#but like. i only have capacity for silence rn

[ibyul]

I don't understand why I schedule anything involving talking while im on my period. like. why did past me do this to myself

[norrizzandpia]

i think this would suit lando but you being down and lando comes over later at night and takes you the park like two little kids, i can just imagine lando being a big kid at the park lmao

I’m going to need someone to love me like the fictional lando i write abt 24/7

We Can Be Kids For Right Now (LN4)

Summary: When her week has tried to suffocate her, Lando turns up at her door and forces her to remember just how worthy she truly is.

Warnings: mentions of heavy anxiety attacks, anxiety in general, language

Note: a draft bc im wrecked rn from this trip im on im so tried lol… I hate that I have to start saying this but I do not condone the reposting of my work without proper crediting or permission. If you wish to post my works elsewhere, it needs to be ran by me first by messages over Tumblr. If found that you have taken my works without my knowledge, I will report you and get my posts taken down from your blog.

Y/n never truly realized she did it until Lando, but when the man started to get close to her, he brought it to her attention that she so easily isolated herself when she started struggling. Even the smallest inconvenience and she shut down, something that irritated the hell out of Lando. Nevertheless, he loved her and the way she dealt with her emotions was something he knew she just needed to work on.

However, the problem they couldn’t get past was her ability to tell him when she was struggling. There were only so many times when he could see it written all over her face.

His comments urging her to open up to him when she was having a hard time dealing with it on her own bounced around in her head as she clutched her phone in her hands, his contact picture brightening her screen. His smile beamed back at her, almost coaxing her into tapping the call button, but her thumb hesitated. It wasn’t that she was afraid of telling him, it was that she was uncomfortable with her own emotions. Uncomfortable of leaning into them. Growing up, she was never given that ability, her parents not having the full capacity to address them head on. She never thought it truly affected her until Lando. She started realizing that he never gave her a problem to be scared, but she still was.

Her thumb had a mind of its own, though. Thankfully. And the ringing tone met her ears before she could even know what was happening. His picking up happened before she could even begin to think about hanging up the phone.

“Baby!” His cheery voice rang through the quiet room and warmed her tender heart. “What’s up? Why are you up so late? Do you want a sweet treat again?” He giggled, his TV pausing in the background.

She was silent. Her mind raced as she tried to make the split second decision of telling him or not. Though, in her silence, he began formulating an answer.

“Y/n…” He whispered, blankets rustling as she imagined him sitting up on his couch.

“Lan,” She said brokenly, albeit with an effort of trying to sound strong.

Keys rustling and his rushed, “I’m on my way, baby,” were her response.

—

Lando knew where the spare key was. It was one of the first things he asked the location of after they first said I love you. Y/n would always laugh at that memory. What she was expecting after the three words were shared was a small kiss or a hug maybe, but no, he had asked her where her spare key was. When she showed him and he very clearly took a mental note of it, she asked him what was so important about it.

“I’m your boyfriend and we’re in love. I should know where the spare key is, baby.” He had said to her so nonchalantly, as if it was societally normal to have that thought process. She just shook her head at him and took the kiss she wanted for herself. He wasn’t going to do it anyway, too entranced in the image of her spare key under her doormat. He was shenanigans bundled into one person. She loved it.

His rapping on the door pulled her from her memories. She drudged over, taking a deep breath before opening the door. He stood there in his pajamas, puffer coat thrown over haphazardly, and stared at her sympathetically. He shuffled in, arm rounding around her shoulders as he kissed her head, “Hard day?”

She sighed, “Hard week.”

He led her to the couch. The layout of her apartment was memorized in his head. “What happened?”

“I just-” She picked at her fingernails and the anxiety she usually felt when Lando asked about her worries began bubbling up. Maybe it was growth, but she thought he’s already here, isn’t he? Might as well lean on him.

So, she did. Literally and figuratively.

Lando squeezed her body as her side laid on his and she started reliving the low moments of the past few days. “Everything has gone wrong this week. I just can’t seem to win and I can’t make anyone happy.”

Tears filled her eyes and a frown appeared on her face. She cried into his shoulder when he pushed her body further into it.

Lando sat with her for a moment, rubbing her back. “That’s not true, Y/n. You make a lot of people happy. You make me really happy.”

For some reason, his comment shot fear through her body and she pulled from him. Her eyes looked anywhere other than his and the irrational idea of an expectation Lando had set for her that she did not believe in herself to meet took control of whatever plan she had to open up to him.

Lando saw it in her eyes, how distant they got. He knew this was bound to happen. It had been too easy. She had opened up to him without that much restraint and he expected a moment to come where her walls rebuilt themselves.

He just wanted her to let him in.

His hands took her face, “You deserve me. You will not let me down. You could never let me down.” He said, knowing exactly what was running through her mind.

“Y/n, look at me.” He tilted his head to meet her eyes and forced her to keep his stare, “I love you. That will never change.”

She cried harder, “I can’t even open up to you, Lan. I’m not even a good employee at a job I’m overqualified for. Yesterday, I handed in that presentation to my boss that I had been working on for weeks and when I presented it to the board of all fucking people, there was a grammatical error on one of the slides. I had confused ‘your’ and ‘you are’, Lan. It was embarrassing. They laughed and joked about it after. I can’t even fucking do my job. And I upset my mum on Wednesday. I hung up on her during an argument and now she isn’t talking to me. I’m being condemned, Lan. I can’t fucking breathe. My dad’s texting me, telling me how disrespectful I had been, but nobody hears about the parts where she called me an irresponsible adult and ridiculed me for taking a job that didn’t make me that much. Nobody wants to hear my side of the story, the part where she was so grossly unsupportive. Then, I had to cancel on Cameron on Tuesday again because I’m so fucking tired and so fucking busy. She got mad at me and now we’re in this fight because I’ve neglected our friendship. I’m a shit friend, a shit daughter, a shit worker, and it’s so obvious I’m a shit girlfriend. I can’t fucking do anything right.”

By the end of her rant, she was breathless and Lando could see she was talking herself into an anxiety attack. Her hurtful words toward herself needed to be dealt with, but he needed to stop the panic seeping into her skin.

He took her hand and kissed her head, “Come with me, my love.”

She kept crying as he led her to his car, his arm wrapped around her body securely as he whispered words of reassurance in her ear. He reminded her of how strong she was, of how much he loved her and admired her for everything she was. How wrong she was about everything she had convinced herself of.

When he softly laid her in the passenger seat, he kneeled down and kissed her shoulder, brushing her hair off the skin lightly. He looked up at her with deep green eyes filled with safety, “Don’t listen to your mind right now, baby. It’s only telling you lies.”

He lightly closed the door, running around the car to slip into the driver’s seat. When he turned the engine on, his hand settled on her thigh and began rubbing softly. He backed down and drove down the road, toward a small park at the end of her street. It was quick, maybe a minute or two, and Y/n was still crying when they parked, but it subsided momentarily when she saw where they were.

“Why are we at the park?” Lando grabbed her hand and kissed the knuckles.

He laid his cheek down on the back of her palm, murmuring, “Because it’ll be fun to be kids for right now. Not have to think about what you’re going through. We can address that later.”

A sigh of relief left her chest. The moment he had given her an opportunity to run away from it all, even for a few minutes, she almost began to feel as though she would find peace.

He always knew exactly what to do.

She gathered herself, wiping away the tears and smoothing down her hair as Lando walked back to her door, opening it and offering his hand as help for her to get out of the car. She took it. She always would. The cold air hit her body and she shivered. Lando was immediate in offering her his coat.

She shook her head, “No, I’m okay for right now.” She was just now realizing how she hadn’t gone outside in days. The cold air made her feel alive again.

Lando’s hand continued to clutch hers as they took steps toward the large structure. When she let go of his, he tensed, but he relaxed when he saw her wandering over to the slides.

She climbed up the ladder, him following behind, and found herself sat in the entryway of the whirling slide.

“Wait, wait!” Lando yelped before she could push herself down. Her head whipped around to meet his eyes.

She smiled and her body warmed when his found a seat behind her, his body consuming her and his hands wrapping around the low point of her waist. His ear right beside her ear, he kissed the top of the skin, “Now, you can go. We can go down faster, no? Seeing as I go fast for a living.”

His questionable logic made her laugh before he was pushing them off and the two were turning fast around the corner of the yellow tube. Her giggling ensued with the way he jostled them around on purpose to make the slide more exhilarating for two twenty-four year olds. And in the heat of the moment, seeing her hair float in the air and a carefree smile on her face, Lando wished she could see herself the way he did. She was superb, unbelievable. She held the strength and courage of someone so commendable. She was kind even when she had seen things and experienced trauma so young that should’ve, understandably so, made her bitter. She was merciful even when she shouldn’t be and she loved Lando in a way he had only ever dreamed of. The way she treated him, the gentleness she approached him with, was something he knew he could never let go of. She was beautiful in so many other ways than just her appearance. She was deeply beautiful and he wished she could just understand that.

When they reached the end, their bodies stopping abruptly right at the edge, Y/n laid her head back against his shoulder. He kissed her temple, “Fun?”

She nodded with a smile, “Somehow, you did make it faster.”

He shot her a look, as if to question why she didn’t believe him in the first place. He pushed her off him, sprinting to the swings and screaming for her to follow him.

“Lando! Be quiet! You’ll wake up the entire neighborhood!” She whisper-yelled at him, laughing as she ran after him.

He threw himself in the seat and began swinging his legs, no doubt gaining momentum but beckoning her over for help nonetheless.

She stood behind him, bracing herself firmly on the ground as she pushed his heavy body up off the ground. When he would meet her back on the ground, he’d lean back so his back would almost come crashing into her front. It made her laugh.

“Lando!” He couldn’t see her, but he knew how radiant she must’ve been looking. Even in his head, he continued to fall in love with her.

She kept pushing him until her arms got tired and she flopped away from him, onto the ground, in a heap of heavy breaths. When he didn’t feel her small hands on his back anymore, he jumped off the swing and joined her on the ground.

It didn’t matter how cold it was or how dirty it inevitably was, they were together and Y/n’s smile lingered on her pretty face.

Lando’s hand laced with hers in between their bodies as he softly whispered, “You’re not a shit daughter, your parents don’t know what they have and they’re too emotionally immature to realize that. You’re not a shit friend, Cameron knows that, you’re just struggling and that’s okay. You’re not a shit worker, you’re actually heavily valuable to your boss and the people around you. They’ve all told you that. And Y/n, look at me,” She turned her head to meet his meaningful ones, “You are not a shit girlfriend. You are the complete opposite. You are everything I’ve ever wanted and could ever ask for. You have no idea how in love with you I am. It’s even hard for me to understand sometimes. There is no one I have ever loved, love, or will love more than you. You are the most important thing to me, so please stop talking about yourself in this way and believing in something that has never been true.”

Everything about the moment is gentle. From the way his thumb caressed her skin to the enunciation of every word that came from his mouth, he made it clear how much love prospers for her within him every day and every minute.

She turned on her side and took his cheek in her hand, “Thank you for helping me, Lan.”

His hand squeezed her waist, “Of course, my love. You’re my favorite.”

She felt her heart blush, if that’s even possible. Maybe her face was the one blushing? She didn’t know. The way Lando looked at her as if she started life itself made her mind feel fuzzy.

Fuzzy enough to realize he was right. She wasn’t a failure or a horrible person. She was a human who made mistakes and many people loved her in spite of it. Lando being one of them.

He loved her in a way she had always craved. She both needed and wanted him. So did he. They were the beginning and end of everything for the other. It showed well that night as they held each other on the concrete of that park. It showed well because, at one am on a random Saturday, Lando had dropped everything he has doing the moment he heard the anguish in her voice. It showed well because Lando’s clear words made Y/n realize he wanted her and no one else. There was no one else like her, no one to ever replace her. Not that he would ever want that anyway. She was completely unique in the most precious way and maybe… just maybe… she was beginning to realize that too.

[cosmoeticss]

Haven’t I Loved You Well? | Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!Reader (part two)

my masterlist

Words: 2.8K 

Warnings: (18+ minors dni) angst, mentions of death, violence, marital problems

Notes: I’m so manic rn I can’t even decide if I like how the end of this turned out. I want to wrap this up but I don’t think I know how to continue this without making it a full fledged fic, and I don’t have the mental capacity to do another one of those right now. Anywho, I hope you enjoy this. I love you guys. Also I’m sorry there’s no seggsiness, mom and dad are fighting, their grandpa/father just died.

Part Two of Haven’t I Been Good to You?

You stirred awake in the early hours to find the bed next to you empty and the faint sound of toddlers playing. Your hand smoothed over Aemond's side of the bed, your fingertips meeting cold and empty sheets. Your husband had been gone long before you had awakened. A deep sigh erupted in your lungs as you stretched your limbs, uncovering yourself and rising from the bed. Bare feet hit the cool stone floors as you reached for your silk, Velaryon Blue robe, slipping it over your thin white night shift and finding your woolen slippers under the bed.

A bright smile split your lips at the sound of your son's laughter in the adjoining chambers. You practically skipped to the sitting area, pulling the doors open to find the two silver haired boys playing with your handmaiden. When they finally spotted you, they jumped up with glee, running to tackle you.

"Mama!" Your youngest son, named Laenor after your father, had jumped into your embrace and twisted his arms around your neck. Aemon, your eldest boy, hugged your knees tightly.

"Good morning, sweet boys," you beamed, bending to place a soft kiss on little Aemon’s hairline. "How long have you been up? You should have woken me earlier."

"They've only just stirred, Princess." Brynna, your chambermaid, assured you softly. "I thought you could use rest in your condition."

"Mama," Aemon grabbed your hand in excitement. "We're playing Conqueror again! Come play with us."

You smiled sadly at his request. "I'm afraid it shall have to wait, my love," you squeezed the boy's fingers in comfort. "Your father and I have a council meeting this morning, and I must dress."

"Princess, I’ve been asked to deliver the message that all your engagements have been canceled for the day,” Brynna interrupted. “The Queen has asked that everyone stay in their chambers.”

