#excited for them and not sure why a flower shop called to me but here we are

[viktere]

@foamsalt ˖ ࣪ . ࿐ ♡ ˚

ㅤㅤthough the ambiance and music of the flower shop are both soothing, aurora feels oddly out of place. this environment is the opposite of what she's used to, and isn't quite sure how to act to seem normal. she figures she should at least buy something considering she took the time to come in, but has no idea where to start. she spots a nearby patron, debating silently for a couple moments as to whether or not she should approach her. when an equally silent fuck it, she turns to the blonde, perfectly manufactured smile settling over her features. ❛❛ you having any luck picking out what flowers you want? ❜❜

[30somethingautisticteacher]

Buck's favorite words

Just a little idea I couldn't get out of my head so enjoy this ficlet 🙂

***

Buck isn't sure why he likes the word so much, but every time he says it, it's like sugar on his tongue. It makes him feel warm and fuzzy and like everything is right with the world.

"Sorry, I'm flattered but I'm seeing someone," Buck says to the pretty girl he's just evacuated from a 3-alarm blaze. His voice is kind but firm, a far cry from the Buck of old who might have preened at the attention.

"Oh come on, handsome hero man. Give me your number," she purrs, reaching out to touch his arm.

Her relentlessness gives Buck a little push, and he finds himself using the word for the first time in public. It rolls off his tongue easily, filling him with a quiet pride.

"Sorry, but like I said, I'm taken," he says, gently stepping back. Then, with a smile that's both apologetic and genuinely happy, he adds, "I have a boyfriend."

The word 'boyfriend' sits in the air between them, and Buck feels a warmth spread through his chest.

From then on, he finds himself saying it as often as he can, each time feeling that same warmth, that same quiet joy.

At the flower shop, where he's picking out a bouquet for his and Tommy's dinner date, the florist asks, "Do you need help picking something out for your girlfriend?"

"Boyfriend, actually," Buck replies with an easy smile. "And I'm good, thanks."

At the coffee shop, he leans on the counter, eyes scanning the pastry case. "Do you have any cranberry orange scones? My boyfriend loves them," Buck asks the barista warmly.

Later, at the bar waiting for Tommy, a pretty girl sends a drink over. Buck catches her eye, raises the glass in thanks, and then gently shakes his head. When she approaches, he's ready with a now-familiar phrase: "I'm flattered, but I have a boyfriend."

Each time he says it, 'boyfriend' feels more natural, more right. It's not just a word anymore—it's a declaration of who he is, who they are together. And Buck finds he loves that feeling almost as much as he loves Tommy.

There's nothing better than the word boyfriend. That is, until a new word takes its place.

At a restaurant, the waiter approaches with menus in hand. "Would you like to order an appetizer while you wait?"

Buck's eyes light up, a grin spreading across his face. "No thanks, my fiancé should be here soon." The word 'fiancé' rolls off his tongue like honey, sweet and perfect.

On a work call to a new gym, Buck finds himself pacing with excitement. "Wow! This place is nice. Do you have a free trial? I bet my fiancé would love to try it out." He can't help but emphasize the word, feeling a thrill every time he says it.

Later, meeting with the wedding caterers, Tommy sits right next to him, their hands intertwined. Buck squeezes Tommy's hand as he says, "No, we definitely don't want German chocolate cake. My fiancé is allergic to coconut." He glances at Tommy, catching his soft smile at the word.

With each use, 'fiancé' becomes more than just a title. It's a promise, a future, a declaration of forever. And Buck realizes that while 'boyfriend' was wonderful, 'fiancé' is magical—a constant reminder of the commitment they've made and the life they're building together.

But the magic of 'fiancé' only lasts for so long before it's also replaced with something even more profound.

At the hospital, Buck's heart races as he approaches the reception desk. "Hi, I'm Evan Kinard. I just got a call that my husband was here." The word 'husband' feels both new and familiar on his lips.

The receptionist nods reassuringly. "Oh sure, it looks like your husband has just been discharged. Just smoke inhalation and a minor concussion."

Later, at Maddie's place, Buck finds himself chuckling as Chimney and Tommy argue about movies. He turns to his sister with a grin. "I don't know whose husband is more stubborn, yours or mine."

At the 118's karaoke night, Buck takes the stage, his eyes locked on Tommy. "I'd like to dedicate this song to my husband," he announces, his voice full of love. As the opening notes of "I Can't Help Falling in Love With You" begin to play, Buck starts to sing, his voice soft and sincere. Tommy's face flushes with a mix of embarrassment and deep affection as Buck serenades him in front of their friends and colleagues.

Each time Buck says 'husband', he feels a surge of pride and love. It's more than just a word—it's a testament to their journey, their commitment, and the life they've chosen to share. And Buck knows, without a doubt, that 'husband' is his favorite word yet.

[cognitiveoverload]

Basic human decency: The pretty doctor – 2/4 (Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader)

summary: In which Jack is the best wingman Hotch can ask for.

masterlist

As you’re wandering the aisles of the store near your home, looking for the next item on your shopping list, you make a quick phone call to check on a patient. It’s your day off, but it was a complicated surgery, and your brain can’t turn off its professional side. You listen to your colleague telling you about the latest lab results, getting so lost in the conversation that you almost hit a little kid with the shopping cart. You raise your hand and say sorry, but when you turn the cart to get past him, he lets out a gasp and points at you.

“Dad, look, the pretty doctor!” he says excitedly.

You pull the phone away from your ear as you give him a questioning look, but the little blond boy is only smiling at you happily. “I’ll call you back, Claire,” you tell your colleague before putting the device away. “I’m sorry, what did you say?” you ask the boy with a kind smile.

He rushes past the cart and stops in front of you. “You’re the pretty doctor who saved my dad.”

“Jack, don’t run away like this, I told you to stay by my side. I’m sorry, I hope he didn’t bother you.”

The man who stopped behind the boy is not unknown to you, mostly because he was the last patient who sent you a thank you gift before being discharged. You’re still being teased about it regularly, but you hoped that stupid giddy feeling you get every time would disappear as the time passed. It didn’t. And you think the fact you kept the card that came with the flowers doesn’t help with that.

It takes your brain a moment to restart, but once it does, you shake your head and flash a smile at him. “Oh, no, he didn’t. But I bet he’s gonna be a little heartbreaker based on how he runs around calling women pretty,” you tell him with a laugh.

“It’s Dad who calls you pretty all the time,” the little boy corrects you with a pout. 

“I most certainly don’t do that,” Hotchner assures you with an awkward smile.

There’s a moment of silence while Jack looks up at his father with a deep frown, but then a mischievous grin appears on his face and he goes, “Sometimes he calls you gorgeous.”

With a panicked look, Hotchner covers the boy’s mouth with his hand and leans down a little. “Buddy, there are things you aren’t supposed to talk about,” he tells him quietly, but even over the terrible music in the store, you can hear every word. “I’m sorry, we should probably just go,” he notes after clearing his throat.

Laughing, you nod and offer your hand for a high-five to Jack, who welcomes it with an excited giggle. But before they could move on, you turn to look at the older man again. “By the way, how are you? Everything healed perfectly?” you ask, desperately clinging to the only topic that can keep them here just a little longer. 

It’s strange, and maybe a little weird, but it’s so good to see him again, and his son is also adorable, and god, you’re pathetic. Why can’t you just move on? Why did you keep that card? Why are you this stupid?

“Yeah, everything’s great, thanks to you,” Hotchner replies with a warm smile. He then hesitates, obviously trying to choose his next words carefully. “I was wondering why you didn’t come see me again. I… thought I crossed a line with those flowers.” There’s something about his tone, like he’s feeling guilty about the whole thing. Strange.

Without hesitation, you flash a bright smile at him and go, “Oh, no, they were beautiful, thank you.”

“That’s not why I mentioned it.”

“I know, it’s just–”

“Dad?” the little boy speaks up, interrupting you with the sweetest smile you’ve ever seen. “Can the pretty doctor have lunch with us?” 

“Jack, I’m sure she’s busy.”

The little boy begins to jump up and down from excitement, tiny fingers clutching his jeans to keep his attention on himself. “Please?” he asks.

Hotchner looks at you with a questioning look, shrugging in an attempt to lighten the mood. But there’s a smile on his lips, and a softness in those brown eyes that make you want to say yes. You would be a fool to miss this opportunity. So, why would you refuse? Why wouldn’t you cancel all of your plans with your friends just to spend more time with this little family of two? 

Before answering, you look down at Jack, who watches you with wide eyes. “Are you sure about this?” you ask kindly, to which he responds with an enthusiastic nod. 

You then glance over at his father, looking for that final confirmation that he wants this too, not only because of his son, but because of you. Maybe it’s stupid, but deep down you hope those flowers and smiles back in the hospital actually meant something. Soon enough, he nods and mouths please in an attempt to convince you. 

“Alright, you convinced me,” you reply with a wide smile. 

The boy jumps around as he celebrates, while his father steps closer to you, a hand landing on your waist while he leans so close to you that you can feel his breath on your ear. “Thank you, this makes him really happy. And I’m also really happy, just saying.” When you turn your head to look at him, he’s smiling at you in a way that makes you want to kiss him, but you barely know the guy, it wouldn’t be right. “Oh, and we will have to go on a proper date later. Just you and me, doing adult things.”

“Dad!”

Before you could say anything, he moves away and ruffles his son’s hair. “We’re coming,” he says with a laugh.

Well, that escalated quickly.

[irisintheafterglow]

No Prey, No Pay (opla!zoro x you)

summary: after steering him to a successful bounty, zoro can't stop thinking about you. he decides to do something about it. (Part 2 to Parley)

wc: 1.67k

cw/tags: domestic zoro crumbs, idiots in love but they don't know how to express it, canon-typical violence, zoro is so himbo i love him

note: thank you for all the love on my first two zoro posts!!!! i'm so so so happy y'all liked them; this is one of the first times in a while i've actually been super giddy writing a character. i really hope he's not too ooc, i tried to keep his himbo-ness intact. hope you enjoy!!!

likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated <3

“Here to try killing me again?”

“Oh,” is all he can sputter out, frozen on the doorstep of the Lady’s manor. The stout, shriveled old woman before him was not who he was looking for. To make matters worse, the flower he’d picked from the hillside on his way up the driveway suddenly seemed like a gargantuan beanstock in his fingers. His face was warming but, for the life of him, he could not figure out why. “You’re not–”

“Nope. They’re in the Farmers’ Market,” she deadpans without hesitation, eyeing him with all the amusement of a PhD candidate reading a children’s book. “The Farmers’ Market I created, by the way.” 

“Right,” he replies shortly, turning abruptly on his heel and letting his eyes widen in pure horror when she can’t see his face. He tosses the flower into a nearby planter, well aware that she can still see his every move. After several misguided attempts to navigate back to your isolated piece of land in the East Blue, he approached the ornately decorated door with a little more excitement than he expected. Having the Lady whom he’d tried to kill a few weeks prior be the one to open the door was another funny twist of irony that caused him an odd feeling of embarrassment, like he’d dropped you off after a date ten minutes past your curfew. “Thank you for your time.” 

“Tell me, pirate hunter,” she called to his back patronizingly. “Why grace us again with your oh-so-menacing presence?” 

“I’m wondering the exact same thing,” he mutters, irritated at his failed attempt to find you on the first try. 

