#and my mind just goes completely blank trying to figure out what to say next

[spark1edog]

i think i may be somewhere on the aplatonic spectrum

[ccccatttta]

fisherman james, who actually sucks at it but is very optimistic about his brand-new hobby (bc monty is great at it so he wants something else to bond over with his dad, he's cute like that)

enter merman regulus, who falls in love with him from afar, so he helps the very dumb human to catch some fish, in secret.

like, james is doing all the steps wrong and always uses the wrong knots and bait, but somehow he always gets the biggest catch ever. he gets sooo smug about it, telling everyone that he's a natural and shows off to everyone who could dare to hear him.

however, he's also a big softie, he doesn't want to harm the fish, so he lets them go after some obnoxious pictures.

regulus, who is actually the one catching the fish for him, finds it preposterous. he's helping the hot human? and he just gives the fish back? regulus is basically courting him?? and he's just giving the fish back????

so, in his very smart merman brain, he does the obvious thing: brings bigger fish! maybe james is just a very difficult man (merman? regulus doesn't care) but no one would ever say no to a shark

james actually passes out when he sees the shark and falls to the sea, a tragedy given he was completely on his own

cue to regulus having to save him on a very dramatic scene, he also has to take back the shark and make sure james doesn't end up dying

it's a very exhausting thing, trying to be this man's mate, but regulus is no quitter. so he manages.

when he gets james to the shore, the fisherman wakes up and sees regulus, and his mind goes absolutely blank, no thoughts, only pretty merman on sight. his brain is basically a blubbering mess of "oh my god i almost died, he's so pretty, mermaids are real what the fuck, he's so pretty, did he save me? he's so pretty lord"

regulus is a bit dumbfounded too, he knew the human was pretty, but he never got to see him from this close, and the man is somehow even more stunning, it's crazy.

james immediately tries to talk to him, and regulus understands him, of course he does, he's smart as fuck, he knows about the human language, he doesn't know how to say anything besides his name tho.

so their talk goes like:

james [in love]: who are you?

regulus: regulus

james: did you save me?

regulus: *clicking sounds*

james [still trying]: did you bring the shark?

regulus: *aggresive clicking sounds*

they actually don't talk much, and then some people who saw james fall start to arrive, so regulus has to leave.

james is in love.

regulus comes back the next day, super early, matching james who's also incredibly eager to see him again. and this time, regulus is closer than ever.

james pretty much forgets about fishing altogether and just spends the whole time trying to talk to regulus, and this cycle continues for several days until regulus is able to talk back to him.

james tries so hard to learn everything about regulus and merpeople, he's a sap, it's amazing. when he finally learns about courting gifts, he spends a whole afternoon making regulus a handmade necklace, it has a little star and sun pendant and it's made of pure gold so sea water can't do any damage to him.

regulus thinks they are basically married then.

something something, regulus figures that if he's on land enough time to dry, he can turn into a human, and that makes everything easier. james can now take him on proper dates and for their first one, he takes him to the village's library. regulus is so excited he can't stop preening.

in the meantime tho, we have sirius who is an overbearing but very loving brother, who hasn't heard from regulus in hours and goes to the human's ship to find him

imagine his surprise when his baby brother and the man who he has described as his mate are not there. but remus is (he's james' best friend, he doesn't like fishing but reading in the boat is one of the best things on earth, according to him)

sirius, is then nervous as fuck, because his little brother told him he was with a human on a boat, and now he's on said boat, and his little brother is NOT there, and there's ANOTHER human

so he does the only thing he thinks is reasonable:

he flips the whole boat while remus is still on it and then he grabs said remus by the collar and starts screaming the living daylights out of him.

remus: what the fuck

when remus manages to calm sirius down, he explains that yes, this is james boat, he just lent it to him because he went on a date with his boyfriend, yes, said boyfriend does look like sirius, but he's only seen him with two legs which sirius definitely lacks, so there's that. then he also says he would really appreciate if sirius could bring back the book he was reading before being rudely flipped over by a sea creature, thanks.

sirius kinda falls in love immediately, there's something so hot about that human that didn't even bat an eye at seeing a merman and just straight asked for his book.

for my sake, sirius already knows how to speak the human language bc regulus has been teaching him as well

so sirius brings back the book, which is ruined, but at least it's back, and then forces remus to wait so he could take him to regulus

when sirius has 2 legs, remus has the sudden realization that his best friend is dating a merman, which in his opinion is something you should at least mention to your best friend u know?

so yeah, they both go to yell at them.

and if sirius pretends his legs are weaker than they actually are just so remus has to hold him all the way, that's HIS business

god this is so long now

anyways, when they find jegulus, it's chaotic, there's yelling (remus) and very angry clicking (sirius) and they are definitely receiving odd looks from everyone

it's the best way to present your mate to you brother if you ask regulus.

something something, they figure it out, james officiates his relationship with reg and builds a house close by the shore that has an inside aquarium but like, all over the house and it kinda connects with the sea, so regulus can still be a merman whenever he likes.

when james finds out it was actually regulus the one who catched the fish for him, he just falls more in love with him. so they make it a routine to go fishing together, it's romantic!

and just for my own sake, james does end up fucking a merman i guess, they have little mermaid kids and live happily ever after bye

[brunchable]

POV: You're sucked into your fanfic - Part One

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Fanfic Writer Reader.

Themes: Comedy - Chaotic Reader. Action scenes.

Summary: Waking up in a forest straight out of her own fanfic was not on Y/N's to-do list, especially not when she’s suddenly the villain about to fight Bucky Barnes. Decked out in an impractical gothic outfit, complete with a corset she can barely breathe in, Y/N realizes she’s written herself into a showdown she’s destined to lose. But instead of following the plot, she’s fangirling while getting her butt kicked by her fictional crush—and making things even worse with every sarcastic comment. Bucky thinks she’s insane. Y/N thinks she’s in heaven. What could possibly go wrong?

A/N: Isn't this anyone's dream? LOL to live your favorite fanfic LMAO.

You yawn as you type away on your laptop, the dim light of your screen the only illumination in the room. It’s late—way too late—and your bed calls to you, but you’re deep in the middle of a new scene for your latest Bucky Barnes fanfic. This one is different. This one is more intense, more dramatic. You smirk at the screen as you write your villainess character, who’s about to have a showdown with none other than Bucky.

“I’ll finish this tomorrow,” you tell yourself, half-heartedly knowing that you won’t. You glance at the clock and wince at the time. Ugh, work in the morning... okay, just five more minutes.

But even as you type that last line, exhaustion takes over, and your eyelids droop heavily. Before you know it, your fingers still on the keyboard, your head hits the pillow, and the world fades to black.

× × × ×

You wake up with a start, a cold breeze biting at your skin. Sitting up abruptly, you blink against the sudden brightness of your surroundings. Trees? The smell of wet earth? Slowly, you stand, your heart racing as you take in the unfamiliar scene around you.

Wait... This looks familiar. Too familiar.

The clearing. The night. The ominous, misty forest that surrounds you. No way...

The scene clicks in your head. This is the exact setting of your fanfic. The one where your villainess has her big moment—where she’s supposed to face Bucky in an epic, final showdown.

“Okay... maybe I’m dreaming. Maybe I’m still asleep,” you mumble to yourself, rubbing your eyes. But the cold wind is sharp, the sounds of the forest too real. You frown and glance down at yourself.

Your stomach drops.

You’re not wearing your usual pajamas. Instead, you’re decked out in a gothic nightmare of an outfit. Long black cloak, intricately laced corset, and leather boots that look cool in theory but are so tight you can barely walk. You tug at the uncomfortable collar of your dress, feeling more like a cosplayer gone wrong than a terrifying villain.

“Oh no. No, no, no...” You spin around, trying to figure out what’s happening. “This can’t be happening. I did not just wake up in my own fanfic!”

But before you can even begin to comprehend your situation, a voice cuts through the trees. A voice you know all too well.

“Give it up, villain. You’re not going to win.”

Your breath hitches, and you freeze. Slowly, you turn around to see none other than Bucky Barnes, in all his intimidating glory, walking out from the shadows, his metal arm gleaming under the moonlight.

Holy crap, he’s real. He’s actually real.

But there’s one problem. He’s looking at you like you’re his enemy.

“Well?” Bucky’s deep voice breaks through your panicked thoughts. “Aren’t you going to say something?”

Your mind goes blank. All those hours spent imagining this very moment, and now that it’s happening, all you can do is stand there, gawking like an idiot.

“I, uh... look, Bucky—” you start, but then it hits you. You’re the villain in this story. The bad guy. He has no idea you’re just a fanfic writer who’s been plopped into this nightmare.

You quickly glance around for an escape route. But there’s nothing except more trees, mist, and darkness. No way out. And then you remember what comes next in the story. The fight scene. A scene you wrote yourself... with the villain—you—losing.

Oh god. I am so screwed.

Trying to think fast, you wave your hands in surrender. “Wait, wait, wait! We don’t have to do this. Can we just, like, talk about this?”

Bucky’s eyes narrow, suspicion clear on his face. He takes a step closer, hand twitching toward his gun. “Nice try. I know your tricks.”

You cringe. Of course he wouldn’t believe you—you wrote him to be suspicious of every word the villain said!

“I’m serious!” you squeak, trying to keep the panic out of your voice. “You don’t want to fight me. I, uh... I surrender! Yeah, I totally surrender.”

But Bucky doesn’t back down. In fact, he steps even closer, and now you can see the lethal determination in his eyes. “Surrender, huh? Sounds like a trap.”

You mentally slap yourself for writing him to be this distrustful. Why did I make him so paranoid?!

“Okay, okay, I get it,” you ramble, desperately searching for a way out. “You’re probably thinking I’m trying to pull a fast one on you, but I swear, I’m not evil. Not really. It’s... complicated.”

Bucky doesn’t look convinced, and honestly, you wouldn’t be either if you were him. He raises his metal arm threateningly, ready to fight, and you know you’re out of time.

In one last-ditch effort, you blurt out, “Wait! I love you!”

That stops him in his tracks. His brow furrows in confusion. “What?”

You slap a hand over your mouth, mortified. Did I just say that out loud?

“Yes! I mean—no! I mean...” You fumble for words, feeling your face flush. “What I meant was, you’re amazing. You’re... everything. I’ve, um, admired you for so long, and I really don’t want to fight you. I’m just... a huge fan?”

Bucky stares at you like you’ve lost your mind. “A fan?”

You nod furiously, praying this works. “Yes! A huge fan. Of your work. Uh, your missions? And, you know, your... metal arm? It’s so shiny and, uh... powerful.”

He stares at you for a long moment, clearly baffled by your bizarre behavior. “This is a trick, isn’t it?”

You groan internally. Of course he’d think that. You wrote him to be impossible to convince!

Meanwhile, Bucky’s stance shifts, preparing for a fight. You realize with growing dread that if you don’t come up with something fast, you’re going to get your butt kicked by your fictional crush.

And it’s all your fault.

× × × × 

Without warning, Bucky lunges forward, and you yelp, instinctively trying to duck, but the heavy corset makes it hard to move.

“Wait! I’m serious! We can talk this out—oof!” You squeak as Bucky’s metal arm knocks you flat on your back.

“Oh my God,” you wheeze, lying on the ground, staring up at the stars. I’m getting my butt kicked by Bucky Barnes. This is the best and worst day of my life.

Before you can even get your bearings, Bucky grabs you by the arm and flips you up like you weigh nothing. You manage to stand, but just barely, wobbling in your ridiculous boots.

“Oh my God, he’s strong,” you whisper in awe, dazed. “This is like, the hottest thing ever—wait, no, focus!”

Bucky, looking at you with complete disbelief, narrows his eyes. “What is wrong with you?”

You try to explain, but then he sweeps your legs out from under you, and down you go again. This time you land face-first in the dirt.

“Hnggh... I deserved that,” you mumble into the ground. “I wrote this. I brought this on myself.”

You roll over, still fangirling, despite the pain. “Wow, even in pain, you’re gorgeous.”

Bucky looms over you, looking more confused than ever. “Are you hitting on me while I’m kicking your ass?”

“Yes,” you wheeze, still on the ground, clutching your ribs. “I regret nothing.”

Bucky sighs heavily, and for a split second, you think you catch a flash of amusement in his eyes. “You’re insane.”

You grin up at him, despite the dirt smeared across your face and the throbbing ache in your back. “I’ve been told that before.”

He shakes his head, clearly still trying to make sense of the situation, but you can tell he’s holding back laughter now. You’ve confused him, at least. That’s something.

“So... are you gonna help me up?” you ask hopefully, extending a hand.

Bucky stares down at you for a long moment, then mutters, “You’re not even a good villain.”

“Don’t remind me.” You groan dramatically. “It’s harder than it looks.”

With a roll of his eyes, he finally relents and pulls you to your feet again—though not without a little extra force that nearly sends you stumbling again.

You clutch your chest, still a bit winded, but can’t help the goofy smile on your face. I just got beat up by Bucky Barnes. And it was glorious.

× × × ×

You’re still catching your breath from being unceremoniously flipped, kicked, and restrained when Bucky wraps his metal arm around your waist and hauls you up against him, keeping a firm grip on you. He pulls out a pair of cuffs—the same cuffs you wrote about, of course—and slaps them onto your wrists.

“W-What are you doing?” you sputter, still in awe at how close you are to him now. You stare at his arm holding you in place, feeling your heart race like a schoolgirl with a crush. “Oh my god, am I being arrested? By Bucky Barnes? This is... this is a dream come true.”

Bucky looks at you, eyebrows furrowed. “Stop talking.”

“No, seriously. Where are you taking me?” you ask, wiggling in his grip but mostly just to make yourself more comfortable because—holy hell, his muscles are everywhere. You’re about to pass out from sheer fangirl euphoria. “Is it to a secret Hydra base? Are you throwing me in the trunk of a car? Wait, is there gonna be an interrogation? Do you have a secret lair? Because if there’s a lair, I’d love a tour.”

He tightens his grip, hoisting you up with one hand as if you’re nothing more than a grocery bag. You flail your legs a bit but quickly stop, realizing how cool this actually is.

“I’m not telling you anything,” Bucky says gruffly, dragging you through the trees.

“Oh! Is this like one of those slow-burn captor-captive situations?” you say, eyes wide with excitement. “Are we going to have a moment of shared vulnerability? Will we bond over our tragic backstories? Because, listen, I wrote an entire chapter about this, and let me tell you, it’s steamy.”

Bucky stops dead in his tracks, clearly regretting every life decision that brought him here. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

You grin, too giddy to care about the situation. “Oh, you’re gonna find out. I’m a lot.”

He lets out a long, frustrated sigh and continues dragging you through the forest like you’re a troublesome cat being hauled to the vet. You stumble along behind him, your boots still making it difficult to walk, but you’re too caught up in your own fantasies to care.

“Wait, wait, wait,” you gasp, pretending to be serious for a second. “Are you taking me to the Avengers? Am I about to meet Steve Rogers? Oh my god, if this is a prison transfer situation, I’ll take it. Honestly, throw me in a cell, just tell me Captain America’s on the other side of the bars.”

Bucky groans audibly, muttering under his breath. “You’re literally the worst villain I’ve ever met.”

“Oh, thank you!” You beam, still being pulled along like a rag doll. “I tried to make my villain complex, you know? With layers. You’ll see. There’s more to me than just an evil laugh and a cool outfit. I have depth! Trauma! A tragic backstory, even!”

Bucky finally stops and spins you around, looking you dead in the eyes. “Shut. Up.”

You blink up at him, biting your lip to suppress a fangirl squeal. “Wow, even when you’re angry, you’re hot.”

For a second, you think Bucky might actually lose his patience with you, but instead, he just rolls his eyes and resumes dragging you through the forest.

“You’re taking me to the Avengers, aren’t you? You can tell me! I won’t spoil it for anyone,” you whisper conspiratorially. “I mean, you know, since I’m totally going to escape and wreak havoc... right after I meet everyone and maybe take a group photo.”

Bucky doesn’t dignify that with a response. Instead, he hoists you up over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and starts walking faster. Your head bounces a little with each step, but you can’t help but notice how strong he is.

“Is this the part where I pretend to hate being manhandled, or...?”

Another groan from Bucky. He’s definitely considering just leaving you tied to a tree at this point.

You sigh dramatically as you dangle over his shoulder. “You know, I could help you with your characterization. Maybe throw in some emotional depth, give you some really meaningful dialogue in your next big scene. Maybe a nice brooding monologue... You’re into those, right?”

“Where I’m taking you,” Bucky says, his tone clipped, “there won’t be any brooding. Or talking.”

You perk up. “Oh! Silent treatment? Broody captor vibes? I love it.”