Your brow furrowed in confusion. “Well, where is my husband then?”

“I was told to inform you that the Prince has urgent matters to attend to and will return when he has finished.”

Something static is evident in the air, raising suspicion deep in your bones. You cling to any ounce of calm you have in you, as not to distress the children, breathing slowly. A forced smile reaches your lips, and you hope your sweet sons are none the wiser as you address them. “Why don’t you boys keep playing with Brynna, and Mama will join you after I’m done talking to Ser Arryk, alright?”

The boys do as they’re told happily, and you make your way to the door of your chambers, attempting to open it to no avail. Panic shoots through you as you pull at it again, bringing your shaky knuckles to wrap against the hard wooden door. “Ser Arryk?” you call out, and you’re met with a moment of silence before the whirring of the lock before the door cracks open.

It’s not the familiar face of Ser Arryk Cargyll you’re met with, but a man a bit shorter and stockier, with dark black hair and hard features. “Princess,” He bows his head to you. “The Queen has requested that everyone remain in their chambers until further notice.” “So I’ve been told,” you affirm, confusion written all over your face. “Who are you? Where is Ser Arryk?”

“I am Ser Gyles Belgrave, your highness,” he says stiffly. “Ser Arryk had very urgent matters to attend to, I have been tasked with guarding your apartments in his stead.”

Your hold in the groan of annoyance that threatens to unleash itself. “Well, everyone just has very urgent matters to attend to today, haven’t they?

“It appears so, Princess,” his tone is flat and unwavering as he addresses you. 

“Forgive my unusual lack of patience on this morn’, Ser Gyles,” you sigh, closing your eyes as you briefly regain any semblance of composure you can manage. “Might you take me to see the Queen to find out what in the Seven Hells is going on, or at the very least to my husband.”

“I’m afraid I cannot do that, Princess.”

You furrow your brow. “Yes, you can. I’m a Princess of the Realm in direct line for the Iron Throne, and I have – very politely might I add – asked you to escort me to Queen Alicent at once.”

“I’m sorry, Princess,” he urges. “It is a direct order from the Queen that you stay here.”

You huff out in frustration, your fingers tightening on the handle of the door until your knuckles turn white. “Thank you, Ser Gyles,” you force the corners of your lips to curl into a synthetic smile. “You’ve been ever so helpful.” And with that you slam the door shut, pressing your forehead to the wood and breathing deeply to calm your nerves and trying to quiet your own nagging voice hissing in the back of your mind.

It’s happening. 

The King was in good spirits yesterday. He addressed the courts just last night, and was conscious and present all throughout dinner. He is fine. We have time.

Time is up.

Your mother and the Queen had reconciled their differences, toasted in each other's honor, embraced before the night had ended. Everything would be fine.

There will be no reconciling. Spool of green, spool of black. The cuts run too deep, the wounds have festered. 

Where is Aemond?

Not even your love can save the noble House of the Dragon now.

“Mama!” you snap out of your panic at the sound of your son's beckoning, your chest heaving in time with your labored breath.

“Coming, my loves,” you call, swallowing the feeling of dread whirring deep in your chest, and putting on a brave façade as you face your sons.

It feels, for a moment, as if time freezes when your husband finally returns to your marital chambers that evening, his good eye heavy with empathy and guilt. You shoot up in your chair, the boys both looking up from playing with their model dragon figurines on the floor to their father. He doesn’t have to say a word. The truth you’ve been denying yourself since they locked you away is written clearly on his face.

“Kepa!” The boys cry out as they run to jump into his arms, their father’s entrance being the most exciting event of the day.

“My little princes,” he laughs, embracing them, the wear of the day's trials is hidden just underneath the surface of his smile. You wonder to yourself how many lives Aemond has lived today, what he had seen, what he had done.

Slouching back in your chair, you slide a hand over the swell of your stomach, the other coming to pinch the bridge of your nose. 

Aemond tends to the children, answering their miles of questions and listening to their detailed accounts of make believe lands they’ve visited and play pretend battles they’ve fought during the day since they’d been confined inside. Aemond takes the explosion of excitement from your boys steadily, with a kind of patience he didn’t have for many others. The boys adore him. You adore him more than anything, and here you sat picking apart your husbands every move, trying to determine whether he was friend or foe.

The hour is late when Aemond finally gets the boys settled. You had not spoken a word to him, not touched him since he came back. You didn’t join in as he read the boys a bedtime story. You didn’t assist him as he carried their sleeping figures to their beds one by one. You hadn’t moved from your spot in the lounge chair since. You weren’t even sure you were real until Aemond was kneeling before you, his large hands engulfing yours as he pressed delicate, apologetic kisses to your palms, not yet daring to find the courage to meet your gaze.

You hold back the tears pricking at your eyes, swallowing the bile rising in the back of your throat. “Tell me the truth of it, Aemond,” you manage, your voice pained and hushed.

He finally meets your hollow stare. “My love, please—“ his voice is soft and desperate as his lips work their way to the skin of your wrists. 

“—I just need to hear you say it,” you press, words wobbling from the threat of your unshed tears. “Tell me what news of the King.”

He clasps your hands tightly in his, clinging to them like a prayer as he hangs his head low before you. “The King is dead,” he rasps the words, silence filling the room in their stead. A strangled, guttural gasp forces its way through your lips, your eyes fluttering shut as hot tears finally fall freely. In truth you hadn’t expected to be so shocked when news came of the King’s passing. Despite his faults, you loved your grandsire deeply, and though this day had long been lingering just out of sight, you never expected it to happen so suddenly. This felt wrong.

“Say it,” you snap, trying desperately not to fall apart before him. He didn’t have to speak it, you knew in your heart what was coming next.

“My father declared to mother on his deathbed, that it is Aegon who will inherit–”

You scramble to twist out of his grasp before he can even finish his sentence, but he clings to you, holding you in place and forcing you to look at him. “No–”

“-- Aegon will be crowned before the masses tomorrow morning.”

You try your best to wriggle from his torturous warmth, grunting and hitting his chest as you attempt to push him away from you with all your might. “How can you let them do this?” you wail. “You’re liars! Traitors to the Crown!” “My love, please,” Aemond begs as you cry out. “You must understand–”

“--I must understand?” She barks a humorless laugh, silver hair clinging to her tear stained cheeks. “What is it that I am to understand? That you are no better than the rest of them? A liar? A traitor to our house and the realm? This is treason! Don’t you understand the gravity of this?”

“It was the will of the King,” he proclaimed, as you gave up your fighting out of pure exhaustion. “With his dying breath, this is the succession he wished for. We have no choice in the matter.”

“You expect me to believe that after twenty years of upholding and defending my mothers claim, the King relinquished the throne to your drunken, depraved, imbecile brother moments before his death with no one around to hear but your power hungry mother?” you snipe, face hardened with distaste. “I at least thought you to be a sensible man, husband.”

Aemond catches you off guard when he captures your jaw in his hand forcefully. “You will watch your tongue, wife,”  he snarls. 

You had seen that familiar glint of anger in Aemond’s eyes many a time, you were no stranger to his fire. He was a man with a quick temper, it often didn’t take much for him to unleash the fury of the dragon. You just never thought in all your years he’d direct it towards you. 

You attempt a disinterested laugh, but it comes out as more of a whimper, your eye’s glistening as they fan over his features in disbelief. “Is this what we are to become?” you whisper pitifully. “Is it true what they say, that I am wife to a cruel man? A man who has now fashioned himself a traitor. Perhaps I do not know you at all.”

His eyes flutter shut with shame, his stinging grip softening as he drops his forehead to meet yours, pulling you closer until you're practically on his lap. You don’t fight him this time, exerting your strength proving to be fruitless. “You are married to a man who loves you. A man who has been fighting all his life to protect you. You know me, you are the only person alive who truly knows me, and I love you with everything that I can give,” he tries, squeezing his eye shut tightly as he forces his next words out. “But I have a duty to my family–”

“I am your family,” you plead, taking his face in your hands. “Our sons are your family. That is your duty. What do you think they will do to us when war ensues?”

“I will keep you safe,” he promises, pulling back to hold your gaze. His expression is desperate, for what you don’t know. Forgiveness? Submission? Blind Devotion? In your fury you could not muster any of it. “Anyone who dare harm you or our children is a fool.”

“You are the fool for thinking that you could protect us from what is to come,” you interject, pressing your lips together. “No one wins this war, and there will be war, Aemond. “Everyone knows what I am,” you don’t say the word itself, but you can see he understands. Its venom is hissed towards you at every turn you take. Aemond holds his tongue as you brush his hair back over his shoulders, smoothing down the disheveled strands as you choke out the words, trying despairingly to get through to him. “It is another doing that is not my own, one that I have suffered for everyday of my life. If this is where your loyalties will lie, husband, it is another price that I must pay.”

“That is where your loyalties lie? You would crown the woman who placed that cloak of shame upon you,” he reasons.

“As opposed to staying with the man who is practically handing his wife and children to the executioner himself?”

He whispers your name, only your name, softly and stoically like a prayer, and you continue your pleading. His face is held in between your hands, your lips peppering persuading kisses across his velvet skin.

“Please,” you echo over and over. “Don’t do this. You promised.” 

Aemond seems to snap out of your trance quite suddenly, pulling himself far enough away so that your prodding halts. His gaze lifts to yours, slower and more certain than before. Your heart clenches in your chest as he takes your wrists in his hands, pulling them away from his jaw.

Aemond’s tongue darts out to wet his lips. “The decision is final,” he clears his throat, rising from the floor and leaving you behind on the cold stone below. “I will tell the boys, or at least Aemon, he is old enough to understand.”

Your hands fall to your lap as you sink further to the floor in defeat. “He is six,” you grumble.

“He will be a man grown sooner than late,” his voice is distant and nearly unrecognizable. “He is old enough to stand by our side in the Dragon Pit tomorrow in support of his uncle, and he will, as well as his mother.” 

“I will never bend the knee to that man,” you hiss, hot tears caking your rosy cheeks. “I will not stand by as he is crowned.”

“You will come freely or there will be consequences,” Aemond commands. “Not only for us, for the children.”

“Let them see the consequences,” you stand, legs wobbling as you force yourself upright. “Let them see how quickly their father folded before a usurper, let them understand how thinly his loyalty runs. Then they shall know who to blame when the sky falls down upon us.” 

Before your husband can interject, you push past him, fleeing to your shared chambers and slamming the heavy door behind you as hard as you could. The sound of it echoes heavily through the room, you can feel it in your bones and it rattles your soul. You spin on your heel, gaze softening as you eye the wall between you and the man you love – the wall you’ve just put there. You stifle a cry, it feels final, it feels like the entire Keep is crumbling from beneath you. 

Your mind and your senses are at war as you approach the door slowly, trying with everything in you to push down the desire to be held by him, to forgive him, to do anything he desires just so that you might be together. 

Your loyalty is stronger than your yearning to be his and his alone. Your palms, aching for contact, find their solace against the surface of the door. It’s cold, harsh, and stiff, but if you close your eyes and concentrate you can pretend it's his soft, burning skin pulsating under the tips of your fingers. If you focus on nothing else you can remember what it feels like to be enveloped in his arms, you can almost smell the smoke on him, almost hear his voice lulling you to sleep, almost taste his perfect lips against yours. 

In your anguish, you can’t fathom that his heart is aching on the other side as well, and you don’t feel his palms pressed against the other side of the door begging to be let back in.

[blerb-f1]

"The Future" - Sebastian Vettel x reader

The news truly shocked me and compelled me to write this.

Lewis Hamilton is a side character in this.

not proofread i dont have the mental capacity rn

This fic also is kinda part of a series, but it can stand on it's own! For more, view my masterlist.

-------

“Have you considered it at least?”

A fragmented voice sounding through a tin-like phone speaker asked with a certain pressure behind it. The kind of pressure you’d only hear from people who wanted something. Something important.

Sebastian eyed the phone hesitantly, placing it on the windowsill while holding his watering can. Little droplets sliding down it’s side as he attempted to water his dried pot of basil - traveling was never something that helped in plantkeeping, not when you’d spend half the year in random hotels somewhere in the world.

He did not feel the need to return to the circus known as Formula 1, having enjoyed his time there but entirely content with retirement. Opposed to some of the others, he thought, he knew when to quit. No longer circling the biggest cities on earth but the supermarket parking lot in hopes of finding an empty spot. More importantly, waking up in his own bed for 7/7 days a week was a major joy to him, a feeling he didn’t feel like giving up.

“You know as well as i do, that we need an  experienced driver. George’s good but… He just can’t give us the direction needed.” Toto sounded quite serious at that moment - Lewis deciding to leave must have hurt him badly, considering him approaching Sebastian.

“Also… I just want someone i can trust to be around me”

Looking up in surprise, Seb almost dropped the watering can on the floor. Lewis leaving had REALLY hurt him.

“I’ve been thinking about retiring from F1 now. But they’d probably cancel F1 Academy without me around. Force Susie into Submission. I don’t want that. Fuck no.”

“Toto, I-” Sebastian started speaking, plucking the dead leaves from his pot of basil. “I like life. I love peaceful mornings.”

Silence. The phone speaker didn’t echo out for a few moments. 

“What would you say, if i told you we had a championship winning car?”

—-----------------------------------------------

“You really agree to it?” Sebastian asked, Surprise lingering on his voice.

“Of course i do, i’ve seen you thirst for racing while you yourself didn’t. I was with you from the beginning till the end of your career, don’t you think i’d be able to read you by now?” Y/N answered him, their eyebrows pulled together in a mild emotion.

“But there’s a catch.”

“Yes?”

“I’ll be your race engineer. Like i’ve always been”

“Huh?” Seb asked again, this time even more surprised than before. Y/N nodded seriously. “I can’t see you race with another Engineer at your side. It feels wrong.”

The man man pondered for a moment, his brain racking. “You’re right. I’ll talk to Toto.”

A week later, Mercedes made an announcement. For the 2025 season, Bono would be moving to the lead Race Engineer position, not being directly responsible for a single racer. The community was confused, unsure of what was happening. Would they be promoting a rookie racer and engineer to grow their youth? Would they be getting a driver and engineer paring from another team?

