#Pure Fluff

[formulaonecrumbs]

making space for you 🧡

Lando Norris x gf!reader (though gender isn’t specified and reader is set as a model idk)

summary: Lando Norris wants his girlfriend to move in but doesn’t have the nerve to ask directly, so he starts dropping subtle (and not-so-subtle) hints. She starts catching on.

warnings: none that i can think of. it’s just pure tooth-rotting fluff.

A/N: FIRST WRITTEN FIIICC RAAHHH!!! i’ve had this in my drafts (off tumblr) for weeks. i don’t put my writing many places so this is special 😇 i hope y’all don’t hate it because i kind of love it errmmmm ANYWAYS enjoy! happy reading 🫶 p.s. can one of y’all give me prompts, i’m so lost rn. my asks are always open ♡︎ LOVE U BABIES MWAH 💋

Lando was acting suspicious again.

Not in a cheating way. No—he was still very much the golden retriever boyfriend who texted goodnight with a heart and a photo of his feet hanging off the hotel bed. But suspicious in the “I’m clearly hiding something but I think I’m being slick about it” kind of way.

You first noticed it when you came back from Milan. You’d just wrapped a runway show and all you wanted was to crawl into Lando’s ridiculously oversized bed and not speak to another human for at least twelve hours.

Instead, you walked into his closet to steal one his hoodies, as you usually did, and found your clothes—folded. Color-coded. Already in there.

“You reorganize now?” you asked, raising a brow as he leaned against the doorframe, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he grinned. “It’s practical.”

“Is it?”

“You’re here, like, half the time,” he shrugged. “Makes sense.”

“Except I have a place five minutes from here.”

“Which you barely use.”

He wasn’t wrong. Still. Weird.

—————————————————————————

The next time, it was the bathroom.

A whole drawer. Toothbrush, hairbrush, your favorite moisturizer, that one serum you can never find in the UK—he’d somehow gotten it shipped from Paris. Though, he was Lando Norris, you should’ve expected it.

You squinted at him when you found it.

He shrugged again. “I know your skin freaks out if you switch products. Thought I’d help.”

“I could’ve brought it myself.”

“Yeah, but this way, you don’t have to.” His grin widened. “Aren’t I the best boyfriend ever?”

“You’re something,” you muttered, though your cheeks flushed all the same.

—————————————————————————

But then there were his socks in your designated drawer. Your shampoo replaced by full-sized bottles of his favorites. His phone charger always “accidentally” ending up in your purse. A second key to his flat mysteriously showing up in your handbag, like it walked there itself.

You weren’t dumb. He was doing something. Slowly. Subtly.

But he wouldn’t say it.

Not once did the words “move in” pass his lips. You knew because you’d started counting how many days he danced around it.

Seventeen.

Seventeen days of hints and nudges and one very suspicious IKEA receipt.

So naturally, you decided to make him squirm.

—————————————————————————

“Baby,” you called one afternoon, holding up a pair of his boxers from your laundry basket. “Why is your underwear here?”

Lando peeked up from his phone, lying on the sofa with his feet draped over the armrest. “We share laundry now. Efficient, no?”

“You’re not even here half the week.”

He smirked. “Yet my socks keep ending up in your drawer. Funny, that.”

“Funny…” You narrowed your eyes. “You planning on invading more drawers, Mr. Norris?”

“Just testing the waters,” he said smoothly, like it wasn’t a completely weird thing to say.

You sat beside him, kicking his legs off so you could steal his spot. “You know, normal people ask their girlfriends to move in with them.”

“Is that so?”

“Mhm. It’s this crazy concept called communication. You should try it.”

Lando turned his head, giving you that boyish smile—the one that got him out of trouble and into most people’s hearts. “And if I were to ask you… what would you say?”

You tilted your head, pretending to think. “Depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether I get full control of the bathroom cabinet or not.”

“You already have it!”

“Then maybe I’d say yes.”

He grinned, looking relieved. “So, hypothetically… if I didn’t want to ask because it’s terrifying and what if you say no and break my poor fragile heart—”

“You’re so dramatic.”

“—hypothetically, would it be okay if I just kept sneakily merging our lives until one day you wake up and realize we already live together?”

You bit your lip, trying not to laugh. “That’s literally what you’re doing.”

“Subtlety is a skill.”

“No, it’s avoidance.”

He poked your knee. “It’s a love language.”

“Yours is physical touch and being annoying.”

“And yours is pretending you don’t like when I’m annoying.”

You smiled then, small and soft. The look in your eyes not less amused, but now accompanied by complete fondness and love. “You’re right.”

“I usually am,” he said, full of himself.

You nudged his shoulder. “Fine. Let’s do it.”

He blinked. “Do what?”

“Move in.”

His mouth dropped open for a second. “Wait—you’re serious?”

You shrugged. “You said it, didn’t you? I already basically live here. Might as well make it official.”

Lando stared, like he didn’t believe you. “You want to move in with me? Like… permanently?”

“I’ve tolerated your snoring for over a year. I think I can handle the rest.”

He laughed, pulling you into his arms, half crushing you in a hug, peppering every inch of your face with kisses. “You have no idea how happy you just made me.”

“I think I do,” you said against his chest. “You’ve been plotting this since December.”

“Okay, maybe I’ve had a Pinterest board since November—don’t judge.”

You groaned. “Oh my god. You’re ridiculous.”

“I just wanted it to feel like home. Like ours. Not just mine.”

You pulled back to look at him, my expression softened. It always seemed soften with him. “It already does, Lando.”

His eyes softened, voice gentler. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Good,” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Because I already ordered us a matching towel set.”

You laughed into his hoodie, shaking your head.

Of course he did.

[lazysoulwriter]

Soft for You - Rafe Cameron!

requests are still open! - 💌

“For the last time, Rafe is not going to kill me.”

The words leave your mouth so naturally, like it’s a daily routine at this point. Your friends just give you that same look—half amusement, half concern—and shake their heads.

“Okay, but if you end up missing, we’re not gonna be surprised,” JJ says, leaning back against the couch.

“Not funny.” You cross your arms.

“I mean,” Kie shrugs, “He has a reputation, you know?”

“A reputation that doesn’t apply to me,” you insist. “He’s different when it’s just us.”

Pope lets out a chuckle. “Sure, sure. An angel, right?”

“Exactly,” you say, unfazed. “He’s my angel.”

It’s a quiet afternoon at Rafe’s house, the kind you love the most. With his dad gone and Sarah never around, it’s practically yours and his now—a big, empty house just for the two of you.

You’re curled up on the couch when he walks in, shirt slightly unbuttoned, hair still damp from his shower. His face softens immediately when he sees you.

“Babyyy,” he hums, making his way over.

You giggle, pulling him down beside you. “Rafe, don’t call me that in that voice.”

“What voice?” he teases, nuzzling his nose against yours.

“That baby voice,” you laugh.

“But you love it,” he grins, kissing your cheek.

And you do. As much as you pretend to hate it, the way he softens around you, the way his voice gets all sweet and playful, makes your heart flutter every time.

“Missed you,” he murmurs, pulling you onto his lap.

“You saw me this morning,” you remind him.

“Doesn’t matter. Missed you anyway.”

You melt against him, fingers tracing lazy patterns on his jaw. His arms wrap around you tightly, like he never wants to let go. You kiss him, slow and sweet, feeling him smile against your lips.

“How do you always do this to me?” he whispers.

“Do what?”

“Make me wanna be soft,” he says, resting his forehead against yours.

You giggle, cupping his face. “Maybe because you are soft. For me, at least.”

He sighs, pressing another lingering kiss to your lips.

The afternoon passes in a blur of whispered words and shared smiles. You end up sprawled across his bed, legs tangled together, your head resting on his chest. He traces slow, absentminded patterns on your arm, his other hand playing with your hair.

“You make me wanna be better,” he murmurs.

You tilt your head up, meeting his gaze. “You already are.”

He scoffs playfully. “Tell that to literally anyone else.”

You grin. “Oh, I do. But no one believes me.”

Rafe chuckles, shifting so he can look at you better. “Maybe because they only see one side of me.”

“Then they don’t know the real you,” you say simply, running a hand down his chest.

He hums in thought before pulling you closer. “I don’t care what they think. As long as you know.”

“I do,” you assure him. “And I love you for it.”

His breath hitches slightly, but then he’s smiling, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

“If only people knew,” you murmur. “I wish I could record this and just end your whole bad boy reputation.”

Rafe laughs, shaking his head. “Let ‘em think what they want, baby. I only care what you think.”

And that’s all that matters.

[dearlenore]

JUST LIKE DADDY • S.REID

SUMMARY: most people are delighted when their children take after their spouses, however none of them had a child with Spencer Reid. In your case, having two smart asses around is giving you a headache. A very adorable, sweet, headache.

PAIRING: mom!reader x dad!spencer

tags: PURE FLUFF, reader wears sundresses, no mentions of pregnancy (so u can imagine baby is adopted) , team doesn’t know about your or your daughter, mentions of autism and ableism (no hate crimes , just ignorance) season5!spencer

a/n: dad spencer is all that’s in my pea brain rn I should probably study tho… also you guessed it, peds surgeon reader 🥹

w/c: 1.8k

“HARPER COME HERE,” you called, glancing over your shoulder as you finished plating breakfast.

The sound of small footsteps pattering against the hardwood floor followed, but she didn’t respond right away. Instead, she wandered into the kitchen, her little nose buried deep in a book, turning pages with quiet fascination. You sighed, shaking your head with a knowing smile.

“Harper,” you said again, a little firmer this time.

She finally looked up, blinking at you with the same wide-eyed, unfocused expression her father wore whenever he was deep in thought. It was uncanny—like looking at a mini version of your boyfriend.

“Come here, baby,” you chuckled, reaching for her. She barely acknowledged you as you lifted both her and the book in one smooth motion, hoisting her onto your hip.

“Are you hungry?” you asked, shifting her weight so you could grab a forkful of scrambled eggs from your plate.

Without hesitation, she opened her mouth, happily taking the bite before reaching for more. You laughed, sitting her on the counter as her father finally wandered in, rubbing his eyes and stretching with a yawn. His hair was a mess, the result of a night spent tossing and turning, and he still looked half-asleep.

You smirked. “I forgot about the boy band you joined.”

Spencer frowned slightly, confused in his sleepy state, before realizing his hair must be sticking up in every direction. He attempted to smooth it down with one hand as he walked over to the counter, where you slid a plate of eggs in his direction.

“Daddy!” Harper beamed, momentarily abandoning her book to reach for him.

But instead of waiting for him to pick her up, she grabbed a handful of your scrambled eggs and stuffed them into her mouth.

“Wow, okay—yep, you know what? Enjoy that, honey,” you sighed, watching in amusement as she happily devoured your breakfast with zero shame.

Spencer sat beside her, sipping his coffee with a small smile as he watched her eat. You shook your head, adjusting your scrubs and tying your hair up as you muttered, “I’ve never seen a baby eat so much…”

Spencer, ever the encyclopedia of knowledge, didn’t miss a beat. “Actually, at this age, children experience growth spurts that can significantly increase their appetite. The brain alone uses about 50% of a toddler’s energy intake, which makes sense considering how much she’s learning and developing every day. So, really, it’s not just eating—it’s fueling her cognitive expansion.”

You shot him a blank stare. “Spencer, she just ate my breakfast with her bare hands.”

He smirked, ruffling Harper’s hair as she reached for another bite. “And at this rate, we might need a second fridge.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Remind me to get on that one.”

Leaning over, you kissed him softly, savoring the warmth of the moment before glancing at your watch. Reality settled in as you sighed. “I gotta go—one of my patients just had another seizure, which means surgery got pushed up.”

Spencer’s expression shifted immediately, concern flickering in his eyes as he reached for your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “You’ll do great,” he murmured.

You squeezed his hand back before pulling away, ruffling Harper’s curls on your way out. “Love you both. Try not to let her talk you into giving her ice cream for breakfast again.”

“No promises,” Spencer called after you, Harper giggling beside him.

As you left, you could already hear Harper asking, “Daddy, can we read now?”

And, of course, you knew what his answer would be.

“Enjoy your special day off with daddy Harper, you’re very lucky,” you giggled, kissing Harper on the nose. “Promise to try and get out before dinner?” Spencer frowned.

“Oh, Baby…I have interns. After this surgery I leave whenever the hell i want, should only take 7 hours,” you shrugged. “So I can expect you by 3-4PM?” He smiled, Harper on his hip.

“Fingers crossed!” You called out to him, closing and locking the door behind you.

THANKFULLY, LUCK MUST’VE been on your side. For the first time in what felt like forever, you were home on time. You quietly unlocked the door, hoping to surprise your fiancé and daughter, and were immediately greeted by the soft sound of giggles echoing from the kitchen.

