#you get to make such cool profiles and landscapes I just want to know as much lore as possible

[fully-functioning-pigeon]

I’ve got a love hate relationship with the art slide shows at the beginning, middle and end of every CR episode

Pros: they’re absolutely gorgeous, stunning prices of work, they help me visualize the scenery of Exandria better, these incredible artists get to have their work on display, I get to see certain moments from campaigns on the screen

Cons: there are certain places and people who I don’t recognize but look so freaking cool and I want to know more about who they are and what their story is but there’s no context to some of these so these faces go by and we may never know who they are or what they can do but I want to know

[imshymorph]

So, new story! Death!Ghost x Life!reader. It’s a longer one, there’s much more to their story if everyone likes it an wants to see more. Update: Here's Part 2 and Part 3

You’re sitting by the edge of the water, fingers lightly dipping in the creek and moving around. The ripples that form from your movement making tadpoles, small fish and spurts of water plants come to be.

It felt natural, with the longer hours of sunlight and the rising of temperature, to start using your abilities once again. To take your side of the mantle once Death had taken the grunt of the work in the colder months. Spring was only nearing closer, and that meant you’d have to start adding spirits back to the Earth, it was your time to keep balance.

- - - - -

You looked up from the stream, from the trail of tiny creatures that gladly followed the movement of their creator’s hand, when you felt the breeze cool a little. It could only mean one thing.

Your lips pull up into a soft smile, your lively eyes crinkling lightly at the edges as you see him stand on the other side of the creek. His own eyes shift under the skull mask, and you know he’s smiling back even if his eyes are covered by the shadow of the bone. It doesn’t surprise you that within barely a few seconds he’s instead sitting beside you, the wavy reflection of the water in front of you confirming his presence.

It always felt like that, peaceful and comfortable in each other's presence. You had gotten used to Death long ago, or Ghost, a name that had come from a joke once made aeons ago. You couldn’t help yourself, lightly teasing him when you had seen how pale his skin really was the one time he had taken a glove off. And somehow, it just stuck.

The both of you stay in silence for a bit, admiring the landscape around you, how slowly your power took over the terrain to give him some rest. You worked in harmony, the switching in seasons never feeling like a competition or betrayal, but like an acknowledgment of the other’s importance and significance.

“Haven’t seen you in a while. How have you been?” He’s the first one to talk, giving you a short look before his attention was pulled to the birds that filled the sky. Most of them nesting, feeling in some way that your power would welcome them soon before giving them tiny ones to look after.

“Good, busy with the new blooms that come with spring.” you reply with a small smile, your hands running through the grass below, making new blades appear, greener and more luscious. “You must’ve been busy.” You tack on, your eyes following the trail of growing plants until your eyes find him.

“Hmm, you have some work ahead of you.” he concedes, tilting his head back, feeling what sunrays managed to filter through the holes in his mask. He let out a soft sigh before giving a light nod, “Been taking care of my duties, but it’s been good.”

“You’ll be able to rest a bit more. Now that the warm months are coming in.” You say, that smile still on your face. It definitely was what fascinated him most about you. He knew the amount of power you beheld, all the things you could make appear out of thin air. Yet there was something about that smile, that soft and kind smile that you always seemed to gift him with.

Or at least that’s how he wanted to see it, like your sweet smile was specially directed at him, for him. If there was one thing that he pictured on his mind whenever he thought about you, it was the upturn of your lips. Not even your mightier creations could ever compare to the one of your smile.

“I suppose I did, yes.” He says with a light nod, his tone low and gravely but really calm as well, like deep calm water. His head then turned, your view of his mask turning from the profile to a full fronted one. His cold and cloudy almost-grey eyes finding yours. “Are you enjoying your creations?”

The corner of your eyes crinkled a bit more as they landed on his, your smile brightening, reminding him of the golden hues the sun gets when it starts to set behind the horizon. Your hand moves, fingers trailing through the dirt beneath you. Tips passing just enough power to the small buds that were starting to grow to make them fully bloom. “Always do.” Your tone sounding sweet and golden like honey.

A smile took over his lips and he mentally thanked the skull covering them, although the amused glint your eyes got told him that you had definitely noticed. “I’m glad to hear it.” He says, tone as cordial and gravely as ever, hiding the small embarrassment of the knowing tilt your smile gets.

The both of you seeped into comfortable silence once again, you looking at the vast forest around you, the light hints of it filling with your creations again after a cold winter. Meanwhile he busied himself as he looked over his scythe, his gloved finger lightly trailing the sharp edge.

“Do you mind if I ask you something?” He murmurs, almost making you wonder if he had actually spoken as his eyes stay trained on his tool.

“You know I never do.” You reassure, your eyes only staying on him for a moment before going back to the light ripples on the water source in front of you.

“I was wondering…” he starts before cutting himself off. You don’t say anything, don’t pressure him as he leaves the scythe back on the floor beside him. Nor as he tilts his head back to look up at the sky once more. And he doesn’t think he could ever find the words to express how thankful he is about it.

He clears his throat, daring to give it another chance. His head tilts a bit to the side, only enough to see you from the corner of his eye. “I was just wondering, we’ve worked together for so long…” he fully turns his head now, his eyes meeting yours. “And yet… you’ve never asked to see me? See what’s under my mask.”

For someone who was the personification of Death, Ghost couldn’t understand how his heart could beat so fast. How it felt like it could leap out of his chest at any moment, how fast his blood pumped through him.

And it feels like it instantly stops when he sees you lightly shaking your head, “It’s not my place to ask, I'm sure it’s there for a reason.” your soft voice explains. And he lets out a shaky breath that he didn’t know he was holding, his heartbeat slowing a bit but the tension still in his body as he gives a light nod back.

The both of you go back to the silence, but this time your eyes stay on each other's. His hand slowly reaches up, his fingers feeling the edge of the worn out bone. His voice is barely perceptible when he talks next, “What if I wanted to show you?”

[kybercrystals94]

Scars and Toothpicks

By KyberCrystals94

Read here on Ao3!

Whumptober 2023 | Day 27 | Prompt 27: Scars

Rating: G

Words: 755

Summary: Omega worries about losing her brothers again.

[Author’s Note: Let’s just pretend for a minute that Tech survived the fall (which I am 100% on board that train, don’t get me wrong), and that Crosshair, Omega, and Tech have all been rescued…this story takes place after that. Okay? Great! Read on…]

Omega has a tiny scar on the outer edge of her left wrist. It is thin, slightly raised, and a touch lighter than the warm color of her skin. She doesn’t remember how she got it, or even when; but for as long as she can remember, she’s found herself rubbing it when she’s anxious, running her right index finger over it, back and forth.

She does it now, the imperfection soothing under her fingertip. “Do you think they’re alright?” she asks.

Crosshair sighs. “Why did you stay with me if you’re not going to be quiet?”

“I asked quietly,” Omega argues, pressing harder on the scar, making it feel more pronounced.

“They’re fine. Shush.”

Omega glares at her brother’s profile, sharp edged features that perfectly match his personality. She lets out a breath, louder than necessary, just to annoy him. By the glance he casts her, it works. She grins at her boots, but the gnawing anxiety in her stomach doesn’t go away, even with Crosshair’s reluctant reassurance.

She and Crosshair are on lookout while the rest of the batch works on the inside, searching for intel. It is a low-risk mission, Rex said; however, it's only been a few months since she, Crosshair and Tech were rescued from Hemlock. The internal and external wounds of their captivity still feel raw and exposed.

She can’t lose her brothers again.

She bites the inside of her cheek and keeps rubbing her scar.

Crosshair looks at her. “What?” he asks, a hiss.

“I didn’t say anything,” Omega protests indignantly.

“You keep messing with your wrist. What? Are you injured?” The question gives the impression of concern, even if the tone is discolored with ire.

Omega drops her hands. She hadn’t really realized she was doing it. “No,” she says, a grumble. “Just a nervous habit.”

Crosshair regards her for a moment more before turning back to the landscape. “I noticed.”

“Then why’d you ask?”

“In case you wanted to talk about it.”

“You said to be quiet.”

“Changed my mind.”

Even after spending weeks together in confinement, Omega still isn’t used to Crosshair’s bladed way of showing concern for his siblings, serrated but deep. It is so different from the rest of her brothers but comforting in its own way.

Omega shrugs, leaning back. “Just paranoid, I guess. I know nothing’s going to happen, but...something might.”

Crosshair reaches into his pocket and pulls out two toothpicks, flicking one at her. Omega catches it, barely, but she can’t help the triumphant grin. Crosshair smirks at her. “Don’t be so proud of yourself,” he mutters, putting his between his teeth.

Omega follows his example, grinding the toothpick between her teeth experimentally. “It tastes gross.”

“Is there a flavor of wood you prefer?” Crosshair snarks, and Omega wrinkles her nose at him. He chuckles and settles back beside her, eyes returning to their watch. “You know, something bad can happen anywhere...even that precious little bed of yours back on Pabu. You could fall out of it and break your neck. Are you going to be paranoid about that too?”

Omega rolls her eyes. “That’s different.”

“Is it?”

“Yes!”

“Hmm. I disagree.”

“You would,” Omega mutters.

“Ah, you know me so well,” Crosshair retorts. He elbows her. Not gently, but not hard enough to hurt. “My point is, kid, stop worrying about what could happen. It’s annoying, and it’s unhelpful. I should know.”

“Really?” Omega asks, looking up at him.

Crosshair pokes the scar on her wrist. “That’s your nervous habit, and this,” he takes out his toothpick, holding it out, “is mine.”

“Wrecker said you chew on toothpicks because you think it looks cool,” Omega says with a grin.

“Wrecker says a lot of ridiculous things.” Crosshair puts the toothpick back in his mouth.

“Are you nervous right now?” Omega asks.

“No,” Crosshair deadpans.

“But you just said...”

“I just said that worrying about what could happen is annoying and unhelpful,” Crosshair interrupts. “So, what are we going to do instead?”

Omega can’t decide if it is a trick question or rhetorical.

Crosshair rolls his eyes and says in a painfully slow voice, “We focus on the job we were given.”

“That’s it?” Omega asks.

“That’s it. Now, be quiet, or next time I’m going to make you go with Hunter, so you don’t bother me.”

Omega leans into him, resting her head against his shoulder. “You love me,” she singsongs.

“Don’t push it, kid,” Crosshair growls, but she feels his head rest on hers and smiles.

END

Tag List: @isthereanechoinhere96 @followthepurrgil @amorfista @mooncommlink

✨Let me know if you’d like to be added to the Tag List!✨

[spider-phoenix]

HEY GUYS

Finals where kicking my ass, so the trans!atsv headcanons will be coming out a lot later than expected, I'm still working on them though so don't worry !!

In the mean time, I made some silly little insta profiles for a few of my favourite spiderverse characters !

side note, do we have a name for the spiderverse cinematic universe? Outside of the MCU, I know they're part of it but I want something to refer to the spiderverse plots specifically. ITSV, ATSV, and BTSV all refer to their specific movies, and spiderverse is annoyingly long for my ADHD brain to type out. Maybe we could call it SVCU, for "spiderverse cinematic universe"?

Spider-Gram, the multidimensional social media platform for spider-people of all kinds. Owned by Miguel, mostly run by Lyla.

Peni Parker

models fashion in her spare time, not for money she just likes trying on cute outfits. Outside of that she posts a lot of pictures of Spider and any cool landscapes she comes across.

She has the most followers becuz she has actually interesting content with her fashion shit, and none of its pervy she's a teenager who likes clothes don't make it weird. She doesn't do suggestive shit just genuine fashion or styling types.

Spiderman Noir

His username includes the earth he comes from becuz he's a professional.

his story is just rubix cube shit, he owns a bunch of different kinds. Posts are mostly Peni, his honorary adopted child.

He didn't write the description on his profile, Hobie did. I headcanon then as best friends aka Hobie annoys the shit out of him and he's completely fine with it. He only follows Peni + Hobie ofc.

Gwen Stacy

When writing her description I was going to change it to something else because the joke was super dumb, until I realized that it totally fits her character.

She follows a ton of people but doesn't post so doesn't expect to be followed back. Miles, Hobie, and Jess are her three followers.

She doesn't follow Miles back because I feel like it fits with the whole premise of the second movie, and Pav was going to follow her but couldn't find her page and never bothered to ask about it.

Pavitr Prabhakar

He follows all his friends plus some, except Gwen for reasons stated above and Miles-1610. He was following Miles at some point, but 42 removed all three of 1610's followers for shits and giggles once, Pav never noticed.

He posts the most out of all of them, lots of memes honestly but sometimes pics of his friends. He's not technically "part of" the band, because he doesn't play an instrument or anything, but he helps them write songs and shit so it still counts.

Miles Morales (e-1610)

Hobie Brown

posts dumb pictures of himself (and often Pav) that get sent in their group chat as well as cool pictures of himself that he says he only spent a min taking when he actually spent at least 3 hours on the setup alone.

he's following the following people ;

Miles - 1610

Gwen Stacy

Pavitr Prabhakar

spider-man noir

Margo Kess

Peni Parker

Mayday Parker (- run by MJ + Peter, they only post photos where her face is covered by her hat)

the following people follow him ;

Miles - 1610

Gwen Stacy

Pavitr Prabhakar

spider-man noir

Peni Parker

Mayday Parker

Peter B. Parker

+ 3 random spider-people who think he's cool

Miles Morales (e-42)

isn't verified because Miguel runs the app, followed all his friends but only Hobie and 42 followed him back. Was following Gwen but unfollowed her when he was the only person she wasn't following, becuz he's petty like that and they're still fighting.

He only has two posts because he didn't know the app existed until recently (everyone conveniently forgot to tell him until Hobie spilled the beans, Pav genuinely thought he alrdy knew about it)

the people he's following because I spent forever counting this out and you deserve to know ;

Hobie Brown

Gwen Stacy Mayday Parker

Pavitr Prabhakar

Miles-42

Peni Parker

Peter B. Parker

Spider-ham

Spider-man noir

Margo Kess

doesn't post regularly, when he does it's just cool pictures of himself.

Only agreed to match with Miles so he would shut up about it. He def pretends to hate him but he's also the only person that he follows back.

Mayday, Jess, Margo, Miguel, and Lyla next ??

I loved making these and have ideas for more characters so if you guys wanna see them shoot me an ask !!

[asleepinthegrass]

I’m HORRIFIED.

Here is a “bio” of someone I matched with on an app today… clearly I hadn’t read his profile, we had a 91% match rating..