Twitter and Reddit Artists were working hard, creating shitpost after shitpost, pundits podcast over podcast as the season progressed, trying to figure out who’d be the next racer.

Meanwhile Sebastian and Y/N were busy in their own ways. Practicing their communication again, the driver getting physically fit and in shape again. Moreso than he had been during his time at Aston Martin. This was going to be serious - no more lazing around. Go hard or go home.

Y/N worked with Bono - the man they used to work against- to get used to the Mercedes way of communication. It was very difficult, more strict compared to the free Red Bull. More lenient compared to the crazy Ferrari. More rule governed, compared to Aston Martin. Peter Bonnington was surprised in his own way, understanding why L/N and Vettel were the scary Duo they had been all this time. They had been a team since 2008, their shared time rivaling his and Lewis. Lewis- that was a mental direction he shouldn’t go to. Mercedes would need to win the championship, no time to waste on stupid thoughts.

As the season progressed and Fans grew mad with their speculation, Mercedes made a post on their instagram. It was a Photo of one of the trees outside their HQ, with a little bee fluttering around it. One single Description. “We love nature”.

Fans went wild with speculation, thinking, planning, shitposting. 

Then one day, two weeks away from the season beginning, the news fell. Two announcement posts in a single day. Y/N L/N heading to Mercedes as Race Engineer, Sebastian Vettel as driver. Mercedes returning back to their silver arrows livery.

The community went wild, the thing they’d never expected had happened.

Lewis meanwhile, was downtrodden. He had expected this move to work out differently. Ferrari clearly designated Charles as Driver 1, not adjusting around him like he’d gotten used to. Their bad race engineering got him into trouble many times. Seeing this news almost broke him. They had replaced him with his friend, who didn’t speak a single word of this? Shame on him.

Shortly after, a Video went online on the Mercedes Account. Sebastian and Y/N were seated among the many championships belonging to Mercedes, clad in white teamgear. Their eyes were determined, telling people they hadn’t arrived to play. As Sebastian took of his hat, people noticed the change. His own cold smile had returned, the one that caused people to call him a smiling assassin. His locks short again, like when he’d won his own championships. Y/N had assimilated, they’re hair bleached and dyed into a silvery colour. 

Fans once again were shocked, they truly hadn’t expected Sebastian to return like this. More akin to the way Schumacher returned but apparently that was not the choice Vettel made - he was here to win, not for the participation trophy.

As the season opener in Australia rolled around, many eyes were glued to the screen. Y/N was sitting on a bicycle along with their driver on his own, passing over the track. Taking in texture, dirt and heat. The media approached them back in the pits, shoving microphones in their face. Y/N just grunted, showing the media a literal middle finger before dipping into the Mercedes pitwall. 

This was the same paring as back in 2011, ready to fight. Qualifying went well, dangerously well. It was as if Seb hadn’t left F1. But not the 2022 Version, the 2012 Version. His defense was ruthless, his attacks even more. He utilised all the skills he had honed over years, even the smallest tricks Michael had once explained to him to gain a faster time. As he crossed over the finish line in first position, Martin Brundle screamed out loud. Nobody had expected this, nobody thought he could win a race again. Toto was jumping in the Mercedes Garage, Y/N jumping along and almost throwing the headset down.

Sebastian on the radio was back to his own, singing, cheering and screaming absolute gibberish. Pulling into Parc Fermé, he was surprised at having the camera and microphone pushed into his face. This new way of doing things was very unusual to him. 

“So Sebastian, tell us how you’re feeling.”

“I feel like i belong” was his simple answer, pushing the camera out of his face as he headed to get weighed. He took a short look at the staircase leading up to the podium. It had been a while since he had last set foot onto them. They were almost scary but he knew, he was secure. A hand placed on his shoulder, one that he had felt there for many years. Y/N was there to get the constructors trophy, truely the only appropriate person today.

The clothing wasn’t the same as in the past, but the energy was. People were cheering, even more were booing. Not wanting another Era of Mercedes Dominance. Booing however, did nothing to deter Sebastian or Y/N. After all, they were the original Red Bull Villains. 

Ignoring the rules, they let the champagne down to the team to enjoy. This was their first victory after a few years as well, they deserved it after sacrificing two seasons to get this car made.

Then, a lone camera man captured an almost painfull view. Lewis Hamilton, clad in the strong Ferrari Red standing aside, looking up to the silver team with sadness and longing in his eyes. This hurt him, it truly did. Tears were welling in his eyes as the camera man moved away tactfully, instead capturing the celebrating couple instead.

The season progressed, a grandslam in all eyes. Win after win - not a single Race lost. As the Final in Bahrain rolled around and Sebastian collected his fifth driver’s championship, he knew he had found a new family and home. Y/N and him were celebrating wildly, the basil on the windowsill long forgotten among the glory and the parties, the heat and the energy.

It was that day, that a man entered a plane back to his new home in Italy. Eying the still not fully unpacked furniture, he settled onto a lightly dusted chair. Had leaving Mercedes truly not been the right decision? Lewis looked at a photobook a fan had gotten him. From winning with McLaren, the years with Nico and Valtteri, Mercedes had truly grown into his home and Family. What had made him leave them then? Was it the thirst for glory? Had he not enjoyed the atmosphere anymore? He felt conflicted. People had told him that Ferrari would break him. He didn’t want to believe them, but they were right. The red team had once again done what it did best. Destroy someone. Lewis looked back on Sebastian’s Face, remembering his defeated expression after the years of fighting with the red team. Of getting recognition for Kimi as well. Of standing up against Charles.

Lewis considered his options, putting his own life on the golden scale. Then, he made a decision. Opening instagram, he made a single post. Cuddling Roscoe, the description was simple, something nostalgic almost. “I hereby announce my retirement from Formula 1”

[chirpsythismorning]

Something that does genuinely concern me is the possibility of the Duffer’s being a major conflict of interest when it comes to supporting the strike out in the open. They’re not just writers but also producers and the show runners. Arguably they have the tightest relationship of any production to Netflix, and so just knowing that they’ve always been very much intertwined, are they going to be willing to voice their support for the strike, beyond just being WGA members who likely voted in support of the strike? Like even the cast, complete silence. I know that it can be hard for a lot of reasons, but the complete silence, besides that one writer who posted about it, has me side eying the situation as it’s unfolding.

For the last few Friday’s, they’ve been active posting about stuff, and so are they going to keep that going by posting today, hopefully something to agknowledge the strike, or are they going to just act like nothing is going on and carry on with Easter egg like content? Or worse, are they not going to post at all and so we won’t even know what to think?

It’s just so weird bc they’ve known about this strike for months now. They’ve known about it when they’ve been stringing fans along with little things over the last month. And now, silence, at a time when silence is not the best choice, especially when they are the hugest show in television rn. The duffers coming out and saying something about putting pressure on Netflix would actually have the capacity to get something to happen, and yet they don’t… and it makes me think they’re a conflict of interest bc unlike their writers, they get paid A LOT!

And when it comes to filming starting, I’m concerned that just because they have the first few scripts written and finalized, the Duffers are just gonna say fuck the strike go through with it and start the production for those earlier episodes, either without any writers present bc they’re on strike and so no rewrites, meaning we’re risking the quality not being as good as it would be with them. Or worse, the Duffers are gonna go cross picket lines and scab, and rewrite the scenes themselves essentially going against the strike and their own writers to side with the studios that want it done…

Like I want Stranger Things filmed as soon as possible, I really do. But I also am a little bit unsettled by s5 being soured just knowing they chose a route that sided with corporations and not the writers getting paid mf crap while they are in Netflix’s pockets.

Even though I’m skeptical, I’m still hopeful that they’ll say something, maybe the st writers Twitter will make a statement for all the writers, including the duffers to show their support. But just considering how quiet it’s been, I do wonder how they view the situation.

Do they think it will be over at any moment, without their interference and so they’re just waiting for that? Are they genuinely being advised to say nothing, including the cast and so that’s going to be the case until this is over (if it’s even over any time soon).

Like wtfff is going on in their brains I need to know what they’re thinking about all of this.

Bc them being silent all throughout or even worse doing the exact opposite of supporting the strike by literally starting filming anyways against all of their writers best interests, would be the worst possible course of action. The final season won’t be remembered for all the love and dedication put into it, it’ll be remembered for the greed. And that pisses me off bc the writers don’t deserve that! This is their baby and they’re literally out here risking it all to have a live-able wage, only to be undermined at the risk of everything. It fucking sucks.

[dirty-bosmer]

Me again lol. don't know why I asked the last q on anon. I just made a new blog for fandom stuff and am self conscious cause I don't have much on it. Didn't want you thinking I was a bot! Anywho, I've calmed down and actually have another question re: fic writing. I'm considering writing an Oblivion fic (thank you SO MUCH for the insp, fell in love with fic again while reading yours) and am wondering : What was your inspiration for Lucien and his relationship with Nim? It's so deliciously twisted, and I have only read one other fic that braves the territory you do (have you read Love and Blood on FF? also themes of obsession and the author's Lucien is VILE). Kinda rare to see a story that's not afraid of making him actually villainous, wicked, and believably the murderous lunatic he is in game (I dont want prince charming anymore!!!) I mean hear me out, the fanon is fun too and I got a kick out of it for years, but it's SO refreshing to read something beyond another iteration of the smooth, suave, reticent but romantic characterization in dozens of Lucien/Silencer fics.

Got any book recs for characters or relationships like the ones you write about? (hope this okay. I'm srsly just so excited rn like u kno the feeling when you finally get a fic that does it the way you see in your head and are like YES THAT LET ME CONSUME IT anywho here i'm rambling again good day)

My kind of people lmao. First of all, goodness, thank you again! I don’t know what I’m going to do with all these compliments besides become a puddle on the floor. 

That is seriously so sweet of you (despite the morbid nature of the content you are complimenting). And yeah, look, it's a story about two murderers and their descent into madness. The companionship forged between them is obviously not going to be pretty, heh. For a long while, however, I was worried no one would like it cause I gleaned that fanon Lucien is a little more... tame? Or he’s sexy XD Anyway, I've had people comment on how much of a sicko edgelord he is in the fic (both positively and negatively lol). I really appreciate that you love what I’ve done with him but just want to say there is no right or wrong way to do it! There’s stuff out there for everyone’s taste, and I am not and never will write with the intention of making the story palatable to everyone. I decided to give it my all writing him menacing and icky and pyscho cause that’s what intrigued me,. I'm happy with it! And I am Infinitely more happy that you like it too 🥰

And yeah, it makes me feel weird to say aloud that I love all that dark, twisted stuff in fiction, but the heart wants what it wants 🤷‍♀️ I just love a “romance” story that's not actually a romance at all but rather a work of horror— an exploration of the dark recesses of the human psyche that breed obsession and the all-consuming need to devour. I got a healthy, fulfilling relationship irl. I want my fictional characters to squirm a bit, and damn but I want to be equally uncomfortable when I indulge, ya know??

Gonna put the rest under a cut here:

As for inspiration regarding the relationship/Lucien, this is gonna sound so weird lol but Griffith and Guts from Berserk, Hannibal the TV show, the band Deftones (hit me up for song recs). Some creepy uncomfy books that explore similar dark themes: Damage by Justine Hart, The Vegetarian by Han Kang, Lolita by Vladimir Nabakov, You by Caroline Kepnes, Boy Parts by Eliza Clark. Also soooo many movies. There are too many to name (hit me up again hehe).

For Lucien, p much anytime I read/watch a character being a sick little freak I take note of it (see above). I’ve also listened to Dr. Ramani Durvasula’s podcasts about narcissism (she is a doctor of psychology and a leading expert in the field who was studying narcissism loooong before it became a commonly known personality trait). It really helped me understand the human capacity for manipulation and cruelty, how someone can go through life working to get what they want while only being capable of loving themselves. 

Oh, and you know, I looked it up and think I started Love or Blood a really long time ago but haven’t read any fic on FF in years cause the site is p much unusable to me. Was it about Janus Hassildor? I don’t think I ever got to the Lucien bits. Maybe I’ll pick it up again. I’ve read so many Lucien fics, I can surely read another, and if it’s similar tropes, I’ll probably enjoy it. 

While I have your attention, I would be remiss to not mention some other DB/Lucien fics that I enjoy. Next of Kin features a younger Lucien, and he and Tal (the MC) are delightful and dirty and so real. They have a great dynamic. The relationship feels earned. Also Lucien is believably a career assassin and rotten at the core while also retaining his humanity and the capacity for tenderness. I’m picky with romance in general. I can't do heavy handedness and often times I find the characterization of a loving Lucien kind of contrived or saccharine or just not for me (and that’s okay! It wasn’t written for me. We all have our preferences and mine do not skew tender D:), but this is flawlessly executed, lemme tell you. The writing is PHENOMENAL. Truly some of the best I’ve read among fic. I’ve raved about it on my blog, as it’s quite rare to find a story that balances its themes as well as this does. Also Fortune’s Favorite is very dear to me. It features another monstrous Lucien who is undeniably gross and predatory. He’s not the main focus, but the story is otherwise full of angst and sadness. So too light and love and oof, I got misty eyed at several parts. There are multiple relationships in this fic, each of them juicy, but Lucien’s relationship with the MC is a horrific descent, quite a disaster (in the best of ways) and truly so entertaining to read.

So yeah that was... a lot lol. Hope it helps. Also please tag me in anything you write! I get so excited to see new Oblivion fics and would love to talk shop and writing. It’s how we learn knew things and improve :)) 

[jiminrings]

I am more of a silent reader, but i have read the whole 478 series and drabbles more times than I can count! It really is something that brings me comfort. You’re such a talented writer it really amazes me how it’s so easy to get enthralled with the characters and story.

I am curious since I’m actually rereading rn lol, we’re jk and the reader very intimate physically before everything happened? Idk it seems like even though jk learned to love the reader it never gave off they were very active in the bedroom before everything happened.