You smiled to yourself, slipping off your shoes as you followed the sound.

“Whoa, is that me?” Spencer’s voice was full of delight.

Standing in the doorway, you saw him leaning over Harper’s small frame, his hands gently resting on the edge of the counter as he studied her latest masterpiece. In front of her was a cookie slathered in colorful frosting, a wobbly yet unmistakable attempt at drawing their little family. Harper beamed proudly, nodding as Spencer adjusted a tiny smudge of icing with his fingertip.

“And is that you and Mom?” he asked, his smile widening as he pointed to two smaller figures beside the taller one.

Harper nodded again, her curls bouncing with the movement.

Your heart melted at the sight.

For a long time, you and Spencer had worried about Harper’s speech. She had been a quiet baby, slow to start speaking, and for months, you’d both second-guessed yourselves, wondering if you were doing something wrong. And then—one day—she had started talking, and she hadn’t stopped since.

Often times people would comment in stores, they’d question if she was autistic, in their words ‘like her daddy,’ which pissed you off to no end. Not that you were ashamed of either of them but for the sole fact it wasn’t their business.

“Is that for me?” you gasped, stepping into the kitchen.

Harper turned toward you so quickly she nearly knocked over a bowl of sprinkles. “Mommy! Look what I drew!” she giggled, holding up her cookie proudly.

You raised a brow as you inspected the chaotic yet adorable frosting mess. “That’s beautiful, baby. You even gave Daddy his new haircut”

Spencer let out a soft laugh, running a hand through his already-messy curls as Harper nodded eagerly. “We’ve been going over proper grammar all day,” he explained with amusement.

That made you smile knowingly. You and Spencer had agreed early on not to use baby talk with Harper. He had read several studies on how children learned language through immersion, picking up sentence structures and vocabulary from full, adult-level conversations.

“In order for her to develop a strong linguistic foundation, it’s important that she hears full sentences and proper word usage,” Spencer had once told you, mid-ramble, as you rocked a six-month-old Harper to sleep. “Children’s brains are like sponges. The more complex language they’re exposed to, the more their neural connections develop. It’s how they build cognitive associations—”

And yet, despite all his research, Harper still loved to test his patience by making up her own grammar rules.

“I drawed it myself!” she announced proudly, smearing frosting on her cheek in the process.

Spencer sighed dramatically, though the fondness in his eyes was unmistakable. “Drew, sweetheart. You drew it yourself.”

Harper scrunched up her nose, contemplating that for a moment before repeating, “I drewed it myself.”

You snorted as Spencer let out a defeated sigh.

“Close enough,” he muttered, kissing the top of her head.

You leaned against the counter, watching the two of them with warmth spreading through your chest. “I think it’s perfect,” you said, pressing a kiss to Harper’s frosting-covered cheek before turning to Spencer. “And clearly made with love by a little artist”

Spencer nodded, wrapping an arm around your waist as Harper reached for more sprinkles. “An artist and a linguist, apparently.”

Harper looked up at you both, eyes twinkling. “I’m a genius,” she declared.

Spencer chuckled, squeezing your waist. “Well, she’s definitely my daughter.”

“Don’t get me started. It’s like there’s two of you.” You scoffed playfully. Spencer’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean?” He crosses his arms and leans on the counter.

You raised an eyebrow, pausing mid-sip of the coffee you’d just taken from your boyfriend. “Spence. Seriously?”

He blinked at you, waiting. Oh, he was serious.

You set your mug down with a sigh, crossing your arms as you leaned against the counter. “Okay. Well, for starters, she walks around with a book in her hands everywhere—to the point where I’ve had to physically guide her away from furniture so she doesn’t run into things. Sound familiar?”

Spencer tilted his head, processing.

“And let’s talk about her memory. The other day, I told her we could get ice cream if she took a nap, and when I picked her up from daycare two days later, she said, ‘Mommy, you owe me ice cream.’ TWO. DAYS. She remembered the exact words I said, which, by the way, is something you do all the time, and it’s terrifying.”

Spencer opened his mouth, probably to say something about the hippocampus and memory retention, but you held up a finger. “Nope. I’m not done.”

Harper, now licking frosting off her fingers, was watching you both with amusement.

“She uses logic to try and win arguments. Do you know how hard it is to reason with a toddler who says, ‘But technically, you did say I could have another cookie yesterday’?” You waved your hands for emphasis. “She technically me’d into giving her another cookie, Spencer. She’s FIVE.”

Spencer rubbed his hand thoughtfully, as if considering his own genetic responsibility in this matter.

“Oh, and let’s not forget the fact that she infodumps—about things she just learned. The other day, I made an offhand comment about birds flying south for the winter, and now she’s been telling everyone about migratory patterns. The cashier at the grocery store did not ask for that information, but she sure got it.”

Spencer’s lips twitched, clearly amused. “So what you’re saying is… she’s highly intelligent, observant, and logical?”

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “Oh my God. Yes, Spencer, your genes are very strong.”

Before you could say more, Harper perked up, pointing a frosting-covered finger at you. “Mommy, did you know some birds don’t actually migrate, they just move to different parts of the same area?”

Spencer’s grin widened as he leaned toward you. “See? She’s just expanding on a topic she finds fascinating.”

You huffed, shaking your head before leaning down to kiss Harper’s sticky cheek. “You two are gonna drive me insane.”

Harper giggled, and Spencer simply pressed a kiss to your temple. “But you love us.”

You sighed dramatically before melting into his embrace. “Yeah, yeah. I love you both. Even if you’re teaming up to outsmart me.”

Harper beamed. “It’s ‘cause we’re genies, Mommy.” You snickered.

“So how many wishes do I get?”

[kokokoula]

here's a thought:

tsukishima kei is mean. he complains that you talk too much, laughs when you flunk your tests, and insists that you're clingy. others wonder why you're even with him.

but they don't know that when he tsks at your rambling, he shifts one side of his headphones away to hear your voice. they don't know that even though he teases you for your low test scores, he would stay up late at night just to tutor you till you'd get it right. they don't know that after rolling his eyes at your affection, he places a chaste kiss on your forehead and hides his red face in your hair.

so when they say you deserve better, you laugh at their cluelessness and state with a smile, "he's more than everything i could ever want." and he falls in love with you all over again.

[janluxe]

HOLD ME — CALEB / XIA YIZHOU

–summary; books are nice, but cradling him after a long day at work is even better.

–contents; fluff

–w/c; 404

–a/n; I need to hold him. I'm totally normal about him. Thank you for reading, have a nice day <3

"I won't bother you too much, pipsqueak." Caleb's usual teasing attitude was nowhere to be found, slowly slipping into bed and hiding under the covers.

He had taken notice of you reading one of the books you were so excited about. Are you even surprised he remembered your favorite titles? Your reactions over the smallest things and the microexpressions on your features never went unappreciated by his gaze.

Hm? A confused hum escaped your throat as your focus shifted from the beautiful scenarios forming with each word you read, to his cheek pressed against the surface of your stomach.

There was something oddly comforting about breathing in his perfume, the way it filled the room – perhaps you could take it as a small reminder, that you'll never have to be alone, not while he was around. And he wasn't planning to go anywhere without you.

Caleb didn't even flinch when you lifted the blanket to look at him. A small smile escaped you the moment he readjusted himself, tilting his head so his chin was now poking your flesh. His eyes wide, yet tired – they were darker than usual.

Your hand buried in his messy hair, and he didn't hesitate to lean closer. Work was taking a toll on him, and he could no longer hide it.

"Come up here." You invited, patting the space on your chest for his head to rest – quickly setting the book in your hands aside when he shuffled closer to you, following your command word for word as per usual.

A content sigh escaped him, the sound sharp in contrast with the comfortable silence enveloping the room. "So, how do you like your book?" His voice was barely a whisper, but the way your day went mattered more to him than the fatigue weighing down his body.

You could feel each breath he took – it wasn't often that they were rarely this calm. His hands wrapped around your frame, like a small child seeking the kind of tenderness it didn't have the privilege of growing up with. Long eyelashes met his skin as his eyes fluttered closed – the soft rustling of the sheets, your scent and voice lulled him to sleep.

"I'll tell you all about it later, sleep now." A reassuring phrase Caleb didn't know he needed until he let out a small groan in response before he allowed himself to sink the warmth of your embrace.

[gisellecnz]

Sometimes your eyes just start welling up with tears by just looking at Satoru—You watched him as he took a bite of a dessert, his eyes sparkling with pure joy at the taste. It was a sight so enchanting that you couldn't help but feel your heart swell with adoration. Why does the world treat him so cruelly? He acts as if he doesn't get treated as a weapon to the jujutsu society—this was all because he was given a power he had never asked for. And not only that, he always had the burden of the world on his shoulders ever since he was born. Your heart absolutely aches at the sight when you know he still puts an effort to put a smile on his face, when deep down he's been through so much pain. .... Oh, you've never felt so bad in your entire life. You'd give this man all the desserts he wants and spoil him with kisses and hugs.

Yet you didn't notice your tears were already streaming down your face as you looked at Satoru, having the time of his life chomping down on some dessert.

"This tastes sooo good!! Hey, sweets, you need to-.....H-huh!? W-whats wrong!? D-did you actually wanted this piece!?!? I'm so sorry!!! Don't cry!!" He panicked with the biggest pout on his face.

[raghhhhhyperfixations]

Reverse alien abduction

I need a superbat fic where clark is NOT an alien

But bruce is.

Like the roles are reserved and Clark accidentally stumbles upon this mysterious shadow alien when he gets stranded in space with barely any oxygen left in his space suit (Clark has four sets of parents ofc ofc, ma kent and pa kent from down the road and his bio parents, who all decide to come together and parent him because he’s an absolute menace to society.)

And he grows up yearning for the stars.

And becomes an astronaut.

Proceeds to lose the zip to the space station and floats far out and ends up meeting mysterious shadow alien.

Aka bruce.

A bit of a cultural difference but proceed the love story.

gonna need this fic people.

(Oh don’t forget Bruce’s gaggle of human kids, no they aren’t alien, human, he abducted them too, their origins don’t change, except for the fact they now have an alien dad who’s more needier and more communicative)

But perhaps in the language of ✨ chirps ✨

(Jim and Barbara Gordon are just two peeps from gotham the alien regularly visits and gives affection too, kind of like ‘oh you’re jim’s baby? my baby now.’ scenario.’ so that’s how he knows them.)

I know this takes away from supermans identity but this is just civilian identity clark kent guys, not superman born from kryptonite, like sort of a ‘no heroes’ au just pure alien gaggle comedy and fluff.

[honeypiehotchner]

Operation Lovebirds (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- oneshot

Happy belated Valentine's Day! In the spirit of making myself feel better, here's some unashamed fluff in between updates of The Gambit!

Summary: You make plans for the team to get drinks together after work on Valentine’s Day in an effort to make yourself feel better after a sudden breakup. The team decides to play matchmaker instead 😉

Warnings: oblivious reader, oblivious Hotch, PINING, YEARNING, past relationship/breakup woes, gender neutral terms for reader's ex, hotch is divorced but no foyet arc, awkward flirting (i think), happy ending ofc!!!

WC: ~5,200

If there’s one thing you’ve learned about Aaron Hotchner since you started working at the BAU a year ago, it’s that he doesn’t go out.

You’re not really sure what it is that stops him, because even Rossi comes out with the team most nights, but in the year that you’ve been here, Hotch has come out three whole times. Three. In a year.

So, naturally, you’re the first to let the pure surprise show on your face when Hotch agrees to go out tomorrow night. In fact, you laugh.

He doesn’t.

“Oh my god,” you pause, smacking Morgan’s arm. “He’s being serious. Somebody get the champagne! Get me a calendar, I need to mark it.”

Hotch rolls his eyes at you, but there’s a small smile fighting at the corners of his lips like always when he hears your jokes. “Don’t get too excited. I might change my mind.” 

(The truth is, after seeing how excited you are, he won’t change his mind. He hasn’t seen you smile in a week.)

A week ago, the person you were dating broke things off rather randomly. You aren’t even sure if you can consider them as someone you were in a relationship with, since based off their final message to you, it seems they didn’t see things that way. Regardless, it ended, and it was something that, for the first time, you had high hopes for. You thought it might’ve been real.

So, yeah, Hotch hasn’t seen you smile in a week. He knows something is wrong, but hasn’t had the courage to ask, in case he’s overstepping. The two of you get along just fine to work together, and you’ve had a few heart-to-hearts over the months, especially on late night flights when everyone else is asleep and you’re the only two wide awake. But those feel…different than this.

Hotch is just happy that his idea worked. He knew if he could joke about going out, it would put the bug in your ear, and you’d make the plans. Which is how he found himself agreeing to go out to a bar tomorrow after work.

