#this has been bothering me for years at this point

[esote-rika]

derision as prelude to desire | Spencer Reid

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Waldorf!Reader

Category: smut 18+ MDNI, fluff if you squint

Summary: Spencer Reid’s new coworker is mean but one night doing overtime together leads to the two of them bonding.

Content: glasses!Spencer, workplace rivals if you squint, Spencer Reid vs technology, reader is kind of mean and based on Blair Waldorf (in background, looks, and personality), Spencer is petty, his mind is in the GUTTER, use of eye drops, making out, sub!Spencer, fingering, oral (male receiving), whining and begging glasses!Spencer. Let’s pretend the BAU doesn’t have any CCTV cameras for this one m’kay thanks

Word count: 3.6k

A/N: This is an ITCH in my brain, like I’ve been thinking about a Spencer Reid x Blair Waldorf crackship since August last year it’s actually concerning. One of my favorite ship dynamics is loser boy x popular girl, so it makes sense. Still in second person to make it immersive. This isn’t a crossover, so there will be no spoilers for Gossip Girl. The reader's personality, looks and background are just based on Blair. Let me know if you want to read more of this dynamic because I have so many ideas for it oh my god. I hope you enjoy it! Also, tagging @darkmatilda as a fellow glasses!Spencer connoisseur.

Spencer Reid often muses on the series of events that had brought you from the streets of the Upper East Side to work in Quantico, Virginia. It would be easy to ask, of course, or even have Penelope do a quick background check on you, but he’s made a game of it instead, piecing together what he knows of your history, filling in the blanks of what would have gone wrong, what decisions you would have taken, in order to leave the privileged life you led and enter public service.

As far as he had been concerned, you don’t belong anywhere near the FBI, let alone the BAU. Spoiled, rich, with a mean streak he is all too familiar with from his time in school.  

He had been so sure you wouldn’t fit in when you first joined the team. You had been, and continue to be, perfectly made, every single hair shiny and curled just so, heels always so shiny and matching whatever designer bag you have slung over your shoulder. Everything about you screams high maintenance, and his profiler instincts point to several things: uncooperative, wants everything handed to you, ditzy.

But then you had shown your cards, had proved his assessment so wrong and he could never forgive you for the sting of that defeat.

It doesn’t help that you seem to enjoy riling him up as well. Every case is an opportunity to one up him, an attempt to claim his spot and it’s unfair. You already have everything, yet you still refuse to yield the title of team genius to him, the one thing he can cling to, the thing he knows is his. 

He is still glowering today, four months into your employment, passive aggressively hitting the keys on his keyboard. He’s a slow typist, and he’d agreed to write Morgan’s reports for him this week, a favor between friends he’s now beginning to regret. You are the only one keeping him company. The rest of the team has already left hours ago, but you’re typing away at your desk, fingers flying through the keyboard without even a glance. His own skills seem laughable in comparison, going at the keys one by one, with the speed of an old grandparent squinting over a typewriter instead of a man in his twenties. 

“Take a picture, Reid, it’ll last longer.”

He blinks, forcing his eyes back to the monitor. “You’re so original.” he mutters, pushing his glasses up to nestle on top of his head. He rubs his eyes, already despising the glare of the screen.

“Aw, what, the genius can’t handle a little blue light?”

He doesn’t bother with a response, blinking at the screen instead. The sooner he can get this done, the sooner he can leave. Sounds of tapping keys fill the air again, but he stops after a few moments again, rubbing at his eyes. He hears a sigh, and then your voice again, haughty but somehow concerned.

“You’re not supposed to rub your eyes, it makes it worse.” 

“I know,” he grumbles, “I don’t need you lecturing me about the importance of eye health.”

“It seems like you do, since you’re still doing it.” you reply derisively. He’d be rolling his eyes if he isn’t too busy rubbing them.

“Here,” you say, “Catch.”

Confused, he lifts his head, only to flinch as something hurls right at him. “What-” it hits his desk, then bounces off.

“Oh, look what you’ve done, genius.”

“You threw it at me.” his lips are pulled into a tight line of disapproval, “A head’s up would have been nice.”

“I did, genius, I said catch. You just have the reflexes of an eighty year old.” your voice is tinged with annoyance.

To his surprise, you’re up and walking to his desk, heels echoing in the empty bullpen. He watches as you gingerly kneel on the ground, bending down, and his eyes grow wide. The image of you bent down like this is surprisingly enticing, your skirt straining against the soft curve of your hips, hair falling down your shoulders like a curtain of the night sky. You’ve gotten close enough that he can smell your perfume, something citrusy and clean, and he subconsciously leans closer.

Mouth dry, he manages to croak out, “What are you doing?”

“Trying to find the damn eye drops.” you snap, an arm extending towards him and for a moment he holds his breath, waiting for contact. Instead, you grab something from the ground, “There it is.” 

He watches as you straighten, lifting your torso upright, but still kneeling in front of him. An image flashes through his mind, your face between his thighs, those large eyes staring up at him, but he banishes it quickly lest his thoughts begin to stir his body. 

“Here, these should help.” You say, finally standing back up and placing the tiny bottle on his desk. A filthy part of him wishes you’d get back on your knees. He catches the tilt of your head, the confusion in your eyes, “Reid. Are you still with me? Has your brain finally short circuited from all those statistics?”

Oh his brain is short circuiting, all right, just from a different cause.

“I’m - yeah.” he replies, and then he rattles off the first thought his frazzled mind could come up with, “Did you know some people have used eye drops as a method for murder? Not these ones, but there are specific brands that contain—”

“Tetrahydrozoline,” you finish for him, “Yeah, I know.”

He blinks. There you go again, proving your intellect, your value, somehow matching his even though he’s pretty sure you are no genius, not in the same way he is. Still, perhaps it’s the late night, or your offer of relief, but the sting of being bested doesn’t resonate tonight. A softer feeling unfurls in his chest, something warm and addictive, something like understanding. He smiles, “That’s right.”

You nod, curls spilling over your shoulders again, “Mhm. Well… These are for your eyes, I’m not trying to poison you.”

“Wouldn’t put it past you.”

A scoff, “Please, I’m not dumb enough to attempt murder in the office.”

His brows lift and he finds himself grinning, “So you’ve thought about it?”

“I will neither deny nor confirm.” you’re smiling now too, and he lets his eyes roam over the pretty lines of your face, memorizing how lovely you look in this moment, guards lowered and smiling at him with ease. He thinks he sees something flash in those pretty eyes of yours but he’s not sure. Reading people has never been his strong suit, regardless of his profession.

“Come on, I’ll help you.” you gesture at his glasses, and he immediately obeys, pushing it back up to nestle on his hair. He holds his breath as you come closer, bites his lips when your hand comes to his chin. It’s soft, unbelievably gentle, and you tilt his head back. From this angle, he can see the way your lashes curl, the soft hint of shimmer swept across your lids. Eyeshadow, he remembers from what Penelope and JJ have told him, and it highlights the shape of your eyes, making them appear brighter.  

He blinks as coolness hits his eye, and then you’re tilting his head to the other side, and he’s trying not to panic, trying not to be a creep, but in reality, he hasn’t been this close, this intimate to a woman in so long that it’s messing up his ability to inhale, to think, to function. Your hair flutters gently around his face, and the scent of citrus is stronger now, heady, and he feels so light headed he’s afraid he’ll faint.

The same coolness hits the other eye, and before you can pull away, before he can think it through, he’s curling his own hand over your wrist. He lifts it up, pressing a kiss to the inside of your palm, admonishing any thoughts of germs and bacteria, and instead relishing at the tender flesh beneath his lips. He kisses your palm again, lips gently tracing the lines, before moving down to the inside of your wrist, before pausing.

He dares to peer up, waiting for a reprimand, a cutting sentence that would have him lashing back at you, but there’s none. There it is again, the flicker in your eyes, and now he finally knows the word to attach to it: desire.

He kisses the inside of your wrist again, and feels you pulse fluttering beneath his lips. Fast, to his surprise, almost matching the quick succession of thudding in his chest. 

“Reid,” you whisper, and he waits again, allows you time to pull away. You don’t, but he’s apprehensive now, afraid he’s crossed a boundary. He definitely has, but he would do it again if you express the desire to do so, to tumble into whatever this is with him. He just needs confirmation, one verbal acknowledgement that you want this too, because he doesn’t trust his ability to read you yet, not when he’s spent so much time despising you.

But you’re just looking at him, and the embarrassment is almost painful. His cheeks heat up, and he drops your hand.

“I’m sorry.” he murmurs, sinking back on his seat. He’s about to turn to his monitor, intent to forget about this, forget everything even though his memory would make that impossible, but he finds his face being tilted up again, cradled between impossibly soft hands, and then there’s lips against his own, your lips, oh god you are kissing him.

He wraps his arms around your waist, following the movement of your mouth to the best of his limited ability. Your teeth dig into his bottom lip and he lets out an involuntary whimper, his body jerking at the sting. He feels you smiling against his mouth, cocky even in the midst of a kiss, in the midst of the most heated kiss he’s had since - since - he can’t even remember her, the brief dalliance he had with an actress once upon a time, because all he can think of is your mouth, and your hands, nails scratching at his scalp, and every single thought is expelled from his mind when you climb on his lap.

“God,” he moans in between kisses, his breaths ragged, but he would gladly drown in you before stopping.

“Not god,” you correct him and nip at his lower lip with more force this time.

“Mhm.” he whines, and kisses you again, shifting so you’re more comfortable on his lap. He wonders if the chair is creaking from your combined weight, but then you’re grinding directly on his cock and he’s lost in a haze of white hot pleasure. 

Apparently, Spencer Reid cannot multitask, because his lips fall slack as you grind against his hardening cock. Your laughter tinkles in his ear, before your mouth latches on his jaw, down his neck, open and wet and sticky. He knows you said you aren’t god, and he’s never been religious, but he swears this must be heaven. Fitting too, in the same way he’s never thought he’d reach some place he doesn’t even believe in, he’s also never thought he would have you—beautiful, infuriating, untouchable you—grinding on his lap with a desperation that borders frenzy.

Recognizing that your need burns you just as his is making him reckless, he manages to whisper, “Tell me— tell me what to do. How do I make you feel good?”

You giggle, taking one of his hands away from your waist and leading it under your skirt. The fabric has bunched up over your thighs, and he grips the smooth flesh greedily. But you have other ideas, and he’s eager to learn, so he lets you move his hand higher, until the tips of his fingers brush against moist fabric.

His mouth goes dry. You’ve soaked through your panties. 

“Like this?” he dips his fingers past the lace, his mouth falling open at the slick that’s gathered at your core. You have your face buried at his neck, lips and tongue still assaulting the tender skin there, but he feels you nod, feels the shudder that runs through you, and he takes those as a good sign. His touch is exploratory, gentle, fueled by an intoxication over the fact that you’re here and you’re enjoying it, you’re making those sounds for him. 

He’s awestruck rather than cocky, and when he slides his fingers into your pussy, he’s immediately trying to figure out a rhythm that would draw out those pretty noises from your lips. When he finds it, he sticks to it, greedily drinking in your moans, no matter how muffled they are against his neck.

There’s a sense of degeneracy to this whole thing. Fingering his coworker in the office, right there on his desk, he could get fired should this get out, they both could. Still, he’s never truly had anyone want him so unabashedly and he simply cannot stop. You had been the one to kiss him, after all, the lines in the sand had been completely trampled by the time you had climbed on his lap. 

“You feel so good,” you whisper, and he feels you move, riding his hand shamelessly, and he has to bite your shoulder to keep himself from whining again. The sight alone nearly undoes him, and you’ve barely done anything. He’s been actively providing you with stimulation this whole time, fucking you with his fingers relentlessly, and somehow, he wouldn’t change a single thing. 

“Yeah?” he asks, pupils blown wide, wanting, needing the assurance that he’s doing good, he’s making you feel good.

“Yes, oh fuck, yes!” your voice grows sharper as he curls his fingers with every thrust. After a few moments of fumbling with your panties, his thumb presses against your clit and he’s rewarded by another groan from you. 

He draws figure eights against your slick core, finding a rhythm that has you tugging at his hair wildly, and he’s whispering into your ear, pleading, “That’s it, please come for me, please, let me see how good you feel, please, please—”

“Spencer!” you groan, and then you’re shuddering in his lap, and his fingers down to his knuckles are wet with your slick. 

He grins, helping you through your orgasm, pressing kisses to your hair, the FBI issued office chair creaking so much he’s afraid the two of you would break it if you don’t stop. The image is hilarious in its absurdity, making his grin widen, and you must have taken it for arrogance because he feels a slight smack on his shoulder.

“Don’t get cocky.” you mutter.

He takes you in, the flushed cheeks and hazy eyes, mascara now smudged along your lash lines, and he’s reverential instead of arrogant, grateful that he has brought someone so stunning and capable to the throes of pleasure, has taken you apart so much you’ve ruined your normally perfect facade. 

“You’re beautiful.” he tells you, his own eyes glistening with an unfocused daze. You roll your eyes and shake your head, and he’s seized with a desire to keep you hear and bury his fingers inside you over and over again until you believe him.

“Your turn.” You chuckle, hands unwinding from his neck and travelling down the length of his abdomen, coming to the buckle on his belt.

“Wait, I—uh,” he turns beet red once again, clearing his throat, “Are you on the pill? I don’t have—”

You tilt your head, as if the idea of a man walking around without a condom is foreign. Perhaps it is, but Spencer simply never assumed he would have any use for it. He turns away, teeth worrying his lower lip, but you pull his face to you again.

“I have hands.” you say as you resume undoing his pants. You shift, then slink away from him, and he whines at the loss of your warmth, but he sees you on your knees once again, and this time it’s not just his brain making up lewd, inappropriate thoughts, “And a mouth.”

“Y-you really don’t have to.”

“I know,” you grin, pretty as the devil and twice as tempting, and as your hands wrap around his engorged length, thumb circling at the tip, “But how can I not, when you’re this pretty?”

He blacks out, he swears he does, there’s no way this isn’t a perverted dream, no way that you’re actually stroking up and down his throbbing cock. Somehow he comes to, only to feel a warmth, a wetness, enveloping the swollen tip, and his hips buck up instinctively. He whines when your hands push at his thighs, holding him in place. 

“Please,” he gasps, babbles, really, “Please, oh god, that feels so good.” 

You take him further down and he throws his head back so violently the glasses slip past his ears and clatter onto the floor. He feels your laughter vibrating against his cock and it almost has him keening. He whines, wriggles against your hold with no real desire to break free. He finds that likes the force of your hands on him, nails leaving harsh indents on his flesh as he struggles. The pain is delicious, heightening his already frazzled senses.

You bob your head up and down, your hair swaying gently, and he manages to will his hands to move, gathering the soft tresses in his hand so they won’t impede your movement. Your eyes flicker up, meet his own, and he swears there’s a thank you in the glint of them. He cannot do anything else. 

Slack jawed, he watches you hollow your cheeks, saliva dripping down the sides of your mouth as you give him the best head he’s ever experienced. Never mind that it’s his first one, and that he doesn’t have a point of comparison. He’s convinced this is the best, you are the best, and he’s never been more thankful for his eidetic memory until this night, knowing that he cannot, will never, ever forget the way you look as you knelt down and sucked his cock like you were being paid to do it. 

“God, you’re so pretty, oh my god, yes, just like that, please, please, yes.” he’s aware that he’s whining, and there’s an amused twinkle in your eye that tells him he would never hear the end of this after. 

He knows you well enough to know that you would dangle this over his head any chance you get, that you aren’t above playing dirty. Instead of dread, it makes his stomach roil with another gush of desire, and he knows that that is even more concerning than whatever you were going to do.

(It never occurs to him to do the same, that he could tease you back and point out that he has had you on your knees and sucking on his cock like you were made for it simply because his brain cannot fathom ever associating the sight of you kneeling before him as something to be ashamed of.)

He’s drawn from his thoughts as he feels your hands cupping his balls, stimulating an entirely new area that has him thrusting up. He feels his cock brush against the back of your throat, and he pulls back immediately, eyes wide with worry as you gag around his length.

“Oh god, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, baby you can stop if—”

But you do it again, soldiering past your gag reflex and taking him all the way, and he can hear someone saying oh fuck oh fuck I’m cumming agh, please, I’m cumming, and he thinks its his own voice but he’s unsure. His eyes are squeezed shut, colors exploding behind his lids as he feels your tongue swirling over and over his sensitive cock, before the cool air surrounds it, telling him you’ve stopped completely.

When he opens his eyes, you have your head on his thigh, cheek pressed against the fabric, a lazy smile on your ruined lips.

“God,” he whispers, reaching for you, wanting you close, “That was—wow, you—come here, please.”

He watches as a flicker of surprise flits over your face, before you mask it with a giggle, “Good?” you murmur, tucking his soft cock into his pants before climbing on his lap again.

“Incredible.” He holds you tight, your slick only half dry on his fingers, the taste of him still on your tongue, “You’re incredible.”

You’re quiet, contemplative, and he presses a kiss to your neck, wanting to bring you out of whatever funk you’ve gone into, “Hey, what is it?” He’s almost terrified of the answer, worried you would pull away and leave him cold.

“I just didn’t think you’d be a cuddler.” you reply, eventually sinking into his arms. Your voice is soft when you say, “Most men aren’t.”

The thought of her having experiences doesn’t bother him; it’s the fact that they callously left her after that makes him tighten his hold on her. “I’m sorry.”

“For the entirety of shitty men? You’d need more apologies than that,” you chuckle, fingers absently curling into his hair, “But thank you. This is— this is nice.”

“It is,” Spencer nods, leaning into your touch, eyes shut.

“You lost your glasses.”

“I did.”

Your laughter fills the air, “Hey, are you sleepy? You still have Morgan’s reports to finish.”

His eyes flutter open, a sheepish smile on his lips, “Why’d you have to remind me?”

“Because the sooner you finish it, the sooner we can do this again.”

Spencer laughs, kissing your shoulder as he relents, “All right, all right.” That’s more than enough incentive to brave staring at the monitor again.

Bestie I forgot to tag you lol @floraisunwell

[archangeldyke-all]

hope you're feeling better by the ghosting! Lesbian dating scene is hard out here 😭 have an ask if you're up for it. Or you can just listen abt this scenario I have, totally fine either way just wanna let these thoughts out. And you're my fav sevika writer so! It's a bit angsty/comfort ig? Basically Sevika explaining to reader why it's such a struggle to say "I love you".

Not just because it's an admission of feelings for such a character but I think it's also cuz loving someone also means you have to accept anything could happen to either of them, esp since Zaun and her job are quite dangerous. So saying those 3 words feels like accepting that risk and continue on which is a big thing to do, it's like willingly leaving yourself open to potential heartaches. Idk just recently saw posts about how love is not just a feeling but also a choice, whether to stay/commit/any other reason the person feels what love is. Felt like if the reader is the first thing she's ever cared about and don't wanna lose her (whether it's a breakup, death etc,), she would struggle saying it cuz it feels like accepting that risk which she doesn't want to. She would still make up for it by showing her love & appreciation thru other means tho! Mb the reader had anxious thoughts on whether she reciprocated, or Sevika feels bad for not saying back for so long that she felt like she has to explain why she's struggling.

Sorry if I'm rambling too long 😅 hope you have a great year ahead, love your writing as well! ❤️

i love this sm <33

men and minors dni

even though you've lived in zaun your whole life, you understand that your life's been a lot softer than it could've been.

you've never had to worry about where you'll sleep at night-- you've always had a dry, warm bed to rest in.

you've gone hungry some nights, but you're lucky enough to have never gone more than a few days without a warm meal.

and your choice in career keeps you out of the line of danger; safe and inside most of the day, home before sunset each night.

so, while you're zaunite enough to know how to keep your head down and mind your own business, you understand that for most people life's a lot scarier.

sevika's one of those people.

sevika's known grief for almost as long as she's known how to talk. she's spent her fair share of nights in the cold, and she's gone to bed hungry more often than she's gone to bed full and satisfied. plus, sevika's dedicated her life to being a revolutionary. which means sevika has a lot of enemies.

so it's no surprise that lovey-dovey words come easier for you than they do for sevika.

it isn't until two years into your relationship that you realize she's never said she loves you. sevika has to be the one to point it out.

"i think i gotta call it an early night, baby. you stay up and finish the movie." you say around a yawn, leaning forward to kiss your girlfriend on the couch. sevika pouts.

"just sleep on top of me here." she requests. you snort.

"you'll throw your back out carrying me to bed."

"that's just offensive. i could lift three of you." sevika's pout worsens. "goodnight." she huffs. "give me another kiss."

you laugh and roll your eyes. "i love you." you say with exasperation as you lean in to kiss her. sevika stiffens against you. you pull away to study her face. "'s wrong?"