“Just focused on business and making videos. I buy and sell real estate. Do well for myself. If you have a history of dating shit men don't swipe me. I don't care about your career. I probably make more. I don't care how strong you are. I'm stronger. I value a loyal beautiful housewife over ANY model or career woman. If you're on your phone all the time when I'm home, I'll find someone else who isn't. I've left women for being on the phone too much. Learn to spend time with me or get out. Not rushing. I'm very respectful, to a respectful woman. I'm very calm, to a calm woman. I like to know I'm taking care of the ones I love. I have too much peace in my life I worked for to be argued with by your typical "boss bish". Sometimes, men know what's best. I can literally build anything you could ever want. I was raised as a carpenter, fighter, landscaper, building houses and decks, plumbing, and automotive repair. I know how things work. I know what's best for my family. And it isn't going to be a woman who would let my progeny listen to Cardi B, Beyonce, Niki Minaj, or any other married women telling girls to be single hoes and do drugs. You're children raising other children. Grow up. I know what's best. Be an adult or stay single. I have no problem replacing you with a younger version anyway. Go ahead and be yo bad self alone as per usual. When my friends visit, then it's time for you to serve us some snacks and then leave the room to play on your phone while we handle business and discuss how we're going to make more money and then follow it with said snacks and watch a movie or play a game. It isn't just business with us we are best friends. I don't speak with an accent and try to be cool around my friends. We're mature adults around here and know how to be ourselves and still be cool. If you try to make yourself seen or known to my friends and you eye them, they will tell me. No woman can come between what we built, so don't even think of trying it. We will all belittle you for such disrespect, and I will replace you. Serve us snacks, don't eye them, then leave to go do your girlie things. Do your nails and get coffee with friends or something. Part of a man's value is the type of woman he has. You doing those things will make me more respected, and you more loved and respected because of it. I don't care much about your style or what you wear. Just be attractive without looking like you're single and trying to attract other men. Like I said I value a housewife over a model or career woman. I do not care how pretty you are if you can't be an adult and want a family with a leader. If you can't be led and let me lead then I will find someone else. I'm too smart, educated, and successful to deal with disrespect, and having a woman who does girls nights out in which you will be sexually pursued by other men while drinking with your single friends. I know what's best. Apparently, women don't even know how to be respectful to their partner and be adults at the same time. You wanna be single, cool, we can have fun, but don't think you can back burner me and try my friends. It will not work. You have to earn me by simply being a good woman. That's all it takes.”

[sovereignsimmer]

Navigating the Dating Jungle: Unfiltered Tips from Yours Truly

Hey there,

As a 31-year-old gay guy with a track record in committed relationships, I'm here to share some unfiltered wisdom about the intricate world of dating apps. For those of us looking for serious, monogamous connections—beyond the superficiality of casual hookups—it's time to dive into the nuances of online dating. Inspired by my own experiences and a nudge from Satch's video, here's the full scoop on navigating the digital dating landscape, regardless of where you fall on the sexuality spectrum.

Crafting Your Profile:

Let's kick things off with your dating profile – the virtual face you present to the dating world. My advice? Less is more, my friends. Oversharing on your body, life details, or expectations might make you look a tad too eager, desperate, or just plain shallow. No one wants to be public property, right? Then do not publicly grant access to your personal information, pictures of your body, or the details of your life.

And those labels like "twink" or "bear"? Nah, not cool. They're limiting, objectifying, and just downright nasty. Think of them as the word "faggot" but even worse. They mess with how you see yourself and how others see you, and that's a rabbit hole we don't need.

Build a foundation to spark curiosity in potential matches. Keep it short and sweet – a one-sentence bio, a couple of interests, or a picture of you doing something you love. But for the love of all things holy, no walls of text! Think LinkedIn, but with a dating twist – presentable and grandma-approved pictures, because you never know who might stumble upon them.

Potential Matches:

Now, onto the nitty-gritty of potential matches. Remember, you deserve nothing less than what you have to offer. Seriously, don't settle for anything less.

Avoid the skin showoffs; they're all about hookups, not actual relationships. And steer clear of those listing demands like it's a shopping list. "No fem" or "str8 act only"? That's a one-way ticket to Belittlement Central. Trust me, it says more about their personality than you'd want to know.

If someone's putting up pics of other people without their consent, run the other way. Respect and privacy matter, and if they can't get that, you're better off. They probably didn't ask for their colleague's or uncle's consent while uploading that photo there, and it is highly likely they won't respect your privacy or consent either.

*shivers*

Limit interactions with those who can't string a sentence together or reply in a decent timeframe. You deserve someone who would read poems for you if not talented enough to write them on their own; do not settle for "k ttyl" bullshit. Remember, you're not just going to be a friend; you're going to be a partner. Partners are a whole different breed – more considerate, more attentive. It is what it is.

Cut the prolonged texting phase; get to know them in real life. Watch out for signs – good and bad. Manners, habits, signs of deceit – keep your eyes peeled.

Oh, and don't always be the one initiating. Relationships are a two-way street, my friend. Give and take – that's the name of the game.

I understand that once you start incorporating these suggestions into your dating app game, it might initially seem like your options are narrowing down. However, trust me, it's all for the better. Your chances of discovering someone genuinely worth your time will shoot up.

In my own experience, implementing these changes completely transformed my dating life. Admittedly, the dates are fewer and rarer now, but for me, it's always been about quality over quantity. Gone are the days of being salty, regretting decisions, and complaining about the people I met. Nowadays, even those brief flings feel more meaningful because I've learned to connect with people on a deeper, more intellectual level. It truly reshapes your perception – give it a try.

[hinatastinygiant]

30 | Under the Stars

Pairing: Mikey x Fem!Reader

Undercover Masterlist

A few days have passed since your victory over the Black Drasongs, and the Tokyo Mangi Gang is in high spirits. To commemorate their success, a celebration is taking place at Toman's headquarters. However, you're still at home, trying to find something nice to wear when there's a knock on your door. Opening it, you find Mitsuya standing there, a bright smile on his face.

"Hey, is Hakkai ready?" he asks.

"Huh? He's already at the party, helping Takemichi with something, I think. He isn't home," you break the news to him slowly.

Mitsuya's smile only widens, as though he's trying to cover up his embarrassment. "Oh, that's no problem. In that case, how about I give you a ride? It'll be quicker than walking, and I don't mind at all."

You hesitate for a moment, not wanting to impose, but Mitsuya insists. He reaches out toward his bike and hands you his helmet. "Here, put this on. I promise it'll be a smooth ride."

Grateful for his kindness, you accept the helmet and put it on. With a nod of appreciation, you hop onto the back of Mitsuya's motorcycle. Together, you ride through the streets, the cool breeze whipping against your face. The cityscape whizzes past, a blur of lights and colors, as you enjoy the sense of freedom that being part of Toman brings.

As you approach the venue, the sound of laughter and music grows louder. Mitsuya skillfully navigates through the bustling streets, and soon enough, you arrive at your destination. 

"Thanks for the ride," you say to him, removing the helmet and handing it back. "I really appreciate it. You're a lifesaver," you say with a genuine smile.

"No need to thank me, I was coming here either way," he chuckles and waves it off as he steps off the bike. "Ready to go in?"

You nod as the two of you walk inside the venue. There, Mitsuya says his goodbye before he heads off to join Hakkai and Takemichi. You watch them for a minute, a smile growing on your face when you see just how happy your brother is. But, as the celebration continues around you, someone's hand gently slips into yours.

You turn your head to the side, finding Mikey standing beside you, his eyes tired. "Hey, you want to get out of here? I could really use some fresh air."

"Are you feeling alright?" you ask as concern fills your voice.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he nods, offering you a small smile. "Just need some space, you know? Let's go for a walk together."

Recognizing his need for a break from the crowd, you agree. Intertwining your fingers with his, you both make your way out of the room. As you step outside, the cool evening breeze greets you again, a refreshing contrast to the heated atmosphere inside.

As you walk hand in hand through the bustling city streets, the sound of the celebration gradually fades into the distance. The familiar sights and sounds of the urban landscape surround you, creating a sense of comfort and familiarity.

Lost in each other's company, you find yourselves on a rooftop overlooking the city. Mikey guides you to sit beside him, his presence offering a reassuring sense of safety. As you look down at the city below, a mix of emotions swirl within you, causing a sinking sensation in your stomach. 

With a soft sigh, you find the courage to voice your thoughts. "I can't believe Taiju is really in jail," you say, your voice tinged with a mix of astonishment and relief. "It's a relief, though. Toman can finally start moving forward without his shadow looming over us."

Mikey nods, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "Yeah, it's for the best," he replies, his voice carrying a hint of determination. "We can focus on building something better, a gang that stands for more than just power and violence."

Your eyes never leave his profile as you listen to his words, filled with hope and determination. The flickering lights of the city below reflect in his eyes, a witness to the dreams he holds for Toman's future. 

"Mikey," you then call to him, causing his eyes to finally meet yours. "I want to stay by your side, stay in Toman with you, and help you make a real difference."

Mikey's eyes widen, his face paling slightly as he looks at you. The gravity of the moment hangs between you, the unspoken connection urging him to reveal his true feelings. And then, he confesses, his voice barely above a whisper, "I... I love you, Y/N."

The world seems to stop as the weight of his words settles upon you. The love and affection you've shared blossoms in this moment, amplified by the backdrop of twinkling stars above. Without hesitation, you lean in, closing the remaining distance between you. Your lips meet in a gentle kiss, sealing your unspoken bond under the watchful gaze of the night sky.

In that stolen moment, the world fades away, leaving only the two of you suspended in time. Your whole body seems to soften, protected by the promise of a shared future.

And as you break the kiss, lingering in each other's embrace, the world around you seems to come alive once again. The sounds of the city filter through, blending with the beating of your hearts. 

Breathless, you gaze into Mikey's eyes, a soft smile gracing your lips. "Mikey, I love you too," you whisper, your words carrying the weight of your emotions. 

Mikey's eyes light up, his features softened by a mixture of relief and joy. In that moment, all doubts and uncertainties melt away, leaving only the undeniable connection between you. He pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around you.

"Good, because I never want to let you go," he murmurs, his words brushing against your ear. 

With a smile, you bring yourself closer to him. Together, you bask in the magic of the moment, reveling in the knowledge that you have found a love that is worth fighting for.

Undercover Masterlist

[cupidseok]

spending christmas with riize

AUTHOR'S NOTE a little early but merry christmas everyone !! hope you spend your christmas happily 🩷

❄️ — making a winter terrarium with SHOTARO

“shotaro ! what is that ?” your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you stared incredulously at shotaro, carrying a handful of snow and branches. “materials for the terrarium of course !” shotaro beamed happily, showing off his findings, blissfully unaware that the terrarium is supposed to be made with artificial snow and branches. “i spent an hour outside picking these up !” he sounded so proud and you just couldn't bear to disappoint him with the unfortunate news. you think you’ll just make the terrarium with real snow and branches instead, even though it won't last. you’d do anything to keep the smile on his face. “taro…it’s freezing outside, you didn't have to do that.” “i did it so you didn't have to go out in the cold !” oh, you definitely need to use the materials he picked for you now.

⛷️ — skiing with EUNSEOK

as you turn to your left, you’re met with the view of the dazzling winter sun painting the landscape of the snow-coated mountaintop with a golden hue, illuminating song eunseok’s side profile. he looks as ethereal as the view in front of you ( you’d rather look at eunseok than the beautiful landscape in front of you though ) and you think you’ve fallen in love with him once again. he meets your eyes with a mischievous twinkle in his. “first to the bottom gets to choose today’s dinner menu ?” and before you could even open your mouth, he’s off. “song eunseok ! are you really cheating again !” you quickly pushed off and followed him, gliding down the powdery white slope dotted with pine trees. and as your laughter echos throughout the terrain when eunseok taunts and teases you for being slow, you don't think you’ll ever find the same happiness song eunseok brings you.

🏠 — building a gingerbread house with SUNGCHAN

“just help me hold this piece up !!” you softly giggle at sungchan's whines. he has been trying to stick the gingerbread pieces together for almost an hour now and you could tell he was getting really frustrated. when the pieces fall apart once again, sungchan lets out an annoyed groan and flops onto the sofa in defeat. “this is never going to work,” a cute pout gracing his lips, “i wanted to be the cool boyfriend who would build the prettiest gingerbread house for you so you could post it and make your friends feel jealous of your amazing and incredibly talented boyfriend.” you brush your hands through his hair and kiss his pouting lips. “my friends already know about my super capable and handsome boyfriend. because i show him off all the time.” sungchan’s pout vanished instantly and he startles you when he suddenly sits up with a wide grin streching across his face. “really ? you talk about me often ?”

🎄 — going to christmas markets with WONBIN

with wonbin’s warm hand tightly in yours, both of you strolled through the christmas market, your faces lit up in excitement. the market was a kaleidoscope of colours and sparkling lights. wonbin was bouncing on his feet and he looked like he’d combust any time soon. you stared at him lovingly and tried to commit the sight in front of you to memory. it is not often that he openly expresses his joy in this way, but you really like it when he does, because you just think he looks extra cute that way. wonbin caught a whiff of the smell of roasted chestnuts and he pulled on your arm to drag you towards the stall. “welcome ! what can i get for you ? would you like to buy some roasted chestnuts for your girlfriend, sir ?” the stall owner greeted. wonbin’s cheeks flushed a pretty shade of pink, still not used to people addressing you both as a couple yet. “o-oh, sure.”

🕯️ — attending a scent workshop with SEUNGHAN

in a cozy studio filled with fragrances and flickering candles, you and seunghan sat down in front of the shop assistant and long rows of glass bottles. “hani, smell this. it’s ylang-ylang,” you raised your wrist towards your boyfriend. “are you flirting with me right now ?” seunghan teases you, earning a smack from you in the process. “it smells nice. but i thought we weren't supposed to ask each other about our opinions ? you said that's the point of making perfumes for each other,” seunghan questioned. “it is,” you hummed and turned back to your booth, promptly ignoring his complaint. “ah, why are you allowed to break the rules ? you hit me just now when i asked you about a scent ! it's so unfair,” he continues to pout and ramble on. a soft smile graces your lips as you drown out his chatter and continue to pick out scents that remind you of your big baby boyfriend.

🍽️ — eating dinner with SOHEE and his family

you nervously fidget with your fingers as you glance around the warm dining room, decorated with christmas ornaments and twinkling lights. you were about to officially meet sohee’s parents for the first time and you don't think you've ever felt so stressed in your entire life before. what if they didn't approve of you ? you were going to ruin a whole family’s christmas dinner if you messed up. “should i go into the kitchen to offer help ?” you whispered to sohee. “nope. mother said she’d take care of everything. she’s really excited to meet you and she even asked me about your favourite christmas dishes so she could prepare them for you,” sohee had noticed your nervousness and grabbed your hand in an attempt to stop your fidgeting. “don’t worry too much. i’m sure they’ll love you, just like i do.”

🎧 — creating a christmas playlist with ANTON

with christmas carols playing softly in the background and you laying your head comfortably on anton’s lap, you feel like you’re about to fall asleep at any given moment. both you and anton created a shared music playlist on spotify and are now individually adding songs to the playlist. ( after a small disagreement on the playlist’s cover photo ) ( which you won ) anton scrolled through the current songs to see which songs you’d added and when he noticed that you’ve added the same song as him, he just couldn’t pass up the chance to tease you. “i’ve added santa tell me already. ah, why are you copying me ?” feeling unfair, you retorted, “i added it first ! you’re the one that copied me ! how dare you accuse me.” you turn to poke anton’s stomach, to which he responds by tickling yours. both of your laughter reverberated around the house as a tickling fest started.