“When you find them, tell them to pick up more sweet potatoes. I thought we had enough for dinner, but we could use a few more now that you’re here,” the Lady instructs him and her words take a few seconds to register in his mind. But, by the time he’s turned around to ask her what she meant, the door is already shut and he’s too proud to knock again. 

As if the mortification on your porch wasn’t enough, it’s nearly impossible to find you in the milling swarms of people in town. The people part naturally for him as he passes, sneaking anxious glances at the three swords on his hip. Whispers of his occupation and intentions float around his ears but he pays them no mind, determined to spot you. Again, he wasn’t sure what he was doing there in the first place; but, no matter what anyone else said, he did know one thing. By some unexpected turn of Fate, he missed you. 

“Shopping for produce while you hunt? I didn’t know you could multitask.” The teasing lilt of your voice appears behind him and he can’t help smirking. You’d found him before he found you, even though it was his job to find people. “Word to the wise: the vendors will upcharge you because they know you’re not from the island.” 

“What if you’re there with me?” When he finally turns to face you, his eyes flick to the canvas bag slung over your shoulder. It’s stuffed with fruits and vegetables, along with a jar of honey from the beekeeper just up the road from your house. 

“They’ll upcharge you more and insist you pay for my stuff,” you reply nonchalantly. “Now that I think of it, maybe we should walk around together.” You brush past him and re-enter the bustling square like he was the last thing on your mind, when really he was the only thing for the past week. You’re certain he’d follow behind you and your theory is confirmed when his voice comes from over your right shoulder. “It’s good to see you.”

“You’re wearing the bracelet,” he observes, easily slipping into place next to you as if it was natural to be by your side. With the sword-clad bounty hunter next to you, it was much easier to navigate the market without bumping every resident of the island. 

“Mhmm, I told you I liked it,” you say absentmindedly, stopping at a stand and picking up a vibrantly colored fruit from the stack. Observing it for bruises and finding none, you signal the seller that you’d like to buy the piece in your hand. His farm-worn hand stretches out to you and you fish around in your bag briefly for coins. But, before you can place the money in his hand, Zoro’s fingers are already dropping an unnecessarily large quantity into the shocked farmer’s palm. You gape at him and his unchangingly blank expression, shaking your head in disbelief when he glances at you, eyes shining arrogantly. “Where’d you get all that money and why did you do that?” 

“Bounties,” he answers plainly, “and ‘cause I wanted to. Next stand?” You’re still slightly frozen from pure surprise, but he shrugs carefreely and tilts his head toward the rest of the vendors.

“Feel like enlightening me on why you’re here again?” It’s the fourth or fifth stand he’s accompanied you to and, at this point, you were just window-shopping. Since he joined you on your errand, you hadn’t spent any more money; before you could pay any of the sellers, they were already thanking you profusely for your generosity with a pile of shining coins in their hands. Zoro proved to be a very patient companion, respectfully giving his opinions on which piece of produce looked bigger or more appetizing. With most of the required items on your shopping list successfully in your bag, you find yourself drifting over to the stalls of mundane things like pretty flowers and colorful crystals. 

“There’s a Marine defector turned intelligence smuggler hiding somewhere in the area. Thought I’d knock out two birds with one stone.” You turn over a piece of aventurine in your fingers, admiring it from different angles in the sunlight. Your breath hitches slightly when Zoro’s face dips down next to yours, watching the crystal from the same angle. 

“What’s the other bird?” You glance at him from the corner of your eye. 

“Visiting you,” he replies without hesitation, plucking the crystal from your fingers and tossing more coins at the vendor. You don’t stop the laugh that escapes your mouth and you swear his smirk gets more self-assured as he drops the rock into your bag. At a point when you aren’t looking, he swings your bag onto a broad shoulder as easily as if it was a piece of paper. “Also, we need sweet potatoes.” Your eyebrows raise in amusement at his slip. 

“We?” You have to fight down another giggle when his face becomes slightly pinker, imperceptible if you weren’t already staring at him. “Since when were we anything?”

“Your boss said she needed more sweet potatoes. Don’t shoot the messenger.” 

“I wasn’t aware that you went to go see her.”

“I wasn’t either, and then she opened the door instead of you,” he admits and you chuckle at his expression of distaste. “If it were up to me, I wouldn’t have–get behind me.” Before he can finish his thought, his arm shoots out in front of you, effectively halting you a split second before a knife darts across your vision, embedding itself into the wooden post next to you. The surrounding market-goers break into chaotic panic and you have no choice but to press your back against Zoro’s to prevent getting swept away. Emerging from the crowd, a lethal-looking group of fighters encircle you two and your hand finds the hilt of your saber. 

“Pirates?”

“No. Bounty hunters.”

“Friends of yours?” You eye the group warily as the marketplace empties, people running into the nearest building they could find to spectate the upcoming battle. 

“I’d call them ‘occupational competition’ on a good day.”

“Ah, great,” you huff sarcastically. “What’d you do to piss them off?”

“Exist,” he deadpans and you hum in assent. 

“Yeah, that’ll do it,” you mutter and you start to pull your blade from its sheath, anticipating the fight ahead of you.

“Don’t.” The single word halts your movements and your stomach drops in fear of what he’s sensing.

“What?”

“Let me handle this,” he says in a low tone that makes your skin break into goosebumps. “Can you hold the bag while I deal with them?”

“You sure?”

“Yep. This won’t take long,” he says irritatedly, scowling at the rival hunters that interrupted his day.

“Alright. I’m gonna go get sweet potatoes, then.”

“Third one down on the left. I’ll meet you over there,” he promises before moving faster than you can comprehend, whirling and downing the two attackers in front of you without even drawing his swords. They howl in pain when you stab your blade into their feet for good measure before leisurely making your way further down the street. As you walk, Zoro clears the path for you, mercilessly incapacitating every enemy with ease. By the time you find the sweet potato stall, there’s only one persistent fighter still giving the swordsman problems. You don’t feel any ounce of fear, however, as you pick through the salvageable gourds while the clashing of swords rings out behind you. Eventually, the street quiets and Zoro returns to your side as if nothing happened at all. “Good?”

“I’m fine,” you say truthfully, running your thumb over the bruise of an otherwise good potato. “You think this one’s still okay?” After peering at it and deeming it safe, he nods.  

“Yeah, it should be fine. If anything, you can just cut off the ugly spot.” There’s a splattering of red just under his eye when you meet his gaze. Your fingers unconsciously come up to wipe the speck of blood from his cheek and his skin feels just as electric as the first time you touched him. 

“Cool. I’m done shopping then, so we can go back home.”

“We?”

“You’re staying for dinner. It isn’t a request,” you command lightheartedly and smile when his steps fall into line next to yours. 

“Mmm, I can’t wait.”

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[timetoletmyimaginationfly]

Sick

Nanami Kento x Reader

You woke up, groggier than usual. You hit the snooze button of your alarm and hugged your pillow tightly against your chest.

“Darling. You’re gonna be late,” Nanami said. You weakly grunted, curling yourself more into a ball under the covers. “Darling?” You felt Nanami sit on the edge of the bed. Once his hands brushed your hair back, you felt his large palm cover your forehead. “Baby, you’re on fire.”

“No I’m not…” you tiredly replied and turned away from your worried fiancé. Nanami sighed. He left the room only to quickly return with a thermometer. He turned you on your back and slowly placed it under your tongue. As slowly as he moved you, you still groaned from the movement. The thermometer beeped and Nanami immediately pulled it out.

“102.4,” he said and placed it on the nightstand. Nanami lied down next to you and held you tightly. You weakly smiled, snuggling into his chest.

“Stay home with me,” you said tiredly. “I have to call Yaga and tell him I can’t be there today.”

“Okay, my love.” He kissed your forehead softly.

“No, don’t stay. I’m being selfish. Yuji and Ino were excited to train with you,” you said. You opened your eyes and you watched him shake his head. “I’ll be okay. I promise.” Nanami sighed. He did promise to spend time with them.

“I won’t be gone for too long,” he said. He checked the time. He had to get ready now if he was going to meet up with them on time. “Let me go get ready.”

Nanami prepared everything for you. He made sure your heated blanket was nearby and plugged in. He brought over the case of water bottles next to the bed. He picked out a selection of medicines for you take whenever you need it. He even heated up some soup and placed it on the night table.

“Kento-kun…” You thought he was going overboard but it always brought butterflies to your stomach with his kind actions. “Thank you.”

“Call me if you need anything,” he said and kissed your forehead. “I’ll be home in a flash.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Yuji and Ino noticed Nanami’s change in behavior. He was more distracted today. He was more passive and vague with his comments. Nanami just wasn’t being Nanami.

“Nanamin, what’s wrong?” Yuji asked.

“Is your girl okay?” Ino asked.

“She’s sick,” he said.

“Eh?!”

“That’s why she isn’t here,” Ino added. Nanami nodded.

“You can go and take care of her, Nanamin,” Yuji said.

“Yeah! I’ll train my underclassman!” Ino said excitedly. Nanami couldn’t help but give them a smile.

“Thanks,” he said and quickly called one of the assistant managers to pick him up.

Nanami Kento, the man who loves spoiling you with everything, stopped at the flower shop and then the store to buy you candy. When he returned back home, the house was quiet with the faint sounds of the TV on. He walked inside the living room. He softly smiled to see you sleeping on the couch. You had moved everything over. You changed into one of his T-shirts, so he knew you had taken a shower. He walked inside the kitchen and quietly assorted the flowers in the vase and placed the candy bars next to it. He walked towards your sleeping body and gently placed his hand on your forehead and then cheek. He felt relieved that you weren’t as hot from this morning.

“K-Kento-kun,” you mumbled and slowly opened your eyes. You immediately sat up. “I slept for so long! I didn’t start dinner or—“

“Darling,” Nanami interrupted. “It’s okay. I left early, the kids told me to go.”

“They’re too good to you,” you said with a smile. You looked around and your smile became wider. “For me?” You noticed the flowers on the counter.

“For you, my love. I even bought you candy bars.”

“You’re too sweet, Kento-kun.” You felt as if you were ten times better already.

“Now, lay down and rest,” he said. “I’ll make some porridge.”

“And miso soup.” Nanami let out a small laugh and kissed your forehead.

“Anything for my sick lady.”

[newtonsheffield]

Loving the tattoo/flower shop atory! Do Kate and Anthony ever talk about him getting rid of his bike when they have neddy? I know youve written that he gets into a minor wreck at one point. Does that make them discuss about what happens when they have kids?

I don’t think they really need to have a conversation about it. I think Anthony still has his bike but it’s not really practical with a baby. He’s already had one accident and that scared them both a little but also… you can’t attach a baby seat to the back of a motorcycle. And he needs to be able to be there for his partner and child as much as possible. If something happens and Kate needs him to pick up the baby he wants to be able to step up. Barely a week goes by after Kate discovers she’s pregnant before Anthony’s loitering at the door of her father’s garage nervously.

“Anthony,” Tharman called out as he appeared, wiping his hands on a rag. “Everything alright, Mate? Kate’s okay, you’re okay?”

“Yeah, yes.” Anthony stuck his hand out for the other man to shake. “We’re um… we’re great.”

Anthony swallowed, sure the older man could see the news they’d yet to share written all over his face.

“Bike’s okay?”

