#//something for you while you recover!! i'm giving a warm cup of tea get better!!

[sovereignxfae]

@distopea​ said; 

A light chuckle escaped his lips when he saw how they just frowned so hard trying to read the book that was opened onto his desk. “You’re trying to read the latin version. You can translate it with Terminator.” He said before he dragged the book closer to him, and closed it. They weren’t interested in astronomy, and he wasn’t there to give them a lesson either. That was a side of Astra they didn’t know, and perhaps one he would keep for himself. Yet, as he didn’t wish for them to feel pushed away, he decided to give them a proper explanation. “It’s the line on the Moon or a planet that divides the bright, sunlit part from the part in shadow. People who appreciate astronomy tend to like observing that phenomenon through a telescope.”

He observed them and wondered if it was making sense in their head. But then, he decided to shrug it off and extended his fingers. “Do you have the information I need from your father?” He inquired while he skirted the desk and sat down. He had requested K’in to find a few clients' names inside the Astoria’s files. Of course, it was only to gain precious information. “I’m sure you did a good job. I have total faith in your capacity, K’in.” He purred, but only to encourage them to betray their family a bit more.

Their concentration on the foreign words were just to fill their mind as they waited for him. K'in allowing themself opportunity to be left alone with their thoughts always left them with unwanted thoughts. It’s worse when they’re around him, alarms ring when they’re in the same room but it makes no sense. Warnings flash and they ignore them wilfully-they hold no truth anyway. 

Why would he waste time rather than just do it now. Like everyone else. 

So instead they fill their mind with anything in reach. Even a language they have not even an inkling of knowledge of. They blink when the book is taken. Watching quick hands close it before rushing upwards to meet his face. Their left in shock, as they usually are, but try to cover it up by nodding to his words. 

“Ah, stars. You like them?” Should they get him a gift related to it? Would he need one? As a student to teacher gift, obviously.

At his subject change their head tilts. Their hands turn them around to where they left their bag. On one of the chairs in his office, he said to get comfortable earlier. 

With bag in hand and needed list, K’in settles again in front of the desk. They’ve never been more thankful that their father had no qualms with them working so closely within his office. It made compiling the list quite easy. The list wasn’t long but it was vital. Most of the names were recurring clients of their ‘family’. Underneath each name was what they’re order/needs etc were. 

They thought it would be important to add. Helpful. 

They were being helpful.

“Here! The list. I added some notes too.” They grin, proud to be able to give him what he expected and maybe more. Their nails tap against the desk as they slide over the paper.

[newtthetranswriter]

Hello so uhm.... 0w0

Could I ask for a Aziraphale x reader / crowley x reader (seperated when possible) where the reader is sick and they both hug them and wrap their wings around them?

I'm just thinking their feathers would be so soft >~<

Have a nice day/evening!

Word count: Crowley’s Part 1187 / Aziraphale’s part 1579

A/n: this was nice to write. I hope it lives up to expectations. Enjoy and have a great day/ evening as well.

Crowley

    It was just a normal Tuesday, well as normal as it can get when going to work at Give Me Coffee or Give Me Death, while feeling like someone hit me with a car. My head was pounding and it felt like my small breakfast of plain toast was trying to come back up. I would have called in, but I know Nina would need the help as we were the only to set to work today. I also didn’t tell a certain snake eyed demon about being sick because I know he would have made me stay home. 

    All of this leads us to where we are right now. I’m currently taking orders while Nina works on making the coffees and teas that are requested. It’s about two in the afternoon which means it’s time for our afternoon rush of people trying to get an extra boost of energy before they end their day. Trying to keep a smile on my face as my migraine gets worse from the loud customers, and the normally enticing smell of coffee which is currently making me more nauseous, is like hell on earth. 

    I was in the middle of explaining to an older lady that decaf does not in fact contain caffeine, when I noticed a familiar pair leaving the bookshop across the street. Trying to end this conversation quickly so my friends wouldn’t have to wait too long, I offered the lady a solution. “If you are nervous about the decaf having any caffeine I can recommend a warm cup of peppermint tea. It’s relaxing and contains no caffeine at all.” I said hoping to end this back and forth. Luckily she agreed right as the demon and angel pair walked in.

    Offering the two a kind wave and forced smile, I entered the lady’s order and proceeded to enter the pairs usual order before they even reached the counter. Normally I would let them place their order like everyone else but today I didn’t want Crowley near me for too long knowing he would quickly realize I was unwell. “Hello Love, Aziraphale. I already entered your order so you can go take a seat, it’s on the house today.” I said trying to avoid conversation with the pair.

    Aziraphale just nodded in thanks before going to find a seat. While Crowley on the other hand only stepped to the side so I could continue to assist customers, while he processed my strange behavior. “You never comp our order. Something about it being bad for business. What’s going on with you?” He asked, and even though he wore such dark glasses I could tell he was squinting at me trying to figure me out.

    “Nothing is going on. Can’t I be nice to my boyfriend and friend every once in a while.” I responded mindlessly, entering orders trying to avoid my demon’s scrutiny. “I have to help these customers, Crowley go sit down with Zira and Nina will bring it out when it’s done.” I heard a slight scoff before he walked away.

    I knew he figured something out but I also knew that he wouldn’t risk making a scene at my job just because he thinks I’m hiding something. Knowing Crowley he would keep quiet about it until I was off work and that’s exactly what he did.

    After another four hours of helping customers and cleaning the shop I was finally able to go home and relax. It was a bonus that Nina had figured out that I wasn’t feeling well and told me to take the next day off to get better. So ready for an extra day to recover from this stupid migraine, I left the coffee shop and headed over to A.Z. Fell and Co. to retrieve my grump of a boyfriend knowing he tended to hangout there until I was off work so he could drive me home.

    “Hey Aziraphale, Have you seen Crowley? I just got off work and thought he’d be here like normal.” I asked the angel, who was currently reading a book at his desk, upon noticing the demon was nowhere to be seen.

     Aziraphale jumped in his seat not having heard me come in. “Oh Y/n, yes Crowley went to the pharmacy around the corner, something about picking up medicine.” He said turning slightly to look at me before turning back to his book. “Though I’m not sure what medicine he would need, it’s not like he can get sick or anything.” He continued obviously oblivious to why a demon such as Crowley would need human medicine.

     I just rolled my eyes and took a seat in an armchair. “You don’t mind if I wait for him here do you?” I asked, relaxing for the first time all day, not registering the angel's response as I fell asleep in the chair.

     “They’re sleeping Crowley, don’t wake them up. They have obviously had a long day.” I heard my angel friend address my Boyfriend. It was obvious he was trying to keep quiet but was failing as began to slowly awaken from my nap.

     I heard a groan before feeling Crowley slip one arm behind my back and the other under my legs, gently lifting me out of the arm chair. “They wouldn’t have had a long day if they told me they were sick.” I heard him grumble as he walked out of the book shop and gently placed me in his bentley. I tried to wake up fully to greet him but the gentle rumble of the car starting lulled me back to sleep as Crowley obeyed traffic laws for once.

    The next time I woke up, I was being placed on mine and Crowley’s shared bed. He had brought me home driving far too slow for his liking and then carried me all the way into our apartment. It warmed my heart to know I had such an effect on the snake-eyed demon.

    After processing where I was I finally spoke up. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want you to worry about me, it’s just a headache.” I said, trying to calm the demon.

    I watched as he set his sunglasses on his nightstand before laying down and wrapping his arms around me. “I will always worry about you, Love. I just wish you had told me. Now go back to sleep, in the morning you can take the medicine I got for you. And we will rest all day.” He said, kissing my forehead.

    “Okay” I said snuggling into his warm embrace before a thought came to mind. “Hey Crow, could you wrap your wings around me too? They’re just so soft and they help block out the light.” I asked half asleep, hoping he would agree. I didn’t have to wait long as he rolled on to his back with me laying on his chest. I heard feathers ruffle as he opened his wings before wrapping them around me.

    I cuddled closer to his chest as he whispered “anything for you, darling.” and then we both drifted off to a peaceful sleep.

Aziraphale 

    Dating an angel was a blessing and a curse. While he appreciated things like books, food, and drinks, he didn’t fully understand what it was like for humans when they got sick. Sure he’s been on earth for 6000 years and seen numerous people get sick, but it was never someone close to him. He tried to avoid sickness, he knew he couldn’t get any of the human diseases but he didn’t want to risk getting someone else sick because he came in contact with someone who was sick. He just didn’t want to risk it. 

    That’s why when I woke up this morning feeling like world war 3 was happening in my stomach, I decided to just tell my sweet boyfriend that I wouldn’t be able to come by today as work had called me in to cover for a coworker. I know it’s wrong to lie to him about it but I didn’t want him to tell me not to come over because I’m sick. It was easier on me if I canceled our plans instead of him being grossed out by my sickness. So, I’ve resigned myself to trying to nap on my couch as my bed just wasn’t comfortable right now.

     I just wanted to sleep through this, so I took some over the counter stomach medicine that I had laying around and turned on some anime to relax. 

     After about four hours of watching Demon Slayer, I decided to scroll on social media because maybe that would put me to sleep. Watching Tanjiro get his ass kicked wasn’t exactly relaxing right now. I opened up tiktok and started watching videos of different cosplayers and people making art for their small businesses. I would occasionally see one that reminded me of my demon friend Crowley and would send it to him, completely forgetting he typically hangs out with Aziraphale and would probably say something about it.

P.o.V change to Aziraphale’s bookshop

     Little did Y/n know that was exactly what was happening. Crowley was currently scrolling through his phone listening to the angel complain about his partner canceling their plans because they had to go into work. Not completely paying attention to the angle Crowley watched as a tiktok notification flashed across his screen. He opened it wondering if Y/n was at work why would they be sending him tiktok.

     “What time does Y/n typically get off work?” The demon asked, trying to process what was happening. He wondered if it was maybe something they had sent before going to work and it just took a while to come through, but then again the chat did say you were currently active in the app.

     The angel paused thinking for a moment, “I believe they get off around five, so they should still be there now. Why do you ask?” He asked curious as to what his companion was getting at.

      Crowely took a second to decide if he was going to tell the truth or try to protect the innocent man's feelings from the fact his partner had lied. Sighing, he decided it was probably best to tell the truth even if it would hurt the angel. “Well they just sent me a tiktok and it says they are active.” He said turning his Phone for his friend to see.

      The angel’s eyes went wide seeing that his partner was active on the social media app while they were supposedly at work. He tried to deny it, “Maybe they are just on break.” He really didn’t want to believe that you would lie to him about having to work. Why would lie about that, if you just needed a day to rest he would understand.

      “Well looking here it seems they have been sending me tiktoks for the past hour so unless their lunch is over an hour long, they aren’t at work.” Crowley responded, scrolling up in the conversation to see when the first one was sent to him. Even though he was a demon he didn’t want to believe that his friend would lie to the angel. Y/n just wasn’t that kind of person. “The only way to get an answer would be to go over to their apartment, cause if you call them they will probably try to play it off somehow.” He said not trying to concern the angel but also trying to voice the truth.

      Aziraphale nodded and grabbed his coat, bidding his friend goodbye and heading out. He really hoped it was just that y/n had gotten off work early for covering and it wasn’t them lying to him. The angel couldn’t help but overthink things as he approached the familiar apartment gently knocking on the door.

P.o.V back to reader

      I had almost fallen asleep when I heard a quiet knock at my front door, not thinking anything of it I got up and walked to the door. Opening the door I was shocked to see the face of my angelic boyfriend with worry written across his features.

      “Zira, what are you doing here?” I was confused as to why he showed up here after I told him I was working an extra shift. “My boss let me leave early because it was slow and turns out they didn’t need me after all, I just got home. Why don’t you come in?” I said trying to cover the fact I in fact did not go into work. Aziraphale slowly walked into my home and sat down on the couch looking around. I could tell there was something on his mind before I watched him freeze, as his eyes landed on the cold medicine sitting on the table.

      “Why didn’t you just tell me you were ill? I would have understood.” He said, sounding dejected. “I know, you lie down and I’ll make you some tea.” He started getting up from the couch. It was crazy to see how fast he could go from hurt to caring in only a few seconds. I stoof there frozen, He just figured out I lied to me, I’m guessing he knew before he came here, but he is ready to take care of me just like that. I felt a tear roll down my cheeks as I took in how truly kind Aziraphale is. “Love, what’s wrong? It’s ok, just relax, I’ll take care of you.” He noticed I was still standing by the door.

      I gently shook my head, I can’t just let him take care of me after I lied to him. “But I lied to you. I said I was going to work and canceled our plans, when in reality I’m sick. You don’t like sick people. You’ve said so yourself. You avoid them even though you can’t get sick. I thought you wouldn’t want to be near me till I get better. You don’t have to take care of me just because we are dating, I understand.” I said as more tears rolled down my face. I was too busy trying to tell him to go back to the bookshop to notice he had walked up to me.

      I was startled out of my ranting by the feeling of being wrapped in his warm embrace. He had pulled me into his chest and placed a kiss on the top of my head. I completely relaxed into him, it was the most comfortable I had felt all day. “It’s alright Darling, I’m here because I love you. I want to take care of you. I avoid sick people so I don’t get you sick, I may not get sick but I could still pass the germs to you. I will always take care of you when you don’t feel well.” He said, face still rating against my hair. I just cuddled deeper into his embrace.

      After a moment I lifted my head to break the hug so I could lie down when I noticed it wasn’t just his arms wrapped around me. I stared at the beautiful white feather that trapped me in a warm embrace. I looked at my boyfriend’s face shocked as he had never shown me his wings before. “Are those?” I asked, completely stunned. “Can I touch them?” I also asked turning in his hold reaching towards the soft feathers.

      He just responded with a hum and a nod letting me run my fingers through his feathers. They were the softest thing I had ever felt. I giggled as I felt him nuzzle his face into the back of my neck, the feathers ruffling slightly at the contact. “Are they sensitive?” I asked, noticing his reaction.

      “They can be yes. It’s been a while since I have let them out so a little more so at the moment.” I felt him speak into the back of my neck. 

      “Well thank you for showing them to me. They truly are extremely soft.” I said praising the angel wrapped around me. I completely forgot about being sick enjoying his embrace.

      He slowly let me go and guided me to the couch, folding his wings back slightly so as to not knock anything over. “Of course dear. Now lay down, I’ll be back in a moment with soup.” He said before walking off towards the kitchen leaving me to relax into the couch. It was nice knowing I had such an angel of a boyfriend to take care of me.

[bonny-kookoo]

Oh no! I want the next part of Namjoon with his hybrid...😭

"There you go." The elderly woman says in broken english, as she sets down two cups of tea on the table. Namjoon is still completely out of it- unsure if this is some cruel bad joke from the universe to actually show him how much better you have it.

But it doesn't seem like that's quite what it is- because the woman is not your owner. The other hybrids aren't owned either. You've simply gone back to a care center- but across the border, far away from him. It's no surprise he never found you.

"How are you?" He asks after a while, and you seem rather timid in answering- rather holding onto your hot cup of tea to warm your hands, shifting a bit in your seat. He remembers you being a lot more comfortable with the to him unfamiliar woman, the caretaker cleaning up your knees and helping you, while he has to watch from the sidelines, unable to get any closer. You seem wary of him now- and in a way, he can understand that. He didn't expect you to come running into his arms first thing.

You stay quiet and just nod as an answer to his question, staying quiet and detached it seems. "I.. hope you know I'm sorry." He says, and you nod- though with a somber smile.

"It's okay." You answer. "At least.. the company made sure I was sent to a place where I could be happy after you gave up." You tell him, making him confused. "Although I don't really speak the language well.." You admit sheepishly.

"How- I never 'gave up'. What are you talking about?" He asks, and you look at him with a bit of suspicion now.

"You couldn't handle me anymore." You explain what the managers had told you back then. "It got too much- and that's fine, I know that hybrids can be a lot, and I-" You try and tell him, but he shakes his head, leaning forward with a desperate look on his face.

This hurts a lot more than just the fact that you were taken away. You were obviously lied to, you thought he had given you away with no regards for your feelings, as if you both didn't have something special. It's true that he had never had the chance to tell you that he adores you as more than just a simple hybrid or even friend- but still. To think that you must've thought he had no interest in you any longer, which couldn't be further from the truth.

