrying the head of the family! But you soon learned that those worries were for naught. Despite his formality and status, you found that Brooklyn was just a kind and gentle man, and although you sometimes found his quirks odd - one of them being his penchant for excessive cleaning and organizing - he was someone you found worth and happiness being with. And for the townspeople, as soon as they saw how smitten their lord was with his new spouse, they quickly welcomed you with open arms.

Seating yourself on the café terrace, you watch over the plaza as Brooklyn graciously pours the two of you a cup of tea. A warm floral scent drifts lazily through the air. “I unfortunately have to continue my work right after this,” he says. “The royal court has been rather… disorderly lately. I truly do apologize.” He reaches across to take your hand in his, and he genuinely looks regretful.

“I hope to spend more time with you soon… But until then, I will cherish these moments of respite we share.”

Act III: Raindrops

It’s a quiet evening. Despite the relaxed ticking of the clock reminding Brooklyn it was close to midnight, he sits in his office, head in his hands, and lets out a sigh as he contemplates his course of action. Political strife had always been rampant under the thinly stretched tarp of noble appearances. But the cauldron, filled to the brim with unspoken resentment and hidden agendas, bubbled relentlessly underneath the covers and with the soon-to-be passing of the current king, he knew that all it’ll take was one more drop for everything to come spilling out.

To allow the Hayes duchy to shift from its longstanding neutral position would be adding more than a single drop to the cauldron. Opposing the first prince and his supporters was akin to a death wish, but with every bit of knowledge and experience Brooklyn wielded he knew that if he didn’t help the second prince succeed the crown it would lead to a future more torturous than death.

But was he prepared for the sacrifices, the cost, of purposely starting fires? Raking back his hair in frustration the duke abruptly stands and leaves the study, letting his legs decide where to go down the dark hallway without any direction while he relentlessly ruminated over his options. It wasn’t until he stopped in front of a mahogany door did he realize he was in front of his bedchambers.

Carefully, in an attempt to not make a sound, he pushes open the door. Under the plush comforters you were fast asleep, clutching a pillow in your arms as if it were your victim placeholder instead of your husband. Brooklyn couldn’t help but crack a smile. A cuddler, you were; it seemed like you were never fully comfortable until you were cozy under a dozen blankets and snuggled up to something, or someone. Yet another thing he adored about you. He sits on the edge of the bed and gently traces his thumb against your cheek, then shifts his attention to the open window. Singing cicadas, the gentle wind, all joining together as the chorus of Night, envelop him in a soft embrace. The townscape with his people, wrapped in their own dreams, glows dimly. Beside him, you murmur incoherently in your sleep and turn to nuzzle your face into his hand.

Guilt courses through his veins and threatens to swallow him whole, but he knows what must be done. Contrary to the heavily corrupt first prince and his faction, a noble exists to serve the people. And you, this town, this province- was his everything.

So with a deep breath, he lifts his hand and willingly steps into sorrow.

Act IV: Rainstorm

Steeling your nerves, you raise a reluctant fist and give two raps on the door. Hearing the muffled approval for entry you enter, a maid carting tea and sandwiches following close behind.

Most of the study is in its usual pristine condition. The antique bookshelves and their contents are sparkling with the prideful work of the servants, but Brooklyn’s desk is a mess. The usually carefully stacked papers are in a haphazard heap with the noble in question sitting surrounded by clutter, and when he raises his head to meet your eyes worry leaps into your throat. Despite his usual dignified attire, fatigue shone through in the shadows under his eyes and the delayed reaction as it finally registered that it was his spouse that stood before him.

Finally, he lifted the corners of his lips in a forced smile. “My apologies… It’s been a while since I’ve last had tea with you, yes? I suppose I do need the break.”

He leaves his prison-like workspace and joins you on the velvet chaise couch. The maidservant, despite casting worried glances toward her master, quickly finishes setting the coffee table and excuses herself. Like clockwork, Brooklyn lifts the porcelain teapot to serve you and then himself a cup of tea. Watching him move with his natural ease of grace was a routine for you, but unlike other days where you would be filled with peace, your mind was scrambling, searching for the right words to say.

But it was Brooklyn who broke the silence. “I’m guessing you’ve caught wind of the storm.” After a moment of hesitation, you nodded. News of riots breaking out at the capital, exposure of previously-hidden corruption of nobles, and instability in trade were rampant, and despite many pointing blame to the first prince you’ve heard subtle rumors that the mastermind behind them all was your husband.