"you always say that." sevika whispers. you raise an eyebrow at her, climbing into her lap to hold her face between your hands.

"well, yeah. 'cause i do."

"i know." sevika says with a tiny smile. it makes your heart flutter. it's quiet for a moment as you wait patiently for your girl to gather her words. eventually, sevika sighs. "does it ever bother you that i don't say that to you?" she asks.

you frown in confusion. "what, that you love me?" you ask. sevika nods. you sputter a laugh. "yes you do, you say it all the time." you scoff.

sevika blinks up at you in shock. "no i don't." she says. "baby, i've never said it. to anyone. ever."

oh. well, that's surprising. you furrow your brow as you try to recall an instance where your girlfriend let the words slip, and you're shocked to realize that she, in fact, has not. "oh." you say.

sevika gulps. "does that... is that bad?" she asks.

you blink down at her, and your heart shatters. "oh, baby, no." you coo, kissing her frown. "no, that's not bad."

"but-- i should be able--"

"darling, i know you love me." you cut her off. sevika blushes almost as red as she did the first time she saw your tits. you smile, brushing your thumbs over her crimson cheeks. "you make that very clear."

"yeah but i--"

"you moved me into your sacred bachlorette pad three months into us meeting. yesterday, you came home from work with a stab wound, and tried to make me dinner before patching yourself up."

"it was just a scratch."

"i'm not finished. you call me stupid shit like sweetbean and cookie-- and you do it in front of other people! you! sevika; the scary lady of zaun!" she chuckles a little bit at this. "sevika, i didn't even realize you hadn't said it until you told me just now." you kiss her nose. "it's not bad."

sevika leans forward to bury her face against your neck, inhaling deeply. "i just... i want to say it." she whispers. you nod. "i wish i could say it like you do; just, whenever i feel it." god she's romantic. you choke back your own tears as you kiss her scalp. "but... if i say it..." sevika trails off.

"if you say it, it makes it real." you whisper, nodding. "it makes it somethin' you can lose." you can feel her hot tears on your throat. you don't mention it.

"y-yeah." she whispers shakily, her hands clutching at your hips desperately. "and i can't lose you."

"you won't baby. even if the worst happens, i'm yours forever. i'll haunt the shit outta you." this pulls a startled laugh out of her, and you grin. "you don't have to say it for the rest of our lives, if you can't. i won't mind. just as long as we're together."

and that settles it.

for a while...

sevika starts practicing.

she'll spell it out to you, 'i l-o-v-e you, baby.' or she'll whisper it to you when she thinks you're sleeping.

at the three year mark, sevika can say it when she's drunk enough. it's fucking adorable.

"i have somethin' import'nt' t' tell you..." she says with a waggle of her eyebrows. you burst into laughter.

"oh, do you?" you ask.

"mmhmm. look." sevika darts forward to peck your lips, then pulls back with a proud smile. "i love'ya." she slurs. you grin.

"i love you too, baby."

"an' if this jinxes everythin' and y' die-- y' gotta make the haunting obvious 'kay?" she asks. you cackle.

"alright, love."

by the time you're married, the words are almost compulsive for her. sevika can't leave a room without shooting a 'love you' over her shoulder at you. even if you're arguing.

"oh, so you've conveniently got a fuckin' 'meeting' in the middle of the night, on your night to do fuckin' dishes?! if you don't get in the kitchen and grab the sponge right now you're sleeping on the couch!"

"it's six pm, it's a dinner meeting! i'll do the dishes when i get back! you act like i'm fuckin' negligent, but you're the one who doesn't know how to properly clean a fuckin' toilet! janna, you annoy me-- i love you, i'll be back by midnight!" she huffs as she slams the door behind her.

despite how pissed you are-- you can't help but smile a bit at her words.

taglist!

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@blackgaladriel @nightlyconfusion @dancingqu33n17

[totalswag]

Hey girl so I was wanting more dad drew and I was wondering if you could do something like where Tatum is like a teenager and her personality is a lot like her moms which causes them to buttheads sometimes, and in one argument Tatum says some hurtful thing to her mom making her mom cry so drew had to have a talk with her. You can add Leo to idk I was just kinda thinking but besides the point I love your work and I think your amazing keep up the great work girl love ya

teen tension ⎯ DREW STARKEY

authors note stop i miss writing dad!drew, one of my favorites. tatum as a teenager is a mixture of both parents. thank you so much for the kind words it really means a lot. happy new year everyone, i hope you all had a fun and safe night <3

taglist ⤕ if you would like to be notified every time i post you will type in your username then be all set to go.

masterlist

summary tatum, your oldest, says a few hurtful words to you that make you cry. drew has a conversation with tatum about what she did to you.

warning(s) arguments, crying, child + parent arguing.

Tatum is very much like you when you were a teenager. Moments during the week where you two buttheads about certain things that are typical for a mom and daughters to "argue" about.

However, tonight took a turn for the worse. Everyone was sitting at the dinner table finishing up dinner. It had been a long day at work for Drew and you been home cleaning the house.

Leo was talking about how his day went—recently, Leo, has gotten into basketball and wanted to try out for the school. Drew and you were excited to hear the news and encouraged Leo to try out.

"Tatum, could you kindly get off your phone? "Your brother is talking," you say aloud, attracting her attention as you point to Leo, who has stopped talking.

Tatum rolls her eyes and sets her phone on the table beside her dish. "You can put it on the counter please."

"Why can't I leave it next to me?" She gives you an attitude, "We are sitting at the dinner table eating, and none of us have our phones next to us," your tone remains casual but firm.

"Leo can still talk and I won't be on my phone" crossing her arms over her chest, not bothering to move her phone from the table.

Before Tatum can finish speaking, Drew cuts her off with a clear and serious voice and says, "Tatum, watch your tone and listen to your mom." 

Tatum groans loudly, pushes her chair out, picks up her phone, walks to the kitchen, and puts it down after rolling her eyes in frustration.

"There look you happy mom?" Tatum mumbles "so dumb" under her breath as she emphasizes with her palms raised.

You hear her say, "It's not stupid, Tatum." We've had this regulation in place for a very long time, so I don't see why everyone is acting this way—" Tatum slams her hand on the table and interrupts you in the middle of your statement. 

"Please, Mom, just shut up already. I'm tired of you being irritating these past few days—" "Tatum Ann Starkey you will not speak to your mom like that, ever!" Drew abruptly interrupts her, throwing his fist on the table, causing everyone to jump. He gestures for her to "go up to your room now," and Tatum gives him a terrified face.

The corners of your eyes well up with tears. Leo comes running to you and gives you utter comfort. You are wondering why Tatum has suddenly started acting this way.

Leo hugs you close to him and says in your ear, "You are the best mom ever, mom. You did nothing wrong."

"Thank you baby."

"Leo, while I comfort your mother, could you please return the little condiments to their proper places? "Thank you, buddy," Drew says to Leo, who nods and follows instructions.

"Are you okay baby?" Drew asks, crouching down and placing both hands on your knees, looking at you with concern. 

"I'm fine, just confused as to why she's acting this way towards me," you say gently, sniffling.

Drew and you begin discussing what has just occurred. Drew was not pleased with Tatum's actions toward you, her mother. You do so lot for this family, and Tatum does not need to vent her frustration on you.

Drew soothed you in every manner conceivable, making you feel more at peace about yourself—he's the best thing that has ever happened to you. The sound of his words made you relax, and tears streamed down your cheeks.

"I'm gonna have a talk with her upstairs," he pauses, "I love you."

You give him a soft smile, pulling the front strained away from your face—leaning forward in your chair, thinking what just happened. So many thoughts running through your head.

Drew knocked on Tatum's bedroom door, and you knew he was going to give her a big lecture on how to communicate with your parents. You've discussed this with both of your children numerous times.

Leo walks into the living room with a bowl of ice cream for himself and you—he's always been a momma's boy. Leo brings you the bowl and takes a seat next to you on the couch. "Thank you, Leo," you say, throwing your free arm around him and drawing him into a side embrace. 

"Of course mom, I love you."

After five minutes, Tatum and Drew come downstairs. Drew muttered something to Tatum before elbowing her toward you. Leo moves from the couch to wherever Drew is in the home.

As she settles on the couch beside you, Tatum sighs—crisscross apple sauce. "Mom I'm sorry for the way I spoke to you at the dinner table," she says after a little pause. "I shouldn't spoken to you like that."

You take in Tatum's words, "I forgive you, Tatum. What you said to me really hurt," Tatum lets a tear fall from her cheek, "be cautious with your words, darling, I love you," taking her in for a loving, lengthy hug.

You and Tatum unwind in each other's arms while letting the tears flow. Tatum reiterated the same words to you: "I love you, mom, and I apologize." Regardless of how you argue, you will always adore your children.

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[purple-haired-faerie]

Family pt 1

Azriel x reader

Future fic, Family fic, established relationship

Word Count: 800

You had thought this time would be easier. You were only given birth to one Illyrian babe this time, rather than two. However your daughter seemed to have other plans. According to Madja, the babe had was at an angle they shouldn’t be at, and a wing had gotten caught. Madja was confident that you’d be fine, as long as she was carful and got the babe out soon. Azriel had been in such a state when Madja had initially broken the news, that it had taken both Rhysand and Cassian to drag him out the room, realising he wasn’t actually helping the situation. They had taken him to look after your teenage sons, saying that they needed their father whilst their mother was bringing their baby sister into the world. Feyre had promised to stay with you and assist Madja.

I have no idea how long my labour lasted after that point, or entirely what happened after Azriel left. I knew pain, I had fought in the war against Hybern, and had delivered twin Illyrian babes before but having a babes wing rip me from the inside out was on another level, and I was loosing a lot of blood. But then a cry broke out, a cry that wasn’t mine. It was a babies cry and Feyre was placing my daughter in my arms. Madja checked me over, and gave me some medicine to help with the injuries, and Feyre cleaned me up before quietly, Madja following her out, supplies all packed up. They were replaced with Azriel, and our sons where hot on his heels. Axel and Elias immediately came over, cooing over their baby sister.

As soon as Azriel and I had told them I was pregnant, they had become even more protective of me, taking after their father in that regards. It was sweet, but having three overbearing Illyrian males playing mother hen could get a lot at times. I shouldn’t complain, it wasn’t a guarantee that teenage males would want to spend time with their Mum but Axel and Elias had proven that notion wrong. They had gotten worse when they had found out I was having a girl, becoming even more protective of me and telling me how they were going to protect their baby sister. I’d spent a lot of time with Feyre, who understood all too well what it was like to be a boy mum and pregnant. She’d has Selene five years ago and had to content with a seventeen year old Nyx and Rhys following her around all over the place.

“I’m sorry I freaked. You were the one in labour and yet I was the one who couldn’t handle it. If anything happened to you…” Azriel’s babbling brought me out of my thoughts. It wasn’t often the Shadowsinger of the Night caught babbled, but when he got spooked in regards to his family, the babbling started. I gave him a reassuring smile saying “you were exactly where I needed you, with the boys. And anyway it’s nothing to be ashamed of. Rhys lost his cool when Feyre had Selene and need I remind you what Cassian was like when Nesta had Clarissa? I’m okay Az. And so is our little Esther”. We’d decided on the name Esther as it meant star, and I had found out I was pregnant on Starfall. I could tell Azriel wasn’t convinced but decided that now wasn’t the time to have that conversation. Instead, he asked “so who wants to be the first to hold their baby sister?” which only caused squabbling between the two brothers.

Despite being twins, the boys were non-identical. Admittedly they had inherited all the Illyrian features from their father, but there were differences. Axel had more green in his eyes and had a slight height advantage over his bother (they were still 6 foot tall at fifteen and still growing) and had inherited Azriel’s shadowsinging abilities. Unlike his father, he was an extrovert and had the ability to make friends with everyone. Elias had inherited my healing abilities, and was more introverted. He had a slight stammer and hated talking to people he didn’t know, terrified they would bully him, mocking him for his ‘inability to speak properly’. Azriel and I had always told him it was nothing to be ashamed of, and Axel pointed out that he and Nyx would always sort out anyone who was mean to him.

Somehow they came to an agreement and Axel was cuddling Esther, and Azriel had me cuddled into his side. I couldn’t help the smile that formed on my face. After all the pain and trauma we had all been through, the reward of being married to my mate, and having three beautiful, healthy children whilst living in Velaris.

Tags; @romantasyreader28 @suppppp97

[mimipolo]

Nam-gyu x reader

I've only seen like two people write for him and I'm desperate 💔

It was the same old thing everyday. Hollering at people to come to the bar he worked. Fake smiles and bitter humour became the norm. He wasn't surprised with how things turned out, not like he cared to try and neither did his folks.

It was another Friday night, but tonight was different since he wasn't working today, that meant no hassling for customers. Some time just to himself. He wondered what he could do to pass the time, maybe a change of scenery, away from the bar and the thrum of music that ached his bones on those long nights.

But the lifestyle was already too deeply engrained in him, it was like a second home at this point and honestly where else would he go? He couldn't imagine using his money for anything other than to pay his rent or get his regular fix. The evolution from bummy cigarettes to actual drugs seemed so far away he can't remember when it began, it's not like he went out of his way to find it. He was content with the cheap stuff, but with work like this he should've expected how it'd eventually turn out. He tried to convince himself he hated it, that he only did it for the sake of his image but he knew better, he knew he got off the high and the one easiest to blame other than himself was Thanos. As he walked towards the bar he let out a sharp scoff as the man slipped into his mind, he was funny, entertaining but as bad an influence as any other.

He slows as the neon lights came into view, sighing as he picks a cigarette from a packet in his back pocket and easily lights it. Taking a long drag as he stares ahead, tempted to go in but something else repells him. For the moment he just hangs outside, just by the door of a small convenience store where most went to get a quick meal after a couple of drinks. His head unconsciously perks up at the sound of the convenience store doors bell ringing as a customer walks out and he has to take a double take to make sure he wasn't imagining it, wiping the cigarette smoke from his face to get a clearer look. The person of interest only seems to recognise him as they walk down the stairs and are about to make a turn to walk in his direction. Stopping dead in their tracks as they make direct eye contact eyes as wide as his. Yeah it was her.

Spluttering slightly as he continues to wave his arm to clear the smoke before swiftly butting his cigarette on the brick wall. A coyish smile on his face as he steps towards her, rocking on the balls of his feet.

"Been a while huh?"

He'd been friends with you for years knowing each other from highschool to the end of college, he couldn't be asked to go to uni, you didn't seem surprised but the disappointment on your face was clear. It almost made him back out.

Considering all this he'd say you two have a good length of history together, memories too. One memory he could never seem to shake was in the second year of college.

It was lunchtime and he had come to your classroom to sit and bother you as usual. You knew the routine. He was ranting on about some guy that he claimed to be an "arrogant dick", talking your ear off as he faced you completely, his leg knocking into yours occasionally to catch your attention when he got to certain parts, he was content with you humming your acknowledgement as you ate your food. But then he suddenly stops mid story, making your head perk up confused. He smirked proudly finally knowing you were actually listening to his dumb stories after all before it solemned slightly.

"What do you think?" He said almost mumbling, tucking his hair behind his ear, a habit of his you found endearing.

"Think of...what?" You had said back mid bite of your food, staring into his eyes, a bit too deeply, so he ran his hand over his face with a sigh.

"...Of me." His voice quieter now, looking ahead instead of at you, he could sense your judging gaze without looking. He remembers how his heart pounded and his hands felt clammy.

"Of you?" You hummed in thought, placing down your food as you looked at his side profile, unimpressed with how he refused to look back at you. You had sighed before answering, resting your cheek in the palm of your hand, "You're nice, when you're not with your friends, I like you more when it's just us." Is all you had said before returning to eating.

He couldn't forget how genuinely taken back by your words he felt, his hair moving with his head as it snapped towards you expectantly. You only give him a pleased side glance as you chuckle and shrug slightly, refusing to let him have a deeper insight to your words. And being immature as he was back then he never figured it out and even now he wonders if he'd figured it out. He wonders even now as he stands opposite you after three, almost four years, if you'd still be interested in an "us".

You chuckle softly, an undertone of disbelief as you step forward him with a small smile on your lips as you finally recognise him. Huffing again in shock, the cold air condensing and forming white clouds with each exhale.

"Nam-gyu? It's been so long I didn't think I'd see you again?" There's a gladness to see him in your words, in your expression and he can't deny the fact it made him feel better about himself.

"Yeah...we never really saw each other again after you left for uni and stuff." He muttered awkwardly, he wanted to seem more confident, it was embarassing to realise he'll probably never be able to look you in the eyes if he's not rambling about something stupid."How was it?"

You sink further into the warmth of your jacket as you answer the question, "It was fun, had all the experiences I missed out on and got my papers." He can't help but chuckle alongside you, even if he's sharing your joy three years too late. "What about you Nam, what are you up to?"

His heart seemed to lift at the familiar nickname, one that you had decided him worthy of on a random Tuesday afternoon in your third year of high school. He didn't care for when others used it but when it was you, and after so long? He could already feel his ears growing hotter as he chuckles again as he tucks his hair behind them.

"Ah...ha, just working ya know." He pursed his lips, he didn't want you to know where he worked, after all your scolding of how he "had potential" but any drive he had left with mum when she abandoned him with his grandma after his dad's death. All of a sudden he was itching for another drag of that cigarette he had just snubbed out. Sucking it up with a slight smile as he gestured awkwardly behind him. "I, uh actually work here, at the bar."

You only nodded, understandingly it seemed, but his gaze wavers at how your eyebrows draw together slightly, he knew what you were thinking but he wasn't ready to confront that, not now. "I wouldn't recommend you come by though." He sighed as he rubbed his hands together, trying to seem as unbothered as he could. He honestly didn't want you near this place, or getting involved with the people in it. He was only here because the pay was good enough and he couldn't think of anywhere else to apply, maybe, just maybe if he had looked around. Sucked up his pride and asked you for advice he wouldn't be stuck in this place. But it was far too late to be considering that now.

He watches as you tilt your head at his warning before shrugging slightly "Not my scene anyway." He was grateful you didn't pry, it was too soon and too late to explain everything at once.

Now that the awkward introductions were over he had the mind to look at you more closely. He knew he found you pretty before but now you'd grown to be beautiful, round features, now more defined by age and experience, illuminated by the gentle glow of the store lights. His staring a drastic change to his demeanor before, he wonders if you notice the slight changes in him too. In his own honest opinion he's only grown taller and you've apparently stayed the same, he bites back a smirk once he notices, tucking his hands in his pockets as he snorts. And like you knew what he was thinking you scoff and roll your eyes. The situation felt all too familiar.

Suddenly you step closer nudging his arm with yours as you look him up and down questionably, "You're not as touchy as you used to be the old you would've been slung over me by now." He only scoffs as you giggle to yourself at the memories, feeling fairly embarassed, and even more so because he knew he had to mentally tell himself not to when he officially recognised it was you in front of him.

"Yeah? Well I grew up." He says sarcastically pushing his hair behind his ear as he stands taller earning another laugh from you which rings nostalgically in his ears. He wonders if the either of you even grew up. You were still connected by the memories after all, is that the same concept allowed for feelings? He felt selfish for entertaining the thought, but for now he was happy to see your face again, it was a breath of fresh air from the constant buzz of his life. A life he felt he could leave behind if you stayed as close as you were now.

[floofiestboy]

Aoyama's Let's Talk Day 2025 Translation [Unofficial Sources]

Yesterday was Aoyama’s yearly Let’s Talk Day, a day when a lucky few audience members chosen by lottery have the chance to ask him questions. While the Q&A hasn’t yet been officially released, I’ve translated tweets about the questions asked. I can’t guarantee that they’re 100% trustworthy, but generally most questions were posted by multiple unrelated users.

In cases where different users reported slightly different answers for the same question, I consolidated them to the best of my ability. All source tweets at the end. Without further ado: 

Q. When Gin travels to other countries, does he stay at hotels, or does he have safe houses? I want to know whether he uses hotel-provided amenities like bathrobes.  

A. He sleeps in his car or stays at Organization-provided lodging- the Organization has apartments all over the place. He does also stay at hotels. The FBI still hasn’t discovered them. He does wear bathrobes! He has long hair so I imagine it’s tough to wash.

Q. What sports does the England-born Akai play aside from Jeet Kune Do?

A. He learnt Jeet Kune Do from his father, so has no interest in sports other than that. But I think he might be good at cricket since he’s English. Maybe baseball in America.

Q. Does Hiro have any experience with martial arts?

A. He learnt some at the police academy. He has no other experience, but he’s decently strong- weaker than Kyogoku though.

Q. As you were a guest on Kōhaku Uta Gassen [T/N: A music show that traditionally airs around New Year’s in Japan] this year, do you have plans to write a case based around it?

A. I doubt NHK would let me (haha) I did think a music show case might be fun, but they’d probably still bother me about it.