© cupidseok — do not copy / repost / translate my works

[sonicenvy]

@staff @wip

I know y'all get a lot of angry stuff from tumblr users (including me in the past lmao) so I thought I'd make a little list of stuff that I LOVE and appreciate about tumblr dot com for y'all. So here's my bullet pointed love letter to tumblr dot com:

I LOVE that you can make a custom desktop blog where you have full access to the HTML/CSS and can copy paste code that you write elsewhere directly into it instead of being forced to just pick some dumb non customizable theme. The customization flexibility for your website is one of those things that keeps me here rather than somewhere else for all of my blog needs! Like also that it's a whole website rather than a profile. I have a website I can link to very easily. I have multiple cool websites!

On the note of custom desktop blog themes, the options for custom side pages are also awesome. I like being able to have a custom coded about page on my blog. It's fun and awesome.

I love that we still have a chronological feed here on tumblr. that's lovely and tragically unique in the social media landscape of today!

I love that you guys added an option for people to ban reblogs on certain posts, that's a really nice option, especially for certain personal vent posts. This blog is like a public diary of the last decade of my life so that's nice to ban people from reblogging some of those posts.

I love that we still have easy to see time stamps on posts so you can know exactly when people posted stuff.

The polls feature that y'all added this year is really fun and cute and people really got into it in fun ways.

I love that tumblr has something fun and funny every year for april fools' day. No one else is doing it like tumblr does it for that. So many of the april fools' day events on this site have been so creative and funny.

Adding a notification block by post natively to the site this year was big! I love that. I'd used extensions to do that for years, which only work on desktop, so it's really nice to natively have that option so it works on mobile too!

I love that you guys let people access the site api to make all kinds of fun add-ons, site modifiers and other stuff for tumblr so that users can further customize their experience. I super appreciated that after everything we saw go down on reddit this year.

The queue feature is amazing! No one else does that like y'all do, and it is a great feature to keep posts alive a lot longer and have your blog put stuff out when you're away.

The native tag filtering that y'all added is nice too, because it allows people to tag filter on mobile (which we couldn't before since most tag filters people where using were browser add ons).

I like that we can have as many side-blogs as we want! Having sites on your account for all your needs and interests is so fun!

The newer, easier way to add alt text to your images is really nice. I love that that's something we can do!

I like that you can keep your likes and following lists private. No one else does that, but you guys do and I love that for us tumblr users.

I love that y'all added a feature to go back and edit within a tag. I like being able to edit my tag typos without having to delete everything in the tag. This is especially great because I'm a tag chatter 11 years running.

I love the drafts feature, especially since you can keep 100s of drafts instead of like, one. That's nifty.

I like that I can tag search on someone's desktop blog by typing in theirurl dot tumblr dot com/tagged/cool tag. Like that's cool.

Like, sure, like any tumblr user in the universe I have my tumblr complaints, but there are so many great things about this site that have kept me coming back since 2011. So, uh, yeah. That's my spiel.

[lowtaxsa]

How to Be as Annoying as Humanly Possible

Welcome, dear internet denizens, to the online world - a magical place where sarcasm and mean-spiritedness are as essential as air and water are to our feeble human bodies! I, Lowtax, the Czar of Snark, will guide you on this journey to being the most irritating internet troll the world has ever seen. Buckle up, buttercup, because it's going to be a bumpy, passive-aggressive ride.

Overuse Emojis and Acronyms Like Your Life Depends on It 😂😂😂

Nothing screams "I'm a bumbling Internet Neanderthal" quite like using emojis and acronyms ad nauseam. Hey, who needs the rich tapestry of the English language when you can just use "LOL," "OMG," and "WTF" to express every emotion? Toss in a few emojis to truly drive home your emotional incontinence. 🥳🥳🥳

Adopt a Condescending Tone and ALWAYS Assume You're the Smartest Person in the Room

You know that expression, "When you assume, you make an ass out of you and me"? Well, screw that. In the world of online communication, you're a goddamn genius, and you should make sure everyone else knows it. Be sure to correct people on their grammar, question their intelligence, and generally make it crystal clear that you're doing them a favor by even deigning to speak to them.

Get Real Personal, Real Fast

Nothing unnerves your online adversaries quite like taking a deep dive into their personal lives. Go ahead, stalk their social media profiles, find their embarrassing posts from 2009, and kindly remind them of their awful haircut. Tanya, my delightful partner in crime, has a pro-tip for you: use Google Earth to find their house and then comment on their landscaping choices. "Nice azaleas, but your lawn could use some work" should do the trick.

All Caps, All the Time

Who needs nuance when you can just YELL EVERYTHING AT PEOPLE ALL THE TIME? Using all caps is a fantastic way to convey that you are both incredibly passionate and incredibly obnoxious. It's the digital equivalent of shouting through a megaphone in a library.

Use Memes to Make Your Point (Because Why Not?)

Why express your own thoughts when you can rely on a stale meme to do it for you? The beauty of memes is that they can be as condescending, annoying, or downright offensive as you want them to be. Plus, you'll look super cool and hip, which is obviously your primary concern as a dedicated internet troll. 😎

Never, Ever Admit You're Wrong

Admitting fault is for chumps. In the cutthroat world of online communication, you're never wrong. Even if the other person brings out indisputable evidence proving you incorrect, just double down and shift the goalposts. Remember, you're here to be as irritating as possible, not to learn or grow as a person.

Flood Their Inbox

A classic trolling technique: overwhelm your target with messages until they submit to your superior intellect (or just get fed up and block you). Send them walls of text, one-liners, or a relentless barrage of emojis. If you've got the stamina, you can even engage in some good ol' fashioned copy-pasting. The key is to be as obnoxiously persistent as a telemarketer on speed.

Play Dumb

Oh, this one is a gem, courtesy of my beloved sidekick, Tanya. Feign ignorance like it's your job. Pretend you don't understand basic concepts, ask inane questions, and make your opponent explain everything to you like you're a child. The more exasperated they get, the more satisfaction you'll derive from their misery. It's a win-win situation.

Be as Offensive as Possible (But Don't Forget to Hide Behind "Humor")

Ah, the pièce de résistance of any aspiring troll's arsenal: offensiveness. Be as tasteless, crude, and politically incorrect as you can muster. But remember, always cloak your vile comments in a thin veil of "humor" so you can feign innocence when people get upset. "It's just a joke, man! Can't you take a joke?" is the perfect response to any criticism of your tactless, garbage behavior.

Burn Bridges Like a Pro

So, you've annoyed the living daylights out of everyone you've encountered online? Congratulations! Now, it's time to burn those bridges like a professional arsonist. Sever ties with everyone you've tormented, because who needs friends when you have an ego the size of a cargo airship? Make your dramatic exit by posting a scathing manifesto, and then sit back and revel in your glorious solitude.

And that, my fellow keyboard warriors, is how you become the most obnoxious, infuriating internet troll the digital realm has ever seen. Remember to follow these simple steps, and soon you'll be the bane of every online community you grace with your presence. Happy trolling, my sardonic pupils, and may the snark be with you.

[thelandscapingemployeetrap]

Should You Quote Window Cleaning Jobs in Person?

On today's untrapped, I spoke with Anthony Heeman about what a business owner should and shouldn't do. Are there any common mistakes we make in our businesses that we are unaware of? 

In today's episode, we'll learn about Antony's tricks and how he manages his high-profile clients. How does he keep customers, and what should you do if you feel you need more confidence about facing your customers?  We trade business secrets based on our experiences.

  “Customers can tell. They can tell when you're legit. And they can tell when you're confident. And I think that's probably one of the biggest things about dealing with people. They want to feel put at ease. They want to feel like you're a professional. They want you to take the freakin reins like people are stressed out in their life. And they're responsible for everything that goes on. They so badly just want to, like, give it this to somebody capable.”

- Anthony 

Why do you have to listen to today's episode.

0:11 - “ I like to make sure there's nothing that we're missing. I did Google-only quotes for a while back when I was first starting. And it's fine. If you're working in a pretty small service area, in my opinion, once you get into projects that are kind of complex, for example, I'm in window cleaning. So if you're doing new construction, window cleaning, you want to be able to see what's on the glass.”

Anthony and Keith discuss In-Person Quotes vs Google-Only Quotes. There are pros and cons to each

  5:19 - “ I don't want that. Because the people you're serving, it's like they expect a high level of service, like everybody is working for them essentially like they're at the top of their game. Like these are people that have it together. And it's like, you have to value their time if you are trying to save your time by quoting it halfway. And then you get out there, and you just wasted all of their time talking to them scheduling it coming out there. They're staying home from the businesses that they're trying to run. And then you're just showing up and saying, Sorry, pal, because I wanted to stay home.

The best method for dealing with high-profile clients' scheduling problems.

  5:54 - “setting the expectations as you did is a big thing. And let them know this is exactly what we're doing.” 

Providing your customers with clear expectations is crucial.

  13:54 - “There's a learning curve with going into houses, especially if you're starting outside only like landscaping or pressure washing and then going inside a home.”

Anthony believes that going into a customer's home can be challenging because not all customers have the same attitude. When dealing with high-profile clients, you need to learn how to blend in. 

Key Takeaways

“I don't want that. Because the people you're serving, it's like they expect a high level of service, like everybody is working for them essentially like they're at the top of their game. Like these are people that have it together. And it's like, you have to value their time if you are trying to save your time by quoting it halfway. And then you get out there, and you just wasted all of their time talking to them scheduling it coming out there. They're staying home from the businesses that they're trying to run. And then you're just showing up and being like, Sorry, pal, like actually like because I wanted to stay at home.” - Anthony Haamen

“I think I'm an extremely empathic person, and I'm talking about myself because maybe you watching might be the same. Some of my customers like very energetically as soon as I walk in the house some cars So, just jump up, start clean all the windows, and I'm almost like, my energy is like, I got this. And the customer was like, oh, cool, and they just go back to what they're doing. And I bang it out, and I'm happy. But for some customers, I walk into the house and feel like pins and needles. And I feel like, How come it's a different scenario for every house? You shouldn't have these emotions mixed with the business.” - Keith Kalfas

  Connect with Anthony

Youtube: Window Cleaning Anthony - YouTube

Instagram: Anthony Haamen (@windowcleaninganthony)

  Connect with Keith  

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/thelandscapingemployeetrap

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/untrapped.podcast/?hl=en

YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCIaWTkH4yQoDR7SnroIV6Ww

Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/keith-kalfas-2964b146/

Website: https://keith-kalfas.mykajabi.com/

Check out this episode!

[oftenjisung]

how nct dream show their love + sungchan! & shotaro

mark (마크)

• this boy is deeply in love with you. He tries to show you as much affection and love as possible. He does multiple things to show you his love but one major thing is doing your hair for you. He'll comb it, braid it, straighten it, etc. He has hair ties all over his room just incase. yes, we love Mark <33

renjun (런쥔)

• he'll do two of the things I'm about to unleash. #1 baby you. #2 draw you. he'll make sure you're eating and staying hydrated, keeping warm or cool <♡> etc. one day he noticed your beautiful side profile as you were on an online class and he whipped out his notepad and starting sketching you out. this boy has a whole drawer of drawings of u :(

jeno (제노)

• reminds you how beautiful/handsome you are! absolutely hates it when you talk bad about yourself, just pouts in silence until he has had enough and tackles you into the sofa. won't let go until he makes you repeat how amazing u are multiple times. jeno does not like negativity. But he understands, when times get rough you just need to let that bad side out for a bit which leads us to him supporting you!! boy does he act like your own personal cheerleader at times.

haechan (해찬)

• he may tease and poke at you sometimes but that's because he loves u <3 so when he saw you come into the living room of the dorms, a big frown adoring your face, he knew it was time for some full sun cheering up! this is gonna take a lot of his patience and time but haechan can handle that. You're his main priority so he's gonna treat you like it.

jaemin (재민)

• his love 4 u is deeper than the ocean. literally. this man loves pda, you don't even understand. everyday before work he gives you a five minute hug as he says "anything can happen to one of us" which is true with this cruel humanity we have but as long as you're safe and aware, you're gonna be okay<3 he knows how much you love back hugs so that's his specialty when he wants something from u. Just a reminder ! his hugs are impossible to break from.

chenle (첸레)

• he'll do many things for u !! But the main one is cooking for you :D let's just say he doesn't trust you in the kitchen ever since you accidentally broke one of his fine china's :○ you just have to sit down and watch him make the food or order Uber eats when he isn't home 🌝.

jisung (지성)

• oh boy. jisung isn't a very open person per say, he's on the quieter side. but that doesn't stop him from showing his love to u by complimenting you! he finds you absolutely adorable and wants you to know it to ˇ︿ˇ sometimes he just randomly grabs your face with his hands and says "your beautiful" with a kiss on your forehead which leaves you shocked.

sungchan (성찬)

• he's so cute i cry :/ he's very tall like landscape tall 🗣 but he uses it to good use! such as grabbing things off the shelf for u & one of his favorite things to do is pat your head <3 or fix your hijab ( for my muslim girls! 0.0 ) he just loves you okay?

shotaro (쇼타로)

• oh my. he'll either take photos for u or go shopping with you <3 he's just so loving. he likes telling you what colors match your skin tone or what style matches you best :) but dw! he won't force looks on you because you being comfortable in the way you look is all that matters ^.^ and for photos he randomly takes them of you & post them on his story or tweets about them 😭 might steal a few pics here or there.

[watchmegetobsessed]

Flatmates - Harry Styles

i listened to kiwi while writing it so i strongly advise to listen to is while reading as well. without any further ado, i present you this flatmate!harry fic with some steamy smut!

word count: ~9k

warning: smut

masterlist

You were desperate to find a place to live, to say the least. You’ve always had trouble remembering deadlines and important dates, and thanks to this charming trait of yours, you successfully missed the deadline of the college dormitory applications. After a day of solid panic you started looking for cheap apartments, but living off campus seemed to be something only rich people could afford. Rents were ridiculously high and you were certain you couldn’t afford to spend thousands of dollars for a room smaller than your pantry back at home. You watched ad after ad, making calls all day for a week straight, but at the end, you always went to bed with the thought that you’ll have to live under a bridge through the first semester of your freshman year.

It was until a friend of yours, Rita, who was mature enough to apply to the dormitory in time called you with the best news you could receive.

“This friend of my future roomie is looking for a flat mate. You gave me his number, maybe you could give him a call and see if the room is still available. Just tell him Kimberly gave you his number, I’m sure he’ll offer you the room on a nicer price.”

“Oh my God, you just saved my life!” you gasped, almost feeling like crying. “I owe you big time, Rita!”

You called right away, not wanting to waste any time and maybe have the room already rented by then. A deep, male voice answered the call in a soothing British accent.

“Harry Styles,” he said in a calm tone.

“Hey! My name is Y/N and I got your number from Kimberly. I’m looking for a place to live from September and I was told you have a room to rent?”