Tomorrow just so happens to be Valentine’s Day. So what if Hotch selfishly wanted to spend the day with you in some capacity outside of the office, but was too scared to ask outright? So what if he’s a little happy at the fact that you have no plans other than inviting everyone out to drinks?

He’s a little worried given that he thought you were seeing someone, but he thought that was his imagination. You never mentioned dating anyone to anyone on the team, Hotch was just putting pieces together to hurt his own feelings.

Except. You haven’t smiled in a week, and you’re suddenly free for drinks after work…on Valentine’s Day.

Hotch tries not to think about it too much. He doesn’t want to think about you being sad any more than he’s had to this past week with your silent moods and halfway smiles. That alone has already twisted something into a knot in his chest.

“This is perfect!” your excitement is palpable. “This might be the first time I get everyone out at once. Derek, do not let me down. Bring your date!”

“Fine, fine,” Derek concedes. “I’ll ask her if she wants to come -- after her and I have had a very romantic dinner,” he smirks.

You roll your eyes and shove his shoulder in the same sibling way you always interact with Morgan, but Hotch watches you carefully, noticing the hint of sadness behind your eyes.

Fuck. You were seeing someone. That’s the only explanation, and they broke your heart -- a week before Valentine’s Day, might he add -- and it must’ve felt real to you because why else would you have that devastated look in your eyes?

Hotch, unsurprisingly, has harbored somewhat of a schoolgirl crush for you since about a month after you started working at the BAU. It took Rossi precisely one week to notice, but you’re going on month eleven of being blissfully unaware. Morgan has given Hotch a couple knowing looks but has yet to call him out on it. If JJ and Emily know (and they do), they haven’t said anything, least of all to you. Garcia is well aware after she caught Hotch watching you wistfully from his office one afternoon, but she hasn’t mentioned anything to you.

Rossi has, of course, tried to talk Hotch into making a move -- even a half-move, a hint of a move -- but Hotch refuses. Mostly because he had suspicions you were seeing someone, but also because he just can’t imagine someone like you having the same feelings for someone like him. It’s bizarre.

As everyone listens to your giddy pre-planning of where to go for drinks and what to wear, knowing looks are shared by the team -- looks that you and Hotch are left out of.

+++

You’re trying on the fourteenth outfit and trying to hold yourself together when you nearly cancel drinks to lie in bed in a pit of despair.

But that’s dramatic and irrational, so you try on a fifteenth outfit, say fuck it, and grab your car keys.

You’ll be a little early to the bar, but you don’t mind. Might as well get out before you lose the will to go back out again.

You just couldn’t stomach sitting inside, alone on Valentine’s Day, not during this rollercoaster of emotions that you’re feeling. Especially not now.

It’s not that you thought you had found the one, it’s the fact that you thought maybe they are. It’s not the fact that you were certain, it’s that you were so hopeful. You really thought things would go farther than that, and you never thought the crash and burn would be so random. 

You really thought this time was different. Because it felt different, it felt good. Only for it to end the same as always. 

You should be used to it by now, you think. People being uncertain of you. People being uncertain of how they want you in their lives. This isn’t the first time you’ve been in a relationship with someone only for them to decide that suddenly they aren’t ready for a relationship. It doesn’t make any more sense than it did the last time, but this one certainly knocked the wind out of you from how unexpected it was.

No matter, though. Because tonight you’re dancing, laughing with friends, and hopefully smiling so hard that you forget about it all hurting so much.

When you get to the bar, you’re the first one there, so you slide up to the bar and wave the bartender down, getting started with your first drink.

Unfortunately, no one cute catches your eye -- yet. You’re not exactly sure if you want to flirt with anyone tonight, but it could be fun. Could take your mind off things.

You’re halfway done with your first drink when Derek texts the group chat. Dinner got a little delayed. See y’all in a bit.

You roll your eyes, knowing exactly what he means by delayed. You snort and text back telling him it’s fine.

JJ is next. Couldn’t find a babysitter so Will and I are staying in! So sorry guys!

You frown, but it’s fine. You were worried about whether they'd be able to find a babysitter so soon.

No one else says a word, so you assume they’re all free.

Except that they don’t show.

You’re getting a little annoyed as the minutes tick by until you see, like a knight in shining armor, Aaron Hotchner walks through the doors.

You smile in pure relief and disbelief that he’s actually here, waving him over. He spots you and a soft smile settles on his lips, making a beeline for you at the bar.

Couples are sitting on either side of you, so Hotch stands behind you, your body suddenly very aware of how close he is.

“You look surprised to see me,” he teases.

You stare up at him, mystified. “Because I am.”

Hotch orders a whiskey on the rocks and another of whatever you’re having, opening a tab. Your brain short circuits a moment too late when you realize he’s just bought you a drink.

You don’t mention it, unsure of what exactly it means. Or what exactly you want it to mean.

When the bartender brings the drinks over, Hotch leans down to speak to you over to growing crowds and conversations. “There’s an open booth over there if you want to move somewhere more comfortable?”

Your mind spins with all kinds of inappropriate thoughts as you nod. “Booth sounds nice.”

You were unaware of just how many people had flooded into the bar since Hotch arrived, your focus clearly all on him and how close he was to touching you. Your fingers lightly touch Hotch’s back as you follow him through the crowd to the booth that he can see with his height.

Finally, you spot it, a miraculously free two-person booth at a table with a small lamp in the middle. It casts just enough shadows on Hotch’s face to make him look infinitely more attractive (something you hadn’t thought possible).

You’ve harbored a foolish crush on your boss since, well, the very beginning. It’s embarrassing.

Because you know that not only will he never feel the same way, it’s also highly against the rules at work and would be beyond frowned-upon. So, you suffer in silence, and try desperately not to think about what it might feel like to just kiss him. Just once.

That’s the alcohol and loneliness talking. You need to pull yourself together.

There’s precisely ten minutes of small talk before Hotch goes straight for the heart.

“How are you doing?” he asks.

For anyone else, it’s an unassuming question. It’s simple. It almost falls into the category of small talk, except it doesn’t. Not for two FBI profilers.

Still, you try to deflect with a shrug. “I’m alright. As alright as someone chronically single can be on Valentine’s Day, I guess. What about you?”

He’s not exactly in a different boat. He’s been single ever since his divorce a few years ago, as far as you know -- and you imagine you’d know because these sort of things get around in the BAU. The nosiest unit in the FBI, you always joke.

Hotch mirrors your shrug. “I’m alright.” He pauses, studying you. “I only ask because you’ve seemed…down lately.”

You grimace.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” he quickly adds, almost scrambling. “I know this is odd, I’m your boss and we’re sitting at a booth in a bar on Valentine’s Day, but, I want you to know, if you do want to talk -- about anything -- I’m here. I want to listen.”

You stare at him blankly for a moment, feeling your facade as it slowly melts and drips away. “Thanks,” you avert your eyes, focusing instead on your drink that has barely two sips left. You have a comfortable buzz now, one that makes you a little quicker to let him in. “I was seeing someone that I was really hopeful about, for the first time, ever, and it ended randomly a week ago. Got a text just out of nowhere.” You pause, chuckling darkly. “I was in the middle of thinking about Valentine’s plans, actually, when I got the text. So.”

Hearing you confirm it out loud only makes Hotch’s heart twist and threaten to break. “I’m sorry,” he says, unsure of what else he can say, unsure of if there’s anything he can say to make it better. “I’m really sorry that happened.”

“Thanks,” you breathe, shaking your head a little to shake yourself out of it. You look up at Hotch and put on a fake, half-smile, the same one he’s seen you wearing the past week. “On to the next one, huh?” you joke. “If there even is a next one. If I even want there to be another one,” you add with a roll of your eyes. “I might have reached my limit for this shit.”

Hotch can’t even say that he blames you. “That’s understandable.”

There’s a trace of something in your eyes when you look at him, something he can’t read, but your smile is a little softer now, starting to look genuine. “Alright,” you clear your throat. “There’s my relationship woes. What about you? Breaking any hearts? Anyone breaking yours?”

He laughs at your change of subject, but shakes his head. “No, no, there’s no one.”

You frown. “Why not?”

He shrugs. “Haven’t really wanted to, I suppose.” I’m too much of a coward to ask you out on a date, according to Rossi. “Maybe soon, though.”

Excitement glints in your eyes. “Ooh, there is someone, I knew it! Tell me immediately.” 

He just stares at you, fighting back a smile at your unbridled joy that he gets to witness. He is so glad he gets to see this expression on your face. “There’s not really someone, it’s kind of--” He pauses, looking down at his own glass, wondering how much he can say without giving himself away so embarrassingly. “I’ve been too afraid to do something.”

“Why?” you ask, sounding genuinely interested. “Is she dating someone?”

“She was,” he replies, perhaps too fast. “And I’m not certain she feels the same way, or else I’d have made a move by now,” he admits, thinking the whiskey is getting to him. “Maybe.”

“Aaron Hotchner, a shy, hopeless romantic,” you muse, leaning back in the booth with a smirk. “Who would’ve guessed?”

He gives you an almost pained look, hoping the awe seeps through the most. Because you have no idea, do you? You have no idea just what you do to him, just by talking to him, looking at him, making him laugh, letting him hear your laugh. He’s more of a goner than he originally thought.

He laughs off your teasing. “There are my woes,” he says, hoping that’ll be the end of it. “Where are the rest of the team, anyway?”

“Who knows,” you say, sounding unbothered, though you dig your phone out to see if anyone has texted. 

If you and Aaron hadn’t been so caught up in conversation for the past hour, then you would’ve seen that everyone has said they can’t make it or that they’ll be “late” which is only code for they won’t show. You frown down at the messages, some almost forty-five minutes old now, wondering what they’re up to. 

Aaron glances at his phone, too, finding a private message from David. Enjoy your date ;)

Hotch rolls his eyes, pocketing his phone. The team -- most likely led by self-proclaimed Cupid, David Rossi -- decided to play matchmaker. He should’ve known.

And you…you seem completely unaware.

“Whatever,” you exhale, exasperated. “I should’ve known better than to try to get everyone together on Valentine’s Day.” You pause, a sheepish look in your eyes. “I just really didn’t want to be alone, so,” you lightly tap Aaron’s leg with your foot, “thanks for coming and keeping me company.”

“Anytime,” he says, meaning it wholeheartedly. “Should we get another drink?”

You hum. “I was actually getting kinda hungry.”

“You read my mind,” Aaron smiles. “Do they have food here?”

“Probably shitty bar food,” you reply. You look up at him through your lashes, nearly knocking the breath from his lungs. “Wanna go somewhere else?”

He nods immediately, nodding toward the door. “Let’s go. I know the perfect place.”

You grin almost instantly, standing up from the booth. “Lead the way.”

+++

The perfect place that Aaron knows is a hole-in-the-wall, family-run pizza joint that he has frequented for years, probably ever since he joined the BAU and moved out here. It’s open late, and half-full of other couples when you and Aaron arrive.

“Hey, Tony,” Aaron greets the owner with a firm handshake and smile. “Table for two, please.”

You watch as Tony gives Aaron a look before repeating his words, “Table for two, you got it, right this way, Hotchner.”

The way Tony says his name is reminiscent of a coach talking to his favorite player, right down to the playful swat of Aaron’s chest. It makes you smile.

“And who is the lucky lady?” Tony asks nonchalantly as he places the menus down on the table by the window.

You giggle, introducing yourself. “I wasn’t aware Aaron had connections here.”

It could be a trick of the dim lighting, but you swear you see Hotch blush as he shakes his head.

“Oh, yeah,” Tony says, standing back as you both sit. “I’ve known him for years, always coming here alone on Valentine’s Day. I’m just happy to see he’s brought someone with him this time.”

“Oh, we’re--” you start to say.

But Hotch interjects with, “That’s enough, Tony, thank you.”

You furrow your eyebrows only a little. He didn’t deny what Tony is implying.

You ignore it. Because you can’t let yourself read into it. That’s what always ends up burning you. You need to ignore it.

Tony leaves to let the two of you look at the menu, albeit going with a mischievous smile on his face.

“What do you recommend?” you ask, trying to redirect. “Or should we just get a large and split it?”

“That might be easiest,” Hotch agrees. “Let’s do that.”

Tony returns to take your order and brings water with him, promising some wine if you’d like. You laugh him off and tell him the two of you just came from the bar. 

When the pizza comes out, the two of you dig in, both having not realized just how hungry you were. With more water and food on your stomach, the alcohol has begun to wear off. But you’re still happy you’re spending the night with Aaron.

Whoever it is that he’s got his eyes set on, she’s one lucky girl. You know that for sure.