[Questioner: What if you changed the name? Like, a West vs. East tournament.]

I’ll think about it.

Q. Will the Kuroba family and Kudo family meet each other in the future?

A. Is that something you want to see? I’ll think about it.

Q. What will Momiji do now that Heiji and Kazuha are dating?

A. I don’t think Momiji will give up? She’ll do her best.

Q. How can you think up so many different characters?

A. I don’t know (haha) Maybe because I’ve seen lots of different manga, dramas, and movies. 

[Questioner: So they just pop up in your mind.]

Something like that.

Q. Do you plan to write a story where Chihaya and Furuya meet?

A. Ah, so Chihayafuru, you mean (haha) It sounds interesting, so I’ll think about it.

Q. What can you tell us about this year’s movie at this point?

A. When I told Rikiya Koyama [T/N: Mouri’s VA] that Kogoro is the main character this year, he told me he was nervous. Once he was done, Takayama-san [T/N: Conan’s VA] told him he sounded cool. 

Q. What’s the best part of this year’s movie?

A. I can’t say, but I think you’ll be shocked.

Q. What’s your favourite case so far?

A. Ran GIRL & Shinichi BOY. I love it.

Q. How did Kogoro manage to become a detective without deductive abilities?

A. He doesn’t have deductive abilities, but he’s good at shooting and judo. And he has Conan around. Everything works out.

Q. Was Nakamori Aoko born in September?

A. When is good?

[Questioner: Since Kaito was born on the 21st, maybe the 12th?]

 I’ll think about it. I haven’t decided, but since Kaito’s birthday is June 21st (6/21), maybe September 12th (9/12) makes sense.

Q. What kind of things does Ran talk about with her karate club friends?

A. What would you like?

[Questioner: Romance talk!]

I do think they chat about that. Everyone would be interested to hear about how things are going with Shinichi. If a scene like that ever comes to mind, I’ll think about including it.

Q. What is Furuya’s family situation like?

A. Secret, as I haven’t decided for certain just yet- it might still change.

Q. Will you ever draw the moment Kazuha fell for Heiji?

A. Do you want to see it? I might.

Q. At Abeno Harukas, Heiji confessed and was holding hands with Kazuha, but did Heiji initiate the hand-holding?

A. Yes. I don’t know if I’ll ever draw that though.

Q. At Kōhaku Uta Gassen, were there any artists you enjoyed other than aiko, B’Z, and Fukuyama-san?

A. Ah, I can’t think of anyone but them. But they were all good. B’z was amazing. It was all dark in the audience seating, but when I thought “oh, something is moving,” it was truly amazing by the end. B’z is my choice! (haha)

Q. Do you have any plans for a spinoff featuring Hattori?

A. Like Zero’s Tea Time?

[Questioner: More like Hanzawa-san.]

What’s the difference between Zero’s Tea Time and Hanzawa-san? Did you want a spinoff? There’s no plans for one right now.

Q. Are there any characters you plan to have romantic developments for in the near future?

A. Kansuke and Yui, and Juugo and Chihaya… aside from that [glances at the moderator] that character… if I say who it is, we’ll get flamed online, so… (haha) 

[The audience goes abuzz]

Well, yes. I can’t tell you right now (haha). Let’s leave it at that.

Q. What’s the plan for next year’s movie?

A. I can’t say, but they do already have it planned.

Q. Who will be the star of next year’s movie?

A. I can’t say, but it’s already been decided as well as the stage.

Q. I’m from Hokkaido. Do you have plans to draw any famous tourist spots in Sapporo? 

A. Hakodate was recently the stage, so it would need to be some time in the future. Any recommendations?

[Questioner: Suzukake Park, Oodori Park, Sapporo TV Tower.]

Ah, got it, I’ll think about it.

Q. We know that Azusa has worked at Poirot for at least one year, but how long has she worked there in total?

A. I don’t know. Maybe since she was in high school. Oops, I just said whatever.

Q. Any plans for a movie set in Tottori?

A. Not at this time. I’ll think about it. I did try to incorporate the Tottori dialect once, but I was told it was incomprehensible. Tottori dialect is pretty hard. If we do a movie here, I’d like it to use Tottori dialect.

Q. It seems Momiji won’t give up even now that Heiji and Kazuha have gotten together, but will Iori continue to serve Momiji in the same way? Will he ever leave due to his old work?

A. He’ll be by her side forever. I think he’ll protect her until the day he dies.

Q. What would you want to eat at a Conan café? 

A. Naporitan spaghetti. I have childish tastebuds, so I also like Hamburg steak and hamburgers.

Q. I like aiko, so I want to hear the behind-the-scenes details about your talk with her on Kōhaku Uta Gassen.

A. During our preparatory meeting, I asked whether I should say “Funya!”, but I was told I couldn’t (because it’s from a different agency.) [T/N: Not familiar with this myself, but maybe it’s some idol’s catchphrase or a reference to a show.]

[Questioner: After meeting aiko, did any murder case ideas come to mind?]

No (haha) It would be sad to kill her off. Maybe a case with a singer involved… I’ll think about it. Aiko was cute.

Q. Kurayoshi’s phone number area code is an important plot point in Conan, but will the city be involved in the future?

A. A coincidence. Kurayoshi residents will get mad at me otherwise.

Q. What did you do for New Year’s as a child?

A. Usually my family would ask me to visit a shrine with them, but I’d stay at home since it was too much of a pain. These days, I always go for my health. [T/N: In Japan, it’s tradition to visit a shrine on the first day of the new year.]

Q. What’s Inspector Ayanokouji’s personal life like? What are his hobbies?

A. He feeds Maro-chan. Hobbies… I wonder. He does like Maro-chan. What would you like?

[Questioner: Something like archery.]

Archery? Well, I’ll think about it.

Q. Do you have any plans for a triple date with Heiji-Kazuha, Shinichi-Ran, and Kyougoku-Sonoko?

A. I hadn’t thought of that before, but I’ll think about it.

[Questioner: So you don’t plan to think about it.]

Sorry (haha). 

Q. Any information on Akai and Amuro’s chat nine hours later?

A. I can’t say. It’s a truly mysterious tea party (haha)

Q. In your Professional interview, you were eating curry, but is there any other food or snacks you like to eat while working?

A. I only really eat cheap stuff, so (haha)  I’m really into the beef don mini-pack from Yoshinoya- it’s a pretty small portion. It’s healthy and good. Also, curry from Coco.

Q. The Saitama prefecture is right next to Tokyo, but has never made an appearance. Any plans for Saitama prefecture police to appear?

A. Yokomizo did show up in Saitama at first, but he did move to Shizuoka, so (haha) I tried to have him go back, but I was told that then it just seemed like he never moved at all. I’ll write about Saitama eventually. I’ll think about it.

Q. What does Kazuha like aside from aikido? 

A. She likes Heiji… (haha) I think she likes cooking just like others like her would. Do you have any thoughts on what she might like?

[Questioner: What…]

[Moderator: Well, that’s what they wanted to know in the first place.]

I’ll think about it.

Q. I’m from Taiwan. Conan has only ever gone to England in the manga. Will he ever go to another country in the manga, not the movies?

A. It would be tough while he’s still Conan, as he doesn’t have a passport. His only choice is for Kid to stuff him into a suitcase, but I can’t use the same trick twice (haha) I’d like to go to Taiwan one day.

Q. Akai and Amuro infiltrated the Organization and know about Sherry, but don’t know of the existence of APTX4869?

A. They do not. There’s a reason why the details of her research and her family isn’t well-known in the Organization, but that’s secret. Even parents wouldn’t tell their children about it in the Organization. 

Q. Do you plan to introduce any new Organization operatives?

A. What would you like?

[Questioner: Amaretto!]

I'll think about it.

Q. Do you plan to draw Shinichi and KID facing off?

A. Shinichi. You mean big Shinichi, huh? I’d love to. (haha)

Q. What last name do you like, or would like to have?

A. Kudo! (haha) Since Kudo Yuusaku as portrayed by Matsuda Yuusaku was cool. If I can, I’d love to become one! (haha)

Q. Did you decide that Heiji would confess on a tall Osaka building even before the Abeno Harukas tower was completed? [T/N: It opened in 2014]

A. I decided after the Abeno Harukas tower was completed. But I did know from the start that Kazuha’s mother would make an appearance to include a twist.I wanted everyone to think that he’d confess to her mother by mistake. 

Q. Who’s stronger between Kogoro and Ran?

A. That’s quite the question (haha) Kogoro is strong! But, Ran is catastrophically strong too (haha). I think it’s hard to say? But if they fought against each other, he’d probably hold back against Ran. Since he’s her dad.

Q. You can really feel the cultural differences between Kyushu and Tokyo. Do you plan to write a case based on that?

A. I’d like to.

Q. Do you have any special tidbits for us aside from what you’ve already told us?

A. Kansuke and Yui and Koumei’s childhood will appear in the movie. Take a good look at the illustration I drew for the Conan Tanteisha store as well. 

Q. Anything you’d want to incorporate into Tottori’s Mystery Tour? Tourist spots and restaurants you’d recommend?

A. I’d like them to make use of Tottori’s Odaiba, crabs, and apple-pears.

Q. Who’s the tallest among all your characters?

A. Date and Gin! Kyougoku is a little shorter, but those three are the tallest. Kazami is too tall in the anime. He should be the same height as Furuya. [T/N: One source also claimed he said that Gin is taller than Date.]

Q. Will Miyano Shiho and Kudo Shinichi ever star in the same case?

A. Ah, I can’t tell you that. Whoops, I almost let something slip (haha)

Sources

https://twitter.com/hrksdc/status/1875104017174639079

https://twitter.com/brainwashednerd/status/1875109428812460351

https://twitter.com/yuki_det_con/status/1875121186411348179

https://twitter.com/Flambe4869/status/1875236194071834928

https://twitter.com/nyarura73/status/1875104933978206521

https://twitter.com/mskAK25/status/1875125288943989101

https://twitter.com/furu_rei0/status/1875126654412177457

https://twitter.com/44_mcs/status/1875132311219634602

https://twitter.com/44_mcs/status/1875119113670144425

[iris-qt]

𝚜𝚕𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗 𝚜𝚔𝚒 𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝

ᴘᴛ. ᴠ ᴛᴏ (ɴᴏᴛ ꜱᴏ) ꜱᴇᴄʀᴇᴛ ꜱᴀɴᴛᴀ - ꜰɪɴᴀʟᴇ

❆ ᴀᴄᴀᴅᴇᴍɪᴄ ʀɪᴠᴀʟꜱ | 10.0ᴋ

❆ ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ: ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇᴏᴅᴏʀᴇ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ɢᴏɴᴇ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴄᴜʟᴍɪɴᴀᴛᴇꜱ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴠᴀᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀʟꜰᴏʏ'ꜱ ʟᴏᴅɢᴇ ᴅᴜʀɪɴɢ ᴡɪɴᴛᴇʀ ʙʀᴇᴀᴋ. ᴡɪʟʟ ᴛʜɪꜱ ʀᴇᴛʀᴇᴀᴛ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱɴᴏᴡʏ ᴍᴏᴜɴᴛᴀɪɴꜱ ꜰɪɴᴀʟʟʏ ʟᴇᴀᴅ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏɴꜰᴇꜱꜱ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ꜰᴇᴇʟɪɴɢꜱ?

❆ ᴀ/ɴ: ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ᴏɴᴇ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ꜱᴜᴘᴘᴏʀᴛᴇᴅ ᴍᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ. ɪᴛ ᴍᴇᴀɴꜱ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ!! ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴅᴇᴅɪᴄᴀᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴀʟʟ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡʜᴏ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ, ᴀ ʙɪɢ ʙɪɢ ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ. ᡣ𐭩

It was a late evening in the Slytherin common room, a week before winter break.

 A crackling fire illuminated the room as Theo lounged on a green velvet sofa, flipping through a book, while you scribbled furiously in your notebook at the opposite end of the room.

Mattheo strutted into the common room, his usual smirk plastered across his face, followed closely by Blaise who looked far too amused for Theo’s liking.

“You know,” Mattheo began, plopping himself into the chair between you and Theo, “I think it’s time we had a little chat.”

Theo groaned, not even bothering to look up. “Can’t you see we’re busy?”

“Busy ignoring each other? Very productive,” Mattheo quipped, glancing between you two. “But don’t worry. I’m about to change your lives.”

You shot him a glare. “If this is another one of your ridiculous schemes-”

“Oh, it is,” Blaise interrupted smoothly, flopping onto the sofa beside Theo. “And it’s brilliant.”

Mattheo leaned forward, his smirk widening. “You two ever wonder why we’ve been pushing you together so much lately?”

Theo snapped his book shut, narrowing his eyes. “Because you’re a meddling prat who has nothing better to do?”

“Accurate,” you added without looking up from your notes.

Mattheo held up a finger. “True, but not the full story.”

Blaise chuckled. “This is the good part.”

With a dramatic sigh, Mattheo leaned back, folding his arms behind his head. “See, here’s the thing. Your constant bickering? It’s been exhausting for the rest of us.”

You frowned, pen pausing midsentence. “Excuse me?”

Mattheo waved a hand. “You heard me. The snark, the eye rolling, the glares. It’s like watching a soap opera unfold. Minus the dramatic music and commercial breaks.”

Theo scowled. “We do not bicker that much.”

“Mate,” Blaise interjected, “you both argued for twenty minutes last week about whether the library smelled more like parchment or mildew.”

“It smells like parchment!” Theo defended, throwing up his hands.

“Exactly,” Mattheo said, pointing at him. “Proving my point. So, the gang and I decided to do something about it…for an end goal of course”

You crossed your arms, clearly unimpressed. “And what, exactly, is this end goal?”

Mattheo’s grin turned positively wicked. “We orchestrated this whole winter break thing.”

Theo blinked. “What whole thing?”

“A ski retreat to Malfoy’s family ski lodge!” Mattheo says as if it’s the brightest plan of the century.

Your jaw dropped. “You mean to tell me you’ve been meddling just so we wouldn’t annoy you?”

Mattheo held up his hands in mock innocence. “Not just that. It’s also been incredibly entertaining.”

Theo pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Oh, come on,” Blaise said, smirking. “It’s not like it didn’t work. You’ve been a lot less...murdery toward each other lately.”

You opened your mouth to retort but stopped, glancing at Theo. He looked just as caught off guard as you felt.

Mattheo leaned forward, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Besides, you two needed this. You just didn’t know it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked, narrowing your eyes.

Mattheo smirked, standing up and patting your shoulder. “You’ll figure it out. The mountains have a way of making people see things clearly.”

As Mattheo sauntered off, Blaise followed, throwing a parting shot over his shoulder. “Just don’t forget to thank us when you’re both madly in love by New Year’s.”

You and Theo exchanged a horrified look, protests overlapping.

“That’s not—” “We don’t—”

The silence that followed was almost comical.

Finally, you shook your head, muttering under your breath. “They’re insufferable.”

Theo huffed, grabbing his book again. “Tell me about it.”

But as he flipped a page, he couldn’t help glancing at you, a thought nagging at the back of his mind. 

Maybe, just maybe, the prats had a point.

…

The snow outside the Malfoy lodge sparkled under a pale winter sun as three elaborate, gleaming black carriages pulled up in a line, two days after break began. Each was pulled by magical thestrals, their skeletal wings casting eerie shadows across the snow. The group began piling out, each member showcasing a different level of winter preparation.

“Careful!” Pansy snapped as Mattheo practically vaulted out of the first carriage, sending a dusting of snow into her boots.

“It’s just snow,” Mattheo said, brushing nonexistent flakes off his jacket with exaggerated care. “Don’t be so dramatic.”

Pansy shot him a murderous glare. “These are Prada, you twit.”

From the second carriage, Blaise emerged with practiced grace, holding a flask. “Anyone want a warming charm? Or something stronger?”

“Why not both?” you said, stepping out behind him and rubbing your gloved hands together.

Just as you spoke, a loud whoosh echoed, and everyone turned to see a plume of green fire bursting from the lodge’s ornate outdoor Floo Powder station. Draco stepped out of the flames, his hair immaculate, brushing soot off his shoulders like it was routine.

Behind him, Theo stumbled out, coughing into his sleeve. He was covered head to toe in soot, his normally pristine coat streaked with black.

“Floo Powder,” Theo muttered darkly, shaking his fluffy brown hair out. “Never again.”

Mattheo grinned, barely holding back his laughter. “You look like you just crawled out of a chimney, mate. Should I find you a broom to match?”

You smirked, unable to resist. “You’re really going for that chimney sweep aesthetic, huh?”

Blaise raised his flask in a mock toast. “To arriving in style…or in Theo’s case, spectacular disgrace.”

Theo grumbled under his breath, attempting to clean his coat with a wandless spell, but your laughter made him pause. You were grinning at him, cheeks red from the cold, and for a split second, he forgot his irritation.

“Alright, you lot,” Draco said, stepping into the center of the group. “This isn’t a circus. Let’s go inside before someone else makes a fool of themselves.”

Mattheo elbowed Theo as they started up the snowy path. “Don’t worry, mate. You’ve already won that competition.”

Theo shot him a withering look but couldn’t help the faint tug of a smile. The lodge loomed ahead, and with it, the promise of a very long, and eventful week.

…

They arrived in the grand foyer of Malfoy’s extravagant ski lodge, all gleaming marble floors, enchanted chandeliers, and walls lined with enormous portraits of Malfoy ancestors. The lodge was gloriously decorated with sparkling enchanted candles and floating ornaments. The group huddled inside, shedding coats and scarves as Draco began assigning rooms.

“Welcome,” Draco announced, spreading his arms as if he’d built the place himself. “To the Malfoy Lodge. Please try not to ruin it.”

“Try not to ruin it?” Mattheo repeated, smirking. “Sounds like a challenge.”

Draco shot him a withering look. “It’s not.”

You glanced around, taking in the sheer grandeur of the place. “This isn’t a lodge…it’s a castle pretending to be cozy.”

“Impressive, isn’t it?” Theo drawled, brushing a bit of snow off his coat. “Bet you’ve never seen anything like it.”

You rolled your eyes. “Right, because I live under a bridge.”

“Enough,” Draco interrupted, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Let’s get through room assignments so we can all move on with our lives.” He pulled out a parchment and began reading.

“Blaise, you’re in the east wing, Room 3A. Mattheo, 3B, next door. Pansy, you’ve got the west wing, Room 4C.”

“Alone?” Pansy asked, raising a perfectly arched eyebrow. “You don’t trust me with a room neighbor?”

“Let’s say I wouldn’t trust my worst enemies with you,” Draco replied smoothly, earning a round of muffled laughter.

Draco continued, ignoring the side chatter. “I’m in 2F. And Y/N...”

You perked up, expecting your name to be followed by your own luxurious solo room.

“You’re with Theo in 1D.”

“What?” you and Theo exclaimed simultaneously, voices overlapping in a mixture of outrage and disbelief.

Draco folded the parchment and tucked it into his pocket. “You heard me.”

“But there are literally a hundred rooms in this place,” you protested, gesturing wildly. “Why do I have to share one with him?”

“Yeah,” Theo agreed, his brows furrowing. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

Draco sighed, as if he’d been expecting this. “The decision is final. You’re both insufferable on your own, and frankly, I’m tired of your constant bickering. Maybe forced proximity again will teach you some manners.”

“Or one of us will murder the other,” Theo muttered under his breath.

You crossed your arms, glaring at Draco. “This is ridiculous. You’re punishing me for no reason.”

Draco smirked. “Oh, there’s a reason. The entirety of our 7 years at Hogwarts with you two was like listening to a pair of Howlers.”

“I mean, he’s got a point,” Blaise added lazily, earning a glare from both you and Theo.

Mattheo, ever the opportunist, grinned. “Don’t fight it, you two. Think of it as a bonding exercise.”

“Or a reality show,” Pansy quipped. “We can take bets on how long it takes before one of them snaps.”

You turned to Draco, desperate. “I’ll sleep on the floor! Or the couch! Or in a cupboard!”

Draco shook his head. “The wards on this lodge won’t allow it. Guests must sleep in their assigned rooms. Besides, there’s only one bed in 1D, and it’s big enough for two.”

Theo groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “You planned this, didn’t you?”

Draco didn’t bother to deny it. “Enjoy your stay.”

…

It’s the first morning of the trip, and the gang is gathered in the grand dining hall for breakfast, surrounded by floor-to-ceiling windows that reveal a picturesque snowy landscape. The chaos begins as they attempt to settle into their vacation routines.

You and Theo walk down shooting each other glares after a restless night in your shared room.

You claim his snoring kept you up, but really, it was the light weight of Theo’s hand that moved to grasp your own while he slept that kept your brain and heart spiraling all night.

Theo claims it was you muttering about homework in your sleep when really it was endless dreams about you that woke him up every few hours.

