#that puzzle at the end makes me pull out a pen and paper every time. do not enjoy

[crows-of-buckets]

The urn of sacred ashes is easily my least favorite origin quest "oh but crow the deep roads-" at least the deep roads have one of the best quests in the game. Urn of Sacred ashes is just four hours of me beating up cultists and drakes and I HATE IT

[pathologicalreid]

You write fluff and flangst absolutely amazingly and I’m in awe every dang time!

Buuut since you’ve got spring break coming up, a little fic idea that’s in my head that I’ll never do justice! (If you’re interested)

Fem!reader finding out an adorable way to tell Spencer she’s pregnant. I don’t care if they’re dating or married or what - but like she puts together a crossword, or a puzzle and he just doesn’t get it. (If you wanna throw angst in, he leaves without getting it for a case and then realizes it in the middle of the night.)

puzzling | S.R.

trying to tell Spencer you're pregnant, but he's too concerned with your well-being to fill out your custom crossword puzzle

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: pregnancy and misc. symptoms., talk of fainting and blood tests. word count: 1.69k a/n: welcome back to the spencer reid dilf agenda! i hope this does your request justice and thank you for entrusting me with this idea!!!! <3

you

It was your pride and joy, the collection of folded papers that sat on the kitchen counter, next to a cup of coffee that you had already filled for him.

On your fake newspaper, you had created a custom crossword puzzle. With four very important clues.

Across: “Early stage of life”

Across: “American actress Frances _”

Down: “Must be finished by”

Down: “Veteran’s Day month”

You smiled softly to yourself as you heard Spencer’s footsteps coming down the staircase. Padding over to the kitchen counter, you sat on one of the stools, a cup of tea in front of you.

Before he even looked at the newspaper, Spencer leaned over to kiss you good morning, “You look tired,” he whispered, hooking a finger under your chin as if he were investigating the dark circles underneath your eyes.

“Way to make a girl feel good about herself,” you teased lightly, even though you knew he was right. At least you felt tired.

He rolled his eyes, “You know that’s not what I meant.” Turning to grab his mug of coffee off of the counter, he observed you again, “Are you sure your doctor said nothing was wrong?”

Smiling, you gave him a brief nod. You had gone to see your doctor a few days ago for nausea and fatigue, and Spencer would’ve gone with you had he not been on the other side of the country on a case. “They’re running some tests, but they didn’t see anything blatantly wrong,” the doctor was running a few blood tests, checking your iron levels and HCG.

Using his free hand, Spencer reached over and moved a lock of hair out of your face, “They said your blood pressure was low?”

Low blood pressure, as it turned out, was a pregnancy symptom that was most common in the first trimester. “You’re freaking out over nothing, Spence,” you told him. Really, it was something. A rather large something – or small, depending on how you wanted to look at it. “Come on, it’s crossword time,” you told him, using the end of the pen to tap on the newspaper.

“I worry about you when I’m away. You do know that low blood pressure can cause syncope, right? Did they prescribe you anything for it?” He asked, ignoring your wishes to move on and do the crossword.

There was a small part of you that just wanted to tell him, but frankly, you had worked too hard on the crossword puzzle to give yourself away like that. You couldn’t tell him that they didn’t prescribe you anything because they didn’t know how far along you were. A larger part of you knew that if you just got him to work on the puzzle, he would have his answers in about seven minutes.

Then his phone rang, he pulled the device out of his pocket, and the Caller ID on the screen caused you to slump your shoulders forward. It was Garcia. “Hey Garcia,” he greeted on the phone, “at the tarmac?”

You set your head on the counter and sighed in defeat as Spencer hung up the phone.

“Are you alright?” He asked you softly, tenderly wrapping an arm around your torso.

Humming, you sat back up, ignoring the stars in your field of vision as you did so. “I’m fine, you should go,” you insisted.

Spencer shook his head, “No, you’re sick. I’ll call Garcia back and tell her I have to stay back.” Acting bewildered at the idea that he had been so remiss as to agree to do his job while you were unwell.

You reached out and set a hand on his, “It’s alright, love. I can take care of myself,” you reminded him. Besides the fact that you were wholly self-sufficient, the only reason why Spencer would be asked to meet the team at the tarmac was if they were headed toward a particularly gnarly case – they needed all hands on deck.

“Promise me you’ll check in? Call your mom if you need any help, please,” he requested, pleading eyes following you as you got up to hug him.

Nodding, you wrapped your arms around him, “You should take the crossword with you.” Pulling away, you haphazardly refolded the newspaper and handed it to him.

Furrowing his brow, Spencer inspected the paper that you had given him. “We always do the crossword together on Saturdays,” he found you incredibly helpful on the pop culture clues. “We could save this one and then have two for next week,” he offered.

God. No. Your eyes widened at the idea of having to keep your secret for another week, shaking your head, you shrugged, “No, you should take it. It’ll make me look forward to next week even more,” you insisted.

He folded, and with a sweet kiss to the forehead, he was off to go save lives, remaining entirely unaware of the one growing inside of you.

him

The judgmental Italian behind him was proving to be a distraction, “Did you find something?” Spencer asked, eyeing the evidence board with frustration. Something bugged him about the case, and he couldn’t figure out exactly what it was.

“Not right now, but it’s three in the morning,” Rossi said, joining Spencer by the evidence board. “Why don’t you give that big brain of yours a break?”

Shaking his head, Spencer crossed his arms in front of his chest, “I tried. I can’t stop thinking about the case.” Men were popping up dead in a small Missouri town at an alarming rate, and he felt so close to a breakthrough.

Dave nodded like he understood the feeling, that was probably why he had emerged from his hotel room so early, returning to the precinct before the sun peeked over the horizon. “What do you usually do to wind your brain down?”

Raising his eyebrows, Spencer shrugged, “Crossword puzzles,” he admitted, any word puzzle would do the trick.

The chuckle from the older man next to him startled Spencer, “Now, why doesn’t that surprise me?” Rossi looked around the precinct, “I’m sure we can find one around here somewhere.”

“No,” Spencer said, “I have one in my bag, actually.” He refrained from including the detail that you had given him the crossword puzzle, or else he’d never hear the end of it.

Clapping him on the back, Rossi lifted his coffee cup, “Then I suggest you go take the thirty seconds to fill out that puzzle and then get some rest.”

Once he was back in his hotel room, he changed before pulling out the pile of papers that you had sent him off with. Sitting on top of the bed, he filled out the puzzle in approximately six minutes and forty-three seconds. Once the letters were filled in, he skimmed the puzzle – just to check it over.

The only one that might’ve given him trouble was about an American actress – usually he had you to help him with pop culture, but he recalled having the same last name as an actress in Days of Our Lives.

It was interesting that the words “Baby” and “Reid” were right next to each other.

Wait.

Quickly, he calculated the odds that the words “Baby” “Reid” “Due” and “November” were all in the puzzle and when the numbers were put together, they made your anniversary. Spencer just as quickly called you, listening to the phone ringing.

His heart was racing as he waited to see if you answered the phone. “Hey,” your groggy voice came through the receiver.

“Where did you get this crossword puzzle?” He asked you, flipping through the rest of the newspaper for the first time.

You hummed softly, “You’re doing it right now?”

Looking at the alarm clock on his bedside table, he dropped his face into his hands. “I’m sorry, love. I didn’t even think about the time,” it was just past four in the morning now, making it just past five in the morning in Virginia. “I just thought that…” his voice trailed off. What if it was just a coincidence?

There was silence on your end of the call, and he wondered if you had fallen asleep. You hadn’t been feeling well, and he’d woken you up with his phone call. “You thought what, Spence?”

The teasing lilt in your voice had given you away to him immediately. He knew. Every one of his suspicions were confirmed, “Y/N Reid,” he breathed.

“Spencer Reid,” you countered.

He took a deep breath, “Are you pregnant?”

“Yeah,” you answered simply, with about as much enthusiasm as he expected from you at five in the morning.

It all started to make sense to him. The low blood pressure, the drowsiness, and even the slight caginess when it came to him asking about your doctor’s visit. He swiped away a few stray tears, “I don’t know what to say.” It wasn’t a feeling he was overly used to.

You cleared your throat, “Are you happy?” Nerves clouded your voice, and he could hear you becoming more awake – more alert.

“I am,” he searched aimlessly. Elated. Thrilled. Ecstatic. “I’m so happy,” he told you, at a loss for words. “I don’t know what to say, I just… God, are you okay?” Dread washed over him, you were alone, sick, and pregnant at home and he was halfway across the country.

Sighing, he heard a ruffling on the other end of the call. “I’m great. I’m exhausted, I had no idea being pregnant was so tiring. I mean, I knew, but I didn’t know.” You sighed again, “I’m not making any sense.”

He laughed lightly at your rambling, “You’re making perfect sense. Chances are your energy will return during the second trimester.”

“Don’t get my hopes up.” You paused again for just a moment, “I’m sorry if I scared you. With the whole doctor’s appointment thing. They really are keeping an eye on my blood pressure and whole slew of other things, but they know the root cause.”

A giddy smile grew on his face, “It’s because you’re pregnant.”

A soft hum came through the phone, “It’s because I’m pregnant,” you concurred.

[insidekatmind]

Crossword~Cho Sang-Woo

Wearning:+18,smut

You walk into the living room with a smile on your lips, expecting to find your husband, Sang Woo, ready to spend some time with you. Instead, you find him sitting on the couch, his back slightly hunched forward, eyes glued to a crossword puzzle resting on his knees. The silence in the room is broken only by the sound of his pencil scratching against the paper as he fills in one box after another with almost obsessive precision.

"Love," you say gently, sitting down next to him. No response. Not even a glance.

Curious, you lean in to peek at the crossword, but he tilts it slightly to shield it from your view, as if it were a matter of life and death. You raise an eyebrow. You know how much Sang Woo loves challenges, but you never thought a simple crossword could glue him to the couch like this, making him completely oblivious to your presence.

You decide to test your limits. You move a little closer, resting your head on his shoulder. "Don’t you think you’ve spent enough time on that thing?" you whisper near his ear.

He sighs, still not looking away. "Just a moment... I'm almost done."

Almost done? No, you can't accept that. You stand up and kneel where he was sitting. You smirked at him and unbuttoned his pants and pulled down his boxers while he was still focused on the crossword.

Sang Woo instantly stops writing, his pen freezing in place on the page. He looks down at you, his expression a mix of surprise and annoyance, a slight frown on his lips. "What are you doing?" he asks, his voice low and gruff. He tries to sound disapproving but fails; the annoyance in his voice is overpowered by the hint of arousal seeping in.

You stroke his butt making him moan. “Nothing love, think about the crossword” you say with false innocence.

Sang Woo’s grip on the pen tightens, his knuckles turning white. He glares at you, but there’s a hint of playfulness, a spark of excitement in his eyes. "You’re being a little distracting right now," he says, his voice betraying a hint of huskiness. "Trying to make me lose focus?"

You smile and take his cock in your mouth sucking on it. Sang Woo lets out an involuntary moan, the sound escaping his lips before he can suppress it. He quickly bites his lower lip, eyes widening as he struggles to concentrate on the crossword.

"You’re really trying to push my buttons, aren’t you?" he managed to say, his voice trembling slightly. He tries to hold back, to stay focused, but he can’t deny the sensations flooding his body. You can see his chest rising and falling with his quickened breaths, the heat radiating off his skin.

"You’re making this... very hard, you know that?" he says, his words coming out through clenched teeth. You suck faster and move your tongue in circular motions.

Sang Woo's grip on the pen tightens so much the poor thing might end up broken. His breathing becomes faster, shallower, his chest rising and falling with every inhale and exhale. "If you keep on doing this, I'm not going to concentrate at all," he says, his voice strained and a bit hoarse.

At his words you suck faster and look at him with your seductive doe eyes. He moans again, his grip on the pen growing even tighter. His hand trembles slightly, the crossword becoming harder and harder to complete without spelling anything wrong. His expression is a mix of pleasure and frustration, his eyes locked onto yours, unable to look away."You're... really enjoying this, aren't you?" he asks, his voice a low growl.

You could feel his body tense up, his muscles straining under your touch. His breathing becomes more labored, and you can see the sweat beading on his brow. Sang Woo tries to keep his composure, but he's losing control. The crossword is still on his lap, untouched, his pen in his hand forgotten. His fingers, trembling, reach to touch your face, his touch both gentle and needy.

"You're going to drive me crazy," he mumbles, his voice barely above a whisper. His hand moves from your face to your hair, tangling his fingers in it, pulling slightly, wanting more, but also not wanting to lose control completely. He lets out another moan, his head rolling back against the couch, eyes fluttering closed for a moment.

You feel sang-woo's hands on your hair and he fucks your mouth while moaning loudly. His grip on your hair tightens, his fingers grasping desperately, needing something to hold onto as he loses himself in the pleasure. "Ah, god, you're... amazing," he gasps, his head tilting back, his breathing uneven and shaky. With his free hand he tosses the pen and crossword to the side, his focus completely directed to you, his eyes locked onto yours.

You moan feeling his thrusts into your mouth harder and Sang-woo grunts. “that's right pretty girl, let's suck cock like this” he says pulling your hair. His words are both commanding and praising, and you can hear the neediness in his voice, the desperation. He wants more, and he's barely holding himself back, his fingers tangled in your hair, his gaze intense and unwavering. His motions grow erratic, his breath growing more ragged, the sounds escaping his lips a mix of moans and guttural grunts. He's losing control, completely.

There is no trace of the composed and put-together businessman you know, just a man driven to his most primal instincts, his need for pleasure overwhelming his restraint. He's all yours now, his body completely at your mercy, his words reduced to a mixture of broken moans and half-sentences.

You moan and alternate your sucks with licks, sending him over the edge. "Mmm... you're such a goddess," he moans, his voice barely above a whisper. "You make me feel so many things, so many things I can't even put into words." His fingers loosen their grip on your hair slightly, moving to caress your face, his touch suddenly tender.

He pushes your head further towards his cock, making you gag. His moans and the sound of your mouth on his cock could be heard in the room. “You're driving me crazy, you know that?” he says, his words broken and his breathing labored. He cums in your throat and then drags you across his legs, pressing you against his body, surrounding you with his arms.

“You're like a drug and I'm completely addicted to it.”

[clappingandcheering]

(Percy Jackson x Hermes! Reader)

Pranks

Warnings: Cute mischievous behaviour

718 words

Being a kid of Hermes had its perks and all, but is it really that fun? YES

It was safe to say you were a troublemaker. I mean, Hermes was your dad and you liked to fuck around with people and the gods—never disrespecting them though�� not trying to get zapped by the big ol’ man out front! Anyway! 

You were trotting along the arena planning another one of your schemes when all of a sudden Percy popped up, and you popped down. There was no way you were going to let him see you; he’d definitely spill his mouth on someone and snitch on you.

Little did you know he had already spotted you; he was actually coming over to say hi. That’s why when he saw you dip down behind the stands, he got confused but still continued walking.

“What are you doing?” He peeked over the stands, looking at her in confusion; she was covered in dirt, and for what?

“Nothing, enjoying nature?” She smiled, but she couldn’t have made it more obvious that she was lying. I mean, sure, he was a little stupid, but he wasn’t THAT stupid..most of the time.

“Shouldn’t you go to the woods or the lake? Not the arena? There’s not really any nature apart from the dirt that you’re lying in." He put his hand out to help you up; you took it and stood, dusting yourself off, and then looking at him in slight annoyance, he’s messing up your plan!

“Why so judgy? Can’t I have a moment to myself?” She had a small frown on her face. Little does she know that kind of hurt his feelings. Percy was having a rough day; everyone was just too busy, and now even the most unbusy person was too busy for him.

“Busy?” His face was softer, kind of desperate to hang out with someone.

“A little? Why?”

“Wanna hang? We can do whatever you want!”

“Hmm, promise? Whatever I want?”

He nodded as a reply, and she smiled with the most mischievous and evil grin, making him almost regret his choices. I mean, he didn’t want to end up dead, but he sure as hell wanted to hang out with someone.

She told him her plan, and his face dropped, and he shook it so quickly you couldn’t even see him.

“No way in hell am I glueing Dionysus’ stuff to his desk!" In all honesty, that was the least of his problems. She had some major plans, but that was just one of the minor everyday tasks she does.

“You promised!"

“Yeah well!-” He sighed and then rubbed the back of his neck, “Fine.” 

She grinned and took his hand, leading him to her cabin so they could prepare for her evil tasks.

______________________________________________________________

They had just glued all of Dionysus’ stuff to the table; not one thing was not connected to another—good luck lifting any pens or pencils from their glue job!

Percy stood back and surveyed their handiwork, his face a mixture of disbelief and reluctant amusement. The entire desk was covered in glue; every single item—pens, papers, even his godly goblets—sealed in place like an unholy, sticky puzzle.

“I can’t believe I just did that." Percy muttered, wiping a bit of glue off his hands. “This is so—”

“Epic?” Y/N finished for him, a sly grin spreading across her face. She was clearly thrilled with their chaotic masterpiece. “I know. Trust me, Percy, this is going to be legendary.”

“Legendary?” Percy asked, eyes narrowing with doubt. “You’re really sure about this? I mean, Dionysus can be a bit... intense.”

“Exactly,” she smirked, “and he loves his office time. This will drive him insane! The look on his face when he tries to move one of those cups... She trailed off, eyes sparkling with anticipation.

Percy sighed but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips. Y/N had this way of pulling him into her world of chaos, making him part of the adventure. He knew he’d probably get an earful later, but for now, he was having fun.

“So, what's next on the evil agenda?” Percy asked, half expecting something even crazier.

Y/N shrugged casually, “Let’s see where the wind takes us... after we definitely avoid Dionysus for the next few hours.”

[huckleberrykai]

kang taehyun ~ the virtue's in the verse

pairing: taehyun x fem!reader summary: taehyun is a tad oblivious - or rather unresponsive - which frustrates you to no end, so when kai suggests you write him letters to be more direct with your feelings, you become kang taehyun's secret admirer. genre: high school au, friends to lovers warnings: perceived unrequited feelings, oblivious idiots tbh word count: 2.2k click here for my masterlist!

no matter how much you flirted with him, taehyun never budged.

he was a great friend, and you loved him inside and out - but dropping hints to get him to notice your feelings was easier said than done.

you had only become friends recently, you were on the more introverted side and you only really had one close friend, who just so happened to be the best friend of the man of your affection. kai had introduced you, and you had been smitten since. he was smart, with a very niche dry humour that you just adored. not to mention with his big glassy eyes and pouty lips, he looked like something out of a magazine.

taehyun started hanging around you more when you spent time with kai, and so you tried your hand at some flirting here and there. if he noticed, he didn't let it show - always making you feel a bit deflated each time he brushed off your compliments.

kai came over to your house to 'study' one day, and while the two of you were making popcorn for the 'educational' movie you were about to watch, you let it slip that you may or may not have a crush on the older brunette. kai was ecstatic, gushing about how the two of you would make the perfect couple - the shy sweetheart who loved to read and the extroverted, academic tsundere boyfriend. you shook your head in denial, "he doesn't like me like that kai."

"well how do you know that?"

truth is you didn't, but you explained how whenever you tried to make a move, he'd brush it off or change the subject. if he did like you he'd be flustered right? well, he was. but he was great at hiding it, his stoic yet sweet nature being a great cover-up for his lack of reactions, when in reality he was screaming on the inside.

after a while of back and forth over if you should confess, kai came up with a great idea.

"you love to write right? why don't you write him a poem? or a letter?"

he shoved another fistful of popcorn in his mouth and you dwelled on the idea. you liked writing poetry, but you didn't often let others read it. but... it wouldn't be so bad if he didn't know it was yours right?

"i could be his secret admirer."

and that's how you decided to start sending him love notes every day. you got to school early, shoving your first letter into his locker through the vent. when he got to school, as creepy as it seemed, you followed him around - making note of his routines and when he would arrive at school and be near his locker or desk.

when taehyun went to reach for his books in his locker, he noticed a letter in a pink envelope, a sparkly heart-shaped sticker keeping it sealed that had landed atop the chemistry book he was reaching for. puzzled, he ripped the seal open gently and unfolded the crisp white paper.

taehyun,

charming is your smile when you think no one sees,

pretty is your laugh, even when you wheeze,

stars live in your eyes that sparkle in your gaze,

you live in my mind, and it must be a maze ~

you don't leave my thoughts, yes that much is true,

but i couldn't think of much better than to think of you <3

~ your secret admirer

taehyun internally cringed a little at the cheesy poem, but felt his heart soften at the fact someone did this for him. he wouldn't have believed it if it didn't read 'taehyun' at the top of the page in pink glitter gel pen. he tucked it into his bag for safekeeping and went to meet with his friends before class, completely oblivious to your figure stood behind a pillar, watching his shy smile as he read it.

later at lunch, he pulled it out when you and kai were talking with some of kai and tyun's other older friends. you didn't know them too well but they were definitely funny. the long-haired one - beomgyu was it? - noticed taehyun was distracted by something other than his food and plucked the letter right from his fingers, earning a yelp from the usually calm boy.