You can practically feel the exhaustion radiating off him as he mutters, “I need a vacation.”

With a smirk, you reply, “I’m free this weekend.”

[insidekatmind]

Your Brother's Best Friend- Noni Madueke

Wearning: slight smut

Request: yes!

Being Levi Colwill’s younger sister wasn’t always easy, especially with how protective he was of you. Ever since you were little, Levi had always kept an eye on anyone who came near you, which made you feel safe but sometimes a bit suffocated. Now that he played for Chelsea, his life was a whirlwind of training sessions, matches, and, of course, his teammates.

Among them was Noni Madueke. His radiant smile, contagious energy, and the way he joked with you every time he came over were impossible to ignore. You found yourself looking for any excuse to spend even a few minutes with him whenever he came home with Levi after training.

“Y/N, are you really staring at the wall, or are you watching someone?” Levi’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts as you sat on the couch. Noni had just gone into the kitchen to grab a drink, and, of course, your eyes had followed his every move.

“What? No! I’m just… thinking!” you replied, trying to sound casual. Levi raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Uh-huh, sure. Keep your eyes off my teammates, okay? Especially Noni.”

“Oh, come on, that would never happen!” you lied, trying to hide the blush creeping across your cheeks.

Right at that moment, Noni walked back in with his signature grin and a couple of jokes ready to go. “What’s the topic? Hope you weren’t talking about me, eh?”

Your heart did a somersault, but you just laughed nervously. “Nothing important, we were just chatting.”

He gave you a curious yet kind look, the kind that made you feel like you were the only person in the room. He asked you about your university course, and as you talked, it felt like the rest of the world disappeared.

When Levi noticed that Noni was paying you just a little too much attention, he stepped in. “Alright, enough chit-chat. Noni, let’s go. We’ve got clips from yesterday’s match to review.”

Noni chuckled but, before following Levi, he glanced back at you. “See you later, Y/N.”

And as your heart raced, you couldn’t help but hope that “see you later” meant much more than just a quick chat.

The next day Noni shows up at your house.“Hi, if you're looking for Levi, he's not at home right now,” you say, trying to act normal.

Noni’s cheerful smile widens upon seeing you.“I know, I came to see you, actually,” he replies, his voice oozing confidence.

Your heart flips. He came to see you? Why?

A hundred thoughts race through your mind, but you try to hide the excitement bubbling up. “Me? Why?”

Noni takes a step closer, his eyes never leaving yours.“I figured I needed a break from all the football talk. Plus, I wanted to spend some time with a beautiful girl.”

Your cheeks flush at his compliment. It’s hard to think straight when he’s standing so close to you.Clearing your throat, you manage to stutter out a response. “Wh-what do you want to do then?”

Noni grins, enjoying the flustered look on your face.“I don’t know… maybe we could have a quick chat? We’ve never really talked much just the two of us, have we?”

You nod, feeling a mixture of nerves and excitement. Spending time alone with him is both thrilling and terrifying.“Sure, yeah, we can chat.”

You let him into your house while you try not to freak out and close the door.

Noni follows you inside, his presence filling the room as you both find a place to sit down. He flops onto the couch, completely at ease, while you perch nervously on the edge of the armchair opposite him, trying to slow your racing heart.“So,” he begins, a playful smile on his lips, “What shall we chat about?”

Your mind goes blank for a moment as his piercing gaze fixates on you. You’re used to seeing his carefree smile and hearing his jokes and banter. Being alone with him feels different. Suddenly, your brain can’t seem to come up with a single topic of conversation.“Um… I don’t know… you tell me,” you say, attempting to sound casual.

Noni leans back on the couch, one arm stretched out across the back, still gazing at you intently.“Well, let’s see… what’s your favorite color?” he asks, with a smirk.

You smile in amusement at his question. "Do you want to know my favorite color?"

Noni chuckles, enjoying the exchange.“I do. It’s a very important question.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s a hint of a smile on your lips. You can’t believe he’s asking about something so trivial.“Fine. My favorite color is purple.”

Noni raises an eyebrow, pretending to consider your answer.“Purple... interesting choice.”

You can’t help but smile at his exaggerated response. “What’s yours then?”

He pretends to think about it for a moment, though you’re sure he knows his answer immediately.“Mine is whatever color your cheeks turn when you’re embarrassed.”

You blushed at his words and looked away, biting your lip to hide the smile that was breaking out of you.

Noni watches you intently as the blush spreads across your cheeks. He clearly enjoys the effect he has on you.“See, that’s the color I’m talking about,” he grins, pointing at your flushed face. “That’s the prettiest color there is.”

You try to regain your composure and look him in the eye.“You say that to every girl, don’t you?”It’s a half-joke, but there’s a hint of insecurity in your voice. Noni’s smooth with everyone, why should you be any different?

Noni cocks his head, his smile faltering for a moment. He seems to pick up on the hint of vulnerability in your tone.“You think I say that to every girl?” he asks, a flicker of seriousness in his expression.

You shrug, trying to play it cool. “I don’t know, you seem pretty charming with everyone around.”

Noni leans forward, his eyes locked on yours.“Maybe it’s different with you.”

Those few words send a shiver down your spine, but you keep your cool and raise an eyebrow skeptically. “Oh really? What makes me different?”

Noni contemplates his next words for a moment, his gaze intensifying.“It’s just… when I’m with you, it doesn’t feel like a game. It feels different. Real.”His words hang in the air, making your heart pound even faster. You’re not sure if he’s just flattering you or if he really means what he’s saying.

You try to keep your voice steady, not wanting him to realize how much his words affect you.“Real how?” you ask, searching his face for any hint of insincerity.

Noni takes a moment to reply. When he does, his voice is softer, more sincere.“With you, it’s not just about the football or the banter. I like talking to you. Genuinely. It feels like we’re actually connecting, and I don’t feel that with just anyone.”

You smiled softly at his words and you could feel the butterflies in your stomach.Seeing your soft smile, Noni's gaze softens further. He leans back against the couch again, watching you intently.

"You know, I don't think you even realize how cute you look right now," he says quietly, a hint of a smirk on his lips.

Your heart skips another beat at his compliment. You quickly look down, trying to hide the redness in your cheeks that you know is giving you away."Stop it," you say with a shy smile.

But Noni’s not finished. He moves a little closer to you, his voice dropping to a low, intimate tone."No, seriously. You're so damn cute when you're flustered."

You can feel his eyes on you, making you feel a mix of nervous and exhilarated. His proximity is intoxicating, and the air between you feels charged."I... I'm not trying to be cute," you stutter, still unable to meet his gaze.

Noni chuckles, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you."I know you're not trying. That's what makes it so adorable."

You finally muster up the courage to look at him, and when you do, his gaze pins you in place. It’s intense, almost overwhelming. But there’s something else in his eyes too – a hint of desire, and a flicker of something deeper.

As he speaks again, his voice is barely above a whisper.“You drive me crazy when you blush like that, you know.”

You gulp, feeling the truth of his words sink in. The way he’s looking at you sends a shiver down your spine."I..." you start, but your voice trails off. You can’t form a coherent thought with him so close and his eyes on you like that.

He notices your struggle, and a slow, languid smile curls at the corners of his mouth. He obviously enjoys having you at a loss for words.

The tension between you grows more intense by the second. He slowly reaches out and places a hand on your knee. The touch of his fingers on your skin sends electricity through your body."You know," he murmurs, moving his face closer to yours, "I'd love to see just how red you can get."His words are like a flame igniting a fire within you.

You can feel your heart racing in your chest as he inches nearer. He's so close now you can smell his cologne, a perfect mix of spicy and musky. All your rational thoughts seem to disappear, leaving only the pounding in your chest and the burning desire in your veins.

"I..." you begin again, but he cuts you off with a knowing smile.

"Shh," he whispers, bringing his fingers to your lips delicately."Don't overthink it. Just let me do this." His other hand moves up to caress your cheek, the pads of his fingers soft against your skin. You’re lost in his eyes and the sensations he's evoking within you that you barely notice him leaning in even closer."Just... relax," he murmurs, his breath warm on your face.

He's so close now you could count every one of his eyelashes. Your breaths mingle together, and you feel as though the world has shrank to just the two of you.With a tender yet firm touch, he slides his hand behind your neck, pulling you even closer. The way he touches you is electrifying, sending sparks through every nerve in your body.

"You're trembling," he whispers, his lips so close to yours now you can almost taste them. "Are you nervous?"

You nod. It's a lie. You’re not nervous. You're overwhelmed, excited, yearning.

"Good" he says, the word a hot breath against your mouth. "That means you want this as badly as I do."

And then, finally, his lips brush against yours. It's a soft, hesitant touch at first, as if he's testing your reaction. But as soon as your lips respond eagerly to his, he leans in further, deepening the kiss.Your mind goes blank, consumed by the feel of his lips on yours, the taste of him on your tongue. Every nerve in your body is alive and on fire.

The hand on your neck tightens, pulling you against him. Your bodies are flush now, molded to each other. His free hand slips from your knee to your waist, pulling you even closer. The contact is almost dizzying.

He breaks the kiss momentarily, his forehead resting against yours, eyes still closed."You have no idea how long I've been wanting to do that," he whispers, his voice hoarse with desire.

You let out a shaky sigh, your head reeling from the kiss. Your hands find their way to his shoulders, gripping them tightly as you try to ground yourself."You... you have?" you manage to ask, your own voice sounding foreign to your ears.

Noni opens his eyes, his gaze intense as it locks with yours."For weeks. Maybe months," he admits, his fingers idly tracing patterns on your waist.

"I've wanted you from the first moment I saw you."His confession sends a thrill through you, making your heart pound even louder. You can’t believe he's been harboring this kind of feelings for so long."But... why didn’t you say anything?" you ask, searching his face.

He smiles at your question, but there’s a hint of sadness in his eyes."Your brother would've killed me," he laughs quietly.

The mention of your brother snaps you back to reality for a moment. It’s true. Levi would absolutely lose his mind if he knew about this.You bite your lip, not wanting to think about that right now. Right now, you just want to be with Noni and forget everything else.

Noni seems to pick up on your concern, and he gently tilts your chin up, meeting your eyes.“Don’t worry about him. For now, just focus on me.”

He leans in again, capturing your lips in another fiery kiss. This time there’s no hesitation, just raw, unfiltered passion.His hands move to your thighs, gripping them firmly as he pulls you up closer. Your legs wrap around his waist instinctively, and you find yourself straddling him, the heat between you almost unbearable.

Your fingers slide into his hair, grabbing handfuls as you kiss him back with equal fervor.His hands now free, they explore your body greedily, tracing up your back and along your arms, as if trying to memorize every curve.The sensations he’s evoking in you are unlike anything you’ve felt before, and you find yourself yearning for more, arching against him shamelessly.

He groans into your mouth, the sound sending shivers down your spine. His hands move down to your hips, anchoring you firmly against him. You can feel the evidence of his desire for you, pressing into your core, making you want him even more.He kisses along your jawline, his lips leaving a trail of fire on your skin. He continue down your neck, lingering on your pulse point, eliciting a gasp from you.

“God, you’re driving me crazy,” he murmurs against your skin, his breath hot and uneven. He nips at your collarbone, sucking at the sensitive flesh in a way that makes your head swim.His hands pull at the hem of your shirt, untucking it from your jeans, his fingers gently caressing the bare skin of your back. The touch of his fingers is like a brand, marking you as his.

The need to feel closer, to feel his skin against yours, is overwhelming. You tug at his shirt, wanting to get it off, but Noni stops you, his hands finding your wrists and pinning them to the couch cushion beside your head.He pulls away from your neck just enough to look at you, eyes fiery and dark with a hunger that makes you shiver.

"Slow down," he breathes, his voice gravelly. "We've got plenty of time."

You try to catch your breath, your body thrumming with unsatisfied desire. Noni notices and smirks, enjoying your impatient state."Slow," he repeats, this time emphasizing the word with a slow, deliberate roll of his hips against yours.

A strangled gasp escapes you, the friction of his body grinding against yours sending a wave of pleasure through you.

The smirk on his face grows as he feels the effect he’s having on you."Feels good, doesn’t it?" he murmurs, his gaze never leaving yours.

Noni does it again, grinding against you slowly but firmly, eliciting another gasp from you. You can feel him against you, hard and ready, and it’s driving you wild.

“I want to touch you,” you say, your voice a bit whiny.

“You are touching me,” Noni points out, still grinding against you tantalizingly. “Be patient.”

You bite your lip, trying to regain some control over yourself. But it’s difficult when he’s looking at you like that, like you’re the most desirable woman he’s ever seen.

He lets go of your wrists, his hands moving down to the button of your jeans.“Is this what you want?” he asks, hooking a finger in the waistband.

You nod, unable to form words, your heart pounding with anticipation. His free hand slides up under your shirt, splaying across your stomach. You arch against him, wanting – needing – more touch.

Noni unbuttons your jeans, his fingers sliding slowly down the zipper. His hands linger at the edge, teasingly not going any further. Each touch is like a taunt, making you ache for more. You squirm under him, unable to bear the torturous slowness of his movements.

"Noni, please," you whisper, your voice taut with need. "Stop teasing me."He chuckles, clearly enjoying the effect he’s having on you.

“But I like teasing you,” he murmurs, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your exposed skin. “Your body responds so beautifully when I play with you.”

Despite your protests, he continues his torturous pace, his hand finally sliding into your jeans, caressing the sensitive skin of your hip. You arch against him again, a small moan escaping your lips."God, you're so ready for me, aren't you?" he whispers, his voice rough with desire.

You can’t deny it. Every inch of your body is burning for his touch, yearning for more than the teases he’s currently giving you. You feel like you’re going to burst, like you need him in ways you’ve never needed anything before.“Noni, please,” you say again, your hands fisting the fabric of his shirt. “I can’t take this anymore. I need you.”

His answering smile is almost predatory. He can tell he’s got you exactly where he wants.“What do you need?” He asks, his fingers continuing their slow, lazy movements. The hand under your shirt slides up higher, just grazing the underside of your breast.

You can barely string a coherent thought together, let alone form a proper sentence.“You,” you manage to say, your voice breathless. “I need you. All of you.”

His smile widens at your words, and his fingers start to move a little faster now.“Is that right?” he asks, his voice a low growl now. “You want all of me, don’t you?

“Yes,” you breathe, your body responding to his every touch. “All of you. Please, Noni. Don’t make me wait any longer.”

Noni leans in to your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “Impatient,” he murmurs, nipping at your earlobe.

“Can you blame me?” you ask, your voice wavering as his fingers start to dip even lower. “You’ve been torturing me.”

He pulls back slightly, his eyes finding yours. The heat in them makes your heart skip a beat.“Patience is a virtue,” he reminds you, his tone almost chiding. “And I want you to beg for it.”

You almost let out a whine at his words. He wants you to beg? You’re already on the verge of begging, but you’re not quite there yet. You hold onto the last shred of pride you have left and shake your head.“I’m not going to beg,” you say, trying to sound defiant.

His eyes flash with desire as he leans in closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.“Oh you will,” he says, his lips right next to your ear. “I’m going to make sure of it.”

You were about to say something but you hear a door open, you quickly get off Noni and fix yourself trying to act normal.Noni is equally caught off guard, and he stands up, adjusting his shirt and trying to look casual.

Levi steps into the room, his gaze moving between you two. There's a moment of awkward silence as he takes in the scene before him.His eyes narrow slightly as they land on you, and then on Noni, who's standing a little too close to you for comfort.

"Everything okay in here?" Levi asks, his voice laced with suspicion.

"Yeah, everything's fine," you say, a little too quickly. You hope he doesn't notice how out of breath you are.

Levi's eyes flick back to Noni, his expression cool."What are you doing here?" he asks, his tone clearly hostile.

Noni responds with an easy smile, as if this kind of hostility is nothing new to him."Just wanted to stop by and say hi," he says smoothly. "Is that a crime?"Levi scowls at his response, his hackles clearly raised.

You notice your brother's look inviting you to go to your room and you nod, getting up. "Ok, it's getting late, I better go to my room" you murmur, giving Noni one last look.

Noni locks eyes with you, the intense heat still there, but you can also see a trace of disappointment at the premature end of your time together.You give him a small smile, silently communicating that you'd wanted things to end differently too.

As you walk by Levi, heading towards your room, you can feel his eyes boring into the side of your head, but you don't dare look back.You close the door quietly behind you, your heart still racing from Noni's proximity and your brother's unexpected appearance.

You flop down on your bed, not bothering to undress. Your mind is racing with thoughts of what might have happened if Levi hadn't interrupted you. You know you shouldn't, but you can't help but wonder...

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

I’m so sorry for this guys but

AITA for telling someone their horse was masturbating?

