#you are very very kind anon and ily <3 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

headkiss · 10 months

Text

something more

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!bau!reader

summary: you and aaron are friends with feelings more obvious than you think. or: 5 times the team suspects you and hotch are dating +1 time they know it.

word count: 6.6k

warnings: friends to lovers, the team being a little nosy, pining idiots!!!, probably inaccurate descriptions of bau jobs (for the plot!), a very small injury, a birthday, a first kiss, and fluff!

a/n: hiii this one has been a long time coming so thank you guys for being so patient with me!!! and special thanks to the anon who requested this one! i hope u guys enjoy it and please please let me know what you think <3 ily

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Aaron Hotchner was never someone you thought you could be this close to.

Coming to the BAU, you’d been intimidated more than anything. As Unit Chief, he’s got a reputation that’s hard to ignore. Professional, brave, cold when he has to be. His success and talent were undeniable, and all you wanted to do was prove that you belonged there, too.

Then, you really met him, and he surprised you in a way you hadn’t expected. Hotch was kind right off the bat, welcoming you to the team with a smile that felt like some sort of prize.

He was an excellent boss. Understanding and protective, quick to defend anyone on the team like they were his own family. Except, he was so much more than just your boss.

Now, you’d call him your closest friend, someone who’s number you’d call if you were in trouble. He’s your closest friend and yet you feel so much more for him.

It started slow, a friendship blooming the way a plant does with just enough sunlight. It was a shared smile here, a nudge of the shoulder there. It grew to be a seat next to him reserved for you on every plane ride.

Today, it’s eating lunch with him in his office.

Aaron usually works through lunch, more eager to get things done than he is to worry about skipping a meal. Somehow, with two tupperware containers in your hand and a sweet smile, you’d managed to get him to take a break.

“Whatcha doing?” You’d asked.

Hotch looked up from his paperwork then, dropping his pen because you were in his doorway. “You know, Unit Chief business. Reports.”

“Sounds like you have time for lunch, then.” You set the containers down on his desk, making sure to avoid the papers he’d just been working on.

“I should really get this done-”

“Hotch,” you stopped him, “you and I both know that you’re always ahead on this stuff because you stay here so late. Lunch won’t set you back.”

With a shake of his head and the biting back of a smile, a simple twitch at the corners of his mouth, Aaron agreed and stacked his paperwork off to the side.

That’s how you’ve ended up in the chair that’s usually on the opposite side of his desk, only now it’s tugged to be next to his. Your knees touch every so often when one of you shifts, and the warmth stays with you even when the contact is gone.

“Sorry it’s nothing fancy,” you say as he opens the container you brought for him.

“Don’t apologize. It’s great.” Hotch has a way of saying things that make them sound true, no matter how few words he uses, so you accept it.

“Okay, good!” There’s a small silence, a lull as you both take your first bites. “Can I help with anything?”

Aaron looks from the paperwork to your face, your eyes already on his. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to,” you reassure him. “I think sometimes you forget that you aren’t the only one who can do this stuff.”

He knocks his knee against yours. Purposeful this time. A silent ‘thank you.’

“Like you said, I’m ahead anyways. I’ve got it.”

“Come on, Hotch. I’m already done with my report from our last case. I’ve got time. Let me help.”

He’s always been reluctant to accept help, to ask for it, but when you’re asking so sweetly, when it’ll give him an excuse to spend more time with you, it’s hard for Aaron to say no.

“Alright. You help for an hour, that’s it.”

You grin at him, like his acceptance of your offer was some kind of gift he’d given you. Your nose crinkles a little with it, and his hand flexes in his lap, like he’s fighting not to reach out to you.

“Okay, put me to work, boss.”

“We just started lunch,” he says, a little chuckle puffing out.

“Have you ever heard of multitasking, Agent Hotchner?”

Aaron laughs, shaking his head as he reaches for one of the files in the stack he’d made and hands it to you. He’d call everyone at the BAU a friend, but there’s something different, something more about how he’d describe you.

He’s grown closer to you than he usually lets himself get to people, like you’re the only one with the right tools to break through walls he’s put up. You see each other outside of work (on the rare days you aren’t working), and still, he feels like it’s never long enough.

Hotch briefly wonders if he could just move your desk into his office. He shakes off the thought and what it might mean.

Head bent, you’re now focused on the work he gave you, and Aaron takes the chance to admire you. His eyes flick over your profile, the light hitting your cheeks, the flutter of your eyelashes every time you blink.

As if you could feel his gaze on you, you turn towards him and smile—a small, closed-mouth smile, but a smile all the same—before turning your attention back to the page.

When you take a pause and take another bite of your lunch, a small drop of sauce lands on your thigh. “Oh, shit.”

Aaron grabs a tissue from the box on his desk, wrapping it over his fingertip before wiping the small spot from your leg, his finger a spark against you even through your pants.

“Good thing you wore black,” he says, tossing the tissue in the garbage. His hand, however, stays on your leg, and though the touch is light the weight of it feels the opposite. Heavy, huge.

“Good thing you’re here to clean up after me, more like.”

Your eyes meet, and you share a smile with Hotch the way you often do. Mid-conversation, across a room, it’s a smile you sort of reserve for each other.

In the main office below, Derek, Spencer, and JJ stand together, watching the interaction through the window into Hotch’s office. You and Aaron seem to be in your own bubble, completely unaware of your small audience.

“They’ve gotta be together,” Derek is the first to speak, waving a hand towards the office where you and Hotch are talking. “I mean, come on.”

“I don’t know,” JJ shrugs, “they both seem kinda clueless.”

“We probably shouldn’t speculate about them,” Spencer, always the sweetheart, says. “But, statistically, Hotch never eats lunch. Just saying.”

JJ pats Reid on the shoulder, huffing out a laugh before she heads back to her desk.

You stay in Aaron’s office much longer than an hour that day.

Punctuality is important in the BAU. Really, if you’re not early, you’re late. You’ve always got to be ready, wheels up in ten, or five.

You suppose that doesn’t really apply to outside-of-the-office parties at Garcia’s.

It’s rare that you’re all available at the same time, from late nights at the bureau to families, it’s tough to make your schedules line up when you aren’t working, which is why whenever she can, Penelope likes to host drinks for the team.

You’re on your way there now, or, you should be. Instead, you’re getting ready in your bedroom while Aaron waits in your living room.

Hotch has offered to drive you to these things every time, and with every offer, comes your easy answer of ‘yes.’ He’d been outside in his car for five minutes before he decided to call, because you’re usually in his passenger seat within seconds of him pulling over by your building.

The ringing of your phone had your eyes blinking open, squinted against the sudden brightness of your TV. You’d accidentally fallen asleep, and, still disoriented, picked up the phone. “Hello?”

“Hey, everything okay?” It’s Aaron’s voice on the other line, and you pull your phone away for a second to check the time before sitting up quickly.

“Shit, Hotch, I must’ve fallen asleep. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright, I can wait for you.” He’d wait as long as you need, he thinks. The thought passes through like a leaf blown in the wind, freely, randomly.

“Have you been waiting long?” You ask, fingers tugging at a loose thread in your pants.

“No, don’t worry. Barely five minutes.”

And he still wanted to check on you.

“Why don’t you come in? My couch is probably more comfortable than your car, right?”

“You sure?” He checks, like he hasn’t been to your place before, like you’d ever not want him there.

“Get in here, Hotchner.”

You hung up before he could reply, and he laughed to himself in his car before shutting it off and doing exactly what you’d told him.

So, now, you’re rushing to find an outfit while Aaron sits on your couch by himself.

Even though he’s in the next room, you can feel his presence around you, the steady security he gives you, the warmth that seeps out of him even when he tries to hide it.

You settle on a knitted sweater, a skirt, and some tights, which you realize as you tug them on aren't the speediest of options, but it’s too late to change your mind now. With your hair figured out and the mascara that had smudged during your nap fixed, you step back out into the living room.

Aaron made himself at home while you were gone (he often feels that way with you, at home), sitting on your couch with his arms spread across the back. He looks better than he should there, suit stretched across his shoulders, and you have to clear your throat to snap yourself out of it.

“Okay, sorry again for the delay. I’m ready to go.”

He looks up as soon as you walk in, eyes skimming over your legs and the tights wrapped around them, your waist, up your neck. His gaze lands on your eyes the way it often does, like magnets.

He shakes his head, “don’t be sorry. We’ll be what they call ‘fashionably late.’”

You laugh, because who would’ve thought that the words ‘fashionably late’ would ever come out of Aaron Hotchner’s mouth.

“Who taught you that one, huh?”

“I like to keep my sources anonymous.”

“Well okay, then. Let’s go be fashionably late, Hotch.”

He lets you lead the way to the car, only jogging up ahead to open your door before you can reach it yourself.

During the drive to Penelope’s, you take control of the music with little objection from Aaron, and when it gets to a song you know he likes, you sing along, encouraging him to do the same.

“Let’s hear it, Agent Hotchner.” You hold your fist out like there’s a microphone in it, looking at him with a grin on your face.

“I can't sing.” Aaron’s fighting off a smile, because you’re sitting beside him, not too shy to sing along, being all cute and, briefly, he thinks about reaching out and grabbing your hand and holding on.

“Sure you can! Everyone can sing, come on.” You unfurl your faux microphone-holding fist and tug on the knot of his tie, “loosen up a little.”

And, because you have some way of convincing him of things—first lunch, now this—he humors you by joining in for one chorus of the song. When your eyes light up a little, and your grin only widens, he can’t bring himself to be too concerned of how bad he probably sounds.

By the time you’re at Garcia’s door you’re a solid hour late, yet you and Aaron walk up to the door with matching smiles all the same.

“I’m getting you to do that every time I hear that song now, I hope you know.”

“That was a one time special,” he says. He reaches over your shoulder to knock on the door. His hand brushes against you, featherlight and quick, a crackle over your skin.

On the other side, Morgan says, “must be the lovebirds” when he hears the sound.

You and Aaron don’t hear him, only broken out of your little shared bubble when Penelope opens the door. “There you guys are! I made your drinks but the ice might be melted by now. You know, ‘cause you’re late.”

You know this is directed towards you more than it is Hotch, because Garcia’s a little intimidated by him still. You also know she’s only joking, and greet her with a hug before stepping in.

Aaron isn’t far behind you, though at these things, he never is.

You’re met with warm greetings from the team when you walk in, and you chat for a bit, but it isn’t long before things split off into smaller conversations. They all know that Aaron drives you to these things, and, as profilers, they’re also all able to see the way you look at each other, the way the knot of his tie sits lower than usual.

In the corner, Emily leans over to Derek, saying, “usually it takes at least two drinks for Hotch’s tie to look like that.”

“I told you, they’re together,” Derek shrugs.

“I don’t think they know that,” Emily replies.

This time, Aaron hears them, and he can’t help but look towards you in the room the rest of the night, thinking and thinking and thinking.

He ends up deciding that they might have a point. That maybe, that shift in his heartbeat when you’re around isn’t nothing, isn’t just friends.

The flight home from a case always feels the longest.

On the way there, you’re packing every hour with information about what’s going on, talking to Garcia, reading police reports. You’re all on edge, eager to get out there and help and do your jobs,

Then, on the way home, with another case solved, all you’re thinking about is going home, sleeping in your own bed, and time seems to go slower.

If your name happens to be Aaron Hotchner, you’d spend the plane ride home doing paperwork that actually can wait.

You and Aaron sit next to each other on pretty much every flight, though the seats have never been assigned. It’s an unspoken thing, like your names are written on the fabric of the same two seats on the jet and that’s just the way it is.

The first time was early on in your time on the team. It was a tough case for you, and Hotch seemed to know it without you having to say anything, so, when you got on the jet to come home, he smiled that small, twitch of his lips smile at you and nodded at the seat next to him. You’ve been sitting there ever since.

Today, your flight is on the shorter side, but feels long the way it always does. Trying to keep yourself occupied, you pull out your earbuds and shuffle your playlist, hoping that the songs will speed things up.

“Sick of me already?” Hotch speaks up when he notices your headphones.

You tilt your head to look at him. He looks tired, the way you’re sure you do, too, but never any less handsome. His eyes are soft where they meet yours, paired with a hint of a smile that you’re always able to catch.

“Sick of you, Hotch? Never.” You nod at the file he has open on the small table, “just didn’t want to distract you.”

“I thought you enjoyed distracting me. Always telling me I work too much.”

“‘Cause it’s true,” you say. “That doesn’t mean you listen.”

“I listen to you more than I listen to most people.” Aaron’s voice is gentle when he says it, the words sinking in and melting you just a little, sugary sweet. It could mean absolutely nothing, but with the way he keeps his eyes steady on yours, you don’t think it does.

“Listen to this, then,” you hand him one of your earbuds, and his fingers brush yours when he takes it from you. “But you can’t make fun of me if a musical soundtrack comes on, okay?”

“Okay,” he huffs a small laugh, and you feel a little brighter. “I promise.”

You’re aware of the team having their own conversations in the rows in front of you and Hotch, but you can’t bring yourself to join in, because you and Aaron are sharing your earbuds and his head is bent just a little closer to yours. It’s delicate, and you’ll do your best not to break it.

You talk a little longer, until it naturally fizzles out and Hotch is back to working on his files and you’re bobbing your head along to your songs. Only now, Aaron sits closer to you, his arm against yours.

He’s not sure what to do with his newfound realization that his feelings for you run far deeper than friendship. All Aaron knows is that he likes the feeling of you beside him, and that he’s planning on keeping you there as long as you’ll let him.

It’s quiet between the two of you aside from your occasional ‘this is a good one,’ and his hum of acknowledgement.

Eventually, you’re relaxed enough that your eyes grow heavy, the sleep you’ve been lacking suddenly catching up to you, and when you hit a patch of slower songs you’re fighting to stay awake.

When your head lulls onto Hotch’s shoulder, you jerk your head up, “sorry, Aaron.”

His chest does something funny. A jump. It’s not often you call him Aaron, and he’d listen to the sound of his name on your lips on a loop if he could. Because he can’t help himself, he scooches himself even closer to you.

He decides to call you something different, too, saying, “it’s alright, honey.”

You’re too sleepy to really read into that one, all you feel is the flutter in your stomach and Aaron’s hand on your head, gently guiding it to his shoulder.

When he’s sure you’re asleep, Hotch looks away from his files and over to you. Your cheek is squished against his shoulder, your lashes fanned shut. He thinks you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen.

Aaron doesn’t even feel the smile that spreads over his face as he reaches up and pushes your hair away from your face. He’s completely unaware of the eyes that catch him, far too focused on you.

Emily turned around when she realized she hadn’t heard your voice in a bit, and she did it just in time to catch Hotch’s movement. Instead of saying something, she turns back around and shakes her head to herself.

Hopeless, she thinks.

Sleep doesn’t come so easily with this job, with the things you see, so Aaron can’t help but try and stay steady for you, and if that leads to him letting his eyes close and resting his head on yours, then so be it.

It’s not until the end of the flight that the team checks on the two of you. As everyone stands and grabs their go bags, they notice the two of you, asleep next to each other, earbud wires hanging between you.

“Should we wake them up?” JJ asks.

“Hotch doesn’t get enough sleep as it is,” Spencer chimes in. “Neither does she, actually.”

Of course, Derek finishes with, “let’s leave the lovebirds to it,” before the team gets off the plane.

It’s only about twenty minutes later that Aaron does wake up, but he feels more well-rested than he has in a while, even with the kink in his neck.

Blinking his eyes open, he’s met with an empty jet and the comforting weight of your head on his shoulder. “Shit,” he sighs.

He debates waking you, ultimately deciding that you’d probably rather sleep in your bed rather than the seat of the BAU’s jet. Reaching up, he pulls your earbuds away, setting them on the table. With a brush of his fingertips to your cheek, he coaxed you awake.

“Hey, honey,” Aaron’s nearly whispering, like he’s afraid to scare you. Or, maybe, he’s convinced that if he moves too quickly, too loudly, this whole thing will fade away as if he’d been dreaming. “Wake up, we’re home.”

“Hm?” You grumble, scrunching your nose when he brushes your cheek again.

“We fell asleep, but we landed.”

“Oh, god.” You sit up properly, lifting your head. “I’m sorry, Aaron. Hotch.”

“Aaron is good,” he eases you. “Come on, I’ll drive you.”

Sleep-hazed, or maybe just happy that he can be Aaron to you, you agree easily and take his hand when he offers it, letting him lead you to his car.