As the night winds to a close, you watch him more closely, wanting to memorize this. Because if you have any say in it, he’s going to get that girl that he’s so hopelessly in love with already. He deserves that. Even if it means you’ll never have another night like this with him.

So, you tell him just that as he’s dropping you back off at home. You turn toward him in the passenger seat, a sad smile on your lips.

“I’m going to give some unsolicited advice, okay?” you begin.

He laughs, clearly wary. “Okay. Go ahead.”

“Ask her out,” you say, hating the way you can feel the beginnings of tears pricking at the backs of your eyes. “Make a move. Don’t make her wait any longer. She might feel the same way, you never know, and you’ll never know, if you don’t ask her. So do it.”

He watches you, eyes studying every inch of your face. You don’t know it, but he’s trying to figure out why you look so sad as you’re saying this to him. How can you have no idea that it’s you, it’s always been you? How do you not know?

“That’s all,” you say, blinking the emotion out of your eyes. It’s gone so quick that he wonders if he imagined it. “Thank you for tonight, I really needed it. I’ll see you on Monday?”

He nods, all words foreign to him. “See you Monday. Enjoy your weekend.”

“You too,” you give him another smile.

He watches you leave, watches you get to your front door, waits for you to go inside. He stays there, waiting until he sees the lights turn on in your apartment, until he knows without a doubt that you are safe inside.

He drives away. And starts to think of a plan.

+++

Monday is a slow, tortuous day after a slow, tortuous weekend spent wondering yourself sick about if Hotch took your advice. If he spent the weekend with her, the girl that made his eyes go all soft when talked about her to you. If he was going to come into the office as a new man on Monday, feelings reciprocated, love radiating off him.

He didn’t, which you felt guilty for feeling relieved about.

He brought you a coffee, though. With a heart on the side of the cup. Probably from the barista who made it, you think. 

It’s a paperwork kind of day, so everyone leaves by 4:30, even Reid, though he leaves so early because he has an event at a bookstore to go to. Slowly, everyone trickles out, until it’s just you and Hotch.

You’re avoiding your empty apartment. Hotch is finishing up his work, while simultaneously building up the courage to ask you to dinner.

Time is ticking, this he knows, and he starts packing up as soon as he sees you standing to rinse out your coffee mug.

You’re just finishing gathering your things when you hear Hotch leaving his office, locking the door behind him. You look up at him with a smile.

“We’ve gotta stop meeting like this,” you tease, gesturing around at the barren BAU. “Why do we keep doing this?” 

It’s true that you’re usually the last two here, but this time feels different. There’s a different tension in the air that wasn’t here before, and you’re trying like hell to decipher if it’s good or bad.

“What are your plans for dinner?” he asks.

“Just leftovers or something,” you shrug. “You?”

“Well,” he says, letting out a soft, nervous laugh. “I was hoping to take someone out to dinner.”

You deflate a little. He must mean the girl. You try not to let it show in your tone, so you keep your head tucked, putting things away. “Did you ask her out? What’d she say?”

“That she had leftovers or something.”

Your hand freezes on your purse. You’re terrified to look up because if you do, then that means-- He can’t mean--

“I didn’t think I was so bad at this,” Aaron chuckles. “I guess it’s not muscle memory anymore.”

Slowly, slowly you lift your eyes. He’s sheepish. There is a blush on his cheeks, his smile is so damn hesitant, and you’re smiling before you can stop yourself.

“Aaron Hotchner,” you cross your arms over your chest. “Are you trying to ask me out on a date?”

“Emphasis on trying,” he says, looking so boyish. “Would you like to get dinner with me? Tonight, as a proper date?”

You nod right away, then stop yourself. “Wait, what about that girl you were telling me about?”

You’ve been “the other girl” before, and you refuse to do that again, not even for a man who looks like Aaron Hotchner.

But he laughs. Not at you, more at himself, at the situation. He shakes his head. “That girl is you,” he says. “I thought I was so obvious.”

“Wait--” you pause, blinking, the gears in your head stuttering and starting. “Me?”

He nods. “Since you started here. It was getting kind of embarrassing, according to Rossi.”

You giggle, unable to help yourself. Then pieces begin clicking into place. “Wait, so Valentine’s Day--”

“That was the team’s doing,” he nods to confirm. “Rossi got them in on it.”

“Oh my god,” you whisper. “And tonight?”

“Tonight was…just us being ourselves,” he confesses with a warm smile. “I didn’t tell any of them to leave so early.”

“And I just always stay a bit later,” you add. “Like you.”

“Like me,” he says. “Though you still leave before I do, most nights.”

“Yeah, because you sleep here, it seems like.”

“Hey,” he laughs, feigning hurt for a moment. “So…dinner?”

“Dinner,” you nod. “I’d love to get dinner with you, Aaron.”

“That’s a relief,” he breathes. “Can I take you somewhere again?”

You can take me anywhere you want, is what you want to say, but that feels a bit forward. “Of course,” you say instead. “Lead the way.”

+++

The team finds out the very next day, by pure accident.

Aaron drove you two to dinner last night straight from work, and the both of you were too caught up in it all to realize you left your car at work. Until it’s the next morning, you’re heading down to the parking lot of your apartment, car keys in hand, with your car nowhere to be found.

Aaron is walking through the BAU doors when his phone buzzes with a call from you. His heart skips as he answers, “Good morning.”

“Good morning, my love,” you reply easily. “Do you know where my car is? You get one guess.”

Hotch pauses, thinks, wondering why you’re asking him this question, until-- “Oh, shit,” he laughs. “I’ll come get you.”

“I can just take the bus,” you laugh just as hard. “I just wanted to tell you.”

You? On the bus? When he can easily just come get you? Absolutely not. “I’ll come get you,” he says again. “Let me set my things down, and I’ll be on my way to you.”

“Aaron--”

“Let me, please?” he asks, shoving inside his office to put his things down just inside the door. “I’m already walking back out to my car. We can get coffee and breakfast.”

“Okay,” you concede, finally. “I’ll wait.”

“I’ll be twenty minutes.”

It’s less time than that, actually, but you don’t call him out on it. Instead, you climb into his passenger seat with a smile.

“Long time no see,” you joke, buckling yourself in.

“I’m so sorry,” he laughs. “I completely forgot about your car.”

“I did too, don’t be sorry,” you reply, resting your hand on his arm. “It’s funny. And I’ll just drive it home tonight.”

He doesn’t want you to, he wants to always drive you around like this, but he doesn’t say that. He doesn’t want to come on too strong. “Okay. Well, for your troubles, we’ll get breakfast.”

“And coffee,” you sigh happily. “My turn to pick. I know the best place.”

He turns his phone toward you, the GPS already up. “Lead the way.”

When the two of you finally make it back to the BAU, the whole team is there, huddled around in the bullpen, clearly whispering about you and Hotch.

See, it’s rather suspicious when Hotch’s things are in his office, but he isn’t, especially an hour after he’s usually already got half the day’s work done. And your absence was noted too, as the minutes ticked by and no one had heard from you. And they knew the two of you were the last to leave last night.

Hotch holds open the glass door for you, laughing at something you’ve said (like always), the two of you unaware of the team meeting until you’re inside.

Everyone wears similar smirks. 

“Hello lovebirds,” Rossi chimes. “We were wondering where you disappeared to.”

“Just breakfast,” you say with a shrug.

“Mhm,” Morgan hums. “Where’s my breakfast?”

“Go away,” you groan, swatting him. “Why are you all around my desk? Boundaries!”

Just like that, the crowd disperses with some laughter, and Hotch is free to escape up to his office. Rossi is quick to follow him, interrogating him about his night.

“It was a great night,” Hotch replies, not wanting to give anything away. “You are an instigator.”

“Did you kiss her?” Rossi presses on.

Hotch makes a sound of disbelief. Rossi looks appalled.

“You didn’t?”

“There is such a thing as taking things slow, Dave,” Hotch replies.

“Alright,” Dave concedes. “But dinner was good?”

“Dinner was great,” Hotch reiterates, unable to hide his smile. “Now get out of my office so I can get some work done.”

Rossi leaves with a smirk so smug that Hotch hopes his face cramps up.

+++

Later in the evening, when once again it’s just you and Hotch left in the office, Hotch decides to pack up a little early. 

You’re in your own world, completely unaware that he’s heading out until he’s standing beside your desk. 

You lift your eyes, realizing he’s watching you. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he smiles. “Ready to go?”

You glance at the clock. “I was actually--”

He shakes his head. “Come on.”

“What?”

“As your boss, I’m deciding you’re done for the day.”

“Oh, really?” you quirk an eyebrow. “And there wouldn’t happen to be any ulterior motives, would there?”

He shrugs, all sheepish again. “If you happened to be free for dinner again, I wouldn’t say no.”

“And if I’m not free?”

He’s unbothered. “Then I’ll walk you to your car and let you get to your plans.”

“Not even a kiss goodnight?” you tease as you start gathering your things.

Hotch goes quiet. “That can be arranged.”

“Okay,” you murmur, standing with your things. “Let’s go.”

He reaches out for your hand which you easily hold onto, walking with him to the elevators. As you wait for one to arrive, you look at him, taking in his side profile. He catches you looking from just the corner of his eye, starting to smile.

Once you step onto the elevator, you break the silence. “I desperately need to sleep early tonight, so raincheck on dinner?”

He nods. “Of course.”

You pause, testing the waters. “Coffee tomorrow, though?”

He smiles. “I’ll pick you up at seven?”

“That’s perfect,” you reply.

Hotch walks you to your car, as promised, and helps you set your things inside. He even opens the driver’s side door for you. You’re about to get inside when he stops you, one hand on your arm.

“About that goodnight kiss,” he says, a glint in his eyes that has your stomach doing flips.

You place your hands on his shoulders, gently looping your wrists around his neck. “Mm, what about it?”

His hands find your waist in no time, squeezing ever so slightly. “Can I?”

“You don’t have to ask,” you murmur. “And yes.”

You’re both smiling into it, softening when your lips finally connect. You feel it then, how this is what you’ve been missing. 

Aaron is so gentle as he kisses, so timid in a way that only makes you want him even more. His hands never wander from your waist, except for one moment to cup your jaw, to brush his thumb over your cheek as he kisses you one last time.

He pulls back to watch you, your eyes still closed in bliss. When you finally open them, he’s smiling at you.

“That’s some goodnight kiss,” you tease. “Careful, or you’ll spoil me.”

He shakes his head. “I want to,” he says, pressing another kiss to your lips. “And I will.”

You bring one hand to his face, holding onto him in disbelief. “Goodnight, Aaron.”

“Goodnight,” he whispers, giving you one more kiss for good measure. “Let me know when you get home safe?”

You nod. “You as well?”

“Okay,” he smiles. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

You nod slowly. “In the morning.”

Neither of you make any move to leave. In fact, it takes half an hour for you to peel yourselves off of one another, and might’ve taken longer if your stomach hadn’t growled.

Eventually, you part, and Aaron shuts you into your car, waving as you drive off before he walks to his own vehicle. He stares at his reflection in a bit of disbelief, wondering what he did to deserve someone like you.

[grenadehearts]

marred hearts. - megumi fushiguro

in which the man who you were sure despised you, shows up bloody and bruised needing your help.

authors note: my first ever megumi fic gosh i love him like thats my baby. wc 1.6k masterlist.

You were sure he hated you—no, that wasn’t strong enough. He loathed you.

Every remark you shot at him, he was there to catch it and crumble it in his abnormally large, pale hands. Every idea you voiced, he scoffed at. He refused to make eye contact with you, and you never understood why.

Truth be told, you rarely even spoke to him. At first, you had tried, but he showed no interest. Over time, his dislike for you grew unbearable—to the point where you could feel his eyes on you the second you entered a room, like he had memorized the rhythm of your footsteps just to know when to leave.

And yet, despite his sneers, his feigned indifference, his utter lack of respect for you, you chased after it. Every cruel remark, you swallowed greedily, waiting for more. You wanted the rot he spewed to fester inside you, to change you into something he could love.

But then there were times—rare moments—when his insults almost sounded like compliments.

"C’mon, pretty, that’s pathetic, even for you."

He had said it after you landed a low blow during a spar, ducking under his swing and sweeping his legs out from under him. He had hit the ground hard, face in the dirt, with you on top of him, legs straddling his sides, heaving. And for a moment, you faltered—completely awestruck by his porcelain skin, the way his crystalline blue eyes burned beneath long lashes.

Then he shattered the image. His face crumpled with distaste, words dripping with saccharine venom before he flipped you over, shoving your face into the dirt. He won.

So when Megumi pounds on your door one night, bruised and bloody, clutching his abdomen, you can only stare—mouth slightly agape—as he shoves his way inside like he owns the place.