Basically does what it says on the tin. For those of you who don’t know horses can masturbate. It’s most common in male horses under the age of three who have not had their testicles removed and who are confined to a stall or small pen and get really bored. They typically grow out of the behaviour once they’re older or given more freedom. Some owners try to train them to stop it from happening but most just ignore it because it’s better than other boredom behaviours like cribbing and wind-sucking (both are SFW to Google btw).

Anyway, I’m a groom and stable hand, mid-twenties now but been working at my job since I was fifteen (part-time then, now full-time). The stable I work at boards horses and gives lessons but also offers training for young horses, so we get a lot of OTTB here – that is “off-the-track Thoroughbreds”, so ex-racing horses that people typically buy cheap and then retrain to be show jumpers or dressage horses or whatever. One such horse is Bert, who is the horse in question in this situation.

Bert has excellent bloodlines but he sucked as a racing horse so he was sold OTT. The man who bought him, I’ll just call him John, knows nothing about horses – he’s a total beginner in every way, has never ridden and pays other people (including me) to take care of Bert, but claims to be an expert in everything equine because Bert cost him so much money (I don’t know the actual amount but he’s in the section of the stable where the $20,000 Warmbloods are boarded so I’m assuming around that amount which is a lot yes but also not the most expensive horse we’ve had here).

Anyway the actual story – I’m at work cleaning out stalls when John walks past, he completely ignores me as he always does so I do the same and get back to work. A few minutes later he goes sprinting back in the opposite direction which I thought was weird but whatever, I kept mucking, until I heard him shouting for help. I went out into the aisle and he’s there shouting at another groom and demanding to know the emergency vets number (it was a weekday morning btw, so he didn’t need the emergency vet, he just needed the regular vet but that’s meaningless anyway). I went over to see what was happening and he tells me his horse (Bert) is ‘acting weird’ and needs a vet immediately, so I offer to go see Bert for myself and then call the vet if necessary.

So basically yeah Bert was masturbating. Had an erection, was rocking about rubbing it on his tummy, and did NOT want anyone going in his stall or touching him. John points at Bert and says something like “see, he’s sick!” and then tells me Bert tried to attack him when he entered the stall and I just, I dunno, I cough and say that Bert is fine and just wants some privacy right now, figuring that the obvious erection might be a giveaway as to what’s happening? But John turned to me and blurts out word for word “are you an actual retard” and then starts cursing at me and telling me I know nothing and Bert needs a vet etc and so on. I kind of blanked on everything else he said after he called me a retard to be honest because WTF? I don’t really know what went on in my brain in the next few seconds but I ended up shouting – yes, shouting, extremely loudly, it fucking echoed in the stable – “he doesn’t need a vet because HE’S JUST MASTURBATING” in John’s face and then walking back to the stall I’d been mucking.

As I got back to the stall I heard laughter from a couple of aisles over. Apparently my co-workers and some riders who were there had all heard me shout and found it hilarious, and that made me laugh too because it was so freaking ridiculous. I honestly kind of forgot the entire encounter afterwards because we had a horse who actually needed a vet a little while later and yeah, John and Bert just slipped my mind.

I didn’t remember until that afternoon when my boss came to see me and said he’d had a complaint from John who wanted me fired. I did not get fired but I did get ‘warned’ (just a formality, my boss didn’t actually punish me but wanted me to act like I had been if John questioned me later, which he never did). John complained that I’d treated him like an idiot, spoken down to him, and “acted above my position” (those were the exact words he used) causing people to laugh at him. I explained the entire situation to my boss, who also laughed, and that was that, nothing else ever came of it aside from my co-workers telling the story of me shouting HE’S MASTURBATING so loudly it scared a pony into jumping so suddenly that it farted to everyone they possibly could.

Since then John has ignored me even more than before which I honestly consider a blessing, and I would leave this situation thinking I’m NTA except that one of my co-workers brought their boyfriend to the stable recently and when they introduced us the boyfriend said something like ‘oh right, you’re the asshole who talks down to people who don’t know everything about horses’ and yeah. My co-worker was blindsided by that as well and we basically both said you don’t have to know everything about horses to know what an erection means, but since then I’ve been wondering if I am TA in this situation? Like, clearly there were better ways to tell John what his horse was doing, but he called me a retard and also I get paid to take care of horses not to teach the birds and the bees to fifty year olds so I don’t know. I’ll let Tumblr decide.

So, AITA for telling John his horse was masturbating?

Additional info: I'm on a rota with other stable hands so I sometimes groom Bert, muck his stall, attend to his vet/farrier appointments, give him worming paste, etc and so on. I am not his trainer and have no input into when he gets to leave his stall. I've mentioned to my boss a couple of times that he boredom stims and should be in a paddock with other young horses, but John refuses to agree to that for reasons I don't know. My boss has since spoken to Bert's trainer who is now trying to convince John to let Bert have more time outdoors.

What are these acronyms?

[stevesjockstrap]

Sweetest Day

Steve/Eddie • Rated T • Ronance for fun, 2000’s, the girls are so fed up with these idiots

@steddiesongfics: My Heart Will Go On - Celine Dion

@stcreators: event 12 Take Two - music

Steve glared at the spread in front of them, trying to figure out how his life had led him to this moment. There were neat little piles of pens, cards and paper in front of all of them.

Their normal movie/game/queer bitching session night had been taken over by Nancy and some magazine quiz.

“We’re writing?”

Robin sighed her patented long suffering sigh at him, which he didn’t think was completely warranted. He wasn’t good at writing, even when he had to try to be in high school. That had been almost fifteen years ago now.

Nancy started over, apparently deciding they needed more instructions. “Cosmopolitan magazine says to write poems to your lover for a better intimate relationship,” she explained like they were incredibly stupid. With such authority like they didn’t know this was a magazine telling you tips for which jeans to make your butt look better or which positions to try with your man. “And since it’s Sweetest Day, we’re all going to write poems for each other and share them.”

Steve groaned again. Eddie pulled him close, nearly into his lap at the table and nuzzled into his neck. “I’ll love whatever you write, babe.”

He knew that, but Nancy and Robin were like, actual geniuses. Eddie wrote songs, which were just poems with music. He was going to look like an idiot.

“Sweetest day is just another made up holiday for candy companies to screw us,” he complained.

Robin rolled her eyes. “No it isn’t, Steve! It’s for kind gestures, showing appreciation for those you love.”

He looked at Eddie for support but he was staring into space, drumming on the table with Nancy’s fancy pens. “Whatever, but I’m sure they didn’t intend to give us homework.”

But the girls could not be persuaded. He went to the kitchen for another beer.

Then he decided fuck it, grabbed a pen and a blank card and leaned over the kitchen island to write a poem. Eddie deserved a poem.

“I think the next time you want to do this artsy crap, you can invite Will instead,” Steve grouched, then felt instantly bad. “Who goes first?”

“You should, Steve!”

He glared across the room at Nancy, who was even peppier than usual since she’d gotten them all to agree to her idea. He could tell she’d written something long and detailed in her perfect tiny handwriting.

“Yeah, go ahead,” Eddie insisted, leaning forward with his hand on his chin. Seemingly delighted to listen to what he wrote.

“Every night in my dreams

I see you, I feel you

That is how I know you go on

Far across the distance

And spaces between us

You have come to show you go on

Near, far, wherever you-”

“Wait!” Robin loudly interjected. “Is this that damn Celine Dion song?”

He felt his cheeks heat, ducking his head.

“Oh my god, Stevie,” Eddie sounded shocked.

“I’m not good at writing, okay?” He nearly yelled, then he met his boyfriend’s eyes. His eyebrows were raised, but he was smiling. He looked like he’d won the lottery.

“I wrote the same thing!”

“No way,” Nancy got up to snatch their cards away, comparing them.

“You're here, there's nothing I fear,

And I know that my heart will go on,

We'll stay forever this way,” Eddie sang, opening his arms but Steve was already on his way toward him.

“You’re unbelievable,” Steve snarked, but unable to hold back his own smile.

“I’ve already written an entire album of songs for you, love. I figured I could borrow from a master.”

“You guys are the worst,” Robin grumbled, coming closer to look over her girlfriend’s shoulder.

But they didn’t pay her any mind as he straddled Eddie in the chair and met his lips.

Dividers by @/saradika-graphics & @/sister-lucifer

[fayedartmouth]

14 👀

Prompt: "I won't hurt you."

This one is kind of random? I don't know; it's just where my mind was this morning. This one's also not a completely enclosed fic, but is really just a scene from something that would be much longer (but I haven't written anything but this).

JJ isn't sure how it happened.

One second, he's doing some shitty job for Barracuda Mike, trying to make ends meet.

The next, he's getting jumped by two assholes on the dock.  They're bigger than he is, and they're a lot more motivated.  He figures they're not making minimum wage from Mike, so, you know.  They care a little more.

Oh, they're also armed.

JJ finds that out the hard way.  Three punches, and JJ gives as much as he gets.  But when one of them shanks him, right in the side -- well, that's it.

He takes another hit, and he's down.  He pushes himself up but lacks the strength, and one of the assholes kicks him on his back.  He grunts, hitting hard, and he looks up in time to see the other one bearing down with the knife.

It'll be a direct hit, right to the chest.

He blinks up dumbly, unable to get out of the way or even try defending himself.  It'll be over quickly, at least.  It'll be over.

But then, the man's face goes blank, and he crashes to his knees.  The knife clatters uselessly to the ground, and there's a blur of action as the other man hits the ground, too, crumpling in a heap.

JJ's breathing staggers.  It takes him a moment as the new figure above him turns back around, and their eyes meet.

It's Rafe Cameron.

Why the hell is it Rafe Cameron?

"JJ Maybank," Rafe says.  He's holding a crowbar, of all things.  "Why am I not surprised to see you getting your ass kicked?"

JJ grits his teeth, trying to lever himself up off the ground.  It's slow progress as his body protests, and he gets shakily to his feet, pressing his hand to the bloody wound on his side.  "Why the hell do you care?"

Rafe shrugs.  "I don't," he says.  "But you're at my marina.  I figured it was a Kook in trouble."

JJ huffs, heat rising in his face.  His side is throbbing, and he can feel the hot, sticky blood as it continues to flow.  There's a lot of it; there's too much of it.

"You're not even supposed to be here," Rafe says.  "You probably had this coming to you."

He nods at JJ and looks at the two men on the ground.

JJ scowls.  "I was doing a job," he mutters.  He winces despite himself, doing his best to keep himself together and upright.  "It was legit."

More or less.  With Barracuda Mike, it could go either way.

"I'm sure," Rafe says.  "That's why two assholes just tried to murder you."

That's a fair point, but JJ's not about to conceded it -- not to Rafe.  "Whatever," he says, and he takes a step forward, making some attempt to get the hell out of there.  He should finish the job -- that's true -- but getting the hell away from Rafe so he can bleed in private is his first concern.

Also, he probably needs to make sure he's not dying.

His body protests from the movement, and he looks down again.  The blood is starting to drip down his leg, and he's starting to shake.  He stumbles, almost falling face first on the dock, and Rafe reaches out to steady him.

At the touch, though, JJ pulls away.  He's panting by the time he orients himself, staring at Rafe wildly.

"What?  I won't hurt you," Rafe says, like it's obvious.

Which is funny, really.

Like Rafe hasn't beaten the shit out of him more than once for no reason at all.

Rafe seems to make the connection, too, and he rolls his eyes.  "Oh, whatever," he says, sounding put out now.  "I won't hurt you this time, okay?"

It's not that trusts Rafe, but he might believe him.  There's no need for pretense between them -- there never has been.  Rafe hates him; he hates Rafe.  They at least have a simple kind of honesty in their animosity that sort of works.

Or, maybe JJ's just suffering from blood loss.  He looks down at his side, still leaking blood, and feels himself waver.  He's getting lightheaded again, and this time it's taking too long to clear.

"Seriously, Maybank, you're going to pass out," Rafe says.  "And if you want me to leave you here, passed out on the dock, that's fine with me.  But my boat has a first aid kit--"

He looks up again, breathing coming a little shorter now as his vision starts to dim.  "Why?"

Rafe laughs, like honestly, he's just not sure.  "You have a very punchable face, Maybank, it's true, and I think you're a piece of shit," he says.  "But that doesn't mean you deserve to die, okay?  Not even you."

JJ narrows his eyes skeptically.

Rafe shrugs in response.  "Also, I didn't know it was you when I intervened," he says.  "But since I'm here, I might as well do the good deed."

"What's in it for you?" JJ asks.

Rafe smirks.  "I'm insulted," he says.  "Can't I just be a nice guy?"

JJ's expression speaks for itself.

Rafe isn't offended.  If anything, he just looks pleased.  "So you owe me a favor," he says, cool and smooth.  "I save your life.  You owe me yours."

That sounds about right.  He shakes his head, fingers clutching a little more convulsively over the sound.  "No--"

"Suit yourself," Rafe says, raising his arms indifferently.

JJ turns to move -- to walk away -- but he only makes it a step.  The whole world tilts and he blinks rapidly but it does nothing to clear his vision.  His heart thuds painfully in his chest and his ears roar. He does what he can to hold onto his consciousness, but it slips through his fingers, and--

He wakes up on his back, and Rafe is standing above him.  "Seriously?" he says mockingly.

JJ can't do anything.  His voice isn't working right anymore, and all he manages to do is whimper.

Rafe rolls his eyes.  He reaches down and pulls JJ roughly up.  JJ's breath catches as the pain ratchets up.  He tries to get his feet and keep his balance as Rafe gets him up.  "You can't even walk, Maybank."

He hates that Rafe is right.  He hates that he can't deny.  Right now, JJ hates everything, especially the way the world is dimming and everything is fading and--

"I'll take that as a yes," Rafe says, sounding smug as JJ's body goes weak again and the last thing he's aware of is being picked up with a growing, inevitable sense of dread.

[rabbitindisguise]

I do think it's important to know that this isn't because of skill. People can have this problem at a very beginner level and not have it at advanced knowledge levels. It's mainly an issue of mental fortitude and crossed wires with pre-processing post-processing and active participation. Mindfulness, if folks lean that way (though this is less whimsy, more brute force ime . . . but that might just be my personality)

A general concept that might help understand this better is the "inner editor" people reference a lot during nanowrimo. You're trying to write a novel, juggling 3744747 things, and your brain is like "is that a proper use of a semicolon?" The correct answer is not "no one has this problem" but rather that your answer can be "who gives a shit" so you can move on and then later (if there is a later- the most frustrating thing is figuring out you didn't need that sentence at all anyways after you spend 30 min waffling over it) deciding to think it over.

So when you're reading and your inner editor has Opinions you can just tell it to fuck off. Close the book, take a deep breath, make your mind blank, and then open it back up and try again. When I do this with anime I try to mentally translate the audio before confirming with the subtitles because I find it occupies the same portion of my brain. Similar exercises are trying to predict the ending, picking out favorite lines for your ship, waiting in anticipation for the next scene with your blorbo in it, trying to articulate all your favorite things you like about it, etc. The galaxy brain takes are for the second pass, if there's a time for this at all (ancient college wisdom: read/watch it twice, once to know what it is, a second time to analyze it)

The other thing is that a criticism doesn't necessarily mean it's low quality. Sometimes the thing we're engaging with just isn't stimulating enough- for example, a kids book is easier to criticize because you're not distracted by subplots and unusual poetic language. The kids book might be a rock solid classic beloved by all, and the book your reading got 1 star on goodreads- but that's what I mean when I say it's not a matter of skill, or even quality of the work. Sometimes people's brains just attack stuff willy nilly. Even constructive criticism can be "attack" because it means "looking at this critically rather than as an audience member."

So like. Practice mental fortitude and it probably won't happen as much and maybe eventually you can turn it on/off whenever you want 👍 it's a skill that can be improved, and some discipline for a couple weeks goes a long way to forming a habit of staying present in the moment and not getting completely taken out of the text just because there's Just One Super Excusable Thing

(apologies if this is a post just meant to rag on this one guy and confirm that it's a good question, however I find getting distracted by this stuff super unpleasant so I figured people might want to learn how to avoid it)

(I also think in general I tend to enjoy media more like this because something like a sentence being grammatically incorrect has never killed anyone* and I'm glad that I don't notice it when it happens anymore unless I put on Fic Beta Critique Goggles™ x.x I fucking hated my grammar snob phase of middle school it was horrible for other people sure but it was also horrible for ME. Now whenever I get corrected on grammar I'm like. I could have cared. I cared once. Not anymore!! And then I go idk read my childhood faves without any concern for the art styles on the cover or the typos. I won't let me ruin my favorite things. That's what mental fortitude is all about.)