AHHHHHH thank u so much!!! it means a lot to me whether u love my works in silence or not but u taking the time out of ur day to tell me this???? i’m so so honored thank u ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹 and to answer ur question, yes!!! they were Getting It pre-incident, but totally not as vocal (read: prehistoric 478jk only having the emotional capacity to be a man of few words and actions and sounds) AND active post-incident!!

[castle-dominion]

c4x19 47 seconds

The protest bomb ep

heck yeah! Let's go protestors! Mum & lil bro thought this was an episode of Arrow at first

She's lucky there are no swears

Cool how he kno-- wait ringo was the drummer for the beatles, not this guy's name

She got anxious there bc the filming was just a bit later than she expected bc of the drummer

heck yeah!

FUCK NO

Love how the camera one was shocked for a sec but immediately started filming again

"if you've just tuned in" girl it has been like three seconds since the explosion & six seconds since you went live

Ah, her face, she did not expect people to be injured

Oof all these injured people here.

wait is that the mime? Poor fellow there.

there is still fire here?

five dead is a LOT... 28 injured, depending how bad they might still die. Why was it so bright earlier & now so dark?

Good on her, no comment, deal with press relations

Did she somewho she recognized?

Ooh the music today.

She actually listens to someone tell her she, nypd, is not allowed to enter the crime scene, which is under control of the fbi? Wowie.

I hope they get both lanie & perlmutter (& possibly slaughter's mortician girl & alexis) here looking at bodies.

Castle looks so shocked & sad.

Ok on the outfits, castle is wearing typical castle garb & looks hot as always, beckett has a nice grey turtleneck, ryan & esposito have coats & I can't see them v well rn but I like their coats & outfits rn so yeah. grey detective-looking jacket for ryan, black collar-up for espt it looks like. I'll give another update later.

Could still be a suicide bomber but with like a briefcase bomb not a vest bomb. Also who is your medic friend? I need character names & faces!

VG, someone whom I actually respect: Listen up, people! We're still piecing together what happened here, but what I can tell you – FBI and Homeland Security will be taking point on this investigation. [Beckett looks disappointed & esposito & ryan kind of follow suit.] NYPD will act in a support capacity. Our first assignment is to determine if any of the victims were targeted because of their involvement in the protest. Uniforms are bringing families to the precinct as we speak, so…let's go hold some hands and do our jobs.

"To sin by silence when we should protest makes…cowards of men."

Heck man, look at ryan's jacket! Squares!

Dang, they were tourists..? That's honestly rly sad. & they were planning on starting a family...

[04:03, INT. PRECINCT, BREAK ROOM - DAY]

[Castle stares out the window ((btw wearing a leather dress jacket)); Beckett approaches him from behind.] ((he is not interviewing anyone, he is not excited over the case... this is something))

KB: You good?

RC: Yeah. Yeah, it's just this case, you know? It kind of gets to you. How'd it go with the rest of the families?

KB: Um, one victim was the first kid in his family to go to college, and the other was a mother of two, so… about like you'd expect. No one seems to have been targeted, though. ((How many people? We have the recruiter, the tourist, the college student, & the mom. that is only 4, who is the other dead victim?))

RC: So their deaths were random. You know, most of our victims they…they die for a reason. You know, there's a logic behind it. It's a twisted logic at times, but…at least it makes some kind of sense.

KB: Yeah, but in this case, these people were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

RC: And their future and all their plans, everything is just gone in a flash. ((pUNintended))

[Beckett and Castle gaze at one another.]

KB: It makes you think about all those things in your own life that you don't want to put off anymore.

[Castle's mouth opens as he takes Beckett's meaning. Esposito enters, interrupting their confession of love.]

he says "troops" & I thought that was a colloquial term, just smth he said abt ppl congregating, but it could be actually the term for them.

I love how they show a clip of the bomb going off there. Good choice by the editor or whoever made that choice. I can't see it v well though & Ithought slowing it down I might be able to see more of it

OK SO: the reason I got into unus annus was bc during the protests in what, april, possibly may of 2020, I saw protest information including what it was like to get pepper sprayed, I saw the unus annus pepper spray video. Pepper spray sucks. They say to use milk but water is better (tho an acidic dairy product might help), however, be sure to wash AWAY from your eyes.

I bring this up because the fbi recovered a photo from one of the protestor's phones.

Do Not take photos! Don't include faces! Cover up any scars or tattoos, wear nondescript clothes. Turn off your phone's GPS, data, & wifi. In fact, turn off your phone entirely, only turn it on if you need to make an emergency call.

If a pig throws in a can of tear gas, you can cover it with a pylon & douse it with water.

Do Not wear suction swim goggles, if you get hit with a rubber bullet or even just thrown to the ground too hard, you can pop out an eye.

If you wear contact lenses: do not wear them if there is a risk of tear gas or pepper spray.

If you wear glasses: only wear them if you really need them, try to wear the most nondescript frames you have.

If you use mobility aides, use the nondescript ones, not the cane you personalized with stickers. If you use a wheelchair but can also use a walker/rollator, go for the rollator. You can still sit on it if you need to, but it is safer. If you do use a wheelchair, cover up the logo & anything you did to personalize it. I highly recommend using push-handle spikes to prevent people from moving you without consent. Hell on wheels is a business that sells them suited for your needs. You can get a pair that can be removed easily if you do need someone to push. Be aware, if rubber bullets are a risk, your mobility aid could be damaged.

& I repeat, do not take photos of protestors, I know it was a "good" thing in castle, but usually if the feds want photos of a protestor's phone, it is not good.

My question is though: why did they take a pic of where the bomb would have been?

47 seconds is a short zone, usually you have like a two hour kill zone

lots of names on the list wow.

Love the diagram on the board!

How did they get the names of all the ppl there tho? The injured ones maybe, but the ones who were just there? They would have run, they would refuse to give their names to pigs.

Holy moly only on the second intro rn! I have to go to work in an hour & a half!

Corinne: Do I look like I'm in the 99 percent?

Me: Uh, kind of. Do you have over 11 100 000 dollars?

Flashbacks are a good decision for this kind of stationary episode. (lol, really is stationary, they are in the station.) Like, even Castle is technically not in the top 1%, his net worth is like 4mil. There is a difference between rich-because-I-work-36-hour-shifts-as-a-surgeon-but-I-never-get-to-enjoy-my-mansion-because-I'm-at-work-all-the-time, inheritance-rich, rich-because-I'm-an-author-&-not-the-starving-artist-kind, & rich-because-I-commit-massive-wage-theft-on-all-the-employees-beneath-me. Now of course you can be hella rich, but the top 1% is about three standard deviations away from the mean. ofc statistics are probs wrong here. there is a wage GAP, not a nice bell curve. Anyway, you probably ARE within the 99%, just the rich side of it.

Good guy wearing a gas mask. There's the hoodie guy. There's the drummer.

Oh & btw you can LOOK at stuff online & buy them irl or vice versa. When buying my knives, I was told to go to a knife shop & test out the ones they had, find what I liked, & then buy it cheap online.

Box guy, "that's mine," spilled coffee

If he was carrying a bomb of course he'd look nervous & sweaty. Just like how the other dirty bomb the guy was calm bc he didn't know it was a bomb.

WEST SIDE WALLY! THE MAN IS BACK! Westside is one of my fave recurring characters.

(espt why do you look so weird when he says to call him westside.)

Johnny Law lmao

Love his sign. Will work protest for food. He is The Best.

Beethoven?

JE: Stop. Let me understand this. You…you saw Beethoven, [Ryan looks to the side on concern] the composer who's been dead for 200 years, in the plaza this afternoon?

WSW: Oh, yeah. And I bet that half-dead bastard is behind all this.

[Ryan clears his throat.]

KR: West Side, are you on any medications of any kind?

WSW: I don't see how that's relevant.

it's probably that he is NOT on medication lol. or hungry & dehydrated.

Man looks familiar. I swear tho, he's going to be real, not just west side's imagination.

You know, westside would look really good if they trimmed his beard, he's a really good looking actor.

Oh no, not more bomb threats...

RC: It's like trying to find Waldo in a sea of Waldos.

prioritizing interviews is a great idea.

RC: You know, the witnesses that were closest to the bomb aren't on our list. ((oof he right))

KB: *looks at him to continue*

RC: Maybe dead men do tell tales.

Jesse Freidman? More like Jesse fried-man eyo! Sorry that was distasteful. He wasn't even fried, he died in an explosion from blunt force trauma, not the fire of the explosion.

Oh poor alexis.

Except that Dr Parish said alexis needed to get stuff done. Lanie might say the same thing but Dr Parish said to get the personal effects done. You should at least talk to the staff & ask if you can take her home & let beckett know you're taking alexis home & staying, not talking to alexis for a minute like you implied when you said you needed a minute.

K but the film clips don't seem like they were what they were at the beginning of the episode

MR: Honey, do you ever wonder why I never visited you at the precinct the first year you were working there?

RC: I always thought it was because of the harsh lighting.

MR: (chuckles) Well, that was a consideration. No, I thought if I—if I saw you acting like a cop, I'd start thinking of you as a cop, and I just…whew. That—that brought on all manner of nightmares.

RC: How did you get over it?

MR: Eventually, you realize, your children are gonna make choices you don't like. Just a fact of life. ((this made my mom hug me so tight))

RC: Well, if the bombing proves anything, it's that bad things can happen no matter what you do. Nobody's tomorrow is guaranteed.

((In Cree the word for tomorrow is "IF the sun rises tomorrow" which implies that we don't KNOW that the sun will rise tomorrow, we just have FAITH that it will. wapaki. Edit: see the rest of this comment after the quote))

[Martha raises her eyebrows.]

MR: So…how do you plan to act on this realization?

RC: What do you mean?

MR: Oh, you know what I mean. Richard, how much longer are you gonna drag your heels before you tell Beckett how you feel?

[Castle shifts uncomfortably.]

MR: And I mean, while she is awake, not lying on the ground with a bullet in her chest.

((Wapaki comment, continued: I actually spell it wapaké bc that's how I was initially taught to pronounce it but other ppl say wapagi bc in cree k/g, t/d, n/ng, p/b, s/sh, & ts/ch are all both kind of considered the same. Ojibwe has different spellings but similar words: pimohte means walk, bimo'tee I think is it in ojibwe, & ojibwe is an anishinabe language so I saw an anishinabe word that meant "walk in a good way" & at first I didn't understand a thing, but then I saw the relation to the ojibwe word & I related it back to Cree. Languages are so cool. You know, I thought celtic languages would be removed from romance languages, I thought they might have a bit of german influence, but slainta means health in gaelgie (irish gaelic) & sante is health in french. That's the only relation I can remember rn but I think there was one more that I learned of recently.))

Martha is so right. I love her with all mu heart.

they are in LOVE!

RYAN NO YOU ALSO INTERRUPTED THEIR LOVE CONFESSION ACH (at least ryan is pretty)

castle it cannot wait until after the case, you never know if you have a tomorrow

This is why you turn off your gps.

That is a damn good friend!

Where did they get the audio from?

Andrew Haynes

I don't think he's planning on bombing you.

*just eating their food*

lmao he probably is not even in the 1%

She's making buddy buddy with him.

*all close to her*

lmao I hate him. Most of these people HAVE jobs, they just are still poor bc the wage is stupid. Besides, SOMEONE has to mop floors & wipe tables, who is going to do that job? They still deserve to live. Covid taught us which jobs are actually essential. Factory jobs, cashiers, medical professionals (including people like porters & janitors)

That's freidman, right? Who turned around Haynes?

Man this guy is so dumb.

& the longer you go, the more they forget & witness accounts get scrumbly.

The drummer <3 as a busker, I really respect him.

Well he's probably infamous, like that guy who plays the drum while on a skateboard in the city nearby. Everyone knows him. If he was drumming near the protest, he is probably going to be at the next protest.

I really respect him, not wanting to say anything. "I gave the wrong answer?"

Haynes should TOTALLY remain in custody.

VG: Not you Mr Castle, I have a special task for you

Me: "get out of my investigation?"

VG: I'mma get u to speedread

She actually thinks he has value uwu.

"no I'm not" she says & Iove her

ALEXIS' CHOCCY CHIP PANCAKES

Well he also does it bc he's in love with beckett

Well… they say genius… skips a generation WOW THAT'S--

Apparently, so does funny.

"Hey bobby" he says with a GUN

holy crap I need to take a pic of ryan's outfit

Man's an early greying bro.

Castle is back with COFFEE

"& I missed it?"

Castle acab moments

OH NO SHE'S NOW REVEALING THE TRAUMA THING.

Girl you can NOT remember every second of it. Different people have different reactions. Plus, at what point do you not remember?

& castle talks to her to himself

Talking to his mom. They have such a great relationship.

Maybe she didn't say anything bc she has that wall in her or bc she doesn't remember as much as she thinks

(But also bro you can't remember all of it, at what point do you not remember? Do you remember the surgery? No, they put you under. Do you remember every second of the shot & falling to the ground & that means "Every second of IT" it meaning the shot & nothing after.)

He's right. It is about MORE than books, more than HER even.

You can redirect love... & also he has worked with her for YEARS but he was pining with hope, not pining hopelessly

Castle you're communicating like a girl. You say these double entendres & half expect her to understand that you were watching.

There are only so many garage door opener frequencies out there so sometimes in big parking lots or alleys you can beep your car or try your garage door opened & someone else's will open.

*Tosses evidence bags FULL of that stuff*

He's a pickpocket?? I mean sexy ig but bro you're preying on OTHER POOR PEOPLE

The beethoven

& THEN THE MUSIC CHANGES LIKE THAT SO GOOD

Oh he has so much guilt bc he didn't mean to bomb anyone

WHY did they show freidman's photo? maybe bc he was the closest so he was chasing the backpack

RC: And since he placed the bomb between two dumpsters…

KB: He didn't think that anyone would get hurt. Then Bobby stole the backpack.

chronology!

"haranguing"

"business opportunity" lmao

How do they know it was seconds? Right they had his phone records w/o the ophone

Hold on, Westside knows that this is beethoven's 5th?

She called HIM? when?

Except when did SHE call HIM?

it was NOT the best vantage tho bc it exploded in a different place?