Harry sounded a little hesitant at first, asked a few questions about you to have a better picture of you, but eventually offered the room. You quickly agreed that you’d be able to move in at the end of August. You were thankful you had one less worry about school finally.

August rolled around the corner faster than you expected and in no time, half your life was packed up into boxes and suitcases as you and your dad drove two hours on a Saturday to get you all settled in your new home. Up until this point, you hadn’t seen Harry just yet. Though you did search up his name, but he was the kind to never post about himself, but mostly about guitars, landscapes and animals. His Instagram was dry, no trait of what he looked like or even the slightest hint about himself. There was only one photo that featured the outline of a guy, which makes it clear that the person was fully naked, no trace of any clothes hanging on his body, but it was completely dark, so nothing could be really seen. However the tag on the figure made you think it wasn’t him, so it didn’t matter. His Facebook seemed even sadder, barely any posts, not even a decent profile picture. You were surprised to see there are people who don’t really use social media, but you didn’t take it as a bad sign. Harry must be a private person and you had nothing against that.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to move in with a guy you’ve never met before?” your dad asks as the two of you are unloading the car in front of the apartment complex. Glancing up you shrug your shoulders with a little excitement, knowing that you are only minutes away from finally seeing the person you are gonna spend your next months living with.

“He sounded like a decent person, and I really don’t have any other choice, dad. Or do you want me to sleep in a park or something?”

“God, no. You really should be more careful about those deadlines next time,” he sighs kissing the top of your head before shutting the back of the car once everything is set on the ground.

“Don’t worry, I already bought a calendar so I can keep better track of everything.”

When you first told your parents that you’d be living with Harry, they didn’t seem to be a fan of the idea, but they realized you weren’t really swimming in options at the moment so they eventually come to peace that their daughter is going to be living with a guy. They didn’t make a big deal out of it, knowing well you were an adult now practically who can make choices for herself.

The two of you manage to bring everything up to the third floor and you ring the doorbell since you don’t have your keys yet. You immediately recognize Harry’s British accent as he calls out a “coming!” from the other side of the door and a few seconds later it opens, revealing him.

Your first thought is that he is tall. Very tall and oh my! How handsome! His green eyes find your gaze and his dimples come out as he smiles at you happily. This man is surely a nice sight, you think to yourself, but you quickly bring yourself back to reality as he takes a look at all the stuff surrounding you.

“Y/N, why didn’t you call me that you were here? I could have helped you!” Taking a step outside he stretches his hand out for your dad. “Nice to meet ya, you must be Mr. Y/L/N. I’m Harry.”

“Nice to meet you,” your dad nods at him shaking his head before Harry grabs a box from the floor himself, holding the door open for you.

“Come on in!”

The three of you quickly bring everything inside from the hallway and you finally have a moment to look around. It’s not a big apartment, but seemingly perfect for two people. Walking in you have a small kitchen on the left and a little dining area on the right with a simple table and four chairs around it. Further inside is the living room, it’s nicely furnished very bright thanks to the large windows across the front door. On the left there’s a door that leads to the bathroom and on the right there’s a small hallway, two doors on each side. The two rooms are exactly the same size, so there was no need to have a discussion about who is getting which room. Not that you were gonna go against Harry when he literally saved your life with letting you stay with him.

The place seems tidy and neat, it’s clear that Harry takes good care of his home and that is for sure a relief.

Your room has a double bed, a desk with a chair, a dresser and a built in little closet. Everything is white or a light beige color, nothing extreme and you already have plans about how you want to decorate it to make it cozier.

“I left two shelves free for you out of the three. I have a few hair products, but I figured you’d need more space,” Harry tells you when you put a smaller box into the bathroom that has all your toiletries.

“Thank you, I appreciate it,” you smile at him.

Your dad sticks around a little longer helping you unpack some of the bigger boxes, then you walk him down to his car before he leaves.

“Please call your mother often. You know how much she worries about you,” he asks as he pulls you into a quick hug.

“Will do.”

“And call us anytime you need help. Two hours is not that far away, I can always come and get you.”

“I’ll be alright, dad, but thank you.”

You watch him climb into the car and he rolls down the windows waving in your way as he leaves from the parking lot. You stand there until he disappears on the corner and then go back up to your apartment.

Harry is sitting in the living room when you get back, some quiet music playing from the Bluetooth speaker as he reads a book. He glances up at you and you flash him a smile closing the door behind you.

“Your dad seemed quite okay with you living with a guy.”

“He had time to get used to it. They’re not that strict though.”

“That’s cool. I was thinking, maybe we could order some food when you’re done unpacking and just get to know each other a little more.”

“That sounds great!” you smile, but can’t ignore how fast your heart is beating in your chest. Harry surely has an effect on you that you’ll need to gain control over if you don’t want to make living together hard for yourself.

It takes quite some time to unpack everything and find the right place for your stuff, you don’t even finish by the time the food arrives so you decide to leave the rest for tomorrow.

The Chinese food is all set on the table when you walk out and Harry is getting two plates for the two of you.

“Settled in?” he asks as you take one of the chairs and he sits across you.

“Not fully, but I’m getting there,” you chuckle as he hands you your order. “Thank you.”

You talk over the food, just getting to know each other and you finally get a better picture of Harry. It’s his third year of college, he is studying music and pedagogy, intending to one day use music as a helping tool for kids who have learning difficulties. He is a big fan of collecting vinyls and quite passionate about trashy rom coms.

“Really?” you chuckle when he mentions how his Netflix queue is filled with romantic movies.

“Guilty pleasure,” he nods smirking.

You tell a little about yourself too and he seems genuinely interested, which feels nice. You would have hated if he found your interests boring and negligible, but that’s not the case.

“How come you couldn’t find a roommate for so long?” you ask the question that’s been in the back of your mind for quite a while now. Both of you are done eating and you’re cleaning up the table.

Nothing really stood out about Harry just yet, it’s quite a mystery for you why he couldn’t find someone to live with him.

“Well, you could say I’m a little picky in this field. Lived with my best mate first year, and though I absolutely love him, he was horrible to live with. Felt like his personal maid the whole time. When Niall moved in with his girlfriend and I had to move on my own I promised myself I would choose carefully. Lived with a PhD student last year, he was pretty great, but he moved out when he graduated, and I couldn’t really find someone I liked since then.”

“Glad I passed then,” you chuckle as you take the dishes and start washing them while Harry stands next to you, leaning against the edge of the counter.

“You seemed like a decent person to live with, I hope I won’t be wrong about that,” he chuckles, but you can tell he is still a little scared you might turn out to be a total asshole.

“Don’t worry, I won’t be too much trouble. I’m quiet like a mouse and clean up after myself.”

“That’s all that matters,” he smiles. “Alright, I have some things to finish, I’ll be in my room if you need help with anything.”

“Thank you, Harry.”

He waves in your way before disappearing in his bedroom.

You spend most of your Sunday unpacking what was left and running errands, buying groceries so you don’t have to go to the store every other day during the week. You occasionally meet Harry in the kitchen or the living room, but you both just do your own thing and it’s totally fine by you.

School starts quiet smoothly, Harry was kind enough to give you a rundown of where you’ll find your lecture halls so you don’t really get lost around campus, easily finding your way.

Friday afternoon you and Rita are sitting at a café near campus to discuss the first week of school. You don’t have any classes together, so only grabbed lunch two times all week, but didn’t have more than twenty minutes together before one of you had to run to a class. Now you are both comfortably sat in a booth with two cappuccinos and plenty of time to talk.

“So, how is living with Harry?” she curiously asks.

“He is great! Though we don’t meet that much. He has a band so he has practice three times a week, spends the rest of his time at home reading or watching TV.”

You ate dinner together twice this week, but you haven’t really had the courage to join him in the living room when he was watching TV. It sounds stupid but you figured maybe it would bother him if you were out there with him. And since he didn’t invite you either, you just stayed in your room mostly.

“Kimberly told me he is hot, is that true?” she asks with a smirk as she takes a sip from her hot drink. You immediately feel your cheeks heating up.

“Well, he surely is a good looking guy,” you breathe out.

“Lucky you! There’s not much of those in an all girls dorm,” she pouts and you chuckle. “So are you gonna make a move on him?”

“That’s not gonna happen,” you shake your head laughing.

“Why not?”

“Because we live together and if he rejects me that would be so awkward for the rest of our time living together.”

“But you can’t know for sure if he would reject,” she points out, but she can’t bring up one thing that would change your mind.

“It’s better not to take the odds. I don’t want to end up on the street.”

 As the days go by, things start to get busier in your everydays. Assignments and papers start to pile up so you have to start working on them if you don’t want to leave everything to the last moment. You become a regular in the library, the atmosphere is great for you to get into the flow and get a lot of work done.

It seems like Harry is in the same shoe, he is often in and out of the apartment, sometimes only spends home just a couple of minutes before he leaves again. However they slowly get accustomed to each other, learn the ways the other likes things and work up a schedule for things. Harry learns that Y/N likes to take a shower twice a day and washes her hair usually on Wednesdays and Sundays, so he doesn’t try to take too much time in the bathroom on those days. He also notices how she doesn’t have time to wash the dishes after herself on Thursdays when she just runs home to have a quick bite before she has to leave for another lecture, so they came to a silent agreement where Harry cleans up after her on Thursdays while she takes up on the dishes on Saturday when Harry leaves to band practice at eight.

They work well together and soon enough all of Harry’s doubts about Y/N fade into nothing and he realizes he has made the right choice with her.

Usually she stays at the library until seven on Mondays, but this week they are closing early because they are rearranging a whole department, so Y/N leaves a little after five. She pays a quick trip to the grocery store before she heads home. Opening up the door she immediately hears the music playing, one of Harry’s vinyls is twirling around in the record player and she hears the water running in the bathroom. Setting her bags on the counter she starts unpacking the groceries.

The music and the running water pushed the sound of her arriving down, Harry didn't realize that you were home early when he opens the bathroom door, singing to himself wearing absolutely nothing as he wants to go and grab a pair of clean underwear, but he is shocked to see you standing in the kitchen.

“Shit!” he snaps, hands immediately flying to cover himself as he sprints back to the bathroom quickly grabbing a towel to wrap around his waist.

Your cheeks are heating up immediately even though you didn’t see anything you weren’t supposed to, the counter top covered him just right above the critical line, but it’s the first time you’ve seen his upper body completely naked.

Even though it was just a spit second, the sight of his many tattoos and the defined V-line leading down to his crotch burned straight into your mind, leaving you flustered and shy all of a sudden.

“Sorry! I should have let you know I was coming home early!” you call out turning around, as if he was about to walk out naked again. Harry chuckles lightly as he returns, this time a towel wrapped around his waist.

“Don’t be silly, you don’t have to check in when you come home. It was my fault, I shouldn’t just walk around naked assuming you wouldn’t be home.”

You should, you think to yourself gulping as you turn around and dare to look at him again. You don’t see less than just a few seconds ago, his chest is glistening from the dampness, his curls are still wet and you are having a hard time not to stare at the tattoos on his lower stomach, so you busy yourself with the rest of your groceries as he walks into his room and returns in a pair of sweats and a white t-shirt.

“Any plans for the weekend?” he asks disappearing in the bathroom, but he leaves the door open and you hear him shuffle around, probably fixing up his hair. He uses some kind of mousse that keeps his curls perfectly and also happens to smell like mango and some kind of citrus.

“Um, not really.”

“We’re playing at this bar with the band, wanna come and watch us?” Walking out of the bathroom he switches the light off before walking to the couch and opening up his Netflix account on the TV. His invitation surprises you, but it also feels nice he wants you there.

“Oh, sounds fun! Can I bring someone?”

“Of course! I can have a table reserved for you, if you’d like,” he smiles at you before turning his attention to the screen.

“That would be great, thanks.”

You feel like after your little encounter it’s probably not the best day to join him at the TV, especially because you can’t stop yourself from blushing every time you look at him. The sight of his naked torso pops up in your mind every time and there’s no way you can just casually sit on the couch with him without your body lighting up on fire.

 Rita is excited when you tell her about the invitation, you don’t even have to convince her to go with you since she is dying to finally meet Harry. When he leaves in the early afternoon on Saturday he assures you that there’s gonna be a table reserved under your name, and off he goes to practice, leaving you alone for the rest of the day since he tells you he won’t be back before the concert tonight. Rita comes over around six and the two of you get ready together.

“You have to wear something spicy,” she wiggles her eyebrows at you while you sit at your desk applying mascara to your lashes.

“I don’t want to overdress, it’s just a bar.”

“Yeah, but Harry invited you. I bet he wants you to see him play.”

“Of course he wants, why else would he invite me?” you ask with furrowed eyebrows.

“You don’t get it,” she chuckles turning to you, hands on her hips. “He wants you to see him play because it feeds his ego. Maybe even turns him on.”

“Stop acting like there is anything between us. We are flatmates and that’s all.”

“I think he wants to be more, you’re just too pussy to make a move yourself,” she shrugs turning back to your closet.

“Stop calling me a pussy for not wanting to make it awkward for the two of us to live together. I’m pretty sure Harry doesn’t see me as anything more than just the person he lives with.”

“Then we have to change that. And I think this is the perfect dress for that.”

Rita pulls out a little black dress you bought about a year ago, but never really got around to wear it. It’s so tight, pushes your tits up way too much for your liking, you’re not even sure why you bought it in the first place.

“I’m not wearing that,” you shake your head.

“Are you afraid he might get a boner from you in it?”

“Rita!” you snap at her, but she just chuckles.

“Look, if you’re so sure he doesn’t want you like that, why does it matter what you wear?”

She has a point. It’s not like this dress will change anything and it would be nice to wear at least once in your life this stupid dress if you bought it.

Grabbing it from her hands you throw it to the bed and start undressing as she claps in victory.

You remembered right, the dress leaves close to nothing to the imagination when it comes to your figure. The fabric hugs your figure tightly, and you put on a lacy bralette that peeks out at the top of the dress, kind of covering some more from your skin, since the dress doesn’t do much in that field itself. Rita tries to convince you not to take a jacket, but you throw your denim jacket on, feeling the need to have something give you the slightest sense of being covered.

You arrive at the bar twenty minutes before the concert starts and it’s a good thing Harry reserved a table for you, because the place is packed. You’re not sure if it’s because of them or it’s just a regular Saturday evening.

The little stage is all set up, but you see no sign of Harry anywhere as the two of you settle at your table with a drink. Luckily, the bartender did not ask for an ID, he was too busy looking at your chest. At least there’s one good thing in this dress.

The drum set at the back has the name of the band on it and you smile reading it. The word ‘Stylish’ is printed on it with bold blue letters, referring to Harry’s last name, who is most likely the front man of the band.

The place is buzzing and the two of you enjoy being out at a bar concert. When the lights go down you finally spot him walking out of the back followed by a guy and two girls.

“Welcome, folks,” he greets the audience, his accent filling up the place over the chatters. A round of cheering answers him, making him smile. “Thank you for coming out tonight, we hope to entertain you in the next hour. Our name is Stylish and now let’s get down to business,” he smirks and just as he takes a step back from the mic, the band starts playing. Harry grabs a guitar himself before stepping back to the mic and then he starts singing.