*patients in hospitals and people using medications excluded, among others

okay sorry, one other thing annoyed me about that writing class. one of the students is this super clean-cut doctor who works at an HIV clinic, and he asked the prof "do you ever get distracted while reading books, because you find yourself analyzing the craft of them instead of sinking into the story?"

and she said "no," and turned away. and the whole class laughed awkwardly, bc it was a pretty abrupt and dismissive answer. so then she turned back to him and said "you wouldn't ask a musician if they get distracted listening to songs. they just enjoy the music."

but I dunno, I'm a newbie writer with only one (scheduled-to-be-published) book under my belt, but I get distracted sometimes when I'm reading. if I find I'm not sinking into a block of text, I'll squint at it and be like "okay, they're using too much passive voice, that's why my brain isn't grabbing on to it." so I'm sorry Mr. HIV doctor, I thought your question was reasonable!

[nimphontheshore]

Like breathing,

There is some stuff that I’ve kept, that I find again, that I discover ; stuff about you, about how I felt and how I’m feeling. Sometimes, I think, they should come to you. Here’s one.

“There are nights where I feel empty but also full. Empty because you’re asleep and my eyes cannot shut yet, full because I know you’re next to me, cause’ I know your heart is beating at the same pace as mine; even when the room is empty from your smile or your laugh, it’s still full of you, your perfume and your breathing. But there’s a small contradiction of the senses : the silence is so loud, I hear your thoughts and mine ; but it’s also… So empty, I miss your voice, even though I will meet her again as I will open my eyes in the morning; and see your face as first thing. You know, I remember couple of nights, back in February, where I was trying to avoid — or crave — this silence ; I would say to be tired, faked falling asleep so I could stare at you, feel closer, pretend. I would just stand there and think about it, think about how I just wanted us to say “fuck it” and kiss, as stupid and cheesy as it sounds. I would have folded anyway, at the end, I have always been just a weak little boy. It’s so calm, when you are sleeping. Nights are rare when you’re falling before I do; usually, I’m the one who’s always tired, always sleepy before our time. But when you’re not here anymore — here, as in… awake — everything stops. The world does. The time goes by so slow, it’s like minutes are hours and hours are days. I stare outside and all I see is blank, black, nothing; even the moon is in hiding. Doll, what would I have done without you? How would I be, if i wasn’t laying next to you. Those questions are irrelevant, but still scratch my mind… I feel like, with you, i took this path that has been written already; but if had chosen another, it would have been the end for me; I mean, there’s no good if it isn’t by your side. I believe in this, it’s my religion. These days I can’t help but recall our first night together, the meeting, the first evening/night face to face exchanging texts, this special night. So many things happen, so many. And yet, it was so obvious I had fallen for you already; immediately. How could I have known… when even my conscience was still trying to welcome this new and overwhelming feeling ; it’s like I had this internal feelings scanner, completely breaking down, trying to figure it out : What is she doing to us ? I wish you could hear those thoughts, I wish you could see what my love looks like, what it sounds like, how I love you like I’m breathing. Do you see it? Well, I guess tonight I will make this wish. I wish to never disappoint you; and if I do, to try and make it better; I wish to always try, to always listen, to always be patient. I wish that your heart stays on the same path as mine, ever; I wish that you keep me in your thoughts and my name, on your lips. I wish that, when you look at me, you see a home, or a happy thought; anything to remember, and more than a memory, a feeling. Finally I wish that you have the best sleep for the night. And I wish you could hear me — even if my words are typed — I wish you could see, that I’m always and all about you, even when you can’t possibly see.”

[fanficsat12am]

how the brothers react to you wiping their kiss off prank I Leviathan, Satan & Asmodeus

Lucifer & Mammon Beelzebub & Belphegor

Leviathan

This poor boy is super insecure, often calling himself “ a yucky otaku”. He’s surprised you even find anything redeeming in him and thinks that he’s not deserving of the love you give him.

Levi tried to be the best boyfriend for you. He’s terrified that you’ll realize how pathetic he is and leave.

He thought he was doing pretty good at his little IRL dating sim. So it was completely out of nowhere when you decided to wipe his kiss off after winning a round in his new game.

His mind just went blank, thinking of where he went wrong. Did he say something to offend you? Were you tired of just watching him play all day? Did you want him to spend more time with you? Or was it just him? Did you finally get tired of him?

He doesn’t even notice himself crying until you wipe the tears quickly running down his face. He immediately clings to you, laying his head on your shoulder, and starts begging you to stay.

“I know I’m just a yuckie otaku, but please give me another chance. I swear I'll try even harder just p-please don't give up on me”

A deep pit or guilt starts to form in your stomach. You underestimated how low Levi thinks of himself. His tears start to seep into your shirt, a wet patch quickly forming.

You start to pet his head, reassuring him that you weren’t going to leave him. After a few minutes, his breathing starts to steady and he lifts his head up–bloodshot eyes staring back at you.

You didn’t have the heart to tell him it was a prank. So you made an excuse instead, telling him that your lips just felt a little wet afterwards.

After that, you made sure to earn his trust back by waking him up everyday with a text message on one of the many things you love about him. Because of this, he always goes down to breakfast with a tinge of pink on his cheeks.

Satan

For as long as he can remember, reading had always been his favorite hobby. He’s never really been the type to demon to look at words at its surface value. He reads between the lines and finds that a great book is built with the attention to the smallest of details.

Because of this, Satan has always treasured the smallest gestures you do for him. He finds that these small doings are what makes a relationship special.

You wiped his kiss while you were reading a book with him one morning. He’ll notice of course and instead of asking you about it shrugged it off and thought nothing of it. Maybe he had some coffee on his lips or something, trying to convince himself rationalize why you’d do that.

The cycle continues the rest of the day, with him kissing you and you wiping it away. He starts to pout after the third time you wipe it. On top of all the books he’s read, romance novels were no stranger to him. He learned that it was best to give the other party some time to themself and not to push anything out of them. But that didn’t make the situation better.

He finally snaps the next day and just outright asks you in the privacy of your room. He starts to bang on your door and enters when he hears your approval. You smile at him, asking him if he needed something.

“My Kitten, did I do something to cross you? I tried giving you some space but I still can’t figure out what you need. If you’re falling out of love with me, please tell me so. I don’t want to see you up and leave without an explanation at least”

Through Satan’s little ramble, he started to pace back and forth in your room. He looked like he was trying to solve one of the greatest mysteries to ever unfold, connecting clues left and right.

You finally got tired after 30 minutes of him asking if you got drugged by an anti-love potion. You gently took his hands in yours and told him it was a prank. His brain just froze at that moment. You pranked a prankster like him? Oh he’s so gonna get you back for that.

Watch out for your back for the next few weeks. This man will be planning the greatest prank on you with Belphie. Either that or he’ll get revenge by placing a “24 hours no cuddles'' rule on you and will stay in his room all day. Eventually his ban crumbles on him, Satan missing you after a few hours and goes looking for you.

Asmodeus

Even though he’s the Avatar of Lust, he finds short and sweet kisses just as loving as those he’s given in times of passion. He’s a very clingy person and makes sure to give you as much affection as he can whenever you’re together.

The brothers usually find a trace of Asmo’s lipstick somewhere on you– a symbol that no matter where you are, he’s there with you.

At first he didn’t really see you wiping it away, only noticing once he saw that his makeup was nowhere to be seen on you. He immediately leapt from his seat and gave you a big kiss on your cheek, the blemish dark enough for anyone to see. He was about to go lay back down on the couch but he sees you grab a tissue and start wiping away the mark.

Who do you think you are to wipe his kiss away? This is definitely not gonna fly with him. Without a word, he stands up and makes a beeline towards his room. He comes back, the darkest shade of lipstick in hand accompanied by a suspicious grin on his face.

He takes the cap off, places a generous amount on his lips, and pulls you to him by your waist. Before you can even comprehend what’s happening, your face is littered by his kisses.

“Go ahead and try wiping them off, Dearie. If I see even one of them missing, trust me when I say that your face won't be the only thing I’m marking with my lips”

Knowing him, you know that he wasn’t afraid to come through with his little threat. So you just dropped the prank and told him everything.

Before you can even finish explaining everything, he picks you up and carries you back to his room. He places you on his bed and whispers “I’ll make sure to leave marks that’ll last for weeks, Darlin”

[cafedanslanuit]

♡   —   pairing: kazutora x reader

♡   —   summary: after a long day at work, you want nothing but to spend a calm night with your boyfriend. however, you have no idea this is the night were all his demons finally get the best of him.

♡   —   tags/warnings: female reader, angst, breakups, hurt feelings everywhere, mention on mental illnesses and nightmares, based on ben platt’s song ‘carefully’, mention of tora’s job in one of the future timelines.

♡   —   a/n: i enjoyed writing kazutora so. damn. much. also, i’m quite proud of this one and the small details i added~ thank you @ofoceansandtombstones​​ for being my lovely beta <3

♡   —  masterlist

And all this time you've had a gentle way of holding me

So could you please release me that way too?

— “carefully” by Ben Platt

“It’s open, come in!”

The first thing Kazutora sees when he opens the door of your apartment is you, kneeling on the kitchen floor and picking up pieces of a broken baking dish. Red sauce has splattered everywhere and his mind betrays him for a second, imagining an accident far worse than what has truly happened. He blinks twice and starts to notice the small details that finally slow down the fast beating of his heart. There are pieces of chicken breasts next to the open oven door and what he thinks are sliced carrots next to your right knee.

You hiss when you pick up a piece of the shattered glass, the sharp end pinching your finger. Kazutora comes back to his senses, widening his eyes as he realizes he’s just been standing there.

“Hey, let me. You’ll cut yourself,” he warns, walking up to you. Grabbing both your hands, he eases you into your feet and then guides you to the living room. “I’ll take care of it,” he promises as he goes back to the kitchen and starts cleaning up the mess.

You let yourself fall on the sofa with a loud thud and let out an exasperated sigh.

“I just had the most awful day,” you whine, taking off your apron and leaving it on the arm of the sofa.  “Work was hell, I got scolded by something that I didn’t do— like always, only this time my boss was all like: ‘You gotta be more careful, we wouldn’t want to lose such a valuable employee’. Like he was going to fire me over someone else’s mistake?!”

Your voice is getting louder by the minute and you take advantage of the fact Kazutora is in another room to keep the volume. You have been waiting the entire day to see him and vent about what a trainwreck you day had been. Just as always, he listens intently, the only noise coming from the kitchen being a soft scraping sound as he picks up everything and throws it to the trash. 

“Then, I went to the store and of course they had run out of basil. Tell me, how does a store that big run out of basil?” you ask. There’s no answer from the kitchen so you continue. “I mean, yeah, I could have gone to another store but my feet were killing me. I’m just not meant to work in heels the entire day,” you sigh tiredly, swinging your feet.

You reposition yourself, now sitting cross-legged on the sofa. Putting your right hand on your left shoulder, you stretch your neck, feeling your sore muscles releasing a bit of tension with a small ‘pop’.

“I ended up preparing something entirely different than I had planned for dinner. I tried to let it go but just as I was going to put it in the oven, it slipped my hands and—”

“I think we should break up.”

Words die in your lips the moment you listen to your boyfriend speak. The silence becomes loud and abrasive as you struggle to understand what was happening. Why was Kazutora breaking up with you with such a small voice? What had triggered him to come to that conclusion? Why had he decided to bring it up now? You turn your head to the kitchen door and watch him slowly make his way towards you, doubtful steps as he takes a seat on the other side of the sofa, avoiding your eyes at all costs.

“What?” you ask, your voice hoarse. His lips form a tight line and you see him swallowing nervously.

“I’m not doing okay— haven’t been for a while. I— it’s been two years since I left prison and I still haven’t— I don’t— I don’t know what I’m doing,” he explains, looking down at his hands.

You nod slowly, trying to comprehend where he’s coming from. Turning your body towards him, you take a deep breath before speaking.

“It’s okay not to know,” you assure him in a soft voice. “Just… take it slow. One day at a time and then I’m sure you’ll—”

“I haven’t been sleeping well,” Kazutora confesses and you notice his voice wavering a little. “I— I keep having nightmares about— about that day and— and also about the motorcycle shop. Those two mix up and…” he takes one of his hands to the side of his head, his fingers grazing his temple. “And I’m hitting Baji in the head. And there’s so much blood— so, so much blood and—”

Leaning forward, you take his hands. They’re shaking and extremely cold and you rub your thumb over his knuckles, trying your best to soothe him.

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re safe now, Tora, you’re—”

Kazutora pulls his hands away hastily, leaving a tingling sensation on your palms.

“I can’t!” he says as he shakes his head. You spend a moment looking at your empty hands, never before having felt your boyfriend’s rejection. “I feel like I’m drowning and— You know what? I think relationships just aren’t for me,” he shrugs, his hands moving in exaggerated gestures. “That’s why I never cared for dating, never got myself involved in that kind of shit, not until—”

He finally looks at you and, fuck, you wish he didn’t. You’re not sure if you have the strength to deal with such hurtful discourse. You lick your lips and take yet another deep breath, deciding to ignore his hurtful remark.

“I’m… so sorry you’re feeling this way,” you say, slowing down your words, trying your best not to show how hurt you were. This isn’t him, you tell yourself. So no need for that tightness in your throat. “But you have to understand it’s not because of me. It’s because of everything that you’ve gone through and how hard it’s to deal with them. I don’t blame you, it is hard. But this… us,” you gesture to the both of you. “This is a good thing. Despite all the pain and hurt we’ve both been through, we—”

“Please, stop,” he says, raising his hand and pressing his eyelids together. “I can’t be with you anymore. That’s it, that’s all—”

“So you don’t love me anymore?” you counter. You scoff in disbelief, shaking your head. Kazutora’s eyes shoot open and you notice his pupils shaking in fear, like a deer caught in headlights.

“I love you,” he breathes out, and for a moment you see the boy you fell in love with in his amber eyes that are quickly filling with tears. “I do love you but it’s killing me. I feel like I’m dying,” he chokes out. He looks away from you once more and starts tugging at his fingers. “I’m rotting inside and I don’t know what to do to make it better. I just want it to stop. I want it to stop and— I don’t want you around when I’m like this. I want to figure out what the hell is happening and—”

“But if you love me and I love you then why—”

“I’m not happy with you!”

Kazutora widens his eyes, scared by his loud outburst. He parts his lips, silently muttering nonsense as he tries to come up with words that can make it better. You lower your head and he wants to punch himself over it. He doesn’t want to make you cry, not after everything you’ve done for him. Is he really going to be the person that hurt the one that made a home for him in her embrace? Is he going to hurt the only person that was brave enough to pick up the pieces of his shattered soul?

“I’m…” he babbles, in a soft voice. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it.”

You snort. “No, you really did mean it, Tora.”

He can sense the hurt and sadness in your voice, even if now you’re the one that won’t look at him. He watches helplessly as you stand up and walk towards the living room window in complete silence. The apron you took off is still on the couch and the vast memories of all the times he embraced you while you were wearing it quickly fill his mind.

He wishes there was a way he could keep you. But no matter how much he wants to, he knows there really is no other way. He’s thought about this countless times. He has gone to work without getting proper sleep, stared at his blank tv screen for hours on end, trying to come up with a plan where he could keep you. Was staying with the person he loved the most too much to ask?

No matter in how many shades of light or with how much care he handled the memory of you, the only way he could spare you the greatest amount of pain was to leave you— even if he knew he’d end up shattering your heart as well.

Kazutora notices the way your fingers tightly close around the edge of the window, your knuckles turning white. He had come to terms that he’d lose you today, yet he never expected for it to be this way. It doesn’t matter, he tells himself. If hating him would mend your wounds faster, then he’d take it. Anything that would make the heartache he was causing you a little bit lighter. He knew you were the last person on Earth that deserved to go to bed carrying that much pain in her soul.

Looking out the window, you focus on a small girl walking her dog on the street. It’s a brown labrador and by the size of it, it’s barely a puppy. Rather than walk, it jumps on its four legs, his little head looking back at the girl every chance he has as he happily wags his tail. The pet shop Kazutora and Chifuyu work at immediately comes to mind. Would it be like this from now on? Small things eliciting memories of your days together without your consent and leaving a sour taste in your mouth?

You will need to find a new commute, you think, as you had been stopping by the pet shop on your way home for the past year. Is there another bus that you could take? As you try to remember the lines and their respective routes, you’re engulfed by the memory of the first time Kazutora dozed off with his head resting on your shoulder as you rode the bus together. You close your eyes and you can clearly see his peaceful expression and slightly parted lips as he slept, his fingers tightly intertwined with yours. His breathing is slow and his hands are cold and you wish you could go back, even for a minute and place a kiss on top of his head, since you wouldn’t be able to do so from now on.