You’ve been spending more time at Aaron’s ever since that flight. In the car, he’d convinced you to stay over at his place in the guest room, since it was closer. With your go bag already in his car and heavy, sleepy eyes, it was hard for you to do anything but agree.

It’s another slice of his life that he’s let you see, and you can’t help but feel like it means something, like you’re stepping further and further away from being coworkers who are friends and towards something different. Something more.

That flight feels like the catalyst, the thing that caused things to shift into what they are now.

Aaron’s couch is much more comfortable than yours, and though you’ve yet to spend the night again, you’re sitting there with him at almost every chance. The time off you get is rare, and Aaron wanting to spend it with you sends flutters to your stomach whenever you think about it.

You feel like you know him better, getting to see his space, how he chose to decorate, what colors he likes, which ones he doesn’t. You also know what temperature he likes to set his thermostat.

“Do you enjoy living in a refrigerator?” You ask, hands tucked into your sleeves. “Just wondering.”

Aaron laughs, a small huff, “I think you just run cold, honey.”

He’s been calling you that a lot, too. Honey.

“No way, Hotchner. Your house is what runs cold. Or maybe you’re cold-blooded.”

Not with you, he thinks. Years and years of doing what he does, Hotch might even call himself cold when he’s thinking a little too hard. But never cold with you. He thinks that might be impossible for him.

“Shhh, don’t tell anyone my secret,” he says, his arm brushing against yours from where he sits next to you on his couch. “Where are you cold?”

“Can’t feel my toes, Aaron. I might be out of commission for the next case.”

“Well we can’t lose our best girl, can we?” Best girl, he says. Like he means it, like it’s simple. “I’ve got some thick socks you can grab. Bottom drawer.”

Just like that, he’s cracked another wall of his down even further, giving you permission to go into his bedroom as if you’ve been in there a thousand times.

“Really?”

“Unless you’d rather not feel your toes-“

“Okay, okay,” you stop him, unable to fight your smile. “Thanks, Aaron.”

When you stand and head towards his room, Aaron can’t stop himself from thinking that you belong there, in his home, his room, his life. You fit in so seamlessly he wishes you’d never leave.

He stands up too, because the couch suddenly feels sort of empty without you beside him, without your warmth. He walks over to his thermostat on the wall and turns it up for you.

You’ve always thought that you can tell a lot about a person from where they live, and seeing Aaron’s bedroom now solidifies it. His place does too, but there’s something about his bedroom that feels much more personal.

Here, there’s more of him, little bits of his life scattered around. A picture of him as a kid with his parents on the dresser, the newspaper’s crossword sitting completely finished on his nightstand, his bed neatly made.

You smile at the framed photo before slipping the top drawer open and finding the pair of socks he’d been talking about. As much as you’d love to snoop, you don’t want to invade his privacy in any way. Besides, from Aaron, even a glimpse of his space feels special.

You slip on the socks before you leave his room, letting them bunch at your ankles.

As soon as you walk back into the living room, Aaron’s phone rings. Glancing at you softly, almost apologetically though he’s got nothing to be sorry about—you work with him, you know how important a call can be—he picks it up.

“Hotchner,” he says, holding it to his ear. His voice is different this way, more professional, controlled. Never any less pleasing to hear.

He’d wanted to say something about how good you look in his clothes when his phone rang, Garcia’s name flashing on the screen. Aaron wishes it was someone else, only to spend more time with you this way.

“Sorry to call late, sir,” Penelope says. “We’ve got a case. Missing kid; it’s urgent.”

“Don’t be sorry, Garcia. We’re on our way.”

“Wait, we?” She asks, curious as always.

“What’s going on?” You ask Aaron.

“Got a case. I’ll drive, honey.” He lets the pet name slip, like it’s a habit.

On the other line, Garcia’s grinning to herself in her office. She’d had a suspicion of who on the team Hotch would be with outside of work, and hearing your voice, and his use of the word ‘honey’ all sticky sweet, she knows she’s onto something.

“Oh, that’s ‘we,’” Penelope’s voice teases. “Tell her I’ll see you guys soon!”

Aaron shakes his head, fighting his smile. “Bye, Garcia.”

He hangs up and looks from his phone to you, your eyes already on him, corners of your mouth tugged up just a little like you’d heard what Garcia said, heard the lilt in her voice. Like you liked the idea of you and Aaron being a unit. We.

He likes that idea, too.

Back at the BAU, Garcia calls Derek next, who picks up with his classic, “hey, babygirl.”

First, she tells him that he needs to come into the office, that they’ve got a case, then, “you’re never going to believe this.”

Penelope loves to talk, and Derek’s happy to listen, so she tells him about how you’d been with Aaron when she called, and that you were on your way together.

“I give them another week, max, before they’re holding hands when they come in.” Derek laughs, because he can see yours and Hotch’s feelings so easily, plain as day, and he loves to be right about things.

“How mad will Hotch be when he finds out that we talk about his relationship?” Penelope’s mostly joking, only a fraction concerned.

“If the boss didn’t want us talking about it, he shouldn’t be so obvious, sweetheart.”

Once you arrive at the office, you don’t catch Penelope and Derek’s shared looks behind yours and Aaron’s—who happens to be carrying both his and your go bag—backs.

And if anyone notices the loose socks around your ankles, they don’t say anything about it.

You’re not supposed to go off on your own unless it’s absolutely necessary. You know that, the team knows that. Aaron, who is always trying to keep you as safe as possible, enforces it.

You guess that this time might be up for debate.

When it comes to what you do, you have to trust your instincts most of the time. And today, your gut told you to make a decision that might not have been safe, but to you, it felt like what you had to do.

Aaron had been on the phone with you, trying to figure out a way to make the car drive any faster to get to you. He’d heard it in your voice, in the tone of it, that he couldn’t convince you to wait for someone else to show up.

“I have to do this, Aaron,” you’d said. While the team would normally probably tease him about you calling him Aaron, as if it isn’t his name, they’d known not to interrupt this time. “You know I do.”

“You don’t have to.” His hands tightened on the steering wheel as he spoke. “We’ll be there soon, alright? Just-”

“I’m sorry.” And then, you hung up.

In the end, going in when you did had been the right move. A life had been saved, and you’d slowed the guy down enough that the police were able to arrest him when they arrived. All it cost you was a cut and a bruise on your cheek.

So, your instincts weren’t so bad.

Aaron, however, disagrees. Logically, he knows that he would’ve done the exact same thing you did, knows the rest of the team would’ve, too. But when it comes to you, he has a hard time thinking logically.

After you hung up on him, all he could do was breathe and breathe and breathe over the heavy thumping of his heartbeat and the worry spinning in his head. He drove the quickest he could manage, the car silent inside. A static.

It’s not that he doubts your abilities—he’s always thought you were incredible, even before the friendship, even before now—only that the idea of you being alone with such a bad man makes him feel sick.

He’d take your place in a heartbeat, if he could, just to make sure you’d be safe.

By the time he and the rest of the team get to the scene, you’re walking out of the building with a hand pressed to your cheek and a paramedic leading you to a nearby ambulance.

Aaron spots you right away, his eyes scanning the small crowd through red and blue lights and conversations surrounding him. When he spots you, everything goes quiet.

His first thought is, thank god she’s alive, then, it’s fuck, she’s hurt.

Without a word to anyone, he heads over in your direction right away. He meets you at the ambulance, where you sit on the small bench inside while the paramedic presses your cheek with gauze.

“Honey.” It comes out in a breath. Relief and pain all at once.

You look over to him, his hair a little messy, his eyes wide and roaming all over you like he’s checking for any other injuries. He cares about you, and it’s written all over him.

“Aaron. I’m okay.” You hold a hand out, and he grabs it, sitting beside you on the bench in the ambulance. “Promise.”

For now, he nods, letting the paramedic do their job bandaging up your cheek. When they’re finished, they hand you a spare bandage saying, “it’s gonna bruise, and it might feel sore for a bit, but you’re all patched up.”

The paramedic leaves after that, probably going to check on other people. The lights inside the ambulance seem to cocoon you, a bright difference to the darkness outside.

The first thing Aaron says is, “let me see.”

His hands reach for your face, rough fingertips gently holding your jaw, tilting you so that he can look at your cheek. It’s a little swollen, discolored where you must’ve been hit. There’s a furrow in his brow, something that looks like a pout on none other than Aaron Hotchner.

“Hey,” you grab his wrists, but his hands stay on your face. “I’m fine.”

Aaron’s always worried, he’s always cared about you and about everyone on the team, but this is different. He was usually able to hide things much better than this. Much better than with you.

Now, all he sees is the tiny bloodstain on your shirt and the bandage on your cheek. All he feels is your hands squeezing his wrists and your eyes locked on his.

“You should have waited,” he says. “I could have been there.”

“Hotchner,” your deadpan tone is intact, which he’ll take as a win, even if it’s directed towards him. “You and I both know you would have done the same. I had to.”

One of his hands shifts to cup your non-injured cheek. Normally, he’d be much more composed while working, but he can’t bring himself to care about how he must look right now.

“I know you did,” he tells you, because he does. “I just wish that you didn’t. I don’t like seeing you hurt.”

Your stomach is tumbling, rolling, your heart doing silly things in your chest. You can hardly feel the pain of your cheek anymore when his hand is on the other, his palm warm against your skin, his gaze even warmer.

“I’m hardly hurt, Aaron. Just a scratch.”

“Right. One that required medical attention. That’s more than just a scratch, honey.”

“If you say so, Hotchner.”

He shifts his hands so that they fall into your lap, palms up and fingers instantly finding yours, tangling together perfectly. Like puzzle pieces.

“Good job, by the way.” Hotch rubs his thumb over your skin once, back and forth. “You did the right thing.”

“Learned from the best,” you say.

You’re both oblivious to the fact that the team is watching from a distance, and that the two of you look so lovesick it’s ridiculous that you haven’t spilled your feelings yet. You’re both absolutely fucked.

Where she stands with the team, Emily shakes her head, “I haven’t seen Hotch like this since… ever.”

Beside her, JJ merely shrugs, like it’s obvious, “yeah, they’re in love.”

Spencer looks at you and Aaron in that ambulance with a smile. “The odds of you guys being right are very, very high.”

Aaron Hotchner was never the biggest fan of birthdays. Was never big into the cakes and making wishes, the song and the presents and the fuss of it all.

When he started at the bureau, it stayed that way. Days off were rare enough as it was, so he’d always work on his birthday. And while he kept the signed cards from the team, he treated it as any other day. Nothing special.

This year, you’re on a mission to change that.

While it isn’t the first of Aaron’s birthdays you’ve spent with him, it’s the first one since the two of you have grown as close as you have, since you’ve felt the way you do. You’re just hoping to make it a good birthday for him.

You’ve roped the whole team into it. Decorating the conference room with streamers and balloons and a sign that hangs crooked on the wall, bringing in a cake that reads ‘Happy Birthday Hotch’ in frosting, and keeping it all a secret.

Of course, you’ve all already said happy birthday to him, and you’ve got a present stashed under your desk for later, but you’ve been doing your best to act natural even when the anticipation of your surprise for him eats at your stomach a little.

Surprises are a tricky thing, and there’s no way of knowing whether he’ll like it or not. You’ll just have to wait and see.

While in his office, the team had made it seem like they’d all left for the day, saying their goodbyes to Hotch. Instead of leaving, though, they’ve been hidden in the conference room waiting for you to bring him in.

“Aaron,” you say, knocking on his office door. “I think I lost an earring. Do you think you could help me look for it?”

Because you’re the one asking, Aaron says, “‘course, honey. Where do you think it is?”

You smile, because he’s fallen into your trap easily, because you know that he probably would search for an earring with you if you’d actually lost one.

“I remember having it on in the conference room, so maybe there.”

He stands from his desk, gesturing for you to lead the way with his hand held out. You grab onto it before he can drop it, tangling your fingers and leading him behind you.

Aaron lets you guide him, and when you open the door to the conference room and flick on the lights, he’s met with the team’s grinning faces and a chorus of, “surprise!”

For a moment, he’s speechless, frozen in his spot in the doorway with your hand in his.

No, Aaron’s never been the biggest fan of birthdays, but maybe that’s because nobody’s ever done something like this for him. You came into his life all sweet smiles and now you’re throwing him a surprise party? He’s never ever liked someone the way he likes you.

So much that like is spilling into a four letter word and he’s happy to let it.

You know him well enough to know that he doesn’t like being the center of attention too much, so the only people in the room are those of the BAU. His closest friends. And you, his favorite person.

Before he can say anything he’s being spoken to by the team, getting a ‘happy birthday, boss,’ from Derek, a spill about how hard it was to keep this a secret from Penelope, a grin from Spencer, a tip about how you’d organized all of this from Emily, a squeeze to the shoulder from JJ.

When he finally gets the chance, the others split into their own conversations, Aaron tugs you aside to the corner of the room.

“You did all of this for me?” He asks, head bent to catch your eye.

Although you’d caught the signature Hotchner smile—closed-mouthed and quick—when he saw the surprise, you’re nervous about what he might say. You worry that you’ve done too much, that he’d been pretending to like it for your sake.

“I’m sorry if it’s a bit much,” you start, anxiously tugging at your sleeves. “I wasn’t sure if you liked surprises, I know not everyone does, but I wanted to do something for you because I care about you. A lot. And birthdays are meant to be celebrated, you know?”

Aaron can’t help but let a smile spread over his face as you speak; a real smile. His heart is light, his feelings for you melting through him like the soft pink of cotton candy. He doesn’t think you could ever do anything that he wouldn’t like.

“I’ll clean it all up, too, I prom-”

Your rambling is cut off with his lips on yours. He’s kissing you.

It’s soft, the press of his mouth against yours, and it takes you a second to push back. It stays delicate, a dance between the two of you like you’d practiced a million times before.

His hands skate down your arms to hold your hands, weaving his fingers with yours, squeezing like he’s making sure you know this is real.

You feel it all over, your stomach tumbling, your heart beating in a rhythm that thumps his name. Aaron, Aaron, Aaron, over and over.

It’s a kiss worth a thousand words that you haven’t said yet, a kiss full of feelings and meaning and you know it, just by the way he does it, because you know him and he knows you. It’s you and Aaron, and it feels like the beginning of something huge. Of the rest of your life, maybe.

When he pulls back, Hotch rests his forehead against yours, giving your head a gentle nudge, locking his brown eyes on yours.

“It’s perfect,” he says.

The next thing you hear is Derek Morgan cheering, “I knew it!”

Similar words come from the rest of the team.

“Finally,” from Emily.

“About time,” from JJ.

“This isn’t surprising,” from Spencer, who smiles while saying it.

A sweet, “yay,” from Penelope.

Distracted by Aaron kissing you, you’d sort of forgotten they were there. Bashful, you tuck your head beneath Aaron’s chin, forehead against his collar. He simply tightens his hands around yours.

And when it’s time for cake, this year, Aaron Hotchner makes a wish on his birthday candles. He wishes to spend every other birthday just like this. With you.

༄

thank you so so much for reading!!! if you liked it, please please please consider reblogging/commenting and letting me know what you thought! love you <3

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churipu · 9 months

Note

Idk if u take requests rn, but if you do, could you write fluffy moments with jjk men (pls include toji, i rlly wanna see him w fluff because there is like none) you fav would be cuddling, but you do whatever you want <3 Also, don't stress yourself when writing i, and please take breaks <33

JJK MEN + FLUFFY MOMENTS (๑ > ᴗ < ๑)

featuring. toji fushiguro, gojo satoru, nanami kento x reader

warnings. jjk men being softies

note. i just read the most heart wrenching nanami fic, i think i'm not okay at all </3 but hi anon, thank you for requesting this — this is exactly what i needed after reading angst. i apologize if it took a long time to get this out omg, i hope you like it.

and guys, omg???? 700+ followers? i genuinely never expected my works to be recognized by so much, and meeting new writers here and there, making friends, makes me so happy (i'm not crying) i love u all so so so so much, u guys rock, ily all <;33

TOJI FUSHIGURO

hated talking about the future, but ever since he met you — he rambles about it.

toji has always thought his future was nothing interesting, he kills people for a living, gets money off of it and he gambles. that's about it, so what was there to think about in the future?

meeting you was the firsts to a lot of things in his life.

toji grew up in a loveless household full of anger, and lust for power. which is why he is who he is today. distant, aloof, detached. people tell him he'd be nothing without his strength and face, there is no denying that toji fushiguro has a face card. he knows that.

so when he first met you, all he expected was like every other day. people caring about his face, and only that — and he'd play along although he's had enough of it, but no; you didn't care about all that.

face, money, strength. none of that.

he vaguely remembered the first time you spoke to him: "hey, mind helping me grab that box of cereal?" and he expected you to hit on him after, but you left it at that, muttering out a thanks and then leaving him in the aisle alone.

then for some reason he meets you again, the very next month. asking him the exact same thing, asking for help to take the cereal box which happened to be on the very top of the shelf. god knows why, both you and him just made it a routine every month after that. no communications about meeting and all. you both kind of just, met right in the cereal aisle on one particular day in the month, and then leave.

on the fifth month, he finally asks for your number.