"oooh what's this? OH MY GOSH! our taehyunnie has a secret admirer? how sweet ~" he teased.

taehyun reached over and snatched it back from him, but now the damage was done. luckily, the three boys were far too busy teasing their younger friend and cooing over the cheesy poem to notice your ears flaming red and kai giving you his capri-sun to calm you down.

the next day you were later than you wanted to be, and by the time you got to school taehyun was already at his locker. in an effort to get your letter to him before he got to class, you bolted to your classroom and shoved it on his desk while nobody was in there. you left quickly and went to your locker and to greet your friends as normal.

you walked to class with him and kai and watched expectantly to see if he'd notice the letter once you stepped into the room.

your heart could barely handle the smile that graced his pretty lips when he saw an envelope. it was blue this time, a tiny lace bow glued to the back.

he was quite disappointed when he saw nothing in his locker this morning, so he couldn't help but be overjoyed. you watched from your seat, diagonally on the row behind.

taehyun,

good morning! sorry that poem was so cheesy yesterday, i wasn't sure how to approach you so i thought I'd send you a poem. i hope this makes you smile, happiness looks good on you.

I hope you have a really great day tyun, you deserve it <3

~ your secret admirer

he felt warm. in his heart and in his cheeks. he looked around the room to see if he could work out who it might be who thinks so highly of him, but he couldn't put his finger on it.

he kind of wished it was you when his eyes landed on you - awkwardly twirling a pencil between your fingers. he liked you quite a lot, but you spent a lot of time with kai, and he didn't want to step on any toes if it was him you liked. he tended to freeze up around you, but you still liked to hang out with him, so he was thankful for how sweet you were.

with a sigh he tucked it into his bag next to yesterday's.

he'd find out eventually.

this kept going for about a week. you'd just leave him sweet messages or wish him luck on a test. you found it was easier putting them on his desk than it was to get to his locker before he did, and it became a cute little routine.

until YOU got a letter.

it was a plain white envelope, nothing fancy. you only knew it was yours thanks to the 'to my secret admirer' plastered on the front in his classic black ink pen.

you slapped his letter down and hid yours in your bag, rushing to hide in the bathroom to read it.

to my secret admirer,

thank you for your sweet words of encouragement. i couldn't let you keep complimenting me without a proper thank you - so that's what this is. i look forward to your words every day, thank you for making my days that much brighter. i hope you'll let me meet you one day.

love, taehyun <3

AAAAAAAAAA. you wanted so bad to go find him and tell him it was you, but you knew that would probably be a bad idea. so you got your supplies out of your bag and started writing him another one - in pink glitter gel pen.

taehyun,

thank you for your letter! you don't need to thank me, you make me happy enough every day by just existing. i'd love to tell you who i am, but i fear if you know how i feel you won't think of me the same way, so i'll stay secret for now ~

love, your secret admirer

you sealed the envelope, not caring to decorate it this time. later, once everyone had left for lunch, you shoved it on his desk, just like earlier.

when taehyun finds another letter on his desk after lunch he can't help but feel giddy, thinking maybe you'd have told him who you were - but his face fell a little when he read that you wanted to keep it a secret.

he was sad you thought he'd judge you, even if he didn't feel the same about his admirer they still could have been friends right?

he ended up thinking about it all class, only brushing the thoughts out of his mind as you and kai approached his desk to walk home together. he was a little distant as he stood waiting for kai to finish organising his locker so you could leave. "you okay taehyun?" you asked.

maybe it was a little evil, you knew his mind was probably wandering over who his letters were from - but you did care about him after all. just as he was about to explain, kai came back and dragged the two of you away. you were almost at the doorway when one of your teachers ran over to the three of you. "huening, before you leave would you be able to sign this form for me? it's for your music assessment."

of course he agreed, but in his messy locker endeavour he'd left his pens behind. "damn it, Y/N can i borrow a pen?" you pulled your pencil case out with a roll of your eyes and dug out a black pen. "you're a lifesaver, thanks!"

as kai went over to rest his paper against the wall while he signed it, you stood with taehyun in the middle of the hall. what you didn't notice was the football player behind you who was late to practice - he was running through the halls recklessly and bumped into you harshly making all of your pens spill out of the open pouch in your hands. "SO SORRY!" he called out as he kept running.

UGH you grunted, leaning down to gather them all up again. on instinct taehyun leaned down to help you and picked up the first pen he saw.

oh.

oh.

pink glitter gel pen. PINK GLITTER GEL PEN!!

in amongst the mess were the other colours he had received too ~ blue, green, purple...

but anyone could own glitter gel pens right?

oh. a sheet of sparkly heart stickers was in your hand that had slipped out of the pouch with the pens. the exact ones you used to seal his envelopes.

you hadn't noticed his realisation until you had finished clearing the mess, turning to see him with a big dumb smile and staring at the gel pen like it had just changed his life.

well it did, in a way.

"you know, i hoped it was you."

you froze. he figured it out because of some stupid footballer and now everything was ruined and he'd never speak to you again and- "w-what?"

"i like you too Y/N. I get kinda nervous around you, but thank you for your sweet letters. you didn't need to worry, i've liked you for a long time."

were you dreaming? what was going on here?

"are you serious?" you had to check. he nodded and stood up, offering his hand out to pull you up. you took it gratefully and made eye contact as you stood up, making your knees feel like jelly.

"but... you never responded when i tried to flirt with you... i thought you just didn't notice, or you didn't like me but were trying to let me down gently?" he shook his head frantically at your assumptions. "i didn't want to misunderstand you and make you uncomfortable in case you didn't mean to sound flirty - i'm sorry. i get nervous when i'm flustered too, i never knew how to respond." you nodded. "i also thought you.. uh... i thought you liked kai."

your jaw hung open at that one. "absolutely not. i only like you tyun, but i guess i've told you that already haven't i?" his eyes flicked between your eyes and your lips. everyone in the hall had left, and you weren't sure where kai went - and you weren't going to miss this opportunity.

almost telepathically, you moved in at the exact same time - kissing each other gently and releasing all the pent-up passion you'd harboured for these few weeks. you rested your hands on his shoulders, and his came up to cup your warm cheeks.

"we're both kinda stupid aren't we?" you asked teasingly once you pulled away. he only responded by circling his arms around your waist and pulling you into the cosiest hug you've ever had.

"yeah you are." kai deadpanned from beside you. "now let's go home, you can make out later when i don't have to watch~"

[mynameisalanwake]

my thoughts after finishing my Dragon Age playthrough, pt. 3: Dragon Age Inquisition

WOOF. the longest game to play by far, and this will probably be my longest post. right up front: this is my least favorite game of the four. that being said! i was the most emotionally invested in this story, and leaving the Inquisition after 100+ hours of playing made me cry actual big baby tears. i played everything EXCEPT Jaws of Hakkon - same issue with Legacy/Awakening, i was SO SICK of the tedium that i had to move on to end game/Trespasser at some point. here we go!

Dragon Age: Inquisition major decisions made: - warrior (Reaver) human male Inquisitor (Aedan Trevelyan) - romanced Dorian - did SO MANY war table operations - evenly spread across the three advisors - all companions & advisors befriended & stayed loyal (other than Solas, iykyk) - sided with the mages as allies - accepted being the Herald of Andraste - Celene lives & rules alone - Morrigan drank out of the well, allied with temple guardians - used judgements to recruit agents - Grey Wardens rebuilt - sacrificed Stroud to the Fade (sorry Stroud) - Cassandra is Divine - saved the mines & stopped the earthquakes in Descent - disbanded the Inquisition - swore to stop Solas at all costs

good lord. this game was a massive pain in the ass in the best way possible. i got so overwhelmed with the amount of things to do that i was using pen and paper to keep track. when my fiance asked why i was so overwhelmed, i listed all the things the player needs to manage in this game: - your own skills/inventory - your companions' skills/equipment - passive War Table operations - requisition quests - fade rifts - faction quests in every single part of the map - SIDE quests in every single part of the map - companion quests that take you all over the map - puzzles.........so many puzzles - shards - astrariums - upgrading Skyhold - the whole Wicked Hearts quest (took me almost THREE HOURS) - judgements - random dragons - INTENTIONAL dragons - fighting the actual antagonist of the game so, understandably, by the time i cleared all of the major stuff off of the base game map, i was ready to tap out and start end game. i didn't finish the shards or the astrariums, and every time i went to the Frostback Basin to start Jaws of Hakkon, i STILL got my ass kicked at level 50. i could feel Skyrim's influence on every inch of this game, but especially in its desperation to be open world and giving you mini quests at every turn. it wanted to pull you away from the main story while still making the threat of Corypheus seem urgent, which was jarring when i would finally move forward with a story quest. that's what makes me feel like there were too many quests - sure, the Inquisition needs to spend time clearing enemies from strongholds and building relationships with allies, but the amount of fetch quests and puzzles made faction-specific and companion quests a lot less impactful on the main goal. running around Skyhold to chat with my companions felt like a whole separate quest and i would need to set aside time between quests to make sure i checked in with everyone. after doing allllllllllll this bullshit all over the map and getting the shit kicked out of me by random dragons, the endgame fight just felt incredibly anticlimactic.

the combat in this game is a pain in the ass, and they completely changed all of the mechanics from the first two games that i enjoyed!!! what do you mean, i don't get to automate when my party takes potions? what do you MEAN, none of my mages have a regular healing ability???? i have to bring these squishy motherfuckers around for range and they're gonna use up all my potions??? getting rid of the "talent" part of the wheel was the worst decision - i'm investing all of these skill points and i'm limited in the amount of abilities i can actually utilize? i truly hated the combat here. my usual party makeup was warrior/rogue/mage, like i did in the other two games, but my rogue and mage could never stay alive for the whole combat sequence! tbf 99% of the time, my party was Dorian/Varric/Blackwall because Blackwall literally never died, ever. once i toughened myself up a bit, i started cycling my companions a little more - poor Iron Bull never got much play as another two-handed Reaver

with all my gripes about pacing aside, the companions in this game are just as fantastic as they were in DA2, and now i get to spend even more time with them at Skyhold??? once i finally figured out where everyone was and the easiest ways to get there, i couldn't leave anyone alone! i got to the point where i could tell if it was going to be a cut-scene conversation vs. a regular conversation by the end! the companions and advisors were the heart and soul of this game 100%. i was giggling and kicking my feet because i made my Inquisitor look EXACTLY like my HoF (with the same name!) and the scenes with Leliana and Morrigan (and Kieran!!!!!! My son!!!!!!) felt extra special just imagining them thinking about my warden!! i may or may not have cried at some of Morrigan's dialogue based on my imported choices from the Keep. i think they did a great job with Leliana's characterization across the series, as Left Hand of the Divine is exactly what i would've pictured my Leliana doing after Origins. Cullen is ok! he's another character i don't get the hype for, but i really loved getting to convince him to stay sober and adopt a Mabari at the end. i think it was a beautiful arc for his story following the events of (my) Origins and DA2. Josephine is a sweet and perfect baby angel and i feel so bad she gets wrapped up in all this!!

WHOLE separate paragraph about my romance: Dorian is the best romance in the whole series, 10/10, no notes. his companion quest is absolutely heartbreaking whether you're able to romance him or not, and if you ARE romancing him, oh my god my sweet baby boy. he's so happy that you want to be WITH him and you aren't just toying with his feelings and you inspire him to be a better person and fix Tevinter???? literally just thinking about him gets me emotional again. the way he reacts to you DYING if you bring him along during the last quest in Trespasser? truly heartbreaking. my sweet amatus, i don't know if any other Inquisition romance will ever stack up to you. a lot of DA fans will say Solavellan is the canon romance for DAI, but Dorian/Trevelyan is an extremely close second (and i wish we had gotten MORE in DATV). Dorian may be Lavellan's bestie, but he's Trevelyan's husband forever!!!!

the other companions: also such beautiful, well thought out stories! doing pranks with Sera and being a Red Jenny in the epilogue slides, teaching Cole to be more human, helping Iron Bull embrace his found family, giving Varric closure with the red lyrium and his brother, giving Thom Ranier his redemption.......i could literally go on for ages but all of these dummies made me cry. especially Cassandra, who couldn't stop talking about how i was her best friend and now she's my Divine and i absolutely love her (i was between romancing her and Dorian and i'm so happy with my decision tbh, Cassandra would be way better as a lesbian). i did personally want Leliana as Divine but i guess i was hyping my girl up a little too much. even the characters i disagreed with, like Vivienne, still thanked me for my friendship and made sure to tell me how much they valued me and my help!!! truly, for all of my gripes with the pacing of this game, the amazing writing behind the companions really made it all worth it in the end. i love these big dummies.

however, the Inquisitor is the most booooooooring protagonist of the series! i think playing as a white human male who is a warrior really made me feel as White Bread as possible, but the dialogue choices are sooooooooooo lackluster and you can tell anybody literally whatever you want with no pushback. most dialogue options didn't even have tone indicators! they were all just arrows that led the conversation on a specific path, but all options had the same bland tone. even though i said i believed i was the Herald of Andraste, i was still able to tell other characters that i didn't actually believe in the Maker or change my tune in other conversations. there was no crazy fallout when we realized i wasn't the Herald of Andraste, just me being able to "choose" that i was bummed or that i knew all along. the BEST writing for the Inquisitor is 100% in the Trespasser DLC in the Exalted Council. i had played my Inky as mostly diplomatic/stoic, but sarcastic when the moment called for it (head on a pike, anyone?), so when i got to choose angry dialogue options at the very end, i was ALL IN. it felt like justice - this exalted council wants to decide our fate, after everything i've done for them? fuck that, i'm disbanding the Inquisition. good luck, motherfuckers. Solas was manipulating me the whole time? you piece of shit, i'll track you down and kill you myself. leave me to die? i'll cut off my arm, loser. all this pent up rage came FLYING out after 100 hours of gameplay and i finally got some "fist" options!!! i think you can really tell that the writers were toying with bringing back an already-existing protagonist up until the very end solely based on the writing for my poor inquisitor.

the callbacks to the previous games were so high quality without feeling forced (or ruining my canon)! having Dagna as my enchanter and getting to listen to her little chirping every time i went down there was so much fun, as i felt so bad i basically destroyed the Circle when i went back to tell her in Orzammar. i'm glad she insisted on going anyway!! getting to customize my Hawke was SO exciting - idk how i managed to go this long without knowing i would get to do that. i did yeet Stroud off into the Fade, even though in my heart of hearts i know that's what Flemeth's comment to Hawke was about in DA2, but i really needed my besties Varric & Marian to rule Kirkwall together. also, Varric being Viscount of Kirkwall was the absolute craziest lore drop they gave us in Trespasser and i hate pretending it's not!!!! i'm so emotional thinking about my friends moving on and becoming important people and better people because of their interactions with my character!!!

now - Trespasser. as a non-Solavellan, i still felt like this was for me, but solely to get closure on the Inquisition and officially say goodbye to my friends. since i played this after finishing VG, i...........wasn't so pleased with Solas, but i really found that pushing back on him as much as possible throughout the entire game gave much more satisfying dialogue, especially at the end, because i wasn't trying to romance him. i think that's why the writing for Inky got so much better in Trespasser - it was meant to give closure to the player, and i'm glad the writers moved away from our milquetoast Herald into someone grieving - either through sadness or anger. i could feel that my Inky was betrayed by someone he considered a friend, confidant, and advisor! he was another victim of the Dread Wolf, the Trickster God we had been learning about the whole entire series at this point. it was sooooooooo satisfying to basically tell him to fuck off and i'll hunt him down and kill him, no matter what it takes (WHICH WILL COME BACK LATER!!!!!). number one moment of the whole entire game was getting to bitch out Teagan at the very end of the Exalted Council, choosing the fist option and disbanding the Inquisition. i've been thinking about my ending monologue for over a week at this point. it's been ringing in my head every time i choose a dialogue option in VG, every time my inky pops up or i get a letter from him. i'm being haunted by the narrative of the most boring man in Thedas and i love him so much.

my poor sweet Inquisitor and First Gentleman Aedan Trevelyan-Pavus, i hope you get to retire with your hubby and find peace <3

Inquisition gets a very emotion 6/10 from me. combat bad, player character mostly boring, but god damn the companions carried this game on their backs.

[scuttling]

Lean on Me

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Gender Neutral Reader Word Count: 4,717 Tags: SFW, Fluff, 5+1 Trope, Obliviousness, Mutual pining, Aaron Hotchner deserves good things, Canon typical injury Summary: Five times you want to kiss the frown off of your boss's face, and one time you actually do it. *Requested by Anon. Link to AO3 or read below! “It doesn’t make sense.”

You stick a tack in a photo of a murdered woman—unfortunately one of many you’ve stuck to this board—and turn to face Hotch, who is looking over your handiwork with a quizzical expression.

“What doesn’t?” He takes a few steps closer, crosses his arms in front of him.

“Why would the unsub leave his comfort zone? The first six abductions occurred within five miles of the college, so why did the seventh and eighth happen almost twelve miles away?” He reaches for the board, traces his finger along the circle Reid had colored in on the map. “We profiled that he’s disorganized and far from confident, so why would he do that?”

He looks over at you, frowns, and not for the first time your gaze is drawn to the little crease between his eyebrows that always forms when he is puzzled, worried, confused, stressed, or otherwise unhappy. In short, it’s there kind of all of the time.

For the first time, though, you think of how easy it would be to lean over, press your lips there, smooth it out, and maybe even get him to smile for a change. He has a great smile, when he lets people see it.

You shake the daydream, rewind back to the question he asked, and wrinkle your nose in thought.

“Maybe his circumstances changed? It's summer now, and there are still classes, but students aren’t living in the dorms. Maybe he moved back home or got an apartment off campus that’s within that area—or a job.” He sighs, runs a hand over the back of his head, nods.

“I don’t know why I didn’t think of that. That’s good. I’ll mention it to the others.” He pulls out his phone, and you grab another photo, another thumbtack, but something stops you and you lay a gentle hand on his arm.

“You don’t have to think of everything, you know. That’s why you have us.” He exhales, his shoulders losing a little of their tension, and that forehead wrinkle gets a little less deep.

“Sometimes I forget that not everything needs to be done the hard way. Or by me.”

“What? You, Aaron Hotchner, doing things the hard way?” you tease, and you are gifted a glimpse of his rare, unfiltered smile.

“Okay, enough pointing out my flaws,” he says with a raised eyebrow, though he’s still smiling, and as he looks down to type out a text, you remember to pull back your hand.

“I would never.” He looks up from his phone at that—maybe at the conviction in your voice, which you hadn’t exactly intended—and his expression softens further.

“I know you wouldn’t.” You hold eye contact for a moment, and then turn to finish preparing the board, pinning up another photo of another woman and reminding yourself that they need you to focus on the task at hand. Two weeks later, you knock on Hotch’s office door, a stack of completed consults in your hand. He looks up, that familiar notch in between his brows, a scowl on his face; when he sees that it’s you, he tones it down a little.

“Draw the short straw?” he asks, and you figure that’s because everyone knows he is in a bad mood and they’ve been avoiding this office all day. You shrug.

“It was rock, paper, scissors, but yes.” He huffs a short laugh, and you smile, step toward his desk. “Anything I can do to lighten the load?”

“Technically you’re adding to it,” he says with a glance at the files in your hand, and you set them on one of the chairs with a purposefully loud thump and then take the other seat.

“Technically. But technically, you only need to review my consults; I can review theirs. Right?” He mulls it over a moment, like the thought never crossed his mind—of course Aaron I have to do everything myself Hotchner would never suggest such a thing, even as the team sits in the bullpen with nothing to do, seeing who can throw M&Ms into Spencer’s mouth from the furthest distance.

“Technically,” he agrees, and you pluck a pen out of his pen cup and take the first file off the pile, open it in front of yourself, careful not to cut into the workspace he’s occupying. You both smile softly down at your work, and you actively do not think about that wrinkle between his eyebrows.

About an hour later, he reaches for his mug out of habit but finds it empty; you stand, take it in your hand, and he makes a noise of protest.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I know,” you say, and you walk toward the door. “I need some too. I’ll be right back.”

You pass through the bullpen—apparently the M&M contest led to a sugar crash, because Spencer is laying with his head on his desk—and grab your cup off your desk, take both to the break room to fill them.

Derek appears next to you as you’re stirring your sugar in.

“Coffee date with the boss?” he asks with a curious expression, and you shake your head.

“Of course not. I’m helping him with the overwhelming amount of paperwork on his desk so his mood improves, instead of just ignoring him.” You raise an eyebrow in challenge, and Derek scratches the back of his head.

“Never thought of that,” he admits, and you pat him on the arm and take your coffees back upstairs.

Hotch looks up at you as you set his mug down, says a soft thank you, and you grab the pile of files you brought up, separate them, and head back downstairs.

“You review mine,” you say to Derek, handing him a stack, “Emily take Spencer’s, Spencer take Derek’s, I’ll take Emily’s.” They look at you like they have no idea what to say, and you just smile, tap the top of Spencer’s head with a folder. “I’ll come back down and grab them in a little bit.”