Where exactly had you failed? You had just been complaining about your day when he dropped the bomb. Did you complain too much? Did you talk too much? Or was it you the one that was too much? You tried your best and supported him as much as you could but as it turns out, it hadn’t been enough. Good intentions were nothing but useless as you were now saying goodbye to the man you had loved the most.

You didn’t realize you were crying until you felt Kazutora’s cold knuckles against your cheek, wiping your tears. You gasp, startled by his touch and take a couple steps back until your back hits the wall. It takes a few seconds for him to bring his hand now, unsure on what to do next.

He looks so scared and small— it fills your heart with frustration. Your whole body is screaming to take a step forward and comfort him, cradle him in your arms like so many times before, assure him he’s safe with you and that he doesn’t have to worry anymore. That, if you can still go home to each other at the end of a bad day, you can take anything life throws at you.

But that’s the thing. You’re not each other’s home anymore. You don’t get to bury your face in his neck and hum happily when his perfume reaches your nose. You don’t get to have him take a nap on your lap as you watch a series or feel his lips ghost against yours seconds before colliding in a kiss.

You hate it. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, crossing his arms in front of his chest and looking down at his feet. “Please, don’t cry.”

“You know what, Kazutora?” you say, wiping your tears with the back of your hand. You taste venom in your words, yet that doesn’t stop you. “If you’re not happy with me, then what are you doing here?”

He flinches at your words. Biting his inner cheek, he nods, still incapable of holding your gaze.

“Yeah, okay,” he mutters. “I’ll go. I really am sorry.”

Kazutora turns on his heel, walking towards the door. Maybe it’s the way you know he’s not coming back this time that makes your desperation afloat. You don’t want him to go and you also know you can’t make him stay. And even if somehow you could find a way to keep him by your side, it would be worthless.

He’s just not happy with you.

“Are you happy somewhere else, though?” you ask, your words leaving your mouth before your head has time to process them. He stumbles on his feet and stops. “Because if you just can’t manage to be happy, then it’s not on me.”

Kazutora doesn’t have to turn for you to know he’s second guessing himself. The next seconds feel like years as he just stands there, mid-way to the front door, thoughts so messy and loud you can almost hear them.

“That doesn’t matter,” he finally says with his back to you. He closes his fists and you see his shoulders rising and falling as he takes a deep breath. “This way you don’t have to deal with... with the mess I am and—”

“Oh, please, I knew what I was getting into when I started dating an ex-convict.”

The weight of your words fall onto you the moment they leave your mouth. You squeeze your eyes shut, muttering a curse. It takes no time for you to walk towards Kazutora, standing between him and the door.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Tora, I didn’t— you know I didn’t mean it that way. Fuck, I’m so sorry,” you whimper, tears flowing free down your cheeks. Your wave your shaky hands, desperate to make your point across. “I just wanted to say I knew things would be difficult but I loved you— I love you and I—”

Kazutora shakes his head, a gentle yet sad smile on his face as he takes your hands in his. He holds them in front of his chest, squeezing them gently as they don’t stop trembling.

“Stop, it’s okay,” he assures you. “That’s what I am.”

“It’s not,” you protest. “I mean— yeah, but you’re more than that. You’re so much more than that. You’re caring, you’re noble— you’re so tender with the animals at your shop. You’re so sweet with me, always checking if I’ve eaten and offering to help me out if I have chores I need to do. You always come pick me up if I’m working late. You— you’re so fucking special to me.”

Kazutora’s lips form a tight line. “I wish I could see that,” he whispers.

“Then just— let me try. Let me try until you can look at yourself the way I do,” you almost beg. You let go of the hold he has on your hands to gently cradle his face. “I’ll do anything, but... don’t patronize me. I’m not a little girl. Whatever life throws at me, I’ve always been able to handle it. No— we’ll handle it. Together. Like it’s always been, you and me, I just— please, I don’t want you to go,” you cry. “We were going to be happy together, you were going to live with me and I’d give you half my drawers and half my closet and half… half everything. Please, don’t go. Don’t go, Tora.”

The sadness in his amber eyes only confirms what you’ve been fearing this whole time. You sob, your thumbs softly stroking his cheeks as you feel the world crumbling around you. This time, he doesn’t stop you, letting you cry as you hold his face, coming to terms with the fact he’s really leaving after all.

Your hands move to his hair, gently threading your fingers across his long, dark locks. Tracing the outline of his face, you push one of the dyed streaks away, only for it to fall back right where it was before. You can’t help the small smile that forms on your lips. He’s so pretty, you think, as the pads of your fingers gently caress his face. Your thumb grazes the space between his bottom lip and his chin and you dream of a world when he’s not saying goodbye, but rather falling asleep under your touch on your shared bed. You never knew loving someone as much as you loved him was possible-- yet the way your heart was crumbling in pieces was evidence of how much your soul was aching by being separated from the person it belonged to.

Sniffling, you rub your cheek against your shoulder to wipe your tears. You swallow before raising another question.

“Is this a… temporary thing? Or for good?” Your voice comes out in a whisper as you place down your hands on his shoulders.

“I don’t know,” he answers. He wants nothing more than to put his arms around your body like so many times before, but he’s aware that it will only make things more difficult. “But I don’t want to keep you waiting in vain. You should move on.”

Kazutora realizes how much he hates the idea as it leaves his lips. The idea of you starting over with someone else rots in his tongue. He doesn’t want you to hold anyone’s face the way you were just holding his. He wants to keep you all to himself, to go to endless visits to the grocery shop, to watch you fall asleep during movie night and then pretend you didn’t, to massage your hands as you tell him about his day.

But you don’t deserve the guck that’s forming inside his mind. He knows it’s only a matter of time before it comes out pouring and reaches you. And he’ll be damned if he lets himself ruin the one good thing he’s had in his life for many years. He promised to himself he wouldn’t let his ill state of mind touch his loved ones. Never again.

He watches you nod and feels his heart shattering, even if everything is going just the way he intended. You rub his shoulders and look into his eyes, a sad smile on the pretty lips he would never get to kiss again.

“Okay,” you sigh. “We’ll end this but… when you leave, never doubt how loved you were. No— how loved you are. I don’t know what is coming for either of us but… I do know a part of my heart will always belong to you, no matter who I hold hands with. I will always love you, Tora.”

Your words are enough to finally break him. Kazutora clutches your body tightly against him as he loudly sobs against your shoulder. You hold him, tears flowing free once again as you try and soothe the man you love, leaving small kisses on the side of his head and whispering soft reassurances that it’s okay. It’s not, you tell yourself. It’s never going to be okay. But it has to be.

Carefully, you move him back to the sofa, helping him sit down while he refuses to let go of his hold on your body. You lean on the back pillows, both your arms cradling him while he whimpers like a small child. Kazutora clutches the fabric of your sweater with desperation, wishing there was a way he could stay with you.

Why does he have to give up the person that had put a smile back on his face? He can’t quite remember a time when his stomach had hurt out of laughter before he ever met you. Or when he’d experienced such peace as the night he stayed at your apartment and got to see your sleeping face first thing in the morning. He’s never loved anyone as much as he loves you and, for all he knows, he may never love like this again. 

But he could never risk tainting you. He would never be able to forgive himself.

Kazutora softly pulls away from your embrace. His eyes are blotchy and red and you’re sure yours look the same or even worse. His nose is red, like it always does when he cries. It’s endearing, you think. Everything about him, from his hair, to his eyes, his hands— you’ve come to love every part of Kazutora. And that’s exactly why it’s so hard to let him go.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he says in a whisper, resting the side of his head on the back pillows of the sofa.

“Like what?” you ask, gently pushing his hair away from his face and behind his ear.

“Like I matter to you. Like I’m making a huge mistake.”

You take a deep breath. Imitating him, you rest your head on the back pillows as well, so you’re both facing each other.

“I don’t— I don’t fully understand what you’re going through,” you admit, your eyes locked on his. “But if you need to… get away, then you should. You’ve been nothing but loving to me. All I’ve ever wanted was for you to be happy, whether it’s with me or not. You deserve to fully experience all the beautiful things life has to offer.”

Silent tears fall from both your cheeks and his.

“I should be thankful I got to love you for this whole year. Because even if it ends this way… God, I loved you so much,” you sniffle, letting out a small laugh. “And I felt so loved. Isn’t that magical in itself? That we got to love each other at the same time?” you wonder with a sad smile.

Kazutora parts his lips, yet the doorbell interrupts him before he can even speak. You look at the front door, your eyebrows furrowing for a moment before you realize who’s probably there.

“Food’s here,” you say, wiping the tears from your face.

“Food?” Kazutora asks, confused.

“Yeah,” you sigh. “Didn’t I tell you? The baking dish broke so I called that restaurant, the one with the burgers we like.”

“Sorry. I wasn’t really listening back then,” he admits with a pang of guilt. He sits up on the couch and turns his head at you. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

You sit up as well. “I ordered for the two of us. C’mon, stay for dinner. Let’s… remember us this way, okay? Without so many tears and sadness,” you offer, tilting your head towards him. “I even ordered your favourite one.”

Kazutora rubs his face with his sleeve, erasing the trail of the tears he just shed. Looking at you, he nods, drawing a small smile on his lips.

“Okay. I’ll get it.”

He only walks a few steps towards the door before he feels you tugging at the back of his shirt. Turning around, he notices you’re standing right behind him. Your eyes look up to him, biting your bottom lip and not even a ghost of the smile you previously offered him.

“Before that, uh— I want you to know I… I mean it,” you firmly say, taking in all his facial features, loving how they soften every time he looks at you. “I’ll always love you. No matter how many years go by or if I ever stop being in love with you— I’ll still love you.”

“I’ll always love you too,” he replies, taking your hand and squeezing it softly. “I don’t think I could stop even if I wanted to.”

You finally let out a soft chuckle and squeeze his hand back. The doorbell rings again and you walk around Kazutora to get to it. This time, he’s the one that stops you, not letting go of the hold of your hand. Looking back at him, you notice the soft pout in his lips and how they softly tremble, looming more tears.

“It’s okay,” you assure him, and you know you’re saying it to yourself as well. “Who knows, we might get together again someday. Have our own Casablanca moment. We’ll always have the pet shop,” you joke, trying to fight back to tears that threaten to fill your eyes as well.

It’s Kazutora’s turn to chuckle, only this time he does it along with you. You let go of his hand only to hold his face tenderly, a soft smile as you look at the man you love. Standing on your tiptoes, you press your lips against the beauty mark under his right eye. You feel his hands setting on the small of your back and watch his smile widen when you fall back on your heels.

Locking your fingers with him once more, you open the door.

[recurring-polynya]

Do I mind if I ask how you approach writing longer fic? I've always struggled to write anything more than maybe two chapters long and I'm curious if you have a particular method to how you approach such stories.

Thank you so much for this ask! I absolutely love it when people ask me for writing advice because it makes me feel like a Smart Person Who Knows Things.

Before we start, here is one grain of salt to take all of this with: I have a naturally long-form brain. It is very hard for me to write something less than 1k. Short fiction is great, and there is nothing wrong with sticking to short things if that's what your brain likes to do.

So. You have decided to write a story. This is going to focus on "stories". Some people write fic that's more freeform or whatever, I am not going to cover that. What I mean by a story is this:

It starts

Some stuff happens

It ends

It is highly probable that your story contains a change of state, which could be that a villain is defeated, or a goal is reached, but it could also be that character falls in love with another, or someone learns to like broccoli.

I like to start out by completing the sentence, "This is a story where _______". This is basically like coming up with a summary for an ao3 post, except that it doesn't need to be catchy. Lots of different kinds of things could go in that blank! It could literally be what happens: This is a story where Ichigo goes back in time and punches young Aizen in the nose. It could be about what you want to explore: This is a story where Hitsugaya gets a better understanding of his zanpakutou. It could be about the vibe you want to achieve: This is an AU where everyone is in a punk rock band and has cool hair and outfits. The idea of this is to clearly define what you, the author, is interested in writing. Make sure it feels right! Maybe you pick the first one, but when you say it out loud, you say, "You know, I really just want Ichigo to go back in time so he can horse around with young Renji and Rukia and punching Aizen in the nose is just an excuse for that." That may sound dumb, but it's fine, actually! Most people don't read stories strictly for the plot, they read stories for the implications of those plots! Will my favorite two characters kiss? Will there be funny interactions between these two groups of characters? Will there be sick fights? Stories are excuses to have scenes. Sometimes, you will have a story where the interesting sequence of events is the draw, but the point is to know what you're about.

Once you feel happy with your "mission statement", you need to decide the bounds of your story: where it starts and where it ends. It may be easier to start with the end. In some cases, it may be obvious from your mission statement: everyone gets home, a villain is defeated, Kenpachi realizes the meaning of friendship. On the other hand, let's look at that punk rock AU. You've picked a vibe, but you don't really have a natural story arc. It has to have a destination, though, otherwise, it's not really a story, it's a recipe for 3 chapters of an abandoned fanfic. So brainstorm a little: Maybe they get a record deal? Maybe they win a Battle of the Bands? Maybe Byakuya accepts that the band is actually good and tells Rukia he is proud of her. Do not settle for a plot just because it works. Pick something that makes you excited! You're the one who is gonna have to write it!

I said that we needed to pick a beginning point, too, but I'm actually going to skip that for now. The next thing I do is think of all the Big Scenes I want to write, the ones you are hype to write, the ones that pop in your head as you think about the premise. Make a bullet list. They don't need to be in order. The descriptions don't need to be super detailed, but write down anything about it that is important to you. If there's a mood or a snippet of dialogue or a joke you want to make, go ahead and jot that down so you don't forget it later. What you're doing now is putting broad blotches of color on a canvas, filling in space and leaving the detail for later.

Once you are pretty happy with what you have down, try to arrange it in chronological order. Put your end at the end (if it wasn't one of your big scenes, add it now). The next task is figuring out how to traverse your scenes. You've already picked out where you want to spend the majority of your energy. The rest, I regret to tell you, is your slog writing. Now, it often happens that you will find joy in some of these scenes and your best writing may occur there, but that's serendipity. These are the scenes that you are gonna have to make yourself sit down and write, so you honestly want to limit them to just the ones you need.

So how do we do this? Look at the first thing on the list. Can you start there? If so, congrats, that's your beginning. If you can't, what needs to happen to get to there? Where can you start so that you can get to your first fun scene as soon as possible? There. That’s it. You’ve picked your beginning, good job! Now, go through the rest of your list, and add in things that must happen, even if you don’t particularly look forward to writing them. The characters need to travel from geographic point A to point B. Shuuhei needs to say something that Izuru hears and misinterprets. The Central 46 makes a new law. If you have a good idea of how these things happen, go ahead and write them down, but it’s okay if you don’t know yet. Fill in all the blanks so that if you think of each bullet list as a scene, you could read it as a story, start to end. Once you get writing, you might add more scenes, or move things around or whatever, but you should have a thing that functions as a story.

If you struggle with this, an alternative is a story with a very strong structure that is going to guide you though what you have to write.Here are two examples from my own stories Hold On, Hold On (which is only one chapter, but the principle is the same) is structured around the 5 stages of grief. Not Broken, Just Bent takes place over roughly a week, and I just decided what happened every day of the week. See You on the Other Side takes place in the middle of a bunch of canon events, which worked at mile markers.

Congratulations. You’ve just made a rough outline!

Special note for avoiding burnout!: I am a slogger. I will drag myself through the broken glass of an interminable plot to get to a single thirsty scene. That's why, at this stage, I try to look at the ratio of what I want to write to what I must write. It's gonna vary for everyone, but this is a hobby, and if looking at this proto-outline makes you feel deeply tired, maybe this isn't a good story to be devoting your time to! Can you carve it down? Can you chuck two scenes you really want to write and get rid of 80% of the slog? Or maybe you can't! In that case, just write that thirsty scene as a standalone drabble! Or just go work on something else! Maybe in the future, this one will come back to you and you’ll have a fresh idea or a renewed enthusiasm for it.

Another thing I sometimes like to do at this point is to write out some notes about my characters and their motivations and moods. Character A is homesick. Character B is so determined to defeat the enemy that they are having a hard time being sympathetic to Character A. Character C cares for both A and B and is trying to support them both. This is sort of background info that you want to keep in your head as you are writing. Depending on the type of story you are writing, this might actually be the main plot, or it might be happening subtly, but adding to the emotional impact of the story. It’s very easy for me to write these sorts of emotional arcs, but if you struggle with that, you may wish to go ahead and made a more detailed outline for that, too.