“Yeah, runs great but that’s actually ah.. why I’m here. I’m looking to get a car. Um… it’s.. hard trying to… borrow one whenever I need to drive the littles around and I was just wondering if you could give me a bit of advice on what’s reliable and that sort of thing.”

“ ‘Course I can.” Tharman smiled warmly, clapping him on the shoulder. “I was just about to break for lunch. Let’s figure out what you’re after.”

He avoided Kate’s father’s expressions when Anthony wondered aloud about space for car seats and cleared his throat, “Just… planning for the future I guess.”

It’s Friday night by the time he takes his plan to Kate, his chin resting on her shoulder. “Wanna come look at cars with me tomorrow?”

Kate’s brow furrowed. “Are you looking at cars?”

“Well, as cute as it would be to see it in a sidecar; I can’t take the baby on the bike, Babe.”

Kate chuckled, “Yeah, I guess not. But I have a car.”

“I just…” Anthony cleared his throat, “I just want to be a good partner. I want you to be able to rely on me and I think… the bike just doesn’t fit my life anymore. It’s not as practical.”

“I can rely on you.” Kate said firmly. “You know I’m not worried about you being a Dad, right? You know I’m excited to do this with you. Only you.”

Anthony held her tightly, “I’m excited to do this with you too. I do need a car though.”

Kate sighed, kissing him gently, “What are we looking for then?”

“Your Dad and I have agreed I’m interested in a Volvo.”

Kate let out a laugh, “Oh, Honey. Cool motorbike riding tattooist to Volvo owning dad to be in under a year. I’m sorry.”

Anthony clicked his tongue, “Get me a pair of Birkenstocks. Happy to be here.”

[fullofgutsndopamine]

like vines (we intertwine)

or: hasan uses a client as an excuse to see you

or or: the tattoo/flower shop au no one asked for

tw: cursing, mention of anxiety

hasan was going to the store purely for research purposes and absolutely nothing else.

or at least-that's the lie he told himself.

look, it's his only client (which is hard to come across when you're an apprentice) and he tips well enough so he's telling himself it' to gather intel, to make an impact, make him a regular-

and no it's definitely not to see you-why would you even think that?

In a desperate attempt to get his hands to stop shaking, to make the nerves disappear, he went through the small cabinet in his corner, grabbed the first small pre-packaged food his fingers collided with (goldfish, as it would be) and a small water bottle and made his way to next door

the door to the flower shop is propped open, and he can hear something acoustic gently being played through all corners of the store as he gets to the threshold of the door.

a deep breath.

there's no time to second guess his hair (or how badly he needs a haircut) he fumbles with his glasses he keeps folded and in his shirt pocket-hasn't been wearing them because his anxiety has sky rocketed lately, prefers the world slightly blurry-figures he should at least see you at this point

He uses his knuckle to press the glasses up his nose as he ducks into the small storefront, trying to not hit the small bell that hangs over the door, flowers wrapped around it.

You're behind the desk as he comes in, a pair of scissors in one hand, a large bouquet of roses in one hand, broken stems are scattered around you

you feel his presence immediately, head snapping up and customer service voice on: "Hello! Welcome to-"

Your shoulders drop and you try to roll your eyes like you're irritated that he's stopping in again,

“Hasan.”

He tsks, "Where's the warm welcome, sunshine?" He smirks, "Not very welcoming of you."

"Don't you have a job to do?" You tease, but come from behind the desk, pull out the stool that's hidden behind the desk and drag it to the side of the desk.

"Research," he nods, "for a client."

He eyes the seat but ignores it temporarily, instead taking the long way to the desk, looking at the flowers that line the small interior of the shop

his fingers gently touch the edge of the petals, rubbing them between his fingers gently,

"sunshine," He calls gently, and you’re still not sure if he knows your name, "This is?"

He let's the sentence hang in the air, even though you both know that he knows exactly what this flower is, say it everytime he comes in-

"Peonies," you hold a sigh, because you're just happy he's here, that he's in your orbit right now, borderline miss him when he's gone, "you're looking for lilies, yeah?"

you make your way around the counter joining his side.

"That's right," he smiles, "you must like me coming in if you rememebr the flower i'm looking for."

you snort, "someone has to know what you're talking about, and it sure as hell isn't going to be you."

it's quiet for a beat. him saying you must like him coming in looks for a second and you desperately try to say something to fill the space,

"and i don't like you," you smile, "i like the snacks you bring."

his face goes from being hurt to laughing again and before he can say anything you're talking again

"did you bring any snacks today? because i can't possibly help you without a snack."

and he's laughing, rolls his eyes as he takes a small package of goldfish out of his pocket, "you have a price."

you all but squeal, taking it happily as you go to rip it open with your teeth, excited because you forgot to pack lunch again

"so," he prompts, smirking still, "the lilies?"

you roll your eyes, "this way-"

"lead the way, sunshine."

and he holds his hand out in the air, let's it hang their until your red faced but accept, taking his hand and walking him the approximate fifteen steps to what he's looking for.

"you know," you're trying to ignore that he hasn't dropped your hand yet, "this is your fourth time in this week alone. most people would buy a flower by now."

he snorts, crosses his arms over his chest, and you're trying to ignore how you have the perfect view of the outline of the bullfrog on his arm, arguably your favorite of his tattoos, not that you'd ever tell him

"are you saying you don't like my visits?" he teases, goes in and sticks his nose into the flowers, "i'm trying to make the perfect outline for a client is all."

you nod, "right, and that's fine. but that's what you said three weeks ago! doesn't the client want the tattoo by now?"

he thinks quick: "he's picky. keeps changing his mind when i send sketch’s over.”

okay really, the client chose one the first day he came in to see you, hasan had already tattooed it and everything, but the shop he's at is lonely and loud, and something about your small store and the welcoming presence keeps him coming back.

and it has nothing to do with you, he'll insist.

"right," you say slowly not actually believing him,

"here, come sit with me."

and the hand not holding his you grab a single lily, take it over to the desk with you as hasan follows and sits on the stool you had for him.

"what're you doing, sunshine?" he teases as he opens his own goldfish, slowly eats them.

"if he doesn't like the pictures," you say quietly, eyes on the flower as you cut the stem, "maybe he’ll like the actual thing-"

he's watching you the entire time. the way your eyes narrow on the flower as you cut, how the tip of your tongue pokes out of your mouth as you concentrate, how you smile when it's cut and how you slowly smooth the petals down, like you're getting them just right for him.

"here."

and before you can second guess it, you're leaning in close to him, no space between you two, as you tuck the flower behind his ear. hasan holds his breath as you lean in close, tries to not think too hard of it, of how close you are, as you finally back up.

"perfect," you settle on, "and if he doesn't like that, he can come talk to me."

you're talking to the floor, not to him, face bright red

"yeah?" he says gently, clears his throat so his voice doesn't back as fond as he feels,

"send him over and you'll deal with my asshole clients?"

you smile, "that's right."

"appreciate the support." he laughs, "tell me about your day. Did Martha come in?"

something about hasan is comforting. you can't place it, but you feel like you could tell him anything.

the first time he came in, a particular older customer had just left, yelling and ranting about prices-you were still a little shaken up from it, and he could tell. he didn't push it, knew it wasn't his place. originally, that visit was just for the flower, but seeing you, getting to talk to you and hearing how your voice rises as you tell about your favorite customers, or stories of growing up, and how it drops, telling about martha, about all the overtime you have-he finds comfort in it

so he stayed late that day. used the excuse of a made up client, just so you'd have a friendly face at your shop, someone to listen to you about these silly problems.

you started looking forward to his visits, checking the clock, counting down until it's time until you'll see him walk through the door, enjoying all his silly stories-how his own voice drops like it's a conspiracy as he talks about drawing, about finding comfort in his sketch book, a pencil tucked behind his ear always- how he came in later that week and saw you a mess again, wouldn't let you speak as you were close to tears, about to apologize for your appearance, for your shaking voice-

he brought markers. it was a silly thing he saw the bosses kid do, trying to keep them busy, letting them color in these empty tattoos of his, let you talk and rant as you picked ho the faded markers, the faded green as you colored the grasshopper in, the leaves wrapped around his wrist like a vine, how you ignored how his hand rested on your knee so casually as he talks, trying to keep your mind and hand busy, to keep you from being upset

silence falls today, after hasan finished a story from college, you're shaking your head, the laughing still scattered when your eyes meet the clock.

you don't want him to leave

"It's late," you finally say, "i know you guys close soon."

his head snaps up, to the clock overhead and holt shit you're right, he's been here far too long, boss is going to wonder what's going on-

"same time as tomorrow?" you ask gently as he drags the chair back behind the desk

he smiles, leans over the counter with a smirk, one hand on the flower behind his ear, and you bite your lip to not laugh at the difference between him, all tattoos and sharp edges, with a little flower tucked behind his ear so he'll remember it-

"yeah," he settles on, "yeah. same time as tomorrow."

and he leaves before he can do anything stupid, like say he'll miss you.

[itsybitsybluesy]

THE PERFECT ROMANTIC GETAWAY: ONE WEEK FOR TWO AT SCENIC, LAKESIDE MOUNTAIN LODGE (CH2)

CHAPTER 2 / ELUCIEN / CH1 HERE / for @acotargiftexchange

There was simply so much they’d had to extricate themselves from in the middle of Solstice season, Elain thought several times that they should really just call the whole thing off. “It’s never a good time for a vacation,” Lucien told her. “Which is why you have to take them.”

🎁  🎁  🎁 

it's been such a lovely time getting to know @huntquinlan so i am very excited to follow up with even more fluffy domestic smut... ft. a couple of kinks special touches i heard jade especially likes 🤭

ran out of time so went beta-less with this one because i REALLY wanted it up mid-week! i hope you like. there is still one more chapter remaining (though it's on purpose that the end of this feels like a cute happy ending).

LOVE U!!!!!

xoxoxo

p.s. a part of this (it's easy to figure out where) was very much inspired by @whatishowedyouinthedark's I've been lost to you, sunlight (flew like a moth, to you sunlight) and i need to give credit where it's due - i couldn't get that one out of my head for M O N T H S. i salute u.

(read it on AO3!)

preview under the cut:

Despite his best efforts, Lucien was up with the sun the next morning, never able to stay snoozing for long if there was even a tiny crack of daylight through the drapes. Vassa and Jurian had labeled him the one resident insane morning person, back when they’d lived together in the Human Lands - and yes, there had been days where Lucien had been up for hours before them and gotten various pieces of work done while his friends slept in. But what he secretly loved, more than any other reason to get up, was the pleasure of snuggling back down into a warm bed in the soft quiet of early morning, listening to the rise and fall of his lovely mate’s breath in slumber.  

Her sweet, flowered scent was already everywhere around him, the sheets and pillows deliciously marked with the second and third time they’d made love the night before. But at the source - Lucien felt a thrill go through him as he burrowed back under the covers and pushed lips and nose beneath Elain’s silken curls, inhaling deep. The hours and full days stretching before them made him feel like a boy in a sweet shop. And he knew exactly what he wanted to do first with all that time: stay the fuck in this bed with his mate. 

“Good morning,” Elain murmured, eyes still closed. “Are you trying to get me out of bed?” 

Lucien pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “I always want you in my bed.” 

She flapped one hand in his direction. “No, silly. I mean, do we have somewhere to be? Some plan you made or other?” 