"Need your help."

His voice is rough, low, seeping into your bones like hot syrup. He pulls his hand from his stomach, revealing a deep gash, the purple bruise spreading like ink beneath his skin.

You cock an eyebrow. "My help? Wow, someone must be desperate."

He scoffs, tilting his head. "You're insulting yourself with that one, you know?" His tone is laced with a teasing bite.

You groan internally. You already suck at comebacks, but this—having a gorgeous, raven-haired, wounded Megumi standing in front of you, asking for your help—yeah, that’s enough to knock you off your footing.

Still, you cross your arms and turn toward the bathroom, opening the medicine cabinet. He just stands there.

"Are you coming or not?"

Finally, he stomps over, muttering under his breath. He huffs when you tell him to sit, but he complies. As you step forward, the soft patter of your socked feet against the linoleum, you hesitate. And he notices—his sharp eyes scanning your movements before his fingers close around your wrist, guiding your hand to his wound.

"Slow much?" he rasps.

You yank your hand back, sharp enough that it nearly makes him dizzy. "Okay, you're the one asking for my help, remember?"

He lets out a bitter laugh, but it stings. His lips twitch, his breathing is shallow.

"Yeah, and I’m gonna bleed out if you don’t hurry."

You chew on the inside of your cheek, hesitating again. That’s when he smirks—despite his injuries, despite the pain laced through every breath—and murmurs in that cocky, teasing tone,

"Just touch. I won’t bite."

You blow a loose strand of hair from your face as you kneel, fingers grazing the top button of his uniform. Slowly, you unfasten it, letting the fabric fall open, exposing his chest—taut muscle, milky white skin marred with bruises and gashes. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, grabbing the alcohol to clean his wound. As soon as the liquid touches raw flesh, he hisses through clenched teeth.

"I know it hurts," you murmur.

His jaw tightens. "Nothing hurts me."

You don’t argue. You just work, applying ointment to the wound. Then, quieter, more thoughtful, you say, "Everyone has something that hurts them."

Silence. Thick and suffocating.

Yet somehow, his presence makes it feel whole, like he’s wrapped around you.

You reach for the bandages, your long hair falling forward with each movement. Then, without a word, two large hands gather it, gently pulling it back into a ponytail.

You freeze.

When you glance up, his blue eyes waver, the tips of his ears dusting pink—and you swear, in that instant, you see the moment he finally gives in.

"You’re real pretty," he says, his voice cocky, yet desperate.

Your stomach drops.

Your entire mood sours, because Megumi Fushiguro hates you. He loathes you.

"You’re a real jerk," you mutter, tightening the bandages around his torso. "Saying things like that to me when you know—"

You cut yourself off, swallowing the rest of the sentence. But he hears it anyway.

"Know what, Y/N?" His voice is quieter now, like he’s searching for something.

You turn away. "It doesn’t matter. You’re done. You can go now."

A curse slips past his lips as he grabs your face, forcing you to look at him. His bright eyes narrow.

"No. It does fucking matter. You said something, and therefore it matters."

You grab his wrists, trying to pry him off, but he’s faster. He catches you.

"Megumi—"

"Please."

Your breath stutters.

You refuse to fall for his tricks. You refuse to let yourself hope.

"That I lov—"

You don’t get to finish.

Because Megumi is there, swallowing your words whole, devouring them in a kiss so intense you can taste the salt on his lips. His rough hands cradle your face, pulling you closer, and you let him—you melt into him.

And in that moment, you allow him to drive the knife deeper, offering your aching, bloodied heart to his rough hands—to hold, or to discard.

With every kiss, you feel his heart—once a ticking grenade—beating not with anger, but fear.

Then, abruptly, you pull away. You need to breathe.

Megumi sits there, flushed and breathless, whimpering at the loss of contact.

"Megumi, what—? You hate me. No, you fucking loathe me. Every cruel name you’ve ever called me—" You stumble over your words, rambling, stuttering.

But he slides off the toilet, onto his knees, groaning in pain with every movement. Then he pulls you against him, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

Hush."

His arms tighten around you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear, like if he lets go, you'll slip through his fingers like everything else he’s lost.

"I don’t—fuck—I don’t hate you. I never did."

The words land heavy, sinking into your ribs, settling somewhere between your heart and the ache that’s lived there for so long. You don’t say anything, too afraid that if you do, he’ll take it back. That this will all be a cruel joke, leaving you on cold tiles with a fractured heart and nothing to show for it.

"I don’t know how to love someone." His voice is tight, raw, like he's forcing the words out through clenched teeth. "People always leave. And most of the time, it’s by death."

He swallows a shaky breath, pressing closer, his fingers digging into your back like an anchor.

"When I saw you, Y/N—fuck—it felt like Itadori had punched all the air out of my lungs. I was so captivated by your every move, every word that left your lips, I wanted to consume them all. And that terrified me."

Your breath catches. He pulls back just enough to look at you, his hands gripping your arms, his thumbs rubbing slow, grounding circles into your skin.

"I saw love as a weakness, as something that would put you in danger. I didn’t want to love you because I knew—" He exhales shakily, like saying it out loud is breaking him apart. "Because everything I love gets taken from me."

There it is. The weight of every loss pressing against his ribs. The ghosts of his past, all those he loved, lives ending in blood and grief, wrapping around his throat.

Hot, wet tears slip down your cheeks, but you don’t bother wiping them away. Instead, you reach up, hands cradling his jaw, thumbs smoothing over his sharp cheekbones as if you can soothe the hurt away.

"Megumi, you won’t lose me." Your voice is firm despite the tears. "And even if—by some cruel twist of fate—something happens to me, I’ll accept it if it means I get to love you."

His breath shudders, and for once, he doesn’t argue.

You kiss him then—slow, deep, like you’re trying to pour every unsaid word, every unshed tear into him. He kisses back just as desperately, hands tangling in your hair, holding onto you like you’re the only thing keeping him tethered to this world.

The weight of his confession settles between you as you both collapse onto the cold floor, limbs tangled, breath mingling in the quiet. After a moment, you weakly pull yourselves up, neither of you speaking as you shuffle towards the bed.

And then, as you pull him against your chest, his body melting into yours for the first time, you hear it—soft, murmured into your skin, like a secret only meant for you.

"I love you."

He says it over and over, like he’s afraid you'll disappear if he doesn’t. Like maybe, if he says it enough, it’ll make up for all the times he pushed you away.

tagging @megumismyhusband @crushmeeren (their love for megumi inspired me 2 write abt him <3)

[zevrra]

hi! jayce x reader where she (or they whatever) is working in the lab w him and the experiment goes a little haywire, getting her hurt? please make my man as pathetic wet dog guilty as possible bonus points if you mention the beard please thank you

includes: [fluff!] something goes wrong in the lab and jayce feels really bad about it!

ft. jayce x gn!reader

extra(s): i hope i wrote jayce pathetic enough for you anon!! thank you for the request and i hope you enjoy it!! (also i love the beard and will take every chance i can to mention it KSHSKH jayce is SO FIONE)

you had wanted to surprise your lover, jayce talis, so you showed up to the lab with some lunch for the two of you. he hadn’t expected you and was so happy to see you. soot covers the side of his cheek as he wears his cute little goggles, hair a mess as he turns his back on his latest project to greet you.

“baby!” jayce chirps happily. his hands find your waist as he settles to stand before you, leaning down to place a kiss against your lips.

you smile and roll your eyes at your goofy boyfriend. moving his goggles out of the way before kissing him back. “thought i’d drop by with some food. is that okay?” you ask as jayce wraps you up in a hug. you move your thumb across his face, wiping away as much dirt as you can with a furrowed brow; it was never easy cleaning his face with his beard now. “maybe you should shave?” you tease him with a soft laugh, wiping your hand across his lab coat.

jayce pouts at your words, running a hand along his bearded chin. “what, you don’t like it?” he asks with a lifted eyebrow before shaking his head to get back onto the topic of food. “anyway, you have perfect timing actually! i could use your help with this…thing while we eat.” jayce sighs as he gestures towards the project he’s probably been slumped over for too long; hence the length of his beard. you smile as he joyfully takes the food you offer him before moving back to the lab’s desk while dragging you along with him. “i just don’t know what i’m missing.” he mutters as he takes a bite out of the snack you’ve brought him, leaning against the desk. his eyes glance from his notes, to whatever hex project he’s got sitting on his desk, before looking over at you.

you settle in beside jayce with a smile as you reach to pick through his notes. your eyes scanning over his messy handwriting as thoroughly as you can while jayce rests a heavy hand on your waist, needing to keep you close at all times when it’s just the two of you. something you dearly loved about the man. “have you tried upping the voltage?” you ask as you read through the notes; to which jayce nods in response, mouth clearly full. “what about switching the plus and minus here around?”

jayce stops his snacking for a minute, clearly thinking about your proposal, as he considers the option. he sets his lunch down and turns around to face the notes in your hand, reading over where you point to. “no but…here, i think channeling energy here instead might work!” jayce states with a newfound confidence, slipping his goggles back on as he fully turns to the hex project.

and then it all happens so fast.

seconds within jayce toying with the rune, an explosion sets off. the light blue shimmer of magic raises every hair on your body; and it sends a cold, dreadful shiver down your spine. you barely have time to react to get away but luckily, jayce does. his hands are grabbing your body, yanking you away while turning his back towards the explosion, pulling you entirely into his chest to cover you from the blast. thankfully, by some miracle, before the “big boom” the rune fizzles out and dies, and only a very small shockwave shatters some nearby glass; leaving you and jayce intact but shaken up.

after it quiets down, you manage to peel your face off of jayce’s shoulder and look around. his desk is a mess, notes mixed with broken glass lay all over the floor— meanwhile smoke rolls silently around the project. jayce, suddenly realizing that he and you were both, in fact, still alive, gasps, squeezing you a little tighter before barely pulling inches away.

“oh gods,” jayce mutters as he quickly scans over your face. he pulls you gently further away from the blast, hands roaming your entire body to inspect you before caressing the side of your face. his thumb wipes gently along your face as he inspects a cut you didn’t know you had. “shit!” he curses under his breath, hazel eyes full of agony and sorrow as he looks at the wound inflicted upon you. “are you ok? does it hurt anywhere else?”

your heart beats hard in your chest but you shake your head at his question, still in shock from moments ago but relatively you’re physically okay. your hand slightly trembles as you manage to reach up and touch where his hand gently caresses you, feeling the sticky of your blood from your open cut. it stings, pretty good, but not deep enough to need any kind of stitch work. jayce holds your face dearly in his hands as his eyes fill up with tears. “i’m so sorry. my god i could’ve killed you.” jayce practically sobs as both of his hands hold your face gently now, pressing his forehead against your own. “i’m so sorry love. please forgive me.” he mutters, defeated as he holds you.

you take a deep breath in, hold it for a second, then release it; squeezing jayce’s hand gently. “jay, it’s not your fault. please, are you okay?” you whisper in a worried tone, pulling away just enough to look at him.

“i don’t care about me!” he responds with a tremble to his voice; seemingly biting back his sobs.

you shake your head, giving his hand one more squeeze. “well, i care. now come here.” you frown before taking a step back and dragging him along with you. without struggle, he let’s you lead him further away from “ground zero” and finally allows you to check him out now. and thankfully jayce has only suffered a few small cuts to the long coat he wears. and if it weren’t for that damned lab coat he wore, things could've been a lot worse. “you’re okay.” you sigh with relief, smoothing your hand across his jaw and neck. “no serious bleeding or any open wounds that i can see.” you add with a soft smile.

but his eyes continue to tell you how upset he is. unhappy at all about the injury on your face but he remains unscathed. he can barely look at you; and when he does, he stares at the scratch along your cheek. “i can’t believe i got you hurt.” jayce says, drooping like a wilted flower as he looks up at you through his eyelashes as he sits down in a cleaner area.

“jayce, darling, you didn’t do anything. you can’t control the uncontrollable.” you hum softly, taking his face into your hands as he settles himself down. and at your touch he melts into your palm, puppy dog eyes staring up at you as one of his big hands covers over one of your hands.

“i am so sorry.” jayce mumbles with a sad pout.

you frown a little, pouting, as you move the flat of your palms across his beard, scratching his face just a little as you try and will his self blame away. “maybe this beard is just bad luck.” you grumble but the tease manages to get jayce to crack the tiniest smile. you chuckle as his face softens in your hands. turning his lips to kiss the inside of your palm.

“ha, nice try. i’m not shaving.” jayce teases with a smile he hides behind your hand. you mirror his smirk as he pulls you down to him, pressing his lips into yours in a tender kiss.

yeah. you two were going to be okay.