They play a mixture of covers and original songs, the transition between them is so smooth you sometimes forget it’s a whole different song that’s playing. Harry is clearly enjoying the spotlight, his presence on the stage is so natural and capturing, you often catch yourself forgetting about the rest of the band.

One song follows the other and you don’t even realize how fast this hour passes by. Harry sometimes stops in-between songs, entertaining the audience with small jokes and just casually interacting with them.

“Our last song is up next, so let me take a moment to introduce the band,” Harry speaks into the mic while softly playing the guitar so it’s not completely quiet as he talks. “At the drums, the amazing and talented Sarah Jones!”

A round of applause fills the bar as Sara waves around smiling widely, before Harry moves on to the next member.

“Playing the piano, the wonderful Charlotte Clark!”

Charlotte plays a short melody on the keys matching up with what Harry has been playing, before she also waves at the audience.

“The guy who is a way better guitarist than me, Mitch Rowland.”

Harry’s comment makes the audience laugh and Mitch just nods shyly, a smile pulling on his lips under his mustache.

“And this handsome Brit who sometimes acts like a comedian,” Sarah starts leaning closer to her mic. “Harry Styles.”

It’s no surprise that Harry gets the biggest cheering and he smirks sweetly, his fingers still strumming on the guitar. The clapping and screaming slowly dies down and as Harry steps back to his mic they start the last song.

It’s quite an upbeat, funky song, you just can’t resist dancing around on your chair and seemingly Rita is enjoying herself as well, cheering with her beer in her hand. The song comes to an end and they all line up at the front of the stage bowing down together as the whole bar cheers on them as one person.

“Woah, this was… something else,” Rita breathes out once they disappear at the back and chatter fills up the place once again and the lights come back.

“They smashed it!” you nod in agreement. You figured they are good if they get asked to perform, but this was way beyond what you were expecting.

Looking around you are hoping to see Harry somewhere, but they must be celebrating somewhere at the back. Maybe he won’t even come out, you think to yourself as you finish up your beer.

“I’ll get us another round,” you tell Rita as you make your way to the bar.

There are quite a few people waiting to be served, so you squeeze yourself into the crowd and hope to get to the front soon.

“So how did you like it?”

You jump in surprise when you hear Harry’s voice coming from behind you, and turning around you see how close he is standing to you.

“Hi! I didn’t even see you sneak up on me,” you chuckle making him smile as he squeezes himself next to you. The two of you finally reach the front, but the bartender is serving someone a little on the left so you have to wait. “I loved it, you were like a proper rockstar up there!”

“Thanks,” he chuckles and his dimples show up on his cheeks. The bartender finally gets to you and Harry is quick to order for the both of you. “’S probably better if I place the order since you’re not twenty one just yet.”

“Didn’t have any problem ordering the first time,” you smirk smugly and Harry raises his eyebrows at you before his eyes wander down your body for a second.

“I bet you didn’t in this dress.”

Suddenly, you’re very aware of how daring your outfit looks, so out of reflex, you pull your jacket tighter on yourself, Harry’s smile quickly fades as he realizes that he made you uncomfortable with his comment.

“I meant that you look really pretty. Definitely makes you appear a little older though.”

“My friend wanted me to wear it, I would have been fine with something else,” you admit as the bartender places your order in front of you and Harry pays for the whole thing.

“Glad she convinced you,” he grins down at you and you can feel your cheeks heating up once again.

He helps you carry the drinks to the table and Rita quickly puts her phone away when she sees who you are returning with.

“Harry, this is my friend, Rita. Rita, this is Harry,” you introduce them and Harry shakes her head smiling.

“Nice to meet you,” he nods kindly.

“Oh, same goes for you,” Rita smirks and you roll your eyes at her.

“I’ll go get the rest of the band, do you mind if we join you guys here? There are no empty tables.”

“Sure,” you nod smiling before the crowd swallows Harry.

“For fuck’s sake, you have to make a move on him, Y/N!” Rita turns to you as soon as he is gone.

“Would you stop?” you chuckle.

“No! This dude is so hot I forget my name when I look at him! And you live with him! You can’t miss this chance, Y/N.”

“I’m not missing anything. We live together, it’s not worth it.”

“Not missing anything?” Rita looks at you as if you were mental. “You are literally missing everything!”

“I’m done with this conversation,” you tell him just when Harry appears again, this time with two of his bandmates, Sarah and Mitch are following him smiling, hand in hand.

“Charlotte had to leave early, but this is Sarah and Mitch,” Harry introduces them as they join the two of you at the table. “And this is my flatmate, Y/N and her friend Rita.”

You all shake hands as Harry sorts out the extra beers he has ordered so everyone has a drink on their hand.

It’s no surprise, but Sarah and Mitch prove themselves to be just as cool as they seemed up on the stage. And the best thing is that they don’t shy away from sharing funny stories that include Harry.

“So have you been looking for a new place to stay, Y/N?” Mitch jokes. “I’m sure you’ve had enough of Harry by now.”

“Very funny,” Harry laughs at his bandmate’s comment.

“To be honest it’s pretty fine so far. He is a pleasant person to share your home with,” you say with a soft chuckle.

“What’s one thing you hate about living with him?” Sarah asks and Harry pretends to be hurt over the question.

“Who said there’s anything she hates?”

“Shush, I was asking her!” she hushes at him making you laugh.

“I really can’t point out anything in particular. Maybe he has been very careful, luring me into believing that he is the perfect flatmate so I get stuck with him.”

You stay for a while, just chatting and having a good time until the bar starts to empty out and you decide it’s better if you head home as well.

“We have to take care of the equipment, are you leaving or do you want to wait for me?” Harry asks you.

“We’ll just call an Uber, don’t worry about it,” you smile at him.

“Alright, see you at home.”

You say goodbye to Sarah and Mitch and part your ways with them as you and Rite head outside.

“I hope you noticed how Harry was looking at you,” Rita smirks at you when the two of you are sitting at the back of the Uber.

“What are you talking about?” you sigh leaning your head against the seat.

“I caught him staring at you quite a few times.”

“He was just probably looking at me when I was talking. Don’t try to talk something into it that’s not true.”

“Alright, I’ll stop,” she replies holding up her hands. “But I still think you are missing out on some amazing dick.”

You awkwardly glance at the driver who is hearing everything you say, but Rita seemingly doesn’t mind that you’re not alone.

“You know what? We should give Tinder a try.”

“What? Why?”

“If you don’t want to make a move on your hot flatmate, we need to get some satisfaction from others.”

“I’m fine, thanks.”

“Oh, you are not,” she chuckles. “But you will be when you match with the hottest guys on campus.”

You let Rita believe that she convinced you to sign up for Tinder, but you get out of the car with the intention of never downloading the app, like ever.

Walking into the apartment you grab a clean, oversized t-shirt and a pair of panties since your sleeping shorts are all dirty, but you were planning to do the laundry tomorrow. You decide it’s not a big deal and the shirt will probably cover enough of your body.

You take a quick shower to get off the thick smell of the bar that’s stuck on your skin, taking your time moisturizing yourself once you’re done. When you get dressed you see that the shirt does cover your bum, but if you lifted your arms up it surely shows a big portion of your ass, so you’ll have to be careful if Harry arrives.

You’re lounging on the couch watching a rerun of House M.D. and scrolling through your phone when Harry arrives.

“Hey there, rockstar!” you greet him teasingly and he just chuckles shyly.

“Is it gonna be my new nickname?”

“Well, you really were one tonight, so I think yes,” you nod making him laugh. Walking further inside his eyes stop on your bare legs and he is quick to notice that you’re not wearing any pants, like you usually do. You immediately tug on the end of the shirt to cover more of your skin, but it’s not really working.

“Ehm, I’ll go and take a quick shower,” he informs you before disappearing in his room first and then rushing into the bathroom.

Looking down at your attire you decide it’ll be better if you threw on some sweats. Harry clearly got a little uncomfortable seeing you so bare, so it’s better to cover up. You’ll just take them off when you go to bed.

Harry doesn’t take too long in there, and when he joins you on the couch you are pretty sure he took a cold shower since no steam followed him when he left the bathroom. His eyes flicker to your now covered legs, but he doesn’t say anything, just makes himself comfortable next to you.

“You like it?” he asks nodding at the TV.

“Yeah, he is such an asshole, but it’s funny,” you huff. “Hey, I took a few pictures tonight. Wanna see if you like any of them?”

“Sure,” he nods pushing himself up a little as you unlock your phone and show him the photos you took of him and the band while performing.

Some of them ended up really cool, you were able to catch the lights and their movements just the right way, especially one stands out where he was holding out a note, basically screaming into the mic, he really looks like a rockstar on that one.

“Can you send me this one?”

“Done,” you smile at him and glancing over you see that he opens the Instagram app on his phone. You watch him crop and adjust it a little bit, then tag his bandmates and finally, he posts it.

“Wow, this is the first picture on your page with you actually on it,” you tease him.

“So you’ve been stalking my profile?” he smirks at you.

“I wanted to check you out before I moved in, but your social media was no help in that.”

“Yeah, I’m not a fan of posting that much, but this was a cool picture.”

“It’s an honor to know that I took the first one featuring you.”

“Actually, this is the second one, but it is the first one where my face is visible,” Harry tells you before turning his attention back to the TV, but the gears start to turn wildly in your mind, trying to remember which picture could be the other one.

Later, when you’re lying in your bed with your door closed, you pull up his profile and stat scrolling down. Most of the pictures fall out, because they have absolutely no trace of any human being on them. But then you stop at the one that features a black silhouette of a man, the one you thought wasn’t him.

Opening up you tap on the tag and see that it leads to Mitch’s profile, but now that you’ve met him, you’re pretty sure it’s not him in the picture. So you take a closer look and as you go over the small details, like the line of his neck, how wide his shoulders are and the untamed curls, you soon realize that it is indeed Harry in the photo.

You push down a moan when realization sets in, because that means that you’re staring at the naked silhouette of Harry and it immediately starts a fire between your legs.

“Jesus,” you whisper as you let yourself stare at the photo a little longer. You weren’t expecting it, but it’s surely making you feel some kind of way.

Locking your phone you throw it to your nightstand before you bury your head into your pillow. You have to press your thighs together quite tightly to make the throbbing sensation stop so you can finally fall asleep. Well, it takes some time before that happens and it’s quite torturous.

  Unlike how you planned, Rita finally gets you to download Tinder and give it a try. She helps you set up your profile, and though at first it feels incredibly awkward, you slowly adjust to being out there on the virtual market.

You start swiping left and right whenever you are bored during classes or you’re having a break from studying. Your matches start to pile up and soon enough you start getting messages as well. You reply to the ones you like or find funny and creative, giving them a chance, but not many end up going too far. Somehow the conversations always die down and you lose interest in the person.

Only one guy gets as far as asking you out and getting a yes as an answer. Jordan is a physics major and seemed like a nice and funny guy through the messages, good-looking too, so you decided to give it a go.

So Friday evening you dolled yourself up, put on a nice blouse with your favorite skinny jeans and black heels, ready to head out to your first ever Tinder date.

As you walk out of your room you find Harry in the kitchen in his basketball shorts and a simple black t-shirt making himself a cup of tea. The shorts are hanging low on his waist and as he reaches up to get the hones from the cupboard you get a glimpse of the soft skin on his lower waist. You quickly look away before you could have any further thoughts about what else is under the waistband of his shorts.

“Oh, where are you heading all dressed up?” he asks, eyebrows raised.

“I actually have a date,” you admit nervously as you grab your keys and put it away in your purse.

“Lucky guy,” he smiles and you can feel your cheeks heating up again. There’s just something in the way he compliments you, it makes your knees go jelly.

“Thanks. I’ll see you later? I’m not sure when I’ll be back,” you tell him grabbing your jacket from the hanger next to the front door.

“Have fun,” he nods before you walk out.

 Jordan proves himself to be quite frankly the same guy you got to know through messages. He takes you to this Mexican themed bar and you are just chatting over some exciting looking cocktails, but you find yourself zoning out sometimes.

What is Harry doing right now? Is he staying at home? I should have asked if he had any plans. Maybe he is hooking up with someone right now.

You find yourself thinking about way more than you probably should and it’s making you lose your shit. So maybe this is why, or because Rita told you to just go with the flow, but when Jordan asks if you want to go up to his place you say yes.

It’s as awkward and bad as you were expecting, unfortunately. There’s a reason why you don’t hook up with every random guy you go out with once. You are totally on different pages, but when you are lying under him on his bed, you just know there’s no way out.

It’s not that he forces you, because you’re sure he would have stopped if you asked, but it would be so awkward to just walk out because you weren’t feeling the vibe. So at least one of you should enjoy it.

You should deserve an Oscar for that orgasm you fake, it’s so believable. Jordan doesn’t seem to notice that you felt absolutely nothing, just frustration and impatience, he tries to make you stay the night, but you save yourself with a lie that you have to wake up early in the morning so it’s best if you head home.

Your frustration just grows on your way home. You were really hoping to get laid tonight, so maybe that could stop you from fantasizing about Harry, because your thoughts have been wild since you found out that he is the one on that Instagram picture. It doesn’t help that he has been walking around shirtless quite a lot.

Shameful or not, you even touched yourself once thinking about him. You were home alone after a particularly boring day so you thought you’d just get yourself off. Before you could realize where your thoughts have wandered, you were moaning his name as you came hard. You couldn’t look into his eyes that day when he came home, he probably thought you were nuts, basically running away from him.

It’s almost midnight when you get back home, you were expecting Harry to be asleep by now since he has band practice in the morning, but you are surprised to see light coming from his room. As you close the front door, kicking your heels off he walks out, of course, without a shirt, his glorious body on full display.

“Hey, how was your date?” he asks as you step to the fridge to get yourself something to drink. You’ve been so damn thirsty since Jordan was… done with you, you could have asked for some water at least, but you just wanted to leave as fast as possible.

“Ugh, don’t even ask,” you whine, leaning against the counter.

“That bad?”

“Worse,” you roll your eyes and Harry chuckles softly.

“Come on, it couldn’t be that bad if you came home so late.”

“Well, it did start off nice, but I shouldn’t have said yes when he asked if I wanted to go to his place.”

“Oh.”

“Worst sex of my life, I wanted out the moment we arrived, to be honest,” you honestly say, feeling a little weird that you’re talking to Harry about it, but you just want to get it off your chest.

“Then why didn’t you just leave?”

“Dunno, I just… I was hoping for just a little satisfaction, but I guess I asked for too much,” you sigh finishing up your water and you walk past him with the intention to grab your pajamas and have a shower that would wash away the happenings of the night, but Harry’s voice stops you.

“Not everything is lost just yet.” Turning around you give him a puzzled look.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He bites into his bottom lip and lets his eyes travel down your body, his intent gaze sends a shiver down your spine. When his eyes return to your gaze your heart is wildly beating against your chest.

“I mean that… I can make you feel good, if you want.”