When you relay what you’ve heard, Brooklyn goes silent. Finally, he confirms that the gossip was true. “Plotting these schemes, pulling the strings… It has been painful. It is still painful,” he confesses. His voice, usually rich and warm like honey and hearth, is ragged as he shares his sins. “I have long since accepted that I would be making sacrifices. But the number of innocent casualties, the suffering I’ve caused the civilians as a result of this was not anticipated. Or rather… I was foolish for not thinking this would happen. But I have come too far for this to be all for naught, I can’t- I shouldn’t- stop now for the sake of the nation, for the sake of the duchy, for the sake of the people and you-”

His voice cracks. The hand holding his cup is trembling, and the amber liquid contained within ripples. He takes a shuddering, deep breath. “You should flee,” he says, and your eyes widen. “I cannot fathom how much misery is yet to come. Leave me, and seek shelter be it with your family or another noble, but I’m terribly afraid to put you in the way of danger, so-”

His words die in his throat as your hand, firm and steady, takes hold of his. Anxiety and fear for the situation and the future gnaw at you but when you see your husband overburdened like this, all you could think of was to stay by his side.

“... Thank you, my love.” Brooklyn searches and finds comfort within your compassion and loyalty. “I want no harm to come to you, and I’ll arrange things so you can escape at a moment's notice. But at the same time… I am grateful that you choose to stay by me.”

“…I realize it’s selfish to say, but right now, I can’t help but wish that you continue to stay by my side. As of right now, you are the only thing that brings me ease.”

He sets down his tea, and in an unusual show of weakness, pulls you into him in a tight embrace. As you tenderly run your fingers through his brown hair, you could faintly make out a nearly-inaudible thank you as Brooklyn buries his face into the crook of your neck.

Act V: Thunderstorm

The mechanical ticking of the grandfather clock reminds Brooklyn that it was a few more hours until Night ends her reign and lets Day come to take her place. But unlike several seasons ago when he first waged this torturous political war, as he toiled away at his papers and plans the weight on his shoulders felt lighter. The first prince’s faction was steadily weakening, and it was only a matter of time before the king names the second prince as the official heir to the throne. The deaths of the innocents that were caught up in this mad dance still twisted his heart and crushed it with guilt, but maybe, just maybe, if all goes well, their deaths would not be in vain and all of the sleepless nights would be worth it.

He neatly caps his fountain pen and stretches in his seat. Maybe it’s finally time to get a decent amount of sleep. With his old orderliness he arranges the documents into neat stacks before leaving the office, finding friends in the shadows of the hall he walks down, and he looks forward to embracing you in slumber.

But when the heavy doors slowly open he’s not greeted by the steady sounds of sleep. There’s a figure standing by the bed and at first, Brooklyn wonders if it’s you. Although rare, it wouldn’t be unusual if you needed to get up during the night for a drink of water. But his eyes adjust to the darkness and he notices there’s another figure in the bed and he realizes it’s you, and under the silver moonlight shining coldly through the window he sees patches of blood, and then he hears it - gasps and wheezes, of your life slowly slipping out with every weak breath you take.

The standing assailant, in a familiar uniform but with an unfamiliar visage, turns and charges at Brooklyn, but his thoughts dissolve and blood rushes to his head, and in what he could only comprehend as a fit of vengeful malevolence, disarms the assassin and uses their own dagger to slit their throat.

There’s no time to think, to cry out for help, to identify the killer. He lets the body collapse in a heap to the ground and rushes to your side. He grabs the blankets with shaking hands, trying to use them to stop the bleeding, but even in the darkness of the callous night it’s clear that the wound was deep, your eyes look back at him as frantic as the beating in his heart as he whispers your name over and over like a prayer to the gods, your lips quiver and move as if you’re trying to speak-

For a split second he hears footsteps from behind. Then sparks of lightning shoot through him as he looks down and sees the tip of a blade in his chest and a glimpse of another figure behind him. The next moment he’s engulfed in what feels like hellish flames and a tidal wave of cold sweat, and the last thing Brooklyn feels is the metallic taste of blood in the back of his throat before darkness crashes down, swallowing him whole.

After what feels like simultaneously nothing and all eternity, vague sounds worm through the darkness and slowly give way to light as he lifts his heavy eyelids. Blinking slowly, it takes him a few minutes as he realizes the swarming figures around him are his servants, all in a myriad of emotions. They’re talking fast to him and to each other, moving about in a blurry dance and when with aching limbs he slowly sits up he feels nothing - no warmth, no grief, as empty of a husk as the cold lifeless body laying in bed in front of him.