"That's completely false." He tells you, trying to calm himself down. "I asked them if they could help me figure something out while I went on tour, just like I told you-" He explains. "-and they said they would simply pay for a care spot at Jeju's Hybrid health center. And I agreed! You know, because you enjoyed it so much there when you were recovering from pneumonia, remember?" he says, becoming a bit choked up as he watches you clearly remembering what he's talking about. "But when I came back, and I asked when I could pick you up-" He takes a deep breath, recollecting himself so he doesn't potentially scare you by getting so emotional. "-they simply told me 'never'. That was the answer I got." He tells you defeated.

You watch him for a moment, before you adjust your position on the chair again. The small kitchen space is empty apart from you both, a stark contrast to the usually busy life whenever it's meal time. You wouldn't say its a bad place to live- the caretaker is doing very well to provide the best care for everyone, but it's still not a home. It's just another spot to reside at until someone decides to take you with them. His story makes more sense than him simply giving you up for no reason- especially considering that you were just.. so sure that he really cared for you.

You also don't have to ask why he never searched for you, considering that you received a new ID after crossing the border, and that Namjoon possibly didn't even know where they had taken you.

"I'm sorry that they've done this to you. I'm sorry I didn't just.. think of something different." He sighs.

"There wasn't really anything different though." You shrug.

"There was." He shakes his head. "I could've.. Jungkook, he has a hybrid. He's bringing her to work every day, you know? He fought for her. Said he'd refuse to continue his career if they wouldn't have let him keep her." He chuckles. "I should've been like that."

"It was a different time though." You admit. "You were.. not as big as you were today." You remind him. "You didn't have that much freedom yet."

"Still." He states. "I should've tried harder." He emphasizes, looking down onto the table.

"…Joon.?" You ask, and he instantly looks up at that nickname, nodding. "Can I hug you?" You ask, and he clenches his jaw.

"That.. might not be a good idea." He tells you, watching with a painful heart how your ears droop down in disappointment. "I might just create more pain like this, considering that.. the situation we're in right now." He explains.

"So, we're not going home?" You ask, and he feels his heart clench. It must be intimidating to be in a country you don't even understand the language of, let alone know your way around.

"I can ask to have you swapped into a carecenter back in korea if you'd like." he asks, but you shake your head.

"No, I mean home as in-" You seem to become restless in your seat- something he remembers you doing often. "home with you. You're home." You tell him.

"Would you.. like to go home with me? Even after all of this?" He questions, and your eyes glaze over as you nod with unshed tears. And in that moment, he knows what he needs to do. He knows what's on the line, and he's not going to let it be ruined ever again.

So he opens his arms for you, inviting you to come back as he silently promises close to your ear, his hold tight and secure with you on his lap, tail slowly wagging. "Then I'll take you home. Promise."

[devilmayfamily]

Day 5 - Fighting for Your Hand

Being friends with the Sparda twins was both a blessing and a curse. While they were a handful most of the time, they could be fun at some points. However, now they were not being fun. 

With Urizen out there causing trouble and Vergil nowhere to be found, you were stuck with babysitting Dante while he recovered from his yearly rest as Nero and some man named V looked to take down Urizen.

“You and your brother are going to be the reason I die young”, you say, scolding the younger Sparda twin.

“At least I’m easy to take care of”, Dante croaked out, his voice still a little sore.

“For now”

You walk over to the younger Sparda, who was laying on the van couch, with a mug of warm tea and buttered toast. Dante sat up, carefully taking the items from you and consuming them.

You returned to the small van kitchen as the door swung open, Griffon flying in first, his master walking in after him.

“Hey toots!” Griffon said, perching himself on the counter in front of you.

“Hi Griffon”, you reply, scratching underneath the oversized bird's chin. Griffon cooed as he leaned into your touch, almost losing his balance.

“I have to find some herbs for our dear old Dante over here”, you say, slinging a messenger bag onto your shoulder. “Watch him. And don’t mess up the van, you know how Nico gets.”

With the click of the door shutting behind you, a new silence fills the van as V takes a seat across from Dante. It was awkward per-say but the air was tense between the two.

"Hey devil man, when are you gonna quite faking all this and get back on the front lines?" Griffon asked. "You're kind of stealing the maidens attention away right now."

"I'm not faking anything," Dante replied, setting his cup of tea on the counter behind him.

"I don't know, you seemed pretty healthy to me when we found you," Griffon replies.

"Who else is she supposed to pay attention to anyways? I'm the main attraction 'round here," Dante said.

V, who was pretending to be reading this entire time, rolled his eyes, scoffing at the comment.

"Oh I see," Dante says. "You like her too."

V didn't answer the man, only looking up at him with a smile. "And what makes you think that?"

Dante smirked. "Maybe I'm wrong. Shouldn't bother that much then if I try to court her first," he says.

"Courting her, is that what you think you're doing?" Griffon asked. The bird laughed at the notion.

"What? You think you're doing any better?", Dante asked.

V smirked, snapping his book closed. "She's always had a thing for mystery," he replies. He carefully stands, tucking his book away and making his way to the door.

"What makes you so knowledgeable about her?" Dante asks.

V turns, giving the devil hunter a smile. "She's always been a dear friend," he says before leaving the van. Griffon squawked, following his master out the door before it closed.

Dante looked confused at the door before realization hit him. The Red Devil quickly got up, rushing towards the door. He swung it open, looking for the poet.

Across the way he spotted the you and poet talking's pile of herbs piled in the bag you had brought out with you. Dante watched as you laughed at something V said, the poet smiling at you. A low growl rumbled out from the man, Dante huffing at seeing the two of you flirting.

"Ok V, two can play at this game"

[kuronanox]

Hidden Emotions - Byakuya Kuchiki

Ever since Byakuya left to Hueco Mundo to help aid Ichigo, rukia and their friends (Your Name) had been restless.

She treated Byakuya after he took a hit from Gin's sword during the execution of his sister in law. When he was at the infirmary in the 4th squad Unohana trusted (Your Name) to tend Byakuya every need.

At first she was against healing him because nobles had a tendency to be stuck up and he even let his sister die for a moment. But she gave him a chance and she couldn't go against her captains orders.

She spend many days in his infirmary room helping him recover that she eventually broke the cold facade he shown everyone.

"Hello Kuchiki Taicho! I'm here to check up." (Your Name) peeps her head in his room with a smile. After getting his approval to come in she set his food down and grabbed a few instruments to check his vital signs and wound.

"Okay breathe in and out slowly." She says and touch his back lightly to straighten his back.

Byakuya was a man with very few words so usually check ups were rather very quiet for her. "Everything is fine, the wound is healing slower than usual but still you have to be in bed."

He nods as she hands him his food for the morning. "Is there anything else I can get you?"

"Name." He tells her flatly not looking at her direction.

"My name?"

"Yes, your name." He then looks up to her as she slowly grew flush.

"Uhh, it's (Your Name)."

"Thank you (Your Name) you may leave." He states as she bows respectfully and closes the door lightly.

Every day it was slowly getting better, the first few days were definitely awkward but after he would talk to her. She guessed it was because he was bored.

"How long have you've been in the 4th squad?" He asks curiously as she prepared him another robe for the day.

"Probably 25 years already, I'm not the fighting type really although I am really outspoken! People mistaken me for a fighter rather than a healer."

"I can see that." He states as she lightly laughs.

"You know I didn't like you at first, but you aren't half bad."

A visible smirk came from his lips, he was definitely interested in her.

"Rather bold to say."

She shrugs with a small chuckle and helps him off the bed to freshen up for the day. "Hold on don't step there or else you will sli-"

Byakuya lost his footing as (Your Name) was below him. His weight was definitely much heavier than hers as she tightly wrapped her arms around him.

Byakuya reflexes were fast but he couldn't avoid the fall so his only way to protect her head from hitting the floor was to put his hand behind it.

"Are you okay?!" She says from under as he looks down to see her worried. Their closeness was to close yet comforting to Byakuya to have someone wrap their arms around him again.

Unwrapping her arms she helped him up and examined his hand that was bruised.

"Sorry, I've should have warned you before getting up." She says and looks at the dirty robe that he slipped on.

"It's fine." He states as she heals it.

There was silence between them again, she could feel that his heart was racing. Byakuya would never show it though. "You can relax."

He looks up to her and gently grabs her hand. "Thank you, you may leave for today."

After that awkward fall between them he slightly distance himself again but not to the point where he closed himself off to her.

Byakuya knew his feelings for her were developing but he was afraid of losing someone important again so he suppressed them for a while.

"Rukia came and visited again?" (Your Name) asks as she walked into the room a little while after Rukia left.

Byakuya nodded as (Your Name) took a seat besides the bedside.

“Yes she came.”

"Must be nice to have a sibling." She said envious to have someone to lean on.

Byakuya doesn't say anything and look towards her. "Are you a only child?"

"Yes, my parents died a long time ago."

"Family is complicated but I agree with you. I was an only child too so I know how it feels." He says as she just smiles at his attempt to make her feel better.

"You leave tomorrow, are you excited?"

He nods as she places her hands on her hips and leans towards him. "Don't think you will escape me I have to still visit you once a day to make sure everything is good! Don't think you can get rid of me just yet!" She pouts.

"Of course (Your Name)." He says with a slight smile.

Byakuya was released to go back home and he had so much work to catch up on. The load was piling high because Renji alone couldn't get it done.

He sighed and massaged his neck lightly, his days were long and with almost no sleep. He also wanted to train more after a rude awakening of Ichigo surpassing him and getting badly injured trying to save Rukia he strived to get stronger.

Yet a certain person disrupted his mind when he was working or sleeping. Byakuya found himself wanting to spend more time with (Your Name). He was to hard on himself he knew Rukia and Hisana would want him to be happy too.

He was afraid of losing someone again.

Would (Your Name) share the same feelings for him? She clearly expressed how she didn't like him from the start.

The next day she came in the afternoon to check up. After checking him up she packed her bags.

"Join me for tea." He tells her lightly brushing the paper with ink and setting it aside.

"Me?!"

"Who else's name is (Your Name)?"

The tea was delightful, Byakuya opened up about himself to her. She was quite surprised herself that he was being so interested in her.

When he was fully recovered she didn't visit everyday but he would ask her out often. He had a nice dinner with her once at the Kuchiki manor and they spent a lot of time walking around and enjoying the nice view of the trees and flowers that bloomed.

She even spent nights with him as they shared one bed. In the back of her head she asked herself if this was real or fake their relationship that is.

Byakuya never announced they were a item but people started to take a notice and said no words.

(Your Name) grabbed his face gently as they fell on the bed as he passionately catches her lips with his lightly sucking her bottom lip.

"Stay with me tonight." He tells her as she nods slowly and wraps her arms around him.

Running her hands through his hair he relaxes and closes his eyes.

(Your Name) had just got news that Aizen was defeated and they had won the war. A sense of relief came across her.

She wanted to see Byakuya but everyone was forbid for see the Captains until they were rested.

A little sadden that he didn't come and see her after returning she laid in bed.

"I mean we aren't dating or anything so he's not obligated to see me or I to him."

Sighing she pulled the blankets over her and closed her eyes.

Byakuya came later that night, he wasn't in the best mood but seeing her safe and sound soothed him. Brushing her hair aside he traced her facial features. She swat his hand away and cuddled into the blankets more.

A soft fluffy feelings embraced her as she struggled to open her eyes as a warm touch came across her.

"Don't worry it's only me." His deep voice says placing her gently down. Waking up completely she sees that they were in Byakuya room.

"You came." She says happily with a smile as he cups one of her cheeks and caresses it.

"Of course I did." He tells her with uncertainty in his face.

"Well what's wrong? You seem like something is bothering you."

He looks shock that she could read through his expression. "You could tell?"

"You maybe be good at hiding your emotions but I can tell."

Byakuya felt light as he proceeded to explain what had been bothering him.

"I almost lost Rukia again in battle."

She looks up at him and see that he was troubled. "But she's safe now, it will be okay. Rukia is a big girl now."

"Not only that but also I've been neglecting my feelings for you. I feel like you deserve someone that won't hide their emotions away."

(Your Name) eyes widen as she soften up.

"Jeez dont worry about it, it's not like we are together."

That's what Byakuya did not like, that they had no label. If it was modern day he would call it fuck buddies and he definitely didn't want that.

He came to certain that he would one day need a heir and someone to retire with once old age came upon.

Although the relationship was young it had potential and Byakuya would only stick around and invest if he knew something or someone was promising.

"Would you like to be my girlfriend? I know I haven't been the greatest at showing my emotions but over the time I've spent with you it was quite enjoyable." He tells her.

(Your Name) couldn't refuse, there was of course lots to talk about but at the moment she just wanted to give him a huge hug and scream yes.

"Of course." She says and brings him into a embrace. "I've missed you, I was worried about you too."

He smiles to himself and slides his arms around her. "Don't worry, I'm here now."

"But now that we are official I promise to give you my individual attention and promise to make you happy everyday."

She grins and kiss him lightly on the nose.

"I would like that."

Laying down next to her on the bed he pulled her close and entwined their lips once more to a demanding and hungry kiss.

Byakuya was a man of class but sometimes he had a messy side he tried to keep hidden. Tonight though he wanted to feel the both of them.

Placing her under him he tilted her head to get access to her creamy skin and neck.

Leaving love marks as he slowly sucked and bite down the flesh.

"There will be no sleep tonight." He tells her as she pulls him down to her.

"Show me a great time tonight." (Your Name) breathlessly says after.

[managedmischiefs]

north//chapter three

here’s the new chapter!! please enjoy and leave me your feedback! as always, let me know if you want to be on the taglist by sending me an ask :)

genre: fluff, angst if u squint

pairing: season nine spencer reid x female oc

warnings: none

word count: 11.3k

SPENCER

The elevator doors pop open on the sixth floor on a bright, sunny day, and the smile on my face is the biggest it’s ever been and I don’t think there’s any way I’ll be able to wipe it off. This morning, Amelia confessed that she had never seen Doctor Who before, and then she encouraged me to ramble on and on about my favorite parts and favorite characters and she asked questions and my smile never went away, even as we said our goodbyes and through the dirty train ride. But having seen Amelia will make my day better and the walk to my desk seems so much brighter and happier than normal.

"Good morning, Spencer," Alex smiles at me as she passes my desk, setting her bag down and sending me a wave. 

"Morning," I return her smile, taking the last sip of the coffee from my cup, the one from my meeting with Amelia, giving it one more longing look before tossing the cup in the trash.

Alex watches me closely as she sheds her jacket and scarf, draping it over her chair. "Weather's rough, right? It's getting really cold,"

I spin in my chair and my eyes trace up to where the wall and the ceiling meet, staring out the windows there. "Yeah, it's pretty rough out there,"

"Christmas is soon though," a smile comes to her face as she sits and takes a breath. "Do you have any plans yet? Do you think you'll go to see your mom?"

I shrug my shoulders and push away the sharp pain in my chest at the mention of my mom and at the mention of such a joyous holiday that’s supposed to be filled with friends and family. But instead, I’ll do the same things I’ve done the last few years- sit by myself at home and reread a book from my shelf. "Not sure yet. Haven't really thought about it,"

Alex hums, not pleased with that answer, and spins her chair around to face her desk. "Okay, well, don't wait too long or else you won't have any plans, and nobody should be left alone on Christmas," I choose not to respond. I just turn my chair back to face my desk and get to work.

"Good morning, wonderful crime fighters!" Garcia exclaims, bounding into the bullpen as Morgan holds the door open for her. Her bubbly attitude brings JJ and Rossi over to my desk area and even though I was trying to avoid any conversation, I spin in my chair to join the circle that forms. "I've brought cookies to lighten the mood that this horrible, horrible cold weather is reigning down on you BAU-tiful people," she grins happily at her recycled pun as she pops the top off the tin in her hand. Everyone, except for me because group food is not and has never been my jam, reaches their hands in and grabs some cookies, mumbling a few thank yous to our dear friend.

"So what's up with everyone?" Morgan asks, glancing around at the team. "We're always together but we don't always get to talk about our lives. So, come on, I know someone's got something,"

There's a moment of silence between the team where everyone wants someone else to speak up first, especially me. I wish I could duck my head down and hide under my desk because I know they will all want to ask me about what’s going on in my life and I'm not ready to tell them yet, and I’m not the best liar. I want to keep Amelia a secret. I want to keep her for myself. But if I try to make myself smaller in any way, then a team of profilers will notice immediately and I'll get called out. It's a lose-lose for me. And maybe it's irrational to want to keep her my secret. Last time I did that, it didn't end well and I’ve never forgiven myself for that. But even still, I want to keep Amelia for myself.