“Yes, boss,” Emily says, and you grin on your way back upstairs. Hotch is standing when you arrive this time, looking out the window over the bullpen.

“What did you do?” he asks, turning to you, frowning again. You’re so close that kissing that wrinkle would be effortless. All you’d have to do is lean in.

You smile.

“I delegated, Hotch. You should try it some time.” You put your hands on his arms and guide him back to his desk. “Now what can I help you with?”

By the end of the day, his desk is clean and his bad mood is long gone. He closes the last of his files, sighs deeply, covers your hand with one of his, and says thank you.

The next morning when you come in, there is a steaming latte and a cookie on your desk, and you can’t stop smiling the rest of the day. Your next case is draining, children abducted and left for dead, and everyone is on edge, but no one more than Hotch. You’re fairly certain his face hasn’t relaxed since the initial briefing, and he’d be a prime candidate for the old ‘your face will get stuck like that’ joke, if anyone was up to joking.

The team catches the unsub, saves one child, but not until after three are dead; you take a late flight home because no one wants to stay another night in a town it feels like you’ve failed, and everyone curls up to get some rest except you and Hotch.

You try to read the book you brought along—a science fiction dystopian novel, something to get you out of your head and away from real life problems—but you’re a little distracted by Hotch’s sighing. It’s become an every-five-minutes thing, and while you’re definitely on board with sighing as a way to decompress, he’s not decompressing. He looks like he’s in pain mentally, exhausted physically; you’re not sure how everyone else was able to ignore it and go to sleep, but then you figure everyone else may not be as in tune with him as you are. As observant.

As in love.

Not that that matters: you know your issues, and some of his issues, and there’s the whole superior/subordinate thing which doesn’t really do anything for you except give you a stomach ache. It would never work out, even if he somehow, miraculously, were to love you back—and that’s a pretty big if in and of itself.

But still, you notice him, can’t help it, and the sighing is getting to be a little much. You sigh yourself, put your finger in between the pages of your book, and walk over to take the seat next to him; he looks over at you, frowning just like always, and you carefully close his file and set it aside.

Neither of you say anything to the other, just look each other over for a moment, and then you lean lightly against his shoulder and flip back to the beginning of your book.

“I still dream of the island. I sometimes approach it across water, but more often through air, like a bird, with a great wind under my wings. The shores rise rain-coloured on the horizon of sleep, and in their quiet circle the buildings: the houses grown along the canals, the workshops of inkmasters, the low-ceilinged taverns.”

You keep your voice low and soothing, and you are just turning to page fifteen when you feel the weight of his head drop onto your shoulder.

The crease between his eyes melts away in sleep.

You read until you make it home, and you wake him up with a gentle nudge before the rest of the team drifts back to consciousness. He looks at you, blinks slowly like he’s trying to remember where he is, and then gets a little sheepish when he puts two and two together, realizes he fell asleep on your shoulder.

You just shake your head, give his arm a squeeze, and head back to your seat to gather your things. You, Hotch, and Emily are catching the elevator to the parking garage—after staying two hours later to work on some rush consults straight from Strauss—when he looks at something on his phone that makes him groan aloud. You and Emily share a look, and you ask what’s wrong.

“I just remembered I’m supposed to have a treat for Jack to take to school tomorrow and it’s, what, seven thirty?”

“So just stop at the supermarket on your way home; no one can tell the difference anyway,” Emily says, but you and Hotch both shoot her a skeptical glance.

“It’s all about the treats at a school like Jack’s,” you supply, and Hotch looks over at you like he’s surprised by your comment. “If they’re not homemade, the parents talk. Plus there’s probably an allergen list a mile long: no nuts, no eggs, no soy, no dairy. You have to pick him up from Haley’s tonight, right?” You’re pretty sure, but when he nods he confirms it. “So pick him up, go home and get some dinner, put him to bed, and I’ll text you when I’m on my way over with the goods. I have a great recipe for vegan apple cinnamon muffins that will go over really well.”

“You really don’t have to do that; I’ll figure something out,” he says, but you just shake your head and pull up the recipe on your phone.

“Forget it, it’s already done. I have everything I need at home already; let me help,” you murmur softly, and when he looks at you with the furrowed brow that comes with accepting kindness from someone else, you almost forget it’s not just the two of you in the elevator. It’s only when Emily clears her throat that the eye contact breaks. He nods.

“Okay. Thank you; I owe you.”

“You don’t owe me anything.” The elevator dings and it stops at the parking garage; the three of you get off and head in separate directions for your cars. “I’ll text you.”

“Goodnight,” Emily says with a grin, and you wave at her, hop into your car, and head for home.

About two hours later, you show up at Hotch’s door with two dozen apple cinnamon muffins, and unbleached, whole wheat flour in your hair, and he has coffee brewing, a smile on his face.

“You don’t know how grateful I am,” he says as he ushers you into the kitchen, takes the boxes of muffins from your hands, and pours you a cup of dark, delicious coffee. You sip it slowly, savoring the taste—you should have known he’d have incredible coffee—even though it’s far too late for you to be indulging. Unless you’re working a case, you usually switch to decaf by three.

“I know you are. I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t think you’d appreciate the gesture.” You lean forward, open a box, and pull out two muffins, handing one to him. “I made a couple extra so we could taste test; if I accidentally put salt in instead of sugar, you’re on your own,” you joke, and you wait for him to taste it before taking your own bite.

“That’s delicious. There’s really nothing unapproved in here?” he asks, and you shake your head.

“Nope, it’s all healthy and allergen free, except for the flour, but that wasn’t on the list you sent.” He reaches a hand toward you, and you don’t realize, at first, that he’s brushing the flour out of your hair.

“Messy baker,” he teases, and your heart feels really full, being in his kitchen like this, warm muffins and fresh coffee, even if your hair is a mess. You smile, and he smiles back before dropping into that serious expression, eyebrow wrinkle and all. You think about brushing your lips there tonight, but this feels like two steps forward, and you don’t want to risk taking that step back. “Next time I’ll help you.”

“Oh, next time? You plan on needing my baking expertise again? Fair warning, this is the only recipe I know, so I hope you like apple cinnamon muffins.” You take a sip of your coffee, look up at him, and he takes another bite, nods his head.

“I do. Especially these.”

In a perfect world, what comes next would be a cinnamony, coffee flavored kiss, but the world’s not perfect, and you yawn instead. You look down at your mug like it’s betrayed you, and Hotch chuckles low.

“It’s decaf. I know you usually stop in the afternoon; I wouldn’t forgive myself if you were up all night because of me.” You have always been a person who falls in love with all the little details about someone, so the fact that he’s noticed this, remembers this, makes your heart beat a little faster. “I should let you go. You’ve done so much today, between staying late and baking for Jack—for me. You need to get some sleep.”

He’s right, it’s nearly ten, and you should be getting back home, but this is a moment you never want to end.

You just nod, though, and he reaches out to brush his hand over your back when he walks you to the door.

“Thank you again. I really appreciate that you did this for me,” he says, soft, like he still can’t imagine you would.

“You’re welcome, Hotch. Any time, really; I’m happy to help.”

You get home, clean your kitchen, and have a very late dinner, and the smell of good coffee and apples and cinnamon is still in your nose when you drift to sleep. “You didn’t hear what he said,” Hotch snaps almost a month later, with one hand splayed on his hip and the other on the table in front of him. The moment you saw him engaged in an argument with a member of the Sheriff’s department, fire in his eyes, you’d grabbed him by the arm and dragged him into a small conference room, shutting the door behind you. It took almost three minutes of staring at each other for him to say something instead of just glaring at you for interrupting the pissing contest.

“I don’t need to know what he said. I know you, and I know you handle people like that with a quick, sharp remark and then you wash your hands of it. You don’t argue back and forth, you don’t draw it out. You would have regretted it if you did that today, so I stopped you.”

“You think you know me so well, do you?” he asks in an unkind tone of voice you can’t identify, haven’t heard from him before; the expression on his face is familiar, though, a scowl that only puts emphasis on his handsome features—it’s unfair, really.

You exhale, cross your arms.

“Yes, and I know you well enough to know you’re irritated with him, not me, so cut the shit.”

It’s the first time you’ve ever been quite that direct with him, and certainly the first time you’ve ever sworn at him; your immediate instinct is to apologize, but he surprises you by huffing a laugh. The angry lines of his face smooth into something softer.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. He just—I can’t stand people like that.” He scrubs a hand through his hair in irritation. “We’re here to work—to do a job they couldn’t finish on their own. Not to be… objectified.” He mutters the last word, so low you almost don’t hear it, and then there’s a knock at the door. Derek enters.

“Sheriff wants a word, Hotch; do you have a sec?” With one last look at you, he nods, brushes past him to leave the room. Derek gives you the barest hint of a smile. “He was defending your honor, you know.”

You frown. You didn’t know.

“That jerk was talking about me?” you ask, clarifying, and he nods.

“Something about assuming you’re an athlete because he likes your ass. Set the boss man off.” You walk over to him and leave the room together, heading back to your workspace.

“Well Hotch is right, we’re here to work, not to be objectified. I can see how he would get angry.” Derek shoots you a flat, questioning glance.

“You think he’d be getting that worked up if it was my ass that guy was talking about? Or Emily’s?” The two of you stop outside the conference room, and you cross your arms, lean against the doorframe, frown.

“So what are you trying to say? That he sees me as being weak, thinks he needs to defend me? I'm as capable as either of you.” That may not be strictly true, because you’re a little more brains than brawn, like Spencer in that way, but you can hold your own and you thought Hotch knew that.

Derek just laughs, shakes his head, and ducks into the room. You follow, so confused.

“I thought you were just playing it close to the vest, but you’re oblivious, aren’t you?”

“Oblivious about what?” Emily asks, pen between her teeth, feet kicked up onto a chair, and you shrug.

“I’m still not sure. Hotch got into an argument with a deputy about me, and I asked Derek if Hotch thinks I’m weak and that’s why he felt like he had to defend me.” She smiles broadly around the pen, pulls it out of her mouth with a grin.

“Oh, honey. That’s not it. You know that’s not it, right?”

“I clearly don’t know what’s going on at all, so no, if you’d care to enlighten me,” you say, sinking into an empty chair. “I hate it when you guys are cryptic.” You love your team, but they have a habit of doing this all the time, saying things to each other with their eyes, or just a few words that don’t have any sensible meaning that you know of. It’s like they live to talk over your head, to say things without actually saying them.

“Okay. Hotch has a thing for you,” Emily says simply, and you blink.

Well that’s the very last thing you’d expected to hear.

“He absolutely does not.” You look at Derek, who’s making a face like you’re the one being crazy; you laugh out loud, can’t help it. “He does not. I’m pretty sure Hotch doesn’t have things, and if he did, he wouldn’t have a thing for me.”

“Why not? Because that would be too convenient, since you have a thing for him too?” Derek asks, taking the seat across from you, and you grab the nearest case file, flip it open and focus your attention on it.

“I care about him, the same way I care about all of you, and he maybe needs a little more care—but you guys are reading into things.”

Thankfully, you don’t have to say anything more, because Hotch, JJ, and Spencer return, and you all have a lead to work.

You can’t help but wonder if you’re being obvious about your feelings, though, especially later, when you get back to the hotel and the group decides to have a drink at the bar.

JJ and Emily hit the pool table while Derek and Spencer head up for drinks, and you are left sitting with Hotch at the table, pressed together in the inside corner of a booth.

“Tired?” you ask him, because he does look worn out, his tie a bit loose, his eyes a little red. You know he doesn’t get much sleep when you travel, and you can’t imagine he’ll go to bed even when this little detour is over.

“Always,” he sighs, but when he looks over at you, he smiles, just a little. “Just can’t wait to get out of this town.”

“Yeah, it gives Southern hospitality a whole new meaning, doesn’t it?” The people you’ve interviewed today are, on paper, quite respectable, but there’s a Desperate Housewives, ‘everyone is sleeping with someone else's spouse’ kind of thing going on, and it’s honestly exhausting. To your surprise, Hotch laughs.

“It really does. I don’t think I’ve ever missed the quiet solitude of my apartment quite this much.” You lean back against the vinyl of the booth, sigh.

“I miss my apartment, but it’s been too quiet lately. I prefer the sounds of someone else sharing space with me: the coffee maker percolating, the news in the background, the shower running, the sound of flipping the pages of a book or magazine.” You look down at your hands, because you’re getting a little more emotional than you usually let other people see. “Sorry. I’m not typically this open about being…”

You trail off, but Hotch looks over at you, concerned, the wrinkle between his eyebrows even more noticeable when you’re sitting this close. You think, just briefly, of running your thumb over it, but with your luck, Derek or Emily would see, and you’d never live it down.

“Lonely?” he finishes softly, and when you nod your head, he covers your hands with one of his own, bumps his shoulder against yours. “I get lonely too. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.” You look up at him, feeling a little vulnerable, and his expression softens. “When we get back, maybe you could come over for dinner some night. Nothing fancy,” he clarifies, and you smile, “just two lonely people being a little less lonely.”

“That would be really nice.” You can see Derek and Spencer approaching out of the corner of your eye, and Hotch must too, because he removes his hand, slips back into the slight, persistent frown you have come to know and love. Derek looks at you, raises an eyebrow, and hands you your beer. You try to tell him to shut up with your face, plan to follow up later to see if that actually worked. “We have an agent down on the second floor,” Spencer says into his comms, and you immediately want to slap him in the back of the head.

“Don’t say agent down, kid; I’m like, slightly wounded at best.” You hold a hand against the stab wound on your side—the unsub honestly just grazed you, and you’d knocked him out with a single punch, which made you feel pretty awesome—and reach out the other so he can help pull you to your feet. Your hand comes up to your own walkie button. “I’m not down, I’m fine—just slightly stabbed,” you add, and Spencer is getting his cuffs on the unsub when Hotch and JJ burst through the doors.

Well, Hotch bursts. JJ follows behind looking strangely winded for one of the most naturally athletic people you know.

“What happened? Are you alright?” he asks, and you lift your shirt to show him the sluggishly bleeding gash.

“I’m fine, see? It’s not even deep. Spencer saw blood and got a little ahead of himself.” You turn to Spencer, who sticks out his tongue, then back to Hotch, who looks haunted and pale, with that goddamn wrinkle between his eyebrows again. He’s bent down, looking over your wound seriously—you’ve had worse, so much worse, that you don’t understand why he’s so worried about it—and then he leans up, presses a hand to your cheek, and pulls you close for a soft, tender kiss.

If this were a movie, right about now a camera would be panning around you in a circle, as you wrap your free hand around his neck, pull him closer, melt against his body like it’s all you’ve been dreaming of for months, and the two of you would break apart smiling, maybe even kiss again.

It’s not a movie, though, so you just bleed out against your hand and freeze, because Hotch is kissing you at a crime scene and you almost got filleted, so you’re not sure if this is a you got hurt, so I’d better kiss you kiss or an I’ve been wanting to kiss you forever, and you got hurt so I have to kiss you kiss.

When he breaks the kiss, you’re both breathing a bit heavily, and you don’t know what to do, so you just lean in and press your lips to that wrinkle between his eyebrows that you’ve been thinking about so frequently since the first time you noticed it. You brush a hand through his hair, and when you pull back, he’s smiling.

“What was that?” He covers your hand on your side with his own and helps get you toward the elevator so you can be patched up by the EMTs; JJ and Spencer are left staring, open-mouthed in your wake, with an unconscious unsub at their feet, but neither of you are concerned about that.

“I’ve been thinking of doing that for months now: to kiss that spot between your eyes so you’ll stop frowning for a change. Since I couldn’t, I decided to find other ways to help you stop frowning so much. It kind of became my life’s mission.” He sighs, puts his arm around you and holds you close while you wait for the elevator to bring you to the ground floor.

“I stop frowning when you’re around because you’re around, not just because of the things you do for me,” he tells you, and he presses his lips to yours for another warm, soft, perfect kiss. “I’ve been thinking of doing that for months now.” You tilt your head, make a sound of contemplation, and he chuckles softly. “What is it?”

“I think those cryptic idiots we work with might be onto something,” you say with a grin, and when the elevator lets you off and Hotch helps you toward the ambulance to be patched up, Derek and Emily are waiting with concerned looks on their faces. They must be pretty confused to see you’re grinning from ear to ear. “Hey, you guys were right; Hotch does have a thing for me!” you call as you walk past them, and when your wound is properly dressed and wrapped, you put your arms around his neck and let him kiss you until the frown and accompanying wrinkle are nothing but distant memories.

*The novel excerpt is from The Weaver by Emmi Itäranta.

Taglist ❤️: @thaddeusly @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc @wishuhadstayed

[father-time-and-baby-new-year]

alphabet boy

SYNOPSIS: You should feel extremely lucky that the handsome and intelligent Armin Arlert is your tutor...even when he's a little mean to you. Because that's your fault, isn't it? He wouldn't have to be mean if you weren't so damn stupid.

PAIRING: Armin x FEM!Reader

DEDICATED TO: armin fuckers. non armin fuckers, i hope i can convert you.

TW: dubcon touching, manipulative behavior, gaslighting, academia shaming,

WC: 1.8k

“Maybe you’re not cut out for this class.”

He said it so casually, a comment spoken between the flip of textbook pages. You couldn’t shake off the undeniable hurt.

“I-Uhm, uh, yeah I have to study a lot...but I like this class. It was a pain to get off the waitlist.” You keep your voice optimistic and light, hoping to mask the offense taken.

You don’t know why Armin would say that, but maybe he was just being logical...he’s seen you struggle, of course, he’d think the class was too hard for you.

The blond sighs, closing his novel that he brought with him while he waited for you to finish your practice problems.

“You can barely keep up with the weekly homework assignments. You didn’t even hand in your assignment last week, right? Better drop out now before the add and drop deadline.” His voice is soft and cold at the same time. It’s unnerving.

You tuck your hair behind your ears, eyes set low, too ashamed to meet your tutor’s. Armin had been your tutor for the past few weeks now, and you thought it was going pretty well. He was so so smart that you couldn’t help but be a little starstruck. He was handsome too, short-cropped blond hair, wide blue eyes, with a wardrobe that was composed of slacks and sweaters.

Usually, he was always overly polite and charming. You could make countless mistakes and his patience was endless. He had some off-days where he was a little withdrawn and quiet. You never held it against him though, knowing he had no obligation to make idle chatter. But sometimes, you could feel his chilly gaze watching you even though he had a book propped open.

“I emailed the professor, he was really chill about it. Last week was really rough for me, you know? I wasn’t feeling well and...”

“You know excuses don’t fly in the real world right? You’re in college now. Professor Ackerman was just being courteous. He probably thinks you’re lazy.” Even though you try not to look at him, you can feel Armin’s azure blues burn holes into you. There was this quiet intensity about him that made you worry about when the restraints would come off.

Armin can’t help but let condescension drip over his words. Any self-respecting person would defend themselves, but not you. Not when you’re already broken by your own insecurities that make it that much easier for him to trample on.

He can already see pearly-sheened tears leaking from the corner of your hopeless eyes. How cute. You part your pretty little mouth to say something, but no words come out. You close your mouth soon enough, looking every bit like a dumb little airhead.

So he continues: “You know your classmates learned all the first few chapters from high school right? You’re the only one starting fresh.” He moves closer, elbows inching closer to infiltrate your little personal-space bubble, knees knocking into yours under the desk.

More tears form under your lower lashes, and Armin mentally counts the crystal droplets. You’re recoiling into yourself like a shrinking violet which only encourages Armin to go just a little farther.

“You don’t even have your major picked out yet. This is a core class for your classmates, you know. You’re wasting your-no, everyone’s time.”

Not wanting to cry in front of your tutor, you rub your eyes with the sleeve of your jacket, fully aware of how utterly pathetic you look right now.

In a small voice, you manage to utter, “I have a right...to be in this class. Even though I’m slow now, I think with some decent amount of studying...I’ll catch up. Even if I’m not-” you take a deep breath, “as quick as my classmates, I still really enjoy what I learn. And..and...I think at the end of the day, that’s what really matters!”

Armin scoffs, “Do you really like the class or are you staying for Ackerman? God knows how many fangirls he’s had to put up with.”

Even as he spoke those words, Armin knew it wasn’t entirely true. You admired the man zealously and had read all of his published papers. Honestly, your admiration had always annoyed him.

You wince at the insinuation but you could feel the anger simmering in your gut, “You have no right to imply that! Wh-why-” Your voice breaks, “are you being so mean?”

Armin thinks you’re so cute, the way you jut out your bottom lip. So cute and pathetic. The corners of his lips quirk upwards. It’s almost endearing how you say “mean” like it’s the worst thing a person can be.

“Am I being mean or am I being realistic?” The blond coos, “I’m your tutor, right? I know the best for you.”

He takes your silence as an invitation to goad you harder: “You’re only upset because I’m telling you what you don’t want to hear.”

You don’t notice the proximity until Armin lays his hand over yours, squeezing the soft flesh of your palms. His voice is gentle as he reassures you: “Hey, hey, don’t cry. It’s okay.”