“Pass the coffee,” Pansy grumbled, rubbing her temples and squinting at the bright sunlight streaming through the windows. “Who thought waking up before noon on a holiday was a good idea?”

“Some of us like to experience daylight,” Blaise chimed in, helping himself to a stack of waffles.

Mattheo strolled in, already dressed for the slopes, and clapped his hands together. “Morning, peasants! Who’s ready for some wholesome outdoor bonding?”

“Define wholesome,” Blaise said, barely looking up from his paper as he sipped his espresso.

“The kind where Theo falls on his arse at least three times,” Mattheo replied with a smirk.

Theo, seated at the far end of the table, shot him a glare. “The only person falling today will be you, after I shove you off a ski lift.”

“Bold of you to assume you’ll be coordinated enough to manage that,” you quipped from beside him, not looking up from your plate.

Theo turned to you, his brow raised. “I’m sorry, did you even pack skis, or were you planning to sled down the mountain on sheer audacity?”

Before you could respond, Draco walked in, exuding his usual aristocratic confidence. “Can you all keep it down? You’re ruining the ambiance of my family lodge.”

“Your brooding ancestors ruin it, not us,” Blaise muttered under his breath, eyeing the various portraits of Malfoy’s old ancestors on the walls.

Draco ignored him, instead waving a hand toward a nearby (well paid and well treated) house elf, who instantly appeared with a tray of fresh pastries. “Right. Ground rules. No one burns anything down, no one embarrasses the Malfoy name in front of the other guests, and for Merlin’s sake, don’t let Mattheo near the fireplace.”

“That was one time,” Mattheo protested.

“It was last week,” Draco deadpanned.

You looked around, amused. “So, this is what the elite do on holiday? Bicker over breakfast?”

“Only when we’re stuck with you lot,” Theo muttered.

You gasped dramatically. “You’d be lost without me, Nott.”

“Lost?” Theo scoffed. “I’d be thriving.”

“Enough,” Draco snapped, clearly already regretting his decision to invite them. “Just be ready in twenty minutes. We’re hitting the slopes, and I expect some semblance of decorum.”

“Decorum?” Mattheo asked, feigning confusion. “Is that a new drink on the menu?”

Pansy snorted into her juice, while Draco pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why do I even bother?”

…

The group arrives at the base of the ski hill, where chaos quickly ensues.

Mattheo insists on leading the warm-ups, which somehow devolves into him challenging Blaise to a race. Blaise accepts with a smug grin, only to deliberately shove Mattheo into a snowbank halfway down.

Pansy, decked out in an overly glamorous ski outfit, refuses to actually ski and instead sets up a lounge chair to “supervise” from afar.

Draco attempts to maintain order but gets increasingly exasperated as your’s and Theo’s bickering escalates.

“You’re supposed to lean forward, not flail like a deranged Hippogriff!” Theo shouts as you wobble on your skis.

“Maybe I wouldn’t be flailing if my so-called instructor wasn’t a deranged Hippogriff,” you fire back.

“Merlin’s beard,” Draco mutters, watching you two with a mix of horror and resignation.

Meanwhile, Blaise sails effortlessly down the hill, turning gracefully to call out, “This is fun! You lot should try it without all the screaming!”

Mattheo, now dusting snow off his jacket, watches you and Theo with a knowing smirk. “You know,” he says to Pansy, “this trip might actually be worth it just for the entertainment value.”

“Agreed,” Pansy replies, snapping a moving photo of Theo glaring at you as you fall into a heap.

…

It was truly a picturesque ski slope surrounded by snow-covered trees and tall peaks. The crisp mountain air bit at your skin as a crowd of skiers zooms past, but you were struggling to keep your balance on the slope. Theo, perched at the top, watches with a smug smirk, clearly enjoying your distress.

You wobbled as you pushed yourself forward on the skis, trying to follow the basics Theo had explained, or, rather, mocked you for not knowing. Your knees bent awkwardly, and you nearly toppled over again, catching yourself just in time.

"Steady there," Theo called from the top, clearly amused. "Maybe next time try not to fall on your face. It’s not a good look."

You shot him a glare, balance once again betraying you as you slipped down a little too quickly. “Oh, please. You’re not even helping me!” you shot back, voice carrying over the soft wind.

Theo smirked, crossing his arms. "Helping you? I’m pretty sure I’ve helped enough already. You’re the one who insisted on trying to ski like a pro on your first day."

“I was just trying to keep up with you,” you muttered, half under your breath.

“Oh, so now you’re admitting you want to be like me?” Theo teased, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I mean, who wouldn’t? Look at me.” He pulled off a smooth ski maneuver, ending with a pristine spray of snow, making sure you could see just how effortlessly he glided down the slope.

You grumbled under your breath, muttering something about him being insufferable. But just as you started to regain your footing, a tall, handsome wizard in sleek black ski gear suddenly appeared beside you, his charm radiating like he’d been born for the slopes.

“Need a hand?” he asked, giving you a warm smile that made you heat up a little, despite the cold.

Theo’s smirk faltered slightly, a spark of irritation flickering in his eyes as he watched the wizard approach.

“I’m fine,” you replied quickly, though you couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed, especially with Theo watching from above. You adjusted your ski poles, trying to keep your balance as the wizard gave you a once-over.

“Don’t worry, happens to the best of us.” The wizard grinned, offering you a hand. “I’m Callum, by the way. Been skiing since I could walk. You just need to loosen up a bit.”

Theo watched the interaction with narrowed eyes, irritation bubbling up in his chest, but he tried to keep his voice casual as he spoke.

“Callum, huh?” Theo called from above, his tone dripping with mild amusement. “I see you’re making new friends already, Y/N.”

You shot a glare in Theo’s direction, but your smile was warm as you turned back to Callum. “It’s fine, really. I’m just trying to figure this out on my own.”

Callum’s grin widened, clearly amused by your stubbornness. “Ah, the independent type. I like that.” He took a step back, giving you some space. “If you change your mind, I’ll be over there.”

You watched as Callum glided away. You shook it off quickly, focusing back on the task at hand.

Theo, still watching from his spot above, couldn’t resist the chance to poke fun. “Nice guy. Wonder if he’s always so...helpful.”

You rolled your eyes, but the irritation you’d seen in Theo’s eyes didn’t go unnoticed. “Don’t be a jerk, Theo.”

Theo smirked, though it was tinged with something less playful. “I’m not a jerk. Just saying, he looked a little too eager to help out a beautiful stranger.”

You huffed, cheeks warming. “Well, maybe I don’t mind help from someone who knows what they’re doing.”

Theo’s jaw tightened slightly, and his smirk faltered for just a second. “Yeah, well, I know what I’m doing too. You could’ve just asked me, you know.” He motioned to the slope below him, as if to emphasize his very important role in the situation.

“Maybe I don’t need help from a guy who’s too busy making fun of me,” you shot back, trying to keep your tone light, but there was a hint of challenge in your words.

Theo’s brow furrowed slightly, and he looked at you with something unspoken in his gaze. For a moment, the teasing fell away, and his voice was more serious when he spoke. “I’m not making fun of you, Y/N.”

“You sure?” you asked, skeptical, arms crossed. “Because it sure felt like you were.”

Theo exhaled sharply, pushing off from the top of the slope. “Fine. Look, I’m just trying to make this less...embarrassing for you.” He looked down, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I guess I’m...not the best at helping, but I didn’t mean to-"

“Alright, alright,” you interrupted, a small smile tugging at your lips as you adjusted your stance again. “I get it. You’re just...a little jealous.”

Theo blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “What? No. I’m not jealous.”

“You sure?” you teased, smile widening. “Seems like you were a little bothered by Callum being so nice.”

Theo narrowed his eyes, his teasing smirk returning full force, though his voice was a little more strained now. “I’m not bothered. I’m just saying, if I were him, I’d be careful not to seem so desperate”

You laughed, finally gaining your balance as you turned back to the slope. “Well, I think Callum’s probably a better skier than you,” you called over your shoulder.

Theo’s eyes flashed with something unrecognizable, and he glided down the slope faster than before, catching up to you in just a few seconds. He pulled up alongside you, deliberately leaning in close. “You really think Callum’s a better skier than me?”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’re about to prove me wrong, aren’t you?”

Theo smirked, eyes glinting. “Damn right I am.”

…

The ski slope is quieter now, with most people off to lunch or exploring the lodge. The snow is fresh and untouched, the air crisp, and the distant sound of skis swishing down the hill fills the silence. 

Theo, looking slightly more serious than usual, positioned himself in front of you on the slope. His arms crossed, but there was a noticeable softness in his expression as he adjusted his ski poles.

He sighed dramatically as he looked down at you, as you were trying your best to stand upright on your skis. “I’ll teach you…but no more complaints when I make you do the actual stuff.”

You gave him an exaggerated smile. “I promise to keep the complaining to a minimum.”

“Famous last words,” Theo muttered under his breath, but he gave you a small, almost reluctant smile before motioning to the slope. “Okay, first thing’s first: keep your weight forward. Don’t lean back like you’re about to doze off.”

“Thanks, that’s really helpful.” you shot him a sarcastic grin.

Theo raised an eyebrow. “You asked for this.”

The Slytherin crew stood at the top of the hill, watching the whole interaction with varying degrees of amusement.

“Do you think she’ll make it down without damage?” Draco called down, watching as you wobbled awkwardly on your skis.

“Hard to say,” Mattheo teased, smirking. “Theo’s over there looking like he’s actually trying to teach her, but we all know how that goes.”

Blaise chuckled from where he was leaning against a nearby snowbank. “At least she’s got some determination. I’m just here for the inevitable faceplant.”

Mattheo grinned. “You really want to see that? I thought you were a supporter, Blaise.”

“I’m supportive of entertainment,” Blaise replied with a shrug. “And believe me, this is gonna be good.”

You shot them all an exasperated glare. “I can hear you, you know!”

“You’ll be fine,” Theo reassured you, though he sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than you. He pointed down the slope. “Alright, now push off with your poles and glide forward. Keep your knees bent, like this.” He demonstrated, bending his knees and effortlessly gliding down a few feet.

You followed, though your glide was a little less graceful. “I’m trying! This is hard, you know?”

Theo grinned. “I know. But I’m here to help.” He looked over his shoulder at his friends. “No laughing, alright?”

“We’re not laughing,” Draco replied innocently. “We’re just concerned for her safety.”

Ignoring them, Theo focused on you, walking alongside you as you practiced. “You’re doing better already,” he said, sounding genuinely impressed. “You’re standing up this time.”

“Yeah, but I’m barely moving,” you admitted with a huff.

Theo smirked. “Progress is progress.” He leaned in closer, his tone teasing but a little softer than usual. “Ready to try a bit of a turn?”

You bit your lip, suddenly unsure. “A turn? What if I…fall again?”

“You won’t,” Theo said, his confidence unwavering. “Just follow my lead. You don’t need to be perfect. Just keep your balance.”

You nodded, trying to trust him. As you pushed off again, you followed his movements, attempting a turn, but the slope was slicker than expected. Your skis slipped out from under you, and before you could react, you found yourself heading straight for Theo, arms flailing in a desperate attempt to regain control.

“Uh, Theo?!!” your voice was an alarmed squeak as you careened toward him.

Theo’s eyes widened just in time for him to brace himself. But it was too late. You crashed directly into him, sending you both tumbling into a soft snowbank with an exaggerated thud.

The sound of laughter echoed from above as Draco, Mattheo, Pansy, and Blaise all burst into chuckles.

“You two look adorable together!” Mattheo called down with a mischievous grin, clearly enjoying the spectacle.

Blaise raised an eyebrow, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Maybe next time, Theo can teach her how to ski without turning every slope into a disaster zone.”

Theo lay sprawled out in the snow, you on top of him, both of them tangled up in skis and poles.

“Well, that went well,” Theo muttered, his voice muffled by the snow.

You groaned, half-laughing and half-sighing as you pushed off of him. “I think I might need a lesson in not crashing.”

Theo propped himself up on his elbows, giving you an exaggerated look of mock concern. “Nah, you’re doing fine. You only fell once.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Once? You’re being generous.”

“Alright, five times, but who's counting?” he replied, clearly trying to hide the smirk tugging at his lips.

You glared at him playfully, then threw a handful of snow at his face, watching as he blinked, startled.

Theo wiped his face and laughed, brushing off the snow. “Okay, I deserved that.” He then held out his hand, offering to help you up. “Let’s get you back on your feet, shall we?”

You took his hand with a mischievous grin. “Next time, you teach me on a less bumpy terrain.”

Theo snorted. “Deal. I’ll find a nice, flat field for you. Maybe one without any snow…or hills...or gravity.”

…

The group was gathered around the roaring fire in the lodge's cozy living room after a day on the slopes. Snow lightly dusted the enormous windows, and everyone was bundled in oversized sweaters, sipping on mugs of hot cocoa or mulled wine. Pansy stretched luxuriously on the fur-lined couch, a wicked gleam in her eye.

“Alright, I’m bored,” Pansy announced. “Time for a game. Truth or dare, anyone?”

Mattheo smirked, leaning forward eagerly. “Count me in. I live for chaos.”

Draco sighed, swirling his drink. “Do we have to? These games always end up with someone storming out.”

“Exactly why we’re doing it,” Pansy replied with a grin. “Come on, Theo, Y/N, Blaise. You in?”

Theo leaned back in his armchair, raising an eyebrow. “Do I have a choice?”

“Nope,” you said, smirking as you adjusted the blanket around your legs. “You’re playing.”

“Fine,” Blaise drawled, lounging with effortless elegance. “But if this turns into one of those embarrassing dare marathons, I’m out.”

Pansy clapped her hands. “Great! I’ll start. Mattheo, truth or dare?”

“Dare, obviously,” Mattheo said without hesitation.

Pansy grinned, her eyes glittering with mischief. “I dare you to serenade Draco with a romantic ballad.”

Mattheo’s face split into a devilish grin. “Oh, I’ve been waiting for this.” He grabbed a decorative candle holder from the table and used it as a makeshift microphone.

“Draco, oh Draco, my icy-hearted friend,” Mattheo began dramatically, earning an eye roll from Draco. “Your scowl is so sharp, it could make a dementor bend.”

Draco glared, but the rest of the group burst into laughter as Mattheo collapsed back into his seat with an exaggerated bow.

“Brilliant,” Blaise said, raising his glass in mock applause. “Your voice truly brings tears to my eyes. Mostly from the pain.”

“Your turn,” Pansy said, pointing at Mattheo.

Mattheo rubbed his hands together like a villain. “Y/N. Truth or dare?”

You narrowed your eyes, sensing trouble. “Truth.”

“Coward,” Theo muttered under his breath with a small grin.

Mattheo smirked. “Alright, Y/N, if you had to date someone in this room, who would it be?”

The room fell silent, and all eyes turned to you. You felt the heat rise to your cheeks and tried to play it off.

“Easy,” you said breezily. “Pansy. Obviously.”

Pansy laughed, throwing an arm around your shoulders. “Excellent choice, darling. You have impeccable taste.”

Theo, however, narrowed his eyes. “Coward’s answer,” he said, smirking slightly. “But whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“Your turn, Y/N,” Mattheo prompted, still grinning.

You thought for a moment before turning to Blaise. “Truth or dare?”

Blaise sighed. “Truth.”

“If you had to swap lives with one of us, who would it be and why?” you asked.

Blaise considered this for a moment, then gave a sly smile. “Draco, obviously. Purely for the wardrobe.”

Draco looked vaguely offended. “Is that all I am to you? A walking closet?”

“Yes,” Blaise said without hesitation. “A very expensive one.”

The group dissolved into laughter again, and Draco muttered something about “uncultured fools.”

Theo leaned forward, clearly enjoying the game despite himself. “Alright, my turn. Draco. Truth or dare?”

Draco sighed, resigned. “Dare.”

Theo grinned, the kind that spelled trouble. “I dare you to let Mattheo style your hair for the rest of the night.”

“No,” Draco said immediately.

“Dares are binding, Malfoy,” Pansy said smugly, pulling out her wand to transfigure a nearby cushion into a small mirror. “Rules are rules.”

Within minutes, Mattheo had turned Draco’s usually impeccable hair into a chaotic mess of spikes, braids, and a small ponytail sticking straight up. The group was in hysterics as Draco sat there, his dignity in shreds.

“Enjoy this moment,” Draco said coolly. “You’ll all regret it.”

“Oh, we’ll treasure it,” Blaise said, snapping a photo with a magical camera.

“Alright, Blaise,” Theo said, turning to him. “Truth or dare?”

Blaise raised an eyebrow. “Dare.”

Theo smirked. “I dare you to compliment everyone in the room sincerely.”

Blaise groaned. “Merlin, kill me now.”

He sighed dramatically, then started. “Fine. Pansy, you have excellent taste in fashion and an alarming knack for manipulation. Mattheo, you’re surprisingly loyal for someone with no impulse control. Draco, you’re...rich. Y/N, you’re stubborn in a good way. And Theo…” Blaise paused, clearly thinking hard. “You’re less insufferable than usual tonight.”

“Touching,” Theo said dryly. “Really, Blaise, I’m overwhelmed.”

The group laughed again as the game continued into the night, the fire crackling and the snow falling gently outside. It was chaotic, silly, and exactly the kind of thing that made their group unforgettable.

…

The Malfoy Ski Lodge’s grand dining room was buzzing with energy. The fire crackled in the hearth, and the snow outside fell gently, blanketing the landscape in a peaceful white layer. You, walk into the kitchen to refill your drink.

But as you were heading back with a glass of butterbeer, you overheard snippets of their conversation, and your heart sank.

"Come on, Theo," Mattheo was saying with a laugh. "You’re not fooling anyone. We all see how you look at her. You like her."

Theo’s voice came through, more defensive than usual. "I don’t know what you’re talking about." His tone was sharp, but there was an undertone of uncertainty.

“Oh, please, Theo,” Blaise added, clearly amused. “You’ve been all over her since we got here. Can’t even ski without looking like a lost puppy when she’s around.”

“I’m not a lost puppy,” Theo muttered, but the nervousness in his voice was clear. “She’s just…a friend. At most.”

You paused in your tracks, heart pounding. A friend? At most? You had no idea why, but for some reason, hearing Theo brush off the teasing stung more than it should’ve. You didn't want to be just a joke, or some passing distraction. Your stomach twisted, and before you could stop yourself, you grabbed your drink and quickly walked out of the room.

The cold air hit you as you stepped onto the balcony, the breathtaking view of the snowy mountain under a blanket of stars offering little comfort. You leaned against the railing, taking a deep breath, trying to calm your racing thoughts. The quiet of the night contrasted sharply with the loud emotions swirling inside you. You weren't sure what you had expected to hear, but it wasn’t that.

A few moments later, you heard the door behind you open and close softly. You didn’t need to turn around to know it was Theo…you could feel his presence, like a pull you couldn’t quite resist. His footsteps were hesitant at first, then more assured as he reached your side.

"Y/N," he said softly, his voice laced with guilt. "I didn’t mean for you to hear that."

You turned to face him, eyes holding a quiet hurt. “What did you expect me to think, Theo? You’re over there acting like it’s all a joke, and here I am trying to figure out what’s going on between us.”

Theo ran a hand through his hair, his usual confident demeanor faltering. "It’s not like that," he said quickly, his voice defensive. "I didn’t mean to brush you off, okay? I just-"

“You just what?” you interrupted, tone tinged with frustration. "Do you even know what you want from me? Because I sure as hell don’t. It feels like one minute you’re messing with me, and the next you’re being…" you paused, searching for the right word, “...sweet.”

Theo winced, taking a step closer, his eyes searching yours. "I know I’ve been a prat. I’ve been messing things up, and I don’t know how to fix it."

Your breath caught in your throat, the vulnerability in his voice surprising you. But you couldn’t quite shake the feeling that you weren't hearing everything. "Then what is it, Theo? Why is everything so…complicated?"

He looked down, his jaw clenched in thought. “Because I don’t know what I’m doing.” His voice lowered, becoming more vulnerable. “I’m scared. I’m scared of ruining things, Y/N. I don’t know how to handle…whatever this is between us.”

The words hung in the cold air between them, and for a long moment, neither of you spoke. The weight of his admission made your heart flutter. A mix of confusion, relief, and something you couldn’t quite name.

"You’re scared?" you asked softly, voice barely above a whisper. "Scared of what, exactly?"

Before Theo could answer, the door behind them swung open again, this time with Mattheo’s voice ringing out. "Oi, Theo! Y/N! You coming back inside? Stop standing out there in the freezing cold like bloody idiots."

Theo’s head jerked around, frustration flashing in his eyes. "Mattheo, seriously, not now." He shot him a pointed glare before turning back to you, his voice tense. "Can we talk about this later?"

You nodded, your own emotions a mix of uncertainty and something warmer, more hopeful. “Yeah, later.”