"Well," JJ laughs when nobody speaks up, "Will and I took Henry to the zoo for the first time over the weekend and he absolutely loved it,"

That brings everyone into a conversation and I'm glad I can let my mind wander off to Amelia. She always looks beautiful, but she looked especially stunning today. She wore plaid jeans with a black sweater tucked in, a black knit scarf, and her normal black boots. Of course, she had a black peacoat on to shield her from the weather, and the strap of her camera was slung over her shoulder instead of around her neck. Her hair was up in this messy braided updo that I don't even want to spend time wondering how long it took her to execute. Her nail color changed for the millionth time, now to a pale blue. Her necklace was almost completely hidden behind her scarf but I noticed that she wears the same one every day, a small butterfly. But today, there was just something about her smile and her laugh that made me feel extra warm inside. It made me feel like I wanted to scoop her up and bring her back to my apartment and never let her leave.

"Reid? Hey, Reid!" There's suddenly a hand snapping in front of my face, bringing me out of yet another one of my daydreams.

Everyone has vacated the area and Alex is crouched in front of me, brows furrowed in confusion. I lift my head, blinking a few times to bring myself back to reality. "Sorry, what did you say?"

Alex tilts her head, resting her arms on her legs. "Are you okay? You haven't been yourself lately. You've been a little bit distracted," she sighs and I can tell that she's wondering if she should say something. She ultimately makes a decision in her head to not say it and instead just waits for me to answer. But her holding back her thoughts frustrates me. I thought we were close so why would she hold anything back from me? When has she ever held anything back from me?

"Say what you were gonna say," I insist, sitting up more in my chair. "You were gonna say something. Say it,"

Alex chews on her lips and lets out a long breath, glancing around to make sure that nobody is too close. "Well," she hesitates one more time, "I know that you're still hurting about Maeve and-"

"No," I cut her off before she can even finish her sentence, "it's not about that. It's-" I push my hair out of my face as my breath gets caught in my throat. I take a replenishing breath and shake my head, turning back to the paperwork on my desk, "I'm fine, okay? I promise. Thanks for, uh, looking out for me,"

"Maybe you should consider going to therapy," Alex is clearly not ready to let this conversation go.

"I'm fine," I say yet again, giving her a tight-lipped smile, not even glancing her way again.

I hear Blake sigh and then walk around, seeing her sit down at her desk. There's part of me that feels bad for being so secretive to my closest friends. But I want to keep Amelia for myself. The team likes to know everything and they like to bring up significant others all the time. I don't want Amelia brought up like that. I don't want Morgan teasing me about her, or Garcia insisting on a double date, or JJ wanting to know how we met. But besides, Amelia isn't even my girlfriend. Right now, she's just a girl that I get coffee with before work. I wish she was more, but she's not.

Garcia comes back into the bullpen, holding a hoard of IPads in her arms and one case file for me. "It's case time, my loves!"

There’s a collective sigh that falls over the group as everyone pushes themselves out of their seats and towards the round table room, ready to endure another day of sadness. There’s no good day to get cases but really, there couldn’t be a worse time to get a case. Amelia and I ran out of time this morning and her story about the time her and her best friend got lost in California on a spring break vacation got cut short, and she promised to finish it tomorrow. She also swore that I could tell her all about my time at CalTech and about my favorite classes, all while she lets me fiddle around with whichever camera she happens to bring that day, even though I could possibly break it. I mean, she couldn’t get any more amazing. Technology is not my strong suit, whether it’s a computer or a phone or even a camera, but she’s still going to let me tinker with it. I didn’t think that she could get any better. 

After the catastrophe with Maeve, I never thought I'd ever have feelings for another person again. I thought that I'd die alone and loving Maeve. I thought she was my soulmate. I thought that the connection we had was one in a million and that I would never connect with someone on a romantic level again. Seeing her die right in front of me was like no other death I had ever witnessed and nobody, including and especially me, thought I would ever recover from that.

As much as I don't want to admit it and as adamantly as I will deny it, I've been through a lot. Childhood aside, my work at the FBI has been grueling. I've been taken hostage, I've mourned the death of my best friend who actually wound up to be alive and I’ve mourned the death of my unit chiefs wife, I've conquered drug addiction and two relapses alone, I’ve spent months mulling over the death of my girlfriend, and I've seen more death, destruction, and horror than anyone ever should.

It's unfair, really. All I wanted to do with my life and with my career was to help people and do something bigger than myself, but in turn, I've ruined myself. And after everything I've seen and how it has changed me, I’ve been expecting to work myself to death and die alone. I'm a loose cannon and it's obvious. I try to keep myself reined in, but I know that won't last for long. The years that I’ve spent at the FBI have imprinted on my brain and I thought that Maeve would be my refuge, but she was ripped away from me. Then and there, I knew that I would never love again. 

But then Amelia waltz's into my life. She comes bouncing in with her black heels, vintage cameras, tea bags, nose piercing, beautiful smile, and melodious laugh. She makes me feel like a normal person. She doesn't treat me like an FBI agent, or like someone who has endured the traumas that I have, and maybe that's because I haven't told her about any of my trauma, but I intend to keep it that way for as long as I can. Amelia comes laughing into my life with her denim skirts that aren't appropriate for the cold weather, curly blonde hair wrapped in patterned scarves or tied back in scrunchies, love for red wine, entrancing blue eyes, and her affinity for strawberries.

It's impossible to not fall in love with her and I hate myself for that. She makes it incredibly easy, so maybe it's not my fault that I can't get her out of my head. Maybe it's not my fault that I look at the empty spot on my desk and wonder what it would be like to have a picture of her there. Maybe it's not my fault that I hold her pinky in mine for far too long when we say our goodbyes. I wish I could blame my feelings all on her. I wish I could blame Amelia for how fast I'm falling for her.

I fall in love with the energy she radiates. I fall in love with the way she speaks of her creative process while painting a new piece or drawing a new picture. I fall in love with the way she claims she has a foolproof formula for finding hidden treasures in any given thrift store. I fall in love with the way she always has a new story to tell yet listens to every word I have to say. She speaks with such passion and fire in her eyes that it draws me in. Amelia has even taken to setting an alarm on her phone to make sure I leave on time for work and every few days, she makes sure to show up before I do so that she can order both of our drinks so that it's not always me ordering for her and "wasting my money on her hot, flavored water."

Amelia and I keep up our morning coffee meetings for two months. We meet as much as we can, only taking the time off when I'm not away on a case. It's actually normalizing my sleep schedule too and I'm getting more sleep than I have in two years- or since Maeve died. When these meetings started, I used to not be able to sleep out of pure excitement of knowing I'd be able to see Amelia again. But then she started to text me the night before, sometimes to remind me to set an alarm so I'm not late or to remind me to bring a magic trick to show her (magic tricks are now common occurrences in the mornings) or to just tell me that she's looking forward to seeing me tomorrow. It’s always an odd sensation to get that third text because most people aren’t usually excited to see me.

The word date never surfaced in any of our conversations. I'm not sure if any of these meetings would be considered a date. Typically, dates happen at night, but these coffee meetings are happening bright and early in the morning. And maybe I'm too scared to even bring up the word date because then that will solidify what we're doing, if we even are doing anything. I'm too scared to admit that I'm falling way too hard and way too fast for Amelia.

But as terrified as I am of the way that I feel about Amelia, I wish so desperately that I wasn’t. I wish I could climb to the roof of my apartment building and scream at the top of my lungs that I’m falling in love and that I want everyone to know. I want to be able to see her outside of the confines of a tiny cafe just a block away from my apartment. I want to be able to see her out on the town, laughing and bouncing on her toes in the adorable way that she does. I want to do anything else in the world with her besides just sitting and drinking tea or coffee. I want to know even more about her. I want to know absolutely everything. I need to know everything.

ONE WEEK LATER

SPENCER

"So you got shot in the knee?"

"Yeah. The doctors told me that I might never walk without a cane again,"

"I'd like to see you with a cane," Amelia snorts, tucking her face behind her cup of tea as she succumbs to a fit of giggles. The sight makes me laugh too, trying to hide my joy behind my cup of coffee. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to laugh. It's just-" she takes a long breath to calm herself, and, with a giant smile, she continues, "an FBI agent with a cane? I can't picture it,"

"Well, I wouldn't be allowed in the field. As much as I thrive in the police departments, I love being in the field. It gives you a rush, you know?"

"Mm, no. I don't know," Amelia laughs, "but I can imagine what you're talking about. An adrenaline rush. I've never caught a bad guy in action like you do. I mean, the closest I've ever come to that is catching one of my siblings stealing cookies late at night,"

A fond memory comes to mind, one involving a dinosaur-shaped cookie jar and a little hand. "I've caught my godson doing the same,"

"So, Spencer," Amelia's voice is lighter as she moves away from the previous topic of me taking a bullet in the field. She shimmies her shoulders just a little bit, then gestures to the Christmas drawings on the window. "Do you have any plans for Christmas next week?"

Oh, the dreaded question. Each of my team members had asked me that during our case last week and I had to lie every single time. I don't want them to feel bad for me when I tell them I don’t have any plans and I’ll be spending Christmas alone. Alex might try to invite me to dinner with her family, and JJ would probably do the same and swear that Henry had been asking about his godfather, but it's just out of pure pity. I don't need any more pity from my team.

"Um," I have to keep my voice from cracking as I drown out myself in a sip of coffee, "no,"

"No?" Amelia repeats, but her face doesn't change at all, not like she’s sad or she’s pitying me. "Me either. I told you, my family's in Texas and I'd only be able to go out there for two days. So as much as I'd love to go, it doesn't really make sense, you know?"

"Yeah, that makes sense. My mom is in Las Vegas so I know what you mean,”

Amelia looks down at her cup of tea, fiddling with the teabag. "You know, if you don't have anything to do on Christmas, maybe we could spend the day together?" She suggests, glancing up at me with a nervous smile. "I was planning on spending the day alone but if you also don't have anything to do, maybe we could do something together," she goes quiet for a moment and I wait, wondering if she's finished with her request. Or maybe it’s just that I’m speechless and I have absolutely nothing to say in response to that request. Yeah, that’s more likely. She, again, looks down at her cup and I can see her fingers shaking slightly as she toys with the teabag. "And besides, I love our little coffee dates but it'd be nice to see you outside of here,"

And there it is. It all comes out with just those few sentences. Not only does Amelia see these meetings as dates, but she wants to see me outside of the cafe. She wants to spend Christmas with me, a day that you usually spend with your family or your closest friends. She was so nervous to ask me about this that her hands are shaking. When has this ever happened? Usually I'm the anxious one. I'm the one here who does the nervous laughing and fumbles over my words and taps my feet and fiddles with my hair. She's usually the one who takes charge of the conversation and laughs louder and initiates our pinky hold when we have to say goodbye. Being anxious is my thing and if Amelia is taking that over, then that must mean that this request took a lot to say.

"You don't have to if you don't want to," she adds quickly before hiding, again, behind a sip of her tea.

I’ve let myself hold back with Amelia for far too long- for two whole months. I’ve gone two months without growing some balls and asking her out and I can’t handle it anymore. I need to see her with a different background behind her other than a tan leather booth. So I don’t give myself a moment to think or stress before I speak. "I'd love to," 

Amelia's eyes dart up to me and her smile starts to grow. "Really?" I nod wordlessly, too scared that I'll say something dumb and ruin it if I open my mouth. "I would've thought you'd say no," The alarm on Amelia's phone goes off, telling us that it's time for me to leave for work. She gives me a sad smile and silences it, chewing on her lip. "Time for you to go. You've got people to save, Dr. Reid,"

The two of us stand and wrap ourselves in our coats and scarves before heading out the door, into the bitter, cold wind. Amelia turns on her heel and holds out her pinky to me. I switch my coffee to my left hand and wrap my right pinky around her, watching her nose start to go pink from the weather surrounding us. Amelia smiles, and the timer in my head starts to run, counting up the seconds we stand in front of each other and just smile. We’re already standing here longer than yesterday but not as long as Tuesday two weeks ago. And the longer we stand here, the pinker Amelia’s nose gets, and the more my heart melts.

"Get warm soon," I tell her softly, worried that if I speak too loud, I’ll ruin the moment.

"You too," she smiles, wrapping her finger even tighter around mine as a way to tell me not to leave just yet. "I know you'll let me know if you have a case. But if you do," she lets out a breath, dropping her smile until her dimples disappear, "get home before Christmas."

///

I inhale deeply and brush my fingers through my hair, trying to make it seem somewhat presentable as I turn the corner to Amelia's apartment, double-checking that I'm at the right one. I smooth down my sweater and check that my converse are tied twice before knocking on the door. I can hear music from inside her apartment but I can't tell exactly what the song is yet, but based on what today is, I can only assume it’s a Christmas song.

I wait patiently for a moment behind a closed door, still second-guessing my slightly more casual outfit of converse, jeans, and a Christmas sweater. And after only a minute I'm convinced that Amelia has backed out and doesn't want me around for this sacred holiday, and I’m almost convince o turn around and leave. Maybe I could walk home and find a bookstore and get some takeout. I'm about to do just that and I’m mentally mapping out the best route home when the door swings open and Amelia stands there with her stunning smile.

"Hi, Spencer!" She exclaims, popping the door all the way open and letting me feel the heat that radiates from the inside. "Come in, please," Relief washes over me as I step inside her warm apartment, my eyes darting around the walls and decor of her home. "You can just put your stuff anywhere. It doesn't really matter to me. Make yourself at home. Be comfortable," I recognize the song now as It's Beginning to Look A Lot Like Christmas, playing from her beloved record player that I’ve heard a surprising amount about. She bought it when she first moved to Virginia and it was the first thing she bought for her apartment, before she even bought a bed or food or utensils.

I pull my messenger bag off and set it beside the door, ridding myself of my peacoat and my scarf, hanging them up on the coatrack. Amelia is still standing beside me but before I take the time to admire her like I usually do, I really stop to look at her apartment. It's exactly how I pictured it to be. It reflects her personality perfectly.

The walls are comprised of dark brick and there are different pieces of artwork scattered along the walls of her entire apartment, like stray photographs and polaroids put up with wash tape, or a canvas painting in a frame, and a floral tapestry behind the television. To my left is a huge shelf of books and records followed by a wall full of picture frames with pictures I can only assume are of her family and friends. To the right of the door is a cozy looking living room with a tv and the active record player, and a fireplace with a log already lit. Beside the living room is the kitchen, and across from the kitchen is a set of floating stairs that leads up to what I presume is Amelia's bedroom. In front of the stairs is a door out to a small balcony overlooking the city.

"Hey," Amelia reaches over and pokes my shoulder, laughing, "stop profiling my apartment. I cleaned up for you, there can't be too much for you to judge,"

"Profiling isn't actually judging, per se," I blurt out facts before I can stop myself. "Profiling is actually just noticing behavior,"

Amelia crosses her arms over her chest, etching on a smile. "Sometimes I wonder how your head isn't physically bigger with all that information you've got stored up in there. Really, it keeps me up at night sometimes," she says quickly, and then rolls her eyes at herself. She gestures towards the kitchen, "Well, I've got- oh, Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas,” I echo, following her into her kitchen, trailing just a step behind her.

As she walks in front of me, I get the chance to admire her. Today, she's decided to wear a black and white plaid tweed skirt with a red knit turtleneck tucked into it. Her legs are bare otherwise but she's wearing dark wool socks with a pattern on them, almost identical to the ones I’m wearing. Her hair is down in curls and flowing down to her waistline, but there's a green clip on the left side of her head that's holding back some of her hair. Her face is glowing, like usual, and her nose and ear piercings are in, like usual. It takes me a moment to realize how much smaller she is now that she's not wearing the heels she always has on. I'd peg her at around 5'2" and that's a major difference with me at about 6'1”. But even though I’ve observed countless outfits of hers, she's just as beautiful today as she is every other day.