He made you cry, but you don’t have it in you to pull away from the only semblance of comfort given to you. His chair scrapes the floor as he sets it right beside yours, wrapping an arm around you, encouraging you to lean your head against his shoulder.

It’s a little sad but this is probably the most physical contact you’ve gotten in a while. You’re an utter mess, and on top of all that, touch-starved.

You’re still sniffling like a crybaby, trying to sort your own emotions out. You take a few deep breaths and force yourself to face the facts:

You’re behind.

The class is too much work for you.

Armin’s right, you’re upset because he’s telling you what you don’t want to hear.

“D-do you really think I should drop the class?” Your voice is so defeated, a pinch louder than a whisper.

His long fingers play with the ends of your hair, “I know this class is really important to you and we both want you to do well...so why don’t we increase our tutoring sessions? Maybe we should meet three times a week.”

He smiles at you, and it looks so genuine. You’re immensely grateful, you are, but confusion washes over you, “Wow, Uh, that’ll be great actually but um, uni tutoring services is once a week...so-”

Armin dismisses your concerns with a gentle wave of his hands, “Don’t worry, It’ll be off the books. Think of this as private tutoring. Of course, we’ll have to start meeting in my room from now on.”

While he doesn’t elaborate on why you have to meet in his dorm, you assume Armin has a good reason and it probably involves university-sanctioned student-tutor guidelines.

You’re stammering out thank-you’s, still trying to rub the tears out of your eyes until you feel a soft handkerchief wiping them away.

“It’s okay, don’t worry.” He reassures, “Don’t use your sleeve. It’s too rough for your pretty face.”

You blush under his words, wide eyes locked into his oceanic blues, “I d-don’t know if I’ll be able to compensate you f-for the private tutoring.”

His eyebrows crease as he gives you a smile full of pearly teeth, “You don’t have to worry about that for now.” His hands graze over your knuckles, “We’ll figure something out.”

“Thank you Armin.” You say it so sincerely, trying to muster the biggest smile you can after the blond essentially trampled over your self-esteem to only nurse it back with sweet promises.

“Well, we better finish today’s work then.” He responds calmly, not bothering to detangle himself from you. You can feel his body heat radiating onto you, and how his hand moved to casually rest on your thigh. But that’s normal right? If you think about it, Armin was not exactly adverse to touch. During your past tutoring sessions, his hand would always be on the small of your back or shoulders.

“Hey, you’re not getting distracted again, are you?” His voice is playful like he isn’t sliding his hand up and down the span of skin between your skirt and tights. When you don't respond, he pinches your inner thigh, eliciting a startled gasp from you.

"Focus." It's a demand so it must be followed.

Embarrassed, you nod your head and return your focus to the problem sets even though your hands are shaky as you grip the ballpoint pen.

You don’t notice how the blond’s eyes gleam under the fluorescent lighting at your easy compliance. He’s always liked obedient girls.

Your thighs are growing warmer, and it doesn’t help to have Armin peering over you. Still, you try your best to lull yourself to focus until a ringtone breaks your concentration.

Armin breaks away from you to find his phone and you find your body subconsciously missing the warmth. He lightly curses under his breath once he sees the contact name, but answers nonetheless.

“Yeah...sorry babe. I forgot. I’ll be right over.” He sounds apologetic but he looks downright bored.

And like that, the call is over. He looks over at you with an apology falling from his lips, “Sorry about that. I forgot I had something to do today. We’ll end early.”

Your throat is dry as you ask, “Was that your girlfriend?” You regretted your words the moment they escaped. That was none of your business. It doesn’t matter if he was holding you earlier. He was doing so because you were bawling like a baby. But why did he touch your thighs?

That doesn’t have to mean anything, you rationalize. Besides, Armin would never make a move on you. He was a handsome senior with a perfect GPA and a powerful position in the student government. Stupid freshman girls like you are not worth the time he so generously gives out.

The blond smirks, seeming to notice your internal struggle, “Something like that. But don’t worry, I’ll make sure she won’t distract me from our future sessions.”

That was a puzzling comment. His girlfriend supposedly distracting from your study time wasn’t even a concern you held.

“No, no, that’s ok.” You quickly assure, “You’ve already helped me out so much.”

The blond pats the top of your head like you were a puppy, “I’d do anything for my cute little student.”

The way your face heats up with a dark blush should be criminal. All he did was pat your head, and you’re looking at him starry-eyed like he didn’t grope your thighs under the table. Honestly, all your cute little blubbering had gone straight to his cock. Annie would have to handle his big problem.

These private sessions are going to be fun.

part I ---- complete

[gucciwins]

Trouble Follows

Harry’s a firefighter, he believes in accidents not coincidences but that changes when he meets Y/N multiples times at different calls. 

Word count: 8128

A/N: Hello friends, hope you’re well. life has been eventful since the start of the year but when is it not. first story of 2021 and i’m excited to share it. i started this story a few months back (yes chicago fire was an inspiration). firefighter!harry is dear and near to my heart. i do hope you love it and let me know you thoughts. happy reading 

It's the start of a twenty-four-hour shift. 

A day that feels like it may never end until it does. 

 Harry's in the common room with the crew. He's got his black coffee, his first of many for the day, and the morning's paper that Lincoln dropped on the table. There isn't anything impressive; he grabs a pen he sees on the table and begins to do the crossword puzzle. 

10 letters

1. down - crater creator. 

Harry's already lost, and it is only the first one.

He's not good at them, not one bit. Sarah always ends up finishing the crosswords. 

The chatter is loud, and as he slides the newspaper down to Mitch, who will silently hand it over to Sarah. Harry likes the morning buzz; everyone catches up from not seeing each other for forty-eight hours. Although, many do see each other, seeing as they are roommates. Harry used to live with Mitch until he moved in with Sarah last fall after two years of dating. Mitch told him there might be a wedding in the future or, as Sarah likes to joke about all the time, an elopement.

"Morning, H.," Wilson says, patting his shoulder, making his way to the empty coffee awaiting him. Harry knows they are seconds away from an outburst. Wilson can be just a tad bit dramatic. 

The alarms begin to ring as he lifts up the empty pot. "Truck 51, Squad 3, 62, Battalion 25, Ambulance 62 House fire at 5082 North Bell Ave." 

"Looks like we were saved by the bell." Lincoln laughs as they all rush out to get dressed and on the truck as quick as they can. 

Harry and Mitch are out in seconds, never one to lollygag. The rest are quick to follow, slipping on their pants, and the coat quickly follows. Harry looks around, making sure everyone is accounted for before jumping into his spot in the passenger seat, Wilson at the wheel pulling out of the station with the siren blaring.

He watches the city go by as they rush to their destination. There is a lot heard of trees they pass by, and he knows they are passing the city park that is always filled with laughter and Harry knows they will be arriving soon, and as always, he prepares for the worst but hopes for the best. 

They arrive in under ten minutes. It's a nice residential area, one that doesn't make frequent calls. The fire seems under control, not growing, but there is a lot of smoke. "Frankie, Lincoln, make sure these people stay back." 

"You got it, Lieutenant," Lincoln responds quickly, getting to work, Frankie following right behind him.

Harry spots an old woman being held up by a young female his age. The old woman looks distraught by the fire, and Harry knows this must be the owner. 

"Ma'am, I'm Lieutenant Styles. Can you tell me what happened?" He approaches, voice firm, ready to take in the needed information. 

"She inhaled a lot of smoke. Can your paramedic check her out?" Harry's eyes shift to the woman. She's beautiful; she's in grey sweats and an oversized sweater that has what he assumes is Pascal from Tangled coming out of the pocket. Harry shakes his thoughts away, focusing back on her catching her last words. "Still in shock."  

"Sarah," Harry calls out once, and she is quick to rush over. They set the old woman on the stretcher and quickly put an oxygen mask over her. 

"Miss, may you tell me what you know. That way, we figure out the best way to get this fire out." 

She's quick to nod. "Of course, I was on my way over to check on Mrs. Waters like I do every morning, but this time was different. Earl, her next-door neighbor, was outside calling 9-1-1. He told me he didn't see her run out. I rushed in to see her standing on the top steps of her staircase, staring into the burning room. She was coughing a lot, and I rushed her out. She thinks she knocked the candle down in her knitting room when she went down for her tea." She says all that in one breath. "The room is the first door on the left up the stairs. It's the back of the house."

Harry nods at her before turning away. "Mitch, you and Wilson take the hose through the side gate. Spray the room; it's a candle fire. Once it's out, let me know, so we can go in for a sweep through."

"Yes, Lieutenant."

Harry sees Mrs. Waters has begun to calm down and has the color back in her face. He knows they are going to take her down to Med to do a run-through. Harry turns around to speak with the young woman, but he doesn't see her anymore. 

He's about to ask Sarah when he sees Chief Rivera run into a sprint and catches her in his arms. He didn't notice she began to walk away from him and over to the other pedestrians to assure them everything was alright. Harry yells for Esme, worried for the woman.

"I'm good." She barely makes out. "Think the adrenaline has run its course. That's all. I didn't even inhale that much smoke." 

Chief Rivera ignores her protests and sets her on the side of the ambulance. "Please check her out." He directs his orders to Esme. 

"Thanks for saving me, Mr. Chief. That would have led to a nasty concussion." Pascal sweater answers. 

Chief gives her a quick nod before walking away.

"Miss, what's your name," Esme asks her. Putting an oxygen mask over her face and resting it on her nose and mouth. She takes a deep breath before answering. 

"Y/N." 

Beautiful name. It suits her. 

"Do your lungs hurt or your chest?" 

"No, do you think I can ride with Mrs. Waters?" Y/N interrupts Esme with an apologetic smile. "It's just that her granddaughter is her last living relative and lives an hour away. Her husband passed away four months ago. I'm all she's got."

"We've got room for you," Sarah responds, always having a soft spot even though you wouldn't know from her tough exterior. 

Harry walks away, not hearing the rest of the conversation but feeling good that both are okay. He thinks she's crazy for rushing into a burning building with nothing on her to protect her, but he does this for a living, so who is he to judge? 

Mitch gives him the all-clear. 

Harry heads into the building with Frankie and Lincoln, no more thoughts of the beautiful girl he met. 

He's got a job to do, and he has to do it right. They start in the living room before entering the kitchen, seeing dirty dishes in the sink and a plate of what looks like fresh banana bread. He's going to be left with that craving. Harry leads the way up, careful with the stairs just in case of collapse, seeing how black the once blue carpet has turned. There was a lot of damage, and it pains him to see such a well-loved house be affected this way. 

"All clear!" He shouts, making sure Lincoln and Frankie head down before him. 

Once back outside, Harry slips off his helmet. He nods over to Chief Rivera, who gives him a curt nod in return. He turns around to address the crew, "Pack it up." Everyone scatters to gather and put away their tools as quickly as they can. 

All in a day's work, time to head back and hope each call is as successful as this one.

Harry might not tell anyone, but the woman Y/N stays on his mind all day. 

Sitting in his office, getting paperwork done is not something he enjoys. He is good at it, though. 

He's always thorough, a perfectionist. 

It's essential because the Battalion Chief isn't kind at all, and even the smallest mistake on a report can send him on a full-on rage rampage. Thankfully, it's been a few months, and he is on his fourth wife stuck in the honeymoon phase, at least for the time being, giving them all some much-needed peace. 

Harry has an open-door policy; he closes it; he feels he loses that connection to his friends. They may be coworkers, but after everything they have been through, he sees them as family, and one does not close the door on family. 

It is also because he gets to hear all that's going on. Sarah and Mitch were going to visit his family in the upcoming month, and Sarah seemed far more excited than Mitch. Wilson had a new date lined up for the weekend to make up for the next few days he has to spend at work. Esme was talking Frankie's ear off about how she was knitting a new blanket for her niece and how each patch would be a different color with a different meaning.  

He likes how well they all get on. Squad might keep their distance, but everyone does get along. It's not common in firehouses as he's heard from others. The hazing gets taken too far and ever a few male chauvinists. Don't worry, that isn't the one thing the Battalion Chief does not accept; he respects and loves women just doesn't like others' happiness. 

Harry's proud of how far he has come, but most of the family he has become a part of. He knows how lucky he is. It also means he will never take it for granted.

 They are his home away from home. Seeing as his family is an ocean away. 

"Harry." 

He looks up, seeing Mitch staring at him. "How can I help you, Mitchell?"

Mitch rolls his eyes, causing Harry to smirk. "Was wondering what you were doing after shift today?" 

"Asking me on a date? Think Sarah might get jealous." Harry smirks at his best friend.  

"It was her idea." 

Harry smirks is replaced with a sincere smile. "Told you she has a soft spot for me." 

"Dinner at my place? Have a few drinks, watch one of your favorite romantic comedies." Mitch suggests not at all like him to do so. 

Harry was about to say yes when the alarm started ringing. "Truck 51, Squad 3, Battalion 25, Ambulance 62." A brief pause, "School fire 1260 West Adams."

"That's the small elementary school up the street," Harry tells him, shooting up from his chair and out the door to get in the protective gear.

Harry knows this fire won't be easy, but he's with the best of the best and knows it'll be alright. He knows they are approaching, and he always likes to go over how he wants things to be handled before getting out, but more significant fires need more focus. He also knows they all fall under the Chief's orders today and not his. 

"Mitch and Wilson go in together. You know how it goes. Get everyone to head out, and our priority is getting the fire out" Harry looks back, getting a silent nod. "Candidate, how are you feeling?" 

"Ready, Lieutenant." She answers confidently. 

Harry gives her a sharp look, knowing he's got nothing to worry about her. Frankie is one of the best firefighters truck 51 has ever had. "Good, you'll be going in with Lincoln." 

"What about you, Lieutenant?" Lincoln can't help but ask.

"I'm sure the Chief is going in. I'm going to stick with him." Harry knows his Chief well, and nothing will stop him from helping out. 

Wilson parks right out front, and Harry can't see any smoke coming out. At least, not yet. 

Harry is met with who he assumes is the principal; he didn't have time for an introduction. The woman explained there was a science lab gone wrong and that the sprinklers did not go off. They rushed everyone out quickly, following the fire drill procedures.

These kids are panicked but are being pointed towards an exit, and not until after the fire is controlled can they make sure everyone is counted for. Harry knows they have to work swiftly and make sure no one gets left inside. 

A man with glasses and a smoked black salmon shirt approached them, and Harry assumed by the looks of it he was the teacher that was part of the fire. "The bunsen burner caught fire. I don't know why. We've done this experiment for years without accidents." 

He eyes a few students wet and can assume the sprinklers went off much later than they would have liked. It means the fire has lessened, and it was safer to go in. 

"We'll take care of it." He assures them. 

"Get two hose lines in there." Chief Rivera directs right away. "Truck, Squad search, and evacuate. Let's go." 

Everyone moves and begins to make their way into the burning building. It's a small two-story building; he sees frightened first graders to fifth graders watching him as he makes his way inside. 

"Keep moving," Chief Rivera says to teachers ushering students out. 

Harry knows Sarah and Esme have many people to look after and hope that more help can get there sooner rather than later. 

As he makes his way inside, he feels the alarm ringing in his ears as he follows close behind Chief. It's something he's used to but doesn't mean he likes it.

"Fire department, call out," Harry shouts. He scans each room, not seeing anything and continuing on.  

They make way to where the fire is, and it's growing. 

Harry can see a bunsen burner tipped on its side. He takes a step towards the classroom and see's another tipped over but with a tear in it. It seems that one ripped and caught a spark setting the fire off. 

"Chief, we need to get the gas off, or it'll only continue to grow." Harry looks over at Jorge, both waiting for the order to go in. 

Chief speaks into his radio, asking where the gas shut off is located. Harry hears Florence recite back what a male voice told him to the Chief.

"Gas tank is in the backroom; it should shut it off. Be careful." His voice gruff. 

"You got it." 

Jorge leads, and Harry follows behind right on his heel. It only grows hotter as they make their way inside. He hugs the right side of the room, making sure to avoid the growing fire. 

Jorge reaches to shut it when Harry notices a second one. "Jorge, there's two. We need to shut them at the same time." Harry hurries over. "Ready, turn!" 

It clicks shut, and they let out a deep breath. Jorge pats Harry on the shoulder in acknowledgment. 

"Let's head out. They need to hose this down." 

Harry nods and follows him out, moving much faster this time. As quick as he was in the building, he now stands outside of it. He slips his helmet off, wanting to lose some pressure. 

"Hey Chief, the fire's out." Lincoln comes out to inform. 

Chief responds with a grunt, turning to the principal, holding a binder with lots of overflowing papers. 

"What's the count?" Everyone holds their breath, waiting for the news. Squad prepared to go in if necessary.

"Everyone Is accounted for, Chief." She responds, a shaky smile on her face. 

"Good." 

Harry lets out the breath he was holding. There was no real injury today, and he is thankful for being burnt in a fire is not easy, and he knows that from experience. 

His crew had begun to clean up already, and he was about to join when he felt a light tap on his shoulder. He turns to see a familiar woman but waits for her to speak; after all, she approached him. 

"Hello, Lieutenant." She greets with a small smile. "There was no injury right. I checked over my students but want to know everyone else is safe." 

"Injuries there were none unless you count Lincoln tripping into the truck on the way here." Harry jokes, not sure at all what made him break his seriousness. 

She laughs. It's music to his ears.

He would enjoy being able to hear it again.

"Our team got everyone oxygen that needed it. The students and teachers are looking fine, and I assume parents have been informed of the incident." 

"Called and picked up as soon as you clear out." 

Harry stares at her for another second; she's wearing a lilac knitted sweater with bell-bottom jeans. He chuckles looks like he isn't the only one still wearing them out and about. 

"You're from the North Bell fire," Harry tells her. He acts like her name slipped his mind, but that is the farthest thing from the truth. Her face and her name have not left his mind since that day. It's as if it has been imprinted. 

"Yeah, Mrs. Waters. Good memory." She nods at him, obviously impressed. "She's good, staying with her granddaughter for the time being." 

"That's nice to hear." Harry knows their conversation is coming to an end. 

 "Well, thank you for lessening my concern. Have a good day, Lieutenant Styles." She flashes him a broad smile, her eyes shining bright, keeping him entranced even after she walks away from him.

Harry watches her walk away, how she kneels down to talk to a young girl who was crying. Wipes her tears away with a handkerchief, she pulled out of her pocket. Little girl eventually laughs; it rings loud throughout the mess that way today; a child's laugh uplifting in a moment of darkness. It truly is the small things in life that should be appreciated. 

 His thoughts drift back to Y/N; what are the odds he runs into her just one week later. 

She's pretty; he's not going to lie. He'd ask her on a date if he were to meet her at a bar, but no, never on the job. 

If it's happened twice, maybe he's lucky enough for a third. 

Although he hopes under better circumstances. 

Harry had gone unbothered for over two hours, which is too long in the firehouse. He got the majority of his work done and decided to leave his office to find out what everyone was up to. 

He was not surprised to see them in the common room, but he was shocked to see them all munching on cookies and not just any kind. They were snickerdoodle cookies, and they smelled divine like his mother had just taken them out of the oven with his watchful gaze eyeing every single one. 

"Those smell amazing." Harry was quick to say eagerly, wanting someone to hand him one or five. 

"Home-baked," Sarah calls out through a mouth full of cookies she was chewing.

Harry laughs because he knew that already. He reaches into the box in front of Mitch but is met with a slap on his wrist, and Harry quickly pulls back. 

"Oi, that's not very kind of you, Mitchie." 

Harry crosses his arms over his chest, but Frankie walks by a smaller box in hand, 'Lieutenant' written on top in elegant writing, and shoves it into his chest. He grabs it quickly, not wanting it to fall. 

"Who brought them?" Harry asks because whoever baked something so heavily deserves all the praise, and he is more than ready to give it. 

He opens his box and bites into the still-warm cookie. He holds back a moan, not up for the others teasing, but it truly is the best cookie he has ever eaten. 

"It was the woman from the school fire, the one that approached you in the end," Sarah tells him, her hand reaches for a new cookie. 

Harry frowns; she was here and missed her. No one thought to call him to come out. 

If he is honest, he hasn't been able to get her off his mind. Two short interactions, and it is as if she has put him under a spell. He lets out a low chuckle at the thought.

He always tells others he has no time for a relationship, but the truth is he hopes for love. He just doesn't want it to be one night of passion. He wants endless nights, where it ends cuddling with the same person with constant whispers of I love you. 

He's a hopeless romantic. 

Harry would happily marry this woman. Although trouble does seem to follow her. 

It might not be something he needs in life, especially in his line of work.

Golden's. 

A safe haven. 

A place that feels like home, where firefighters, paramedics, and doctors come for a drink and a good time. The perfect place to come drink away your sorrows with a shoulder to cry on in every corner—the ideal place to celebrate significant accomplishments with the friends that have slowly become your family.

 Esme, a paramedic, and Jorge, a firefighter work at Firehouse 19 with Harry; they are the ones who opened up Golden's three years ago. Esme wanted a place to make creative drinks, and Jorge, well, he loved crunching numbers in his spare time, leading to this bar's birth. 