Your mouth hangs open and your eyebrows shoot up at the blunt offer he just made. At first you’re not even sure you heard him right, but as you replay his words you realize that you indeed heard him crystal clear.

“Are you messing with me right now?” you ask, feeling like it’s all just a joke. He did not just offer to satisfy you because you complained to him about how bad your date was.

Harry takes a few steps closer to you, a small smirk tugging on his lips.

“Not really. You want to get off and I would love to be the one to help you with it.”

“But… we live together,” you say and realize how stupid this just sounded, but you hope he gets what you were trying to say.

“So? Does that mean we can’t fuck?”

The way he said that makes your legs go weak for sure. You’ve been fantasizing about things similar to this, but those were nowhere near to actually hear him propose the idea of fucking.

“But… it’ll be weird, won’t it?”

“Only if we make it.”

He walks closer, closing the distance between the two of you and he cups your cheek in his hand as his eyes flicker down to your lips.

“Harry…” you breathe out, but you already know you gave in. There’s no way you can say him no, not after weeks of dreaming about the exact same thing.

“Just stop thinking,” he tells you before pressing his lips against yours.

He kisses you hard and you gladly let his tongue push into your mouth within a second, kissing him back with the same passion. You wrap your arms around his neck as his hands travel down on your sides until they reach your ass and they give it a bold squeeze, making you moan into his lips. You feel him grin as his hands move over to your thighs and he urges you to jump and so you do, wrapping your legs around his waist.

Though you keep your eyes closed, kissing him hard, you can tell he brings you to the couch, laying you down to your back, holding himself up above you. He starts kissing down your jawline and neck, sucking and biting on the sensitive skin. His hands grab the hem of your shirt and you lift yourself up a bit so he can pull it off, throwing it away to somewhere behind the couch. While his lips are sucking on your breasts wherever they are bulging out from the lacy bra, his hands work fast on your jeans, undoing the button and the zipper, tugging them down until you can just kick them right off.

“Matching set? You were really counting on having a good time tonight,” he mumbles against your tummy as he kisses his way down on your body.

His right hand reaches up and cups your breast before it slides under you and easily unclasps your bra. You quickly slide the straps off and throw it to the side, so now you are lying under him only in your panties, whimpering and panting at every kiss he leaves on your body.

“What do you want, Y/N?” he hums glancing up at you, sitting between your legs as he slides just one finger over your soaking wet panties, running it along your throbbing center.

“Fuck, I want you,” you breathe out.

“How exactly do you want me?”

“Jesus, just eat me out, Harry!” you shamelessly moan and he smugly smirks before he hooks his fingers into your panties and pulls them down, throwing it to the ground.

Now you’re lying completely naked in front of him, and he pushes your knees farther apart, looking down at you with lustful eyes.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do this,” he growls as he gets closer and without a warning, he licks into you.

You moan in sensation as he starts sucking on your clit, his tongue working perfectly against your bud. Your hands find their way into his hair and you grab a handful of it in each. Oh, how many times you’ve thought about doing this!

“Harry!” you cry out when you feel him push a finger into you, slowly pumping it in and out a few times before he adds another to it. He quickly picks up his pace as he keeps sucking on your clit, getting you closer to your orgasm with every lick.

“Fuck, I’m so close!” you moan, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you struggle to even breathe.

“Cum for me, baby,” he mumbles against your wet clit and just a few more pumps later you came, screaming his name.

“Fucking hell, Harry!” you breathe out when he climbs up on you smirking.

“You think you can handle another one?” he asks, pecking your lips softly. Looking down you see how hard he is and even if you were on the verge of dying you would have said yes. There’s no way you let him get up from this couch unsatisfied after the orgasm he just gave you.

Instead of saying anything, you push on him until he is sitting on the couch and you have your knees on his sides.

“I think you are a little overdressed, aren’t you?” you ask teasingly as you bring a hand down to his erection, cupping it through his shorts and underwear.

Harry cranes his neck so his lips could meet yours again as he lifts his hips up, pushing his shorts down along with his boxers. You sit back down to his lap and his erection presses against your wet folds making you moan into his mouth.

“Do you want me to suck you off?” you ask breathlessly, but Harry shakes his head.

“I would last, I just want to fuck you,” he growls and you swear to God that was the hottest thing you’ve ever heard.

“Condom, we need a condom,” you tell him, still kissing his lips.

You get off him and he quickly runs into his room, shortly returning with a condom between his teeth. He rips the package on his way and falls back to the couch, rolling it on carefully. When he is done you swing your leg over him and get on top again, holding onto his broad shoulders. He grabs the base of his cock and lines himself up to your center and you give yourself a moment to admire his naked beauty right in front of you.

You look into his sparkling eyes and leaning down you kiss him hard as you slowly ease down to his length, his cock slowly filling you up fully.

“Oh fuck!” he moans at the feeling of you around him. His fingers dig deep into your waist as you stay still for a few moments, adjusting to his length. “You alright?” he asks breathlessly. Your eyes meet his and you nod a little before you start moving.

It takes a few moments to find the right pace and get yourself comfortable, but when you finally do, you just can’t stop. His hands are on your ass as he guides your hips a little and you feel the rings on his fingers against your heated skin. He buries his face into your neck nibbling and kissing on the soft skin wherever he reaches.

“Fuck, you look so fucking hot, Y/N,” he grunts when you let your head fall back, feeling your orgasm slowly building up again.

“Harry, I’m gonna cum again,” you pant, picking up a faster pace, desperate for release.

“Cum for me, baby. Let me make you feel good!” he moans wrapping his arms around you as he holds you still, stopping you from moving, but instead he starts thrusting into you, his cock buries so deep into your pussy, your eyes roll back into your head from the feeling.

“Yes! Don’t fucking stop!” you scream as he keeps fucking you hard.

It doesn’t take too long until you fall completely apart and cum again, your legs basically turning into jelly. Just a few thrusts later Harry cums as well, thrusting deep into you a few more times as he moans into your neck.

You lie completely numb on him, his fingers gently stroking your naked back as you try to come back to reality. When you lean back and your eyes meet again you are still speechless.

“I’ve literally wanted it since the day you walked into this place,” he admits with a soft chuckle.

“Really?” you giggle shyly.

“Oh, really. Seeing you around, sometimes without a bra under your shirt completely killed me most of the time.”

Your cheeks are heating up, you didn’t think he noticed when you weren’t wearing a bra.

“Don’t be so shy, you have amazing tits, you are not allowed to wear a bra anymore around here,” he teases you grinning as you laugh and leaning down you kiss him shortly.

“I had quite a few fantasies about you too,” you admit making him raise his eyebrows.

“Really?”

“Mhm, especially after you walked out of the bathroom naked, even though I didn’t even see your dick then.”

Harry chuckles lightly as he pushes his hair back from his forehead, resting his head against the back of the couch.

“So…” you shyly start, ”what now?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that… we live together and we just fucked. What does this mean for the future?”

“Well, I thought that next time we could do it the right way. I could take you out on a proper date, and then fuck you on the kitchen counter.”

You laugh at how blunt he is, but you love the idea he just proposed.

“Okay. Sounds fine by me.”

[bipercabeth]

28, gimmie your hand

sequel to this photographer percy au 

When Percy took pictures of Annabeth before they started dating, she could never tell if he was looking at her through the lens of artist or lover. Now, she’s beginning to think it’s the same thing. There’s a delicacy to his gaze, as though his smile is meant both for Annabeth and the light shining on her. His taking a picture so often looks like gratitude, like the fear of forgetting his luck in a moment so blissful. And he immortalizes her on film, takes his care to capture and develop her image. It is no small thing, being a muse. 

She envies it, sometimes. Percy gets to show Annabeth and the world exactly how he sees her, while she is left with her words, which can only ever fall short. He captures time and frames her suspended in the golden glow of sunlight, he makes her laugh moments before the flash, and he does not believe in bad photos. He photographs her bedhead, her soft stomach, her bent posture, and her chewed fingernails. He photographs her genuine laugh, her pouted lips, her pensive expression, her golden curls. Annabeth has never liked the sharp upturn of her nose, but Percy photographs her profile with such care that she can’t help but soften to it.

They’re at the beach for what feels like the last warm day of September. The Atlantic ocean is too vast to be swayed by the local weather, so they stay on the sand until they need to cool off. Percy’s camera is buried in their beach bag as they soak up the day—not every moment needs to be captured. Sometimes happiness demands to be fleeting. Nostalgia wouldn’t be as powerful if Annabeth could remember exactly how many freckles the sun kissed into Percy’s cheeks today. The longing comes from the fear of forgetting.

Sunset brings a gentle chill and sends Annabeth into Percy’s side. He pulls her bare legs into his lap and rubs his hands up and down them. It only works for a few seconds, but she’ll take any excuse to keep his hands on her. (She thinks he will too.)

One of the best parts about being in a relationship, she thinks, is not needing an excuse. There is an agreement between them that says you can touch me. I am trusting you to handle me at my best and my worst. I think that’s love. Please touch me.

Annabeth shifts her weight and straddles her boyfriend in a way that’s a bit indecent for a public beach, but the closest people are specs on the horizon and Percy is leaning back on his palms, his face to the orange sky and throat exposed. His skin looks golden, dripping in sunlight like honey, and Annabeth watches his Adam’s apple bob as she tastes. Even his smile is sweet. Annabeth is not an artist, but sometimes loving him makes her rethink that.

“Baby,” he whispers, and Annabeth opens her eyes to him chewing his lip. “You know the last thing I ever want to do is stop making out with my beautiful girlfriend on the beach, but...” He juts his chin to the sun, then to her general face. “I‘ll kick myself if I don’t get this.”

Annabeth pretends to roll her eyes as he lays back on the beach blanket with his camera in hand, but the way he looks at her is too profound for her to do much else. She’s always loved the way he looks at the world, though it wasn’t until recently that she discovered she likes the way he looks at her more. All that wonder, all that love, plus a surety that is so rare on him. There is the boyish boldness that makes her want to strangle and kiss him, plus the sly cockiness that has her leaning toward the former, but that gleam in his eyes cannot compare to this glimmer. His fingers slide along her chin, angling her kindly from  the harsh angle he captures her at.

She chuckles, gestures to his hand. “We wouldn’t get anywhere without this. Piper says I can’t pose for any camera you’re not behind.”

Percy pokes her in the side quickly, snapping a photo when she laughs. “That’s because Piper is a terrible photographer.”

“I’m sure she’d love to hear that.”

“I’m just saying, it’s more than landscapes and lighting. If you’re taking pictures of people, you should try to capture something real. Something human.”

“Her Instagram feed is very focused on humanity.”

She said it to rile him up—passionate Percy is one of her favorite versions of the boy she loves. She’s snuck more than a few photos of her own during a long-winded rant about camera lenses and color editing.

But this passion is quieter than what Annabeth is used to. Honest. Soft. Percy rests the camera on his chest and trails his fingers from Annabeth’s wrist to her elbow, his eyes following the slow migration.

“I don’t always know why you’re looking at me the way you do. I think that’s why I picked up a camera in the first place—my mom looked at me like I was the best thing that ever happened to her, and I was scared that one day she’d come to her senses. I wanted to remember that face before it disappeared.” He doesn’t look at her. Can’t, maybe. “It’s been over a decade, and that look is still there. I guess now I take pictures to try and understand it. Because I don’t— I want—“

Annabeth takes hold of his wrist. It’s then that he looks at her, propped up on an elbow. He breathes.

“You look at me like I’m a good thing.” And he’s opening his mouth like there are more words he wants to say, but they won’t come.

Annabeth kisses him, sweet and soft and a bit desperate. The lens of the camera presses into her chest, and she slides it out of Percy’s grip as she presses a kiss to his nose, his forehead. 

“Lay down for me,” she says. And, at his hesitation. “C’mon, Jackson. It’s hardly the first time I’ve had you on your back.” 

That earns a laugh, which earns the first picture. The camera may be out of Annabeth’s league, but she’s seen Percy use this thing enough to know that the big black button is all she really needs for what she’s trying to do. 

She says, “I love you,” says, “You’re everything to me,” and, “You are so beautiful,” for the sake of his smile. She says, “Gimme your hand,” and kisses his knuckles. She sits a little lower in his lap and photographs the way his eyes darken, and his hands, still itching for the camera, busy themselves with her thighs. The sun is disappearing quickly, but Percy is glowing with the last of the New York summer. His skin is still damp from the kiss of the Atlantic, and Annabeth thinks that he was born to look like this. Love and light, gentle and summer-warm by the seaside. Percy Jackson summed up in a time, a place, a feeling. 

And Annabeth isn’t great with words, but he needs to hear them. 

“The sun is gonna set,” she leans in, throwing her shadow over his face, and sets the camera down, “and it’s gonna rise, again and again and again, and I am never gonna stop looking at you like this. Even if you never take my picture again.” She plants her hand over his shoulder to lean down. “You’re gonna spend your entire life by my side waiting for it to go away, and one day you’re going to forget to worry. Just like you help me forget to worry.” 

And then he smiles a bit sideways, a dimple pressing into his cheek. “You proposing to me, Chase?” 

She rolls her eyes, but smiles back. “As if you won’t know when I propose.” 

Percy’s hands skim up her back, where the last of the light stretches over the horizon of her skin. “Not if I beat you to it.” 

He pulls her down for a long kiss. When Annabeth comes up, it’s nearly dark out. 

“I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to photograph your own wedding.” 

“Yeah, well.” And he’s arching up for one last kiss before they have to leave, a comma on the page of this long day turned night. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.” 

[whosscruffylooking]

The Purest Things- Repeating History

Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader Word Count: 2k Warnings: Mentions of murder and alcohol. Canon typical violence. A/N: this takes place during season 3 episode 11, birthright. i had a lot of fun studying this episode and making it my own. i have changed certain dialogue and who says what for the sake of the story. please enjoy! The Purest Things Masterlist

january 2008

Syd Moore said, “Disregard for the past will never do us any good. Without it we cannot know truly who we are.”

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•:•.

The team gathers around the conference room table as JJ introduces the next case. Her usual composure is absent, and it’sclear this one weighs heavily on her.

“Last night in Fredericksburg, a 20-year-old woman, Molly McCarthy, was abducted. She’s the third to go missing in the last six weeks. All of them disappeared from public places. No one has seen them since,” she begins, her voice tight.

“Until now,” Rossi adds grimly.

JJ presses on, “Two days ago, body parts with cigarette burns were recovered from a national park—former site of the Battle of Chancellorsville.”

You glance up at Hotch across the table, sensing the wheels turning in his mind. Something about this case feels familiar to you too, but the connection eludes you. His eyes meet yours, reflecting a similar train of thought. You shrug slightly, and he gives a barely perceptible shake of his head—nothing definitive yet.

“Were they able to make an ID?” Hotch asks.

JJ nods. “It was the first victim, taken six weeks ago. Decomposition suggests she’d been dead just over a week.”

Hotch leans back slightly, his focus sharpening. “So he’s keeping them alive for a while.”