"So I thought that, since it's only noon, we could make some Christmas cookies," she suggests, showing me her kitchen island full of cookies and bags and ingredients. "I have ingredients for quite a lot of cookies because I meant to make them myself but never got around to it. I have ingredients for gingerbread cookies and sugar cookies and oatmeal cookies and probably way more,"

"Sounds good to me. I like all of those,” The thought of making all those cookies with Amelia sounds much better than sitting and doing nothing. I don’t have time to make cookies like this on my own and I didn’t get to have any of Penelope’s, so making cookies with Amelia sounds like the perfect way to spend Christmas.

Amelia sits down at a barstool and gestures for me to sit beside her, and it’s a weird sensation, for a split second, to be sitting beside her instead of across from her. She reaches for a bag of flour and a bowl, but her hand stops midair when she looks over at me and a smile breaks out on her face. "I like your sweater,"

I glance down at my sweater, just shrugging at my own appearance as if I wasn’t freaking out about it ten minutes ago. "It's just a sweater," It’s one that I’ve had for as long as I can remember and one that could probably pass as ugly, but it has a pattern with snowflakes and stripes and reindeer. I almost didn’t wear it because I thought that maybe Amelia would think it was ugly.

"But Spencer, I always see you in your work clothes. You're always wearing sweater vests and button-ups. You're still wearing jeans and converse but the sweater is a change. I like it, that's all,"

She turns her back to me to grab something else and her compliment makes me chew on the inside of my cheek. I wipe my hands on my pants before I take a deep breath. You can do it, Spencer. You grew enough balls to accept her Christmas invitation. You can do this. "I like your outfit," Oh thank god I managed to say that without sounding like a total idiot.

When Amelia turns back around to set the sugar on the counter, she's blushing. "Thanks,"

I read over the recipes she has printed out and then set them aside, standing up again so I can attempt to start helping her. We decide to start with the Pillsbury sugar cookies since all we have to do is put those in the oven, so we start arranging them on a tray.

"I should warn you," I mumble to Amelia as we bump hips, "I'm not the best baker,"

"It's not too hard," Amelia says nonchalantly. "I'll give you some tips. A smart man like you can pick it up, don't worry, love,"

The simple pet name makes me blush but we're both so preoccupied with putting the frozen cookies on the tray that Amelia doesn't notice. The simple pet name makes my heart beat faster and almost burst out of my chest. Once the cookies are on the tray, she puts them in the oven and then turns to me.

"Okay, which cookies do you wanna make first?" She grabs the recipes and holds them up for me to see as if I hadn’t looked at them before. 

"What do you think we should do?" She looks up at me with her big, beautiful eyes, and I almost get lost for a moment, but I pull myself back when she rustles the papers again. "I've never done this before and you seem to have a lot of experience so-"

"You've never made Christmas cookies before?" Amelia gasps, the papers falling onto the table as her jaw drops in disbelief, and I shake my head at her. "Okay, then we're gonna make gingerbread cookies first because they’re a classic. They're my favorite and they're the most fun to decorate so hopefully you’ll like them too. I can't believe you've never done this before!"

She whips around and starts to assemble a new set of ingredients, telling me now and then how much to measure out, even though I've memorized the entire recipe. But nonetheless, I let her take the lead and take the previous cookies out of the oven.

"Okay, come here," Amelia says when my back is turned to her. She has the gingerbread dough rolled out on the island and a few different sized molds laid out, flour caked on her hands. "Getting the dough onto the pan is an art itself," I let out a little laugh, but then she turns her head with a threatening look as if to say I’m serious, that isn't threatening at all. "I'm serious. First, you've gotta use the mold to cut. Then you've gotta wiggle the mold. Then you've gotta get the dough off the counter and that's the hardest part because if you didn't put down enough flour then you’re screwed. It's an art. You laugh, but it's true,"

"I believe you," I put my hands up in surrender, reaching for one of the molds. I stand beside her and it takes me a moment to process how close I actually am, and I only do when I feel her body heat on me. "So, like this?" I push the mold into the dough and then wiggle the plastic back and forth until it's completely separated from the mass of dough, just like she told me to. But then when I lift the mold, the snowflake-shaped piece of dough completely lifts and folds over, ruining the dough. I let out a defeated sigh, looking up at Amelia with a dramatic pout, silently begging for help. "It is an art,"

Amelia giggles, bopping my nose, and I can feel some flour residue getting left there, making me scrunch up my nose. "Yes, it is. I'm glad you've realized, let me help you,"

///

An hour passes and we've finished baking all the gingerbread men, we're baking chocolate chip oatmeal cookies, and we've eaten half of the sugar cookies. We're chatting aimlessly about anything and everything and I'm starting to really actually enjoy this. I’m happy to be seeing Amelia outside of the cafe and I’m happy to be so comfortable with her, and to see her literally and metaphorically let her hair down. I thought I would be riddled with anxiety and would have to make some excuse to go rushing out, but now I don’t think I ever want to go home. I would be content with never leave this artsy apartment and making cookies with Amelia for the rest of my life.

"I'm gonna try to make you but as a gingerbread man," Amelia says as she sits down with a piping bag full of icing and half of the gingerbread men. I've got the other bag of icing in my hand and the other half of the gingerbread men in front of me, waiting to be decorated with far less finesse than Amelia’s cookies.

"You're an artist. You've got an unfair advantage," I pout yet again, starting to make uneven lines and lopsided eyes on my cookies. I grimace at my creations and my pout only grows when I glance over and see that Amelia’s look perfect.

"It's not a competition," Amelia responds, not even looking up from her interpretation of me in gingerbread form. "And remember what I said, everyone sees art differently. There’s no right or wrong in art,” she lets out a small squeal and then throws her piping bag down, leaning closer to me to show me the cookie. “Look! It’s you!”

The gingerbread man has an attempt at curly hair along with a button-up shirt, a tie, slacks, and converse. Honestly, the cookie version of me is pretty cute, but maybe I’m biased because Amelia made it. Amelia is elated at my pleased reaction and goes on to decorating more cookies, so I prop up her creation and keep on going.

I settle into my barstool and keep my eyes down, swinging my feet back and forth. There's a question on the tip of my tongue that I'm too scared to ask. It's been there for weeks. But this question implies follow up questions about me and I don't want to risk that. But I’ve been pondering this question since I met Amelia and I think that I would be willing to risk the follow-up questions if it means I get some sort of answer.

"Amelia," I say quietly, earning a hum in response, "I have a question,"

"Yeah?" She's soft-spoken, clearly focused on her cookies.

"Why don't you talk about your family?"

I look up just in time to see her grip on the piping bag falter, and she has to readjust her hold. But before she can do that, her hand reaches for the butterfly necklace that's forever around her neck and she tugs on it gently. That tells me that the necklace has a connection to her family, I just don't know how. Nope. Stop it right there. She told me when I came in to stop profiling her, even though it was clearly a joke, I shouldn’t start doing it now. 

"I, um," she lets out a breath and lets her eyes wander behind me, presumably at the wall of picture frames, "I just don't really like to talk about my family," that's all she says before she goes quiet. She readjusts her grip on the piping bag and goes back to work, deciding the conversation is over. Heat rises to my cheeks and my anxiety increases when I realize that my curiosity has gotten the better of me and I’ve ruined the good thing we have going on here with that simple question. So I just decide to shut my mouth and keep decorating my cookies. "You don't talk about your family either,"

It’s the question I was dreading, but it’s the one I was expecting. So I just shrug my shoulders as nonchalantly as possible. "You're not the only one who doesn't like to talk about their family,"

Amelia doesn't respond to that. It's one of the first times in our two months of knowing each other that I've seen her act shut off. The only time she ever acted out of character was asking if I would come over today, and she was only a little bit nervous for a few minutes. She's always so bubbly and open to any question or topic I have, so to have her sitting as close as ever but feel so far away is frustrating and the need to fill the grave I just dug myself.

"Amelia, I didn't mean to offend you with-"

"No, it's okay," she shakes her head, once again, her fingers adjusting around the piping bag. "It's a common thing that people talk about and I've never brought it up and you're a profiler so naturally, you would bring it up. It's fine, Spencer. I promise,"

"It doesn't seem fine. You're not even looking at me,"

"You're profiling me again," Amelia responds, her voice wavering.

I put my piping bag down and move closer to her, gently taking hers out of her hand and placing it down on the table. "Amelia, I-I didn't mean anything by it. You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to,"

She looks up at me and I can see that her eyes are glassy, and it stings to know that I’m the one who made her feel like that. "I’m sorry. I didn't mean to be doing this on Christmas," She sniffles, reaching her fingertips up to wipe at her under-eyes. I have an overwhelming need to comfort her back to happiness, especially since I made her so unhappy. So even though my hands shake in the slightest, I hold my arms out towards her. Amelia notices right away, her eyebrows raising. "Seriously?" I nod. "You won't shake or hold my hand but you'll hug me?"

"You need a hug so I'm here to give you a hug,"

Amelia’s face lights up and she steps forward, wrapping her arms around my waist tightly. I circle my arms around her shoulders and tuck her head under my chin, smiling at the way she fits perfectly under me. This is comfortable and I feel warm and when she wiggles her body to get closer, it brings a smile to my face. I feel safe. I haven't felt like this is a long time. I might never want to let go, but I think Amelia might have the same idea.

"Does this mean I get to hug you more often now?" Amelia mumbles into the fabric of my sweater. "Don't get me wrong, I love our pinky promises but I also love hugs,"

My eyelids flutter closed and I nod against her head. "Yeah, we can hug more often," I flatten my hands on her back and pull her closer. "I really am sorry about asking about your family,"

"Well, I brought yours up afterward so it's fine," 

We're only pulled apart when the timer on the oven dings and lets us know that the oatmeal cookies are finished. I reluctantly pull myself off of her and grab the oven mitts, pulling the tray out while Amelia returns to frosting her gingerbread men.

"Hey, Spencer?" Amelia calls as I'm scooping cookies off the pan. "Do you have any information about gingerbread men in your big genius head?"

She asked, so I answered. I go off and tell her how gingerbread men date back to the 15th Century and how the first documented use of them was at the court of Elizabeth I. I go on for maybe ten minutes about the history of these edible men and maybe it's more than she was bargaining for, but she never interrupted and she listened to the whole thing. That's rare these days. Even my closest friends on my team cut me off constantly and sometimes tune out my facts.

"I didn't know any of that. School really doesn't teach students anything they wanna learn about," Amelia laughs, adding two more gingerbread men to the pile of cookies.

We finish creating our mountain of different types of cookies at around 4 so we decide that we should start making dinner, that way, we can relax the rest of the night and not have to be rushing around the kitchen. The sun starts to set and the snow starts to fall as we set out on a new adventure of cooking dinner. Amelia goes to turn up the heat and I notice her take a moment to pause in front of the balcony doors to stare out at the fresh blanket of snow. But the second she turns and comes back to the kitchen, I whip my head down to the lasagna recipe in my hands to memorize it. Yet again, I decide to let Amelia take charge of this recipe because I would rather not mess it up.

///

We pop our tray of lasagna in the oven and then set a timer for the proper amount of time. "Alright," Amelia says, clapping her hands together and bouncing on her toes, "that'll be done in about twenty-five minutes. So maybe we could watch a movie? We've been baking all day so it'd be a good idea to get off our feet,"

It’s a no brainer to agree to the suggestion and I follow Amelia into her living room like a lost puppy with his tail between his legs. She gestures for me to sit on the couch while she drops to the floor in front of the tv, sitting up on her knees to shut off the record player. Then she pulls out a wicker basket filled to the brim with movies. "What are we watching?" 

"I've got plenty of Christmas movies because they're my favorite. I've got ones like," she holds up the case to each movie as she names it, "Polar Express, The Grinch, Home Alone, Elf, Love Actually, A Christmas Story and way, way more. Plus I've got the claymation ones like Year Without a Santa Claus, Rudolph, Jack Frost, Frosty the Snowman, and Santa Claus is Coming to Town," she looks up at me. "So which one do you fancy, love?"

There's that damn pet name again.

"Um," I let out a nervous laugh, scratching the back of my neck, "I've actually never seen any of those before so I guess just put on your favorite,"

Amelia's eyes widen. "You've never seen any of these before?" I shake my head with a coy smile, my cheeks turning pink. "Wow, I guess it's my turn to educate you, Spencer. I might never get the opportunity to do this again so I'm going to take advantage while I can,"

Amelia jumps to her feet and pops one of the movies in the DVD player. She doesn't tell me what it is but she grabs the remote and comes to sit next to me on the couch. She's not too close to me but she's close enough to make my hands sweaty. I lean down to unlace my shoes and set them aside before getting myself a bit more comfortable on the couch, but not too comfortable. I’ve overheard far too many arguments between Morgan, JJ, Emily, and Garcia about how sitting too close to girls in moments like these can make a guy seem like, in Garcia’s words, a douchebag. And the last thing I want is for Amelia to think I’m a douchebag. So even though I feel I’m a mile away from her with just a couch cushion between us, I don’t move to close the distance.

"I put on The Polar Express because this is one of my favorite Christmas movies of all time," Amelia explains as the main menu comes up and shows the opening titles. "It's a good intro to Christmas movies, I guess, I don't really know,"

"Sure," I nod enthusiastically. "I like learning, I'm ready to watch. Go ahead, play,"

Amelia presses play and then reaches behind her for the blanket draped over the couch. She folds it over her lap and then glances over at me, holding up the corner of the blanket. "Do you-" she trails off, asking me if I want to share. I nod, scooting just a bit closer so we can both comfortably fit under the blanket. Our thighs are touching and it takes everything in me not to cuddle up even closer to her. She invited me over here so she must not think I’m a douchebag, right? This is okay, right?

The movie starts and it's quite different from the movies I'm used to watching. But I can tell it's a movie that has sentimental value to her so I pay close attention to it. It’s not filled with history or framed with subtitles or spewing information at me to instantly memorize. It’s just a lighthearted children’s movie that celebrates Christmas and teaches kids to not let others judge you and to believe in what you want to believe. I would have never watched a movie like this without Amelia and the longer I sit through the movie, the more I wish it wouldn’t end.

But eventually, I lean down to whisper in her ear. "None of the kids have names. Only Billy does,"

Amelia giggles, her head tilting closer to mine but keeping her eyes locked on the tv. "Yeah, you're right. I'm not sure why, they just don't,"

I hum, looking back up at the tv, not completely satisfied with the answer but willing to accept it. I try to focus back on the movie and figure out why these kids are sliding down tiny conveyor belts but I feel Amelia's eyes on me, locked on the side of my face. My attempts to ignore her gaze go in vain because I'm looking back down at her within another minute. She's looking up at me with her bottom lip between her teeth and her blue eyes widened, eyelashes fluttering. She looks horribly stunning and I fear I let my eyes linger on her lips for too long.

"What?" I whisper, wondering why she's staring at me when she should be watching the movie, a movie she claims is one of her favorites.

"Nothing," she says, but makes no attempt to break eye contact with me. "Nothing, I just-" she trails off yet again.

My hands had been placed at my sides but I can't help it when one of them moves to Amelia's cheek, barely even touching her soft skin at first, too afraid that she would flinch. A part of me is almost surprised when she doesn't pull away, but why do I keep getting surprised by her? She's remarkable. She asked me to spend Christmas with her so I wouldn't be alone. She cares about me in some capacity. She's showing me her favorite movies and baking cookies with me and she cares about me. I care about her and she cares about me. Why am I holding back?

"Can-" I clear my throat nervously, "can I kiss you?"

Amelia's eyes flutter for a moment before she nods, tilting her chin upwards. For a moment I think she's going to initiate the kiss, but then she doesn't. She just waits there, leaving me to feel her warm breath on my face and her cold skin under my fingertips. But she respected my boundaries when it came to handshakes and hugs, so even though I've already asked and she's already accepted, it makes sense that she would respect my inevitable boundaries with something as germy and personal and bacteria-filled as a kiss. So that means I have to finally take charge and I don't even have time to figure out if that terrifies me or excites me.

With my hand on her cheek and my heart about to beat out of my chest, I draw her forward and press my lips to hers in the softest and sweetest, most wonderful kiss. She tastes sweet, like strawberry lip balm and gingerbread, and I find my senses being filled with the taste of her. My brain had intended for a simple kiss, but after said simple kiss, I had to have more of her. Amelia doesn't resist as I deepen the kiss, bringing my hand to her neck to bring her closer. Her hands start at my chest but eventually travel up to my jawline, fingertips resting there softly, just barely coaxing me forward. Our lips move perfectly in sync and I could swear, as cheesy as it sounds, I feel burning on my skin from the fallout of the fireworks that erupt above us. I feel Amelia smile as she shuffles a bit closer to me on her knees, her body making even more contact with mine than before when we were just sitting. 

