“Oh, Spencer took that one...”

so i read @reidbyers’s ask post about librarians and spencer and while reading it, this sentence caught my attention: “sometimes he takes so many books out that a lot of the time people come in looking for a certain book and they have to be like sorry…spencer took that one and 21 more.” and it gave me an idea/insp for a small little one shot, so thanks @wheresthewater and @reidbyers for unknowingly giving me this idea! also i’m so sorry if this feels rushed! 

While studying to get your doctorate in Psychology, you were fortunate enough to have every book you need for all of your classes at your fingertips, whether having your parents supply them for you or finding links to it online. While writing a paper, you noticed the assignment had some references from your very early Intro to Psych book. You realized quickly that you were going to need to go to the library; you had since given that book to a nice underclassman. 

You didn’t mind, but occasionally, a book you wanted to check out would be gone and they always said the same thing.

“Sorry honey, it looks like Spencer has that book out at the moment.”

“Well it looks like Dr. Reid has that book.”

“Yup. Spencer again.”

It seemed like every time you needed a book from the library, Dr. Spencer Reid would check it out before you. The three main, kind elderly librarians found it amusing every time you mentioned a book he had checked out. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think they were conspiring against you.

Sighing, you grabbed your shoulder bag and keys and made your way out of your brick brownstone apartment building. “If this Spencer has my book this time, I might just scream…” You muttered to yourself as you walked down the street. Luckily the library was only a few blocks from your place. You could smell the air and could tell it was going to rain. You picked up your pace.

Walking in the large building, you smelled the books and smiled. 

“Well hi, baby, what’re you looking for?” Came from Franny, your favorite librarian, knowing your routine by now.

“Hi Franny,” you grinned at her. “Do you have this book?” You handed her a crumbled piece of paper with the title of the book on it.

“Hmm,” Franny entered the title in her desktop and smiled knowingly. “I’m sorry hone–”

“Let me guess,” you rolled your eyes.

“Spencer has it,” you both said in unison. One cheerfully, and one tired. You guess who’s who.

“God, I’d love to give this Spencer a piece of my mind,” you shook your head. “He consistently checks out every book I want and I actually need this one!” You exclaimed. 

“What for?” Franny asked. 

“It’s my final. Our professor decided against a test final and just gave us a paper final. It counts for over half our grade and I know if I use the material in this book, I know I’ll ace that final…you see, I’m gonna make a callback reference to our intro to psycho book that’s gonna tie up my entire paper in a cute little bow.” You rambled, a bad habit you’ve gained whenever you become desperate for something. “I’m sorry,” you said. “You probably didn’t need to hear this, Franny.” You shook your head. “I’ll just check back tomorrow,” you turned and left quickly.

If you looked back, you’d seen Franny pursing her lips, pick up the phone, and dial a number. “Hi Spencer. It’s Franny. I’m sorry to bother you but I have a need for a book you checked out.”

You chewed on your lip as you walked into the library for the third day in a row. You weren’t expecting the book to be there today or any other day, but you had to at least check. Especially since your paper was due in three days. You inhaled as the familiar smell reached you again, a smile on your face, placating you for the time being. Today at the desk, was Esther, a particularly nosy woman.

“Hi Esther, any luck today?” You asked, already knowing the answer. 

“Actually, maybe!” She answered you. “Spencer is coming by today to drop off some books and pick some up, so maybe your book will be in the bunch!” She offered. 

You raised your eyebrow. “With my luck, probably not. But I finally get to meet this allusive Spencer.” You took a seat at the bench next to the main desk where the librarians worked and pulled out your laptop. It was a normal seat for you whenever you wanted to spend time at the library.

“Do you want some lemon bars, sweetie?” Esther, the known cook of the three main librarians, placed two lemon bars next to you. 

“Thank you, Esther,” you grinned thankfully at her. 

Deep into your studies, you didn’t noticed that an hour had gone past or that the other two librarians, Franny and Dorothy snuck in.

“Is he comin’?” Dorothy, with her deep southern accent, asked. 

“Yes, Dorothy. He told me he’d be here at 4:15 and that boy never lies to me,” Esther replied, rolling her eyes.

“You sure this is gonna work?” Franny asked, pushing her gray curls aside. “What if they don’t like each other?”

“Fran, those two couldn’t be a better match. My Henry (God rest his soul) told me I had a knack for seeing lovers,” Esther nodded. 

“That’s cuz you were always putting your nose in places it shouldn’t be –” Franny began to rebut but was interrupted by Dorothy. 

“Shhh, he’s coming!”

Sure enough, walking to the desk was Dr. Spencer Reid of the BAU. Trademark cardigan, scarf, and shoulder bag on. “Hi ladies, is something special going on? It’s rare to see you all here at the same time. Although I get the library’s newsletter sent to me every month and I didn’t see any events happening today to warrant you all here at the same time today.” He began to ramble. 

“Oh Spencer, don’t you worry about us,” Franny waved him off.

At the mention of the familiar name, your head popped up.

“I see you’re returning some books. May I check them in for you? Y/N here has been needing one you might have for quite some time now,” Dorothy grabbed the books from Spencer’s hand and slid them over to Esther. “Now leave us old ladies be to check these back in.” She shooed him away.

“So you’re the famous Spencer Reid,” you said as you saw him approach the bench next to you. “I’m not sure if its a pleasure to meet you or not,” you crossed your arms over your chest.

“Excuse me?” Spencer was taken aback. He saw you and blinked. You were beautiful. His mouth went dry, his heart stuttered, he felt a wave of adrenaline rush through him. 

You couldn’t help yourself. No matter how good looking he turned out to be, you thought to yourself. The rage built. “Every time I want to check out a book from here, you always have it, every single time! And sometimes you keep the books for months on end!” You huffed.

“Statistically, that’s impossible. There’s no possible way that every single time you need a book, I somehow have it,” Spencer challenged. Your voice sounded beautiful to his ears. He wanted to hear more of it. At least when it wasn’t filled with anger.

“Ladies?” You asked the librarians, without turning your back from Spencer.



“Every single time.” Came their replies.

“…” Spencer had no reply to the three snarky librarians.

“Hmm,” you smirked at Spencer.

“I’m sorry,” Spencer said sincerely. “I didn’t know. If I did, I would’ve eagerly give you the books you needed.” I’d give you anything you want or need, his thoughts said, catching him off guard.

“Oh.” Your heart stuttered. He’s so sweet. And handsome. And obviously he reads since he consistently checks books out from here. And you weren’t expecting this response from him. You were fully expecting him to be this alpha male with a bunch of bravado. “W-well, thank you.”

“What book did you need so urgently that Franny called me?” Spencer couldn’t help but ask, the profiler in him begging to do so. The man in him, curious to hear more from her.

You told him the title. “I need it for my final paper. I-I’m getting my doctorate in psychology and I need it for one of my classes.” 

“Spencer has three PhDs,” Esther added, boasting. 

“Esther, hush,” Franny smacked her shoulder. “Let the kids do it by themselves,” she whispered to her.

“Three?” You were impressed. “Wow. You’d have to be kind of a genius to have three PhDs.” You said non nonchalantly. 

“Well, certifiably, I am a genius. I have an IQ of 185 and can read 20,000 words per minute and have an eidetic memory, but I don’t necessarily like to call myself a genius,” Spencer bashfully said. 

“Whoa…” You breathed. “But you’re totally one. A wonderful, brilliant genius,” the statement accidentally slipped out of your mouth and you blushed.

Spencer laughed, blushing as well. “Thank you.” 

You and Spencer engaged in small talk during the time the librarians were checking in more books. In the back of your mind, you were wondering why they were taking so long. They never take this long. But in your Spencer filled haze, you didn’t care. You smiled at each other, both of you taking in the beauty of each other’s smiles. You quickly moved your stuff aside for him to take a seat next to you on the bench. He quickly glanced at your laptop and instantly read part of your paper. The topic quickly jumped to psychology which jumped into talking about people’s minds, which, thanks to Spencer, jumped to odd facts. You were amazing by this man and all he had to offer. He had given you some extra facts to put into your paper.

Meanwhile, the librarians were smiling at the two of you, silently cheering you both on. The women had never seen Spencer smile as large as he did with you and you had never opened up so quickly to another person. It took even Esther a few months before you even gave her a smile. 

From then on, you and Spencer had a standing date at the library. In your bench. Occasionally Spencer would check out a book you’d randomly mentioned before just to rile you up. He was never able to live down the encounter that caused you to meet. While studying one night, Spencer rushed into the library and planted a kiss on your lips, changing your relationship with that. While he made the first move in your relationship, you made the first move in the bedroom. He was scared of his inexperience and you talked him through it. He proved to be a quick learner and with him reading smut novels for experiences and ideas in the bed, you were never ever unsatisfied.  

You both adopted a dog, which you named Esther because of the dog’s keen sense of smell. Esther found it hilarious and promptly kissed you both on the cheek. “About time you named something after me! I’d better get a baby named after me!” She cackled. 

The team noticed he was always happier and sometimes would walk in with his hair and ties ruffled. Luke could’ve sworn he saw a hickie on Spencer’s neck during a case. When he asked the boy genius about it, he immediately blushed at the memory.

“I want to try something,” you said shyly one night. 

“What?” Spencer smiled, holding you in his lap. He furrowed his brow at your shyness. You’d gotten over that long before. 

“I know you have sensory issues, but…I just want you to feel. Don’t think, but feel,” you told him as you wrapped your arms around him. 

“I don–” He was cut off by you kissing his neck. He laughed, “Y/N, I have no problem with you kissing my — oh.” He felt a wet vacuum on his neck. He could feel your tongue working on his neck, the feeling new to him. It caused a stirring in his body. The same stirring he got when he was aroused. He couldn’t help himself as he grabbed your face and kissed you.

“Spence, I wasn’t done!” You exclaimed. 

Spencer quickly removed your shirt. “And I’m just getting started,” he smiled.

Time passed quickly, yet slowly in your relationship. You were both so happy together. You didn’t know if you could be happier. He had come to your graduation, where you first met the team. They were suspicious and thought he relapsed so they followed him to you. The team loved you instantly. You quickly became a part of the family. JJ and Derek often called you and Spencer to baby sit. You kept your standing date at the library, even though you had no need of studying anymore. The three librarians always happy to see you both.