"toji, is that your way of asking me out? because if it is, i'm disappointed."

"maybe."

and then you both kind of just sealed it; you're dating. nothing much changed, every month both you and him still go to the cereal aisle — he still helps you with grabbing the box from the shelf. the only difference was that now the two of you leave together.

toji hates talking about his future. but with you? he could go on for a whole day. he rambles about what he thinks and what he wants in the future with you.

"i wan' to get married. i wan' to marry you," did it caught you by surprise? yes. yes it did, "i wan' to have a family with you, a nice little family. i wan' to have a son so i could throw him around — but a girl is okay too, i can protect her from boys, i'll love them both equally. but i don't think i'll be a good dad to them. i'm scared they won't like me."

"toji, what? where did that come from?"

his back was pressed to your chest as you both lay down on the bed, one of your leg draped over his torso and he has his hand on your plush thigh, squeezing it every once in a while.

"i don't know. just a thought, i never talked about my future with anyone before," his body vibrated as he grunted, leaning his head back a bit, "i just don't think i'll be a good father, y'know?" he squeezed your thigh.

"why do you think so?" you asked him, placing your chin on the crown of his head.

"i just think so."

"stop thinking then," you chuckles, draping an arm around his neck, caressing his throat so softly it made the male shudder under your touch — but he didn't mind, he took comfort under your skin.

"can't." his voice was not stern or bold, it was soft and serene. he laced his fingers with yours, kissing your knuckles gently, "i can't believe 'm saying this, but 'm worried about my future. 'm a little scared."

just the fact he was admitting that he's scared about something was mind boggling, because the toji fushiguro? who kills people? was admitting that he was actually terrified of something, which wasn't even the strongest sorcerer. it's his future.

you were silent, letting him talk because when else would he be able to be like this?

"'m terrified. 'm scared i won't make you happy. what if i don't make you happy? what if my kids hate me?" so many questions that you don't even have the answer to, but you placed your hand over his lips, shutting him up.

toji grumbled, he swiped his tongue over your palm.

"ew!" you laugh, wiping your hand on his shirt, "but why're you suddenly talking about this all? which videos have you been watching again?"

"nothing, can't i think about my own future with you?" he shuffles, turning to face you, prepping an arm under his head as he stares down at you. not in the condescending way — he stared at you with so much desperation for love, he slowly blinks, the glint in his eyes never changing.

"why out of the blue?"

"jus' because."

you poked his cheek, "liar."

he sighs, latching his hand onto your hips, pulling you close. he buries his head into your shoulder in content, "jus' worried about it, i never think about my future in the past. but now — with you, i jus' worry about it because i didn't think i'd make it 'till now."

you chuckled, rubbing the back of his head lightly, "you remember that one time in the park when you see that little boy crying over spilled ice cream?"

he hums softly.

"and you bought him another ice cream, but asked me to be the one to give it to him because you were scared you'd scare him off instead?" you ask him, your fingers tangling with his hair lightly.

"yeah."

"you'll be fine, toji." you tell him.

"y'think so?" he retorts back, squirming a bit.

"i know so."

GOJO SATORU

he has to know about everything that you like, he needs to know why you like them. every. single. thing.

gojo chased after you. you were one tough cookie, he likes a chase. he's so used to people fawning over his looks that when you didn't — he just has to know your name.

the curiosity to know your name ended up pulling him in a spiral of this little thing called "love". gojo swore it was just curiosity, but everyone else besides him thinks otherwise, he promised himself and people around that he didn't like you, he was just, well, curious.

but curiosity doesn't look like that. gojo finds himself asking people about what type of boys you like, and when he finds out about it — he tries his best to be your type. he promised he was just curious.

gojo tries finding out what your favorite flower is, and when he finds out about it, he's out there sending big bouquets of it to you. he promised he was just curious.

gojo tries finding out what your favorite genre of music is, and when he finds out, he listens to them so he could talk about it with you. he promised he was just curious.

gojo tries finding out what your favorite series or movie is, and when he finds out, he watches them all intently so he could talk about them with you and hate on characters together with you. and he still promises that he was just curious.

he was just curious, he kept telling that to himself. so why does it bother him when you were out with another guy? another guy that's not him. not gojo satoru.

gojo asks you about who it was, and when you tell him it's nobody important, he gets upset about it.

"why are you so upset?"

"i'm just..curious."

"it's none of your business."

he left it at that. his whole week was ruined, he couldn't stop thinking about it. about you. and then he finally realizes, he wasn't curious — he was in love. so there he was, in front of your door at two in the morning.

"what?"

"who was that guy?"

"gojo, you're still onto that?" you ask him, tired, "i said it's none of your business. you're here at two just to ask me about that?"

"it's my business because i'm in love with you, damn it!"

gojo was half grateful when you told him it was your distant cousin, but half embarrassed as well. all's well ends well. he gets you in the end, and he doesn't have to worry about anything else — nothing in the world matters to him but you.

"baby, what do you recommend?" was one of the most spoken phrases he has delivered to you.

in restaurants, dessert bars, convenience store, movie theaters, anything you could recommend him, he'd ask for it.

"why do you always ask? don't you have your own preference, satoru? i'm not even sure if you'll like my recommendations though," he smiles at you, tracing small circled on the back of your hand.

"i want to know about everything that you like, and why you like them. i want to know everything about you," you look at him and smiled, honestly, what did we ever do to deserve him?

"why?"

"because i love you." yeah, he wasn't just curious. he's in love. and deep.

NANAMI KENTO

he always orders food that you like, and shares some with you — even if you didn't ask for it.

nanami never expected to be in relationships. in fact, relationships was the last thing in his mind — but when he met you, he just kind of felt attracted. he seeks for your comfort whenever he's tired, and when you weren't there, nanami just sort of drowns in himself until he could see you or hear your voice.

at the beginning of your relationship, nanami was never the one to initiate things because he wasn't an experienced male in relationships. you ask him and he just sort of do it without any other complaints.

but as time goes on, he get the hang of it. what he should do and what he shouldn't — it's adorable, he's started doing things that he never thought he would do in his life, but here he was sitting by your side; peeling apples for you because you wanted them.

"kento, eat some. it's going to be finished by the time you finish peeling every one of them," you joked, your legs on top of his thighs.

nanami hums softly, "it's okay. as long as you like it."

nanami doesn't realize the weigh of his sweet words sometimes, he does it and asks himself to why you were reacting like that. sweet talk is his vocabulary. he says it with no worries, telling you things you've always wanted to hear but never say.

but one thing that always stuck to him and you from the first time you got close up to now was: nanami always orders things that you like. you never understood the reason behind it, and when you tried asking him about it, he just tells you he was craving it.

it didn't seem odd at first — but as time goes on, his whole taste was just an exact copy of yours.

if you get something different than your usual menu, nanami will get your usual menu because he knows damn well that you're going to end up wanting them. although you don't tell him when the food comes, nanami makes it his job to share with you. and that's really sweet of him.

but when you get your usual menu, nanami orders something with elements that you like in them and shares them with you even without you asking for a bite. and not only that, he didn't share a spoonful — he shared a lot.

"ken, you don't have to share with me. i have my own food." you tell him, despite your heart tugging you to just let him share because you were too shy to say that you wanted a bite.

"it's alright sweetheart. i'm a little full." he lies. he ends up snacking on something on midnight, and it's now a routine.

so in exchange for that, you always make it your job to stock up foods ranging from small snacks like biscuits, chips, up to instant or pre-heated food. even cutting up fruits so nanami could snack on it, and he caught on to it pretty quick.

but he didn't complain, he likes it when you do it.

"ken, i cut out some mangoes and dragon fruit. you can eat them if you're hungry."

"thank you y/n."

mutual wins.

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jinxs-gf · 6 months

Text

beauty is in the eye of the beholder

pairings: jinx x reader

summary: You’re an artist, giddy at the thought of creating a portrait of Jinx, your lover. Except she can’t understand why you’d want a portrait of her.

content, warnings: jinx has cute aggression & insecurities, fluff! reader calls jinx ‘angel’ and jinx calls r her toots, too much description and it’s all barely edited D: pretty cringe but it’s okay

w.c. 2.2k

a.n. based off this request <3 again tysm anon ILY :)

You walk into the little corner of Jinx's room (the abandoned, giant space full of nothingness—that goes down...who knows how far) exclusively reserved for you. There's easels with and without canvases. Some covered in abandoned art, some finished, and some blank. The corner screamed you all over it. Especially the mess of unnecessary amounts of paint brushes, buckets, pencils, tore up paper...

Paint splotches and spills were scattered across your little desk and the floor (the work of you and Jinx).

There's particular squabbles of paint that you don’t mind. A happy face with a squiggly smile that's been there long enough to start chipping away. An uneven mess of hearts scattered in attempt to make the perfect one. Big words that read "I love you" in blue and smaller words next to it, "jinx waz here" in pink. The newest stain is on one of the many cans of your desk, a mark of her kiss. She'd quite literally painted her lips with bright purple and kissed the can, insisting it was there so her toots would never miss her.

Even though there's no time to miss her. Even though she resorts to bringing her work over to your tiny desk instead of keeping it to her very spacious one. You don't mind, the closer to your girlfriend the better. You pretend to be bothered though, only so she'd persist and annoy and squish into your space further.

You tie the apron, generously gifted by Silco, around yourself, excited to (hopefully) start a new, special project. It was gifted reluctantly of course. He tried to make it seem like it wasn't a big deal, but it was a very big deal. The eye of Zaun gift giving? Unheard of. You must be special. And you were, according to your blue haired menace that reminded you everyday. The very menace you affectionately named Angel.

"Toots!"

Jinx's gloved hands wrap around your body and suddenly, your back is crunched to her front. Her hands squeeze your tummy while nuzzling her face into you. Clearly she had missed you...for the whole minute you were separated.

It's like she can tell you were thinking it, "What? You didn't miss me while you were gone? You don't seem so excited I'm here." She's teasing like she always does. The edge and rasp in her voice so close to your neck doing wonders to the butterflies in your stomach.

But of course Jinx missed you. Could you really blame her? She hates every second you're apart, and she loves that you do too. So she's open about it, maybe more dramatic and a bit of a show off, but only to make you laugh and see you turn bashful. She loves getting you shy with her affections and teasing, unable to fathom the way you're wrapped around her finger the way she's wrapped around yours.

Your hands delicately grab her small, rough ones, turning yourself around to face her. "Don't even start with me, I'll tickle you to death if you keep up the accusations."

"Is that supposed the be a threat?" And oh, the pout is more real than sarcastic than she wants it to be. Like she genuinely doesn't like the idea of being threatened...by tickles (you know the idea is scary to Jinx, it's the truest form of torture she said once).

"Kind of." Your hands swing in the gap between the two of you. "Hey I actually had an idea. Care to hear?" It's something you've been wanting to do for a while now, giddy at the thought of it. Yet suddenly you find yourself a bit reluctant, still undoubtedly shy around your lover. You hope she'll say yes and that her teasing from this won't be too harsh.

"Hit me with it!"

"Will you let me draw you? Like a full portrait? I promise I'll do you justice!"

Jinx is sorry for it, but she stopped listening immediately, too enraptured by your connected hands, heart beating a little faster at the contact. You'll never know the effect you have on her (or so she thinks), she refuses to get teased even though she loves to tease you. She adores how flustered you get. Teasing is her love language, Jinx's way of showing her love for her toots. And when you decide it's unbearable enough, you'll shut her up with a kiss. Jinx will drag it out and annoy you for that reason alone. She counts on a messy kiss every time.

Unknowing of what to do with the sudden adoration creeping up on her, she pinches your hands hard.

Unfazed, you call her "Angel?"

"Hm?" She looks up and at you with so much affection. So much it stops you for a moment. Your giddiness to do this increases tenfold, her expression killing you in the best way possible. You can be extremely honest about this to soften her up, make her want to say yes.

"I'd like to draw you. Like really, really badly. I have for the longest time. You're just...stupidly pretty and it makes me feel so stupid and I want to scribble your face all over my canvases all the time. So...can I? You'll have to sit for me as reference." You say it as if you don’t have every bit of her memorized, which you completely do.

And for whatever reason, your menace (angel) is stunned. You notice it’s a bad kind of stunned, you realize quickly.

“…Me?”

“Yes?”

“But why?” Jinx asks quiet and unsure of herself. Her eyes look everywhere but you, she tries pulling back but you squeeze her hands. There’s a hint of anxiety around her, something she hasn’t experienced since she met you.

The mood switch and uncharacteristic behavior causes worry to stir in your chest. “Uhh, why wouldn’t I? You’re my girlfriend, you’re the prettiest girl in the Undercity and in Piltover! Trust me, none of those snotty ladies are as pretty-”

“You haven’t even been to Piltover.”

“I don’t need to go over there to know they don’t compare to you.”

She heaves a big sigh, your worry growing.

“I just- I'm not pretty or beautiful or any of the things you say I am. You call me angel when I'm far from that! You love art, it’s your thing, toots. Your passion and escape. How can you let someone like me ruin something you love so much? I don’t want to…I don’t know.”

When you don’t answer, she continues.

“I’m not worthy of so much time being spent on something so precious you know?” She says it like she hopes you’ll agree. You won’t.

“Angel,” you let go of her hands to cup her face, needing her to hear you. “Of course you’re worth spending time on. I love you. Do I not say it enough? I know I can be-”

“No, you say it lots and lots!”

“I’ll say it more. I need to make sure you believe it. And guess what? I meant what I said Angel. You’re the prettiest girl. The prettiest to exist. And you’re mine, do you know how lucky I am? You clearly don’t understand how much I feel for you. You’re worth every second I’m gonna spend on your portrait, you understand?”

And finally, her smile is back, gone is the unsure frown.

Jinx nods and you nod while smiling with her, going in for a kiss…multiple kisses. Kisses all over her precious face, because she deserves to feel loved. To know that she’s loved.

You can be put your timidness to the side for the hour. She needs your confidence in your feelings right now. Your confidence in her.

"Now get in my lap, I need a better look at your pretty face." Your teasing demand flusters her. She immediately settles in your lap so your chests touch. It wasn't everyday (really ever) that you spoke to her like that, always too shy to do so. But Jinx finds that she kind of likes it, she wants you to demand contact with her, especially in a position like this. It makes her feel gooey inside. Butterflies uncontainable.

It's not exactly ideal, you're not used to having your girlfriend in your lap while sketching. But you wanted this, and it's not making it impossible. All you have to do is wrap your arms around her pretty waist and rest your chin on her shoulder. It's perfect.

"For science huh? To 'get a better look' at me was it? Toots, if you wanted me in your lap you coulda just said that!" She teases, assuming you just wanted her there to have a more accurate picture.

You quietly confess, "jus' wanted you in my lap." Giving her waist a squeeze while you sketch her jaw.

You can tell you've stumped her (but this time in a good way). She's gone impossibly quiet and still. Warm too, just like she always does when you attempt to flirt. The two of you were truly unable to get over and deal with the timidness of being affectionate. Of being together.

And just like always, she melts. Like how ice cream does in the sun (a sugary delight you've been able to share with Jinx once). Her stiff back let's loose and she squeezes in return. She holds on like you'll disappear. You wouldn't. Not ever, because how could you? When you love her and when she loves you to death?

It’s quiet for the rest of the time you’re drawing, Jinx resorting to drawing patterns on your back, seemingly drifting off at some point. She internally scolded herself for it, not wanting you to think she was bored but it was taking a while. She wanted to have this moment with you though, it was so delicate, something that’s not occurred before. Especially with the earlier conversation. It was special.