My mind is screaming at me to pull away, to push her off of me and run home and curl up in bed, and to ignore Amelia forever. My head says to shield her from this horrible part of the world that I expose myself to and to protect her innocence. That's all I want to do. I want to protect her. As it often does, my head says no but my heart says yes. I can't deny what I'm feeling for Amelia. I can't deny that I haven't slept over my alarm for two months because I'm far too excited to see her every morning at the cafe. I can't help the way my heart speeds up when she walks in and waves at me, or the way I can't help but beam when she laughs, or how I don't want to leave when the alarm on her phone sounds. That's what leads me to wrap my free arm around her waist and bring her chest to mine, the fabric of her sweater clutched in my fist and my lips fervently sliding against hers.

The sharp cry of the oven alarm is the only thing that can get us to pull apart, far too quickly for either of our likings. Amelia pulls away with a sharp inhale, her eyes closed for just a moment longer than mine. "I'll-" she moves one of the hands from my jaw to wipe at her bottom lip, "um, I'll go get that,"

Amelia begrudgingly untangles herself from my arms and then from the blanket around her legs, feet silent on the floor as she hurries to pull the lasagna out of the oven. I'm left on the couch for a moment, completely stunned and actually quite pleased. I’ve never been kissed like that. I didn’t even know I could kiss like that. I didn’t even know I had it in me. But once the momentary shock wears off, the tension sets in and I know I need to follow Amelia. I reach up to pause the movie so we don’t miss anything before following Amelia into the kitchen, seeing her close the oven as she places the tray of lasagna on the stove. Her cheeks are flushed but I can't tell if that's from the kiss or the heat from the oven.

The apartment is tense now that it's silent and Amelia's back is turned to me. Despite the obvious verbal consent, I fear I've ruined everything. I asked to kiss her and even though she accepted, she's quiet. She's busying herself with dishing lasagna and I'm realizing that the only other time she acted this shut off was when I asked about her family. Does that mean I need to apologize again? Oh my gosh, I really don’t know how girls work. I’ve already upset her twice in one day and made her act in ways I’ve never seen before. Maybe I should have listened more when Morgan complained about his girl problems. You know what? Maybe I won’t apologize this time. I’ll try a different approach.

"That wasn't-" I mumble, lingering in the entryway to the kitchen, "weird, right? That didn't totally ruin things, right?"

Amelia's hands pause mid-air for a moment but then she continues dishing food. "No, it wasn't weird,"

Okay, Spencer. If you've ever needed to be bold, now's the time. She obviously likes you and you've accepted that you like her too and that you don't want to lose her, and right now, you're losing her to whatever her brain is telling her. Don't let that happen. Do something.

"So," I take a step closer to her and place my hand on her waist, spinning her around to face me, "so you wouldn't mind if I kissed you again?"

Amelia doesn't even respond, she just grabs my cheeks and kisses me again. I instinctively push her against the counter and hold her there, my hands clutching her waistline as her hands start to thread through my hair. This kiss is needier than the first one, almost as if it's solidifying to both of us that we're really doing this and that these feelings are actually mutual. That the first kiss didn’t scare either of us off and we’re not going anywhere.

I'm the first to pull away when I run out of breath, but I have not a single intention of moving away from her. I still feel Amelia's lips brushing mine and her warm breath fanning across my face, delicate fingers pushing my hair off my forehead. It's shaggy and falling over my forehead, but she arranges it perfectly so it's out of the way. She smiles nervously at me and then she shrinks, and I realize she had to go on her tiptoes to kiss me. "I, um," she laughs, letting her hands fall to my shoulders, "I've had a crush on you for a while. Like, since we first talked,"

I slide my hands down to her hips, feeling the rough tweed fabric under my fingertips. "Really?"

"Yeah," she smiles bashfully. "I thought you were really cute and I may have walked into you on purpose because I was too scared to approach you when you were reading,"

My eyes nearly pop out of their sockets at the realization that the camera fiddling was just a ruse. "What?" Amelia giggles, ducking her head into my shoulder to hide her blush from showing. "No! No hiding!"

"It's true!" She pulls her hands from my shoulders and covers her face. "You were reading and you were doing it so fast and I was confused at how you were actually retaining the information and you looked so cute with your hair up like that and I wanted to talk to you but I didn't know how to. When you got up, I just walked over and then grabbed my camera and-" I grab her wrists gently and pull her hands away from her face. Amelia's face is bright red in embarrassment but she smiles as I slide my hands into hers and lace our fingers together. "I thought you didn't hold hands,"

"You also thought I didn't hug or kiss until tonight," I remark, bringing our hands down to our sides. I lean in one more time and press our lips together, and this time the kiss doesn't need to be quick or passionate or wet. It's slow and sweet. It fills me with the familiar warmth that only Amelia has been able to provide me with.

"You're just full of surprises," Amelia giggles, twisting her head to kiss my cheek. "We should eat before it gets cold, right?"

"Yeah, probably," I don't want to let go of her but I reluctantly do, letting her continue her task of dishing lasagna for the two of us. We resume our positions on the couch, sitting even closer than before. Amelia rewinds the movie quite a bit, making sure I’ve seen every frame that we missed while we were engaged in other activities. She claims she doesn’t mind seeing it again, that she watched this movie last week anyway so rewinding it for me isn’t a big deal at all.

I do my best to pay attention throughout the rest of the movie like Amelia wants me to do, but it's proven to be a challenge. All I want to do is look down at the angel sitting beside me and kiss her and play with her hair and talk to her about any topic that might pop into my head. But she's fixated on the movie and I don't want to tear her away from something that she's so invested in. So I stay silent and sling my arm over the back of the couch in an attempt to get more comfortable. I do it unintentionally, but Amelia takes this as an invitation to cuddle up beside me. She brings her knees up to her chest and rests her head on my shoulder, effectively tucking herself into my side. I'm not complaining, because even though I wasn’t intending to do the ultimate douchebag move and basically silently invite her to cuddle with me, I’m not complaining. I grin for the rest of the movie.

///

"So did you like it?" Amelia asks eagerly, sitting up on her knees as the credits rolls, an expecting grin plastered on her face. "I know you're used to watching movies in different languages and-"

"It was pretty great, actually," 

"You're not just saying that because I told you it's one of my favorites?"

"Not at all. It bothered me that the children didn't have names, besides Billy, but other than that, it was a wonderful movie. I can see why you like it so much," I tell her. "And it's only seven. Are we gonna watch something else?"

"Well," Amelia chews on her lip, pulling away from my embrace slightly as she plays with the hem of her skirt, "the depends on you. If you wanna head home, I know you have work tomorrow and-"

"Actually," unintentionally, I cut her off yet again. But she looks up at me with bright eyes, hopeful that I'll want to stay, "I don't expect that you got me anything but I brought you a gift,"

I quickly leap up to avoid seeing her reaction, returning to my messenger bag in the doorway, reaching in for the perfectly wrapped gift. I spent hours on the floor of my bedroom wrapping the present, and then unwrapping it when the paper creased, then wrapping it again, then unwrapping it when the paper ripped, and then finally leaving the wrapping after what seemed like the millionth try. It was a process but it was worth it because it looks absolutely perfect.

When I return to the living room, Amelia is gone. I sit down with the gift in my lap, assuming she'll be back soon. And sure enough, she comes bounding down the floating stairs a second later. "I did actually get you a gift," she says, jumping back onto her spot on the couch. "Just something little," I pass my gift off to her and she does the same with me until we're holding each other's presents. It's odd actually, because I've given and received gifts with my team and with my mom, but never like this. Never with a girl I have a massive crush on. Never with someone who I care on another level for. Never with a girl who seems to put the sun in the sky.

I gesture for Amelia to go first, placing her gift in my lap, to be opened next. She gives me an excited smile and nods, obeying my quiet warning to hold it carefully as she searches for a spot to pull the paper back. "They're-" she pulls the paper clean off and beams, "45's,"

"Yeah," I nod anxiously as she reveals my present. "You told me you love records and this bookstore I love sells records too. I found these and I thought of-" I clear my throat, "well, they made me think of you,"

Amelia looks through the small stack of records in her hands, narrowing her eyes at me. "Most of them are classical, Spencer,"

"You need more classical music in your life, Amelia," I sass back at her, earning a small scoff in returning, bringing up a small quarrel we had a few weeks ago. "You can't spend your days listening to Christmas music, Frank Sinatra, and Taylor Swift,"

Amelia glances up at me with a small pout. "I could try,"

I laugh, pointing to the records in her hand. "Well, now you don't have to,"

"Thank you, love. This is wonderful, really. I'm gonna put one of these on right after you open your gift," she places them on her lap and then points at the present in my lap. "Go ahead. It's your turn."

I tear back the wrapping paper and first find a pack of coloring pencils, which seems like an odd gift, considering how many times I’ve established that I’m bad at art, but then I find a black leather journal behind it. Upon further inspection, I find that there are drawings on the front of the journal. My name is written in beautiful calligraphy on the top of the cover, and all around the front are small pictures. I find things like coffee cups, cameras, a deck of cards, an imperfect square with the pattern of one of Amelia's scarves, a record player, beakers, plenty of books, and much more.

"It's a sketchbook," Amelia explains softly. "You were saying how you wish you were better at art, so now you have the means to practice. And I was thinking about when you go on cases and you could bring it with you and I tried to put things on the front that would maybe, I don't know, comfort you." She pauses and I look up at her, waiting for her to continue with what she wants to say. Because just by the tight-lipped smile on her face, I know she wants to say something else. "Selfishly, I put references to me on there,"

I set my gift onto the coffee table and then move the records aside, pulling Amelia into my arms again. She happily accepts this embrace, arms circling my shoulders. "I love it," I tell her. "Thank you. I'll definitely bring it on cases with me. I can't ensure that anything I draw in it is good, but-"

"But you've got a pretty great teacher right here."

///

Amelia watches with an overly dramatic pout as I button up my jacket and put my scarf on, glancing out the window to check out bad the snow is. She crosses her arms over her chest as I put my messenger bag over my shoulder, making me laugh. "Don't make me feel even worse for leaving,"

"If I make you feel really bad, will you stay?" Amelia practically begs, even though she's already reaching for the doorknob. She knows I have work tomorrow and I have to be up early. She opens the door and then leans against the frame, still clearly not ready for me to depart.

"Hey, why don't you sleep in tomorrow? We don't need to meet up tomorrow morning. Get some extra sleep. It's almost midnight,"

Amelia's pout grows. "What? But what if you get a case? Then I won't see you for a few days, at least,"

"Then," I hadn't entirely thought this through because she totally has a point. WWDMD? I know exactly what Derek Morgan would do. Of all the times I’ve thought about Morgan today, I know exactly how he would respond in this situation. I reach out to grab her waist and pull her into a half hug, smiling, "then I'll make it up to you by taking you out on a proper date when I get back,"

Amelia's smile grows and she starts to nod. "That sounds like a plan," she goes up on her toes to kiss me but her lips only brush mine before pulling away again. "What if you don't get a case? Are you still gonna take me on a date?"

I put on a pensive face that makes her laugh. "I'll think about it," I press my lips to hers, unable to handle the short, torturous distance anymore. The kiss doesn’t last nearly as long as I want it to because we’re standing the hallway at midnight where anyone could catch us, letting the heat out, after a long day of making cookies and watching movies, and it’s absolutely freezing. So when we pull away, I have to will myself to not groan or grimace.

"Let me walk you out," Amelia hums, grabbing her keys before walking out with me. Our pinky's interlock as we walk down her apartment hallway, towards the door outside. "Will you text me when you get home? I just wanna make sure you get home safe," we stop in front of the door and she wraps her arms around my waist. "I know you're a fully capable FBI agent and all but it's late and I worry about that stuff,"

"Of course I will," I hug her tightly, pressing my lips to her cheek. "Thank you for inviting me over. I would've just been sitting alone and reading books all day without you,"

"Thanks for coming over," she echoes, pulling away from our ultra-warm hug and letting a chill run down her spine. "I would've watched movies alone all day. So thanks for being with me. I'll miss you tomorrow,"

"I will too, but I'll text you when I get home and I'll talk to you tomorrow to let you know if I get a case or not,"

"I'll be glued to my phone," Amelia winks at me, getting me to laugh one last time for the night. "Now go, before it gets even later."

“You go back to your apartment first. I know it’s right there but I, uh,” I glance behind her, down the dim hallway, “I worry about that stuff,”

Amelia smiles in the most smitten way I think I’ve ever seen, and for once, I think I’ve actually done something right. “Yeah, okay,” she nods, and she pushes herself up on her toes to kiss my cheek on more time. “Bye, Spencer. Merry Christmas,”

“Merry Christmas,” I echo, watching her scurry back to her apartment and unlock the door, stepping into the warmth. Her head pops out once more and she sends me a wave, blowing me a kiss before she disappears. The air I exhale reverberates off the wall and the smile on my face is undeniable, even as I dance on the cusp of frostbite during my walk home. A girl like that is mine? A girl like that who blows kisses and bakes cookies all day and cuddles during movies? She’s mine? Amelia is mine. She really is and as soon as that thought echoes in my head, a laugh escapes my lips. I must be the luckiest man alive.

  hello there! if you’re still reading here then please tell me your favorite snack!! plz im v hungry thank u sm okay here’s the taglist

 TAGLIST

@etheralgubler @babybobbybones @whollytaciturn @reidswords @thegingerfairchild @matthewreid @shrimpyblog @garcias-batcave @anamelessfacelessnerd @nastyhar @gublergirls @mandapanda8 

[intrepidmare]

JAIME x BRIENNE FIC EXCHANGE RECOMMENDATIONS

Well, I have read about half of the fics in the @jaime-brienne-fic-exchange and these are my favorites so far. Seriously, guys, if you haven't read any of these stories already, you must! It's incredible how much talent is in this fandom. 

PS: I don't know/couldn't find everyone's Tumblr, either because they have a different username than on ao3 or don't have a blog here. If you recognize someone else's or your own work that I didn't @, please let me know and I'll edit it 😊

Let me begin with the fics with a love that transcends time and death.

(The first is the story that was written for me!! Please, guys, go, read it, and give some love to the extremely talented writer that came up with it! Words fail me to explain how amazing this fic is. Go read it and then you'll thank me for the rec.)

This is where we start again by @forbiddenfantasies1    

Explicit | chapters 8/8 | 40.7k words | past life au, modern setting, canon compliant

Brienne and Jaime had never met, but when they come together to work on a new project, they realize their connection may have been generations in the making.

Or in which Jaime and Brienne meet, begin having flashbacks to their ancestors lives, and are forced to figure out where they went wrong before they can determine how to make it right.

This life and the next by atomsandfairies    

Teen and up | chapters 6/6 | 8.2k words | historical setting, modern au

“Do you ever wonder how old our souls are? How many times we have missed and met? How many times we have come together?”

The questions have turned themselves over in her again and again, as long as they’ve been together, before he’s asked, before they’d even found each other.

There is a familiarity between them that seems too old for their time together.

Angstfest addicts, these are for you. Get ready to get beaten with feels. Don't worry, despite heartbreak along the way, all ends well.

My honor in your hands by @aviss    

General | one-shot | 2.8k words | hurt/comfort, missing scene, book canon

Jaime lasts the better part of a day before the silence gets to him.

By hearts and hands made fast by anonymous  

Mature | chapters 4/? | 10.1k words | 8x04 canon divergence, secret marriage 

»But he’d held her wrist even then, thumb stroking, Marry me, he’d said, marry me and never acknowledge it if you do not wish, but marry me as I should have married you that night and every other. If I’m to die, he’d said (with her, he had not), let me die as your husband.«

A grand romantic gesture has repercussions neither Jaime nor Brienne had foreseen.

Lies in the darkness by aleighcarlisle    

Mature | one-shot | 4.4k words | angst, hurt/comfort

"Hurt me with the truth, but never comfort me with a lie."

Man With a heartbeat by @sigilbroken        

Explicit | chapters 5/5 | 25.5k words | modern au

Angst is not your cup of tea? No problem. You should try the following. Only laughter, happy feelings ahead.