Now, it’s time to start writing! I am great at beginnings-- it is very often the case for me that the opening scene was one of my Big Tentpole Scenes. (Before you hate me too much, I make up for this by being double horrible at endings; just let me have this) Usually, I will start at the beginning and write linearly for as long as I can until I get stuck. Then, I will look forward on my outline and do the next chronological scene that I feel like writing. In general, if I sit down to write and there is something I have an urge to write, that trumps everything else. Inspiration is a precious commodity, and you should embrace it when it hits! You can slog any day. I will occasionally hold off writing a scene that I really want to, because I am saving it, like a prize for myself for getting that far. This is a very personal process of figuring out what motivates your brain and then giving your brain what it needs to be its most productive.

Eventually, you will run out of things you are excited to write, but the good news is, you’ve got a bunch of story now! Odds are that what’s left is going to be a lot of those connective tissue scenes, and you’re just going to have to do them, except that now, because you’re connecting two concrete points instead of two abstract points, it will be a lot easier. You can continue running jokes you’ve started. Maybe you invented a cafe in an earlier scene where your characters hang out and you can have them return there. Try to think of ways to make these scenes more fun, both for yourself to write and for your reader to read. 

Around this time, I like to start refining that rough strokes outline into what I will call an “as-built” outline. (This is an engineering term where you update your plans or models for something to reflect any changes that had to be made along the way). This is a great activity to do at times when you feel like you have writers block. I write down every scene I have written as a 2-3 word blurb, in order. I break the scenes into what I think makes logical chapters, and I will do a word count on those prospective chapters and write it down. As you do this, you will realize that maybe you can move a scene from here to there, which will make it 1000% easier to write. Things may be happening too much, or you’ve got the characters eating three times in the same chapter. If you have subplots and dangling threads, this is where you make sure they get closure. I know this sounds very headache-y, but you are so far along in the story at this point that it’s really not-- it’s a way to look at the problems you have left. Use some sort of formatting (I like to bold things I haven’t done and sometimes I put them in red) and it gives you a very visual to-do list.

You specifically mentioned multi-chapter fanfics and I admit that I don’t tend to think in chapters, I tend to think of the story as a whole and just break it up where it feels natural. The as-built outlining I described is very helpful in making sure that my chapters feel balanced. They don’t necessarily need to be the same length, but I like them to have the same amount of stuff in them. One chapter may basically contain one long scene, and other may contain many short ones. I don’t tend to, but you can certainly have a fanfic that varies between short and long chapters, that can actually be an interesting effect. But like I said, I always like to know what I am doing, and so having it mapped out, you can say “welp, this is what I’ve done, how do I feel about that?”

Polynya, you may be saying at this point, do you write the whole fanfic before you post any of it? and I regret to inform you, the answer is yes. A lot of people write as they go, and I have made one attempt at this and I didn’t like it. I don’t like locking myself in, I just need to be able write out of order and go back and change things. Here is the story of a little in love: someone gave me an AU prompt and I got mildly obsessed with it, and wrote 5 snapshots drabbles in that universe, ending with a slight cliffhanger ending. I probably should have stopped there, but I decided to keep going. I wrote out an outline of 5 acts where the first act was detailed to the degree of each chapter being specified. The chapters here were much smaller than I usually make chapters: 1-2k. I wrote act i and ii and it was actually great, and then I hit act iii which required a lot of set up for misunderstandings and a mini romance arc. I couldn’t wing it, but nor could I figure it all out with outlining. I write dialogue in almost sort of an improv “Yes, and...?” style, so until I do it, I don’t know what’s going to happen. So, what I did was treat the second half of act iii as a complete story in the process I describe above, wrote the entire rest of it, and then posted it. One might notice that the chapter lengths grew to 3-5k each. I have two more acts to go, and I haven’t decided how I am going to do them yet, but I suspect I will treat each of them as their own mini-stories.

(I will admit that in Heart is a Muscle, I tend toward chapters that are about 10k long, and this is honestly too long, someone should smack me. If you like punchy chapters, 1-2k is good. I think 3-6k is probably an ideal chapter length. Is this how long the chapters are in my latest fanfic? Absolutely not.)

Okay, so there’s one more step, which is quality control. I am habitual re-reader-- I read my fanfics-in-progress over and over and over while I am working on them. I understand that not everyone does this, but I am usually the primary audience for my own writing, and this is the actual fun part for me. Nevertheless, you should re-read your work at least once, to make sure it hangs together.

This is purely optional, but I recommend it: get a writing friend (if you don’t like re-reading your work, I recommend this even more strongly). If you can get a full-service beta reader, that’s great, but if you can’t find someone, or if receiving that level of critique stresses you out, it’s perfectly valid to just find a friend who will read your stuff and a) shower you with compliments, b) reassure you about parts you aren’t sure about (or suggest ways to help) and c) point out any huge problems you missed. When I am writing a long fanfic, it is a huge motivational factor for me to be able to send my beta chapters as I finish them. If you are already an established writer, and you have people who consistently comment on your fic, they might be overjoyed to get a sneak peak at your work.

And that’s it! That’s the way I do it, anyway! Some people are able to sit down and write a very detailed outline and the write it start-to-finish. Good for them, I say! I have tried this and it doesn’t work great for me. I will admit that some of my fics (especially my early ones) I just sat down and banged out whole-cloth like an insane person and they are generally better than the ones I actually plan out, but that’s not a reproducible process.

As one final mechanical note, I usually write in Google Docs, which I can access on multiple devices (I used to write a lot on my phone), has convenient sharing functionality, and I use the ao3 html formatting script add-in. I generally have two documents for a single story-- one is the outline, and any other notes I want to have handy. I’ll usually put a trashcan space at the bottom for scenes that got cut but I don’t want to lose. The other is the fanfic itself.

I hope this is helpful! Please feel free to follow up with other questions and good luck with your writing!

[ssahoodrathotchner]

Pictures of You

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

Summary: you lose your memories of the last few years, including the ones of your relationship with Aaron. The rest of the team thinks it’s hilarious.

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: memory loss, swearing, some angst, hospital, talk of injuries, team shenanigans and fluff

A/N: okay this was a lot of fun to write bc soft!Hotch rights !! also really wanted to make the team play a larger role in a fic so here we go :)

Masterlist

---

You wake in a hospital bed, Morgan by your side, and a godawful pounding in your cloudy head. With a groan, you try to raise one of your hands to cover your eyes as Morgan’s head shoots up to stare at you with a relieved smile.

“Hey,” he says, catching your hand before you can lift it higher, “Don’t do that. You had a nasty fall, Princess.”

Satisfied that you won’t make any more moves towards your head, he sits back down at your side.

“Should I even ask how you’re doing or…” he trails off when you glare at him. “I’ll go let the team know you’re okay. Boss Man will be happy to hear you finally woke up,” and with that, Morgan is up and out of the room before you can even open your mouth because what.

Shifting around in the bed, you try to gauge just how injured you are, but the soreness in literally your entire body coupled with the haziness in your mind from the constant pain makes you conclude that you’ll leave it to the doctors to tell you what’s wrong. Sighing, you gently tilt your head to the side and observe the various beeping monitors.

The door opens and as you turn to see who it is, your mouth opens in disbelief. There’s no way. There’s absolutely no fucking way. This is fake. This is a dream. Your stomach simultaneously drops and fills with dread. How is this possible?

“You’re dead. You’re dead. We buried you,” you say in a rush, as none other than Emily fucking Prentiss stops by the side of your bed, looking at you confusedly. “Does this mean I’m dead? Are you a ghost?” you wonder out loud, and Emily looks behind her as the rest of the team, except Hotch, file in behind her, seemingly fine with her sudden appearance.

“How are you here, why are you here, what happened? You died. You’re supposed to be dead which means I’m probably dead,” you continue to ramble, frantically looking from at each member of your team and then back to Emily.

“What? Y/N, you aren’t dead. Just like I’m not dead,” she says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“But you are,” you say shakily, chest tightening as your breaths become shorter and shorter.

“Y/N…” she says slowly, softly, “I faked my death four years ago.”

And with that, your ears rush and your mind goes blank. No no no no no no we buried her six months ago, she’s dead. You don’t notice the rest of the team trading glances around you as the world you thought you knew shatters and reforms in your mind.

“No,” you croak, throat suddenly constricting, but Emily only looks at you worriedly, Reid slipping out the door behind her.

“Y/N, can you take some deep breaths for me?” and your head turns to find JJ at your other side, hand on your shoulder. “Let’s breathe, you can do this,” she says, taking exaggerated breaths to demonstrate, smiling gently as you cooperate.

Reid enters, now, followed by a doctor who, immediately upon reaching your side, proceeds to shine a light in your eyes and asks you to complete all sorts of short tests while the team looks on.

“Now, Agent Y/L/N, Dr. Reid informed me that you seem to be having some memory issues, which is normal,” the doctor assures you, “especially with the head trauma you endured. So, tell me what you can remember and we’ll go from there,” he says with a helpful smile.

Fuck. What do you remember?

“Well…” you trail off, trying to pin-point an exact moment. “I remember Emily—Agent Prentiss’—funeral because it was six months ago, but apparently—” your eyes slide over the rest of the team, “—apparently, it was more like four years ago,” you finish slowly.

“And that’s as recent as you can remember?” the doctor pushes. You nod your head. “Well, Agent Y/L/N, it seems that you have post-traumatic retrograde amnesia, which isn’t a surprise, as I said before. My guess is that it’s temporary, and that you’ll recover your memories in time.”

“Any ideas how long?” Emily speaks up, carefully looking at your face.

“With cases such as these, there isn’t a definite timeline or standard procedure for memory recovery,” the doctor explains. “It may help to look at photos or videos and tell stories to try and help Agent Y/L/N heal quicker, but the brain is tricky,” and with that wonderful statement, the doctor turns and exits, leaving you and your team staring at each other, processing the fact that you don’t know when you’ll get your memories of the last four freakin’ years back.

“So, from the research I’ve done, it seems that—” Reid is cut off by the door flying open and Aaron Hotchner, your Unit Chief, bursting into the room with a concerned look on his face wearing a hoodie and jeans.

Morgan tries to grab his shoulder, but Hotch shakes him off as he walks right up to your bedside and grabs your hand. Holy shit. Heat rises to your cheeks instantly and you think your heart might have actually skipped a beat but, you can’t help it, you’ve had a crush on Hotch for ages and he’s holding your hand. But you don’t remember a time when Hotch was so forward in showing concern for one of his agents.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up, Sweetheart—” you’re pretty sure you’re dreaming because Hotch has never called you Sweetheart. Ever. You’ve also never seen him in anything other than a suit. “—Jessica called because Jack has the flu and then he wanted to talk to me and—”

“Hotch!” Morgan all but yells, interrupting Hotch’s update on Jack, as you stare pointedly at his hand, still holding yours, trying to control the redness growing steadily stronger in your cheeks. What the hell.

“Hotch,” Morgan states, softer this time, “The last thing Y/L/N remembers clearly is Prentiss’ funeral.”

You look up with a weak approximation of a smile, and watch Hotch’s face shift as he comprehends what Morgan said.

“That was years ago,” he says slowly, face hardening into a look you’ve seen too many times when he tries to separate himself from the information he’s received.

Looking down at you, you can’t tell what he’s thinking, so you divert your eyes to his hand in yours. Once he notices this, he gently lets go and you know it’s silly, but you almost reach out for it again. Who knows the next time Hotch will want to hold your hand?

“So you don’t…” he doesn’t finish his question, which leaves you even more confused. Don’t what…?

“Umm. If it’s happened in the last four-ish years, then umm… Then I probably don’t remember it,” you say quietly, apologetically. “Sir,” you add on quickly, not wanting to forgo formalities even if your memory isn’t what it’s supposed to be.

However, instead of nodding, like you thought he would, Aaron Hotchner looks sad which confuses you even more.

“Aaron,” Rossi begins slowly, “the doctor said that talking about what’s happened since then may help Y/N’s memory come back.” Hotch looks up, almost relieved. “So why don’t you tell her something that’s happened since Prentiss’ funeral.”

And with that, Hotch takes a breath before reaching across your body to your other hand and holding it up. Not quite sure what’s happening, you allow him to hold your left hand up in your line of vision and that’s when you notice a fucking wedding ring. On your hand. Which Hotch is holding.

“I’m married?” you screech, looking at the team, who are now all trying not to laugh for some reason. “Who am I married to? Holy shit, what?” you continue looking around. Morgan and Prentiss look like they’ll break into outright laughter any minute. What’s going on?

Looking helplessly to Hotch, who is suspiciously quiet, you don’t have to repeat your question before he is carefully letting go of your left hand to hold his own up next to it and since when did Hotch wear a wedding band? Until you notice the striking similarities between the ring on your hand, and the one on your boss. What the actual fuck.

“We’re married?” you say, whipping your head to the side—ouch—to stare at Hotch, who is looking a little more amused than worried. “What? When? I just…” you can’t even finish your train of thought because your head is spinning so fast.

“Is it really that much of a surprise, Princess?” Derek chimes in. “I mean, you guys have been in love with each other forever,” and with that, he and Prentiss dissolve into a fit of laughter, which they try to smother, but you’re too busy taking in this very new and very interesting life development.

At some point in the last couple years, you married Hotch. Which means he knows you like him. And he likes you. You dated Hotch and now you’re fucking married. And you can’t remember any of it.

“…I don’t remember it…” you say sadly, softly and the laughter ceases.

Running a hand through his hair, Hotch takes a step back and shrugs, a small, reassuring smile on his face.

“We’ll figure it out, Sweetheart—” your stomach erupts into butterflies, “—we always do.”

With a sigh, you sink back into the pillows on your bed and stare at the ceiling, head throbbing worse than before thanks to all the new information.

“I just…” you pause to think about your current dilemma. “I just don’t know where to start with all this…Getting my memory back,” you look to Hotch and then the team, unsure of what to do.

“Well, the doctor did say that photos and videos might help. I’d be willing to recount every conversation we’ve had since Emily’s funeral, if you want, including the ones that you weren’t a part of, but were about you or a case,” Reid offers with a grin, and your heart melts.

Slowly shaking your head, you answer, “Thanks but maybe later, Spence. I’m still stuck on the whole I’m-married-to-my-boss thing right now.”

“Trust me Princess,” Derek laughs “I’m pretty sure all of us could tell you about how everything went down like a damn movie.”

“Yeah…” JJ continues with a fond shake of her head, “You guys weren’t very subtle about it.”

Sneaking a look out of the corner of your eye, you catch Hotch blushing and staring down at his shoes before he also sneaks a look at you, meeting your eyes.

“See?” Derek’s voice breaks your gaze. “This is exactly what I was talking about. You guys weren’t subtle and still aren’t,” rolling his eyes, he laughs a little and you can’t help but smile.

“At least they’re married this time around,” Rossi supplies. “No more ‘secret’ glances and yearning,” he says with such contempt you can’t help but laugh as Hotch—Aaron? — lets out a small chuckle of his own.

“Now I just need to remember how we got here,” you say, feeling a little more at ease. Slowly, you reach for Hotch’s left hand, studying the ring the matches your own. “Remember us,” you continue, just to him, and the smile that overtakes his face is the best thing you’ve seen since waking up.

“You weren’t wrong, Morgan,” comes Emily’s voice from the end of your bed. “This is just like a movie. Ugh. But don’t worry, Y/N, we’ll help you sort this out.”

“And I know just the woman for the job,” Morgan adds with a mischievous smirk which immediately makes you wonder about whatever it is he has planned.

“Now as much as I’d love to watch the two lovebirds gaze into each other’s eyes, I actually have plans,” Rossi states, looking down at his watch. “So, I’ll be back tomorrow. Have a good night, Y/N,” he says before waving to the rest of the team and leaving.

The rest of the team makes their own excuses to leave, and you can’t help but feel like Morgan and Prentiss have concocted some sort of scheme to “help” you get your memories back.

Running a hand over your face, you sigh. What now? The sound of someone clearing their throat makes you look up and realize that Hotch hadn’t left with the others, but was instead standing near the foot of your bed, looking somewhat anxious.

“I ummm… I was planning on spending the night here to make sure you were okay, but umm…” he trails off, unsure.

“But since I have no memory of us being together you think it’s weird…?” you ask gently.

“Yeah,” he answers in a sigh. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable by being here, especially because I know how frustrating and confusing this must be for you…”

“Hotch,” you start, but he can’t hide his wince when you call him that. “Aaron,” you try again. “Yes, this is incredibly confusing and frustrating because Emily should be dead and I didn’t think you had feelings for me at all,” you pause and see him smile, just a bit, “But I’d really like it if you stayed here. With me. Because—” you take a deep breath. “—Because you make me feel safe, Aaron, and I need that right now,” you say gently, not quite sure where the confidence came from, but Aaron’s eyes soften and his smile grows bigger as his shoulders drop in relief. Worth it.