You dot the last bit of her freckles on the white sheet. "All done," a kiss to the side of her head that makes her impossibly warm and dig her face deeper. "Needa color it in now." Color it with the paint the two of you always make a mess out of, there's no doubt in your mind it'll happen again.

She turns to finally look at it, her eyes wider than you've ever seen. "Holy shit toots, there's no way you did that!"

"Are you accusing me of cheating?"

"Maybe." She always knew you were the best artist of the Undercity (definitely not biased), you were just that good. But this was different. Was it because it was a drawing of her? Well...it was also the fact that it was so accurate. From her eyes, nose, mouth, jaw...even the way her hair curled in front of her face. And the scars, scars even she herself had forgotten about. But you remembered, you hadn't looked at Jinx once the whole time. You really did have her memorized huh? You didn’t have to say it, the way you insisted she sat in your lap instead of on a different chair for reference and the drawing in front of her is enough proof.

Jinx needed to go look in whatever was left of her shattered mirror to see this. She couldn't believe how pretty she looked on a piece of paper. She couldn't believe you took the time to do this. That you even wanted to in the first place. Jinx has been flustered and felt her heart beating awfully fast just from your gaze alone. But she thinks her heart might be about ready to explode, much like her countless monkey bombs or firelights.

She's unsure how to contain or show this rush of deep, deep affection, so she pushes your face from where it's searching her reaction and jumps out your lap, rushing for your paint cans.

You're kind of confused, but also accepting of her reaction. You're used to it, not that she always runs away due to avoiding feelings. Definitely not. Jinx was one to have so much affection for something or someone that you just...want to pinch, squeeze or...bite it. Luckily she hasn't got you (yet). It was a little shove, probably to prevent herself from sinking her teeth into your cheek. (You truly wouldn't have minded) (you kind of would have, it hurts).

She's back in front of you holding up a bucket half full of bright blue paint. At her feet she's set down small cans of various blues, pinks, and purples. Her favorite colors, obviously.

"Here ya go toots!” There’s no doubt in your mind you’ll be making a mess with the paint when you’re done.

Except, you haven’t even picked out a paint brush before you feel her hands grab your waist from behind, the familiar feeling of paint transferring from her touch to your body.

You look back at her, squinting. “Excuse me?”

“What? Can’t grab my toots’ love handles?”

You turn around, grabbing her hands and pulling her closer to you. You take a peak at her handy work, the blue on your waist making you feel things. You won’t let her know that though.

“Two can play at that game.”

“Try me then toots.”

You release your hands from hers and cup her face with them, leaving blue prints of your palms on her cheeks.

#oh my GOD guess who finally posted #kind of not how I wanted it to come out but it’ll do!#been working on it on and off for a bit #jinx x reader #jinx x you #arcane jinx x reader #jinx x y/n #jinx x female reader #jinx x gender neutral reader #jinx x male reader

390 notes · View notes

zyonsay · 9 months

Note

Hii! I love your works! I wonder if you could write Fernando Alonso x Male reader fluff? There´s almost no content of him (with a male reader). If you decide to do it, thanks then! ily <3

La côte française FA14

Fem aligned people may read but not f3tishize my work!!

Summary: Nando decides to interrupt your interview

Warnings: one (1) ass smack, an overwhelming amount of bubbles

Now playing: F1 Thirst traps on my Insta feed

AN: Hey there dear anon! Im SO sorry for taking so long to write this, but i have never written for Fernando before. This was difficult because i don't really know much about him, also this is kind of short for the same reason, but i hope you can still enjoy it!

Fun fact: i speak broken french

i probably won't deliberately write for Nando again (unless requested), but for this time im glad to help a fellow male reader out. Lots of love to you anon <3

“Uhh, yes. I did have some trouble there, but ultimately, everything went well! I’m looking forward to Sunday to- “, your Interview was cut short by someone giving you a hefty slap on the bum. Turning around, you saw none other than the man, the myth, and the legend: Fernando Alonso.

“Oi, Cabron”, you mimicked his voice as both of you smiled and laughed at his antics. The reporter smiled awkwardly, probably because they wanted to continue interviewing you about your Q3. “You two seem to be good buddies, any plans together for the summer break?”, this made you shoot a knowing look over at Nando, who was now clinging to your shoulder.

You were about to open your mouth to speak as the man in Aston martin green spoke up.

“We actually planned on going on holiday in France, to go surfing and swimming!”, though he didn’t mention the next part. Fernando had rented a fancy sailing boat, with which you planned on travelling around the coast of France. This voyage wasn’t for a random occasion too, of course not.

The both of you have been dating for almost two years now and just recently Nando had shared the idea of going on a trip as a sort of anniversary gift. You were very happy with him, he always made sure to bring a smile, even if only a faint one, to your face. He was like the warm sun in your blue sky. He was the pristine, blue water at the coast of France, and he was the wind in your sails. The race season has been tough for you and your team, but a little bit of a break will be good for your sore, overworked muscles. And just in case you had a silly Spaniard by your side to help you relax.

The interviewers face lit up at the mentioning of your plans and interrupted your train of thoughts by asking another question, “Amazing! So, if you don’t mind, let’s get back on topic: Q3!” This was Fernando’s cue to leave, but not before giving your shoulder a hearty squeeze and whispering something along the lines of ‘see you later.’

Well, later was now, as you finally arrived at the Hotel you’d been staying in during the race weekend. Nando had slipped into your bathroom to run a bath, while you were peeling off your clothes in the bedroom.

You walked in, not expecting to be greeted by giant heave of bubbles in the bathtub. Fernando was completely covered in the foam, slyly grinning at you. “I added a bit too much...”

Giggling quietly, you slipped into the bubbly mess of a bath.

"Thanks Nando"

#gay #male reader #f1 x male reader #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #gn reader #reader insert #x reader #f1 fic #f1 imagine #fernando alonso #fernando alonso x reader #fernando alonso x y/n #fluff

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k0yaz · 1 year

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Hi I have a nsfw request but it’s kind of a weird kink, if you don’t feel comfortable doing it I completely understand<3 feel free to ignore if it’s not your cup of tea

I’d love to see anything with giyuu x fem reader rimjob? Can be headcanons or small Drabble; anything you want

thank you have a good day<3

tomioka giyuu rimjob hcs

Pairing(s): giyuu tomioka x fem!reader

CW: nsfw, rimjob, rimming, handjob, hair pulling, fingering, switch!giyuu, switch, but more on the submissive side reader, afab reader,

A/N: bestie you’re getting a hc and a seperate short scenario cause ily for being specific with your requests <33

Despite being very quiet in general, when you’re giving him a rimjob he is loud.

Giyuu tries to hide his whimpers by biting his bottom lip or slamming a hand over his mouth, looking down at you as your tongue works around his puckered hole

He acts like he’s not affected by it, or that he doesn’t enjoy it at all

But the second you pull away, he runs his fingers through your hair and pushes you back down, practically begging you to keep going

Give extra attention to the base of his cock when you’re stroking it

For some reason, it’s 10x more sensitive when you’re rimming him

Despite being so submissive, Giyuu tries to maintain some sense of control over you

He trails his arms down your back to grip your ass firmly, and slips two fingers inside your soaked cunt

Pulls your hair while you’re eating his ass too, the vibrations of feeling your moans against his hole while massaging his shaft is enough to make him cum.

After he cums, he has these VERY erratic breaths, like even more irregular than if you two were normally fucking. Then again, rimjobs do make him quite sensitive.

After he catches his breath after a moment, he will notice if you’re still wet, and invite you onto his lap so you can reach your orgasm as well

“F-fuck…ah..d-don’t..”

Giyuu drags his bottom lip between his teeth in order to refrain himself from completing that sentence, his head thrown back and sweat dripping from his forehead as your tongue explores his hole.

He looked down at you with heavy lidded eyes, watching intently as you slipped your tongue into him, your fingers making their way up his thigh to grip onto his girthy cock. You wrapped your hand around his length, stroking it as you continued prodding your tongue at his puckered hole.

Giyuu let out a whimper, followed by a choked out moan as you slid your tongue up from his hole, to his balls, covering them in licks before moving your tongue back inside him.

“Damn it, I can’t hold back anymore- ah-!” Giyuu groaned out, his fingers tangling into your hair, while his free hand glided down your back, slipping his fingers into your dripping folds, and precisely sliding them in and out of your soaked entrance.

Erotic moans escaped your lips as he began tugging at your locks, his fingers continuing their relentless pace inside your core. Your sweet noises vibrating against him while you practically devoured him was too much, finally coming undone when you gripped the base of his cock.

Giyuu let out a loud groan as his hot, white liquid spilled out of his tip, practically shooting out of him and coating his lower body. You licked your lips and looked up at him, his body clearly still sensitive as he gasped and panted for air .

“A-ah..wait a moment..” he breathed out, finally exhaling deeply once he caught his breath. He glanced down at you, noticing your thighs rubbing together, most likely from the stimulation Giyuu had given you not too long ago.

Giyuu sat up straight, motioning towards his lap and smiling at you as you descended down onto his defined thigh, grinding yourself needily against him. He pressed his lips onto your cheek softly, helping you grind against him and smiling as he positioned you closer to his cock.

“You didn’t think I would stop you from cumming did you~?”

A/N: and I hope you have a good day too, anon <3

had fun writing this yay

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mikashisus · 2 months

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CONGRATS ON 200!!!🎉🎉🎉 Oh my gosh yay that's so exciting!! I am very nervous to make a rq but I rlly like your writing hehehe...

Could you maybe write something with Kazuha and a fem reader from Mondstadt? I wish I could pull something a little more specific to ask for, but I was so excited I wanted to send something in right away >< . More than anything I just wanna see him a little more in your writing <3

Memory Weaver

summary: amidst the festivities for the annual north winds celebration, kazuha stumbles upon a knight who, although sharing a dance with him, seems to be way more important than she’s leading him to believe.

pairing: kaedehara kazuha x fem!mondstadt!reader

cws: brief mentions of starvation and misogyny.

notes: ANON ILY FOR THIS, i literally write mond mcs sm it’s a crime. i took LOTS of creative liberties with this - namely taking inspo from my current genshin series that u can find here!

i have a kazu fic planned in that au already, so i decided to go with the same au here!! except the mc here is way different from the mc in leaving london. hope u enjoy!!

wc: 3.3k

The ports of Eastern Mondstadt were as lively as ever despite the sheer cold weather that hovered over the land like a blanket.

Through the winding streets lined with vendors and huge crowds, a white haired man kept a firm grip on the sword sheathed at his side. He shivered a little as a biting wind rushed past. He was not used to this weather. Not after being out on the warm, rocky seas for so long.

A group of children nearby shouted in joy as they played together, one of them holding two Mondstadt hashbrowns in their hand. They waved the food around, signaling for the others to gather around so they could all share.

“Look! That kind man gave me these for free since today is the Festival of the North Winds!”

“It’s the whole week, genius!” Another kid retorted before munching down on their piece of a hashbrown.

“Does it matter? Let’s just eat!”

Before the children could fully dig in to their meal, a cheerful voice interrupted them. Kazuha stayed to watch the interaction, pretending to shop for goods at a vendor stall nearby as to not appear suspicious to the knight that had just arrived.

He watched as the knight ruffled the kid’s hair. She sent them all a big, warm smile as they looked up at her in awe and wonder. Their eyes were practically sparkling.

“Make sure you say your prayers first!” You scolded the children, placing your hands on your hips. “If you don’t give the Queen your prayers, then she might be unhappy and curse us!”

One of the kids, a girl smaller than the rest of the group, pointed at you accusingly. “No she won’t! My Mama says that Queen Catalina is a righteous, gentle god! And that she never harms anyone!”

A loud, hearty laugh escaped your mouth as you held your stomach. “Right you are!” Your laughs, which were akin to a melody on the wind, simmered into giggles.

“So we should be grateful for all that we have because of how kind Her Majesty is. That’s why we pray— because we are returning the kindness and love that she so graciously shows us. Do you understand?”

The children were silent for a few moments, mulling over your words, before they all let out gasps of astonishment. Without another moment of hesitation, they were clasping their hands together and quietly saying their prayers to the ever generous Queen of the North Wind.

As soon as they were done, you pulled something out of the bag tied to your belt. It was fresh bread you bought earlier that morning. You split the two long loaves into pieces and gave them to the children, a soft smile playing on your lips as they thanked you eagerly.

“Make sure to share with your families, okay? We need to feed as many mouths as we can this winter.” You told them, watching as they nodded vigorously and ran off, shouting their goodbyes back to you as they did so.

Kazuha smiled before turning away from the scene, tilting his head down to avoid the intense stare tossed in his direction.

He found it quite difficult to navigate through the city because of the current festivities. According to bits and pieces of conversations he picked up from the locals, an annual festival was taking place solely on this side of Mondstadt.

The land was divided between three gods. To the far West laid Decarabian and his sheltered city that was slowly but surely becoming larger by the year. He was rumored to be a tyrannical god, who refused to let his people wander past the wind barriers he created around his territory.

To the North rested the god of blizzards, Andrius— a Wolf King with an extreme temper. Supposedly, the land of Mondstadt was mostly uninhabitable because of him. He was not fond of humans, nor did he get along well with them. He preferred to stay in his patch of land and not cause them any harm, and they did the same by not wandering into his territory. It was a mutual agreement.

And of course, here in the East sat the magnificent Queen of the North Wind. Ruling over this part of Mondstadt for thousands of years, she was incredibly favored and adored by the people. Her kingdom was quite large, taking up almost the entirety of the oceanside and the mountains that separated the East and West sides of the region.

Unlike Decarabian, she was on somewhat good terms with Andrius. Their common enemy being the god of storms was what brought them together as allies. The forming of their peace treaty was what eventually birthed her title of “The Queen of the North Wind.” It was a title that matched Andrius’ “King of the North Wind.”

The Festival of the North Winds was supposedly created more than a hundred years ago in honor of Queen Catalina, Wolf King Andrius, and the Thousand Winds of Time. It is a week-long festival that not only worshipped the three gods, but was made to thank them for their continuous guidance and protection over Mondstadt.

Last year, the festival had to be cancelled due to a small dispute between Morax, a warrior god from Liyue, and Queen Catalina. The dispute, according to rumors, had been resolved pretty quickly, but due to the fear it had invoked in the people, the Queen deemed it necessary that the festival should not continue.

Kazuha noticed that the streets closer to the castle were more lively, and filled with more color. The crowds were bigger, and the city square was packed to the brim.

He remembered Beidou’s words from earlier that morning: “Go have some fun! This festival is only once a year, and who knows when we’ll be back in Mondstadt for another! Make the most of it, kid!”

There was no curfew— he could return to The Alcor whenever he wanted. As he was debating on whether or not he should return early, a great commotion drew him from his thoughts.

A gathering of knights grabbed the attention of the bustling crowds, politely asking everyone to stop and hear the words of their great Queen. A woman with curly teal hair and eyes bright as starlight gracefully descended the stairs, her bronze skin glowing under the sun and her hands clasping together neatly in front of her.

That was her— the infamous Queen of the North Wind, standing on the steps leading up to the castle.

Kazuha stopped in his tracks, his mouth falling open in shock. He was so close, he could make out each of her facial features, even the small mole on her left cheekbone, and he could recognize that the dazzling gem sitting around her neck was a diamond shaped like an eight-pointed star.

He doubted anyone standing where he had been moments ago could see her this well. He watched as she picked up the bottom of her sparkling, white gown and was helped onto a platform by her lover.

Her radiant smile was enough to dispel any worries the townsfolk harbored, and brought hope to those that had none. She cleared her throat, and with a voice as smooth as liquid gold, spoke with a certain eloquence that only a god could possess.

“My children, it is yet another year that the Thousand Winds bless us with their protection. If not for the protection of the goddess of moments, we would not be able to live our lives freely outside the rule of Celestia.”

Her ability to captivate an entire audience was to be admired. They hung onto her every word, and not a single person dared to interrupt her speech.

“Someday, you will live freely from the gods entirely. But until that day comes, I will stand with you, and continue to fight for that freedom and that future! I will continue to record these moments in my memories for future generations, so that they may understand the past to create a brighter future! With that said, we praise the Thousand Winds! Enjoy this festival, my children, and let these Winds endure for all Time!”

As she finished speaking, the crowd erupted into ear-piercing cheers. All around him, the people were celebrating, kicking off the festival with a bang as they downed barrels of alcohol and tossed confetti and cecilias into the air.