Act VI: Fog

Brooklyn wasn’t sure how long time had passed since then. It could have been days or weeks, but through it all he feels as though he was drifting through a hazy dream. He has a vague recollection of another duke in the first prince’s faction arrested for the attempted assassination of the Hayes duchy, and that was the last raindrop of the political storm as it allowed for the first prince to quickly lose his influence. He remembers being invited to the royal capital for the second prince’s coronation, but he also remembers declining. Something about entering the sunlight-dappled palace didn’t feel right to him.

There’s a memory of your casket, lovingly decorated with orchids and carnations, and he even remembers placing a stuffed bear inside so you have something to snuggle with while you rest in eternal slumber. But when the priest starts to lead the prayer, it feels like an inferno was lit in his chest- and he leaves, pocketing the memory of your last peaceful expression deep within him.

He remembers his servants and guards leaving one by one - did he let them go? He probably did, solitude suddenly feels more comfortable. And soon the mansion was empty except for him, besides a few friendly townsfolk and old employees who, out of concern, visit him once in a blue moon.

Brooklyn drifts through the greyscale hours of his new everyday, living in the darkness that he suddenly finds comforting until one day without much thought he brews himself tea and realizes that out of habit he’s set out two teacups.

A breeze slips through the cracked window and flits around the empty mansion before leaving a kiss on his hand. The porcelain teacup slips through his fingers and shatters into a million fragments on the carpet, and it feels like a wake-up call to what was his reality.

It sets in that he won’t ever be able to see your uncontainable giddiness at the café, he won’t wake up at dawn to your arm slung over him, he won’t be able to feel your presence and the comfort you brought. All of them, now only existing in his memories.

But closing his eyes the only images he can conjure is one of your frantic expression before slipping away and the restful smile in your coffin and it’s enough to make him crumble.

A torrent of thoughts and emotions race through him and he clutches and claws at anything and everything - his face, his hair, the tablecloth. Anguished sobs rip out of the shell of his former self until there’s nothing left. Sullen eyes glance around the desolate manor and he feels sharp canines piercing his bottom lip, tasting despair.

From then on, all communication ceases from the Hayes duchy. When the newly crowned king sends a messenger to the providence, he is later found as a corpse, pale and empty of life and blood. The same fate meets the next several visitors.

The house is soon abandoned by the kingdom.

Act VII: Grey Skies

The children trade secrets in hushed whispers, spreading their tales of the broken manor hidden in the corner of the town. The brave ones, gathering their wits and curiosity along with their unenthusiastic friends venture to explore, but none make it inside.

The adults walk briskly to and fro through the graying town, still smiling at their children who scamper down the street, but the street vendors are quieter, and there’s no waving at any fancy carriages that run through the town because none come at all.

The elderly speak between themselves of love and nobility; tales of the years before the reign of the current king, how the benevolent lord of the now-gone duchy selflessly protected those who lived within.

But Brooklyn hears none of this, for why does it matter? The life he once knew, so vibrant and beautiful, was ripped and torn away from him, along with you.

And the eternity he must endure for atonement feels so hollow.

He sits, in solitude, in the dust-laden, cobweb-littered mansion.

[sleeping-in-the-sky]

Midnight Drives and 3AM Denny’s (Infinite Blue)

School is stressing you out and Tobias thinks a break is in order.

Tobias x Reader. Reader’s gender or pronouns are not mentioned. Also posted on Ao3 here. 

-----

“So let me get this straight.”

“Hm?”

“It’s 3 am-“

“Yeah.”

“On a weekday-“

“Yep.”

“And yet you dragged me out to drive fifty miles east to the middle of nowhere so we can get Denny’s?” You exclaimed, jabbing a finger at the brightly colored menu.

Tobias looked up at you, looking as innocent as one can with a face full of blueberry pancakes. “I was hungry.”

You sighed. “Okay, fine.” You’ve accepted long ago the reality that was your lover and his bottomless stomach. “But explain the whole driving-fifty-miles-to-nowhere part. We literally live a block away from a iHop.”

Tobias shrugged before taking a bite out of his hash browns. “I couldn’t sleep and you were still slaving away over those notes, so I figured a change in scenery was in order. Hey, it was fun, wasn’t it?”

Your lips pressed into a tight line as your gaze dropped down to your untouched plate of waffles. He was right- the blurring nighttime scenery as the car raced down the freeway, coupled with the whistling wind mixing with the blasting hip hop music were views and sounds that was so much better than staring at the same textbook pages and listening to the same lofi playlist.

Yet, agony and worry still shifted restlessly in your gut.