“You sound so very excited,” Lucien teased, drawing his nose across her collarbone. “But no, actually - I figured we’d laze around a little, at least until lunchtime.” He blinked, making sure to gauge her reaction. “That is, unless it sounds boring to you…”

But Elain was opening her eyes and smiling at him, stretching out arms and legs like a cat before relaxing back into the sheets. “No, no,” she said gleefully. “I was really, really hoping you’d say that.” She put a hand to his chest and leaned over to give him a slow, sighing kiss. “You are my perfect travel companion.” 

“Here to make sure your needs are met,” Lucien said. “That’s what your mate is for.” 

“Anything I want?” Elain asked. “You’d cancel all the plans and reservations?” 

A little less relaxed, Lucien cleared his throat. “Well, of course, but only if you’re very sure…” He trailed off as his mate’s slim, smooth hand stroked down from his navel to his hip. They’d both slept in the nude, and at her touch arousal shot through him like the crack of a whip, making him forget the rest of whatever he was saying. 

“Hmmm,” Elain said drowsily. “What if I wanted to have my wicked way with you, now that you’ve woken me so early?” Her fingers brushed the underside of his shaft, and his cock jumped in response, breath catching as he watched. 

“Your wish is my command,” Lucien said, throat tight. Whenever his mate reached for him first, the roar of instinct down their bond quite literally drowned out all other thoughts, commanding him to touch, taste, lick her, flip her over and sheath himself and thrust until he was spilling his seed in her and could do it over and over again, mark her as only his--

“My, my,” Elain said, her words like honey to his ears. The hair was standing on his arms and on the back of his neck. “We are awake.”

[thewritetofreespeech]

Could I request Kirishima (Yakuza's Guide to Babysitting) with a scientist s/o who likes experimenting on plants?

“Can anyone tell me what this is?”

“Flower!!” All of the student’s in Yaeka’s class chime together.

To which [Y/N] responded, “well, yes, but can anyone tell me what kind of flower?”

“V-V-Violet…” Kaede answered shyly.

“Correct. Or, as we call it in the professional realm, Viola. Not to be confused with the instrument. Now, the violet is actually native to the Americas. It was brought here by…”

Kirishima wasn’t even sure if the kids were listening at this point. He had warned them to ‘dumb it down’ a little for the kids when they were asked to present for the class as expert on plants, but they refused. “Knowledge should not be playacted to the weak, but elevated for the exceptional.” He just hoped that the kids had some kind of fun with the lesson.

He and [Y/N] had been seeing each other for a while now. They met in a similar fashion to the boss and Miyuki-san. An afternoon in a flower shop. Only, instead of poorly trying to sell him flowers, [Y/N] was there to consult on some of the variety of plants and why they weren't thriving. It had never been confirmed whether they were officially hired, or just giving unsolicited advice. They got to talking and strangely enough hit it off. He liked how fiery they were about their passion. How committed they were to excellence and not willing to take any short cuts. Plus the greenery at the estate never looked better.

“…now! If we take the cross stasis from a violet and a similar derivative plant, we can selectively breed them into a state where all the best traits from the secondary plant become dominate. In that case,” They reached behind a desk and pulled out a potting plant. Getting a lot of commotion from the parents and students. “Giant, rainbow violets!”

The kids seemed amazed at the technicolor florals. Some girls even commented that they looked like unicorn flowers. They came up to have a closer look once [Y/N]’s lecture was finished and they slipped through the crowd to stand over by Kirishima. “Good work, [Y/N]-sensei.”

[Y/N] frowned at him, but he could tell they were trying to keep the corners of their mouth down. “Of course. Knowledge is more valuable when you earn it. Think how gratifying they’ll feel now that they had a ‘grown up lesson’, instead of just some kiddie dribble.”

“I think they are just excited about the flowers.” Kirishima commented. Not meaning to burst their bubble.

It doesn’t seem to hinder them though, as [Y/N] looked over at the kids admiring her work, and saw Kaede with a look in her eyes more than fascination but curiosity. “Hmm…some. But not all.” They took a piece of gum out of his shirt pocket. Clearly eager for a cigarette once they were off school grounds. Maybe they would share one on they way home. “Did you learn anything from the lesson, Kirishima?”

The yakuza looked shocked. Not expecting to have a pop quiz after. “Well I uh….violets are originally from the Americas…? That’s a new fact for me.”

[Y/N] frowned. “Guess I’ll have to give you another lesson in private. Only this time I’ll tie you down, so I have your undivided attention.”

Kirishima smirked. “Oh really?”

“Honestly, the things you make me do to you just to get some knowledge in that thick head of yours.”

“What can I say? I’m a terrible student. You’ll probably have to teach me a few times, [Y/N]-sensei.”

[stayteezdreams]

Special To Me: Part Two

Plot: You meet with Yunho to exchange your clothes, and he decides he is not done cheering you up.

-Part One-

Pairing: Jeong Yunho x Gn!Reader

-Meet Cute Series-

Words: 1.6k

Yesterday had been one of the worst days you had experienced in a long while, and unfortunately it was still effecting you today.

Your car was delayed in getting fixed, you no longer had a phone until it got repaired, and you had a fight with your "friend" who gave your ex your new number.

You were tired and the day was only half over. But as you headed towards the flower shop to meet Yunho, your mood began to lighten as excitement built up. He was the best thing about yesterday, and you were certain he would be the best thing about today as well.

As you were getting ready today, you made yourself appear a bit more put together than usual, knowing it was due to seeing Yunho more than anything. Smiling to yourself, you were sure anything would have been better than the appearance he was first given yesterday, a la drowned rat, as he approached you, soaked in the rain.

You hoped if he wouldn't ask to stay in touch, that you would have the courage to do so yourself.

Your thoughts suddenly halted as you spotted a tall figure in the near distance just outside of the flower shop. He was not hard to miss among the small crowd passing. Smiling softly, you cleared your throat as you gathered your senses and approached him.

"Yunho!" You called out softly gaining his attention.

As he spun around, you noted the bag in his hand, as he hid the other behind his back. You were curious, but didn't linger on the thought as he grinned at you causing butterflies to suddenly erupt in your stomach.

"Hey!" He said happily as you stopped in front of him.

"You weren't waiting long were you?" You asked a bit anxiously.

He shook his head "Not long at all."

"Oh good."

He grinned down at you, taking in your appearance. You had looked great to him drenched in the rain, so seeing you now, you looked amazing, though he was too afraid to say it, afraid it might be too bold.

Reaching out your hand, you showed him a bag with his clothes in it "I washed them, so you don't have too."

He smiled sheepishly as he handed you the bag with your clothes in it, and took his. "Thank you."

He cleared his throat softly and you could tell he seemed nervous, about what soon became clear as he cleared his throat a bit and brought out the hand he had hidden behind his back. Doing so, revealed a beautiful bouquet of sunflowers and chrysanthemums.

"These are for you." He said softly with a sheepish smile.

Your mouth gaped as he handed them to you. "What for?" You asked with genuine surprise.

"Uh well, I just know how bad your day was yesterday, and I was afraid maybe it spilled into today. So, if it had, I thought these might cheer you up."

Yunho saw a wave of emotion pass over your face as he spoke, and he thought what he said might be true as you smiled sadly at the flowers before your eyes brightened as you looked at him.

You were surprised not only at Yunho's genuine kindness, but with his ability to seemingly know you so well.

"That's so sweet of you Yunho, thank you."

He scratched the back of his neck and shook his head. "It's nothing."

"It's not nothing." You retorted, "It's kind, and no one's ever done something like this before."

Yunho's chest tightened at this, "No one's bought you flowers?" He asked softly almost in disbelief.

You shook your head softly, "Why do you think I always come here myself? I love flowers, so someone might as well buy them for me."

You let out a soft laugh, but it made Yunho sad. You deserved someone who would buy you flowers all the time.

As you looked at the flowers again, a bright smile on your face, Yunho's hear pounded in his chest. The desire to see your smile very day washed over him, and the fear that he probably wont made his chest tighten.

"Did you have somewhere you needed to go, or are you free now?" He asked suddenly.

You met his gaze and spoke softly, "I'm free."

"Want to get some coffee? Or tea?"

You seemed to think for a moment before you smiled "I do. But only if I pay."

Yunho opened his mouth to interject but you interrupted him. "To say thank you for yesterday. Please let me."

He wanted to reject the offer, to pay for you, to give you anything and everything you wanted. But letting out a soft sight as he closed his mouth he nodded before smiling, "Okay."

You smiled at him and his heart flipped. "Great!"

You smiled as Yunho told you about his best friends, who also happened to be his roommates. They sounded crazy, in the best way, and you wondered if they were all as kind as Yunho.

Yunho was glad to see you relax with him, and after about twenty minutes, he couldn't resist anymore. Setting his coffee down he eyed you almost cautiously before he slowly prodded you for information.

"So, you don't have to tell me but...are you okay?"

You furrowed your brow, "Why do you ask?"

He shrugged his shoulders slightly, "Well, before when I mentioned your bad day spilling into today, you seemed to respond to that, so I assumed I was right."

You let out a soft laugh and he rose his brow, "Are you a psychologist or something?"

Yunho chuckled but shook his head, "No, just good with people."

"Scary good." You added on softly and he figured he hit the nail on the head about you.

"And I like to listen, if you'll allow me too."

You stared at him for a moment, your heart fluttering as he stared back at you with an patient and kind gaze. Finally, as a soft, almost sad smile crossed you face you looked away from him, but gave in.

"It did spill into today, but I can handle it."

"Your ex?" He asked cautiously.

"Blocked, again. And I was right about him getting my number from my friend. Well, ex-friend. I confronted them about it and they got defensive and tried to gaslight me into believing I was making things up, so I dropped them."

He could see the pain in your face as you said this and he let out a soft sigh. "I'm sorry, it's always hard losing a friend."

You nodded in agreement, "I think the worst part was mistaking them for a friend in the first place."

"You deserve better."

You smiled at him, trying to ignore the butterflies. "I think everyone deserves a friend like you Yunho."

He grinned at this, and you saw his face flush slightly, making your smile bigger.

He cleared his throat a bit, "Does that mean were friends now?"

"I'd like to think so."

He nodded as he stared down into his drink, "I want to be your friend Y/n, but..."

He trailed off and you felt your chest clench. "But what?"

Looking up, he saw the distress in your face and his eyes widened. "I do want to be your friend." He reiterated before he let out an awkward chuckle.

"But?"

"But, I...also like the idea of being more than your friend."

If you were told your heart stopped in this moment, you would believe it. Yunho kept his eyes locked with yours as you saw the anxiety behind his gaze.

"Yunho" It was your turn to look nervously down at your drink, "Are you asking me out?"

You slowly looked back up to meet his gaze and you saw him fighting a small smile as he nodded his head.

"Yes, I am. I want to be your friend, but I also want to take you on dates, and make you smile, and I want to be the one you call when you have a bad day."

You bit the inside of your lip before you smiled at him, "I want that too."

He grinned as he leaned in closer, as if to tell you a secret, "Can we start now?"

A giggle bubbled out of you and Yunho felt his chest grow warm at the sound.

You nodded, "Yes."

You giggled more as Yunho moved his chair to be even closer to you as he set his arm on the back of your chair. Meeting your gaze, you both grinned bashfully at each other.

Slowly reaching out with his other hand, he slipped his hand into yours, "Is this okay?"

You nodded softly and he nodded in relief.

"Does this mean this is our first date?" You asked both seriously, and with a light teasing tone.