Except she would have had to continue reporting, she didn't just pop in for a few seconds, blow the bomb, then run to the storm drain

She KNOWS he's talking to HER but she DOUBTS it

Music recall & she gives congrats

captions said holler, sounded like he may have said yell. Does that mean he'll call her later?

LOVE HEARTBREAK GAACK

as always, thank you livejournal transcript https://scriptline.livejournal.com/64171.html

[adoringhaikyuu]

Hey i was wondering if you could do something like haikyuu/jjk men telling pregnant readers how they have gained a lot of weight (basically make a comment on their weight)... Ends with fluff??

P. S: i looove your writing style. Whenever i have a bad day I read your haikyuu fanfics b4 going to bed and they make me less anxious 😊

WHEN THEY MAKE A COMMENT ON YOUR PREGNANCY WEIGHT AND UNINTENTIONALLY OFFEND YOU

characters: atsumu + bokuto + iwaizumi + kuroo + (gn!reader)

warnings: none

notes: i kinda changed it a lil bit hope u don't mind <3 i was planning on making full blurbs but i don't have the mental capacity rn sjdfkgh

★ atsumu has never backtracked so fast in his life––he made the comment without even thinking really, as he was scrolling through his phone, half-listening to you. his eyes immediately widened when he was met with your shocked silence and he practically threw himself over to your side on the couch with pleading eyes before you could waddle your way up, "no wait babe i didn't mean it like that, i think you're the most beautiful you've ever been now that you're carrying our child––" and when you reply with "so you only think i'm beautiful because i'm pregnant with your child?" ...he knows he's fucked up. he'll beg and grovel for days though don't worry. he's treating you like royalty until you forgive him.

★ bokuto literally does not realize he's offended you, please. he just casually mentions how big and round your belly has gotten because he thinks it's so cute!! and he goes about his day like nothing happened,,, cause he literally does not realize that he's hurt you. when you're in a pissy mood, he gets real sad because you're not talking to him and when you are, it's in snarky comments (hormones can be a bitch and so can you!) when he hesitantly asks you what's wrong with a pout on his face, and you mumble something about your big round belly his ears perk up and he tilts his head like a puppy, immediately wrapping you in arms gently. "babyyy, i didn't mean it in a bad way, i think you're adorable, beautiful, gorgeous and everything in between" he places his hands on your stomach and caresses it softly, quickly easing you up to him again, you can't stay mad for long, not at him.

★ iwaizumi raises a brow when he notices your reaction to him pointing out that you can't see past your stomach to your feet anymore. he says it as a passing, joking comment, but he can tell he's hurt your feelings and immediately pulls you into his arms, rightfully choosing not to mention the fact that your belly causes a little space between your bodies. "you're perfect the way you are, sweetheart, big belly and all." the last comment earns him a playful punch, but he laughs it off with a kiss on your forehead.

★ kuroo's eyes have never widened and his smirk has never dropped so fast in his life. he could literally see his life flash before his eyes and his heart drop to his stomach at the hurt look in your eyes. "oh no, kitten you know i didn't mean it like that––" he's catching up to you before you can turn around and walk away, putting a hand on your cheek to hold your gaze and reassure you. "you're beautiful, you know that." his smirk tentatively makes it's way back to his face, "i know i'm a dumbass but i'm not that much of a dumbass that i'd be rude to you like that." then he'd give you puppy dog eyes and a playful pout, "forgive me?" you hate to say it, but you do. you always do.

LEAVE A TIP <3 (if you’d like)

[givemetherapyimawritingtravesty]

Hi ik this is isn’t canon but could you please write one where One of Remus parents spoke a different language and he was taught it growing up so he’s fluent in that language but doesn’t talk about it, because he took French in hs (I think) and one day he walks into the locker room (it can be before or during coops) having an argument with his parents in that language. ONLY IF YOU WANT OFC!!

Okay so as a Wisconsinite myself, I can confirm there is quite the German heritage around here (hi) so I feel like his mom is German and he speaks German with his grandparents and idk I saw this and thought that and ran away with it. It's so cute I love a bi (or tri or multi) lingual babe. As someone who barely has a hold on one language and know only a few select phrases in a few other languages, I wish I had the brain capacity to learn more. Y'all are amazing and don't even know it. Anyways this is gonna be short and typed on my phone and unedited but it be like sometimes.