This one last thing by @aliveanddrunkonsunlight

Mature | One-shot | 13.3k words | Canon compliant, Post-ADWD, bed-sharing

Most tasks needed of a knight, he has been able to adapt to with only one hand, but he struggles with striking flint in order to start a fire. It would be easier if she was here.

Jaime and Brienne journey to the Vale.

What loves you back by @bookishpower    

Teen and up | one-shot | 11k words | fairytale-ish, post-canon

A retelling, and a continuation. Jaime learns the great lesson of his life.

That Would Be Enough by forpeaches (bluecarrots)

Mature | One-shot | 2.2k words | Canon compliant, Post-ADWD

Jaime, pining.

The unwitting third wheel by @nightreaderenigma (I should've known this was you!)  

Mature | chapters 4/4 | 17.8 k words | post-ADWD, canon compliant

Whilst recovering on the Quiet Isle, Podrick develops a crush on his mentor and heroine, Lady Brienne. The only hiccup in his bubble of infatuation is their new travelling companion – Ser Jaime Lannister. Because even though M’Lady Ser and the Golden Knight argue, there seems to be a bond between them he can’t quite place…

Warm by @angel-deux-writes      

Teen and up | one-shot | 13.5k words | canon divergence

Before the battle against the dead, Jaime volunteers for a routine patrol with Brienne to try and get some time to talk with her about why she has been avoiding him since he arrived at Winterfell. When a storm catches them unexpectedly when they're still far from the castle, they find a cave to hole up in for the night.

Way enough by laihiriel

Mature | chapters 3/5 | 10.8k words | modern setting, sports au

Brienne had forgotten how much she loved being out on the water. Joining the local boathouse and sitting in a scull again after her accident was the best thing she could have done for herself.

Because of you (i took my time to come around) by Weboury 

Teen and up | chapters 4/4 | 14.7k words | Modern setting, road trip, bed-sharing

Jaime, curator at the Tully Museum, wants to spend more time with Brienne, and maybe finally work around telling her how he feels about her. When Brienne, a historian, is tasked with retrieving the legendary sword Widow’s Wail from King’s Landing, Jaime thinks it’s the perfect time to put a plan in motion, only to find himself with Brienne and his cousin Cleos on an awkward road trip across the Riverlands. And then a goat shows up.

Kaleidoscope sky by allison_wonderland      

General | one-shot | 1k | modern au, carnivals

A terrible day, an unexpected stop, and drifting closer together.

Backpfeifengesicht by @samirant        

Explicit | one-shot  | 18.8 k words | modern au, enemies to friends to lovers

Backpfeifengesicht

(German) n. a face badly in need of a fist

See pictured: Jaime Lannister.

Brienne, Jaime and the Accidental marriage by @angel-deux-writes  

Teen and up | One-shot | 10k words | modern setting, reporter au 

Best friends, co-workers, and roommates Brienne and Jaime were supposed to head to Greywater Watch to cover a local festival for the newspaper at which they both work. They were NOT supposed to get married while they were there.  

Those who seek to find by @ice-connoisseur  

Teen and up | one-shot | 22.3k words | Jumanji au

But anyway, that was how it started: Arya found the game, and Sansa rolled the dice.

When you play the game of Jumanji, you win or you die.

In better light by winterkill   

Mature | one-shot | 17.7k words | canon divergence, post-ASOS

Perhaps Cersei was right, and every ounce of sense and bravery Jaime possessed was lost with his hand. Sansa Stark is my last chance for honor. He really said that to her? Brienne latched onto the sentiment like a hunting hound to the scent of its quarry. 

Before dawn, Jaime rises from his bed, wide awake and with a sense of renewed purpose.

I’m going to go with her.

If you're looking for adventures a little outside of the law, check these out  

Codename: kingslayer by libkat 

Mature | one-shot | 2.4k words | modern au, thief au

The world's greatest jewel thief is after his biggest score when he encounters his toughest opponent, who might also be the love of his life.

The Knight and the thief By @ddagent (this is the only one I guessed the author right. I knew it was you, Kelly) 

Teen and up | one-shot | 3.6k words | Modern au, burglar au, hurt/comfort

Jaime Lannister is rich, handsome – and a jewel thief. His next target is the home of Brienne Tarth, where he might finally find something worth stealing.

Last but not least, for those who like to hang out with creatures of the night, this one is for you

Into the spider's web by @jailynnW   

Teen and up | one-shot | 4.5k words | vampire au

Jaime has been a Vampire for centuries, dancing in and out of the grasp of his hunter. Brienne is tasked with taking down the Kingslayer. A mission that brings her more than she bargained for...

Hmm, it doesn't look bad that I'm going to do shameless self-promotion now that I've recommended the work of others, right? You know what? I don't care if it does. So here it is the one I wrote 😊

Made for you by me (Mare9548 on Ao3)

Teen and up | chapters 4/4 | 9.6k words | modern setting, arranged marriage

Despite his reluctance to get married, Jaime Lannister is having dinner with his future wife tonight. Quite a surprise he gets when he meets the woman that his father has chosen for him.

I'll come back later with more recs once I've gone through the rest of the amazing stories in the collection.

+

More recs

[occasionallyish--archive]

Escapade

H.Shinsou x S.Todoroki, H.Shinsou x I.Midoriya, S.Todoroki x I.Midoriya, I.Midoriya x O.Uraraka, and various hints to other ships

Warnings: Slow burn(?), unrequited love, brief breaking of the fourth wall lmao

Have been writing since 03/07/2019

Word count 2810

Reblogs > Likes, pleasepleaseplease–

Lengthiness under the cut!

xx/12/xxxx ; The afternoon ; Outside ; Hitoshi Shinsou

Hitoshi shuddered, hands instinctively reaching to cup over his mouth in some attempt to warm them through his thick gloves. He gave warm, drawn out breaths that helped to spare his lips from the almost burning cold, however otherwise, the gesture proved fruitless– Even more than the occasional, leafless trees that he passed. And so, he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and gave a somewhat frustrated sigh that easily converted into Winter fog.

He hated almost everything about the season– Shivering in the snow, persistent carolers, and the pressure to buy gifts for people that he barely knew. At least he had the excuse to take a break from school and hide inside during the whole of said break.

Regardless, however, the purple-haired male was there: Walking through the snow, toward the mall– clad in two-and-a-half layers of clothing–, with the intent to buy a Christmas present for a bush.

Said bush's name was Izuku Midoriya, one of the famed former students of class 1-A who not only survived multiple villain attacks, but also managed to help get Hitoshi into the hero course. Maybe it wasn't the achievement that he was most recognized for, but it was the one that truly spoke of his sincerity and kindness, in Hitoshi's heart.

...So what if he had a crush? Izuku already obviously had his own on a certain brunette from 2-B, so he knew he didn't have any chance– Having fallen for a straight boy.

As he continued to walk, a bitter taste was left in Shinsou's mouth.

xx/12/xxxx ; The afternoon ; Commons room ; Shouto Todoroki

A gentle sigh flitted from between the heterochromatic boy's lips as he laid on the sofa in the commons room, scrolling through a website that he'd found on his phone. As if to loosen the tense feeling that only Shouto seemed to experience, he hummed to himself, searching through lists upon lists of gifts upon gifts.

And still, nothing.

He wanted to find the perfect gift– Something that conveyed his feelings to Izuku without needing to use words; Something unlike anything else that he had ever even seen; Something special and completely unique, made only for him. That was what Shouto wanted to give his classmate; That was what Shouto wanted to give to his favorite person;

That was what Shouto wanted to give to the boy that he loved. While he was aware that his feelings weren't returned, and while he was aware that they never would be, he was going to tell him, come Christmas. And, with their relationship becoming deafeningly awkward, he was going to ruin the holiday for everybody in class 2-A. And he'd run back to his mother, and cry, and hide from the rest of the world until somebody other than Enji would inherit the agency– And then he'd become a hero through that and never have to see the pro hero Deku, again. He could already see it happening.

The boy with bicolored hair blinked before shaking his head, turning to pick his dead phone back into his hands.

As he stood to charge the pocket-sized computer, a solemn, cold feeling spread throughout Todoroki's veins.

25/12/xxxx ; The morning ; Commons room ; Neito Monoma

Neito was somehow of the first up, slipping down the stairs to see a pajama-clad Tooru, Mina, and Denki. The electric blonde was sitting at the table, 'recharging' himself with some oatmeal topped with whipped cream and banana slices– A combination that the former 1-B student saw disgust in. Tooru and Mina, however, were sitting near their bad excuse of a Christmas tree– of course, bless Ibara for growing it for them, but she admitedly could've done much better–, snooping around to see who got the most presents and guessing what said presents were. And Monoma, of course, was going to be the one to put a stop to it.

"Ashido, Hagakure! Don't be so childish as to peek through the presents! While it is to be expected of you 1-A brats, those are saved for later when we're all up together!"

"Omigosh, Monoma, you're starting to sound like Iida–" Ashido's attention was immediately captured by the boy, albeit not for the reason that he'd been looking for. Monoma's frown grew.

"That isn't the point!–"

"Eh?... 'S too early for this..." An all-too-familiar voice complained tiredly, an open yawn sounding from the same direction. "...Why not be Christmasy 'n cheery 'n stuff, instead?" Hitoshi sounded half asleep, as he always was before his usual morning coffee– Bitter and black, as he often described his soul.

A steel-haired boy– having previously gone unnoticed– then gave his hum, sending a sunshine smile from the kitchen to his classmate, "Coffee's on the pot if you need some, Shin!" Tetsutetsu called, being one of the few 2-A students who could easily bear the early hours.

A thin, lazy smile found its way onto Hitoshi's face. "Perfect timing. Thanks."

25/12/xxxx ; The early afternoon ; Kitchen ; Momo Yaoyorozu

The bushy-haired boy hobbled downstairs with a yawn, fuzzy sock slipping at the bottom– But, of course, a tall ravenette was there to catch him.

"Good morning, Midoriya." The young woman called softly as she gripped his shoulders, easing him into more of an upright position. She chose not to comment on it, as based on the shorter's expression, the near incident was enough of a wake-up call. "Did you sleep well?"

"Um–" Izuku began as they headed toward the kitchen, still recovering from the split-second panic. "Y-yeah. I was really excited, last night, so I think I went to bed, too late, though..." His voice trailed off into more of a tired mumble, which was always adorable– Sometimes, Momo was convinced that she was surrounded by a litter of cute, rambunctious puppies and not the future's greatest heroes.

"Yes. I think that you're the last one up, actually." She commented matter-of-factly, reaching into a cupboard to retrieve a pouch of caffeinated tea. "Would you like some tea to help wake you up?" She asked before her friend had the chance to feel guilty.

Sometimes, Yaoyorozu very easily read her peers. More than just Izuku knew this, as he nodded with his "Mmhm, thank you."

25/12/xxxx ; The early afternoon ; Dorms ; Fumikage Tokoyami

Quite the diverse group was walking through the snow, making the short trek from class 2-B's dorm building to class 2-A's– Said group consisting of an explosive boy, a bubbly brunette, a horned blonde, and a bird-headed boy. Katsuki Bakugou and Ochako Uraraka were exchanging their comments, as the frenemies often did, while Fumikage Tokoyami and Pony Tsunotori kept to themselves.

That was fine, however, as the trip was short– It wasn't long before a sharp redhead was opening the door, laughing at something that his twin-like friend had said. "Come on in, guys!" Eijirou'd said between chuckles.

Of course, Fumikage gratefully accepted the invite to come in, happy to shed his thick scarf and jacket– Even if he enjoyed the cold, he could only take it to an extent. The crow-like boy made a point to leave his garments on the coat rack, for later, before perching onto one of the arms of a couch.

He only observed, for a time– How Ochako easily found her way toward Momo and Izuku, and how two other boys also seemed to be carefuly regarding the group. How Mina and Denki seemed to momentarily deflate when they'd been told their tape friend was celebrating off-campus. How festive Yuuga looked, with his Rudolph-inspired makeup and fake antlers. How Tooru and Nirengeki seemed to really enjoy decorating Ibara's head.

25/12/xxxx ; The afternoon ; Commons room ; Ochako Uraraka

Eventually, conversations around the sofas seemed to float toward Ochako's distaste with being separated from her previous classmates. "Yeah, I've gotten to know lots of great people in 2-B, but kinda miss sharing class with my friends from last year, y'know?" She'd pointed out, which had lit flares of passion in those such as Katsuki and Eijirou.

"I miss my friends, too." Izuku chimed in, at some point, which seemed to easily halt Ochako and Katsuki's oncoming argument. "But, I think it's just natural that we.. Mm, I don't know how to put it. Expand? But, also, well..." The green-haired boy paused, trying not to spiral into a moment of muttering. "And, we can all still see eachother, after classes." He pointed out with a smile, and that was that.

"Such is the way of life." Fumikage added as somewhat of a word of advice.

Ochako couldn't help but notice how Pony folded her hands in her lap, leaning back into the couch as her blank stare and almost wistful smile faced nobody in particular. "I have no idea what you just said." She commented, which did cause some giggles and snickers to sound around their sort of cirlce– Ochako's sweetly humored one, included.

25/12/xxxx ; The afternoon ; Commons room ; Eijirou Kirishima

Everybody who said they'd attend the gathering seemed to be there, and most importantly, everybody seemed to have relaxed. The faux-redhead gave a shark-toothed grin as he carefully slid a headband onto a blonde's head– Of course, as soon as said blonde felt it, his hand lifted for a deathgrip around Eijirou's wrist.

He was glad that his quirk easily resisted his friend.

"Can you guess which reindeer you are?" He gave suppressed giggles as Katsuki's grip lightened, hand soon dropping into his lap. It was nice that the explosive boy's temper seemed to have lengthened– Even if only somewhat, at least something had definitely changed between his first argument with Tenya, and now.

Katsuki shifted slightly, his expression more of a neutral sort of grumpy. "Rudolph?" He guessed the obvious one, an eyebrow raised.

"Nope! I'm pretty sure Aoyama's got that covered, haha."

"...None of the other names are important." The blonde mumbled lowly, head leaned back to ensure only the boy behind him heard that. It was his way of admitting that he had no clue what the other reindeer's names were.

"Blitzen–" Kirishima couldn't help bursting into laughter, and admittedly, a small smile did tug at Katsuki's lips. "Because– Y'know–" He tried to speak between laughs, as he imitated the sound of an explosion.

25/12/xxxx ; The late afternoon ; The kitchen ; Rikido Satou

"Hey– Where are Midoriya and Todoroki?" Rikido asked, just about finished with handing out his festive sugar cookies– Only a little candycane and bushel of holly were left. He set his tray onto the counter as he glanced around the kitchen, no Izuku nor Shouto in sight.

"I saw them head for the elevators," Ochako chimed in, finding her seat atop the corner of the table. "Maybe Deku's giving Todoroki another present? Or– Y'know, the other way around?"

It made sense– Not long after the bushy-haired shounen protagonist had woken up, the group took their turns around the tree to hand out gifts. While they both received their abundance of presents, it'd seemed Shouto was still somewhat anticipatory, an emotion unlike his usually stoic self. Though the brunette gave a shrug, deciding to dismiss that detail, for the time being.

"Oh, well– Todoroki can reheat them, when he gets back, if they're cold by then."

25/12/xxxx ; The late afternoon ; The hall ; Mina Ashido

She didn't mean to eavesdrop, she swore to herself– She'd only been headed to the bathroom, when she'd overheard Izuku mentioning something about how much he loved something. And Mina, being the occasionally less-than-polite person that she was, couldn't help but to stick around, pressing her back to the wall and listening to two boys, around the corner.

"I'm glad– I wanted to make sure that my gift for you was special." She could tell that that was the deeper voice of Shouto, albeit uncharacteristically warm. And maybe Mina was somewhat upset that she didn't have the chance to know whatever the supposed special gift was, but she wasn't going to risk compromising her position in what sounded like a private moment.

"Well, thank you, Todoroki. I... I really appreciate you, y'know."

"And I–" Shouto cut himself off, though, and the pink girl physically recoiled as she realized that now was the moment that he'd finally be attempting a confession. She may not have been the most academically exemplary girl, but she'd been damned if she hadn't noticed every fleeting touch, every shy glance, every missed opportunity that her peppermint peer had suffered through.

She decided to walk away, though, keeping quiet as not to alert the boys. Part of her felt guilty, feeling as if she'd tainted the secrecy of the special interaction.