Kazuha watched with a newfound intrigue as the Queen stepped down from the platform and joined the festivities. Had he not seen it with his own eyes, he would have never believed that a god would mingle with mortals like this.

His eyes drifted to the knight that accompanied the Queen’s side, and his eyes widened once more as he recognized them as the knight he had seen earlier— the one who had given extra food to the group of overjoyed children.

You helped the Queen down from her platform and smiled graciously. “Amazing as always, Your Highness,” you said, letting her hand go as she placed it on your head. “Would you like me to fetch you a glass of Thousand Wind Wine?”

She shook her head. “Just enjoy the festivities, my dear Dovewing Knight. You work all year long, please just take a break for once. I’ll still be here when you return to the castle tonight.”

With a retort on your tongue, she grabbed your shoulders and walked you down the rest of the stairs, gently pushing you towards the crowds. “Have fun! I have Lowen here to protect me.”

You tossed an uneasy glance to the other three knights waiting eagerly for you with smiles on their faces. Turning back to the look at the Queen, you opened your mouth to protest once more, when your best friend, Leni, leapt towards you and grabbed your arm.

“C’mon! This happens once a year, (Name)! The only week we have off!” She yelled over the booming music in the square. “Let’s ditch our armor and go have fun like Her Majesty said!”

“But, we’re her Archangels, we can’t—“

“Let it go!” Mari chuckled, patting you on the back. The force of his hand hitting your shoulder made you toss a glare at him. He simply laughed. “Like she said, she won’t be going anywhere!”

You watched as your three fellow Archangel Knights removed their armor and handed it off to the Queen, who promised it wouldn’t get stolen during the festivities.

With a final groan of frustration escaping your lips, you did the same and followed your friends into the crowds. Leni linked her arm with yours and pointed to a dress shop. She jumped up and down, claiming the two of you needed to wear something fancy for the event.

As you flipped through a variety of handmade Mondstadt dresses, you couldn’t find one that caught your eye. Leni was able to find one in just a few minutes of entering the shop.

It was a short, orange dress that complimented her dark skin and amber colored eyes. The sleeves were billowy, allowing her arms room to breathe, and reached her elbows. She tied her curly, dark brown locks up into a ponytail and helped you pick out your own dress as soon as she paid for hers.

“Why not match the Queen and go for a white dress?” She suggested.

With careful deliberation— and a desire to join the festivities already —you picked out a long white, off shoulder dress and paid for it before leaving the shop.

Leni giggled as she dragged you around to all of the food stalls. She was more than happy to pay for your food, even if you scolded her for doing so every time.

You spent most of the first day of the festival with your best friend, who promised you that this year would be the best Festival of the North Winds that Mondstadt had ever thrown. Having only been appointed as the Queen’s elite Archangel Knights two years prior, you weren’t used to having free time like this anymore.

Being able to run around and enjoy the festival like you did in your youth brought back many memories of when you would spend this time of the year with your family. Silently, you thanked the Queen for allowing you to remember those memories, and for letting you have this week off to make the most of the festival.

Nighttime came fast, and with it, came dancing in the city square. The sun was setting over the horizon when the music picked up into a tune that made everyone want to dance.

It started with just a few people clearing the way, laughing and moving as if they were being carried along by the wind. Soon, the Queen and her lover, Lowen, joined in. The crowds cheered and threw out their praises as the two gods took the stage.

It was a magnificent sight— being able to watch the Queen twirl and flow as if she was one with the wind; as if it was guiding her along. After a few songs, she took a seat at a nearby table and ordered a few glasses of wine to enjoy as she laughed merrily and cheered on the other people who continued dancing in her stead.

Leni was the next to join the circle, dragging you in along behind her. The two of you, with much dancing experience, weaved your way between a multitude of couples and eventually lost sight of each other as others asked to switch dance partners.

A man with white hair ended up in front of you as the song ended, his face flushed as he panted heavily. The hand on your waist fidgeted before it pulled back slightly. He smiled gently at you, his crimson eyes welcoming and bright as he let go of your hand.

“You’re a wonderful dancer,” he told you as you took a step away from him to create space between you. “Pardon me if this sounds a little odd, but I was watching you before I got pulled in by the crowd myself. It was like watching flowing water in a stream.”

A small chuckle left your lips. “Poetic, though a little bland for my tastes. If you’re looking for compliments, I suggest you familiarize yourself with Mondstadt’s style of poetic charms.”

He raised a brow. “Oh? Is it that obvious I don’t hail from Mondstadt?”

“A little…” you trailed off as another song started, a slower tune this time, and he once again rested a delicate hand to your waist. You glanced down at the sword hanging from his hip. It wasn’t just any sword— it was a special Inazuman forged blade.

“That katana. It’s Inazuman. Handmade, correct?” You pointed out, searching his crimson eyes. He met your gaze with a small, almost fake, smile.

What was that about?

“You are correct. I would ask how you know, but you are a knight, are you not?”

You nodded. “Indeed.” He twirled you under his arm and you sighed blissfully, grabbing onto his hand once more as he pulled you back into his embrace. “I am one of Queen Catalina’s Four Archangels. It’s a pleasure to meet you, samurai of Inazuma.”

His crimson eyes flashed with recognition. He faltered in his steps a little, quickly recovering himself when you steadied him with little effort.

This could go one of two ways, you deduced.

On one hand, he could freak out and blubber his way through some sort of half-baked eloquent greeting and drop to his knees like half the citizens of Mondstadt did whenever you conversed with them. On the other, his brows could furrow with confusion and he’d give you a once over before questioning if your words were true.

No one ever expected someone like you to be one of the Queen’s elite soldiers. Whether it was because you were a woman or because you simply weren’t built like a knight, you didn’t know. You were more inclined to believe that it was the latter.

Though, you did receive a handful of comments from many people when you were first appointed about your gender. Most of them you ignored, because they were so downright stupid that it made you laugh. Others, you had half a mind to throw them in the dingiest cell in the dungeons for their incredibly disrespectful words. If the Queen had known of those insults, you were sure she would have personally sentenced them to death for their arrogance.

None of the two options you often encountered came to fruition. Instead, his reaction was an entirely different one altogether. You were not expecting him to treat you as if you were any other human being.

“You’re one of them? An honor, then, it is to meet you.” He said, his words flowing like honey from his mouth.

A poet was one who could charm their way into others’ hearts using their flowery language. You were more than familiar with poets— more so of the Mondstadt and Liyuean variety. Mondstadt poets oftentimes happened to be bards as well. They used their songs to tell stories of you and your friends’ adventures.

Almost all of them used their talents to charm their way into your good graces so as to avoid the law. However, their use of compliments and fine verses had no effect on you. As a knight, you swore an oath to protect innocents and keep everyone on equal standing in your mind. You could not let anyone get close, for fear of one day being the one to throw them into a cell.

Leni and the other two Archangels were special cases, though you knew that if they one day also betrayed the Queen, you would raise your sword against them without hesitation.

Letting go of your hand to take your other, the man watched as your expression soured. “Flattery will not get you anywhere with me, but I thank you for your cordiality nonetheless.”

The song ended, and the man let go of you as you stepped away from him. You sent him a polite smile. “Allow me to buy you some festival specialties. After all, this only happens once a year.”

He returned your smile and nodded. “That’d be wonderful, Miss…?”

“Oh! Right. How could I forget my greeting?” You stood ramrod straight and saluted him, the action coming naturally to you after doing it hundreds of times.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, foreigner to the Northern Winds. I, (Name) the Dovewing Knight and one of the Four Archangels of the god of memories, cordially welcome you to Mondstadt.”

He nodded curtly, bowing slightly as he placed a hand to his chest. “Thank you for the warm welcome, Miss (Name). I am Kaedehara Kazuha, a wandering samurai from Inazuma.”

You sighed softly as you relaxed your form. “Kazuha…” you tested the name on your tongue, finding it easy to flow out of your mouth. You hummed and nodded. “Well, Kazuha. Allow me to be your guide. What say you to spending this week with me?”

As a knight, it was your job to guide those new to Mondstadt and help them settle in. You weren’t sure how long Kazuha would be staying here, but you were determined to show him the joys of what it was like to live in Mondstadt during the festival season.

At least, that was the lie you told yourself to prevent your heart from continuing to race in your chest.

Kazuha’s smile was genuine this time as he visibly relaxed. “If a beautiful knight such as yourself is offering, then who am I to refuse you?”

Maybe it was the trick of the light, the glaring sun beating down on his face from over the horizon, but you could have sworn you saw a hint of red on his cheeks as he took your outstretched hand and stepped into a world completely unknown.

notes: i did not plan for it to be this long… it was going to be longer but i cut it short. if anyone would like a part 2, i’d be happy to make one! you can read more on catalina here! apologies for any errors, i didn’t edit the last half of this 🙏

#— ( 🥂 200 event. mikashisus. )#nereids' realm #genshin impact #kaedehara kazuha #kazuha #kazuha x reader #genshin kazuha #kazuha x you #genshin #dividers: cafekitsune #—mikashisus asks.

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astradyke · 3 days

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help I am going to see the tour in less than a month and I don’t know enough lore. I’ve been watching as much as possible but who should I follow here any dnp blog recs?

HI ANON! sorry i am replying to you so late it's been a busy week ^_^

ugh i could gush about all my mutuals but i will TRY to keep this contained. also if i didnt mention you but you're awesome please like self promo off this post .

@thisdayindnphistory <- archive feature will be super helpful! Literally THE place to catch up on lore/important dates, even scrolling through can help you paint a better picture of certain years!! love this blog a lot it's a major help in web weaves :P

@purpurussy has successfully found like any post that i need whenever i need it b/c they're a miracle worker but also does like really great analysis posts & has awesome tags on things too

@phantasticphizza and @blossoms-phan CEO of cool mutuals who make me extremely happy when i see them on the dash and also I think both of them are awesome to follow in general so i'm just going to flail at you encouraging u to follow :3

@bitchslapblastoids ALWAYS allowed to cook in the kitchen and has a good handle on lore stuff too i feel like!!! Idk!! Follow!!!!!! My really cool mutual who has really good posts on stuff

@gamora-borealis awesome awesome awesome Follow this account smiles

@dnpbeats knows SO much about dan and phil lore and is like ... Like she has several claims to fame in her bio i feel like that's enough evidence this is THE blog to follow ever

@freckliedan knows SO much all the time makes awesome posts about many such things and just knows a lot!!! Lot of cool stuff on this blog has like helped me find info n stuff so many times. jam is lovely :]

Fuck I got so many more @deadandphilgames @phuckingphan @laprasboat @ingydar-phan @oldphanny @absolutefilthimsosorry @thighguys <- ALL OF THESE FOLKS ARE REALLY COOL AND MAKE REALLY AWESOME POSTS!!! I WOULD YAP ABOUT THEM SEPARATELY BUT THIS IS REALLY LONG im sorry ily!! Their cool posts speak for themselves though thumbs up

Also tentative because I'm bad at tracking mutual main blogs so if we are not properly mutuals i am SO SORRY and will be embarrassed forever but @yonpote @lizardsmp3 extremely EXTREMELY extremely cool blogs. Like very cool. the coolest. Please follow these two blogs i am really major fans<3 and i would argue these r required follows to maximize the phannie experience

I hope this is helpful anon!!!!!! If you ever feel like you need to catch up on a specific lore thing you can always fling that out into tags and people will graciously catch you with their massive knowledge (not me because i kind of don't know anything and rely upon aforementioned mutuals to nicely tell me information and i go okay <3 yay <3) but u are always welcome in the inbox!!!!!! <3

I HOPE U HAVE SO MUCH FUN AT TIT!!!!!!!!!

#astra.txt #THIS IS A DISASTER OF A POST SORRY...#I don't know how i acquired some of the like fucking coolest mutuals ever but um. Now you're trapped in mare land sorry #yeah ive ensnared u. now we're mutuals for life and i will look at all your posts and go THAT IS SO COOL!!!!

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crowleyholmes · 9 months

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hi there chris! since the new year is approaching rapidly, i wanted to ask my favorite creators (that includes you! i love your art!) how they look back on their 2023 tumblr year and which blogs made them happy to be here. i am very happy to follow you and hope you'll have a great 2024! 💘

Hiiii omg this is so sweet and means a lot to me, thank you! 🥺💕

I've been meaning to do a little end-of-the-year shoutout/love post for some of my favorite blogs, so I hope you don't mind if I use your ask as the perfect excuse!

I've had many fun years on tumblr, but this one has been extra special. Falling into the Good Omens fandom and meeting all of you amazing people has made this year so so SO much better than it otherwise would have been, so here are some special shoutouts (apologies, I'm sure this will get long, things like this tend to get away from me, so I'll put it under a read-more)

@majortomyourcurcuitsdead SASHA can you believe I was going to just send you an anon telling you that I think you're cool and leave it at that. Can you believe it. WELL thank Somebody you had your anon turned off and I had to expose myself in your dms because it feels like we just instantly connected about like 20 different things and haven't stopped talking since sskjdfhs anyway I'm so happy I met you you're so fun and so clever and so talented and so enthusiastic and I've only known you for like. What 2 months?? Ish? But I already love you so much <3

@lineffability !!! Line you are so *struggles to find words* you're just great is what you are okay. I feel like you are what happens when somebody takes a big cup and puts six shots of love, chaos, sunshine, talent, fun, and enthusiasm into it, generously sprinkles intelligence on top and gives it a good stir. I don't even remember how or when or why we started talking tbh? But your creativity is so inspiring, and some of my favorite tumblr-moments of this year have been 'yes-and'ing with you about one thing or another in a very >:3 manner hahah so! my point is! i love you lots <3

@dontbotheraziraphale Teeeedddd you're wonderful, I vented at you one time and then we talked for like 2 hours and at the end of that 1 conversation I already considered you a friend - and not just in that "tumblr mutuals who talk 1 time are my friends" kind of way but like. Genuinely. You're so kind and so fun and every time we talk it's such a good time ily a lot my bro my buddy my man <3

@crikey01 Tallulah HI I also completely forgot how we started talking but I remember connecting the dots that you were the one who painted those INSANE black and white and gold oil paintings and the way my jaw dropped like?? BRO you're so talented I admire you so much! And I love that we bonded over stopping each other from masochistically checking certain peoples' blogs... 😂 Anyway you're so sweet and fun and ily lots <3

---

The list could probably go on but you four are the people I've talked to most on here and you're the tumblr chat boxes I never close but always just minimize and y'all better see this as the ultimate internet declaration of affection that it Clearly is >:D 💕

---

And here are some more shout-outs because I just HAVE to.

Apologies, I know I've already tagged a bunch of you recently in a mutuals appreciation post but. This is my official thank-you-for-2023 post and I just have a lot of love for you all okay sorry feel free to ignore this <3

@rowan-ashtree (i'll text you back soon I promise I'm sorry I just haven't had the brain-space recently ssjkdfh) @crawley-fell (we've never talked but i love you from afar :')) @ineffabildaddy @llokilaufeyson @actual-changeling @saryasy @hyperfocusthusly @beccibarnes @rainbowcrowley @thesherrinfordfacility @goodoldfashionednightingale @wibbly-wobbly-blog @highlyillogicalandroid (i see your data obsession and i agree <3) @tortugay @foolishlovers @stargazing-crowley @gingiekittycat @weasleywrinkles @bildads-shoes @finleycannotdraw @bowtiepastabitch @heytherefluffy @samwwise @nocturnal-birb @athousandyearstime @angelsdiningattheritz @most-normal-eccles-cake-ignorer @jedthesecretdreamer @wraithee @hydrangeadangea @southfarthing @frodo-baggins @mobius-m-mobius

#asks #2023 reflections #personal #friends and mutuals and others appreciation post <33

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that-foul-legacy-lover · 4 days

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Late night angsty thoughts...hitting very hardd

So, I wonder if Ajax and Legacy weren't basically two parts of a whole and were instead each in their own body....

(This is assuming Ajax is your partner, and Legacy came after since, in my mind him and the reader are childhood friends. Also, I'm an Ajax kisser, I'm SORRY 😞)

Would Ajax still be ok with sharing his partner then? I mean, right now, it's not like he has any other choice but what if he did? Also, are legacy's feelings for the reader all his own or are they kind of influenced by Ajax in a way?

LIKE, right now, they're a part of one whole being but would they still be happy sharing reader if they could choose not to?