[bluemotifofsleep]

The Process of Elimination

kuroo tetsurou x reader

- for someone so smart, Kuroo can be unbelievably dense.

you’re supposed to be doing your chemistry homework.

“how about Kenma?”

instead, Kuroo is listing the boys volleyball club members because you’d asked if he thought any of them were boyfriend material.

“one time Kenma said i had the posture of a 14 year old gamer boy. that kind of threw me off from him.” Kuroo makes a pained look.

“yeah, that sounds like Kenma.”

you weren’t actually all that interested in the boys volleyball team to be honest, already coming up with a reason you’re not compatible before he’s even got their name out. you’ve spent enough time around Kuroo (and by extension, the team) to know that you only had eyes for one of them. you’d only asked about it hoping that maybe he would say-

“Lev? he’s tall. girls like tall guys, right?”

“ughhh. Lev is like a little brother.” you’re face is scrunched in something akin to disgust at the mention of the childish underclassman. “plus, he’s three years younger than me. do you think i’m some kind of pedophile?”

Kuroo rolls his eyes.

“well, if you’re only interested in third year players, that narrows down your options.” your heart starts beating faster at the inevitable conclusion you know will come from this.

yes, there’s only three third years. kai, Yaku, and-

“why are you asking about only team members anyways?” he’s turned to fully face you now, discarding his textbook and miscellaneous papers on his bedspread. you’ve noticed that for such a responsible person, Kuroo can be really unorganized.

you’ve been noticing a lot about him recently. like how his cheeks flush after an especially tiring match, or the way he tilts his head back and does a full belly laugh at something Kenma says, or the way his smile is a little crooked when it’s real, or how when he’s focusing really hard on a question in your shared homework his brows furrow just slightly, kind of like they are now. like you’re a question he needs to work tirelessly at until you’re answered.

“well, you probably know them best.”

he hums in thought.

“what about Yaku?”

you hum back and pretend to think about it, rolling the thought of it around in your head and looking at it at every angle. you’re not interested in Yaku. you know this, why doesn’t he? how can’t he see the truth that’s right in front of him? literally, right in front of him.

“Yaku’s a bit short, isn’t he?” you shut him down like you’ve shut down every other player Kuroo has mentioned, hoping that by the process of elimination he could come to a conclusion. Kuroo is good at math, right?

“so you’re looking for a tall, handsome, funny but not mean, smart, third year on the volleyball team.” he says and he looks at you like at you like you’re chemistry homework he’s just figured out.

your heart starts pounding faster, there’s only one person left. you know he’s come to the same conclusion that you have. your fingers are pulling nervously at his duvet, and your shoulders are drawn tight up to your ears.

“you like Kai?” he says it like an epiphany. your shoulders drop. for someone so smart, Kuroo can be unbelievably dense.

you’ve had it.

“urgh! no, you idiot! you, its you. i’ve liked you for months now! literally how have you not noticed? you’re making me feel like i picked the wrong person to help me with homework, because if you’re going to act stupid, i may as well just do it by myself.”

after your words, the silence is deafening. each individual tick from the clock on his bedside table sounds like a gunshot.

shit.

shit.

did you really just say all that?

Kuroo is looking at you like you’ve grown a second head. you scramble to say something, anything, to spare the last fraying pieces of your dignity, but your throat feels like it’s closed up.

“you like me?” he says it kind of like he repeats back your wrong answers on the practice sheet your working on, incredulous.

“um, yeah. maybe a little.” you’ve lost all the heat that came with your outburst. the air somehow feels prickly in his room, your arms breaking out in goosebumps.

you’d known that by initiating a conversation of this topic, he’d eventually find out. you just didn’t think he would look so shocked.

“you like me.” he repeats, and this time he’s got a furrow in his brow again. it sounds almost accusatory, like he thinks your lying to him. like the idea of you liking him is just so unfathomably weird, you have to be lying.

you’re instantly mad again.

“yeah, so what? what’s so bad about that?” your feelings are hurt, for sure. you didn’t necessarily expect him to reciprocate your feelings, but this outright dismissal of them is painful. “just reject me so we can finish this sheet and i can go home.”

he looks shocked suddenly, like you’ve slapped him across the face.

“no! that’s uh, that’s not what i meant.” and his words throw you off a bit. you’ve known Kuroo for a long time, and you’ve never heard him sputter so outright. he’s always been a fairly cool and collected guy, almost suave with his words, not easily caught off guard. right now, though, he looks as though you’ve taken the ground out from beneath his feet.

“but you- you really like me? like, actually?” the question repeated at you makes heat rise to your cheeks and you feel an embarrassing tickle at your nose, like you might cry.

“i’m leaving.” you start gathering your homework strewn across his bed.

“no, no! wait!” he grabs your wrist lightly, his hold on you loose. if you wanted to, you could pull away from him, but you don’t. as embarrassed as you are, the idea of leaving Kuroos bedroom and possibly never being invited back after your confession is heartbreaking. instead, you lean a tiny bit closer to him so his arm isn’t as strained, and you sit back down onto his plush mattress, ready to hear him out.

“i’m sorry. i was just surprised, is all.” and he sounds like he’s telling the truth. not disgusted, not alarmed, not disappointed, just surprised.

he’s facing you completely now, and he still hasn’t let go of your wrist, your skin tingling at the connection.

you try to sus him out from his expression alone, but the look on his face is hard to make sense of. he looks earnest, and he’s got a hard set to his brows. you’d almost say it looks determined. it reminds you of his face mid volleyball match, when he’s deciding how to get it right, when he’s calculating all of his moves. there’s a small blush on his cheeks, and it’s such an odd and out of place thing for kuroo, you almost wonder if you’re imagining it.

and then he’s leaning in and kissing the thought right out of your head.

you’ve read books before and heard girls gossiping about sparks flying and heat and electricity during a kiss, but this feels different. kissing Kuroo is like lifting off in a hot air balloon, your heart soaring above the clouds. it feels like floating, it feels like finally getting the right answer to a particularly hard chemistry question you’ve been working at for a while, it feels like watching the Nekoma volleyball team win a close match.

it feels like victory.

he finally pulls away after a while, both of you panting and red-cheeked, looking at each other with stars in your eyes. you can vaguely feel some of your homework being crunched under your hand that’s keeping you upright, but you can’t find it in your to care all that much. besides, if it gets ruined, that just means more time spent with Kuroo redoing all of it.

“i was just shocked, is all, about how convenient that is,” he’s slowly leaning back into you, and you can’t help the way you’re leaning in too, pulled together like magnets, like a positive and negative ion. “because i like you too.”

~

he’s such a dork. i’m in love with him.

[aubvrns]

“Love Me Like I Do”

| MCU & Headcanons

Synopsis — What their love languages are and the kind they want to receive.

Note — Wanda Maximoff, Natasha Romanoff, Agatha Harkness, Rio Vidal

(Female doctor centered, no pronouns used.)

------------------------------------------------------

!!

Wanda Maximoff

• — As the nurturing person she is, Wanda definitely shows her love through acts of service.

• — She’s an early bird and watches you sleep comfortably, knowing you haven’t been sleeping properly. She would tuck your hair lovingly, staring at you as if you’d slip away.

• — Even though you’re a doctor, she takes care of you nonetheless. Cooking for you when you forget to eat in the morning, or sitting on her lap as she does your makeup.

• — Sometimes you put all your energy into taking care of other people, you forget to take care of yourself.

• — She would also send constant messages. Both of you would exchange texts about your day, and she can’t help but glance at every notification. (a huge simp for you)

the hottest witch 👩🏻‍🦰

have you eaten, my pretty girl?

you forgot your phone, by the way

Y/N?

baby gurl reply c’mon

i’m worried, milaya

i know it’s your break right now, please reply

why aren’t you replying?

heyyy ☹️

oh wait

• — You were truly the light of her world, chuckling to herself as she charges your phone beside her as she finishes her mission reports.

• — Though because of your tight schedules, with her Avenger duties and your imperative job, it’s scarce to find time for eachother. Given that, she seeks for quality time.

• — It’s the simplest actions, honestly. Like when you go home early, having time to cook together. When you call in sick when she needs you, or when she has her full focus on her mission, knowing that you’ll be waiting for her when she comes home.

• — “Wands, I’m home!” You call, removing your hair tie.

• — Without a word, she instantly hugs you like a koala, burying her face on your neck, making you laugh softly.

• —Before you could ask her where your phone was, she utters: “It's charging.”

• — You secretly liked it when she reads your mind, especially at the littlest things that make it more domestic. She swayed your body as she hugged your waist gently, with your hands over her neck.

• — Amidst the chaos, knowing that you’ll come home to eachother was a greater comfort.

Natasha Romanoff

• — Natasha shows her uttermost love when she gives gifts.

• — Growing up, she and Yelena were spoiled by Melina often. Their childhood wasn’t like others, but Melina tried her best to give them a somewhat normal childhood. Up until now, she had grown to be very sentimental. Each and every gift meant alot to her, but even more when she’s the one who gives.

• — Natasha would give you gifts regularly, pampering you with things that remind her of you.

• — You would randomly wake up with your favorite flowers and chocolates beside you as she slept, light snores heard from against your chest.

• — “Tasha, what’s the occasion?” You ask, playing with her hair as she blinks away her weariness.

• — “I don’t know. Halloween?” She raspily whispers against your ear before going back ro sleep.

• — It was December and you adored her antics, appreciating every gift she gives you, especially because she sees how tiring it can be to be hardworking.

• — Despite it all, it still amuses you how she buys things that aren’t really necessary.

y/n mcstuffins

Alianovna.

Why on earth is there a kitten in our bathtub?

nat her gf 🙅🏼‍♀️

Hahahahaha um what the sigma idk ⁉️

• — Secretly, you discovered that her heart warmed up for physical touch.

• — In the toughest times, simple hug was all she needed. Natasha has always been independent. She didn’t was to be reliant. But with you, it was easy to ask for help. Especially when you were so warm and gentle with her.

• — “Are you mad at me, krasivyy?” She asked, fiddling with her fingers as you get ready for bed.

• — “No, of course not. But I would’ve appreciated if you would’ve told me beforehand.” You say as you coddle the kitten, laying next to her as she puts her head on your chest.

• — “Okay, I will next time.” Natasha said softly, feeling like putty in your arms that held her ever so loving. As the kitten purrs in between you, she, for once, felt contented.

• — Maybe the things she was always afraid of, was the things she needed. Affection, and cats.

Agatha Harkness

• — Okay, this blood-thirsty witch is so physical touch.

• — Agatha firmly believes that she cannot live without feeling you. She has to have her hand draped over your waist, or your lower back, or even the simple act of holding your hand.

• — At first, you didn’t see her for the affectionate type. But wow, did that change when she started growing comfortable in your presence.

• — “Hey, you. What’s wrong?”

• — With Agatha practically all over your personal space as she hugs you tightly from behind, “Nothing, my love.”

• — She admires your profession, regardless of how contrast it is to her wrongdoings back then. When she first told you about her past, you could only hug her, gently caressing her hair from behind.

• — When you would come home very tired, she would use her purple to ease your tense shoulders. One time, you fell asleep in her arms because she really set the comfortable sensual mood. She smiled at you lovingly, as she lays down beside you.

• — Though, she’ll never admit it was for entirely something else.

• — What she’ll admit though, is how she appreciates every gift you give her.

• — When she talks about her interests, you look forward to searching cute gifts online just to make her smile. The unexpectancy of it all is what makes it so sweet to her, knowing that she didn’t have much growing up

• — But with you, it’s like time hadn’t stopped. Her life had kept on going, knowing she had someone to wake up with everyday.

she who walks in the road

Okay, good news or bad news?

the road in question

Bad news? Is something wrong? I have surgery in 5, babe.

she who walks in the road

I might have blasted a cute rabbit because of fear cus to be fair it was on our bed, and now it’s limping like a dummy. I am so sorry. 🕊️

the road in question

Good news?

she who walks in the road

I’m hot as fuck.

seen

• — Okay, maybe she woke up on the couch the day after. But what matters is that she loves you, immortally.

Rio Vidal

• — Not the Death herself expressing her love in words of affirmation.

• — Being a literal cosmic entity isn’t the only thing she prioritizes, or at least wasn’t when you met her. In spite of her job, she was fond of exploring the world. That was when she met you.

• — She saw you crying on a bench, your tote bag beside you. Your hands were covering your face as you sobbed uncontrollably. It was late at night, and it was dangerous for a person to be sitting alone in the evening.

• — She approached you, asking you what was wrong. You tell her how you lost your patient. You kept on saying that if you could’ve tried harder, she would’ve survived.

• — “It wasn’t your fault. Sometimes, people die because it is simply their time. I can assure you, she lived a long life and went peacefully. You tried your best, and that’s what matters.”