Theo hesitated for a moment before taking a step closer, his hand brushing against yours, a tentative touch. He looked at you, his eyes filled with something unspoken, then pulled away quickly, muttering a half-hearted apology.

"Sorry, I…" He sighed, running his hand through his hair. “I don’t know how to do this, Y/N."

You offered him a small smile. "It’s okay, Theo. We’ll figure it out."

Theo glanced at you one last time before reluctantly turning back toward the door. 

As he walked away, you stayed on the balcony for a beat longer, glancing out at the snowy mountains, thoughts swirling. You didn’t have all the answers, and neither did Theo. But something told you you guys were closer to figuring it out than you’d been before.

And maybe that was enough for now.

…

Early evening in the lodge grounds the next day, the sun was setting behind the snow-capped mountains, casting a soft orange glow across the snow-covered landscape. The cold air was sharp, but there was a sense of warmth among the group as they prepared for some lighthearted chaos. Laughter echoed through the crisp winter air as the whole Slytherin crew gathered outside for an epic snowball fight.

You and Theo are standing a few feet apart, half-watching, half-dreading the upcoming battle. Your breaths form little clouds in the cold air as you two survey the rest of the group, who are already clearly strategizing.

Mattheo, grinning like a mischievous Cheshire cat, turns to Blaise with a glint in his eye. “Alright, you take left, I’ll take right. Theo and Y/N are gonna be an easy target, so let’s give them a warm welcome."

Theo glances over at you, an eyebrow raised. "This is ridiculous. They’re ganging up on us."

You chuckle, shaking your head. "Well good, you deserve a little payback for the skiing fiasco."

Theo scoffs. "That was a day ago. I’m a changed man."

"Yeah, right," you tease. "And I’m a professional skier now."

Just then, Blaise and Mattheo hurl snowballs toward you both with expert precision. Theo quickly sidesteps, pushing you out of the way as one of the snowballs flies dangerously close to your face.

“Oi! Protect yourself, Nott!” Mattheo calls out, laughing.

Theo doesn’t even hesitate. He turns and blocks the snowball with his arm, the impact making a satisfying “thud” as it hits him. He looks back at you, while you stare at him with wide eyes.

"Er, what was that?" you say, more than a little amused. "I thought we were supposed to be enemies here."

Theo shrugs, looking somewhat embarrassed. “You’re not getting hit while I’m around.”

"Protective much?" you tease with a small grin. "It’s just snow, Theo."

The game progresses, with most of the snowballs missing their targets.

Pansy wrinkles her nose. "I refuse to partake in this childish nonsense. I have better things to do than get wet."

“Like what?” Draco calls over, still laughing. "You’ve been standing there for the past ten minutes looking like you’re waiting for something more dignified to do."

Pansy shoots him a scowl, but her lips twitch into a reluctant smile. “I’m waiting for the glorious victory of watching you two idiots get buried under snowballs.”

Meanwhile, Blaise and Mattheo charge again, launching a combined attack. The snowballs are coming at you both fast and furious, and Theo, ever the knight in shining armor, grabs you by the wrist and pulls you into the “fort” you two have hastily built out of snow.

“Are you going to help or just stand there looking helpless?” Theo says, his eyes flicking over to you as you laugh.

“Who says I’m helpless?” you retort, picking up a snowball and throwing it with all your might toward Blaise. It hits him square in the chest, and you pump your fist in victory.

“Killer shot!” Theo laughs, clearly impressed. But before he can throw another, Blaise ducks behind a snowbank, sticking his tongue out.

“Not bad, Y/L/N!” Mattheo calls. “But this is a real battle now.”

And just like that, you and Theo find yourselves in the heat of battle, dodging and throwing snowballs, laughing like kids. Theo makes a move to dodge a snowball from Mattheo, only for you to toss one of your own right in Theo’s face with a suppressed giggle.

“Look at that teamwork!” Draco shouts, throwing his hands up in mock awe. “Who would’ve thought?”

You snicker as Theo wipes snow from his face. "We make a good team, don’t we?"

He smirks. "I wouldn’t go that far. You did just hit me in the face with a snowball."

“I didn’t mean to!” you teasingly protest with a laugh. “It was the heat of the moment!”

Mattheo suddenly jumps out from behind a snowbank, sending an enormous snowball flying toward them. Without thinking, Theo jumps in front of you, taking the full brunt of the impact.

“Bloody hell, Nott!” Mattheo laughs. “You’re a real knight in shining armor.”

Theo, completely covered in snow, shoots Mattheo a dirty look. "This is why I don’t like you."

You can’t help but laugh, heart swelling with affection. “Taking a bullet for me yet again?”

Theo, now half-covered in snow, gives you a playful shrug. “Right, because a snowball equivocates a bullet”

But despite his words, there’s a softness in his eyes, something that makes your heart flutter. As the rest of the group continues to launch their attack, the two of you find yourselves working in sync, your movements becoming more fluid, more comfortable together.

The snowball fight rages on for a little longer, each side claiming small victories, but soon enough, you’re all laughing too hard to care about who’s winning. You and Theo find yourselves leaning against each other, gasping for breath, the cold air mingling with the warmth of your laughter.

“Alright, alright, I think we’ve had enough,” Draco calls out, raising his hand. “I’m freezing my arse off.”

Mattheo and Blaise look at each other and then back at you and Theo. “Yeah, I think we broke them,” Blaise jokes, eyeing the pair with amusement.

Theo turns to you, his expression softening. “So…partners in crime?”

You smile up at him, feeling a warmth you haven't felt all day. “I guess so.”

And for the first time, their teamwork feels effortless. The snowball fight might be over, but something new between them is just beginning.

…

The fire crackles softly in the grand stone fireplace of the lodge’s cozy library, casting a warm, flickering light across the room. The scent of aged wood and the faint, comforting smell of pine linger in the air. Thick rugs cover the stone floor, and large windows offer a breathtaking view of the dark snow-covered mountains outside. It's a peaceful, intimate setting: the perfect escape from the chaos of the group that evening.

You had slipped away from the others earlier, needing to recharge your social battery after days with your beloved friends. You were sitting by the window now, legs tucked beneath you, watching the snow drift gently to the ground. You felt a strange mix of contentment and nervous energy…like something was finally shifting, something you weren't sure you were ready for.

Theo, having spotted you earlier, couldn’t shake the feeling that tonight might be the night everything changed. He had tried to avoid it, but his thoughts had been consumed by you since he first met you in Potions in 1st year.

And now you were all in 7th…time flies.

 The banter, the teasing, even the pranking…none of it had been the real reason he kept coming back to you. It was something more, something he hadn’t fully understood until now.

He stepped quietly into the room and saw you. You looked peaceful there, face lit by the glow of the fire, and for a moment, Theo simply watched you, taking in the way the soft light made your eyes sparkle like they had that first day.

He couldn’t ignore it any longer. The weird mix of nerves and anticipation settled in his chest as he walked closer, not knowing what would come of this, but knowing he couldn’t stay silent forever.

“Y/N?” His voice was quieter than usual, careful, unsure.

You turned, a smile instantly forming on your face when you saw him. “Hey, Theo. Didn’t think anyone else would be here.”

A small, self-deprecating smile appeared on his face as he leaned against the wall. “Yeah, well, it’s just you and me. The gang’s off causing chaos somewhere else, I suppose.”

Your smile softened, and you patted the spot next to you on the window seat. “Wanna join me?”

Theo hesitated for a moment, and for the briefest second, his mind screamed at him to just stay away, to keep things light and simple. But that part of him was already fading, pushed aside by something else. Something bigger than the teasing or the distance he tried to keep between you two.

He nodded slowly, moving to sit next to you. He felt the warmth of your presence beside him, a comforting tension building in the space between them. For a moment, you two just sat in silence, the only sound the crackling fire.

“So…” you began after a while, looking at him with curiosity in your eyes. “What’s going on with you today, Theo? You’ve been…quieter.”

Theo let out a small laugh, his hand running through his hair. “Yeah, I guess I have. Just been thinking a lot.”

“About what?”

He turned his gaze toward you, eyes softer now. “About this trip, mostly. And about you.” He paused, his throat tightening a little at the admission. “Look, I know I’ve been a prat. And I’ve…messed with you more than I probably should’ve.”

You tilted your head slightly, eyes searching his face. “What are you talking about, Theo? You’ve always been a prat, it’s kind of your thing. And we’ve been having fun with it.”

Theo shifted closer, now visibly uncomfortable. “It’s not just that. It’s-” He stopped himself, taking a deep breath. His thoughts were racing, and he wasn’t sure how to say what he needed to say. “I didn’t know how to handle it. How to handle...you. The way I’ve felt.”

Your heart skipped a beat, breath catching in your throat. You had a feeling where this was going, but hearing it out loud made your pulse quicken.

“I didn’t want to mess things up,” Theo continued, his voice quieter now, more vulnerable than you had ever heard it. “I was scared that if I…admitted how I felt, I’d ruin everything. Ruin what we have.”

You swallowed, voice soft but steady. “What do you mean, Theo? What is it that you feel?”

Theo turned toward you, his eyes searching yours, the weight of his emotions heavy in the air between you two. His heart was racing, but he couldn’t pull away. “I don’t know what it is, but you’re all I can think about. The way you laugh, the way you challenge me, the way you always know how to get under my skin...it’s all too much, and it makes me feel like I’m going crazy...in the best way.”

Your breath caught in your throat as his words hit you. You couldn’t help but smile at how raw and honest he was being. But at the same time, there was a knot of nervousness in your stomach. You had known there was something more, but hearing him admit it was like stepping into new territory.

“I think I know what you mean,” you said, voice quiet but firm. You turned to face him more fully, hand subconsciously inching closer to his. “I’ve felt it too, Theo. I’ve been falling for you, even though I’ve tried not to. Even though you’ve made me madder than anyone else at times, I can’t stop thinking about you either.”

Theo’s eyes widened slightly, a look of disbelief crossing his face. “You’re serious?”

You nodded, a small, soft smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “I’m serious.” Your voice faltered, and your eyes dropped to your hands only millimeters apart. 

Theo, unable to contain the overwhelming mix of emotions inside him, reached for your hand. His fingers brushed against yours lightly at first, testing, feeling the softness of your skin. He didn’t want to rush this.

He didn’t want to mess it up.

But the urge to close the gap between them was undeniable.

Your eyes flickered up to his, and without thinking, you leaned in slightly, faces just inches apart now.

The world outside seemed to fade away, and for a moment, it was just the two of them, caught in this perfect, fragile moment.

Theo’s breath hitched, his hand moving to gently cup your cheek. He could feel your warmth, the delicate flutter of your breath against his skin. “I’m not going to mess this up,” he murmured, more to himself than to you, but his voice was full of intent.

And then, without another word, he closed the gap, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was tentative at first, as if you were both afraid of breaking something precious. But soon, it deepened, the kiss growing more confident, more urgent. His hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer, as if he needed to make sure you were real.

You kissed him back, hands finding his shirt, tugging him closer. Everything that had been building up between you two, all the teasing, the quiet moments, the laughter, it all poured into that kiss. It felt like the world had shifted, and there was no place else either of you would rather be than right there, in that moment.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and wide-eyed, Theo pulled you into an embrace, holding you tightly as if he were afraid to let go. You rested your head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart, a sense of peace settling over you.

“I’m not going to let go,” Theo whispered into your hair, and you smiled softly against him.

“You don’t have to,” you whispered back. “I don’t want you to.”

And in that moment, everything seemed to fall into place.

…

Morning sunlight streams through the tall windows of the dining hall, casting a golden glow over the Slytherin group as they gather around the massive oak table, which is laden with a delicious spread of breakfast food: fluffy pancakes, buttery croissants, fresh fruit, and an assortment of wizarding teas and coffees.

You and Theo arrive a little later than the rest of the group, walking in together. There’s an unmistakable shift in your guys’ dynamic: your soft laughter at something Theo whispers to you, the way his hand lightly brushes your back as he pulls out a chair for you. 

The group notices immediately.

Mattheo, ever the observant instigator, leans back in his chair with a mischievous grin. “Well, well, look who decided to join us. And look who’s suddenly a gentleman. Theo, since when do you pull out chairs for people?”

Theo shoots him a half-hearted glare as he sits down beside you “Since now. Got a problem with it?”

“Not at all,” Mattheo smirks, raising his coffee mug in mock toast. “Just making sure we all take a moment to appreciate this rare transformation.”

Pansy narrows her eyes, a sly smile tugging at her lips. “You two are acting…different. Suspiciously different.”

Blaise, never one to miss an opportunity for a jab, points his fork at them. “Did you two chug a love potion last night, or was it just the stars aligning?”

You roll your eyes, though your cheeks faintly flush. “Oh, please. You lot are just shocked because Theo finally managed to act like a decent human being for once.”

Theo smirks, leaning back in his chair as he picks up his coffee. “You’re not wrong. It was a conscious decision to give you a break from my usual wit and charm.”

Draco, sitting at the head of the table, raises an eyebrow but remains silent, sipping his tea. His small smirk, however, gives him away.

Mattheo leans forward, eyes sparkling with amusement. “So what’s the story? Did Theo finally confess his undying love under the stars? Did you two make a pact to stop pretending you hate each other?”

You grin, playing along. “Actually, we wrote a peace treaty and shook hands. Very diplomatic.”

“Diplomatic, my arse,” Blaise snorted. “More like ‘I’ll teach you to ski if you teach me to snog.’ Am I right?”

Theo, unfazed by the teasing, casually drapes an arm over the back of your chair, earning a chorus of exaggerated gasps from the group.

“Merlin’s beard!” Pansy exclaims, clutching her heart dramatically. “Is that…affection I see? Theodore Nott, showing actual feelings? Someone write this down for the history books.”

You laugh, leaning into Theo’s side with a playful smile. “You lot are the worst.”

“And yet, you love us,” Mattheo quips. “Just not in the way you love Theo, apparently. Aw, look at you two, all cute and coupley now.”

Theo rolls his eyes but doesn’t bother denying it. Instead, he grabs a croissant and hands it to you, and you thank him with a soft smile.

The group erupts into laughter, their teasing filling the room. But there’s no malice in their words, just a sense of camaraderie and joy at seeing their friends happy.

As the conversation drifts to other topics, Theo leans close to you and whispers, “Think they’ll ever let us live this down?”

You smile, eyes sparkling. “Not a chance.”

Theo chuckles, brushing his hand against yours under the table, where no one else can see. “Worth it.”

You glance at him, heart swelling with warmth. “Definitely worth it.”

Your quiet exchange doesn’t go unnoticed by Pansy, who catches Mattheo’s eye. The two share a knowing smirk but decide, for now, to leave the new couple in peace. 

The teasing can wait. 

For the moment, the morning feels light and perfect, and everyone is exactly where they’re meant to be.

…

The morning is crisp and bright, with the snow sparkling under the golden sun. A few house-elves load trunks into the enchanted carriages lined up outside. The group stands together, bundled in coats and scarves, chatting and laughing one last time before departing.

You stood beside Theo, gloved hands tucked into the pockets of your coat. The week had flown by in a blur of snowy adventures, late-night games, and moments you hadn’t expected.

Especially with Theo.

You glanced at him, heart fluttering at the thought of everything that had changed between you two.

Mattheo broke the quiet moment by slinging an arm around Blaise. “Alright, admit it. This trip was genius. I deserve full credit for making this happen.”

“Genius?” Blaise scoffed, brushing snow off his jacket. “You spent half the trip plotting ways to embarrass Theo.”

“And look how well it worked out!” Mattheo gestured dramatically toward you and Theodore. “I mean, come on. Couple goals.”

Theo sighed but didn’t bother arguing. Instead, he smirked, looking down at you. “You see what I’ve had to deal with my whole life?”

You laughed, nudging him. “You poor boy.”

Pansy rolled her eyes. “Alright, lovebirds, save it for the ride home. Some of us are still processing the fact that Theodore Nott is no longer an emotionally stunted iceberg.”

“Touching, Pansy,” Theo replied dryly, earning a chorus of laughter.

Draco, ever the practical one, stepped forward. “Alright, everyone, let’s wrap this up. The carriages are ready, and I’d rather not spend another minute in this cold.”

You turned to the group, heart swelling with gratitude. “Thanks, guys. This week was…unexpectedly amazing.”

“Unexpectedly?” Blaise teased. “We’re delightful company, Y/N. Admit it.”

You grinned. “Fine. You’re all delightful. Even you, Theodore,” you tease with a small smirk.

Theo raised an eyebrow. “Even me?”

“Especially you,” you said softly, cheeks warming despite the cold.

Mattheo groaned dramatically. “Merlin, they’re already insufferable.”

The group shared a final laugh before starting their goodbyes. Hugs, handshakes, and promises to meet up soon were exchanged. Finally, it was just you and Theo standing by your guys’ carriage.

You glanced back at the lodge, the memories of the week rushing through your mind. “I’m going to miss this place.”

Theo stepped closer, his voice quiet. “I’m going to miss this too. But…I’m glad we figured things out. You and me.”

You looked up at him, smile soft. “Me too.”

He hesitated for a moment, then reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You know, I wasn’t sure how this week would turn out. But now? I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Me neither.”

He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, before helping you into the carriage. As you settled in, the rest of the group waved from their own carriages, already shouting jokes and goodbyes as the thestrals began to pull them away.

Theo took your hand in his, fingers intertwining as the lodge disappeared behind you. The future might be uncertain, but for now, everything felt exactly right.

And as the carriage carried them down the snowy mountain road, you couldn’t help but smile, knowing this was just the beginning of your story.

…

Bonus Scene: Winter in Italy

For the last two days of winter break, you were invited to Theo’s family villa in Northern Italy, which lay nestled among snow-dusted hills. The villa’s ivy-covered walls framed a panoramic view of the sparkling lake and surrounding countryside, the winter air crisp and invigorating.

You stepped onto the villa’s terrace, gaze sweeping across the breathtaking view. The rolling hills were dusted with snow, glimmering under the fading light of the day. You shivered slightly, pulling your coat tighter around you as you took it all in.

“Cold?” Theo’s voice called gently from behind you. You turned to find him leaning casually against the doorframe, his dark sweater clinging to his broad shoulders. He held out a thick, woolen scarf.

“Maybe a little,” you admitted, smiling as you let him wrap the scarf snugly around your neck. His fingers lingered for a moment against your skin, and you felt your cheeks heat despite the chill in the air.

“You’re easy to read,” Theo teased, his lips quirking into a smirk.

“And you’re tragically overconfident,” you shot back, though your tone lacked any real bite.

He stepped closer, his presence intoxicatingly warm against the crisp air. “Come on,” he said, his voice lower. “I have something to show you.”

Theo led you down a winding path through the villa’s garden until you reached a secluded grove of olive trees. Fairy lights twinkled overhead, casting a soft golden glow on the snow-covered ground. In the center was a plush blanket draped over the ground, surrounded by candles that flickered against the darkening sky.

Your breath caught. “Theo…this is…”

“Don’t make it weird,” he interrupted, but his usual sarcasm was softened by the way he watched your reaction with soft, expectant eyes. “I just thought you’d like it.”

You turned to him, a smile tugging at your lips. “I love it.”

You both settled on the blanket, the thick material insulating you from the cold ground. Theo pulled another blanket over your laps, and you nestled closer to him, head resting against his shoulder.

For a moment, the quiet was filled with the soft rustling of leaves and the distant hum of the villa. Then Theo shifted, his arm curling around your waist, pulling you closer.

“You’re warm,” you murmured, voice teasing.

He smirked. “And you’re terrible at compliments.”

You rolled your eyes, tilting your head up to look at him. “Fine. You’re warm and annoyingly good at planning perfect moments.”

“Annoyingly good?” he repeated, leaning closer.

Your breath hitched as his face hovered just inches from yours. “Don’t let it go to your head, Nott.”

“Too late,” he murmured, his voice a low rasp as his hand slid up to cradle your jaw.

Theo kissed you, the touch of his lips firm and deliberate, igniting a heat that chased away the winter chill. His other hand found your waist, pulling you flush against him as the kiss deepened. Your hands moved instinctively, tangling in his dark hair as you leaned into him.

When you finally pulled apart, both were breathing heavily, foreheads resting against each other.

“I thought you said not to make it weird,” you teased, voice barely above a whisper.

Theo chuckled, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “You make me do a lot of things I never thought I would.”

Your gaze softened, and you placed a hand on his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat. “Like admit you actually like me?”

“Something like that,” he said, his voice low and warm. “And maybe a little more.”

Before you could respond, he kissed you again, lips more insistent this time as he laid you back against the soft blanket. His hands skimmed your sides, stopping just short of improper as he hovered above you, his breath mingling with yours in the chilly air.

When you broke apart, your cheeks were flushed, fingers still tangled in his hair.

“Theo,” you began, voice shaky but sure.