Might be angsty I'm very sorry to all my softhearted peers (it's me, I'm softhearted peers)

ANYWAY Sorry for the sads this might cause ily Wifi <3

*eats this in one bite* y'all know i love my angst ehe i love you too anon <3

Ajax's biggest fear used to be showing you Foul Legacy. how would you react? would you be scared? Tsaritsa's name, he hopes not- you've been friends almost all your life, he doesn't want to lose you. he faced that fear, once he was brave enough. showed you his Abyssal half and all the strength and destruction that came with it. to his relief, you adored Foul Legacy, and the monster loved you right back, a hidden softness slowly revealed in the light. you pet and praise and shower Legacy in affection, just as you do for Ajax, and he purrs and croons and snuggles right up to you just the same, and now Ajax fears, again. perhaps you love Foul Legacy more than you love him, even more so now that they have two different bodies. maybe all his efforts will go to waste

Foul Legacy and Ajax are facets, see. they're similar and different at the same time- Ajax is boisterous, charming, even a little bit smug. Legacy is sweet, clingy, extremely careful in his movements around you. they both can be vicious, but not to you. never to you. Ajax told Foul Legacy about you, during the months- or perhaps days, from what his parents say- he spent in the Abyss. the thought of you was one of the few things that kept him fighting and kept Legacy curious, eager to see this human his host had spoken so highly of. his monstrous heart melted when you fussed over Ajax upon his return, a rumbling purr kicking up in the ginger's head, only growing once he finally had his own form that he could stay in at all times

you love Ajax and Foul Legacy, and they love you. Legacy even cherishes Ajax, often pulling him into hugs or cuddles so you can squeeze the Harbinger tight. and he knows in those moments that you love him dearly, that your affection isn't a limited resource. he still gets moments with just you, when Legacy is tired or out hunting or you're going shopping for the week. you grip around his waist tightens, and Ajax softens and leans into your embrace, lacing his fingers with yours as Legacy purrs and pats your hair. there will never be a shortage of love to give, not from you, and maybe he's begun to appreciate his Abyssal counterpart more than just a weapon, too

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lacunafiction · 10 months

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quick question - is there going to be a masquerade in book 2? because if so then AHHHHHH!!!!

(masquerade mischief trope my beloved)

Xxxx p.s also love your writing and you x

Hi Anon,

Oh, you must have played the Book Two alpha content to pick up on this detail. That's very well spotted! 🥰 A new character, C, will make a remark to R about the Verner masquerade balls, a long-standing tradition in Fernweh for its elite and the height of elegance. (Yes, there can be some mischief, horror, romance, and spice!)

It won't be coming up in Book Two! We've got a full docket with visits to the Verner Mansion (it's so big; trust me, you'll get to explore it a few times), the Corvin Farm, more Turn the Page time, and I just realized I almost spoiled some stuff. There are like 3 or so other brand new places for you to visit and even more linked to your choices. The recent, soft snippet I posted with Mal might hint at this: here. 👀

I'll add the quote from Book Two as well:

"R's a lost cause—so strict—even when the masquerade ball isn't for a while," C reveals that without any hesitation, staying congenial to soften how they just shared something personal. "But what about you, newbie?" They wonder while tapping the case. "What are your thoughts on moderation in life?

You're right though. I included this intentionally for you all to look forward to it in the series! 💚 Thank you for your kind words, and ily too.

#fernweh saga #asks #who do queue think you are?#reese verner #ruby verner

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boydepartment · 1 year

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Okay 🧈 anon back again with another riki request 😘

Consider this, a fair date with riki. But like your not sure if it's a date date yk? (I think I'm stuck on the friends to lovers trope atm) And you're not sure where you stand with riki. Neither of you have brought it up but friends definitely don't cuddle up on the couch like you guys do when you watch movies and friends don't spoon you the way riki likes to when he spends the night. And when you get to the fair there's a lot of people of course and riki insists on holding hands 'so you don't get separated'.

Maybe he plays a bunch of games and gives you the prizes. Or there's a ride you're scared to go on but fearless riki convinces you and holds your hand tight and sure he teases you for being scared of a kid ride but he also gives you a hug afterward and tells you you're brave. Maybe maybe you ride the ferris wheel once it gets dark and all the lights are on and it's all twinkly and pretty and riki still holds your hand despite there being absolutely no chance of you two being separated in the confined space of the gondola and he brushes back your hair and tells you you're pretty and kisses you 😖😖😖😖😖😖

Sorry that was kind of long 😅...of course you can pick and chose what you want from this. I just would like something along these lines pls 💕

I LOVED WRITING THIS! IM SORRY BUTTER THAT IT TOOK A BIT :< I GOT A LIL SICK AS YOU KNOW! I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS!!! I TRIED MY BEST! <3 ILY!

The View- Nishimura Riki x Reader

MASTERLIST warnings- none wc- 1.2k

Your relationship with Riki was very interesting. You both have known each other forever. You both have spent late nights on the couch playing video games, watching movies, and watching random YouTube videos. You would be lying to yourself if you didn’t find yourself staring at his lips a little too long. He would tease you saying something stupid like, “ohhhh you wanna kiss me so bad.” You would deny it and call him a loser. But, in reality, you wanted to kiss him. Part of you felt like you needed to for your mental health. But that was just you being overdramatic.

For your graduation Riki wanted to take you to a fair, it was a big accomplishment and he said he wanted to show you how proud he was of you. The night before you offered to have him sleep over, which he very much agreed to. You both ended up cuddling for the millionth time that night. What was different is that you noticed Riki would trace little shapes on your hands as his breath slowed and he relaxed. You leaned into him, and you heard a small chuckle escape his lips. It made your stomach churn like a ton of wild rats trying to escape you. You knew you were head over heels in love with him. You were in love with Nishimura Riki- your best friend, someone your parents trusted enough to let him sleep over, someone who you trust with everything, someone who you didn’t want to lose.

The next day when you guys got to the fair, Riki noticed there was a ton of people.

“Busy day today huh?” You laughed nervously; you weren’t big on crowds. Riki looked down at you.

“Everyone graduates around the same time, so it makes sense.” He said and smiled down at you, he patted your head. When you guys got into the fair, he started to REALLY notice that it was crowded. If you got lost, you could probably easily find him, but there is no way he could find you.

“Here.” Riki said and grabbed your hand, your heart skipped a beat, and you looked up at him.

“So, you don’t get lost.” Riki said and smirked down at you, you found yourself rolling your eyes, you were not going to complain though.

“What do you wanna do first?” You asked looking up at him, he looked down at you.

“Y/n this is YOUR day!” He grinned at you, “you choose.”

You looked around and led him to the prizes, “can you win me something?”

Riki looked at you and contemplated, “I dunno can I? Hmmmm lemme see!” He put money in the machine in exchange for coins. Then he found the basketball game. He was a little nervous because if he lost then he would lose the chance to impress you. Fair games were also KNOWN to be rigged, so this was WAY more nerve-racking, than he was letting on.

“I believe in you Riki!” You said, your heart was full as you cheered him on. You meant to help, but this just made him more nervous.

He shot a couple of baskets and missed. He had one more chance to win you something, he glanced down at you and saw your eyes practically sparkling at him- for him. He took a deep breath. You were watching him, he looked so focused, you thought it was adorable how hard Riki was trying to win you something.

Riki took his last shot and actually got it in, you cheered and jumped on his arm, “you did it Riki!”

He ended up winning you the small prize, but it didn’t matter to you, what made you happy is that Riki got you something. It didn’t matter how big or expensive said gift was.

“The stuffed animal kinda looks like you.” Riki teased you, he kept his hand on your small backpack, you felt the weight of it, and it made your heart happy.

“Riki this is literally a snail.” You looked up at him, laughing.

“And?” He teased again and nudged you. You rolled your eyes and put the stuffed animal in his face.

“You’re the worst.”

As you guys walked around more, you both got some crazy fair foods, like the deep-fried Oreos and different odd drinks. You laughed when Riki accidentally spilled on himself, little did you know, he spilled because he kept looking at how your eyes lit up when you saw the different attractions in the distance. After your drinks you guys continued on your walk.

“Holy shit I haven’t been on the swings in years.” Riki looked up at the attraction. Your stomach twisted, this time in a bad way. It may be a kids ride however; you didn’t like being high up at all. You actually despised it. He turned to you, “can we go on it? Please?”

You swallowed hard, not wanting to be a buzzkill you nodded. You were nervous in line, fidgeting and looking around.

“Y/n?” Riki said, you looked up at him and hummed.

“Are you scared?” He asked, you shook your head no. Riki gave you a look.

“You haven’t let go of my hand since we got in line, and I don’t think you can get lost in line.” He said smugly and lifted your intertwined hands.

“I’m… I’m just not good with heights.” You looked away nervously.

“You’ll be fiiiine, I promise.” Riki said, you nodded and looked down, “here.” He lifted your hands again and kissed the back of your hands, “I wouldn’t go on a ride with you that would put you in danger.”

THAT DID NOT HELP YOUR NERVES AT ALL.

Needless to say, the ride was fun, and you felt embarrassed for being so scared to go on it. You laughed as your hair would get in your face and Riki would be making jokes left and right. When you got off Riki was right next to you.

“Yooou are so braaaave!” Riki said and hugged you from behind, he lifted you up slightly and shook you. You yelped and started giggling.

“Riki stoppp!” You laughed.

You guys’ continued walking, Riki letting you lead so you could pick the next ride. He kept your hand in his. In his other hand he was changing his wallpaper to you on the swings. He thought you looked really pretty even with your hair in your face. Riki could still see his favorite smile in the picture and that is what's important to him.

Getting brave, and the fact you have never been on a ferris wheel, you got in line to try it.

When Riki saw where you had led him, he smiled, “not scared anymore?”

“Shut up.” You nudged him. He chuckled and threw his head back.

When you guys got in the ferris wheel it was dark, it would make the high up view a little less scary for you. You were thankful for that.

Riki kept his hand on yours and you looked at them.

“Oh, are you scared now?” You teased him, Riki looked down at your hands.

“Nah, I just don’t want to let go of you.” He spoke, your jaw dropped, and you looked away from him quickly. Teasing him BACKFIRED. You tried to calm your heart rate down looking out at the city lights. It truly was a beautiful view, you still felt his hand in yours. Your hands were probably sweaty too….

Riki also looked away and he started beating himself up for saying something as stupid as that. You probably thought he was weird now! And his hands are SO SWEATY RIGHT NOW!

He took a deep breath and looked at you, your eyes focused on the lights around you. The city was always beautiful to you, he knew you loved the view. He loved his view too.

Feeling his eyes on you, you turned to look at him.

“Do I have a bug in my hair?” You asked, he shook his head no.

“You’re just so pretty.”

Your jaw opened slightly again, being surprised at how bold he is being with you at the moment. He put his free hand on your cheek.

“Tell me right now if you don’t want me to kiss you.”

Your breath hitched, “you can kiss me.”

Riki grinned, “do you want me to though?”

You nodded, “yeah I do…”

Riki bit back his smile as he leaned in and finally kissed you.

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diagonal-queen · 1 year

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Hihi! May I req an emergency req? With male!reader accidentally dropping/pushing a plate or glass and breaking it. Reader rushing to clean the mess up even with his bare hands and out of concern, the character yells at them to be careful or smth and reader flinches? How would they react? (And if ur fine with it, reader having SEVERE daddy issues and domestic violence so that's why they act like that) pls don't make reader those crybaby types but someone similar to dazai but less uhm, dazai? Like dazai but when he seems human if u yk what I mean) and reader being a teen (14-17)

Format: Anything u want!

Characters: Kunikida, Fukuzawa, Chuuya, Poe and Ranpo (separate) (omg if u could, then ranpoe together being father figures I just love the ship it's my comfort ship😭💖💖)

Platonic pls :)) (chuuya being an older brother figure, Fukuzawa and kunikida being father figures)

I FEEL LIKE ITS TOO SPECIFIC SO FEEL FREE TO NARROW IT DOWN 😭😭. Make sure to take care of urself and have a wonderful day <33

-🩵

okay so. i'm really REALLY sorry T-T but i do not write male readers so i am gonna go gn with this (again i am sorry ily <3)

When Reader flinches after they yell

♡ characters: Doppo Kunikida, Fukuzawa Yukichi, Chuuya Nakahara, Edgar Allan Poe, Ranpo Edogawa (bonus Ranpoe together!), teenage!gn!Reader

♡ synopsis: Reader breaks a piece of flatware and when they go to clean it, they're yelled at and flinch. How do the characters react to this?

♡ cw: Reader suffers from domestic abuse-related trauma and has daddy issues, yelling, trauma response (specifically a kind of silent/blunt affect type reaction), swearing, mentions of reader's hands being cut (unintentionally by flatware shards), father and older brother figure dynamics, lmk if I missed anything

note: I hope you're doing alright 💙 Anon, and I hope that these make you feel better :') come to me for hugs if you need them. I also hate yelling and have daddy issues so like, I feel you my dude. AND RANPOE IS MY COMFORT SHIP TOO omggg they're the best DM me and let's rant about them. Apologies for errors and I hope you enjoy x

Kunikida:

Let's say you're a mentee of his at the agency. Kunikida obviously only has good intentions and would hate for you to get hurt (Yosano...*shiver*), so he kinda freaks out a little when he sees you about to grab ceramic shards with your bare hands

Caught up in his alarm, he yells at you not to touch the shards and then goes to get a broom (or one of those little dustpan things) to clean up the mess

He comes back and sees your expression, and is honestly a little confused at first. You did manage to stay out of harm's way so he doesn't understand what's got you so distressed (he's so smart but also so very dumb)

You sit there while he quickly cleans the mess but when he notices that your eyes have kind of glazed over and you seem to be somewhere else, he gets a little worried and asks if you're alright

You tell him that you got frightened when he yelled because it reminded you of something and he has a moment of '...shit'

Kunikida puts down his dustpan/broom, puts a hand on your shoulder and gently explains that he wasn't mad at you but that he was just worried about you. He'd rather you made a mess unharmed than cleaned up the mess but gotten hurt

Don't be fooled by his calm demeanour, he actually feels really bad and will probably beat himself up for making such a mistake

He does end up cleaning it for you and asks you to please take care of yourself and be careful

Fukuzawa:

He has an odd tendency of being very intense with his kids out of the blue and then immediately feeling bad for it which is exactly what happens with you

You were probably bringing him tea or something when you accidentally dropped the tray and the cup shattered. He probably barely even reacted at all to it honestly, mostly just because he doesn't care THAT much about a cup. He has more

But then you apologise and kneel down to get them and this man might be tough but he is a softie at heart and panics when his kids are in harm's way (you're basically his kid let's be real)

So he yells, and it's basically that one scene in the theatre from Untold Origins all over again, except unlike Ranpo he knows that you don't really shake such things off so easily due to your past. So he's still concerned just for different reasons

He knows that as a father figure in your life he's supposed to protect you and that he had good intentions but it still affected you negatively in a way, and he's like. Really really sad about that fact (but he doesn't show it awh)

He apologises for yelling and asks you not to try and clean up ceramic shards with your bare hands because infections and y'know your hands are a pretty important part of your body

Fukuzawa is still firm as he speaks but he's also very gentle and nice about the whole thing and sits with you until you feel better

If you thank him for looking out for you, he'll be thinking about that for like the next week :'((((

Chuuya:

Chuuya yells like, a lot, but he often makes a conscious effort not to do so around you because he knows that you don't like it. Being a habit though, it sometimes comes out unintentionally

So say you're bringing him something to eat while he's working or something and while you're approaching him you drop and shatter the plate.

He's like 'Oh let me get that' and was gonna grab the shards with his ability (he doesn't have an issue with doing it himself cus it's lowkey quicker), but then he sees that you're about to collect them barehanded and yells at you to stop

When he sees you flinch he immediately starts backtracking like 'Wait, no- that's not what I meant' and comes to kneel beside you and pat you on the head (or back, whichever)

He quickly composes himself and apologises, saying that he was just worried about you, not angry about the plate or you wanting to clean it.

He tells you that he's gotten cuts on his palms before and they 'hurt like a motherfucker' so he didn't want you to get hurt too (and he's kinda being jokey about it because he's nice like that)

He just exudes comfort energy, so your panic moment doesn't really last that long. He's honestly very chill about the whole thing because he knows that you're not gonna make the same mistake

Even if you did though he'd help bandage your cuts without hesitation

Poe:

Poe is the opposite of Chuuya- he just DOESN'T yell at all. That's why it caught you as offguard as it did

When you dropped the plate he was a little scared because of the loud noise, but was relieved to see that you hadn't gotten hurt.