Hanging on the walls are pictures of all their family and friends. Harry is proud to be displayed on the wall multiple times, and he loves each photo taken. His favorite being one that is hung right under what he calls his table. It's a photo of all of Firehouse 19 after he was made Lieutenant. Everyone in their uniforms dressed to the nines. Chief Rivera had the biggest smile on his face, as did Harry. Everyone around him had cheered for him, and they then all headed to Golden's for a celebration where his mother and sister were among his firehouse family. That picture always brings a smile to his face. 

Harry sits there at his table with Mitch, his best friend, who he met entering the academy from the moment Harry said hello, and Mitch grunted in return he hasn't been able to shake Harry off, but they wouldn't have it any other way. 

Harry has been told he has a lively personality, always conversing with those around him; Mitch was mellow, a wallflower. Mitch came to life around Sarah; Harry joked how he had heart eyes around her. Sarah is a force to be reckoned with. The kindest smile but the highest walls, she dropped them down without a second thought for Mitch, seeing as he was the one to make conversation with her when she was transferred from Station 25. Harry admires her strength and quick thinking. She had a dream of being a doctor but is happy as a paramedic for the time being. 

The fourth seat at their table always remains empty, open to anyone wanting to sit down for a conversation, but never permanent. Harry knows as well as Mitch that it's being saved. Saved for that certain someone to walk into his life.

He's left wondering if he's finally met her. 

Harry spots Esme free and gets up from his table to sit at the bar asking for two beers knowing Mitch will join him. He doesn't try to start a conversation, thoroughly enjoying the buzz of conversation around him and the comfort of Mitch next to him.  

It's been three days since the high school fire and two days since the cookies, and all he can think about is Y/N. If he had to guess she was a teacher, he forgot to ask too focused on the fire yet too stunned to ask her why she was there. She had been quick to have everyone checked for and was most relieved when he confirmed everyone was counted for. 

Harry was sure he'd never see her again, that she'd cross his path, and that was it. No, instead, he sees her less than a week later, but he made no move to ask her out even though he knows she's interested. At least it seems like she was. She didn't have to approach him that second time or send him his own box of cookies. If he were to meet her now, he wouldn't think twice about asking her out but meeting her out while on the job, he wouldn't let her be a distraction. 

"What's got you thinking so hard?" Mitch says, interrupting his internal debate. 

Harry takes a drink of his beer. "Nothing." He sighs. "At least I think it's nothing." 

"That woman from the high school fire." Mitch states. 

Harry chuckles; nothing gets past him. "Yeah, don't know why. She seems to invade my thoughts, and all I know is her name and that accidents happen around her." 

"Maybe she's a firebug," Mitch suggests. 

"She's not an arsonist." Harry nudges Mitch. "Don't joke about that. Her aura's too bright. You saw how she was with the students and teachers." 

Mitch laughs. "Aura, what are you talking about?" 

"Oii, leave me alone. I told you I got into meditating and have been doing lots of reading. Gem sent me this book about seeing and feeling it. Your aura gets brighter around Sarah." 

Mitch's cheeks go red about to respond when his phone rings. "Speaking of." Harry sips his beer as Mitch takes his phone out.

"I'm taking this outside; she's checking in for the night. Letting me know she's alright." Mitch says, finishing off his beer. Sarah was out visiting family for the weekend, and Mitch couldn't join, so Harry was more than happy to keep him company.

Harry raises his hands defensively. "I didn't say anything." 

His eyes follow Mitch outside, watching him hold the door open, phone to his ear when he sees her walk in. She's dressed in skin-tight jeans, hugging her hips nicely. A white silk top and completing the look is a black leather jacket. Harry shits in his seat, she looks fantastic, but he might need a shot or two to get the courage to go over to her. 

Harry downs the two tequila shots Jorge placed in front of him, turning to look back at her when he sees two guys with her. It seems they know her well, standing so close to her. One has a hand on her back, and Harry's confidence deflates. 

She's got a boyfriend, of course, she does. 

The men are good looking Harry hates to admit, he knows he's attractive, but those two might give him a run for his money. They tower over her, like guards protecting a queen. She walks forward, both men trailing behind. She does a quick scan of the room as she approaches the bar, and smirk forms on her face as her eyes meet him for a brief second. 

His view is quickly blocked when a female embraces her in a hug. She pulls back, and Harry is surprised to see that the friend is Frankie. 

Frankie is the candidate he welcomed onto his truck six months ago. Frankie is remarkable, goes after what she wants, and gets along well with everyone. Chief Rivera was impressed from the start, and that's hard to do. 

Harry sits there watching, wondering which one could be her boyfriend. The blonde has a good chance he has his arm thrown over her shoulder casually, but she doesn't lean into him. That makes him smile. Brings back the small confidence he has left. The group laughs at something the redhead said, and she reaches up to kiss the redhead's cheek so it could be him. Harry wants them to come this way and have Frankie introduce them, but they stay far enough where he can't hear their conversation, only her sweet laugh. He looks away but turns once more when he sees movement in the corner of his eye. It's Frankie wrapping her arms around redhead's neck and kissing him on the lips. The blonde has his eyes on someone across the bar, and just like that, Harry can breathe again. Y/N lifts her gaze and catches him staring; she sends him a sly wink before whispering something in Frankie's ear. 

No boyfriend. That's good; it means Harry might have a shot after all. 

He hears Frankie pass behind him, meaning she also passed by. He lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. 

He startles when he hears a voice next to him order an old-fashioned. He knows it's her.

"Hey there, Lieutenant" She's leaning against the bar smiling at him. "Frankie was telling me you've never had a woman as a candidate." She says, taking a step forward into his space. Frankie comes behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "She acts all tough, but between you and me, it's all an act." She raises her drink to take a sip. "Just like you." 

"Sorry about her Harry, we don't take her out enough to know how to act around others." Frankie jokes as she walks off with her three beers. 

"Ouch." Y/N laughs as she watches Frankie walk away from them. 

"You're very forward, firebug." Harry comments 

She shrugs. "So I've been told." Y/N pauses acknowledging the nickname. "Did you call me an arsonist?" 

Harry's eyes go wide. How does she know the term? "No, of course not. I know you didn't start those fires, but two run-ins around a fire the nickname is kind of perfect." 

It really is. Harry hopes she agrees. 

"Alright, Styles, I'll accept the term of endearment. As long as I'm the only one." 

"Wouldn't want anyone else," Harry answers truthfully.

She looks him up and down clearly, not hiding she's checking him out. Harry feels confident in his outfit for the evening. He's wearing a vintage 'Enjoy Health, Eat Your Honey' shirt tucked into black flared corduroy jeans. Her gaze stays on his forearms, admiring the tattoos. Her gaze lingers on the mermaid as if she wants to raise her finger and trace around it. 

"So, you've been hiding all that under roughly 45 pounds of gear give or take the weight of items." She tuts, shaking her head. "What a shame." 

"Not like I can do my job without the gear, makes running into a burning building easier." 

"I suppose." Y/N smirks, a glimmer in her eye. "How fast do you have to put on the gear?"  

He narrows his eyes at her, not knowing where she's going with this. "Under two minutes. Gets faster as time goes by." He answers cautiously. 

"Pretty sure, I could undress you in less than that. Leave you in your boxers, or do you prefer briefs." She takes a sip of her whiskey. "Maybe you don't like using it, heard they could be constricting." 

Harry can't help the blush that takes over his cheeks; he's never met someone so forward. He wants to get to know her, and by the looks of it, she feels the same way. 

They stare at each other for a few seconds taking in the other's face. Harry notices the smallest detail, like the small scar close to her eyebrow. He catches the peaking of a tattoo from under her jacket. He's really intrigued now. 

"It's Harry." He says, bringing his hand out to shake, knowing he's never appropriately introduced himself like she has. 

She grabs it and leans in close. "Personally, I like Lieutenant." He shifts slowly, but then she gestures down without breaking eye contact. "Think you do as well."

She finishes her drink and sets it back down. She places a twenty on the counter to cover the cost of her drink and his. "I'll see you around, Lieutenant Harry." 

She's out of sight in the next few seconds. 

He wants her, more than for just a night. Harry wants to be the reason she laughs, the reason she smiles but most importantly, the one she gets to love. He has it bad. He's never met someone so forward and direct with their flirting; he really loved the attention. 

 Now that he knows Frankie has a connection to her, Harry knows he'll see her soon. Who knows when that is. He'll be counting the seconds until then.

Mitch walks in and sits next to Harry, pocketing his phone. "Miss anything interesting?" 

Harry throws his head back and groans. "You have no idea."

Friday's are never the same. Harry feels like he can never prepare for these days. They had just gotten back from a call; it was a kitchen stove fire gone wrong. It was an in and out; a fire extinguisher was really all they needed. The family was very thankful. He was just glad they were smart enough to turn the stove off. 

Harry had just grabbed a seat when the alarm began to ring. He knows everyone is holding back a groan, but it's their job. Sometimes there are either too many breaks or not enough. 

"Pin in accident, Columbus Drive Bridge." 

Harry is quick to dress, finishing first. He taps the side of the truck, "Let's go, let's go!" Everyone picks up the speed, and they are out in seconds. Wilson is not light on the honking, knowing an accident on the bridge is never good. 

"Alright, candidate, remember to walk with a purpose, don't run." Harry begins. 

Frankie nods. "Access the details before you act." She finishes off for him.

"Good." 

The police are on the scene keeping back the curious group of people that have gathered. Harry shakes his head. All people love having a front-row view of accidents. 

The accident looks bad, two cars: one car seems abandoned, a door left wide open. It seems to him that was who caused the accident, good things the police can run their plates. In the second car, the passenger seat door is jammed, there is glass everywhere. There is one person in the driver's seat, a blanket over them.

Harry approaches the vehicle seeing Wilson already assessing the passenger and how best to take them out. 

"Female, mid 20's," Wilson calls out. 

Harry sees her door is jammed in. "We need to pry open her door before getting her out. The hit was all on the passenger side, but please be careful we don't know her injuries." 

Lincoln gets to work, Harry stands to the side, waiting to cut the driver's belt and out of the car.

"She had a blanket over her. The glass missed her face, but one got her abdomen. She's a funny one, taking the pain like a champ. She said she's a nurse so knows it didn't hit an organ." Sarah tells him, as she spoke to her from the back window wanting to best prepare for when they get her on the stretcher. 

"Ma'am, how you doing? We are doing our best to get you out." Harry tells her, seeing the door being removed, quickly moving in to remove her seatbelt, which saved her life. 

"Thought we were on a first-name basis, Lieutenant." She speaks quietly, voice trembly. 

He steps back in shock, seeing her remove the blanket from her face. Her face clean of injury, Stevie Nicks' shirt red and ripped. She's hurt and laughing, but he feels like his heart wants to jump out of his throat.

It's Y/N. 

There's blood, and she's injured, but she's okay.

She's fine. 

She's alive.

He never wants to see her like this again. 

"Took years to find this exact shirt. Got it for a steal at $10." She groans jokingly. "Do you have a remedy to wash out blood?"

"In fact, I do; how about I help you with it once you get these stitches?" Harry tells her, hoping to keep the conversation going, keeps her calm as it is doing for him. 

"Asking me on a date on the job. Not very professional." She teases him.

"How do I know you didn't cause this accident just to see me?" He banters back. 

He has her in his arms, taking her out slowly. She has very few injuries; he's carrying her to the stretcher when he hears her cries. 

"It wasn't my fault you have to know." She cries out. "It was green, it really was, I promise. There are traffic cameras here, so check. I waited a few seconds then went and next thing I know I have the blanket over me. I've got quick reflects." She smiles slightly at the thought. "A nice lady told me help was on the way." Harry wipes her tears away. "I was on my way to the grocery store. Annie, my neighbor, wanted brownies, and I told her I would run to the store to get the items. She's going to be so upset." 

"Not your fault, I believe you. Everyone here does." His heart is breaking. She doesn't deserve to feel this, especially when the other driver got away scratch-free, it seems. 

"I'm the safest driver out there. I've never gotten a ticket, not even a parking one. When I took my driving test, I passed with zero errors. They said it hasn't happened in years." She groans as they load her into the ambulance. 

"I believe you. Your insurance must love you." He comments, getting a small laugh out of her. 

"Tell Frankie to send me flowers. I don't like coming home to no flowers." 

Esme slams the door shut, and off they go. 

He knows Frankie saw and heard; he knows Chief is with her. As good as one is doing their job, once family is involved, it's quick to lose one's focus. Harry knows he has to check on her once they are back at the station. He's going to encourage her to see her friend, not having to worry about the end of the shift because when it comes to family, that is their priority. 

Harry knows Mitch is watching him like a hawk, waiting for him to give him any kind of sign he's not okay, but he knows better. He's not allowed to break down in front of his crew. Not something he lets himself do. 

Instead, he does what he knows best. He gives orders.  

"Pack up back to the station."

Just like that, they begin to load up the truck, everything in their rightful place, but all he can think about is Y/N and if she truly is going to be okay. 

Harry is pacing outside her door. 

Yes, he got her address. He had to know how she was doing. Frankie was kind enough to give it to him, not without a few warnings. As in if he did anything to upset her, she knew how to handle a halligan. Harry dares not to cross her. He, after all, has only honorable intentions for Y/N.

He takes a deep breath before raising his hand and knocking three times. He quickly takes a step back, not wanting to be too close when she opens the door if she opens the door. 

It swings open, and there she stands in an oversized t-shirt and grey joggers. "I have been wondering when you would show." She grins at him. 

Harry's eyes widened. "You knew I was coming?"

She nods. "Of course, Frankie had to make sure it was okay to give my address to a man I've only had one proper conversation with." 

"It was two, really." Harry jokes. 

"Two then." She smiles down at her feet, starting to feel bashful under his watchful gaze. That is when her eyes catch sight of the gift in his hands. 

"You brought me flowers." She exclaims, reaching for the pink peonies, and he quickly extends his hand for her to take them.

"Wasn't sure your favorite. These reminded me of you and how beautiful you are." He shares, feeling his cheeks heat up, running a hand on the back of his neck, wanting her to say something and save himself from embarrassment. 

"Thank you." She sniffs them. "I've always loved peonies, don't think I've ever been gifted them before." She moves to the side and gestures him to come in.

"Would you like something to drink? I would have offered you food, but I didn't cook tonight; Frankie dropped off Chinese for one." She gives him a small smile to make up for it.

"It's no problem; after the day you had, my well being is not of your concern," Harry tells her, happy to accept the water she handed him.

"See, you're wrong, Styles." Harry frowns, meeting her eyes as she continues on. "You have a dangerous job, so I feel I do have a right to worry about you." 

"Fair enough." 

Harry sips his water, and she does the same. He assumes she's trying to collect her thoughts. That is what he's trying to do. 

He loses his train of thought as he begins to take in the yellow-painted cabinets; the hue holds a softness that allows them to stretch from floor to ceiling without feeling overwhelming. Brown granite countertops and hardwood floors temper the yellow; the bronze hardware marries the two colors. He's never felt so calm and safe in a kitchen. 

Back to his thinking, a good reason to tell her why he came to visit her because indeed she'll have to ask.  

It could be his crush on her, a growing infatuation. At this point, it might be like already. 

One goal before he leaves her house is well-- to have asked her on a date. 

Harry's train of thought is broken as she begins to speak.

"I want to apologize for breaking down in your arms. That wasn't right of me." 

Harry scoots closer, placing a ringed hand on top of hers, resting on the counter; this causes her to look up at him. "Hey firebug, no need to apologize. It was a tough situation. The crew said you handled it really well." He smiles and gives her hand a squeeze. "I'm happy you're okay." 

She nods and lets his words hang in the air for a minute. "I made brownies, and Annie helped me. She did the heavy lifting today. Do you want some?"

Harry knows she changed topics because she felt overwhelmed, and he was happy to follow her lead. "I'd love to try these brownies. If they were as good as your cookies, then I might just eat them all." 

A huge grin takes over her face at his confession; he accomplished exactly what he was looking for. 

"You loved the cookies?" She asks. 

"Loved honestly might have shed a tear when I ate the last one. Your cookies are what I assume they give to eat in heaven." He jokes but very much meaning each word.

"Thank you, I'll be sure to take more down to the station soon." Y/N blushes looking away from Harry's piercing gaze. 

"You know, I didn't even ask you how you're doing." Harry laughs, forgetting the reason he came over.

She laughs with him. "I did as well; if you'd ask me, it feels like a regular date night." 

Y/N doesn't blush at her words, but Harry sure does. "Date night, huh." She nods. "I'd be up for more nights like this." 

"Good to know." 

They stare at each other for a few seconds taking in each other's smile and how easy it is together. 

"Back to your original question, I'm doing good. Only needed five stitches and should heal up nicely." She puts her hand over her injury as if remembering the pain. 

"Well, I'm glad you're well. I'm a phone call away if you ever need anything." 

She all but glows at his words. "I'll keep that in mind." 

After a while, Harry helps her move over to the couch, wanting her to be comfortable. He fixes her pillows a few times, wanting her to not feel any kind of pain. Y/N just basks in the attention; it's not everyday she has a firefighter fawning over her. 

Time with Y/N seems to fly by because the next time his eyes catch sight of the time, it's nearing nine pm. He can tell she's knackered, but he and neither she sees an end in their conversation. It just flows so easy and who are they to try to stop it. 

Harry is learning about why she moved to the city and how she has an interview next week for the pediatrics department at Med. Also, she was at the school because she volunteers weekly; Miss Lucy is a teacher Y/N went to uni with and likes doing fun activities with the nine-year-old. 

Harry truly doesn't understand how she has so much to give to others, but he's glad to be receiving some of it as well. He hopes to give her back half of what she gives to others. 

"I've always seemed to find myself in trouble. Never the cause of it, but it's always around. I always thought it was me, and it seems to be true." Y/N shares with him. She has struggled with growing up; she may have many friends, but she doesn't stay in a place long enough to make herself feel at home, but so far, it has been different. 

Harry sees how much her words hurt to say. He leans over and grabs her hand. He squeezes it tightly before intertwining their fingers together. He really loves holding her hand, and he hopes she continues to allow him to do so. 

"Where angels go, trouble follows." Harry breathes out, never breaking eye contact with her. It takes every fiber in his body not to reach over and plant his lips on hers. He so badly wants her to believe his words because he knows he does. 

She truly is an angel from above, and he is lucky enough to be welcomed into her life. 

Y/N feels her cheeks heat up but never breaks eye contact with Harry. 

They fall silent, basking in what seems to be their final moments together for the night. 

"I should really get going, poppet. Got to let you get your rest." She nods and lets him help her up so she can walk him to the door. 

"Do you believe in faith?" She asks as they stand outside the door. 

He shrugs. "I never believed in all of that stuff, but in a matter of a few weeks, I've run into you four times, and I wouldn't leave that up to luck. I thank whatever brought us together and that they'll keep us together."

"I like that a lot."

He kisses her cheek softly. "As soon as those stitches are out, will you let me take you out on a date?" 

"I'd prefer something sooner, but I can wait." She teases.

Harry nods; he feels like he does a lot of blushing around her. He really enjoys how she makes him feel. 

"I'll check in tomorrow." He promises. 

"Just so you know, if I need anything, I won't be calling for firehouse 51." He stops. "I'll be calling this guy that has a thing for me that runs into burning buildings for a living."

"Any time of the day, I promise I'll answer the call, poppet." 

He had just put his seatbelt on when his phone began to ring. Harry picks it up, never breaking eye contact with her. 

"Lieutenant, I need some help. See, I was in an accident today, and I know it might seem a little strange, maybe a bit forward." She bits her lip, not yet breaking the intense eye contact. "I could really use a cuddle to feel better. Do you know anyone that can help out with that?" 

Harry shakes his head at her but nonetheless shoots her a dimpled smile. He jumps out of his car and strolls up to her—phone in hand, beautiful smile on her face.

"I would be honored." He leans in and connects his lips to her cheek; he lets it linger for a few seconds before pulling away. "Now, let's get you in bed. I heard from a little birdie you don't kiss before a first date, so the sooner you heal, the better." 

Y/N lets out a small groan at Frankie. "Maybe I can make an exception." 

Harry doesn't hide the surprise on his face at her words. "You certainly will make life more interesting." 

She giggles as she leads him to her room, Harry following closely behind.

Harry knows they were meant to walk into each other's life. The feelings he is starting to feel for her something he has never felt before. 

Call him cliche, but a never-ending spark has been ignited. 

thank you so much for reading! i love you

come chat trouble follows with me

taglist: @bigspoonstyles​ @taintedwonder​ @sunflowersupremacy​

[lexiasmind]

Prohibited.

Forbidden.

PAIRING. Ransom Drysdale x Reader.

SUMMARY. Ransom asked for you to come, so you did. Having in mind what would eventually happen, and with the full intention to enjoy yourself while you are at it.

But soon, you find your thought deep in reminiscence on how you and your “cousin” had started this prohibited relationship in the first place.