“Yeah?” he replied, his tone teasing but his eyes betraying his seriousness.

“I think I might…” you hesitated, then smiled. “I think I might like you a little more than I should.”

Theo grinned, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple. “Good. Because I’m far past simply liking you, Y/N.”

As you lay together under the twinkling lights, wrapped in warmth despite the snow around you, you knew you wouldn’t forget this night.

Or the boy who had made it unforgettable.

Taglist: @lovrsm, @minhlajenni, @rafeluvrr, @mgchaser, @r6yven, @ahead-fullofdreams, @alwayslatetothefandoms, @whosyourgnomie, @froyofreya, @smut-anarchy, @babene-e, @nottinmyheart, @marikajhaha

(I'm so sorry if I missed anyone's request to be in this series taglist but ty to everyone! mwah :))

[saylor-twift]

Older and Wiser

~Word count: 2.4k

~Warnings: none!

~Summary: Through an unexpected birthday gift, the Wanderer falls in love with you a little more.

~Notes: A very much needed romantic birthday special for one of the best characters hoyoverse has ever created. I haven’t written anything in over half a year… yikes! hope y’all enjoy this shit lmfao

(divider from cafekitsune <3)

He remembers. He remembers a sunny afternoon mid-September, when the skies were free of clouds and, as per usual, the ever rambunctious streets of Sumeru were crowded with all likes of people from near and far. Wooden carts and stands and makeshift stages and of course, the blazing sun. He was irritated. Meaning, his mood was as average as it could be for such a typical day. He had just finished another lecture, one that of course he had absolutely not decided to attend of his own will. It’s always invites upon invites upon invites, and no matter how hard he tries to show disinterest, the well educated people of the Akedemiya never seemed to have learned how to take a hint.

The large hat he favors on a daily basis does well to protect the sun from blinding his eyes and scorching his fair skin, though it’s not like his puppet body could even form a sunburn. Not to mention it blocked his view from unwanted passersby if he tilted it at just the right angle. That way, he always had the excuse of, “Oh, I just didn’t see you” every time somebody accuses him of ignorance. It usually works, too. The majority of people are not brave enough to try and continue a conversation with him once they’ve seen that they’ve already been shut down. Most people, of course, can never quite equate to a whole. There’s always at least one person who stands out from the rest. And quite frankly, who that “one person” happens to be, doesn’t bother him so much.

“Hey!”

I don’t see you.

“Kuni, hey!”

Ah, wait, I know that voice. Nevermind, then.

A sweet smile and rosy cheeks, an even sweeter voice. Sweets are growing on him, dammit. Growing? No, they’ve long since planted their seeds and sprouted. He knows this.

“Yes?” He responds, and it’s not quite as irritable as it could have been. “Have you been following me?”

“No.” You respond, a little too confidently. “Well, yes. But it wasn’t my original intention. I was grabbing some groceries and I saw you walk out. I thought you weren’t meant to be done till five?”

He turns around to face you, tilting the brim of his hat upwards. You deserve to have his full attention, even if prior to hearing your voice all he desired was to return home and away from prying eyes. He offers a nonchalant shrug in response to your question.

“I was meant to be done. Turns out the old geezer could only stand to talk for so long. He wrapped the lecture up somewhat nicely, but there were so many unresolved questions and holes in his logic that anyone could see he was just trying to get it over with.”

You can’t help but laugh, at this point you can only find his penchant for exaggerating situations he dislikes rather humorous. The sound burns his ears, and until he met you all that time ago, he had no idea his puppet body could feel butterflies in his stomach.

“There is nothing to laugh at. The entire lesson was completely insipid.” He argues, but even the supposedly heartless puppet can’t help the way you make him smile.

“Well I wasn’t exactly planning on ever attending a lecture from the Akedemiya, but now I have reason to stay away on purpose.” You quip, smile never fading. He chuckles in response, and you admire how nice his features look at ease, when they’re not so tightly wound up in discomfort. “Hey, before you go…” you say suddenly, after a few moments of silence bordering on awkwardness. You reach into a small pocket in the folds of your clothing, and swiftly pull out a polished, silver key dangling from a long black string. The string is tied together in the middle in a neat little bow. You don’t miss the way his eyebrow raises in confusion. Before he has the chance to make any sort of comment, you are quick to explain.

“I found it in some pawn shop a few streets down. I don’t know why, but I couldn’t leave it alone. There’s.. not a whole lot that’s special about it, but I thought maybe you should have it.”

His eyebrow raises higher, if that’s even possible. “A… key? But it’s a necklace? Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the gesture, but… there has to be some other reason as to why you purchased this.”

You reach over and dangle the loop around his slender fingers, and he holds it out in front of him in curiosity. You simply shrug in response. “It’s nice, at least a little, don’t you think? Maybe it was the design on the handle. If you look closely, it looks like little lotuses. Like your hat. Maybe that’s why I liked it so much. In any case, please keep it! You don’t have to wear it, but you can’t get rid of it, alright?”

“I..” he looks at the strange piece of “jewelry” as if one would a strange plant found in the wilderness. He appreciates the gesture, but still, he doesn’t quite understand it. “I do think it’s nice. I do. I will keep it.” He assures, offering something that could almost pass for a smile. You try not to let on just how pleased you are.

Today is January 3rd. Out of all the days of the year, The Wanderer has decided that this is the one he dislikes the most. Even if he tried to pretend it was just another day like he always had, he cannot possibly shake the nagging reminder that on this day, all those years ago, his body had been infused with the element of her, and been brought to life. Her hands that made him, her hands that cast him away, her hands that “freed” him. He wouldn’t rather trade the life he has now for much else, but still, he never can quite stop his mind from imagining how different things would have been had his creator not been shocked by his crystalline tears.

It has somehow become common knowledge that the Wanderer does not like to show his face to the public on his birthday. How everyone found out this certain day was even his birthday in the first place, he will never know. Henceforth, it has become somewhat of a tradition for the Wanderer to seek out different hiding places throughout the day and see how long they lasted, mostly for his own amusement. Of course, he really could just stay in his room the entire day, but with an aunt-figure like Nahida hovering over his shoulder and enforcing self care and improvement 24-7, that was not much of an option.

It seems his most recent choice for a place of solitude was his best work yet, because even as the sun descended over the horizon and the sky turned orange, no one has yet to find him. Except, the funny thing is, this isn’t really a hiding place. It never was. And he’s hoping the one person who knows of this little safe haven, tucked into the corner of a large branch near the top of The Divine Tree, stumbles in any second now.

His eyes have begun to peacefully shut, but one opens on high alert at the sound of shoes on wood as his person finally finds him. He smiles, more of a smirk, but a smile nonetheless.

“Took you long enough.”

“Right, like you haven’t been avoiding everyone all day.”

“It was a test to see if I was really worth your time. You passed, by the way.”

You laugh in disbelief, shoving his shoulder a little as you sit down. Carefully cradled in the gentleness of your palms is a small, yet dense package. It’s wrapped neatly in green patterned paper and topped with a neat little bow. He pretends not to notice.

“Test. Yeah, sure. Happy birthday.” You reply sweetly, your smile even sweeter. He tries not to show you the discomfort that phrase brings upon him. “It’s just a day. Nothing special about it.” He insists. His gaze is focused on the landscape down below, on the merchants slowly packing up their shops and the sun setting beyond the trees, his palm atop his knee.

“You always say that. It will never make me stop trying, you know. I care, even if you don’t.”

“I know.” He insists. “You always do. I know. I.. appreciate it.”

You smile. You were expecting more of a fight from him, to be honest. Although, over the months, he’s lost quite a bit of the usual fierceness he so dearly loved to harbor.

“Happy birthday. I mean it.”

…

“Thank you.” he replies, gaze trained down at his lap.

“I.. have something for you.” You say. He perks up. He’d almost forgotten about the pretty little package sitting in your lap. “Again?” He questions, a cover up for his obvious interest in whatever trinket you’ve fished up for him this year. Somehow, you’ve always had a knack for giving concealed meanings to simple items.

“Again? Of course I’ve got something for you again. Why would I not?” You grip the box a little tighter, and it’s hard to deny the ever growing sense of worry in the pit of your stomach. Even knowing how easy it is for you to please him, you’ll never know if one day your efforts turn out to be in vain. Perhaps he’s grown tired of your antics, or he’s simply not in the mood for your sweetly attempted gestures. You can only pray you’re overthinking. “You.. you are too much, you know that? Too good. Very well, let’s see it.” He replies, feigning nonchalance.

You roll your eyes, but carefully place the box into his cool, slender, outstretched hand. It dips a bit under the weight of the dense box. So little, yet carrying so much weight. What could you have crammed in here, he wonders. He eyes you again, and you nod to give him the go ahead to peel away the paper. He does so with utmost caution and care, as if the wrapping paper itself was the precious gift. Tearing the paper away reveals a little box with a keyhole in the center. It’s silver, and has got intricate little engravings all over the top and bottom as well as four little curved legs. He attempts to open the gift, but to no avail. You’ve given him a locked box? He looks to you with yet another raised eyebrow.

You can only bite your lip to conceal your growing excitement, hands clasped in the fabric atop your lap. “A puzzle, is it?” He murmurs, turning the metal box over and over in his hands, tracing his thumb along the engravings as if that were enough to crack the invisible code.

“A smart man needs a smart gift, no?” You reply, leaning so you can rest your chin on his shoulder. Instinctively and completely without thought, his hand moves around your back to rest on the side of your waist. Your sly compliment makes the tips of his ears turn just a little crimson, unnoticeable in the dim night sky. “I’ll give you a hint. You need something I hope you didn’t throw away.” You whisper, and the way your breath tickles the side of his face makes it hard to keep his mind away from you, let alone think about how to solve the puzzle. “You won’t open it while we’re out here, I’ll tell you that much. So you can wait till you get home. For now, is it alright that I stay here with you for a while?”

For some reason, your request to stay has the feeling in his chest drooping in relief, the promise that you’re here with him just for a little longer. He turns to you, with your chin still on his shoulder, and allows his own head to fall on top. His lips silently brush against the top of your head, grazing against the softness of your hair before turning back again to the sun that has set beyond the horizon.

“Like I’d ask for you to leave.”

He has no idea what time it is, and it’s a bit difficult for him to find the ability to care. His chest is light and his heart is free. A stark contrast to the gloomy, pessimistic way he had begun the morning. Every birthday spent with you had ended feeling like this, he notes. How queer.

Though, not entirely. It would not be a grand exaggeration at all to say that you have been the reason he has been so willing to continue on after centuries of living off of spiteful determination.

He’s figured out the puzzle now. Of course, with a mind like yours, it makes so much sense this would have been a gift planned out for months. He opens the drawer to the side of his nightstand, removing notebooks and old papers to reveal an object in the very back corner collecting dust.

He remembers, he remembers the sunny day in September he was given a peculiar key attached to a string. He remembers being told it suited him, for no particular reason. He understands now. He always felt a compulsion to hold on to the strange trinket you had given him, though it’s not like he’d ever discard something from you anyway. He delicately admires the key, engraved with those little lotuses before carefully slipping it inside the lock on his new gift. The satisfying click it makes as it turns perfectly in the hole scratches his brain, and he knows he’s doing something right.

He opens the metal box with tender fingers, and upon pulling back the top he is met with a lovely sight. The contents inside expand to create a beautiful piece of artwork, paper folded to reveal an amalgamation of colorful butterflies all surrounding a grandiose lotus flower posed right in the center. It’s nothing special, he can already hear you saying. Maybe to you, but to him, it’s something he’s certain he will keep with him until the day the fates decide he’s no longer fit to continue living in this world.

He understands the deeper meaning inside, whether intentional or not. He had been given the key months before, without any clue of what it could lead to. Yet he trusted you and your words, and he’s finally received the prize at the end. He understands what you mean to tell him, what you meant all along for him to understand.

“Trust me, my love. Give me your time, and I’ll give you mine. Trust me, and in due time, you’ll come to understand.”

[writinginatree]

Kiss It Better

Relationship(s): Bodhi Durran/healer!reader

Summary: Bodhi shows up in the Healer Quadrant injured after a fight — again. With how often it happens lately, you're starting to suspect he's letting himself get hurt on purpose just so he has an excuse to come see you.

Dismissing your previous patient, you hurry on to the next. It's the day for challenges in the Riders Quadrant, which means even more of them are filling the beds of the infirmary than on normal days. Sure enough the person waiting on the next bed is dressed in black too, just like all five you'd treated today so far.

"What can I do for—" You break off when you actually look at the patient's face instead of just his uniform, and realize who it is sitting in front of you. "Bodhi?!"

"Hi, darling," your boyfriend greets you with a sheepish grin you don't return.

"What happened?" you demand to know instead. The only wound you can see on him is a small cut in his lower lip, but if that was all, he would've been turned away in favor of more seriously injured patients on such a busy day as this. "Is it bad? Show me where you're hurt!"

"It's not that bad," he assures you, and you relax a little, grateful he answered the most important question first. "Regular challenge, is all."

Still, his anatomical knowledge is hardly good enough to accurately judge if an injury is serious. He might think it isn't if it doesn't hurt much, but there are plenty of injuries that could be dangerous without feeling too bad.

"Show me!"

He lifts his shirt, revealing a fresh bruise blossoming across the side of his chest. "I think one or two of my ribs might have gotten cracked a little."

"Gods, Bodhi—"

"It's not that bad, really."

"Lie down and leave it to me to judge how bad it is. I'm the healer here, not you."

Bodhi does as you said, but can't stop himself from trying to soothe you. "Of course. I'm just saying, it barely even hurts. I wouldn't have bothered seeing a healer about it, but I knew you have infirmary duty today, so I figured—"

He interrupts himself with a hiss of pain when you touch your hand to the bruise, gingerly feeling along his ribs. There's some swelling, but no more than is normal for a bad bruise, and you can't feel any deformities from loose pieces of bone, either.

"Does it hurt when I press here?"

Bodhi nods, and you take your hand away, running it through his curls instead.

"How bad? On a scale of one to ten?"

"Six, maybe?"

"Okay... Take a deep breath. Does that make the pain worse?"

Doing as instructed, he winces. "Yeah, that hurts. But normal breathing doesn't."

You nod to yourself, already fairly certain it's just a small hairline break at the most. Painful enough, but by no means fatal.

As you continue to assess the severity of Bodhi's injury, your worry for him starts to ease, irritation rising in its stead. He's getting hurt much too often for your liking. It's not really his fault, you know, and it kind of comes with the job description of being a rider, but surely some of the injuries he has sought you out with could have been avoided if only he was a little more careful! Of course, it's not just him. After a year and a few months in the Healer Quadrant, you can confidently say that riders in general are reckless fools with zero regard for their own well-being — which is exactly why your fellow healer friends think you're insane for dating one of those daredevils with their thin-altitude-air-addled brains. While you love Bodhi dearly and wouldn't trade him for the world, your friends do have a point. Unlike you, your best friend never has to worry that her scribe boyfriend will wind up dead one day, nor does he add to the healers' already extensive enough workload by showing up injured every other day.

You shake your head at yourself. Now you're exaggerating. But Bodhi does make you worry a lot, and you can't even bring yourself to actually be mad at him for it. Not when he looks at you with that adoring smile, kissing your knuckles in thanks as you spread an ointment with a cooling effect over his bruised ribs.

"You're being careless lately," you say, the words coming out too softly to be taken as the accusation they're meant to be. "You never used to get hurt this often."

Bodhi just shrugs.

Having started dating at the end of your first year at Basgiath, you'd hoped to see less of him in your quadrant this year — as a patient, at least. But it seems second-year riders are no safer than their first-years. If anything, you've already seen more of Bodhi this year than you had in all your first year, though of course you hadn't payed as much attention to him then, so you might be misjudging.

You don't think you are, though. He's come seeking medical attention thrice in the last two weeks alone — conveniently always when you were on duty, you realize. You know he has your schedule memorized, so now that you think about it, it hardly seems like coincidence that every time he shows up it's when you're here. But it has to be, right? Surely he wouldn't be so stupid as to hurt himself on purpose just to see you... Right?

Faced with the way he's watching you — like a lovesick puppy, like you're the only thing in the world that matters — you're not so sure. It's true that classes and extracurricular responsibilities don't leave either of you as much free time to spend with the other as the both of you would like, but collecting injuries like this just for a few minutes more with you seems a little extreme.

And yet, you can't entirely put it past Bodhi. As a rider, extreme is kind of what he does.

Now that you've started thinking about it, you can't push the suspicion from your mind, so as you put the ointment aside, you decide to simply ask. "How come it's always when I'm on duty that you're getting hurt?"

Bodhi unsuccessfully fights a smile. "Luck?"

"Luck," you deadpan, now almost fully convinced he's been doing it on purpose. How fucking reckless can someone be?!

"Okay, you caught me. I might have been a little careless on purpose because I knew getting hurt would mean I get to see you."

"You're an idiot," you scold. "What if you'd gotten yourself hurt more seriously, huh? You won't get to see me at all anymore if you get yourself killed!"

"I wasn't that careless," Bodhi starts, but you're not in the mood to let him calm you down that easily.

"You can't control how badly someone hurts you when you let your guard down," you say. A look at the guilty look on his face has you softening a little. Cupping his cheek, you continue, "I wish we had more time together too, but I'd rather have you in one piece when I do get to see you."

Bodhi sighs. "I know. I'm sorry for being so reckless. Making you worry is the last thing I wanted."

"I know."

You peck his cheek, and reach for a cotton ball and antiseptic to disinfect Bodhi's split lip. He hisses at the sting, but you don't show any mercy until you're sure the cut is clean. A little pain now is better than possibly letting the wound become infected.

Bodhi gives you that adorable look you can never resist, tapping his bottom lip. "Kiss it better?"

You pretend to think about it, pursing your lips even as you want nothing more than to press them to his. "Only if you promise to be more careful," you finally say.

"Promise," he quickly agrees.

A little too quickly.

"I mean it, Bodhi. You've been lucky so far, but broken ribs aren't as harmless as you seem to think. If the fracture is bad enough the broken ends could pierce your lungs and kill you!"

He takes your hands, kissing each of your palms before answering, his voice taking on such serious a tone that you know he really means it when he says, "I'll be more careful. I promise. And I'm really sorry for making you worry about me."

You cup his face in both hands, tilting his head so you can press a soft kiss to his lips.

"Thank you," you mumble, and kiss him again. When he tries to deepen the kiss into something hungrier, you pull back, mindful of the cut in his lip. You rub your thumb over it, a slight smile on your own lips. "Careful, love, or it'll start bleeding again."

"Worth it," Bodhi shrugs and tries to kiss you again, pouting when you stop him with a finger over his mouth.

"Nuh-uh. Let it heal a little, then you can kiss me all you want on our date tomorrow."

"One more kiss," he pleads. "Just a little one."

You peck his lips one, two, three more times, finally forcing yourself to take a step back.

"I'll be in trouble if someone notices how long I'm taking with you," you say apologetically. "There's other patients requiring my attention."

Bodhi nods. "Right. I'll leave you to it, then."

"Not so fast." You push him back into his seat, turning to search through a shelf until you find the little ceramic container of pills you're looking for. You hand it to Bodhi, along with the ointment you'd applied to his ribs. "Here. Take one of these if the pain gets too bad. You can have up to three a day, but never less than five hours apart, okay?"

"Got it. Thanks."

"You can be generous with the cooling salve, but you'll probably only need it the first few days. It's only a small fracture, so it shouldn't give you too much trouble, but you do need to take it easy for a bit. Do not give me that look, Durran. If you overexert yourself that'll only make it heal slower."

"I know, I know. But I can still participate in challenges and stuff, right?"

You sigh. "I'd appreciate it if you took a day or two to actually rest, without sparring or any form of physical activity, but after that, yes. It should be fine, so long as you don't overdo it."

"I'll take it easy," Bodhi promises.

"And make sure you get enough sleep. Sleep is essential for your body's ability to heal itself, just like good nutrition." Smiling, you add, "You can drop by next week so I can check the healing progress."

Bodhi smiles back, and, rising to his feet, steals another kiss. "Sounds good. Then I'll stop distracting you from your work now. See you tomorrow?"

"Yeah. Tomorrow."

[marlynnofmany]

Cave Space

The mechanic’s shop was the loudest and dirtiest place I’d seen on this space station so far, and somehow that was comforting. All the ritzy retail stores and elaborate restaurants tried to look as fancy as possible, even the cheap ones. But this place felt honest and straightforward. It had bare concrete floors and the kind of shelf displays that didn’t bother with signs to actually explain what you were looking at. A real mechanic would know.

I had no idea, but I was just here to help haul things. Blip and Blop might have been a better choice if the things in question proved to be heavy, but they were off wrangling jumbo tubs of food and medical supplies with Eggskin, and anyways we had the big hoversled this time. It would probably be fine.