The idea jogs something in your memory. You sift through fragments of cases, searching for the connection. Hotch slides a photo across the table toward you, almost testing your instincts. Examining it closely, the pieces finally fall into place.

“I remember reading about a case like this in Spotsylvania County,” you say. “The markings, the location, even the time of year—it all lines up.”

Hotch nods, picking up the thread. “If he spends that much time with them, it’s possible the two most recent victims are still alive.”

He gives you a subtle nod, a gesture of acknowledgment for your insight. Your mouth a quiet “thank you,” feeling a small wave of validation.

“Wait,” Emily interjects. “Are we saying this could be the same killer? That’s a long cooling-off period.”

“It’s rare, but it happens,” you reply. “BTK resurfaced after 25 years. Some killers go dormant for reasons we may never fully understand.”

“And the details from the Spotsylvania case were never released,” Rossi adds. “This would be a tough one to copycat.”

As the briefing concludes, you notice JJ lingering near the evidence board, her gaze distant. You approach her gently.“Hey, you okay?”

She blinks, snapping out of her thoughts. “Yeah. Just… something about this one feels off.”

You study her, recognizing the haunted expression. “This one hits a bit too close to home.” You’re both young, ambitious women—frighteningly similar to the abductees. The parallels aren’t lost on either of you.

JJ nods, her discomfort palpable. You squeeze her arm lightly. “We’ll get them justice.”

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•:•.

The ride to the crime scene is quiet. You watch the passing landscape, the trees blurring into shadows, but your attention keeps drifting to Hotch. His steady focus on the road contrasts with the tension radiating from his presence. There’s a gravity to him that draws you in, a depth you want to understand but can’t quite unravel.

When the car approaches the site, you snap out of your thoughts. Following Hotch, JJ, and Reid, you step through the field toward the taped-off area where the sheriff waits. As Spencer and Hotch begin discussing the unsub’s profile, you notice JJ turning away, her shoulders tense. The case is affecting her more than she’s letting on.

You glance at Hotch, subtly tilting your head toward JJ. He catches the gesture immediately and nods. “I’ll catch up. You and Reid go with the sheriff.”

Minutes later, Hotch and JJ rejoin the group. He lingers near the back and motions for you to step with him. “Thanks for keeping an eye on her,” he says quietly.

You offer a small smile. “Of course. I know what it’s like to feel overwhelmed. I’d want someone to notice if it were me.”

His tone softens slightly. “This job reminds us that we’re human. Cases like this tend to hit hardest when they reflect pieces of our own lives.”

You glance at him, hesitant but curious. “What cases make you feel most human?”

His expression darkens for a moment. “Any case involving kids,” he admits. “Since Jack was born, those are the ones I can’t shake.”

“It doesn’t show,” you say gently. “You seem… unshakable.”

He exhales quietly, almost a sigh. “Maybe I’ve just gotten too good at hiding it.”

You sense a deeper regret behind his words but decide not to push. You’ve heard whispers about his separation from Rossi, about how his work drove a wedge between him and Haley. It’s not your place to ask, but its weight lingers in the air.

“Let’s catch up with the others,” he says finally, steering the conversation back to the task at hand. But his earlier vulnerability stays with you, a rare glimpse into the man beneath the suit.

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•:•.

Your team gathers to try and connect the dots, the tension in the room mounting as time slips away.

“We’ve got another abduction,” JJ announces, rushing into the room.

The sheriff and JJ quickly outline the details of the latest victim. You jot down notes, comparing them to the other cases, the pieces just out of reach.

“We know he kills after taking another victim,” JJ says, her voice tight with urgency. “We’re running out of time.”

You glance toward Hotch, and his steady gaze is already fixed on you. “What do we know?” he asks, putting you in the spotlight.

You take a breath, focusing. “It’s a copycat,” you begin. “Same MO, same dumpsite.”

“But those details were never released to the press,” Rossi interjects a pointed reminder.

“Then he had to learn it from someone close—family or a friend,” you say, sitting up straighter as the realization dawns.

Hotch nods subtly, an unspoken acknowledgment that you’re on the right track. A flicker of heat rises to your cheeks under his steady approval.

“Mary and Robert Wilkinson had a son,” JJ says, flipping through files.

“I remember Charlie Wilkinson,” John Caufield, the former sheriff on the original case, chimes in. “When he was 15, he killed a neighbor’s cat.”

“How old is Charlie now?” Emily asks, her tone sharp.

“Mary was pregnant with him when Robert died,” Caufield recalls.

The room collectively stills as the implication hits. You and Hotch exchange a glance, the pieces snapping into place between you.

“That was 27 years ago,” Emily continues urgently. “That would make him about the same age Robert was when he started killing.”

Hotch’s expression hardens. “With me,” he orders, motioning for you to follow.

Hotch’s pace is brisk as you follow him out to the SUVs. The sun is high, casting a harsh light over the unfolding day. As you climb into the passenger seat beside him, he pulls a map from the dashboard, scanning it briefly before starting the engine.

“We’ve got another site to check,” he says, his tone clipped but steady. 

You nod, tightening your grip on your notebook as the car hums to life. The team’s urgency weighs heavily on you, but something is grounding about Hotch’s quiet determination.

The rhythmic motion of the road and the hum of the engine fill the silence, but it’s not awkward. You peek over at him, studying his keen focus as he navigates.

“You’re good at this,” he says suddenly, his voice cutting through the stillness. His tone is calm but carries the faintest trace of encouragement.

“Thank you,” you answer, momentarily caught off guard. “I still feel like I have a lot to learn.”

His eyes flick toward you briefly before returning to the road. “You’re already asking the right questions, seeing the connections. That’s what matters.”

The words settle over you, a slight spark of pride lifting the edge of your fatigue. You tuck them away, a reminder of why you’re here.

Hotch speaks again, his voice lower but just as stable. “Trust your instincts. They’re what got you this far.”

You nod, feeling the weight of the compliment and the responsibility it carries. The car slows as you approach the site.

Hotch cuts the engine and glances your way, his expression unreadable but somehow reassuring. “Let’s see what we’re working with.”

With a deep breath, you step out into the sunlight, squinting against the glare as the latest victim’s car looms in the parking lot like a grim omen. Your stomach tightens at the sight. JJ isn’t here, and for that, you’re grateful—she doesn’tneed to see this.

“How long has the car been here?” Hotch asks, his tone sharp and efficient.

“Owner said since last night,” the sheriff responds, clearly uneasy.

You scoff in disbelief, your anger bubbling to the surface. “How the hell did no one find that suspicious?”

The sheriff scratches the back of his neck, defensively. “He said he’s back and forth from the farm, didn’t pay much attention until he heard Tara was missing.”

Your jaw tightens as you glance at Hotch, whose stoic expression doesn’t mask the faint crease of concern between his brows. “Four girls are missing,” you say, your voice low but sharp, “and no one notices an abandoned car?”

Before Hotch can respond, your phone buzzes in your pocket. You fish it out and answer quickly. “This is Y/N.”

Reid’s voice filters through, calm but direct. “Do you think you and Hotch could check on Charlie Wilkinson? He didn’tshow up for work today.”

Your heart sinks. “He didn’t?”

“No,” Reid confirms. “I checked with his employer. They said it’s completely out of character.”

“Got it. Thanks, Reid,” you say, ending the call. Turning to Hotch, you relay the news. “Charlie Wilkinson never showed up for work today.”

Hotch nods, already moving toward the SUV. “Let’s see if he’s home.”

The drive to Charlie’s house is thick with unspoken tension. The weight of the case presses heavily on your shoulders, and your leg starts to bounce unconsciously. Hotch notices, his eyes flicking to you briefly before returning to the road.

“We’ll catch him,” he says, his voice low but firm as if willing the words into existence.

You let out a breath, shaky but steadying. “I know. It’s just…the idea of this man evolving into a carbon copy of his father—it’s terrifying. It’s like the instinct to kill was lying dormant in his DNA, waiting to surface.”

Hotch’s hands tighten slightly on the steering wheel. “We study and profile these unsubs every day. The truth of evil is rarely straightforward.”

“But you’d think,” you say, frustration creeping into your tone, “at some point, the cycle would end. If he knew all the terrible things his father did, wouldn’t he want to stop it? History shouldn’t have to repeat itself.”

Hotch glances at you, his expression softening just enough to be noticeable. “Don’t lose that perspective,” he says, his voice quieter now. “It’ll ground you in this line of work. The second we stop believing people are capable of change is the moment we lose our humanity.”

You nod, his words settling over you like a protective layer. Still, the tension doesn’t fully leave your chest. You glance out the window, watching as the rural landscape rushes past. Each mile closer to Charlie Wilkinson’s house feels like another step into a storm you’re not sure you are ready to face.

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•:•.

At Charlie Wilkinson’s house, you and Derek approach the door. It creaks open, revealing his wife, Chrissy Wilkinson, standing there with wide, nervous eyes. Your stomach drops when you notice her hand instinctively resting on her swollen belly—she’s pregnant. For a moment, you’re frozen, bile rising in your throat as the weight of this revelation sinks in. You swallow it down, steeling yourself. You’re here to do a job.

“Chrissy Wilkinson?” you begin, your voice steady despite the emotions churning inside. “I’m Agent Y/L/N, and this is Agent Morgan. We’re with the FBI. We’re looking for Charles Wilkinson.”

Chrissy’s expression shifts, confusion mingling with dread. “What’s this about?” she asks, her voice trembling slightly.

You exchange a glance with Derek before answering, your tone careful but firm. “We’re investigating the murders of some local women,” you say, watching as her face blanches.

“And you’re looking for Charlie?” she whispers, her free hand gripping the doorframe for support.

You nod, your heart aching as she steps aside, allowing you and the team to search the property.

Inside, Chrissy sits at the kitchen table, wringing her hands as you and Hotch stand across from her. His demeanor is firm, his posture straight, radiating authority.

“Charlie didn’t show up for work today,” Hotch says, his voice edged with an intimidating calm. “Do you have any idea where he might’ve gone?”

Chrissy shakes her head quickly, her lips pressed into a thin line. “No, I don’t know,” she stammers, her eyes darting around the room.

Hotch’s attention is drawn to JJ and Reid in the other room, and after a glance, he steps away to join them. Before leaving, he nods at you, signaling for you to continue the questioning.

You take a seat across from Chrissy, softening your tone. “Can I get you some water?” you ask, noticing how her hands tremble slightly.

She looks up at you, startled, but nods gratefully. “Yes, please.”

When you return with a glass, she manages a faint smile. “You’re a lot nicer than him,” she murmurs, taking a small sip.

You chuckle softly, tilting your head. “He’s been doing this job a lot longer than I have.”

Her smile fades, replaced by a shadow of worry. “Did the father of my child hurt those poor women?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper as her hand instinctively cradles her baby bump.

Your heart tightens. There’s no easy answer to that question, and you know she’s not looking for one. You choose silence, letting the unspoken truth settle in the room. Sometimes, silence says more than words ever could.

The sound of hurried footsteps breaks the moment. Hotch appears in the doorway, his expression unreadable but urgent.“The sheriff will stay here with Mrs. Wilkinson. We need you with us,” he says firmly.

Standing, you place your hand atop Chrissy’s trembling one, your voice low but steady. “History doesn’t have to repeat itself,” you tell her, meeting her eyes. You can see the storm of thoughts swirling in her mind, the whispers of inevitability that threaten to consume her. Your words are an anchor—a small reminder that there’s always another choice.

The forest feels endless as you race after Hotch, the cool air sharp against your skin. Leaves and twigs crackle underfoot with every hurried step.

“Hotch, this way!” you call, gesturing toward a narrow path leading deeper into the woods.

You push forward, branches whipping against your arms until a sudden gunshot pierces the air. The sound is deafening, freezing you in your tracks. Your gaze snaps to Hotch, who mirrors your shock for a split second before the two of you sprint toward the source of the shot.

Your heart pounds in sync with your frantic footsteps, each beat carrying you closer to the clearing. You have a sinking feeling, one born of your earlier conversation with Chrissy, and dread churns in your stomach.

Breaking through the trees, you skid to a stop at the top of a hill, the scene below confirming your worst fears.

Chrissy Wilkinson stands over her husband’s lifeless body, a gun clutched in her shaking hands. Her face is pale, streaked with tears, and her rounded belly heaves with each ragged breath.

Charlie’s body lies sprawled at her feet, a haunting echo of the violence he was raised with—a man trapped by the legacy of his father’s evil.

The team converges around you, but you can’t tear your eyes away from Chrissy. Her entire frame trembles as she stares down at her husband, her face etched with a mix of anguish and grim resolve. You take a cautious step forward, your voice calm and even.

“Chrissy put the gun down,” you say gently.

For a moment, she doesn’t move, her gaze fixed on Charlie. Then, with a shaky exhale, she lowers the weapon, her knees buckling as she sinks to the ground.

As you approach her, your earlier words echo in your mind: History doesn't have to repeat itself. But looking at her now, you realize how heavy the weight of breaking that cycle truly is. Just as Charlie's mother killed his father decades ago, so now Chrissy has killed Charlie. The brutal symmetry of it all tightens a knot in your chest, a grim reminder thatsometimes, the echoes of the past are impossible to silence.

The newly widowed woman claims self-defense, yet the cops handcuff her anyway. You watch as she’s guided into the back of the squad car, her face streaked with tears. Inside, you feel conflicted, the weight of the case pressing against your chest.

Hotch appears at your side, his presence steady but quiet. You bite your lip, trying to keep it from quivering, though the day’s events have taken their toll.

“What did you say to her as you were leaving the dining room?” Hotch asks, his voice low.

“I told her that history doesn’t have to repeat itself,” you admit softly. “That even when it feels like you’re backed into a corner, there’s always another way out. But… sometimes people don’t know where to look for that way out.”

Hotch studies you for a moment, then lightly touches your arm. It’s brief but enough to ground you.

“You did everything you could,” he says. “We’ll never do this job perfectly. Sometimes doing the right thing costs more than it pays.”

You shake your head slightly. “And what if that’s not enough?”

Hotch’s gaze sharpens. “If you can leave a case knowing you made the best choice you could with what you had, it’senough. Anything else will tear you apart over time.”

You glance back at the squad car as it disappears down the road. “What if the only way she saw out was this?”

Hotch exhales, his jaw tightening. “I wish I could make this easier for you. I wish I could tell you that this case won'thaunt you. Just know that if it becomes too heavy, you have people in your corner, ready to listen.”

The words are meant to reassure you, but the weight of the day lingers between you both. He turns slightly, his hand brushing yours as though he wants to say more, but he stops himself. Instead, he walks back toward the sheriff, leaving you to wrestle with the truth he’s laid out.

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•:•.

After what feels like an endless day, you and the team finally arrive back at Quantico.

“I could go for a drink, guys. What do you say? Newbie’s buying,” you tease, waving your wallet around frivolously.

“I could go for five drinks!” Prentiss exclaims, eyes lighting up.

“Count me in,” Morgan grins, winking at you. His charm never fails to make you blush.