A/N. DARK AU. It’s a very DARK series! ANGST AND SMUT (explicit sexual content, 18+ only), slight Daddy Kink. Mentions of incest (kind of... not really. Do not read it if it makes you uncomfortable). Ransom, as usual, is a d***. In the flashback, reader is 20/21, still studying in a private school before going to college. And Ransom is 23/24.

This is Sequel/Prequel of Forbidden. Don’t hesitate to leave a comments, your thoughts, and feedback. I hope you will like it and thank you for reading.

A lots of Love. Lex! xx

WORDS. 3972ish.

°°°

You knew you could just open the door and let yourself in Ransom's house. However, after working for the last years on the West Coast, you didn't know on what ground your relationship stood. Except, when Ransom opened his front door, a faint smile creeping on his lips, his blue eyes mischievous, you knew you were still close from his perspective.

" I thought you would never come. " He greeted you, pushing his body to the side for you to step inside. " I was spending time with the family. " You announced to him, removing your light jacket from your shoulders. " You know, our family. The same family who celebrates Easter and every other holiday together. The family I didn't have the chance to catch up with since I left. " You informed him, tucking your jacket under your arm. " And who's fault is that? " He whispered, embracing your body from behind, his arms on your lower stomach, his face leaning on the crook of your neck.

You deeply sighed already annoyed but pressed your back against his chest, your head against his shoulder, the softest of his sweater under your cheek made your mind quiet for a minute.

" You know, I wasn't the one who left. " Ransom mumbled his lips against your ear. "I wasn't the one who moves across the country, breaking up what we had." " Something we should never have started. " You murmured, your eyes looking at his fancy carpet on the floor. " I took the best decision, and I don't regret anything. " " You sure, baby? " Ransom nudged his nose against your neck and pressed a soft kiss on your skin.

No. No, you weren't sure. But you have made a decision back then; to stop what you have with Ransom. Your cousin. Something that started so quickly that you always wondered how everything had unfolded so fast.

°°°

a couple of years ago;

You always loved to go to Harlan's when you wanted to do your homework. It was quiet, from your little sister begging for you to come to play with her and your mom babbling on and on about a new product. Harlan being a calm, and peaceful man always loved you to come to his place, to talk and grab something to eat and drink or just work. But this afternoon, another person was here beside you.

" Ransom what happened! " You shouted out, frowning your eyebrows at his poor sight.

Leaning on the counter, his hands holding a frozen bag of peas against his cheek, your cousin sighed deeply watching you warily stepped inside the kitchen. You could see the form of a red bruise under his makeshift band-aids.

" Nothing. " He grumbled, dropping his gaze on the floor, annoyed by your question. " Alright. " You grimaced in front of his awful bad mood and shrugged your shoulders. " I'm gonna do my homework here if it doesn't bother you. " You announced to him with a faint smile, dropping your bag on the floor and taking a seat at the smaller table. " Whatever. " He rolled his eyes toward the ceiling and pushed his back to you.

You remembered being close with your cousin a long time ago, when you were both just small children. You will never forget the playtime you used to have together, in trees building some kind of cabin and pretending to be either pirates or bandits. But as you both grew, and you both become more different having other hobbies, and interests, you grew apart from one and another. Also, Ransom growing up as dickhead wasn't helping your relationship. A fresh glass of juice and some good cookies and you were in a perfect mood to start your homework. Beginning with a paper on the French Revolution. But a loud noise coming through the TV prevented you to focus on the lines of your book. Glaring at your cousin's back, you quietly swore seeing him increasing the device's volumes, the voice of sports commentators echoing through the kitchen as the pictures of a baseball game played on the screen.

" Can't you just go to the study, living room, or your mom's room to watch the game? " You asked irritated by his selfish behavior. " I'm kind of working here. " You told him, biting your lips to not insult him as you should. " Can't. " Ransom replied, his back still turned toward you. " I don't want to miss anything from the game. " He added, leaning his side on the counter. " Ransom, I'm sure you missing out a few seconds of this won't be the end of the world. " You sighed, throwing your pen on the table as you heard the loud cheers from the crowd while a player does some kind of throw. " Yes, it would be. " He simply declared, starting to tap his fingers on the table next to him.

You rolled your eyes, holding yourself to push him on the ground, and started to chocked the life out of him. You took a deep breath, collecting your thought, and tried to concentrate, once again on the history page until a fast and quick hand grab your book from the table. You snapped your eyes up toward the culprit. Your older cousin's face was holding the book pretending to be interested in the pages.

" And what's this about? " Ransom asked, completely mocking you and making you lose time with his childish behavior. Maybe he hasn't grown up that much. " Ransom, give it back! " You ordered, raising and walking toward where he stood. You tried to reach for your book, but he dodged his hands, a smile playing on his face. " That's not funny but childish, R'. Come on'. " You tried again but your cousin ducked his hands to the other side under your frustrated and angry gaze. " You haven't grown for a bit, haven't you?" " And, you are still the whiny, stuck-up little girl who don't know how to have fun. " He answered smirking as he saw your poor attempt to take your book from his hands.

He took a step back as you took a step forward. You tried once again to take back the book, but this time Ransom put it behind his back, making you pressed your chest against him. You stretched your arms behind him trying to catch your stuff. You could feel his hot breath against your cheek, his profile next to yours. Suddenly, he leaned his face into the crook of your neck and put a soft kiss on your throat, just under your ear. You shivered feeling his warm lips on you, almost forgetting about your little fight.

" You smell so good Y/N. " Ransom murmured his lips pressed against your skin. " You always do. " He added, putting another kiss on your neck. " R-Ransom? " You called him, unsure of what he was doing. " What happened to your face? " You questioned him in a whisper, worry growing inside your stomach. You slightly pushed your head aside, letting more room for his mouth on you. " I fought with some jerk at school. Nothing to worry about. " He explained to you, his lips still brushing the skin of your throat before he put light kisses on you again. He dropped the book behind his back on the table, and pushed his hands around your frame, resting them on your lower back. " I don't want to talk about this anymore. " He murmured pressing a firm kiss on your ear. He bit lightly your earlobe between his teeth. " Y-Your mom says that you fight a lot lately. " You choked a moan, closing your eyes for a few moments before opening them and realizing what was happening. " Do you remember when we were playing at the back of the garden every summer? " Ransom recalled, changing the subject. " We were spending every August together. Sleeping here for the holidays. And, at the moment the sun was up, we were there. Playing all day. " He continued putting light kisses on your cheek, moving dangerously toward your mouth.

You licked your lips, dreading his words and his movement while you put your hands on his biceps, trying to catch your balance. You exactly knew what he will say next. Scared and embarrassed you dropped your eyes on his chest, not strong enough to look inside his mesmerizing blue eyes.

" We played mommy and daddy back then. And we pretended to be in love, playing with your doll and all. We also had our first kiss. A light, innocent kiss. " He breathed out, brushing your nose with his own. " Our first kiss, something I will never forget baby. " Ransom murmured his mouth a few inches from yours. " It was a silly little game for children. " You declared, shaking your head slightly. " We were being goofy. " " What about the time when my friend Carter challenged you to kiss me? " He mused, stroking your waist and playing with the hem of your school sweater, his fingers starting to pull up the fabric to touch your skin. " Was it also a game, or does it meant more for you? " He inquired, his mouth close to yours, you could feel his breath against your lips. " I- I - " You stuttered lost for words, your heart beating hard inside your chest. You licked your lips again, frustrated and confused. " Let's play again, Y/N. " He whispered, his fingers stroking the skin of your waist. He pressed his figure closer to your body. " You will be the mommy and I will be the daddy. " " What are you talking about?! Ransom stop it! " You tried to push on his arms, but his stronghold didn't move away from you. " Why do you want this? " You murmured, puzzled by this odd behavior, still trying to squirm away from him.   " Because it's fun and I want to kiss you. " The dark-haired man answered before pressing a soft kiss on your lips.

Stunned, you didn't kiss him back. But you stood inside his arms, his soft mouth against your own. The souvenir of your other kisses playing inside your head when you were young children mimicking what the adult used to do. When you were a teenager wanting to prove yourself in front of his stupid friends from boarding school. Doing the bold move to kiss your cousin for their stupid "dare". Ransom pulled away from you a little and pushed a soft kiss on your cheek.

" Kiss me back, Y/N. It's ok, just kiss me. " He mumbled to you, pressing another kiss on your cheek. " It's wrong. " You sighed, uncomfortable. " If Harlan saw us…" " Grand pa' is not here. " Your cousin informed you, pulling your body closer to him. " Anyway, we aren't doing anything wrong. Come on, baby. Play with me for a minute. " He urged you pressing a soft kiss on your lips, once again. " No. Ransom it's bad. " You pulled your face away from his, pushing your mouth aside from his wandering lips. " We can't, we can't. " You murmured closing your eyes, ashamed. " Of course we can." He protested, enlacing you ore tightly. " I know you want to. " He said, before catching your lips with his own, humming against your mouth.

You closed your eyes, feeling his fingers caressing your flesh, scared, puzzled, and excited, you kiss him back unsure. Confused, you slid your lips against his mouth, tasting him. Ransom bit lightly your lower lip, pushing his warm tongue inside your mouth. Gently he started to stroke you, drifting his hand on you butt. You let him, you rose your trembling hands on his cheeks to pull him closer to you. Ransom backed away a little bit, his bright eyes shining inside the room, lightened by the afternoon sun. He stroked your nose with his and made you turned around, your back collided with the counter. He put his body in front of you and carried your frame on the edge of the table, making you seat on the cold marble board. He put each of your legs behind his hips, a grin creeping on his lips as he stepped up between them. Stunned, your hands still on his cheek, you started to lean your head again to touch the soft skin of his lips. They felt like heaven. 

"Now, Daddy will take care of you. " He mumbled against your mouth.

You kissed him, both of your nose brushing and your wet lips sliding against each other. You caressed his cheeks, tilting your head on the side while his hands were on your waist holding you close against his chest. You tucked your feet behind his back, your heart beating hard inside your chest. You were still scared and confused but your needs and desire were growing stronger than anything else. Ransom kissed you back with the same vehemence, his hands under your sweat, stroking your skin. You slid your lips on his cheek, and lightly put a soft kiss on his bruised flesh before leaning your head inside his neck and kiss him harder, your hands drifting behind the back of his head, your fingers caressing him through his soft short hair.

" I- I can't stop. " You stuttered, your mouth against his ear. " I- I can't stop kissing you. " You mumbled kissing the soft skin of his earlobe before biting it gently. " Don't. " He groaned softly under his breath, feeling your teeth on his skin. He slid one hand on your thigh, stroking the black thighs before pushing his hands further down, under your skirt to touch you through your clothes. " I want you to give me everything... " He murmured, his face against your shoulder, biting his lips feeling your nails scratching the back of his head. "First, I want this. " Ransom continued, the tips of his fingers lightly touching your pussy through your light thighs.

You stopped kissing his neck, and Ransom pushed his forehead against your yours, his eyes burning with dark heat. You bite your lips, feeling his hand on your most sensitive part of yourself. Does he know? Suddenly, you heard the front door opened and a low voice coming out from the hall. You quickly try to pull away from him, eyes wide open and your body starting to shake. Ransom only chuckled in front of your reaction but did not let you g. He only pushed his lips against your ear, still smirking.

" Don't worry. I will be gentle. " He murmured, his lips brushing your ear, while the voice of his mother came closer and closer toward the kitchen.

At the minute Linda Drysdale entered the room, Ransom stepped away from you. He turned down the TV, leaving you sat on the edge of the counter, your eyes filled with horror as you watched your aunt talking on the phone. Her eyes were on her luxury bag while her hand was looking through something inside.

" No, no, no Tommy I said 20k of commission. Didn't you hear me? Are you an incapable scumbag and also deaf? Is that why your wife left you! " She shouted out into the earphone stuck inside her ear, as she dug through her Hermès. Finally raising her eyes, she caught you and her son inside the kitchen. " Y/N, sweetheart please get down of the counter, the marble comes from Italy. " She urged you, calmly, her blue eyes soft before they grew hard again. " No, I'm not talking to you Stuart. You remembered you are deaf and useless. " She practically yelled to her interlocutor. She finally turned toward you again with a tired smile. " Please children, would you tell your grandfather that I will be in his study when he came back, thank you. " She said without waiting for your answers and walked inside the hallway toward your grandfather's room.

Still choked, you dropped your frame on the floor, legs wobbly from what happened. You retrieved your history book and started to step forward. You heard Ransom chuckling behind you as you sat once again at the smaller table, still bewildered, embarrassed, and a bit excited. Before leaving the room, Ransom walked behind you , and put a quick peck on your cheek.

" Go, away. " You snapped, frowning your eyes without looking at him. " See ya, Y/N. " He chuckled, even more, beaming while he walked toward the huge living room.

You shook your head, clearing your ideas from what happened with your cousin, his lips, his eyes, his smell, and his soft hair. And tried to focus t on your paper unaware that you just had started something that would go beyond your control.

°°°

" Where did you get the video, anyway? " You demanded, your face pressed against his naked shoulder. You heard him taking a deep breath, pulling his head away from your neck, his grasps on your naked thighs grew tighter. " I don't want to fucking talk about another man's dick when I'm deep inside you. " Ransom warned you, his voice low, biting your cheek to emphasize his statement.

You whimpered, feeling his throbbing cock inside your pussy. Straddling him on the couch of his living room, you stroked the skin of his arm, biting your lips.

" I'm sorry, Ransom. I won't mention him, I promise. " You whispered, putting a soft kiss on his lips. " Good. Now start moving baby. " He ordered you, his sentence barely finished that your hips began to move, up and down on him slowly. " That's right be good for Daddy. "

You let a loud moan escaping your lips, feeling his shaft inside of you, filling you up to the hilt. Ransom pushed his hand on your ass, caressing your skin roughly while he raised his head to catch your nipple between his teeth. Rolling the hard bud with his tongue, you pulled your head away from his body, letting more space for him to kiss your breast. You whined feeling the delicious sensation of the tip of his dick hitting you inside, and his warm tongue licking and biting your chest.

" You are so wet for me. " He mumbled, his mouth pressed against your flesh. "So wet and warm around me. It's s’good. " He groaned, his eyes fully dilated.

His wonderful praise to your ears made you increase your pace. You whimpered, dropping your head on his shoulder, once again, feeling him meeting your pace as he thrust himself up into you. Your body was covered in sweat, you felt his lips running up against your cheek before catching your mouth. His kiss was feverish and his tongue warm dancing with your own. Ransom kept shoving his cock deep inside of your pussy, feeling your movement faltered when you were too busy tasting his mouth. You moaned louder against his lips, feeling your climax growing inside of your core each time, he hit the sweet spot inside of you.

" Open your beautiful eyes. " Ransom incited you, he grunted feeling your walls below clenching him more. He looked into your eyes, while you open your heavy eyelids with difficulty. " I want to see you come all around me. I want to see your face. " He panted, pumping you quicker.

You moaned under your breath looking at his dark blue eyes. You hold onto his shoulders, feeling him shifting inside you making you whimper and hold on to him tighter. You had never felt so alive since you left and you could feel every cell of your body awaken while your orgasm hit you hard, blowing inside your core, making you cried out his name watching his feverish eyes in awe. Ransom looked closely at every emotion going through your face, still thrusting his cock inside of your pussy. It's all he needed to let go. Watching you come apart. He grunted loudly your name as he emptied himself inside of his favorite place.

" Fuck, Y/N. " He groaned, his hips jerking up and spams taking hold of his body. " You killing me, baby. " He chuckled low, pulling on your ass with his hands to push your body closer to him.

As usual, you let him, and put your head on his shoulder, trying to calm your ragged breath, beating heart, and blissful emotions. Ransom put a light kiss on your forehead, cuddling you on his couch, his hands stroking your back, his soft dick still inside you.

" I'm glad you are back. " The brown-haired man admitted, opening his eyes and putting another kiss on your forehead. " We can play like the old times. " He huffed, while you frowned your eyebrows stepping away from his body, you looked at him. " I don't want to play anymore, Ransom. You know we can't and I don't - " You tried to tell him, looking at his face as he rolled his eyes stopping his light stroke on your frame.  " All we do are some kisses and fucking. " He barked, grimacing and mocking your reticence. " It's not that wrong because let me remind you; we are not fucking related. My uncle found you in some depraved orphanage and brought you home. We are not family! " Ransom shouted out at your face, his heated eyes showing his annoyance at your "prude" behavior. " So, if I want to fuck you, when I want to, I think it's ok that I do. " He growled angry and then you felt a sharp pain against your ass. He had slapped your bottom.

You widened your eyes, horrified and surprised by his " douchebag " behavior, and punched him on his shoulder under his glare. Ransom opened his mouth, shocked that you could both play this game. A silly game as usual with the two of you as you both started a series of punch, slap, and blows, fighting each other like you were both, six and nine or thirteen and sixteen. Children snapping at each other with hits on the arms, some hair pulling, and bites. You gasped feeling his cock pulling outside of your pussy and his hands pushing you to lie down on his sofa. Ransom quickly took hold of both of your hands, pinning them on each side of your face. He put his figure above you, hovering your frame.

" That's enough! " He fumed, his dark blue eyes, completely dilated and burning with rage. " You hit first! " You replied, angry with him and trying to free your arms away  to get the hell out of here. But he kept a stronghold on you.

You were both panting again, and you both were glaring at each other. But then you felt it. The tip of his cock hard against your lower stomach. Ransom didn't flinch, his hard gaze still on you. The tension was unbearable, thick, and fucked up. But you couldn't resist anymore.   He followed the slight movement of your mouth, you opened it a little bit, licking with the point of your tongue the skin of his arm. It's all your cousin needed to start to rub his cock on your clit, hard and slow. You arched your body against him, the tingly sensation making you moaned, and closing your eyes.

" That's what you want! " Ransom breathed out, moving his hips to let the tip of his dick slightly pushing inside of you, but he quickly took himself out stroking your clit again. " Is it what you want, Y/N? "

You bite your lips, avoiding to reply to his question, pushing your head to the side, biting softly the skin of his arm. He chuckled softly, seeing you moving your hips at the same pace as his own.

" Alright then, " Your cousin leaned his head into the crook of your neck, licking the salty sweat covering your body. " Let's play. "

°°°

Tags: @chvntelle-99​ @iloveshawnieboi​ @stupendouslovegardener​

[alygatorwrites]

can I request a lil something? during the end of the manga or after the timeskip if you haven't read it yet, reiner still has feelings for historia and reader has one-sided feelings for him.

pieck gives reiner a small hint, saying he's wasting time while there's someone close to him that cares for him and points to you. he doesn't understand at first and maybe is conflicted about his feelings for you because of historia. reader is cool about it as she doesn't expect him to reciprocate her feelings.

a rollercoaster of emotions later, maybe there is a happy ending tho? i am curious to see what you can come up with 😭😭 i have dreaming of this scenario before bed and i can't help but get jealous of his crush on historia abjdsndks maybe you can help reiner reciprocate reader-chan's feelings or not

thank u so much aly 💖🥺

reciprocation

pairing: reiner braun x reader

a/n: OMG yesss! honestly, i was kinda annoyed at how reiner still had a crush on historia. i know that isayama wanted to show how everything went back to normal, but i was hoping that reiner would have a bigger role in the allied nations instead of being "dumbed down" to having an obsession with her. MAYBE THATS JUST THE JEALOUSY SPEAKING LMAO 😭 i was hoping this would be longer, although school has been killing me so im really sorry!! i hope its okay 💗💕 thank you honey!

↳ to be added to my taglist, please fill out this ♡form♡

as reiner is handed historia’s letter, you fold your hands on the table and watch him without a word. when he reads the lines and smells the parchment - jean saying something snarky afterward - you say nothing.

you want reiner to be happy: you want to see him at ease like this more, face soft as the leaf of the page flits from his pinched fingers.

and so you let the man speak about historia like she’s a damn goddess, gushing over her handwriting, and keep your goddamn mouth shut. ignore your jealousy. your feelings.

the truth is, you’re in love with reiner.

you can’t even remember how it happened, but you can remember the first time you looked into those hazel eyes, and how you knew that they were going to stick with you for eternity.

you’ve come to accept his crush on the queen, though. reciprocation was never an option in your mind.

when jean begins to chew reiner out for lusting after a married woman, and reiner says something about jean being a horse, pieck’s gaze lands on you. “you’re rather quiet,” she says softly, resting her head on her palm.

you shrug, turning away from her. “i’m just tired.”

pieck catches your chin between her lithe fingers, and turns you to face her with a tiny smile. the young woman is very perceptive, and you’ve known her long enough. 

that’s when you notice the twinkle in her eye. she’s planning something.

pieck releases your jaw then, sitting up in her chair. “you’re wasting your time, reiner,” she says suddenly. “there’s already someone you know who cares for you.”

you pretend to not hear pieck - and definitely pretend you don’t see her faintly point at you through your peripheral. the movement of her fingers is barely there, but you catch it.

damn you, pieck.

the way you’re now pinned underneath armin, jean, connie, and reiner’s stares makes your stomach tie itself into knots with bubbling reluctance. shit, this is awkward. you want to run away.

still, you peer over to study reiner’s reaction. he looks confused at first, the contours of his face unreadable. you swear you see connie facepalm at the man’s cluelessness.

then reiner’s expression slowly changes: his eyes widen in awe, lips parting slightly, and brows knitting together. he seems genuinely surprised - and conflicted.

conflicted? why?

there’s no time to explain yourself though, because the door creaks open and annie steps in. her words fall on your deaf ears, and when everyone stands up to leave, you’re the first one out of the room. work beckons you as always.

two days pass.

you’ve been busy filling out tons of paperwork pertaining to the allied nations, so when you’re finally given a day off, you take it with open arms. 

freedom at last.

you lean against a bench outside of headquarters, enjoying the salty breeze that flutters along your skin. it’s dusk, the sky covered in a gradient of neon colors as the sun dips below the horizon.

you haven’t seen reiner since that day in the conference room. you wonder how he’s doing, what he’s thinking, how he’s holding up -

“hey.”

speak of the devil. you glance over your shoulder toward the voice, low and familiar.

reiner approaches you, clad in his uniform: the suit hugs his large frame perfectly, showing every flex of his muscles, and his blonde hair is neatly parted. the black tie looped around his neck just pulls it all together. it has you weak at the knees every. single. time.