One day you went to the library to see all of them there. That never happened. Unless, like Spencer said the day you met, there was an event. And you knew there wasn’t. “What’re you ladies doing here?” You asked cheerfully.

“Oh no reason, darlin’,” Dorothy told you, looking like the cat who swallowed the canary. Actually, they all looked like that. 

To your surprise, Spencer proposed to you. In that library. On that bench. The squeals from the ladies were deafening. You swore they cheered even louder than Spencer’s team at your wedding. They each made long toasts, the guests confused at first. Esther’s was full of details you both hadn’t known she knew. “Nosy old bat,” Franny had said. Esther had the entire room cackle with laughter. Dorothy’s speech was filled with many, many southern phrasings and accounts of key moments of your relationship which she was witness to. She was always the one you came to during struggles in your relationship. And Franny’s was filled with wisdom, love, and hope. She was the one who orchestrated your first meeting.

No one was surprised, however, when you became pregnant immediately after your wedding; the both of you eager to start a family. Everyone was surprised when your water broke in that fateful library. On your bench. While Spencer panicked and called, in order, the team, then the ambulance. Luckily the three ladies had all enrolled in midwifery quickly after your first meeting and helped you deliver your first child, Diana Dorothy, in that library. On your bench. 

You were happy to inform Esther, a year after giving birth to your first son, that his first word was ‘Esther’. “This is better than having a baby named after me!” She hooted.

Unfortunately, with the times, the three ladies eventually passed. Esther first, Dorothy quickly after, then Franny held on long enough to see the birth of your third child, a girl you’d decided to call Francis Esther. In each of the ladies’ will, there was one statement that remained the same. “Give the library bench to Drs. Spencer and Y/N Reid. It has always been theirs.” 

That bench sat in the library of your home with Spencer, underneath a beautiful window where you’d told your children stories of the three ladies who were responsible for everything they knew. 

Bus Stop

[V/Jihyun Kim X Reader]

Every day he saw her waiting there at the bench. Sometimes she would be standing. Her sun dress flowing in the wind, as if the lace or fabric had been lighter than air, catching even the smallest breeze. Her hair dancing about her face. His eye sight was poor, but he could see her tangled hair dancing. He could smell the perfume of her shampoo carried in the wind as he approached her. Other times she would be huddled together on the bench as she sat. Her knees clenched closely as she held her heavy coat to her frame in the cold wind.

It was the same as when he first met her. The droplets of rain fell hard, each splash on the pavement demanded your hearing. V could hardly believe someone had been caught so off guard by the storm. Her hands went from wiping her ever-dampening hair to her arms, to her soaked cloth clinging to her frame. He remembered thinking how beautiful and natural she looked. How helpless. How, in that moment, he saw someone in need of his help, even if his sight was less than superb. Her bangs and hair clung to her face and she smiled to him. The smile that he had grown to look forward to for weeks to come.

“Please, share my umbrella?” he asked of her as he held it above her shivering frame.

It was the first thing he ever said to her. The first words ever spoken between them as they stood there at the bus stop. Her careful nod and slight smile pierced through him in that instant. Her gratitude. Had he ever been so thankful for his eyesight before?

In his mind he could remember every detail of her. Her face. Her makeup and the way the strands of hair clung messily to her face from the rain like thin vines on a beautiful sculpture. The sound of the droplets on the umbrella and the feel of wetness as the bottoms of his jeans began to soak water and creep up his shins. It didn’t matter, as long as she was dry and comfortable.

“Thank you,” she spoke in soft syllables through the heavy rain.

Her voice had been like a symphony to the backdrop of the rain pattering. Her smile the beams of sunlight in the clouds of rain. It was a gift to see her before him.

When the bus approached and she nodded in gratitude before entering, he felt a heaviness in his chest. Such grace and beauty lost to him now because he hadn’t the courage, nor the strength, to ask her for any more than she had already bestowed upon him. Only a  warm smile and a slight giggle from her as he sheltered her from the rain.

The next day it was drizzling lightly as he approached the bench. His sight limited to the bus. And…as if a sign from above, he saw her looking back to him with that same sweet smile. It would insight the tightness in his chest once more. She recognized him? Even with his blurry vision he could never mistake her for another.

“Hello, V!” she would smile and exclaim every time.

Always the same cheerful greeting. It always elicited his heart to work overtime in his chest. He wanted to know more about her. Wanted her to know more about him.

“Call me Jihyun, remember,” he laughed and smiled.

“Oh! Of course, I’m so sorry,” she would laugh and cover her face in embarrassment.

He loved that about her. And without another thought his umbrella would be covering her and sheltering her from the spring rain.

“You don’t take the same route as I do, yet you’re always here at the same time,” she says casually, “why do you take the bus? Your clothes….ah! I’m sorry, is that rude?”

The way she gets flustered turns his cheeks red. He didn’t think he was dressed so richly? Maybe only compared to Jumin…

“It’s not rude,” he chuckled, “my eye sight…” he let his voice trail off.

“I know,” she replied.

Delicate fingertips pressed against his cheeks and shocked him more than he had anticipated. The feeling of her warm fingertips on his skin made his heart leap and his body feel warmth in the growing cold.

“Is that why you…ride public transport?” she had asked.

“Mostly, yes,” he found himself admitting.

It is true. He can still see alright, enough to get around daily life. But he can not drive. Public transport is his means of traveling. He doesn’t wish to be like his friend Jumin, spending money on personal drivers and cars. Figures from afar appear as blurs, but not her.

Perhaps it was the way she smelled. Or sounded.

He could hear her rustling and know it was her. Her delicate hands moving through her bag to find her chapstick. Or her sunglasses. Or phone. He could tell her apart from anyone else in the world. it would start off as if she had forgotten the thing completely. Frantic and manic were her hands in the pockets and crevices of her bag. Eventually, the all-too-familiar sigh would escape her when she found what she was looking for. Maybe others could not pick it up, but he could. He heard and watched her pop the cap from her chapstick in the summer and rub it against her full lips. She wasn’t aware of how bad his sight had been. But she was more aware than most.

Most good days, when he met her at the bench, they would talk about themselves. If she was carrying bags, she would explain what she purchased for him. Even if it was trivial, he found himself enthralled in her explanations.

“Shoes for the beach. You know my old ones always gave me trouble,” she laughed and he agreed since he had known as well, “and this new dress. I don’t know how well it will look. Maybe for a lunch with friends…”

She held the dress up to herself and he felt almost bad for imagining her in it. Perhaps on a moonlit night. She would be waiting as he approached from a street corner. She would be smiling, only for him, in that dress. He’d buy her dinner and wine. They would share her favorite dessert and she would tell him all about her day. He would listen intently. He cared. For a moment he had to remind himself of where he was.

“It’s a beautiful dress for you,” he remarked.

“Why, thank you,” she replied and stuffed the items back in her bag with red cheeks.

One day she was showing him what she had purchased, when she noticed how aloof he seemed, though he was trying his hardest not to show it.

“Your eyesight,” she spoke softly, “it’s getting worse…isn’t it…”

Why was he choking back his words? Was it the slight drizzling rain clouding his eyes, or his own tears as he held his umbrella over what he hoped was her frame. If he could do anything in this world, it was to keep her from being cold…and wet. Somehow, she knew. Just by the way he had acted, for he hadn’t said a word about how he was doing.

He felt a soft hand on his own free one. It was hers. Without thinking twice he smiled and let her lead him. He could even hear her smile in her voice.

“Sunglasses…not that I’ll be needing them anytime soon, don’t you agree? I feel like a fool for believing the weatherman,” she laughed and held her forehead against his own as she did so, while still guiding his hand around her bag.

Was she not put off by his ailment? It was one of the first times he could say he hadn’t felt like an outsider. Someone who needed to be asked to be accepted. She had grabbed his hand…

She had grabbed his hand…and from then on, she continued to do so.

Some days, he didn’t need it. Some days, the sun shone bright and still would be out-shined by her radiance. Her smile and aura as he approached the bench would radiate his core. Whether she was heading to work, meeting friends or shopping, she looked beautiful and full of hope to him. She filled him with her warmth even on the coldest of days.

It wasn’t since Rika that he had felt this way about another human being. And even thinking about her inner beauty, could he say he even felt this way about Rika? No. This person who had accepted him as who he was, even with his sight as it happened to be. This person who asked nothing from him other than conversation as they waited for the bus to take them to their destinations.

When he had fallen in love with her, who could say? But he was sure she felt the same way. Her subtle touches to his hands and arm when they met. The way she leaned in close to explain things to him.

“It is cold…but I do appreciate the rain,” she said one day to him after he had placed his jacket over her. “It gives life to the flowers around us, the plants…Life would cease to exist without the rain. I think we should appreciate it. Don’t you agree?” she asked him.

Of course he did. His hands held her shoulders tightly as he explained so. How badly he wanted to ask her to dinner in that moment. Maybe just to a cup of coffee. To ask her everything about herself. Did she garden? What was her favorite film? Did she enjoy music?

He could sense a lot about her just in the time they spent together. She was selfless. She only went shopping when it meant it was needed. If it was for meeting friends, or perhaps something she didn’t have before. He liked that about her. She was observant.

“The bus has been a little late…fourth time this week…I hope the driver isn’t feeling ill,” she had mentioned one day.

He laughed.

“What’s so funny?” she smiled and put her hand on his forearm playfully, “ I really am worried!”

“Only you would be worried about the driver when your ride is late…I just…find it charming,” he admitted to her.

When he was late, or struggling to make it to the bench, he found her at his side, helping carry his things and hold him steady.

One particularly rainy day, her bus arrived on schedule. It was the familiar slosh of the flowing gutters as it pulled close to the curb for her. The all-too-familar squeak of the door hinges as it swung opened for her. But she did not move. She did not enter. Her hand lay wrapped on his forearm, which held his umbrella sturdy to protect her the best he could from the elements.

“I’m not going in today,” she spoke coyly as the door shut and the sound of the bus driving down the road faded once again in the distance.

He couldn’t hold back his smile much longer. Her touch soothed him. Her delicate hands he had grown to fall in love with. And the sweetness in her voice like warm honey coating his soul.

“We can’t waste the day,” he found himself replying, “how about I take you to lunch…and then maybe dinner?”