He really doesn't care much about a broken dish, because he can buy a billion more with ease. He just cares that you were about to hurt your hand (I'm quite sure you can possibly injure nerves by cutting your palm, and as a murder mystery writer Poe would absolutely be aware of this)

So he yells in an attempt to get you to quickly stop when you kneel down to clean it, and when he sees your face he feels awful

Poe hates yelling too, so he is extremely apologetic about the whole thing. He feels really bad because he knows that you find a lot of comfort with him and he's scared he's just ruined your trust in him to keep you safe

You tell him that you know he wasn't trying to be mean or malicious but he still feels really bad about it (lowkey you end up comforting HIM ngl)

He decides to clean up the mess himself (and lets you cuddle Karl while he does because he's basically an emotional support animal)

Will literally do anything to get you to trust him once more because he feels such an unnecessary amount of guilt (you have to really hammer it into him that you DO still trust him- he doesn't entirely believe you (projecting sorry lol))

Ranpo:

Ranpo is the Super Highschool Level Older Brother Figure. And as such he is appropriately concerned when he sees that you're about to try and handle a broken plate with bare hands

I'm absolutely certain that several times in the past Ranpo's dropped his fair share of dishes and gotten cuts from trying to pick them up too fast and he doesn't want that happening to you

So he yells to you not to touch them. When he sees your reaction to this, for a split second he panics but he actually handles it surprisingly well for a (2)6 year old

He comes over and sits down beside you. Then he explains to you that he doesn't want you to get hurt unnecessarily (especially somewhere like your hands) because he cares about you, so he panicked for a second and that's why he yelled.

(to everyone's surprise /j) he does apologise to you for it and give you a hug to help ground you and comfort you (he also gives you a little squeeze cus he feels bad aw)

If you ask him if he's mad about the broken dish he immediately goes back to normal and is like 'Pfft not at all. It's a plate Y/N' and tells you not to worry about it

He does make you feel better about the broken plate, but this is Ranpo we're talking about. You think he's gonna clean it up, or even help you clean it? No, that job unfortunately still falls entirely on you (damnit Ranpo)

Except this time you take cautionary measures before you do so. And Ranpo's happy to see it :)

Ranpoe:

Right, so these two are just little children in the bodies of men in their late twenties. However they are still very much in touch with their dad sides especially when it comes to you

So you're carrying a plate for some reason (maybe they're busy solving mysteries and eating snacks idk) but you drop it and it breaks. Poe's a millionaire and Ranpo is Ranpo so they don't care that they have one less plate

Then you hurriedly apologise to them and bend down to grab the plate and they both overreact and yell at you to stop (for the same reasons written above in their seperate scenarios)

Once they see you flinch they both have different reactions. Poe rushes over to see if you're alright but Ranpo is more wanting to give you a second to breathe and process

And that's literally what happens. Poe (and Karl) rushes over to check on you and Ranpo waits a minute before he joins him.

Ranpo comes to comfort you while Poe gets rid of the broken plate, then when he comes back he helps Ranpo explain why they both yelled earlier. He lets Ranpo do most of the talking though

They both express that they're just glad you didn't get hurt. And that you're allowed to make mistakes! Just don't do anything that will get yourself hurt

Will let you help them with their work/watch them work if you want to (usually that stuff's confidential but hey it's not like people are gonna question Ranpo and Poe now is it)

anon i will be your parental figure and we can straight up just forcefully shatter plates together (with safety glasses on though!!!) to let off steam

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 2 months

Text

Hero

found u on AO3 and loved u immediately, your writing style is incredible and i’ve binged all your stories :) crack request popped into my mind the other day and i thought i’d share—> the pinocchio phenomenon about “my nose will grow” (i’m sure you’re familiar) except for its the sides (prob logan bc experiment) trying it on janus- “janus will be summoned” or something to that effect idk ily please never stop writing <3 – bumblebea2712

Okay, so I've been thinking about something for a while. In your fic, Silver Box, where Roman has that box labeled 'Ego' with all the positive reinforcement in it? What if one of the things that gets whispered from it is when c!Thomas told Roman "you're my hero"? Like, especially with the angst from POF/SvS Redux. Thinking about how Roman misinterpret Janus' nod as 'Thomas is lying' when he actually meant that Thomas was still the truth when calling Roman his hero again. I wanna see Janus trying to correct him and be like "that nod meant he was telling the truth, he still thinks of you as his hero, he still cares about you", etc. Just some Roman, Janus, and c!Thomas angst all bundled up with hurt/comfort. I have THOUGHTS, and so I wanted to share :3 – oatmeal-stans-the-trash-rat

If you're up to requests rn, could we have a Sanders Sides fic where Thomas himself is actually present maybe? – anon

Hey, would you be interested in perhaps writing a story where Logan assumes Roman is stupid because he isn’t articulate, and one day Roman has enough and is trying so hard to explain to Logan why he’s wrong but he doesn’t know the right way to phrase things so he just ends up getting more and more upset while Logan isn’t listening? – anon

Hey! I love your work (I’m definitely a Roman angst enjoyer 😅, but all of it’s good!!). If you’re open to requests, I was thinking about the control that Patton has over Roman because like,, a prince fights for honor. For good. And who decides what those concepts mean? Patton does. In some way, he controls Roman’s narrative. Anyways, h/c with Roman and potentially protective Remus. Thank you for considering!! – anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: self esteem issues, self doubt, slightly unsympathetic logan and patton

Pairings: gen

Word Count: 5984

"What honor is there that I can find now? What—how do I know what is right anymore? I've been behind a sword for so long, I fear…I fear I'm forgetting who I am without it." His breath comes out shakier. "And I fear…if I were to ever try to explain this to someone who wasn't you, my words would come out so clumsy they would impale me on their rusted edges." "There is nothing wrong with the way you speak, Roman. Nothing at all." "If only it were something that would be listened to."

Thomas sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Okay, I think—is that all we're gonna be able to get done today?"

"I have no qualms about continuing, but I do not think it would be productive."

"I'm not gonna sit here and listen to you go around in circles again and again," Virgil groans, long ago giving up the pretense of standing and paying attention, his forehead pressed against the stairs railing, "just call it here and let us go."

"Now, kiddo, that's not a very sporting attitude!" Patton puts his hands on his hips. "If Thomas thinks we're all involved in this discussion, then there's no point if trying to discount your own importance."

"I'm not discounting my own importance, I'm questioning my relevance." He glares through a gap in the bars at Logan. "This whole thing isn't gonna make me think it's not worth being cautious about, no matter how much L tries to talk me out of it. I'm Anxiety. Literally it's my job to be irrational sometimes. By definition—"

"But we've previously established that you do have some semblance of logical reasoning at points, and this could very well be one of those points—"

"Okay." Thomas cuts Logan off with a wave of his hand. "I think—yeah, I think we're done. I'm sorry, Logan, but I don't—we're kind of at an impasse."

"Here's an idea." Virgil's hand flops lazily up in a parody of raising his hand. "Why don't we ask someone whose literal job it is to come up with ideas?"

Logan's nose wrinkles momentarily and he sighs. "I do not see the value in asking either Roman or Remus to weigh in on this discussion when it has nothing to do with them."

"Uh-huh, so you wanna try to do the create-an-idea thing without the Sides whose job it is to do that?"

"We are all capable of coming up with ideas, Virgil, Roman and Remus simply represent Thomas's Creativity."

"Oh, yeah?" Virgil heaves himself up onto an elbow. "When's the last time you came up with an idea for an experiment on your own?"

"Preposterous. I'm perfectly capable of coming up with my own experiments."

"Do it. Right now."

"We are in the middle of discussing—"

"No, no," Thomas says, "please, I could use a break from thinking about this."

Logan's mouth works for a second. "Very well. Let's see…ah. A spin on the Pinocchio paradox."

"The what?"

"The Pinocchio paradox. A simple thought experiment on what would happen if the character, Pinocchio, uttered the words: 'My nose will grow now.' An interesting thought, given that—"

"That his nose grows when he lies and if it does grow then he told the truth which means it wouldn't grow which means he lies, sure, sure, sure, what does that have to do with anything?"

Logan adjusts his ties and raises a finger. "Janus will now appear."

Everyone in the room pauses, listening for the telltale whoosh of a Side appearing. Which it does, a few seconds later, and Logan gets cuffed on the shoulder.

"What was that for?"

"I'm not an experiment," Janus says, a bit too amused to be an indictment, "and am perfectly capable of showing up to slap you for being an idiot."

"See? Experiment successful."

"That's not—okay." Thomas pinches the bridge of his nose. "Janus, while you're here, you might as well weigh in on this."

'"Being arbitrarily asked to choose a side with little to no context as to what the options are? My favorite." He claps his hands a few times. "What am I choosing between?"

"Would it be better if I responded to this email now, saying that I'm not available for a call for the rest of the day, or should I wait and just call back tomorrow when I am free?"

"Ooh, what an interesting dilemma. How badly will your life be impacted by a negative outcome to this call?"

"Don't fucking start with me, J," Virgil warns, studiously ignoring Patton's language, "I know you've been listening this whole time."

"Oh, you're no fun." Virgil tips him a lazy two-fingered salute and he sighs. "Very well. Thomas, do you want to respond to this now?"

Thomas frowns. "What? Isn't that what you all are here for?"

"We can manifest different parts of you trying to figure something out, but that doesn't mean you don't have your own thoughts about it that aren't us. What do you want to do?"

"This line of questioning is pointless. Thomas has established that he doesn't know what he wants and he's asked us—well, I suppose that now includes you—what to do."

Janus slides his gaze to Logan, eyes narrowing slightly. "That's awfully presumptuous of you, Logan."

"Thomas? Is that an inaccurate conclusion?"

"…I mean, not really."

Logan gestures at him. "See? There you are. Now, either we are agreeing to call the meeting here and simply wait until tomorrow, or we are going to rehash the same arguments from the past hour and quite frankly, I think there is a better use of our time."

"Why are the twins not here?"

"Excuse me?"

"The twins. The ones who are good at coming up with solutions to problems." Janus glances around. "They seem conspicuously absent from this meeting where we are trying to come up with a solution to something."

"That's what I was saying."

Logan sighs, removing his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Alright, if you insist. I do not see what sort of valuable insight they will be able to give us, but if you all want to hear what they have to say, then I suppose I cannot object."

Thomas smiles and reaches out to summon Creativity. A moment later, Roman appears in front of the TV, wincing.

"Thomas?"

"Hey, Roman, we, uh, we were hoping you could help us out."

Roman rubs the back of his neck, glancing around the room. "Uh, sure. What, uh, what with?"

"Thomas is struggling to choose between responding to a missed phone call and voicemail with either an email today apologizing and explaining his availability tomorrow, or simply calling back tomorrow when he is immediately available," Logan says smoothly. "Which option do you think is preferable?"

Roman just blinks at him for a long second. When Logan raises his eyebrows expectantly, his shoulders hunch a little and he curls in on himself. "I, um, I don't know."

"Just as I suspected. Very well, thank you Roman, you may go."

"Wait, what?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Virgil says, sitting up, "that's not fair, he's been here, what, all of two seconds?"

"Yes, and has just admitted that he doesn't have an answer to us, which is not a productive way to continue this conversation, therefore he can go."

"Wait, Logan—" Thomas holds his hand out, silently asking Roman to stay, "can't we just—how's he gonna be able to actually give his opinion if he doesn't have time to make one?"

"Roman, are the facts I've given to you unclear?"

"Huh? N-no—"

"Do you believe you have a firm enough grasp of the situation to form a conclusion?"

"I mean, yeah, I get it, but—"

"And you still don't know what option you prefer?"

Roman's quiet for a moment, his outstretched hand slowly returning to his side. "…no."

Logan nods. "Settled, then."

"Come on, Logan," Janus says, frowning a little now, "just because you didn't want him here doesn't mean you can throw him away as soon as he's said one thing that vaguely aligns with what you wanted."

"First off, that's an incredible level of irony coming from you—" both Janus and Roman flinch— "and secondly, Roman, would you like to be part of this meeting?"

They all turn to look at Roman, who shuffles under their gazes. He keeps flicking his eyes up to Thomas, then to Patton, then to Janus, before staring back down at his hands. The buzzing of the fridge becomes oppressive. He winces and rubs the back of his neck again.

"Roman?"

"…not really."

"Then it's settled, then. Thank you for your input."

Roman glances once more at Thomas with something almost like longing before he sinks out again. Virgil, who'd been watching him closely, turns to frown at Logan. Logan adjusts his tie.

"If that's all, then, Thomas, would you still like to end the meeting here?"

"Yeah, let's…let's call it."

"Very well. I shall be available if you need me further." He sinks out.

Patton sinks out next, giving Thomas a quick thumbs-up before disappearing. Janus exchanges a brief look with Virgil before he's vanishing too, leaving just the two of them alone in the living room. Thomas puts his hands on his hips, staring at the spot where Roman was.

"So that was weird, right?"

"Yeah." Virgil grunts as he sits up, hands balled up in the pocket of his hoodie. "That…I've never seen them…do that before."

"Did Roman and Logan have a fight or something?"

"I don't think so? I mean, I've seen them argue about stuff, but they always do that and it didn't seem like it was any more, like, intense than usual, so I don't…I don't know why that happened." He shuffles. "I've also never seen Logan be that…short with Roman before."

"Yeah, like, he was here for literally, like—"

"Like two seconds—"

"And then Logan was telling him to go again. And did you notice how he kept looking—"

"At you?"

"At me, yeah, did—did I do something?"

"What? Shit, no, Thomas, I don't think that's it. I think—" he sighs— "look, he's not gonna be happy I'm telling you this, but Princey's been going through some stuff lately and I'm not sure exactly what it is but I know it's been weighing on him a lot."

Thomas frowns. "How so?"

"Well, let me put it this way: have you been daydreaming a lot more lately?"

He thinks. "Uh, yeah, I mean, I guess so, but I haven't been doing that much recently, which kind of makes sense, I guess?"

"Yeah, well, that's Princey in the Imagination." Thomas nods and Virgil gives him a pointed look. "I'm telling you that Princey's been going into the Imagination more."

"Yeah, that's—isn't that what he does?"

Virgil scrubs a hand over his face. "Yeah, it is, but not like this. Normally when he goes in, he's doing it to come up with ideas or work something out, or…something. But recently…"

"But recently that doesn't feel like what he's doing," Thomas finishes, chewing on his lip, "yeah, actually, now that you mention it, it does kind of feel…different. Like—like they're…"

"Comfort," Virgil finishes quietly when he can't quite put his finger on it, "it feels like a comfort."

"Roman's going into the Imagination to comfort himself?" Virgil shrugs. "Why?"

"Like I said, he's going through some stuff. It's not—I'm not all up on how the Imagination translates to whatever your daydreams end up being, but I don't think—Princey's not even telling us what he gets up to in there."

Thomas sucks in a breath. If there's one thing he's learned after listening to them talk about whatever goes on in the Mindscape when they're not with him, it's that Roman loves to regale them with tales of his adventures in the Imagination, even if it comes at the expense of whatever else they're doing. To hear that Roman's been going off more than usual and he isn't telling them about it? Worrying, to say the least.

"When did this start?"

Virgil blows out a breath. "After the wedding."

"Shit, that's…probably not good."

"Yeah."

They both stare at the black TV. A bit of dust gets caught in a gust from the vent and sticks to the corner.

"…he's my hero," Thomas says quietly.

"Huh?"

"He's my hero. Maybe he's…maybe he's going to the Imagination to do the things heroes don't get to do."

"Okay, you gotta break that down for me a little more."

"The heroes don't get to be vulnerable. They don't get to…to actually stop and rest, not really. They have to keep going, they have to…" Thomas swallows. When did this lump in his throat get here? "They're not—oh, god, am I gonna cry?"

"Shit, shit, shit, uh—do you want me to get Patton back?"

"N-no, no, don't—" for some reason the thought of Patton reappearing sends a bolt of fear straight through his chest and he knows Virgil feels it too, shooting to his feet and watching as Thomas stumbles back to the couch— "I—oh, god."