He grinned and nodded, "Only if you let me pay. "

"Ah, no!" You laughed, "I already called it!"

He laughed "Okay, okay. How about we go somewhere else to eat once we finish here?"

You grinned and nodded, "Okay."

He nodded as he squeezed your hand softly. "Okay."

You grinned at him and he felt as though the sun came out, not knowing you were feeling the same thing as he smiled back at you.

You knew you were going to fall for Yunho, it was already happening. It was starting slowly, steady, like the raindrops in the storm he saved you from. And soon you knew it would be fast and heavy, and you'd be too far gone before you knew you were there.

But it was okay, because somehow you knew Yunho would be there, falling right alongside you.

xx End xx

General Taglist: @otsilliak

Ateez General Taglist: @soso59love-blog

Series Taglist: @bubblesreplies, @halesandy, @why-am-i-sad, @acciocriativity

2nd Part Tag: @mono0994 (wanted to make sure you saw it since you showed interest!)

[sdmnpact]

˗ˏˋHow Harry met Y/N ˎˊ˗

Introduction

Saturday ~

I'm getting ready to go to a party at my friend, Jules' house. I'm not too excited about it because I wanted to stay home and edit, but she never leaves me alone. She wants me to go out and meet new people but I would rather stay home with Leroy, my orange cat who has no brain cells but he's such a lovely companion. This is a good opportunity to wear my favorite green dress since I rarely have the occasion to wear it.

~~~

"Y/n!!'' I was about to knock on Jules' door when someone calls my name from behind. I look back and see Tom, Jules' boyfriend, carrying a bag of booze. "Jeez Tom, how many people are coming?"

"Not many but the ones who are are drinkers" he said with a little laugh. I rolled my eyes and as he passed me and opened the door. I walked in and Jules was drinking a glass of wine. "Getting the party started early?" I said putting my purse down. "Y/n!! Good to see you!! Maybe a little but it's fine!" She said hugging me. A ton of booze, this will be chaos.

~~~

It's been a few hours and the party is going strong. People are definitely drunk already and I've had two glasses of wine. I haven't really met anyone besides a cute guy named Max, he was very sweet. Apparently there are some big names here but I've spent my entire time in the kitchen hiding out. Jules mentioned KSI would be here but honestly I would make a fool of myself in front of him. I'm a small youtuber with a couple subscribers but I'm no one special. I also have a part time job in a flower shop because I love plants and flowers. I-

"Oh sorry" someone said bumping into me. "oh no it's okay." I said moving aside. They pushed me into a counter but I'm not a confrontational person. I looked at them and see a blonde haired guy with the bluest eyes and he was wearing shorts. "I'm sorry, why are you wearing shorts?" This is a whole party and this man has the audacity to wear shorts?? Jules worked hard here!

"Excuse me?"

"Jules worked hard on this party for you to be wearing shorts!?"

"Honestly, I wasn't gonna come, I'm not sure who Jules is, I just came because my mate invited me."

"Who's your mate?"

"George Clarkey." Now that I think of it, he looks super familiar. I think he's in the sidemen. I haven't watched many of their videos but I know about them.

"Okay well nevermind, I'll just walked around you now." I said trying to make my way past him. Honestly I think I just made a fool of myself in front of him and I'm embarrassed.

"Wait- sorry for wearing shorts. I thought this was a casual thing. I didn't think this was an actual party."

"Listen it's fine, I'm just gonna go now"

"No seriously I'm sorry please accept my apology" oh my gosh, he won't leave me alone!

" dude, it's okay!" He had flushed cheeks. I think he is very drunk. "Are you okay?" I asked. He just looked at me. "Let me get you a glass of water." I said as I sat him down on a chair and grabbed a glass. As I was filling the glass, he grabbed my waist and spun me around. Everything happened so fast, next thing I knew, his lips were on mine. I actually found myself kissing him back. I can't pull myself away. What is going on?

[nixie-writes]

What if HuskerDust was canon? Nixie's reaction in a needlessly long fic I wrote in 30 minutes

I wrote this in a record 30 minutes so it isn't my best work but I've been thinking about the possibility of HuskerDust being canon and I wanted to write a piece on how Nixie would react to it. Under the cut for length this is almost 4 pages long in Docs

Nixie belongs to me, Willow belongs to @willowaudreykeyes

Willow’s POV

I sifted through my old stash of honey comb, now dried and useless. I tossed it into the trash bin and picked up a stray stem to examine. The thorns on the stem indicated it was a rose but the bulb was stripped off. Alastor left little gifts like that. I placed his gift on my work table and exited the green house. I entered the hotel and walked into my clinic, opening a drawer. Inside was a variety of small bottles with different labels on them. Checking that I had an adequate amount of each medication I kept in my drawer I left my clinic, locking the door behind me. Lord knows Angel would try to pick the lock to get to the morphine again. 

It was as I was preparing to end the night that Charlie ran up to me, her eyes sparkling. She appeared to have good news. She was prancing, a wide grin on her face, clutching a shopping list. “Guess what guess what guess WHAT!” She squealed, taking my hands in hers. “Angel and Husk came out as a couple! I already have Vaggie and Niffty out to get decorations for a celebration party here. Call Nixie and tell her to get her soaking wet ass here so she can celebrate with us!”

It struck me like a rock to the head. Nixie was going to be destroyed learning that Husk was with Angel. She was practically in love with the feline demon, adoring everything he did. I almost wanted to agree, pretend to call her and lie saying she couldn’t make it for some stupid reason but I knew she’d be both heart broken and beyond pissed if I hid this from her. 

Charlie was by far the most oblivious of the hotel staff. Everyone, excluding her and Husk, knew that she was hopelessly in love with Husk. I already knew Charlie wouldn’t leave me alone until I agreed to call Nixie, so I did. But actually calling her felt sadistic. Would I tell her over the phone what the party was about? No, I’d let her be excited for a party for just a little while. 

With Charlie next to me I hesitantly dialed Nixie. It rang once, then twice. I was hoping she wouldn’t answer but much to my disappointment she did. Charlie leaned over my shoulder to speak into the phone, telling Nixie there was going to be a [arty. She didn’t tell Nixie what the party was for and she didn’t ask, which was a relief. After I hung up I turned to Charlie. 

“You should know by now that Nixie has the biggest crush in the world on Husk, why would you invite her to a party celebrating him getting with someone else?!” I growled up at her. She appeared genuinely surprised. “Wow, really? Well fuck, I shouldn’t have invited her,” she mused. I rolled my eyes. Before I could reprimand Charlie further a portal appeared, specifically a portal made by an Asmodean crystal, and Nixie stepped through it. She wasn’t wearing anything fancy, just a black turtleneck and a pair of loose black jeans. 

“I don’t know what this party is about but I bought a couple things,” she announced as she opened the shopping bag in her left hand. “Let’s see, balloons, streamers, candles and cake mix.” Nixie passed the shopping bag to Charlie. “Thanks, I’ll be sure we use them!” She raced to the kitchen, leaving me alone with Nixie. 

“Oh, Willow. I got that Tundra Brittlebush you asked me to grab,” she told me, reaching into her purse. She pulled out a small bundle of stems adorned in leaves of different colors, most notably white flowers with small petals that curled into the bulb, creating a cradle-like flower. “Thank you,” I replied, taking the stems and placing them in my hair with other herbs I kept on my person for emergency cases. Tundra Brittlebush was native to the Envy ring, where Nixie was from, so she was perfect to get it for me. 

I took a deep sniff; the cake was done. Now all that was left were decorations. Vaggie and Niffty had just arrived with their decorations and Charlie gave them a ladder to set up the decorations. Nixie and I walked over to the bar to stay out of the way and Nixie lit a cigarette. I rolled my eyes. “You know you’re killing your lungs, right?” I countered. She rolled her eyes and took another puff. “They’ll be fine,” she replied nonchalantly. As she took another puff I smacked her on the back where her lung was and she spouted off into a fit of coughing. “You asshole, I had smoke in my throat,” she croaked between coughs. 

After about 10 minutes Vaggie and Niffty had set up decorations, and Charlie was filling the balloons and setting up the streamers. Nixie put out her cigarette and leaned back in the chair. “Any idea who this party is for? A new guest’s birthday?” I gulped. If I told her the truth she’d leave, and if I lied she’d be pissed with me for lying. I gave a noncommittal shrug. “I’m not sure,” Nixie dropped the subject and pulled her phone from her pocket and groaned. 

“For fuck’s sake I can’t leave those dumbasses alone for one night,” she growled. I peered over at her phone and read the news story. Apparently a turf war had broke out on Nixie’s territory; two demons unnamed, meaning they weren’t important, were causing problems in Envy. “Do you need to go?” I asked hopefully. Maybe this turf war could be an excuse for her to not have to be at this party. “No, I’m not worrying about it,” she replied before putting her phone away. So much for that. 

After another 5 minutes of waiting Charlie called to a room, “you can come out now!” Opening the door and walking out was Angel, carrying Husk along by hand. I snatched a look at Nixie, who had narrowed her eye in suspicion, staring at Angel. 

“As everyone knows, Husk and Angel are a couple! And this party is to celebrate them coming out as a couple, so let’s party!” Charlie announced. The whole room clapped for Angel and Husk. Angel was soaking up the attention and Husk looked a little flustered. Even Nixie was clapping, though her expression looked strained. As the clapping died down I expected Nixie to start a fight with Angel; she was looking at him with an expression that screamed anguish. Instead she walked up to Angel and Husk in a leisurely way and congratulated them. “I hope you’re both very happy to be together and I wish you the best of luck,” she told them before going behind the bar without Husk’s permission. “Now if you’ll excuse me…” She muttered as she grabbed a bottle of Hapsburg Absinthe and making her way out the door. 

“Is she uh, okay?” Angel asked, eyeing the door Nixie had just walked out of. I nodded my head quickly. “Oh, of course! She just, uh, likes to celebrate in private. I’ll uh, check on her,” and with that I left the hotel as well. Nixie was sat on the pavement at the beginning of the driveway. She had the bottle of liquor in one hand and a half smoked cigarette in the other. I approached her slowly so as to not startle her and I sat beside her, offering her a sympathetic smile. She gave me a look of pure misery before tipping her head back and chugging more alcohol. 

“Dear Satan I forgot how strong this is,” she muttered as she sat the bottle down on her other side. She took a long drag of her cigarette and breathed out the smoke, iridescent in the glow of the hotel’s lights. She looked over at me with an expectant gaze. “Did you want something?” She inquired, taking another drag. 

“Um, I just… I know this is a lot for you to take in and I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” I replied meekly. Nixie rolled her eye. “Peachy,” she growled before swigging down more alcohol. “Do you want me to sit out here with you for a minute or do you need to be alone?” I asked. Nixie’s shoulders slumped and she sighed. “I wouldn’t mind the company, even if just for a minute,” she replied. I leaned over to the white roses I was growing in the courtyard of the hotel and plucked one, passing it to Nixie. “You’ll find someone else, just be patient and open minded,” I offered my best advice. Nixie examined the rose, stroking the white petal gently. “This is what I get for falling for a sinner,” she mused, placing the rose next to her. I shook my head and gently took her hands. “This isn’t a punishment for falling for a sinner, it’s just bad luck. Maybe you’ll find another sinner you really like,” I suggested, trying to encourage her to cheer up. Nixie shrugged, pulling away. “I don’t know. It’ll take a while to get over him,” she sighed. I nodded my head in understanding. 