“Nothing could make me happier, Jihyun,” she pulled her body in close to his as she spoke.

He could feel her steps in sync with his own. This wasn’t the first time he had taken her out. Not even the twentieth time…her feet and hands, her voice, her steps and the pitter patter they made next to his own feet…the way she walked was all too familiar.

Yes…this day was like many others he had come to share with her. And yet…he felt in his pocket, that hardness in the shape of a box. The velvet case with a ring inside.

It may have come to be a familiar day for them. But today, he would ask her to be his wife.

Nap date

Harry’s colleagues had asked him to go to the potions lab again, as they always did when something came up that might need attention from that department. Sometimes he had the idea they just made things up to send him that way.

He knew why by now, though it had taken an intervention from both Hermione and Cho before he saw it, plus a lot of sighs, eye rolls and seriously Harry I thought those glasses helped to see things more clearly but apparently not.

Only when Harry had actually threatened to go to the optician for a new prescription had they told him what it was he’d missed. He had a giant crush on Draco Malfoy.

You just keep on learning new things every day, Harry had thought after that, before sitting down on a chair that wasn’t there anymore and accidentally giving himself a severe concussion.

Now that unfortunate incident was months ago, though Harry may or may not have dried the bouquet Malfoy had send him and may or may not keep the “get well soon” card signed by him on his bedside table. Though if he ever did get to take Malfoy to bed he might needed to rid his room of certain items first.

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Identity, Agency and the Story of Bill Potts

In her first lines on the show, Bill Potts recounts her encountering a crush of hers. Charmingly, she narrates her life. Even as she tries to get around answering the question on her lecture attendance, she’s calling us to get to know her. Her version of subterfuge is presenting an anecdote that includes her job, her love life and a brief ramble about personal philosophies, before she has to admit that none of this relates to the issue at hand. Her face and hands take us on a journey, expressive, alive.

Bill sees the world with open eyes and feels with an open heart. Like so many of the Moffat era companions, she is full of stories. Full of anecdotes, of small, shy reveals, of movie recommendations, of other people’s histories, of tiny facts and complex explanations. Her logic, too, can be seen as fundamentally story-based. Genre-savvy as she is, Bill thinks in the leaps and bounds of sci fi tales - from lizards in brains and mind wipes to jumping straight to the TARDIS-induced telepathy as an explanation for the translation she is witnessing.

It’s not that her life resembles a fairy tale or that she aspires to be its heroine. Her universe is what is is. It can be unkind, unyielding. But Bill is also willing to see a world that is stranger and more wonderful than you can imagine. She can take joy in simple things, like recognising the familiar smell of rosemary in a garden far, far away. And when given the opportunity, she is eager to experience life, eager to learn, eager to allow things in. With Bill , asking questions turns into more than a narrative tool. Instead, it becomes a beautiful building block of her characterisation. “Most people when they don’t understand something, they frown. You smile.”

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Gone - Pt. 3

Part One  Part Two

Pairing: Hothner x Reader

Word Count: 1,778

Request:  yes!  Thank you for the amazing feedback!

@zugzwangcm-comment-account:  Omg you should do a third part 😭 this was so good!

@ncis-cm-hp-sherlock-imagines:  I’ve loved part one and I love part 2 even more! The way the team and the reader interact was just lovely. I’d really enjoy a third part if there are any plans for one?

@marvelfanlife:  Please say that there will be a part 3 to gone?! Like I said before Aaron needs to know! And what happens if Scratch makes an appearance! 😬😊💕

@dkbksbcobk:  Hey, I was wondering if you could make a part 3 to “Gone” when you have the time, you’re an amazing writer

@louisespecter:  It was beautifully written but yet so sad. My heart can’t handle this. I literally have tears in my eyes as I’m typing this message. Please please pleaaasssee can there be a part 3?

Warnings: none

Summary: Aaron Jack Hotchner was born.  The reader has an incredibly close-knit relationship with the team, making it easier to raise her son, but his father has no clue he exists... Or does he?  I’m actually so excited that this fic is getting such amazing feedback, it’s makes me happy to know that there are people who want to read something that I’m very proud of creating.  Without further ado, here is the third part to ‘Gone’.  Enjoy!!

A/N: AJ is Aaron Jack’s nickname for Aaron Jack and Aaron Junior, just in case that confused anyone.

Originally posted by prettyboygoobler

Previously on…

His dad was not here, but Aaron Jack Hotchner was surrounded by the people who love him and will go to the ends of the earth for him, and that was all that mattered.

Aaron was out in the world somewhere with Jack hopefully safe, but wherever he was, he had no knowledge of the baby boy just born with his name.  He didn’t know that you thought about him every day, and probably didn’t know that since he left, you spent every night crying yourself to sleep.  He didn’t know any of this because he was gone.

“AJ, I’m not going to tell you again,” you scolded your son.  He was stubborn as always, trying to play with the toys that weren’t his without permission. 

“No, no, he’s fine!  He’s so cute.  How old is he?” the mother of the child whose toys Aaron Jr. kept playing with asked.

“He’s turned three today,” you replied, looking at the boy who looked too much like his father.  His smile resembled that of Aaron’s, and every time you saw it, your heart seemed to skip a beat, not only for the memories of your beloved boyfriend, but for the tiny child that was yours. 

The playground was mainly vacated, only a few mothers and their children enjoying the beautiful outdoors that day.

“Mine’s four.  Nearly time to start school,” the mother replied with a sigh.

“That’s a scary thought,” you replied.  And it was.  There was no telling whether or not your son was even safe in any schools.   You hadn’t really thought about sending your son to school, yet anyways.  Your focus was raising him and keeping him safe.  As far as you were concerned, he would be home schooled.  Maybe Penelope would be willing to help out.  

As if the computer genius could hear your thoughts, your phone began to ring with her name flashing on the screen.

“Hello,” you said after pressing answer.

“Alright, muffin.  I picked up AJ’s prescriptions and set up an appointment for a follow up in a month.  He’s also set on piano lessons courtesy of a one Spencer Reid.  Oh, and birthday party is set up.  We’re ready for you,” she said.

“Jeez, Penny, you didn’t have to do all that,” you told her with a smile.

“Oh, stop.  I’m happy to.  Now get both of your cute butts over here, we’re ready!” she said.

“Alright, thanks, Penelope,” you replied with a smile.  You motioned to AJ to come to you.

“No problem!  And happy birthday, love,” she finished before hanging up the phone.

“Happy birthday, little man!” the mom next to you said to your son as he approached the bench you were sitting on.

“Mommy’s birthday,” AJ said, pointing up at you.

“Your’s as well?” she asked, smiling.

“Mine was yesterday, but we celebrate them together,” you said, standing up and picking up Aaron.  “It was nice to meet you-”

“Shelby,” she said, sticking out her hand to shake.  

“Y/N,” you replied.  “And this is Aaron Jack.”  Your son shyly waved at Shelby.

“Nice to meet you Aaron,” she replied with a smile.  “Hope to see you again,” she told you.

“You too.  Sorry about the toys,” you said sheepishly.

“Again, don’t worry about it.  My son Kale and I come here every Wednesday afternoon if Aaron would ever want to have a buddy to play with.”

“Thank you, that would actually be really nice,” you said honestly.  With the life you two had, another little boy in AJ’s life didn’t sound like a bad idea at all.  “Say bye, AJ,” you said to your son.

He waved again, letting out a tiny ‘bye’ before you walked away from your new friend.  You knew having someone his age to play with would be good for him.  JJ’s boys were always happy to play with your son, but Henry was in school and they were busy most of the time.  Kale would be a blessing.

You walked to the car with AJ on your hip.  Once he was secured in his car seat, you grinned down at him.

“Ready to see everyone?” you asked.  You’d told him about his ‘surprise’ party.  You were never really any good at keeping secrets.  AJ nodded excitedly at you, his smile sending butterflies throughout your body.  “Let’s go then.”

“Surprise!” the team shouted as you walked through the door.  You playfully gasped and looked down at AJ.

He slapped his hands onto his cheeks, opening his mouth in fake shock.  To a room full of profilers, it was obvious you gave up their secret surprise party.

“You told him, didn’t you?” Alvez asked, unable to keep a smile off his face at the sight of your son.

“Sorry, he begged to know if we were surprising him, and how can you say no to that face?” you said in a baby voice, picking AJ up.

“Hey, buddy!  Uncle Spence got you a present,” Reid said, taking him from your arms.  He walked over to the desk that was full of presents, the team, apart from JJ, in tow. 

“He’s starting to look so much more like his father,” she admitted to you.

“I know,” you said, watching AJ’s family show him his new toys.  Your heart was soaring at the sight of it.  Despite the heartbreak you’d experienced almost four years ago, there was so much happiness that came to you and so much love surrounded you and your son every day, and you were so grateful for it.

“What are you thinking about?” JJ asked you.  

“Just about how damn luck AJ and I are,” you replied, leaning into her side.  She pulled you in close for a warm hug, admiring the vision of her sons with yours.  It was a perfectly cliched moment, but it was all you ever wanted.

Emily stepped away from the group, slowly making her way towards you.  A look passed between the two agents, some kind of silent communication.  You dated a profiler for well over two years, so you knew a thing or two about reading a look.

“What?” you asked.

“What?” Emily asked back, acting nonchalant.  

“There’s something you’re not telling me,” you told her, knowing you were right.

“Tell me about the woman you met today at the park,” she said suddenly, catching you off guard.

“Excuse me?” you asked, not understanding what she meant.  “What woman?”

“Y/N, you have a protective detail on you 24/7, and it’s their job to report to me.  They told me about the woman you talked to at the park,” Emily replied.

“So?  I’m aware you keep an all too watchful eye on me and AJ at all times, but why are you suddenly interrogating me on who I happen to converse with?”  you asked, your voice raising a bit. 

“I’m just following protocol,” she tried, but you were too annoyed to listen.

“I don’t give a damn about protocol, what is this about?” you asked.  Emily looked at JJ, as if she was silently asking for help.

“We just want to know if you’re trying…” JJ started, but she couldn’t find the words.

“Trying to what?” you asked, skepticism clear in your voice.

“Strauss is worried you’re trying to contact Hotch,” Emily said.  What, you thought.

“How is me talking to a random mom at the park me trying to contact him?” you asked, vocalizing your confusion.