“But Tobias, the exam is in two days and I’m nowhere near ready. It’s worth a quarter of our grade and you know my professor’s a jackass and if I fail I’m absolutely screwed and-“

“Babe, listen.” A warm hand covered yours, cutting off your rambling and causing you to look up.

Tobias’s expression was full of gentle compassion, yet the ocean blue in his eyes contained a firm certainty; a look you often saw on Bright Light Bets when he was sure he’d win the gamble, and a look that never failed to make your heart skip a beat.

Using his thumb, he started to softly trace invisible circles onto the back of your hand. “You’ll pass,” he began. “I’ve seen you study your ass off from the start of the semester and there’s no way your efforts won’t be rewarded. Trust in the Fox. So enjoy this little outing with me, and let’s cuddle when we get home, yeah?”

With each word Tobias spoke, you could feel the anxiety slowly dissolve. “… Thank you,” you mumbled. “I really mean it.”

He grinned. “No prob. Can I have my payment?”

“What paym-“ you were cut off by your partner pulling you close. For a brief moment, there were no thoughts of exams or midnight drives. Only the view of silky orange strands of hair, the warmth of Tobias’s hand cupping your cheek, and the taste of sugary syrup kisses.

[sleeping-in-the-sky]

Midnight Heist (Infinite Blue)

Leo looked back at you and grinned. “You ready?”

“No,” you retorted. “What are we gonna do if we get caught?”

“Then we run or we hide. And I’ll buy you tomorrow’s lunch as an apology.”

College/Roommate AU, Leo has the brilliant idea of breaking into an abandoned building and drags you along for the ride. Could be read as a romantic or platonic relationship. Reader’s gender or pronouns are not mentioned. Also posted on Ao3 here.

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“Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Probably not, but it’s a fun idea!”

Grimacing at the reply, you glanced around at your surroundings. The campus was dark and mostly deserted, save for the occasional student exiting the library and exhaustedly making their way back to the dorms. If any of them had lifted their head to look a little to their left, they would’ve spotted two figures loitering between a fence and a large tree- nothing short of suspicious.

And they would be right. Who would’ve thought it would be a great idea to sneak into the half-demolished science building, fenced off on all sides with “NO TRESPASSING” signs pasted everywhere?

Leo. Yeah, it was Leo, your roommate, who you swear didn’t calculate the risk of breaking and entering - and yet, you let yourself be dragged along anyway.

The perpetrator in question finished inspecting the fence, looked back at you and grinned. “You ready?”

“No,” you retorted, arms crossed. “What are we gonna do if we get caught?”

“Then we run or we hide. And I’ll buy you tomorrow’s lunch as an apology.”

You raised a brow. Now that was an enticing proposal. “Maybe I should purposely attract attention, then.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” Leo made a face. “Now come on, I’ll boost you up.”

Still grumbling to yourself about how much of an idiot your roommate was and how much of an idiot you were for going along with him, you gingerly placed a foot onto Leo’s clasped hands and grasped the wire fence. He was stronger than he seemed, you realized, as Leo easily lifted you up and supported you as you made your way up and over the barrier. A few seconds later and some squeaking of metal against metal, you safely landed on the other side, Leo following you shortly with an effortless hop onto the ground.

“Now what?” You whispered, eyeing the empty building in front of you, covered in shadows and cracked walls.

“Our aim is for the roof,” Leo whispered back. You could swear you could hear the giddiness in his voice. “I saw a giant hole in the side that we can enter through, come on!”

He sets off in a weird crouch-dash. Maybe it was the energy radiating off of him, but you could feel your reluctance slowly fading, replaced with excitement and adrenaline.

Maybe this wasn’t so bad, you thought, your heart beating rapidly as you hurried to catch up with your best friend.

[sleeping-in-the-sky]

Home (Infinite Blue)

A short one shot between a tired Milo and his partner.

Milo x Reader. Reader’s gender or pronouns are not mentioned. Also posted on Ao3 here.

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When Milo comes home from work, he doesn’t make it a big deal. No giddy jangling of keys, no booming calls of “I’m home.” Instead, he quietly opens the front door and steps inside, and the only indication that your other half had arrived is the small clink of his key dropping into the bowl and the soft meowing as your cat trots up to him.

You lift your gaze from your phone to greet your partner, but unlike most days where he would only bend down to give you a quick peck on the cheek, he instead proceeds to lie down on the couch and on top of you, moving your arm away so he could bury his face into the crook of your neck.

Although bewildered at first, your expression quickly melts into one of gentle compassion. “Long day?”

A muffled grunt came in reply.

Humming softly, you reach up to run your fingers through his brown curls as the man you love dozes off in the comfort of home.