“Then I’ll stay,” he says, and you can’t help the heat that once again rises in your cheeks as he continues to look at you.

You guys are married, dammit. Pull it together.

Averting your gaze, you turn your attention to getting more comfortable in your bed and decide to fuss with the placement of your pillows because damn was your back starting to hurt, but Aaron beats you to it. Within ten seconds of arranging the pillows behind you, he has them perfect.

“How…?” you start to question, but he just raises his eyebrows. “Right. Married,” you say with a shake of your head.

Aaron finally sits in the chair next to your bed and reaches, almost absentmindedly, for your hand before catching himself and stilling. You can see the fight in his mind—he wants to comfort you and himself, but with your memory, he doesn’t quite know where your boundaries are. Taking pity on him, you grab his hand yourself, weaving your fingers together so he knows it was on purpose. Okay so you really just wanted to hold his hand again, but you’re married! You’re allowed. He takes a deep breath and leans back in the chair, turning his head to really look at you.

“How’s your head?” he asks, brow furrowed in what you’ve come to understand is genuine concern.

You pause and consider for a moment.

“Not terrible, but not great,” you say slowly. “It’s like there’s a fog in my mind that I can’t see through. I know I’m missing stuff, but I just don’t know what.”

Aaron gently squeezes your hand, but doesn’t speak yet.

“I want to know what brought Emily back, how we happened, what it was that gave me this fucking injury, I just…” with an exasperated huff, you collect yourself. “I just want to know.”

“Well, Emily should be the one to tell you her part of the story, and as for us,” he gives you a smile “it’s a longer answer, at least for me, so that will have to wait—Sorry, Sweetheart,” he says when you pout. “However, I can tell you about what landed you in the hospital. How does that sound?”

“It’s a start,” you tease, and yes Aaron smiles wider and rolls his eyes.

“We were chasing an unsub, and Garcia had tracked him to a warehouse not too far from Quantico. We went there and—” his voice wavers. You squeeze his hand. “—and the unsub had set explosives around the perimeter of the building. I guess you got too close to him when trying to talk him down and he triggered the whole set.” Aaron sighs, and his eyes are glazed over like he’s reliving this—which he probably is—and there’s nothing you can really do besides let him take his time.

“You weren’t right by any of them, but you were thrown back and had hit the ground before I could even yell at you to stop—not that you would have listened,” he says pointedly with a watery laugh. “You just laid there, Morgan and I carried you over to the medics as soon as the dust settled and they took you away as we cleared the rest of the scene.”

“And the unsub?”

“He didn’t survive the explosion. As soon as we figured that out, we left it to the local PD and crime scene techs.” He looks at you softly. “We came straight here after that.”

“How long was I out before today,” you ask lightly, curiously.

“Three days. Dave had to convince me to go home and shower on the second day.” He looks down before sneaking a sideways glance at you.

“Well I’m glad he did,” you tease, scrunching your nose.

“And I’m glad you’re awake, Sweetheart,” he replies, squeezing your hand.

You laugh and look away before mumbling, “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that.”

“Get used to what?” he waits a second. “Sweetheart?” Motherfucker. He knows what he’s doing.

“That! I woke up convinced you didn’t have feelings for me at all,” you say with a glare, “and now I know we’re married and you keep being so nice and understanding and calling me Sweetheart and I just don’t know how to deal with all of this!” you finish in a huff.

“I just feel bad that I can’t remember this, us” you add, gesturing between the two of you. “I’m trying and there’s just—” you make a frustrated noise and flop back to stare at the ceiling. “And my head still kind of hurts,” you add softly, almost pouting.

“Oh, Sweetheart,” Aaron whispers. He clears his throat before continuing. “You’ll get your memories back,” he leans forward to stroke some hair off your forehead. “And until then, you know the team and I will do what we can to catch you up and help you remember.”

You push your head further into his hand with a sigh. He runs his hand through your hair a few times before pulling back and you almost whine. You yawn instead. Settling down, you tug the blanket up higher across your chest and turn to face Aaron as he also gets comfortable. He turns on the small television in your room and at some point, you fall asleep holding his hand.

---

You wake to the sound of the door opening, followed by the unmistakable click-clack of heels worn by none other than Penelope Garcia.  

“Rise and shine! Time to regain your memory, lovely Y/N,” she sings, coming to a stop by the side of your bed as you roll over with a yawn.

“Pen—” you groan. “Let me sleep. Please.”

“Oh no, my little profiler. Do you have your memory back?” You shake your head. “Then we need to work on that! And don’t you dare tell me no; my wonderful Derek Morgan and I were up all night making this for you,”

You raise your eyebrows.

“Sadly, not like that. But, we compiled a presentation-slash-video montage for you about what you’ve missed!”

That catches your attention.

“Wha--? How? Penelope where did the footage come from?” you ask, more awake now.

“Well, I may or may not have used security cam footage for a lot of it, but that’s neither here nor there, so, without further ado, I present to you: your life for the past four-ish years!” and with that, she somehow connects her tablet to the TV and you see a picture of the whole team; Penelope then produces a remote from the depths of her purse and then proceeds to the next slide.

Which is a photo of you. And Aaron. Standing by the coffee machine in the office and smiling at each other, clearly unaware that the moment was being documented. The image is embellished with what must be close to fifty moving, sparkly hearts, obviously done by Garcia.

“First thing’s first,” she starts with a flourish. “Your husband!” and as if on cue, Aaron walks into the room, cup of coffee in hand. Much to your surprise, Aaron just rounds your bed to sit in the same chair you assume he fell asleep in, watching the screen.

“What is happening,” you say softly to yourself, looking from Aaron to Garcia and back.

“The doctor said photos and videos might help restore your memory, so who better to put something together than Garcia?” Hotch answers dryly, a small smile flashing across his face. “The rest of the team should be here shortly,” he says directly to Garcia.

“Oh good. I always work better with an audience,” she replies as you continue to process just what the hell is happening since you woke up approximately five minutes ago.

Within a few minutes, your hospital room is overrun with the rest of the team. Sitting, standing, leaning wherever they can find the space to view Penelope’s presentation with you in the middle of it all.

“Don’t you people have jobs?” you grumble.

“C’mon, Princess. Who better to help you remember the last few years than us?” Derek says with a cheeky grin that makes you roll your eyes.

You turn your gaze to Aaron and find that he’s already looking at you in concern.

“If you really don’t want all of us here we can leave,” he says just loud enough for you to hear.

“I just…” you take a moment to try and collect your thoughts. “I guess I just don’t know how to feel about all of this, but you’re all here so— “

“So here we go!” Penelope cheerfully finishes your sentence before turning back to the screen. “As I was saying before, part one of Operation Get Y/N’s Memories Back is all about—drumroll please—our very own Unit Chief, a.k.a. Hotch, a.k.a. loving husband to our very own Agent Y/L/N.”

With a shake of your head, purposefully ignoring the way Derek and Emily are whooping and whistling, you settle in and gesture for Penelope to continue. God, let’s hope this works.

---

It doesn’t work.

Fuck.

Three almost four hours later and nothing has changed for you. However, it’s a lovely opportunity for some team bonding and creating new memories, but you’re still disappointed. It’s not for lack of trying, though. Penelope did a wonderful job of pulling together a presentation-slash-video montage of your life, complete with titles such as ‘Your lovely husband,’ ‘The Miraculous Life, Death, and Subsequent Resurrection of Emily Prentiss,’ and even ‘Badass BAU Babies,’ which was a collection of team photos and news clips of cases you guys had closed in the past few years.

The whole team had gotten a kick out of each section, especially the last one, as Penelope had spared no one in her quest to help your memory; ugly selfies sent in the BAU group chat, embarrassing footage of you tripping up (and down) the stairs to the bullpen—courtesy of the security cameras, Reid doing physics magic and narrowly missing Rossi’s coffee cup, it was all there. But nothing worked, there was no magical ah ha moment where everything came rushing back. If anything, it really was like watching a movie; it didn’t feel like you were the one is all of these clips and photos. Not even Reid’s commentary made you feel any closer than before to recovering your memories.

It wasn’t all bad, though. Penelope had a veritable stockpile of photos of you and Aaron, ranging from the office, to cases, to the occasional night out with the team. Your engagement announcement, wedding photos, freakin’ everything on the two of you and yet, nothing seemed to make a difference to your brain.

The photo on the screen was one of you and Aaron on a case. You were tucked under his arm, snowflakes visible in your hair and his as you look up and laugh at something he said while he just smiles gently down at you. Penelope had put hearts over both your eyes.

“Actual heart eyes! I had to! You guys are so cute!” she basically squealed when the photo came up.

“What did I tell you,” Rossi said teasingly, “Yearning.”

Prentiss and Morgan hadn’t stopped laughing for this entire segment, with JJ and Reid occasionally joining in if there was something exceptionally ridiculous Penelope had included, like fucking heart eyes.

A hand covering your own makes you realize you had spaced out, and you look down to see that it’s Aaron’s hand, wedding band catching the light.

“Anything, Sweetheart?” he asks in a low voice, carefully watching your face.

You shake your head. “It’s like it’s someone else’s life, but I know it’s mine; you’ve told me it’s mine, there’s photographic evidence that it’s mine!” you say in a huff. “It just doesn’t feel like it’s mine,” you whisper, voice breaking at the end. Tears gather in your eyes and you bite your lip to stop it from shaking as you desperately try and control your overwhelming emotions. You can hear the team in the background, strategizing new ways to help you, but Aaron’s face hovers in front of your own, drawing your attention.

“It’s okay,” he says lightly, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

“No, it’s not,” you insist as a few tears make their way down your face. “It’s not, Aaron. What if this is it? What if I just don’t get my memories back?”

Letting out a long sigh, Aaron raises your hand to his lips and kisses your palm before folding your hand into his.

“You will. I know you will,” he says with such conviction you might just believe him if it weren’t for the way he rapidly blinks to keep his own tears at bay.

“Yeah, Princess.” Morgan chimes in from somewhere across the room. “We’ll figure this out, you know we will.”

And with that, you see something click into place in Aaron’s eyes and suddenly, he’s looking at you in such a way that your heart picks up—thanks, heart monitor.

“Aaron…?” you ask cautiously.

“Princess,” he says it so simply, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. You only have time to raise an eyebrow at him before—

Oh.

Kissing Aaron Hotchner is something you could definitely get used to. His hand comes up to cradle your face as he gently moves his lips against yours. You sigh and can feel his smile against your mouth before he’s tugging your face closer, tilting your head just so and—

There.

It’s like opening a window to let in a breeze. Soft and sure, filling the space in a way that’s all-encompassing without being suffocating.

Like snowflakes falling and settling on his black jacket, like Aaron down on one knee sliding your engagement ring on your finger while you smile so much it feels like your face will break. It’s leaving cups of coffee on his desk during late nights in the office. It’s playing soccer with Jack as Aaron smiles and cheers both of you on. It’s being in bed late at night, falling asleep in the comfort provided by the man you love. Your wedding vows, promising to love him forever.

And you know.

With a gasp, you pull Aaron closer, kiss him deeper, harder, moving your lips more frantically against his. I remember I remember I remember and you think he gets it because he pulls back and looks at you with so much hope it almost breaks your heart.

“When I said I’d love you forever, Aaron Hotchner, I meant it.”

And his face breaks into the biggest smile you’ve ever seen as he laughs in disbelief before capturing your lips with his again, returning the urgency you had kissed him with just moments ago.

Someone clears their throat and you pull apart, smiles obvious on both your faces as you turn to the team who are looking somewhat confused.

“Would you mind enlightening us as to why you two are suddenly acting like teenagers?” Rossi asks, eyebrows raised.

“Well,” Aaron starts, grinning in your direction, “It would seem that— “

“Nuh uh. No way,” Derek interrupts him. “Are you seriously about to say that you kissed her and she magically remembered?”

You can’t help but laugh at his disbelief because what the hell and nod, unable to speak through the giddiness overtaking your body. You remember.

“Ohmygod! You guys!!” Penelope squeals before launching herself into your arms for a hug which she promptly pulls Aaron into as well; he doesn’t protest.

“What made you do that, Hotch?” Reid asks curiously once Penelope has let you and Aaron go. “Did you know it would work?”

“Princess,” Aaron says with a nod towards Morgan. “In Jack’s storybooks, a kiss always wakes the Princess so she and her prince can live happily ever after.”

Okay that’s adorable and you can’t help but aww with the rest of the team at Aaron’s confession.

“Happily ever after, huh?” you say, tugging on his hand. “Who knew you were such a sap, Hotchner?”

Rolling his eyes, Aaron just smiles. “Wasn’t it obvious from Garcia’s presentation? I’ve been in love with you forever, Sweetheart. And besides, it worked, didn’t it?” he says with a smug smile. 

You pull him down for a short kiss before moving back just enough to murmur “My Prince Charming.”

“I can’t believe you guys,” you turn to see Morgan shaking his head. “A literal fuckin’ fairytale,” and then he’s laughing and the whole team, you and Aaron included, are laughing with him because yeah this is pretty surreal.

“I can’t believe you thought I was a ghost!” Emily says once the laughter has died down, her arms crossed in mock-anger.

“Can you blame me?” you retort. “The last thing I remember was burying you and suddenly you’re here? Nope. No way. Ghost. Only explanation.”

“I have to say, Y/L/N, I’m glad you’re back, if only to stop Aaron’s sad puppy-dog eyes every time you called him ‘Hotch,’” Rossi shakes his head. “I don’t know how much more yearning I could take.”

“Hey! Be nice,” JJ admonishes, swatting Rossi’s shoulder. “I think it’s sweet.”

“Yeah guys,” you echo. “Be nice! Don’t think I forgot you two,” you say, leveling Morgan and Prentiss with glares, “and all your laughter when I couldn’t remember that my husband and I were married!”

“Oh c’mon, Princess,” Morgan groans. “It was pretty funny. You were trying so hard not to look completely in love with your husband.”

“In my defense,” you start, “I didn’t know that you guys already knew how much I love Aaron, so excuse me for trying to hide my love,” you say with a sniff.

“Well, it was pretty obvious. Whenever you looked at him or he grabbed your hand, the heart monitor would register an increase in your heart rate by—” Reid starts to ramble but your laughter cuts him off.

“I get it, I get it,” you continue through your laughter. “I’m very in love with Aaron, even when I think it’s a secret, but as Penelope’s presentation so eloquently demonstrated, I’m not subtle and neither is he.”

Aaron leans over to kiss your cheek as the rest of the team continues into a conversation about Penelope’s presentation and how the hell she collected all those photos and videos in one day.

With the attention no longer on you—for now—you smile at Aaron, who smiles right back. He slumps back in his chair with a sigh, and you can’t help but pull him back closer to you.

“I love you,” you say kissing the back of his hand.

“I love you more, Sweetheart,” he replies softly.

Yeah, this is happily ever after.

[pippytmi]

Howdy! For the little au trope prompt ask. 2, 2, 39. Supercorp please. Thank you! (Hope it helps your writer's block!)

Everyone knows that when the Quidditch season starts, rivalries begin.

As a general rule, Lena doesn’t mind the Gryffindors. If she had to pick a house she hated, the Slytherins would be the unfortunate lot; Veronica Sinclair and Andrea Rojas alone give the group a bad name. (That could be Lena’s own personal bias, given the fact that both girls have broken her heart, but she maintains it goes far deeper than that). But the point stands—Lena isn’t a hateful person. Generally.

There is just something about Kara Danvers that brings it out of her. The one and only Gryffindor that Lena despises is that moronic, reckless Chaser who scores nearly every single goal she takes. The Ravenclaw team is nothing to sneeze at either, but Lena hates that of all people to throw her off her game, it is a girl who blew up her broom when attempting to fly on it during her first year. Seven years that she has known Kara, and still Lena is annoyed at the mere sight of those perpetually-askew glasses, those untucked robes, that undone tie; Kara Danvers is never expected to be poised and perfect, even with all the expectations on her shoulders. She’s just so...blasé. People talk about Kara like she is destined to join a Quidditch team straight out of Hogwarts and all Kara does is stroll into the Great Hall on game day with her head in the clouds.

So far up the clouds that she apparently can’t watch where she is going, either. Lena throws Kara the nastiest glare she can muster when they just about knock each other’s heads together, but all Kara does at the sight of it is grin. She always grins, not in a way that is arrogant or snide, but stupidly amused. Stupidly amused, as if everything Lena says or does is a bloody laugh, like Lena’s simmering hatred is nothing more than an inside joke.

“Hey, Luthor,” Kara says cheerfully, and there she goes, pushing those crooked glasses up her nose. There is a scratch on one lens, and Kara has either not noticed or not bothered to repair it. “Trying to take out the competition a little early, even for you.”