“Are you?” Emily asked sternly, clearly wanting a straight answer.

“No!  Of course not.  Why would she think that?” you said, still unable to understand what talking to a woman at the park meant about Aaron.  JJ looked at Emily, another strange look passing between them.  “What aren’t you telling me?”

“It’s on need-to-know basis, Y/N,” Emily told you, as if that explained everything.

“It’s about Aaron?” you blurted out.  Tears began to form in your eyes.  “If it’s about him then I need to know.”

“Y/N,” JJ started, but you cut her off.

“Do you know where he is?” you asked, your heart beginning to speed up.  The agents at the present table started to quiet down, looking over at you.  You were fixing to go into hysterics, it was obvious.

“No, I don’t.” Emily said.  Her voice was strong.  She wasn’t lying.

“Then what?  Does Shelby know where he is?” you asked, recalling the mom from the park’s name.

“We figured that’s why you were talking to her,” Emily finally admitted.  You furrowed your brows, even more confused than before.

“What are you talking about?” you asked, knowing Emily was probably not going to be able to keep whatever this secret was from you any longer.  She sighed and looked at the other agents, silently telling them all to distract AJ and not listen to what she was about to say.

“Shelby Madison is the woman you talked to today.  She has a son named Kale, that’s who AJ was playing with,” she said.

“I know all this,” you replied, wanting her to spill.

“Shelby Madison is a private investigator,” she finished.  “Strauss thinks you hired her.”

“I didn’t.  I’d only met her today,” you said.

“What did she tell you at the park?  Try to remember the conversation you had with her,” Emily said, not as a friend, but as an agent.

“She asked me how old AJ was, she mentioned her son was four and about to start school,” you recited, slowly trying to remember the words she’d told you.

“What else?”

“She introduced herself as Shelby and asked to see AJ and I again.  That’s it.”


“On Wednesdays.  She mentioned her and her son go to the park every Wednesday,” you said, realizing why Emily was asking these questions.  “I’ve never seen her before today.  AJ and I are at the park every Wednesday, too, she was lying,” you said.  “What does that mean?”

“It means someone hired her to find you,” Emily said.

Your heart sped up, your palms became increasingly sweaty.

“Someone like Scratch?” you whispered, the name feeling hot on your tongue.  It’d been two years since you said that name, and although he was out of your thoughts most nights, it was a name that still haunted you.

“No,” a voice said behind you.  The look on Emily’s face said it all.  You knew exactly who that voice belonged to.  It was a voice you hadn’t heard in three and a half years.  A voice you never thought you’d hear again.

It was the only voice in the world you ever wanted to hear, but knew you never could.

You turned to face Aaron Hotchner

“Someone like me.”

Piano Lessons

Requested by @nightynightnyx ! Feat piano playing Sam x childhood best friend reader

Summary: It was a Friday afternoon when you looked at Sam and realized you were in love with him. 

Living next to the Holland’s had its perks. Most of all, you created some of the best relationships of your life. Nikki and Dom were another set of parents, Tom was a protective big brother, and Harry and Paddy were brothers you could always go to for a laugh. 

Though, with Sam, it was always a bit different. You had a soft spot for him. You two got along extremely well, had common interests, and a similar sense of humor. Most importantly, you two could talk about anything with each other. Throughout all of the crazy transitions of Sam’s life, you were his constant. 

It wasn’t until Harry launched himself onto the couch you were relaxing on that you started to recognize the way Sam made you feel. 

“Oi! Harry, get off!” you yelled. 

“You do realize that Sam, like, is in love with you?” 

“What do you mean?” you asked, confused by the bluntness. 

“You’re joking, right? You don’t see the way he looks at you? His eyes light up whenever you walk into a room. Or, the way he seems to only pay attention to you, even when you’re not talking? He’s solely focused on you… It’s a bit annoying,” Harry said. 

“Oh,” you replied, blushing profusely. “We’ve just known each other for a long time.. That’s it. The same way we’ve known each other.”

“No, no,” Harry chuckled. “It’s nothing like us. You’re like an annoying sister, but with Sam. It’s completely different… Don’t try and hide it either,” Harry chuckled. “I’ve seen the way you look at him.. You’re not subtle.” 

You threw a pillow at him, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Harry.” 


The next day, it was like any other Friday afternoon. After school, Sam tried to teach you some piano as a way to relax after the week. This routine emerged once Sam started taking piano lessons and tried his best to teach you what he had learned that week.

“Before our ‘lesson’,” Sam began one day. “I want to show you something.” 

Keep reading

New Beginnings

This an AU that popped into my head one night and I just had to write something for it.

Jughead and Betty are two single parents in Riverdale who meet at the local park.

Usually it was just her and Juliet at the park. None of the other parents in her neighbourhood seemed to go out to the park, preferring to stay at home, or maybe they were all at the country club she thought with amusement. Kept in a comfortable lifestyle by their wealthy husbands. Betty didn’t have such luxury, not since He had left her, no word where he was going, no note, no nothing.  She has spent her savings on a private investigator to try and find him, at least make him take on his responsibilities where Juliet was concerned, but there was nothing found and Betty had had to adjust to life as a single parent, moving back in with her parents when she could no longer afford the mortgage.

She still struggled every day to find the balance, her heart ached when she had to leave her little girl during the day with her own mum, while she went to work, but she needed to work, it was a necessity. But days like today where she had a day off made up for them. When she could dedicate herself solely to her.

She was surprised when she saw a little boy, about Juliet’s age running into the park, a lone figure strolling carefully behind him, carrying a monkey backpack in his hand.

Juliet was near the boy within seconds, Betty admired her daughter’s social skills and confidence in herself. It was one of the things that made her proud as a mum, made her feel like she had done something right along the way.

The man approached the park bench where she was sitting, leaving a generous space between them. Betty stole a glance at him. He must have been around her age, handsome, but not in the classic meaning of the word. There were a set of beauty marks dotted along the side of his cheek, high cheekbones, and soon she found her eyesight lingering on his lips.

A laugh from Juliet caught her attention and she shifted her gaze back to the playground. She mentally scolded herself for being so obvious, but she hadn’t even been on a date since He left.

“Are you giving mum a day off?” She found herself breaking the silence between them.

“Not exactly,” he replied giving her a sad smile. Betty scolded herself for going and putting her foot in it. She had a habit of saying the wrong thing.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said sympathetically.

“What about you? Giving Dad the day off?” There was a slight teasing in his tone as he asked her and she offered him a small smile.

“Not exactly.” She replied with a quirk of her eyebrow. “It’s always my day.”

“Yeah I know that feeling.” He leant back further on the park bench, relaxing.

They continued to sit on opposite ends of the park bench watching as the two toddlers, chasing each other through the playground. The blonde girl with her hair in pigtails chased while laughing maniacally, as Betty put her hand over her face in mock embarrassment.

“I think it’s cute,” he said as he watched his son hiding behind the slide, waiting for her to come and find him and upon doing so she let out a loud shriek which had both parents laughing.

“I’m Betty by the way.” She held out her hand casually across the bench and he took it eagerly.

“Jughead.” She looked at him quizzically as if he must be joking.

“Yeah, it’s a nickname but trust me it beats the alternative.” He said with a mischievous wink, which made a heat flush Betty’s cheeks.

“Which is?” She challenged, shifting a little closer on the park bench.

“You would have to get to know me better before I divulged something like that.” Betty was sure that he was flirting with her, she thought she could remember what flirting was like and that this was it.

“You live around here?” She hadn’t seen him before.

“Just moved here, from New York City. Pretty embarrassing but I moved in with my kid sister.” She shot him a sympathetic look.

“I had to move back in with my parents.” Her eyes glancing towards Juliet who was picking up stones and arranging them on a piece of play equipment, the boy soon began copying her.

“Thought there might be more people here.”

“People tend to keep themselves here.”

“Well good thing I ran into you then.” He leant towards her slightly and she felt the flush running up her neck, scolding herself for such a reaction, she was a grown woman for God’s sake.

“Yeah.” She breathed out meeting his eyes.

“Mummy.” Juliet was running over to her, break neck speed as usual, the smaller boy trying desperately to keep up with his new companion.

“Hey Honey,” She said as she leant over to capture her daughter’s hands in her own.

“Slide.” Her daughter exclaimed, before pointing over to the yellow slide in the middle of the playground. She pulled herself up, continuing to hold Juliet’s hand, as she turned to Jughead.

“We still need help going down the slide,” she explained. As she followed her daughter to the big yellow slide, holding her as she climbed up the structure to the top of the slide. She could see that Jughead was at the bottom, pointing up at her, his son, holding onto him as they both watched. Betty put Juliet on her lap as she sat on the slide, pushing herself off, making a ‘whee’ sound as Juliet laughed as they whooshed down the slide. As they landed at the bottom, Juliet clapped her hands in delight, as Betty set her down on the ground, as she stood up from the slide.

“See Jackson, that looks like fun doesn’t it?” The small boy looked at his dad, sceptical of what he was saying. He then looked up at the slide before looking at his dad again and shaking his head. “I’ll come with you.” He crouched down low to his level, taking his small hand in his own, stroking it gently with his thumb. The little boy shook his head again, and Jughead nodded, and put his arms out for a hug which Jackson quickly accepted, wrapping his arms around his dad’s neck.

Betty watched the exchange, feeling like she was intruding on a private family moment but also felt the ache for Juliet to have something like that, to be able to have her own dad to wrap his arms around her. She blinked back the tears that had started to form and smiled at Juliet, who she felt tugging on her arm ready to move onto something else.

“Would you like to go out for coffee?” She blurted out. It was like her mouth had a mind of it’s own sometimes. Apparently all she has to do is have a handsome stranger talk to her and her brain takes a vacation.

“Um, yeah, sure.” He was nervously shifting from foot to foot, and Betty was glad she wasn’t the only one who was nervous.

“There’s a diner near here, I’ll give you the address.” He looked nervous, “Juliet loves the milkshakes there,” she added, trying to make it sound more like a play date then, a real ‘date’ date.

“Do they do dinner?” He was adjusting the beanie on his head as he asked.

“Yeah?” Her eyes narrowing as she wondered what he was asking.

“Well how about we change coffee to dinner, tonight?” She could hear a hopefulness in his voice and she eagerly nodded her head, before replying casually.