Reid hesitates, and you give him your best pleading look, sticking out your bottom lip. “Please, Reid! How could you not want a repeat of Dolly Parton night last month?”

Hotch, who’s just come down the stairs, raises an eyebrow. “Dolly Parton night? Do I want to know?”

You and Derek snicker, sharing a look as Reid squirms in place, trying to diffuse his embarrassment.

“‘9 to 5’ is an iconic anthem. It has a rather bewitching effect on a man when mixed with alcohol,” Reid says, adjusting his glasses.

“You only drank Diet Coke that night,” you roll your eyes, smirking.

From the corner of your eye, you notice Hotch forcing his way through the small group gathered near the desks. You take a breath and make your way over to him.

“Want a beer?” you ask, second-guessing yourself as soon as the words leave your mouth.

For a split second, Hotch’s stern expression softens, and he turns to look at you. “I would like that,” he replies quietly.

He turns back to his original path, heading toward the glass doors, and you follow, joined by Dave and Emily.

Just as you’re about to walk out the door with him, a man barges through the glass doors, holding a yellow package in his hands.

“Agent Hotchner?”

“Yes,” Hotch replies, his tone sharp but tired, as though bracing himself.

The man holds a yellow envelope, the sight of which churns your stomach into knots. You bite down hard on your lip, the metallic taste grounding you as dread washes over you.

“What is it?” Emily asks cautiously.

But you already know. That package is far too familiar.

Hotch’s gaze lingers on the envelope for a long moment, tracing the corners with a disbelief that is almost painful to witness. When he finally speaks, his voice is hollow. “Haley’s filing for divorce. I’ve been served.”

His words hang in the air like a weight, heavy and inescapable. You swallow hard, glancing at the envelope, then back at Hotch. His eyes lift to meet yours, and the breath catches in your throat.

His eyes—usually so guarded, so composed—are now raw and exposed, filled with a vulnerability you’ve never seen before. Gone is the unshakeable Unit Chief. What’s left is a man barely holding himself together, drowning in quiet agony.

You want nothing more than to close the distance between you, to offer comfort in a way words never could. For a moment, you hope he can see, the depth of your care written in your expression. You don’t say a word, but sometimes silence carries a weight all its own.

Eventually, he breaks eye contact, releasing a shaky breath. Dave steps closer, his hand gently resting on your arm, sensing the weight of the moment. His touch offers quiet support, silently acknowledging the bond between you and Hotch.

“I’m sorry,” Hotch finally says, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t think I can join you tonight.”

Without another word, he turns and wanders out through the glass doors, leaving the rest of you standing in stunned silence.

You watch him go, your chest aching with unspoken emotion.

Maybe history does have a way of repeating itself.

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[guqin-and-flute]

[I am once again giving you an unrelated fanfic. Have some Modern married Xiyao.

Potential CW: poor anger coping skills?, very brief mention of suicidal ideation in internal dialogue. It's an errant thought and he doesn't actually mean it]

Jin Guangyao is upset. What's more upsetting is that he doesn't know why he's upset--this lack of information rankles him more than the feeling. He's used to feeling badly. That's how life is. But without a name, there is nowhere to file it away neatly. It is easier to ignore the sharp sting of a newly noticed cut than this fucking awful malaise that has apparently decided to settle over him with no rhyme or reason like he's some stupid idiot in an artsy French film, slowly choking down filtered cigarettes on some rusty balcony against a sunset or something.

That's not what he does. He is efficient. He is useful. And when he is like this, he is not.

And he still doesn't know why. And the fact that he cannot categorize and escape this has the ennui sliding slowly into a slow boil of tooth grinding fury.

Had it been the morning traffic? The fact that the library had emailed to inform him of a delay on his inter-library loan? The fact that his overpriced coffee was just a tiny bit burnt? The fact that Zixuan had taken a sick day today and so had not brought the soup his wife had promised Jin Guangyao for lunch? It shouldn't be, because these are all so horrifyingly trivial.

He has a tension headache beginning to string itself along his temples. He hates that the receptionist has a perky goodbye ready. He hates that the sun is shining so brightly. Then, he hates that the shadows of the clouds when they pass make things look grungy and dull. He hates that there is a flap of leather from his steering wheel that has peeled up in the back from his picking and he can feel it rubbing against his index finger as he stares, white knuckled and unblinking into the brake lights ahead of him as this bubbling pique crescendos as slowly as one of Xichen's beloved classical music pieces.

In fact, one is playing on the radio, softly, just within hearing range. The quiet, shrill edge of violins makes him want to kill something. Maybe himself. There's a bridge coming up in half a mile. He, very sanely, presses the button on the dash that turns it off instead of doing any of those things. The thought of Xichen has a voice of reason suggesting that he might meditate, while trapped here, 10 minutes from home.

Instead, he jabs a button on his fancy, stupid steering wheel with this thumb. An attentive computer noise beeps. The sudden noise in the relative silence of the car makes him dig his nails into the leather. "Text A-Huan," he snaps.

"Okay! What would you like the message to be?"

Jin Guangyao is going to find whoever programmed this faux-friendly robot voice and make them watch him drown their entire family in a toilet. "I. Hate. Everything."

Beep. "Okay! Your message reads; 'I hate everything'. Send?"

"Yes, send," he seethes before it can fully finish.

There is no plan to this. None at all. He just needs something real to sink his metaphorical teeth into. A reasonable anchor to reality to tell him whether or not he's being stupid and terrible for no reason at all.

Even though he already knows that he is.

The response returns in 43 seconds. Jin Guangyao had been counting. The cheery beep sounds just as the very stale green light turns yellow ahead. He presses the gas. "One message from A-Huan."

The light blinks red while he is only 1/4th of the way through the intersection. The lead car of the adjacent left turners beeps and he bares his teeth at her because he isn't fucking invisible, he's in a high profile gold Lexus and she had definitely seen him fucking coming. He stabs the button that makes the car read him the message.

"'Oh no. Bad day? Want to call? Blue heart emoji'," the female robot voice chirps in a butchery of his husbands words and no, no, he does not, because, at this point, it would simply be a minute long sustained scream of rage over literally nothing at all. He should have kept it to himself and found a quiet place to throw rocks at a wall or something until he wasn't such a repellant time bomb.

He does not reply because if he hears that robot voice again, he's going to commit vehicular homicide. And being arrested would not calm him down.

Finally, traffic parts and he pulls into his driveway--he notices how the bush on the side of the house's branches are creeping up to scrape the window of the kitchen and makes a mental note to send a curt text to the landscaper about his pruning habits. Why are they paying him several hundred dollars a month to let a stupid bush get unruly enough to damage the paint on his window trim?

When he slams his door shut, he hears a loud CLACK that announces that he has just closed his seatbelt in the door and lost the last tenuous thread of his temper. Heaving the door back, he plants his other hand up on the black plastic next to the window and smashes it shut again with all of his strength. Repeatedly. CLACK CLACK CLACK CLACK--Chunk.

Breath hissing between his teeth, he jerks his suit jacket straight, loosens his tie and stalks to the house. The garage door groans to life behind him. Xichen had been watching.

Perfect.

He's nowhere to be seen when Jin Guangyao slams through the backdoor like a vicious thundercloud, which is good and probably intentional, because it allows him to wrestle off his shoes, jacket, and tie in privacy. This does nothing to release any pressure, because it must be intentional wrestling--controlled and confined so he doesn't pop off a button or rip a seam or scuff the shining black leather. Now he's seething in their immaculate, state of the art kitchen, hating how the cold tile feels against his black dress socks and the fact that it smells like tea. Which is stupid. Because he likes tea. But not right now.

Stop being a piece of shit, he snarls at himself. You've already probably fucked up the car and Xichen doesn't deserve this. He balls up his fists so tightly that the bright pain from his nails sinking into his palms leaks up his arms. Be better.

He has no idea how to do that because he has no idea what is wrong.

Reason says to steer clear of Xichen until he can get a hold of himself and behave like a fucking adult. And in the early days of their relationship, he would have. He had. Whenever he got like this, he would shut down or not have inflicted himself on Xichen at all with a smooth lie, and no amount of prying would get anything useful out of him because he would not be a bother. There had been Talks. Long, extensive Talks about trust and love and wanting to take care of him. He had even believed some of them. That's how they can be married, now, years later--Xichen knowing just how close he is to this at all times. How thin his veneer of manners and pleasantries actually is. (He can't truly know, though, can he. If he knew how much none of it makes sense, there is no possible way someone as kind and intelligent as him would choose to stay.)

Xichen would purse his lips if he said this out loud; somewhere between exasperation and sad fondness. Jin Guangyao doesn't tell him, anymore. Most of the time because he doesn't actually think this.

This is not most of the time.

Yes, reason says that he should suck it up and become a human being before burdening Xichen.

But his husband has long, cool hands and soft eyes and a brilliant mind that can solve any problem just by holding it and maybe he just wants to be small and angry and ugly and pathetic and selfish in the comfort of his own home while someone reminds him that there have been, in fact, good things that have happened in his life and he had been, at one time, happy--believe it or not.

And if nothing else, it compounds his streak of bad decisions.

The smell of tea intensifies when he reaches their room. The curtains are drawn. It renders the deep, dusty blues of the bed spread and the armchair black and the aged gold accent pieces muted, except for where the warm light pouring from their open bathroom door paints them bright again. Xichen sits on the edge of their bed in the soft, expensive loungewear Jin Guangyao got him for his birthday last year, one ankle on his knee, watching him with eyes just as soft as he had been expecting. A mug of tea is tucked into his hand and a plate with round, lumpy shapes sits by his hip. Beside that lays spread out the absurdly oversized and absurdly soft heather gray shirt that Nie Huaisang had gifted to him as a joke but was, in fact, one of Jin Guangyao's guilty pleasure sleep shirts.

With his perfect voice and his perfect logic and his perfect way of being the only good thing on this entire, worthless planet, his husband says, "I think you need to scream into this pillow."

'This pillow' is, in fact, one of theirs, dark blue with a thread count that was higher than any savings he ever had in college, perched on a bundle of blankets that is the perfect size to throw himself upon like a sulking romance heroine. He hates it. Hates that this is known, that this might help.

So he fucking does it. He deliberately stalks around the bed, climbs up, smashes his face into the pillow and screams as loudly as he can. With every single ounce of rage in his body, curling him up like the shriveling of a raisin in fast forward, like the curling of a scorpion tail, like throwing up, wringing every last scant molecule of oxygen out of his lungs.

When the sound peters out and he has to drag in another breath, he curls tighter, the claws of his hands reaching over the top of the pillow to fist in his hair. It presses the plush of it firmer over his face and bites it until his teeth ring with dull pain, and his jaw aches and his head throbs and his eyes sting. His scalp burns from the pull on his hair and his throat is raw and tight.

Tearing himself away, finally, he gasps in a gulp of cooler air. Xichen has turned so he is now cross-legged at the foot of the bed, watching him with a mix of calm and understanding sympathy. "Lay down?"

There is a ragged, hollow hole in him that still has scraps of rage clinging to it like disgusting lichen--but the visceral, all consuming hate seems to have been absorbed by his pillow. So he lets himself roll sideways, eyes closing. Xichen gets off the bed--Jin Guangyao assumes, wearily, that he's putting down the tea mug and hopes that he uses a coaster--and then returns by knee walking up the bed to his side. Then, those cool hands he had been hoping for pick open the tiny hard buttons of his shirt. Each pop releases a a tension across his skin and he feels that he can breathe easier with every one.

Jin Guangyao can hear him breathing, slow and measured, through his nose and thinks that it's probably the most comforting sound that he's ever heard in his entire life--now that he's willing to be comforted. Able to be. The reminder of Xichen's continued existence is the only sound he will ever need to be calm again.

The button up is abandoned in favor of undoing his belt--breath, more of it, infiltrating him deeper and deeper--popping the button on his slacks, tugging them down his legs in a warm slide. The quiet clink of it being tossed somewhere. A closing quiet as Xichen leans in and presses his smooth lips to his forehead. Then the corner of his eyebrow. Then the bridge of his nose. Different points and planes of his face like he is unlocking a combination that will open him up and allow him to purge the rest of the awfulness that lingers.

What it mostly is is exhaustion, now. "A-Huan," he groans--whines. Ugh.

Before disgust at himself can settle in, his husband takes this as the invitation for what it is and kisses his mouth, gentle and slow. Jin Guangyao moves his mouth back, halfheartedly, mostly parting his lips to allow him access to do whatever. But all he does is kiss him chastely. Lovingly. He tastes like green tea. Then, Xichen murmurs against his lips, "Would you like a bath?"

He vents a negating grunt, lolling his head back and forth. Baths are so much work. Even when Xichen offered to wash his hair or read to him or even join him, you still had to keep it hot, you had to endure cold when you left, get yourself dry. Too much change, too much sensation and movement.

He should be shaking himself awake. He should be apologizing for his terrible, pointless mood. He should be trying to kiss him back, love him back, pay him back. Thank him.

Xichen merely lifts his hands and presses the heels of his palms into the hinges at Jin Guangyao's jaw, inexorably grinding the tension out of them. Jin Guangyao allows himself to melt. When those cool fingertips slide into his hair, he lets them tug him upright, so Xichen can slide off his button up and slip him out of his undershirt. He shivers against the chill of the bedroom air, but he doesn't feel a surge of utter hatred for the sensations so, well, that's something. In no time, Xichen has coaxed him into the oversized shirt, removed his socks and bundled him up against the padded headboard, tucked into Xichen's side.

Jin Guangyao allows this. He allows himself to allow the blanket to be tugged up over his bare legs, Xichen to tuck the warm mug of steaming mint tea into his hands, and wind his fingers through his hair. He closes his eyes and takes in a deep, shuddering breath before sighing it all out. Xichen's fingers rub soothing circles across his sore scalp.

"Open?"

He cracks one eye to see a cookie hovering at mouth level. It's too dim in the room to properly tell what kind it is, but because Xichen has been perfect in literally every other way, he simply obeys and bites down. Browned butter and sea salt and semi-sweet chocolate ooze across his tongue and the instant spike of sugar satisfaction warms his chest. Jin Guangyao chews with utter contentment, swallows, and opens his mouth again.

"Good?" Xichen's amused voice vibrates warmly through his chest as he indulgently feeds him another bite.

"Mm. Very. Did you make them?"

"I did, earlier today. I just got lucky with the timing." His nails scrape oh so gently across his scalp. "How are you doing?"

Instead of answering, Jin Guangyao blinks up at him and his sweet, kind, ridiculously gorgeous face that is graced by a light smile and a gold edge light from the bathroom.

"I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"Being terrible."

"You're never terrible."

"I was today. I think I fucked up the car."

Xichen chuckles, smile crimping to a knowing press. "I saw. It won't be a big deal. We'll deal with it later."

"...Thank you."

"Of course, A-Yao. Do you still hate everything?"

"Mm-nn." He snuggles down deeper against his ribs, looping an arm around Xichen's warm waist. He has the best husband in his arms, his dark-sweet scent is in his nose, chocolate on his tongue, and 1000 count sheets against his skin.

What is there to hate?