We sat outside for about an hour in silence, Nixie drinking and smoking, and me examining the flowers growing in the courtyard. The comfortable silence was broken by Charlie, who came outside to tell us the party was over and everyone should get some rest. I took Nixie’s hands and led her inside, being sure to keep her away from Husk and Angel. I yawned; I was more tired than I thought. “Will you be okay on your own?” I asked her. She nodded her head. “I’m drunk enough to deal with it, go to bed,” she replied. I obeyed, leaving her alone. “Are you coming to bed, Alastor?” I asked my husband. He nodded his head. “Yes, of course, just give me a minute,” he replied. I sighed and went to bed. I knew he was going to talk to Nixie, I could just only hope he wouldn’t be too crass or sadistic. 

Nixie’s POV

After Willow had left I took a seat on a bar stool, placing my half empty bottle on the table and pulling my cigarettes and lighter from my pocket. I was painfully aware of Alastor watching me like a predator would watch prey, but I tried to ignore it and lit my cigarette, taking a long puff. The silence was deafening. 

As if he didn’t know what personal space was Alastor took a seat right next to me, throwing an arm around my shoulder. “You’ve been dreary all night my dear, what’s wrong?” He asked, smiling brightly as ever. I narrowed my eye at him. “Don’t play dumb with me radio prick,” I warned, a hiss in my voice. 

Alastor sighed, patting my back gently. “You poor thing, losing your only love to a hooker,” he mused. “You don’t have to remind me,” I growled at him. Alastor looked me in the eye, his smile more sympathetic than anything. “No, really. I couldn’t imagine losing my lovely Willow to a floozy. Anyone with eyes could see you were lovestruck for that stupid cat for some reason or another, and now he’s with someone else. That must be painful.” He rubbed small circles on my back soothingly. Despite my hatred for him I couldn’t help but appreciate his kindness. 

“Alastor?” I prompted. He hummed in response, gazing at me expectantly. “How do you get over heartbreak?” I inquired. Alastor chuckled; “it sounds cheesy but the only way is to give it time, they say time heals all wounds. Just be patient,” he replied softly. Feeling incredibly drowsy and not caring about my rivalry with the radio demon I leaned my head against his shoulder, closing my eyes. I was immediately drifting off to sleep. Alastor picked me up bridal style and carried me to my room, the static surrounding him playing an old melody I couldn't think of the name of. He dropped me off at my door and patted me on the head, his claws gently touching the tuft of water on my head. “Be patient my dear, you’ll find love again.”

Be patient. 

[raineandsky]

Pinky promise

aka #13.2 (Part 1) (Part 2)

“Isn’t this wonderful?” the hero asks with a blissful sigh. “I can’t wait to have this time with you every evening once we’re married.”

The situation, in fact, is less than wonderful. The past four days here have been even less than that. The villain is sat at the head of the ridiculously long dining table – not of their own will, if the tightness of the leather straps over their wrists are anything to go by – and of all twenty seats around it, the hero chose the one directly next to them. Obviously.

“Delightful,” the villain says flatly, and their abhorrent beloved laughs brightly as if this is all perfectly normal.

The hero has made it perfectly clear what the deal is in the first twenty-four hours. The supposed beautiful guest room he kicked them into has unwelcoming bars across the window, chains locked to the walls with the threat of their use. The entire place is one giant jail cell, especially for them. They miss their own bedroom – comfortable, modest, and homing someone they actually love.

But here they are instead, strapped into a plush chair that gets more uncomfortable with every passing moment, staring into the untouched meal on the table in front of them, subtly turning away from the fork in the hero’s hand as he rambles on aimlessly about the wedding he’s so certain will happen.

“… oh, we’ll need flowers too. Bouquets.” This one day seems to be all he exists for. It’s embarrassing. “The local florist owes me a favour after I stopped his shop collapsing in on itself. I’ll get him to come tomorrow.”

“I’m surprised the agency doesn’t have anything to say about you being here all the time,” the villain says shortly. He seems to be wandering the corridor outside their room at all hours of the day, and they daren’t think about why he’s out there so often. They can only be thankful he stays out there.

“Ah, I have time off,” he reflects with an idle wave of his hand. “I wanted time for us to plan our big day properly, you know?”

“Of course,” is all they can be bothered to say.

-

The hero dumps the villain back in their lush prison after dinner. “I’ll see you in the morning,” he says lightly from the doorway. His phone rings from his pocket and he frowns as he pulls it out, tsking when he sees the name on the screen. “Ugh, it’s my boss. Goodnight, love.”

He’s answering the call before he even shuts the door, the phone to his ear as the door softly clicks closed behind him. The villain sinks into the bed with a sigh, listening to his footsteps receding back into the house with confusion. The telltale clunk of the lock turning hasn’t followed the door shutting, and he’s leaving, distracted. Is this… a chance?

They leap back to their feet eagerly, crossing the floor to the door. They rest their hand on the handle, their freedom resting on its ability to turn. They twist it testily, having to hold in their audible excitement when the knob follows them - the door slowly swings open, and the villain peeks into the corridor beyond. The hero has disappeared deeper into the house, his voice echoing off the walls like a warning.

They slip around the door cautiously, keeping their attention pinned to the laugh drifting down the hall. If the past four days have taught them anything, they’re pretty sure the hero’s in the living room – second door down the hall on the left. If they can get past that door without him noticing them, they have a shot at aiming for the one door he hasn’t locked or barricaded.

They creep as close as they dare, listening more intensely to his conversation than they have anything ever in their life. “No, I have to do stuff tomorrow,” he says idly. They can hear the clinking as he probably swings their room key in his hand, oblivious. “Like I said, I have toni– no, I’m busy tomorrow. Already made plans.”

The villain risks a peek around the door. He’s sitting on the sofa, thankfully turned towards the windows to the darkness outside, his arm propped up on the back of the chair to hold his phone to his ear. “Yeah. I’m gonna be planning stuff.” There’s a pause, and in the window’s reflection they can see how his face scrunches up slightly. “Your birthday isn’t for another five months, dumbass. You wish.”

They decide to take the risk, ducking down slightly to sweep past the doorway. Their efforts don’t go unnoticed – the hero’s eyes flit up as their movement flashes across the window’s traitorous mirror, and he twists on the sofa to glance at the doorway. “Yeah, uh, hold on, I– no, I’ll get back to you.”

The words are all the encouragement they need as they cross the hallway as quietly as they can manage. His voice is changing – he’s moving, coming to the door. “Yeah, there’s a stray cat outside. Real pretty one, too. I’ll go get it and I’ll call you back in five.”

The phone beeps as it hangs up, and the villain darts into the tussle of coats hanging by the front door. They’re so close, the door practically in reach, but they can just see the hero as he pads out from the living room, glancing up and down the corridor with a frown.

“[Villain]?” he calls, and for a moment he sounds almost uncertain. He grips the key in his hand more firmly as he wanders up the hall towards their room, and they see their chance. They slip out from behind the coats silently, watching as he pauses at their door before they turn back to their door to freedom. The key is sitting in the lock, rather stupidly, and the hero only notices they’re out when the key clunks loudly as it turns in their hand.

“[Villain]!” he calls again, distinctly frantic, but he only gets halfway down the corridor before they wrench the door open. He skids to a halt as they do, simply watching as they make their great escape.

They only get their foot out of the door before they freeze as well. The superhero is standing on the hero’s porch, giving them a blunt onceover, clearly not expecting to see the villain here. “Hello,” he says formally after a second, though there’s an underlying confusion laced into his tone.

“[Superhero]!” the hero shouts to him from the hall. All this guy seems to do is say people’s names today, they think idly. “[Superhero], they’ve robbed me! Stop them from getting away!”

The villain turns to stare at him somewhat incredulously, and the superhero is very much doing the same. It’s only when they take their opportunity to bolt that he stops them, grabbing the sleeve of their jacket in a fierce grip. “Absolutely not,” he says with more authority. He’s more in his element dealing with apparent criminals, clearly. “Inside.”

This can’t be happening. “No, [Hero], he’s been–”

“I didn’t ask for excuses,” the superhero snaps over them coldly. “Now, get inside.”

They catch a glimpse of the hero’s sickening glee at their failure as the superhero shoves them back through the doorway, slamming the door to freedom closed behind them.

Taglist: @anonymousewrites  @suck-my-clit-loser

[whileiamdying]

September 5, 2018

HANS ULRICH OBRIST: You were on the first-ever cover of Interview magazine. How did that come about?

AGNÈS VARDA: Like everybody, I wanted to meet Andy Warhol. I was impressed by his work and how daring he was. I think he changed the cinema completely, simply by opening his camera and letting it go. He dealt differently with time and duration, and he didn’t care about how people would perceive it. It changed the cinema for me. It doesn’t mean that I loved to watch his films—because eight hours is boring—but the concept was revolutionary.

OBRIST: When did you first meet Warhol?

VARDA: We met here and there in New York, at some underground film screenings. In 1967, he invited Jacques and me to visit him at his Factory. A lot of people were there—Nico, the young men acting in his films, beautiful women like his muse Viva. When I was preparing Lions Love (…and Lies), I had in mind to cast Viva, so I went to the Factory to ask Andy to convince her. Andy was nice to me and said to Viva, “This is Agnès. You should work with her. She made a film called Cléo from 5 to 7. It’s a beautiful film.” I loved that. Then he added, “If I had made this film, we would have shot from five to seven.” Andy cared about Viva, and that’s why they decided to make the cover. That cover image is interesting, because the way the three characters are positioned is a total copy of a Picasso drawing.

OBRIST: Was Picasso an inspiration for you?

VARDA: I’m not sure I would call him an inspiration, but I was fascinated by his capacity for invention. The way he changed all the time gave me lots of strength.

OBRIST: In your original Interview story about the making of Lions Love (…and Lies), you talk about Hollywood as a space of freedom. What did you mean by that?

VARDA: The way I worked there was total freedom, given to me by Max Raab, who produced the film. Carlos Clarens, who helped me write the screenplay, said that Hollywood, at its birth, was “an orange grove with breakfast served by the Ritz.”  My film is about three characters who want to be Hollywood stars, but they don’t want to play the game. They want to remain naked all the time, have a good time, and say what they want to say. That time was all about sex and politics. The film was happening in June 1968, and the three of them are in bed when they find out about the [Robert] Kennedy assassination. In the screenplay, the day after, Viva learns of the shooting of Andy Warhol, which also happened that week. The TV stations didn’t mention the shooting of Andy Warhol, but the death of Kennedy was commented on nonstop. In the days following Kennedy’s assassination, they took his corpse on a train from Los Angeles to New York to go to St. Patrick’s Cathedral. His corpse’s trip was on TV for days. I remember seeing a woman ironing her laundry while watching the train with Kennedy’s dead body pass by her window. I wanted that to be a part of the film. Three stars plus a TV set.

OBRIST: Where did the title Lions Love (…and Lies) come from?

VARDA: Lions, because of the actors’ hair. Love, because it is a love threesome. And lies, because it’s about the news and Hollywood. On our set, everything was half-fake: Real flowers, fake flowers. Real columns, fake columns. Secrets and lies. And that’s because Hollywood is fake—but true at the same time.

OBRIST: You and Jacques first moved to Hollywood in the late ’60s. What are your memories of that arrival?