“Yeah sure, I’ll just text my mum. Right after the swings,” she said quickly as she ran after Juliet who was already running for the swings on the other side of the park, with Jackson soon heading in the same direction.

Part 2

anonymous asked:

Could you make first kiss headcanons with kakashi please! ^^

Hi anon, thanks for the support and of course! ^^

- despite the popular belief, Kakashi is very shy to almost all things regarded to love (remember the one time he had to read “I really love you” and nearly choked on it?) and giving his s/o the first kiss makes him incredibly nervous

“Will it be too soon? Do they turn away from him? Is he a good kisser or is he only believing he is rather good?”

A million thoughts like this running through his head. And out of this situation he will only have the courage to kiss them, when they already made clear they like one another

- he will plan their first kiss through like a strategy for Mission. Every single detail will be figured out (at the end of he day he smelled his aftershave for around fifteen times to test if it’s the fragant that he think he would like to smell if he were you, he’s hopeless and realize he is hopeless in love with you)

- to your luck Kakashi has a very romantic and sensitive side behind his cool, which only comes to sight when he’s with you. After all he let you see his vulnerability and you hold a special place in his heart

- in a warm summer night he will take a walk with you in Konoha’s woods to a less populated part so you can have your privacy. You will walk beside him and after a while you can sense his increasing nervousness. While talking his gaze can’t met your eyes anymore and a slight stutter will show every now and then

- you will approach a bench near a clearing with the last rays of sunlight falling through the treetops leaving the scenery perfect (yeah, Kakashi was studying various places and the lighting to different times). Dropping beside Kakashi you can guess what will happen soon through the atmosphere, so instantly you can feel your own hands getting sweaty and your heart beating faster

- actual kissing part: looking slightly up to him in his onyx eyes looking down at you he will rush down and press his lips angainst yours. With his mask still on. He. Forgot. To. Take. It. Of. He flashes back and you can literally see him tense. He desperatly stares to the ground and will feel extremely guilty for ruining your first kiss. In comparison to him you are calm and more logical. So you’re placing your hand gently on his cheek and ask him if you can pull his mask down to which he replies with a y-yes. Slowly you are revealing his handsome features. The incredible sexy high cheekbones, his nose and then finally his lips.

- this time you are leaning in to him and peck his rather rough lips. Closing your eyes completely when you feel his hand on your back you inch closer to him and he starts moving his lips against your warm and smooth ones. It feels so good to him. He passed the point of resistance. Placing both of his big hands on your waist he simply lifts you up and sits you down on his lap. This position is much more comfortable since he is much taller than you. Even in sitting he hovers above you.

- after overcoming his nervousness and actually kissing you Kakashi is taking the lead and asking for entrance as he parts his mouth to lick your lower lip. You are accepting his request and letting him explore your sweet mouth, your tongues slightly brushing against each other. You are placing both of your hands to the sides of his head running your fingers through his hair. He is loving the feeling of your fingertips brushing over his scalp and groans quietly.

- “Having a nice time?” both of you zoning out and concentrating on the feelings you haven’t noticed Jiraya standing be a nearby tree, now smirking amused to himself seeing Kakashi and you flinch.

In shock Kakashi has instinctively crashed you into his chest protectively holding your body tightly to his. Giving the old pervert his death glare for interrupting Jiraya slowly starts turning around and shouts over his shoulder “Gee, I’m taking another path.” and mumbles to himself “Rather you should take a room already…”

A/N: I hope this was what you wanted, since it’s rather 50% headcanon and 50% scenario haha

Approach The Bench
The Audition
Approach The Bench

The crimes I’ve committed aren’t heard by any judge,
And there are only two in this courtroom and I must confess,
What’s done is done, and I’m not the type that can be conned into being convinced.
We both know this.

I should be ashamed of this, I’m not,
‘Cause I have tasted grapes.
This smile, don’t look,
It’s my bait, my words, the hook.

These acts of immorality are the only things keeping me quiet.
Why can’t you just accept the fact that I’m only as loyal as my options?

I can’t believe that you would ever trust me.

I should be ashamed of this, I’m not,
'Cause I have tasted grapes.
This smile, don’t look,
It’s my bait, my words, the hook.

You could call me a rolling stone
'cause I’m always on the road.
Every night I wonder if you’re there alone.

I should be ashamed of this, I’m not,
'Cause I have tasted grapes.
This smile, don’t look,
It’s my bait, my words, the hook.

Personal Pianist

Hi everyone! I’m back! I bring you a short oneshot from a prompt I received a long time ago from @megaphanielthespaniel, so, I hope you like it! As always, every feedback is welcome!


summary: Phil is bored without Dan on a summer Thursday evening and decides to start his usual liveshow earlier than expected. What he doesn’t know is that maybe he should have checked all the rooms in the house before giving away his boyfriend’s piano skills.

words: 1.6k

no trigger warnings

Phil sighed as soon as he entered the flat again. Going grocery shopping alone wasn’t fun. His boyfriend Dan was out with his friends at the cinema, so he had taken the time to make some of the chores still left in their weekly plan. Phil checked the time and saw that it was still early for Dan to be back. ‘What a boring evening it’s going to be’ Phil though, not even bothering to voice his thoughts.

He walked into the living room after leaving all the shopping bags in the kitchen hoping to find some kind of entertainment without Dan around when he suddenly saw his laptop on the sofa. 'Wait, today is Thursday, I might start a liveshow now and extend it before Dan comes back.’ the blue eyed thought cleverly. Some of his followers might be delighted to have some kind of distraction on this Summer day.

Phil decidedly picked up his laptop and positioned himself on his usual spot on the sofa, checking that the laptop had enough battery to at least last an hour. While YouNow was being loaded he picked up his phone and tweeted that he was going to be live in a few minutes, instantly recieving thousands of replies.

“Surprise!” Phil cheerfuly said once he saw that the liveshow was perfectly running. “I know you weren’t expecting the liveshow so early but, here I am! Glad to entertain you on this hot and humid Thursday.”

The chat rapidlly filled with multiple questions, which Phil tried to answer as good as he could, hoping his viewers were satisfied with the given answers.

After half an hour, he heard soft piano music coming from the bedroom upstairs? Wait. Something didn’t add up. Dan played the piano but he wasn’t home right now, right? Was a ghost playing the piano then? What in hell was happening?

Apparently he wasn’t the only one who noticed the piano music slowly filling the silence in the room, because the chat had gone crazier than ever with questions. 'Why did you put piano music on the background?’, 'Does your new neighbour play the piano?’, 'Do you happen to have a personal pianist playing for you?’

That last one made Phil laugh. “Yeah, I have a personal pianist. Dan, my long time boyfriend for those who you don’t know, plays the piano but it doesn’t explain why we have piano music in the background because Dan was out with his friends so I don’t understand.” He chuckled, but at the same time a bit scared someone had entered their flat and was luring him with soft piano notes.

The liveshow chat was filled again with many questions and requests. 'Go and check!’, 'I bet it’s Dan.’, 'I wish I had someone who played the piano for me.“ and similar sentences was all Phil could read.

’'Maybe I should go and check.” Phil decided. He needed to make sure his mind was not playing tricks on him. “I will bring my phone, ready to dial the police in case it’s a burglar trying to attract me just to finish with me.”

And with that Phil stood up from the couch, slowly making his way upstairs to their bedroom, the music getting louder with every step he took. Once he reached the door, Phil took a deep breath and rapidly opened up the door, only to spot a familiar back, claded in a black t-shirt playing the white piano that they had decided to locate in the bedroom.

Phil just smiled at his boyfriend, who hadn’t noticed that he had entered yet, and decided to enjoy the last notes of the song that was coming to an end.

“I thought you were with your friends.” Phil softly spoke from the doorway once he knew the song had finished, making Dan startle from his trance and look towards the voice that spoke to him.

“Phil! You scared me!” the brown eyed said, still surprised but smiling softly at him. “I was, but Matt didn’t check the time of the movie correctly so we missed it and there wasn’t another screening for today, so we had some drinks and came back home and watched some anime before getting bored and starting to play the piano.” Dan chuckled, but rapidly changed the subject. “Did you do the grocery shopping? I didn’t even hear the front door open.”

Phil took some steps towards the piano bench, approaching Dan and sitting down next to him, “Yeah, and I came home like 30 minutes ago. I decided to start my Thursday liveshow earlier today, so I have been chatting with my viewers for a while now.”

Dan frowned at this. He hadn’t heard Phil speaking downstairs, but he was sure that that was partly his fault. He had worn headphones while watching anime, so he kind of zoned out of other noises happening around him. Also, Phil did his liveshows downstairs, and Dan was sure that it was necessary to shout to call for each other when they were in the different floors.

That was when he realized his mistake. Dan took a sharp breath and tried to calm himself.

His piano was loud. Like, really loud. Even though his neighbours hadn’t complained, Dan was sure the music could be heard from all rooms in the house. Did that mean that Phil’s followers had heard him play? Oh no.

Dan buried his face on his hands at the embarrassment. His piano skills hadn’t improved much and he was sure his boyfriend’s followers were making fun of him right now. “They heard me play, didn’t they?” he quietly murmured, hoping Phil could understand.

Phil noticed Dan’s behaviour and rapidly brought him into a side hug, kissing the top of his head. “Yeah, they did.” he answered, rubbing his shoulder, hoping to calm his boyfriend a bit, “but don’t worry. I told them you often play the piano, but I thought a murderer was playing because you were out with your friends so it didn’t  make any sense.”

They both laughed at that. Phil and his crazy thoughts. Dan swatted Phil on the chest and lifted his head to look at Phil’s face, who was smiling at him. “You know they will love you, right? You have nothing to be afraid of.” Phil said, lifting his hand to caress Dan’s cheek.

Dan’s hesitation could be seen on his face. He wasn’t sure Phil’s followers would love him. He was afraid they would hate him and force him to leave Phil. He was scared of it even though Phil often reassured him that nothing would happen, that it would all be the same.

“Hey, Dan,” Phil softly called for him, startling him from all this thoughts, “don’t worry about it. I know you are scared, and it’s a big decision if you decide to finally appear with me on a video or a picture online; but as I always tell you, it’s your decision, and whatever you choose I’m going to stay by your side.”