“You were the one in my way, Danvers,” Lena replies tightly.

“Was I?” And here is the kicker, that golden girl charm that fools everyone: bright blue eyes peeking out beneath those eyelashes, hand rubbing at the back of her neck, undone tie slipping an inch further. Kara tilts her head unassumingly as if that is even an actual question.

It makes Lena furious. “Here’s a tip,” she says, “for here and the Quidditch field. Maybe if you got your head out of your ass, you could actually see where you’re headed.”

Kara has the audacity to look affronted. “Is this because of the Brainy incident during training? Because he and I agreed that it was a joint effort. Joint…blame. Whatever you call it.”

Lena rolls her eyes. “Just keep your aggression to yourself, Danvers,” she mutters, and then she resolutely brushes past. She has no time for blank, witty banter, especially when this is the year’s first game and she has a team to rally.

“My—? Hey,” Kara’s voice rings out, louder than necessary, and that idiot is actually following her. “Hey, wait. Lena. Do you seriously think I’m aggressive? It was an accident! Both times!” A beat. “I mean both the Brainy thing and right now. I didn’t knock into Brainy twice. I did knock James off his broom once, but you probably don’t care about that since he’s not from your house, so…well anyway, just so you know, that was also an accident.”

“I have zero interest in your training squabbles,” Lena says exasperatedly, “and you’d do well to keep that in mind.”

“Oh so this is about the Brainy incident,” Kara says. “How many times do I have to say that the training pitch was ours?”

“According to you,” Lena counters. With that she whirls around, nearly colliding into Kara’s chest, but she still manages to lift her head up high and stare down that egotistical jackass. “I know you might think you’re entitled to any space you waltz into, but some of us mere mortals actually schedule training sessions. You know, like we’re supposed to.”

“I did schedule the—!” Kara has a tendency to become flustered mid-argument, it seems, because her mouth opens but no words come blustering out. Finally she settles on scowling when she declares, “You are a piece of work, you know that? Would it kill you to apologize to me once in a while?”

“That would imply that you have apologized to me at some point,” Lena scoffs. “Which you haven’t, for the record.”

“Yes I have,” Kara is quick to disagree.

Lena crosses her arms; it’s a challenge, and Kara immediately stands a little straighter when she notices. “Oh?” Lena prompts. “Like when?”

“Like…when I knocked into Brainy.”

“I fail to see how I fit in that scenario,” Lena says, “since you didn’t break my nose.”

Kara gives a little huff, as if this back and forth is all so inconvenient right now; as if she hasn’t instigated it. “Okay, but I apologized for disrupting your practice, remember? I took complete responsibility even though it was your fault you couldn’t keep track of when your team was scheduled—”

“That was not an apology. You literally said ‘Sorry Luthor, we need this more than you do’ and then refused to leave for the next half hour!”

“But I said sorry in there, ergo, it is an apology.”

“Well then, when my team beats yours to dust I’ll be sure to apologize properly for that in that exact same sympathetic manner,” Lena sneers.

Somehow, trash talk only makes that dumb, signature Kara Danvers grin come back, completely wiping away any sign of vexation. “Oh yeah? Tell me more, wise old Ravenclaw—”

Before Lena can even begin to dissect that childish comeback (and stupid sing-songy imitation of the Sorting Hat), other students come filtering down the hall and they are practically swept up in the masses. One kid completely shoulders Lena before she even realizes what’s happening; she stumbles to the left, nearly collides with the wall, and opens her mouth to shout, but then:

“Hey!” Kara is already brandishing her wand with one hand and catching the boy’s collar with the other. “Ten points from Hufflepuff! You could’ve hurt someone, walking around without looking where you’re going.”

Lena bites her tongue to stop from making a quip on how ironic that statement is, because Kara is engrossed in a stare-off with the pimply sixth year who is demanding to see her prefect badge to prove Kara can even take points. She would normally side with the kid—anything to knock Kara Danvers down a peg—but, well. For once, Lena can’t be bothered to actively hate someone getting into a heated argument on her behalf.

Two minutes later and the boy stomps off with ten points gone from his house and a detention to boot. Kara, meanwhile, is still frowning as he leaves. “Are you okay?” she asks absentmindedly, still tracking the kid’s every movement with her eyes. “I swear, if there weren’t so many witnesses I would’ve hexed him.”

“Winning move for a prefect, I’m sure,” Lena says dryly, and Kara turns towards her with that slow-growing buffoonish smile and another sheepish nudge of her glasses. Her next words kind of just fall out, almost as if she’d never formed them in her mouth but in the deep recesses of her subconscious alone: “You know, you confuse me.”

“Huh?” Another nudge. The smile slips a fraction, but just enough to show Kara is slightly confused by the change in subject.

You confuse me, Lena wants to repeat. You are the opposite of self-aware. You are messy, and reckless, and selfless whenever it counts and it’s confusing because all I can really hate you for is being able to get away with being imperfect and still be adored by everyone.

But none of those words, thankfully, leave her head. All she says is, “Your approach to discipline confuses me. It’s not like he purposely tried to run into me—ten points might have been too harsh.”

“This coming from the girl who once threatened to curse me into oblivion for tripping her when we were twelve?” Kara’s eyebrows shoot up. “Who are you and what have you done to Lena Luthor? No, hold on, I know. You’re really Jess in disguise, right?”

“Hilarious, Danvers. I wouldn’t quit Quidditch, it might be the only place you’re suited for,” Lena mocks, but all Kara does is laugh.

“Nope, definitely Lena,” Kara says, and the way she says it is almost…fond. Come to think of it, Lena can’t remember a time where Kara actually called her Lena. It’s always Luthor and Danvers and stop breaking the faces of my best players and never—never anything else.

Lena clears her throat and looks away; she can’t take another second of those warm, bright eyes. “Whatever,” she says. “I…guess I’ll see you on the pitch.”

“Sure thing,” Kara says, and she takes a step back, tucking her wand into her pocket. “I’ll be the one rocking the winning team uniform.”

Slowly, Lena begins to feel the corner of her mouth twitch. Completely unbidden, completely unpredictable. “Dream on, Danvers.” She allows the space between them to grow, but their eyes remain locked, and the air feels heavy—thick—and the weight of their shared gaze holds a meaning Lena can’t possibly unpack right now.

But Kara’s tongue pokes out between her teeth cheerfully, and she doesn’t appear half as bothered by this development. “Always, if you’re in them,” she says, twists a little on her heel to walk away, but she pauses while she is still in earshot. “You know—next time you can just thank me for defending you.”

“You mean abusing your power as a prefect,” Lena replies automatically even as her head is running a mile a minute; even as Kara is getting farther and farther away and the scratch on her glasses lens catches the light.

“That too!” Kara shouts as she gets lost in the crowd, and damn her, Lena has to put her hand over her mouth to hide the absolute idiotic smile that has formed on her own face.

(Joint blame indeed, Lena muses, and she figures that she might as well form a rivalry with the Slytherins instead of the Gryffindors after all).

[hxneekyuu]

accidental kiss || tsukishima kei, ennoshita chikara, miya atsumu, lev haiba

request :  Hey Can I request a headcanon or one shot with Haikyuu characters (any of your choices) having an accidental kiss with their crush, you know, the cliché romance scene in drama's where the girl fell and male catches her and end ups kissing, or something when the girl turn around not noticing the close distance between the male, and their lips touches. Anything that is accidental

warnings : miya atsumu, Suna Gets a Haircut

a/n : so i did one of those random hq generator things bc i could only decide on one boi and that was tsukki,,, the results made me laugh so here you go -- btw these are all gonna be pre-dating bc thats just wonderful we love that

tsukishima kei

this is definitely all tsukkis fault

you two are at your house just vibing and at some point you head into the kitchen to make food

and hes leaning against the counter right in front of the cabinet you need to get to

but he has the audacity not to move the fuck outta the way when you tell him you need to get past 

so youre like ok fuck it and just reach around him to open it 

but the bowl you need is pretty high up so youre like on your tippy toes tryna get the damn thing and hes just sitting there watching you struggle 

instead of helping you like he isnt damn near 6′3″

but riiiiight as youve got the bowl, you end up grabbing it a little too forcefully and you bring like a million dishes down with it 

so ofc even though he definitely deserves it, youre not trying to concuss the poor guy with literal ceramic dishes raining down on him 

so you kinda lunge forward to stop them all from falling 

and, hearing the crash of dishes over his head, he naturally ducks because he doesnt want to die

honestly,,,, its more of a crash of your noses and foreheads but theres such chaos of like,,, trying not to die?? 

that at some point you just feel his mouth on yours and it deadass just stays there while you both are figuring out what the hell is happening 

eventually he kinda pulls back but only a little bc he knows youre struggling to hold onto the dishes and he doesnt wanna screw that up

and he doesnt even say anything he just reaches up awkwardly and helps you set the dishes back on the shelf

and then he grabs the bowl youd been trying the get the entire time and hands it to you with a completely blank face 

its a very awkward dinner im not gonna lie

mostly bc at some point he just starts cracking jokes about it and refuses to acknowledge it seriously bc he sucks

ennoshita chikara

ennoshita’s taking a break from studying with the second years on the team

mostly bc he never gets any studying done with them 

so youre studying together for a test at his house

and its just been many many hours of studying so ofc youre both exhausted

so its not surprising to him when you just pass out on your notes

but the thing is,,, your heads right on top of a sheet that he needs

and for a while he just kinda studies without it

he studies other stuff and tries to remember it on his own so he can fill in the gap in his notes

but eventually hes like fuck i really need these notes

so he just,,, tries to slide it out from under your head really carefully

and it involves a lot of him getting really close and trying to lift your head and a bunch of really soft cute things that would be super embarrassing for him to be caught doing

like,,, if you happened to wake up

which of course, you do

and youre really confused bc you can feel his breath fanning over your face and his eyes are really close but not focused on you, theyre focused on smth under your face

so you lift your head to see what hes doing

but he freaks out and moves his face when he notices youre awake

and its just a litto brush of your lips over his as your faces are passing each other

but the poor bub jumps back like you just shocked the crap out of him

and then he apologizes for like the next ten minutes and its impossible to get back to studying bc youre both just panicking internally

miya atsumu

this literally happens like it does in the movies

it all starts with a chase scene

that really you should never have been a part of

youre just minding your business walking down the hall after school on your way to get your stuff

and its pretty empty bc you had a club thing so its late afternoon and no ones around

and you just hear it

men screaming

and then he appears, barreling around the corner like his life depends on it

and youre like

this cant be good

and when he sees you hes yelling out for you like HELP ME 

but you somehow always manage to get caught in the miya twin antics so youre like

fuck no im out

but apparently youre not out bc atsumus grabbing your arm and dragging you behind him yelling smth about scissors and a haircut

and when you look back you just see suna rounding the corner, half of his little triangle haircut chopped off so he looks like a sad half onigiri,,,

but you know it was atsumu and that this man is definitely dead when suna catches him

so youre like okay fuck it i guess im helping him AGAIN 

and you get outside to a section of the school where theres still sports teams practicing and lots of people around so you hide in a corner together

but the Suna Energy is approaching so atsumu fuckin freaks and does that cheesy movie thing where he ducks his head down so he wont be seen 

but theres like a group of guys passing by and one of them just bumps into atsumus back and that shit just sends him right into you

and all he can think is “oops”

he only has one brain cell give him a break

but he just stalls completely and forgets about the whole suna thing

but ofc his hair is fucking piss yellow and suna has not forgotten

he ends up totally getting his ass beat  but after that little smooch atsumus definitely a bit keen to see you more often 

lev haiba

i fucking love this gif look at the litto shoyou go

this tall babie does not know the meaning of personal space he has no functional understanding of a Bubble

honestly he probably gets dangerously close to kissing you on a regular basis, considering you’re seatmates in class

he’s just ALWAYS in your space

at first he’s probably shy bc he doesn’t know you

but once you become friends he’s like THIS IS NOT YOUR DESK THIS IS JUST MY SECOND DESK

so every day there’s always one thing that’s super dangerous

last week it was him looking over your shoulder while you did work silently

yesterday it was him reaching across you to open the window on your left side

today he just really wants a bite of the bread you bought and are currently already eating

and when he wants smth, he gets Very Whiny

he’s so clingy and adorable that you can’t ever get mad

he’s like a little puppy how can you resist him

so when you’re finally like okay fine you can have a bite he’s like

MONCH

he doesn’t even wait for you to tear off a piece he just leans in for a bite

but you had said yes while in the middle of biting it so he essentially does that thing where you’re both biting it at the same time

but, again, he doesn’t know what personal space means

so he also doesn’t have the ability to gauge distances well

so he straight up just meets you halfway and presses his mouth to yours while he’s biting down

the boi probably doesn’t even notice

he just pulls back quickly once he has his bite and goes about his life

you literally are going to have to tell him he just kissed you

and after that he’s a total fucking mess

he doesn’t know what to do he never knows what to do

he’s just going to keep causing Chaos while he panics

[ptergwen]

i got a funny blurb request

you know how some boys think that pads are stuck onto the vag, not the underwear? peter is one of those boys... so imagine peter being like “does it hurt to take your pad off? is that why women cry on their period?”

LMFAOOOOO he’s a dummy he definitely would

“ok, pads... lots of pads and some tampons just in case,” peter explains as he puts down two full shopping bags on the coffee table.

you’d gotten your period over at his place this morning. it was no big deal, though. you could make a quick trip to the store, clean up after. there was a change of plans when you took tylenol and passed out instead. being the thoughtful boyfriend peter is, he decided to go get everything you need while you napped. he can’t fully understand the pain you go through each month, but he can do his part to ease it.

“may helped me figure out what to buy. i didn’t wanna wake you up.” he lays in the spot you leave for him on the couch, giving your forehead a warm kiss. you hum and hug his torso. “thank you for going, petey. tell may i say thanks, too.” brushing stray hairs out of your face, he smiles. “no thanks necessary, baby. we love you.” he’s now peppering kisses to your cheeks as you smile back. “i love you more. so much more.”

“debatable. are your cramps any better?” peter wonders, bringing a hand to your stomach. his fingers rub soothing circles like they were doing earlier. “yeah, i think the tylenol worked. keep doing this, though,” you sigh and let your legs tangle with his. “anything you want, princess. whatever feels good,” he speaks softly and continues his movements. your face nuzzles into his shoulder.

“you never call me that. must really feel bad for me,” you laugh out, your ankles locked around one of his thighs. peter presses his lips together innocently. “well, yeah. don’t periods hurt, like, a lot? i only know a little about them from may.” nodding, you remove your face from his shoulder and cup his cheek. “they don’t just hurt. they ruin your life for about a week. seriously, it’s insufferable.”

“every single person with a uterus has my respect,” peter announces, putting his free hand over yours. you swipe your thumb over his skin and peck his lips. “as we should. can you hand me a box of pads?” “course, princess.” he leans forward and grabs one out of the bag, holding it out to you. “here.” “thanks. i’m gonna go put one on.” you pinch his cheek before getting up from the couch.

“wait, y/n?” peter calls after you. you stop on your way to the bathroom, turning around. “yeah?” “do those hurt, too? when you take them off?” he’s frowning as he looks at the box in your hands. “uh, no. why would they hurt?” you try not to smile. “because, um, don’t they go on your...” he trails off for a second so you can fill in the blank. “you stick them on... there.”

his face stays completely serious and concerned, so you know he’s not joking. guys can be so ridiculously clueless.

“peter, peter. no. we actually don’t,” you correct him gently, watching his mouth twitch open. “what? i don’t understand... how do they stay on, then?” he’s genuinely shocked. for someone who’s supposed to be a genius, he sure doesn’t act like it. you head back over to the couch and sit down next to him.

“well,” you set the pads on the table. “we put them in our panties. there is a sticky side, but that goes face down. it just keeps the pad in place.” you’re biting back a grin, peter looking at you in awe. “so, they don’t go on your...” “no. god, no. how would that even work?” he scratches his neck in embarrassment of his lack of menstrual cycle knowledge. “i guess it wouldn’t. you can’t pee or anything. unless-“

“the american education system has failed you so bad,” you giggle, peter rolling his eyes at himself. “i should learn some more on my own, too. gotta get educated on these things.” moving in closer, you wind your arm around his neck. “you don’t have to do it alone. i could answer your questions.”

“you’d really do that?” peter looks over at you with heart eyes. “you shouldn’t have to... it’s my job.” “but, i want to. i don’t mind, petey,” you reiterate. “makes me happy you’re interested.” he leans his head on yours, arm wrapping around your middle. “okay, let’s do it.” you smile up at him.

“let me go to the bathroom, then i’ll give you your first lesson.”