Also: 'argument' is a loose term here, I needed the fluff rn so... It's more a playful argument.

~~~

The team fell quiet as they heard loud talking from the other side of the door and Remus walked in with a phone to his ear. He let out an incredulous laugh and spit back something on one could make out through a smile.

The boys looked around at each other, each more perplexed than the next.

"Okay, I have to go. Practice. I'll facetime you and them after. Bye." Remus hung up and pocketed his phone with a find shake of the head and finally looked up, noticing the silence in the ever noisy locker room. "What?"

"Loops. The fuck we're you just speaking?" Finn asked what everyone was wondering.

"Um, German."

"But for why?"

"My grandparents are in town, mom was just giving me shit about if I still remembered it enough to speak it with them, they used to find it endearing when I tried and failed. Now it's Jules turn to butcher it, he'll learn eventually."

"You- your German?" Sirius questioned.

"Yes? You know this?"

"I didn't know you speak it!"

"Yes you did! I must have told you at some point."

"Non."

"Oh, well, I don't use it very often so... Yeah. I speak German. Well, some. Enough to hold a basic conversation before I inevitably slip up, make grandma laugh, and they rip me a new one in English about how I need to keep working on it."

"Brutal. She sounds like Logan when I attempt Le Freñch." Finn said solemnly.

"Because you say thing like THAT." Logan defended.

"Okay, enough." Leo stepped in. "Boys, stop fighting. It's cute but we have to get through practice first. Cap, pick your jaw up off the floor. Loops... Nice. But your French could use some work too."

The locker room broke out in laughter and Remus smiled and shook his head, accepting the fact that it was the first of several roasts about his language skills he would receive for the day.

[amethystpath-writes]

Monsters and Legends

Don’t worry, it’s fluff :)

(NOT A PR0MPT)

Villain and hero need to stop a bigger villain by somehow acting as a couple, only for them to share a single room and a single bed (im grinning so hard rn) I giggled when I read this request:

******

The phone rang once, twice, three times.

“Why are you calling me?” Hero’s voice was a groan, one annoyed and filled with malice- or was it anxiousness?

Villain understood he was probably the last person Hero would want to hear from. Why would the bad guy of the city be calling her anyways, and how’d he find her number? Those were questions which Hero could ask later. For now- “I need your help,” Villain pleaded right away.

“You need my help?” Hero laughed brittlely on the other end of the line. That’s how Villain heard it, at least. “What makes you think I would ever help y-”

“Supervillain.”

The line went silent as the horror of such a simple name settled in. It wouldn’t matter to Hero how Supervillain’s name still existed- why it was still being muttered, unforgotten. All that meant was that Supervillain was still prevalent, which further meant something needed to be done.

“Is he still alive?”

Well, I suppose that’s a question I can answer for now. “Yes, that’s why I need you. I can’t vanquish him on my own, Hero.”

Yeah? What was Hero supposed to do about it? She wasn’t capable of fighting Supervillain, even if she fought him alongside Villain. The two of them together were still no match for such a beast, a mistake made by nature. Supervillain wouldn’t be so bad if it weren’t for his ill intentions.

“We beat him before, Hero,” Villain said after another long silence. “We can do it again.”

Hero said, “If we beat him before, then why is he back?” This wasn’t the first time Hero felt hopeless. Even before Supervillain, she had days where she was convinced Villain was unbeatable. She got past that part of her depression, obviously, but it didn’t mean that anxiety didn’t exist elsewhere- such as when it came to Supervillain. “Villain, I quit this business after the first round. I can’t…I can’t do it again.”

“I know.” Villain nodded, even knowing Hero wouldn’t see it on the phone pressed against her ear. “I know, and I get it.”

“If you did, you wouldn’t have called.”

Villain sighed. Maybe she was right, but… “You’re the only one I know who can pull this off.”

“Pull what off, Villain? What plan have you made up that you think might actually be enough? We killed Supervillain. We killed him, and yet you’re telling me that he’s alive? We can’t beat him.”

How could Villain say this? How did he portray this compliment without it sounding like an insult? “Where you lack in strength, you lead in intelligence. You- you’re able to think things out in a moment, whereas it takes me ages. You are so much more capable than you think you are and, believe it or not, I have always admired you.”

Right. Hero wasn’t so certain Villain was telling the truth. Sure, she was smart, and she could even admit that, but…intelligence couldn’t defeat an undead man. Even if it did, what made Villain say something kind to her? He would never spare a compliment to someone as poor as Hero; he wouldn’t spare an insult either. And anyways, who would admire an anxious mess? Not a villain, not by any means, right?

“Why do you need me? What has made you turn to a last resort?” Last resort, meaning asking anyone for help when Villain preferred to work alone.

Villain’s palms were sweating, his phone nearly sliding out of his hand the longer he remained on the line. “He wants my allegiance. Rejecting him would be a death sentence, and you know it. I don’t want to die. Not now. Not just yet. At the same time, I am not going to work for or with this guy.”

Hero was still failing to understand. “How do I fit into this,” she rephrased, “beyond you needing my intelligence?”

“Supervillain never knew you. He doesn’t know your face, your name, your priorities.”

“And?”

“And I told him I have a wife who insists on working with me.”

No. No, no, no. No. But she didn’t say this. “So, you are asking me to jeopardize my own life by appearing at your side as a fake wife who doesn’t know how to properly defend herself.”

“I could teach you, Hero. I’m trained. Strength means nothing if your opponent has technique. I can teach you,” Villain repeated, hands heating impossibly more. “Do this for me and I’ll- I’ll…”

Precisely. “There is nothing you can offer me, Villain.”

“If you don’t do this,” Villain returned, gripping his phone with white knuckles, and curled toes which dug into his carpeted floor, “everyone else will suffer for it. Yourself, included. I don’t know about you, but I think you’ve suffered enough.”

You don’t mean that, Hero wanted to say. You don’t mean anything nice that you’re saying. You’re just desperate. You know that I’ll do anything if it means someone will tell me they’re proud of me at the end of the day. She thought this of everyone- even herself, only she knew someone else was more likely to say they were proud of her than herself.

How did anyone ever call her a hero when she couldn’t even save her own mind from destroying itself?

Easy.

She was a villain to herself, and a hero to others.

“How do I know he’s alive? Am I supposed to take your word for it?”

Villain almost said yes, but he knew Hero would require proof. She didn’t trust herself, let alone anyone else in the world. “There is no evidence of him, but if you’d like to handcuff me every moment we are alone, then I suppose I will hand that to you as your security.”

Hero’s eyes widened. She didn’t have handcuffs; she was no officer, but for Villain to say that, and with such a serious tone…he wouldn’t say something so disadvantageous to him if he didn’t mean it- if it weren’t necessary to gain Hero’s assistance.

“What will it mean,” Hero asked, “to be your wife?”

***

“Supervillain paid for our room.”

Our room? Hero blinked hard before glancing around the hotel lobby. Well, it was beautiful, but Hero hardly had the brain capacity to think about that. “You said our room,” she commented, lips thin and an eyebrow quirked.

“We’re husband and wife.”

“We’re pretending to be husband and wife,” Hero said in a hush-hush tone, hand squeezing Villain’s for umph.

Even as she said it quietly, Villain scolded her lightly, “Lower your voice if you’re going to say things like that.” Villain began his trek to the elevator, arm extending behind him as Hero followed, hand still in his. As much as she hated this act, she sure did like to hold his hand, it seemed. Maybe it was her anxiety which told her any hand was a good hand, even if it were stained in life after life of blood and tears.

“I don’t want to share a room with you,” Hero whispered, so low that Villain wouldn’t have heard her fully had he not turned his ear towards her as they walked down the hall of the seventh floor. “How will I know you won’t take advantage of me?”

Right. No handcuffs. “You think I’d try to kill you after I called you and begged for your help?”

“It could be a trap,” Hero said, tugging her hand out of Villain’s, stopping in the middle of the hall.

“Maybe. But imagine if it isn’t a trap. Imagine you back out now, and the world goes extinct. What regrets would you have then? Surely, they wouldn’t be as bad as committing yourself to a trap, causing only yourself harm instead of billions.”

His tone wasn’t condescending, but it held such magnificence that Hero couldn’t help but cast her eyes downward and nod in silent guilt. Guilt because why couldn’t she have thought of such a scenario on her own? Was she selfish for being so afraid of Villain?

“You’re right.” Hero nodded. “You’re right and I’m sorry.”

Villain took her hand in his own again, softly, with fragile care. “You don’t need to apologize. Your nerves aren’t without reason. I’ll admit I’m not the most trustworthy man. I get it. Remember you are not jeopardizing yourself for me. You’re doing it for the world.”

***

The bed was comfortable- even with Villain laying by Hero’s side. Actually, Villain being by her side might have been what made it so comfortable. The blanket which the hotel provided was too warm, but the body heat which Villain radiated was just comfortable enough that Hero struggled to keep her distrusting eyes open.

“I don’t believe this,” Hero whispered in the dark of the room, expecting Villain to be fast asleep. Apparently, he slept as little as she did.

Villain rolled flat against the mattress before turning on his other side to face Hero, earning a light gasp of surprise from her. “About Supervillain?” he asked- suggesting that Supervillain was still alive.

After regaining a state of sanity, Hero mumbled that, yes, Supervillain being alive seemed unreal, but that wasn’t what she meant. She meant that she was laying next to a man who she both despised and was deathly frightened of, and yet she was comfortable with it- comfortable with his heat. It shouldn’t have meant much; it was only science at play, but it still irked her. Of course, Hero didn’t say any of this.

“It isn’t so bad sharing a bed, is it?” Villain yawned and did a little stretch with his arms, groaning as the skin and muscles of his torso stretched. “You have your side. I have mine.”

“Not so bad,” she agreed.

There was still a danger to it, Hero acknowledged. She was still side-by-side with a villain, still frightened by the thought of Villain silently reaching over the moment he heard Hero’s breathing slowing, pushing a knife against her sleeping body, and shiv her through without a thought. It was possible, and it was likely, wasn’t it?

“Have you thought about what you’ll do tomorrow?” Villain asked.

“Me?” Hero swallowed. “I…no, I haven’t thought about it.”

“That’s unlike you.”

Hero turned her head over her shoulder, finding Villain’s moonlight glinting eyes. “Asking someone for help is unlike you. What made you do it?”

“I couldn’t do it alone. I told you-”

“That’s not the truth. Well, it is, but it’s not the full truth.” Hero paused. “When have you ever admitted that you aren’t enough to accomplish a goal? You sought me out for my intelligence, but what else? You don’t ask for help, Villain. It’s not who you are.”

Silence followed, giving hero enough time to gather the courage it took to roll over, to face Villain with her whole body like he did with her before yawning.

“I’m scared,” Villain said, matter-of-factly. “I’m scared that when it is all over, then history will forget me for all the terrible things I’ve done.”

Confused, Hero asked, “Wasn’t the reason you chose the dark side because your crimes would be so extravagantly memorable?” This conversation wasn’t aiding Hero’s underlying fear of lying in bed with Villain. Still, she wanted answers.

“I realized I was wrong. If I don’t do something good for once, I’ll be remembered as a monster, and you see, I want to be remembered as a legend.” Villain drew in a deep breath, turning his head slightly away from Hero before exhaling. “There’s a difference between monsters and legends, I realized. Honour is legendary; Fear is monstrous. Having said that, there’s no fear in honour, so what’s the point in all those criminal activities except mindlessness and naivety? It’s not as fun or rewarding as I thought it’d be.”

“You stay awake and think at night like I do, don’t you?”

Villain nodded. Hero nodded.

Hero’s hand slid across the sheets until her fingertips touched Villain’s. Holding his hand was comforting when she considered they would be meeting Supervillain tomorrow- that Villain’s face would be the only familiar one, the only one she could trust even though she hardly even trusted it at all.

Hearing what Villain said now, in the deepest stage of the night…maybe he was worth trusting.

Maybe there was a good reason she was holding his hand.

And maybe there was a good reason she enjoyed the warmth that rolled off her body.

Maybe there was a reason beyond anxiousness and fear that made Hero’s heart beat a little faster than usual.

“Do you think we could both be legends?” Hero asked, to which Villain responded, with a tight squeeze of Hero’s hand:

“I do.”

It wasn’t the only time he would utter those words. Next time, Hero would be wearing a white gown, and Villain, a tux.

[shmaptainwrites]

hehe hotch prompt (aka a quote that i want to see used, but don’t have the mental capacity to put into my own writing rn)

“are you crazy?”

“i don’t know if i’d call it crazy, but i’m definitely not well.”

not gonna lie i was literally gonna text you with some plot ideas for this when i was struck with very large bout of inspiration for a light crack blurb so here it is

aaron hotchner x gn!reader

Honestly, right at this second, you felt like you were in a record scratch moment. The camera could freeze and you could say,

"Hi my name's (Y/N) and you're probably wondering how I got into this situation,"

But the fact of the matter was that life was not a movie and you were about to possibly do one thing that could get you fired.

It started with an offhand comment made by Derek, as most things started. He had insisted that you, the master of speed reading, second only to Reid, could get through his entire report on your most recent case in under five minutes while hanging upside down from the bar on the higher platform.

That was a challenge you had to take.

The challenge in itself wasn't dangerous, Reid would be the judge, (because if you were going too fast for him something was up), but what would happen after the fact is where things could get a little messy.

"So if I win, what do I want you to do for me," you hummed. "Why don't we stay on topic and you have to do my reports for the next five to seven cases,"

"Five to seven?" Emily asked curiously.

"If there's a few big ones I'll be nice, but if they're small I'm getting my money's worth," you explained and she nodded.

"Okay," Derek agreed, seeing as It was a fair deal. "And if I win, you've got to go kiss Hotch,"

"Um okay, woah there," you paused him for a moment. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me, a big fat kiss on the lips,"

"What are we twelve?" you scoffed.

"Mentally yes," Derek nodded. "So are you in or not?"

You pursed your lips and gritted your teeth before finally giving in.

"Alright, give me the report, let's do this," you held out your hand and Derek slapped the large file in it while you made your way to the bar.

Hooking your legs over you flipped upside down and within seconds the timer had started and you were reading away.

There was only a light commotion so you were surprised that Hotch even bothered with coming out from his office, but there he stood, looking confused as a kindergartener in a calculus class.

"What's going on?" he asked. "Don't you have work you should be doing?"

"Five minutes Hotch," you said and he finally actually caught sight of you on the bar.

"Actually four minutes and fifteen, fourteen, thir-,"

"Shut up we get it," Emily shoved Derek who only chuckled.

"(Y/N) are you crazy you could get headrush, you could faint," Hotch said firmly.

"You know, I don't think I would call it crazy, but I'm definitely not well, now everyone just be quiet,"

The room silenced and Hotch just watched the scene unfolding in front of him, unsure if he should have expected more or less from the group of young adults.

Your glance kept flicking up towards the Unit Chief, he was becoming a distraction, but you couldn't say that out loud, especially not when all you could think about was kissing him.

You were coming up on the home stretch, almost finished the report when Derek grinned, shooting up in his seat.

"Time's up (N/N) you lose!" he laughed and you groaned, dropping the papers on the ground and getting yourself back in a seated position and standing up, but wobbling and almost falling over as the blood drained back from your head.

Hotch caught you as you fell and you weren't sure exactly what besides 'no better time than the present' was going through your mind.

Quickly before he could even register what was happening you grabbed his face and placed a smacking kiss to his lips causing his eyes to go wide and Derek to high five Reid with his accomplishment.

He would never admit it, but he just wanted to see the ship sail.

"Don't report me to HR?" you said, but almost like a question when you pulled apart and Hotch only seemed to have the ability to stare back at you for the moment before licking his lips and nodding his head.

When you pushed yourself off him and started to walk away, the fuss dying down and the agents heading back to their desks, chatting about what had just happened you could hear Hotch's voice, mainly directed to you so you turned back around.

"You know you could have asked me to dinner first,"

A joke. A joke from Hotch.

"Oh so you're looking for food," you nodded. "Saturday, eight o'clock, I'll make up for it,"

Hotch pressed his lips together and nodded.

Boy were you happy you didn't get fired.

[glitterge1pen]

Omg R U Taking A Nap Rn?

Keigo Takami x reader, sfw, fluff, word count 2,335

Keigo did not like to admit this but having someone else to sleep with was good. Like really good. Technically speaking you hadn't slept with him at all. In any capacity. But one night after work he had gone to your place instead of his and fallen asleep on the couch. That morning when he woke up you had left him breakfast on the counter, a little post-it note explaining you had to leave for work.

The second time he fell asleep on your living room couch he had woken up to you cooking eggs and buttering toast. You weren't as put together as you usually were and the morning felt light and cool. He was rather cautious, circling the room, checking behind doors like someone was lurking, waiting for him.

“You know if someone was in here waiting to kill you, they would have already done it,”

You say, bread crumbs littering your lips. Keigo regards your words with a serious dull expression that you blame on grogginess. He nods before sitting on a stool underneath the kitchen island. Morning person or not, you find his antics endearing. Watching to see what he would do next.

“Do you have coffee? Or tea? Something?”

He says hands rummaging over his face as if he could wipe away the sleep. You pour him a drink. The early day washing over the two of you in a easy silence.

“I gotta get ready for work, but stay as long as you want, okay?”

His gaze is focused on the liquid in his mug. Still doused in sleep, he can only nod in reply.

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