Dan sighed. Phil was so sweet with this. He knew Dan wasn’t comfortable with being in the spotlight, and he really wanted to, but the hate he could receive was what scared him. Dan knew, someday, he would be ready to tell the world but, not right now. And he needed Phil to know that.

“Phil, I really want to, and you know it. I have been doing some research about how to handle hate and stuff and I’m trying but I’m still not ready…” Dan quietly said, looking down at their laps, as if he was ashamed of it.

Phil frowned a bit. Dan had been looking into how to approach and handle this kind of situations, and he had never done that before. And if he had, he hadn’t told Phil, so it was a step forward. Oh Dan.

The blue eyed moved the hand that was on Dan’s cheek and moved it to his chin, lifting his head so they could look into each others eyes. “I think it’s really nice that you have been looking into this, that means you are considering it and it makes me happy Dan. The fact that one day I could show the world who is the man I love makes me really happy.” Phil said with a smile, moving forward to press a kiss against Dan’s lips before Dan could speak again, making both of them sigh and melt against each other, enjoying the soft caressing of their lips.

Dan was the first to separate from the kiss, his cheeks blushing and lips a bit red. He put both hands on Phil’s shoulders, as he tried to speak in a serious voice, “You, Philip, need to stop kissing me and finish the liveshow, or your viewers will really think that it was a murderer upstairs.”

Phil pouted, but instantly chuckled, “Okay, what a bossy boyfriend I have…” he said before pecking Dan on the cheek again and standing up from the bench and slowly making his way out of the bedroom; but before he reached the door he turned and looked back at his boyfriend.

“Can you continue playing the piano while I finish chatting with them? It was nice background music.” Phil pulled his 'puppy-face’’, hoping that it could convince Dan. And apparently it worked, because the brown eyed just sighed while trying to look annoyed but failing, only to show a fond expression on his face before turning around and touching the piano keys, music instanly filling their flat.

Phil’s viewers were glad that it wasn’t a murderer upstairs, and it had been just his boyfriend Dan, who was a very talented piano player if you asked them.

mnemnems  asked:

All your Homecoming talk has been great to see. And I even went to see it to see all the hype myself, it was all true. But its made my day to see Voltron family posts again! Is there a resolution to the Samantha situation? Them breaking up and/or Lance and Keith reconciling? What was Shiro's opinion of Samantha and I'm assuming his talk with Keith later that night?

artbymaryc said: Ok but nooo u CANNOT leave us hanging like that - Lance smartens up somehow and Dads cool down and amends are made even uf ut takes a little time yeS? YeS?!

captaincara said: Okay i just caught up with your Voltron Family AU! And I wanted to know if there is a ending to Lances falling out with Keith over his not-so-great girlfriend? Will Lance end up with anyone and if so who? Overall i love your au and would LOVE to see a conclusion to this conflict

sednamode said: I was reading through your family au (it’s perfect) and I was wondering if you’ve written a sequel to the whole “horrible girlfriend samantha” thing? (post/163656056618) and if not could you write it? I wonder what finally makes Lance realize she’s abusive and how he gets out of it and how the family react/help him

[The Voltron Family] Lance and his horrible girlfriend Part 2 (Part 1)

It was awful. The dinner with his family was so damn awful. He couldn’t stop replaying how angry his Dad was on why he was with Samantha. She may not be the usual good girl anyone would go for but—

“God, your family is so full of shit,” Samantha said as she took off her shoes. Lance was staying with her in her apartment for a while after that family spat.

“Excuse me?” Lance raised an eyebrow.

“You heard me, babe,” she pointed at him. “They seem so pretentious, save for your other Dad with the white fringe, he’s pretty hot in a very adult way, not gonna lie. The other one is just so hotheaded. What is his problem? But whatever, I don’t like him. Makes me wonder why your other dad even married him in the first place,” she paused to scoff and added, “because I know I never will go for someone like him, he could definitely do better. Maybe he drugged him or something? Wouldn’t be surprised, to be honest. Or he’s the only one who caters to his—”

“Samantha, shut up!” Lance growled. 

Her eyes widened in shock then proceeded to glare. “Excuse me? Did you just raise your voice at me?”

Red was everywhere in Lance’s eyes. He clenched his fists, trying to restrain himself from punching something. “If there’s one thing I hate the most than people judging my family and how we live, it’s when someone thinks my Daddy Keith is not worthy enough—”

“Ugh,” Samantha rolled her eyes. “You really need to stop saying ‘Daddy,’ Lance. You’re like 25, it’s kind of weird.”

That hit the final nerve. None of his siblings really got rid of the term for their dads since they grew up that way and nothing was going to change that. It took him every ounce of energy not to do something he’d later on regret.

“That’s it, it’s not working out,” Lance took a deep breath. “I’ve tried so hard to make this work but all you do is treat me like I’m your personal maid. I’m tired, Sam. I’m so so tired and maybe Daddy Keith was right. This isn’t how you treat someone you’re supposed to be in love with.” He looked at his girlfriend straight in the eye and said, “You may not like him but at least I know that he loves my Daddy Shiro. I’ve seen how they act, and honestly, Samantha, I wish you could see them, how perfect they are for each other and maybe you could learn a thing or two about not making someone feel like shit. I’m breaking up with you.”

Samantha just stared at him, not knowing what to say. He turned around to grab his jacket when Samantha said, “Well, I never loved you anyway.”

Lance stopped in his tracks and turned around, “You know what? It’s kinda sad because I knew that right from the start.”

It was almost midnight and Lance was walking on the sidewalk, crying his dumb heart out. He didn’t care if someone saw him, he didn’t care if someone mugged him, he didn’t care about anything at all.

He placed his hands in his pockets because it started to get chilly. Then he felt his phone inside. He took it out and instantly dialed a number.

“Daddy Keith? Can you please pick me up?” He sobbed.

Lance was sitting on a bench by the park when he saw a familiar black car. It stopped right in front of him and Daddy Keith came out from the passenger seat and he could see Daddy Shiro in the driver’s seat. His Dad approached him on the bench and Lance didn’t have the energy to stand up. He looked up at him and more tears fell, he felt arms pulling his head towards his Dad’s stomach.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he choked up in between his sobs.

“It’s okay, sweetheart.”

“I wanna go home,” he wrapped his arms around his Dad not caring if he soaked his shirt with his tears.

When he opened the door to the backseat, he was surprised to see Hunk and Pidge. Before he could do anything, Hunk pulled him up and suddenly he was squished in between their siblings hug and he couldn’t help but melt. Only his family could love him this much despite everything, and dammit did he love them right back. Daddy Shiro looked back and smiled at him.

I Despise You - Edmund x Reader (Pt.3)

Warnings: none

Characters: Edmund, Lucy, Peter and Susan Pevensie and (Y/N)

Setting: The Golden Age, Narnia

Blurb (???i think???): (requested by @alwaysinnarnia) The reader is a Swordswoman/Knight of Doorn and visits Narnia, soon getting off on the wrong hand with King Edmund. She stays in Narnia and they train together, and they become friends and maybe something more…


There was only one thought itching at the back of (Y/N)‘s brain.

“Come on, you’re too slow.” The king laughed as she was once again knocked to the floor.

Killing King Edmund.

She huffed a piece of hair away from her face and leaped back up, her knees were bent and she held her fists in front of her chest. The young king, in response, positioned himself and began to throw punches towards (Y/N)’s upper torso.

Peter’s order for King Edmund and (Y/N) to spend some time together to train was an absolute waste of time. She could have more affective progress training by herself, let alone a king she despised.

(Y/N) had been planning to rest until at least until noon to catch up on sleep she had missed on her travels here. Yet, there was a thunderous knock on her door at dawn and she had opened the door to a wide awake and annoyed looking Edmund Pevensie.

“What are you doing?” The King had asked as if (Y/N) was doing something utterly disgusting.

“Sleep,” she croaked underneath the pile of blankets she drew over her head.

He had scoffed with one eyebrow raised and shoved a set of tunics, trousers and two pairs of training boots into her arms.

“Be outside in five minutes,” he demanded to (Y/N) who was half disoriented. “We’re going for a run.”

“For a what!” She whisper-screamed furiously. “At dawn?!”

King Edmund rubbed the bridge of his nose. “You’re helpless.”

(Y/N) obviously went with him to prove him wrong, only to see that he was a much faster runner than her.

There were certain things about this king that made her want to strangle him. She couldn’t think of any at that moment though, because he had just punched her in the gut.

(Y/N) tried to ignore the pain and keep fighting, but she needed a break. She held her side and began to limp towards the bench area of where they were training. With her mouth set in a straight line and her teeth gritted together, she took a seat and let out an exhausted sigh.

King Edmund approached the bench and wiped his face with the ice cold water he had collected from a river nearby.

(Y/N)’s stinging stomach made it clear that he had bruised her. But she didn’t say anything about stopping; then he would think she was a quitter.

“We could stop if you want.” The King said. “I didn’t mean to hit you that hard.“

“That’s what you want, isn’t it?” She winced as she pressed her finger around her bruise. “For me to give up.”

He lowered his head and chuckled, the rays of the bright sun caught in his hair and lightened his dark eyes. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat as he squatted down in front of her.

“No,” he replied, his lips slightly upturned. “I thought you’d want to check if you had any broken nails.”

(Y/N)’s eyes widened and her heart began to pound with fury. She shoved him onto his back and stood to keep a foot on his chest.

“Patronize me again and I swear I’ll kill you.” She said with a tone of terror in her voice.

“I was kidding.” He grunted. “Get your foot off.”

“No, no I don’t think I will.”

The king looked up at her, dead in the eyes, and said, “Are you seriously-”

“Edmund!” Someone called out, and Lucy approached them with a skip in her step. “Breakfast is ready! What are you two doing?”

“Sparring. With our fists.” (Y/N) smiled as she clapped her hands together. “Isn’t that right, King Edmund?”

He grinned towards his younger sister who also added, “Oh and (Y/N); a letter arrived from Doorn.”

“Thank you, Lucy.” The swordswoman responded with a wide smile on her face.

“Don’t be late!” Lucy called back as she ran towards the castle.

(Y/N) drew her gaze back to her opponent who now had his hands underneath his head. She took her foot off of his chest and unwrapped the bandages from her knuckles.

“You haven’t learnt to fist-fight in Doorn.” King Edmund pointed out.