VARDA: I remember telling Jacques, “I’ll go with you to America, but if I don’t like it, I’m coming back.” I wasn’t attracted to American cinema, but I fell in love with Los Angeles the minute I arrived. We rented a little house and two white convertibles. In those days, when Jacques was starting to work with Columbia [Pictures] on Model Shop, I loved driving slowly down these endless boulevards. I got very excited not only by the Los Angeles landscape but by that generation. It was a lot of peace and love, hippies, huge Sunday meetings in the parks. The Doors, Buffalo Springfield, and the Mamas & the Papas would come over and play for free.

OBRIST: Were you not in Paris during the protests of May 1968?

VARDA: No, I was in America with the Black Panthers

OBRIST: How did that film, Black Panthers, come about?

VARDA: I was friendly at the time with [the film producer] Tom Luddy, who told me about the marchers in Oakland and about Huey P. Newton, one of the leaders of the Black Panthers, who was in jail. I would take a plane there every Sunday, and I filmed all of them—Eldridge Cleaver, Bobby Seale. I was sometimes alone with my camera, sometimes helped. I would smile and say, “French television,” and they would just let me film. I felt it was important to capture that time when they were fully empowered. A couple years later their movement was all in pieces.

OBRIST: How did it feel to be in California for that moment in time, and then to return almost 50 years later to receive an honorary Oscar?

VARDA: It was the surprise of my life. Those honorary Oscars are given to filmmakers and artists who they respect and admire, but who were never mainstream. I was delighted, of course. The room was filled with all these stars, and here I was with my family. In my head I was dancing, and then it really happened. Angelina Jolie gave me the statue, took me by the arm, and we improvised a little dance.

OBRIST: You’re busier now more than ever. What is the secret that has allowed you to stay creatively active for nearly seven decades?

VARDA: I’m curious. Period. I find everything interesting. Real life. Fake life. Objects. Flowers. Cats. But mostly people. If you keep your eyes open and your mind open, everything can be interesting. The secret is that there is no secret.

OBRIST: How have you allowed yourself to follow these curiosities?

VARDA: What I notice or discover has to grow in my mind. I always wait until the ideas and impulses are so strong that they invade my mind and I have to pursue them. My mind is often half-sleeping, like in a daydream. Then some images come together, some ideas, and then suddenly I have to do it. Like with Cléo from 5 to 7—at the time, there was this collective fear of cancer. People spoke about cancer a lot. The subject of a woman expecting the results of a cancer test felt interesting, and so I decided to do it in real time, with real geography.

OBRIST: How did you feel about being called “The Grandmother of the French New Wave,” when you were just 30 years old?

VARDA: That was related to my first film, La Pointe Courte, which I made in 1954, five years before the blooming of [Jean-Luc] Godard and [François] Truffaut. I used to be the Grandmother of the New Wave, but now I am the Dinosaur of the New Wave. Only Godard and I are left alive.

OBRIST: The Nouvelle Vague was dominated by men. Is that what prompted you to make a film like One Sings, the Other Doesn’t?

VARDA: No, there was no connection between the New Wave and my feminist musical film from 1976. Since 1973, I had written a few screenplays on feminist subjects, but nobody wanted them. So in 1976, I produced One Sings, the Other Doesn’t, about 15 years of struggle as experienced by two women. You know, women used to be put in prison when they had abortions. The last woman to be executed by guillotine in France had been an abortionist. It’s a terrible story, isn’t it? There was a famous manifesto signed by 343 women who proclaimed, “We’ve Aborted.”

OBRIST: Did you sign it?

VARDA: Yes. So did Françoise Sagan, Catherine Deneuve, Delphine Seyrig, Colette Audry, and many more. There were trials. Young women were being put in prison. The manifesto said that this was clearly an injustice. The law was striking down on us. Charlie Hebdo and Minute were calling it the Manifeste des 343 Salopes [“Manifesto of the 343 Bitches”]. There was such contempt toward women’s desire to be free.

OBRIST: Your work has spanned the worlds of film and contemporary art. You and I first came into dialogue during a project for the 2003 Venice Biennale called Utopia Stations, in which Molly Nesbit, Rirkrit Tiravanija, and I asked 120 artists and groups to create small, autonomous structures. We called you hoping that we could somehow convince you to be a part of it.

VARDA: That was one of those calls where you’re ready before the phone even rings. I had already been filming and photographing the heart-shaped potatoes that would appear in that project, “Patatutopia.” And then here arrives this strange news that Hans Ulrich Obrist wants me to join all of these very famous artists in this exciting exhibition.

OBRIST: That was your first installation.

VARDA: The first of many. I started to build actual shacks from composite prints of my own films.

OBRIST: Lions Love (…and Lies) became the basis for one of your shack installations at LACMA in 2013.

VARDA: To tell you the truth, my first real exhibition was in this very courtyard in 1954. I had no idea I could sell pictures. I thought I could just invite my neighbors, and they all came. This courtyard has always been a base for me. I wrote my first film, La Pointe Courte, in 1954 on a table like this one. I just celebrated my 90th birthday, and I often think, “My God, look at all of these waves of work!” It’s not just about memories, because thankfully I’ve forgotten many things.

OBRIST: How did you celebrate your 90th birthday?

VARDA: I swam in the ocean.

[caffeinemachine]

Sunday Rituals

Summary: Spencer’s headaches return at the most inconvenient time. Right before the date he finally secured with Y/N. His mind clouded with pain and them being called away to a case, will he be able to apologize and still get the girl?

Content: Spencer Reid x Reader, Reader uses she/her pronouns, Y/N, bau!reader, Fluff, slightly angsty

Part two "Books and Bagels"

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

READERS POV

I always loved Sundays. As a kid, it meant Sunday night dinners with my family. My Grandma cooked tons of delicious food and my cousins came over. After eating, we al cuddled together to watch movies on the couch. Now, since I moved away to Quantico, I don’t get to attend the weekly dinners, but I tried to substitute the feeling they gave me with a weekly ritual of my own. 

A coffee and a bagel. 

Each Sunday morning I walk to the bagel place on the corner of my street, and with my food secured I continue to my favorite cafe. It was owned by a sweet older lady and her husband. I had spoken to her a few times since becoming a regular there. Her husband was once a literary professor at Georgetown University, which is why the back walls were lined with tons of books. It always smelled like freshly brewed coffee and freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. They had an outdoor patio filled with flowers, and seating, inside was a variety of tables and chairs as well as couches. It was perfect. 

And I knew Spencer would think so too.

Well, he would if he showed up. 

I had waited at the doors of the bagel place for 15 minutes, but Spencer was never late. Then I figured maybe I got the plan wrong, he did have a perfect memory it’s not like he could have forgotten about our date. So I got my bagel and walked to the coffee shop alone, thinking we could have said to meet there. But again, I saw no sight of Spencer. Coffee in hand I sat at one of the tables lining the sidewalk out front. My eyes searched the street, but to no avail. No Spencer. He wasn’t coming.

My phone buzzed then, a group text from Garcia.

‘911 case to debrief, sorry my fine fabulous friends I have to cut your weekend short. Hotch said don’t worry about getting ready or anything and come straight in you’ll have time to go home before the plane but we need to run a threat analysis ASAP. Much love, see you guys soon.’

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

SPENCER’S POV

I was woken up by the text from Garcia, my mind still aching slightly from the migraine that plagued me for the last few days. I was thankful it let up while I slept, not wanting to have dealt with it during a high-profile case like this. 

I got ready quickly, getting to the BAU not more than 20 minutes after her text. I walked out of the elevator just as Garcia was walking down the hall. She let out a squeal, speeding up to grab my arm and pull me to the side before I could walk in. She looked at me with a wide smile and I wondered what could possibly make her so happy at a time like this. But the corner of her mouth dropped a bit before she asked,

“Where’s Y/n?” She looked at me expectantly and my brows furrowed. 

“Um I’m not sure, she should be here soon.” She must have sensed my confusion at her questioning so she spoke up again. 

Shrugging, “I just figured you would have come together. So, how did it go? Oh gosh please tell me it went well, I have been rooting for you two cuties since she joined our team!” I searched my mind for what she could be talking about, she just stood there looking at me expectantly. 

“Garcia, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Her face dropped and I felt my heart beat pick up speed, why was she questioning me about Y/N? Was she ok? What am I missing? 

She looked at me baffled, “Spencer, you and Y/N were meant to have a date this morning. Please, please tell me you didn’t forget.” 

My stomach dropped to the floor as it all came rushing back to me. The bagel, the coffee, how excited she was to include me in her Sunday ritual, and how excited I was she agreed to go out with me. My mouth opened but I struggled to speak. The elevator dinged and I spun away from Garcia. Heart deflating at the sight of Y/N walking out. She looked beautiful. Her (h/c) hair was tied half back with a ribbon, a blue sundress clung and flowed perfectly off her body, a cardigan dawning her shoulders. But she also looks defeated. Her shoulders hung forward, eyes down as she walked. She looked up briefly, smiling at Garcia before looking at me with a look almost unreadable. But I saw the hint of disappointment, disappointment in me. 

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

SPENCER’S POV

LATER THAT WEEK

5 days and a serial bomber later, I had still not spoken to Y/N. Not to say I didn’t try, she simply ignored me every time I tried to speak to her and avoided me when I tried to approach her. I had gotten close once during the case when she got stuck with me driving her back to the hotel at night. 

“Y/N I have to explain and apologize I-” My tone almost pleaded

“No.” 

My breath stopped and I looked away from the road quickly to see her. She kept her eyes strictly forward. I had to get her to understand, I had to make her know I didn’t mean to hurt her.

“I never meant to-” I tried once more, but she cut me off again. 

“I said no. We are here to work, and until that man is caught, I can’t be concerned with any other thoughts. Maybe when we get back, I will consider hearing you out.” Her eyes never strayed front the road in front of us as she spoke. 

With that, I shut up. I would rather take my chances with her talking to me after the case than risk her never speaking to me again. 

I didn’t bother her on the plane, she always listened to music while we flew. I was always curious about what she was listening to. It was now Thursday night, and to make up for cutting our weekend short and for all our good work. Hotch let us off until Monday. 

I knew she didn’t want to speak to me, but I couldn’t have her mad at me for the rest of the weekend. So I was a light evil when I trapped her in the elevator with me, sneaking in just before the doors closed. She looked at me and scoffed, eyes then trained on the elevator doors while I kept my body facing her. I winced at how visibly upset she was with me and struggled with how to start my explanation. Maybe she didn’t want it, maybe this would only make things worse, maybe- Y/N leaned forward and pressed the button to stop the elevator.

“Go. Explain. Apologize. Whatever you were meaning to say do it now.” It shocked me, but I wasn’t going to waste the opportunity she granted me.

“For the past 6 weeks, I have been getting on and off migraines. They last for days at a time and I’ve been to multiple doctors and no one can find a medical explanation as to why. Last Thursday another one started and it worsened Saturday evening before finally letting up in my sleep. I was in so much pain I couldn’t think, I couldn't even read, It was truly a horrible day off- but anyway not the point, the point is I forgot about our date and I’m devastated I did. I was so excited that I was finally going out with you and I am so, so, sorry Y/N. I like you so much, and I beg you to please let me make it up to you.” 

A beat of silence passed. All that was heard was my exasperated breathing from not taking a breath while taking. I tried to accept that she wouldn’t forgive me. 