“hey,” you answer, giving reiner a smile as he stops beside you.

and that’s when your heart lurches at the sight of him.

the sunset highlights reiner’s profile in gold, a heavenly shine that settles upon his blonde lashes and the flawless slope of his nose. the flecks in his irises sparkle – a beautiful mixture of soft browns and muted greens. the only thing you can do right now is admire the man. 

his words are what breaks you out of your daydream.

“work has been crazy lately, huh?” reiner says, focused on the candy-floss clouds and their fluffy shapes.

“well - yeah, pretty much. i don’t want to look at a pen or a piece of paper ever again.”

“that bad?”

“you have no idea. i almost regret marley and paradis reconciling.”

reiner chuckles gently at the joke, but it’s strained. his forehead remains creased, and he’s not really smiling. the emotion there is more … doubtful. it’s like he’s having some sort of inner conflict.

hopefully reiner’s not acting cautious because of the other day. you know he doesn’t return your feelings, and that’s totally okay. you’re happy enough being with him like this. “i’m not mad or anything, y’know.”

reiner stiffens at that. there’s a white flash of teeth when he chews on his lower lip. “i know.”

“good,” you hum, breathing out a sigh of relief. your core twists with envy when you force a grin. bite it back. tease him like always. “so about historia … ”

reiner’s eyes go wide almost comically, and you hear the breath in his lungs leave his firm chest in one exhale. there’s a light blush staining his cheeks now. it’s funny; he’s so goddamn big, yet he’s such a teddy bear.

“y-yeah,” reiner mutters. you observe the way his brows pinch together as he awkwardly shifts in place. it takes a while before the man composes himself again, which is strange.

is he scared or something? what the hell?

“pieck,” reiner hesitates for a moment. the golden strands of his hair ruffle in the wind and he appears ... well, lost. “was she being serious?”

the question is a shocker - jeez, he could have at least let you prepare yourself. a firm ‘no’ almost slips out, but you’ve never been much of a liar. not to reiner, anyway. crossing your arms against your chest, you inhale sharply and nod. avoid staring at him face-to-face. “yep.”

“ … why me?”

reiner says the words with a mixture of spite and anguish, a casual and rumbling voice. you immediately turn your head, frowning. “what?”

“i’ve done so many horrible things.” reiner exhales heavily and stares down at his hands; perhaps he’s imagining all the blood they’ve been stained with. “i betrayed everyone. i killed innocent people - all because i was selfish.”

it’s no surprise that reiner is broken after everything he’s been through, but it pains you to know that he continues to suffer in silence. whatever war is raging inside his ribcage tears him apart piece by piece, and you wish you could carry the burden. 

there’s probably nothing you can say to convince reiner that he was just a kid, a victim of circumstance. there’s nothing that can persuade him to see himself the way you do.

so you decide to tell reiner why you love him. 

you explain the amount of admiration you hold for him. tell him that you love the way he just wants to be someone his comrades can lean on, like a big brother. tell him that you think he’s the most gorgeous person you’ve ever seen and how you think he deserves the world.

the way you spill your guts out snaps every nerve in your body. you don’t say everything you want to – but you tell him enough. a dark flush spreading across your face, you find the courage to look at him.

the world seems to stop on its axis when you find reiner staring right on back. the intensity of his eyes is stunning; they’re lit up with astonishment and affection.

god, the affection. you see it clear as day. maybe one of the greatest regrets in his life is how he forced himself to see you only as a friend.

that’s when he reaches out to you.

reiner retracts his hand twice, unsure, before slowly brushing his fingertips against yours. the touch is so feather-light that you almost can’t feel it. it’s a test - he’s waiting to see if you pull away. you can’t even move if you wanted to, because his fond gaze keeps you rooted to the spot before him. 

when you don’t recoil, reiner finally moves to gently hold your hand; his palm is so much bigger than yours, and your fingers slot together perfectly, like a jigsaw puzzle’s final piece. 

heart thrumming like a hummingbird has been stuffed into your chest, you’re almost at a loss for words and come to a realization.

this utterly amazing man likes you. always has. 

but reiner shoved away the feelings for one simple reason; you deserved ‘better.’ focusing on the old crush he had on historia was a distraction - an attempt to convince himself to stop thinking about you.

because looking at you everyday and not being able to act upon his feelings was too painful.

“is this okay?” reiner asks lowly. there’s a slight pinkness to his cheeks, the color of a selfless love.

by some miracle, you manage to nod dumbly. “yeah, of course. it’s fine.” it’s amazing is what you actually want to say.  

reiner squeezes your hand at the reassurance, a sigh escaping from his throat. “i really—”

you wait for him to finish, but he doesn’t. reiner just searches your profile for signs of discomfort, and then untwines your hands to bravely swipe a thumb along the length of your cheekbone. 

there’s no time to speak because he’s already leaning down.  

the sensation of reiner’s lips pressing against yours lights your skin ablaze; you can feel the curling flames of passion sear your soul, made even more intense by the warmth of the sunlight on your back.

it’s natural, it’s tender, it’s warm.

reiner’s breath rattles into your mouth when you rest both palms against his solid chest and deepen the kiss. the musky smell of his aftershave and cologne envelops you completely, and fuck, it’s so good. your arms wrap around him, fingers passing over the sharp slopes of his shoulder blades.

as much as you wish the kiss could go on endlessly, there are people gathering outside. avoiding any unwanted attention from nosy strangers is very much appreciated.

you pull away to nuzzle your nose into reiner, and he rests his chin on your shoulder, protective arms moving to loop around your waist. it’s such an intimate caress that it sparks your brain into overdrive.

as the rushing sound of the breeze comes back to your ears through the quiet, you tuck the kiss away to be remembered forever. that’s all there is to it. being close to reiner like this - swaying together like wildflowers in the wind - is more important than anything else.

“i like you,” reiner murmurs.

the suddenness of it makes you laugh, and you can feel the upward quirk of reiner’s lips - a whisper of a peaceful smile and a sweet, sweet promise.

[engie-ivy]

Sirius wants Remus to reject him. Not because he wants Remus to reject him, but because it's at least better than the excuses.

Short College AU Get-Together😊

A Better Reason

Sirius purposely doesn’t look up from the Sunday paper’s crossword puzzle when his roommate, Remus, stumbles into the kitchen.

Their other roommate, James, takes one look at Remus’ distressed appearance, and Sirius’ grim expression, firmly keeping his eyes fixed on the paper, and picks up his mug to leave the kitchen, not even bothering to come up with an excuse. From the corner of his eyes, Sirius sees him give Remus a pointed look as he walks past.

Sirius feels his hand cramp up, and suddenly realizes he’s gripping his pen so hard it might snap. With an effort he forces his hand to relax. “I didn’t expect you’d be awake so early,” he says, still not looking up from the paper. “After the night you had.”

“Yeah, well...” Remus runs a hand through his hair. “I didn’t sleep very well.”

A thought suddenly occurs to Sirius and he jerks his head up. “Is Fabian here?”

“What? No! No, that’s not what I... No, he went home after the party. I... I didn’t know you were going to be there?”

“Regulus rescheduled, so I decided to come out anyway. I thought I’d be fun,” Sirius says in a bitter tone. “I didn’t know you had a date?”

“It was a last-minute thing,” Remus mumbles. “Fabian asked, and I was feeling stressed and could use a distraction...” He trails off.

Sirius snorts. “Well, you looked perfectly distracted alright.” He didn’t know how long he had stood there, watching Remus dance up against Fabian, before Remus had even noticed him. Then, of course, Sirius had made a quick exit.

“I’m sorry,” Remus says.

“Why?”

“Because I thought you weren’t coming!”

Sirius shakes his head. “No, why are you sorry? I mean, there’s nothing between us, you don’t owe me anything. You can do whatever the hell you like.” A small voice inside his head asks ‘then why are you mad?’, but he ignores it.

“Still,” Remus says. “It was shitty to let you stand there and watch that.”

“I suppose,” Sirius replies flatly. “So was it all just a bunch of crap then?”

“Was what all just a bunch of crap?”

“You know,” Sirius rolls his eyes. “That whole ‘I can’t date you because I’m leaving for Boston in a couple of months, so it wouldn’t be wise to start something in London now’-story you gave me.”

“No,” Remus says. “No, I meant that.”

“But yet you said yes when Fabian asked.”

“That was different.”

“Come on, Remus!” Sirius scoffs. “Admit it was me you didn’t want to date!”

“I can’t... That’s not...”

“Look, I’m a big boy, Remus. I don’t know if you were trying to blow me off or let me down gently or whatever, but I can handle rejection! What I can’t handle is you not being honest with me.”

“I wasn’t lying, Sirius!” Remus almost sounds desperate.

“Making up excuses, whatever you want to call it.”

“I said no when you asked me out on a date because I’m leaving for Harvard by the end of the semester,” Remus says emphatically.

Sirius folds his arms over his chest. “But somehow, that only applies to me. Why is it perfectly fine to go out on a date with Fabian, then?”

“Because I’m not worried that I’m going to fall head over heels in love with Fabian!” Remus shouts. “Because the thought of leaving Fabian behind doesn’t already stab at my heart as it is! Because leaving for Boston after allowing there to be something more than friendship between me and Fabian won’t absolutely destroy me! So yes, Sirius, if you must know, that only applies to you!”

“Remus...”

Remus pinches the bridge of his nose. “Shite. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Remus.”

“No, please, I’m sorry. Just forget it.”

“Remus, if you feel that way about me, and I feel that way about you, then we should be together.”

Remus shakes his head. “No. We shouldn’t. We really shouldn’t.”

“Why?” Sirius asks. “Why shouldn’t we?”

“There are so many reasons we shouldn’t!” Remus exclaims. “We shouldn’t because we’ll be more than 5000 kilometres away from each other, and with me having barely enough money to go to Harvard even with the scholarship, and you being disowned, neither one of us has money for plane tickets!”

Sirius takes a step closer to him, while Remus continues speaking.

“We shouldn’t because with both of us being busy with our studies and our jobs to pay for our studies, and you with the football team and me with my writing projects, we’ll hardly have any time to video call, not to mention the time difference!”

Sirius takes another step closer.

“We shouldn’t because with you being who you are, you know people are going to be throwing themselves at you as soon as the new semester starts, and with me being who I am, I know that my insecurities are going to plague me, and it’ll kill me every time I know you’re out, and that’s not fair to me, or to you!��

Another step closer.

“We shouldn’t because our friendship is the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I don’t want to taint the memory of it with the inevitable messy breakup.”

Another step and Sirius is almost standing chest to chest with Remus. He carefully reaches out and cups Remus’ cheek. Remus’ eyes flutter close for a brief moment, before he looks up at Sirius again.

“We should,” Sirius says slowly. “Because I love you.”

“This is a terrible idea,” Remus whispers hoarsely, while he leans into Sirius’ touch.

Sirius only shrugs.

“We’re going to crash and burn,” Remus says, but even as he says it, his hands slide around to the back of Sirius’ neck, as he pulls him down into a kiss.

[stiltonbasket]

how my love springs deep

by stiltonbasket

(read here on AO3!)

Summary:

My Lan Zhan, his husband calls him. Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan.

Or, the one where Wei Wuxian feeds rabbits, and Lan Wangji reads a love letter.

(brief a/n: this fic was inspired by this heartbreaking work of beauty by @pakhnokh--I had to write Lan Wangji getting adored after witnessing it, come join me on the angst parade T~T)

____

My Lan Zhan, 

    It has been two years and more since I last wrote you a letter, for marriage has joined us both at the hip, and ensured that we are never more than a touch or a cry away from one another. I have you by me always, in every hour of every day; and every love-word that crosses my mind finds its way to my lips in the very moment of its birth, and reaches your ears just as quickly, for I could no more keep silent in my devotion to you than swim the full length of the Songhuajiang against the current. And so I go about my days hence, calling “Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, my Lan Zhan” all the while: but today I have woken before chenshi, and you are still asleep beside me with Xiao-Yu in your arms, and though my every nerve and vein is aching for love of my husband, I cannot bear to wake you to say so. 

    Lan Zhan, sweetheart—when we were first married, you told me once that I colored the world for you the instant we met, and brought every shade of the rainbow with me from Yunmeng to make the Cloud Recesses beautiful. You said that the air that touched me at the gate smelt as if lightning had passed through it, and that the very stones I knelt on in the lanshi’s courtyard began to glitter after I departed, though they had never done such a thing before—and that the Cloud Recesses itself, having been a place of peace and reflection before my arrival, was filled with delight and warmth after my coming, as if that first day was the dawn after a long, long night, and I the sun who gifted it to you. 

    Heaven knows I had no equal words with which to worship you then, my darling, for I was young and still bewildered to know that you loved me. But I have been your husband for nearly three years now, and so I must tell you this—you have driven me mad for love of you, Lan Zhan, and it has been so since we first crossed swords on the rooftop gate when we were eighteen. 

    How mad, you ask? The classics say that love is a proper, courtly thing, to be shown with modesty before others and in its full force only in confidence. But I have never been proper, and so I must tell you that if you were a flint and steel, seeking only to light a flame and a tinder-heap to light it in, I would take form as a sun-parched forest, and set myself afire at your touch so that I might be beside you thus. If you were a god, roaming the heavenly kingdoms while my mortal flesh kept me constrained below, I would take the habit of a priest and devote myself to your prayer; and if you were a grain of sand in the Gebi desert, and I a traveler sick with thirst, I would fall to my knees and sift through every dune and basin to find you before drinking even a drop of water. 

    If I were freezing in the great mountains above Gusu, whose peaks are lush in the springtime but shrouded in snow in the winter, I would be well and happy if I had the warmth of your hand in mine; and when I am in my jishi, with the doors thrown open to let in the wind, I drop my knives and tools at the sound of your voice and stand there enraptured until you fall silent again. My heart nearly beats out of my body with everything you say, and everything you do; and when you look at me I lose all knowledge of speech and reason, recalling nothing but your name and your smiles unless some show of wit is necessary—which it very well might be, with you and I being what we are, and all our doings riddled with puzzles that would have bewildered even the scholars who founded our clan. 

    Lan Zhan, I love you so desperately that to be away from you is torment, and to be with you has always been paradise, even when you were sitting on one side of the library pavilion and reading Lan An’s poetry, and I was on the other with my brush and parchment, pretending to copy lines while I sketched a portrait of you and painted flowers into your hair. You have made me more your own with every passing day, though in every moment I fully belong to you, and there is no strangeness in it—as if new pieces of my spirit are formed shichen by shichen, and bound unto you before drawing their first breaths.

    I could go on endlessly, xingan, and exhaust even the lanshi’s stocks of paper in my adoration—but it will soon be breakfast time, and the hens have not been fed, nor the eggs collected, and neither have the rabbits been given their greens. I must go and tend to them now; only wait for me, and I will be back at your side again before you have time to miss me. 

    Ever yours, my husband—

        Wei Ying.

    P.S.—I left a pot of ginger porridge on the table by the bed, if you should wake and be hungry before I return. There is only a little, since the rest is still cooking in the kitchen, and you and A-Yu will still have an appetite for breakfast if you finish it all. 

_____

After Lan Wangji wakes and reads the folded letter on his bedside table, he scarcely glances at the tiny blue pot of ginger congee before stumbling out of bed and putting his shoes on. He is dressed in nothing but a thin white undergown, since he gave up dressing warmly at night when he first began sleeping beside Wei Ying; but he does not bother putting on a coat, and pauses only long enough to tuck a sleepy Xiao-Yu back under the covers before bounding out of the jingshi and hurrying downhill in his nightshirt. 

“Wei Ying!” he calls, when he passes the tidy chicken pen—home to ten brown hens, which Lan Wangji brought to the Cloud Recesses as a gift for Wei Ying before they were married—and finds the chickens pecking away in the yard, eating grains of fresh corn that had clearly just been thrown out by Wei Ying’s dear hands. But Wei Ying must have finished collecting the eggs, and gone on towards the warded field on the fringes of the bamboo forest to scatter vegetables for the rabbits; so Lan Wangji presses on, running with the wind at his back and the sharp pebbles underfoot almost piercing through his slippers. He reaches the rabbit field in less than a minute, careening between stalks of bamboo like a man possessed, and throws himself at Wei Ying so forcefully that he knocks his husband backwards into the soft grass at their feet. 

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying wheezes, as his lettuce basket flies out of his hand and lands near the entrance to a burrow: mercifully, the basket of eggs must have been set aside somewhere else before Wei Ying arrived to feed the rabbits. “Lan Zhan, sweetheart, what are you doing here? Is Xiao-Yu—?”

“Do not worry. Xiaohui is still asleep,” Lan Wangji assures him, bringing Wei Ying’s sun-warmed hands to his mouth and kissing them. “I came to find you because I read your letter.”

Wei Ying smiles, beaming from ear until Lan Wangji finds himself gasping for breath at the beauty of the sight before him. “I thought you must have. You were cuddled up against me when I woke up, and you were holding Xiao-Yu between us to keep him warm...and I couldn’t help it, Lan Zhan! You were so sweet that my heart could scarcely bear it, so of course I had to write it down for you.”

“Perhaps I should take up the habit of writing you love letters,” muses Lan Wangji, kissing Wei Ying’s delighted grin straight from his lips. “What do you think, xingan?”

“I think that waking to find you beside me every morning already brings me so much joy I could burst, darling. If you really did start leaving love letters for me to find, I would fold myself into your arms and never come out again.”

“Mm, perhaps you would. But that would please me greatly, so I suppose I will have to do it.”

His husband pinches his cheek. “Lan Zhan!”

“I am listening, beloved. With all my heart.”

Wei Ying covers his face and tries to roll out of Lan Wangji’s grasp, wriggling about six inches away before Lan Wangji takes him by the waist and draws him back. “Lan Zhan,” he wails, as a couple of baby rabbits hop up onto Lan Wangji’s back. “You can’t say such things, you silly man! See how my face is burning, look!”

“I’m looking,” Lan Wangji teases, tracing Wei Ying’s red cheeks with the pads of his own pale fingers. “I am always looking. I love my husband dearly, and he is very beautiful to look at.”

“Well, my husband is not so young as he used to be. Perhaps he is mistaken.”

“Oh?” He punctuates the inquiry with another searing kiss, pulling Wei Ying up into his arms and holding him so close that he can feel the stutter of his breathing, and his pulse beating quickly against Lan Wangji’s wrist. “Do you really think so?”

But the only reply Wei Ying gives him is a tender look that shakes Lan Wangji down to his jindan, and leaves him struggling for air all over again as Wei Ying wraps his arms around him. 

In the end, they do not leave the clearing until nearly half an hour later; the grass is as comfortable a cushion as two sweethearts could want, and the rabbits keep leaping around them and making Wei Ying laugh, so they lie there, cheek to cheek and chest to chest until they remember Xiao-Yu, all by himself in the jingshi with no one to hear him cry if he wakes up frightened to find himself alone. 

The thought of their son has Lan Wangji leaping to his feet with Wei Ying’s hand in his, and then they bolt back towards the house and retrieve the basket of eggs on the way, running nearly fast enough to outstrip Wen Ning at his swiftest before Wei Ying throws the doors open and barrels into the bedroom. 

“A-Yu!” he calls, letting out a shout of laughter as Lan Wangji comes jogging up behind him. “Xiao-Yu, baobei, what are you doing?”

“I’m eating ginger porridge,” Xiao-Yu chirps. The little lotus-shaped pot of congee is nestled snugly in his arms, and A-Yu is eating out of it with the large spoon Wei Ying left behind for Lan Wangji. “Papa and A-Niang went out, so Xiao-Yu is having breakfast.”