But as she stepped away, she did catch a quieter, forlorn phrase. "...You're my best friend, Izuku."

30/12/xxxx ; The morning ; Dorm room ; Kyouka Jirou

"The original is a lot less shitty." A certain Katsuki Bakugou commented gruffly, as the plumette experimented with her playlist. At current, she was playing some song called 'Hey There Delilah,' albeit sung in the Japanese that she knew, as opposed to its originally English version.

Kyouka raised a brow, ony briefly letting her attention flit toward the other. "Sure, but none of us can really understand the lyrics." She spoke nonchalantly, pushing herself up to fiddle with one of the speakers that Momo had previously helped her set up.

Katsuki gave his little "Tch," as he turned away, mentioning something about how he had no problem understanding English. And knowing the overachiever, that was likely true, she figured as he left the conversation.

This year, part of class 2-A– and even some 2-B students– had decided that they would be staying at the dorms for the New Year, watching whatever festivities and celebrating behind the safety of their tv. As such, Kyouka, Momo, and an unexpected Katsuki had banded together in lieu of decking out the Heights Alliance, for the upcoming holiday.

They mostly spent time cleaning and setting up a dorm sound system, but if all went well, every second of effort was going to be worth it.

31/12/xxx ; Shortly before midnight ; The commons room ; Izuku Midoriya

His peers had really done well with decorating, Izuku acknowledged for the umpteenth time as he chose his spot beside Ochako. Admittedly, he's been set on confessing for a while now, but never quite found the courage to voice his feelings.

But that was okay, as he gently tapped the brunette on the shoulder– Her cheeks grew rosier than usual when she noticed his outstretched hand, taking it after only a second of overthinking.

Maybe he didn't need words, after all, because he already had a passion in his heart and what seemed to be reciprocated feelings. Their fingers intertwined as the television flashed, counting down to a moment that both anticipated dearly. And Izuku couldn't stifle his shy grin, watching tentatively as Ochako's attention flitted between his face and the brightly-colored screen.

Neither had to say anything. Not now. Not until the rest of the small group cheered "Zero!", and not until they shared a wonderfully perfect kiss.

01/01/xxxx ; Shortly after midnight ; The roof ; Hitoshi Shinsou & Shouto Todoroki

After that, Hitoshi found himself fleeing the scene. Of course, he knew that it was inevitable, but that didn't stop him from hurting as much as he did. He rode the elevator and then climbed the stairs, stopping only once he stood atop the roof.

Shouto couldn't help but trail the plumette up to the top of the building, masking his similar need to escape with curiosity and concern. Considering they were heroes-in-training, it had been unusually easy to do so, to slip out of the room and follow him. Almost concerningly so, as the bicolored boy paused to eye the other's silhouette– To anticipate his next move.

Now, he wasn't stupid. He knew that much as he leaned forward, resting his forearms on the roof's railing. Hitoshi glanced over his shoulder to acknowledge the other's presence, sending a silent invitation to join him. With the way that he strode beside him, it was apparent that the youngest Todoroki was reluctant.

But neither had to say anything, for a long time. They simply stood beside one another, gazes focused on the moon or the sky or the city below them. Or maybe even one another. Shouto found comfort in this moment, but he did eventually break away, wanting to allow the plumette to mourn in peace.

But as the other turned, Shinsou reached and gently gripped his forearm. "Hey," his voice was smooth and gentle enough to coax Shouto back, to make him want to return to that moment. And he did, standing closer to his peer, now.

[optimizche]

Eureurong {Part 1} (Park Chanyeol/Reader)

Author's note: Werewolf! Chanyeol. Also, the title takes me back to the good ol' days.

It was a bitterly cold morning that you woke up to. The sun was rising, bringing back colours to the world. Well, not colours. Singular. Colour.

Everything outside, wherever you looked, was covered with a thick, ivory blanket of snow. And it was still snowing, almost as if the gods had taken it upon themselves to drown the world with snow.

The state of the weather gave you a small respite: there was no way you were going to be able to get to work today. The diner you worked at was going to stay closed.

Sighing, you extracted yourself from the warm comfort of your bed. Grabbing your dress-robe, you put it on, slipping your feet into the cosiest, fluffly slippers you owned.

Grabbing your phone off the nightstand, you scrolled through the notifications, as you padded into the kitchen of your small cottage. Putting your kettle on the stove, you began to brew a cup of tea.

Much to your dismay, you hadn't recieved any message from him. Chanyeol.

Your boyfriend. If you could only call him that. He was so much more than just your boyfriend. He was your protector. Your lover. Your mate. And also, a werewolf.

Three nights ago, Chanyeol had asked for your leave.

"I won't be able to see you for a few days, my love," he had said, while the two of you had been curled up in your bed, recovering from a fervent session of lovemaking.

"But why?" you had asked, running your hand along his bare chest.

"I have to stay away from you. My heat is upon me," he had responded.

Despite being a human, you were aware of the concept of heat. It was yet another characteristic that came along with his lupine attributes. But being his mate, you weren't able to understand why he wanted you to stay away from him during his heat. And you had voiced as much to him.

"But won't it be better...if I was by your side? During your heat?" you had asked, a flush rising in your cheeks.

He laughed and pressed a kiss to your cheek. "I'm worried that I will end up hurting you. Our kind, we're especially aggressive during our time. My pack-mates, some of whom have she-wolves as mates, they end up hurting their partners in their heats. And you, my love, you're a human. Much more fragile and delicate than a she-wolf. I cannot hurt you. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I did."

And so, with much reluctance, you had relented.

And three days in, you were missing him. Terribly.

You hadn't heard from him despite repeated assurances from him that he would be able to handle his heat. But his assurances did nothing to allay your stress, because you knew that this was his first heat after he had mated with you.

His choice of choosing a human, you, as his mate had caused a great deal of discord between him and his pack-mates. His brothers. Being the Alpha of the pack, everyone had expected him to choose a she-wolf, one who matched him better, in ever aspect of life. One who could give him little wolf pups. Something that you were reasonably sure you could never give him, being of different species.

Your equation with his brothers was also a cause of heartache for you. Most of them looked down upon you, disdain and antipathy in their eyes whenever you were around. To most of them, your relationship with Chanyeol was unnatural. An abomination.

The only reason why they tolerated you was because of the fear and respect they had for their Alpha.

To most of his pack members, your relationship with their Alpha was an anomaly. An abnormality. They detested the very thought of a human mating with their supreme. But here you were. Living, breathing proof that such a relationship could exist. And in their eyes, every breath that you took challenged their most basic beliefs.

Although not one of them had tried to harm you in any way, knowing full well that raising even a finger in your direction was asking for death. You were Chanyeol's mate. No one could touch you. But you could feel the hatred they harboured for you deep within their hearts. The venom they held against you was almost palpable. The spiteful glances. The hushed but bitter murmurs whenever you were around.

It hurt you, despite Chanyeol's best attempts to assure you.

Lost in your thoughts, you had just about taken a sip of tea when you heard a knock on your door.

It made you jump. Who could be calling upon you in this weather?

Your question was answered when you opened the door and found Sehun and Yixing, two of Chanyeol's pack-mates, standing outside.

They both wore worried expressions on their faces.

"He needs you," Yixing said.

"Now," added Sehun.

You knew who he was. And you immediately nodded, making your way to your room to get dressed.

If it were any other members of Chanyeol's pack, you wouldn't have trusted them. But Sehun and Yixing were the only ones who had shown you the slightest bit of kindness.

And if they said that your mate needed you, you believed them.

_____________________

The two took you deep within the woods near your cottage. To where Chanyeol's den was.

It was a stone cottage. Almost like your own. But much more spacious.

Once you reached there, you quietly murmured your thanks to Yixing and Sehun, your heart pounding with anticipation as your ran toward the heavy wooden door and pushed it with all your might.

With a loud creak, it opened.

And the sight that greeted you was equal parts arousing and worrying.

Chanyeol was lying on the floor, completely naked upon the ice cold stone. Enclosing his wrists and ankles were heavy, bulky manacles, the chains of which rattled as he thrashed against them, battling against his instinctual needs.

It was his appearance that caused a direct rush of heat to pool between your legs. Completely bare, his skin was flushed, sticky with sweat. His hair was askew and his bottom lip was red because of the number of times he had bitten it. And between his legs, his cock stood erect and stiff. Almost rock-like and just as unyielding. Flushed a deep red, tip weeping precum that trailed down the shaft in pearly, sticky dribbles.

"Chanyeol," you gasped.

And his eyes flew open.

"_____________?" he asked, his tone one of disbelief. He was looking at you as if you were a mirage. A vivid hallucination as a result of his heat.

His eyes held such a tormented look that it broke your heart. Your mate was in such obvious discomfort, that you wanted only to relieve him. At any cost.

Your hands sprang into action, stripping yourself out of your clothing, until you were as naked as him. Goosebumps erupted all over your body, your nipples hardening, every inch of your exposed skin being kissed by the cold. With a quick motion, you undid your hair, letting it fall freely.

His eyes widened when you approached him, realization dawning on him that you were actually here.

You knelt on the floor and leaned in to kiss him. Hands weaving into his hair, you kissed him messily. Open-mouthed.

And he kissed you back ravenously, growling in satisfaction upon your taste on his lips.

"Little one," he said to you when he pulled away. "Why are you here?"

You smiled at his use of the nickname he had given you. You were hearing it after three whole days, after all.

"I'm here to relieve you," you said, using the keys Yixing had given you to unshackle him.

The second you freed one of his wrists, his hand came up to cradle your face.

"You don't understand, I'll break you," he said, worry and concern evident in his voice. But the desire darkening his irises was all the confirmation you required.

"I'm stronger than you think," you said fiercely, unlocking the shackle on his other hand.

Chanyeol's eyes said it all. He was warring with himself. One one hand, he didn't want to hurt you. In any way. And on the other hand, the wolf inside him, maddened with lust, wanted to fuck you upon every single surface of his den. He wanted to take you over and over until his den smelled of nothing but a heady combination of your come mixed with his.

He was having difficulty in restraining himself, especially now, when you were naked before him. Everything about you called out to the wolf within him. The lure of the creamy suppleness of your skin against his. The way you were biting your lip, working on the locks around his ankles. Your innocent doe eyes, that made you look like the most delectable prey. The scent of your arousal, the ultimate siren call, permeating his senses, begging him to just fuck you.

The moment the final manacle clattered to the floor, Chanyeol attacked you with a feral growl.

A hiss escaped you when your back came in contact with the stone floor that felt more like a slab of ice. But relief came immediately when he lay upon you, pressing his body flush into yours, chest to chest, while he nuzzled your neck.

You let out a gasp at how high his body temperature was. He was burning up like a furnace. Feverish.

"Are you sure?" he asked in a strained voice, rolling his hips into yours, running his enormous length along your folds.

And it was then that you realized how much he loved you. In spite of being driven to the very brink of insanity because of his heat, he was still asking you if you wanted to do this.

You cupped his face in your hands and lifted his head up from your neck. "I'm your mate, Chanyeol. Your wife. Your she-wolf. So fuck me like it."

And how passionately he kissed you upon hearing your words.

There was no time for foreplay and nor was there any requirement for it. You both were prepared. And his relief took priority.

When he sank into you, you cried out, throwing your head back against the floor. His cock had swollen to almost twice its size during his heat. And even though your pussy was sopping wet for him, the penetration made you feel like you were being split in half. In the best way possible.

Once he had bottomed out, he muttered a curse against your breast, his hand groping harshly at the other. His other hand had a bruising grip upon your thigh, holding you open to him.

His eyes were pitch black while he fucked into you, with thrusts so deep that you were seeing stars. Your vision blurred, white hot lights bleeding into your sight and loud cries leaving your lips.

You knew full well that his pack-mates outside could hear you, but overwhelmed by ecstasy, you couldn't bring yourself to care.

Almost as if he could hear your thoughts, Chanyeol raised his face from your neck, where he had been sucking a bruise into your skin.

His words were punctuated with the repeated smacks of skin on skin, his balls slapping into your wet flesh.

"Let them all know you're mine. My mate. My queen," he husked, his already deep voice laced with lust. "Next full moon, I'll fuck you in front of all of them. That'll show them. They'll know that you belong to me."

You let out a high-pitched keen at his words, imagining him take you before the eyes of his pack. Outside in the forest, your naked bodies glowing in the moonlight, moving together as a single entity. While they all watched...

He grinned, his teeth biting into his bottom lip. "You like that idea don't you? Your sweet cunt seems to like it even more, the way it is sucking me even deeper into you..."

"Fuck, Chanyeol..." you moaned.

You were hanging on the very edge, your release so close that you could almost taste it.

And when you came, three thrusts later, your orgasm was so intense that it knocked the air out of your lungs.

Chanyeol groaned at the sensation of your velvety walls tightening around him. But exerting an extraordinary amount of self restraint, he held back his own release.

For a while, he just kept plunging sedately into you. And you knew he was enjoying the way your drenched and tight cunt felt around him.

Even as you recovered, basking in the sweet afterglow of your orgasm, enjoying the slow drag of his cock within you, you could hear the low growls outside.

His pack-mates.

And you could tell that there were more than just Sehun and Yixing outside.

Chanyeol sensed the presence of them all too. And the corner of his mouth turned upward in a smirk.

In a blink of eye, Chanyeol had carried you over to his bed.

His bed.

A structure that was built with wrought iron, large enough to accommodate his gigantic frame and then some. Every inch of the space was covered in fur. Pelts of other wolves. The ones that he had defeated and slain in battle over the years.

And you knew that he had never lost.

Placing his large hands on your hips, he flipped you around, onto your stomach. He lifted you, so that your ass was in the air and you were holding yourself up on trembling arms.

This was his favourite way of fucking you.

The way of the wolves.

Hands palming your rump, he spread your cheeks apart.

"You're so pink, my flower. Swollen. Succulent," he said in a lust glazed voice. And you whimpered, biting down on your lip.

His breath was fanning over your wet flesh, before he sank his teeth into one of your cheeks.

You moaned, the knowledge that he had left another mark on you making you wetter still.

And then, before you could open your mouth and just tell him to fuck you already, he sank into you.

A loud cry left your lips and suddenly all the quiet growls outside fell silent.

Hands firm upon your hips, he pulled you back into him, impaling you upon his length, making you meet his every thrust.

Your own hands grabbed fistfuls of fur beneath you, your back bowing under the severity of the pleasure.

Mouth agape, you cried out his name, your voice a mixture of anguish and ecstasy.

The way your walls clenched and gripped him, reduced him into a mess. Nails digging into your skin, he pulled you flush against him, your back against his chest, bodies slick and sliding with sweat.

"My bitch," he grunted into your ear. "The way your sweet cunt sucks me in. Fuck. I can't wait to see you grow big with my pups in you. You'll look so beautiful with a swollen belly," he rasped, one of his hands running over your lower abdomen.

"My wolf. My mate. My Chanyeol..." you sobbed, eyes scrunched shut as you focussed on the heat flaring up in the pit of your belly. Turning your head, you met his lips.

Open mouthed, you devoured each other hungrily, one of your hands clutching at his dark hair.

"I'm gonna... I..."

"I know, love," he breathed, his hand sneaking in between your legs, fingers rubbing into your clit. "Come for me. Take my seed."

That was all it took for you. And with a lusty moan, you shattered.

He followed just a moment later, his milky and viscous seed spilling within you in hot squirts. His deafening roar as he reached his climax could be heard all through the woods, you were sure.

Slumping into the furs, limbs boneless and jelly-like, you lay there. Sated.

Chanyeol turned you over onto your side and lay beside you. Hand on your thigh, he slung your leg over his hip and he pushed his now softened cock back into you.

"I'm not letting a drop of my seed leave you, my love," he said, pulling you into his arms and pressing a kiss to your lips. "And after a while, I'll fuck more of it into your womb."

"Little pups," you whispered dreamily, your eyes closing as you fell asleep with a small smile on your face.

[pasta-weeper]

Heya! I'm a huge fan of your blog, and I'm going to have a surgery done on my jaw in a few months so I'm very nervous. Can I get some headcanons about how Axis Trio (+Romano, Spain and Prussia) and Allies (+Canada) would take care of their s/o after they have surgery? It would help me feel so much better

(We hope everything goes well with your surgery! And thank you for the ask)

Italy: Feliciano would probably be pacing back and forth outside the operation room worried sick. He’s normally a cheery guy, but he will be on edge until he can see you again. After the surgery however, he’s a HUGE cuddle bug. He would watch your favorite movies with you and rub wherever it hurt just to make you feel better. 