Mimi was talking fast with an employee about manifolds and vents and lots of other words, waving a couple green tentacles while he stood on the rest. The employee was the biggest Heatseeker I could remember seeing, which was still only mid-rib-height on me. He reminded me of the short gym guys from back home, able to build muscle in every direction but up.

A box thumped onto a counter near me. “You here to help lift and pull?”

I found an older human woman grinning at me, wearing a tank top covered in grease and long white hair held back in a ponytail. Also the kind of arm muscle that said she yanked engines out of spaceships for fun.

“Something like that,” I said with a smile. “Gotta make sure nothing falls off the sled.”

She waved a hand. “Ah, we’ll strap it down for you. There’s enough ramps around here to cause problems if we don’t.”

“I bet,” I said, thinking back to the last time I’d chased something important down a hill. “Don’t want to risk any explosions or chemical spills.”

“Or slamming a gear shaft into the side of a building,” she agreed. “There was a bit of a mess the last time someone was sure they didn’t need their stuff tied down.”

I winced. “Ouch.”

“Yeah, it’s standard procedure now,” she said, opening the box to pull out multiple smaller boxes, all labeled with arcane terminology and numbers. They rattled as she stocked them on the shelf under the counter. “If they’d asked me, it would have been standard from the start, but what do I know? I’ve only been doing this kind of work for decades, on more planets than I care to count.”

“Sounds exciting,” I said as she finished stocking. “I haven’t been out here all that long by comparison, but there’s always something new to see.” A glance around the shop took in rows of alien technology, a Heatseeker with scales painted silver, and one of those centipede-like people whose species name I didn’t remember. I was pretty sure they were looking at a jetpack display.

“Oh sure, plenty of weirdos out here,” the woman said easily, ripping tape off the box and flattening it. “Though it’s easy to tip over from marveling at the wonders to feeling the kind of intense homesickness that you get when you’re light years away from home.”

“I suppose so.” I’d been pretty lucky on that front, since my alien coworkers were friendly sorts who made me feel welcome. But there were times when the sheer amount of empty space between me and Earth was a little too much to think about.

“You’ve got to find ways to remind yourself of where you come from, and take pride in it,” the older woman said with a pointed finger, like a grandparent giving career advice. “Recreate bits of home while you’re far from it.”

I thought back to the potted plants and sun lamp in my quarters, kept high enough that the cat couldn’t chew on them. “I like to think I do that,” I said. “Do you have a preferred method? Classic Earth songs, googly eyes stuck in funny places?”

She barked a laugh. “Ha! Nothing I’d admit to. But I’ll show you my current favorite touchstone to humanity.” She dug in a pocket.

I stepped closer, curious, as she pulled out something palm-sized. She rested her elbows on the counter and held it up, framed by splayed fingers with appropriate drama.

It was a rock, smooth and shiny like it had been polished by a river and then by a thick layer of varnish, and it was covered in minuscule handprints. All in earthtones, like a cave painting reduced to pocket size: some in silhouettes like tiny hands had pressed mud or ash against the cave wall, and others shadowed by color like the prehistoric artist had chewed charcoal and spat it carefully around their fingers.

(I’d done that in school one day, with one of the cool teachers, who taught us the basics of humanity’s oldest style of airbrushing. It was incredibly messy and trickier than I’d expected. It gave me renewed respect for the artists from eons ago whose artwork had survived into modern times.)

And this was that same thing, made small enough to carry around the galaxy, a tiny reminder of home. “That’s fantastic,” I breathed.

“Isn’t it?” she asked, rubbing at the shine. “I got it from a traveling artist awhile back. If I was in a different line of work, I’d sell clothes with this pattern on them. It’s the kind of thing that makes other Earthlings smile.” She stood up and put it back in her pocket with a wink. “Not like googly eyes, but still good.”

“Yes, still good!” I agreed, smiling. I would have liked to talk more about it, maybe find out where that traveling artist had gone, but Mimi was wrapping up his conversation. A door opened to admit a trio of Heatseekers carrying a huge cylinder that was probably destined for somewhere in the guts of our ship.

“I’ll get the tie-down straps,” said the woman, rummaging under a different section of counter.

“Thanks,” I said, though I don’t think she heard me. The air was full of talk and the sound of clawed feet on concrete. I hurried to take up a position by the controls of the hoversled, making sure it stayed locked in place.

The team worked quickly, and in no time they had it strapped down well enough that it wouldn’t budge even if the gravity cut out completely. (Which had better not happen; I’d had more than enough of that kind of nonsense at the last station.)

Mimi processed the payment, tapping a screen with one tentacle tip and thanking the employees for having this whatsit in stock. I got the impression that it wasn’t the one he’d actually come to get, but it was better in some way or other.

“Thanks again!” I said as we tugged the sled toward the door. I waved at the other human and she waved back, two hands signaling kinship briefly across the room. Then she took her flattened box into the back and I stepped out into the artificial sunlight, looking for signs leading back to the spaceport.

The gravity behaved, and the ramps were no trouble. Blip and Blop were there to help unload the thing. I asked Mimi if he wanted three people to maneuver it into wherever it went, or if I should go put the hoversled away.

He was busy climbing inside of the cylinder with a flashlight, for whatever reason. “Nah, not enough space for everybody,” his gravelly voice echoed. “Let me just — really? Another one?” A faint squeak sounded like he was rubbing a tentacle against the side.

“What is it?” I asked, bending to look inside. Blip and Blop crowded behind me, a jumble of curious muscles and silks.

Mimi grumbled, “This is the third engine part that I’ve gotten with these annoying marks. All from different sources, too. If I ever find out which finger-having species is doing it, we are going to have words.”

Deep inside the cylinder, in a spot that likely would never have been seen by anyone but an agile mechanic, was a patch of handprints. Mimi had already smeared the ones made in grease, but the others looked like they might have been paint. All in earthtones. A cave painting in the depths of a spaceship.

Blip and Blop chorused, “Not it.”

I bit my lip to hide a smile. “It’s a mystery.”

~~~

Inspired by this excellent artwork by @letmeinimafairy! It deserved at least one story, if not several.

~~~

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.

Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.

The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).

[sequinsmile-x]

One Last Souvenir From My Trip to Your Shores

“Come on, Derek, it’s my job and Aaron knows that. And it’s not the first time I’ve had to flirt with an unsub. It’s not like I’m going to sleep with the guy.”

He scoffs and shakes his head, putting the coffee pot down with more force than necessary, “It wouldn’t be the first time you did that either.” 

A thoughtless and unkind comment from someone she's always considered a friend makes Emily feel like she's right back at the start.

-x-

Hi friends,

Well, this one has got away from in a way that a fic hasn't in a LONG time. This was meant to be a one shot, and then a long one shot, and then I got to what should be the halfway point and almost 6k words in and I knew I had to turn it into two parts.

This was inspired by a comment on an older fic of mine where Derek brings up Emily's brand mark scar, and a post from @ friendsbuffays on twitter.

Part two will be up early next week.

As always, let me know what you think <3

-x-

Warnings: None

Words: 5.8k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Emily yawns as she waits for her tea to be ready, groaning as she rolls her neck, an ache she couldn’t quite shift pulling in it as she tries to wake her body up before she leaves for work. She rubs it and smiles when she hears thundering footsteps in the hallway, and she raises her eyebrow as Jack runs to the kitchen. 

“Morning, Emmy.” 

“Good morning, Jack,” she says, wrapping her arms around him as he hugs her. She pushes his hair back from his face and raises her eyebrow at him, “I seem to remember your Dad having a rule about no running in the apartment.” 

Jack smiles sheepishly at her, “Sorry, Emmy. I was just excited to see you.” 

She hums and leans down to kiss his forehead, “I know, sweetie, but we don’t want you to hurt yourself,” she squeezes him closer again, “Now, eat your breakfast. I poured you some cereal.” 

His eyes go wide with excitement as he sits at the kitchen counter, “Lucky Charms?” 

She shakes her head, “That’s a weekend cereal and we both know it,” she smiles and pours milk into the bowl in front of him, “Do you want some juice?” 

He nods, his response muffled around a mouthful of Cheerios “Apple.”

“Apple, please,” Aaron says as he walks into the room, earning an eye roll from his girlfriend and a nod from his son.

“Sorry,” Jack corrects himself, “Apple juice, please Emmy.” 

“Coming right up,” she says, reaching into the fridge to get some for him. She smiles as Aaron wraps his arms around her from behind and she leans into him, turning her head to capture his lips in a kiss, “He’s already the most polite kid in the world, honey,” she says, kissing him again, “You can let the odd thing slip by.” 

“Force of habit,” he says, and he kisses her again and she pours Jack a cup of juice, smiling at him when he continues to eat like he’d never been fed before in his life. She rubs at her neck again and Aaron furrows his brow, “Is your neck still bothering you?”

She nods, “I think it’s your pillows,” she says, scrunching her nose up as she admits it, “It doesn’t happen when we sleep at mine.” 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he says as he presses his hand against her neck, his thumb rubbing away some of the ache there. She rolls her eyes at him lovingly and grabs his hand, making a point of kissing his knuckles before she lets it go. 

“It’s not your fault,” she says, smiling as she wraps her arms around his waist, “Plus, overall your bed is better than mine anyway.”

He furrows his brow, “You have a top of the line mattress that probably cost more than I earned in a year at my first job,” he says, smiling when she does, “And Egyptian cotton sheets.” 

“While that may be true,” she says, leaning in to kiss his cheek, “Your bed has you in it more often than mine does. Making it a much better bed.” 

He’s about to respond, to say he feels the same, when Jack’s spoon rattles in his bowl, “Finished!” 

“Okay buddy, go brush your teeth and then it’s almost time for school.” Aaron smiles and turns to look at his son. Jack nods and starts to run away, coming to a stop as he turns to look at them, an apologetic smile on his face as he makes a point of walking at a normal pace as he carries on. Aaron looks at Emily with a soft and fond smile, “That look was all you. He never used to do it before you started spending more time with him.”

She hums and laughs, “Well, looks like I’m a great influence on both of my Hotchner boys.” 

“Yes, you are,” he leans in to kiss her, his lips barely brushing hers before his phone rings in his pocket. He smiles apologetically at her and pulls his phone out of his pocket, barely acknowledging Penelope’s name on his screen before he answers, “Hotchner.” 

“Good morning, Hotch. We’ve had a call from the police department in Worcester, Massachusetts asking for assistance. A third victim has been found this morning and they believe it’s all the same killer. So he’s-”

“Officially a serial killer now,” Aaron says, sighing as he pinches the bridge of his nose, “Okay, we might as well meet at the jet as soon as we can. Could you-”

“Let the pilots know, inform the airstrip and the rest of the team?”

He smiles, “Thanks, Garcia.” 

“Do you need me to tell Emily?” She asks, clearing her throat, and he can picture the smile on her face, “Or do you have that covered,” she clears her throat again, “Sir?” 

He looks at Emily and her smile lets him know she’d heard their friend and he can’t help but smile too, “Yes, I have that covered.” 

They’d been together for three months, but the team had only known about them for two weeks. It was still new to their friends, still fresh in a way that made everything he and Emily did of interest to them. He and Emily had settled into it now, had found their place in each other’s lives and they loved each other. They’d said as much - exchanged the three little words that carried more meaning now than they ever felt like they had before - and despite it still being early days he saw everything with her. Saw her in every corner of his future. 

“Excellent. Give her my love and I’ll speak to you when you’re all on the jet.” 

“Thanks, Garcia.” He says, and Emily smiles at him as he hangs up and she kisses his cheek, her hand on his back as she tries to seep out the tension she can feel building there, “It’s going to be an interesting few days.”

“We’ve been to work since we told them,” she says, “Apart from a few comments from Derek and the matching heart mugs Penelope left on our desks they’ve been fine.” 

“It’s the first case we’ve worked though.”

She hums and wraps her arms around his neck, pressing her lips together as he tugs her closer, his arms wrapping around her automatically, “Think of it this way, we can arrive at the jet together because we no longer have to pretend we didn’t spend the night together, and you’ll no longer have to sneak out of my room at the crack of dawn so the others don’t see you.” 

He smiles at that, and it makes her heart swell in her chest, love for him filling the gap she thinks might have been made for him and his son, “Well I do love a lie in when you’re in bed with me.” 

She rolls her eyes at him and stamps her lips against his, “Come on, we’ll get that son of yours to school and we might have just enough time to get coffee on the way to the jet.” 

He kisses her and squeezes her hip, tapping his fingers against her skin as they slip under her shirt. Three short taps that had become a code of sorts that they exchanged when others were around. Fingers tapped against hands as a file was passed over, or a shoulder when a coffee was slipped in front of the other. A way of saying three words when they couldn’t actually say them. 

It’ll be alright. 

I’m right here. 

I love you. 

“I love you too,” she says, capturing his reply in a kiss, “Now let’s get going.”

“Yes ma’am.” 

She throws him a look over her shoulder as she steps away, “Don’t call me ma’am.” 

___

“Our guy has a type.” 

Emily hums at Dave’s comment, flicking through the images on the tablet in front of her, trying to see past her similarities to the victims as she tries to focus on the crime scenes, “All of them were dumped in alleys.” 

“Which would suggest the unsub considers them disposable once he’s done with them,” Derek adds, flashing a look at her before he looks down at his tablet, his own recognition of her similarity to the victims obvious, “I wonder if they look like someone in his life? His mother? An ex maybe.” 

“My money is on his mother,” JJ says, settling into the bench seat next to Spencer, her tablet sandwiched between her arm and a cup of coffee from the galley in hand, “These guys always seem to have mommy issues.” 

Aaron slips into the seat next to Emily and places two cups on the table - a cup of tea for her and a cup of coffee for him. She smiles as he reaches into his pocket to pull out two Splenda packets, packets she knows he must have brought from home because they were never in the galley, and he slides them over to her, a sparkle in his eyes just for her when they briefly meet hers. She squeezes his thigh in silent thanks under the table, and it’s only when she looks over the table at Derek and Dave to find them staring at them that she realises they’ve all gone quiet. It had happened when they’d boarded the jet too, and Emily would guess that they’d all watched them get out of the same car back at Quantio’s runway with the same level of interest as they had now. 

“He is allowed to make me a cup of tea you know,” she says, rolling her eyes at them all, and she lowers her voice to a whisper as if it was a conspiracy, “He is my boyfriend.” 

Aaron sighs next to her, “Em.”

The use of a nickname in itself draws a smile out of JJ and Emily shrugs, her smile slightly mischievous as she rips open the packets of Splenda and pours them into her tea, “What? They were staring, and I thought we were past the zoo exhibit stage of it all.” 

“It’s just nice to see you both happy, that’s all,” JJ says and Emily finds her smile getting wider as she looks at her friend. The topic of her and Aaron’s relationship was first on the list at the most recent girls with JJ and Penelope, and whilst she dodged answering the questions she knew would embarrass Aaron she gave them an insight into their life together that they didn’t have before. 

“Thank you, JJ,” Aaron says before he clears his throat and reaches for his tablet, “Now, what have we learned so far?” 

She knows the moment he sees what the rest of them already have, how he freezes for a second, something so brief she knows only she has picked up on it, when he flicks onto the photos of the victims. She reaches out for him under the table again, her hand on his thigh as she taps three times against his leg, saying what she couldn’t with the others around them. He places his hand over hers and squeezes, a silent thank you before he removes his hand again. 

When they land, Aaron asks her to go with Derek to speak to the family of the first victim whilst the rest of the team split off between going straight to the precinct and seeing the most recent crime scene. She almost argues with him about it, since Derek had been standoffish at best with her ever since they told the team about their relationship, but she stops herself, well aware it would likely only add fuel to the fire. 

She rolls her eyes as she watches Derek get into the driver's seat by force of habit but she doesn’t say anything, deciding it wasn’t a battle worth fighting. She blows out a breath as she climbs into the passenger seat and clips her seatbelt into place, and then she turns to look at him, furrowing her brow when she just finds him looking at her. 

“Is everything okay?” She asks, and he clears his throat before he starts the car. 

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

Her frown deepens, “With this case?” 

He laughs humourlessly at her obvious attempt to change the conversation's direction, her attempt to give him a chance to not ask the question they both know he’s really asking. “With Hotch.” 

She sighs and presses her lips together, her teeth clenched as she suppresses the anger she feels rolling through her. “Yes,” she says, her voice measured and steady, “I’m sure.” 

“I just don’t see it,” Derek replies as he drives, “You’re too different. He’s so serious and you’re…” 

He drifts off and she stares at him, her gaze burning into his side as he drives, “And I’m what?” 

He sighs, “You’re just not.” 

Her anger is replaced by a fierce type of protectiveness that only Aaron and Jack can bring out in her even though she tells herself Derek doesn’t mean anything by it. She would have once thought Aaron was terminally serious too before she knew it was a mask he wore to protect himself. He was so much more than the front he put on for the world, so intelligent and kind and soft in a way she never wanted to live without again. She liked to think that’s what made them work as well as they did, they both hid behind a mask they’d learnt to wear since they were children. Their parents were as different as their childhoods had been, but they’d handed them those masks nonetheless, one switched together with violence and indifference and the other with expectations that could never be met. 

She forces a smile that she hopes will bring the conversation to an end, her expression as fierce as she would allow it to be in the current setting, and she clears her throat.

“We’re more alike than you might think.” 

___

After two days of working on the case, they have a suspect, but only circumstantial evidence. Ever since the jet they’d been talking around the fact she looked a little too much like the victims, and no one was willing to bring it up. It starts to drive her crazy because she’s sure if she wasn’t dating Aaron someone would have suggested what felt inevitable by now - that she was used as bait to get a confession out of the guy, or at least help get them more evidence than they had. 

It’s why she suggests it herself. Why she pushes past the rolling nausea in her gut at the thought of it and shakes her head when Aaron tries to suggest they try something else first. Mostly, she thinks she brings it up first so he doesn’t have to, so he isn’t the one asking her to do something they both know she struggles more with now than she used to, the scars Ian left behind burning with a phantom itch as they all agree it’s the best idea they have. 

She goes to get a coffee, sure it could do no harm to her already shaky nerves, but she’s beaten to it by Derek. She smiles tightly at him as she approaches the kitchenette, “Can I have some of that?” 

“I thought you were off coffee,” he says, and she nods, her lips pressed together as she leans against the counter. 

“I am, mostly. But it’s going to be a long day so I need all the help I can get.” 

He sighs, “Are you sure you’re okay with this?” 

She nods, unsure of who she’s trying to reassure - him or herself, “I wouldn’t have suggested it if I wasn’t.”

For some reason, it seems to be the wrong thing to say. The look he’d given her in the car the other day flashes across his face and he scoffs, shaking his head as he finally pours his coffee.

“And Hotch doesn’t mind you flirting with another guy?” He asks, his tone one that she recognised. He was agitated, annoyed at something or someone, but she wasn’t entirely sure why. 

“He may be my boyfriend but he isn’t my owner. This isn’t the 1950s,” Emily forces a chuckle and swallows thickly, desperate to brush his behaviour under the carpet until they were home and she could get her head around it a little more. “Come on, Derek, it’s my job and Aaron knows that. And it’s not the first time I’ve had to flirt with an unsub. It’s not like I’m going to sleep with the guy.”

He scoffs and shakes his head, putting the coffee pot down with more force than necessary, “It wouldn’t be the first time you did that either.” 

It feels like all the air has been sucked out of her lungs as well as the room around her while his words sink in. Her chest feels hollowed out and it collapses in on itself, giving way under the weight of the insult from a man she would have once considered her closest friend. 

She thinks he must be shocked by what he’s said too, because his shoulders go tight and he freezes, his eyes wide as she steps back from him as if she’s taken a physical blow. She breathes out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob and she shakes her head at him. It all falls into place. His overcorrection when she came home from Paris. His attitude towards her relationship with Aaron. 

“Forget the coffee,” she says, turning to leave, and it seems to break him out of whatever trance he’d fallen into. 

“Wait, Em-”

“No,” she says, louder than she means to be, drawing attention from Aaron and the rest of the team, and she blows out a shaky breath, “You don’t just get to say something like that and pretend you didn’t.” 

She walks away, her eyes burning with tears she won’t allow herself to shed, and she doesn’t have to turn around to know Aaron is following her. She finds an empty hallway ending in a supply closet and she walks into it, her hand immediately against a shelf as she supports herself. She closes her eyes and then looks up, desperately trying to make sure she doesn’t cry, and she waits for the door to close behind her. It’s a small closet, so she can feel Aaron standing behind her, the comfort she so desperately wanted just out of reach. She knew she couldn’t have it yet, knew that if she collapsed into him like she wanted to she would never pick herself back up in time. She blows out a breath and turns to look at him, and his visible concern only deepens when he sees how upset she is. 

“Sweetheart, what happened?”

She shakes her head and swallows thickly, “I can’t…not here.” 