“No, we haven’t. It’s pointless.”

“What if you didn’t have a weapon in combat?” He asked.

“I would use anything else but my fists.”

“But let’s say you don’t have anything else.”

(Y/N) pulled her boots on and stood in front of him. “I don’t need weapons. Give me one piece of rope and I could kill someone in more than five ways.”

“You really are up yourself, aren’t you?“

“You really want me to kill you, don’t you?”

He flashed a smile as he stepped forward, making the space between them slightly shorter. She kept her eyes trained on his dark, yet playful looking ones. She felt something brush her waist and soon realized it was hand. He felt the new bruise located there and (Y/N) held back a wince.

“Sorry about that…” he said quietly.

(Y/N) ignored her slightly rapid heart beat and drew away from him after stating firmly, “Think about where you hit next time.”

He laughed softly. “I will.”

She rolled her eyes and turned away from him to walk back up towards the castle.

She still felt his fingers on her waist.


(Y/N) took her time bathing and grooming herself. Her room began to smell like the fig and vanilla scented soaps, filling the air around her and making her sink deeper into the tub.

She hasn’t gotten around to reading the letter from Doorn yet, and her mind began to wonder as to what her parents could possibly want. (Y/N) had often taken care of businesses that her parents couldn’t solve. She was intelligent and an excellent problem solver.

Although, she couldn’t figure out why the young king was acting like that during their training session. When he touched her waist, it felt strange; and it wasn’t because of this bruise he created there.

(Y/N) was confused by that sudden action and why he did it. She had thought it was to catch her off guard, which worked.

She drew a hand through her tangled, damp hair and began to dry herself off and dress for breakfast. She settled on a long sleeved, white tunic and a crimson floor length skirt. The stitching of multiple flowers with a golden looking thread made it seem more vibrant.

(Y/N) shut the door of her chamber and pulled on her shoes.

“Lady- I mean (Y/N),” she King Peter’s voice to her right. A smile appeared on her face as she greeted him.

“You and Edmund seem to butt heads quite a lot.” He laughed as he guided her to the dining area. “I hope this training has done any good. You know, making you sort out problems between you.”

(Y/N) scoffed. “It’s difficult to talk to someone so ignorant.”

“I wouldn’t say he’s ignorant; just very stubborn.”

“Well, if you say that then you must be correct. I should make him a friendship bracelet to express how sorry I am.” she stated sarcastically, earning a laugh from Peter.

They arrived at the doors of the dining room and entered. (Y/N) was greeted by Lucy and Susan who both complemented her on what she was wearing.

“You know, if you really like the skirts I could get more for you,” Susan said kindly. “They look beautiful on you.”

(Y/N) smiled. “Thank you very much, Susan. I’d love that.”

“Sorry I’m late,” someone stated from behind her. She rolled her eyes as she recognised it as King Edmund who walked to the empty seat across her.

Just as he took a seat, two fauns appeared into the room and began to distribute the almost unreal looking dishes.

“You make it look like you’ve never seen a pancake before, (Y/N).” Peter chuckled.

“I haven’t,” She stated truthfully.

The sound of sputtering surprised her and she turned to King Edmund who was choking on water, his younger sister patting him on his back.

(Y/N) sent a death glare his way and he responded with another cough mixed with laughter.

“Come on, Ed.” Susan sighed, exasperated. “You should at least understand that she’s new to a lot of these things.”

“Oh, yeah.” Edmund held back a laugh. “I know all about that.”

(Y/N) let out a bitter laugh. “Oh, do you now?”

“Mhm,” he hummed confidently. “You really are something special.”

Silence fell across the room as she gripped her fork tighter, all the while having a stare down with the Just King.

He took another sip from his silver goblet as the fauns disappeared from the toon. (Y/N) leaned forward and placed her elbows onto the table, a sarcastic smile on her face.

“Oh, then do tell, your Highness. Maybe you should also address how abnormally thick-headed you are.”

“Oh look!” Lucy exclaimed worriedly. “Eggs.”

The king retorted, “But you definitely outweigh that supposed thick-headedness of mine. It wouldn’t be fair to not address the queen of big heads.”

“Um, guys we should start-” began Peter, who has then interrupted by (Y/N).

“You’re inconsiderate and annoying, and honestly the only way that it could be worse is that you don’t know how to treat other people.”

“And earlier today?” He said, his eyes dark and the corners of his mouth drawn in a straight line.

(Y/N) stopped suddenly. She put aside her rage for a couple of seconds and remembered how he touched her. “What?”

He scoffed. “Nothing. Because apparently I don’t know how to treat other people.”

“Alright you two, stop it.” Susan demanded. “Whatever it is that is going on, you should discuss this later.”

“I’d rather not.” Edmund Pevensie said. “Definitely not.”


(Y/N) felt the day go by extremely quickly; her training and sitting in the library made her lose track of time. She was now sitting by the fireplace in her room with a cup of tea by her side, reading about the history of Narnia.

Of course, she knew her own history. But she didn’t necessarily know the history of Cair Paravel, and how the Pevensie siblings came around to becoming kings and queens of this country.

Sunset seemed like hours ago, and as soon as dinner was over she approached her chambers and hadn’t come out ever since. She definitely didn’t want to face ‘him’.

(Y/N) hadn’t seen King Edmund all day after breakfast what happened at breakfast, and dinner seemed much more quiet and peaceful. She did feel quite guilty about saying how he didn’t know how to treat others. But she also knew it was somewhat true.

(Y/N) closed the book and turned to her tea which, she noticed, had gone cold. She sighed and removed herself from her comfortable armchair with the teacup in her hand.

As she exited the room, she heard the sound of crickets and the coldness of the castle hit her hard. She shivered in her nightgown and hurried faster towards the closest kitchens of Cair Paravel, the candlelights along the wall guiding her.

Upon arriving, she noticed how large the kitchen was. With multiple benches made of marble and shelves filled with hundreds of cutlery and plates. As soon as she found a small pot, (Y/N) immediately began to prepare some herbal tea.

She began to wonder around the kitchen in search for biscuits and some sugar before she heard the door open. In a panic, she grabbed a small knife hidden under the sleeve of her nightgown and leaped towards the door silently. The figure who had entered had her knife pressed underneath throat. The swordswoman then discovered who it was…

“What are you doing here?” King Edmund whispered.

“What are you doing scaring me like that?”

“I asked you first.”

She let out a quiet sigh a removed the knife from his neck. “I was just making tea.”

“No, I mean what are you doing up so late?”

“What’s it your business?”

He moved towards a cupboard on the left, taking out something. He placed an intricately detailed teacup besides (Y/N)’s before jumping on the counter himself.

“You wouldn’t mind pouring me some, would you?” He inquired quietly.

(Y/N) still couldn’t see his face in the dim candlelight.

“Are there any more candles around here?” She asked.

“Yeah, in the cupboard beneath you.”

She found a small candelabra sitting in the cupboard with stubs of candles. It was just decent enough to last for a couple of hours. Not that they were doing to sit here for hours.

“You put sugar in your tea?” King Edmund asked.

(Y/N) nodded in response as she lit the candelabra. She placed it on a large counter in the centre of the room and noticed that the king was now off the bench and looking in a cupboard.

He was wearing a white shirt and a pair of breeches, and his hair was sticking up in all directions. (Y/N) noticed sweat marks on the back of his neck which plastered his hair down.

“Did you go for a run?” She said.

He turned around and looked at her calmly. He looked different; like he was off guard and tired. What happened to him? He doesn’t look like this usually.

“No,” he replied.

(Y/N) began to hear the whistling of the pot and rushed towards it, careful not to burn herself. She removed the kettle from the fire and took it out as the king asked her how much sugar she liked.

She didn’t imagine herself in this situation; pouring tea for someone she deeply disliked.

“I was reading.” (Y/N) answered his question from earlier in the dead silence as she stirred her tea.

King Edmund sipped his tea and began to break his biscuit into little pieces. “What were you reading?”

She shrugged. “Just some history.”


(Y/N) peered towards him. “And you, King Edmund.”

He looked at her with his dark eyes that somehow looked golden in the candle light. “I was sleeping.”

“You’re sweating and it’s freezing in here. You probably had some dream about training. I reckon you were doing terribly.

He chuckled softly as (Y/N) added, “I was definitely beating you, I could tell.”

She smiled softly and felt her stomach drop a bit. This wasn’t a conversation she imagined having. Was he messing around with her to get her off guard?

“No,” he said in response, snapping her out of her thoughts. “It was just some nightmare.”

“Oh,” she said.

“Listen, (Y/N).” He began, scratching the back of his neck. “I apologize for today; I’m not usually like that I was just worked up.”

“Is that an excuse for every insult you’ve thrown at me for the past three days?” She said angrily.

“No,” he stated. “But I apologize. I shouldn’t have said stuff like that.”

His tone of genuineness surprised her and she brought up what happened earlier. “And when you touched me?”


(Y/N) mentally screamed at her rapidly beating heart to calm down. “When you touched the bruise you gave me, why did you do it?”

He peered at her with kind eyes and placed his hands around his teacup, his long fingers intertwining. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, I just wanted to see if you were alright.”

(Y/N) stayed silent, debating whether she should apologize to him or leave it be. But she spoke up: “I’m sorry for what I said today at dinner; I didn’t mean for it to go that far.”

“You were only saying what was on your mind.” He stated moving just an inch towards her. “It’s alright.”

(Y/N) looked away towards the candlelight and sipped her warm tea.

“Thank you, King Edmund.” She muttered almost under her breath.

She felt his eyes on her but she didn’t turn to him, instead she looked down and smiled. “You still have a big head though.”

“Like I don’t hear that everyday,” he laughed. He then placed his teacup on the counter and stated, “Call me Edmund.”