Germany: Also a worry wart when you get out of surgery. He would want to speak with the doctor to make sure you took every necessary precaution so that your healing process goes smoothly. Ludwig would stay by your side at all times, scolding you gently if you decided to get out of bed and do something. He would rather be in charge of you until you were back to normal because deep down he just wants for you to feel better again.

Japan: Kiku is surprisingly prepared for the aftermath even before your surgery takes place. If you like cute things, you would come home to your bed filled with stuffed animals and a warm cup of tea waiting on your night table. Whenever he can he would visit with a fresh bouquet of flowers. He’s a man of few words but is a pro at showing his affection towards caring for you.

Romano: Unfortunately, his worry is masked by aggravation and tension. He would never flat out snap at you, but he would snap at anyone else who tried to be the one to take care of you or get near you in general. Lovino would ask tons of questions, asking if you were okay or if you needed anything else. It would amuse you, considering you know your boyfriend well enough to know he’s doing this out of love. After a while he would calm down and offer to take naps with you. 

Spain: Antonio is another country who’s never really seen with a frown on his face, but he would get surprisingly serious during your recovery. He’s more laid back, cuddling you on the couch and watching TV or simply grabbing his guitar to sing you a lullaby. He would try to make sure you didn’t have to do anything yourself, so Antonio would be a perfect butler for you while you healed!

Prussia: SO. MANY. JOKES. But he means well. He would be looking up online how many jaw related jokes he can find and just try to make you laugh because he knows how nervous you were about it. But if you didn’t enjoy any of the jokes, he would try to apologize and make up for it by giving you little gifts while he is out and about. Gilbert would make sure you were never alone at night, so expect pillow forts and mountains of blankets to be thrown on or around you.

America: You want candy? He’s got you. You want a piggy back ride down to the kitchen for some snacks? Consider it done. You want kisses all over your face? Bam, no questions asked. Alfred is a very tentative and loving boyfriend and would fawn over you as much as he could to make sure you were feeling better. He’s a lot more affectionate when he knows his s/o is in pain or recovering from something, so he would let you lay against his chest while he laughed at stupid parts of your favorite movies.

England: Very similar to Germany. Arthur would want to make sure that everything went smoothly during your recovery so you can feel more like yourself in a shorter amount of time. Expect breakfast in bed almost every day and a gentle kiss on your forehead as well. He’s a pure gentleman when caring for his s/o, and this is where you’d hear sweet and comforting words leave his lips every day and night.

France: On the outside he’s calm and collected, on the inside he’s a nervous wreck. Francis does not like it when his s/o is in any sort of pain or discomfort, so he would try his best to make sure your recovery was smooth and entertaining. He knows you might get bored doing nothing all day while you healed, so France would go all out to gather your favorite things and do them with you! He would also give you compliments as well, making sure you didn’t feel like a burden to him.

Russia: There is almost nothing in the world that would get Ivan to worry his head off, but this would be one of the exceptions. He has seen too many loved ones in his life experience surgeries and operations that you’d expect him to be used to it, but he hates it. When it was time for you to come home, he would bring you to your room or wherever you felt comfortable and give you his scarf. It would immediately go around your neck and he would even cook for you if you wanted. Whenever you two were apart for a short amount of time, he would call to make sure you were still okay.

China: He acts more like a parent than a boyfriend in this situation. Much like Germany or England, China would refuse to leave your side and pay close attention to your medical needs and check up on you constantly. When he sees that all his fussing about is unnecessary, he would calm down and ask you what meal you were craving for the most. And just like the excellent chef he is, he would whip it up in no time and share a meal with you, holding you close in the mountain of plushies he brought over as well.

Canada: Oh, this poor boy has it bad. Matthew would be a skittish and worried mess to see you after your surgery. Even if you reassured him you were okay, he would still try and ask if you needed anything. One of his favorite things to do for you is make hot drinks (especially hot chocolate with a drizzle of maple syrup, you should try it one day!) . He would give them to you every morning and night to soothe and calm you. Affection and attention are probably the two most important things on his mind, and Canada would never fail to bring exactly that.

- Admin Mel 

[words-writ-in-starlight]

TAZ FIC ASKS: I have my own interpretation that I'm enormously fond of, but how do you think one Julia Waxmen met one Magnus Burnsides?

Bless you.  I swear that Julia shows up at some point here, this just…got away from me in grand fashion.

Magnus Burnsides wakes up with what is frankly the most hideous hangover of his entire life.  It feels less like he’s been drinking and more like someone’s been rummaging through his brain, and if he had any marks to prove it, he’d think he’d had his clock cleaned to boot.  But he doesn’t have any marks, he just has the worst headache that the gods ever laid on a living being, and he’s in–well, he’s not sure where he is.

Magnus is only twenty-three and not necessarily an expert at waking up in unknown locations, but he flatters himself to be a professional at waking up hungover, so he lies there with his hands over his face for a while longer, and doesn’t try to take stock until it feels less like he’s holding the fragments of his head together.  Only then does he sit up–slowly–and look around.

He’s dressed, and he has his belt pouch with his coins, so he’s going to assume that he hasn’t been robbed.  Except for the headache and nausea–he can’t tell if the headache is causing the upset stomach or not, and doesn’t feel inclined to test it–he seems to be all right.  He’s in a room with the clean, impersonal look of an inn, somewhere that’s never really been someone’s home, and the heavy curtains are closed, which he appreciates as anything brighter than the light filtering through around the edges might actually kill him.

It takes a few more minutes to muster his strength to stand, and all his joints complain, like he’s been sleeping on the ground rather than a passably nice bed.  He’s not sure he can afford this inn, on closer consideration, but then he supposes that depends on how much money he spent on getting exceedingly drunk.

Someone in his immediate vicinity is baking fresh bread.  The nausea must be part of the headache, because he’s dying to have some.

Magnus follows his nose out into the hall–he only remembers to check his pockets after hearing the lock on his room click into place, and turns out drunk Magnus really knew his shit, because there’s a key fastened to his belt so he doesn’t lose it–and down a flight of stairs to a small tavern beneath the rooms.  There’s a Drow woman with her hair piled up in a thousand braids pulling loaves out of an oven in the kitchen, and a half-orc pulling chairs down from tables.

“Hey,” the half-orc says with a grin, “he’s alive.”

“Yeah,” Magnus says ruefully, shading his eyes as he steps far enough inside to take the sunlight right in the face.  “I’m not thrilled about it either.  What time is it?”

“Ten or so?  We expected you to sleep until dinner, with how hammered you were last night.”  The half-orc comes over and steers Magnus by the shoulder into a chair, then disappears for a moment and insinuates something into his hand.  It’s hot and tastes acrid and sharp, but something in Magnus says better finish that, kid and he knocks it back as fast as he can.  His eyes don’t feel like they’re being pried out of his skull anymore, once it’s gone, and he blinks.

“Last night?”

The Drow comes out of the kitchen, sweat beaded on her black skin and the sharp points of her teeth flashing at him.  “You must have been drunker than we thought.  We didn’t even get a name off you.”

“Magnus,” he says, toasting her with the empty cup.  “Magnus Burnsides.”

She nods and laughs and says, “Now that’s a goddamn name.  I’m Opal, and that’s Jolene.  You can call her Jolly.  How much do you remember, Magnus Burnsides?”

Magnus considers that question for a minute.

“Where…the fuck am I?”

Jolly whistles from behind the counter and Opal raises a white eyebrow.  “Bud,” she says, and she sounds almost impressed.  Magnus just sort of shrugs at her, because…well, yeah.  Fair enough.  “You’re at Red Door Inn, in the hostel column.  You feeling okay?”

“I feel kind of like my head’s been stomped on,” he says.  “And I’m actually gonna need a little more than ‘Red Door Inn.’“

Opal’s other eyebrow joins the first.  “Bud.  Do you–is there someone we can find for you?  Like, are people gonna be worried that you just–fuckin’ disappeared on them?”

Magnus frowns and thinks about that one.  “No,” he decides, because the most recent people he can think of is the merchant caravan he was traveling with, and that was a while ago.  “No, I can’t think of anyone.”

Opal sighs, swoops away the empty cup and replaces it with a mug full of what smells like very dark tea and a slice of bread with a small pot of jam, the bread still steaming gently.  “Here,” she says, in a tone of command.  “Eat something.  Careful with the–the all of it, it’s hot.”

“Thanks,” Magnus says, and stuffs the entire slice of bread into his mouth in four bites with absolutely no consideration for the temperature.  Once he’s done with it–it’s good, rich and warm and sweet and it soothes a little more of the headache–he swallows a couple mouthfuls of the black tea and looks up at Opal.  “Where did you say this was again?”

Opal smiles at him, and so does Jolly, from behind the bar.  “Welcome to Ravensroost, Magnus Burnsides.”

***

Opal and Jolly are nice enough to let him stay there at half-price, because drunk Magnus was apparently smart with his money but no version of Magnus is exactly rolling in gold, while he figures himself the hell out.  He takes the first day to recover from his headache, because the idea of facing unfiltered sunlight is just…bad.  It’s bad.  He’s not into it.  He talks to Opal and Jolly and lingers in the tavern while people trickle in and out for the lunch rush, but he can’t seem to get anything back about the night before, and he reluctantly writes the whole situation off as a loss.  Magnus wishes, idly, over dinner, that he had people to drink with, because he thinks that would be better.  At the very least, if he had some people who had stuck with him, they would be able to do things like say “hey, thug, you accidentally went walkabout while you were drunk and here’s where you started from.”  

Oh well.

The downside to Magnus’ largely itinerant lifestyle these days is that traveling costs money, it’s going to start getting cooler soon, and Magnus does not currently own a jacket or any other weather-appropriate gear that would enable him to travel, which costs more money.

So the day after he wakes up in Ravensroost, Magnus wanders downstairs–at a more reasonable hour, because he isn’t dying today–and asks Jolly where a guy could get some work in this town.

“Well,” Jolly says as she wipes down the counter and prepares to open.  Jolly is a methodical kind of person, steady and efficient at her job, and she looks intimidating for someone who apparently hides behind the counter when the elf she has a crush on comes inside.  “What kind of work?  You want to wait tables or some shit?  You look more like a brawler.”

“I don’t know,” Magnus says.  “Probably not waiting tables, though.”

“Yeah, you seem like your customer service could use some work.”  Jolly wrings out her rag thoughtfully.  “Well, there might be a merchant caravan in for the market, they might be looking for laborers there.  Short of that–I don’t know, we’re mostly a crafters town, you know what I’m saying?  Not exactly a lot of places looking for a dude the size of a brick wall.”

“Crafters?”

“Yeah, you know anything?”

Magnus looks down to where he’s absently playing with the knife in his hand–his grandfather’s knife.  His muscles know how to hold it to whittle a curve, to smooth a line.  “You got carpenters here?”

“Hell yeah!” Jolly says, grinning at him.  “You want directions?”

“No,” Magnus says.  “I’m sure I’ll figure it out.”

Magnus does not figure it out.  He’s managed to get handily lost by the time he washes up on the outskirts of a marketplace, and he would swear he was better at this directions thing, but apparently not.  He’s not even sure he can get back to the inn.  He’s lingering at a stand displaying scarves and kerchiefs and other cloth items, fingering something in a bright shade of crimson and trying to decide what to do, when someone behind him clears their throat, amused.

“Hey,” says a voice, rich and throaty, a little raspy and–laughing at him.  “Do you want to buy that scarf or take it out to dinner?”

Magnus turns, startled, and there’s a woman–human, middling skin freckled darker across her broad nose, wild curls pinned back–smirking at him.  She’s tall, less than a head shorter than Magnus and Magnus is very tall indeed, and she has a burn scar across the back of her forearm, and she’s…she’s something.

“What?” Magnus says, in a moment of dazzling charisma.

“I mean,” the woman goes on, “don’t let me stop you, hot shot, but I walked past twenty minutes ago and you were still here, so I’m starting to think maybe you’re lost.”

Magnus feels a little like he’s been slapped in the face, but in a good way?  His brain doesn’t seem to be agreeing with itself about this experience.

The woman’s face softens a little, although she doesn’t stop grinning at him.  “Seriously, though, are you lost?”

“Yeah,” Magnus says.  It surprises him a little that it didn’t even cross his mind to lie.  “I’m new in town and I kind of need…money.  I was trying to find a carpenter’s shop that might need an assistant or something.”

“Are you a carpenter?” the woman asks, curious.

“Not much of one,” Magnus admits.  “I haven’t had a lot of practice.  But I can whittle, and to be honest–uh, recent events sort of make me think I might need a new line of work.  Maybe a line of work with…a house or some shit like that.”

“Recent events?”

“I–sort of ended up here by…accident,” he says.  “I was…real hammered.”

The woman laughs properly at that, and it’s a loud, full sound that comes from the depths of her core and doesn’t seem to give a damn about anyone looking at her, and it drags a grin out of Magnus.  

“It’s destiny,” the woman proclaims, still laughing, and pawns a shockingly heavy bag on Magnus without missing a beat.  He takes a peek and sees metal ingots, of all things, inside–small ones, silver and even a small one made of gold, but still.  “Come on, hammer boy, let’s go.”

The woman is already walking away at a decent clip by the time Magnus catches up with her.

“Where are we going?”

“To my dad’s shop,” she says, grinning up at him.  She loops her arm through his and they fall into step and Magnus wonders, a little bit, if he’s been kidnapped, possibly.  “Waxmen’s Woodworks.  We’re thinking about a new name, now that I kind of work there too–I do metalwork, see?  So we gotta switch that up.  Dad likes Waxmen and Daughter, but I keep telling him that it needs to be catchier.”

“Your dad’s a carpenter?”

“Yeah, obviously.  Didn’t you hear me say some bullshit about destiny?  Keep up, hammer boy.”  She plows on ahead, still smiling warmly, and Magnus doesn’t remember the last time he felt like this–it’s not that she’s pretty, although she certainly is, but there’s a level of unthinking care for him, just because he was lost and she knew how to help him.  Compassion, maybe?  Something like being adopted on the spot, and Magnus doesn’t remember the last time a stranger offered him that.  Even Opal and Jolly, benevolent innkeepers by any measure, are being paid for their generosity.

“I could suck at carpentry, for all you know,” Magnus points out as they climb one of the columns, a spiral path winding around the outside and passing shop fronts every few yards.

“Well, do you?” she asks.  Magnus…isn’t sure, he realizes.  It must have been longer than he thought, since he whittled something.  He shrugs, and the woman seems to take his word for it, and nods decisively. ��“I mean, Dad’s always saying that if you know which end of a knife to hold, you can probably figure it out, so if you suck, I guess you can just figure it out.  You’ll stop sucking eventually.  Besides, Dad’s in the market for an assistant, not a master craftsman.  You look like you could carry wood.”  She gives him a cheerful thump in the arm.

“I could be an axe murderer, for all you know.”

“Nah,” she says.  “I’ve got a good feeling about you.”  She jerks him into such a hard right he almost falls over, and she throws open a door to a room that smells of sawdust and smoke and lacquer.  “Dad!  I brought you a present!”

There’s a thump in a back room and a fondly exasperated voice precedes her father into the showroom.  “Baby girl, I swear to god–who’s this?”

“This is your present,” she says, and pushes Magnus forward like she’s displaying a particularly good find at the market.  Magnus supposes that she sort of is.  “Hammer boy, say hello to your new boss.  Daddy, you’re going to hire hammer boy.  You were talking about wanting an assistant, and he’s a kind of shitty carpenter who needs work and a place to live.  It’s fate.”

Her father–Waxmen, apparently–looks past Magnus to his daughter with a tolerantly amused look on his face.  “And do I get to interview hammer boy, or is he just hired now?”

She shrugs.  “I mean, interview him if you want, but just think how guilty you’d feel if you kicked him out on the street.”  Waxmen narrows his eyes at her, and she beams, sailing past Magnus to reclaim her bag full of ingots and kissing her father on the cheek as she passes him by.  “Thanks, Dad.  You have fun, hammer boy!” she calls over her shoulder, and then she’s gone into the back room, and Magnus is alone with, apparently, his new boss.

It’s only then, staring after her in shock, that Magnus realizes that he never got her name.