He furrows his brow and he plays over what he’d seen in his head again, brief glances of a conversation she was having with Derek before he heard her shouting at him. Her voice raised in a way it rarely was with someone she cared about. He steps towards her and she steps backwards, her back colliding with the shelving unit behind her, and he stops. 

“Em-”

“Aaron, please,” she says, reaching out and linking her hand through his, drawing whatever strength she can from him through the simple touch of his palm against hers, “Not here. When we get home. Please.” 

He nods, despite everything in him screaming to know what is wrong right now, the ever-increasing feeling that he needed to tell Derek off burning in his gut, “What can I do?” 

“Don’t put me with Derek for the rest of the case?” She asks, sure it’s overstepping, that she’s taking big, leaping bounds over the line they’d drawn between their personal and professional lives. But he nods without second thought, like he’d give her the world if she asked for it right now, and she loves him for it, “And don’t talk to him about it either. Just…I’ll tell you when we get home.” 

Aaron nods and squeezes her hand, letting his thumb run over the back of her hand to stop himself from pulling her into a hug he knows she wants but won’t let him give her right now, “Whatever you need.” 

She smiles tightly, Derek’s words on a loop in her head that she can’t escape from, and now all she can think about is if Aaron had ever thought that way too. If he’d ever looked at her and seen her past decisions written all over her skin like some of them literally were. 

The thought breaks her heart, and makes it hard to let go of his hand, even when Dave knocks on the supply closet door and tells them it’s time to go.

___

He takes her request to not be with Derek for the rest of the case seriously. Once the case is over, once she’s managed to get a confession out of the man they’d known all along was the unsub, Aaron makes sure she’s sat with just him on the jet home. Any attempt Derek makes to speak to her is blocked by either her or Aaron, even though he still doesn’t know what’s wrong. When they land she still seems sad, subdued, and it makes Aaron want to demand an answer from Derek but he knows Emily wouldn’t thank him for it. So he waits. He waits and sits by her side and provides whatever comfort she’ll accept from him and when she lets him carry his bag to the car without question it only makes him worry more. 

“Jack will stay with Jess tonight, right?” She asks and he nods, reaching out to put his hand on her thigh as she does up her seatbelt. 

“Yes, it’s too late to go get him now. Shall we go to yours?” He suggests, only shifting his focus away from her to turn the engine on, “Save your neck from a night with my pillows.”

She chuckles and nods, her real smile flashing across her face, “My main complaint about my bed is you not being in it, so if you’re there it’s perfect.” 

“Your place it is,” he says, squeezing her thigh again and she doesn’t think she’s ever loved someone more when he doesn’t say anything else, when he doesn’t push or ask questions as he drives them to her place. He doesn’t ask anything when they get to her apartment or as they get changed out of the clothes they’d worn a few hours too long either. He waits her out, doesn’t try and push her into anything and it makes her want to talk to him about it even more than she had all day. 

She feels heavy when she sinks onto the couch wearing an old t-shirt of Aaron’s and a pair of leggings. Her heart feels heavy as it sinks into her stomach, the weight of Derek’s words, the weight of what he clearly thought of her, making it hard to breathe. 

“I ordered from that pizza place you like,” Aaron asks, and she looks up at him, the sight of him in sweats and a t-shirt enough to spark warmth in her belly no matter how brief. 

“Thanks, honey,” she says, offering out her hand to him, “Come sit with me for a bit.” 

He does it without question, rounding the couch to sit next to her, making a point of leaving some space between them when she doesn’t immediately lean into him like she usually would. His resolve starts to shake, cracks appearing throughout it as the need to know what had upset her starts to break free. 

“Sweetheart-”

“Derek said something earlier,” she says, her eyebrows furrowed as she turns so she’s facing him, her side pressed against the couch as she focuses on a loose thread sticking out of the back of it, “He…” 

He waits for a few seconds before he says anything, but when she doesn’t carry on he prompts her, his hands in his lap so he doesn’t reach out for her, “What did he say, Em?” 

“We were talking about what I did today, and he asked if you minded if that I had to flirt with another guy,” she presses her lips together and blows out a breath, “And I joked that it wasn’t like I was sleeping with someone else. And then…” she shakes her head and chokes on a sound she can’t name, everything she’d been feeling all day stuck in her throat, “And then he said it wouldn’t be first time I’d done it.” 

Aaron was used to anger. He’d grown up around it, had learned the feeling of it and the repercussions before he truly understood what it was. It’s familiar as it burns through him, his jaw drawn tight with it and his hands in fists in his lap as he tries and fails to contain it. 

“I’ll kill him.” 

She smiles softly at him and picks at the thread on the couch as she shakes her head, “I don’t need you to fight my battles, Aaron. I need…this. You,” her smile turns sad, “And what good would you be to me if you were in prison for killing our friend.” 

He hums, biting back a comment that he didn’t feel very friendly towards Derek right now. He remembers a conversation he’d had with Dave not long after Emily’s funeral, the older man’s lips loosened by whiskey and grief as he told Aaron everything Derek had said in Emily’s old place when she was going after Ian by herself. Derek had always been quick to anger, quick to judgment before he had the whole story, and it made Aaron angry even then when Emily had simply been his friend. 

She deserved more than judgment and condemnation from someone who had never had to make the choices she’d made. 

“I guess I just never thought it bothered him like that,” she says out loud, more to herself than to Aaron, but she sees something flash across his face, something he can’t hide from her, and she frowns, “What?” 

He sighs, sure it would do no good to tell her, “Em-”

“Please tell me.” 

He swallows thickly and nods, “When you were missing and you went after Ian by yourself we were trying to follow your tracks. When Dave and Derek were at your place looking for information, Derek said…some things about your relationship with Ian.”

She huffs out a humourless laugh, “Because I had sex with him?” 

Aaron nods, “Yes.” 

She shakes her head and wipes a stray tear from her cheek at his honesty that was as brutal as it was loving. 

“Does it…” she trails off, the question she isn’t sure she wants the answer to dying on her tongue, the taste of it bitter as she swallows thickly. She hugs her knees to her chest and wraps her arms around them, desperately trying to cover herself up even though she’s dressed. Even though Aaron has seen her naked countless times already. Even though every time he touched her he did it with such reverence that it made her ache, a gentleness to it that she doesn’t think she’d ever experienced before him. 

The first night they slept together she hadn’t thought about what he might think of her sleeping with Ian. He’d only crossed her mind as Aaron undressed her and the scars he’d left behind were slowly revealed, places where her skin had healed but she hadn’t yet on display for the first person other than her or a medical professional. Aaron had simply kissed her scars, the sensation strange and half numb, and moved on as if they were just another part of her, a point of interest on the landscape of her body in amongst a dozen others. She’d never worried about this, never thought about what he would think about the choices she’d made before she even knew him, but now it’s all she can think about. Derek’s thoughtless and unkind comment rolling around her head and destroying everything else in its wake.

“Does it what, sweetheart?” Aaron asks, purposely not reaching out for her, his hand twitching in his lap as he actively reminds himself to respect the boundary she has put between them. She’d already had so many things taken from her by other people, so many decisions made about her life without her consent and he wasn’t going to do it anymore than he already had. 

“Does it…bother you?” She asks, looking up at him, her jaw set so tightly he thinks it might shatter, as if she’s preparing for what she’s already convinced herself will be his answer, “That I had sex with Ian? Does it bother you?”

She regrets asking the moment she sees hurt flash in his eyes, something he tries and fails to hide from her as quickly as it happens. She couldn’t remember when she started to be able to read him like he was an open book. It went beyond the skills she had for her job, beyond things she’d learnt to read about other people’s behaviour. It was as if everything about him was written on paper only she could see, as if she’d been made to read it and learn all there was to know about him. She knew he could do the same with her, that he knew her better than anyone ever had and the thought no longer scared her. 

She wanted to be known by him for the rest of her life. 

“Em,” he breathes out, her name like a prayer as he silently begs her to believe him, “I promise you that it doesn’t bother me.” 

She looks up at him, unaware her gaze has drifted again, and she furrows her brow, the heartbreak she’d been preparing herself for halting so quickly it makes her breathless, “It doesn’t?” 

He shakes his head and turns his hand so his palm is facing upwards, offering it out to her - his comfort - and leaving her the choice of if she wants it. She grabs his hand, presses her palm against his larger one, and tangles their fingers together, the spaces between his seemingly made for hers. 

“It doesn’t,” he says, his voice soft but firm, a perfect example of the contradictions that made up the beautiful man she was in love with. All of his softness wrapped up in a tough exterior she couldn’t believe she once couldn’t see through. 

“Why?” She chokes out, unaware she was going to speak at all, her throat tight with everything she hadn’t expected to feel when she first woke up that morning. 

It makes him angrier at Derek than he already was, makes a protective streak he’s sure she wouldn’t thank him for burn through him, forcing his grip on her hand to tighten. He shifts closer to her, his side pressed against hers and his arm around her shoulders, and she sinks against him, seeking out the comfort he knows she doesn’t know how to ask for yet and that he will always have waiting for her. 

“Because there is nothing you could do that would make me any less in awe of you and your bravery,” he says as he kisses her temple, and the gasp she lets out is something he feels rather than hears. He wants to take away all the hurt everyone has ever caused her but he knows he can’t, just like she couldn’t take away all of his, but he can do this. He could hold her and see her through it all, be her port in a storm until the water was calm again. “And besides, we all have exes.” 

She laughs, the reaction he’d been hoping for, and it surprises her. Makes her chest ache as it pushes itself past ribs that weren’t expecting it. She looks up at him, her smile shaking and her eyebrow raised, and she’s somehow more in love with him than she was just a few moments ago. 

“Yeah, but they aren’t all terrorists, honey.” 

“I think that depends on who you ask,” his smile turns mischievous, and he winks at her, a wryness to his voice that she would never have expected from him when they first met. He leans in and kisses her, and it’s what makes it finally sink in, what makes her believe him with all her heart because he kisses her just like he always has. He rests his forehead against hers as he pulls back, “I mean it, Em. It doesn’t matter to me. It never has, it never will.”

“I love you,” she says, cupping his cheek to drag him in for a kiss, hoping he doesn’t taste the relief on her tongue and mistake it for a lack of trust in him. 

“I love you too,” he replies, stamping a kiss against her lips that is interrupted by a knock on the door, “That will be the pizza. I’ll get it,” he kisses her cheek, the salt of her tears catching on his lips, “Why don’t you go wash your face? You’ll feel better for it.” 

“Thank you,” she says, squeezing his hand and hoping he knows she’s thanking him for more than just the pizza, but for the way he loves her and for just being him. 

“Anytime, sweetheart,” he replies as he squeezes her hand back. There’s another knock on the door and he shakes his head as he stands up, “That pizza boy who has a crush on you just halved his tip with his impatience.” 

She chuckles as she stands and heads towards the bathroom, “He doesn’t have a crush on me.”

He hums to himself as he grabs his wallet from the table, “He absolutely does,” he mutters, distracted by getting the correct money and the paused conversation with Emily, well aware the upset caused by Derek wasn’t healed by his reassurances that he didn’t feel the same way. He pulls the door open without looking, a note already offered out in his hand, “It’s $20 in total, right?” 

“Hotch?” 

He looks up, his grip on the money tightened by the anger he hadn’t tampered down as successfully as he thought he had when it all comes rushing back as soon as his eyes meet those of the man who had upset the woman he loves. 

“Morgan, what the hell are you doing here?”

[blowthemoonout]

So I did the thing I am trying not to do (looked at social media) and...sometimes I feel like everyone else has watched a different game than me. I don't get why Trent having an awful performance is more likely to be because he actually doesn't care, rather than because he got in his own head, let his mistakes snowball, and was going through it.

I've seen takes ranging from calling him arrogant and lazy, to saying he should be immediately stripped of his vice captaincy, to arguing that he's actually NEVER been that good of a player and we've all gaslighting ourselves for years about him. Not isolated takes either, any of these.

He had an atrocious performance. Nothing went right for him. He looked upset, not apathetic, imo. None of this calls for rewriting history, or making up motivations for a person we do not actually know, or jumping to the least charitable conclusion. All of the criticism stops being valid or productive at that point, and there was plenty of valid criticism to be had.

Idk, this is a trend I've noticed for a while and it just really bothered me today. Sometimes it's good to take a moment and remember that we do not know these people and don't have access to what they're thinking or feeling at any given time. Acting like we do in order to create a narrative is toxic imo, particularly when it's done publicly.

[normalestenstars]

hello everyone! happy (late) new year!! i'm wishing you all a happy and prosperous 2025 

as for me, i would like to talk about the state of this blog, and enstars by extension. last year, i made this blog specifically because i was inspired by a different fandom poll. it was meant to be a silly one-off bit, but i didn't expect for people to actually feel invested in this account. i hope that for the few months this account was active, that these random polls were fun to participate in!

however, addressing the actual topic… during my absence, i have lost all interest in enstars. at first i thought to myself well, once my real life becomes less hectic i can still provide something fun for the community even if i have no interest. you don't need to know recent lore to ask questions like "which nui do you think is the cutest?". i thought i could still do this, but… after the new akatsuki event i don't know if i want to engage in a series that does not respect its fans, even if passively. reading stella maris and ibuki's introduction made me extremely antsy as to how enstars (or i guess specifically, maybe akira?) would handle another indigenous character. it both saddens and angers me that once again, enstars is irresponsible with the messages it pushes (intentionally or unconsciously).

this is a feeling that has been festering for me ever since enstars had the audacity to hype up matrix FOR MONTHS. i am not one to have high expectations for gacha games in the first place, and yet this event felt like a blow i've never experienced before with media. i was extremely angry for the lack of sensitivity enstars showed considering its past history, and seemingly didn't care to correct because all companies care for is profit. why bother putting in effort in cultural sensitivity if you can still acquire thousands in revenue without doing so? such (assumed) beliefs make me beyond angry, and so, my interest dwindled over time. it did not help that i did not care for many new stories either.

as 2024 went on, i've come to realize that i've become extremely unsatisfied with the quality of… everything enstars publishes. which in my personal opinion, is unacceptable for the highest grossing joseimuke. gacha games highly depend on the goodwill (or generosity) of its consumers, and yet, enstars seems to expect its audience to accept any and all content. and i ask the question: why? why must we accept offensive portrayals of indigenous people or their cultures, why must we accept ableist writing, etc., why must we accept slop that is simply a cash-grab ? do we not deserve better as fans of a joseimuke that can earn one billion yen in a month? if this was merely a disagreement of the creative direction, i could accept the fact that enstars developed into something that doesn't suit my tastes or expectations. but it's not—it's the continuous disrespect.

i loved crazy:b.

to be honest, i still do love crazy:b. i love their dynamic, i love the bonds they've formed together, i love the characters within this unit, i love their overarching story. and as embarrassing it is to admit this, rinne is still one of my favorite characters despite not liking enstars anymore. but just because i love something doesn't mean i'm willing to overlook flaws or serious issues within the writing/narrative. after all, one of the selling points of enstars is its writing. so therefore, why shouldn't i analyze + critique it? why shouldn't i form opinions around a media that depends on you, the consumer, to form emotional attachment to (for profit)? this is normal and healthy within the scope of media literacy.

as of late (more like a year or so), it feels like being a fan of this series is nothing but a cruel punishment for having the audacity to be invested in these characters. the hatred enstars seemingly has for its fanbase is very… odd, to say the least. i do not understand what compels them to conduct themselves like this as a business. they continue to publish offensive content with no sign of improvement, continue to disregard the feelings of fans, continue to create half-hearted content, and expect to be not held liable for it. and personally, i find that both laughable and ridiculous how greedy this company is. they want our money, yet do not respect us as consumers.

i don't really know how to end this post. i did not mean for it to be so long either. i suppose with all of this rambling, i think it would only be appropriate to direct people to enstars contact form (https://ensemble-stars-music.zendesk.com/hc/ja/requests/new -> select the last option on the dropdown to send feedback). 

additionally, if you've seen the enstars account post a live stream announcement with the akatsuki + ibuki seiyuu, please do not harass them. they have no control over the decisions of management.

anyway, this is a long winded way of saying i probably will not post on this blog anymore. i will not delete it as people seem to derive enjoyment from old posts still, but there will no longer be any future polls. i'm genuinely sorry for leaving this blog if you liked participating in these polls. i had plans on coming back, and i wanted to provide something fun for fans, but i just cannot bring myself to post about enstars anymore for many reasons. which sounds really dramatic, maybe some of you even think i am overreacting. but (most importantly) i'm just tired of a company disrespecting everyone. whether it be through the writing or business decisions, it's just not fair, nor normal. we deserve better. do not lower your standards for a gacha just because you love it—they depend on your willingness to splurge. and that is a powerful position to have as a consumer, even if it doesn't feel like it.

i wish everyone the best, especially if you continue to keep up with the series.

or TL;DR: i hope everyone had fun participating in enstars polls! i appreciate all the cooperation and support everyone has given me through the months i have posted polls. so for that, i sincerely thank everyone =) ! unfortunately, i have no interest in running this blog anymore because of the way this franchise conducts itself. i've liked my fair share of bad media, but this one... is a winner, in the most perplexing way ever haha... orz

[balkanradfem]

So, nobody asked, but I am going to tell you about a weird health(?) thing that I have going on, just because I think it's weird and funny, and not all that concerning but kinda like, interesting.

I've been going on about how I have low blood pressure, and this winter it's been worse than ever; which is curious. Because low blood pressure is usually the worst in summer when it's hot, but here I am, in December, collapsing on the floor and losing my vision every time I stand up, feeling dizzy all day because my blood is just not feeling it. So I'm like, okay, I'm gonna work on this, I'm gonna salt my food double, I'm gonna drink tons of water, so I did all that. And nothing, I'm still collapsing all the time.

But, I've noticed that every time I go outside in the freezing cold, I'm suddenly feeling clear and awake and better. So I got an idea, and I shut off the heating in my room. And this worked! Being in a constantly cold room made sure I breathe in only the cold air and it helped me normalize the blood pressure, finally I was better. I was wearing warm clothing and hiding under covers and blankets to deal with the cold.

Until one day, I was feeling very unwell, uncomfortable and upset, and I couldn't figure out what it was for the whole day, until by the end I realized my problem was that I was overheating. I figured I must have been too warmed up, so I changed into light summer pajama, and instead of my winter cover, I used my summer cover (which is just a light blanket wrapped in a sheet). And I'm lying there like, hmm, this logically isn't right; it's the end of December, temperatures outside are below zero, this room isn't heated, I'm wearing only light clothing and using a light cover, if I go to sleep like this I'm going to catch a cold. But I couldn't stand anything more warm than this so I went to sleep like that, and the next day, I had to go to work, and I was worried that I was gonna be sick.

But I wasn't, and while working I even opened up a window because the unheated room at work was also too warm for me. I came home like what is up with this, this is not my normal winter behaviour! I am usually in two sweaters, with a warm cover, in a heated room, wearing a scarf on top of all that! But every time I would try to wear any warm clothing, or put a warm cover on, I would get upset, uncomfortable, frustrated, restless and dizzy; I could only relax while in the cold.

I also lost the sense to tell the temperature; I can't tell at any point anymore if my body is warm or not, I struggle to tell if the air in the room is warm or cold, I can tell that my toes and fingers are kinda cold but I don't mind it anymore. It's now been several weeks of this and I'm still only able to be in light clothing in a cold room. If I even get into a warm shower I get all uncomfortable and dizzy, my blood pressure is immediately bad. But as long as I am in the cold, my blood pressure seems fine.

Possibly related to this, my neutral body temperature is 35,5 celsius, it used to be 36,6 when I was young but about 10 years ago it defaulted to 35,5, and if it goes any higher I am in a fever. I've not been sick or feverish though, I can't really tell what my temperature is now because I do not own a themometer, I've just been checking my forehead and it's normal. So I have a few theories about what is going on!

1. I'm turning into a vampire. My body craves the cold because my blood is trying to reach the temperature of zero as well.

2. I'm turning into a werewolf. I'm too hot because I'm secretly growing fur all over my body and any kind of clothing or covers will soon be unecessary

3. I've pissed off a witch and she threw a curse at me, saying something like 'you'll not be warm this winter' and now this is where we are

4. Cold never bothered me anyway. I'm developing my new ice powers and temperatures over zero would melt me.

Has anyone else heard of this kind of thing? My friend told me I must be menopausal but I don't get any flashes, I just can't stand any warmth!

[solarsunshine]

i actively don’t like jonathan byers, (that photo and the way he talked about it is fucking unreal) but then i remember the fact that joyce stayed with lonnie for his whole childhood, but when he finally started going at will was when she decided enough was enough and left. like i wouldn’t be a fucking voyeur, but i would be fucked up by that too ngl.

[sergle]

me in the aforementioned "I talked about this earlier" convo