“Aiyah, Xiao-Yu,” Wei Ying groans, taking the pot away from A-Yu and wiping his dirty face with a handkerchief. “That was for you and Papa, sweetheart, since I was going to be late back. How will you eat your breakfast properly now?”

“But A-Yu is still hungry,” the little boy insists, trying to grab the spoon. “A-Niang, let me finish?”

“Wait a little longer,” scolds Wei Ying. “I still have to cook the rest of the porridge with steamed dan, and make chicken soup to go with it. Now be a good child and go with Papa to take your bath, and breakfast will be ready when you finish dressing.”

Xiao-Yu nods and jumps off the bed, scurrying off towards the washroom on the other side of the house, and leaves his parents to embrace each other once again before they part to attend to their own duties. 

“What do you want this afternoon, qinai?” Lan Wangji murmurs, as Wei Ying’s head falls onto his shoulder. “The tradesmen ought to have sent up the day’s groceries by now, so I will make lunch while you teach your talisman class.”

Wei Ying blinks, very slowly, and then he stands up on his toes and plants one last, lingering kiss between Lan Wangji’s eyebrows. 

“Teach my talisman class with me,” he entreats. “When we get back, we can make lunch together.”

(And so they do, and just like all the other dishes Lan Wangji has shared with Wei Ying, that afternoon’s luncheon tastes fresher and sweeter than every meal before it.)

[imaginesforhotguys]

Imagine…

To Little To Late

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Super angst filled and literally one swear word.

Word Count: 1190

“Get out.” You yell slamming the door, only to hear not bang shut. Damn that super soldier serum. Bucky being to quick grabs the door before it slams shut and walks in to your apartment.

“Please (Y/n) let me explain. I’m not a killer anymore.”

Your flying through the apartment, putting items Bucky has left over time into a trash bag. The old T-shirts’ you would borrow, his favorite coffee mug, the bear he won you at a fair, all into the bag.

“Really?” You spit at him. “Tell that to my sister. Oh wait you can’t because you killed her.” You say throwing the Vinyl record he got you into the bag, not caring if it smashed into a million pieces. Every since Bucky came clean yesterday nothing had been the same. He knew this information would not go over well so he kept pushing it off. He was never supposed to fall in love with you. He was supposed to make amends. Now he is in way to deep to go back. How could he let it go this far?

~FLASHBACK TO YESTERDAY~

“James you need to tell her.”

His hands comb through his hair as he sits in the doctor’s room. Forest wallpaper covers the wall behind. It was supposed to be a peaceful scene to lay out your feelings but the last thing Bucky felt was peace. “You don’t think I know that?”

Doctor Raynor pulls out her pen in an annoyed way and begins to write. Bucky rolls his eyes at this action.

“Bucky I gave you one task. To go out and makes amends with those you have wronged at the winter soldier and someone how you ended up with a girlfriend. How does that work?”

“I was on my way to (Y/n)’s house when a woman started yelling for her dog to come back. The dog ran by me so I grabbed it’s leash and brought the dog back to her. We started talking and I asked her out. I didn’t know that it was the (Y/n) I suppose to meet until half way through dinner.”

“So you have now been with (Y/n) for 4 months and you have failed to mention her sister.”

“Doc I love her. How am I supposed to do this to her?”

The alarm on the Dr Raynor’s phone goes off Indicating that his session is up. She stand collecting her papers and walks across the room to open the door for Bucky. “I do not know how your going to tell her Mr. Barnes but I do know that if you really loved her you would.”

So he left Dr Raynor’s office and walked. He went wherever his feet took him that ended up being your front door. He knocked quickly shorting his hands back into his pockets as you opened the door to greet him. “Bucky you didn’t say you were coming. Come in I just started cooking.”

He follows you inside and sits himself at the table while you continue chopping the vegetables. “We need to talk.”

You put down the knife slowly and look up with worry in your eyes. Thank god she put that thing down Bucky thought.

“Ok Bucky. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I need you to know that this was never my plan. I never thought this would happen.”

You sit in the seat next to him and grab his hands in yours. You gently rub his hand with both your thumbs. “Bucky you’re scaring me. What’s wrong?” You mumble.

“The day we met, when I caught Daisy for you,” he says looking over to see Daisy the husky napping in her bed. “Well I was coming to see you. I was coming to make amends.”

You shoot him a puzzled look. “Bucky that doesn’t make any sense. We didn’t now each other yet.”

“I know put it’s part of my therapy. You know how Doctor Raynor gave me a project?” He asked you. You nod your head yes before he continued. “You see my project was to go down the list and make amends with people I wronged as the Winter Soldier.”

All the blood in your body turns cold. It felt like the earth stopped spinning. You felt every emotion a human could ever feel and you didn’t even know what he did. You had a guess but there was no way. Right? “Bucky what did you do?”

“I killed Amy.”

Reflexes kick in and the moment the words fall from your lips your on the other side of the room. Eyes filling with tears, your body shaking. “YOU…YOU KILLED MY SISTER!!”

He stands trying to make his way toward you but with every one of his step you take one as well. Keeping the distance between the two of you. “(Y/n) you have to understand that I had no idea. I was on a mission and your sister was just…in the wrong spot. I was like a robot. I couldn’t tell the difference between the target and collateral damage. Please (Y/n) I’m sorry.”

The rage felt like it took up every square inch of your body. Your vision was red. Your sister…your best friend was killed on a business trip. Police said wrong place wrong time but that wasn’t enough for you. You wanted to know why. Well now you have your answer and it was the worst possible thing imaginable. When you met Bucky, you knew of his past. You knew what he had done but you tried your best to keep it in the past. You understood that the winter soldier and Bucky Barnes were two separate things that lived in the same body. Now though, you’re having a hard time telling the difference. “GET OUT! NOW!”

“(Y/n) please…you know me. I’m not a killer anymore.” he says in a defeated tone his own eyes glossing over with tears.

Now it was you’re turn to take a step forward. You lunge at him throwing weak defeated arms onto his toned chest. “I SAID LEAVE!” You yell through the sobs escaping your lips. Your arms continuously bang into his chest before he gets the hint and makes his way for the door.

“Ok I’ll leave but I’m coming back. I love you I’m so fucking sorry.” You slammed the door behind him and sink onto the floor.

~END OF FLASHBACK~

“(Y/n) you have to understand that when I figured out that you were the person from my book I was lost. I knew I liked you and didn’t want to lose you but I didn’t want to lie to you. I made a terrible mistake.”

You finish gathering the last of his stuff and tie the trash bag closed. “Yes you certainly did Bucky.” You throw the bag at his chest and he wraps his arms around it “You broke me all those years ago when you took Amy from me and now you’re breaking me again. Now please stay the hell away from me.” The door slams leaving a broken hearted person on either side of it.

[letarasstuff]

Be yourself and that will be enough

(A/N): This is inspired by a) Atypical and b) by my sister who is so done with me and my facts.

Summary: Your Uncle Morgan tells you what true friends mean.

Wordcount: 1.3k

Warnings: One swear word, angst, but it’s gonna end fluffy

✨Masterlist✨

____________________________

“Hey Wonder Baby, don’t you have school today?” Morgan wonders as he sees his best friend’s daughter sitting at his desk.

“I did, but my last period was cancelled. The teacher got the flu apparently. Also I need your help on one of the topics in my health class. Dad knows pretty much nothing about physical education except for the effects of it. But I need to create a whole work-out. Can you help me with this, Uncle Derek?” (Y/N) puts on her best puppy dog face.

“Of course, Wonder Baby. All those doors don’t kick themselves down, you need a lot of strength for it”, Morgan agrees and ruffles her hair.

“Hey!” After fixing her hair, the teenager works on getting her pen and paper out. For that she nearly has to dump her whole back pack out on her godfather’s desk.

“Why do you have so much stuff with you?” Derek snatches one of the knick knacks. Looking at what he has in his hands, (Y/N) seems like she remembers something.

“There it is! I thought I lost it! That’s a fidget cube, my friends got it for me, because I click my pens all the time and it makes them go crazy. I can play with that without making too much noise. Try it, it’s really calming.”

“And what are those?” He sees a little plastic bag with three cards inside. Before the girl can demonstrate he takes them out, reading the description on them out loud.

“Fun Fact/Stats card. You have to give one up, whenever you tell a fun fact/statistic. (Y/N) what is it?”

Ashamed she looks anywhere but his face. “Uh, you know how dad always goes around, pepping facts and useless knowledge in a conversation? I do the same and my friends are annoyed by this. To keep it at a minimum they made me these cards, which are pretty much self explanatory. I’m not allowed to tell more than three per day. Every time I tell them one, I have to give them a card. Maybe you can do the same for dad, it’s pretty effective.”

“Baby girl, this isn’t right. I know we make fun of your dad for his facts, but we do it in a loving way. We just mean to tease him, not hurt him. His facts helped us more often than not. You should be able to tell people your knowledge. You should be proud of it, not everybody does know as much as you do, especially at your age. When your friends are annoyed by something that is part of you and your personality, then they are not your real friends, as hard as this may sound.” This seems to break the dam. (Y/N) breaks down in tears.

Acting quickly, the agent pulls her in for a hug, trying to shush her. His heart hurts seeing his god daughter, a kid he watched growing up becoming a beautiful teenager, in tears hiccuping and struggling to get a proper breath in.

“You-you don’t know how d-difficult it is to find someone who is willing to put up with me. I have to t-take every chance I get of having a friend, even when it means to hold myself back with them. It is worse to be alone, Derek.” He didn’t know until now that words can hurt so much. But here he sits, with a crying girl in his arms, who just desperately tries to fit in.

“Sugar plum, nobody has to put up with anyone. A friend genuinely enjoys your presence, like you enjoy theirs. I don’t know how hard it is for you, but changing your good traits for somebody, who isn’t worth your time, hurts me. I love to hear your fun facts as much as I love you. It is what makes you you. It makes you different, a good different. Just because some people don’t know how to handle real smarts, you shouldn’t feel like a burden. It’s their loss, understood Baby?” While wiping the tears with her sleeve away, she nods.

“Good, now give me these cards, you won’t need them anymore. Either these people learn to love you for being you or they can piss off. You are wonderful just the way you are.”

After Morgan’s well needed pep talk, both of them start working on (Y/N)’s homework. They tease each other, sometimes poking the other ones side with a pen or jokes about something stupid. But also the laughs about little unimportant things are so much needed by the girl.

When Spencer enters the bullpen, the first thing he hears is his daughter’s loud laughing. For him it’s like Bethoven plays the most beautiful melody ever composed in history. A smile graces his features, because to the doctor it feels like an eternity when he last heard these sounds.

Then he spots (Y/N) with Derek, having a lightsaber fight with several into each other stacked pens. They look pretty fragile and it is clear to him that they will fall apart at any second.

“Hey you two, what are you doing here?” Reid asks as he puts his satchel down at his desk.

“Dad! I have to fight Uncle Derek! Else the dark side will win and rule over the universe”, the teenager explains in such a serious manner.

“Well, then I hope you are going to win, my little Skywalker” Spencer encourages her, breaking out the nickname he had for her when she was little.

After the fight has ended (with the good side restoring the universe’s balance), (Y/N) skips happily in her Aunt Penny’s office to get one of her baked goods. Or moreover eating a tin’s contents that is just reserved for her.

Wordlessly Morgan leans against Spencer’s desk, who finishes some paperwork. When he looks up questiongly, Derek throws the little plastic back on top of the papers.

“What is this?” The doctor wonders, but doesn’t get an answer. His friend just motiones to the object. Spencer opens it, takes a card and reads over it several times. Finally all the puzzle pieces in his head click together. (Y/N)’s absent enthusiasm for her and his facts, her bubbly personality missing and her getting shorter with her words every day.

Looking back up at his colleague, Reid thanks him with deep sincerity. Both of them know that the father will do anything to help his daughter.

Later the little family sits at the kitchen table in their small but cozy apartment, talking about their day over the together cooked dinner.

“Did you know that the command ‘Women and children first!’ were interpreted differently on the Titanic? On the one side the man in charge let at first women and children enter the lifeboats and men were allowed to fill in the remaining seats. On the other side were only women and children in them allowed, so over 200 seats were left open when they hit the water”, (Y/N) tells her father with a long missed sparkle in her eyes. Spencer can’t help but smile at it, just being happy to see his favorite girl happy again.

“Oh and Dad? I was thinking about switching schools. You once talked about this school for gifted children? Maybe we can look into this further? I feel like I need a change.”

Relief washes over Spencer. He wanted her for the longest of times to switch schools to have her use her full potential and meet kids who are more like her.

“Of course, Sweetheart. Anything you want.”

[jjungkookislife]

Fic Recs 2020 Pt. 1

Seokjin

let’s get married [SMAU] @hangsangwithbts

Summary: seokjin has no intention of getting married, but after facing tremendous pressure from his family to finally settle down, he comes up with the brilliant idea to fake a marriage. the lucky bride just so happens to be you.

voice mail @joonary

summary: kim seokjin is best known around campus for his romance advisory podcast, voice mail, but to you, he’s just your lovable idiot of a best friend. but when he accidentally lets it slip that he’s fallen for one of your fellow peers, you can’t help but be a little bit curious (and quite frankly, a tad bit jealous).

Yoongi

cheers if you agree @out-of-jams

summary: If it weren’t for the fact that he didn’t know who you were or even how to get into contact with you, Yoongi wouldn’t be posting all over Weverse for anyone to see. Not that he thought anyone would be smart enough to put the pieces of the puzzle together with how many people responded to his posts anyway.

snake kisses @peekaboongi

summary: You are grossly unprepared for the snake hybrid that enters your life. Yoongi is quiet and sneaks around you but eventually, even the cold reptile warms up to you.

under construction [SMAU] @luffles424

summary: In which y/n is just trying to figure out what to do with her life with the help from her (un)helpful friends

Hoseok

going once, going twice, sold @bxebxee

summary: But the real reason anything at all started with Hoseok was something much simpler, and probably wholly unexpected - not that you ever planned on any of the other members of the MBA Society to find out.You leave your unlocked phone in his car before stumbling your way into your tiny, studio apartment. And he sees a twitter notification asking you for further discount on your panties.That is all it takes.

just practice @lamourche

summary: The second time you hook up with Jung Hoseok, he doesn’t remember the first time.  You’re surprised.  It was only a few weeks ago, and you were in a broom closet. That has to be different, right? (Well, not really, you’ll learn.)

game over @9uk

summary: your boyfriend has been gaming all day without paying much attention to you. that is until his friends on discord brings up the moaning noises in the background.

you’re my kryptonite @dovechim

summary: Superheroes are immortal, they are everything we are not. The Krypton are a race of superhumans sent down to Earth to protect humans, and they are the epitome of nobility and protection. You have always believed in their immortal, God-like powers, revered and admired them your entire life. Your wish for your very own superhero is granted when you meet Jung Hoseok, a Krypton with the most unique, powerful abilities you’ve ever seen.

Namjoon

first, do no harm @yandere-society

summary: Dr. Kim is well known as the most skilled heart surgeon in the hospital, but when you notice his mortality statistics seem skewered, you discover all is not what it seems. Now, Dr. Kim is offering you a choice: will you join him? Or become yet another broken heart beneath his scalpel?

internet friends [SMAU] @bts-celestials​

summary: meeting through online, namjoon slowly starts to fall for the person who likes all the things he’s into. maybe having friends online is fun.

Jimin

reset @dovechim

summary: We are made of the pieces of what we remember, and we hold in ourselves the hopes and fears of those who love us. As long as there are memories to call our own, there can be no true loss. But Park Jimin has no such privilege.

paparazzi (tw: flash banner) @chinkbihh​

summary: What if the roles were reversed and it was Jimin who was the fan and you who was the idol?  But what if he wasn’t just a casual fan, but an avid fan?  Maybe even a sasaeng…  

Taehyung

the morning after @softlyjiminie

summary: one night, full of passion, whispered promises and heated kisses. one morning, full of regret and unwanted memories. is a night with your ex enough to send you running back into the arms of the devil?

fake love @mygsii

summary: an arranged marriage between you and taehyung leaves behind feelings of bitterness and hatred. will your heart be able to survive, especially when you’ve loved him all your life, or will it fall apart with this marriage?

cheap skate @gukslut

summary: Who doesn’t know Taehyung and his lady? Cutest couple in town, I’d say, and have been since they started dating in their college days. Oh, that was a while ago, though. And still, they’re happy as can be in that place they have together. Almost hate seeing one without the other, y’know, it’s like seeing just one testi- oh, right, I’m not supposed to talk like that. Anyhoo, I only say that because I saw Taehyung at a jewelry store the other day while I was buying my sweet Jiminie his presents. Maybe that boy’s finally gonna pop the question, but I do hope he’s got a good plan for it. Something sweet and romantic. Maybe I’ll find out after Jiminie gets back from that cabin he’s visiting.

baby i @jiminsfault

summary: a one night stand with a stranger leads to so much more than just great sex

Jungkook

only for love [SMAU] @lysjeon

summary: for almost four years it had been just him and sarang, and he had no plans on changing the life they had become accustomed to any time soon, but of course y/n has to come and shake his world.

one time in your room @ubemango

summary: There are papers to write, and virgins to daydream about. (You can think about Jeongguk’s dick later.)

piss off your parents @littlemisskookie

summary: In an effort to piss off your parents you move in with their worst nightmare- a boy with tattoos, a rock band, and an irresistible charm.

departure @nomnomsik

summary: As a flight attendant for Korean Air, you’re scheduled for a thirteen-hour flight to Japan. However, things get intimate between you and your partner and co-pilot, Jeon Jungkook, when he realizes Park Jimin, the famous idol from Korea, broads the plane and blatantly flirts with you.

curiosity @hobidreams

summary: when innocent jungkook comes to you with a not-so-innocent question… you decide it’s easier to just demonstrate.

inkling @gguksgalaxy

summary: Jungkook is your brother’s boyfriend’s co-worker, they own a tattoo and piercing parlour. In other words, he’s tall, gorgeous, has his passion literally etched into his skin, looks incredibly good in a man-bun, and is semi-unattainable for you. Why? Well…you’re not entirely sure but him ditching right after a very heated make-out session sure isn’t a good sign. His extremely poor mood the next week sure isn’t either, but the only way to fix it is to face the beast head-on. Right?

j’aime @baepop

summary: You’re the newest hire at a local café and head barista Jeon Jungkook takes you under his wing.

pop goes the cherry @1oserjk

summary: jungkook comes back home to find you visiting as well, all grown up — in more ways than one.

skirt chasers @1kook

summary: “Baggy clothes are in, but you wouldn’t know that, Miss I Draw Inspiration From Catholic School Girls.”

kiss it better @jincherie

summary: When one goes to Kim Seokjin for advice, it’s almost guaranteed to never end well. This is something Jungkook learns quickly when he mistakenly follows treasured advice to ‘be smart’ and ‘use his assets’. He just did what he was told! Of course, the execution was a bit poor… and embarrassing. But hey, if rocking up to cheer practice in a skirt doesn’t woo your crush, what will?

pay by play @yoonia

camboy!au

deeply poisoned @xmagicxshopx

summary: Kiss me on the lips, a secret just between the two of us. Deeply poisoned by the jail of you. I cannot worship anyone but you and I knew the grail was poisoned but I drank it anyway.

speeding ticket @minstrophywife

summary: Caught speeding to get home in time, you find yourself pulled over by a very delicious cop. Perhaps you can talk your way out of the ticket.Or,“I’m afraid I’m going to have to do a cavity search ma’am.”

OT7/Multiple Members

buttercream @minniepetals

summary: you were always adorable in their eyes, sometimes a little too adorable.

dulce periculum @forgottenpasta

summary: Devious and devilish, your two new impish hybrids never miss a chance to torment you for your hopeless attraction to them, knowing exactly what they do to you. But is sly sexuality and enigmatic allure all there is to the tiger and wolf hybrid, or do the depths of their eyes hide something more for you? Part ½

tropicana @dragunjk

summary: groovy punch sippin

amaranthine @koyamuses

summary: As the sole owner of Nightshade, a quaint bed and breakfast on the outskirts of the city, you find pleasure in rising each morning to tend to your guests but behind closed doors and within the shadows, you are the covenant leader to a group of young vampires who have claimed you as their mate.More often than not, your day is brimming with a mix of daily chores and back door deals that ensure the survival of your covenant. However, everything changes when three werewolves come stumbling into your life, all three of them claiming it was your scent that drew them closer as the words true mate ring into the silence.

testosterone boys @kiwiscript

summary: A little end of the year party tradition gets taken too far.

operation love letters @ve1vetyoongi

summary: When every student on campus is going crazy about a survey that claims to make true love bloom, your best friend manages to convince you to join in on the fun — except you’re disappointed to find out that your results just seem to be lost causes. That is until a love letter from a mysterious secret admirer turns up and you find yourself on a mission to find the person behind the pen — but you quickly realise it’s going to be a lot harder than you initially thought when you have 7 possible bachelors to investigate, right? Operation: Love Letters a-go!

our princess @iridescentjin

summary: In your newly established poly relationship, you are intimate with both Taehyung and Seokjin at the same time for the first time.