For several days after sleeping over, Keigo is unable to sleep again. Or not sleep as well. He can't decide which it is exactly but he hates it. Hates that he found waking up to your presence so, so nice? He hates that he now has to think about being on your couch in order to sleep at all. That he so accurately, desperately, wanted to do it again.

Keigo shamed himself for caring this much about a simple thing like sleep. Even more because it wasn't like he was sleeping with you, or in your bed, or using your blanket. That last bit of thought started looping in his head. Damn it. That sounded good to him.

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

It was well past midnight and the lights were still on in your windows. Keigo knocked and called out for you to come open the door. The locks shift and the door opens to reveal you with a toothbrush in your mouth. You step aside to let him in.

He sighs, a heavys day work leaving his body as he flops over the backside of your couch. His legs dangling in the air, his head upside down. You watch as the blood rushes to his head and his cheeks become stained with pink. He kicks you in the side when you try to walk pass.

"Hey, if you're gonna sleep on my couch you have to at least take your jacket off"

Keigo removes his jacket, letting it fall on the floor with no care. He can hear you shuffling around in the hall closet, but his eyes are already closed, sleep already coming over him. A soft thud, and there's a warm heap of fabric covering his face.

"Thanks"

He says, rolling his body to the side and laying on the couch properly. The sink in the bathroom turns off and you re-emerge into the living room. His eyes are still closed, he's just waiting for sleep to embrace him properly.

You shove his legs aside to make room for yourself at the end of the couch. He lazily takes a peek at you. Your legs are curled up close to your body, youre ready for bed, face washed, hair done for sleep. You flick the tv on. Turn the volume down low.

"I feel like I only see you when you're using my couch"

You say, the tint of a joke in your voice.

"I'm sorry, been busy,"

"I know, I know, its okay, happy to see you at all"

The teasing edge in your voice gone. Your attention mostly on the TV and the current show you had been trying to finish the past couple of days. You and Keigo keep exchanging glances. His are in between his heavy blinks. You smile at him, too stubborn to fall asleep with you right next to him. But he is losing the battle. He can feel the warmth of your body, the rise and fall of your chest, the gentle hum of the voices on TV. Sleep is too alluring. He wants to stay awake longer, to be with you a bit longer.

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

Keigo earned himself a key to your place after coming over particularly late a few days in a row. You didn't mind him coming over, you liked it actually, but you also liked your sleep. Keigo would not tell you this, but the last two times he had come over he had already gone home first. But he had found himself unable to sleep at all. You assumed that Keigo sleeping over more frequently had to do with convenience, with something new he was working on, closer to some place of business. This was not true at all.

You continued your days mostly the same. Now when you came home you would look for a pile of Keigo's things. His jacket, shoes, flight glasses and earmuffs. You could gauge how tired he was if he had taken the time to take his studs out. The little pieces of jewelry would be on the kitchen counter, usually next to a glass of half drunk water.

Often you were the one to cover him in a blanket. If you were feeling especially generous you would fold his jacket over the side of the couch, move his shoes to the front door. Slip a pillow under his head. The pillow you let him use always seemed to fall unless you put it there yourself.

You throw your own belongings onto your bed. You grab your headphones, turning your music up as loud as possible. You switch into more comfortable clothes, moving your hips and swaying as you make your way to the bathroom to separate the day from your skin. You want to decompose and sleep. You're clicking through notifications on your phone. Sorting out the things you could leave for tomorrow. Typing out messages to friends, replies you should have sent a while ago. Shuffling through different apps, and wondering if checking your email is worth the mental toll.

You're in the hallway, toothbrush awaiting its paste in your distracted state. You're dancing more and more. The weight of the day shedding off of you as your music plays. You're nodding your head aggressively, feet kicking the beat with mellow thuds on the floor, as you type out a comment underneath one of your friends instagram posts. Your phone flies out of your hands, as a light touch to your shoulder sent you into a bewildered fear.

"Don't do that!"

You push Keigo hoping your point will get across. He takes a knuckle to his eyes, rubbing the sleep away.

"You're home"

He says matter of factly.

"Yeah, I'm surprised you're here before me"

You say to him as you turn to the bathroom cabinet. You get your face wash out and finish brushing your teeth. Keigo stands leaning in the door frame, watching with drooping eyes. You start running the faucet and with the tips of your fingers, fling droplets of water into his eyes. He steps backwards in surprise, suddenly more awake. He scoops some water at you. You are laughing trying to get closer to the sink but he's cornered you. Several more fists of water are flung at you before you give in.

"Okay, I surrender, just let me wash my face"

Keigo is no longer standing in the doorway but right next to you. When you lean down to the water to wet your face, it's only a few seconds later when he does the same. You look at him, a confused smile and a questioning expression aimed at him. He ignores you and dips his face in the water again. You take his wrist, give him some of your face wash in his palm. He waits for you to put the stuff on first. Then copies your motions.

You dry your face off, but Keigo seems fascinated by his damp reflection in the mirror. You see his eyes trying to focus. He really is exhausted.

"You should go back to sleep"

"I'll wait"

"For what?"

"For you"

Keigo is still examining himself in the mirror. He turns a cheek to inspect a series of scars under his chin. You stare at him unsure of his words and actions. But you move. Packing away your nightly routine. You leave the bathroom, quickly, just so you can turn the lights off and leave him in there. An annoyed grunt letting you know he was displeased.

He bumps into you purposefully before going back to the living room. Your pulling the covers off, getting ready to crawl under the warmth, when you hear the thump sound of Keigo climbing back onto the couch.

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

Keigo can't believe it but he managed to get a day's work done before sunset. He barged into your apartment hoping you would be there, but it's still too early for you to be home. He hasn't been able to visit you during this time of day in a long time. He wanders in and out of each room. Amazed that the bright sun can make your living space seem so forgien.

In the fridge he pops a few strawberries into his mouth, drinks some water. Steals a few pieces of your favorite candy you have stashed in the cabinets. In the hall he can only name some of the faces in the framed photos, he takes note of some of the decor he has never noticed. The door to your room is open. Rays of sunlight cascading through the blinds. Your bed looks especially inviting. Keigo decides that it would not hurt to lay there.

He lays on his stomach. Face smushed into the messy ruffles of your comforter. He can feel each of his muscles let go and relax. His mind letting him feel safe in the walls of your room. He tries to pay attention to the things you have in there. But he's faint, consumed and jaded. He will always want sleep, rest. Before he lets his shallow breaths and dreamy thoughts completely take over, he realizes that the sheets smell like you. A scent he had not considered until that moment, but that would linger in his veins.

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

When you get home you glance around the living room looking for Keigo’s things. There is no miniature mess though. You kick off your shoes. Put your keys back in the spot you know you won't forget them. When you turn to go into your room you let out a small gasp, startled by the figure in your bed. But the panic dissipates when you figure it’s Keigo. His belongings at the foot of the bed instead of next to the couch.

You go about your evening quietly. Cringing when you’re in the kitchen and make too much noise. Moving fast to turn the volume on the tv down. When one of your friends calls to chat with you, you step outside on the stoop. The night chilly but not cold, it feels refreshing on your skin.

Once you get off the phone you decide it's time for bed. You go through the motions of your normal routine. But struggle in the hallway. Unsure if you should just suck it up and sleep in your bed, or calm the anxiety about sharing the bed with Keigo by staying on the couch. Ultimately you choose your own bed.

You move carefully. Slowly inching your body onto the bed, laying on your back in an unsure position. It’s like there are bugs crawling over your skin, your nerves getting the better of you. You roll off the mattress, waltz to the window and open it. You stick your face into the fresh night air. It soothes you and you return to the bed. Your body still stiff, hesitant, but more than those things tired. Eventually your thoughts fizzle and you fade into sleep.

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

Keigo awakes well into the night. He’s not sure what time it is and doesn't care. You are next to him. He can feel each of your breaths. He feels fulfilled. He has no thoughts. There is only the content, glowing sensation in his chest. He thanks you for forgetting to turn the bathroom light off, without it he wouldn't be able to see your face.

He wonders if you have ever viewed him in this same manner. If you have ever gotten close to him while he was dreaming to blow air onto his forehead and part his hair from his eyes. Did you kneel down next to him to simply admire the sleep on his features?

Keigo wants to trace the knuckles of your hand. Your arm extended out to him, half laying on your side. Neither of you having bothered to maneuver under the blankets. Keigo takes a breath in as he pushes his arms underneath him. Delicately, Keigo moves closer to you. He lowers his body onto the crook of your arm. The tension in him releases when he makes the small contact with your skin. He curls in on himself as falls back to sleep, comfortable with you.

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

A/N: Sleep bro , sleep sleep, SLEEEEEPPP :0 also was listening to this trashy ass playlist while I was writing this and I want to personally thank Pop Goes Punk and Coco&Clair for giving me enough energy to finish writing this. 

[myherowritings]

All That Ass

— One night at the gym, you see a handsome guy with so much ass, you take a picture on the sly and send it to your number neighbor, Bakugou, to freak out over. But what you don’t expect is for him to reply with a picture of you from the same gym.

pairing: bakugou katsuki x f!reader word count: 1,876 genre: number neighbor au!!, fluff

a/n: this is a bonus “what if” scenario based on these asks i received about baku and y/n meeting at the gym while he’s doing leg/butt day LOLOL,, just to be clear, this isn’t a canon part of the nn-verse! it’s just a hypothetical oneshot answering the question “what if they had met this way” AND I THINK IT’S SUPER CUTE!! i hope you enjoy and pls lmk what you think !! xx

“So… Does anyone want to go to the gym with me?” you asked cheerfully, sending a pointed look Shinsou’s way.

You knew Midoriya had already gone this morning (though, if you asked, there was no doubt in your mind he would go again), and Todoroki had just come back from swimming laps at the pool, so your roommate, Shinsou, was your best bet.

Too bad said roommate would rather stay home and play outdated games than workout with you. 

When he didn’t reply for a solid five minutes, you poked him on the bicep-- How he actually had muscles considering how lazy he was would undoubtedly remain the world’s biggest mystery. 

“Hello? Earth to Shinsou?”

He slowly tore his gaze away from the television, looking up at you from his seat on the couch. “Did you say something?”

Giving him your best smile while fluttering your lashes, you sang, “Does the best roomie in the world want to go to the gym with me?”

“No.” Shinsou hardly blinked. 

Your mouth formed a small ‘o’. “Wha--? That’s it? You’re not even going to give an excuse?”

“Nope. Just go by yourself,” he dismissed. “You always talk about how you’re a ‘strong, independent woman’, correct?” 

You scratched the back of your neck-- A habit you picked up from him over the years. “Well, yes…”

“And strong, independent women should be able to go to the gym by themselves, right? 

The only way you could respond was with an incredulous nod. 

“Glad we could agree,” said Shinsou with a wry smile. “Have fun at the gym, then!”

“I… Thank you…?”

And with a slightly confused expression you grabbed your keys and duffle bag and walked out of the door to the recreation center near your apartment, vaguely hearing Shinsou chuckling in the background.

It wasn't until you felt the chilling breeze of the outdoors that you snapped out of your trance. 

“Dammit,” you muttered under your breath. How was he always so persuasive? Sure, at times you could be the slightest bit gullible, but regardless, his skills were almost inhuman.

You huffed, shaking your head as you entered the reception area of the gym. After showing the workers your membership and brushing your hair out of your face, you headed upstairs to do some cardio. 

“Excuse me, are you done with the StairMaster?” you asked the blond-haired guy wiping down the only open machine. 

A bead of sweat trailed down the side of his face to his neck and you had to avert your gaze before he could catch you gawking. 

“Just finished,” he said, his voice a gruff timbre that was surprisingly pleasant to the ear. He finished wiping down the handles and nodded your way. “Go for it.” 

You beamed, setting your water bottle and phone on the machine to get situated. “Thank you so much!” 

He huffed. “Yeah, whatever.” 

That wasn’t exactly a warm ‘you’re welcome’, but you shrugged it off with a small smile, stepping on the stairs and starting a light warmup. 

You placed your earphones in and played some music to set the mood, ready to work up a sweat. Cardio was a pain, but it was worth it if it meant having a nice butt. (As well as making your heart stronger and increasing your lung capacity, you supposed, but those were mere seconds to the booty gains.) 

As you upped the speed and got into the swing of things, you felt your eyes wandering around the room to your favorite part of the gym-- The squat and deadlift area. You noticed a handful of people were littered among the equipment and after your short inspection, you hummed to yourself.

Yup, things were definitely looking good there.

Absentmindedly, you saw your screen light up out of the corner of your eye and you unlocked your phone, briefly checking your messages. Or rather, checking for a certain message from a certain someone.

Still no reply? you sighed, placing your phone back on the StairMaster and trying to distract yourself by looking back at the students doing some leg exercises.

Almost instantaneously, your eyes were drawn to the blond who was using the cardio stairs just before you came. 

StairMaster plus squatting what was easily 75 kilograms within ten minutes? You had to stop yourself from practically swooning on the spot. That was some serious gluteal strength he must’ve had.

He was finishing up his current rep of back squats, cheeks flushed pink and hair sticking to the sides of his face with sweat. Not only did he look unfairly handsome, but he had a hot body as well. 

His arms were toned with a nice amount of muscles on his biceps and triceps--oh, goodness, his triceps were really something else--and he had impeccable posture as he squatted. (Not that his posture was the first thing you noticed about his squat, of course.)

You were staring so intently at this beautiful specimen of a man that he himself noticed, pausing briefly to try to find the source of the laser beams he felt on his behind. Before he could catch you gawking, however, you tore your gaze away and grabbed your phone, trying to pretend you were on it this whole time. 

When he looked away, you sighed in relief, opening your camera app and peering at him through the screen.

You weren’t sure why, but you had a gut feeling your number neighbor, Bakugou, would’ve loved to share this beautiful sight with you. He seemed to be having a bad day and you figured a nice booty would be just the thing to cheer him up. So, really, you only wanted to take a picture of the hot gym guy out of the kindness of your own heart. 

After snapping the photo, you sent a quick series of texts freaking out to your ‘bakubestie’ along with an attachment of the image of the blond guy’s backside.

Y/N: *Attachment: 1 Image*

Y/N: HDJSJDJD IK I’M LIKE QUADRUPLE TEXTING RN AND I’M SORRY (but rly what’s new)

Y/N: BUT I THOUGHT YOU WOULD APPRECIATE THIS PIC IDK WHY DON’T QUESTION MY IMPULSES OK

Y/N: i’m at the gym and this hot (albeit a lil bit of a grumpy grump :/) guy is here and woW

Y/N: like i’m just trying to work out in peace but his ass is all “hi there (       )(       ) how are you (       )(       )” AND I FEEL SO ATTACKED,, how is one person allowed to have all that ass? save some for the rest of us pls bro

After getting a good percentage of your thoughts and thirst out, you let out a sigh of liberation, upping the intensity of the StairMaster to further get your jitters out.

As you continued scrolling through your phone to check for texts from your roommates, you heard a bark of incredulous laughter from the other side of the room. You distractedly looked up, but after seeing nothing out of the ordinary other than the hot guy grinning at his phone, you shrugged and placed your cell down to get back to your workout.

The intense climbing only lasted for about three minutes before you got a text message from Bakugou (which you knew only because his text tone was ‘It’s so fluffy!’ from Despicable Me while everyone else’s was the default chime). A bright smile made its way to your face as you lowered the speed once again, taking a drink from your water bottle to cool down before eagerly glancing at your screen. 

bakubestie: *Attachment: 1 Image*

Curiously, you took a look at the picture Bakugou sent. It was one of someone in the gym that looked quite similar to the one you were in, wearing the same workout clothes you were currently wearing… In fact, it looked like the photo was taken just now from inside the room, right next to the squatting area… 

bakubestie: Too much ass, huh? I could say the same about you

You blinked, taking a few moments to process just what exactly was happening before you yelped in surprise. “What the--?!” 

Your face fumed, head snapping up from your phone so fast you lost your balance and tripped on the incoming stair of the machine. Losing footing, you barely had time to let out a brief, “Oh, shit!” before falling down the StairMaster and onto your butt on the hard floor. 

“Ouchie…” 

There was a moment of silence before a booming laughter was heard from the opposite side of the room, and a mixture of dread and excitement filled your stomach.

Dread because if your suspicions were correct, the guy from the gym you were thirsting over to your number neighbor was your number neighbor. And excitement because--hello--you were finally going to meet your number neighbor! (That was, of course, if he didn’t run out of the gym at the very moment.) You were so excited that you couldn’t even dwell on the utter embarrassment any normal person would probably be feeling.

The scuffling of footsteps moved closer as you rubbed the side of your hip that landed on the ground. 

“Tch,” you heard from above you. You looked up to see an amused expression on the blond gym guy’s face as he extended a hand out to you and checked for any injuries. “You really are a dumbass.” 