• — And all of a sudden, you found yourself hugging her. Rio was shocked. That was her first time being hugged by a human being, or any being at all. It felt wonderful to be hugged, she wonders if this is what people live for.

• — She was so reassuring, and you trust her with your whole heart. She would compliment you any chance she gets. Knowing someone as beautiful as you, inside and out, deserves it.

• — Years of being together, exploring the vast world with her was nothing but joy.

• — It was either reading old poetry to eachother, or you saying names of deceased people and ask her what age did they die.

• —Though her favorite part is when she hugs you at night. It was just you and her.

• — She then searches on a digital screen about the certain action. Physical touch, it read. She was extremely fond of this physical touch thing. As she spoons you, you press kisses all over her face.

• — Rio tries to hide her blushing face in the crook of your neck, but fails miserably.

• — “I love you so much. I’m glad it was you who I met that night. Otherwise, I would’ve met you in another way.”

• — The witch laughs, rolling her eyes as she laid comfortably beside you. “I love you most and more. I am certainly glad at met you the way I did, mi vida.”

• — And you brought life to death herself.

!!

milaya - darling

krasivyy - beautiful

mi vida - my life

congratulations - my love

!!

[rockingbytheseaside]

I just read 'a boy named heretic' and it was really great cuz I can see little zandik being obsessed of his favourite researchers. And Imagine after creating his segments, little segments being so obsessed with you that they start their days with reading your researchs or treating your researchs like a religious book maybe even the older segments still do that. they would have memorised everything by now and that would be so funny like little segments make a mistake when they are talking about your researchs and older ones go like 'no no it goes like this and this' I can definitely see that happening.

Thank you for reading my brainrot over your fic and even though i just discovered you I love your writing style and your art is amazing so thank you for blessing us

Thank you so much! I try to write fics and tropes because I also struggle with Harbinger brainrot. Sometimes I draw and sometimes I gotta write. So I hope I won't disappoint with this one (｡•́︿•̀｡)

✦ You learn that Dottore taught his little segment about your old research too

(tw: none, pure fluff)

In the days of old, a young boy named Zandik was infatuated by you.

You were there, in the photos of the Akademiya’s best, A brilliant alumna. Meanwhile, he was still a mere student, looking up at you with eager ruby eyes. The distance between you two, not just in seniority, but in intellect and knowledge looked like an insurmountable ocean for little Zandik. 

He read all your published works, theses, or even miscellaneous essays. You were one of the few who dared to explore risque topics, often researching the fallen technology of your homeland, Khaenri’ah. Your works became his mantra, as the young trainee Dastur frequently stayed at night reading and memorizing your written words. 

How he longed to stand by your side. To bask in the glow of your wisdom, and hopefully, one day stand beside you in these photos of The Akademiya’s best. The thought of being your equal on that wall is a fantasy that once consumed him during many sleepless nights. 

But alas, his name was not in the records beside you. Instead, it was in the records of exiled students. 

The expulsion was a bitter pill to swallow for Zandik, yet it became a blessing in disguise. It allowed him to break free from the constraints of the Akademiya and truly delve into the depths of his research; to walk where you walked. With this liberating and newfound freedom, The Fatui heightened his abilities. They provided him with the resources and tools, and in return, he shared the fruits of his labor with them. But the Fatui were not the focus of his pursuits - you were. 

The little boy who once admired you from afar is no more. Now, a Fatui Harbinger stood before you, a man who has grown and shaped himself in your shadow. So here you were, in Dottore’s lab quietly musing. That was the story of your unceremonious reunion with The Doctor, whom you didn’t even know was after you. However, you didn’t mind it. You even met one of his many segments. 

What you didn’t expect is… a little child in his lab. 

A boy, looking awfully similar to little Zandik, no older than 8 years old. He gawked back at you, with his ruby-red eyes and you felt a sense of deja vu. You kneeled in front of him, catching a glimpse of a book in the child’s arms: 

“Um, hello, little one. What is that book you’re reading?”

The child cast his gaze to the floor timidly, revealing the worn-out book he was concealing behind his back. He held it tightly with his little hands, speaking in a small but avid voice:

“It’s your work… Your name is right here!” 

You blinked in surprise. It indeed had your name on it. The title was one of your research papers that you honestly forgot about. But what was even more surprising is why would an 8-year-old child read some old academic papers. 

“Oh, it is? But isn’t it a little… boring or difficult for you to read?” 

“No, I love it! I can even recite it if you want!” 

When Prime Dottore entered and spotted you talking to the eager younger clone he smirked. It seems you finally met his youngest segment, and your bafflement was expected. 

Dottore assured you that his segments, especially the younger Zandik, cannot contain their excitement at the mere mention of your name. They speak of you with a reverence that borders on idolatry, and they often ask Dottore about any copies of your published studies. 

It seems even the segments have inherited his admiration for you.

And the youngest segment, the 8-year-old child? They are absolutely enamored with your work. Every day, they ask about you and patiently anticipate any new information about your next visit to the lab. They even have a small collection of your books on their shelf, reading them diligently and trying to understand the complexity of your ideas. It was a bewildering sight, but the youngest segment enjoyed your academic essays as his bedtime stories.

“Dottore, listen. Did you make this boy memorize my thesis instead of reading fairy tales or something? Isn’t this a little… complicated for a child?” - you asked, picking up the little segment into your arms. 

“Nonsense my dear. Instead of fairy tales and nursery rhymes, a prodigy must start early by instilling a desire for knowledge. You can test it for yourself.” - Dottore explained, turning to the young child - “Recite the passage about energy infusion, paragraph 2.” 

“Okay! Ahem… ‘In the realm of Khaenri'ahn technology, we find a profound example of the interconnectedness between opposites. The use of advanced energy systems combines the power of light and electricity and as according to the data numbers of…”

Oh boy. These are big words for an 8-year-old. You don’t even remember the exact words of your 400-year-old thesis; that thing is ancient! You didn’t have the heart to tell them both that this thesis was written during an all-nighter rush. You did not feel nostalgic remembering your stress over deadlines. 

“Little one?” - You smiled at the boy in your arms and pointed at Dottore “Promise you won’t grow up like this big meanie here. He's annoying” 

“Heehee, okay!” - The tiny Zandik gently hugged your neck. The clone's innocent presence contrasts starkly with Il Dottore's imposing frown. What you failed to notice, however, was the young segment sticking his tongue out at Dottore's jealousy while you hugged the child unawarely. 

[dearlenore]

CALICO CRITTERS • S.REID

SUMMARY: You’ve wanted a baby for weeks, but the fear of Spencer saying no has kept you silent. You can’t imagine life without him, so what happens if this is the one thing you can’t agree on? Well you decide a miniature model might help.

PAIRING: fem!reader x Spencer Reid

tags: reader is not in the bau , reader wants a baby, PURE domestic fluff, that’s about it

a/n: WHAT THE HELL IS SURGERY 🦅 🇺🇸 (my health insurance is currently ugly crying.)

w/c: 2.0K

THE IDEA HAD been gnawing at you for weeks, lingering in the quiet moments between cases, in the spaces where Spencer’s hand brushed against yours, in the warmth of his voice as he absentmindedly explained some obscure fact about human genetics.

You wanted a baby.

It wasn’t a fleeting thought or a sudden whim. It was a longing that settled deep in your chest, warm and insistent. You could picture it so clearly—tiny fingers curling around yours, sleepy murmurs in the early hours, a life that was half you and half him. The thought alone made your heart ache with how much you wanted it.

But there was one problem.

You didn’t know if Spencer did.

You had talked about a lot of things in your relationship—marriage, careers, books, music, philosophy, even which way the toilet paper roll should face (you’d conceded that one to him). But kids? That conversation had never come up. You knew about his past, about his fears of inheriting his mother’s schizophrenia, about the scars left by the kind of loss that carves itself into a person’s soul.

You didn’t want to push him. You didn’t want to bring it up in a way that would make him feel cornered. But the longer you sat with the thought, the heavier it became.

So, you decided on a different approach.

Spencer wasn’t due home for another two hours, which gave you plenty of time. You set up the scene meticulously on the coffee table, adjusting each tiny figure until it looked just right.

Calico Critters.

You had loved them as a child, their little felted bodies and tiny, detailed furniture making up entire worlds in your head. And Spencer—well, he appreciated anything that involved miniature models.

At the center of your setup stood a small family: two rabbits—one male, one female—positioned just so, their little paws almost touching. Between them sat a baby, wrapped in the smallest blanket you could find in the set. A family.

Your heart pounded as you stepped back to admire your work. It was subtle enough not to seem like a confrontation but meaningful enough that Spencer would notice. He always noticed.

You barely had time to settle onto the couch before you heard the sound of his key in the lock.

“Hey, I’m home,” he called, his voice warm with exhaustion.

You turned, watching as he stepped inside, shrugging off his bag and jacket. His hair was slightly tousled, his shirt wrinkled from a long day. He looked beautiful, even like this—especially like this.

“Hi,” you said, offering him a small smile. “Rough day?”

He let out a breath, running a hand through his hair. “Morgan and Garcia spent the entire day arguing about the statistical probability of winning the lottery. I think I lost brain cells just listening to them.”

You laughed softly as he finally noticed the coffee table.

He froze mid-step.

You held your breath.

“What’s this?” he asked, tilting his head. He crouched down, examining the little family you had set up. You watched as his fingers carefully adjusted the baby’s blanket, his brow furrowing in curiosity.

You swallowed hard. “I was… setting up a scene,” you said lightly. “It looked kind of empty without the baby.”

Spencer’s fingers stilled. You saw the moment realization flickered in his eyes. He turned his head slightly, looking at you through the loose strands of his hair.

Your heart was racing now.

“You’re thinking about kids,” he said quietly.

It wasn’t a question.

You nodded, forcing yourself to hold his gaze. “I am.”

A beat of silence.

Spencer’s eyes dropped back to the figures, his expression unreadable.

You felt the air shift, your stomach tightening. Maybe you’d made a mistake. Maybe this wasn’t the right way to bring it up. Maybe he—

“I think about it too.”

Your breath caught.

He was still staring at the figures, his fingers brushing over the tiny baby. “I just… I didn’t know if you wanted that.”

You let out a breathless laugh, your eyes stinging. “Spencer, I want that more than anything.”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. He looked at you again, and for the first time, you saw something raw in his expression—hope, fear, longing.

“I’ve always been afraid,” he admitted. “Afraid of what I might pass down. Afraid of being like my father. Afraid that with this job, I’d never be able to keep a child safe.”

You reached forward, taking his hand in yours. “You’re not your father,” you said firmly. “And you’re not alone in this. I know it’s scary, but I also know that if anyone in the world was meant to be a father, it’s you.”

Spencer exhaled slowly, his fingers tightening around yours. His thumb rubbed slow lines on your hand.

“I don’t want to be afraid forever,” he murmured.

“You don’t have to be,” you whispered.

A pause.

Then, so softly you almost didn’t hear it—

“…What do you think about names?”

A slow, breathless smile spread across your lips.

You squeezed his hand. “Let’s find out together.”

The bedroom was warm, bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp. Outside, the city hummed quietly, but in here, wrapped in Spencer’s arms, the world felt small—just the two of you and the conversation that lingered between sleepy breaths.

You nestled closer, your head resting against his chest, listening to the slow, steady rhythm of his heartbeat. His fingers traced lazy circles along your arm, absentminded, soothing.

“Did you really mean it?” you murmured against his skin, you looked up at him happily, a kiss placed to his chest.

Spencer shifted slightly, tilting his head down to look at you. “Mean what?”

“That you think about it, too.”

His hand stilled for just a second before resuming its gentle motion. “Yeah,” he admitted softly. “I do.” He ran his hand through your hair happily.

Your lips curled into a small smile as you pressed your cheek against his chest. “When did you start thinking about it?”

Spencer let out a quiet hum, his fingers moving up to play with a loose strand of your hair. “I don’t know exactly,” he said, thoughtful. “But I think… it started with you.”

Your heart skipped.

He shifted onto his side, tucking you even closer, his long legs tangling with yours beneath the covers. “Before you, it never felt possible. I had all these fears, these reasons why it wouldn’t work, why I shouldn’t even consider it. But with you, it’s different. It feels… safe. I know I have a lot of… things I could pass down but I have to believe that it’ll be okay.”

Your chest ached in the best way. You reached up, tracing the line of his jaw with your fingertips. “I’d want them to have your eyes,” you murmured, your voice thick with affection.

Spencer let out a soft laugh, the kind that rumbled deep in his chest. “Statistically, that depends on dominant and recessive alleles.”

You huffed, playfully rolling your eyes. “Shut up and let me be sentimental.”

His lips twitched, but he obeyed, eyes warm and shining as he looked at you, brushing hair out of your face.