Originally posted by hsoeoks

  • adachi yuto, japanese exchange student and baseball player extraordinaire
  • his pitch is insane,,, latest record was 89.5 mph but he might’ve upped it (he did and he’s still aiming to surpass the best recorded speed of 105.1) since the school’s newspaper last interviewed him,,, nervously
  • he may be a well-known around school for being one of the top-ranking baseball players but he’s actually really intimidating 
  • equipped with a brooding look and an almost always resting bitch face a lot of people find him,,,, hard to approach and he likes that
  • being in a new country is tough - getting to know the language and the customs is like being a little kid in elementary school and it’s because of this very reason that he really hates people trying to belittle him or look down on him
  • it certainly doesn’t help that just by going there has made other people treat him like an actual child but if there’s yet another thing about yuto then it’s the fact that he has this need to prove others wrong about him
  • there was a kid in like fifth grade who totally ragged on him,, really made yuto feel like he wouldn’t amount to anything especially in baseball and ok sure he was a pretty scrawny kid at the time, a bit of a late bloomer in the puberty department but y’know everyone matures at their own pace physically and mentally
  • and anyway, it’s this very kid that has just driven yuto to do the very best that he can even if that means overworking himself and only really putting baseball first
  • because of that, his grades are pretty mediocre which is funny because he just about calculates and figure just how much he can get away with slacking over just to do the bare minimum
  • it works though,,, his teachers can’t complain since he is putting in effort and his coaches don’t mind so long as he’s getting the required gpa and coming to practice (which he does almost religiously)
  • and it’s just really remarkable that this sole drive just to prove someone wrong and get back at them for really doubting him drives him that much
  • his life has always been shrouded in doubt and insecurity and lots of belittlement and out of everything,,, baseball has always offered some kind of comfort to him
  • he’ll just stand on that field, whether it’s turf or actual grass, and finds peace in all the screaming because the moment he takes his pitcher’s stance it’s like there’s this silence and everything goes still even during his wind-up and suddenly all this power is thrown into a measly pitch and it has people roaring over him
  • they didn’t care if he was too foreign or too scrawny or too whatever, they were there and they appreciated his skill and i think that’s all he’s ever really wanted as he grew up into the man he is now
  • instead of sticking to japan, he decided to take up a full-ride scholarship to south korea and when they announced that at the sports banquet he couldn’t help but feel this swell of pride even if that one kid couldn’t see it happen
  • it’s a rare sight but it made him smile that day because for once he was acknowledged y’know?
  • anyway, coming to south korea was almost a culture shock (not by a grand scale but enough that it threw him off balance for a while)
  • it brought on a dry spell for him because he didn’t have friends or anyone to really be there for him to lean on because he was literally alone and not even with someone he could properly communicate with
  • it was frustrating on the largest scale and it made him feel even more hesitant and angry to deal with anyone other than his roommate, wooseok, who (bless his soul) is a sweetheart and always invites him to hang or play videogames,,,, sometimes he humors the giant
  • it took time for yuto to get acquainted with the other eight boys in wooseok’s friend circle but it worked out in weird ways
  • although yuto can’t exactly socialize in a huge gathering, he would spend one on one time with each of them and found comfortable niches with each so he does have a soft spot somewhere behind all his hostility
  • he won’t admit it a lot either but he’s more of a shower than a teller
  • but ok, anyway, even tho his first half of the year in south korea has been a huge struggle, he’s used it to push himself athletically and that’s why he’s getting noticed a lot more by others
  • they’re still intimidated as ever and rumors come flying in all directions about him killing someone with his pitch and none of the students in the journalism club want to interview him for the paper lmao
  • there was one brave soul but he’s still pretty,,, shaken from yuto’s rbf and you were actually out in this really cool study abroad in japan about tech culture and reported your findings and,,,,
  • basically you’re literally the only one who hasn’t heard of yuto aka the hardest person to interview on the baseball team so when you heard about a job that no one was willing to take because it was too scary you were just like “LMAO LEMME AT IT”
  • that and because he piqued your interest

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Conflict of Interest

Alright, folks, it’s been awhile and I’m rusty, so forgive me this self-indulgent fic drawing on the unnecessary research I’ve done recently for prosecutorial conflicts of interest.

E/R, lawyer AU, Modern AU, established relationship (of sorts).

“Your Honor, can we meet in chambers?”

Judge Fauchelevent sighed and just managed to avoid pinching the bridge of her nose. “Mr. Enjolras,” she said, drawing out the last syllable as an exaggerated sigh. “We’ve barely begun the arraignment. What is so important that it can’t even wait until the State brings forward charges?”

Enjolras straightened his tie, the red standing out starkly against his crisp white shirt and $2,000 suit, far nicer than the usual public defender could even consider affording. “I’d be happy to discuss it with Your Honor in chambers,” he said carefully.

Cosette rolled her eyes. “Approach the bench,” she ordered, watching as Enjolras stalked up to the bench while he conspicuously avoided glancing at the less well-dressed Assistant Defense Attorney who was taking his time ambling forward. “Mr. Enjolras,” Cosette said, a warning edge to her voice, “I’m sure whatever objection you want to raise on behalf of your client can wait until after the arraignment.”

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first to know

She took the tests even though she was already sure of the results. By her estimates she was nearly twelve weeks along, but her mind still rebelled. She wanted to keep believing that the symptoms were because of her busy schedule. That she was coming down with something.

But as a medical professional—as a woman—she knew.

A laugh bubbled up from the panic pooling in her gut as she recalled an old sex ed poster: Abstinence is the only 100% effective birth control.  

There in the middle of her bathroom floor, the laugh got caught in her throat as the reality of this revelation settled in. Pregnant. Baby. Mother. Father. Father.

“Oh my God…” Molly said into the silence. To the little one now growing inside of her.

She dressed herself with shaking hands before grabbing her keys and rushing out into the morning.  

He slowed the moment he saw the back of her head, bending slightly out of relief and to catch his breath after running around like a mad person all day. At a much more sedate pace, Sherlock approached the bench, and the closer he got the more he could see the tension in her neck and the fact that she wasn’t wearing a coat in the cold London air.

For God’s sake, Molly!

The words were on the tip of his tongue, ready to berate her for what she’d put him through today, but something stopped him. She already knew everything he’d have to say. Kidnapped. Dangerous. He’d said it all before and he would surely say it all again. But not right then.

Sherlock merely crossed around in front of her, blocking her view of the park.

“Knew you’d fine me.” There was a tired sort of humor about her. She was weary. Of him? “Eventually.”

He considered her for a few more stretched out minutes before shrugging out of his coat and holding it out to her. Sheepishly, she took it.

“I’m sorry,” Molly murmured, utterly contrite. Sincerity seemed to ooze out of her at all times. “If I worried you.”

“If.” Sherlock plucked the single word out, letting it hang between them for a moment. “Was. Am. I am still worried. Molly Hooper doesn’t run.”

She huddled deeper into his coat, like a turtle trying to hide itself from the world. From his words.

“Something happened. You panicked.” He kept his eyes on the little church in the distance, just barely making out the tombstones and stone grave markers. “You needed to talk it out with an old friend.”

Molly inhaled sharply, almost gasping, realizing that he knew. Or was at least on the cusp of knowing.

“I don’t—I never even visit my dad’s grave. I know our Mary isn’t really there.” Molly gave a shrug as to convey that her words were a silly dalliance or unimportant. A fact that she could not have been more wrong about. “But I wanted to verbally say it out loud to her. I wanted her to be the first to know.”

Because in another world, a fairer world, Mary Watson would still be well and alive and she would have been the first person Molly would tell.  

“A baby, Sherlock.” Only then did Molly start to get teary. But these were happy tears. Hopeful. “We’re having a baby.”

He went to her then, falling to his knees before her like a sinner in need of redemption. They held each other in the waning light, sharing tears and laughter and quiet fears, only to have the other one fight it off.

Sherlock Holmes and Molly Hooper were to be parents, and Mary Watson could not have been more proud.

Tyler Seguin #1 - Meeting the Team

Anon asked: hi! i was wondering if you could write a tyler seguin one about meeting the team for the first time and there’s an age difference between tyler and the reader and just something cute? please!

So anon originally I had this whole huge plot point centered around an age difference and instead it’s just kind of used to describe the reader. I’m sorry if you wanted it to play a bigger role. Also in the age difference I wrote it so that Tyler is in fact the younger one just because he is already on the younger side and I felt if the reader was younger it would be possibly weird. Tyler is my best friend’s favorite player and the one I introduced her to, to try and motivate her to watch hockey but alas it did not work. She sends me pictures of him constantly though and asks how “her boy” is doing so maybe it did work? Anyway, I hope you enjoy this!

You and Tyler had been officially dating for six months after almost three months of not so serious dating. After the lack of communication and frustration you sat him down and had the “are we or aren’t we” conversation and Tyler very quickly confirmed that you two were in fact a couple. You didn’t blame him for that brief period of confusion, he was only twenty-five after all. You on the other hand were long past the age of casual dating and were hoping to settle down and start a family.

The Stars were hosting an off season family skate and Tyler had formally invited you, wanting you to finally meet his teammates. You were nervous because you had yet to meet any of them, even the ones Tyler was particularly close with. You didn’t know what Tyler had told them about you so you really didn’t know what to expect.

Tyler drove the two of you to the stadium and parked underneath the structure. The lot was nearly full which caused your nerves to kick into overdrive. He must have sensed that something was wrong because he grabbed your hand.

“Hey what’s up?”


He gave you a look, “I know you better than that, give me some credit.”

“I’m okay, I promise.”

“Is this about the team? I know I bitch about them a lot but they’re great guys.”

“Yes. No. I mean…”

“Well which is it? Yes, or no?” Tyler teased.


“Okay well what are you nervous about?”

“I don’t know these guys.”

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Rafael Barba / Failure

Imagine comforting Rafael after a hard loss (using the events of Pornstar’s requiem). 

I know this isn’t the continuation of the Lupo fic and I am working on it, but I’m super busy with University right now, and I have no time to write since I have an exam on Tuesday. School comes first (sadly!). But please enjoy this fic I wrote a loooong way back. Disclaimer: It uses some of the dialogue from Pornstar’s Requiem and I claim none of it! I just really enjoyed the episode (well, kinda).

Originally posted by minidodds

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anonymous asked:

Holy wOW your Connor fic was SO GOOD omg!! Would you consider doing more connor stuff? Like maybe something that follows on with your last one when they stopped him? I'm so obsessed with that fic no joke !! Also no worries if you don't want to do this!! 💚

Title: Interrupted pt.2

Words: 1,378

A/N: I originally intended for Interrupted to be a one shot, so I was a bit stuck on this and didn’t know what you write. You can clearly tell i had no clue what i was doing, but hey here it is i guess whoops sorry

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