"Hey, hey, hey, buddy," Virgil says, voice soft and low as Thomas buries his face in his hands, "take it easy, okay? You're okay, you're safe in the house, everything's okay. I need you to take a deep breath for me, okay? Just a nice, deep breath, you're okay, that's it, good, now let it out…nice, do it again…"

Virgil helps talk him slowly through the well of emotion suddenly bubbling just at the base of his throat, the breaths coming out shaky but steady. Absentmindedly, he puts a hand to his chest and starts rubbing in slow, firm circles. The pressure does something to the frantic and flighty part of him, helping to soothe him back from whatever brink he hadn't realized he'd walked to.

"Hey," Virgil calls a few minutes later, "you with me again?"

"Yeah, I think so." He takes a couple more seconds just to breathe it out. "Roman's—Roman's my hero, and I don't know if he knows that I…that I still want to listen to him."

"What do you mean?"

"Afterwards. When I—when we were all—when the stuff happened. He said that he thought he was my hero and I told him he was and then he…"

"Freaked," Virgil finishes when he can't, "yeah, I remember."

"I don't…I don't know why that made him so upset."

"Well, hey," he says when that lump starts to come back to his throat, "let's not have you worry about that right now, okay? You—let's go do something else that'll get your mind off of it. Go rewatch the Office bloopers again, that always works."

"Will you—can you keep an eye on him for me?"

"Yeah, Thomas, I can do that. Now c'mon, those bloopers aren't going to rewatch themselves."

***

Roman walks slowly through the woods as the fireflies twinkle around him. He lifts a hand to push aside a branch, stepping through the shadows to emerge onto the thin dirt path that winds through the base of the trees. As the darkness falls, the thin blue lines grow deeper, darker, blending together to weave across the grass as little critters scurry back and forth. The whistle of the wind accompanies the crunch of his footsteps as he makes his way toward the cabin.

Movement from around the side and the man emerges, wiping dirt from his hands with a rag. He looks up and smiles as Roman approaches.

"Roman," he greets, with his voice warm, "how good it is to see you."

"I see I'm a bit too late to help with the chores." He nods to the rag. "I don't mean to impose on you."

"Nonsense, old friend, nothing you do could possibly be an imposition. As it happens, I have a stew on that I won't be able to finish by myself and it would be a great favor to me if you were to help me."

Roman chuckles. "How could I refuse?"

The man holds a hand out to him as he nears, settling it on the curve of Roman's neck and pulling him close for a brief hug of sorts. Roman turns his cheek to rest against the curve of his jaw, breathing out shakily. The man lets out a comforting noise and his fingers card through the delicate hairs at the base of his head.

"Come inside, dear friend, let the fire warm you."

"The night is warm already."

"It is young still, and will grow cold," he says as he begins to lead them up the stairs, "and you look to be the type of cold that does not thaw even in the hottest sun."

"I worry for the state of the realm sometimes, if I am truly so transparent."

"Only to me, dear friend, and only because you have seen fit to allow yourself to be so with me." He's coaxed inside a modest cabin, sat at a simple hewn table as a rich smell fills the room. He closes his eyes to breathe it in, opening them again when the low thud of a bowl and tankard draws his attention. "Eat, please. You know I can't bear a less-than-full stomach under my roof."

"You're too kind to me."

"Nonsense." The hand fits itself around his head once more. "You are worth being kind to, and even more worth allowing me to care for you. Now, come on."

The stew is simple, hearty, and as filling as he could ever want. Under the table, their legs press together, boots against boots, knee against knee. The fire crackles in the hearth as the last of the light fades from outside. He can feel his shoulders beginning to relax, the line of his body growing looser, more languid.

When they've both eaten their fill and the dishes have been set away to deal with later, he sits on the floor near the hearth and stares into the flames. A warm hand lands on his shoulder and brings his head to rest against another, light touch trailing over the bare skin under his sleeve.

"What troubles you tonight, dear friend?"

"I don't want to impose—"

"Shh, none of that now. It's an honor to be troubled by your worries."

He turns his head into the crook of his neck, breathing in the smell of clean sweat, of spiced apple, of wood smoke. "I struggle to remember what it is I fight for."

Gentle nails along his scalp. "How so?"

"There is nothing wrong with the way you speak, Roman. Nothing at all."

"If only it were something that would be listened to."

"Hey." He's nudged until he can look up at the man's face. "You once told me that all you wanted to fight for was this. For the chance for one to sit, in the peace and safety, with those they care for, and have that be alright. Is this still true?"

"Yes. But I don't—I no longer know how to do that."

The man goes quiet, contemplative, running his fingers gently over the edge of Roman's face. The touch coaxes a lump to his throat, a tear to his eye, and the man lets out another comforting noise, pulling him closer.

"Rest for the night, please, dear friend. My bed is warm, my touch willing. You fear losing who you are without your sword? Put it down for the night, stay. Remind yourself of how to enjoy the thing you fight for."

"If only I could be as persuasive as you," he mumbles, allowing himself to sink into the warmth of the touch, "then I might never need a sword again."

He chuckles. "Well, I don't know if I can do all that much, but I have learned how to persuade you, my dear, and that will serve me well enough."

***

"Roman?"

Roman turns, spotting Janus as he trudges back from the Imagination. "What're you doing awake?"

"I was waiting for you."

He winces. "Sorry, I, um, did we have something planned?"

"What? No, no, sweetie, nothing like that, I only—I wanted to talk to you for a moment."

A chill works its way up Roman's spine and he suppresses a shudder, walking slowly to his room and opening the door. Janus follows him in, carefully closing it behind them and waiting while Roman tucks something into a drawer on his desk and sitting down.

"What's up?"

"Are you…are you okay?"

He flinches slightly. "Why, um, why?"

Janus looks pained. He glances around and seemingly comes to a decision before sinking down to the floor, crossing his legs and sighing. "You…seemed very upset after earlier, and I wanted to come and ask you about it."

"Oh, no, I'm fine, I wasn't—Logan was right, I wasn't going to be useful in that conversation."

"The one you were in for all of three seconds before you were being shunted out of it again?"

Roman narrows his eyes. "You know, it is kind of ironic that you of all people are worrying about that right now."

Janus barely has time to process how he feels about that sentence before Roman's eyes are widening and he's leaning back.

"Sorry, I'm sorry, that came out really rude, I didn't mean that."

"You did, and that's okay. No, no—really, it is okay, Roman, you don't have to pretend like I didn't hurt you—that I'm not hurting you when I do things like that. No, no—" he stands as Roman covers his face with his hands— "please, sweetie, just—just listen to me for a second, okay?"

Roman nods, his face still hidden. Janus hesitates for a moment before gloved hands come down to rest on his shoulders. He leans down and carefully, carefully presses his chin to the top of Roman's head. Roman shudders a little under the contact but stays still.

"You've been distant lately," Janus whispers, as though afraid of breaking the silence, "and that's not a bad thing, sweetie, but it's…it seems like it's hurting you. And I'm worried because Thomas isn't—I don't know what Thomas would do without you."

Roman stiffens and immediately he knows it was the wrong thing to say. "I won't let Thomas down again, I know what I'm doing. I'm just—I'm sorry I haven't been very present lately, but I'm—"

"No, no, that's not what I meant—wait, what do you mean, 'again?'"

Roman hunches his shoulders. "I know I'm not Thomas's hero anymore, okay? You don't need to keep acting like I'm—"

"Wait, wait, sweetie." Janus crouches down, cupping Roman's face in his hands. "What do you mean, you're not Thomas's hero anymore?"

"That's what you said! After the wedding, when he said—when I said—and you nodded! Like it was a lie!" He jerks away. "We don't need to pretend that didn't happen, okay? I remember, it's not like I could forget something like that."

"No, no, Roman—no, that's not what I meant, I didn't—it wasn't a lie."

Roman goes still. He stares at Janus for a long moment, long enough for a bit of a smile to come to his face, like Roman's actually listening to him. Then Roman's expression darkens and the voice that comes out of him is darker and more venomous than anything Janus has ever heard.

"Do not lie to me."

"R-Roman—"

"No." Roman pulls away, standing up, towering over him. "You will not lie to me. Not about that, not about anything like that. Use me as your puppet all you want, everyone knows I can't stop you, but I won't let you lie to me about this. Ever."

He's already fumbling to get his gloves off, surging up and grabbing Roman in a tight hug, so close he couldn't hope to get an inch of distance between them. "I'm not lying," he hisses, almost into Roman's nose, "I'm not lying about this, Roman, I'm not. Thomas wasn't lying. You're his hero. You still are."

"Stop it—"

"My gloves are off! I can't lie with my gloves off, Thomas loves you—you're his hero—"

"Stop it!" The words leave Roman in a breathless cry and Janus is left struggling to heft his weight as his knees buckle. "Stop it, stop it—stop it, it's not true, it can't be true, it's a lie—it—it has to be—"

"Why does it have to be, sweetie?" They're back on the floor, Janus smoothing hair back from Roman's flushed face, awkwardly holding him in his lap. "Why did it have to be a lie?"

"Because—because—" he sniffles— "nothing makes sense anymore. I don't—I can't—I can't do anything."

He frowns. "What do you mean you can't do anything?"

Hands come up to circle his wrists, not to push him away, just to have somewhere else to hold onto. "Princes fight for honor, for what's good. I can't—I can't fight anymore."

Not much can break Janus's heart like hearing Roman admit something like that, fewer things still can threaten tears at the corners of his eyes like the ones badly concealed in Roman's voice. "What do you mean, sweetie? Why can't you fight anymore?"

"I don't know anything! I don't know what's good, what's honorable, what's—what's right, I can't…I'm wrong, Janus, I'm just wrong and I don't—I don't know how to be right again."

"Shh, shh, shh, easy, now, sweetie, shh…" Janus hauls him closer, pressing his mouth to his flushed cheek, still murmuring comfort. "Shh…that's it, just stay here with me a moment, okay?"

"J-Janus—"

"I'm here, sweetie, I'm right here."

Roman's stifled sobs land like mines in the room, creating a mess around them as he curls up tighter, tighter still. The door to the Imagination glistens softly and he can almost hear the distant crackle of a fireplace and that alone sends him further into the fit. Janus's hands remain gentle, holding him close, but everything keeps spinning and nothing, nothing makes sense except the hurt in his chest.

He's going to cry himself to sleep again, he realizes faintly as exhaustion starts to seep through him, but then Janus is kissing his forehead again and gently shaking him awake.

"Sweetie, listen to me: no one knows what you fight for better than you, okay? You're Thomas's Hopes and Dreams, his hero—" Roman whimpers— "you do know what's right."

"N-no, I don't."

"Then who does know?"

"Patton."

Janus's blood runs cold. "Patton? Why Patton?"

"Patton's the Heart, he's M—he's Morality. He knows—he decides. I'm—I just follow." He sniffles. "And Logan—Logan, he's right, I don't—I'm so stupid—"

"That's enough, now." He runs a hand through his hair again. "That's enough, sweetie. You're not stupid. No—shh, shh, you're not. You know you're not."

"I am. I can't—I can't talk right and I don't know what I'm doing and—an' I'm just gonna mess everything up again."

Janus closes his eyes, bowing his head and taking a deep breath of his own. Cradling Roman's head to his chest, he leans down and kisses both his forehead and his cheeks, just staying there for a long, long moment. Roman's soft sobs echo gently in his ear and he tucks a stray piece of hair back from his face.

"You're not stupid," he murmurs, "you're not going to mess everything up again. You're okay. You're okay, sweetie."

Roman sniffles and shakes his head. "No, it's not. It's not okay."

"…no," Janus concedes, pulling Roman close, "I suppose it's not."

***

Not many things can happen in the Mindscape without Remus noticing, and almost nothing can happen to his brother without him showing up to knock some heads.

Case in point: when there's a tug in his gut telling him that Roman is upset, he grabs his Morningstar and sinks out without hesitating.

When he rises up in the living room, it takes less than two seconds for him to determine one: that Logan is picking on his brother, two: Patton isn't doing anything to stop him, and three: Roman is crying.

"Remus, not now," Logan sighs, "we're in the middle of something."

"You're in the middle of hurting my brother."

"R-Re?" He's got his arm around Roman's shoulders in the next moment. "W-wait, I need to—I have to—I gotta explain."

"Explain what, Roro?"

Logan sighs. "Roman has been trying, unsuccessfully, to explain that we are at fault for—"

"Ah, no." Remus throws a knife at Logan. "I didn't ask you. Shush."

"Remus! Throwing knives at people isn't nice!"

"Neither is making them cry! We're all in agreement." He tucks his head against Roman's, gentling his voice. "What're you trying to explain, Roro?"

"The—" he sniffles— "Janus said I should try—try talking to them and I said it wouldn't work but he—he insisted an' I—"

"Shh, shh, take your time, Ro, you're doing great."

"Heart. Morality. Prince. Logic."

Remus's little black heart breaks in two and he wraps his arms tightly around his brother. "Oh, Ro, it's okay. It's gonna be okay, lemme get you somewhere safe and I'll do it for you, okay?"

"You don't have to—"

"Trust me, Ro-bro, I got this."

Roman sags in his arms. "O-okay."

Remus quickly bids the Imagination to open its doors and sinks Roman out, giving him a gentle push into the forest before reappearing in the living room. He cracks his knuckles and grins.

"Alright, where were we?"

Logan sighs. "Remus, I don't—"

"Ah, that's right!" Remus throws another knife at him. "You, not listening to people who can't articulate things as well as you can! Rude and ableist, Loganberry, not a good look on you."

"I am not—"

"Roman can't articulate his thoughts as well as you can and so you think you're better than him, smarter than him, and that he's not worth listening to, is that explicit enough?" Logan opens and closes his mouth a few times but doesn't say anything. "Mm. And you!"

Patton yelps as Remus throws something at him too.

"You have a nasty habit of making Roman feel like a helpless little kid! You have a lot of sway over things like Thomas's sense of right and wrong and when you don't talk to Roman like he's your equal, you really fuck him up!"

"Language—"

"Don't fucking talk to me about my language," Remus says with artificial cheeriness, "talk to yourself about how not to give my brother an identity crisis!"

He stops throwing things, mainly because the rest of them are exploding or things he knows Roman would rather he didn't throw at them, no matter how tempting it is. The two of them slowly get their shit together, each with a different amount of regret. He doesn't really care about that, though, so long as they're not going to hurt Roman like that again.

"Good chat!"

And he sinks out to tackle Roman into Ollie's pond so they can have fun playing and not crying.

God, he loves his brother.

***

"Hey, Thomas?"

Thomas looks up and sees Virgil on the stairs. "Oh, hey, Virge, what's up?"

"You, uh, you asked me to keep an eye on Princey."

He sits up straight. "Yeah, what's—what's going on?"

Virgil sighs, rubbing his hands together. "There was a…not a fight, but some stuff happened. Turns out that Roman, uh, didn't believe you when you said you still thought of him as your hero and it…got bad."

"Do I want to know how bad?"

"Like, bad enough that Roman wasn't—shit, Thomas, no, I don't think you wanna know. Let's just say it was bad enough that he wasn't just going to the Imagination for comfort, he was going there because it was the only place he felt safe."

"Oh, Roman…"

"The fight—the thing was about Roman trying to explain to Patton and Logan how it fucked him up really badly, and he wasn't—you know how Roman's not always the best at explaining himself?"

"Yeah?"

"It—it wasn't really going well. Remus had to step in and do it for him."

"Wait, Remus?"

"Yeah, they're brothers. Remus—shit, Remus is really protective of Roman sometimes and this time wasn't an exception. Everyone's fine now, but it's…" Virgil sighs. "Logan and Patton have apologized and everybody's working on it, but I thought you'd want to know."

"How much stuff happens with you guys that I don't know about?"

"Honestly? I don't think you want the answer to that either."

"Jesus." Thomas scrubs a hand over his face. "Alright, well, thanks for telling me, Virgil. If…if there's anything I can do, let me know?"

Virgil nods and sinks out. Thomas puts a hand to his chest, rubbing in slow circles. There's a part of him that feels cold, still. Maybe…maybe he can figure out some way to help warm it up.

***

Roman wakes up to the sound of a crackling fire. He hums, rolling over, reaching for the edge of the bed, only to stop when his hands meet the thick red comforter. He frowns. This…this is his bed. He didn't fall asleep in the Imagination. So then why…?

He looks over and his eyes widen.

Across the room, tucked into a neat little alcove that definitely wasn't there when he went to sleep, is a merrily crackling fireplace. Above it, mounted on a gold plaque, is a cardboard sword with the words you're my hero written on it in red ink.

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