“What else?” he asked after a moment, his voice softer now. “What else do you imagine?”

You sighed dreamily, playing with the fabric of his t-shirt. “I imagine them being curious—like you. Always asking questions, wanting to know how everything works.”

Spencer smiled. “That could be dangerous.”

You grinned. “True. But at least they’d have you to explain things properly.”

His arms tightened around you, and he pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead. “I think they’d be kind like you,” he murmured. “Gentle, but strong. The kind of person who makes the world a little softer just by being in it.”

Your throat tightened at the sincerity in his voice. You swallowed, blinking up at him. “We’d make a good team,” you whispered.

Spencer nodded, his gaze full of something deep and certain. “Yeah,” he agreed. “We would.”

Silence settled over you both, comfortable and warm. His fingers found yours beneath the covers, lacing them together.

After a moment, you bit your lip, a teasing glint in your eyes. “Okay, but names—”

Spencer groaned playfully, burying his face against your shoulder. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“Absolutely not.”

He chuckled, the sound sending warmth straight through you. “Alright,” he said, tilting his head back. “What’s on your list?”

You grinned, shifting onto your back and pulling him with you so his head rested against your shoulder. “Okay, hear me out—what about something classic? Like Eleanor?”

Spencer hummed. “Eleanor is nice… but what about something literary? Like Jane, for Jane Austen?”

You tapped your chin in thought. “Ooh, that’s cute. But what if we had a boy?”

Spencer was quiet for a moment. Then, hesitantly, he murmured, “Gideon.”

You stilled, glancing down at him. His face was unreadable, but you could hear the weight behind the name, the quiet tribute in it.

Your fingers brushed through his hair. “Gideon Reid,” you said softly, testing the way it sounded. “It’s beautiful, I love it.”

Spencer let out a slow breath, his arms tightening around you. “I think he’d like it too,” he murmured.

You pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “Then it’s perfect. Gideon Reid.”

Silence again, but this time, it was filled with something deeper—understanding, love, the quiet promise of a future neither of you had dared to dream about before.

And for the first time, it didn’t feel so far away.

[aventurineswife]

https://youtube.com/shorts/r3a2nGCuD1I?si=eTF8BH9dYZ64Roji

I can't unsee them as black cats when they open their eyes in the darkkkk my pretty boiiisss

Could I request them during nap time (I'd love it if it were cuddly naps on a couchhh) and waking up for different reasons and they wake up after u leave (either for a snack, cold wind on balcony or just s/o don't leave but shuffle that they wake up and look up frm lap)

Just pure fluff~

-🦈

“Come back to me, love”

Tags: Dan Heng IL x Reader, Aventurine x Reader, Pure Fluff, Romance, Vulnerability, Soft Moments, Comfort, Slow Burn, Gentle Intimacy.

A/N: Am I the only who feels uncomfortable if someone lays on my lap because I'm ticklish or sensitive? 💀 Also the fact that my :3 wife(anon) posted this before too 😭 lmaooo

(Header credits)

The room was bathed in soft, shadowy hues, the only light coming from the stars outside the windows. You sat quietly, the weight of Dan Heng resting against your lap, his long hair spilling over your legs like a cascade of silk. His horns gleamed faintly, their translucent green catching the starlight, while his peaceful breathing created a rhythm you could easily lose yourself in.

Dan Heng had been hesitant at first. He rarely allowed himself the luxury of vulnerability, but you’d coaxed him with your gentle insistence. Now, with his vivid eyes closed and his usually stoic features relaxed, he looked so at ease that you could barely contain the soft smile tugging at your lips.

Your fingers traced idle patterns along the bare skin of his shoulder, careful not to wake him, though his Vidyadhara resilience probably ensured he wouldn’t stir so easily. Yet you couldn’t deny the gentle thrill you felt at seeing him like this: completely at peace, unguarded in the dark cocoon of the cabin.

The stars beckoned, so you moved, ever so gently, shifting your position to stand and stretch. As you stepped toward the balcony, a cool breeze washed over you, carrying the scent of interstellar rain—a memory of a distant world the Express had recently passed.

Behind you, a faint rustle and the soft glow of emerald light stopped you in your tracks. Turning, you saw Dan Heng’s eyes open, the sharp, vibrant green of his gaze cutting through the shadows. They glowed faintly, the Vidyadhara essence within him as captivating as ever.

“Leaving already?” His voice was a low murmur, still heavy with sleep, yet laced with a warmth reserved only for you.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” you replied softly, stepping back toward him. He shifted, sitting up slightly, his arms extending just enough to invite you back.

With a chuckle, you returned to the couch, his arms looping around your waist as he rested his head against your shoulder this time. His eyes still glowed faintly, catching the dim starlight, before he closed them again.

“Stay,” he murmured. “The stars can wait.”

And so you did, holding him close, his warmth grounding you in the vastness of the cosmos.

The faint glow of neon signs filtered through the blinds, casting streaks of cyan and magenta across the sleek, modern apartment. Aventurine was sprawled on the velvet couch, his head resting on your lap, his hair tousled from sleep. His lashes cast faint shadows on his cheeks, while his eyes—now dimmed in rest—remained hidden under closed lids.

The room was unusually quiet, the usual hum of city life muted by Aventurine’s insistence on soundproof walls. He valued his moments of reprieve, though he’d never admit it outright. Still, you knew better. He needed these moments, especially when the weight of his past and the constant gambling of his present pressed too heavily on his soul.

You brushed a lock of hair away from his forehead, marveling at how peaceful he looked like this. His usual sharp grin was absent, replaced by an expression so soft that it felt like witnessing a secret no one else was allowed to know.

The quiet creak of the balcony door called to you, the promise of a cool breeze tempting after hours of stillness. Carefully, you slid out from under him, propping a pillow where your lap had been before stepping toward the open air.

The city stretched out below, its lights like a sea of stars, and the wind carried the faint smell of rain. You leaned against the railing, savoring the moment, until a soft rustle from behind caught your attention.

Turning, you saw Aventurine stirring, his eyes glowing faintly in the dim room. His gaze found you instantly, his sharp features softening with a lazy smile.

“Running off without me?” His voice was warm, teasing, but tinged with that familiar vulnerability he only ever showed you.

“I didn’t want to wake you,” you replied, moving back to him. He stretched, one hand reaching out to pull you close.

“Next time, don’t. It’s lonely without you.”

With a chuckle, you settled back onto the couch, his head finding its way back to your lap as he sighed contentedly. His glowing eyes dimmed once more, their light fading as sleep reclaimed him. You stayed there, your fingers tracing circles on his face, the neon lights outside painting your quiet world in shades of warmth and peace.

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Chasing The Calm

Summary: Tyler Owens x fe!Reader -> A moment of peace for you and Tyler in between the chases.

Disclaimer: Mostly a fluffy short, tornado wrangler family, dog adoption, relaxing on the porch vibes, etc.

You’d both had a long day. 

You’d been storm chasing with Tyler for almost five years. It had started out as a favour – you had a break off work for a few weeks in the summer and he needed a data reader. So, after some persuading, you agreed. 

And you’d been chasing ever since. 

The day’s chasing started at five in the morning. Lily had set an alert on her phone which meant any tornados worth chasing for footage would be sent directly to her phone. Even if that meant getting your asses into gear to drive into the middle of an unused field. 

Finally, around three p.m, Tyler had called a break for everyone. Boone was starting to lose energy and the others were ready for food and an early night. And since strolling back into your shared home, you and Tyler had been laying on the porch swing watching the sun slowly set across the acres of land. 

Not too long after Tyler had helped you up before slotting you in between his legs, the Wrangler rescue came and slotted herself in the small gap left by yours and Tyler’s legs as you lay on him. 

Every now and again you could hear Dexter making tea in the kitchen. The kettle whistled for a few seconds before he pulled it from the stove. 

Tyler’s heartbeat was steady in his chest as he lightly drew his fingers up and down your back, his eyes looking across the fields at the golden hue that had been cast across the wheat. 

Compared to the humidity and winds you’d all been experiencing since five a.m, the soft breeze that blew through the porch and across both of you was a kind welcome. 

From the other end of the porch swing, Hay-Bail shifted her position before sighing as she lay back down. 

You’d found Hay-Bail almost two years ago. 

A tornado had ripped through a small town, but not before hitting one of the local farms. Its wind had sent plenty of hay bails flying through the air, one landing by Tyler’s truck. You’d all spent close to two hours helping out where you could before leaving and getting cleaned up yourselves. 

Only, as you stood by Tyler, you heard a small whimper. At first, you thought your ears had tricked you. But once Dexter and Lily had pulled away in their cars, along with Dani, Javi, Kate and Boone, you heard it again. 

“Ty, wait.”

Tyler watched you as you slowly crouched towards the hay bail and for a moment he wondered what you were doing. Then he heard it himself. 

Hurrying forward, you’d looked all around it. From under Tyler’s truck to the stay piles on the ground. But nothing. Till you looked inside the bail of hay. 

With straw scratched away, a puppy no older than two months emerged. Covered in hay, the poor thing wouldn’t stop shaking. 

“Hey, hey, come here. Oh, Ty, she’s shaking like a leaf.”

Holding her carefully in your arms, Tyler checked her over. She wasn’t bleeding, but she was shaking. “She must have hid when the tornado came.”

“Tyler, her heart’s racing.”

Holding her carefully against your chest, you petted and soothed her head. 

“There should be an emergency vet a town over. Come on.”

And so you were off. Three and a half hours later, the puppy had been checked out at the vet. You’d helped calm her, but she was calmest against Tyler. Namely, whilst she was trying to climb into one of his shirt pockets. 

The vet had also informed both you and Tyler that the farmer she belonged to said to keep her. He’d been trying to sell his puppies for months and she was the last one. He didn’t even know she’d gotten out of her pen until the vet called. 

If you and Tyler didn’t take her home, she would have been abandoned. And neither of you could have that. Plus, she seemed rather taken with Tyler. 

From that day on, Hay-Bail became a certified member of the Tornado Wrangler family. You’d been meaning to give her an actual name but until you found one, she was just known as Hay-Bail and it stuck. But it suited her. To this day, if she was ever missing, she was in the shed playing in the hay. 

As your eyes took in the landscape around you, you smiled in contentment. 

You loved your job, you loved that you got to go out almost every day and chase. That almost every day, you lived in the moment and got to capture memories to last a lifetime. 

But you also loved moments like this. 

Laying with Tyler, and Hay-Bail, just listening to the sounds of the house and the surrounding fields. All the while, the sun slowly started to make its descent so the moon could rise up into its place. 

It was in moments like this you were glad you accepted Tyler’s offer to join him for the summer all those years ago. 

You and Tyler had met in college on the same course. You’d never really been close, but you’d done plenty of late night study sessions in the library together, testing each other on the facts in order to be prepared for the next pop quiz your professor decided to throw at you. 

After college, you’d both taken widely different routes, though you still kept in touch. Every now and again, Tyler would send you a storm article or if he was in town, you’d meet up for coffee. 

And whilst Tyler had found fame and success in Tornado chasing, you’d become a community college science teacher. You had enjoyed it for a while, but being in the field, chasing tornadoes, collecting the data, teaching others about the weather as well as the science behind it…that was your calling. 

But, just as you got settled into your new career and life with the Tornado Wranglers, another change was made eighteen months later when you and Tyler started dating. 

It took you both a while to figure it out considering you’d been friends for a long time and you’d be working together for the foreseeable future. But after a long talk from Dexter and a quick anecdote from Boone, Tyler and yourself had come to a conclusion. 

Whatever was going to happen, would happen. But it would be better together than apart. 

From his chest, you looked up at him and he immediately looked back, the same soft smile on his face. 

Leaning up, you kissed him and he kissed back lightly as his hand came to the back of your head. 

Neither of you had to say anything, because it was all said in the kiss. 

You lay back down as Tyler’s fingers started to brush through your hair. However, just as you both started to doze off, an alert came through on your phone. 

Reaching into your back pocket, Tyler pulled your phone out for you and handed it to you. 

Gently taking it from him, you pressed the power button and you read the alert. 

“There’s a storm North-East of us; numbers are looking good. Looks like it’s gonna be heading…” You flipped your phone. “West. Not much there other than wind turbines and overgrown pasture.”

Tyler smiled as he watched you and when you looked back at him, neither of you had to say anything. You’d be chasing it. 

“Hey! Guys! I think I’ve got one!” Lily yelled from somewhere inside the house. 

Kneeling up, Tyler sat up underneath you before you both jumped onto your feet and slipped your shoes back on. Hay-Bail was already up and following Tyler into the barn to collect Kate and Javi. 

Within minutes, everyone was in a vehicle and were driving North-East and into another tornado.