“A-are you ok now? Your migraine I mean, did it come back? Are you feeling ok?” Her voice was timid, and my eyes went wide to hear her speak. 

“Yeah uh yeah I’m feeling better. I got prescribed medication from a doctor's appointment I had Saturday morning that’s been helping a lot. They still don’t know what's causing them but it's better than nothing.” She turned to face me as I spoke but she was looking down at her feet. 

“I’m sorry you were in pain.” My heart chipped, everything I did and she’s still concerned for me. She was the kindest, most considerate person I knew, and it also made her an amazing agent. 

“I’m sorry that I caused you any pain,” I admitted. Her beautiful (e/c) eyes locked onto mine then. 

“I forgive you.” My mood skyrocketed at her words.

 “Really?”

She shuffled her feet somewhat nervously, “ Yes. It sounds like a mistake and you didn’t intentionally stand me up.” Her lips pulled into a little smirk, “You can still make it up to me though.”

“Of course anything, whatever you want.”

Time seemed to slow as she stepped closer to me. Her hands found my forearms and she raised onto her toes to assist in bringing each other to eye level. I held my breath as her eyes flitted to my lips, mine doing the same. They looked pinkish and shiny and as she leaned forward and gently attached her lips to mine I understood why. The flavor of cherry rushed through my senses, my hands going to her waist as hers went to my neck, drawing each other closer. It was soft and passionate and everything I could have imagined and more. As we disconnected, our foreheads stayed touching. I felt her breathing against me and I never wanted her to be anywhere but this close to me. We both smiled as our eyes found each other again.

“You free Sunday?”

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Read part two to find out how their date went!

Part Two "Books and Bagels"

[bokuroskitten]

𝔉𝔩𝔬𝔴𝔢𝔯 ℭ𝔯𝔬𝔴𝔫

𖤐 Prince Kuroo x Fem!Reader

𖤐 Warnings: technically childhood friends to lovers, forbidden lovers, it seems angsty but there's a happy ending. (cause ya girl can’t do angst)

𖤐 Authors Note: hi hi! This is very different from what I normally post! But honestly I really enjoyed doing it! And I think it came out pretty okay 🥺 also I had to mention bokuto cause I can’t have kuroo without Bo hehe <33 this piece is for @introloves once upon a time collab! Thank you so much for hosting lovely!

𖤐 although this piece is SFW, minors you’re not welcome here :):)

The princess that Kuroo was betrothed to wasn’t all that bad.

She had a pretty face, although Kuroo believed she’d be a little prettier if she wasn’t scowling all the time. She tended to only smile when the two of them made public appearances around the kingdom, eyes alight for commoners waving at them on the horse and buggy only to dim as soon as they entered the castle gates. He never understood why she looked at her compact mirror so much, doing it so much she almost forgot he was present sometimes, only coming to acknowledge him with a little nod when she snapped the golden compact shut. He really tried to get to know her better, all the jokes he seemed to tell only made her look more bewildered, brows furrowing up before she’d speak. “I don’t understand what you’re trying to tell me.”

Sure she wasn’t bad

But she certainly wasn’t you

You, the maiden that lived on the outskirts of the palace in a small wooden cabin, passed down by generations of flower farmers. You, the one he had met as a mere boy, lost and teary-eyed when he couldn’t find his way back to the castle. He had been fearful of you at first, considering you were covered in a layer of mud, small little wildflowers sticking from your hair. He had been convinced you were a forest creature, ready to drag him off into the woods.

But the sweet sound of your giggling had calmed him, tears drying on his cheeks when you placed a flower behind his ear. “I’ll help you get home, Princey~”

The two of you had been friends ever since. He had discovered your father owned the flower shop in the town, that your family had fields of flowers growing that seemed endless. He had never brought you back to the castle, a strict rule of thumb, but he always managed to make his way back to you.

And every time you seemed to be in that field, flowers sticking and staring up towards you as if you were the sun itself.

It was later than most evenings when Kuroo’s soon-to-be bride finally was taken home for the evening. The wedding was in a week’s time and the whole kingdom seemed to be rattling with excitement over the celebration. The joining of two kingdoms was exciting of course,

Exciting for everyone but Kuroo, who felt his heart jump a little in his chest when he spotted you out in the field, the dim light of dusk outlining your features just enough for Kuroo to make you out.

That unfamiliar thump in his chest grew harder when he approached, smiling curling onto his features when he noticed you weaving the stems of flowers he didn’t recognize into a circular halo.

“Is it a hat?” Kuroo questioned as he sat down beside you, right on the dirt as if his tapered pants weren’t worth more than your whole plot of land. You had to giggle, tying off one of the stems with delicate fingers before adding in another flower.

“A flower crown, actually.” You hummed, fingers only pausing a moment to adjust one of the bright red roses, making sure its petals didn’t wilt or squish. “The women in your wedding will be wearing them– what are they called again?”

“Bridesmaids…” Kuroo spoke softly as he watched you hold up the completed crown. Red roses and white daffodils sat perfectly aligned, contrasting one another from bold to soft, angelic…

“They do seem like maids, don’t they? Following your snooty bride around and doing her bidding.” Kuroo laughed at the remark, laughed even harder when you nudged his shoulder with your own, plucking a few remaining thorns from the rose stems. Around you, he was allowed to let out his natural laugh.

The one that was a bit obnoxious and echoed out in the open, not the prim, proper, civilized chuckle he had to use within the castle walls.

“You’re supposed to defend your bride to be, Princey”

“I know, apologies, I can contest, she can be quite the handful.”

“And you’ll still marry her?” You ask, pressing your finger into the tip of one of the thorns despite knowing the outcome. Sure enough, a little bead of crimson formed on the tip of your index finger.

“Well, of course, it’s my duty.” His heart ached this time, the flutter from before turning into a dull thud as he watched you carefully smudge the blood off on your apron.

“Of course…” You repeated after him, that same small smile never leaving as you sat up on your knees, scooting a bit until you were right before him.

You're gentle as you place the crown on his head, allowing pieces of his unruly black hair to slip through the vines and petals. Kuroo brings his hand up as well, fingertips momentarily brushing over your own—

The sparks were wonderful

Before he smoothed them over the soft petals of one of the roses.

“Do I look like a bride?” Kuroo jokes, making that sweet giggle of yours slip past your lips. To this day, it’s still the sweetest sound he'd ever heard, a sweet little melody that will always be stuck in his head.

“Well, of course, a very pretty one at that, Princey”

You were back beside him now, starting another crown with the flowers piled beside you. Kuroo enjoyed this comfortable silence that came over the two of you, he enjoyed watching your nimble fingers weave the vines even if they were a little dirty, he enjoyed—

“May I tell you something?” You looked up to him, the light of the rising moon starting to reflect off your eyes.

“A secret? How exciting.”

“Well, it won’t be a secret, not for long.”

Kuroo found himself smiling again. Was he the first person you were telling this little secret to?

“Well go on, do tell.”

“I’ve actually been betrothed.”

Although your fingers kept weaving, the crickets kept chirping, Kuroo’s world seemed to still, pause right on its axis.

Along with his heart, that seemed to come to a slow, painfully slow stop in his chest, breath held tightly in his rib cage.

The silence seemed to carry on for decades, that is until you spoke again. “My father says that simply owning a flower shop for the rest of our days isn’t enough to survive, not as the world around us keeps progressing. He wants to expand into blacksmithing, claims that is where the future is, so he’s married me off to the Bokuto family, to the eldest knight, I would assume you know—“

You continued to ramble, something Kuroo realized you did when you felt awkward or afraid. He knew exactly who Koutarou Bokuto was, a family friend, a royal knight, with a buff chest and a big dumb smile that usually had common girls swooning—

Did you swoon over him?

“Well? Are you going to say anything?”

Finally, Kuroo was brought back to the physical realm, his eyes snapping to yours. You looked worried, brows furrowed more than usual, hands seeming to fumble with the flowers, the things you knew and loved more than anything.

“I’m— well, I’m sure the… arrangement will be great for your family—“

“I don’t have a duty, Tetsuro.” That stunned him silent again, amber eyes fluttering as he tried to process what you were telling him.

“I—I beg your pardon?”

“I don’t have a duty to marry Tetsuro. Sure, my father may think that but— and Koutarou is a nice man, but— that’s not my duty.”

Oh.

The way you were staring at him was making his heart pick back up, but not how it was before. This time his muscle seemed to be at war, raging up against his rib cage, painfully slamming into the bones to get him to think.

Do anything, say anything.

His fingers went back to brush the flowers that still sat on his head, this time trailing over the daffodils. Bright, innocent, beautiful…

“Did you know that daffodils allow for new beginnings?” Kuroo thought you were going to babble again, to fill the space that he couldn’t seem to fill. “It’s true, they represent rebirth, new adventures…”

You were on your hunches again, closer to him. Kuroo could have sworn he could feel your breath along his cheeks, felt how it stuttered, slipped out between the smallest hiccups.

Another thing you did when you were nervous.

Your fingers found his again, over the delicate flower, and your skin was trembling.

Aching, for something, anything.

“I wouldn’t mind… a new beginning…” you’re murmuring, and although the sun had fully set, the moon still reflected off the glassy tears that coated your usual bright eyes.

His muscles felt tense, each joint in his finger trying to rebel against him as he slowly took your trembling hand into his own.

Kuroo Tetsuro was a good prince, he was. He loved his family, loved his people, hell a few hours earlier he even believed that he’d eventually love his bride to be.

But there was one thing he was never able to overcome, never able to say no to despite it going against the wishes of his royal blood.

And that was you.

It always seemed to be you.

His heart led him to kiss you, it pushed aside his right mind and pressed his body into yours. Your lips were just as soft as they looked, tasted like honey and the sweet oranges that grew along the outskirts of the kingdom. He pulled away when you let out what sounded like a whimper, his other palm coming to cup your cheek, afraid to feel the tears that might be searing your soft skin.

“Why are you crying?” He asked, gentle, soft enough just for your ears to hear as his thumb swiped under your eye.

“Y-Your duty…” you were stuttering now, quivering like a leaf barely able to hold onto its branch. “A-Are you still going to fulfill your duty, Princey? B-Because if you are, p-please— please don’t do this…”

“Do what?”

“Make me believe you want a new beginning too.”

He slipped his hands away from you, making a chill run all the way into your spine. The distance between the two of you suddenly seemed like miles, and your brain started to run, sprint even.

Surely Koutarou could love you, surely he could mend a broken heart, give you a good life—

The flower crown was placed onto your head now, bringing your eyes back up to his, allowing the rest of your tears to spill from your fluttering lashes. He made sure it sat just right, fingers gentle as he admired the reds and whites in your hair.

“I’ve come to like these flowers, daffodils, you called them…” His smile was coming back as he helped you to your feet. You clung to him, nails curling into the delicate fabric of his tunic, wrinkling it and certainly dirtying it.

And yet he stood so still, firm, one hand still held to yours tightly. Never releasing. Never letting go.

“Would you mind wearing a crown just like this…” his face was close to yours again, and this time you filled the gap, lips pressing to his in a couple of soft, gentle embraces.

Funny enough, Kuroo had packed a small bag before he left to see you. He had done it without really thinking about it, something his gut was seemingly pushing him to do so he did it. A bag that contained not much, but maybe just enough for a new beginning.

“Would you mind wearing a crown just like this, when we get married?"

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