Your heart skipped a beat at his all too familiar tone, and you winked cheekily at him while accepting his hand and standing upright. “And you really have a nice ass.” 

Bakugou rolled his eyes as he fought off the blush on his face, your compliment catching him off guard. “Okay, well-- Now I know for sure it is you.”

With an excited grin, you jumped up and down on the balls of your feet. You were filled with nerves and butterflies and you wanted nothing more than to tackle your number neighbor into the biggest hug you could muster.

“You are okay though, right?” he asked, the smallest hint of worry in his features. 

The little crinkle between his brows was so adorable that you just couldn’t help yourself. Your grin widened even more and your face began to hurt from smiling so much. You were certain you looked like a fool, but you didn’t care. 

Before you could second guess yourself, you stood on your tiptoes and threw your arms around his neck to tackle him into a proper bear hug. Bakugou was still a bit sweaty and warm from working out--and you most definitely you weren’t looking any better yourself--but that didn’t change the fact that he felt cozy and safe and smelled faintly like your favorite caramel treat at the candy store. 

“Yes. I’m better than okay,” you murmured into his shoulder. “It’s nice to meet you, bestie.” 

Bakugou froze in shock before letting out a breathy chuckle, slowly wrapping his arms around your waist as you shifted so your head rested against his chest. His hand lingered on the small of your back as he peer down at you with what looked like a smile of his own and you wished you could capture that moment in a frame and relive it forever.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Y/N.” 

[hoekaashi]

3 am Talks - hq pt 4

a/n: first and foremost, please don’t attack me for the twins’ accent. i know i didn’t even try but i also don’t have the brain capacity to do it rn. second, i know i did karasuno but i was requested to do asahi after posting it and i wasn’t gonna make a separate post for just him so i slapped his ass onto this one (: pairings: kita x reader, atsumu x reader, osamu x reader, suna x reader, sakusa x reader, asahi x reader warnings: language, some spoilers for post time skip taglist: @babydabi​, @suckersuki​, @bakugoustanaccount​, @animoozies​ part 3

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

⇾ omg this boy is gonna talk about how proud he his of his teammates ⇾ like full on proud dad moment (i imagine him like that one panel from the last chapter, just so proud) ⇾ he’s such a soft man, he would talk about how he wants to start a family with you ⇾ what do you mean the sheep aren’t our kids??? ⇾ so would wear a soft smile listening to you ramble on about something ⇾ he would love to hear whatever was going on inside your mind, would never tell you to stop talking or cut you off. Ever.

You climbed into bed after waking up to pee in the middle of the night. Kita had been up for a while and you were unsure as to why he was still up. Before you fell asleep, the two of you had been watching his old teammates play a match on tv and he had been praising them the entire time. “What are you doing up still?” “I was texting in the group chat after you fell asleep and I just can’t sleep now.” You sat cross legged next to him. “What’s on your mind now?” “How I want to start a family with you in the future.” That came out of the blue. Neither of you really talked about that far in the future. “The twins started arguing again and Aran started yelling at me to get them to stop. I asked him why he was telling me to stop them and everyone replied that it was because I’m the only one they still listen to. And then everyone started talking about how I was like the team dad even after all this time and I started thinking about how I would be if I was a father and if I would still act the same. I looked down at you sleeping and the thought just came to me.” You were speechless. “I mean, not that I have any problems with having kids with you, but I wouldn’t classify the twins as test subjects on your parental qualifications. I don’t think they compare to toddlers because the twins actually listen.” “Well, that’s why we have chicken. And sheep.” Kita gave you a warm smile. “Honey, I love you, but please don’t tell me that you just compared animals to human children. Possibly ours.” “It’s okay. It’s good practice.”

.・゜-: ✧ :-　-: ✧ :-゜・．

⇾ for as much as i shit on him, i do love atsumu (osamu is the superior twin, sorry lei) ⇾ but this poor baby would always be in such a negative head space after losing a match ⇾ literally thinks his entire team hates him, his coach wants to replace him, his brother and ex teammates would look down on him, wondering what was so great about him ⇾ he would just need to get his feelings out without judgement - just hold him while he word vomits but sometimes he does need to hear some motivation to get him out of his funk ⇾ this kind of feeds into the other things he would talk about if he didn’t have a match ⇾ just a lot of talk about his insecurities and how he feels inferior to other people his cocky persona is fake ⇾ just wrap him in a blanket and feed him comfort food as he lets out everything weighing down on his heart

“If I didn’t fuck up five serves, we coulda won.” Atsumu was laying on his stomach with his head on your lap as you ran your fingers through his hair. “You weren’t the only person who messed up today. You can’t blame yourself for losing the game when everyone made a mistake at some point.” “But mine were so easy to prevent.” He wrapped his arms around your waist tighter. “I know when I go into practice next week, coach is gonna bench me. I’m not even mad, I deserve it.” “Tsumu, don’t say that.” “It’s true. Samu even called me out on it after. And I know the entire team wants me out.” At this point, you didn’t know what else to say because no matter what, Atsumu was going to believe that he was the worst player on the team. “I’m just holding everyone back.” Your hand stilled in his hair. “Tsumu, the only other setter who’s managed to pull off that crazy quick with Hinata is Kageyama. Plus you got Bokuto on your team too! Both of those players are so high energy and hard to manage, yet you make it look so easy. So you had an off day, everyone does. Everybody makes mistakes, everybody has those days -” He got up and glared at you before you had a chance to finish what you were saying. “Hannah Montana is not the right person to bring into this motivational speech.” “But you sing Hoedown Throwdown and True Friend on a weekly basis.” “And you better take that sentence with you to the grave.” You grinned at him. “But imagine how much money I could get for selling those twelve little words to the press.” Yes. He tackled you and made you swear on your life that you wouldn’t tell a soul.

.・゜-: ✧ :-　-: ✧ :-゜・．

⇾ it depends on his mood: either he’s doing all the talking or he’s strictly listening, there’s no in between ⇾ when he’s talking, it could be about a n y t h i n g ⇾ from atsumu to food to you to work to a new show he’s watching to kita to meeting up with friends ⇾ literally anything ⇾ he doesn’t necessarily need to know you for a long time, but he does need to feel close to you if he ever talks about how he feels about you ⇾ he’s not the type to be soft of the regular, so when he is being soft, he’ll be even quieter, maybe even hide his face in your neck or your stomach depending on the position the two of you are cuddling in ⇾ when you’re the one doing the talking, his hands are always busy doing something - most of the time playing with your hair, but it could also be playing with your hands, massaging your hips, etc

“- so Kita blocked our numbers.” “I mean, you did cuss out Atsumu while his phone was on speaker and he was with his grandmother.” “How was I supposed to know that?” he asked quietly into your neck. You laughed. “Let him talk next time. You and your brother you are adults now, so stop arguing like children.” “I can’t help it, he pisses me off sometimes.” You hummed. “Give Kita a fruit basket or take him out to lunch and apologize.” He rubbed his thumb over your knuckles before pulling you closer into his chest. “Yeah I’ll do that.” “Ooo! What if you have him test out that new recipe you were telling -” “No. I always have you test new dishes and that won’t change,” he mumbled. “Samu?” He nuzzled his face further, his breath warm on your neck. His hand moved to your hip and alternated from massaging you to rubbing his hand up and down. “You’ve gotten me this far and everything worked fine. I don’t wanna change anything.” You reached back and lightly scratched the nape of his neck. You turned over and found his face closer to yours that you expected. His arm went back to resting on your hips with his hand on your butt, pulling you closer. He gave you a light kiss on the tip of your nose. “Are you saying I’m your good luck charm?” you asked teasingly. “Nothing’s gone wrong since you’ve come into my life. I’m gonna fucking marry you one day.” You smiled. “Yeah, you also said that when you got your wisdom teeth removed. I’m still waiting on the ring.” He pulled you into a hug, your head in his chest, his lips placing another kiss on your forehead. “Don’t rush me or your not getting anything.”

.・゜-: ✧ :-　-: ✧ :-゜・．

⇾ he wouldn’t talk at 3 am ⇾ would literally tell you to shut up and go to sleep ⇾ and if you didn’t stop talking, he would get up and either go to someone else’s place or tell you to leave ⇾ this man does not care about what you’re thinking or what you have to say when he’s trying to sleep ⇾ so don’t expect him to be all soft and listen to you - better yet, talk

“So I was thinking -” Suna grumbled. “Yeah? You better stop thinking.” “But I’ll forget in the morning.” “Then it wasn’t necessary to talk about.” “I’m gonna say it.” “You’re gonna shut the fuck up if you wanna sleep here tonight.”

.・゜-: ✧ :-　-: ✧ :-゜・．

⇾ a listener ⇾ would literally tell you to shut up and go to bed jk, not really ⇾ if he’s up at 3 am with you, he’s listening to music ⇾ for sure he won’t be talking and doesn’t really want to have to pay attention to whatever you’re saying ⇾ not in a rude way but like, it’s late and he doesn’t feel like using brain cells at the time ⇾ if you are talking and he loves you, he won’t tell you to shut up or stop, but don’t expect a reply from him ⇾ depending on his mood, he’ll choose to listen or not, and when he’s listening, he’ll make sure you know that he is

“Did you make this lofi playlist?” You were scrolling through your shared Spotify account on your phone, trying to find something to listen to since neither of you could sleep. “Yes.” You played it, both of you enjoying the soothing music that filled the quiet of the room. “Do you have a fanclub?” Sakusa hummed. “Is that a yes or a no?” It took him a minute, but he replied. “Not sure. Why?” “I don’t know how I feel about a group of girls drooling over you.” Were you proud? Jealous? Indifferent? You couldn’t figure it out. But the fact that he asked made you happy that he cared enough to bother listening to you. “Why should you care?” You looked over at him. “Well, what if they’re the crazy type of fans who try to break in here. Or don’t like that we’re dating and try to kill me?” He laid there in silence with his eyes closed as you spoke about all the extreme types of fans that you had heard about. Once you finished, he remained quiet. You felt bad, thinking that you bored him to sleep. “Love, I think you’ve been listening to too many true crime podcasts.” “But still, those types of people exist.” Sakusa shifted with his eyes closed, pulling you so you were resting on his chest. “Stop thinking about that. It’s stupid. Now go to sleep.” “But -” “Go to sleep.” “I can’t.” He shushed you. “Sleep. We can talk in the morning.”

.・゜-: ✧ :-　-: ✧ :-゜・．

⇾ jesus would talk about his insecurities ⇾ would catch you up with his friends aka the other third years ⇾ but also i feel like his anxiety traveled with him into adulthood so like, lots of stress talks about releasing new designs on time and not wanting to let people down/be a failure ⇾ he would talk about his travels too, the different things he enjoyed from each country he visited with noya ⇾ would make plans to go somewhere with you when both of you had the time to drop off the face of the earth for a little bit

“So where else did you want to visit?” you asked. “Maybe Switzerland?” You nodded. “That’s a good choice. Want to do anything specific?” “Not really. When I was with Noya, we kind of just winged everything. It was more exciting and memorable that way.” “I do remember you being more free.” Whenever he called you or sent you pictures and videos, he seemed more happy. “Really?” “Uh huh.” “I do remember feeling less stressed. I have a deadline coming up soon and the pressure is intense.” “Does it feel like volleyball stress?” He gave you a little shrug. “A bit? I have a team - a different type of team - and I don’t want to let them down, but in this case, I’m the captain without anyone to rely on. Everyone else needs me to have everything together, so I don’t have the time to freak out or be stressed.” “Yet, you’re still a ball of anxiety.” “Am I?” He grimaced. You nodded. “I’m trying to get better. It’s really hard when there’s a voice in the back of your mind telling you that if you mess up, everyone will be let down and disappointed in you. On top of that, the media and public are so harsh with everything. There’s just a lot of pressure.” “But you’ve done so well. Sure things were a little shaky when you first started, but you’re well known now and well loved.” “You have a point. I’ll do better for you.” You smiled. “I’m already proud of you, don’t worry about that.”

[goldafterglow]

Headcanons on Ezra and/or Frankie not feeling good enough for their S/O and their S/O comforting them?

A/N: first of all these are definitely a choice I made and it’s okay; second of all, why did this take me all day to write haskghfdj but I did both Ezra and Frankie bc I was having a soft Frankie moment; third of all I literally did not read though this so it’s probably full of typos and redundant words but fuck me

Word Count: 1k+

Warnings: angst, fluff?, soft!hours bitch everyday is soft hours on this blog, the same thing twice except it’s not the same thing at all but it is lol, some quality ass lines going to waste in a headcanon but I loved writing this so it’s okay

Ezra

he absolutely feels this way when he falls in love after losing his arm

Assuming his right hand was his dominant one, he was nearly sobbing from the emotional loss. Ezra thinks a lot, he assigns musings to inanimate objects like books and buttons and arms, because he wants the believe there is beauty in everything, that everything has meaning.

Feeling things is very important to him. The texture of a tree trunk, the cooling glitter of river water, the bumps on your skin. When he says “no love too intimidating,” he definitely means how his right arm holds his most intimate secrets.

He wants to love you to his fullest capacity, love you with his whole body and every last molecule of his tattered soul because you deserve so much more but that’s all he has to offer.

Ezra gets touchy when he’s feeling less than. It’s difficult to notice if you don’t pay careful attention; he is touchy enough on its own. But his insecurities rear its ugly head in the most timid of ways: a kiss that lingers for just a moment more, a hug that lasts a second longer, a nuzzle that travels deeper into your neck than you thought possible. Because he doesn’t know how to compensate for that arm, that missing piece of him.

Ezra is a very honest man; it’s hard for him to keep his emotions in his chest for them to rot and suppurate in the swollen heat. So he’ll probably ask you if you think he’s enough in more ways than one.

It’s confusing to you at first; Ezra has always been somewhat of an enigma, always saying so much and yet the meaning behind his words is so complex that you couldn’t begin to comprehend how the stars over his head cross each other.

“Won’t you lay here with me, my starlight?” and “Just one more kiss, butterfly,” and “Can’t an enamored man tell his muse that he is in such a state?”

And it’s hard for you to say no to him when he looks at you with his pathetic doe eyes, begging you to let him love on you.

But as his doubts grow, his questions begin to concern you.

“Dandelion, you’re happy here aren’t you? With me?”

It breaks your heart to see him so lost, feeling to destitute.

But Ezra trusts you, gives you his whole essence because he doesn’t believe you’d ever want to hurt him, so it’s just a matter of cooing “sweet boy, of course I’m happy. Ezra, you make me happy.”

Or even telling him that “pretty poet, you just being is enough” and that “your existence is a gift in its own, Ezra”

It takes time, requires cycles for him to learn that his love for you is not tied to a limb, attached to anything physical. His love is misty, a cotton candy fog that fills your atmosphere and enters your lungs, melting down to sugar so that you can hear it rattle when you breathe.

But he learns.

Frankie

our beautiful angel bottom

Frankie always feels like he’s taking from you.

You’re so good to him, so loving, and he has spent his time with you letting the little moments with you add up.

He has the ability to recognize every little second of time you spare for him: bringing him take out after he’s had a long day, letting him drive you far off to the ridged edges of the earth so he has a human cushion to hold while he star gazes, sitting in his lap in the backseat of his truck during a drive-thru movie doing anything but watching.

You’re a lot for him, you give him so much, and he doubts that he filling your cup in the same way you empty it. The way you empty yourself into him.

Frankie’s not the best at communicating his problems. He likes to hold things in, to sit and observe and hold his own thoughts until he bursts and his words sting as they leave his lips. He lets his insecurities build, develop in a static silence that he thinks he can resolve on his own because he doesn’t want to burden you more, dump even more of his baggage onto you.

When he gets like this, when he’s festering, he gets distant. It only ever aggravates the issue, rubbing sandpaper on a sunburn and rolling coins into a stab wound, but he’s afraid of offending you. He’s scared of pushing you away.

Frankie’s words do not come in a million small drops of rain, a thousand dainty freckles peppered along cheekbones. Frankie feels like he is the storm, the flood, the monsoon, and that when his feelings flow they crash onto the ground and destroy homes in his path and uproot trees buried deep in the Earth.

He doesn’t tell you until you confront him, asking him why he’s been so distant. Asking him if everything’s okay.

And he can’t lie to you like that, he can’t tell you that there isn’t anything wrong, because something is wrong and it’s with him.

He’s barely able to get out a “Baby I-” before his throat constricts, choking out the flames of his sweet voice. He always tries to be delicate with you.

You have you hold him in your arms for a little bit, give him a safe space to collect himself and pull his shit together because he can’t believe he’s putting this on you, drawing pity out of you.

You’re tender with him, not that it’s hard. Holding him is like balancing a scared puppy in your hands; how could you ever hurt it, be rough or mean towards it?

Telling him that “it’s okay, baby, I promise I can handle it.”

Once his thundering has quieted and the lightning stops striking, he musters to courage to tell you that “I know I don’t deserve you. Just - please, take me as I am.”

Your heart fills with his pain, pins pushing out the walls from the inside. You had no idea.

 But with a little “I think you deserve everything Frankie” and a little “baby, if I took all of you I think I’d drown,” and even something as simple as “Francisco Morales, you have always been enough,” he feels universes better.

It doesn’t take much for him to back to that sweet, soft man that loves you so kindly.

Your gentle giant.

Tags: @mrsparknuts @girlwithanewplan @mrschiltoncat @agentpike

i’m still figuring my tags bc I’m a mess but child anyways here’s the link for my tags bc WOW pls just take it because I added a question about fics/drabbles/headcanons which is why I’m having hot girl problems rn